#cardboard gangsters

[haveyouseenthismovie-poll]

[spockvarietyhour]

Tonight's Rewatch

[justlyubov]

Original Arackniss and my version for comparison.

See my redesigns masterpost for more info and other designs.

I had a film noir vibe in my mind and I'm happy with how I managed to portray it. Maybe I'm imagening him to be way cooler than he will be canonicaly. In his capabilities department that is. But I don't care.

He hasn't appeared in the show properly yet. All we have is one shot of his back, but it does look exactly like his old design. However I didn't want to use his old design as a base since I think the proportions don't really fit the shows current style. Even the pilot looks different to the rest of the show, not to mention older stuff. So I just drew him from scratch. Although I didn't exactly reference the show's style either lol, but I think he fits. Maybe I could push the pose more and stuff?

I tried to work with pale yellow but just wasn't vibeing with it. And again, becouse I might headcanon him way too badass-esque, I wanted to give him a pop of a bright color among the duller tones. A splash of intensity to hint at the danger that's laying beneath the shadows. Some gangsters don't expect it from this quiet, tiny guy that's always lurking in his father's shadow.

One big thing I instantly knew I wanted to do is to play with a different head/hair shape, 'cause his original one makes him look too similar to Angel for my liking. In fact I always thought of him as a wet cardboard version of Angel, if that makes sense. A slicked back hair just works better for a no-nonsense mafioso.

[catapparently]

~The Glass Ballerina's Reputation~

Chapter 2 : Gorgeous

CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 3

Summary of Ch1: Flashback for poor Avery. She'd always play games with her mom. One day, when her mom was in the hospital, she gave Avery one last game and sent her on a treasure hunt. In the end, Avery only found Libby's phone number. By the time she made it back, her mother had died. Libby moved in with Avery in her little apartment above her mom's old antique shop and helps her co-manage the store. Nash comes in one day to buy a dagger and hits (nicely) on Libby. Avery angry.

Nash had been stopping by the antique shop more and more often lately. It was painfully obvious that he was here to see Libby. Avery didn’t like him in the slightest; to her, it seemed like he pitied their situation. Every time he stopped by, he bought one of the pricier items with his fancy card. She wasn’t a fool; she knew exactly what he was trying to do. He didn’t need to step in. They were doing just fine. After Avery had contacted her two years ago, Libby moved into the apartment above the little shop with her. She fell in love with all the antiques, and so,  she decided to help her out and co-manage while Avery went to school.

The dainty bell on the door rang. It had been her mother’s pride and joy when it was first installed. The shop had always been her biggest dream ever since she’d been a teenager. Having a bell that rang everytime a customer came in made her mother feel like it was ‘a real shop’. Avery looked up from her history textbook to silently judge whoever had entered the shop this time.  

Nash. Again. Of course, but this time he had company. Two boys followed him closely, both taller than him. All three were carrying cardboard boxes. One of them was about an inch shorter than the other one and had pale blonde hair. If her poker face weren’t perfect, she might have laughed at the sight of him in a fancy, stiff suit in the unbearable Texas weather.

She would have if she wasn’t so focused on whatever he was palming in his pocket. The outline of it faintly resembled that of a gun. Her fingers tightened around the edge of the counter.  

She wasn’t used to feeling fear, completely unfamiliar to that sinking feeling in her chest: the way her heart sped up, her thoughts jumbling and all of her senses hyper aware of everything around her.  

She wasn’t stupid. They clearly had money, and she didn’t even need to have seen Nash’s debit card to know it. It was apparent in the way that the three of them dressed and held themselves, looking at everything like they could own it and control it with a snap of their fingers. The gun could only mean one thing; they were criminals of some sort. Gangsters? No, gangsters didn’t have that much money or elegance.  

Her throat went dry as she recalled the headlines in the newspaper the other day: ‘Mafia territory wars in Texas’. She knew her gut had been right about this Nash guy. Not good for Libby.  

Nash grinned at her and set his box on the counter. 

“Hey, kid. We brought you some old, unique stuff that you could definitely sell for a lot.”  

“Libby’s not here,” she said, trying to calm herself down. If Nash- or whoever he reported to- wanted her or her sister dead, he would have killed her earlier.  

Mafia. Not good. But, if not good, why handsome? His brothers looked like younger versions of those Greek mythology figures in movies.  

She shifted uncomfortably. The blonde one was scrutinizing her face intently. She knew she wasn’t model pretty, just average with her ashy brown hair, but did he really need to look at her like something was wrong with her face? His pale grey eyes were honestly breathtaking, but he sure looked scary like this, stoic and unmoving. 

The other brother, brown-haired, elbowed him. “Cut it out, Gray.” 

Great. One evil-gun-brother identified. ‘Gray’.  

Nash cleared his throat. “Oh, yeah, introductions. Sorry, kid. These are my younger brothers, Grayson and Jameson.” 

They set their boxes on the counter too, and Nash started pulling out objects he brought and showing them to her. “ This is a really old typewriter, a limited edition. A Hammond 1, 1885. You could sell it for a lot. Then there’s-” 

He stopped short, and both he and Grayson turned to look at the other brother who had pulled out a glass princess ballerina from his box.  

“Why are you looking at me like that? We don’t have a use for it anymore, and it would cost a lot.” 

Avery felt her blood boil in her veins. Damn Nash and his obvious savior complex. She and Libby did not need saving. They were fine just the way they were. So what if they lived in a shitty little apartment and could barely afford the heating? They were alive and weren’t starving. He didn’t need to pity them and play charity.  

Jameson flashed a wide smile at her, meeting her eyes with his own striking green ones as he handed her the intricate glasswork. “How about you keep it? I think it suits you rather well.” 

Despite her reservations towards them and their intentions, Avery couldn’t help the slight warmth that rose to her cheeks as she took the piece of glass from him. “They’re dangerous, Avery,” she thought. “Bad guys. One of them has a gun.”  

Grayson stepped forward; leaning over the counter to stare right into her soul, as though ready to call her out on any dishonesty. 

“Say, Miss Grambs, have you ever heard of the name Kaylie Rooney, Morticia Rooney, or Hannah Rooney? Anybody with that last name?” He stared at her, and, even with his emotionless, controlled facade, she could tell that he was suspicious of something, that he definitely had an ulterior motive to ask her that.

Jameson glared at him. “That was my line to ask.” 

Avery ignored him. “How did you know my last name?” She frowned, crossing her arms.  

“I have my sources. Now answer the question.” Grayson retorted.  

“No, I don’t.” 

“No secret inheritances? Maybe your mother or grandmother? Relatives?” 

She wasn’t going to let this conceited stranger with a gun in his pocket boss her around like this. “My family is hardly any of your concern, and, for the record, my mother- Sarah Grambs- is dead, and I’ve never met any relatives.” 

Nash cleared his throat once more, the sound echoing in the silent room. Avery was considering giving him cough syrup as a fuck-off-and-leave-my-sister-alone gift.  

“Sorry about him, kid. There’s someone very important to us who’s missing, and we thought you might have seen something in this shadier part of the neighborhood. Grayson is, um, particularly emotional about it.” 

Lie. She thought that he’d be a better liar than this. She’d watched so many murdery mystery movies, and the handsome mafia guys always lied flawlessly. 

She felt even more insulted now. Not only was he trying to give her and Libby- though mostly Libby- more money by buying random stuff from the store, but now he was insulting their neighborhood, and, by extension, the fact that they couldn’t afford a place in a nicer one. Or Avery was too sensitive. Who knows? She’d become a lot of things in the two years after her mom’s death.  

Taking the lead, he ushered his brothers towards the door, a hand placed on each of their shoulders. Just as he was leaving, he spun around, remembering something.  

“Oh, but if you ever find out something about someone with the last name Rooney, just ask Libby to give ya my phone number, ‘lright? See ya.” 

With that, he walked out, joining his brothers in a sleek black car. Avery stared at them suspiciously through the windows, trying to ignore the fact that Libby was texting Nash, and that Drake would be furious if he ever found out. Jameson slid his hand into his pocket, feeling around for an object. She couldn’t see much from this far, but her eyes caught a metallic glint. A gun? Another weapon? Whatever it was, she was wary of them.  

Once they were gone, she closed up the shop for lunch. She went to the room behind the counter and sat on the worn-out couch, pulling out her old phone and typing “Hawthorne Texas” into the search bar. Nothing on Wikipedia or anything else. Finally, she found an article that read “Son of the head of Hawthorne Mafia, Tobias Hawthorne II, dead in fire on Hawthorne Island”. So her suspicions had been right. They were mafia. She scrolled through the article, and a picture of said Tobias II came up. She stared at it, an unsettling feeling churning in her heart. He looked painfully familiar, like an itch in the depths of your brain when you forget something, but you can’t remember what. She was very sure she’d never seen him before. Had she?

[margueritedaisies]

Drew more of these sillies

Also I just thought that one painting a demon yoinking Jesus like a cardboard cutout is so them

More sillies

And also yeah, spreading my agenda that Wukong dyes or bleaches his hair between brownish ochre to bottle blond, and auburns occasionally. Styles it in spikes or grows it out, reason his hair is so dry because of products. Just gives off that gangster vibe yaknow. And a reminisce to his many monkey forms fur colors.

[bee-whistler]

Hey, can anyone help me find those videos where the girls are doing the cheesy 1930s gangster voices with floppy cardboard tommy guns, talking about a soup can business? They keep cracking up and stuff. My daughter says she hasn’t seen them and that needs to be remedied.

[mrnicekisser]

[Street Gacha] Chapter 4

Written by 木野誠太郎

Runa: Thanks to Futaba-senpai, our future is bright.

Thanks to the funding provided by my senior, it looks like the problems I've been having will be easily solved. Thank you ♪

Mizuki: This is a piece of cake for me as a senior, isn't it? But it's not solved yet. It's just that the steps to solve it are in place.

The ultimate goal is whether or not there are people who want "that" thing.

Runa: Just as Futaba-senpai said. You won't be able to relax till the end. Let's move forward with all our might until we reach our goals!

Hayate: (Funding? I don't know what "that" means, but are they trying to sell that white powder to someone...?)

(Damn, they're making these faces. I know they like pranks, but they're smiling so happily...)

(However, if I'll step in here there's high chance that they'll run away. Hiiragi is fast when it comes to excaping from someone, so i need to make up a strategy.)

Mizuki: Okay. I'll open the package as soon as I get it. ♪ I'm glad I got it, but I won't use it, because there's always a way to "carelessly" do it.

Runa: Well then, please leave it to me! I'm used to things like this. ♪

Hayate: (Huh!? Are they really planning on using the powder themselves?)

(No, absolutely! If you have drugs, you will not only commit a crime by selling it, but also become addicted and unable to return to your daily life yourself!)

(I have to stop it no matter what..!)

Hey, you guys! Stop it!

Mizuki: Huh-!?

Runa: The hell, Yogiri! If somebody suddenly screamed, wouldn't you be scared?

Hayate: I'm scared of another thing. The "white powder" that was in the package earlier. What on earth is it?

Mizuki: No matter what you're trying to do... well, that's it.

Runa: What..?

Hayate: That's a very blunt answer! After all, you were trying to do something bad that you couldn't tell anyone about, right?

Maybe you thought no one would find out outside of school, but as long as the "Allies of Justice" eyes are black, they won't miss it!

Mizuki: Hey, wait! I haven't really understood what you are trying to say, but I think it's a misunderstanding!

Hayate: Huh..?

Runa: The "white powder" that Yogiri was talking about is probably this.

Hayate: Powdered milk..?

No, no. Even if you tried to camouflage it, it wouldn't work like that. Don't tell me you're planning to sell powdered milk?

I heard about it in the shade of the trees earlier. You're looking for funding and people who want "that"!

You can buy powdered milk in many places, so I'm sure you were trying to sell something suspicious!

Runa: No way! That was just a misunderstanding!

Hayate: Then what is "that"!?

Runa: "That" is a abandoned kittens!

Hayate: Abandoned kittens..?

Mizuki: Yeah. Hiiragi was taking a walk around here by herself. Five kittens in a cardboard box were abandoned in this wooded area just a little away from the downtown...

Maybe the cat couldn't raise the babies she gave birth to. The owner may be irresponsible, but if you find them and get mad at them, you won't be able to take her from them.

Hiiragi was going to stay here and take care of them until she could find someone to take them.

But, Hiiragi brings a lot of animals into the school's backyard, right?

If she was alone, she wouldn't be able to take care of them as much as she should, so I, who was doing fieldwork, decided to help out.

Hayate: Hmm………. When you say "funding", do you mean that you paid for the food and things like that?

Runa: That's right. Seriously, Yogiri, you're making a lot of mistakes. Thanks to that, I was worried that maybe I was doing something wrong too.

Hayate: It's probably due to your bad behavior on a daily basis. It's my fault in this case, but when I see a small-time villain and a dubious gangster hanging out, I think it may be worse, right?

Mizuki: Wrong. Occult club does only strange things, not bad things!

Hayate: Fine. Can i see the kittens please?

Runa: Do you still have doubts? They're adorable enough that I will show them to you, though.

They're so cute that you may faint!

There's a cardboard box under that tree. There are five kittens inside. Don't be scared and hold them very gently.

Hyahya~♪ They tickle my hand!

Hayate: Ah. Very cute kittens. Hiiragi, did you always had a heart?

Runa: Shut up. We are trying to be good people. In the end, these kittens will also improve our reputation...Hey, stop it! You're going to turn my hands into paper noodles~!

Mizuki: But Hiiragi is quite fond of cats, isn't she?

I wonder if that head scarf of her smells like catnip?

Runa: My head scarf has a nice smell because i use special detergent. I'm sure that's why it's able to fully exert its effect.

Hayate: Hmm. Let's see…

Woah!?

Runa: Hey, who the hell said it stinks?! How dare you criticize my "Shu-kun" that's been passed down for generations. I knew I was wrong to trust Yogiri!

Hayate: You're cringe Hiiragi. Why don't you just put perfume on it instead of calling it "Shu-kun''?

Runa: *makes angry noises*

Hayate: *makes angry noises back*

Mizuki: Hey, you two. Putting aside the fact that you don't get along, if you keep going like this the sun will go down without you doing anything.

They say even cats don't care about a couple's quarrel. The kittens seem to be dozing off in disgust, too~? Ahahaha. They're so honest and cute. Good, good...♪

[mrs-foleys-baby-boy]

Some Backstory on Wrestling and Me

I was quite young when I first got into the WWE. It was something that my dad had been into for a long time, but I only really took notice of it around 2004, 2005. I was quite young at the time so it's hard to remember. My dad can be a pretty abrasive, won't take shit dude, and so his appreciation for the WWE has historically centered itself around a respect for the ability to get the shit kicked out of you. He paid attention to the kayfabe and the story arcs but they took a back seat; the star of the show was the fights.

Which for a lot of outsiders looking in at the world of professional wrestling, I can understand how you might think that wrestling... Is about wrestling. And it is, to an extent. But it's truly so much more.

Even from that young impressionable age where I was grappling with anger issues, I think I always had a lot of appreciation for the theatrical side of the WWE. Truly my budding love for the theatre and my love for sweaty men yelling at each other walked hand in hand. I loved the costumes. The character designs. The backstories. These fantastical larger than life characters that in practice boiled down to a big guy in a cool looking jacket, but by god these men knew how to sell it. Raw and Smackdown in these eras had a habit of focusing on darker, edgier characters, and a tiny me lapped it right up.

As a child, my favorite wrestler was Kane. A big, foreboding figure who by this point had stopped wearing his cool mask and shaved his head, admittedly a much less cool looking wrestler than he was when he debuted as Kane in the late 90's, but he had the dark backstory and the fire and the chokeslams so I loved it.

Despite my love for the brooding heels, I also had love for the babyfaces. John Cena was getting a lot of screen time, beginning to distance himself from the edgy gangster image he had once had where he would tell the Rock he was going to give him a Cleveland steamer (yes, really)

But I also had a soft spot for Rey Mysterio. A relative newcomer to the promotion who was a huge babyface that would play the David to many much larger, meaner wrestlers' Goliaths (particularly Big Show, another favorite of mine.)

On some level I think I saw what many young children see in pro wrestling, role models who face endless adversity and continual strife in their lives but go out and prove themselves every single week to be strong. Tough. Bigger than the hardships they had to face.

It also provided me a nice outlet for my budding artistic creativity. The time-honored tradition of hand-making signs to hold up in the audience was alive in my household, despite the fact that I never actually got to see an event live. I would draw my signs on printer paper and store them tidily in a cardboard box beneath my TV, with my Rey Mysterio mask. Frequently I would make them for wrestlers I didn't actually care all that much about, just because I wanted to make another sign.

But then at some point around 2007, (or perhaps sometime after, time dilation is a bitch) I stopped watching Monday Night Raw and Friday Night Smackdown. I don't recall there being any reason for it. When you're young these passions can burn very brightly but flicker out without a moment's notice for unclear reasons. The interest simply wasn't there anymore for one reason or another.

And so life moved on. I abandoned my wrestling hobby, although the WWE still moved on without me. As did a number of other promotions that people have come to know and love. I would carry a vague shadow of my once intense passion forward with me in life, but it didn't really come up a lot. The friends that I made didn't really have any interest, or if they did it was a long-lost childhood one like mine. That is until 2017, when I discovered what would become my new favorite band— the Mountain Goats.

If you're not familiar with them, they are a post folk band with a very eclectic and poetic lyrical style. They are much more than this, and I have much more to say on the matter, but I'll try to keep it brief for the purpose of this post; John Darnielle, singer-songwriter for the band is quite fond of concept albums. In 2015 they released Beat the Champ, a concept album about professional wrestling.

In these songs lies a haunting and deeply personal exploration of a profession that involves injuring yourself for the attention of screaming fans. It grapples with mortality, with the shortcomings of the human body when you treat it so harshly for so long, with the emotional turmoil that comes from sacrificing your own well being for the happiness of another, and in an angle that speaks specifically to John's own experiences, it explores the relationship an abused child has with his abuser, and with searching for justice in the form of a moonsault press off the top rope.

This album floored me. I loved it musically, lyrically, and the subject matter spoke to a part of that young wrestling fan that I never even knew existed until that moment.

When a long-time wrestling fan accepts you into the fold and teaches you how wrestling works, generally they're going to tell you that while the things that they're doing are dangerous and shouldn't be attempted at home, the people performing these stunts have an extreme amount of knowledge on how to perform them as safely as possible, being able to sell it for the camera but not actually sustaining (major) injury.

For much of wrestling, this is true. But it fails to consider the side of wrestling (i.e. "hardcore" wrestling) that is predicated on actually getting hurt, and much more importantly it downplays the fact that these men and women do still get legitimately injured on a regular basis. It's not unusual at all to see wrestlers going about their high impact job with a broken foot. A brace here. A cast there. Sure, many of these injuries are played up for kayfabe, but to say that the risk of injury in the sport is negligible is simply ignorant. It fails to take into account the horrifying cases of people like Jimmy Snuka and Chris Benoit.

But as a child you're more likely to accept what you're told as fact. And I watched wrestling understanding that at the end of the day, these people would be okay. But that didn't stop the queasy feeling in the stomach you get when you see someone get hit really hard, when you see them start dripping blood from the head. When I listened to that album, it put things into perspective. That fear that I felt was justified. It was vindicating. But also saddening.But though I had a newfound respect for my childhood passion, I would not get back into actually watching wrestling until August of last year. And it was all because of Mankind that I did.

I've always loved Halloween, and I've always loved putting together costumes and playing characters, so as the autumn months approach I'm on the lookout for what I can put together. As a taller, heavyset guy with a beard and hair that I prefer to keep long, I sometimes struggle finding characters from things that I enjoy to dress up as and feel like I properly represent the character. The year prior I had been Brad Armstrong, protagonist of the game LISA: The Painful RPG who is an emotional wreck who solves his problems with his fists. It's funny the sorts of characters I find myself gravitating towards.

But that August I had stumbled across Mankind, a wrestler that I vaguely knew to exist but had never really properly engaged with. Mick Foley, despite his long tenure with the WWE, was largely absent for the years that I watched as a child. The most I knew of him was his appearance as an unlockable character in the PS2 game Smackdown Vs. Raw, which did him no favors.

But as I looked more at him, I discovered how much I loved the character design. A relatively simple design, but an odd juxtaposition of deranged and disfigured while simultaneously trying to look professional. And the body type was perfect. The biggest sticking point was the mask, but I found a nice quality latex replica on Etsy. All the rest could be easily thrifted and weathered by hand.

And the more I researched Mick Foley, the more I came to discover that this was a man that was the epitome of everything I had ever loved or respected about pro wrestling. A man who played not just one larger than life character, but three interchangeably. Intriguing and iconic costume designs (Though I say this, I recognize that they probably look really fucking corny to a lot of people, but it's The Aesthetic). He explored the subtleties of these characters on a regular basis while presenting them as human, as emotionally complex people going through struggles in their lives.

And perhaps most famously, he was a man who was really good at getting hurt. You see him seemingly take massive amounts of punishment and then continue to keep fighting. He loses blood. Teeth. Appendages. Okay maybe just one appendage but that's still too many. And he wears those scars and injuries as a badge of pride. Every one is an audience full of people for whom he performed and left everything he had out on the mat. Because he loves the art. He loves the fans. Pro wrestling is historically a subculture for outcasts, and he draws on his own experience as an outcast to empathize with his audience, and to say "I see you. I will fight for you. We can make it through life together."

And by god I love the man.

He's also just a genuinely very good person with (to my knowledge) good opinions, which is surprisingly rare for WWE superstars from the era. Remember my childhood favorite, Kane? Yeah, he's the Republican mayor of Knox County, Tennessee now. Like. What. But Mick has come out in vocal support of LGBT rights (trans rights in particular) as well as donating his time and labor to various good causes. Also he plays Santa for children and makes Christmas a big part of his personality. While I try my best to keep all of my "idols" at arms length because the human experience is multifaceted and anyone can turn out to be a very specific brand of shithead at any time, everything I've seen seems to suggest that Mick is good vibes.

Which brings me to the current day, where I currently sit, progressing my way slowly through the WWE catalog at a rate that will never catch up with reality, but I'm enjoying myself nonetheless. I started, of course, with the episode of Monday Night Raw that saw Mankind's debut, April 1st, 1996, and as of now have only just gotten to June 9th, 1997. It's slow going, and it only stands to get slower as the programs get longer and they start adding more pay-per-view events. But I've found myself engaging with something I love, which is always a nice feeling.

If you've made it this far, I thank you for reading my ramblings, it really does mean a lot to me. I don't intend to post anything nearly this long going forward, but I feel like a bit of context for my specific perspective is good.

Have a nice day!

[scotianostra]

Happy Birthday actor Tommy Flanagan who turns 58 today.

Flanagan was born in Eaterhouse, Glasgow on July 3rd 1965, the former painter and decorator got into acting after a stint DJ'ing and a violent episode which left him with his distinctive scars, he was randomly attacked outside a Glasgow bar, slashed horribly and robbed.

His friend Robert Carlyle then persuaded him to join him with his theatre company, Raindog Theatre, but it was not an overnight success for either of them as Flannagan admitted in an interview neither of them ha “a pot to piss in” he remembers “touring the Highlands in this old blue Transit van, but it had a broken window. It was so freezing inside, one of us had to hold a piece of cardboard up to stop the wind coming in.”

Two years later, he, and almost every other actor in Scotland, appeared in Braveheart. But Flanagan stood out. Mel Gibson told him to come to America. A year later, the Scot did, but the journey west was more about being with his then wife Rachel, an American film producer. Rachel, was from San Diego and he followed her home.

Of course Tommy had appeared in a couple of things beforehand, the obligatory Taggart being the standout, but it was after the William Wallace romp that he got noticed, Rab C Nesbit, A Mugs Game and The Saint followed that, of The Saint, he confirms something I assumed for a few years "Val Kilmer is a prick”.

Tommy got roles in Face Off , The Game and Plunkett & Macleane before the excellent Ratcatcher, set in 1970’s Glasgow and written and directed by fellow Glaswegian Lynne Ramsay, Flanagan plays the main part’s Da, George Gillespie, if you haven’t seen it do so, it’s a great film. One person who agrees with me about Ratcatcher is actress Drew Barrymore, who had seen Tommy in the film and called him up and offered him a part, of the film Tommy admits “You get to have your ass kicked by Cameron Diaz, Lucy Liu and Drew Barrymore. What’s bad about that?” Who gave you the best ass-kicking? “That’d be Lucy.”

Among Tommy’s other films are Trauma, Smoking Aces and Sin City, he was making a steady living in Hollywood but it wasn’t until the part of Filip ‘Chibs’ Telford in Sons of Anarchy in 2008 that people started recognising him for his acting, rather than the glesga guy in the films with scar, he is also an occasional face in the spin off Mayans MC.

The series was an international hit. But Flanagan had mixed feelings about the role. His character was called Chibs, for a start. Flanagan didn’t miss the irony; he’d gone to Hollywood to forget the worst memories of Glasgow life and was playing the sort of creature who’d attacked him.

Flanagan admits to previously playing up to the hard man characters he portrays, but his wild days have been behind him since meeting Dina his second wife, they have been married for 12 years now and they have a daughter together.

Tommy has recently appeared in the TV series’, Westworld and Wu Assassins which are on Sky Atlantic and Netflix respectively. We also seen him in the movie There Are No Saints, teaming up with SOA co-star Ron Perlman and fellow Scot Brian Cox, I wasn’t impressed with the film, but if you like action and gore you might want to give it a go.

I have been more impressed with Tommy in the latest instalments of the Power Book series, where protagonist Tommy Egan heads for Chicago and pits his wits against Walter Flynn, played by Flanagan. The series can be viewed as a stand alone, or you can go back and watch the beginnings in Power, which ran from 2014 to 2020.

Tommy will be back with season two of the gangster saga which is premiering on September 1st. Tommy has two movie projects set for next year, Road Movie Casey and Mary and Sleeping Dogs.

[princess-of-the-corner]

I don't know the comic you're talking about, but I'm suddenly getting little flashes like I've read about it somewhere at one point.

I was actually thinking "you know, instead of it being a thing that actually happens, it could be one of those cliché 'unclothed at school' nightmares, but superheroing instead."

So like. In /theory/? I could see that being an episode. There's a lot of shows, mostly cartoons, that have a plot of 'Somehow our character ends up outside, naked, and far from home. They must run, hide, and cover themselves with increasingly hilarious objects in hope to save face.'.

Honestly I was actually talking about this plot the other day because I had gone off on a tangent on Hagakure's Hero Costume being the 'Invisible Streaker' trope which makes me slightly less uncomfortable with it.

So yeah I get why people are squicked out by that, but it's common enough that I don't really care.

Anyway. That comic.

The comic in question is the 'Miraculous Adventures' comic, issues 2 and 3.

In Issue #2, the class goes to the beach. Marinette is changing into her bathing suit when Chloé and Sabrina take her bag leaving her wearing what she had. Which was her shirt, presumably bra(though we don't see that) and shorts-like underwear. (No idea how they stole her pants when they took her bag while she was still wearing them, but I digress.)

She panics for a moment, but an Akuma happens so she has to go deal with that. Before she can get back to the changing tent or even go find proper pants, she gets dragged off to an adventure in NYC by Doorman.

On to Issue #3

We get a rundown on the plot of why they're needed and how NYC is in a panic from the villain destroying shit before she heads off to recharge. Marinette ends up falling into a dumpster after detransforming in mid-air.

Now. Remember: When she transformed, she had still been wearing her shirt, bra(presumably), and shorts-like underwear.

Somehow, she is now 100% naked and in a NYC dumpster. She grabs a cardboard box as her only cover, hops out, and runs into the real issue everyone has with the comic.

This was..... an attempt at a 'don't be racist' storyline.

But she runs into a bunch of large black guys, dressed like the most stereotypical gangsters, all with names like 'Public Enemy' and 'Ghetto Blaster'. Marinette assumes that they're looting the place and might harm her.

Of course she's quickly corrected that they're actually helping evacuate civilians from the hospital, and they help her as well assuming she must've been forced to evacuate her own place while naked or something so they give her some clothes to borrow.

But uh. The designs and names, even if they're ultimately part of a 'don't judge a book/don't be racist' plot point, really were a bit offputting. Especially combined with the 'suddenly naked 13 year old fearing what they might do to her' thing.

[arithecreatorsstuff]

Things Hal Jordan is Forbidden To Do, Unless He Likes Having 'The World's Spookiest Babysitter' On Him 24/7 a Month Straight

By order of the Guardians of Oa, the Justice League of America, the Batman, all of his exes, coworkers, friends, relatives, all of Atlantis and Themyskera, the remaining Lantern Corps, half of Heaven, all of Hell, and general common sense, Green Lanterns, specifically Hal Jordan, are now forbidden from doing the following activities. When a violation of any item on this list occurs, the Guardians have authorized Batman to supervise the offender for a 30 day period. Should a second violation occur, appropriate punishment will follow.

Not allowed to follow Kryptonians around with 'kryptonite' crystal formations or objects. It wasn't funny the first time, now it's just cruel.

Not allowed to consume any illicit or intoxicating substance prior or while on duty. We know about the emergency flask, it has been... removed. And your vodka choice was really terrible anyway.

Not allowed to use any sort of converted siege crossbow in populated areas. Yes, it did indeed 'take care of the door'. However, it took out the door behind the door, the walls behind that, two cars parked on opposite sides of the street, five fireworks factories, a tank (we're honestly kind of impressed the tank didn't stop it), the cassocks of three priests it barely missed, and finally, a 95 year old oak tree in a shower of wood and splinters. The offender is responsible for ALL damages.

Males are banned from Amazon territory. No, cross dressing just to 'see if you like the lifestyle' will not give you a pass, and will most likely result in sandal prints all over your backside.

Not allowed to follow Aquaman around playing sea shanties, nor talk like a pirate around the King of Atlantis. Asking him if he knows SpongeBob will just result in the offender becoming a tasty kebab for the crabs. While alive.

Not allowed to ask Poison Ivy or Swamp Thing if they play music for their plants. There's no electricity in Swamp Thing's bog. And it is known Dr. Isley cannot sing.

Not allowed to dangle junior heroes over ledges as 'a disciplinary measure'. We get it, certain personnel are... young and kind of dumb. That being said, we need to set better examples. And spanking them with their own swords, while a truly memorable flex, is also not a good example. It was funny, just never do it again.

Not allowed to follow Batman around blasting ANY music. Especially not 'Momma Said Knock You Out', 'Run Like Hell', 'Gangster's Paradise', and especially not during stealth missions.

The 'Cardboard Box' trick never works in real life. Stop. Trying. It.

Not allowed to use time travel to win bets. That's cheating if we ever saw it, plus... dick move, spoiling Shazam's favorite book series before the last book came out. He's a literal twelve year old in an adult man's body.

Stop asking Cyborg to clear your browser history. One, those adult only sites are not permitted on JLA hardware/cell phones/etc. Two, because of those damned sites and the pornbots, Cyborg had to debug himself. Three times. And he still gets pop-ups, a year later. Buy some toys, or try the dating apps.

Not allowed to weaponize fruit. How did you even manage to make literal combustible lemons? John Stewart is genuinely curious.

No attempting to bathe villains. We get it, some villains are dirty and not just figuratively. But turning a fire hose on Digger Harkness was extreme, even if he had 'major funk in his trunk'. He was just thankful it was at least warmish water.

SEP fields (Someone Else's Problem) do not, in fact, hide anything long term. Stop trying to use them, they're not even supposed to exist.

Do not enrage the SCP Foundation. It will not go well.

Stop mailing gummy boobs to Power Girl, or she's going to throw you a party, with plenty of punch and everything.

No. More. Prank. Offs. Seriously unprofessional behavior.

Any coffee cups left sitting on a desk for longer than a 24 hour period will be washed and placed in the Mug Orphanage in the break room. Any mug found more than three times unattended on the desk will be publicly destroyed. Seriously, the fuzz growing in that mug was an inch think, stunk worse than skunk spray, Joker toxin, fear gas, cabbage farts, and a factory's worth of patchouli combined. It was a clear biohazard.

Not allowed to use hostile combatants as melee weapons. Yes, that one time was awesome, on a highly disturbing level. It was also technically at least one war crime. We fight crime, not add to it!

Not allowed to touch Batman's coffee. Unless refilling it.

No antagonizing ethereal or demonic entities. Lucifer had to take out a restraining order, which he didn't do for Constantine, and John Constantine is an equal opportunity annoyance.

No. More. Pies. To. The. Face. No, not even Joker's ugly greasepainted mug.

No 'pantsing' hostiles. It's juvenile.

Stop stealing Alfred's cookies. It's not funny.

Stop sending 'naughty' photos to Killer Frost. The Ice Queen is not into you! It's creepy, gross, and sure to end in lawyers. Plus... heard she said your... equipment is inadequate. In fact, just never do that again.

[snappedsky]

Borderlands: Skies the Ultimate Treasure Hunter

Skies and the crew make their way to Trashlantis.

*Links to previous and next chapters in reblog*

--

The Handsome Jackpot Part 5

Skies, Timothy, Ember, and the Vault Hunters make their way through the Market District. They’re forced to fight through gangsters and bots who seem even more relentless than before.

“They must be really hard-up for that bounty on your head, Timothy,” Moze says.

“Been there,” Zane comments.

“Too bad they all SUCK,” Amara taunts as she smashes a bandit into the floor.

“Pretty Boy needs better muscle,” FL4K remarks.

“Don’t give him ideas,” Skies grunts.

As they move through the market, they collect bags of trash scattered about the bandit hovels. Once they’ve all got a good armful, they take it to the square by the trash chute and pile it up around a tree.

“There we are,” Ember says excitedly, “now, let’s transform this trash pile into something beautiful!”

She plants a seemingly normal cardboard box in the branches of the tree, and everyone backs away warily.

“Skies, would you like to do the honours?” Ember suggests.

“Me? Really?” Skies questions, flattered. “Why, I would be honoured to...do the...honours.”

Skies shoots her pistol at the box and it immediately explodes, engulfing the tree and trash in flames and sending fire shooting around the square.

“Hnh. Still could have used more fire,” Ember comments.

“But it definitely got their attention,” Skies remarks as an alarm starts going off.

“Emergency trash services required.” An angry robot with a broom and a bucket on its head digistructs into the room. “Who is responsible for this mess?”

“Uh, that’d be us,” Timothy replies.

“Unacceptable! You will pay for your crimes against cleanliness!” the bot barks and charges them.

The crew gets ready to fight when fiery bullets fly past them and burn through the bot’s metal. It immediately collapses into a heap.

“Wow, nice shooting,” Skies comments at Ember.

“Merci,” she replies, “now quickly, grab the keys.”

Skies digs through the bots remains until she finds a key ring and everyone quickly heads to the trash chute. Skies scans one of the keys at the door’s control panel and it opens.

“Excellent! The trash chute is open,” Ember comments.

“Will you be alright, getting back to the hideout on your own?” Skies asks.

“You need not worry about me, chéri,” she replies and does a theatrical bow. “Bon voyage.”

Everyone gives Ember a quick wave before going into the trash chute. The door shuts behind them, plunging them into darkness with a dim light at the end of the tunnel. They approach it and look down a sharp drop to a pile of garbage.

“Well, only one way forward,” Skies shrugs and dives off. Everyone else quickly follows.

“Ugh, gross,” Timothy groans as he pulls himself out of a soft, mushy pile of trash. “I’m gonna have to throw these clothes out later.”

Everyone steps out onto ground made of hard, flattened trash. Surrounding them is piles and mounds of even more trash and overhead are large pipes dropping in even more trash.

“This must be the compactor,” Skies says, “all of the casino’s garbage gets dumped down here to get compacted and incinerated. Or at least, that’s supposed to happen. But there’s a lot of garbage down here that clearly has not been compacted and/or incinerated.”

“A trash compactor seems like a bad place to build a society,” FL4K comments.

“Yeah,” she agrees, “the compactor must not be working or something.”

“So we’re not in danger of being crushed right now?” Timothy questions.

The ground suddenly shakes, making everyone tense up.

“Let’s just uh find Trashlantis as fast as possible,” Skies orders and they all agree.

They make their way around the mountains of trash. All is mostly quiet, except for rusted loader bots that randomly attack them, but they pose no real threat.

After a few minutes, Skies’ suddenly gets a call on her ECHO communicator.

“Hey, bodyguard,” Pretty Boy sneers.

“Ugh,” she spits, “don’t make me destroy my own ECHO.”

“Listen, listen,” he says quickly, “I wanna level with ya. I got a good gig here. I can run NEARLY the whole casino from this tower but uh...also, I can’t get out. It’s a palace, sure, but it’s also a prison, see?”

“You got trapped when the lockdown happened,” Skies states, “I figured as much. You wouldn’t be able to unlock the tower.” “Exactly!” he exclaims, “but eventually I figured out how to run things, and take control of the loaders; turn on the lights. I saved this friggin’ casino, and I will clean it up!”

“Clean it up?” she scoffs, “you’re a power hungry tyrant, Pretty Boy. If you weren’t locked away safely in that tower, you wouldn’t survive a second out here.”

“And that’s Jack’s gift to me,” he agrees, “Jack left me the keys to the kingdom up here! Well...almost.”

“I thought I would be trapped in here forever, forced to tepidly rule with only a handful of Jack’s power,” Pretty Boy explains, “until I saw your little clone boyfriend there. He’s my only shot to get out of this tower and really rule this place. And I will get him one way or the other.”

“Look, clearly you’re not very bright, so let me lay this out for you nice and easy,” Skies growls, “if you ever get your sweaty little fingers on Timothy, I will chop them off and make you choke on them. And I’ll do that anyway, if you don’t give up the casino.”

“The casino is mine! I earned it!” Pretty Boy snaps, “and I will gain the full power I deserve!”

“Then I guess I’ll be seeing you soon,” she snarls.

She cancels the call, exclaiming angrily. “Oh, that little snot pisses me off! Obviously, we won’t get this casino without killing him. And he knows that.”

“Don’t worry. We won’t show mercy,” Moze says.

“I don’t even know the meaning of the word,” Zane adds.

They continue through the compactor, fighting off more rusted loader bots, when they approach a bridge over the lava pools below made of scrap metal.

“That doesn’t look...stable,” Timothy comments.

“Just don’t look down,” Skies orders.

They all walk across the bridge in single file, Skies and Timothy at the back. But as they near the end, there’s another quake and the bridge trembles before snapping in half.

“Whoa!” Skies and Timothy shout and dive onto sturdy ground, but Timothy slips off the edge and starts sliding down the trash pile to the incinerator.

“Tim!” Skies cries and leaps after him. She grabs his arm with her left hand and digs her right hand into the trash wall, her finger blades extending to get a grip.

Timothy starts to smile with relief, but it quickly dissolves into more panic as they continue sliding. “Uh, we’re not stopping!”

“I know!” Skies exclaims as she claws at the trash. “I can’t get a good grip, this stuff’s too loose!”

They get closer and closer to a sheer drop into the incinerator. Timothy whines fearfully as his feet go over and Skies watches in panic.

Suddenly, they stop, Timothy half over the edge. They both look up to see Zane’s clone has grabbed Skies’ right arm. Holding onto the clone is Zane himself and behind him is Amara, then FL4K, and finally Moze in her Iron Bear and Mr. Chew on the path, to make a human- and robot and skag- chain.

Skies and Timothy both sigh heavily with relief. They all work together to pull themselves back onto the path.

“Thanks, guys,” Skies says.

“We told ya, we got your backs,” Zane replies, playfully punching Timothy’s shoulder.

“Let’s hurry up and get out of this death trap,” Timothy grunts, rubbing his arm.

They continue down the path until they finally arrive to a large metal door with ‘Trashlantis’ overhead in big, neon letters. Next to it is a giant turret aiming at burn rings on the ground

“I think this is the place,” Moze remarks.

As they approach the brightly lit door, a voice calls to them from an intercom.  “Welcome, travellers, to Trashlantis. We are a society free of materialism and greed. We reject the ways of the wicked casino above. Now, if you are to enter our fair city, you must first place the key to happiness upon the ground there.”

They all look at the spot where the turret is aiming.

“What’s the key to happiness?” Timothy whispers.

“I dunno. Gold?” Skies questions.

“Guns,” Moze suggests.

“Muscles,” Amara adds.

“Booze,” Zane says.

“The blood of your enemies,” FL4K states.

As they deliberate quietly, the intercom comes on again. “Ahhh- I see you are already wise. That is correct. The answer is...nothing. There is no material possession which can bring true happiness.”

The crew incredulously glance at each other then nod sagely. “Ah, yes, of course.”

The door opens up to a one-eyed, well-dressed man with red hair and a beard, who gestures to the area around him. “Welcome, to Trashlantis!”

The crew passes through the door into a village with people milling about. As they do so, the man continues speaking. “Here, we take refuge in the refuse! Yes! We live a simple life among the discarded remnants of a world run on greed. Do you smell that? That’s the smell of human camaraderie. Now, what brings you to our little scrap of utopia?”

“It’s human something alright,” Skies mutters, rubbing her nose, then clears her throat. “Uh, you’re the mayor, right? Jack’s old tailor? We’re working on taking out Pretty Boy, and we need you to make a suit for my pretty boy here.” She pats Timothy’s arm.

“Ah...I see,” The Mayor muses, “I swore to never return to the wicked world above. But Trashlantis is in danger. Help me save this city, and I will join your cause.”

“The only thing jamming the compactor is a single piece of iron,” he explains as he points off to the distance at a large beam holding up the ceiling. “The beam. Our salvation. It must be reinforced or we will die and our dreams with us! If you want your suit, help us save...Trashlantis!”

“Sounds fair,” Skies nods, “kids?”

“For Trashlantis!” the Vault Hunters cheer.

“Then welcome, comrades!” The Mayor says and leads the crew to a downed constructor. “Now, this constructor can reinforce the beam, but it requires some repairs. You must find a compatible AI chip, and a new constructor eye.”

“Freddie’s been listening in, and Freddie can help!” Freddie suddenly exclaims from Skies’ ECHO communicator. “If you’re installing aftermarket stuff on a constructor, you’re gonna need lotsa power! Smash some loaders and grab their power cells. You need a bunch. A whole bushel!”

“The feral bots of Refuse Ridge should have a Hyperion AI chip,” The Mayor adds, “acquire it. For Trashlantis!”

“For Trashlantis!” the Vault Hunters cheer.

“But be wary,” he warns, “we have lost many a Trashlantean in Refuse Ridge.”

“Ah, what can be there that’s so bad,” Skies scoffs and claps her hands. “Alright, we got a helluva of a shopping list here. So we need a bunch of loader bot power cells, an AI chip, and a constructor eye. Fortunately, there’s tons of discarded loaders around here so it shouldn’t be hard to get the power cells. Vault Hunters, why don’t you do that while Tim and I head to this Refuse Ridge and get the chip. We’ll figure out the eye after.”

“Got it,” Moze salutes. Everyone heads out of the town together before splitting into two groups to complete their missions.

[existentialquestiontime]

when roman calls tom an “inflatable dicky-dick”, that’s translated as “cardboard gangster” in the finnish subtitles and i think that’s a little funnier

[post-episode edit: oh my GOD HELLO?????????]

[alliswyattonthewesternfront]

we're finally watching S3 of Barry, and one of the Chechen gangsters came in with a large cardboard box, and after a long pause said "i bought a bomb on the dark web" and gregg gave me such a look

[thebookishsblog]

Since i just finished the book let's see...

1st row:-

Check

Check

Sadly not yet

Again not yet

Well Jeremy is his partner...but he does leaves his side time to time

2nd row:-

Kinda?

Less of help, more wanting to know the truth

Not the captaining style but the playstyle of Trojans in general

Again not yet, but i think this will happen for sure in book 2

Book 2 material

3rd row:-

Most of them are nice actually

Yes, but there is some drama there

Oh poor Elodie

Nah he only likes men

4th row:-

Actually he slept more, internal clock out of wack

Ofc it is

Nope

Thankfully no. But i have a feeling there will be some sort of memorial in book 2, in the banquet probably

Huh?

5th row:-

Not just a cardboard cut out of a dog

Not hypersexual, but dude is going through the whole bi panic

Yes

He just changed in front of everybody like it does not matter!

Not him, but the gangster uncle and his feral nephew did

PLACE YOUR BETS NOW PEOPLE !!!!

[nerodreamblog]

Had a series of bizarre and vivid dreams.

It started out at the grocery store. I was on my lunch break trying to find something to eat. Figured I'd just get some bread and cheese since it was easy. Unfortunately the store was closing and they kept flashing the lights rapidly to get people out. It blinded me temporarily and I stumbled about, unable to open my eyes without seeing the afterglow.

I found the cheese slices but I struggled to find the bread. I found a worker and asked him where the bread was and I was struggling to see. He said it happened all the time and led me to the bread aisle.

I went to the cashier and pulled out my wallet only to realize it wasn't mine. Mine is space themed but this one was black and had rounded cards.

I asked if they had a "lost and found," they said it was in the next building.

I went in and it was in a complex that had low lighting, bathing everything in orange, and everything was concrete. The first floor was a parking lot. I found a creepy looking janitor and asked him where the "lost and found" was. He said it was up the stairs.

I walked up 5 flights, I think. There were lots of huge gangsters looking to pick a fight and I had to look away, hoping they wouldn't talk to me.

I finally found a cardboard box on the top of the stairs labeled "Lost and Found." There was only one item inside: a dirty red sweater with a goofy graphic of a smiling dog??? face that said something like "Fuck You" or "Piss Off."

I moved the sweater to see if the wallet was underneath, which it wasn't, but I noticed someone wrote something on the sweater for me. It said something about how they hated my dog and called her a "rat dog" and they stole my wallet as revenge.

I called Boone and told him the bad news. He wasn't sure what we could do about it.

I headed underground to the subway. It was dark and creepy and very uninviting. I somehow found a friend and we took the train together. Unfortunately we got a little lost and I somehow I figured out the name of the guy who stole my wallet was named Barry the Bear, a cartoon character who made a brief appearance on Bluey. (This is something my brain completely made up, there is no bear on Bluey.) I tried to look him up on my phone but nothing was coming up.

We asked a middle aged woman where Barry was and she told us he was way out in the forest. I arrived at the station and had to climb over roofs to find his place.

The bear actually looked more like the bear from My Little Pony but with tan fur.

He was a mean bear and told me how much he hated Kimchi and he would not be giving me back my wallet.

Later he went to work where he was deeply unpopular and his supervisor told him that if he didn't push people away, he would have friends.

He went back home and apologized for his behavior and gave me back my wallet. Then I woke up.