#conducts

[spellboundcities]

firefight

[agendratum]

The Untamed as text posts (102/?)

[pnwander]

the audacity of this owl.

[noecoded]

heartbreaking:the worst people you know just started an emo band

[forecast0ctopus]

[lizbethborden]

There really is no female Jeremy Allen White. He is an objectively weird looking man who is now considered a heartthrob and is playing Springsteen in a new biopic--that's a romantic hero role if ever there was one. I'm not saying that's bad or wrong but I am saying no woman who naturally looks as wonky as he does would have success like him. Like he is actually UGLIER than young Bruce was.

They UGLIFIED Bruce Springsteen by casting him.

Meanwhile, women in human reality like Ruth Bader Ginsburg and Gilda Radner, who HAD strong, distinct features like his, are being played by these people in fictionalized versions of their lives:

The fact that this is how history is choosing to remember these women is insane and bizarre. Truly, you cannot exist as a woman in public eye or public memory unless you are ornamental. Worse than ornamental, you must be generically ornamental, made on an assembly line, as female beauty often is now via plastic surgery.

I feel that this kind of commentary is not being made because it's politically suspect to talk about women's looks--and don't get me wrong, I understand what's at stake in terms of not just human emotion, but falling into misogynist traps. But we MUST recognize that this is a problem. It's one thing for fictional women with no basis in reality to be cookie cutter--not a good thing, but certainly a different thing. But for real women who actually existed to have their simple, natural, human characteristics erased and replaced with flavor of the month plastic surgeried generic Hollywood Female nonsense is disrespectful in the extreme. (Especially because Gilda Radner and RBG were Jewish and their Jewish features would have deeply impacted their lives.)

[sic-vita]

GOOD OMENS Aziraphale conducting himself

[the-muppet-joker]

I have made my way back to the monastery. They have told me that I am a bad influence on Brother Alexander and have generally been the Worst Monk Ever. They said one more strike and I will be kicked out for good... g*sh dang it, I just want to be pure in the eyes of the Lord!

[newscast1]

China conducts 'strike drills', sends 43 warplanes towards Taiwan

China conducts ‘strike drills’, sends 43 warplanes towards Taiwan

Taiwan has said that 43 Chinese warplanes crossed the Taiwan Strait in the last 24 hours, indicating a fresh escalation. China has stepped up pressure in recent years on the self-governed island to accept Beijing’s rule. Taipei,UPDATED: Dec 26, 2022 08:45 IST A Chinese PLA J-16 fighter jet flies in an undisclosed location. (Photo: AP/File) By Reuters: Forty-three Chinese air force planes…

[hadesoftheladies]

women be like "i can't believe women of the past were so restricted by men like that, i'd never accept it" and then wear heels

[aardvaark]

the leverage team would have had a games night… once. everyone cheated so much and in such increasingly extreme ways that all mentions of monopoly are banned in their headquarters (this makes talking about marks who monopolize the market very confusing)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Code of Conduct 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as cheating, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your boss has a difficult time keeping his personal life from bleeding into his work. 

Characters: Steve Rogers, this reader is known as Rosie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

“Mr. Rogers’ office. This is Rosie, how can I hel--” 

“Where is he?” Peggy’s voice cuts over your own. 

“Oh, hello, Mrs. Rogers, he’s currently in a meeting--” 

“Get him.” 

“Mrs.--” 

“Don’t argue with me. Go get him. Are you not his assistant?” She challenges brusquely. 

Her accent adds to the sharpness of her words. Her curt demeanour is a stark contrast to her husband. Your boss is always amiable, accommodating even, but the few times you’ve dealt with his wife have been similarly tense. You put a smile on so she can’t hear your anxiety. 

“Of course, Mrs. Rogers,” you preen, “I’ll put you on a quick hold.” 

“No, you will get him. No hold.” 

You suck in a sigh and hold your breath in your chest, “of course.” 

You set the phone down. You don’t see how her hearing your desktop will be any better but you wouldn’t want to irritate her further. It must be urgent. 

You stand and smooth out your dress. You step out from behind your desk, digging your nails into your palms as you ball your fists tight. You get nervous about most things. Answering the phone took your months to get used to and even now you tend to fumble over your words. 

You go to the door and brace yourself. You don’t know why you expect Mr. Rogers to be upset. He’s never been anything close to rude. Maybe short in times of stress but not unpleasant. You knock and wait as you twiddle your fingers against your striped pleats. 

It isn’t Mr. Rogers who answers by Mr. Barnes. You give a sheepish smile, “excuse me, doll.” 

He steps past you and you bid him a good day. He leaves without further courtesy and Mr. Rogers calls your name from within, “need something?” He asks. 

“Oh, yes, Mrs. Rogers is on the phone.” 

He doesn’t seem happy about that. His cheek dimples and he nods, wiggling his pen at you, “patch her through.” 

You go back to your desk and pick up the receiver, “hello, Mrs. Rogers, he’s available now--” 

“I don’t want to talk to you, honey. Where is my husband?” 

You transfer her without another word. Phew. You almost feel bad for your boss as you hear him pick up in his office. His tone is low and dull. 

You try not to overhear, letting his conversation drone into a buzz. There’s enough work to be done without worrying about his personal life. Your own afterhours concerns are more than concerning. You wouldn’t say you have much going on and that’s the problem. It’s moment like those that ease your envy of others’ full plates. 

You haven’t seen the girls lately. The group chat’s been quiet but you suppose you could go ahead and say hi. Your weekly cocktails petered out to biweekly, then monthly, and now you can’t remember the last time you let go with a mimosa. 

You peek over your desk and back at your screen. It’s not only on them to keep things going. You pick up your phone and open the chat. The last message is a meme Elfie sent about printers. You shake your head and send a little waving sticker, keying in a message. 

‘Long time no see! I’m in need of drinks. Anyone free? When’s best? Hope you’re all taking care.’ 

You’re professional tone shines through even on WhatsApp. It’s a bit lame but you’re an entirely different person in text. Most people are surprised to meet the mousy secretary hiding behind her screen after the lively back and forth in Outlook. 

You set your phone down and try not to stare at it. A reply never comes while you’re waiting for it, nor does water boil when you’re watching it. As you click around and try to remember where you were, the silence sinks in. Your realisation brings your eyes up as quickly as Mr. Rogers shadow. 

You bat your lashes at him in surprise, “need something, sir?” 

He gives a half-smile, the type weighed down by disappointment. He sighs and crosses his arms, leaning on the door frame, “you hungry?” 

“Um, well, it’s only eleven,” you shrug. 

“Mm, yeah,” he unfolds one arm to rub his neck, “I’m restless. You feel like getting lunch early?” 

“Sure, I can run out and grab you something,” you stand eagerly. 

“No, uh,” he drops his arm back over his other, “together. I had a reservation for me and Peggy but she canceled. I’d hate to inconvenience the restaurant and I just can’t sit and mope in my office.” 

“Oh, okay, I guess that works...” 

“Do you need to ask your boss?” He scoffs. 

You laugh at his joke, “do I?” 

He smiles, a real smile and drops his arms, “my treat. You know what, you earned it. You work so hard around here, a little employee appreciation is overdue.” 

“That’s so nice,” you chime, “uh, sir, I... I should leave an away message, should I?” 

“Oh, who cares, come on.” 

“Well, I mean...” 

“Ah, I get it, boss is a real hard ass,” he winks. 

“Sir,” you giggle nervously and teethe your lip. He watches your mouth. 

“You can catch up later. Come on, I haven’t played hooky in years.” 

“Hooky?” You stammer. 

He laughs, “a goody two shoes. It’s why I hired you but it’s okay to let loose once in a while.” 

“I know, Mr. Rogers, it’s just... it’s work.” 

“Too much of it and you’ll turn into me,” he huffs. “Please, I’m sure your husband would hate if you were never home. Never answered the phone.” 

“If I had one, probably,” you blurt out then look away shyly. 

“Really? I thought...” he begins and shakes his head, “doesn’t matter. I’ll grab my jacket and we’ll go. I missed breakfast.” 

“Um, sure, sir,” you agree and put your hand on the phone. 

When he turns, you look down. Missie sent a reply; ‘please, drinks are required!’ Ooh! Yay. 

[insertdisc5]

i was looking thru my old isat files like hm. is there anything thats not in the artbook. and yes. the answer is "the draft for the mirror photo, before i realized making it oval would be cuter and way better composition-wise"

[nikscaps]

late night sparring with steven

[a-library-ghost]

forever thinking about them

[rotzaprachim]

im shaking every single student organizer and screaming that they need to separate a demand to divest from arms funding from the demand for a university to cut off all contact with Israeli and Israeli-American scholars and students, a demand which no university will agree to because implementing it would in many cases be very illegal