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blindmagdalena · 1 year ago

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Guilty Pleasures ( chapter two )

18+ 3.8k homelander x plus size f!reader. workplace harassment, stalking, voyeurism, masturbation, lite humiliation kink, lite somnophilia, breaking & entering, petty theft, sublander flavored. nebulously takes place post s1. part 2/4. AO3 link. | Chapter Directory

Homelander is the most powerful man in the world, and all he wants is to be yours.

After spending the majority of your evening and the following morning anticipating being fired, walking into work the next day feels like traversing a thinly frozen lake, each step webbing out in precarious cracks.

Clearly you’re not the only one who thinks so: you clock a handful of surprised looks from coworkers who’d attended the meeting and took note of the tension between you and Vought’s golden boy.

Maybe they’d taken bets on whether or not you’d be coming in this morning.

There’s no sign of Homelander on your way in. Not that you were expecting him–yesterday was the first time you actually saw him in person–but you still find yourself on the lookout. It’s hard to say whether you’re anticipating or dreading him. Part of you is still expecting to open your door and find a letter on your desk politely informing you that they’ve determined you aren’t a good “culture fit” for the company, and that your probation has been terminated.

After all, who in their right mind would take your side over Homelander’s?

You push open your office door, and sure enough, there is a letter waiting for you, but not in the way you expected. You stand in the doorway, staring in quiet incomprehension. The envelope, crisp and bright white, is propped up in a bed of rich red roses sitting in a pretty vase upon your desk. You glance behind you before you step inside, closing the door behind you, and approach the desk cautiously. You pluck the paper out of the bouquet, taking a moment to smell the flowers–they smell as good as they look–before you carefully rip open the envelope, tearing the small american flag sticker that sealed it.

Inside, there’s only one word on the folded piece of paper, scrawled in surprisingly elegant handwriting.

Truce?

You can’t help the incredulous little bark of laughter you give at that. It’s not even an apology. It’s a demand that he expects a gratuitous bundle of flowers will help you swallow, like taking medicine with a spoonful of sugar.

“You’re ridiculous,” you say quietly to the letter, setting it down on your desk. You give the roses one last sniff, testing one of the soft petals between your fingers. You wonder if what you said actually got through to him.

Homelander has no real reason to smooth things over with you: you’re no one. He’s posed no risk to himself by coming after you. He could no doubt have you fired by complaining that your marketing tactics don’t align with his brand. It’s hard to imagine Vought denies him much.

Yet he is apparently negotiating peace. It’s not nearly enough, but it is a start.

Or maybe it’s just more than you expected.

You sit, idly tapping the letter against your desk. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t still think him handsome. Homelander wasn’t the first man to ogle your tits while you gave a presentation, but he was certainly the first to fluster you like that when he did. His sly smile had made you want to slap him, but there was a questionable little part of you that thought about kissing it better afterwards.

Taking in a steadying breath, you slip the letter into your desk drawer and adjust the flowers to the side, admiring them a moment before you pull out your laptop.

If Homelander can behave himself enough to let you do your job without public humiliation, you can afford a truce. You don’t need to forgive or condone him to be civil, or even to continue having your own private fantasies. A little guilty pleasure now and again never hurt anyone.

You can’t know that Homelander is observing you throughout this internal conversation, watching through several layers of steel and concrete, his parted lips curving into a slow smile as you accept his offering. You can’t know that you haven’t just acknowledged a truce, but an invitation.

No, you can’t possibly know what’s to come.

Two days later, you diligently change the water that the roses in your office sit in. They’re doing well, the crimson buds having unfurled into a splay of velvety petals. You pinch one between your thumb and forefinger and stroke it absently. Homelander has continued to be a scarcity, but that doesn’t mean you haven’t seen him. Quite the opposite: you spend most of your working hours either looking at or thinking about his face to the point where it’s starting to follow you home each day.

That’s what you tell yourself when you think of him outside of work hours, anyways.

It’s been long enough now that you wonder if the flowers were the end of it. He was simply covering his ass with a half hearted gesture that slightly resembled an apology so that you could both comfortably drop the subject. That was entirely fine by you so long as he actually did improve his behavior.

A familiarly brisk knock at your door catapults your heart up against the cage of your ribs like a spooked hare. It’s the exact same beat, you’re sure of it. You stay quiet, half expecting to be barged in upon, but when nothing happens, you move from your desk and open the door yourself, intentionally blocking it with your body.

Sure enough, Homelander stands tall on the other side. He flashes his signature smile while your eyes narrow suspiciously. “Can I help you?”

“I think I’m the one who can help you,” he says brightly, that spread of teeth downright wolfish. He lifts a handful of papers that have been stapled at the corner, gesturing for you to take it.

Still wary, you take them from him and shift, wedging your foot to keep the door firmly in place while you flip through the pages. Your brows furrow as you recognize chunks of your own presentation. Understanding dawns when you realize that he’s annotated them.

“You read my presentation,” you say, unable to mask your surprise.

“Obviously. It’s my image on the line, right? Got some notes for you, but I have to say: y’mostly nailed it,” he says, reaching out to rest a gloved hand on the doorway.

“Mostly?” You echo, quirking an eyebrow at him as you look up from the pages.

“Yeah, mostly. Again, I have some minor notes,” he says, wiggling his other hand in a vague gesture. “But I figure I owe you praise on a job mostly well done.”

You’ve got to be kidding me.

Crossing your arms, you abandon your stern foothold on the door in order to shift your weight, your incredulity showing in every inch of your body language. “What you owe me is an apology.”

Homelander’s grin softens into a smile that’s no less challenging. “Looks to me like you’ve already been enjoying my apology,” he says, leaning slightly to gaze past you, to the bundle of roses sitting prettily on your desk.

You briefly glance over your shoulder, but your expression remains impassive. Unimpressed. “That? That isn’t an apology. An apology would include the words I’m sorry.”

He scoffs a dismissive laugh, swaying back to look away, but you persist.

“I’m serious,” you say, luring his ocean blue gaze back to yours. “I want you to say to me ‘I’m sorry for the way I behaved during your presentation. It won’t happen again.’ “

The two of you hold each other’s gaze with all the magnitude of two gunmen in a duel, hands steady over your proverbial pistols.

To your surprise, Homelander does not fire back. He raises a dainty white flag.

“I’m sorry for the way I behaved during your presentation,” he says, words slow and measured. You watch his tongue flash over his bottom lip, wetting it attractively. You fight to not let your eyes linger on it. “It won’t happen again.”

You swallow, suddenly finding thought and speech an impossible task. You weren’t prepared for such raw, ready obedience from him, nor the intensity in his gaze that follows it. He reminds you of a charmed snake–docile so long as he is transfixed.

“Good,” you say, the word half a sigh. Homelander’s lips part and he breathes in like he’s caught wind of something particularly delicious smelling. “I accept your apology, and I appreciate that you took the time to do this,” you say, gesturing with the documents in your hand. “I’ll go over them and get back to you.”

He reaches out, bracing his hand on your office door. You half expect him to push it open, but he merely holds it there. “We could go over them together,” he suggests slyly.

“No,” you say, clearly disarming him. He looks as though he’s forgotten the meaning of the word. “I’m in the middle of another project at the moment.”

The leather of his gloves creaks faintly in your ear as he flexes his grip on the edge of the door. While what you’ve said is true, it’s also serving as a test. Words and flowers are pretty things, but only actions always speak the truth.

“At the moment,” he repeats, gears visibly turning in his eyes. “So… Later?” He extrapolates, displaying an uncharacteristic tentativeness alongside his obvious displeasure at the taste of rejection. You even see a glimmer of hope in the mess of his expression..

He did pass the test. You suppose you can reward him for that.

“Another time,” you say, giving your door an exploratory push. He relents, his hands sliding down the length of it before falling away as he takes a half-step back. “How about tomorrow on my lunch break? 1:00 o'clock sharp.”

He splits into a smile that looks more genuine than any of his you’ve seen before. “Aaalrighty-roo. Sounds gooood to meeeee,” he says, drawing out his vowels more the closer he gets to actually having to leave. At your silent, amused stare, he claps his gloved hands together with a muffled thump! and takes a few more steps backwards. “Yooooou’ll see me… tomorrow.”

Your smile pinches along with your brows. What a strange way to phrase it. “See you then,” you say, watching as his face is eclipsed by your closing door. You wait a beat and then let out a thin thread of breath from your pursed lips, resting your weight on the door.

Looking down at the papers in your hand, you push off from the door and head to your desk, flipping through them.

Such a strange man, you think, carrying the notes to your desk. You set them down next to the vase of roses and try not to think too much about the unconscious smile your lips keep settling into for the rest of the day.

Homelander’s got you hook, line and sinker. He’s certain of it. He lingers on the other side of your door just long enough to watch you through it while you settle, a charmed smile set on your lips. He can already imagine how those lips would feel against his own, how they’d taste. He swallows thickly and looks around before he departs, already plotting his next move.

The two of you have a date tomorrow, and in order to be at the top of his game, he’s going to have to do a little additional research. Knowing your work was a good first step. The next one will be learning about you.

Following you home is the easy part. It ultimately feels chivalrous to do so once he realizes you walk home even at this time of year, when the sun sets long before the work day ends. He drifts above you, cocking his head curiously. No wonder you walk. The streets are packed as tightly as sardine cans, and your apartment garage isn’t much better. The claustrophobia of it all serves as a stark contrast to the openness of Vought tower.

The interior of your apartment provides an even sharper juxtaposition to his penthouse. It’s tidy, but the comparatively low ceilings and minimal floor space still make it look cramped. Somehow, you simultaneously have too much and yet not much at all, the confinement of a downtown apartment making what minimal affects you do own seem crowded together.

That only becomes more apparent once he’s inside, slipped in through your balcony after sleep has taken you. Why would you bother to lock your balcony when you live on the 8th floor? It works out perfectly for him.

In all fairness, your living room feels cozier once he’s standing in the center of it. Your walls are lined with an assortment of art pieces and photographs, and the shelves are well stocked with books and knick-knacks. You have a decent film collection displayed on your media console, and he can’t help but snoop through it, bending at the waist, examining through the rows. He cocks his head.

Odd. You’d think an employee of Vought would have at least a few VCU films. He runs his index finger along the spines, slightly adjusting them flush as he goes. Pursing his lips, he straightens up and looks at the closed cabinets on either side. The left one yields an untidy assortment of electronic odds and ends, cords and the like. Nothing of much interest other than an indication that while you like to keep up appearances, you aren’t quite as together as you’d like people to think.

It’s on the right side, however, he finds what he’s really looking for.

“Bingo,” he whispers, smiling to himself as he scopes out your little hidden collection of Vought hero flicks. Specifically, his films. He’s less interested in the handful of others you own (Queen Maeve: Her Majesty, Black Noir: Insurrection, Lamplighter: The Bright World, etc) and more so in the fact that you have nearly his entire catalog tucked away.

Nearly. You’re missing his eighteen part miniseries, Homelander: Brightest Night.

At least that gives him something to gift you.

Closing the cabinet, he meanders about the rest of your apartment. You have some plants in varying states of decay, with only a few cacti looking to be in decent shape. Either your work keeps you too busy to properly mind them, or you just like the idea of them more than the reality. It tells him that you’re looking–and failing–to fill a void in your life. You want to feel less alone in your home, you want to nurture something. You just haven’t found the right something yet.

Striding into your kitchen, arms folded behind his back, he peers through the cheap wood veneer of your fiberboard cupboards, unveiling an unusually broad assortment of mugs. There doesn’t seem to be any particular theme: holidays, locales, characters, and a menagerie of patterns.

He hums softly, pivoting out of the kitchen and down the hall, his steps preternaturally light. He listens for the beat of your heart as he draws near, tunes it in alongside the shallow cadence of your breath. Deep asleep. Good.

The walls are lined with pictures of you and others. Friends or family, he can’t say, but you look to have an abundance of both. He rarely sees himself in photos that aren’t promotional material. He pauses to straighten a picture frame, and finds himself so viciously jealous of the man sharing the frame with you–his lips pressed to your cheek, your laughing smile so genuine he can nearly hear it–that he almost knocks it to the ground.

Running his tongue along his teeth, he continues on.

Your bedroom door is open. He slips in silently, pausing just through the doorway. Your bed's a queen, too big for just you. You’re sprawled comfortably amidst pillows, limbs splayed in just such a way that he can easily imagine fitting himself in the empty spaces between them. He can smell the lingering burn of the candle you’d lit when you got home. He picks it up off your dresser, reading the label: Cup ‘o Joe.

Eugh. He never cared for coffee, and the artificial sweetness surrounding the note is cloying. Your perfume, on the other hand, he doesn’t mind. He notices the bottle alongside a few other of your things and puts the candle down in favor of that, popping the cap off. The smell hits him before he sprays it: vanilla first, then amber and something more woodsy. It’s less impressive by itself than it had been on you.

Still, it’s yours. You chose it for yourself.

Slipping off one of his gloves, he lightly sprays into the inside of it before he sets the bottle back down, recapping it. It won’t be the same, but he’s driven by the compulsion to spirit away any little pieces of you that he can. Just enough to satiate himself until he can have you properly.

That’s when he sees your blouse from today in a careless heap at the top of your laundry basket next to your dresser. Licking his lips, he tests the feel of the garment between his bare fingers. He’s always been sensitive to fabrics, and while the blend of this one is fairly cheap, it’s been worn and washed enough that it’s soft against his skin. He grabs a handful of it and lifts it to his mouth, brushing it along his lips, under his nose, and he deeply inhales your lingering scent mixing with the fresh pump of perfume.

He bites back a moan, screwing his eyes shut. His cock gives a dull little throb. Fuck, the spell you’ve cast on him makes him ache just for the smell of you, makes him salivate. He swallows it back, letting out a rough little breath as he reluctantly puts the shirt back down. Under it, he spies a little flash of something black and lacy. His stomach clenches, and he’s reaching for it before he can stop himself, fishing the black panties out of the heap and twisting the fabric between his fingers.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He can’t afford to overindulge. He won’t be able to control himself if he does, but he also can’t bring himself to put the little slip of fabric back down. He imagines he can almost taste where your sweet cunt had been pressed to it. Christ, he’s practically drooling. Out of sheer impulse, he yanks down the zipper of his pants with a quiet hiss of metal against metal and hastily pushes your underwear into his cup, biting down hard on his lip. He grinds once against his hand, savoring the feel of the fabric against his cock.

He’ll enjoy them far more than you’ll miss them.

Zipping himself back up, he carefully pulls open your top dresser drawer. He curiously pushes the contents around, mindful not to overly disturb, and his knuckles bump something solid. He shifts one of your bras–another near painful pang of arousal at the reminder of your breasts–aside and finds, to his delight, what any good marketing department would describe as “a large purple massage wand.”

A vibrator. He chews his bottom lip briefly, turning it over in his grip. An exciting find on all fronts. It’s smooth and decently hefty, good quality. You deserve even better. You might be capable of indulging yourself with this, but he could make you scream. You’ll never need a silly little toy again. Not when you have him.

Homelander moves to put it back in the drawer, but–

“Fuck!” He hisses when the button catches on his finger, and suddenly the damn thing is buzzing.

Shut up, shut up, shut up, he chants mentally, jabbing at the buttons in an attempt to silence it, but pressing the same ones only makes the accursed device louder. In a frantic move, he grips the neck and squeezes. There’s a soft crunch beneath the silicone, and as abruptly as it had begun, the buzzing ends. His heart is thudding heavily in his chest. He listens to the silence, to you.

He looks over his shoulder. No movement. Your breaths remain shallow.

Christ.

So much for leaving no trace. He slips the busted toy back amidst your underthings and snatches his glove off of your dresser, tucking it under his arm. He hones his attention on you as he approaches your bed, assuring himself that you really are still asleep. He stands there for a while, admiring the part of your lips and the haphazard splay of your pajamas and where they cling to your body.

No bra.

His bare hand flexes. Being so close is too much of a temptation. He wets his lips with a quick slide of his tongue and bends down. He ghosts his fingers just over your cheek, not quite daring to touch. He can smell the faint remnants of your toothpaste on your breath, your shampoo, and beneath it all, you. It's intoxicating, it's…

Your brows furrow slightly in your sleep and you make a soft noise, interrupting his thoughts. He wonders if you’re dreaming–dreaming of him, perhaps. He’d like to think so. He’d like to think that you’re just as affected by him wanting you as he is, and that’s the real reason you invited him to lunch. He saw it in your eyes when he echoed your words, the thrill that went through you. He could have gone to his knees for you in that moment and had you in giving himself to you.

Desperate for just a taste, he kisses ever so gently between your brows, his own breaths matching the cadence of yours. Divine. You're divine. So effortlessly perfect and so aware of your own power. How could he not want every part of you?

He means to leave it there, to walk away with nothing but the slight salt of your brow on his lips, but the pull is too great. He's greedy, drunk on the smell and the taste of you, on the feel of your panties pressed up against his cock, and he can't stop himself from sampling your lips against his.

It’s the barest hint of touch, and yet the contact lances electricity through him like he’s been struck by a bolt of lightning. Your lips are soft, soft, soft. He knew they would be. Everything about you is so fucking soft. It takes everything in him to pull away, standing back to his full height.

He's aching, yearning so intensely he could rip the covers away and take you just like this, shake you awake, declare himself and have you. Would you scream, or would you have that same look of affronted understanding of him? You see him in a way few are ever brave–or stupid–enough to dare.

Not yet.

He won’t spoil the game. He agreed to play by your terms. As far as you’re concerned, he’ll do precisely that. You’ll be none the wiser in regards to his little reconnaissance mission–anything could have happened to your vibrator–and the two of you can play your little game as if you stand on equal footing.

Sucking in a silent breath, Homelander leaves alone, but not empty handed.

He’ll make very good use of his little trophy tonight.

( chapter three )

#i have no self control ENJOYYYYY #praise me it's shocking i finished this so quickly #although it's not really finished bc i'm stretching it into 3 parts but #couldn't help myself i needed him to be a little weirdo #next chapter is already started tho and shouldn't take long!#ALSO I MADE THIS GIF #i'm so happy lol #my writing #homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander fanfiction #homelander #plus size reader

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belladaises · 10 months ago

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𝗦𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗘𝗡 𝗙𝗜𝗖 𝗥𝗘𝗖𝗦 (𝗢𝗧𝟭𝟯/ 𝗨𝗻𝗶𝘁𝘀)

back to directory ＼(^^)／

OT13

seventeen as boyfriends by @catboyieejeno

ot13 reactions by @babyleostuff

Soft Things They Do by @tzuyusluv

seventeen as new parents by @leejungchans

partner privilege by @blue-jisungs

seventeen as songs by @fairyhaos

HOLDING ONTO THEM by @babyleostuff

seventeen members as feelings/personality traits by @wonijinjin

early dating green flags, svt when you stay up too late to study, svt when they realize they’re in love by @lovingseventeen

seventeen with an s/o who works on an animal farm, seventeen as life's impactful moments, how seventeen would hold your hand by @welcometomyoasis

Under the Sun, svt - with a shy partner by @wooahaes

95 line when their friend peels a shrimp for you. by @hanniedream

Taking care of their drink girlfriend: all units by @silv3rswirls

make the shot after saying "this one's for you" by @fairyhaos

Waning Crescent Hotel by @writer-k-pop

kape [ hyungs ], anong english… [ maknaes ] by @najaemsread

how you met him by @amateurasterism

seventeen boyfriend habits masterlist by @odxrilove

seventeen as new parents by @leejungchans

random scenarios with seventeen members, seventeen and studying by @trblsvt

camp half-blood, the seventeen chronicles by @som1ig

Hiphop Unit

the little things by @suhnshinehaos

Let Me Know When You Get Home by @twogyuu

svt hhu orange peel theory by @spamgyu

relationship details (hhu) by @catboyieejeno

you know other girls? by @yveaart

overly-shy by @effloreselle

Vocal Unit

the little things by @suhnshinehaos

svt vu orange peel theory by @spamgyu

you know other girls? by @yveaart

Performance Unit

the little things by @suhnshinehaos

Let Me Know When You Get Home by @twogyuu

svt pu orange peel theory by @spamgyu

SVT Leaders

svt leaders drunk voicemail by @ksywoo

95z

as dad and buttons by @yyawnjun

svt 95 line and you at hogwarts by @luvingwoo

~~gifs/headers are not mine

#seventeen x reader #seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #jeonghan x reader #joshua x reader #jun x reader #hoshi x reader #wonwoo x reader #woozi x reader #mingyu x reader #the8 x reader #dokyeom x reader #dk x reader #seungkwan x reader #dino x reader #vernon x reader

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makingqueerhistory · 8 months ago

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The LGBTQ + History Book

Discover the rich and complex history of LGBTQ+ people around the world - their struggles, triumphs, and cultural contributions. Exploring and explaining the most important ideas and events in LGBTQ+ history and culture, this book showcases the breadth of the LGBTQ+ experience. This diverse, global account explores the most important moments, movements, and phenomena, from the first known lesbian love poetry of Sappho to Kinsey's modern sexuality studies, and features biographies of key figures from Anne Lister to Audre Lorde. Dive deep into the pages of The LGBTQ + History book to discover: - Thought-provoking graphics and flow charts demystify the central concepts behind key moments in LGBTQ+ history, from eromenos and erastes in the Ancient World to political lesbianism. - Features insightful quotes from leading historians, philosophers, cultural commentators, economists, anthropologists, sociologists, activists, and politicians. - Includes biography boxes and directory entries on the lives of important but lesser-known individuals, alongside well-known names including Sappho, Oscar Wilde, Anne Lister, Harvey Milk, and Marsha P. Johnson. - Global in scope with a localizable directory. The LGBTQ+ History Book celebrates the victories and untold triumphs of LGBTQ+ people throughout history, such as the Stonewall Riots and first gender affirmation surgeries, as well as commemorating moments of tragedy and persecution, from the Renaissance Italian "Night Police" to the 20th century "Don't Ask Don't Tell" policy. The book also includes major cultural cornerstones - the secret language of polari, Black and Latine ballroom culture, and the many flags of the community - and the history of LGBTQ+ spaces, from 18th-century "molly houses" to modern "gaybourhoods". The LGBTQ+ History Book celebrates the long, proud - and often hidden - history of LGBTQ+ people, cultures, and places from around the world.

(Affiliate link above)

#queer history #queer #lgbt #lgbt history #gay history #lesbian history #transgender history #transgender #making queer history

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artsekey · 11 months ago

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I'd been seeing videos on Tiktok and Youtube about how younger Gen Z & Gen Alpha were demonstrating low computer literacy & below benchmark reading & writing skills, but-- like with many things on the internet-- I assumed most of what I read and watched was exaggerated. Hell, even if things were as bad as people were saying, it would be at least ~5 years before I started seeing the problem in higher education.

I was very wrong.

Of the many applications I've read this application season, only %6 percent demonstrated would I would consider a college-level mastery of language & grammar. The students writing these applications have been enrolled in university for at least two years, and have taken all fundamental courses. This means they've had classes dedicated to reading, writing, and literature analysis, and yet!

There are sentences I have to read over and over again to discern intent. Circular arguments that offer no actual substance. Errors in spelling and capitalization that spellcheck should've flagged.

At a glance, it's easy to trace this issue back to two things:

The state of education in the United States is abhorrent. Instructors are not paid enough, so schools-- particularly public schools-- take whatever instructors they can find.

COVID. The two year long gap in education, especially in high school, left many students struggling to keep up.

But I think there's a third culprit-- something I mentioned earlier in this post. A lack of computer literacy.

This subject has been covered extensively by multiple news outlets like the Washington Post and Raconteur, but as someone seeing it firsthand I wanted to add my voice to the rising chorus of concerned educators begging you to pay attention.

As the interface we use to engage with technology becomes more user friendly, the knowledge we need to access our files, photos, programs, & data becomes less and less important. Why do I need to know about directories if I can search my files in Windows (are you searching in Windows? Are you sure? Do you know what that bar you're typing into is part of? Where it's looking)? Maybe you don't have any files on your computer at all-- maybe they're on the cloud through OneDrive, or backed up through Google. Some of you reading this may know exactly where and how your files are stored. Many of you probably don't, and that's okay. For most people, being able to access a file in as short a time as possible is what they prioritize.

The problem is, when you as a consumer are only using a tool, you are intrinsically limited by the functions that tool is advertised to have. Worse yet, when the tool fails or is insufficient for what you need, you have no way of working outside of that tool. You'll need to consult an expert, which is usually expensive.

When you as a consumer understand a tool, your options are limitless. You can break it apart and put it back together in just the way you like, or you can identify what parts of the tool you need and search for more accessible or affordable options that focus more on your specific use-case.

The problem-- and to be clear, I do not blame Gen Z & Gen Alpha for what I'm about to outline-- is that this user-friendly interface has fostered a culture that no longer troubleshoots. If something on the computer doesn't work well, it's the computer's fault. It's UI should be more intuitive, and it it's not operating as expected, it's broken. What I'm seeing more and more of is that if something's broken, students stop there. They believe there's nothing they can do. They don't actively seek out solutions, they don't take to Google, they don't hop on Reddit to ask around; they just... stop. The gap in knowledge between where they stand and where they need to be to begin troubleshooting seems to wide and inaccessible (because the fundamental structure of files/directories is unknown to many) that they don't begin.

This isn't demonstrative of a lack of critical thinking, but without the drive to troubleshoot the number of opportunities to develop those critical thinking skills are greatly diminished. How do you communicate an issue to someone online? How do look for specific information? How do you determine whether that information is specifically helpful to you? If it isn't, what part of it is? This process fosters so many skills that I believe are at least partially linked to the ability to read and write effectively, and for so many of my students it feels like a complete non-starter.

We need basic computer classes back in schools. We need typing classes, we need digital media classes, we need classes that talk about computers outside of learning to code. Students need every opportunity to develop critical thinking skills and the ability to self-reflect & self correct, and in an age of misinformation & portable technology, it's more important now than ever.

#computers #pc #digital #rant #something something planned obsolescence

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kuroppiii · 7 months ago

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apple bottom jeans ᵕ̈ timeskip!hq men ( atsumu , shōyō , oikawa , ushijima ) that i think can actually dance at the club ˎˊ˗

⋮⋮ ˒ ₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 𖥻 ⿻ : and i DON ' T mean just ⋮⋮ two-stepping to the music blasting, ⋮⋮ jesus christ no!!!

📋 content ♡ # ��𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧 🐮 ( ? ) ♡ # 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘴 🥛 ♡ # 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 - 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘱 ♡ # ~500 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 ♡ # 𝙘𝙬 𝙨𝙪𝙜𝙜𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚 ! ( 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘣 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴𝘴 𝘭𝘮𝘢𝘰 ) + 𝘢𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘩𝘰𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯

🎶 on shuffle " dare " - gorillaz

🧸 directory ‹ ✩ like what you read ? check out more of my blog ! •ᴗ•

💬 kuroppiii ─ “ thought of this while listening to gorillaz 💪 someone take me out partying pleaseee i need to dance and sweat and get buzzed again !! ”

︴miya atsumu ․﹒∗*○․﹒✧∘°

big frat guy energy but unfortunately he gets away with it because they way he looks at you, drink in hand, as he's bumpin to the beat is HOTTTT

like guys... c'mon now

with the top buttons of his shirt undone and like a chain on yes pls

the type to look straight into your eyes as you two sing along to songs line for line, BAR! for BAR!!!

lots of action with the arms and elbows from him (yeah frat energy i fear)

hand on your ass as you two vibe to the music, definitely, no question

he'd be hyping you up too with like one of those stupid cartoonish-ass whistles AHHHH THE DEMONS ARE MAKING ME TYPE THIS

also he can get into it without even drinking like just let this man dance!!! (but ofc he has a few shots it's a fucking party lmao)

beige flag: he will jump up and down to some carti or kanye or some shit and he will look a bit corny if you really squint

︴hinata shōyō ․﹒∗*○․﹒✧∘°

A LITTLE MUCH AT TIMES like babes this is not magic mike chill with the body rolling bud

but also the redheads got some good moves, good for him!

it's all in the shoulders 🫡

like think that timothee chalemet edit that went viral during quarantine (💀💀💀)

likes to spin you around and really dance with you y'know

holding ur hands the whole time aw

just wants to make sure yall are having a good time

watch out for when those latin songs come on tho because this boy will go HAMMM

shoyo my brazillian king x bad bunny? YUPPPP

p.s. he would def end up crowd surfing somehow

︴oikawa tōru ․﹒∗*○․﹒✧∘°

one that sways along with you from behind so that randos can't sneak up on you (romance is so back!!)

hands always on your waist, holding you close

talks to you by bending down and mumbling into your ear barkbarkwoofbarkwoofwoof

like a chiller 'tsumu bc i don't think he's really the type to be belting lyrics with you like that but he's definitely feeling himself LORD

don't be scared, shake some ass on him, he don't mind 🤷‍♀️

if he ends up in front of you, gets really close to you, like all up in your personal space, still dancing ofc

but he can't help his eyes RAKING you up and down when you two are like that heart eyes

if a nikki minaj song comes own he definitely knows all the lyrics OOPS WHO SAID THAT NOT ME

︴ushijima wakatoshi ․﹒∗*○․﹒✧∘°

HEAR ME OUT

he needs a few drinks to get there BUT!!! he can get a little loose you feel me?

it's starts out gradual, bc completely sober he's definitely a two-stepper booooo

but as the alcohol kicks in, and they especially play the more fun and carefree songs not so much the tiktok thirst trap type tracks lol–he starts opening up more!

and its kinda cute like his skillset is kinda limited to dance moves straight out of a coming of age film dance montage

lowkey the toby maguire dance from spiderman 3 is gonna make an appearance (ushi secret geek agenda but that's my ted talk for another day)

i can see him getting turnt to some chappell roan (him doing the hot to go! dance 😭)

but but but the BEST part's when he's fighting back a smile as he's dancing, you two feeling like you're the only ones on the dance floor together

or your arms up and around his neck and his hands on your hips, him not being able to keep his eyes off you, feeling the bass hitting in your chests... yeahhhh

⇩ ⇩ ⇩ 𝘽𝙊𝙉𝙐𝙎 ::

︴nishinoya yū + tanaka ryūnosuke ․﹒∗*○․﹒✧∘°

i HAVE to put them together in an honorable mention because you bet if one of them is dancing, the other is holding their phone flashlight up, shining it all on the other

they both pull up in shades even if the club is inside 💀💀💀

dance circle? THEY'RE GETTING STURDY IN THERE

THEY'RE DOING THE WORM

GETTIN DOWN LOWWWW

maybe even hitting the gritty? who knows? ironically ofc (not)

like yeah they obviously can dance well with someone each on their own

but the amount of money i'd pay to go clubbing with the both of them? embarrassingly large amount i'm willing to give up

trulyyy life of the party when they're both on the dancefloor together

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longwuzhere · 2 years ago

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Some cool Easter eggs I caught watching My Adventures with Superman that I want to show to people so they can be in on it with comic book readers pt2

Episode 1 of My Adventures with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here

Episode 3 of My Adventures with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here

Episode 4 of My Adventures with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here

Episode 5 of My Adventures with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here

Episode 6 of My Adventures with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here

Episode 7 of My Adventures with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here and here

Episode 8 of My Adventures with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here

Episode 9 of My Adventure with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here

Episode 10 of My Adventures with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here

My Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman comic issue 1 post is here

My Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman comic issue 2 post is here

My Easter eggs and references for My Adventures with Superman comic issue 3 post is here

(SPOILERS obviously):

An obvious one, but a classic, the "up in the sky! It's a bird! It's a plane! It's Superman!" line reference. This one never gets old.

Jimmy next name drops Flamebird. in the comics Nightwing and Flamebird were Kryptonian superheroes adopting their names from a species of Kryptonian birds. This is where Dick Grayson gets his Nightwing identity from. The page here is from Who's Who: The Definitive Directory of the DC Universe #17 (1986) drawn by Curt Swan and Karl Kesel.

At the climatic battle of part 2 of Adventures of a Normal Man, we see Leslie Willis become blue and look more like her traditional Livewire look. Her first appearance was in Superman the Animated Series, season 2 episode 5 "Livewire" where she was voiced by Lori Petty, a.k.a. Tank Girl. In the show Leslie was a shock jock radio DJ slinging hot takes live on air knocking down Superman a peg or two

Obviously MAwS took Leslie in a whole different direction, design choice, and occupation change, but I am excited to see what happens next for her.

Before we see Clark battle Leslie we see this guy. White hair, wears orange and black, its Slade Wilson a.k.a. Deathstroke. This fool here in like 20 to 25 years will have his life spiral out of control and get his ass kicked by a bunch of colorfully dressed teenagers.

Deathstroke makes his first appearance in New Teen Titans #2 (1980) (W: Marv Wolfman and George Perez, P: George Perez, I: Romeo Tanghal, C: Adrienne Roy, L: Ben Oda) where he is hired by H.I.V.E. to kill the Teen Titans. In the comics he's a major piece of shit, but a damn good assassin.

After the fight we see Supes clean up and he picks up a billboard that reads Amazotech.

This is a good reference to Professor Anthony Ivo, a mad scientist of the DC Universe who built the Amazo robot who could adapt and replicate any power that the Justice League has and weaknesses. Both Ivo and the Amazo robot make their first appearances here in Brave and the Bold #30 (1960) with the cover art done by Mike Sekowsky and Murphy Anderson.

At the end of the episode Slade name drops Task Force X better known as the Suicide Squad. The name "Suicide Squad" is from the Brave and the Bold #25 where it was the name of Rick Flag's unit in the military. The Suicide Squad pop culture knows first debuted in Legends #3 (1987) as seen below (W: John Ostrander and Len Wein, P: John Byrne, I: Karl Kesel, C: Tom Ziuko, L: Steve Haynie).

The team at this time was composed of Rick Flag, Bronze Tiger, Captain Boomerang, Deadshot, Enchantress, and Blockbuster. The team members have changed out with each new Task Force X/Suicide Squad iteration.

Behind Slade, here is Amanda Waller, the most fearsome woman in the DC universe. She's ruthless, politically powerful, and will not hesitate to blow up anyone in the Suicide Squad if they screw up. She makes her first appearance in Legends #1 (1987) same comic series in the previous picture. Very excited to see where My Adventures with Superman goes with this cuz you don't see Superman interact with Deathstroke or Suicide Squad all the often.

Link to Episode 1 of My Adventures of Superman Easter Eggs and references is here

Link to Episode 3 of My Adventures with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here

Link to Episode 4 of My Adventures with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here

Link to Episode 5 of My Adventures with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here

Link to Episode 6 of My Adventures with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here

Link to Episode 7 of My Adventures with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here and here

Link to Episode 8 of My Adventures with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here

Link to Episode 9 of My Adventures with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here

Link to Episode 10 of My Adventures with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here

My Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman comic issue 1 post is here

My Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman comic issue 2 post is here

My Easter eggs and references for My Adventures with Superman comic issue 3 post is here

1K notes · View notes

fluentmoviequoter · 2 months ago

Text

Luck Be a Lady Tonight

Pairing: David 'Deacon' Kay x fem!SWAT!reader

Summary: During a weekend off with your team, you run into one of the FBI's most wanted criminals. With a little luck and Deacon on your arm, you catch the criminal in a trap that places him exactly where you need him.

Warnings: fluff, minor angst, depiction of gambling/casino setting, canon-typical danger and violence

Word Count: 2.3k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist Directory | Deacon Kay Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“You look ridiculous,” you say, leaning against the wall in the hotel hallway.

“This is classic,” Street argues.

“Classic rat pack, maybe,” Tan interjects. “Heavy on the rat.”

“Alright,” Hondo says, pushing off the wall. “Street, change, or we’re going now. We aren’t going to get another weekend like this for a while.”

“He makes it sound like a bad thing,” you whisper to Deacon.

“You could’ve turned down the invitation,” he says, smiling.

“And listen to Hondo’s attempt at making me feel guilty after? That is a terrible weekend.”

Hondo calls your name, then Deacon’s, and waves for you to join the rest of your team in the elevator.

“Think I can win big at the nickel slots?” you ask.

“About as likely as Street getting any female attention in that outfit,” Tan mutters as the doors close.

Sitting at a table on the small balcony overlooking the casino, you scan the large room and locate four of your five teammates. Chris had plans with her family this weekend, so you’re the solo woman on the tip. You don’t mind; you enjoy spending time with the rest of your team, but the decision to spend the long weekend off in Palm Springs at a casino spa wasn’t your first choice.

You raise your glass, then freeze before it reaches your lips. There’s a man playing roulette who looks incredibly familiar. Lowering your glass, you watch him, observing his body language and how he speaks to the dealer. You can’t place him, so you lift your phone, putting your elbow on the table to remain inconspicuous, then take a picture of the man when he turns to order a drink. You upload the photo to the limited-access LAPD site, which returns as flagged. Only one line is legible in the scanned file, but it increases your heart rate.

“Miguel Calvo,” you whisper. Your chair slides backward as you stand, and a warm hand hovers beside your waist.

“You alright?” Deacon asks, looking at you intently.

“See the guy at the roulette table? Red jacket?” you inquire softly. Deacon nods, and you say, “That’s Miguel Calvo.”

“From the FBI’s most wanted list?”

Nodding softly, you relax as Deacon’s hand finishes the journey to your waist. He looks at you rather than watching the criminal or looking for the rest of your team. You have feelings for Deacon, not understanding how or why they started, but you feel complete beside him. You haven’t exactly hidden your admiration of him, and, on many occasions, he’s shown you he feels the same, but you haven’t crossed that line. And it looks like your relaxing weekend just turned into a chase, so you won’t get a chance to inch closer to that line.

“I have an idea,” Deacon says. “We’re out of our jurisdiction, but since he’s got a federal warrant, we should be able to make it work.”

“Tell me how I can help,” you offer, drawing Deacon’s attention back to you.

“Are you open to going undercover on our own?”

“Anything. Where do we start?”

“Well… we’re going to need a little luck.”

Your cheeks begin to hurt after the first few minutes of smiling. Between the new outfit Deacon procured for you and the flirtatious looks you’ve been sending Miguel since your return, you feel like you’re working a con. Deacon’s plan seems good enough, but it relies on you being able to get close to a man suspected of numerous felonies, including murder. He had a woman on his arm when you first noticed him, but now he’s alone and has moved from roulette to Ultimate Texas Hold ‘Em.

As you walk past the table, you hear him tell the dealer, “Lots of things worth holding here, eh?”

Dropping your smile, you look over your shoulder, hoping you convey the flirty look you’re going for. Miguel locks eyes with you before you toss your hair over your shoulder and continue walking. Exhaling slowly, you keep the deliberate sway in your hips as you exit the casino and return to the balcony. You place your hands on the railing and watch, allowing your gaze to linger on Miguel longer than anyone else in the room.

Miguel stands after winning against the dealer, buttons his jacket, and begins strolling leisurely around the slot machines. He walks past Street and Tan, none the wiser to their law enforcement ties or knowledge of who he is. When he reaches the stairs, he leaves the casino behind and walks with purpose to your side.

His hand slides around your waist, and you press your tongue against the back of your teeth to keep yourself from tensing at his touch. He tugs you once, and you laugh airily as you spread your hands over his chest, your body forced against his.

“Hi,” you say softly, tracing the edges of his jacket as you introduce yourself.

“MIggy,” he replies. “So, you’re more of an observer than a gambler?”

“I- I’m not very lucky,” you admit with a shrug. “But I like watching.”

“Well, señora suerte, let’s change that.”

He keeps his arm around you but turns you to walk with him. You feel like an accessory more than a person as you accompany him down the stairs. Street raises his hand from the machine he’s sitting at to show you he has your back. Your entire team is worthy of trust, but having Street around in this particular situation helps you breathe a little easier. Deacon is upstairs, but you’ll know when he arrives. You always do.

“What’s your favorite number?” Miguel asks, his fingers brushing dangerously low on your hip. You answer without hesitating, and he replies, “How about a little Blackjack? We’ll see how far your luck takes us.”

You stand behind Miguel, slightly to his right. The woman with him earlier stayed close to him, and when he reaches back and pulls your arm to tug you against his back, you realize it was because he wanted it. Watching over his shoulder, you raise your eyes often to locate your team.

“Room for one more?” Street asks as he approaches the table.

Miguel nods to the dealer, who steps back to deal Street in. You trace your fingers up Miguel’s back, then rest your hand against his shoulder. He leans back momentarily and kisses your jaw, making you swallow uncomfortably. Luckily, he doesn’t try anything more and returns his attention to the game.

“You said you’re unlucky,” Miguel says, spinning on his stool after another game. He holds your waist and looks up at you to ask, “What’d you have such bad luck on?”

Your eyes widen as you look over his head. He furrows his brows, and your lips part before you whisper, “Roulette. I think I got a little too comfortable betting on black.”

Miguel stands and follows your line of sight. Deacon descends the staircase, stealing the attention of men and women alike in the casino. Dressed in a black English-cut suit tailored to accentuate Deacon’s muscular build, he looks like he just walked out of a James Bond movie, and it seems you’re not the only one who thinks so. Several women walk to his side, attempting to drape themselves on his arm. He sends them the heart-stopping grin you crave to see and a polite declination.

“Roulette it is,” Miguel snaps, wrapping his hand around your wrist.

You stumble slightly, then catch yourself and hold his arm as you follow him. “Sorry,” you whisper. “Do you know him?”

Miguel shakes his head. When he reaches the roulette table, he looks at you to say, “It’s not black or red. But…” He glances at Deacon in his crisp black suit and decides, “I’m thinking that you and red might be the luck I need.”

You aren’t entirely sure if he said you in red or you and red, but you are not going to give him the luck he thinks either way. Deacon stops by the table to watch Miguel roll his dice, then drags his eyes up to your face. He’s a good actor, but there’s something in his eyes that you haven’t seen during cases before.

“Not bad,” Deacon applauds. “I’ve always been more of a bet on black guy myself.”

“Me too,” you agree, breathless without feigning it this time.

“It’s not that simple,” Miguel argues. He tightens his arm around your waist and adds, “Besides, I’ve got lady luck on my side tonight.”

Deacon smiles and says, “Ah, I see. And a beauty she is. Any chance you’re willing to spare her for one bet?”

Miguel’s jaw tenses as his hand presses against your side. “She should really stick with the guy she came in with, no?”

You pout and press your hand on Miguel’s chest again, looking through your lashes to ask, “You said I’m your señorita suerte. It won’t hurt, just once, right?”

He releases you with a stiff nod, and you loop one arm around Deacon’s elbow as you place your other hand on his bicep. Deacon smiles at you, and your grin grows into the genuine sign of joy Deacon has grown to expect when you see him.

“Wait,” you request after Deacon picks up the die. You lean over but hold eye contact with Deacon as you blow on them. “For luck,” you add lowly, returning to his side.

“May luck be a lady tonight,” he murmurs before rolling.

You watch as one of the dice goes directly onto the 20-black compartment. Deacon’s bicep flexes behind you as he cheers, and you lay your hand on his shoulders to kiss his cheek. As you step back, Deacon catches your waist.

“You are good luck,” he muses.

“Excuse me,” Miguel calls angrily. “I believe that was your one bet.”

“I’m going to walk around for a bit,” you say, stepping away from Deacon. “Nice job.”

Miguel’s jaw tenses as you begin wandering all over the room. He glares at Deacon, who raises his eyebrows with an easy smile.

“I’m the kind of man who makes my own luck,” Miguel says. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“No, I don’t,” Deacon replies, crossing his arms as his blazer stretches over his back. “Spell it out for me.”

Miguel presses his finger against Deacon’s chest and hisses, “I was behind the murders in the casino in Jackson, Mississippi. You don’t want to mess with me.”

Deacon blinks, then shrugs. “You should work on your intimidation tactics.”

“Poker room, me and you. Winner gets lady luck over there.”

“She’s a person, not a trophy.”

“Maybe to you.”

Deacon smiles again as he asks, “You want to play in the poker room? Let’s do it. But at least give me an idea of what I’m getting into if I were, hypothetically, to make sure I won. No cost too high.”

“The last time a dealer gave me the wrong cards, I caught him in the parking lot and put a Glock 17 in his ear. That enough hypotheticals for you?”

“It’s enough for me,” you say.

Miguel looks over his shoulder, and you wave as you hold your off-duty weapon at his back. Street and Hondo approach him from either side, but you nod to Deacon to do the honors.

“You’re under arrest. The FBI will be here in a few minutes to pick you up. Now, you can walk out with us peacefully, maintain the tiny reputation you have,” Deacon explains. He lowers his voice and leans closer to Miguel to finish, “Or I can drag you out of here and make you beg for a little more luck.”

“I vote option two,” Street mumbles, but you barely catch it as you watch Deacon.

“I’ll walk,” Miguel whispers. “And I’ll give up someone bigger than me, the man who helps me win.”

“That’s a discussion for you and the U.S. attorneys’ office,” Deacon says, wrapping his hand around Miguel’s arm. “Start walking.”

You knock on Deacon’s door, and when he opens it, he invites you in without a word.

“Thank you,” you tell him as you cross your legs beneath you in the chair beside his bed. “I couldn’t have done that without you, at least not that smoothly.”

“The feds seemed to think you could,” he says with a smile, reminding you of how many officers personally thanked you for bringing Miguel Calvo into custody.

“You called me lady luck,” you muse. “Do you think there’s room for doubt?”

Deacon walks to you, leans over, and places his hands on the arm of the chair you’re in. There are mere breaths between you, and Deacon gives you a moment to notice it as you struggle to control your breathing in the proximity, and then promises, “Not a bit.”

“Are you going to tell me where you got the dress now?” you inquire.

“Someone’s assistant was bringing it from the dry cleaners,” he answers. “But I don’t think that’s what you really want to talk about.”

You shake your head, and Deacon shifts to place one hand on the back of your head. You’ve showered and pulled your hair back simply after an afternoon with an over-the-top hairdo, and Deacon finally feels like he’s holding you again. He kisses you, lowering himself until he’s on his knee and level with you. You loop your arms over his shoulders and decide you are lucky. The man kissing you is all the proof you’ll ever need of that.

“Hey, Deac, I-“

You pull away from Deacon as Street stops talking. As you wipe your finger under your lips to fix your lip balm, Street looks between you and Deacon.

“Before you get mad, I just want to point out that you gave me a key,” Street begins.

#david deacon kay x reader #david kay x reader #david deacon kay #deacon kay x reader #deacon kay fluff #deacon kay #swat fic #swat x reader #swat imagine #swat cbs #fem!reader #hanna writes✯

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williammarksommer · 2 years ago

Photo

Hell or High Water

New Mexico

All The Time In The World

Hasselblad 500c/m

Kodak Ektar 100iso

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ofmdrecaps · 5 months ago

Text

09/06-07/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; David Jenkins; Rhys Darby; Taika Waititi; Ruibo Qian; Vico Ortiz; Kristian Nairn; Anapela Polataivao; Erroll Shand; Andrew DeYoung; Kay Buchanen; RoseCityComicCon OFMD Panel; Tell Tale Voting Reminder; Another Call To Action; Help Matt Maher go to ECCC!; Love Notes; Daily Darby / Today's Taika;

Hey Crew, I'm working on reaching out to folks to get permission to post more Rose City Comic Con pictures! Hope to have more up tomorrow.

== David Jenkins ==

David and Kinga got married! So happy for you Chaos Dad!

Source: David and Kinga's Instagram

== Rhys Darby ==

SO MUCH RHYS today! He was out doing comedy at Largo LA!

Source: LargoLosAngelos More Comedy with Rhys, 9/10/24 at 8 PM in LA! Learn more!

Guess who's substack is up!?

Source: Rhys Darby's Instagram

== Taika Waititi ==

The Toronto International Film Festival is on! Indigenous.tv is reminding you to keep an eye out for Taika!

Source: Indigenous TV

== Ruibo Qian ==

Ruibo is in Shanghai!

Source: Ruibo Qian's Instagram

== Vico Ortiz ==

Vico and Ane are cosplaying Crowley and Aziraphale at Rose City Comic Con!

Vico will also be part of the Drag Pac's Youth Town Hall on Sept 14, 2024 at the Plaza De La Raza LA! Wanna check it out? Visit their site!

Source: Vico's Instagram

== Kristian Nairn ==

Kristian Djing "Hold the Decks" for us!

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Kristian Nairn (@kristiannairn)

instagram

Source: Kristian Nairn's Instagram

== Anapela Polataivao ==

Our beloved Auntie's movie TINĀ (MOTHER) will be premiering at the Hawaii Film Festival this year in October!

"HIFF44 opens at the Consolidated Theatres Kahala with the World Premiere and directorial feature debut of Miki Magasiva’s nuanced drama from New Zealand/Aotearoa. Samoan actor Anapela Polata’ivao (ONE THOUSAND ROPES, OUR FLAG MEANS DEATH, SHORTLAND STREET) portrays Mareta, a well-respected and gifted vocal coach in her community, who finds herself at a crossroads, needing to find work after the tragic death of her daughter, a death she is still processing. Mareta goes out of her comfort zone to become a substitute teacher at an elite, all-white private school and forms a choir that begins her healing as a matriarch and caregiver. Director Miki Magasiva and actress Anapela Polata’ivao are scheduled to attend HIFF44 Opening Night."

New Zealand/Aotearoa 2024 | English, Samoan w/English Subtitles | 124M

Source: HIFF Instagram and Website

== Erroll Shand ==

Everyone's sending love to Erroll for his role in The Twelve! Really hoping it'll be available outside of NZ soon!

Source: Jodie Rimmer Instagram

== Andrew Deyoung ==

One of our writers had their new movie premiered at the TIFF!

Source: FilmAndy Instagram

== Kay Buchanan ==

Our fabulous leather worker-- Kay Buchanan has a new movie coming out that she worked on props for! Grafted, a AoNZ horror film will be released in AoNZ on Sept 12! Check out the trailer on her IG!

Source: Kay Buchanan's Instagram

== Rose City Comic Con ==

Our crewmates over at @adoptourcrew were kind enough to share updates from the Cast Panel at Rose City ComicCon this weekend! If you have twitter, you can check it out over at Adopt Our Crew Thread. If not, you can see them below!

Source: Adopt Our Crew Twitter

== Tell Tale Voting Reminders! ==

Only a few more days to vote for Stede and Ed in Tell Tale TV's Battle of the Ships! Please vote here when you get a chance!

Source: Tell Tale TV's Instagram

== Another Call to Action! ==

Sounds like there's going to be another anniversary trailer happening on 09/15! Several crewmates are asking to QRT David's Tweet here with the text "Because The Night Belongs To Lovers #OurFlagMeansDeath" and something a little extra to help keep from being flagged as spam! Let's get ofmd trending again that day!

Source: Lucy's Twitter

== Help Matt Maher go to ECCC! ==

Looks like a few of our crewmates talked to Matthew Maher (Black Pete) and he really wants to go to Seattle! Let's help him get to Emerald City Comic Con, if you have a moment, please put in a request to have him as a guest at their next con! Thank you to Mira (@/havethisonelife on twitter) and @/Callousnstrange for trying to help Matt!

Source: CallousnStrange / Mira (HaveThisOneLife)

== Fan Spotlight ==

= The Gay Pirate News Hour =

The inaugural episode of Gay Pirate News Hour is out now covering a month's worth of OFMD fandom news and speculation including David Jenkins getting married, Rose City Comic Con, and reasons to clown about season 3. GPNH will be live on youtube once a month!

youtube

Source: Our Flag Means Fanfiction Instagram/Youtube

== Loves Notes ==

Hey there lovelies! I've been sitting with my Dad in the hospital for a few days, and it's given me a lot to think about. Today especially was particularly hard, and I wanted to send out a couple reminders I think are important.

It's okay to be scared. Things don't always go as we plan, and scary things DO happen, and you are absolutely valid in feeling fear in the unknown.

It's okay to ask for help. Sometimes, even if you are the proudest person in the entire world, you need help, and it's okay to ask for that help. Even if you're estranged, or have difficult relationships, ask for help, the worst that can happen is someone says no. Better to know for sure then not ask.

You're absolutely wonderful lovelies. You. When you're scared, when you're happy, when you're sad, you're beautiful, and you're wonderful, and you deserve love and help just like anyone else. Please ask for it if you need it <3 Rest well, I'm rooting for you.

Source: MichellCClark Instagram

== Daily Darby / Today's Taika ==

Today's theme is hair, gifs courtesy of these wonderful folks, @piratesleeves and @unaragazzadelnord

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