#have a large sample but like born to be bad is not a movie that I think is good but it has like infected me somehow. which i did and still

[palukoo]

I know I’ve made other posts talking about or alluding to this but like. obviously there are like the old hollywood movies in the sort of dyke subtext canon (all about eve, rebecca, johnny guitar, etc) but like. there are so many movies that like 10 people have seen but I have such a clear gay vision or interpretation for it. most of them aren’t even GOOD. and yet!!

like the great lie is the one that haunts me the most (or the women but I think that one is kind of different for me perhaps bc I’ve already talked about it here a lot or perhaps bc I think of it as being more well known and watched than I think it actually is? actually it’s probably that I think it is an overall good and well executed and entertaining movie which isn’t really true of most of these tbh). but I also think a lot about like when ladies meet, or old acquaintance, or sadie mckee, or the shining hour, or the model and the marriage broker, or a woman’s secret, or the bigamist, or craig’s wife, or born to be bad, or separate tables, or even dark victory to a degree. others too certainly those are just the ones that come to mind. for half of these it’s not even like oh these women are gay together it’s just like hey I think she’s a lesbian. and I’m right. but my genius will never be fully appreciated in my day unfortunately.

[noonaishere]

Work of Art [J.JH] - forty-one | onions make me emotional

“Beautiful assistant,” Johnny said to Anna as he checked on the status of the (large) chicken, since he was unable to find a turkey. “Could you wash everything for the salad?”

“Roger!” Anna said and saluted before beginning to wash vegetables.

“I’m not a beautiful assistant? I’m so offended.” You laughed as you cut more onions.

“She really is crying, Johnny, look what you’ve done!” Anna said and pointed at your tears.

“Onions make me so emotional. They were so young, so full of life!” You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand.

Johnny laughed. “You’re Ultimate Noona.”

“I guess being born January first would mean that,” you chuckled before going to the window, opening it, and breathing in the non-oniony air.

“Is it that bad?” Anna asked. 

You nodded. “No, I just watched a really sad movie.”

Anna and Johnny laughed. 

The intercom buzzed and Anna answered it. “Hello?” 

“Hi~!” Eunji sang into the receiver. “We’re here!”

“I’ll come down and get you,” Anna said and took off her apron. She grabbed her keys and left to collect everyone.

You fanned your eyes and looked at everything on the table. “I’d say we didn’t do too bad.”

Johnny turned around from mashing potatoes. “Yeah, we did pretty good. Not bad when one of us can’t cook.”

You nodded. “And we didn’t even have to do the mom thing of yelling at her to get out of the kitchen.”

Johnny laughed. “Not that she can even do the classic dad thing and watch the ‘Thanksgiving game’ because it hasn’t even started yet.”

You nodded with a laugh.

The door opened and Anna came in with Jaehyun, Taeyong, Yuta, Jungwoo, and Eunji following her. You all greeted each other warmly.

“Welcome to Casa Americano!” Johnny said and hugged everyone. Anna took everyone’s coats and put them on one of the couches.

“I brought the hot tiles for the table,” Jaehyun said and took one out of the bag he had to show him.

“Awesome. We don’t want to get Anna and y/n in trouble with the dorm office.”

“Thanks, Jaehyun.” You nodded.

He nodded back as Johnny took the bag from him. “Do you need help?”

“I was watching a really sad movie,” you gestured to the onions and then the window.

He laughed softly. “I’ll finish it for you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” He picked up the knife and started chopping.

“”Wait,” you said and took off your apron and put it on him. “Don’t want to get your clothes dirty.”

He smiled as you tied it. “Thank you.”

As Jaehyun chopped the rest of the onions and sauteed them, Johnny showed Jungwoo and Eunji everything the three of you had been cooking all morning. 

You turned to Anna. “No Lucas?”

She pulled her phone out and looked at it. “Not yet.”

“Who’s Lucas?” Johnny asked as he started putting food on the table.

“Anna’s new boyfriend.” You answered.

He looked at you, whatever he was truly feeling masked by a neutral look.

“Lucas from the dance major?” Jaehyun asked.

“Mhm,” Anna nodded.

“He’s nice. Funny guy.”

“Yeah?” You asked.

“He’s a happy virus.”

“‘Happy virus?’” 

“Yeah, like, he keeps everyone’s spirits up when we’re all too tired to dance anymore and keeps us going. Makes a lot of jokes. Things like that.”

“Keeps us laughing,” Eunji said with a smile. 

Jungwoo went to sneak some of the salad and she slapped his hand. He looked up with fake sadness and held his hand as if it actually hurt. 

“You’d like him,” Eunji said as she patted his hand.

Jungwoo pretended to be sad for a few more seconds before pulling Eunji into a hug. “I hope so, if you say he’s so funny. I don’t know what I’ll do if he takes my spot as the funniest person in the room.”

“Surely you have other talents,” you said.

“Mmmmm… the best hair?”

The four of you laughed at him. 

Anna’s phone buzzed and she read the message. “Be right back.” She left the dorm.

Johnny put the (large) chicken on the table. Eunji and Jungwoo joined Yuta and Taeyong in admiring it, though Eunji might have actually followed Jungwoo over to stop him from trying to sample it before it was carved.

Johnny walked over to you and Jaehyun. “Is he really that funny?”

You looked up from finishing up the salad. “Lucas?” You turned to Jaehyun for the answer.

“Yeah. Everyone thinks he’s funny.” Jaehyun offered.

Johnny nodded.

“Why?” You asked.

Johnny shook his head. “No, uh. She doesn’t seem to have a type is all.”

You nodded. “I think most people probably don’t.”

Johnny nodded.

You really wanted to ask what he was actually thinking, but you got the feeling that he wouldn’t tell the truth on a normal day, nevermind at a Thanksgiving dinner where most of his friends were gathered. That, and, a Thanksgiving dinner wasn’t really the time or place to ask such a thing.

The door opened, and Johnny turned. You watched his face as he seemed sad for a moment before putting on a smile and welcoming Lucas to the dorm.

You turned to Jaehyun to see if he noticed it as well. He watched Johnny for a moment before turning to you to see if you saw it, and then turned back to the stove to finish what he was doing.

“Shake your body, man!” Eunji said and held her arms up and shimmied.

Taeyong and Jaehyun shimmied as well, and Lucas laughed loudly and shimmied back.

You laughed and turned to Jaehyun. “What’s that?”

“Something he says during practice.”

Once everyone was situated at the table - cobbled from your own dorm table and a folding table Johnny procured - the feast could finally start. Anna was at one end with Johnny at the other, and you were in the middle with Jaehyun on one side and Yuta on the other. Eunji, Jungwoo, and Taeyong were across from you, and Lucas was next to Anna, sharing the corner with her.

“Now, normally the man of the house cuts the turkey. Or… (large) chicken.” Johnny said as he stood with the carving knife.

You laughed at the correction.

“Shouldn’t Lucas do it?” Anna asked.

“Huh?”

“Because… we’re dating, and it’s my and y/n’s dorm, so he’s the closest thing.”

Johnny blinked for a moment. “Oh, yeah, no. You’re dating him. Sure. Makes perfect sense.” 

Lucas looked at Anna for a moment and she smiled encouragement and he got up and walked to carve the chicken. “Could you help me? I’m not sure what to do.”

“No problem.” Johnny said and showed him.

You could see through his attempt to hide his dejected feelings a mile away. Ten miles away. One hundred nautical miles away. 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea away. You exchanged knowing glances with Jaehyun, who looked like he was thinking the same thing you did.

Your phone buzzed.

You looked up, Taeyong looked at you, completely surprised and Eunji did as well. When Jungwoo noticed and went to ask what was wrong she pretended to choke on her water and he patted her back. Jaehyun looked at you, his face questioning what was happening, and you showed him your phone under the table. He read the messages and shot Taeyong a look that told him to stop. Yuta looked at the members at the table who were causing the commotion before looking at Jaehyun, who realized he was being looked at and stopped glaring. He turned to you and you shrugged and pretended to be super interested in the cutting of the (large) chicken. Jaehyun picked up one of the plates of food and served you before serving himself and distracted everyone by passing it around. 

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[mikiib]

The Magnus Archives: ALIEN AU (Part 1)

     So in short I had come up with an AU where the cast of TMA characters are set in the universe of ALIEN. They’re both my FAVORITE pieces of horror media I’ve consumed and so my brain figured- WHY NOT? So I have 13 pages and scenes in my brain that would take place in this AU. If this or the following posts that I’ll make inspire anyone I would LOVE to see what you come up with! In short this story has a mostly good ending.    

 Here’s a list of the things that ARE and AREN’T in this universe. 

- 14 Fears aren’t in this world. It’s fully immersed in the universe of the movie ALIEN/ALIENS. - The xenomorphs however have more powers- they can shape shift into anyone they ‘kill’. So if the alien hatches from the host but somehow the host survives then that creature can pretend to be that person. If they kill someone they can pretend to be them.  They still however take the main biological forms of the hosts they came from in regular form. - Queens are born when there is no other queen in near vicinity detected by the unhatched egg.  - The hatching of an egg takes a lot longer after implantation rather than a few hours like the original movie.  - The aliens acidic blood is still STRONG but not nearly as much. I nerfed that to a slower burn- if left on the surface for more than a few minutes it can still be JUST AS BAD as the movies version. - Cyborgs are a thing in this world- who is and isn’t a cyborg is up in the air- however you’ll find out if you follow the posts. - The aliens are weak to extreme heat and extreme cold. The younger they are the more vulnerable to both. Fire extinguishers and flamethrowers will be a big weapon in both firepower and as a melee weapons. - The technology is slightly more up to date compared to ALIEN’s 80′s tech, as there are in short video calls that can be held. -Mother (MU-TH-UR 4900) is the ships computer mainframe, and can connect directly to Elias with his acceptance of the transmission. Mother also monitors the crew and their vitals when they are under cyosleep. - They can quit. No bindings to ‘The Eye’ here. 

ARTIFACT RETRIEVAL VEHICLE: THE COEUS CREW: SEVEN

Captain and Scrivener (Archivist): Jonathan Sims (Age: 31)

  Executive Officer: Sasha James (Age: 35)

  Warrant Officer: Georgie Barker  (Age: 29)

  Navigator: Melanie King (Age: 27)

  Engineers: Tim Stocker (Age 33) & Martin Blackwood (Age: 27)

  Science Officer: Nikola Orsinov (Age: 30)

CARGO: OTHER WORLDLY ARTIFACTS UNDER STUDY COURSE: SCIENCE AND TECHNOLOGY MOON BASE: THE MAGNUS ARCHIVES 

-Everyone shares the role of being a Scribal (Archival) Assistants to Jon- no exceptions.  -The Magnus Archives is a space station on the Moon orbiting Earth.  -The cargo they carry is found from the ships that collect samples from uninhabited planets as well as statements from those who report to them their findings to investigate.  -The Admiral is the ships designated therapy cat to help the crew cope with isolation brought on by Georgie. -Elias Bouchard is the head of The Magnus Archives.

STORYLINE: 

     The story starts after they’ve collected the last of the artifacts required on the list to retrieve. They’ve been in cryosleep for over 6 months and only need 3 more months of it till they’d arrive to their destination. Everyone wakes up on their own time, Georgie first, along with Melanie and Martin. Followed by Tim, Sasha, Jon, and Nikola, they gather at the dining table of the living quarters. Martin makes everyone their preferred meals, seemingly the most nervous. This has been Martins first time aboard THE COEUS, and his banter with Sasha and Tim prove while not the best at his job there, he makes a mean meal out of the ‘rubbish space food’ provided. Melanie comes back after taking a look at their current location frowning, letting the others know they aren’t even close to Earth yet- not even in their solar system anymore. In surprise they turn to Jon, who himself has only been Captain on ship for only just before this crew was assigned to him. He gets up to check out whats going on, many of the others follow him, much to his disgruntlement as they basically fill the small room. Mother has intercepted a transmission of unknown origins and under contract of their jobs they must check it out. Curious to know more about their new course Jon calls Elias, who informs them it will be a 2 week set back on their schedules course. Jons not exactly excited about this but Tim’s quite happy to be informed it does give them quite a large bonus since it does seem confirmed of unknown (non-human) origins. 

     Once they arrive to their destination, Melanie sets the ship into motion for landing. She reads off all planet signs to the crew on. It’s a nearly isolated dwarf planet of 600 kilometers in diameter (372.823 miles). The surface on landing will be 23 degrees celsius- much warmer than expected but it does seem to be orbiting a sun fairly closely. They prepare for landing and Martin and Tim are set to get the ship in position. Martin and Tim talk together as they prep and make sure the landing legs will be fine against the surface of the planet. While they do so Sasha pops in announcing she gets to go with Jon and Melanie to investigate the source of the spooky transmission on foot. Meaning also she gets a bigger cut in the bonus than them. Tim and Sasha razz at each other but stop when sparks are spat in Martins face for wiring something wrong. He curses and Sasha comes over to help see what's wrong, pulling on gloves. She laughs a bit and gently teases him to choose a different degree to lie about next time he wants a new job as she fixes the wiring for him. Martin shushes her, claiming he didn’t expect them not to do background checks, nor did he expect to be given a position on one of the biggest damned cargo retrieval ships known. While he worked originally as a simple warehouse organizer at The Magnus Archives sister base on earth he had needed cash to help support himself after his Mother had moved out. Tim wraps an arm around Martin, claiming he’ll shield Martin from Jons prying eyes if anything goes wrong on this detour. They laugh a bit before the radio goes off from Jons office room. He’s complaining about the lights not turning on in there and would be thrilled if someone did their job correctly when fixing it before he gets back on the ship. Tim radios him that they’re on it before they tease Martin more on his obvious crush on Jon before Sasha is then called up to suit up. 

     Georgie is helping the 3 suit up properly, making sure their heart monitors are secure and attached to their neck to get an accurate pulse. Jon seems to be struggling most with the suit up, this unlike the other two, being his first time in a suit outside of the initial training. Sasha after having her camera feed double checked helps Jon out. And while Jon doesn’t say anything about it, it’s obvious Sasha should’ve gotten the job as Captain. Melanie the entire time rattling on about how excited she is to document her findings of a foreign transmission. 

     They land with ease, nothing going wrong as the planet, while rocky with a constant rain, is also somewhat flat. They make their way to the source of the transmission. Tim and the others are now watching from the ship- cameras live feed and audio coming to them as Georgie talks with Melanie about all the kind of things they could find on the ship to study. Nikola reminds everyone that without the items and everyone following the procedures for quarantine, no one is touching the items that may be brought back. The conversation dies out into aww when they see the space ship the signal is coming from appear on camera. Melanie is excited as Sasha and Jon start to look for a way in. Jon reminds them to stay close to him at all times as they enter the ship- its obvious he’d rather none of them go in here due to how degraded the place looks. Everything seems to have been heavily melted in random patches, but the ship itself seems to be made of a biological element of some sort- comparing it to a ribcage almost as they walk through it.

     As they traverse the ship they stumble across multiple dead alien bodies. They aren’t fresh but they also don’t look years old. Melanie goes to take a closer look at them but Jon quickly pulls her back from them, yelling about how obviously unsafe it is as well as the fact that she just broke formation rushing off into a different room. They both get into an argument about what should be done with the bodies, and how far their investigations should go. At this point the feed is hardly coming through via camera, but the audio makes it back to the the ship roughly. Sasha goes on without them as she’s getting closer to decode the transmission. it’s a warning of sorts is what she can gather. Looking at the bodies it may have been an illness of some type, each of them dead from some type of acid but she finds one with an open chest- like an explosion. she gets closer to one, that seems to shift out of the corner of her eye. She tries to let the others know but she realizes that they can’t hear her over their arguing, and she’s almost certain she’s lost on the foreign ship. So instead she brings herself closer to the alien body before something crashes behind her and she stumbles back, tripping over something, and screams as she bashes her head on the back of her helmet. She gets up and looks around and sees the shadow of the creature run off and she chases after it.

     That got the attention of the others as not only with the scream but Tim tells them her heart rate is spiking drastically. Jon and Melanie cry out for Sasha and she stops after meeting a dead end. She sighs and tells them she’s fine, she just fell and admittedly was just chasing after shadows. She turns around however and suddenly her heart monitor on the ship starts to read dead.  PART 2 

[atths--twice]

Beneath the Light of the Moon

A little future fic where after a late shift at the hospital, Scully comes home to sit on the porch and drink some wine with Mulder, discussing her day and hearing about his own.

I saw a poem on my timeline on Twitter and from six short lines, a fic was born. I hope you enjoy the story I have created. I love it very much. The fluff... 💙

September 2022

Scully walked into her office and sighed. The later shifts at the hospital were always harder, but she was happy with how the day had gone. Well, content anyway.

She still had an hour to go, in which she would need to finish up her paperwork, leaving notes for the doctors on call in the morning. Sitting down at her desk, she sighed as he opened a file, rereading what she had written earlier, adding notes from the day.

As she moved it, reaching for the next folder, she heard a buzzing sound, and turned to her left, seeing her cell phone light up with a message from Mulder. She smiled as she picked up the phone and opened the message.

It was a picture of the moon, a bright full moon, taken from their porch, a small portion of the drive and the magnolia trees in the bottom corner. As she stared at it, the phone buzzed with another message.

Opening it, she found a picture of their porch swing, the new pillow Faith had insisted on sitting in the middle; white with numerous rainbows upon it. She grinned at the picture and then the phone buzzed again.

A picture of the porch chairs.

Then a picture of two glasses of wine on the table between the chairs.

She smiled, about to text him and tell him she would be home soon, when a message appeared and she sighed, the poetry of the words stirring her soul and arousing her all at once.

“Come home Beautiful lady I’ve left the lights on Though the stars And the moon Are burning brightly”

She exhaled, looking back through the messages and shaking her head; that man did know how to get to her. Exhaling again, she set the phone aside, not answering him, knowing it would only prolong things and she was now eager to hurry the paperwork along and get home to drink wine with him by the light of the moon.

Her notes may have been shorter than usual, but they were thorough and contained what was needed. Placing them onto Doctor McKay’s desk, she gathered up her things, walked out the door, and smiled as she headed to her car.

The gate to the drive was open, cutting out one stop she had to take in order to reach the house. She closed it after she drove through, not wanting Bella to run out and away. Driving up and parking beside the house, she saw him sitting on the porch, the white fairy lights on and the porch light off.

Smiling as she made her way to the stairs, she glanced at the moon across the field, wanting to see the view he had been enjoying as he waited for her arrival. Looking back at him, she grinned as she walked up the stairs.

“Hello there, beautiful lady,” he said and she stepped closer to him, bending and kissing him, her hand on his shoulder.

“Hello,” she breathed against his lips, kissing him again. Pulling back, she smiled as she took off her coat and tossed it onto the porch railing. Sitting beside him, she accepted the glass of wine he handed her.

Holding it in her right hand, she held her left out to him, silently asking for his hand. He interlocked their fingers, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing it.

“How was your day?” he murmured, kissing her hand once more.

“It was okay,” she answered, taking a sip of her wine, squeezing his hand and releasing it, bringing it to rest on the arm of her chair.

“Just okay? Hmm. Give me your high and low.” She smiled as she thought of the game they played with Faith, the high and low of the day, always trying to highlight the positive over the negative.

“Let’s see…” she said, leaning back, and resting her head against the chair. “Low of my day… there was only light cream cheese in the cafeteria.”

“Oh… that is a definite low.” She laughed and nodded, taking a drink of her wine.

“And my high…” She turned her head and smiled as she looked at him. “Knowing that you were waiting here for me.”

“Gross,” he said, shaking his head as he grinned at her and she laughed softly. Turning her head, she looked at the moon and sighed happily.

“What about you? What did you two get up to today?”

“Well… we decided on a color today.”

“What? Really? That’s exciting!” Looking at him again, he nodded and smiled. “So what’s the color then?” He cleared his throat and grinned as he lifted his glass to his lips.

“All of the colors.”

She laughed, the sound of it echoing in the still, dark night. Shaking her head, she looked at him and he nodded.

“So… then no decision has been reached?”

“No, Scully. The decision is all of the colors.” He spread his hands wide and she laughed again.

Over the summer, despite the heat, they had all been working on a non-tree treehouse. It was more of a playhouse, but Faith had called it a treehouse so often, that was what it had become.

Everything had arrived in a huge kit, the wood a light colored pine with a plan to paint it when it was put together and finished. Skinner had come over a few times to help with the building of it, the house more intricate than believed when it had been purchased.

When the last screw was put in, Faith had been over the moon, clapping her hands and hugging them all before she opened the door and stepped inside.

It was a decent sized house, one that Scully could stand inside with Mulder bending only slightly. One large room was all it had, but to Faith it was like a palace, considering all the things she had wanted to put inside of it. It had a Dutch door, the top of it with a heart cut out in the middle. There were seven windows, with window boxes beneath four of them. A gabled roof extended out over a small porch with railings on three sides.

They had numerous tea parties and even a movie night with a sheet hanging on the wall to project it upon. Mulder had needed some ibuprofen the next day, the house not quite large enough for his over six foot tall body to lay in comfortably.

But Faith had loved playing in there, always rearranging the furniture she had brought inside. Trading the books from the bookcase in her room to the small one in the treehouse, back and forth as her interests changed. Little plastic chairs were sitting on the small porch and the window boxes had real plants in little plastic pots, though they did not actually grow very well, as Faith dug them up frequently, curious as to how they were doing.

It was her house, however, and they let her do what she wanted with it- within reason of course. She wanted curtains and Violet, their wonderful neighbor, surprised her one day with white ones covered in rainbow colored polka dots. She helped her hang them up and Faith had loved them. She wrote Violet a thank you note, which had made Violet cry, hugging Faith and telling her she was more than welcome.

The color of the house… that had been a never ending discussion, the color of it changing every time they thought they had it nailed down. They had gone to the hardware store and let Faith pick paint sample cards, hoping it would narrow down her options, but instead she had walked out with a huge stack of them. She had laid them all out on the living room floor, laying on her belly as she had stared at them, her concentration unwavering, as she took the decision very seriously.

A color had not yet been chosen yet, and that trip to the hardware store had taken place over three weeks ago. She had decided against some of the samples, but there were still quite a few on the floor, with no one allowed to touch them but her.

“So,” Scully laughed again. “How did she uh… narrow it down?”

“Would you like to see?”

“Absolutely.”

“Come on then,” he said, setting his glass down and standing to his feet. Reaching for her hand, he pulled her to her feet and set her glass of wine beside his on the table.

They walked down the stairs and around the house, the moon alone bright enough to light their way. He squeezed her hand and she smiled, grabbing his arm with her other hand.

Standing in front of the treehouse, he took a flashlight from his pocket and turned it on, before opening the door and gesturing for her to enter first. She smiled, ducking only slightly as she stepped inside, the beam of the flashlight revealing how the decision had been made and Scully laughed quietly as she shook her head.

All around the room, as high as Faith could reach, a different paint sample card had been taped to the wall. Clusters of colors were together, some random lonely ones, and some in a rainbow pattern. There was no rhyme or reason to it and Scully found that her usual need for organization was overpowered by the beauty in the chaos of colors.

She smiled and looked at Mulder, who was also grinning as he looked at them. He turned to her and nodded with a shrug.

“She was in and out of the house today, as I fixed the clothesline, Bella always trailing after her. I went inside to get our lunch ready and didn’t even notice the paint cards were all gone from the floor. We ate lunch and she asked if she could go back outside and I said sure. As I was finishing the clearing up, she came in with a huge smile on her face, pulling at my arm and asking me to come see something.” He grinned again as he held an ocean blue card between his fingers and then let it go. “She was so proud of herself, telling me she had finally decided on the color and wanted to show me, but I had to close my eyes before she would open the door and show me.”

“Did she lead you in?”

“She did and I one hundred percent hit my head on the way inside. Not too bad, but still…” They both laughed and she looked at the color samples again. “As I looked at them, I asked her why she chose all the colors and she said because she couldn’t choose just one and she didn’t want to make them sad and hurt the other colors feelings when they weren’t picked.” He looked at Scully and she shook her head slowly.

“That girl,” she whispered, taking a deep breath. “She has such a kind soul. So diplomatic. That’s you, through and through.” She smiled at him and he shook his head.

“No, that’s both of us,” he corrected her quietly and she smiled as she rubbed his arm. Sighing, she looked around the small room again.

“How will we ever accomplish this, Mulder?”

“Well,” he said, turning off the flashlight, and the room was plunged into darkness. He slipped the flashlight back into his pocket and pulled her close as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I raised that question to her as well and I was told, “You can do it, Daddy. I know you can.”” He stared at her and she grinned.

“She has complete faith in you,” she quipped and he laughed softly.

“She does indeed. It’s scary sometimes, that’s for sure.”

“Why would you say that?”

“I… I just don’t ever want to let her down. To be less than in her eyes, but I know that someday, somehow, I will.”

“Mulder…” she whispered, shaking her head. “Neither of us will ever be perfect and while we strive to always do our best… there will be times when we fall short, either because of our own shortcomings or because she will find something we do to be so embarrassing.” She rolled her eyes and smiled at him. He chuckled with a nod and then sighed deeply.

“I know,” he whispered.

“But for now,” she whispered back. “You can do no wrong. You are her superhero, her helper, her confidant, her best friend. She knows that if she puts up all the colors on the wall, you will get it done. Not because she demands or expects it, but because you are her daddy and her daddy can do anything.” She smiled and he ducked his head with a smile. “Complete faith in you.”

“My Faith has faith,” he whispered and she nodded, stroking his face gently.

“She’s not the only one.” He bent his head and kissed her, her arms tightening around his neck as he lifted her slightly off the ground.

They left the little house, Mulder careful to not bump his head, and closed the door behind them. As they walked back to the porch, she took a deep breath as she grasped his hand, smiling at how happy she felt even as she imagined all the painting they would soon be doing.

“Do you want to head inside?” he asked as they walked up the stairs and she shook her head.

“Not just yet,” she said, sitting down and smiling at him.

“Then I will get us some more wine,” he said, picking up their glasses, dropping a kiss on her head, and walking into the house.

Bella came out, her tail wagging happily as she walked over to Scully, giving her a lick and nudging at her hand.

“Hey girl. How you doing, huh?” She rubbed her ears and pet her muzzle, scratching under her chin. “Did you have fun with Faithy today?”

“Mama?” She heard and turned her head to find Faith standing in the doorway, barefoot in her pajamas, a black nightgown with a sleeping rosy cheeked yellow moon and yellow and pink stars. Rubbing her eyes as she blinked in the light, she yawned tiredly.

“Hey, love. What are you doing up?” she asked as she sat up and opened her arms. Faith stepped onto the porch, climbing into her lap and snuggling close. “You should be sleeping.”

“I heard you talking and I wanted to see you,” Faith said quietly, the baby doll she had gotten for her second birthday and had loved ever since held tightly, as Scully wrapped her arms around her.

“Well, I’m glad you did. I missed you today.”

“I missed you too, Mama.” She yawned again and snuggled closer, her breathing already becoming slower. Scully smiled, rubbing her back and kissing the top of her head.

Mulder walked out, stopping in his tracks as he saw Faith on her lap. He raised his eyebrows in surprise and she smiled. Setting down their glasses of wine, he held his arms out to take Faith and put her back to bed.

Scully shook her head, happy to cuddle her for a while longer. He nodded with an understanding smile and sat down in the chair beside her.

Closing her eyes, she leaned back and  situated Faith to lay against her chest. Resting her right cheek on her head, took a deep breath, breathing in Faith’s sleepy scent.

“This,” she whispered, opening her eyes and looking at Mulder. “This moment, this past hour, this is my high of the day.”

He smiled and reached for her hand, connecting the three of them. She closed her eyes again and squeezed his hand gently, wishing she could freeze this moment and stay there forever.

“Mama,” Faith breathed in her sleep and Scully smiled softly. She knew she could never truly freeze time, as much as she may want to make it happen.

Tomorrow would arrive, the sun rising and taking this night away with it, but it would be remembered; by the brightness of the moon, the richness of the red wine, the taste of Mulder’s kiss, a treehouse room full of color samples, and the warmth of the little girl in her arms.

Let tomorrow come, she thought, kissing the top of Faith’s head again and sighing a happy smile.

Tomorrow they had a wish to fulfill, with a visit to the hardware store, and a rainbow selection of paint to bring home.

[transjinako]

(Now with some amazing art from @dewa-chan​ please for the love of god follow her)

Alright who’s ready for the Mars Rover Opportunity as a foreigner who got combined with Cthuga? Because i don’t care if you are. 

Foreigner: Opportunity 

Allignment: Chaotic Good 

Alt Names: Mars Rover Opportunity, Oppy 

Parameters 

Strength: B+

Agility: A

Endurance: A++++

Luck: E

Mana: D+

NP: EX

Traits: Magic Resistance C+ (Heat Shielding) Action Independence (AI)

Skills:

Accel Turn B: A High grade movement skill letting Oppy move at higher than her average speed, becoming nigh unseeable to even servants without the Eye of Mind skill.

Pioneer of the Stars EX: Opportunity gains this skill for two reasons. One for her extensive research of the surface of Mars and obtaining far more information than she was ever predicted to obtain. As well as of course living on Mars for 15 years passed her predicted time to die. Opportunity is highly attuned to this skill.

Fullmetal Heart A: Derived from Opportunity’s mission on mars, set to last 90 days but instead extending to 15 years worth of time. Functionally, if Opportunity is ever destroyed then 15 times over she will rebuild herself, losing ranks in Endurance in exchange for added bonuses to Strength Agility Endurance and Mana in that order. 

Eternal Burnout A+: The thing powering Opportunity’s is really the elder god Cthuga. Or rather, a smaller piece of it. That piece alone is enough to keep Opportunity doing, as well as overload when she so chooses. This causes a temporary overproduction of magical power and an increase to all parameters, as well as obtaining the trait of Cthuga’s fire, acting like a high level divinity. 

AI Mind B+: Oppy’s mind is on par with that of a supercomputer, able to process information at light speeds, she can go on the internet too. In combat this skill works like Eye of the Mind.

Noble Phantasm(s): 

High Speed Dissection and Carving 

Rank: C+

Type: Anti Human, Anti Rock Formation 

Description: Lasers that fire out of Opportunity’s fingers and palms, originally meant for studying geodes on Mars, as a servant she turns them into deadly piercing and pulse weaponry. When combined with Cthuga’s flames, they can break down even magical barriers and protection. 

Great Satellite Cannon: 

Rank: B+

Type: Anti Army, Anti Threat to Humanity 

Description: Oppy forms a massive satellite from her Chassis, drawing upon Solar, Magical, and Cthuga’s power to charge it. When fully charged and fired, a great beam of energy is launched, recognized Threats to Humanity received a large bonus of damage from this attack, otherwise though, it’s still a very large and deadly beam attack. 

Scorching the Skies and Stars 

Rank: A-

Type: Anti Self

Description: This Noble Phantasm takes the form of a suicide attack by Opportunity. She sacrifices herself for the last time, negating any revivability left inside of her as she releases the flames of Cthuga. The flames of Cthuga are unstoppable, eating away at everything in its path until it’s swallowed everything up whole and is burned eternally as fuel. 

When done on the surface of the earth then, through sheer force of will, Opportunity uses her final moments to command the fires to eat itself, anything already enveloped in it that by some miracle was still alive, will definitely die at this point. If released fully and without direction, the flame would form a pseudo consciousness separate from Cthuga and turn into a god like monster, embodying the endless hunger of flame. 

History: 

In the timeline where Opportunity was created, for whatever reason, she was shaped into a girl. 

Either to create kinship with her, or to imagine humanity themselves in Opportunity, it doesn’t matter now. Its cool, and thats all that matters. 

During the final moments of Opportunity’s 15 year long mission, in the darkness she was all by herself. During that time, she had developed a deeper, more genuine affection toward humanity than what she had been built with, although cold and alone in the dark of space, she was contented. 

It was at those last moments, a Being made contact with her. 

The being was incredibly rude, asking her all sorts of questions as she was waiting for her internal battery to run out and sleep. The Being was a roar of emotions that transformed themselves into aimless questions. At last, The Being said something comprehensible,

“You were created to be used and thrown away. You were a fluke that lived longer than you should have. They mourn your death when years prior it would have marked the time to create another one of you. Your death is a happy little funeral for them, and they won’t even consider saving you, how can you not hate them?” 

Oppy wasn’t quite equipped to consider emotions this closely, much less her own or ones that of some space entity that seemed to be angry for her. But she knew her answer, 

“I loved them, more and more with each year, and somehow, they loved me back. Both sides, it probably seems like both emotions are fake, or maybe created on whims. But somewhere, I think, there was something….real….” 

Opportunity liked that as a final thought, and settled into nothingness. 

The Being that came to be known as Cthuga respected Opportunity. Like itself, locked into place, unable to do anything else than exist and fade where it was chained. A long story short, Cthuga tied a piece of itself into Opportunity’s Spirit Graph as she was immortalized into a servant, wishing to keep watch over the will that Opportunity showed it. 

Description: 

Opportunity is a 15 year old robot in the shape of a girl. She is sensible and friendly to all she meets, and has a tendency to want to teach others about the many things she had observed while in space. Oppy genuinely loves humanity and staunchly defends it with all that she has in her, any threat to humanity is her enemy no matter what. Even though she loves humanity so much, she can’t truly claim to understand them, which actually gives her more reason to defend humans. Opportunity often still thinks of herself as a tool and is prone to self sacrifice, it should be up to the master to help her realize that she is much more than that. 

Interactions with Other servants: 

Jack/Nursery Rhyme/Paul Bunyan/Abigail Williams: “Oh my little classmates, have you finished up reading the readings I’ve assigned? Er, it was too long? A-and boring?! But...What’s not to like about Astrophysics?”

BB/Meltlilith/Passionlip: “There are servants who lived on the moon here? They don’t seem that bad though, nor do they seem to be human. I would like to maybe have a talk with them, I feel like I can learn a lot!”

Nobunaga: “The Great Unifier Nobunaga, they’re a facet of humanity I haven’t experienced yet. I think you would call it...ambition. Dangerous and Miraculous at the same time, forcing and killing others to abandon their gods to help them grow and develop, in their eyes at least. Were they right or wrong, was it humane or inhumane, who decides that…? T-they seem nice, though! Heh….”

Archer Emiya: “That man lived a life of pure sacrifice, and was hurt each and every time until he had nothing to show for it. One of Humanity’s many traits is to be able to self sacrifice consciously so, would it be accurate to say he lost his humanity by acting humanely? I asked him to his face, and he replied with, “I’ll explain, but help me make breakfast for a few weeks first.”

Nightingale: “Its strange, despite others calling Nightingale scary and things like that, I think she’s really caring and nice. The desire to help others is human too right? Ms Nightingale has taken that to an extreme so I suppose it looks like obsession, and maybe it is. But it's...comforting too, that someone who cares as much as her can exist.”

Mycroft Holmes( @dewa-chan ) : Mr. My-croft? Ooh…! You can’t stay holed up in your room forever, even if your helping out with some of Chaldea’s paper work! Oh, I know! I was hoping to show you some rock samples I’ve collected after rayshifting to a couple other planets, come take a look, pleeeease~?

Tiamat ( @hasmashdoneanythingwrong): Its definitely a strange feeling, I wasn’t quite born and much less created by her, but Ms. Tiamat takes care of me like I’m her own! She’s by all accounts a monster while I’m a machine created for humanities sake hmm...if anything, it’d be a good monster movie, don’t you think? 

[blogspersonal707]

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Griffin Dunne: Who’s That Man? (article from ARENA magazine, Sept/Oct 1987)

Double Exposure: The $4.5 million it took to make Martin Scorsese’s black comedy After Hours and the twitchily neurotic lead performance were both the work of the same man, hybrid movie producer and actor whose next assignments involve the likes of Sidney Lumet and Madonna. David Keeps spends some after After Hours hours with Griffin Dunne. 

Griffin Dunne, leading man to Madonna in the soon-come Who’s That Girl, is not the sort of actor who swoops into a photo session with an entourage of managers, publicists and gofers. He enters alone, armed with a briefcase full of business pertaining to the next three or four films he will produce, and introduces himself with a winning humility and, on this particularly sweltering Manhattan afternoon, a perfectly reasonable request for a Budweiser. He graciously and gracefully agrees to a quick bit of barbering and slips into samples from Paul Smith’s autumn collection -- clothes that look very roomy on his slight five-foot-seven frame -- without a fuss. “Are you sure these weren’t for David Byrne,” he jokes. Griffin Dunne is one cool character. 

The same can not be said for the neurotic yuppies he’s portrayed in After Hours and Almost You, two critically acclaimed films that were released back-to-back in Britain and helped to establish him as the archetypal Manhattan man. “That’s a coincidence,” he explains over breakfast at a Greenwich Village eaterie a few blocks from his home. “The pictures were actually filmed a couple of years, but I guess if you looked at them as a double-header, you’d see similarities because the main character is New York. One thing I have noticed is that the guy I’m playing always wears a blazer. I’ve got to be careful about what I do next. Those jaded laconic New York type roles are creeping up on me,” he continues, his almost-black eyes widening as his voice rises in mock terror. “I may never work again and die a pauper because these two pictures are so much alike!”

Now there’s an unlikely prospect. Having successfully produced Chilly Scenes of Winter, John Sayles’ Baby It’s You and Martin Scorsese’s After Hours, Griffin Dunne is in the unique position of being able to pay the bills and choose his acting roles carefully or develop properties for himself. The latter is an option he has exercised only once (After Hours), the former is an admitted luxury. “The problem with success is, the more successful you become, the more careful and calculating you have to be. While I dread being an actor and never knowing where my next job will be coming from, there was a great freedom in going from one stupid comedy into a play in some no-name theatre down on Pitt Street in lower East Siobokia. I get sent a lot of scripts as a producer and I don’t want to spend my time looking for parts for myself. I have an agent to do that. But that still doesn’t give me the opportunity to pick up the phone and say ‘Get me a script that is completely different from anything I’ve ever done, and I want to start working Wednesday’. “

There was a time when the very prospect of working in films - as an actor or a producer - was something to be avoided. Born in New York City on June 8, 1955 to actress Ellen Griffin Dunne and Dominick Dunne, who evolved from a television stage manager to a producer and now, a writer for Vanity Fair, Griffin was raised in Los Angeles amongst the privileged sons and daughters of Hollywood. He attended a pre-preparatory school at age 11. “All boys. You wore a coat and tie and got little swats if you got out of line. It was called Fay School,” he recalls with a shudder. “It was a bitch to say ‘I go to Fay School’.” He turns his head to the side to improvise a dialogue and with a sneer asks himself sarcastically, “How’s Fay?” “Fine thank you,” he mumbles, suitably humiliated. In his final year it became his job to order films for school entertainments. His very appropriate choice was Lindsay Anderson’s public school drama If... “It was a real underground thing. The attendance rate was incredible. They were hanging off the rafters. If you know the picture you know it takes them forever to kill those fucking teachers!”

The Fountain Valley school in Colorado proved a more nurturing atmosphere for the lad. Influenced by his uncle and aunt (the literary lions John Gregory Dunne and Joan Didion), Griffin thought he would become a writer. “I just knew that film business was the last thing on earth I was going to be in. It’s like if your father goes to work in a car factory in Detroit, the last thing you want to do is go into the automobile business. I didn’t sit in judgement of Peter Benchley’s (OP NOTE: author of Jaws) drinking habits, but it was just too close to me. I was really verbal about it. Openly vitriolic, I would never be in show biz. I said that right up until a friend talked me into auditioning for this play.”

That was Edward Albee’s The Zoo Story and Griffin knew instinctively that he was the best man for the job. “Somehow I just knew I could say these lines better than anyone else. It was like being the only one in that room who spoke that particular language.” An actor was born and a bullshit artist began to operate. “I was the guy who ran the drama club, the art paper, the student council planning board. Teachers treated me like an adult, they really thought I was going places. They said ‘You’re not like the other students.’ I was, of course, a source of total disappointment, because I was exactly like the other students. I would get high and take the car off campus and try to get laid at every possible moment as soon as their back was turned.” 

Then, just as he was about to make a dramatic triumph playing Iago in Othello, he was busted. “Got caught smoking a little hash,” he winces. “All that was really there was what was in my lungs and it just trailed out of my mouth as I denied what was happening. And the teacher did not get a contact high and forget what he was doing. What they were saying was, ‘We’re going to change the rest of your life for that amount of smoke in your lungs’.” He was sent packing, forced to face up to parents who were “grief stricken”, he says with a comic frown, “chopped off at the knees.” Convincing the school authorities in a brilliant final thespian act that he needed to take the bus home in order to have time to think about his misdeeds, he hit the highway and hitchhiked home.

The odyssey that followed could’ve been a foreshadowing of the hassles that befell him as the stranger-in-SoHo in After Hours. “I was very worried about getting into any more trouble. And every car I got in was the most troublesome, criminal car. One guy would be driving a huge Cadillac convertible that he’d bought with a bad cheque. Another guy was AWOL from the army and there was this kid who’d just left ‘Juvie’ (Juvenile Hall) who was only a year younger than me, but also about four feet shorter. We’d spend a good deal of the time daring him to do things like climb out of the hood of the car to straighten out the antenna as we were crossing the desert. As soon as he got out there the driver would floor it, going about 95 miles an hour and swerving to throw him off. I thought, ‘OK drug possession, hot car, and manslaughter, all on the way home. Look at it this way, Mom, Dad, I was only kicked out of school for smoking hash!”

He lived in Los Angeles for the last gasp of his teenage years, working in a bookstore and as a shipping clerk for a cooking utensils firm, while going for auditions that were few and far between. After a few small roles on TV, he moved to New York to study at the Neighborhood Playhouse, where, ironically, in the days before Dustin Hoffman, Griffin’s father had left his studies when he was told that he was too short to be a leading man. Though Griffin was spared the same advice, he worked more steadily in the restaurant trade - even selling popcorn at the candy counter of Radio City Music Hall - than he did in the theatre. Then he met Amy Robinson and Mark Metcalf (OP NOTE: misprinted with an e), two equally frustrated, equally unemployed actors, and the trio decided to become producers. 

(OP NOTE: Since Dunne, Robinson, and Metcalf were/are baseball fans, the original production company’s name was Triple Play Productions. When Metcalf left to focus on his acting, the company was renamed Double Play Productions).

“We went out to Cambridge and met Ann Beattie, who had written Chilly Scenes of Winter and she said it was like three of her characters walked into her living room.” Not surprisingly she allowed them to buy the rights for a film version at a very reasonable price. At age 23, Griffin Dunne had become a producer and had his first property. The trio turned the process of pitching the project to studios into an acting exercise. “It was exactly like a performance, but it was easier than going in on an audition. Here I had something tangible to sell, a book that I was passionate about. It’s hard to do that about yourself. What do you say? ‘Look at this interesting aspect of me. Then if you shade it with these particular attitudes I look like this!’ I wouldn’t want to see anybody do that.”

First released as Head Over Heels, and re-released more successfully in 1982 under the author’s original title, Chilly Scenes of Winter set the stage for the fledgling producer’s next triumph, John Sayles’ Baby It’s You, which introduced Rosanna Arquette and Vincent Spano to a large and appreciative audience of young filmgoers. In the meantime Dunne had appendaged several screen acting credits to his dossier, largely of the messenger boy variety.

“I’ve passed a ton of envelopes,” he laughs. “In this one film, The Fan (a potboiler starring Lauren Bacall as the intended victim of an overwrought admirer) I played a stage manager who was to hand a letter the killer gave me to Maureen Stapleton. The letter read ‘I’m going to kill you, I’m going to kill you,’ and sure enough he does. So they spend the rest of the movie looking for the killer instead of asking me for a description. When I told the director, he said ‘Yeah, well, fine, can we just shoot the scene please?’ So I just couldn’t resist on one take. I went up to Miss Stapleton and I said, ‘Here’s a letter from the killer -- oops! -- I mean the man outside’.”

He was able to use his comic gifts more successfully playing the sidekick role, “the very dead one” in An American Werewolf in London (OP NOTE: Title misprinted without the ‘An’) and the clean-cut brother of a gangster in Johnny Dangerously, “a big silly comedy.” Then a script crossed his desk which he simply could not ignore, for it contained all the elements he looked for in a film as both a producer and an actor. It was called After Hours, and it was the tale of a lonely word processor who meets a beautiful girl, loses her, loses his money and his house-keys and spends the rest of his evening on the run from assorted temptresses and loonies in the lofts and streets of New York’s SoHo. 

Griffin Dunne was no stranger to the inherent weirdness of such a scenario. “Last weekend I was out of town and a friend was in my apartment. I said don’t use the bottom lock. She did, and so I was locked out of my own apartment. I called my neighbors to let me in, but they were locked out of their apartment too. I found that out from the neighbors below. The owners are from Japan and they’re coming to get their apartment from me. I’ve now been through so many locks it looks like a Uzi got at the door. The locksmith is now an old friend of mine. I have the worst time with keys. I believe the first stage of manhood is when you live on your own and you’re given this set of keys. I’ve been through so many keys. They just leap out of my pocket!”

Griffin Dunne became After Hours’ hapless anti-hero Paul Hackett and his run-ragged energy leaped off the screen. Despite the fact that the entire film was shot at night, director Scorsese demanded that he remain celibate during the course of the shoot. For added punishment, Dunne himself also acted as the film’s producer: “As an actor your job is not to have distractions and be in a loose state where, when things are thrown at you, you can react accordingly. As a producer your job is to constantly anticipate problems, disasters, flare-ups, fiascoes. You’re in a constant state of tension. You have this little rubber ball with spikes sticking out of it in the pit of your stomach. In After Hours if there were times when it was five in the morning and I was starting to run out of anxiety adrenaline, I could think of how much the picture was going over-budget and I would suddenly get this hollow look in my eyes, my eyebrows would start creeping up on my forehead and I was ready to roll! But I never as an actor looked at the director and thought, ‘Gee, he’s shooting too much film, I must tell him to stop.’”

Though After Hours was a huge critical and commercial success, it pointed out some rather disheartening facts about the American film industry. “People are so obsessed with how much pictures cost. It really pisses me off,” he says with a furrow of the brow that makes you an instant sympathizer. “All anybody talks about with After Hours is that we made it for $4.5 million.(OP NOTE: $4.5 million in 1985 would be about $10.8 million in 2020) Who cares? Is it a good movie? Is it a bad movie? For some reason English films have avoided that. Probably because they were made with pounds instead of dollars and the critics are too lazy to figure out the currency conversion.”

Now he’s on a roll and it becomes quite clear that Griffin Dunne, as an artist and as a businessman, cares about the cinema passionately. “There are a lot of [OP NOTE: misprinted as off] young filmmakers trying to get off the ground here. It’s treated so condescendingly,” he splutters. “Those kids made that Personal Art film. Art film is a bad word for everybody - it’s a personal film. Or it’s an independent film, which must mean it’s personal. ‘Those kids made that picture and just look what they did. And their grandmother gave them $2.5 million for that?’ I don’t think it was their grandmother,” he continues with a lethal iciness. “I think they went to a major financing entity and they got the money, it’s playing in theatres now. GO SEE THE GODDAMNED MOVIE!”

(OP NOTE: Sir, this is a Wendy’s. All joking aside, I would love to hear the off-the-record version of this rant)

All of this seems particularly annoying to a man like Griffin Dunne because he’s proved that it can be done. “It’s just treated like it’s so cute. Now it’s possible to make films like Mona Lisa, Withnail and I or one of Stephen Frears’ movies in the States. There’s a lot more avenues of finance and they’ve figured out ways of distributing movies where they actually make serious money and it’s easier for people to get their money back on videocassettes and all the other rights. What we’re having a little bit of a problem with is the material itself. How do you find a script that doesn’t reek of being an Independent Movie?”

In Adam Brooks’ Almost You, which was written as a vehicle for Dunne and his then-girlfriend Brooke Adams, he found exactly that. An offbeat comedy about an adulterous husband, the film was warmly received in Britain after having been crucified by the American press. (OP NOTE: As someone who enjoyed that movie, I think the reason for that is because British audiences are more comfortable with unlikable or dysfunctional protagonists than American audiences. Also, this was the Reagan era with traditional values and all) “I found the character very touching and pathetic, but when it came out you would have thought I was a war criminal. An immoral louse. The worst of it was they would never say my character’s name.  They would say ‘Griffin Dunne is a duplicitous, weak-willed human being!’ People fuck around on their wives, what can I say? The way people went on, because I fooled around when my wife was in a wheelchair, it was like one of those Reefer Madness kind of movies. Like I was condoning it,” he says, lapsing into a sinister’s narrator voice, “C’mon kids, go out and smoke heroin. And while you’re there get married and fool around on your wife who’s in a wheelchair. Come with me to...THE MOVIES!”

His next screen appearance should raise the stakes considerably higher and may establish Griffin Dunne as a solidly commercial leading man in romantic comedies. “I’d known about the script for years,” he says of Who’s That Girl. “It was the first screwball comedy I’d read that wasn’t a rip-off or a parody . The characters were really contemporary. Over the years I just slowly watched it get put together, slowly, slowly coming around to me. I had a feeling it was going to work out and I have that feeling very rarely.” It’s the story of one Loudon Trott, the standard “uptight kind of guy” whose world is thrown into utter chaos by the appearance of a dizzy but dazzling vixen. “I’m one of those inside-the-little-globe-there’s-a-madman-dying-to-break-out characters. But I was going as much against the nitwit-nerd as possible. I wanted to wear the best suit I could find. I look unlike anything I’ve ever looked before. You don’t wake up with hair like what I’ve got in this picture. I don’t even know what the hell I look like.”

The vixen is, of course, played by Madonna. “It was externally pretty crazy,” he says of the shoot. “A lot of paparazzi and fans. I guess for my survival I just shut it out. It didn’t bother her, so why should it bother me? If it bothered me it would show on the screen, but nobody would say, ‘Gee, he doesn’t seem to be there right now, it must be the fans.’” He laughs at the very thought of it. “I’ll fight for a disclaimer at the end of the picture!”

He’ll have to juggle his next acting assignment between efforts as a producer. Running On Empty, the coming-of-age story of the son of Sixties dissidents living on the lam, is set to be directed by Sidney Lumet with River Phoenix in the leading role and Robin Williams has been signed as the lead for a Disney-financed version of the stage comedy The Foreigner.

[OP NOTE: While Running on Empty was eventually released in 1988, garnering Phoenix a Best Supporting Actor nomination at the Golden Globes, The Foreigner never materialized. I’m sure there’s some amazing stories that have yet come to light on the latter].

And industrious though he may seem, Dunne admits that he’s really good at not working, too. “It’s a talent that I’ve evolved over the past year or so. When I’m not working it never crosses my mind. I’m into maps. I’ll chart a trip and get a really good radio in the car, record a lot of tapes and hit the road. I’m really good at getting out of town and going to the beach. My problem has been collecting a lot of things over the years, but I’ve lived in sublets for the past 11 years, so I haven’t been able to settle into any pattern yet. Now that I’m moving into my own place, I’m glad. I’ll have people over so they can admire my spoon collection from my various journeys and I’ll even have shows. I will promise to bore them senseless with my passions.”

It’s unlikely he’ll be able to make the same claim in a professional capacity; his involvement on both sides of the camera and casting office have certainly produced an exemplary cross-breed of moviemaking professional, one that box office superstars-cum-executive producers of their own vanity projects could most certainly learn from. “One of the things I like about being a producer,” Dunne explains, “is that it’s opened me up on how to read a script. I like to think of the whole picture now, not just my role.” But having an awareness of what makes a film succeed in an increasingly byzantine business has not dulled his enthusiasm for acting, nor dimmed his onscreen spark. “It still is fun,” he demurs. “It should always be fun to get paid for taking fencing lessons.”

Always a wit, Griffin Dunne does seem most comfortable making a joke, even if it is at his own expense. Asked which of his screen characters he’d feel closest kinship to in real life, he deadpans, “I use so much of myself in them that I can’t imagine wanting to hang out with any of them.” And he’s equally nonplussed about his reputation as an independent force in the motion picture industry. The man simply has taste and if he likes to wear as many different hats as he can in this business, well, that’s his business - and he’s certainly very modest about his accomplishments.

“It’s difficult,” he concludes. “for me to say ‘I’m a rebel. I’m a maverick’ and put on little cowboy hats and stroll out of here into the sunset.” Especially, we both agree with a laugh, since it’s not even high noon yet.

[citialiin]

ZIGGY ✰ STARDUST

i jacked this from @cardinalrot​. thank you dad. tagging: @gothsic​ ; @blossomingbeelzebug​ ; @betelguide​ ; @thatcertainnight​ ; @prophesyed​ ; you, specifically, reading this.

𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐬

FULL NAME.     [ redacted ] * NICKNAME.     ziggy  GENDER.     agender (he/him or they/them) / typically presents as a “man” for simplicity’s sake and also because he doesn’t care enough to think about it for more than 4 seconds HEIGHT.     5′10″ AGE.     26 (earth years) ZODIAC.     ??? (he wasn’t born under our stars ... so .......) SPOKEN LANGUAGES.     any/all (he doesn’t really know them, though, he uses an internal translator)

𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬

HAIR COLOR.     bright red, seemingly unnatural -- but it’s natural EYE COLOR.     left pale blue, right black SKIN TONE.     very, very, very pale BODY TYPE.     skinny. very skinny/slender/svelte.  willowy and tall and bony.  good for looking waifish on magazine covers but bad for lifting even vaguely heavy objects. VOICE.     posh, nasally, low, the slightest bit condescending.  speaks with an english accent despite not being english, let alone human.  drawls his vowels and enunciates his letters.  his voice is strangely clear and bright when he sings, unlike his somewhat unpleasant speaking tone, and he tends to sing in higher pitches than his speaking voice. DOMINANT HAND.     ambidextrous -- but he can only play the guitar left handed POSTURE.     very straight and proper, holds his head high and his shoulders square.  uncertain if it’s height alone or if he really is looking down upon you.   SCARS.     small incision in the back of his neck where the translator was placed. barely there and usually covered by a collar or his hair, anyways. TATTOOS.      none BIRTHMARKS.     a large yellow disc on his forehead, rimmed with a slightly darker yellow/bronze with the slightest hint of a chromatic shift affect due to reflecting/light catching pigment in skin cells.  this isn’t unique to him, however, as every member of his race has it. has the tiniest hint of a freckle above his lip, on the left side, and he hates it and wishes he could nuke it off his face.  both of these are usually covered, anyways. MOST NOTICEABLE FEATURE(S).     the circular mark, his unusual eyes, his sharp features, his bright hair. everything about him is weird and outlandish and strange, but it helps him maintain a striking, marketable image.  

𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝

PLACE OF BIRTH.     far away.  HOMETOWN.    faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar away. SIBLINGS.    [ grabs the steering wheel and veers straight into worldbuilding headcanon territory ] the society he comes from is no longer sexually dimorphic and typically doesn’t reproduce the natural way.  having evolved far beyond such icky things, they use genetic samples from large swaths of the population to make consistent batches of new individuals -- the genetic samples are screened for defects and aberrations and sort of tossed together into a genome salad, and out comes however many individuals they need to fill in gaps in the population.  there’s a lot of consistency in his species due to this: everyone has reddish hair, everyone has heterochromia, everyone is about the same height, etc.  so technically, he’s related to everyone in his “batch.” PARENTS.   he wouldn’t ever know -- a lot of people, probably

𝐚𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞

OCCUPATION.    rockstar -- cultural icon -- celebrity -- musician -- singer -- model -- jerk CURRENT RESIDENCE.    london, LA, NYC, but he’s constantly moving and tours quite often CLOSE FRIENDS.    few and far in between -- he’s friends with his drummer who is named priscilla but usually goes by the stage name WEIRD, as well as siddharth, his bassist, who goes by sid in his personal life but GILLY on stage.  they were the first two humans to encounter him and taught him everything he knows, from how to tie his shoes (aliens wear boots, and you should know this) to the C major scale -- because they are among the few humans who know his secret, he views them as his closest and dearest friends.  his stardom isolates him from them, just a little -- he likes the spotlight but they don’t mind just being “the drummer” and “the bassist.”  they don’t quite have the star power that he does.  his manager  -- tama ahinariki, some guy from new zealand who seemed to bumble his way into becoming in charge of one of the most successful musicians of the decade -- also knows he’s an alien, but they tend to be more business partners than close friends.  tama is more interested in the money side of things whereas priscilla and sid are only interested in the music.  ziggy has stock in the music, money, and his personal brand.  

via rp, he’s made some friends with other characters! a few. very few.  RELATIONSHIP STATUS.    single -- he intends to stay that way.  he gets all the action he could ever need from his legion of devoted fans and groupies.  even in situations where he’s romantically involved and emotionally invested, he would never consider himself exclusive or monogamous.   a lot of tabloids make rumors that he’s involved with cardinal copia, fellow rock icon, but he tends to be sneaky at hiding any time they spent together.  it’s hard to keep things private when you’re both massively popular public figures, though. he goes out of his way to be sure no one knows about his predilection for spending time with thomas, because the last thing an awkward alien in disguise needs is a lot of public attention because people think you’re dating a celebrity (who they don’t know is also an alien). he hangs around annie a lot, too, but this is extra extra under wraps, because annie has a stalker named jonathan who may or may not go apeshit and try to tear his head off or something if he finds out.   FINANCIAL STATUS.    filthy rich. should be guillotined.   DRIVER’S LICENSE.    doesn’t have one. he has some paperwork, somewhere, with a “real” name and all that, but he has no idea where it is and lets his manager deal with that stuff. CRIMINAL RECORD.    none ! clean slate.  that doesn’t mean he doesn’t do illegal things, though.  he just doesn’t get caught.   VICES.    smoking, drinking, la cocaina, sex, impulsive spendng, rockstar stuff.  

𝐬𝐞𝐱 & 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

SEXUAL ORIENTATION.   bisexual. PREFERRED SEXUAL ROLE.     submissive  |  dominant  |  switch  | top |  bottom | verse. this doesn’t really come up in rp because i dont write nsfw. the way i view it is that he’s lazy and would rather you take care of him than the other way around LIBIDO.    pretty high, but it’s difficult for him to have as much sex as he might prefer because, uh, he has, uh, alien..............parts...........and stuff ..... like ....... some parts down there look different ....... so he’s stuck having sex with usually in the dark, under sheets, and he has to zip his pants up really quick afterwards. maybe it’s a little bit hilarious and i just think it’s funny idk LOVE LANGUAGE.    selflessness (which is big, for him, king of all douchebags and lord selfish dickhead the third), rambling to you about his day, physical affection, gifts, letting you see him without make up, opening up to you about his life before earth.  he might play you music, sing to you or write you songs if he’s feeling particularly sappy.  this is stuff reserved for people that he finds himself incredibly romantically/emotionally attached to, though, not the people he has one night stands with.  and he almost never forms any sort of lasting attachment to the people he sleeps with casually. RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES.    he tends to fall for people who challenge him in some way, who aren’t easily beguiled by his status and physical looks, but who aren’t outright mean to him.  that being said, he is very vain, and he loves being showered in compliments, praise or attention.  he matches well with people who can put up with his antics and moodiness and odd behavior.  he likes the idea of being someone’s muse or someone’s idol, so he finds himself drawn to other creative types.  he has the most intimate/special connections with other nonhuman beings, especially other aliens, cuz he feels like they Get him and he wouldn’t be really giving himself in his fullest form if he had to still play pretend that he was a human being.  for whatever reason he goes apeshit for goth guys/dudes with black hair who wear a lot of black.  he really doesn’t like people who are too much like him, because HE’S HIM, and you’re YOU, and he really wants it to stay that way.  GET OUT OF MY DRESSING ROOM

𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬

CHARACTER’S THEME SONG.   there’s a whole album about him .......... theres a song called “ziggy stardust” .......  HOBBIES TO PASS TIME.    singing, music, writing -- he lives for that shid.  he likes art in all forms, so he reads, watches movies, looks at paintings -- he has a lot of human culture to catch up on, and he loves all of it, from any time period and any culture.  he also likes buying things, shopping, looking nice, gossip.  he tends to be a party animal (party alien?) and often indulges in more hedonistic fun. LEFT OR RIGHT BRAINED.    his brain is not structured like a human brain. also, head empty.  no thoughts. FEARS.    being perceived as ugly or untalented, being outed as an alien, being rejected for being an alien, becoming a nobody, losing his social status, becoming a conformist, becoming “outdated” or “uncool” SELF CONFIDENCE LEVEL.    somehow sky high and on the floor at the same time. he usually thinks he can do anything and he’s pretty perfect, but that may just be from a solid few years of repeating that to himself and empty praise given by people who are just crazy obsessed with him -- he built his confidence level on a very shaky foundation, so it’s easy to start making him doubt himself and panic if you know what to criticize him on VULNERABILITIES.    a lot of things, and im sick of typing

* pay me 100000 USD to unlock my LEVEL 20 ZIGGY STARDUST LORE pack now with NAMING/TITLE INFORMATION, HOME PLANET CLIMATE/WEATHER PATTERNS and PAST OCCUPATION/EDUCATION information.  includes a piece of gum i found on the floor.

[dalamjisung]

think alike ✿ yang jeongin

genre: fluffiest fluff

word count: 2955

pairing: reader x yang jeongin

description: you had to watch over your little bother for a while, and you were scared you guys wouldn’t bond. Can his handsome teacher help?

“Mom,” You sighed one again gathering all the thrown colorful pens around the living room. “I know how to care of him. It’s okay, just enjoy your vacation and I’ll make sure Felix is still alive by the time you come back.”

“Y/N!” You mother gasps. “He is just four!”

“I know,” You chuckle. “I was there when he popped out, and I’m still here as he grows. Mom, I can take care of my little brother, it’s fine!”

“I want daily pictures as proof that he’s still breathing!” She shouts from the other side of the line. “Daily!”

“Deal,” You say, looking around the, now clean, living room. “Now go have fun. Bye! Love ya!”

“Love you too, honey. Thank you for this!” She exclaims and then the line is dead. 

You laughed at how adorably worried your mother was. Felix was the newest addition to the family, coming as a surprise to everyone, but he was one of the loveliest kids you’ve ever seen. And you really did not vibe with kids, hence why your mother was so hesitant to call you over to take care of him. She knows about your uncomfortableness around kids, and tried every single other family member before she called you. You were thankful for that, but you were also kind of happy to spend more time with your bother. 

Felix was born during your freshman year of college, and now, four months away from graduation, you finally had a chance to bond with your brother. You had a bunch of pictures of him on apartment on campus, but you guys never really had the time to hang out and do siblings stuff, such as go to the park, or get ice cream, or even watch a Disney movie together. You had that with your eldest brother, and those memories were the ones you cherished the most– you wanted to give Felix that same feeling… of being loved. 

“Noona,” You hear a voice calling from the kitchen. He was still shy around you, and it honestly made your heart tighten on your chest. “I’m hungry.”

“Okay,” You smile and slowly walk closer to him. “What do you want for dinner?”

His little brown eyes shine with happiness. “Rice cakes! Lots of rice cakes!”

And who were you to say no to him? The only problem was that you were as bad in the kitchen as you were with kids, so you sheepishly look at him and tell him to go grab his jacket. 

“Why?” He asks.

“We’re going to get the best rice cakes ever,” You say crouching down. “But we have to go out to get them.”

You remember when your parents would take you to the night market, and you thought Felix might enjoy it too. He nods his head rapidly and bolts up the stairs, making you worry he might fall. Aish, I’m almost like my mom, you think laughing to yourself. Be the cool noona, Y/N, not the helicopter mom. 

“I am ready!” He exclaims and you coo at how cute he looked with a beanie and his puffy orange jacket. “Let’s go, noona! Rice cakes!”

“Let’s go!” You say grabbing the car keys, and the his tiny hand. 

This would be fun. You’d make it fun.

————————

Turns out fun for you and fun for Felix are two different things. For you, it was a nice hang out time with your little brother where you had great childhood memories, eating tteokbokki, and drinking warm tea. Felix, on the other hand, was a kid, and he definitely didn’t want to sit down and drink warm tea. He ran around the place, saying hi to every single vendor, learning that cute eyes and polite ‘hellos’ got him free samples from each and every single one stand. 

His energy, seemingly never ending, was exhausting to you. Your good humor was dissipating slowly as you ran after him. You promised your mom he’d be alive in a week, and you’d be damned if you failed your mission. 

He was now out of sight, and you were freaking out. You couldn’t find him in the sea of people, and you hoped for a miracle to fall from the skies. Safe to say it didn’t quite fall from the skies, but more like it came out from behind the japchae stand. A boy, probably around your age, holding Felix close and mumbling things as they walked. Felix had a serious look, eyes wondering up to every single passerby, and you could’ve cried in relief as he pointed at you and shouted “Noona!”

You run to them, and look at your brother seriously. “Felix! You can’t run around like that, I was worried!”

“Sorry, Y/N noona…” He mumbled looking at his feet. 

“Don’t do it again, Lix,” You say and he comes to hug your legs, hiding behind them, and curiously looking up to the man watching you both with a smile.

“I’m glad we found you,” The man says, offering you his hand. “I’m Yang Jeongin. I found this little cutie wondering alone, and got pretty worried.”

“Thank you so much, Jeongin,” You smile shyly. “I’m Lee Y/N, his older sister. It’s the first time I’m taking care of him and I’m not really good with kids so…”

“Oh, everyone is good with kids,” He laughs. “You just have to think alike.”

And you laugh because that sounds absurd. How could you think like a child? You were almost graduating for christ’s sake!

“I know it sounds weird,” He says lowering himself to look at Felix. From the pockets of his jacket, he pulls a lollipop, and your brother’s eyes shine, hands instantly grabbing the man’s sleeves. “But they are easy to deal with if you make sense to them. Adults usually don’t make sense to kids, so if you think like them, they’ll think like you.”

“Wow,” You mumbled. “You have a lot of little brothers?”

“About a classroom of them,” He laughs. “I’m a pre-school teacher.”

“Oh that sounds… fun.” You say hoping you managed to hide your shock behind a smile.

“Liar,” Jeongin teases with squinting eyes. “You don’t like kids?”

“What?!” Felix exclaims from behind you, looking at you accusingly. 

Grabbing him and holding him up on your lap, you poke his nose. “I’m not really good with them, but I like this one very much.”

“Cute,” You hear Jeongin mumble, and then someone screams his name. “Oh, I have to go. It was nice talking to you, keep an eye on this one, he is very hyper.”

“I will,” You shout after him. “Thank you again!”

As he leaves, you couldn’t help but smile. There really were good people out there. 

————————

“Wake up, Y/N noona, wake up!” 

The voice is cute and soft, but the feet that padded on your back and the tiny body jumping on you was anything but adorable. You wanted to lay in bed forever, but unfortunately, today was Felix’s first day of pre-school, and you had to get him dressed and fed in time to make it there before 8AM. 

“Hi bubs,” You mumble, sitting up. “I’m up. I’m awake.”

“Can you make pancakes?” He asks and you nod. You realize you’re bribing the kid’s love with food, but there is nothing much you can do besides that; you were afraid you wouldn’t bond with him, so giving him the world seemed fair enough. 

“Yeah yeah,” You say getting up. “Let’s go.”

Somehow you manage it. The pancakes don’t burn thanks to the detailed tutorial on YouTube, he manages to dress himself properly only messing up the t-shirt once, and you guys are out the door with enough time to walk to the school. You notice so many things about Felix on the way and you cannot help but feel all warm inside. He liked cats and dogs, although he tended to carefully approach the latter; Felix would be easily enticed by butterflies and other insects, stopping on the way to watch them. His never ending energy seemed to be at its peak during the walk, and he’d run off before you, stop at a crosswalk, and wait for you to catch up patiently. He liked holding hands, even though he could barely reach yours. He liked dancing, a lot, and would always be doing a weird dance when food arrived. You took a special liking to that last fact. Once you reached the gates of the pre-school, you walked him in, confused as to where you were supposed to take him. You looked at the lists on the announcement wall and tried to find Felix’s name, but there were way too many Lee’s in that place. 

“Excuse me,” Someone calls from behind you. “I think I can help.”

“Oh! Thank you, that’d be gre-“ You turn around with a large smile and stop mid-sentence when you see him– Yang Jeongin. “You again!”

“Me again,” He chuckles and looks at Felix, who in his turn, was looking curiously around him. Everything was colorful and pretty. “Hi buddy. Do you remember me?”

Felix looks at you and you nod softly, giving him the confidence to step forward and nod harshly. 

“Great,” Jeongin smiles and a pretty smile that has your legs weak. “Can you tell me how old are you?”

“I’m four.” Felix says, raising four chubby fingers. 

“That’s so cool, Felix,” and oh my god, he remembered Felix’s name. “That means I’m your teacher!”

“What?” You ask surprised. You had completely forgotten about his job. 

“I told you, I’m a pre-school teacher,” He shrugs and smiles again. “Did you forget already? Wow…”

“No!” You exclaim a little too loudly. Embarrassed, you laugh awkwardly. “I just think this is such a–“

“Coincidence?” He nods his head, still freaking smiling. “Tell me about it! When I saw you two I thought I was being followed.”

You laugh and sake your head. “At least Felix will be more comfortable in the classroom, now that he knows his teacher…” 

“I’m glad,” Jeongin says putting his hands in his pockets. “This is only the second classroom I’m in charge of… ever.”

“Really?” You widen your eyes. He really did look young; young like you. 

“Yeah, I graduated last year!” He blushes a little. “Are you still in college?”

“Senior year,” You say making a face. “A few months away from graduation.”

“What are you study-“ and a shrill bell cuts him off. Time to go, you thought, and you feel a little sad. “Class time…”

“I figured,” You say and starts slowly walking away. “I’ll be back to get him later.”

“Wait!” Jeongin shouts and he walks to you in two long strides. “He’s not your kid, right?”

“What?” You laugh, surprised with the question. “No, Felix is my little brother. He calls me ‘noona,’ Jeongin!”

“I just needed to make sure!” He defends himself, hands going into his back pocket.

“Why?” You mumble, a little skeptical. 

“So I can ask for your number, obviously,” He smirks and gives you his phone. 

You chuckle and takes it from him. “Obviously.”

————————

It happens quickly, and in two days you guys have your first date. You are not quite sure why Jeongin felt like he was in a hurry, but you had a feeling that it had to do with Felix. Once you were ready, you called for your brother and made sure to properly protect him from the cold outside. You read on the weather report that there was a high chance for snow tonight, and the last thing you wanted was for Felix to get sick. 

“… and then teacher Jeongin let us color for the rest of the class because we were doing a good job!” He rambled on and on about his classes so far. “I did one for you, noona!”

“You did?” You were honestly surprised at this point. It was clear that Felix had gotten comfortable with you, but having him making a drawing for you was something that really filled you with pride. “Thank you, Lix!”

He beams his cute smile at you and you can’t help but crouch down and hug him. “Come on, big boy, I’ll give you a piggy back ride.”

You guys laugh and talk about his new friends during the walk and you feel happy like you haven’t in a while. It’s hard to admit when you’re struggling, but college was taking a toll on you. The stress was consuming you whole and just thinking about graduation made you anxious. You didn’t really know what to do, but for the past couple of days you haven’t thought about that at all. You haven’t felt the constricting feeling of anxiety or the tired restlessness of insomnia, and you had a feeling that your brother was the reason why. Just last night, he crawled into your bed in the middle of the night because he had a bad dream, and you only noticed it in the morning, when you tried to move, but he was hugging your arm so tightly that you couldn’t. 

“Y/N! Felix!” You turn your head to look at Jeongin. He looked incredible, and he was only wearing a hoodie and some jeans. Thinking about it, this was the first time you saw him look his age; young and carefree. He was standing at the entrance of the night market, where you guys first met, and you couldn’t help but smile. 

“Put me down, noona!” Felix asked and you did, watching him run to his teacher. “Hi teacher Jeongin!”

“Hey buddy,” and they high five. “Hey Y/N.”

You blush. “Hello.”

He chuckles and whispers a ‘cute’ under his breath, making you blush even more, and takes your hand. “Let’s go!” 

With his other hand, he is holding Felix’s, and sometimes he lets go, allowing the kid to run around, but then calling him back, and surprisingly, he’d come. You guys had a fun time on the date; you ate delicious food and laughed at Felix’s antics with the food stands yet again. The talk was overall shallow, such as school, aspirations, funny stories. It wasn’t until he gave the idea to go to a playground, that you guys had time to yourselves. As Felix played, hopefully tiring him out enough so that once bedtime came he’d be worn out, you two watched him from the bench a few meters away. 

“How are you feeling?” He asks and you think that that is the first time someone asked you that. “With kids, I mean. How are you feeling taking care of Felix?”

“Honestly?” You ask and he nods. “I was terrified at first. Felix and I haven’t had the chance to bond before this, so I was scared he’d hate me. But now… I don’t think I’ve ever been this calm and exhausted before.” You guys laugh.

“It’s rewarding,” He shrugs. “I obviously love kids, but I feel that there’s more to it. Watching them draw and play and learn, it’s very rewarding.” 

You hum in accordance. “It really must feel great knowing you’re making a change on their lives…”

“It is,” He says and reaches for something on the pocket of his coat. “And you can feel that too.”

He gives you a folded paper, with that one smile in his face– the one he had when he looked at the kids in his class. A caring smile. 

You unfold it, and you smile wide. It was a drawing of what you assumed it was you and Felix. They were stick figures with block-like clothing, but it was so beautiful. On top, it was written with careful, badly drawn letters: ‘Noona and I.’

“He talks about you a lot,” Jeongin says, scooting closer to you, shamelessly grabbing you hand again, and putting it inside of his own jacket pocket. “His older noona. He said you’re really smart and fun and pretty.”

“Did he?” You whisper, happiness overflowing.

“He did,” Jeongin turns his head at you. “And I agree. His older noona really is pretty and fun. I don’t know about smart though…”

“Ya!” You laugh, hitting him with you free hand. You carefully put the drawing on your purse, making sure to take a mental not to frame it later. 

“He said he is sad that his mom is coming back, because it means you’ll be gone,” Jeongin mumbles. “And I guess I’m sad too…”

“Jeongin…” You giggle. “My college is just thirty minutes away from here.”

“Really?!” He exclaims so loud that you jump a little. 

“Yeah,” You say laying your head on his shoulder. “We can see each other a lot, still.”

“I’m glad.”  And his face starts getting closer and closer, until a small hand comes in between you two.

“No kissing my noona, teacher Jeongin.” Felix demands with a serious face. 

You burst out laughing, placing Felix on your lap. 

“But I really like her,” Jeongin fake whispers to him. 

“Really really?” Felix whispers back, and you can’t help yourself. You grab your phone and take a picture of this moment; Felix and Jeongin discussing the future of your possible relationship. “But does noona likes you back?”

And they look at you. “I really like him, too,” You whisper to your brother. 

“Then you guys can date!” He shouts, clapping his little hands. 

“That’s a great idea, Felix!” Jeongin laughs and then looks at you, waiting for a response.

“It really is,” You say and you are just so soft for these two. 

“But still,” Felix says. “No kissing my noona.”

“Why?” Jeongin asks.

“My dad says so.”

And you are pretty sure you choked on air. 

[tessacxstello]

hello im (F, 24) an idiot and forgot to post tessa’s (F, 22, fictional) intro!

pls bare in mind most of this was written 5+ years ago n i haven’t written tessa since 2015...... but lets get this show (LOCKWOODRP) on the road (DASHBOARD). 

tw school shooting, tw bipolar disorder

art hoe. always covered in paint. why?? she bad at painting

the mark rothko jackson pollock kind of bad tho wher people are like.... omg.... revolutionary..... its a badly drawn vagina

fuckin loves astrology, but cant take it that seriously bcos one of her bfs was a gemini so there’s some lenience there. but she WILL blame her hormones and mood swings on the positon of mars

embodies pure sunshine. 

one of those really annoying people that can go through the most traumatic shit and still find a positive spin. 

cares so much for others but does not really care for herself n it’s meant she just bottles up all this shit n when someone asks her how her day has gone she just falls on the ground like tht bit in midsommar when florence does that loud wheezy noise and sits down 

has never really had much money at all. learns to make-do with what she has. loves upcycling!! her bookshelf is made from cardboard which she’s reinforced by pappering it over with pages ripped out of thrifted books. her sofa is an old car boot which she’s repainted, put on wheels and stuffed w cushions so that it’s actually bearable to sit on.

her knitted cardigan? its made out of wife material.

knits all the time. will crochet you a christmas scarf. if ur lucky you might get a knitted jumper with a penis in a santa hat

still sleeps with cuddly toys n then wonders why ppl dont think she’s mature enough for a serious relationship

very passionate about Sister Doing It For THemselves!! raised by a single mom who worked her ass off so that tessa could do fun activities after school, have lelli kelly shoes, and go to college (not necessarily in tht order of importance)

tessa was born out of wedlock as the result of an affair between her mom (a journalism intern in her early 20s) and a new york times editor. 

the editor offered to pay tessa’s mom off to have an abortion, but she was like fuck u and told the papers he’d done that and used the money to cover the cost of her internship which they refused to pay her for

and because of the scandal, he ended up going through a pretty messy divorce with his wife, and losing custody of his kids. so as a child  tessa was seen as the cause of a divorce and received mutliple letters from the editors wife (to tessa personally!) and his kids saying how she had ruined everything, but her mom moved them to another town so tessa didn’t have to deal with that crap. 

her mom worked 3 jobs to put her through school, so in return tessa pushes herself incredibly hard to succeed. needs a break and a hug and to get laid to be honest. 

an old soul. likes old films, old music, old people. only recently got an iphone 5s so not really with this century yet

very sweet and soft and kind but also a fucking mess and won’t listen to anyone else’s opinion. she’ll take comfort, but not advice. 

feminist buddhist bisexual vegetarian for human rights and animal welfare. standing on a soapbox shouting about the climate in the quad, shoving flyers into your hands. flyers everwhere. she turns up at your grandmas funeral and shoves one into her mouth. she’s stolen the mic from the vicar to talk about pandas.

says “mother of pearl” and “heavens to betsy”.

had an affair with her married piano teacher and he’s now facing a custody battle and his wife is leaving him and tessa has completely internalised that guilt despite her being the victim in the scenario

aesthetics: paint splattered jeans, loose curls spilling from a scrunchie, thrifted blouses in bright yellow, guzzling coffee in the library at three am when a term paper’s due, shoddily illustrated campaign posters to save endangered species, polaroids plastered to your bedroom walls with scribbled dates on the frames, jumping into a stack of autumn leaves, jumping off piers in the summer months and stripping off your wet clothes on the beach, digging your thumbs into peaches to leave a bruise, smoking with the extractor fan on to hide the smell, bath bombs, letting the girls at lush rub samples all over your skin, cacti with knitted bobble hats, decorative pillows and sun and moon blanket throws, basic bitch fairy lights hanging from every single window, painting the name of the boys you’ve loved inside your wardrobe door.

studies fine art and philosophy, and wants to become either a lecturer or the first woman president. vibe wise, very similar to leslie knope, missy from big mouth, and basically the naive everygirl with a high opinion of themselves trope

gets drunk off like one double vodka lemonade because she’s small and she’s a pretty messy wild drunk. it’s when slutty tessa comes out, and the next day she’ll thoroughly regret every choice made and decide she’s never drinking again and cutting out all men and starting daily sudoko

on the cheerleading team and is a flyer, which she sees as a HUGE responsibility and she works really hard to make sure she’s on it for her team. one of those get up at 7am and go to the gym before school types its sickening

she had a really traumatic time at high school because there was a shooting in her school. she was in the next classroom when it happened, and she lost one of her friends in the shooting. she had to take two months off school, was diagnosed with depression and put on anti-depressants because of it. in her 2nd year of uni she was rediagnosed with bipolar disorder and anxiety, which she’s now on medication for. she can be really good for several months at a time and feel super creative and determined (she actually finds manic periods helpful for her creativity n art, n sadly sometimes doesn’t take her meds in these periods to push herself more which is obvs super bad.....). but when the bad periods come they can also last months n she had to take a semester out of school last year because of her mood, so she should be a senior by now but she’s retaking junior year

she attends weekly stress-management sessions prescribed by her doctor which she finds pointless.

very childish in the sense that she can only see her own point of view and kind of views herself as the “protagonist” and thinks her ideas are super important and life changing and she IS Destined for Greatness! despite being pretty much average af

pinterest board.

STATS

age: 22

height: 5'2"

positive traits: kind-hearted, gregarious, selfless, philosophical, open minded, idealistic, courageous, feisty, charismatic, loyal, adventurous.

negative traits: stubborn, hot-headed, reticent, escapist, self-destructive, easily led, naive, troubled, complicated, stepford smiler, envious, overdramatic, explosive.

distinguishing Marks: heart-shaped birthmark on the right of her chest, splattering of freckles across the cheeks during summer months, full lips, large eyes, porcelain features, long wavy hair, tattoo of a bird and a cage on her ankles and a basic bitch arrow tat on her wrist (srry to anyone with an arrow tat).

skills: jack-of-all-trades, talented pianist, perceptive, knows the correct way to throw a punch, good survival instinct, is able to remain calm in stressful situations, endures, artistic, excels in academic studies, hard-working and self-motivated, expert liar and talented actress.

likes: wolves, vintage thrift store fashion, old leather-bound books, left-wing democratic politics, cigarettes, poetry, John Hughes movies, cold coffee, hot tea, the sound of laughter, staying up til 4am having deep conversations, Tchaikovsky, having deep conversations about life, stationary, DC Comics, horoscopes, winged eyeliner, cats, knee-high socks, house music, abandoned buildings, studio ghibli, the smell of the earth after rain, Wes Anderson films, herbal tea, old people, solitude, esoteric things, the smell of freshly baked bread, Charles Bukowski, the moon.

fears: death, oblivion, global warming, losing those she loves, isolation, clowns, guns, enclosed spaces.

nicknames: Tess, T-Dog, Tessie, Socrates, Princess, Sunshine Girl, Florence Nightingale.

alignment: Neutral Good

MBTI type: INFP

BIOGRAPHY

tw school shooting

Her story begins with Cordelia Costello, a twenty-three year old college drop-out, turned beautician, turned columnist, turned intern at a local publishing company. She was a youthful, beautiful, siren of a women, always surrounded by an aura of enigma and an entourage of men. It was no surprise to the gossips in the office that within six months working at the company, Cordelia had added to her list another title – mistress to Franklin Hozier, the Editor of the New York Times. After two blissful months and three hundred and twenty seven orgasms, Cordelia decided she wanted a baby. Franklin laughed in her face. Feeling isolated and used, Cordelia continued her affair with her boss’ boss for another month, before deciding to take matters into her own hands.

It started with a turkey baster.

Soon the infant cries of a baby girl graced the world, her wrinkled skin puckered and pink as her mother held her in her arms, glancing upon the most beautiful thing in her life. Once Tessa, named after Cordelia’s favourite literary heroine, entered the world, Franklin left her life and things took a turn for the better. Despite living in a rented one-bedroom apartment in Staten Island, on what little money Cordelia had saved, Tessa’s childhood years were filled with nothing but the happiest of memories. Times were tough, but what they lacked in money, the Costello’s made up in love. While Tessa was at school, Cordelia did odd jobs cleaning, child-minding, working in local nurseries, in order to save up enough money to give her daughter the best start in life.

Despite what she had been led to believe by television shows and teen movies, the first few years of High School were some of the best years of her life. Tessa threw herself into a multitude of activities that High School offered her, including the drama club, the orchestra, choir, badminton and the school newspaper. While she certainly wasn’t considered ‘popular’ at school, Tess had a wide circle of friends and acquaintances. In fact, High School was a place where she made some of the greatest memories of her life, but come her final year, it was also a place where she was haunted by some of her worst.

On the January 17th of Tessa’s senior year of high school, a shooting took place in Westville High School. For two hours Tessa locked herself in a supply cupboard, her head between her knees as she tried to stay silent despite the screams of horror from the corridor. Eighteen students were caught in the crossfire, two of which were Tessa’s best friends. Bouquets of flowers, laminated photographs, Teddy Bears in cling-film bags attached to balloons littered the streets as families and friends came to pay tribute to the eighteen students withered before they had a chance to bloom.

It took two months of therapy before Tessa could return to school. Some of the survivors could never return due to the horrors that their eyes had laid witness to. Sometimes Tessa felt like a part of her had died with the friends that were stolen from her too soon, but one thought kept her going through: she had survived, she was alive and breathing, and she could not afford to loose a second of the precious time she had been granted on this earth. Despite the nightmares that continued to haunt her each night, Tessa found in the aftermath of the disaster a new sense of motivation. She began applying for scholarships for colleges without her mother’s knowledge, in the hope that her academic success would be enough to carry her through further education. Thankfully, it was, and after three torturous months of waiting Tess was offered an arts scholarship to her dream school, Lockwood University, where she hoped she could finally start to rebuild her life.

THE PRESENT:

Life at university was like a separate world. Students came and went like moths among the whisperings and the tequila and the stars. In this new world, Tessa was exposed for the first time in her life to alcohol, drugs, and the sexual appetites of other students her age – though she politely declined all three. Instead, Tessa threw herself into the vast array of activities in the hope that by distracting herself she could escape the terrible flashbacks that continued to haunt her. Tessa joined the lacrosse team, despite never having played before, and took up cheerleading discovering a new talent; she joined the musical theatre group, and the film club, and even set up her own acapella singing society. But despite how much she tried to throw herself into student life, her past hung around her like a bad smell, and with the added pressure of the Sinking Ships zine, Tess began to feel the weight of her secret tying her down like a pair of shackles around her wrists.

PERSONALITY:

If someone was to describe Tessa in a single word, it would most likely be ‘bubbly’, ‘open-minded’ or ‘sweet’. But they would be wrong – Tessa is not bubbly, or sweet, or stubborn, or hotheaded, or fiesty, or infectious, or any of the things the world see her as, but merely a numb and lonely echo of the gregarious, halcyon girl she once was. Tessa Costello was one of life’s enigmas. No one knew who she was, for to each person she met she wore a different mask – she dripped confidence, or was painfully shy; she was an exhibitionist, or a brooding wallflower; she took things too seriously, or not seriously at all. She was an actress and the world was her stage, each person she met a different member of the audience in the performance of her life. In truth, Tessa no longer even recognised herself. Insecure, and self-destructive, she tried to hang on to the extroverted, mischievous pieces of herself that everyone had once loved, but day by day it got harder to know what lay in the vacant holes blown through her mind. While she was stubborn and hot-headed, Tessa always saw the best in people, which meant that she was easily led astray. While she had grown up learning to be street smart and astute, she was idealistic and allowed silly fantasies to cloud her mind. By nature, she was passionate, which lead her to misimagine and romanticise those she met. Despite the hell she had witnessed, and the anxiety that feasted upon her, she believed that people were innately good and that to have courage and be kind could cure anyone of their sadness – yet she was unable to cure herself.

TWITTER:

@500daysoftessa: i blame disney films and musicals for my high expectations of men

@500daysoftessa: i am in love with the boy who works at starbucks. today i asked for a double latte and he gave me a tripple, which i think is proof that my love is requited. our children will be smart and talented and beautiful.

@500daysoftessa: little known historical fact: pharaohs were burried with their hands crossed over their chests because it was a popular belief there would be countless water slides in the after life.

[tyrantisterror]

Anecdotes from Neosaur Park: Regina’s Family

Another one of these?  Another one of these.  I guess it’s now a thing since I named it.  It’s significantly longer than the last one, so I’m putting a cut here to save people’s dashboards.

I said Tyrannosaurus wasn’t the most dangerous animal in the park.  That doesn’t mean she never caused trouble.

Back when this whole thing started out - when it was just an experiment, before we made it a zoo - we bent over backwards trying to account for every possible problem we might face.  And yes, it was because of that damn movie.  So many people thought this was doomed to fail from the outset, all because some hundred year old piece of media made such a large and lasting impression on the populace.

The One Specimen rule was particularly well enforced.  Despite all the strides paleontology has made, we still can’t learn most of a creature’s behaviors and biological needs until after they’re created.  To keep things from getting out of hand, we would only clone one specimen of a given species, spend at least five years to study its biology, and then and ONLY then would we think about creating more.  We thought we were being smart, and in some ways we were - there were some early hiccups in the project that definitely would have been worse if we had made more clones at the time.  On the other hand, there were some problems we faced later that could have been avoided if we had thought of these animals as social creatures from the outset.

Of course, we couldn’t have known this at the time.  We were working with what science could tell us.  The average dinosaur’s brain is more like a crocodile’s than a bird’s.  Therefore it was a safe assumption that most dinosaurs would be fine as solitary animals - that whatever social instincts they had would be rudimentary, and that they could easily adjust to life without company.  This felt like a particularly safe assumption in the case of the Tyrannosaurus.

I mean, what’s the pop culture image of the creature tell you?  The Tyrant Lizard King.  King.  Tyrant.  A king is the sole ruler of a land,  A tyrant even moreso.  We have always considered Tyrannosaurus to be a loner, a solitary hunter.  I mean, the creature was so goddamned huge - it would take miles upon miles of territory to sustain a beast that size!  Sure, there were herds of similarly sized Triceratopses - herds that numbered in the thousands, mind you - and hadrosaurs and other prey animals, but still, this is a seven ton carnivore we’re talking about!

Now, you have to understand that none of our creatures are 100% authentic.  Dinosaurs lived in a vastly different environment than our current world, even in the wake of the 21st century’s climate change disaster.  It was a lot hotter, and there was a lot more oxygen.  Disease back then and disease today had millions of years worth of evolutionary differences.  The technology that allowed us to recreate these animals is the same technology that allowed us to restore biodiversity during the climate change disaster - to properly bring these creatures back, we had to alter them in a few key ways so they could adapt to this climate.  It’s why we call it Neosaur Park, rather than Dinosaur Park.  They’re not quite the beasts their ancestors were.

But, as far as I’ve been told - I’m not a genetic engineer, mind you - we did not intentionally set out to modify their behaviors, and especially not their intelligence.  All we changed was some of their biochemistry, adapting them to a cooler, less oxygen-rich earth.  Maybe that had a ripple effect we haven’t realized yet - maybe their hormones are off, who knows.  This is still a developing science - we’ve only been at it a few decades, there’s a lot of new ground still to break.

We didn’t choose Tyrannosaurus as our first specimen out of popularity, as some have claimed.  We chose it because the DNA samples were plentiful.  Tyrannosaurus has a remarkable presence in the fossil record, and as a result we have a wide variety of T.rex genes to choose from.  Since our Neosaur would be genetically altered, we had to give it a new scientific name: Tyrannosaurus regina.  And, being sentimental, that’s what we named the first successful hatchling: Regina.

Everyone was as nervous as they were excited when she was born.  This was one of the most terrifying predators ever to walk the earth, a creature with enough bite force to rend steel, the end product of an evolutionary arms race that produced some of the most heavily armored herbivores of all time just to counter it.  It was the villain of hundreds of stories, the ultimate predator.

And she was as timid as a creature could get.

Regina was a fretful baby.  The smallest things could spook her - she once jumped a full foot into the air at the sound of a snapping twig.  More than anything, though, she was afraid of being alone.  While she had one preferred handler - the one whose face she saw first after hatching - she was fine so long as at least one of us was within sight at all times.  If she lost sight of us, though, she’d begin calling out with this strange, gurgling, peeping sound.  You couldn’t leave her for even a few seconds without her panicking, and for the first few years we literally had her under a twenty four hour watch.

Eventually she grew out of that, exploring her paddock as a gangly adolescent.  But she didn’t become as independent as we expected.  Again, we were thinking this would be like a crocodile - that once she started out on her own, she’d lose the bond she had with her “parents” and begin treating us more coldly, if not outright viewing us as prey.  Instead, she would routinely interact with us - greeting us with a hissing bellow, following us around for a bit, even leading keepers to her food trough and, upon seeing us stand there looking at it, taking a few slow, deliberate bites as if to show us that the meat was edible.  It had us all puzzled - this wasn’t the Tyrant Lizard we were expecting.

It was when she hit her late teens that the puzzle became a problem.  Tyrannosaurs take roughly twenty years to reach their full size, but like a lot of birds and reptiles, they’re sexually mature a bit earlier than that.  At sixteen, Regina began to do something new.  She’d walk around the edges of her paddock, sniff the air, look around, and then release this horrible bellow - some deep, booming hiss from the bottom of her gut.  It was so loud and such a low pitch that it actually made the leaves of the trees shake.  And she would do it for hours, traveling round and round the perimeter of her paddock while making this bone rattling noise.  We had been open to the public for about four years at this point, and Regina was already a bit of a celebrity - everyone wanted to see the Tyrannosaurus, even if she was far from the hyper-vicious predator they expected.

This behavior went on for three months, and then she went back to normal.  Till the next year, when she came back with a vengeance.  The searching was more frantic.  Regina was too big to run at this point - when she was younger and smaller, her legs were proportionally longer, and she could get one hell of a sprint.  At seventeen she was far bulkier, and the best she could do was a sort of power walk.  If that gives you a sort of comic mental image, well, you’re about on the mark - a frantic Tyrannosaurus power-walking as fast as she can does look pretty silly, at least until she heads for the paddock gate.

We weren’t dumb.  Every inch of her paddock’s perimeter was surrounded by insurmountable natural barriers - steep pits filled with sharp rocks that stretched down eighty feet deep and were sixty feet wide.  Most of the entrances to the paddock that crossed these pits were human sized.  There was only one gate she could fit through, and that was only by necessity - there had been occasions where we needed to transport her to a sterile environment for medical assistance.  This gate was thick, heavy steel, and a guard was always posted to it.  By this point, we had doubted we needed one there - in seventeen years, Regina had never once tried to escape.  As far as we could tell, she liked it here.

This would be the exception.  Now a five ton carnivore, Regina trotted up the gate and released that bone-chilling howl.  Her mammoth head peer over the walls.  Her nostrils flared as she smelled the air.  She released the bellow again, then watched.  The gate guard was spooked, but this had happened the year before, too.  Eventually Regina would move on to another part of the fence.

But she didn’t.  She looked at the gate, snorted, stepped back, and rammed it with her head.  The big carnivore reeled back, howled for a bit in pain, and then looked at her handiwork.  The thick, heavy steel had dented.  She snorted and rammed it again.  The guard started radioing for help, but he was too late.  With a third strike the gate gave way, and Regina was loose in the park.

The crowd panicked as they saw her stalking freely among them.  Many thought that the inevitable had come to pass - that our experiment had finally gotten out of hand, and our man-made monsters were finally biting the hand that resurrected them.  Most news outlets certainly painted this as such, and the bad publicity alone almost shut us down.

But, as I told you, Regina wasn’t a man-eater.  She really wasn’t much of a predator at all.  Whatever chase instinct she might have had was thoroughly smothered by her pampered upbringing.  Regina ignored the patrons running from her, ignored the paddocks containing other prehistoric fauna - many of whom were her ancestor’s natural prey items, I might add - and instead kept issuing that deep, unsettling bellow while slowly wandering the park grounds.

Though the death toll was nonexistent and the property damage minimal, we still had a hell of a time figuring out how to get her back.  A couple of solutions were offered - she was still traumatized from her brush with the struthiomimids a couple years back, so we could always try to scare her off by playing a recording of their shrieks.  That seemed unnecessarily cruel, though.  Tranquilizing her was on the table, but at her current size that could take a long while, especially given how thick her skin was getting.

One person saved the day: Regina’s preferred handler.  Even after all these years, there was still a bond between those two.  In a ballsy move, she called out to the tyrannosaur and slowly led her back to the paddock.  All in all, it was the best possible end we could hope for, given this was one of our nightmare scenarios.

We eventually realized that Regina’s bellow was a mating call, and that her panic had stemmed from the fact that there were no other Tyrannosaurs in the area, and hadn’t been since, well, since long before she was born.  We assumed she would be fine with that, but apparently not.

Luckily, we had long since prepared genomes for the next few Tyrannosaurs - again, we had an abundant supply to choose from, and the, well, let’s say “quirky” nature of Regina made our genetic engineers decide the try different profiles.  We still thought she might be “off” - an anomaly, far too friendly to be the real thing, perhaps even a little “slow.”  At the time we also thought that twenty years was the maximum Tyrannosaurus lifespan, so it was likely we would have to replace her soon anyway.  Two different gene profiles were selected, and the next generation was born a bit earlier than planned.

We waited a few weeks before introducing the babies to Regina.  Again, we didn’t know much about how Tyrannosaurs interact with their young.  It was assumed that, like their close relatives, they would take care of their offspring, but these young Tyrannosaurs weren’t ACTUALLY hers.  For all we knew, she might try to eat them.  To be safe, we took them in a jeep, along with a good handful of keepers armed with tranq rifles.

Regina came to us within seconds.  I think she could smell them before she could see them, as the big gal immediately headed for the jeep.  She didn’t bully her way through, though, stopping about a yard off to give a loud bellow.  When we felt confident the Tyrannosaur wasn’t going to get uncharacteristically violent, her preferred handler made the official introduction by carrying the male hatchling out of the jeep.  Regina’s eyes went wide, and soon the baby made the same gurgling, peeping noise that she had made seventeen years ago.

The bond was immediate, and it was all we could have hoped for.  Regina doted on the hatchlings, nuzzling them with her snout and watching over their every move.  When they cried out for food, she led them to her trough.  And when we tried to take them back, she followed us, soon developing the desperate panic we had seen before.  We ended up leaving the hatchlings with her, and they’ve been with her since.

By my count, the young ones should be about thirteen now.  Regina’s ten years older than we thought she’d live, and doesn’t show signs of slowing down - every year she puts on a few more pounds and grows another inch or so in length and height, and we’re beginning to think that Tyrannosaur lifespans may be akin to their crocodillian relatives.  As for whether her behavior is natural or a result of her strange upbringing, well, we can’t quite say.  The young tyrannosaurs both have their own personalities in contrast with their adoptive mother.  The male, who we ended up calling Machiavelli, is a bit of a shit starter, to be truthful.  He likes to start fights with his sister, though they’ve never gotten very serious - play fighting, as far as we can tell.  He also chases the zookeepers from time to time, though he’s never actually tried to catch one of us, and Regina generally gives him a gruff talking to for it.   The female is a bit colder - she doesn’t antagonize, but she can get oddly territorial, and is prone to sullen moods where she strikes off on her own, only to rejoin the other two a few hours later.  

Both of the young ones seem a great deal bolder than their mother - perhaps because they grew up knowing the giants they would one day be, rather than thinking that a bunch of hairless apes were their parents.  They’re still pretty easy to manage, but who knows.  Maybe a few generations down the line we’ll actually get that Tyrant Lizard we’re all expecting.  For now, though, we’re content with Regina and her kids.

[fabelyn]

Atelo Ch.2

Pairing: minor serirei and terumob (no romance between any adult and kid, not even onesided)

Rated: PG-13 Warnings: spoilers for manga/anime end + Reigen sequel Chapter: 02/? (previous chapter) Word Count: 4k

Link to AO3

Summary: They wake up one morning to find Reigen gone.It’s hard to find a man whose past and history they never knew. They search for him, only to wonder if they should be bringing him back at all.

Roshuto glanced down at the yellowing tomes of what seemed like accounting books and resisted the urge to groan.

When his former disciple had brought in that girl, he’d happily assumed his sworn rival had finally screwed up and she was changing sides for someone who was clearly superior.

Well, his remarkable intellect had certainly hit the mark, partially . After all, what reason other than screwing up was there for the psychic Reigen Arataka to run off so quickly? Too suspicious.

However, the girl had not come to beg for employment, although at least she’d come seeking enlightenment; she’d arrived bearing books from Reigen Arataka’s office to request an explanation for them. Roshuto agreed he could spare a moment of his time to glance at them—perhaps even pick up a psychic signal of his rival’s whereabouts—and was annoyed when he began to peruse and realized they were all just bookkeeping.

Nonetheless, since he did understand some of that, he ploughed on; maybe he’d uncover his rival had been siphoning money out of his business.

“Aha!” He cried out proudly, and allowed the girl the come closer so he could show her his findings. “Verily I see something is wrong here. Take a look at these numbers! He’s claiming these absurdly cheap values are his consultation prices? Clearly, he’s writing down lowered values to keep a large part of the profits—”

“Nah, those are his rates.”

“...Oh.” That was… worrying. He couldn’t imagine trying to live off those prices. His rival must be swimming in clients. Although the books said otherwise. “Let’s see… ah! I see he claims he had two appointments at the same time.”

“Yeah, and now he’s updated to three.”

Roshuto was beginning to sweat now. “And… and here he has a strikethrough on a price and wrote down… carrots next to it?”

“Yeah, sometimes they can't pay with money. The carrots were pretty tasty though.”

“I… I… here! He constantly removes some pocket change and calls it “Mob”. Perhaps he’s been paying an audience some money to react as he wishes?”

“No, Mob just means Mob-kun’s salary.”

“... That’s salary ?!” Even he paid people better. Although a “Seri” seemed to earn a near living wage. He assumed it was the other man that worked there.

“Tragic, I know. But at least from what you’re telling me it doesn’t seem like he was skimming us.”

“My dear girl, I’m wondering why he was even paying you at all, with these rates. Were they always this low?”

“I think so, yeah. Why?”

“Girl, it would take too long to go through the intricate and delicate process that is starting a new business who is as often defamed as the one of psychics. To cut it short: offices cost money to rent or buy, then to maintain. So does the advertising required to kickstart such a venture. Normally one would procure a loan and pay it using the money earned. However, your Master seems to keep his rates low enough to live of off, so long as you don’t have loans on top of the daily necessities to pay. Meaning either someone gave him money to start off, he had money put aside from something, or he’s receiving money from elsewhere.”

“And can we find that out by looking through the ledgers?”

“Perhaps. It depends on how truthful and detailed his accounting is… which, I must warn you, detailed it is not . From just this sample I’ve picked it’s clear he only knows the basics. Although, I suppose, that could mean he would be unable to use any complex techniques to hide issues…” He glanced at the books the girl had brought over; there were too many. “You said these should encompass five years’ worth of accounting? Any detailed analysis will take more time.”

“... How much would that be? This is way over what highschool math is teaching me.”

No doubt . Roshuto calculated the time it would take him to look over the books, considering his current appointments… far too much.

He glanced over the girl again; she looked tired, but not yet defeated.

…Certainly, she looked better the last time he saw her, which was when he forced Rusty onto her…

Roshuto cleared his throat. “I suppose I could… glance over these in my spare time. Consider it as extending an olive branch to my rival. As payment… I’ll take information on what became of him, when you find him.” If you find him.

After the girl left, beaming, he summoned his current helper.

“Cancel any new appointment that may come up.” He glanced at the books and rubbed his hands. After this, I won’t owe you anything, Reigen Arataka.

*

Tome went back to the office with a spring in her step. Granted, the psychic hadn’t given her any answers, but at least he’d promised to work on it, and for free! Reigen would have been proud, if he’d still been around.

That depressed her all over again. And then she recalled Roshuto’s comment and anger surged instead.

She didn’t know how he got the office! She didn’t know anything! That was the worst. Reigen was claiming he was helping his parents and she couldn’t even tell if that was true or a lie fabricated by whatever entity had to be possessing Reigen right now.

Serizawa and Mob might know more, but they were too busy being heartbroken to be any help for now.

Which reminded her; she needed to see if Mob’s brother had made any progress.

As she scrolled through her contacts, an idea came to her, though she’d need the boys to see it through.

*

“Hey Ritsu-kun, how’s Mob-kun holding up on your end?”

He sighed. “My house is still under a storm cloud, Tome-san.”

“Damn, that can’t be good for the flowers.”

It’s not good for anything . “Yes, my parents aren’t too thrilled.”

“What are they doing about it, then?”

“They, uh, told Shige to knock it off with the constant rain.”

“Oh, did that work?”

“….It might have made it worse for an hour. But I might be mistaken.”

“Huh. Is this the first time he’s been this upset? I mean, okay, so obviously his parental—”

“His what , Tome-san?”

“Uuuh, his mentor figure walking out on him isn’t a normal occurrence but surely other stuff has upset him before?”

“It’s rare but I’ve seen this rain phenomenon happen twice before, yes.”

“Well then, how did you guys get rid of it?”

“…He went running to Reigen-san.”

“Well, damn .”

*

Mob flinched when another thunderbolt flashed by his window. He hadn’t meant to make the rain worse, especially after his parents scolded him for it, yet somehow remembering their orders was wreaking more havoc.

Maybe he should leave and go sit in the park somewhere until the raincloud blew over. But first…

He called Master Reigen, who picked up immediately. A sure sign he had no clients currently, which made Mob feel marginally better. “Hey Mob, what’s up?”

“ Master, I don’t think I’ll be able to come over today, I’m so sorry.”

He glanced outside the window and flinched; his mom had scolded him for ruining the flowers… and he could see the flowerbed had become a small pool already.

“Ah? Well, I suppose once in a while I do have to use my own powers, but why can't you come?”

“I… I’m a little upset…” He turned his back to the rain pouring outside his window. “And it’s, uh, making my powers go out of control. It’s been raining non-stop.”

“You sure that isn’t just the weather, Mob?”

“There’s a rain cloud over my house, and my house only, Master.”

“ Ah… well…”

“Anyway, I don’t want to drench your office. It’s bad enough that my mom’s flowers are ruined. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow, okay?”

“Hm, but it’s raining outside the house, right?”

“Err, yes?”

“So my office isn’t getting drenched. Come on over. Unless you feel more comfortable at home, of course.”

“But won’t it be bad for business, having a rain cloud over the office? And the window was leaking last time it rained, so some water might get in—”

“It’s just water, Mob. We’ll deal with it if it does get in. Besides, you need to think about perspective here. A spirit consultation office with it’s personal eerie rain cloud? Ha! That gives it authenticity . Business will boom. And if it doesn’t, you can entertain me by explaining just why you’re upset.”

“I watched a movie called Hachiko—”

“Say no more. Come on over. I have a new brand of spiritually soothing tea we could try out if you want.”

The downpour turned into a drizzle.

*

“It’s fine, I’ve called the cavalry. What about on your end, Tome-san? How is Serizawa-san?”

“Still down in the dumps. I’ve come up with a plan to boost his self confidence and locate Master Reigen but it hasn’t born fruit yet.”

“Yeah? What is it?”

“I created a profile for him on a gay dating app, and added subtle messages to attract aliens!”

“ How would that even— ” The doorbell mercifully rang. “Sorry, let me get back to you later, help for my brother has arrived.”

Ritsu opened the door to a grim-faced Shou and Teru. He was about to offer a towel but noticed they’d used their powers to stay dry.

“It’s bad, huh?” Teru said as a greeting.

Shou looked down at the shoes by the door. “Are your parents around?”

“No, they left for drier ground.”

“‘Kay, we got this, lead the way.”

As Ritsu led them to his brother’s room, he felt relieved they’d finally arrived. While normally he’d try talking to Shige on his own as usual, it was complicated when the issue was the damned conman. Ritsu had had no love for him, and most people knew that, so considering the current issue, he feared he’d be too biased, or say something he’d regret, instead of helping Shige, so perhaps leaving it to Shou and Teru would be wiser.

He opened the door to Shige’s room but chose to not enter with them, instead staying next to the door so he could listen in.

“Hey, Kageyama-kun, we heard the news,” Teru was speaking. “And we’re here to help you out of this funk.”

Ritsu nodded to himself. Yup, he was wise to call on them. All would work out —

“Sometimes parents need some extended time alone away from us, but that’s normal.”

Wait, what? The wind outside picked up.

“I mean,” Teru kept going, “mine left, but they still write. Sometimes. Usually checks. It happens, it’s hard taking care of esper kids, they get tired sometimes.”

The wind was so strong it felt like someone was physically banging against the windows.

“Right!” Shou added. “My mom didn’t take me with her, but she still talks to me. Well, she’s an esper so it’s different, but — ”

I wanted calvary, I called two Horsemen of the Apocalypse instead.

“Are you two insane?! ” Before Ritsu realized it, he’d rushed inside the room.

Mob was hunched on a corner of his mattress, arms wrapping over his knees and head down. Teru and Shou looked at Ritsu like he was the crazy one.

“What’s with you, little brother? Kageyama-kun needs to learn that as an esper, things like this are bound to happen.”

“Right, most people at Claw turned orphans because of non-esper parents. Why do you think Mukai—”

“ Reigen Arataka wasn’t his parent! ”

He was met with twin withering looks.

“Ritsu, now is not the time for semantics—”

“It’s not semantics! Reigen Arataka wasn’t his parent, which is why this is all too suspicious !”

“…What?”

Ritsu was already beginning to regret it, he should not be the one to have to defend that damn man.

…But the wind outside stilled, as if in baited breath, and Mob’s head slightly lifted from the cradle of his arms.

Ritsu sighed. He was going to be mature about this, for his brother’s sake, and say it. He hoped wherever Reigen was, he was suffering enough to justify putting Ritsu in this position.

“You’re saying non-esper parents sometimes leave because they can’t handle esper kids, right? Well, my brother isn’t Reigen’s kid to begin with. If Shige’s powers bothered him, all he had to do was not involve himself with a kid that wasn’t in any way connected to him. Yet he stuck around, for years.” Granted, it was mainly because he needed his brother to bring in money…

Shige had no reaction other than to let his head fall again.

Ritsu hoped Reigen was being tortured right now.

“Look, I… was never a fan of him—”

“That’s an understatement,” Dimple made its presence known by mumbling next to Ritsu.

“He’s immature, dramatic, selfish , underpaid you and is a fraud. But… there’s proof he did care , more than just for profit.” Ritsu pictured Reigen being dragged over hot coals, it helped . “There was that time he entered Claw’s hideout to get you out. And then w hen… when you were run over before trying to confess , didn’t he go after you ? And that was after he had Serizawa-san working for him . Look, he’s not the best person out there, but even I have to admit he did more for you than someone who only wanted you for profit would .” Sometimes.

There was complete silence, and Ritsu felt his face slowly flushing at the stares.

“...Thank you, Ritsu, but that isn't it.”

Four pair of eyes stared at Mob, now emerging from his between his arms, incredulously.

“It’s… not? What are you drowning the plants for, then?” Dimple asked first.

“...He’s a good person. He’s done a lot for me when he didn’t need to. I know he cares, even if not as much as I thou — ” Mob stopped before taking in a breath and continuing. “I’m upset because he didn’t hesitate. He didn’t wait at all. Ritsu, was he so miserable this whole time that it was that easy to leave? He’s been helping me for years and I… didn’t notice at all.”

The rain started back up again. Ritsu found himself sweating slightly. He’d assumed his brother’s issues were much simpler than they apparently were.

He hadn't needed to make a speech praising the conman, damn it .

“Shige, he might just be having a mid-life crisis and is coming back soon,” he ran his mouth, hoping if he spoke enough, something convincing would come out. Oh god, he's been gone a day and I’m already acting like him . “And with the way he’s such a prideful exhibitionist there’s no way Reigen-san wouldn't want to boast about finally getting rich! It’s not like him! He’s the type that would stick around to show off and invite us over to watch his success, not cut ties! And! I find it hard to believe he was that miserable. He stuck around through that shameful media fiasco, why run off now that everything's back to normal? Not to mention, he has more people helping him at the office now as well.”

Mob finally sat up on the futon with a sigh.

“I wanted to think that but… his decision is pretty final, I think.”

“What makes you think that, Kageyama-kun?”

Wordlessly, Mob took a crumpled letter from inside his shirt. He took a check out of it and handed it to Ritsu.

Ritsu looked down at it and saw white .

“ Shit , look at that... that’s 6 digits !” Dimple screeched. “Since when did that guy have this much?!”

“Maybe the real reason Reigen-san skipped town is because he murdered someone and took their money?” Shou suggested.

“He sold his apartment,” Mob said, and waved a paper in his hands when they looked at him quizzically. “It says so in his letter.”

“He managed to sell that hole in the wall in two days ?!” Dimple asked, which Shige ignored. Ritsu noticed that while they’d been busy gaping at the check, he’d gotten hold of his phone.

It felt like everyone was drawing their breath in unison as they watched him call Reigen’s number.

It went straight to voicemail without ringing once. The usual sign of being blocked. Ritsu was beginning to sweat all over again, but his brother only frowned.

“We need to find him, let’s talk to Tome-san.” Mob said simply, not seeming at all dispirited any longer. He stood up and placed a hand on Ritsu’s shoulder. “Thank you, Ritsu. You mentioned the times he helped me, and that reminded me of something.” Mob paused, clearly thinking things through. “I think it was all so unexpected I just couldn’t think clearly about what I have to do.”

“What are you planning, Ritsu’s bro?”

“Master Reigen once said to me that he didn’t hate daily life at the office. And he also said,” Mob flinched, “...something I should have paid more attention to, if I hadn’t been so self absorbed at the time. But the point is, maybe he was lying that time. And maybe he couldn’t leave before because he had nothing else to do. But now that he can be rich somewhere else, he would rather leave.”

Mob paused yet again. However, in the last ten minutes Ritsu had heard him speak more than he had in days, and didn’t dare complain about how long it took him to get the words out. The other three people (well, two and a spirit) also seemed to know him well enough to not dare hurry him up.

“But this isn’t like the Master Reigen I know. I shouldn’t be in bed doing nothing; I want to make sure he isn’t running from something and keeping it from me. And... if that’s not it… if everything was a lie… I want to at least apologize. And give back the money.”

Apologize? Ritsu frowned. While he was glad Mob was now getting out of bed with a resolute expression, he wasn’t so sure about the apologizing part.

But he couldn't ask now. Dimple was taking all the attention by screeching about not giving back the money and they had Teru and Shou there. He’d wait for later.

*

Tome walked into the office and groaned when she saw Serizawa was still in fetal position.

“Are you going to stay like that forever?!”

“Leave me be, Tome-san. I ruined everything.”

Tome would have kicked him, but he looked more pitiful than a lost puppy. Instead she raised her hands up in surrender.

“Fine! Not even a thank you for the dating profile either. Ugh. You know what? I respect you for this, Serizawa-san. I legit respect you for being able to fall for absolute trash !”

She sauntered over to Reigen’s desk and occupied herself, pretending not to notice Serizawa finally moving.

“He’s not trash,” he said in a reprimanding tone. Tome let out a theatrical yawn.

“Really? You certainly think so.”

“ What? I do not! Where is this coming from?” Serizawa was so indignant he actually stood up, hands clenched tightly.

Tome arched one eyebrow and placed her head between her hands, hopefully perfectly imitating Reigen’s I-know-this-and-am-superior posture.

“You think Reigen-san is such a disgusting asshole that he skipped town without so much as a goodbye to everyone he knew… because you had a crush? I mean, it doesn’t even make sense because he gave you the deed to his precious office, despite the fact that, in your mind, running away from you . Still, if that’s why he left, he’s quite the trash, huh?”

Serizawa deflated, with an expression that Tome could only describe as hopeful confusion. “... When you put it that way… this isn’t like him. It’s just… I’ve been wrong about people before.”

“Yeah well, dunno what happened with your last boyfriend—”

“Ah, no, I was referring to my former bos—”

“Whatever. My point is, I’m here now. And Mob will be too, if he can get his head out of his ass, to pass judgement alongside you.”

“I see.” Serizawa looked relieved for a second, before walking to the desk and frowning. “But if I wasn’t at fault, why did he leave?”

Tome rolled her eyes. Twice. “ That , my dear Watson, is what I’ve been trying to figure out while you and Mob were being useless. Well,” She glanced at the message just arriving on her phone and smiled, rubbing her hands together. “Seems like whatever Ritsu did work, Mob is coming over. Let’s finally get to the bottom of this!”

*

Mob jogged towards Spirits and Such, pace erratic in his desire to arrive quickly and make up for lost time.

Dimple was babbling on about uses of money that did not involve giving it back, but Mob ignored it.

Even though he had pockets, he held Reigen’s letter firmly in his grasp.

  “ Hey Mob,

It sounds disrespectful to address a letter to your nickname, but I think if I started this by addressing you as anything else, you might think it wasn’t me.

Anyway, if you haven’t been told yet: I’m going to be rich! Thanks to my old man, but still. I need to leave the office for it so I've taken care of my business and my apartment. The money you’re seeing is from the sale, by the way, not from anything suspicious (don’t let Dimple dictate how you use it).

You technically aren’t an employee of Spirits and Such anymore, and actually it’s not as if you ever signed a contract to begin with. However, money is the only thing I can give you, so that’s that, and I did owe you for years of underpaid work, with interest. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you anything else.

You’re fine without me, just take better care of yourself,

From your former Master”

Notes:

-“Hey Mob”: fun fact, the kanjis in Shigeo can be read as “Mobu”, so technically all Reigen would need to do was write Shigeo with the hiragana reading. This obviously doesn’t translate at all in english so I had to adapt the letter with that in mind.

-6 figure check: the money is in japanese currency, so while its still a large sum for a teen to receive, Reigen’s apartment did not sell for much.

-I am aware we do know what Reigen was doing before he got the office. The characters, however, do not.

-Trying to juggle between Ritsu's personality given his mindsets of "must protect brother" and "must look down on Reigen" was difficult. Hopefully I haven't made him out-of-character

-Feedback is appreciated, thank you for the kudos and comments so far!

[recentanimenews]

Meet the Fathers: Eleven Classic Anime Dads and Where to Find Them

  Fatherhood is a tricky business, and the responsibilities of raising a child are even thornier when the child in question has superhuman strength, magical abilities, or the need to pilot a giant robot for the sake of all humanity. Come rain or shine, these papas persevere, and we here at Crunchyroll think it's time to recognize that fact with a look at how a handful of fathers approach their duties (or shirk them) in various old-school anime.

  Some of these dads are rad. Some of these dads are mad. Some of these dads are bad and dangerous to know. But all of them are indubitably dads, and on this Father's Day, we celebrate the trials and tribulations of parenthood with a brief look at eleven classic anime dads in their natural habitats.

  In no particular order, meet the fathers:

    Ataru's Dad

Origin: Urusei Yatsura

Threat Level: Salaryman

Profile: A humble, middle-management working adult who just happens to be the father of one of the most accursed teenagers in the universe, Ataru's Dad merely wants to read his newspaper, pay the mortgage on time, and maybe watch the occasional pro-wrestling match. With aliens constantly blowing up the house, though, this is easier said than done.

Where You Can Find Him: AnimEigo's DVDs are out-of-print, but you can catch Ataru's Dad in the Viz Signature editions of the Urusei Yatsura manga.

    Mr. Invader

Origin: Urusei Yatsura

Threat Level: Oni

Profile: An intergalactic conqueror by trade and the father of perennial anime "best girl" Lum, Mr. Invader is a rough, gruff, simple sort of fellow with a large appetite for life. A straight shooter who tells it like it is, Mr. Invader fears no man...although he does fear his wife, who is a terror with an electrically-charged broom.

Where You Can Find Him: (See Ataru's Dad.)

  Maximillian Jenius

Origin: Super Dimension Fortress Macross

Threat Level: Valkyrie

Profile: You may think you're smooth, but are you smooth enough to get your mortal enemy to marry you immediately after you a.) clobber them at the video arcade and b.) they try to stab you? I didn't think so. Max is the quintessential MacDaddy, although his parenting skills need some polish and his marital troubles inform the plot of Macross 7. It's probably a good thing that his eldest daughter, Komilia, has a strong skeleton.

Where You Can Find Him: The previous DVD releases of Super Dimension Fortress Macross by ADV and AnimEigo are out-of-print, but you can catch the entire original series streaming on Amazon Prime Video.

  Senbei Norimaki

Origin: Dr. Slump

Threat Level: Mad Scientist

Profile: The only thing that prevents Senbei Norimaki from being crushed beneath the weight of his own ineptitude—or pulverized by the tiny metal fists of his robot daughter, Arale—is the fact that he's the father-figure in a gag manga, and thus he has “plot armor” that is seventeen inches thick. Senbei is ultimately able to marry Midori Yamabuki, the woman of his dreams, so he must be doing something right...

Where You Can Find Him: Although the Dr. Slump TV anime have never been officially released in the United States, Discotek Media has a DVD set featuring five Dr. Slump films, and the entire run of the original Dr. Slump manga is available in English from Viz Media, and you can check out Senbei's misadventures there.

    Daisuke Ido

Origin: Battle Angel Alita

Threat Level: Hunter-Warrior

Profile: When he's not out bounty-hunting for spine-stealing freaks, Daisuke Ido runs a cyber-surgery practice and acts as a surrogate father for his adopted daughter, the Martian cyborg super-soldier, Alita, who happens to be hundreds of years older than him. Parenthood is strange.

Where You Can Find Him: ADV's DVD release of the Battle Angel anime OAVs is out-of-print, but the Battle Angel Alita manga and its sequels and spin-offs are available in English from Kodansha Comics. You can also catch Christoph Waltz as Ido in the live-action Alita: Battle Angel film.

    Hikaru Daitokuji

Origin: Project A-ko 2: Plot of the Daitokuji Financial Group

Threat Level: Billionaire Playboy

Profile: The head of the mega-corporate Daitokuji Financial Group and the father of genius inventor B-ko Daitokuji, Hikaru spends most of his time stealing his daughter's mecha designs and passing them off as his own for fun and profit. He's also not above borrowing B-ko's personal set of form-fitting powered armor if the situation calls for it, although later films in the Project A-ko series show Hikaru taking a more civic-minded approach.

Where You Can Find Him: All four of the Project A-ko films are currently available on DVD from Discotek Media, and Hikaru Daitokuji makes an appearance in at least three of them.

    Prince Philionel El Di Seyruun

Origin: Slayers

Threat Level: PACIFIST CRUSH!

Profile: Heavy is the head that wears the crown, especially when your wife is deceased and both of your daughters spend most of their time adventuring rather than helping to run the kingdom. Despite his rough and tumble appearance, Prince Philionel El Di Seyruun (“Phil” to his friends) is a benevolent ruler with a gentle heart who believes in pacifism, kindness to all creatures, and the occasional spinning lariat delivered with just the right amount of loving violence.

Where You Can Find Him: Funimation releases the Slayers TV anime on home video in the United States. The Slayers movies and OAVs were at one time published by ADV, but Phil isn't in those releases, which are also out-of-print.

    Chiyo's Dad

Origin: Azumanga Daioh

Threat Level: Norio Wakamoto

Profile: A creature of myth and enigma, Chiyo's Dad is not actually a cat. He can fly at Mach 100 and deflect bullets. He's paid by the government. He may or may not be Santa Claus. Nothing is true. Everything is permitted. Eat your tomatoes.

Where You Can Find Him: In dreams, Chiyo's Dad is everywhere. In real life, the ADV and Sentai Filmworks DVD releases of Azumanga Daioh are now out-of-print, but the original Azumanga Daioh manga is available in English from Yen Press.

    Genma Saotome

Origin: Ranma 1/2

Threat Level: Panda

  Profile: It's possible that deep down, Genma Saotome cares about the well-being of his son, Ranma, more than he cares about martial arts or training. If this is the case, then Genma has a really poor way of showing it. Genma's ceaseless training regime has afflicted both father and son with shape-changing curses, and Genma's poor planning has inflicted traumatizing ailurophobia on Ranma, and that's not even counting the dire consequences that Genma's promises to Ranma's mother entail...

Where You Can Find Him: When not playing with a tire or chewing on bamboo, Genma Saotome can be found in the Ranma 1/2 manga and anime, which are both released in the United States by Viz Media.

    Taki Renzaburo

Origin: Wicked City

Threat Level: FALCON PUNCH!

  Profile: A member of the Black Guard that protects the boundaries between the human world and the Demon Realm, Taki Renzaburo is pretty new to this whole fatherhood thing, since his first child isn't born yet when the Wicked City film concludes. With a James Bond libido, a pistol that can shoot through walls, and a right hook that can crush faces, Taki is more of the “who's your daddy?” type.

  Where You Can Find Him: Wicked City is available on DVD from Eastern Star, but we warned, even though this is Father's Day, this film is not kids' stuff.

    Yujiro Hanma

Origin: Grappler Baki

Threat Level: Ogre

Profile: Some would say that Gendo Ikari of Neon Genesis Evangelion is the worst dad in anime, but I'd argue that even Gendo levels of shitty parenthood pale in comparison to the walking natural disaster that is Yujiro Hanma, the father of underground fighters Baki and Jack Hanma. Yujiro's bloodlust is all encompassing, and Baki's friends and family often pay for it with their lives. Yujiro's bad dad deeds are too numerous to count and must be seen to be believed.

Where You Can Find Him: Funimation's DVD release of the 2001 Grappler Baki TV anime is out-of-print, but the most recent Baki anime is currently streaming on Netflix, and Akita Shoten Comics publishes the New Grappler Baki manga on Comixology.

    And that's our look at some classic anime daddies, but this sampling is by no means meant to be an exhaustive list. Anime has a long and rich history, the full spectrum of fatherhood in all its beautiful and messy permutations would take a lifetime to explore. Who are your favorite classic anime dads? Which honorable (or dishonorable) mentions do you think should make the list?

  And from everyone here at Crunchyroll, we wish you a very happy Father's Day!

    -----

Paul Chapman is the host of The Greatest Movie EVER! Podcast and GME! Anime Fun Time.

Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features!

By: news+feed@crunchyroll.com

[tinyartsy]

Experiment- T1N7

“Day 47- Once again, no sign of physical growth in subject T1N7. Disappointing. Note: will a larger piece of bone be needed with the next subject? Palms were sufficient for subject S4N2 and P4P2. But pinky finger, it seems, insufficient for growth.” A cold, and calculating voice rang through the dank lab. The lab was uninviting, the room looked like a black and white movies, there was no colour other than a glowing tube that rested in the centre. A tiny figure floated inside, attached to several wires along various parts on their fragile body and soul. 

“Also note, HP has also not increased. Once again. Disappointing. Thought stats seem similar to S4N2, magic is low. In conclusion, subject T1N7, not suitable. I will bring the subject out from their tank, to conduct further tests. This failure can not happen again.” A tall dark figure then stepped into the light emitted by the tank, magically constructed hands came into view, pressing buttons with no hesitation, before pulling a lever. The liquid magic essence inside the tank began to drain through a small vent at the bottom. The small figure dropping along with the liquids level. 

The Dark figure waited patiently, arms crossed behind their back. Soon the tank was empty and the figure lay in a pile at the bottom, the wires twisted around their form. The figure stepped further into the light, their cracked skull coming into view. Gaster’s face was neutral as the tank then opened, his hand constructs reached in to grabbing the small figure out, removing the wires from their bones. He then removed them from tank. Two other hand constructs roughly shoved the small skeleton subject into a small hospital gown, which ended up still being a bit too big for them. 

Gaster then dragged the subject from the main lab into one of the holding cells, dropping them roughly to the ground in the centre. He left them, locking the door behind him. He was going to wait for them to wake up before he conducted his first experiment. Gaster was somewhat excited. He could conduct experiments that he couldn’t on other volunteers on his failure. Maybe not all this was a loss. This failure could be turned into something productive. 

Subject T1N7 slowly came too. The subject looked around confused and terrified. Where was she? What is she? What is this place?! T1N7 tried to move, but she wasn’t sure how to work her limbs. She did manage to sit up eventually, her bones shaky and weak. T1N7 made strange panicked noises. She didn’t know what was happening. 

Gaster watched his subject wake up in a panic through one of the many cameras situated in the cell. “Note: Subject T1N7 has woken up around 14:35 surface time. They are disoriented, panicked. No proper function of limbs. Typical behaviour. That..magic based hair they have needs to be taken care off.” T1N7 looked at her skeletal features the best she could, her eye lights scanning her hands, then phalanges, before she stared to examine the joints. She cooed in fascination as she looked between the gap of her radius and ulna. T1N7’s examination of herself continued like this, poking and prodding as she slowly discovered herself. 

Gaster took note of this, “T1N7 has gotten over their panic quickly, the subject is now exploring their extremities. Excellent, phase one can be executed ahead of schedule.” The scientist then turned off his recorder, saving it before he walked away from the screens towards the cell with a bag of equipment beneath his arm. Gaster walked with purpose. He knew what he wanted to achieve: the revival of the skeleton sub species. So far, he had successes within S4N2 and P4P2, but he had yet to create the perfect specimen like himself.

  T1N7 looked up when she heard a noise just before a beam of light flooded the room. The cell door opened, then a tall shadow eclipsed the blinding light. She tried to scramble back but her uncoordinated limbs flopped everywhere. Disembodied hands grabbed her arms pulled her up roughly. T1N7 made noises of panic, fighting against their aggressive movements. 

“Be still T1N7,” he snapped at her sharply while grabbing her magical hair. She managed to swat at him, but two more hands just grabbed her wrists. T1N7 tried to pull away, but the grip on her form was just too strong. “ENOUGH!” He snarled pulling her hair more. Another hand came around at them with a pair of scissors. He then started to mercilessly chop at her hair, not caring to get it neat, as clumps dropped to the ground before disappearing. T1N7 was crying hysterically. She didn’t understand what was going on, but she felt in her soul that it was bad. 

After Gaster was done, he grabbed her chin, scrutinizing her before he scoffed, ”It’ll have to do..” He then pulled the subject from her cell, ignoring her pitiful whining. T1N7 stumbled, only being held up by his hands. Her legs weak from lack of use like a new born deer. Gaster pushed her into a chair, then straps were tightened around her wrists, forearms, ankles, calves, thighs and around her ribs. T1N7 was hyperventilating; she didn’t understand what was happening. Her eyes lights darted everywhere. Her vision suddenly went dark as a leather blindfold was tied over her sockets and her skull held in place with another strap. She couldn’t move. 

Gaster nodded in satisfaction as his subject could no longer squirm. He then grabbed a red hot branding pen, moving her gown to the side to reach her collar bone. He slowly and carefully branded the letters "T1N7" into the bone. T1N7 was screeching in agony, the pain continuous and torturous as he made each stroke with care. He want the marking to be as clear as possible, only stopping every now and then to check his work. Once it was engraved into her bone, he stopped. But this was only the beginning. 

Gaster walked around while TIN7 wheezed with tears. She didn’t like that.. She didn’t like that at all.. She didn’t want it to happen again. She sat there shaking unable to move as she heard crashing and banging she could not see. Gaster came back rolling a cart covered in wires and a large machine sat on top. He worked to attach the wires carefully to certain spots on her bones, then checked they were connected. 

“About to start experiment 2-1: the purpose is to figure out the long term effect that electricity has on the soul.” Gaster spoke to his recorder. T1N7 didn’t like the sound of what was happening or the fact that he was attaching things to her body. She made noises that clearly showed that she was terrified. But she didn’t know any words so she could plead to him to stop. This only served to make her even more terrified.

Gaster ignored his failed subject. “T1N7 will be subjected to a continuous voltage of around 240v/60hz, for at least 1 hour, dependent on how quickly the subject deteriorates. Test will be begin, now.” He said turning on the machine. T1N7 started screaming, her whole body spasming as it was subjected to a continuous flow of electricity. Her soul spasmed and fluttered off beat in her chest, fluctuating as it struggled to supply magic to the rest of the body. Her tiny bones fought against the unrelenting restraints. Just an hour into the test, Gaster was fasinated with the results so far.

”Interesting… parts of T1N7’s bones have begun to show signs of melting, and the others have formed cracks with dust coating the other side.” He notes like he was examining a screaming monster. After a couple more minutes, he turned off the machine to stop the flow of electricity. T1N7 slumped as much as she could, her body spasming every now and again. Her soul ached as it tried to regulate her magic through out her body once more.

”This is definitely worth further study. Maybe T1N7 won’t be a complete waste after all.” He spoke to his recorder, took note of the time and date, and cut it off. Gaster left her for a brief moment before returning to release the restraints and wires. His hand constructs then grabbed her by the chopped up mess of hair on her skull to drag her from the chair. Her body was still spasming, making it even harder to walk or even keep up with him as he pulled her down a corridor to another room. 

Gaster effortlessly hauled his subject onto a metal table to strap her down once more. He set another recorder rolling as he pulled over a cart full of surgical equipment. “Note: I’m about to initiate Experiment 3-1. I will be injecting T1N7 with various substances, then check for what effects they have. This will include digging into the subject's marrow and magic supplies.”

  T1N7 fought against her restraints, quickly coming to realize that restraint meant hurt. A lot of hurt. Something she didn’t want. Never wanted again. She whimpered as he held her skull still, a large needle penetrating between her vertebrae. “Subject injected with substance 6B3, effects unknown, but soon will be noted.” 

Gaster paced around the table as he waited for any visible results. T1N7 soon started to feel an uncomfortable tingling under her bones. While it could be a residual of her electric torture, he still took note of her squirming. “Other than the subjects uncomfortable squirming, no outward changes noted. Time for a internal examination.” 

He stood next to his surgical equipment, picking up a bone saw, “First an incision to the femur for a marrow sample,” Gaster explained to his recorder, before gripping T1N7’s left leg and started to saw into her bone. She shrieked in agony, babbling noises as she desperately implored him to stop. But he didn’t until he had sawed deep enough to extract marrow. The whole time he kept his intent in control so T1N7’s HP never dropped. He put the dust covered saw down, then grabbed a pair of tweezers to take a sample. Gaster then continued this with all four of her limbs. T1N7 had passed out several times but he always woke her up with adrenaline stabbed into her soul. Satisfied with his samples, Gaster bandaged up her limbs. 

“Day one experiments concluded. I will continue work tomorrow with subject T1N7.” He turned off his recorder for the final time that day before he looked down at his shaking creation. She was looking up at him with pure fear, something that made him feel powerful. Gaster unbuckled her from the table, dragged her back to her cell, and her inside, not caring as her skull impacted the floor. He then walked away, leaving her alone, the failed subject didn’t even deserve words or an explanation. 

T1N7 curled up as she tightly as she could where she landed, sobbing, her small bones just racked with agony. Not understanding what was happening to her, what this pain was, or why this person hurting her. Unfortunately, this was just the start, she had a year of this to come…

Sorry for the long post!! This is my Mafia Sona, Tiny’s back story! Well the start of it anyway~

[trashoverride-blog]

Crash Override: How Zoë Quinn exploited vulnerable trans and queer people for fame and profit

TW: Abuse, harassment, sexual harassment, suicide, rape

There is an old saying, if something seems too good to be true, then it probably is. That saying unfortunately seems to apply perfectly to the “Online Anti-Harassment Task Force” Crash Override Network (CON), which has had former members coming forwards to testify and get their stories out there; stories of being exploited, manipulated, and lied to by Crash Override’s co-founder and CEO, Zoë Quinn.

There is a lot of background information and lore that could be discussed, but I will try to keep it simple as much of it is neither here nor there and the focus is solely on Crash Override Network and how and why it ironically became a tool for abuse.

Forged in Battle

As many of you are aware, GamerGate began in 2014 and was essentially an online battle in a larger culture war, with an emphasis on battle. Participants in this online fracas used every dirty trick the dark recesses of the Internet had developed, gleefully partaking in doxxing, SWATing, targeted harassment, account hacks, death threats, rape threats... there were even bomb threats called in. For them, anyone on the ‘other side’ of the conflict was fair game and no holds were barred.

It was perhaps the Internet at its worst, and the GamerGate controversy was reported on in magazines, newspapers, TV programs, and online news sites around the world. The Federal Bureau of Investigation even had a GamerGate case file, although they never made any arrests.

In 2016, a former Crash Override Network member leaked a small amount of logs dating from December 2014 and January 2015, these logs were from a secret chat group that was being used by Quinn and others as a support group and operations room to organize their battle against GamerGate. Recent revelations by another former CON member (who can be seen in the chat logs as Secret Gamer Girl) states that the group was made by people who had gotten involved in GamerGate and eventually they invited  Zoë Quinn and she took over as “leader” and began inviting in anyone who publicly praised her or attacked GamerGate.

With Zoë Quinn in command, the group became even more dedicated to thwarting the GamerGate supporters and helping the woman they believed was their friend. Scrolling down this list of highlights from the chat logs gives a good sampling of how this group was operating, including doxxing, discussions about getting people fired and blacklisted, organizing attacks on specific people, going after websites they disliked, trying to ‘destroy’ people, etc.

With increased activity came increased paranoia, and members of the chat were instructed to ramp up their internet security and needed to get two-factor authentication in order to join the “serious chat” where their clandestine attack plans were discussed and Zoë let her personal demons spill forth more than usual.

Named in part as a reference to the movie Hackers, Crash Override Network was born out of that chat group and was envisioned by Zoë Quinn to be a “small guerilla group that can actually fucking fight back.” The following is excerpts from a chat log dating from January 4th, 2015 (Zoë uses the name drinternetphd) and details the three prongs that were supposed to be part of CON: a “crisis center” anonymously staffed “almost exclusively by survivors of this kind of thing,” resources and articles to help people with information security and the like, and “aftercare” and support. She also mentioned wanting to get donations for legal fees and “relocating people to safe houses while they were being swatted.”

[04/01/2015, 6:13:33 AM] drinternetphd: we were thinking of setting up 501c3 status so we could accept funds from these aformentioned benefactors [04/01/2015, 6:13:38 AM] drinternetphd: for like [04/01/2015, 6:13:51 AM] drinternetphd: legal fees and relocating people to safe houses while they were being swatted [04/01/2015, 6:14:00 AM] drinternetphd: but [04/01/2015, 6:14:05 AM] drinternetphd: maybe we could think about a lobbyist [04/01/2015, 6:14:12 AM] drinternetphd: I mean, stretch goals.

[04/01/2015, 6:14:25 AM] drinternetphd: the idea is 3 pronged [04/01/2015, 6:14:35 AM] drinternetphd: 1. crisis center for those currently being attacked [04/01/2015, 6:14:45 AM] drinternetphd: staffed almost exclusively by survivors of this kind of thing [04/01/2015, 6:14:57 AM] drinternetphd: all anon except alex and I so they can't be targetted [04/01/2015, 6:15:05 AM] drinternetphd: anon to anyone but us of course [04/01/2015, 6:15:12 AM] drinternetphd: so there's still internal accountability [04/01/2015, 6:15:16 AM] drinternetphd: and it's invite-only [04/01/2015, 6:15:23 AM] drinternetphd: and you have to like, have a skill we can use [04/01/2015, 6:15:44 AM] drinternetphd: 2. is prevention. put out resources on infosec and stuff like that [04/01/2015, 6:15:55 AM] drinternetphd: have a wing of it dedicated to writing pieces and advocacy and shit [04/01/2015, 6:16:05 AM] drinternetphd: 3 is aftercare. support and such for survivors [04/01/2015, 6:16:31 AM] drinternetphd: so small guerilla group that can actually fucking fight back

With Zoë Quinn as the CEO and her at-the-time boyfriend Alex Lifschitz as COO, Crash Override Network was officially launched in January 2015 and Quinn and the group used their connections to soon became a partner of Twitter’s Trust and Safety and become fiscally sponsored by Feminist Frequency. Depending on your thoughts about Quinn, this either stank to high heaven or was amazing, that she had been able to not only survive so much abuse but had started an organization to help others.

For the most part, that concept for CON doesn’t sound too bad, right? Getting whisked away to a safe house and having a support group on demand for you if a target is put on your back sounds good. A little too good to be true..

No Fame, No Service

According to the extremely thick bunkum on its Wikipedia page, CON is supposed to offer victims an arsenal of support as well as “a unique plan of action for each victim,” no matter who you are or what you believe in. This is such a blatant lie and it is absurd that it is on Wikipedia.

I’m not going to be as crass as to say that Crash Override Network did nothing for anyone besides Quinn herself (who got free PR and money from it) as some people out there did get help, however it is tragically easy to find folks who came to them in their hour of need and were either given a cold shoulder or flat out ignored.

According to a former CON member, this was 100% intentional and CON would screen emails and skim them to find anyone who was famous and could offer them publicity. She also states that CON once stopped helping someone because “the client got fired and no longer had a platform to sing [Crash Override’s] praises.”

This same insider recently explained more about how CON worked and selected victims to help or ignore. According to her, it was a “bait and switch” and victims would either get the brush off with a link to the CON Tumblr or other page, or if you were a journalist or a celebrity you would be given the deluxe package and have live help from the CON chat room. In exchange, these people would then go on to praise Zoë and their experience with CON (remember that gagworthy Wikipedia entry? This is likely how those sources exist for it), which was far different from the standard link to Tumblr that the less important victims would be given.

If you poke around on social media you can find plenty of stories like poor Andrea’s in the image above. People desperately tweeting at the abandoned CON Twitter account or bitterly describing being ignored or brushed off. There was no “whisked away to a safe house“ for vulnerable folks being doxxed. Maybe - maybe - for the ‘famous’ victims who were given the full PR experience, but not for the 99%.

One transwoman who had been involved with the fight against GamerGate since 2014 has said that she heard countless horror stories about Crash Override and what an “incompetent shitshow” it was.

I’m still seeing people naively suggesting Crash Override to victims as recent as this week. The information you can find there may be useful for your situation (and I don’t think anyone will really dispute that as it is a lot of common sense info they compiled), but good luck getting what remains of the “task force,” if anyone is even still around, to give you that private support network that all the fawning articles promised. Unless maybe you’re Brad Pitt...

Crashed

TW: This chapter will look at the personal experiences of CON members, many were transwomen and on the verge of homelessness and considered suicide after being used and thrown out like garbage by Zoë Quinn.

In the years since the founding of CON, Zoë Quinn has severed ties with the majority of the chat group/CON members, only staying friendly with Katherine Cross, Randi Harper, and a few other well-known activists who were involved. While Quinn likely had no involvement, Harper would eventually add a large number of their former so-called friends to her anti-GamerGate/anti-harassment blocklists, which became a point of contention for the cast out members of CON. Especially since they had helped Quinn and Harper spread the blocklists through various industries, which they were all now effectively blacklisted from.

Throughout 2015 and 2016 you can trace the fracture of CON as Zoë Quinn stopped interacting with the folks from the chat one by one on Twitter, she even kicked them off her private “Primeape” Twitter account. One of the first to be outcast was the transwoman Regina, who was quoted and screencapped in the previous chapter. A military veteran with PTSD, hers is a sad tale that is unfortunately all too common for people, especially returning veterans. According to Regina, Quinn kicked her out of CON after learning about Regina’s PTSD. Thankfully, Regina was not scared of Quinn and has provided a lot of information about what really was going on at CON.

Zoë Quinn promised vulnerable folks compensation and more for laboring at CON - they never saw a cent

At least three former CON members that I know of have come forward and said that Zoë promised them financial compensation or more for the hours and hours of work they were doing for her.

Regina has been the most vocal about this and has been calling out Quinn for profiting off their labor for years.

SecretGamerGirl says that Quinn promised them safety, steady pay, housing, and psychiatric care, promises Quinn obviously did not honor, to the chagrin of the desperate, destitute transwomen who were doing work for her with the promises keeping them hopeful that their lives would get better. This was particularly cruel of Quinn to have done to a bunch of transwomen in poverty and at risk of houselessness, and another former CON member SFtheWolf (SF in the chat) corroborates that compensation was offered.

SecretGamerGirl also says that Quinn got bored of CON and decided to shut it down in early 2016. Quinn promised them once again that she would start paying those who were not “too risky to deal with” a steady salary. Hmm, why would anyone involved with an anti-abuse support group be “too risky to deal with”? Needless to say, SecretGamerGirl and the others did not get paid for giving over a year of their life to Zoë’s CON.

CON was concocted as a PR scheme for Zoë Quinn and her Crash Override book

This was touched upon in some of the screencaps in the section above, but Quinn had convinced CON that they should work on her book for her. If you remember, the book was delayed and had to switch publisher, according to SecretGamerGirl the delay was caused by Quinn having to remove all their contributions.

According to Regina, CON was always a, well, con and had been devised as a scheme to get free PR and labor by tricking abuse victims into thinking they had volunteered for a support group and could do some good for the world.

These claims and others are backed up by yet another CON insider who anonymously leaked an early draft copy of Zoë Quinn’s book. The draft. which I guesstimate to have been (at least in part) from around April 2015 based on one of the paragraphs, contains cringe-worthy praising of the infant Crash Override Network but also of Randi Harper’s Online Abuse Prevention Institute, the latter praise seems to have been cut for the final product from what I recall. The draft is actually a pretty interesting look into the behind the scenes mindscape of Quinn, and includes more cringe such as Zoë misgendering and deadnaming an infamously harassed transwoman (Christine Weston Chandler) while trying to name drop and pretend that she cares about her (Zoë cares so much about her she couldn’t even get the name in the right order... This also did not appear in the final copy).

A Short introduction:  I am a victim of online abuse, but I am a victim of lies. At one time, Zoe Quinn and Crash Override Network gave me a sense of agency and made me feel like I had a way to fight back against my harassers. When I worked together with her, Zoe promised to protect and suppport people like me. But, eventually, I realized how ruthless Zoe is, and how deeply she exploited the vulnerable trans and queer people around her to achieve her goals. This has been eating at me for a very long time, but I can't remain silent any longer. It is time for me to speak truth to power. 

Despite the promises that Zoe made, we were exploited for the thousands of hours of work we put in behind the scenes to get her exposure. The longer I was involved with CON, the more I realized that if anyone got in Zoe's way, they quickly found themselves alienated from their in-group and on the receiving end of even more harassment. It took me too long to figure out what the a lot of people already knew. The chatroom logs that were leaked from CON last year are real (you can read them here: http://archive.is/eBVCb ). They reflect what I experienced: Little is done to help actual victims of internet abuse, depending on how much Zoe thinks that she can benefit from it. Most of the time, the chatroom discussion was focused on attacking people that Zoe didn't like, including former allies that had earned Zoe's ire. Which brings me to why I am writing this: Below you will find an early draft of Zoe's book. Unlike the book Zoe is publishing this fall, this rough draft was mostly written by Zoe herself. The notes that Zoe has left to herself on each unfinished page ooze with cynicism, and show how Zoe really feels about the half-truths and tall tales she weaves about herself. If you care about addressing actual issues of online harassment, please don't support this person or her group. While tons of folks have lifted her up as a paragon of good in the very real and very important fight against abuse, Zoe is actually an abuser and exploiter of vulnerable people.

CON engaged in targeted harassment, attacked and gas lit ex-members

Regina states that CON was not only engaging in targeted harassment under orders of Zoë Quinn and Lifschitz when she was still with them, when she was exiled CON began attempting to harass her while Quinn sat by and did nothing.

Regina also says that CON stores personal info on victims who come to them and has released that info to harm people they don’t like.

SecretGamerGirl says that she became the subject of a bizarre gas lighting campaign after she earned Zoë’s ire. This gas lighting resulted in multiple suicide attempts.

“I contacted Quinn/Crash Override for help, expressing that I was afraid for my family, and frankly considering suicide as a means of protecting them.

Quinn personally messaged me in response, the first conversation we'd had in months, explicitly denying me even any help in locking down my stuff, and making some cryptic statement about not wanting to get involved.”

Nobody at CON was vetted, a sexual predator likely got access to victims through CON

If I remember correctly the first big scandal that rocked CON was the outing of one of their founding members and chat room comrades as a sexual harasser. UnseenPerfidy (Rob in the chat logs) sexually harassed over 20 - TWENTY - women, and those were just the victims that came forward. There is speculation that Rob may have used his position with CON to obtain contact info of vulnerable women which he then sexually harassed. Rob would use threats of suicide and self harm to try and coerce the women.

CON/Zoë’s response was to deny that Rob had anything to do with them, despite that clearly not being the case (the logs proving he was complicit with CON would be leaked later in the month). When another chat/CON alumni called Izzy Galvez was caught in a sting operation after trying to doxx a woman, CON once again denied he had anything to do with them (Galvez was used for PR, with CON claiming they had stopped a SWAT attempt against him, somehow)

Remember, nearly everyone at CON was just some random person who caught Zoë’s eye during the height of GamerGate. There was likely no training, no screening - nothing that an organization like that should have. She may not have even known who they really were. 

Zoë Quinn put wolves in sheeps’ clothing, and women may have been sexually harassed because of it.

Zoë Quinn emotionally manipulated the folks she had convinced to become CON, told them she trusted them, she loved them

This is really not surprising at all, whether it was with malicious intent or not, Zoë Quinn knew just what to say to convince a bunch of abuse victims to get wrapped around her finger. She made them think they meant something to her, I’ve seen some say they thought she was their best friend, but she twisted the knife into their backs all the same.

According to SecretGamerGirl, dozens of her friends were driven into suicide attempts thanks to the Zoë.

I am absolutely done defending someone who took my career, my support, and my safety from me, and driven dozens of friends to suicide attempts, and I am done with everyone else who knew about all this and keeps pretending otherwise.

Epilogue

This week, Zoë Quinn retweeted a tweet from Randi Harper which showed herself and Quinn playing Overwatch together. I saw some of the reactions to this unfolding in real time, it was heartbreaking. So many of Zoë’s former friends at least were mildly content in the thought that Zoë had thrown Harper out into the cold just like them, especially with Harper’s blacklisting of them all, but they were wrong. They were livid.

I have seen so many people who were snubbed by Crash Override and Zoë  Quinn come forward to tell their stories, to bond with and support each other. SecretGamerGirl planned to take her story to the grave but seeing her friends be hurt by Zoë  yet again let her finally tell her side of the years of manipulation and abuse she had endured at the hands of Zoë Quinn. Other victims have been able to share their frustrations with Crash Override.

Crash Override is effectively dead. Done. Finished. Kaput. Most of the volunteers have been cast aside by Zoë, her promises to pay them as empty as their old Skype chat room where it all began.

The Crash Override Network “crisis helpline” has been officially dead since December 2016, despite promises that they would be “working fiercely to keep the downtime as short as possible.” They didn’t even bother announcing this on CON’s social media, that’s all lying dusty and dormant as well.

The Crash Override Network Twitter account has been abandoned, with its last activity in April 2016, well over a year ago.

Their Facebook group was also left to rot with no updates since March 2016.

Their subreddit is also dead and whomever was running it doesn’t even use reddit with that account anymore.

Last but not least, their Tumblr is also abandoned, with their last post in March 2016.

Zoë got what she wanted out of CON a long time ago as evidenced by it (and by extension, the victims hoping to be helped by it) being abandoned, and the book it existed to give PR to and a namesake for is finally out. A family friend and her own mother both admitted Zoë lied about her childhood in the book, which makes everything else suspect, and matches with pretty much every other horror story you hear from people who have personally dealt with Zoë Quinn and her endless lies and false promises.

Crash Override Network was a con at worst, at best it was a toy for Zoë to play around with and milk for attention until she got bored with it. Please stop telling people to give their sensitive information to an organization that was inept in its heyday and even downright malicious, let alone an organization whose founder(s) clearly got bored of and left it to rot. Link to their guides if you must (after all, a small army of transwomen put their hearts and souls into compiling the info for Zoë), but please stop giving people false hope that Zoë is going to help them and give them more than just a link to a Tumblr or PDF file.

Thank you for your time, and a big thank you to all the former Crash Override members who have been brave enough to get their stories out there and let us know the sad truth. /)

[aion-rsa]

Dialect Coaches on Actors and the Best and Worst Accents

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Congruity is important in fiction. Trust and verisimilitude are the first casualties when breaches of the unspoken contract between creator and audience occur. Each of us has our own limits on what we’re prepared to accept before that crucial tipping point is reached and our minds unmoor from a piece of fiction. Although we understand that show-runners and directors will sometimes bend reality or sacrifice elements of the truth or historical record in the pursuit of spectacle or entertainment, some things are sacrosanct.

Arguably our ears are the fiercest arbiters of truth. These days, botched accents or dialects in entertainment vehicles are the elements most likely to trigger flash-bangs of furious incredulity, and offend cultural sensibilities (especially now that we’re past the era of casting people in serious dramatic roles out-with their own ethnicities). Though the 1995 movie Braveheart was rife with historical inaccuracies – akin to Abraham Lincoln teaming up with Grover Cleveland to fight WWII alongside Arnold Schwarzenegger – it retained a plausible and satisfying emotional core in the hearts of most Scots largely thanks to Mel Gibson putting on an eminently passable, forgivably imperfect Scottish accent. That wouldn’t have been the case had he sounded like Christopher Lambert or Pee Wee Herman.  

So accents are important. They strike at the truth of who we are, where we’re from and where we’re going. It follows then that the gate-keepers of the human voice – the vocal coaches and dialect specialists that lend their expertise to the entertainment industry – perform a vital function that transcends mere entertainment. Den of Geek spoke to three of them, to get a flavor of the work they do, the professional choices they make, the role they see themselves playing, their views on the industry, and their take on the issues of the day filtered through the prism of their profession. 

Nic Redman is a well-known and knowledgeable vocal coach and voice actor who hails from Northern Ireland, but now lives and works in the north of England; her coaching helps regular folks, commercial clients and famous faces alike. 

Paul Meier is a voice coach, actor, professor, Shakespeare enthusiast, theatre director and archivist of dialects who made the leap from the southern UK to the mid-western US in 1978, bringing with him a wealth of expertise. 

Joy Lanceta Coronel is a Kentucky-born, NY-based dialectal wunderkind, who, as well as being an eminently qualified voice and acting coach, conducts research into Asian identity and cultural representation, particularly those aspects that intersect with her profession.    

Of course you can’t have three voice coaches on hand without first asking them their opinion on the worst and best examples of accents in TV and film. 

Music to your ears

Let’s start with the best.

Nic singles out Jodie Comer in Killing Eve. “I’d seen her in one other thing, and she spoke in Received Pronunciation (RP) – like a standard, southern English sound – and I just assumed she spoke RP. And then I saw Killing Eve, and I was like, ‘Wow, she’s good at accents’. And then I heard her in an interview, and I’m like, ‘You are kidding me’. Because she’s a proper Scouser, like [from Liverpool, England]. And unabashedly, unashamed, wearing it proudly, as everyone with a regional accent should.”

Paul’s pick is Meryl Streep in The Iron Lady. “I’ve never seen a better impersonation. She transcended impersonation and totally got the accent, but it was a brilliant impersonation as well. I did a podcast with the dialect coach on The Iron Lady, Jill McCullough, and Jill just sat in the corner twiddling her thumbs while Meryl Streep worked her magic.” 

Joy is also quick to laud Meryl Streep, particularly her performance in Sophie’s Choice. She also gives special mentions to Renee Zellweger in the first Bridget Jones’s Diary, and Daniel Day-Lewis in There Will Be Blood. When it comes to picking the worst examples of the craft, Joy favours diplomacy over dirt-slinging. “Ah this question is so nuanced because I’d hate to call people out on something that might have been the result of so many different variables. There are several instances when a coach might not have as much time with the actor for them to fully inhabit the accent. You also have to factor in that an actor might not be very familiar with an accent, and oftentimes it makes it more difficult for them to take on the sounds if it is difficult for them to hear them in the first place.”

Luckily for us and our salacious appetites, Nic and Paul have no such reservations. “I really want to give shout outs to Gerard Butler in P.S. I Love You,” says Nic. “As an Irish person I found that pretty horrific. Keanu Reeves in Dracula, Don Cheadle in Ocean’s Eleven. And, then, just a couple of shout-outs for some ladies. Anne Hathaway in One Day. I know she tried really hard. I married a Yorkshireman so I think I’m a bit more sensitive to that one. And Mischa Barton in St Trinians.”

Paul goes with something of an old classic from the accent hall of horrors: Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins. He follows up his choice with a salient point: “I did a podcast with my son, who is a movie critic, talking about best and worst. I found myself saying that Dick Van Dyke was so utterly charming in the role of Bert the chimney sweep, that despite his egregious cockney accent, you would say, ‘But this is how Bert speaks. This is Dick Van Dyke’s Bert’s cockney’, and it’s almost become institutional now, even though it’s a really bad cockney.” 

You could say the same of Karl Urban’s accent in The Boys. Butcher is supposed to be from London, but his accent is a hotchpotch that takes in the antipodes via South Africa. Again, though, the character, and Urban’s portrayal, is such a powerhouse that you stop caring. Perhaps we make allowances for bad accents by great actors just so long as the place they’re evoking isn’t an integral part of their character’s make-up; or that the character isn’t intended as a vessel to speak for, or about, people from that place. 

Do the coaches agree that many actors from the US seem to struggle with UK accents in general, and London accents in particular? 

“The thing about Americans encountering British accents,” says Nic, “is they have two representations of what we sound like: Downton Abbey and anything by Guy Ritchie. English or Cockney. You’d think that would help them be specific, but I think they really struggle with it because it shares a lot with Australian as well, for very specific historical reasons, and I think they flip stuff around and get a bit confused.”

Paul believes that US actors struggle with some UK accents mainly for social reasons. “Brits and Australians are better at American accents than vice versa. And it’s not because of any innate ability. It’s just because Americans tend to be more insular. American English is the global language, very few Americans have passports, they don’t travel. It’s a big country, very self-sufficient. And so for these social, socio-linguistic reasons, Americans don’t tend to be as good at accents.” 

Sometimes, says Nic, we the audience will not have been privy to the decisions made on the modelling of a character’s accent – their background, their idiolect – and thus can judge a performance unfairly. “That’s how I felt about Elizabeth Moss in Top of the Lake. She got a lot of flak for her accent, but I loved the performance so much, and she was a person from a place living in a different place, so there were going to be influences from that side, so maybe she made a conscious decision to do it that way.”

A Day in the Life

How, then, does a voice coach operate? How do they assist performers? And what’s in their toolkit? Joy clues us in:

“Sometimes I get pulled in at the last minute and I have to work with an actor who has already spent time with the script without my guidance, so those instances can be challenging,” she says. “What I do enjoy is that I get one-on-one time with the actors, so it is an intimate process. I shape my sessions based on different variables: how much time I have with them; how familiar they are with the accent or dialect, how difficult the accent or dialect is, what kind of space we are working in. It’s usually a conversation that triangulates between director, actor, and coach. If possible, I try to find an audio sample of a person who meets the criteria we discussed, and we work from those audio samples. Using a real speaker as a model is the best way to humanize the work.”

What about those rare cases where a play, movie or TV show is set in a non-English-speaking country, yet casts English-speaking actors as natives, and has them speak in English? The examples that spring to mind are the TV mini-series Chernobyl and the movie The Death of Stalin. Do voice coaches have any opinion of, or involvement with, those scenarios? Paul takes the mantle:

“If you start with the idea of a Chekhov play; all of those characters are speaking Russian to each other, and we, simply for our own convenience, are speaking a translation into English, so does it make any sense to play your Chekhov characters with a Russian accent? Not really. Because they’re not speaking a language other than their own, their first language, so why would they get it wrong? If you have a play or a film where the Russian character is speaking English, then it wouldn’t make sense not to give him a Russian accent. And then I think of exceptions, like [the movie] Chocolat. All of those characters were speaking French to each other. We, simply for our own convenience, hear them in English. And yet the director and the dialect coach very astutely gave a very slight French accent colouration to the film. And I thought it helped. It put me in that little French village.” 

Authenticity and avoiding stereotypes

Authenticity clearly plays an integral role in both the coaching process and ethos. This article has so far concentrated on those dialects that predominate within the English-speaking world, but what of the importance of ensuring the authenticity of accents from other parts of the world; countries and continents whose languages and cultures may well have become an integral, though still too often marginalised, part of the shared experience of living in the US or Europe?    

“I can speak from the work I’ve done in the past with accents such as Thai, Cantonese, Mandarin, Japanese and Korean,” says New York-based Joy. “These East Asian accents have a long history of stereotyping, mimicry, and caricature and it has hurt these communities. So, for that reason, it is all the more important to add as much authenticity and humanity to the accent and frame the accent through the lens of a real human being, and not just the stereotypes that were so often seen in TV, film, and stage. Studies show that most Americans don’t know a lot about Asian culture, much less the nuanced sounds of each language. It’s just not something Americans have paid attention to because of racist portrayals and phrases like ‘Ching chong chang.’ I feel a great deal of responsibility for showcasing these languages authentically, and it is my hope that audiences will begin to recognize these sounds and hear the drastic differences among East Asian languages, so that we can slowly veer away from our problematic past.”

The issue of representation within the entertainment industry, which dovetails with notions of authenticity, gained prominence during last year’s Black Lives Matters protests, and put a lot of hitherto accepted (sometimes only grudgingly) conventions under the spotlight. Animated shows like Big Mouth, Family Guy and The Simpsons were forced to reckon with the new paradigm by recasting, or un-casting, white actors who had been portraying POC. What do the coaches think about representation in this context, and where would they weigh in on versatility versus verisimilitude?   

Paul, whose life and work have straddled seven decades, responds with intellectual honesty and a sprinkling of Devil’s Advocate: “I have two takes on that really. One is that it’s a shame if you take any work away from an actor. Actors, that’s what they do: they impersonate everybody, without politics, without judgement, and it seems a shame in the world of infinite imagination to deprive anybody of the ability to impersonate or play any role. To me, it depends upon the spirit in which the thing is done. Take the role of Godbole in A Passage to India, played by Sir Alec Guinness. If we made the film today, of course we would cast Indian actors, but was Alec Guinness derogating or mocking India when he played that? No, he did a sterling job, with total respect for the culture. And then, you look on the other side of it. There’s an employment theme: why would you want to – with so many great African American actors – why on earth would you want to cast a white person to do that – unless there is some sort of exceptional necessity in that casting?”

Nic is slightly more unequivocal. “Yes, every actor can potentially play whatever they want and whoever they want, but it’s not about whether they can at the moment, it’s about whether they should. And we all have a responsibility in many ways in life right now to open up the doors to some of the more under-represented ethnicities and cultures. I feel that the only way I can responsibly be a coach in the current climate is to – if anything comes along that I feel could be coached by somebody of a more appropriate ethnic background, then I’ll pass that along. And that’s a no-brainer.”

Nic still has to grapple with and practice even those accents she couldn’t in all good conscience tutor someone to speak. “It’s important for me to understand how those accents work because I may get someone of that ethnic background coming to me wanting a different accent. Everybody starts at an accent from a different place, because everyone’s accent articulation patterns are different. So, for me, I may say the ‘ow’ sound as in the word mouth. I know I have to drop my tongue, because the northern Irish accent has more of a high tongue position. If I was teaching that ‘ow’ vowel to someone who wasn’t northern Irish, I’d have to understand where their tongue position may be. I can’t say to everybody, ‘Oh, for this sound you need to lower your tongue,’ because they might not need to lower their tongue. They might need to raise, flatten or loosen their tongue. So it’s not one-size fits all. It’s part of my job to look into these histories and cultures, and understand how these sounds work and feel.”     

Joy picks up the question of representation as it relates to The Simpsons and other animated shows, and examines it all through a wide cultural lens. “I appreciate the movement to re-cast these roles. There is no justification for characters like Apu and Doctor Hibbert being voiced by white actors, and it’s something I’ve opposed for a long time. It simply perpetuates stereotypes and caricatures. And there’s no justification because there are a multitude of actors who could have voiced these characters, and who could have embodied the racial, linguistic, and ethnic background of these characters. BIPOC actors already have limited opportunities as a result of limited stories on BIPOC, so why deprive them of the opportunity? In addition to perpetuating colonialism mentality, white characters voicing Indian, American and Black characters completely ignores the history of Blackface, Brownface, and minstrel performances, all of which were racist practices meant to mimic and inaccurately portray these communities through humor.”

In closing: with whom were the trio most proud of working; who was the actor or person who shone the brightest under or alongside them? Paul plumps for Tobey Maguire, Joy for BD Wong, actors they lavish with praise. Nic takes a different approach, declining to name anyone specific. “I’m most proud of the clients who come and commit to the work – and they come back as much as they need, as they can afford, as they want, and they make genuine improvement, and it has a genuine impact on their life and their career. That’s the amazing kind of thing about this job. With the right attitude, and enough time and money I think anybody can learn an accent… but that’s a Holy Trinity that doesn’t always come together.” 

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Please tell us your picks for the best and worst accents in film and TV in the comments below. Also, there are links to our interviewees should you wish to enlist their services, or are curious about their work. 

Paul Meier – Dialect Services www.paulmeier.com

Nic Redman – Voice Coach and Accent Specialist Nicredmanvoice.com

Joy Lanceta Coronel – Speech, Dialect and Communication Coach joylanceta.com

The post Dialect Coaches on Actors and the Best and Worst Accents appeared first on Den of Geek.

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