#most of them enjoy their daily privileges and then come shit on us like that?

[god-i-hope-so]

I wonder how many of Tommy haters ever experienced racism. My guess is a very small part of them because let me tell you one thing: you don't spend after work time with your racist coworker on your own. EVER. You don't share stories and jokes with them. EVER. You know the mental cost of spending time with a racist when you're a poc? No you don't. And you think Hen and Chim would choose to spend their free time with a racist instead of anyone else? Instead of going home? No one forced them, and there's no one else. They decided to have drinks together because Tommy changed and they want to support change.

You can call out his past behavior, absolutely, and I did it myself because it needs to be done. You know what needs to be done too? Acknowledge positive change. It's crucial to see and support change. Change is what makes the world better, little by little. But you wouldn't know if you're not a poc, right? How does it feel to be a white knight trying to get some "good ally" points from the poc you use for you hate campaign? All that for a fucking ship? Is it worth it? Do you have your ship canon now?

But please, educate me on racism and how Hen and Chim acted in S2, apparently forced (by who?) to spend their free time with Tommy.

[captain-kinda-trash]

Hi! I wanted to request some headcannons for rottmnt boys with a reader who gives great hugs and gets a plush hoodie this winter, so hugging them feels like hugging a teddy bear now

Of course!! Thank you so much for the request!!

Teddy Bear (ROTTMNT Headcanons)

This was what I had in mind while writing 🤔🤔⬇

Leo

Let's just be clear about one thing

Leo LOVES your hugs

CANNOT get enough of them

Long night of fighting for justice? Huggies

Gets into an argument with Donnie? More huggies

Hell, even walking past you in the lair, he'll do little grabby hands and act like a whiny baby until he gets his daily hugs 🙄 😩

But then you get a super soft, super fluffy, super warm sweatshirt?

Dead

He's dead

You're basically like a human heater for this cold-blooded blue boy

Since you've gotten it, you can hardly stop wearing it, because it's the most comfortable thing ever-

And Leo has gotten even more excuses to hug you

"Leo, im cooking!"

"bUT YOUR SOO COMFFYYY 🥴"

Will, without a doubt ask you to carry his lazy ass, just because he wants to snuggle into your sweatshirt

And don't even get me STARTED on movie nights with him

Because what begins as a cold-blooded turtle hanging onto your arm like a baby koala

Ends up being Leo curled up in your lap or somehow wrapped around you with this hot sweater

So while he's practically purring with comfort, you are sweating like a dog

Not to mention, this bitch is just heavy

like 200+ pounds of straight muscle, so I hope you don't have to use the restroom any time soon because it's going to take a while to pry this big baby off of you

I'd also like to mention, that you don't need to tell him not to steal your hoodie

because he’s gonna do it anyways 😎💙

You discovered this one day, when you slipped the article off to bake with Mikey

After a nice batch of cookies was made, your jacket was gone and you began parading around the lair to find it 

Only to see Leo, snuggled in his bed and playing on his phone, with your hoodie practically swallowing him whole

If he hadn’t looked so comfortable, you would have been angrier, and just settled for scolding him playfully for stealing it

it was hell trying to pry it off of him,  though...

This turtle knows how to wrestle and he will not hesitate to kick your ass over this fluffy sweatshirt 😤

These two things (hugs and your hoodie) combined just make Leo melt into a puddle, and he couldn’t be happier to have all of your teddy bear hugs :>

Mikey

um, have you met this turtle?

KING of hugs

It’s so great how both of you share the same energy

Though he’s more cold-blooded, like Donnie, he needs all of the hugs

It’s just your thing

With Raph, you have fist bumps, Leo, you’ve got a cool handshake, Donnie is more for high-fives 

And for Mikey, it’s hugs 

He practically tackles you to the ground in tight hugs whenever you get home from school/work and come to the lair, like a happy little puppy

Speaking of puppies…

That’s what he says your hoodie feels like whenever it first arrives in the mail.

Immediately, you throw it on, and Mikey is all over it, petting the soft fabric and squealing in excitement 

Can he please wear it?? 🥺

Little Mikey didn’t even have to ask before you shed the hoodie and let him try it on

And OH

MY

FLUFFY...

The amount of cuteness that this turtle radiates when he’s smiling like an idiot and flapping the oversized arms around is just-

He vows to get his own since it’s so warm and comfortable

But he’s very respectful and gives it back to you

Only to attack you in another hug and lift you off of the ground because you look so adorable

“You’re like a little teddy bear!” *excited squeal!*

Mikey 100% respects your space so if you’re ever snuggling, he’s instantly aware of your getting sweaty or uncomfortable and will let up or loosen his arms

Winter days?

Snuggles all day and night

when Mikey (politely) asks to wear your jacket, he’ll throw it on and give you piggyback rides around the lair, because we love fun

And for Christmas, you get him his own, and he’s IN LOVE 

Sweater buddies 

He gets one in his favorite color and little ears on the hood and once a week, when they need to be thrown in the washer, you’ll keep him warm while he waits.

(Leo gets jealous of all the attention you’re giving Mikey >:o)

Donnie

we all know that Don isn’t the biggest on physical affection

If he wants a hug, usually he’d be the one to initiate, which is totally cool, since usually he’s forced into a hug by his brothers (secretly loves it tho)

He does enjoy your hugs, though he can be a bit awkward and stiff with them at first

If he’s feeling down, needs to be warmed up a bit, he’ll immediately seek your comfort

Even out of his brothers, you’re secretly his favorite 

Sure he loves Dr. Delicate Touch, but sometimes Donnie would rather go to someone who isn’t very pushy with solutions, and is willing to listen

And we can also all agree that he has an immaculate fashion taste ✨💜

When he sees the fluffy sweater draped over your arm, he’s immediately running over, analyzing the fabrics, and rushing to get you to try it on

Why? Fashion show 

Loves the warmth of your hoodie

And I because “it’s so soofff”

Donnie’s blood runs the coldest out of all of his brothers and he has the most sensitive shell, so he just adores your sweater

Is definitely contemplating on getting one for himself, though he wouldn’t tell you at first, because you might think he’s trying to copy your awesome style, and that would just destroy his massive ego 😩💅

He enjoys it when you sit in his lab with him, maybe rested against his side with your hoodie on, as you play on your phone/read/draw

Also up for snuggles when it’s extra chilly in the Lair, or when his brothers aren’t around, because once again, damaged ego

Movie marathons?

Hell yeah

Donnie will always make sure your comfortable before he gets comfortable on the couch, so you won’t shift around while watching the movie

He’s also very vulnerable when he takes his battle shell off, and in more ways than one

You know he’s got real, strong trust when he does so and will let you carefully hug him from behind with your hoodie on, since it’s so soft

Donnie will also snatch your massive jacket if he gets the chance, and disappear into his lab for days with it on

And he’ll never tell a soul this…

But he loves it the most, because it smells like you, 💜

so it’s like having you right beside him while you’re gone, or when he’s busy building something 

Also, tries to use his classic and sarcastic charm when it comes to asking for your hoodie back

“Come on Don, it’s cold outside! I need it!”

“But would you take it from such a luxurious face as this?” 😏

“😒”

“Right, giving it back-“

He totally gets his own hoodie, by the way

Purple (obviously)

But it just isn’t the same as your own, so Donnie might just have yours on and then wrap his own around his waist

Yep

He sure does love his teddy bear 💜

Raph

Okay but Raph is an actual teddy bear-

A big, mom-friend, weapon-wielding teddy bear

He LOVES giving hugs, and most would recognize this, seeing the various pictures and instances where he pulls all three of his brothers in for a great big group hug ❤

He's constantly reminding himself that you are much much more prone to injuries than his brothers, so he holds you like a little baby when he hugs you

(Unless he gets super excited or has a really rough night, so just be aware that you might be restricted of breathing privileges in that case-)

Usually so gentle 🥺

Just picks you up and wraps those huge freaking arms around you like giant pillows

And he LOSES HIS SHIT when you come back with this fluffy ass hoodie

Has this infatuation with petting the fur and running his fingers over it

He has never felt something so soft in his entire life 😩❤

And then when he hugs you with it on-

aUGGGH ❤❤

"Why are you a like big teddy bear?!"

"Buddy, you're just getting a taste of my own world-"

Poor Raph, being the size he is and having such a spiky shell, can't just wear your hoodie like his brothers :(

I mean, sure he could take it so easily

But he doesn't want to disrespect your things, or make you upset, because this man is The Gentleman™

So, rather than asking to wear it, he'll ask to spend more time with you

Not just for the hoodie ofc, but because of your sweet gentleness and warmth

Better quit your job babe, because your new occupation?

Raph's cuddle buddy

He refuses to let you become uncomfortable, makes sure there are the right amount of pillows, blankets, and room for you to move around while you snuggle together etc.

Raph is also a heavy sleeper, so once he gets comfy and warm enough, he'll probably doze off and trap you in his big "arm cage"

Really, his nature is pure and gentle and everything you could ever imagine when it comes to hugging his little teddy bear ❤🐢

@getacactus @turtle-babe83

Hope you enjoyed this little ditty! I LOVED writing these!! 💜💜

[worldstogetlostin]

hello and how are you?

We are here from the Sixty More OC Asks! Wanted to drop by and ask you some things for both stories! c:

For Anna form Devour: 01 | 17 | 25 | 60

For Anyone You Want from Chaos Crew: 38 | 43 | 51 | 60

The Not Yet Dead Author, @365runesofwriting

Hi! I'm doing good, I hope you're well! Thank you for the ask, it's very pretty haha, nice to see some colour. This got quite long so I've put most of it under a read more.

Ask game is here for convenience

For Anna: 1 - What’s the one thing they would save in a fire? Anna doesn't have many physical things, and most of what she does have is shared between her and other guards in the Old Guard group, so I don't think she'd have much to save if the place burned. She'd probably be more focused on making sure members of her group that she's particularly close with got out, like Irina or Gracie, for whom I really need to do character intros lmao they are such important characters.

17 - What’s the most ridiculous thing they’ve ever spent money on? So money isn't really a thing with the Old Guard? They do their job and get assigned privileges that allow them access to certain things. So in that regard, the most ridiculous thing she's used her privileges for is to ensure that Matteo (another member of her group, who Anna is a little more combative with) didn't get to read a book he really wanted to read for an extra few weeks. She basically borrowed it any time she could and made a big show of having it out and threatening to spoil the ending because she can be very childish lmao.

25 - What’s one thing they’re utterly incapable of doing without the help of someone else? I'd say that Anna, despite being the unofficial leader of the group when everything goes to shit, can't take risks without someone else agreeing that it's the right thing to do. She excels at leading a group and making sure everyone is heard and agrees with the decision, but when it comes to making a decision alone, especially one that puts others in danger, she can be very indecisive unless someone is there to reassure her that she's doing the right thing, which can be a liability.

60 - What are some of their simple pleasures? Anna likes reading and eating good food. As it's the end of the world and all, simple pleasures are just that. Simple. If she finds some chocolate on a run and some new reading material, she will get a lot of pleasure from enjoying those things.

Okay for my chaos crew OCs I'm gonna talk about Morgana because I feel like I don't talk about her enough.

38 - If they hear something go bump in the night, do they get out of bed to check it out or do they stay put? Morgana stays put, mostly because her powers make it very difficult to know what's real and what's not. She has powers of illusion so strong sometimes she doesn't even feel real to herself. So it's a combination of that and the knowledge that anything that might try to come for her has definitely bitten off more than it can chew.

43 - What do people notice first about them, as far as their appearance goes? Morgana is the kind of beautiful that catches people off guard because it isn't right. Her appearance is almost ethereal, otherworldly. So you could never call her ugly, but something about the way she looks is not quite human, either. It can be intimidating to others, so despite her great beauty people aren't tripping over themselves to beg for her hand or anything. Although that could also be because her personality leaves something to be desired at the beginning of the book...

51 - What is their favourite thing about themselves? Morgana is strong, and she knows it despite how other people doubt her. She has strong powers and struggles with the realities and consequences of her power daily. it's not something any average person could do, and she is secure in the knowledge that she is gifted and special. Her strength is her favourite thing about herself.

60 - What are some of their simple pleasures? Morgana doesn't have many simple pleasures. She was raised wealthy and is used to the finer things in life. Having someone brush her hair is probably the most simple of her pleasures. Obviously, she doesn't let just anyone touch her hair, but if it's someone she trusts and feels safe with, it will be her favourite thing.

[violetsoju]

snapshot

miya atsumu · fluff · 1.9k

muse: highlight - not the end

a/n: my ultimate boys are finally back after three and a half years, and my inner fangirl that has been asleep for way too long has been unleashed for the past few days. hence, this impulsive piece. do let me know if you enjoyed it ❤️

It’s time.

After a year or so, there’s finally light at the end of the tunnel. Cherry blossoms are in full bloom again, gracing the pathways with shades of light pink and white.

It’s the beginning of a new year, of new beginnings, of new hopes and dreams. A time of renewal and rebirth. When cherry blossoms are in full bloom, the future is bursting with possibilities.

What better way to start off the new year with something that makes your heart blossom with love and joy?

You’ve been deep in slumber for the past year, so it’s about time to be awaken and open the curtains for the sunlight shine in.

Your planner is inked with colourful notes and doodles, laptop reformatted with an empty recycle bin, camera equipment cleaned and dusted, phone storage deep-cleaned.

It’s hard to not notice the bright smile tugging your lips even without the mandatory cup of morning coffee, greeting everyone in the office like a ray of sunshine. Even your supervisor notices it and is surprised with the increased efficiency of work from your end. Perhaps he’s more surprised with your razor sharp accuracy in clocking out every day, disappearing in a flash once the clock strikes 6.

Your colleagues can’t seem put a finger to the recent change in your behaviour. What’s an afterwork get-together without you and ridiculous tipsy antics? Not even your favourite yakult soju or the summoning of your supervisor could drag your feet to the dinner place.

“Do you have a boyfriend? That’s why you’re so busy recently?” They would ask. Or they would try and wiggle their way by asking “Is there someone waiting at home for you?”

No matter how tactfully they twist and turn their words, they were all futile attempts. Because all they would get was a sickly sweet innocent smile that never met your crescent-shaped eyes, and an automatic response. “Thank you for the invite, but I’m afraid I’ll have to pass tonight. Have fun!”

They had their bets that you were wrapped up with your secret little love life, spending nights over at your lover’s place, whispering sweet nothings into the night. “Ah, young love.” They would sigh. “Remember to stay protected!”

Your tight lipped smile fuelled them further instead. Why don’t you say anything, they wonder.

To you, why waste your energy explaining something that is incomprehensible to them and risk having yourself being the centre of gossip? Not that you are already the recent centre of gossip.

Because they won’t understand the surge of excitement flowing through your veins at the ping of notifications popping up on your phone screen during work. They won’t understand the of anticipation for the timer on a video screen to turn zero, whether on the way home or while having dinner. They won’t understand the happiness of late night chats with likeminded people online, sleep washed away while gushing and typing in full caps with each other. They won’t understand the buzz of giddiness with just one post, one picture or one sentence. They won’t understand the little squeal behind a picture or a minute-long video unexpectedly appearing on screen. They won’t understand having the same song or same album on loop for days, weeks, or months. They don’t understand the dilemma of choosing a wallpaper or lockscreen for your phone. They don't understand how by remembering a person or something they have said before drives unimaginable motivation and makes the toughest circumstances bearable and possible to overcome. They won't understand how a person who doesn't know your existence personally can be a source of comfort and happiness.

They won’t understand the real reason why you’re smiling like a fool at your phone.

Maybe if they peered carefully at your phone screen, they would know why.

And it’s not what they had in bet.

Well, they were partly right if you were to be completely honest.

But if you were to place your bets, you’re sure most of them would still be scratching their heads in confusion at the black, gold and white logo.

It may be foreign to them, but you swear that you can see those colours even if you’re blind.

MSBY. The 8 member boy group. Worldwide superstars. The whole damn package. Boys made for the dazzling stage. Boys that deserve the whole world. Boys whose talent knows no limits. Boys that you hold dear to your heart.

Ever since Hinata Shouyou, the youngest of the group had injured his lower back and knee during choreography practice (in which was revealed with a slip of a tongue in a livestream that Bokuto and him were so engrossed with a certain acrobatic move which involved a backflip from a higher ground, they begged their choreographer to add it into their new choreography. Instead of showing a clip of the move, they decided to give it a shot and perform it live spontaneously for everyone, where too much adrenaline and a small slip had him lying in the hospital bed for weeks), the group had collectively come to a conclusion to halt their activities until he was fully recovered and ready to roll. There were no solo activities, solo promotions or unit activities despite the attractive proposals or invitations. Such a waste of talent and time, many said. What is their company thinking? Letting their cash cow go to waste like that. But they tuned out all the crap, and firmly held to their resolve of being together as a group; all for one, and one for all.

“We’ll be back. And we know you all have our backs.” Meian Shuugo, the leader of the pack assured, eyes filled with resolute and confidence.

So after a draught of 456 days to be exact, an oasis finally appeared in the burning desert sands. When the notification titled ‘MSBY is back’ appeared on phone and laptop screens alike, it took a few seconds for everyone to blink and make sure it wasn’t a mirage. But the small tick was unmistakable. Then the whole fandom lost their shit.

This isn’t a drill. MSBY is back. In full swing.

The black jackals are ready to hunt. Their hunger has been supressed long enough. They’ve been starved for too long. They’re out for blood. They’re ready to pounce at any moment. They’re back in the game.

(If you were to be real honest, everyone should have saw this coming after that particular livestream where Bokuto, the renowned king of spoilers, animatedly announced that “We’ll be seeing you guys soon. Like real soon!” with his wide toothy smile, to which Inunaki Shion ferociously slapped him in the back with a cramped broad smile plastered on his face. “In the next livestream, of course! Can’t wait to see you guys soon!” The mom of the group added through gritted teeth. Adriah Tomas choked on his water and sheepishly grinned, while Sakusa Kiyoomi stared ahead unfazed, like this was a daily occurrence.)

Which means it’s time for you to get back to work. Which is also no surprise why you’ve been so occupied these days, having two schedules to work with: your personal schedule and MSBY’s comeback schedule. Which also means, your weekends are MSBY’s weekends.

Fangirling is a job to be taken very, seriously.

Change of word choice for the better. Supporting your idols is a job to be taken very, seriously.

So on a pleasantly warm Saturday afternoon with cherry blossoms petals dancing in the wind, as you try your best to stable yourself on the ground with the huge ass DSLR in your hands, you scan for a specific person among the sea of people ahead. A specific blond, to be exact. But lucky you, because even if you don’t scan for him, he finds his way to your camera lens. Which is why your pictures are one of the most sought after and anticipated of the idol Miya Atsumu, lead dancer of MSBY.

It’s like he has antennas on the top of his head. Despite the flurry of cameras flashing at him, confessions and screams drowning out his surroundings, rapid camera shutters going off like woodpeckers drumming relentlessly on a tree, he somehow, always manages to locate you, to look right into your camera lens, giving you his million dollar smile or infamous grin with small fangs peeking from the sides. The cherry on top? His top-notch fanservice. He never, never fails to give a reaction to you. Be it a small wave, a heart shape with his arms bent over his head, or a flirtatious wink that would combust hearts right on the spot.

You’re beyond grateful for his attentiveness and recognition towards you. It’s not like you’re on his heels. Hitting the shutter button is just a pastime of yours when your schedule allows. In better words, you’re just a random potato popping up occasionally with a camera. Plus, it’s no easy feat to pick a specific person out among a sea of people, especially with tens or hundreds of faces flashing before his eyes in one go.

Truth to be told, you’re thankful for the special attention too, because you get to share the fun and playful side of him with everyone, to light up everyone’s day with pictures of their favourite golden boy. Sharing is caring, and in this big close-knitted family, everyone deserves to be well fed.

However, the good things in life are never free.

Jealousy is a bitch, and bitches need to get well soon. Rumours are born out of wicked tongues, and wicked tongues are born out of the evil fire of envy.

Baseless ridiculous tales circulate among the community. How you’re the daughter of some big-shot of the company or political figure, using, or abusing your privilege connections to gain his favour. How you’re an obsessive fan who has intruded your way into his life, holding his career by the reins out of corrupted love by stalking and threatening him to pose for the camera, your camera specifically if he wants to keep himself and his group safe. How it’s a business relationship between the both of you: you as his private photographer, him paying you to get perfect shots of him to boost his popularity, to outshine his members, to feed his monstrous ego.

But do you care? Of course you don’t.

Because between this jam-packed schedule, this is the only time you get to see your boyfriend in real life, and you want to keep a record of his amazing journey through your lenses. It’s a diary of his growth, the beautiful moments in his life. A diary for him, you and his fans. To also show him that you’re here with him, here for him, no matter what.

And does Miya Atsumu care? Of course he doesn’t.

Because what more can he ask by having the opportunity to see you in flesh, even if it’s just a few seconds amidst his hectic back-to-back schedules. You’re his serotonin, the one that he misses holding in his arms after a long tiring day, the one that keeps him going, the one that he can count on for being there.

Knowing that you’re there at every step of the way makes him take each step with more confidence and pride.

So as Miya Atsumu exits the broadcasting building, he searches for a familiar camera lens among the sea of similar looking cameras shoved in his face. He sweeps his gaze from left to right, and grins when he spots the one he’s looking for.

A face sculpted by the gods with a boyish grin that could lit up the world graces the cameras of many, but only one captures his eyes gleaming with delight head on.

There was a really cute fanart of idol! Atsumu but the artist has closed her twitter account so I can't link it here T_T but if you do have any idol! Atsumu fanarts do send them in hehe

[secretshinigami]

marlboro nights.

Author: @fruitynear

For: @karl-the-stingray

Pairings/Characters: Matt/Mello

Rating/Warnings: T. Warnings: Minors smoking?

Prompt: Mello, who has been in Wammy’s house for like 6 months, gets a roommate named Matt

Author’s notes: I took the prompt very liberally but I do hope you like it <3 

----------

Six months after moving into Wammy’s House, Mello gets his first (and last) roommate; Matt. At first, it’s awkward. It’s a known fact of life that the adjustment time for a new roommate is always a bit awkward, and that is no less true for Mello and Matt. At first, they get into fights on a near-daily basis. Usually over dumb things like the volume of whatever game Matt is playing at the moment. These fights would very rarely escalating past a bit of wrestling, and even when itheyt did end with worse things like bloody noses, Matt and Mello never stayed mad at each other too long. 

In fact, Mello found it very hard to stay mad at Matt for any serious amount of time. Sure, he was annoying as hell, but he was also nearly as smart as Mello himself. Despite being deeply uninterested in the student ranking system, Matt was still only barely below him. Thankfully, Matt wasn’t fond of applying himself. Along with being smart as hell, Matt had a confidence about him that Mello could appreciate. On the other hand, that meant he took none of Mello’s shit. 

Naturally, they’d fallen into a friendship. After all, they did everything together, whether it be class, studying, eating, or staying up far past their designated bedtime to keep playing whatever game Matt had talked Mello into playing. Sometimes, if Matt were feeling especially kind towards Mello, he’d let the other boy win the game, just because he knew how much Mello enjoyed the simple act of winning. He’d considered the fact that perhaps he shouldn’t encourage these habits, but what Mello didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. 

One night, about two years after they’d been assigned roommates, Matt waltzes back into their room with a pack of cigarettes. 

“Look at what I got, Mels.” Matt grins, tossing the pack towards Mello after firmly shutting and locking their room.

“How the hell did you even get these?” Mello asks as he stares at the pack for a moment. They were barely teenagers at thirteen years old, so it didn’t make sense that Matt had a pack of cigarettes. Plus, those things were gonna kill him if he started them up, and their life expectancies already weren’t great.

“I’ll never reveal my secrets.” 

Mello shurgs, figuring Matt will end up telling him later on. Matt wasn’t very good at keeping secrets, not from Mello anyways, “Where are you even going to smoke these? Wammy has cameras everywhere.”

Matt smirks, “I hacked the cameras.” 

Mello’s almost drops. Matt knew what kind of trouble he would get in if Wammy or Roger found out what he’d done, “You did what?” 

“I figured out how to hack the cameras last night,” Matt explains, puzzling Mello as to how he can so casually talk about this like he’s talking about the weather knowing the consequences, “But don’t worry, I’ve left them alone for the most part. I just adjusted the angle of the one that overlooks that ledge on the roof.”

“You’re so dead when they find out.”

“I’m only dead if they find out. They’re not gonna find out, Mels.” Matt says, opening the window “Wanna come?”

“Of course I’m coming,” Mello grumbles, walking towards the window, “Someone’s gotta keep you out of trouble.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Matt grins, “Grab your coat, it’s a bit cold.”

Mello rolls his eyes but grabs his coat anyways. It was sweet how Matt, a guy who could barely take care of himself, was always so concerned about Mello’s wellbeing. Someone hadn’t cared about him this much in a very long time. Not since his parents, anyways. It was nice. Really nice, actually. 

The aforementioned ledge is conveniently located outside their window and it only takes them a few moments to climb out of it, Mello first and then Matt. They sit beside the chimney, shoulders touching as Matt reaches into his pack and pulls out a cigarette at random. He places it between his lips, using a little green lighter he also definitely didn’t buy to light it. 

A silence falls between them and Matt leans back, laying flat on the roof as he casually smoked his cigarette. Mello was amazed he wasn’t coughing, but perhaps this wasn’t his first cigarette after all. He’d have to ask about that later. That thought bothers Mello for reasons he can’t quite explain, but when would Matt have even found the time to go smoke when he and Mello spend almost all their free time together?

“Do you you think we still would’ve been friends?” Matt asks after a few moments, tearing Mello away from his thoughts, “Ya know, if we hadn’t ended up here.”

“I don’t know,” Mello answers honestly because at this point he can’t imagine a life that isn’t like theirs. A normal life is a privilege they weren’t afforded, “Do you think we would?”

“I like to think so.” Matt muttered before taking another long drag, “You’re a really good person, Mels.” 

Mello feels his chest warm and he looks at Matt, and he can’t help but smile. Matt is laying in his back, face towards the sky but eyes closed as he takes the cigarette from his mouth, holding it out as an offering it to Mello. 

“Want some?” Matt asks, opening his eyes as his lips curl into a soft smile.

“That shit’s gonna kill you, Matty.” 

He takes the cigarettes anyways and Matt grins,  “Guess we’ll die together then, huh?”

“Wouldn’t be so bad,” Mello says, taking a short drag of the cigarette and only managing to cough a little, “Not if it’s with you.” 

Thankfully, Matt doesn’t say anything about Mello’s smoking. He does, however, absolutely light up at the admission from Mello, “You really think so?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Mello offers him a soft smile, fingers brushing against Matt’s as he hands back the cigarette. Matt pauses, looking at Mello for a moment with an unreadable expression before seemingly coming to a conclusion and grabbing the cigarette with his other hand, intertwining his fingers with Mello’s. 

“This alright?” Matt asks, voice barely above a whisper as he gives Mello’s hand a squeeze

Mello stares at their intertwined fingers for a moment. Back when his parents were alive, he’s always been taught that this kind of thing was wrong. Boys can’t love other boys, that’s the rule. But as he watches Matt smoke his nasty ass cigarette he realizes that maybe he does love him. He’s not sure, mostly because he’s not sure what love is supposed to feel like, but this? Holding hands with Matt on the rooftop. 

It feels right if nothing else, so he reaches out with his other hand, tracing some of the constellations the freckles on Matt’s face form until he’s cupping the other boy’s cheek. Matt smiles, closing his eyes again as Mello rubs his thumb over the smooth skin of his face. 

I want to kiss him.

The realization hits him like a fright train and Mello moves his hand up, running his hand through Matt’s slightly greasy hair. Still, it’s lovely in its own way because it’s Matt, and Mello loves Matt. 

“Hey, Matty?” Mello asks.

Matt hums, not bothering to open his eyes, “Yeah, Mels?”

Mello takes a deep breath. It’s now or never, “Can I kiss you?”

Matt’s eyes shoot open, seemingly searching Mello’s for any sign that he’s not being completely serious for ages. Though it is only seconds before Matt nods, offering Mello a smile and another squeeze to the hand he’s holding.

Mello leans in, both boys’ eyes closing as Mello inches closer to Matt. The fact that Matt’s lips are soft is the first thing he notices. Surprisingly soft, in fact, as Mello expected them to be at least partially chapped. But no, they’re lovely, and Mello finds it hard to pull away after a moment, even if his lips do taste entirely like cigarette.

“Wow,” Matt mutters when Mello pulls away, eyes fluttering open once more, “I’ve been waning to do that for ages you know.”

Matt nods and Mello laughs, “Why didn’t you?”

“I didn’t think you liked me! Plus, you’ve got the whole catholic thing going on and I didn’t know how you’d react to finding out I’m gay.” 

“For what it’s worth, I really like you.” Mello says, not quite ready to say the big three words and for now that’s okay.

Matt smiles, leaning up and giving Mello a quick kiss, barely even a peck, “I really like you too.”

“Does this make us boyfriends?”

“I think so,“ Matt grins, before hesitantly adding, "Only if you want to be, though.” 

“I do.” Mello says quickly, "I really do.”

“Good, then it’s settled,” Matt grins with a wide smile, eyes shining as bright as the sun as he looks at Mello, “Then does my boyfriend wanna go in and play Mario Kart?”

Mello smirks, “Only if you’re prepared to get your ass kicked.”

“Anything for you, Mels.”

[the-voltage-diaries]

Pulcherrima Rosa Me - Taki Kozaki

‘Pulcherrima rosa me’: Latin for ‘My beautiful rose’.

Disclaimer: Office AU, Hanahaki AU. Now, since it’s Hanahaki, of course it will be angsty. So, time to fasten those seat belts and sit tight.

Word Count: 2225

Author’s note: My first open-ended fic, lmao. Originally was supposed to have smut, but things changed here and there, so you see.

P.S.: Special thanks to @akaiiro-yume​​​ for being my proofreader and amazing fangirl buddy

14 years.

That’s how long they had known each other.

To be precise, that’s the number of years they had been the closest of friends.

Never more, never less. 

Just two individuals who over time had, step by step, closed in on the gap separating them, narrowing it so much that barely any space remained. They became so used to being around each other that the thought of sharing the tales of their daily life, no matter how embarrassing, bitching and moaning about work and clients, laughing together without bothering to care about how weird they looked seemed like the definition of normal. But that’s the thing ; no matter how closely their paths collided, an invisible line always kept their journeys divided. Most people called that line “friendship”. Taki and (Y/N) had never been anything more than friends.

They never knew how to be anything BUT friends.

So then why was she the only person on Taki’s mind while his eyes shut to bear the pain of throwing up while he hunched over the sink, coughing up a handful of what looked redder than blood, albeit was anything but?

“I want this done by the morning,” Taki told the finance head, handing him the proposal for the project they were planning to bid for. “And when I say morning, I mean I’d like to see it on my table by the time I walk in. Is that alright?”

“Yes, sir,” the man responded, picking up the papers and giving him a quick bow before making his way out, muttering a quiet ‘good night,’ to which the CEO gave him a nod of his own.

Taki then turned in his chair and peeked through the thick glass wall of his cabin in search of his secretary. Once his eyes landed on the familiar raven up-do, his lips, though very quietly and only for a moment, lined up in a hint of a small smile.

There she sat on her table, her eyes focused on her laptop screen while her fingers typed away at the keyboard, not noticing the gaze a pair of dark brown eyes fixated on her.

Instead of calling her immediately to discuss the day’s schedule with her, Taki took a moment to admire the woman who had been at his side for the last two years, professionally speaking. For, beyond the walls of the office, he had known her for more than half of his life.

His eyes made their way across her form; slowly drinking in the way she every so often took a moment to stretch her back, roll her shoulders and her neck before getting back to the task at hand, how one of her delicate fingers came up to push a strand of hair behind the perfect curve of her ear, how she bit her lip in concentration every time she worked against time. God, was she beautifu-

The clang of a pen rolling across the table and falling to the floor startled him back to reality, and he shook his head, rolling his eyes at his carelessness before bending down to pick up the pen.

“(Y/N)!” He called, turning back to his laptop and opening up his schedule. He heard the familiar click-clack of her heels and soon enough, the door opened with a low creak. Taki didn’t even need to look up from the screen to know she was here. “Do we have anything else on the agenda for the day?”

“Yes, actually.”

‘We do?’ Taki thought to himself, his eyes giving his schedule a once-over. He didn’t see anything else on it that needed to be done today, so what was (Y/N) talking abo-

“You have a meeting with the board at 9 AM, then a site visit scheduled at 10 AM, a business call with the head of the Ichinomiya Group at 12 PM regarding the construction of their new hotel in Auckland, another site visit for at a different location at 1 PM, and th-”

“Wait a second, why don’t I see all of this anywhere on my schedule?”

“Because you’re viewing the schedule for 3rd November.”

“Yes, and as far as I remember, today IS 3rd November.”

“No, sir,” (Y/N) said, and it was then that Taki looked up to see the smirk on her face, “I’m pretty sure it’s the 4th today.”

He took a quick glance at his watch and saw that the smaller of the two hands had passed the 12 o’ clock mark, and it was, in fact, 12:30 AM. Which meant that it was, in fact, 4th November.

It also meant that they had worked beyond the designated office hours for the fourth straight day in a row.

“I’m sorry for making you work over time again,” Taki muttered, pursing his lips.

“Nah, that’s okay,” (Y/N) shrugged, sending him a playful wink, “Apart from that cute little pout, you’re paying me for it. Rather handsomely, too, so I’m chill.”

“Firstly, I’m NOT pouting,” Taki muttered, rolling his eyes when he heard his secretary whisper the word ‘denial’, “And secondly, Ms. (L/N), is that how you’ll be talking to your boss now?” He smirked. He would be straight up lying if he said he didn’t enjoy this amused change in the atmosphere. In fact, he welcomed it after the long day he’d had.

“Mr. Boss,” she immediately responded, stretching out the word ‘boss’, to which Taki couldn’t help but scoff, “The office hours are over. I’m under no obligation to kiss your ass anymore.”

And oh, he tried.

He tried so hard to stop that laugh from escaping when (Y/N) made a kissy face at him, but alas, he lost and let it erupt with a low rumble from deep within his chest when she lifted two tiny finger hearts to go along with the flying kisses.

And you know what they say, laughter is contagious. Soon enough, (Y/N) too joined Taki in his wonderland of chuckles, and it wasn’t long before they both laughed so much that their stomachs hurt because each time they’d try to stop, all it’d take is one glance at each other’s faces to lose their shit again.

“Pfft,” (Y/N) scoffed, trying to come down from the rush of euphoria she’d just had, “You should be thanking your lucky stars for having the privilege to get as fun a secretary as me. You have NO idea how lucky you are, I tell you.”

‘I agree,’ Taki thought as he took a moment to calm down, letting a rush of air fill his lungs as he took a deep breath in. He relaxed into his chair and glanced back at the magnificent woman standing before him, truly thankful to have her close by. But as soon as he adoringly grabbed on to the memory of the laugh they’d just shared, another sensation latched on to him, stopping him from thinking any deeper by dragging his attention to the ache building up deep within his chest.

Taki paused, shifting uncomfortably at the unfamiliar sensation. All remnants of humor left him at the way something seemingly gripped at the base of his lungs, squeezing hard. He felt like he couldn’t breathe for a moment, and his discomfort only grew with each passing second as a painful cough arose in his throat, blocking off any passage for air.

“Argh,” he groaned, his fingers pressing at the space between his collarbones, trying to massage the area into creating some sort of a path through the dark fog building up in his throat, so unforgiving that he almost saw black for a moment.

“Taki?” (Y/N) called his name, all her remaining laughter immediately dying down the moment her gaze washed over him. “A-are you okay?”

And just like that, as quickly had the discomfort come, it died down. 

It vanished into a thin breeze, leaving Taki gasping for some much needed mouthfuls of air.

“Y-yeah,” Taki responded, still in a daze. He had no idea what just happened, and it seemed so surreal that he almost brushed it off as a hallucination, but the concern in (Y/N)’s eyes told him whatever transpired wasn’t just a figment of his imagination. He took a moment to compose himself, before following up with a much more self-assured “Yes, I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“But I feel fine.”

“... Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Are you like, sure sure?”

“No, actually.” He looked up at her, an amused grin floating on his face. “I’m not sure sure that I’m fine.”

“See? I KNEW you weren’t okay. Should I call for a doc-”

“You’ve got it all wrong,” he interrupted, stopping her halfway on her mini-panic spree, “I’m sure-sure sure I’m fine.”

“… You’re a jerk, you know that?” (Y/N) huffed, sending a scowl in Taki’s direction. “One of these days I’m gonna stab you with- with…” her eyes quickly scanned the room, looking for an appropriate object to finish her statement with while Taki tried to control his smirk from spreading any wider, “… with a sticky note.”

“A what?”

… well, it was too late to go back on words. So, grumbling under her breath, (Y/N) repeated, “With a… sticky note.”

“Pfft.”

“Mr. Kozaki.” (Y/N) narrowed her eyes at the man, giving him her least scary glare, “did you just ‘pfft’ me?”

“Yes,” he replied confidently, placing his forearms on the table top, “Yes I did.”

“Watch your back. I really will throw the sticky note at this rate.” (Y/N) turned around, her fingers grasping the doorknob, “… and soon.”

Taki watched her step out of his cabin, an amused twinkle in her eye. “Gee, I’m so scared,” he muttered, mostly to himself, before shaking his head at their childishness and turning back to the work at hand.

But even as his eyes swam across the screen, processing the words and formulating appropriate responses, the back of his mind couldn’t let go of the strange inquisitiveness that poked at it, seeking answers to just one question.

What was that fleeting, deadly little coughing fit all about?

He got so focused on his work that he didn’t notice the diligent finance head step into his cabin again only 30 minutes later, quietly keeping the finished proposal on the glass table before walking out just as quietly, so as not to disturb his concentration. He didn’t notice the same guy stopping by (Y/N)’s table, offering her a steaming mug of coffee and giving her the gentlest of smiles while offering to help if needed. He didn’t notice any of it until he heard the pleasant sound of her laugh, passing through the gaps in the glass walls before bouncing off of them on the inside, creating the most melodious of echos.

His eyes left the screen for a quick second to focus on the scene outside, and what he saw made a strange anxiety rise up within him like tiniest of dew vaporizing and stretching its fingers to reaching out to the sky - slowly rising up from the depths of his stomach, travelling up to his chest and finally solidifying just beneath his lips.

Right in front of him stood (Y/N), her fingers clutching an arm that didn’t belong to Taki, her lips turning up into the brightest of curves, shining so bright one would almost go blind, as she laughed along with the damned finance head about something or the other.

And that’s when Taki felt like the (Y/N) who had been standing just within an arm’s reach this whole time was about to slip away from his very fingers, and the feeling that he wouldn’t be able to do anything to stop it pricked at him, rendering him in a state of confused speechlessness.

‘Wait. Shouldn’t I feel happy for her, considering she’s finally seeing a guy?’ he thought, taking a deep breath. ‘Yeah. It’s a good thing. But then… what is this insecurity I’m feeling right now?’

The answer to that question seemed only a heartbeat away, and the moment he reached out to grasp it, his body jerked backwards, falling onto his chair while his breathing quickened. The somewhat familiar feeling of his throat being clawed at came back to him - much stronger this time. It all happened quick; his brow furrowed into a deeper crease as moisture pricked at the back of his eyes, his world going back for a moment. Taki’s mouth leaped to suck in a croaked breath - which sounded more like a painful gasp at this point - while his fingers gripped at the collar of his shirt, looking for any way to free him of the sudden pain growling in his chest. He felt a powerful cough coming, preceded by short, painful ones.

“Ah,” he let out a breathy moan, the tears finally making their way to the front of his eyes, followed by a few more. With him standing on the thin line separating sanity from delirium, his body lurched forward, finally finding solace in the way his throat forced out tiny balls of red while the moisture building behind his eyelids finally broke apart to slide down his cheek in one, straight line. The second his gullet felt free again, his body shook with need as he gulped in mouthfuls of air.

Once the dark haze clouding his mind finally started to part, he turned his eyes to look at the red chunk his trachea had shoved out. His eyes widened when his fingertips came in contact with the soft, silky skin of the petals - redder than the darkest of rubies.

The petals of the one flower which finally made him piece together his feelings for the woman standing beyond the see-through walls of his cabin.

… Remember how he wanted to know what his coughing fit was all about?

A rose.

Well… guess it’s about time he found out.

[alcalavicci]

1988 interview with Dean. This is a really good one and helps bring more of his life into perspective. Note: the newspaper originally censored his swearing, but I’ve put it back.

Guthman, Edward. "Dean Stockwell: Third Time's a Charm." The San Francisco Examiner (San Francisco, California), August 14, 1988.

“Six years ago, Dean Stockwell's acting career had turned to dust. Reduced to playing parts in unreleasable, made-in-Mexico movies that now make him cringe, Stockwell decided to chuck it all and get out of Hollywood.

“Along with his second wife, Joy, Stockwell moved to Santa Fe, settled down under the wide New Mexico sky and applied for a real estate license. He even placed an ad in Daily Variety to announce his exile: 'Dean Stockwell will help you with all your real estate needs in the new center of creative energy.'

“Stockwell never sold a house; he didn't need to. Instead, almost as soon as he'd relocated, things started happening to the former 1940s child star. It began with a small part in David Lynch's 'Dune,' and escalated with an important supporting role in Wim Wenders' highly regarded 'Paris, Texas.'

“Moving back to California to cash in on his fortune, Stockwell acted in 'Beverly Hills Cop II,' 'Gardens of Stone,' and 'To Live and Die in L.A.' He also played a cameo role, as Howard Hughes, in the newly released 'Tucker: The Man and His Dream.' And in 'Blue Velvet,' David Lynch's American nightmare, he delivered a chilling cameo as Ben, a waxlike, sexually ambiguous drug dealer.

“And now, at 52, Stockwell says he's found 'the favorite role I've had, by far.'

“The picture is 'Married to the Mob,' a dark, romantic comedy by Jonathan Demme ('Melvin and Howard,' 'Stop Making Sense') and Stockwell plays Mafia don Tony 'the Tiger' Russo. Wearing an Al Capone fedora and full-length vicuna coat, Tony is a rich, sardonic, larger-than-life character -- the kind Stockwell has never had a chance to play until now.

“Opening Friday at the Galaxy and UA the Movies, 'Married to the Mob' has been touted as Demme's first shot at a genuine box-office winner. Set in Long Island, New Jersey and Florida, it stars Michelle Pfeiffer as Angela DeMarco, a young Mafia wife who tries to start a new life when her husband, Frankie 'the Cucumber' DeMarco, is pumped full of lead during a hot-tub tryst at the Fantasia Motel.

“When Stockwell's character isn't ordering hits, drug deals and the dumping of toxic waste, he's lusting assiduously after the gorgeous widow. Meanwhile, bumbling FBI agent Mike Downey (played by Matthew Modine) is jumping through hoops trying to shadow Angela and 'catch Tony with his pants down.' Instead, he falls in love with Angela.

“During a recent luncheon interview, not far from his central California home, Stockwell spoke about the film, about his new happiness as the father of two children and about the bizarre trajectory of his long career. Dressed in a long-sleeved shirt and slacks, wearing a Panama hat and drawing first on a cigaret, later on a cigar, Stockwell emanates prosperity and calm.

“'I don't know why I was unemployed so long,' he says, reflecting on a fallow period that started in the '60s and lasted the better part of two decades. 'The only thing I can figure out in my own mind is that, for some reason or another, I was being made to wait until a certain time in my life when my talent would reach its full maturity and fruition.'

“Ironically, he says, he felt just as equipped 10 years ago to do the work he's doing now -- 'only I couldn't get fucking arrested.'

“Today, Stockwell sees harmony in the fact that his new success coincides with the arrival of two children. His son, Austin, will be 5 in November, and his daughter, Sophia, turns 3 this month. Inordinately proud and protective, he refuses to allow his children to be photographed, and also requests that the town in which he and his family reside not be named. (There were no children from his first marriage, to Millie Perkins, which lasted from 1960 to 1962.)

“'I want to make a lot of money and I want to put it away for my children,' he says. To that end, Stockwell has been snapping up job offers. 'A lot of people ask me, "How have you been able to choose these wonderful things you're doing? Have you been very selective?" And I have to tell them, "I haven't been choosing what I'm doing." Things have been coming and I've been accepting virtually anything that's come.'

“Stockwell's ambition is so great that, for the first time in his life, he actively pursues aspects of his career that he once shunned- interviews, for example.

“'My entire motivation in life is my family,' he says. 'I don't need to get an award. I don't need recognition. I've had that already. What I need is to provide. The best way I can provide is to be successful, and the best way I can be successful is to take advantage of all the things at my disposal to achieve that, one of which certainly is press.'

“Take a look at the young Stockwell, specifically the version that emerges from old magazine and newspaper interviews, and you meet another person altogether.

“Robbed of a normal childhood, Stockwell had made 22 films by the time he was 15 -- including 'The Boy with Green Hair,' 'Kim,' 'Anchors Aweigh,' and the Oscar-winning 'Gentleman's Agreement.' Working nonstop, he had a privileged life that millions of children probably envied, but he loathed it nonetheless.

“The son of show-business parents -- his father, Harry Stockwell, was the voice of the Prince in 'Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs,' and his mother, Betty Veronica, was a former stage dancer -- Stockwell made his professional debut at 7. It all happened by a fluke: when Stockwell accompanied his older brother, Guy, on a Broadway audition, the casting director took a liking to both boys, and cast each one. The play, aptly enough, was called 'Innocent Voyage,' and it led to an MGM contract for curly-haired Dean.

“From the beginning, the pressure on young Stockwell was intense. His parents had divorced when he was 6, and when his father defaulted on child-support payments, Dean reluctantly became the family provider. Over a six-year period, he averaged three to four films per year.

“At home, he says, 'There was a lot of friction... I was getting all the attention, but I hated it. [Guy] couldn't appreciate that, because he wasn't getting the attention. He had all these friends, his peer group, that he took for granted. I had none and I resented him for being able to live that way. I was fucking lonely.'

“When he was 13, chained to a seven-year contract, Stockwell was described by one magazine as 'a young rebel who despises acting and resents every moment it takes from his fleeting boyhood.' Many years later, Stockwell told columnist Hedda Hopper, 'Child actors exist in a sort of limbo between childhood and maturity and belong to neither. Adults take them too seriously and other children are either awed or hostile. A child actor can find friends in neither group.'

“Finally, Stockwell fled Hollywood when he was 16. He cut off his curly locks, started using his real name, Robert Stockwell, and for the next five years roamed the country, working menial jobs and disavowing his true identity. 'People that might have known me from seeing my films knew me as a young child,' he remembers. 'Now I was 17 and I wasn't that recognizable.'

“Around the time of his 21st birthday, Stockwell was pushing papers as mail boy to a Manhattan plumbing firm. 'Of all the jobs that I'd had in those intervening years,' he remembers. 'I think I hated that worse than anything. I came to the realization I had no training at anything. My primary education was very skimpy, very poor, and happened under the worst type of conditions. I was literally at the mercy of the world.'

“Most of Stockwell's childhood earnings were squandered by crooked accountants, he says, and he knew that the tiny sum being held in a trust wouldn't last forever. 'So I thought, "What am I gonna do? Well, let's go back and attack this [acting career] again, and see if I can do it a little more on my terms."'

“What followed for Stockwell was a brief but impressive 'second career.' He starred in the 1959 film 'Compulsion,' based on the Leopold-Loeb case of the '20s, and won a joint acting award with Orson Welles and Bradford Dillman at the Cannes Film Festival. He played the lead in the 1960 film of D. H. Lawrence's 'Sons and Lovers,' and in 1962 scored the plum role of Edmund Tyrone in Sidney Lumet's film version of 'Long Day's Journey Into Night,' holding his own alongside Katharine Hepburn, Ralph Richardson and Jason Robards.

“Stockwell was winning the best parts, but found his attention drifting elsewhere. What was happening, he says, were the first signs of the '60s youth revolution. 'It captured my imagination as much as anybody's. And it represented to me -- I can see this in retrospect -- something in childhood that I had missed: the freedom and loving being alive, without responsibilities and work and having to report to the studio every day, and deal with fans and interviews and shit that I hated when I was a kid.'

“So Stockwell called his agent, said, 'I'm not workin',' and dropped out once again. When he tried to come back three years later, though, 'I found it very difficult, 'cause I'd been out-of-sight, out-of-mind.' What followed was a long period of marginal employment: He found some TV work, took parts in low-budget trash ('The Dunwich Horror') and occasional oddities (Dennis Hopper's 'The Last Movie') and co-directed a film with musician Neil Young ('Human Highway') but often just didn't work at all. At one point, he went 18 months without a job.

“Today, along with his buddy Hopper, Stockwell is enjoying a major career renaissance. And with his starring role in 'Married to the Mob,' he says, he's never felt more confident.

“'I knew before I started the film that this character was going to work in spades,' he says, adding that Demme, as director, deserves credit for taking a risk with such offbeat casting. Instead of picking Peter Falk, Vincent Gardenia or another ethnically identified actor to play the Mafia don, he went with Stockwell (who is actually half-Italian on his mother's side).

“Demme's inspiration occurred on a flight from Los Angeles to New York, when he opened a copy of the Hollywood Reporter. Stockwell had just changed agents, and in order to announce the fact, had taken out a full-page ad. Demme saw the picture, and instantly recognized his Tony.

“Weirdly enough, Stockwell made another film immediately prior to 'Married to the Mob': a Canadian feature called 'Palais Royale,' due for an October release, in which he plays a character almost identical to Tony Russo.

“'It's very curious,' he says. 'For all my years I'd never had a role like this come my way, and here it was twice. The Mafia don in New York, the Mafia don in Toronto, both of them colorful and charming and also threatening. And I just thought, "What am I gonna do? It's the same character." So I decided to do the same character in both those movies.'

“To take the coincidence 'one nauseating step further,' Stockwell says he's also got a part in the recently completed 'Backtrack,' Hopper's next film. This time he plays a corrupt mob lawyer, dropping the Italian accent for a generalized East Coast sound.

“It would be difficult to find a film actor who's busier than Stockwell at this moment. And it would be difficult to find anyone whose job history better illustrates the vicissitudes, serendipities and insecurity of a Hollywood career.

“Looking back on his misfortunes -- at the career that he was forced to accept as a child, and the humiliation he felt when he couldn't maintain it as an adult -- Stockwell says he's not bitter. 'When you reach your maturity, I think it behooves you to accept the fact that it's absolutely futile and fruitless even to speculate on changing anything in your life. All you can do is get embittered. So I accept everything that's happened as part of my life, and try to push it in a positive direction from the moment right now.'”

[wonderofasunrise]

About a Long Night

A/N: Naturally, I’ve been writing some ER fics on my own, and I managed to actually finish one yesterday. After a few tweaks here and there, I thought I’d post it here because...why not?

Inspired by @bwayfan25​, whose brilliant ER fics on AO3 made me real hot for Susan/Kerry and prompted me to start writing fanfiction again. Among other things, it’s a great exercise and wonderful way to relax.

Hope you enjoy, and fingers crossed I can share some more writing stuff here in the future. Reviews/ideas are welcome!

Disclaimer: These characters are, sadly, not mine. But a girl can dream, can’t she?

Featuring an excerpt from the song “Lost” by Dermot Kennedy, who I’ve been listening to a lot lately.

-----

For fear of moments stolen I don’t wanna say goodnight But I’ll still see you in the morning Still know your heart and still know both your eyes

***

“How long have you been awake?”

Kerry starts to rub her eyes, unable to contain her mild annoyance upon realising that the person whom she shares her bed with has been watching her sleep. Their room is dark with only a faint ray of light barely piercing through the window, but even without her glasses on she can easily recognise the pair of big green eyes staring at her, along with the smile that accompanies them.

“Long enough,” Susan smirks.

She is lying on her side, her head propped up on one of her hands—her favourite position every time she gets a chance to watch Kerry in slumber. Susan makes it no secret to Kerry that she finds the sight of her lover sleeping comforting, to which Kerry, in her typical defensive way, first responded by accusing Susan of wanting to see her at the most vulnerable.

Over time, however, Kerry has gotten used to it, to the point that there is nothing she looks forward to more than seeing Susan’s bright eyes and smile first thing in the morning—when their schedules allow them to spend the morning together, that is.

“You’re on at seven in the morning, Dr Lewis. Don’t push your luck,” Kerry tries (and fails) to emulate her Chief of Emergency Medicine voice, which comes as no surprise seeing that she has one of her eyes closed and her body relaxed against the comfort of her queen-size bed. Susan confirms it by sticking her tongue out in response.

“I’m not Dr Lewis,” she says in a mocking tone. “And neither are you Dr Weaver. We’re not in the ER, we’re home, and we’re just...us. Is my irresistible charm not enough to remind you?”

“Susan,” Kerry groans, her annoyance growing ever so slightly by the second. “You and I both know we need all the rest we can take. I had a long day, which I’m sure you’ve heard about, and chances are you’ll have one yourself in a few hours. Come on.”

But Susan is undeterred, and instead she gently pulls Kerry into an embrace and lets her head rest against her pillow, moving closer to ensure that their heads meet. Kerry can now feel Susan breathing against her skin, Susan’s hand wrapped around her body with only the fabric of her pajama top between their skins. Kerry half-expects Susan to kiss her neck and cause her to blush in the process, but instead Susan just rests her head against Kerry’s shoulder while inhaling the familiar scent of the latter before letting out a sigh.

“Do you know why I like watching you sleep very much?” Susan murmurs, her tone suddenly serious. “And it’s not because I like to prey on you when you’re vulnerable, although you gotta admit that would be pretty hot.”

“Because you get off on getting on my nerves,” Kerry states matter-of-factly. Both of her eyes are now closed, as if it somehow would convince Susan that they really should be sleeping instead of talking, but Kerry knows better and mentally prepares herself for a witty response.

“I’d rather get off on your other things, thank you very much. But seriously,” Susan retorts, “do you have any idea how different you look when you sleep? How...peaceful and relaxed you are? I swear sometimes I see you smirk in your sleep, and we both know that’s not something anyone would expect to see from you in public.”

“I’m not sure I have any idea as to how I look in my sleep, and I don’t think I’d want to know,” Kerry deadpans.

“You’re—you’re just you,” Susan happily ignores the remark. “You’re not an ER doctor, you’re not the Chief of Emergency Medicine, you’re just human—which I’m sure you’re aware that some people find debatable.”

Kerry is about to challenge that, but at this point she is just too tired and there is no way she can shut Susan up anyway, so she might as well let her be. All the while, Kerry lets her hand rest on top of Susan’s, her fingernails giving it a gentle scratch.

“I get worried sometimes, you know. That you don’t loosen up enough, that you’re content with people hating you and talking shit about you behind your back, because you deserve better than that. I think the world can do with knowing that you do have a heart, and not just in front of patients,” Susan muses, feeling Kerry squeezing her hand tighter now with each word.

“But then I feel lucky too, knowing your gentle side is reserved to those who deserve it. And you trust me enough to be one of those people. Heck, I’m the only person who gets to see you in pajamas and how cute you are when you’re cranky before having a cup of coffee in the morning.”

No longer feeling the urge to sleep, Kerry’s eyes are now wide open, staring at Susan’s as the latter shows no sign of ceasing her chatter. In turn, Susan, satisfied that she now has Kerry’s full attention, brings Kerry’s hand close to her face and places a soft kiss on it.

“When I—when we had our first date,” Susan continues, her smile growing even more at the word, “I remember you were getting tipsy after only one glass of wine, and you laughed so hard at something I said. I don’t even think it was that funny, but you laughed anyway and I just sat there, amazed. I never saw you laugh like that before. Granted, you had alcohol in your system, but the fact that you didn’t even try to conceal it said it all.”

Kerry chuckles as she recalls their first (proper) date, in which she inadvertently revealed to Susan that she was a lightweight, and she was surprised that she did not make any effort to conceal that. She was drinking and doing silly things as a result, but not once did she feel embarrassed. If anything, she was relieved that she could let herself loose up in front of someone she trusted completely, and she was beyond grateful that that someone was Susan.

There were no concerns about the possibility of being recognised by someone, nor were there misgivings about going public with their relationship—which Kerry normally has, ever since she started coming to terms with her sexuality. There were just the two of them, and the realisation that their feelings were manifesting into something more.

“It’s moments like that, and when you’re asleep that always remind me how lucky I am to see the real you. Sometimes I feel like keeping myself awake—even after pulling a double—simply because I don’t want to miss these moments when you’re just yourself. Because I want to always remember...how fortunate I am to be the one seeing you like this.” Susan can barely contain herself now, tears flowing down her face freely. She has to let it all out now, having expressed how privileged she feels to be with Kerry, to be the only one who witnesses her affectionate and loving side on a daily basis. To be the object of the said affection.

“Susan—baby, you’re crying,” Kerry raises her hand to wipe the tears away while sporting a concerned look. Susan, as if trying to tell Kerry to stop being concerned for nothing, laughs between her tears instead.

“I’m happy,” Susan takes a deep breath. “I—I never thought I’d say this, least of all when we first met, but I’m the happiest I’ve been in a long time, and it’s all because of you.”

In many ways, as Kerry has learned, Susan is a fairly straightforward individual who only says what she means and means what she says, and coming from her those words feel like music to Kerry’s ears.

Unable to respond, having been rendered speechless at Susan’s sincerity and the way she expresses her feelings so candidly, Kerry simply kisses her on the lips, which Susan happily (and still tearfully) reciprocates.

“Me too,” Kerry says in a low tone that almost sounds like a whisper. “I’m the happiest I’ve been in years. With you.”

For a few minutes the two women stay silent—save for the soft sounds of Kerry’s breathing and Susan’s occasional sobs—as they lie still in bed, engulfed by the warmth of each other’s embrace. Time must have stopped for both of them, as for a time it feels like the stillness and warmth will never fade. As strange as this might sound, this is how Kerry always feels whenever she is with Susan: that the world around them stops as if conspiring to let the two be without anything in the way. There is no work, no hospital, nothing except Susan in front of her with her arms around her smaller body, and she knows Susan feels that way too.

“You know what will make me even happier?” Kerry smirks, and there is no mistaking the hint of mischief in her voice. “If you’ll get some rest, because God knows we really need it. And you know you don’t need to worry about missing any moment—I’m off tomorrow morning, and I’ll be right here when you wake up. First thing you see.”

Susan chuckles, pulling Kerry tighter into her embrace. She feels silly for admitting that she is worried about missing her favourite moments with Kerry, but she figures she can indulge herself in silliness once in a while. She is, after all, a woman in love.

“I love you,” Susan mumbles, her lips caressing Kerry’s shoulder blade. She has said this numerous times, and each time she knows that she always means it, and that it never gets lost on Kerry.

“I love you too,” Kerry kisses the top of Susan’s head and smiles at the sensation of Susan’s hair tickling her face. Similarly, each time she says the words she always ensures her sincerity comes across, which Susan never doubts.

Soon enough, the two fall asleep with their arms wrapped around each other, and again it feels almost as if everything around them stopped. There are just the two of them, sleeping peacefully without any care to anything or anyone else, and they know it is what they deserve.

All worries fading slowly, serenity begins to envelop Susan with the knowledge that she will see and hold Kerry first thing in the morning, all in a way that only Susan is privileged to witness, and that is enough for her to take on the world.

[aijee]

is this a life update or a novel?

Hi all, long time no post! Nice to meet you new followers, and nice to talk to you again for those who’ve stuck around. Just as a reminder, my blog is as much of a fic blog as it is a journal for me to sort my thoughts.

In that vein, here’s a personal update. CW for mental health/anxiety, physical pain, big life changes. There’s lighter stuff at the end!

It’s been both a long and short summer for me, after deciding to quit work and focus on my mental health. I’m a millennial twenty-something whose mind, like many, is tragically crippled with the capitalistic and individualistic values America has brainwashed me with, so I’ve had a hard time coming to terms with being unemployed and depending on my parents. I’m extremely privileged and humbled to be in a family that still maintains income during unprecedented times. I’ve been trying not to let my internalized struggles turn into this self-imposed shame for partaking in pleasures (I remember second-thinking buying a digital comic book for hours). My parents often say, “We worked hard and struggled because we didn’t want our kids to do the same. Don’t feel guilty for enjoying yourself.” Nowadays, they add that I’ve worked hard during college and my post-college job; in their eyes, I’ve more than “earned” a break, especially after losing my graduation, summers, and trips.

I constantly wonder why I impose so many limitations of myself even more during a pandemic. While being aware of global struggle is important for not becoming out-of-touch, I need to remind myself that people don’t have to earn the right to play or be happy or enjoyment. Obvious lack of nuance aside, it’s crazy to think how much capitalism—largely the idea worth is contingent (work) productivity—has deformed my sense of what’s a basic human right versus what should be earned. I think I’ve mentioned in a previous post that I struggle with thinking in extremes; it’s either starvation or hedonism, and the latter earns far more societal vitriol. I think my Asian upbringing has made me hyperaware of what others could be thinking of me, regardless of how accurate those projections are. I’d fact, I rarely assumed positive opinions. Outside of external validation, I realized how poor my self-image really was. Tearing myself down before anyone else could rarely, if ever, softened the blow.

For the first time, I’ve begun to think that my life is my own and no one else’s. It sounds logical on paper, but so much harder in practice in real life, I’ve realized. This isn’t a constant or ingrained thought yet, often peaking in between longer and more familiar strings of anxiety. But it feels like an important realization during a time full of sadness and uncertainty, let alone in my lifetime at all.

And then I injured my spine.

It happened towards the end of the summer, when I was starting to feel more put-together internally. I felt so creatively productive (in avenues I don’t care to share online) and even closer to family. I had a ball revisiting old shows. I ate food I hadn’t eaten in years. And this was suddenly interrupted when, while showering, I was wracked with unimaginable, nonstop pain. I nearly passed out alone in the shower and barely managed to crawl to my bedside to call my parents; I was lucky they came home early. I couldn’t stop crying for almost twelve hours. I was terrified at the possibility that I may be paralyzed or my legs would be affected. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case, but I was bedridden and wracked with nausea. I could barely stomach anything, not even water. I couldn’t sleep. I was never brought to a hospital, either on the fear of COVID transmission. The whole time, it was so, so debilitating on a physical and mental front. My head was a nightmare.

Like a bad habit, some of my worst thoughts centered around productivity. I worried about the work I couldn’t do. I felt shameful about canceling plans with friends. I hated being helpless and not being able to take care of myself, and felt guilty for wasting other people’s time taking care of me. And yet, if I was someone else, even a stranger let alone a friend/loved one, I’d be scratching my head over why that person would think these things. Fuck work and other life plans, getting better is the most important thing because you can’t do any of those compromised activities if you’re not at capacity! Duh. Anxiety can really a number on you sometimes and it’s awful just how irrationality fuels the spiral.

I’m grateful to be back on my feet. I’m trying to hold on tightly to that victory, to this positive point that I have worked towards. It’s going to be a challenge to do my recovery exercises daily for my 2-3 month recovery period when I barely remember to floss. Moreover, I’ll be in the middle of moving and working full-time again in the next month, alongside the ridiculous anxiety over some applications and maybe interviews for a different part of my life. But I’m doing my best to take each day at a time and celebrate the good things when they come, however small. I don’t have to ace a final exam or burn my retinas studying for them to deserve victories because, hey, again, happiness is a right and I need to stop gatekeeping myself from it.

Frankly, the injury is largely why I haven’t posted sooner. I don’t think anyone should ever feel obligated to use social media when they aren't up to it. But I actually wanted to ease back into writing before I was injured, starting with this blog.

Some other positive things:

God, I missed the Avatar (Aang and Korra) series so much. What a damn good franchise, what a damn good magic system and world. IT’S. SO. GOOD, GOD. Revisiting it all and reading the comics while I was sick was the single biggest joy that kept me going. I hope the magic lingers for as long as possible.

Even in my inactivity, I’ve received some really lovely comments on my AO3. I read the emails primarily. It really warms my hear to see them. I revisited old comments recently, too, and they’ve helped keep me going and reminded me that I am capable of putting joy into the world.

I’ve taken a liking to Youtube playlist-videos and Spotify playlists that encompass a very specific story scenario, like “dancing with the villain in a masquerade ball” or “driving around the French countryside”, etc. Japanese 80′s urban pop is SO GOOD.

Smosh has been putting out such great content y’all. I was BIG on old Youtube (Nigahiga, Smosh, Michelle Phan, Jenna Marbles, etc.) and it warms my heart to see their renaissance. Amazingly entertaining and down-to-earth content. I don’t fall squarely into their demographic anymore, but the periphery is still fun.

Food is great. I love food still. I’ve eaten a lot of good food during this break. It almost pains me to go back to living by myself and eating healthier. :’(

I didn’t realize how expensive moving was. But, after living in the same apartment from sophomore uni to post-uni work, I’m moving into a bigger “adult” apartment with appropriately sized appliances instead of the mini student kind. The possibility of treating myself to a king-sized mattress and decorations is also very exciting.

It warms my heart to see people in my vague social circles indulging in home art projects, like paint by numbers and “diamond” painting. As a kid I thought “not real art” was a waste, but by god as an adult do I not give a shit about what “real art” is anymore. If it’s fun, it’s fun. That’s that!

That’s all I can think about for now.

[duker42]

Hi! Are requests open? If not then you can ignore it. Levi's earlier days as Captain not only gave him a privilege of own room but also a lot of paperwork but Levi as someone from the Underground can't read or write. That's when y/n comes in handy and teaches him in secret almost every night (it even lead to some gossips about the nature of their relationship). One day Levi asks yn why she's helping him and she answers that as a dyslexic she understands how it is to be judged based on this skill

💜Helping Hand💜

Y/N held her head up high as she made her way out of the Mess Hall, fully aware of the gossip that would start the moment she exited the door. She knew what they were saying about her, but she didn’t care.

She didn’t look down as she made her way through the familiar corridor, nodding at any Scout she passed. She wasn’t ashamed or sneaking off, she was boldly walked to a door.

Jealousy and envy were most of the reasons for the whispers. Not that Y/N gave a damn about either one of those things. The females would gripe that she was trying to curry favor with the new Captain by spreading her legs. The men would bitch because his title as Humanity’s Strongest landed him a girl that they believed he wouldn’t have without it.

She knocked on the door and waited for him to grant her entrance. When he did, she closed the door behind her and threw the bolt, locking them into his office and quarters. When she turned around she saw that he was already halfway to being comfortable. For him.

Levi had abandoned his jacket and cravat. His harness were also discarded, allowing his limbs to enjoy the lack of bite the tight leather caused by digging into his skin. Sleeves were rolled up halfway to reveal pale muscular arms. His top few buttons undone to show off the smooth collarbones and the hollow of his throat.

He looked up and knew that Y/N had come from dinner. She was still in fully uniform. If she had taken the time to go back to her room before coming to him, she would have shown up in some loose pants and a shirt. He wished she had.

He looked around the clean and neat room, wondering where to get started tonight. If the desk was preferable or would she rather the couch. He didn’t know why she came to him night after night, why he mattered so much. But he was grateful that she did, leaving him more confident and satisfied with what they’d done by the time she sought her own bed.

“What are you working on?” Y/N asked as she came over to him.

Levi grumbled, glaring at the pages in front of him. “Fucking paperwork from Erwin of course. Can’t just let me fight. Have to do all this shit.”

Y/N smiled and held a hand out. “Mind if I check it?”

Levi handed over the papers, secretly relieved she would proof his work before having to turn it over to the Commander.

Newly promoted Captain Levi had a secret that he hadn’t wanted too many people to know. He had been illiterate.

There wasn’t much use for reading and writing in the Underground where he had be born and grew up. He wasn’t raised, that would imply someone was looking out for him. He didn’t count Kenny teaching him how to fight and kill to be raising him. Teaching him survival, but never nurturing.

When he had be promoted to Captain and granted the ridiculous title of Humanity’s Strongest Solider, he had anticipated the private room away from the barracks with relieved joy. What Erwin had failed to mention was all the damn paperwork that came with the privilege, bastard.

The only reason Y/N knew was because she had delivered some papers to him, catching him at a moment were he had frowned in confusion at the words and cursed when he hadn’t been able to decipher them.

He had been trying to teach himself to read in private, taking books and newspapers to try and figure out what it was saying. He wasn’t getting very far and the paperwork had begun to pile up on his desk, his frustration mounting due to his refusal to admit his inability to accomplish it. You never showed your weakness in the Underground, a lesson that Levi hadn’t been able to shake off in the sunshine.

Somehow Y/N had figured out that the confused look on Levi’s face paired with the way his eyes were darting back and forth across the page meant that he didn’t understand what was on it.

Y/N hadn’t said anything, just left his office quietly. But he had been surprised when a knock sounded on his door again a few minutes later. Everyone was supposed to be in bed, she had delivered the paperwork on her way by, Erwin having flagged her down in the hallway.

Y/N entered again and came over to him, her appearance much more casual in sleepwear, but still perfectly modest. He wasn’t uneasy until she set the object in her hand down on his desk. “It’s a book to help with reading and writing, Captain.”

He had given her a dark glare and used his hardest voice to ask what she was implying. He hadn’t faltered when she hadn’t withered underneath the look, instead looking back at him with compassion and understanding.

“You can’t read, sir. Let me help you. I can teach you how to read and write and no one will find out about it.” Y/N said.

Levi had leaned back in his chair and studied her for a long time, silent. He didn’t detect an underhanded reason for her offer and he was always pretty good at reading someone’s intentions. Even if he couldn’t read the papers in front of him.

He had given her a small nod and she had smiled at him, and got right to work teaching him the basics.

She had taken her time, patient with him even when he was moody which was often. Didn’t mind his foul mouth and never berated him when he messed up. She had worked him through his backlog of paperwork, her neat hand writing out what he wanted to say.

Now two months later, he was getting a lot better at the basics and they had moved on from block handwriting to cursive. It was hours of hand cramping practice, but Levi was grateful to Y/N for all her help. His reading was improving daily with Y/N challenging him with harder words.

He wondered why she did it. Always waited for some favor to be called in. Something she wanted in return for teaching him such a valuable thing, for allowing him to save face in front of the Survey Corps. But she never hinted at wanting anything from him. It was nice but confusing.

His need to know finally got the best of him that night after she had proofed his work and only found two mistakes. “Why do you do this, Y/N?” He asked, studying her.

“Because I know how it feels.” Y/N said casually as she checked over his corrections.

“How?” He sat up straight in his chair.

“I have dyslexia, I’m judged plenty because of it.” She said, looking up to meet his gaze.

“What the fuck is that?” Levi furrowed his brow in confusion.

“I can mix up letters or sounds. My mind confuses certain letters. Like a B and D, or a C and T. Instead of C-A-T spelling cat, I would write T-A-C. I had to work harder than anyone else in school and I was made fun of pretty badly sometimes.” She explained.

“But you’re good at it now.” Levi said.

“Yeah, but it’s something that I work at. If I’m tired I can slip up and make mistakes. That’s why I read things multiple times, I’m checking to make sure I haven’t messed up.” Y/N said.

“Yeah...well, thanks for this, Y/N.” Levi mumbled, uneasy with expressing thanks.

“Don’t worry about it, Captain. I’m glad I could lend you a helping hand.”

Mobile MasterList

[starlingsrps]

poppy allen character development.

BASIC INFORMATION

FULL NAME:  poppy lieke allen

NICKNAME(S): nope.

PREFERRED NAME(S): poppy

BIRTH DATE: october 25

AGE: twenty seven

GENDER: cis female

PRONOUNS: feminine

ROMANTIC/SEXUAL ORIENTATION: heterosexual

NATIONALITY: american

ETHNICITY: american-dutch

CURRENT LOCATION: los angeles, ca

LIVING CONDITIONS: neat and tidy, well decorated. she's definitely in laurel canyon, purposefully kind of a bitch to drive to.

BACKGROUND

BIRTH PLACE: santa barbara, ca

HOMETOWN: montecito, ca

PLACES LIVED: montecito, new york, london - wherever the hell she's filming tbh. los angeles is home.

SOCIAL CLASS: upper upper. when your eighteenth birthday is a people magazine cover, you don't pretend.

EDUCATION LEVEL: high school

FATHER: bryce hawthorne, 57, movie star

MOTHER: saskia werhoff, 52, model turned lifestyle guru

SIBLING(S): marieke allen, 25; matthias allen, 20

BIRTH ORDER: poppy, marieke, matthias

CHILDREN: absolutely no.

PET(S): nope; allergic to most things with fur.

OTHER IMPORTANT RELATIVES: her mother's family in the netherlands, her father's in nebraska.

PREVIOUS RELATIONSHIPS: legion and documented online.

ARRESTS?: nope.

PRISON TIME?: nope.

OCCUPATION & INCOME

PRIMARY SOURCE OF INCOME: actress

SECONDARY SOURCE OF INCOME: spokesperson

TERTIARY SOURCE(S) OF INCOME: trust fund

CONTENT WITH THEIR JOB (OR LACK THERE OF)?: like why wouldn't she be

PAST JOB(S): does she look like she's ever done intensive work?

SPENDING HABITS: poppy's version of reasonable is absolutely not the same as a normal persons. she thinks she's reasonable but that's just because she doesn't own a diamond encrusted birkin. she buys things that are high quality and doesn't really have experience with things that aren't.

MOST VALUABLE POSSESSION: real estate portfolio. she owns her house and a condo in new york. both are points of pride for her.

SKILLS & ABILITIES

PHYSICAL STRENGTH: B-

OFFENSE: B

DEFENSE: B

SPEED: B

INTELLIGENCE: B

ACCURACY: B+

AGILITY: B

STAMINA: B

TEAMWORK: C+

TALENTS: poppy has an incredible work ethic and sense of loyalty. she knows she's lucky to be where she is in life but she's going to show up the same as anyone else on set and give her best every time. she knows her self worth and she does not compromise on it one single bit.

SHORTCOMINGS: that can come off as.....abrasive.

LANGUAGE(S) SPOKEN: english and dutch

DRIVE?: yes

JUMP-STAR A CAR?: she was definitely taught by her father but it did not stick.

CHANGE A FLAT TIRE?: see above.

RIDE A BICYCLE?: yes

SWIM?: yes

PLAY AN INSTRUMENT?: no

PLAY CHESS?: no

BRAID HAIR?: yes

TIE A TIE?: yes

PICK A LOCK?: no.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE & CHARACTERISTICS

FACE CLAIM: abigail cowen

EYE COLOR: blue

HAIR COLOR: red; boosted from strawberry blonde to red-red.

HAIR TYPE/STYLE: long and swishy. it's a signature at this point. that pantene hair deal did not just materialize on it's own.

GLASSES/CONTACTS?: both - a bitch is Nearsighted.

DOMINANT HAND: right

HEIGHT: 5'7

BUILD: willowy and toned, great ass.

EXERCISE HABITS: daily - she looks at it as part of her job description and between her father's biceps and her mother's devotion to yoga, she wasn't really raised with much of a choice but to use the gym.

SKIN TONE: fair, little freckled. a lot freckled if the sun has gotten to her.

TATTOOS: none

PEIRCINGS: ears

MARKS/SCARS: none

NOTABLE FEATURES: the Hair, upturned nose

USUAL EXPRESSION: attentive

CLOTHING STYLE: carefully curated. god i miss polyvore this would be so much easier. hold for pinterest board.

JEWELRY: whatever suits/is loaned for the occasion. she has a lot of small pieces that she owns for daily wear and a few really nice bits that she got from her parents as gifts.

ALLERGIES: dander, almonds.

DIET: nothing super weird/out of the ordinary, definitely erring on the trendy and consciously healthy end of things.

PHYSICAL AILMENTS: nah.

PSYCHOLOGY

ENNEAGRAM TYPE: type eight

MORAL ALIGNMENT: chaotic neutral

TEMPERAMENT: choleric

ELEMENT: water

SOCIABILITY: A - poppy is incredibly charming and social.

EMOTIONAL STABILITY: ehhhh i'll give her a B-. like she's not bad but when her temper gets triggered, hell will reign.

OBSESSION(S): nah

COMPULSION(S): nah

PHOBIA(S): failure

ADDICTION(S): nah

DRUG USE: she does smoke, she does know, she doesn't care.

ALCOHOL USE: social drinker.

PRONE TO VIOLENCE?: no (yet i think a certain someone might get something thrown at him)

MANNERISMS

SPEECH STYLE: even and cultivated. she has a pretty feminine voice and has done a little voiceover work.

ACCENT: nope.

QUIRKS: she squints a lot, even if she does have her glasses on or contacts in. this bitch is Blind.

HOBBIES: she does read a lot and she does enjoy trying new things. nothing crafty but she's pretty down for new activities.

HABITS: daily workout, twice weekly call with her Team, grooming, work. she likes to stay busy and likes to stay organized - her planner is sacred.

NERVOUS TICKS: don't fucking touch her planner.

DRIVES/MOTIVATIONS: personal success. she was well known before she jumped into acting and modeling on her own by virtue of her parents but she absolutely wants to be her own person. she doesn't use her father's SAG name (legally, they're all allens rather than hawthorne but SAG), she doesn't do any mommy and me/daddy and me projects and she steers any interviews away from heavy talk about her family.

FEARS: personal failure. she knows she'll be okay no matter what - she's got the cushion of wealth and privilege - but she does not want to ever fail on her own merits.

POSITIVE TRAITS: loyal, generous, hard working, passionate, driven, fearless.

NEGATIVE TRAITS: bossy, stubborn, abrasive, no sense of limitations, single minded.

SENSE OF HUMOR: good! kind of dorky, prone to dragging the shit out of people.

DO THEY CURSE OFTEN?: ehhhhh what is often

FAVORITES

ACTIVITY: sex working, being alone. she spends so much time surrounded by people that being alone to relax is a luxury.

ANIMAL: she thinks dogs are awesome but she can't be around them without a shitload of benadryl so like, bears?

BEVERAGE: the iced coffee IS surgically attached to her hand, thanks!

BOOK:

CELEBRITY: her parents, corny as that is. least favorite is her brother, who's big on tiktok and habitually trying to use her pool for shenanigans.

COLOR: red

DESIGNER: she's a valentino bitch.

FOOD: a really, really good steak.

FLOWER: gardenias

GEM: pearls

HOLIDAY: christmas

MODE OF TRANSPORTATION: flying

MOVIE: father of the bride

MUSICAL ARTIST: kacey musgraves

SCENERY: the ocean. she's a coastal california girl and she does not like to be far from the water.

SCENT: ocean, gardenias, coffee.

SPORT: baseball

SPORTS TEAM: dodgers

TELEVISION SHOW: nothing specific but she will watch food network competition shows for hours.

WEATHER: bright and sunny

VACATION DESTINATION: exotic and warm.

ATTITUDES

GREATEST DREAM: having her career measured on its own merits; oscar. she doesn't not want a family and such outside of that but her career is her focus. she's in a good place and she doesn't want to put anything on pause.

GREATEST FEAR: poppy is alarmingly fearless. the only thing she truly fears is failing herself. nothing else really matters.

MOST AT EASE WHEN: with her family on the ranch in montecito to hang out and relax. she likes being around her sister - marieke is a classics student and has been bouncing about europe for the past seven years and they don't get to see each other very often. marieke is calm and completely removed from hollywood and she's basically the human equivelent of going to a spa.

LEAST AT EASE WHEN: not....no. poppy may be slightly uncomfortable but she is never going to let that show or acknowledge it.

WORST POSSIBLE THING THAT COULD HAPPEN: a scandal she can't recover from.

BIGGEST ACHIEVEMENT: her career, the first time she wasn't mentioned in conjuction with her parents in a magazine article in the first paragraph.

BIGGEST REGRET: nope.

MOST EMBARRASSING MOMENT: she's sure there have been but they're all pretty buried.

BIGGEST SECRET: keiran, 100%.

TOP PRIORITIES: her career. it's a thing she can control.

[naerryn]

Fragile Tension (Part One)

Part Two

“How many coffee is that now?”, my partner Lea asked bemused when she sat down at the edge of my office desk as she’s eyeing the steaming black coffee next to my laptop.

“Six? I am surprised you’re really drinking this dishwater.”, she asked in the blue, tugging some of hair messy curly hair behind her round ears and I noticed dark circles around her chocolate brown eyes, even through her almond brown skin tone concealed a lot of her tiredness.

“Better than nothing.”, I shrugged her comment off and added some milk and sugar into the porcelain mug. Nightshift at the Magic Task Force facility was always an unpleasant experience, to say the least. Either nothing was going on and you had to fight sleep for ten hours straight, or the crazy shit was blowing up right into our face. There was nothing in between.

At least, there weren’t many other agents in the building at this hour. Especially almost to no elves.

“Oh, guess what.”, Lea started talking again, obviously I was part of her plan to fight off her desire to sleep while I was stirring my coffee with a silver spoon. I hummed in respond, waiting for her to continue talking.

“I heard Agent Arlon bitching about the public speech your mother held in the elf district of Seattle today. Shame for all elves and the usual bullshit.”

“And here I thought you head something new.”, I replied with a dramatic roll of my eyes, taking a sip from my almost to sweet tasting coffee. It was an open secret that the bigger part of the elvish society considered my mother to be their personal Dark Lord. Or antichrist, how humans liked to say in such a matter.

She worked since decades for a real equality between all races, not just one that stood on paper. Growing up privileged, my mother sympathized at a very young age with creatures that weren’t lucky enough to live behind guarded walls and enjoy the best unaffordable education for over 60 % of the planet.

Her speeches back then were waved off as youthful flaws, but when she felt in love with a human and decided to give birth to the first halfbreed of the elvish kind, that crossed the line for most elves.

It was socially tolerated to have a secret affair with humans, but that’s were the comfort zone ended. Being in an official relationship would be a scandal to an alarming extent and the pressure to much to bear, but breeding with a different race, that was a social death sentence.

I lived my childhood in the elf district of New York City, moved with my parents to three more elvish districts around the country before we finally settled in Los Angeles. Still a lot of hate, but at least there was enough other gossip that we could live our lives in peace for most parts. There were only heydays of hatred whenever mother did one of her more passionate speeches about equality or wanted to enforce a new law that didn’t benefit the needs of the elves.

“One should think that they are more discrete with you being around.”, Lea said thoughtfully, taking one of the elder files that rested on my desk and flipped through the pages.

“Nah, they love it when I walk in to listen to their shit. Hoping I will cry my eyes out about it.”

Back when Lea and I got paired up roughly three years ago, she thought I am just one of those arrogant elves that fill the halls of the department, thinking that everyone should bow to them. But that impression dissolved into dust when she witnessed me getting bullied by elvish coworkers on a daily basis.

I may looked like them, minus the pointed teeth and the bright, light colored eyes, those were human, I got treated like an abomination since the day of my conception. Even by my elvish grandparents.

A loud ping echoed through the open space office and the door of the elevator opened with a swift motion, revealing the Agents Kandomere and Montehugh to be back from a field trip.

I growled at the sight of the buff elf, with his dyed blue hair slicked back nicely and his silver-blue eyes scanning the room as he entered the room with his partner.

“Behave.”, Lea hissed quietly, but we both knew that Kandomere heard every word we would exchange from now on, even if he would be five rooms apart from us.

He was the personification of my archenemy. The second I laid eyes on his silver gorget, etched with the sentence “Elves above all. Above all elves.” in Övüsi, the elvish language, I decided to hate him with a burning passion.

And after a heated debate in a team meeting around a year ago, where it wouldn’t have taken much for us to strangle one another to death, our human partners decided to keep us separated by all costs. And it worked until now.

I didn’t came around to notice how he clenched his strong jaw as his piercing eyes landed on me, heard his heartbeat quickening and he let out a deep breath.

“Can’t he breath even louder.”

“[Y/N]!”, my partner hissed again, this time a bit more aggressive, her eyes dancing between me and the two arrivals and I could swear I noticed a pleading look on Montehughs face directed at Lea.

“Why don’t we go to the archives? Decoding some ancient languages? What do you say, [Y/N]?”

“No.”

“Well, I could go for something small to eat, Kandomere.”, I heard Montehughs booming voice, looking around the room casually before glancing at his partner, who was striding through the room in my direction.

“Then go.”, he said callous, passing Lea and my desk with stone cold features before I could hear the chair of the desk right behind mine being pulled back. So that’s his first move, I thought to myself and decided to slurp on my coffee rather unladylike.

I felt his death glare literally on the back of my head, but at this very moment, I couldn’t care less. Instead, I had to hold back myself from laughing about Lea and Montehugh, who were unable to cope with their (half-) elvish partners.

Montehugh, who still stood close to the elevator, walked the invisible path Kandomere previously moved on, but he came to halt right next to Lea and myself.

“Long time no see... So, how is it going?”

“Well, it’s always the same, Ulysses.”

“Ulysses?”, I blurred out with a raised eyebrow, watching the two humans with an answer demanding look in the eyes and judging the of Kandomeres sharp breath we were sitting in the same boat.

“That’s his name.”

“I know, but since when are we addressing each other by first name?”

He’s with the enemy, I thought to myself, as I tried my best not to let that thought become visible on my facial features.

“I have friends beside you, [Y/N].”

“Friends?”, this time, it was Kandomeres sonorous voice filling the air as he rose his voice and I slid back while remaining on the chair to be able to look at him and the two human.

“Since we can’t bring the two of you to team meetings without starting the apocalypse, we started talking during the breaks and stuff.”, Montehugh said in defense, crossing his arms in front of his chest while Lea slipped down from the desk to stand next to him.

“Oh really?”, Kandomere and I said at the same time, quickly glancing at one another before turning our attention back to our partners.

"You both are behaving ridiculous. I mean, look at you.”

“She’s right. You know what, Lea and I are getting some supper and you guys can burn down this place if necessary, but don’t get us involved anymore.”, and with that being said, Montehugh and Lea turned their backs on us and headed straight for the elevator and just a blink of the eye later, they were gone behind metallic doors.

“That’s your fault.”, Kandomere said in a low growl, interlocking his hands in front of his face while staring at me with arched eyebrows.

“My fault?”, I asked him outraged, placing a hand on my chest as I swirled around to face him. He remained silently, his silver-blue eyes staring me down without blinking.

“This is hardly my fault. You”

“I have done nothing.”

“Of course. How could I forget that our godlike Kandomere isn’t able to do anything wrong. Elves above all. Above all elves. Right!”, I yelled at him and both of us rose to our feet, only a desk kept us apart from one another.

At first, there was pure rage shown on his face, but with every heavy breath that he exhaled, his strong features began to soften.

“So this what it was all about the entire time?”, Kandomere asked me calmly, tilting his head while he scanned my features for any sign if he found the final clue to solve a case that caused him a lot of headaches.

Unwittingly, I backed away a small step, meeting the desk I said behind for the last two hours with my backside while my full attention rested on the elf in front of me.

“What are you talking about?”, I muttered under my breath and felt awed by the sudden change of his demeanor as I watched Kandomere pointing at his silver gorget, his piercing light eyes locked with mine.

“You hate me because of a piece of jewelry?”

“I hate you for everything this piece of jewelry stands for.”, I told him honestly and I could tell by the look on his face what he was thinking at this very moment. That I was sounding just like my mother.

“I have nothing against other races.”

“But?”

“But I think most need supervision.”

“By elves?”, I wasn’t beating around the bush, but neither was Kandomere, and I crossed my arms in front of my chest while he walked around the desk, now standing an arm-length apart from me as he leaned against the desk.

“Yes.”

I snorted in respond, shaking my head in disbelief about his dusty, old fashioned views. Sadly, this view was shared by most of those elitist pure-blooded elves. An awkward silence took a firm grip of us, mentally going through the usual better and worse reasons to believe in each of our views.

Those debates were held millions of times, there was no good reason for the two of us to start it on our own. Nothing new would come out of it. Everything that someone could say on that topic was already said by older, more wiser elves then us.

“But that doesn’t mean that I hold any resentment towards you.”, Kandomere said after a long pause, slowly coming closer to me in small, graceful steps. I bit my lower lip, avoiding his gaze for a split second before looking back up to meet his eyes.

“I find it hard to belief.”

“Really?”

“Really.”, we exchanged our words quickly, and he came to stop right in front of me, the tip of his expensive designer shoes touching mine softly. He smelled like smoke of an open fire mixed with the scent of leather and roses. It left me wondering for a moment if there was someone waiting for him at home, but that thought left my racing mind as quickly as it entered.

“Then, would you allow me to prove you that my words are honest? All I want is a chance and time.”, he spoke calmly, looking down at me through half closed eyes.

“I have to think about it.”, I whispered, flinching away from him before I grabbed my jacket, which rested on the back of my chair before I stride towards the closed elevator.

I felt his eyes burning in the back of my head with every step I came closer to my escape, his smell still etched into my mind and the sonorous sound of his voice echoing in my head.

I needed a clear head, and here, with him, I wouldn’t be able to get what the back of my head demanded. That’s at least what I told myself as I waited for the elevator to show up, feeling like it’s taking longer then usual for it to show up on our floor.

With a loud ping, the door glided to one side and I quickly entered the small room to press the button for the ground floor. Turning around on the spot, my eyes landed on Kandomere one last time before the doors closed automatically.

The silver-blue orbs of his were pleading me to stay, to come back to him and sit down on the some chairs, talking about this and that and making first steps on getting to know one another. I lowered my head, avoiding his gaze as the door closed the engine of the elevator starting to lower the cabin to it’s destination.

(2184 Words)

[ahiddenpath]

Digimon Epilogue Celebration: Friendship

Some 2028 friendship headcanons below the cut.  I’m focusing on our known Chosen, since I haven’t thought enough about how their kiddos would interact.

-Some of the Chosen interact frequently in a professional capacity, even if they aren’t in the same business.  For example, Koushiro’s Digital World research and digimon technology advancements are relevant to Taichi as an ambassador, Ken as a digimon police officer, Jyou as a digimon doctor, and Iori as a lawyer specializing in the needs of digimon.  

Although our babes are not suspicious by nature, they tend to trust each other first whenever possible.  Sadly, they’ve suffered a lot at the hands of Chosen outside of their group abusing their ties to digimon and the inherent trust that the Chosen share as a global unit.

-Takeru spent a few months routinely calling and grilling everyone for info for his novels based on their adventures.  This actually caused contention in the group; some of the Chosen disagree on what happened (it was a long time ago, and the human memory isn’t very reliable), and some of them didn’t want certain events published.  Still, it’s Takeru, and...  The Chosen have trouble saying no to Takeru.  Some of them enjoyed the walk down memory lane...  Others, not so much.

-Taichi and Yamato forever retain their... complicated, but intimate relationship.  They each do a lot of traveling for work, and when they find themselves in the same city, they meet up for drinks/dinner/whatever the locals do for entertainment in that place.  They don’t see each other often, but when they do...  Everything instantly comes back, like they were never apart.

Which is both exceptionally comforting and annoying, because their bond is just as strange as is it strong.  They ask each other uncomfortable questions and don’t take shit if they think the other is making a mistake.  Phrases such as, “Get it together, ass” tend to come up.  Frequently.

-You can pry Mimi and Sora’s ‘close friends forever’ relationship from my cold, dead hands.  They rarely see each other in person- some years, the annual August 1 get-together is the only time- but they web chat, call, and text frequently.  They are both boss ladies who support each other and promote each other’s businesses however they can.  For all of their life, they provide each other with a safe place to talk without judgement, with nothing but support.

They also know how to paint the town on those rare times when they get together, especially when Miyako is there, too!

-SPEAKING OF BESTIES, Hikari and Miyako probably lived together at some point, but likely not for long, since Miyako and Ken married early.  They are probably the Chosen friends who see each other the most frequently in person, since Hikari’s teaching job and Miyako’s stay at home mom job allow the time for it.

Miyako encourages Hikari to stand up for herself, love herself, and start therapy.  Hikari gives Miyako outings and adult friendship time, which is vital for a SAHM.  Their kids are close friends.

-Taichi chose a difficult life for himself as a Digital World/earth ambassador.  The pressure and the mental load leak into his personal life.  When his job or leave take him to the Tokyo area, he stops by Koushiro’s place, and sometimes stays there, depending on Koushiro’s workload at the time.  

Taichi continues to tell Koushiro things he can’t tell anyone else.  Koushiro is someone who... both admires Taichi and sees him as a leader, but also sees him as he is: a normal man with a lot on his shoulders who often needs a friendly ear and a quiet place to rest.  In return, Koushiro can relax around Taichi, and he is usually willing to set his work aside for as long as Taichi needs him, outside of emergencies.

-Koushiro is in email contact with Miyako about their lives and his work.  He encourages her to work as a Digital World researcher when her kids are all in school and helps her find a position.

-Ken and Daisuke are BEST BROS FOR LIFE, and they absolutely abuse their digital gate privileges to see each other from anywhere around the world, at any time.  Miyako jokes about “did you marry me, or Daisuke,” but the truth is that she loves Daisuke, too, and joins them when she can.

Daisuke pops in from America with food from whatever restaurant he just discovered.  Since he brings enough for the whole Ichijouji clan, he is warmly received by all.  The night usually ends with a fun game of soccer with Daisuke, his son, and the Ichijoujis.

-Iori and Ken have an interesting relationship as adults, since their jobs bring them in contact so frequently.  Ken once said, “See you at the next murder,” to Iori at a party, and Iori nodded, not realizing that they had horrified the other party guests (who did not realize that Ken meant ‘in court, where I will be offering evidence from the scene and you will be defending someone’).

Ken and Iori respect the hell out of each other.  Happily, if they do see each other in court, they are usually on the same team/have the same goal of defending the innocent.

When they are both available, they sometimes attend meditation classes together.

-As an adult, Jyou continues his trend of “difficult to get in touch with.”  Being a doctor in a whole new field is no joke!  But he drops everything if he isn’t at the hospital to help any Chosen with a medical concern.

He tends to be in contact most frequently with Koushiro, often to discuss their research/work, and with Yamato.  He and Yamato can tell each other anything without judgement, and though they rarely see each other in person, they talk on the phone at least monthly.

-Miyako and Mimi try their best to see each other at least quarterly, but it’s difficult for Mimi to make the time.  Still, they call about once a week, and their conversations are usually energetic, happy, and refreshing for both parties.  Miyako loves hearing Mimi’s juicy studio gossip and travel stories, although she sometimes feels a little envious of Mimi’s lifestyle.

-Takeru and Hikari have a few periods (when they’re both single) when everyone suspects they’re dating on the down low.  Who knows!  Although they don’t see each other often, they check in once every few months.  Hikari loves Takeru’s sense of humor, but his... big personality can be difficult for her to deal with at times.  Takeru has had a quiet crush on Hikari for a long time.

-Sora and Taichi are in phone/web chat contact, sometimes often, sometimes not.  To be honest, Taichi sometimes avoids Sora when he’s low, or he knows she will scold him (because he effed up).  Sora sometimes feels a little guilt about how far apart life has taken them, since they used to hang out daily in elementary school.

Sora sees Taichi’s struggles from afar and wants to help, but Taichi tends to make that difficult.  Still, Sora’s warmth usually wins the day, and they connect when they really need each other.  When Taichi is in a good mood, his positive attitude lifts Sora up.

-Jyou and Mimi aren’t in contact often, but they find time for the odd phone call here and there.  Mimi looks up to Jyou and wants to support him in his career and his life.  Her cheerfulness can turn a hard day at the hospital around.

-Daisuke forever looks up to Taichi, even when life has one or both of them down.  They see each other whenever Taichi is in NYC for work, and Daisuke cooks for him and takes him to whatever restaurant is his current favorite.  Taichi never says so, but Daisuke’s admiration for him means a lot.

-Takeru and Yamato share lifelong brotherhood.  Takeru will never stop adoring Yamato, and Yamato will never stop caring for Takeru (and worrying about him).  They babysit for each other and have family outings together.

-Hikari and Taichi are maybe a little more distant as they grow up than Takeru and Yamato?  But the siblings will drop everything if one or the other needs help, and they always have a good, supportive relationship.

-BONUS: Eimi (my headcanon Koushiro’s significant other) is often in contact with Jyou, as their hands-on work with digimon leads to information that they both need.  She also requests Ken’s help when she discovers another lab doing something shifty with digimon, or abuse of technology that she, Koushiro, or her coworkers at the National Data Bureau have developed.  

Eimi has seen Chosen outside of Taichi’s group abusing their status, so she insists on dealing with Taichi/Jyou/Iori/Ken when she needs help in their fields (and Koushiro, of course).  She thinks her coworkers yield to this because they also want the assistance of the most famous Chosen.  That’s not wrong...  But what she doesn’t realize is that being Koushiro’s wife gives her clout in digimon situations.  It’s for the best that she doesn’t feel her own influence; she assumes that everyone is looking to the original Chosen and not noticing what she’s up to.

Her closest relationships among Koushiro’s Chosen friends are with Jyou and Ken, whom she frequently works with.  But Taichi spends time at her apartment to see Koushiro, and the unique troubles he faces tug at Eimi’s heartstrings.  Koushiro is somewhat alarmed when she takes on an almost motherly attitude towards his Chosen leader and upperclassman- Eimi talks to Taichi in ways that Koushiro wouldn’t dare to (unsolicited advice/kind-hearted nagging)!   Taichi grumbles about it, but enjoys being doted on.

I think this was my favorite prompt so far!!!!! 

[rapeculturerealities]

Apparently your Nathan Pyle post is mostly made up lies? Like he made one post in 2017, but is anti-Trump, pro BLM and MeToo etc. There's something really off about digging into someone's past to try and find stuff to fuck with their reputation. Also, it's possible to separate creation from creator. We don't need to be more careful about what we reblog, we need to be more careful about believing random tumblr posts.

Ok.

So the link that I posted stated one fact about Pyle, easily verifiable.  No lies. 

And this is the last time I’m going to address it because I’m getting super sick of dealing with it. 

The post has, as of my writing this, almost 38,000 notes/comments.  Most of them are angry screeds decrying “callout culture”.  It’s a whole lot of manufactured rage and holier-than-though copypasta saying the same things over and over:

“it was TWO WHOLE YEARS AGO”  “here’s a bunch of progressive stuff he’s done that negates it”“you’re just being petty/trivial”“Why can’t you separate the artist from the art?  It doesn’t really matter”

The thing about shitting all over the so-called “call out culture” of the post is that it takes an immense amount of privilege.  And as with most hand-wringing over call out culture, it reserves the benefit of the doubt for the privileged.  Seeing a pattern?  

People who are DAILY watching men make decisions about their bodies, men who will NEVER have to deal with the ramifications of the laws they are enacting, say that they find it unsettling that Pyle supported the March for Life, a group that believes that we should not be allowed to make decisions about our own bodies once we become pregnant.  A group that would deny us basic human rights.  

Suddenly our hesitancy means we’re just a bunch of bitches with an ax to grind.  Why can’t we just IGNORE that he was fairly recently vocally supportive of a movement that aims to deny us bodily autonomy?  I mean, REALLY.  Apparently we’re all just being a big bunch of hypocrite babies because we can’t enjoy his comics knowing he doesn’t think we are capable of making decisions about our own bodies

In the comments of the post, he’s already gotten the full throated support of so many. A fake fucking comic someone made in response to his anti abortion views that CLEARLY SAYS "altered from Nathan Pyle" at the bottom has been used in the comments to exonerate him by people who can't read. He’s got a whole redemption narrative, though he’s never actually addressed his original statement.  In fact, his followup was strangely careful not to mention it at all even though it was the very thing that seemed to make him think a statement of any kind was required.  He gets the benefit of the doubt.  He gets thousands of people DEMANDING he be treated with kindness and common decency.  

We who have skin in the game get death threats and name calling.  Don’t we deserve an outpouring of understanding and compassion? The reproductive rights debate isn’t just a fun thought experiment to pass the time for us.  What’s happening in states all over the US is that we’re seeing our rights to our bodies and lives being strategically written out of existence.  But we don’t get a pass.  We’re just being hysterical over nothing, if the comments on the post are to be believed.

Simply questioning whether or not we personally want to continue to support a man who doesn’t support our rights as human beings has somehow made us worthy of the faux outrage and pearl clutching that is going on.   

That’s by design.  It’s a tactic meant to silence the vulnerable and uphold the status quo via gaslighting and shouting us down.  

I never said Pyle should be canceled.  As I said in my last post about this, I simply shared information.  And the reason I shared it is precisely BECAUSE he’s so otherwise progressive.   And everything he’s done to earn the golden ally card y’all are so HAPPY to hand out to him doesn’t negate the fact that he hasn’t clarified his views.  And now all we’re left with is the fact that very recently, he openly supported the movement that’s turning us into chattel before our very eyes.  

So no, it’s not digging something up to slander him.   People can use the information available to make their own decisions about if and how they support him.  But when it comes to believing my body belongs to me, I can’t separate content from creator. Asking me to do so just proves that you are privileged enough that you can afford to treat the issue so casually.  

YOU need to be more careful.   To read the whole article.  To listen to vulnerable voices.  And not to get carried away because mobs with torches and pitchforks told you to be angry at vulnerable groups asking for respect. I know it’s fun to act like you’re above it all, but all it really shows is how little you think of our humanity.

-Spider

[hangingonforwhat]

I give the fuck up. People are beyond stupidity into a new realm of dumb I don't even have the vocabulary to begin to describe.

I literally want to hang up right now. Not because I'm depressed about myself, no. Actually I'm quite confident in my own intelligence and capabilities.

Instead I'm so dumbstruck by the outlandish, audacious, spectacular stupidity of the other human beings I'm forced to encounter on a daily basis.

People think I'm strange for not associating with, I mean literally anyone at all. I don't try to socialize whatsoever. And there's a damned good reason for it.

I am a somewhat intelligent, level headed, common sense using person who reflects on things and is thoughtful about my interactions with other people. Because I'm fairly empathetic, I often think about other people before I think of myself. I actually care whether people around me a happy, comfortable, having a good day, finding humor in life and other similar small things that take little to no effort on my part, while sometimes, occasionally, such thoughtfulness may affect someone greatly when you least expect it to. Sometimes it's the smallest of things that have the biggest impacts on how someone's entire outlook may be.

For example, I've always had a combative relationship with Police Officers. I always have, and mostly still do, think only scumbags with out of control anger issues and an inferiority complex become Police Officers.

But one time when my landlord repeatedly locked me out of my house in the middle of an eviction battle in and out of local Court. She locked me out, I broke a window and came in. She locked me out again, I broke another window, after the third time she called the police on me.

Of the officers that responded, I knew one of them from the local jail who'd known me since I was a dumb kid getting in way too much trouble. But one habit I've always had, I almost always owned up to my crimes when caught. Why bother fighting it at that point?

So when the now Sheriff's Deputy showed up, he had to arrest me for the Criminal Damage. As we're pulling away, down the street, what a surprise! My Landlord is standing outside watching me be taken to the Sheriff's Office and smirking on the sidewalk.

This Officer, whom I'd had many antagonistic encounters with as a teenager, suddenly pulls over and gets out of the car.

In that typical intimidating way, he walks straight up to my Landlord.

"so are you taking that scumbag to jail?" She asks him grinning broadly at this point.

"That's none of your business." The officer responds.

Like a firecracker my head snapped right up to watch the encounter from the back of the Police sedan.

"Did you lock Kevin out of the house?" He asks her directly.

As is typical, she denied it, used to never being questioned as a prominent business owner in the Community.

The Officer asks her if the Judge had told her not to lock me out. She said yes and again denied locking me out.

"I've known Kevin since he was a kid. He may be a lot of things but he's NEVER lied to me. So you're you're telling me suddenly he's lying to me after admitting to breaking the windows?"

The look of surprise in the woman's eyes was priceless. Clearly she's not used to being challenged by ANYONE.

I'm sure my own surprise wasn't well hidden either, but he didn't even stop there.

"If I hear from Kevin you locked him out one more time, I'll personally come here and drag your ass kicking and screaming to jail! You got that?"

My Landlord's pale face, a mix of fear, shock and indignation is something I'll never forget.

The ride to the Sheriff's Office continued in complete silence, and later I thanked him honestly. Something I'd never done with any seriousness before. One of my years long antagonists had actually stood up for me and I was stunned. I had always been used to Officers being completely indifferent as to whether I was innocent or guilty of a crime, I was just someone without the money or family to fight a case, with a criminal record who was easy to pin crimes on and make themselves look good.

But this Officer, he was an honest person. And despite the years of antagonism between us, looking back it never was more than a sort of a years long guy thing,a territorial pissing contest within our community. But we'd never had any outright hatred of any kind. We mostly just played our parts. I was the Good for nothing druggy criminal, and he was the Officer. We were supposed to be antagonistic.

But in that moment with my landlord, he showed himself to be an honest person with a true belief in a idea of fairness and Justice that meant something to him if no one else.

And that's what I mean when I say it can sometimes be the smallest of gestures on your part, some little thoughtful, honest, or kind thing you do for someone, and maybe you end up reviving a person's entire idea of what being members of a Community of any kind is all about.

But despite the fact that I have now been doing my best to live my life that way, to always treat people, not just with basic respect, that should be a given. But rather with human dignity. To recognize that we're all human, we're all part of a Community in one way or another, and we should treat each other like good neighbors, not with the thoughtless disrespect and cruelty that has become so much a part of daily life in a way I don't think it was even just twenty years ago.

People treat each other worse that rival predators in the wild. It's reached a level of stupidity and absurdity I never imagined it ever could.

It's so depressing to think this is how people think it's okay to treat each other. They speak condescendingly and disrespectfully, they steal from one another, take advantage of each other, and act like being rude is a necessity to survive in even the most benign of situations.

Everyone is just so sickeningly cruel and agressive that honestly, I'm just so sick of it. I'm sick of pretending like this is Okay or normal. No there's nothing fucking normal about spending all day surfing the web just to find opportunities to talk down to other people just because you feel like shit about yourself. Maybe you wouldn't feel like your soul is one big dumpster fire if you, oh I don't know, didn't go around trying to make everyone around you feel like shit? I don't know, just an idea, maybe try something different one day and see if you keep feeling like a bucket of worthless scum.

Maybe don't jack your neighbors cash when they leave their door open for little while one day. Maybe don't give that disgusted look at your waitress, as if she were some cockroach to be stepped on just because she asked you a question you already gave the answer to. How do you know that's not her first day or maybe her kids sick or her husband left? Not that it would matter, most people I come across could give a shit less as long as they feel that boost of feeling superior to someone else momentarily.

We live in a society obsessed with causing as much pain, suffering and hurt as possible. Why would anyone want to live in a world like this????

Sickened doesn't even remotely begin to describe how I feel about the people I encounter day to day. Most are just a bunch of assclown jackals waiting to pounce on the first injured, sick, or tired person they see.

How could anyone be happy living amidst this culture of inflicting as much suffering on others as possible?

I'm no angel. I've don't fucked up shit before, without a doubt. Though I always had a conscience about it and I never did it just because I enjoyed inflicting damage on others.

I'm in no mood to speculate on how or why our society has gotten this bad. All I know is I feel like trash just existing in it. I feel contaminated by it. I want no part of it but there's literally no where to run! Where you going to go that isn't becoming, or already is like I described? It's everywhere and those of you few people like me left on this Earth, you know damned well what I'm saying is true.

I don't know. Obviously I don't like it for my own selfish reasons, but I also always hated seeing another person powerless to bullying. But I mean, what are you supposed to do about it in a society where even most of the people tasked with protecting us are even more cynical than most!?!?!? Our own Government bullies the powerless. The privileged bully the non-privileged, and many people go around trying to bully anyone and everyone who isn't in a position to fight back.

Fuck all of it. I just want out. I want out now

[vroenis]

The 2019 Charlie’s Angels Reboot Was A Good Project & Deserved More Respect From Hollywood

We’ve just finished watching the film and there was a lot both J and I really enjoyed about it. We’re critical of media and art in different ways and I certainly don’t speak for them, as for me, oddly I’m lenient in ways that they probably aren’t when it comes to production and culture. I don’t have to dive too deeply into the cultural response to this picture to know how it went down, I’ve come into contact with just enough of it to have a clear understanding of the popular digest. The response is not at all unexpected, it’s just uninformed.

I feel that the 2019 (year of publishing) Charlie’s Angels reboot was a good project with a wonderful spirit. Elizabeth Banks’ aims were clearly evident in the final product, however it may have been shaped along the way, and that it was under-served in the production process likely from the very beginning.

This casting is fantastic.

I do wish there were better cast-ensemble promos for me to lift from the internet and wonder whether that’s another telltale sign of production or whether the heat has just faded since release and they’ve just dropped out of the archives but I struggled to find well composed images.

The first short sizzle-teaser I ever saw for the film, I thought was quite good. Neckbeards and mouthbreathers won’t have paused for a second thought before launching hate for the project - anything in the most vague proximity of feminism or empowerment of women, or even simply just not being centred around men - will be enough to bring snide internet snark by the truckload. It remains interesting that men continue to struggle to live in a world where there can be things that also exist that are not for them, they cannot simply let these other things also exist without contributing in some way. As it were, the project looked good. Sharp, clever, playful, and a timely reboot reclaimed in the most contemporary way. When I looked up the production details and found out Banks was championing it herself, I really took an interest in it. As the first full trailers released, the casting looked great - genuinely diverse and with real chemistry, I hoped it would find the audience it was looking for.

J and I have had a lot going on in our lives over the last two years and still do. We’ve gone to theatres I think twice in that whole time, maybe three times and I think two of those were gift certificates generously paid for by family. So tonight we finally got around to watching Charlie’s Angels. If we’d seen this in theatres, I’d have still be satisfied and had the same evaluation.

A production budget of $55 million is low-balling a project of this scope; 

There seems to have been a bit of pre-production shuffling and Banks did a lot of wrangling herself early on. 

The whole shoot front to back was just over two months and I assume three countries, US/or studio inclusive. 

CGI is noticeably subpar but not exactly cheap either, so it still would have cost a significant portion of that prod. budget. When I say subpar, the CG in this film isn’t bad, please don’t take that criticism as overly negative of the CG artists’ work - remember that people do the best they can with the time and money they’re afforded. If you want to understand what that’s all about, I encourage you to watch Corridor Crew’s channel on YouTube.

Combat choreography with principle actors isn’t great, there’s far too much editing but again, I’m betting there wasn’t a whole lot of money and thus time for training and rehearsing for them, so combat is noticeably slow. 

2nd Unit photography looked very good because this kind of thing is very old-school Hollywood in that it contributes to what makes an action/spy movie look like one. Unfortunately, that means it was also expensive. We’re really running out of money here...

There is a lot of licensed music in this feature which isn’t cheap at all. Again this feels super old-school Hollywood and definitely demographic targeting, but it firmly timestamps the feature - any film, really - and unless your film is about capturing the essence of the time IT WAS THE 80′s! or FOLK FESTIVALS JUST BEFORE COVID BROKE OUT as an example of not necessarily wanting to capture the past, I really think trying to nail down pop songs of the hot present ultimately does your film a disservice.

And I’ll address that one first because I feel like it may have been one of the easiest changes to make to lift the overall quality of the picture. Instead of burning thru an immense amount of budget on a pile of pop licenses, I think a calculated risk could have been taken in getting a young contemporary musician to create a slick electronic score in its entirety to back it along side the generic orchestral action fare, no disrespect to Brian Tyler. To be honest, Tyler probably could have done it all himself but was also probably just writing to spec. BUT HEY... WHY NOT SCOUT FOR ANY NUMBER OF AMAZING WOMEN OUT THERE WHO ARE PHENOMENAL ELECTRONIC MUSICIANS AND PRODUCERS what am I talking about it’s Hollywood...

This is what I mean by the project deserving more respect and being under-served. Hollywood doesn’t believe in projects like this, they don’t realise what the project is and why it needs frontier, sincere, good faith hiring and instead under-funds but funds it nevertheless SEE? WE FUNDED IT, WE DID THE GOOD THING, SEE US SUPPORTING THE WIMMINS? WE’RE NOT  SEXISTS YOU CAN’T SAY WE’RE SEXISTS YOU CAN HAVE YOUR FILM oh it didn’t do very well except we didn’t let you make it the way you wanted to make it, we still shackled you to 

THE SAME TERRIBLE HOLLYWOOD TRADITIONS THAT, BY THE WAY, ARE FAILING OUR MANLY MAN MOVIES FULL OF MEN HOLY SHIT THE DEBT-RECOVERY CYCLE IS REALLY DOING A NUMBER ON OUR INVESTORS I SURE HOPE WE DON’T HAVE TOO MANY CONSECUTIVE FAILURES OR, SAY, SOME KIND OF GLOBAL CATASTROPHIC AND/OR ECONOMIC EVENT HAND-WRINGING

ahem where was I

Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross provided the entire soundtrack for The Social Network and it’s both fantastic and timeless. OK oranges and refrigerators, but the principle still stands - I get the intent of Charlie’s Angels was a summer blockbuster but it would have still been elevated by being all the more slick having its own identity in music, having its own sound. You want that soundtrack by that amazing young woman because it sounds fucken awesome.

Charlie’s Angels still needed a few passes by a dialogue editor. I say that a lot. I know my standards are high and it’s a Hollywood film. There’s no problem at all with the vernacular, idioms and the casual language, that was all fine. It’s always just the little details - again, it’s always time and money which - really is just money. A good dialogue editor or script supervisor might have been able to just elevate this whole thing to that super-smooth level of flowing just right. Or perhaps if the actors had spent more time in training and combat rehearsal together, they’d have riffed better and improvised more. They still have good on-screen chemistry but again, more time - more money for time - and things improve.

If you don’t know my taste in film, you could see if you recognise anything in the Film Notes page of this journal, but it’s totally OK if you don’t. Basically most of them are long and boring, with super long takes of people not saying or doing much. I still love Hollywood films tho - I love all cinema and I’ll repeat like a broken record, I should either add a section to Film Notes of my favourite blockbusters or create a page for them. Anyway - Charlie’s Angels still has too much editing mostly due to the aforementioned combat, but also because of that good old Hollywood formulaic style-guide. It’s easy to look up the production credits and pluck out names but on a project like this, it’s difficult to pin the end result on the roles themselves. In these cases, personnel like editors are more like daily jobs rather than creative contributors which again is an immense shame. I catch myself before saying “It doesn’t have to be a Malick/Shortland/Lynch project...” but why not? Why can’t a summer blockbuster have its own fantastic identity? General audiences can identify Michael Bay and Christopher Nolan - sure, one or perhaps both of these people take themselves far too seriously, but why not let a project have its own identity?

We run back into the conversation of protecting investments and style guides.

The easy answer to Bay and Nolan is they’re men, but they’ve also had time to prove their worth over time with previous work and track record. Because they’ve had the privilege to do so. Because they’re men. And most of the people making decisions and letting them experiment and sometimes fail to recover investment on their projects and hey, don’t worry, just try again, are men - and they were permitted to try again because they were themselves men.

Whether individual men do or don’t deserve whatever they did or didn’t get, I’m not here to discuss. Many of them definitely didn’t and I can’t change it.

What we should be changing is how we finance, how we empower and how we hand over autonomy of projects to women in cinema, in the arts - in professional life, in any industry.

YOU DON’T KNOW THE DETAILS OF THIS PROJECT

So. Fucking. What.

I can make educated guesses and I can support as much as possible as fair and equitable an arts industry wherever I engage with it.

I really liked Charlie’s Angels. It had a lot of heart. It had a wonderful sense of play and sass and smarts. Yes, a few too many “why didn’t they just shoot the bad guy” moments etc. - again - script reviews, better writers, more time...

More money.

More respect from an industry that doesn’t respect women and women’s autonomy; social, professional, in all aspects.

I hope Elizabeth Banks wants to make another one, can raise the finances for it and has even more control of the next project. More power to her.