#sophisticated smokers

[ratedxrworld]

Natural herbs you may have tried rolling with your blunt : Health benefits of herbs and blended spliffs

Herbs have been used for medicinal purposes for centuries, and many people still turn to them today for their health benefits. One herb that has gained significant attention in recent years is medical hemp, which contains compounds called cannabinoids that can have a variety of health benefits. Here are some natural herbs, including medical hemp, that you can incorporate into your daily routine…

[tinyslapper-4-sba]

[babblingeccentric]

One Piece Men's Underwear Headcanons

Ace: commando EXCEPT when he sleeps where he wears a pair of tissue thin plaid boxers and nothing else. IF he doesn't sleep in his day clothes

Zoro: also commando. He doesn't get the point of underwear

Luffy: The grungiest tightly whiteys you've ever seen. What happened to them?

Sanji: Briefs or boxer briefs. Used to tuck his shirt into his underwear to keep it from coming untucked when he kicked, now he's a sophisticated man with shirt garters. Stood in a shop window thinking about whether to buy sock garters for an unreasonably long time. Would wear ladies panties if he could get any privacy.

Ussop: Boxers. He's normal about this shit.

Franky: All he ever wears are speedos. He's not wearing anything else

Jinbe: Fundoshi. He's a traditional guy

Sabo: the most underwear. Wearing boxers undershirt regular shirt vest and coat he is never wearing less than three layers this bitch is armored.

Marco: boxer briefs. Buys them in multipacks from one piece target

Thatch: briefs. specifically tighty whiteys

Crocodile: boxer briefs

Doflamingo: g-string. Cartoon boxers with hearts on them for sleeping

Law: briefs. He's a skinny jeans man he can't fit anything else under there

Mihawk: Satin briefs or jockstrap

Smoker: jockstrap

Shanks: commando

Kidd: boxers

Izo: also fundoshi. It keeps everything secure

[not-really-a-writer]

Clones as Smokers

idk why I got this thought stuck in my head but I just had to share (tobacco use and weed references below)

Captain Rex - doesn’t smoke at all unless he’s drunk off his ass, which rarely happens bc he’s the noble, responsible type. When he smokes, it’s just regular cigarettes. The most generic ones.

Kix - does not smoke at all. Ever.

Fives - smokes cigarettes while drinking/partying or when stressed. A “social” smoker, if you will. But also will light up after an intense mission to calm down. Will most definitely smoke a blunt in the same situations.

Jesse - I just think that Jesse smokes weed and weed only. 😂. Regularly. He knows all the different types. The ones to turn up and the ones to turn down. And he uses them both in appropriate situations.

Hardcase - smokes weed but not as much or as frequently as Jesse

Echo - has tried cigarettes a few times but has never tried the devils lettuce 🤣

Wolffe - idk why but this man smokes a LOT. He’s the type to talk with a cigarette still in his mouth. He smokes space Newport’s. Will light one in bed with you after you f***. And definitely smokes around children 😂

Cody - cigars only. During special occasions and he knows whatever sophisticated brown liquor pairs with each tobacco species 🤷🏻‍♀️

Fox - he doesn’t smoke, but he dips. Constantly. Like, all the time. Those green Copenhagen cans line his desk drawer. There’s always a spitter nearby 😝

well that’s all I got. Sorry such a short list 🤣

[neko-naruto]

i turned out just fine bud, ignoring the CBD baked into my system

somehow im more shocked that my hyper catholic grandma offered to put brandy on the inside of my cheek when i wouldnt stop crying than the reason of my crying being the lack of weed being smoked nearby because i'd been exposed to it nearly since conception

[spandexual]

Hello! It’s me again ☺️☺️☺️ Annoyingly always somewhere out there, lol.

Went to smell perfume yesterday, and just wanted to ask whether you ever tried The Oud Affair by Vilhelm Parfumerie. TBH, it doesn’t even really have oud (but I also don’t remember how it smells, lolp, trust the assistant who helped me on this) but it has tobacco which was very nice. I never tried it in perfume before but it was really nice 🥺 I was scared it would just give cigarettes on a heavy smoker, but since it was sweeter I guess it worked out for me. The drydown is absolutely terrible though, OMG, I guess that’s how it is with stuff like this but it smelled shitty, lol. So wanted to learn whether you know anything.

Any updates on perfume side of things (not recs, just life)?

Also ZERO ONE ZERO ONE ZERO ONE is for the books. You look amazing today (?), outfit is great just like always 👍

You're never annoying, don't say that!!! I always enjoy your messages!

I really love tobacco in perfume, it's becoming a bit more popular lately. A lot of people are indeed worried about a cigarette smell but if you've ever smelled a high quality cigar, they do actually smell very lovely and almost chocolatey! It's really nice paired with vanilla and tonka bean and other "warm" scents, though oud would have been a little much I think unless you were someone who really likes both of those scents. Tobacco Vanille is a very very very popular fragrance for a reason. Very sweet and warm but still a bit sophisticated and mysterious, so yummy!! A little overpowering, but it's more reason to save it for nights out and special occasions instead of using it as a daily driver.

Speaking of daily drivers and tobacco scents, I've recently started wearing Tabarome Millésime as a daytime scent. I'm usually suspicious of citrus because they go very sour and nasty on my skin, and I just plain don't like fougères for the most part, but a travel size was given to me as a gift and I decided to try it a bit more seriously now that the weather is warming up. Maybe I should not have been worried about the top notes, because as expected, my perfume-killer skin stripped it down quite quickly to its base notes which are a lot more up my alley. I'm still not 100% sold on it, but it's inoffensive, pleasant enough, and it suits the changing weather well. An Perfume.

Zero-One is underrated also smh I really thought reiwa rider was gonna be peak. They did miss the mark on the crazy yaois tho like why on earth did they have all that buildup of Edgy Secondary Fuwa being the only person to find Aruto funny and not have Aruto ever find that out about him. at least there was femdom fuel. party rock is in the house tonight

[fic--writer]

Lollipop

Rolan is too addicted on his magic lollipops. Tav decides to take a risk and exploit this.

Warnings: NSFW! Addicted, Dominance and Submission

Part 1/3 Part 2/3 Part 3/3 soon

The archmage was pleased a to small extent. One tiny drop was not enough to satisfy his needs. It was like giving a habitual smoker just one puff. Pitiful crumbs from the masters table. He sat on his knees before Tav like an obedient puppy, waiting for the next command.

"Oh, what will be the Archmage's next task?" - Tav tapped his foot thoughtfully.

"You've already got all your dirty thoughts written all over your face. Mistress, let's just get this over with." - Rolan muttered. He did not expect prudence from this bitch with primitive impulses. He hadn't expected it, and yet he was doomed to drown in this swamp.

"My dirty thoughts are like this? Ah, you think you're the cleverest again... No, my dear Tower Master. This time you're wrong." - A mischievous light flashed through Tav's mind. He hadn't really hoped to lead their game, had he? As tempting as it was to do exactly as he'd said, she had a far more sophisticated plan in mind. And let him not think that he can control it.

"Dirty thoughts? Huh. No, it's too banal, don't you think? In fact, I'd say it's a cliché." - she did not let up.

"Then what does the mistress want?" - Rolan already regretted that the sentence had come out of his mouth. If he hadn't said it, he might have just had a little fun with her peach and that would have been it. Now, knowing her twisted mind, she'd certainly ruin his reputation. Yes, it's better to keep tongue behind fangs.

"Hmm, I have an idea, let's go." - She grabbed him and dragged him into Sorcerous Sundries.

The day was in full swing, with creatures of all kinds scurrying back and forth. Tav circled her hand around the space, pointing at the bustling crowd of shoppers.

"See all these people? Today you will be more generous than ever. Everything they need will be given to them as a gift from the magnanimous Archmage.”

Rolan's face changed, the vise of addiction tightening, but he had not yet lost what was left of his mind. Infernal blood coursed through his veins once more:

"What-what shall I do? I give this? Tav, have you fucking lost your mind?!" - All the same, he did not follow his own advice not to talk too much and, perhaps, did it in vain. In vain...

"Well, well, well..." - she said in a frustrated, almost theatrical voice, - "You forgot yourself! Too bad, I liked my obedient pet so much."

She clenched her jaws, ready to chew and swallow the rest of the lolly.

"No!" - Rolan remembered that the next delivery was not expected for a while. Well, this candy will cost him more than all the previous ones.

"No, please mistress. Are you sure you wanted to be a student of the best teachers?!" - Tav corrected him immediately.

"Please mistress, don't do this..." - Cursing everything in the world, the Archmage corrected his mistake.

"Fine... But as a punishment, you will personally get to know the needs of these people and listen to their stories. Oh, and don't forget to be polite. Let's get started." - she gently poked him in the back.

Tav, grinning smugly, leaned against the counter in anticipation of the show.

The grim Archimage reluctantly set off on his errand. Without much enthusiasm, he handed out rare scrolls, books and other goods, tossing them left and right. Suddenly Tav whistled, attracting his attention. When Rolan turned, she gestured with the corners of her lips, reminding him to smile at the customers.

Rolan took the hint and curled his lips into a cartoonish smile, revealing sharp fangs. Apparently, this frightened the large family queuing for gifts, but it only made him happy.

"Come on, master of the tower! Don't be greedy" - the mistress taunted him.

Lia, noticing what was happening, rubbed her eyes and pinched herself four times, but the vision did not evaporate. She decided to ask Tav what was going on:

"Tell me I'm not dreaming. Rolan is doing a charity event? What kind of demon has possessed him?" - she knew her adopted brother too well to believe that he had simply become altruistic.

Tav didn't have time to prepare a cover story for this one:

"Uh, I talked him into it, so that's the story. Maybe the mid-life crisis played a part..." - she tried to joke.

"So how exactly did you manage to do that to him?" - Lia wanted to know all the details.

"I discovered some control levers... The archmage taught me manners, but it seems he himself could use more patience and selflessness..." - Tav tried to give as little information as possible. After all, he was obedient enough for now and didn't need a whip in the form of his own sister.

"Well, if it's your secret, I won't push it. After all, what do we need all this for if we don't help others?" - she nodded in approves.

Yes, Lia definitely approves.

She hurried to help her brother and Rolan had more time to think. He was determined that Tav would not get away with this low blow. As soon as he got what he wanted, he'd start planning his revenge...

But while Rolan was in the chains of his bad habit, he continued to play the role of her obedient servant. Occasionally he would glance at her and see Tav leisurely and mockingly biting the inside of her cheek. The way she swiped the lolly across her lips, leaving a sweet, glistening and sticky trail on them. She was clearly taunting him, well aware of the intoxicating giddiness her actions were causing. When the Archmage looked at her pleadingly once more, she took pity on him and called him upstairs with a nod.

Rolan spotted her at one of the shelves and immediately pinned her down, restricting her movement. The shelves shook from the sudden movement and books spilled onto the floor, but the Archmage didn't care:

"Do you have any idea what you're doing to me, mistress..." - His voice trembled with tension, the feeling that he was about to explode growing. He squeezed her throat in the vise of his large palm and moved closer to her lips.

"Not so fast Rolan, we're not done yet." - She turned her head sharply from side to side to avoid meeting his lips.

"Just share a little."

At this point Rolan resembled a hungry vampire, Tav thought, and an idea popped into her head...

"I did everything you asked." - he whined pressing on her skin. There will be bruises.

"Yes, but you were a stubborn boy, remember? Accepting your sister's help without asking my permission. Bared your teeth at the customers like a gnoll, and those poor kids..."

"Please." - He wouldn't calm down, just kept whimpering and fidgeting around her.

Well, it was time to bring the Archmage to his senses. Tav gave Rolan a swift slap across the cheek, leaving a bright blush on the tiefling's already red skin: "Earn it, if you need it so badly." - She spoke in the tone of a stern teacher.

Rolan, taken aback, was ready to strangle her right there. What he didn't expect was a stinging slap to the face.

"Oh Rolan?! it's so delicious and juicy!" - Tav had to improvise to divert his attention. She moaned mockingly and grimaced, sucking a lollipop with her cheeks.

"Still big and hard!? Mmm... Is it always like this? Yummy!"

"Fuck, Tav!" - His fist whistled dangerously close to her shoulder. The force of the blow was enough to crack the wood.

Echoes filled the room, and at that moment there was the sound of footsteps and creaking floorboards.

Cal hastily covered his eyes with his hand, trying to shield himself from the unwelcome sight. He took a few quick steps forward, desperately trying not to meet their gaze: "I didn't see anything, really. I'll just go now. You carry on and I'll... I'll close the door behind me. That's it, I wasn't here." - he mumbled hastily, leaving the room almost at a run.

"Oh no, no!" - The Archmage recoiled and took a few hesitant steps back. He protested, raising his hands in a pathetic attemptin a pathetic attempt to shield himself from shame: "No, you got it all wrong!" - Rolan's eyes went wide and he stammered, desperately trying to find the words.

"I don't want to know anything about it!" - Cal replied. The door behind him slammed shut, leaving a heavy echo in the room.

Tav escorted him out with a glance, the corners of her lips lifting slightly in a barely perceptible grin: "Oops, looks like someone's going to have to get ready for some jeers from the family" - she said weakly. Tav was grateful to Cal, after all he had saved her in a way.

"Well, why are you... like this." - The storm had passed its peak and Rolan finally exhaled. He rubbed his bruised fist with a tired expression.

"Don't you like bad girls? Or are you just freaking out because you can't control yourself?" - She looked at him carefully - "I don't care. Just answer me, are you still in the game or not?"

[noturvlentine]

im not someone to miss (pt2)

༺ ♰ ༻

Leon Kennedy x reader series

Summary [series]- after Chris Redfield has requested for your transfer from the BSAA, you’re tasked with uncovering a chain of bio-terrorist attacks alongside Leon Kennedy. Destruction, duty and your untold past brings you spiralling into an unlikely bond with your partner, as efforts are made and promises are broken.

im back! sorry I haven’t been as alive as the past two weeks, school has really caught wind of assignments but updates are coming!!!!! Bear with me while I write up the rest of my vague plans for this series and I apologise if these time skips make no sense at all!!

Please don’t copy my work anywhere else!! this will be up in ao3 too!!! -j

1.9k words

part 1

part 3

༺ ♰ ༻

Washington DC

A particular apartment block

21:00PM

2009

You arrived home to a small, tactical grade duffle bag sitting on your doormat. You half-expected them to provide you with nothing more than necessary, but seeing as STRATCOM was no BSAA, their gear had been rather sophisticated to say the least. They had given you 400 hours to gather any intel from a country in Eastern Europe, which meant you had a little over two weeks stuck with Leon in some dusty safe-house apartment with minimal contact with anyone else (not like you had anyone worth reaching out to outside of work anyway). 400 hours- thats only if things went smoothly, in which, they never do. You’d be there for a month at the minimum guarantee and you were meant to escort a contact to a private exchange of resources they managed to snatch off the black market. If the deal went smoothly then at least the government can put their pretentious, expensive lab research to use with their hands on a sample of some B.O.W strains.

You managed to drag yourself into your apartment, keys thrown onto the kitchen counter as your first thought was to pour yourself a drink and burn a cigarette. You weren’t a drinker- correction, you weren’t an alcoholic, nor were you a smoker. It’s just that there was no one here to monitor you and you easily and cowardly blamed it on your job, but instead you just seemed to have revolved around whatever harmless substance was at your disposal for the time being- amongst other things. You’d always kind of lived your domestic life on autopilot, barely putting in a second thought to whether you actually needed to change the way you lived, whether you needed other things in your existence- or someone else, but who were you kidding, a pet maybe?. You were never the type to give someone a call back either- to be fair you never really stayed, hence why a drink and a smoke followed by a warm shower was all you really desired. You slumped yourself down on the chair at your dining table, not bothered turning any overhead lights on in return, just letting the gracious moonlight escape into the room. Your fingers traced the yellow folder you’d brought home from work today, the other hand going numb from the cold condensation of a beer bottle. You sat there for a good two hours, an unwise decision seeing as you still wanted to waste away in the shower and needed to be organised for departure tomorrow. Not to say, sleep wasn’t ever on your side either.

Under the sting of your hot shower, you couldn’t help but think of how exactly you ended up here. Eight long years of anti-bioterrorist service just for Redfield to temporarily ‘discharge’ you from the BSAA for your little let down back in South America (to be fair, no one had ever decided you were discharged, but the leave and subsequent transfer had been the equivalent of that in your eyes). Was he even going to let you back in on the field with him? You weren’t about to become an office personnel in your line of work after this mission, to be honest you thought it would be the hands-on equivalent of death- to spend years in training in both the military and special operations only to end up in the chain of responsive command for an XO you didn’t quite get along with. Not to mention- having to filter through everyone’s field reports and paperwork after Redfield just hypothetically offed the industrial section of a city. Nonetheless, you were at least grateful to still be working field for the time being, it may not be alongside Chris Redfield and the BSAA, but it was still something of the equivalent. You were enjoying what might be the last comfortable shower for the next month or so (something small to deal with considering the various lengthy deployments you’d been on previously), taking time to let the sprays of water loosen your muscles. If you were completely honest, you would enjoy a permanently domestic, normal civilian life either. Something simple as a long, warm shower would become tedious once it becomes frequented and unthreatened as civilians are. Maybe the loss in commodity value was an excuse for you to work this job until death. Or maybe death came closer, and maybe you’d already accepted that.

Your mind skipped to Leon, or rather what he was doing, then to what he’d think of you once he knew you too well (or if he ever will). After all, two weeks is a long time to be stuck with someone on your tail, in the same safe house flat, going over the same shit and waiting for something life threatening to occur. You’d feared that when you’d first gravitated towards the BSAA, scared that you were going to let someone in (arguably, you’d always defended Chris as your bond came from the sentimental value of your jobs) and that they were going to come to the inevitable realisation that you were both fucked and would soon wound up dead on the field somewhere. That was definitely something harder for others to compute, as you’d accepted your death ages ago and were only ever waiting for people the catch up, hence why you’d think Leon would actually hate you.

South America

BSAA outstation

14:00PM

December 2008

‘Fuck! Goddamn it!’ Chris throws his fist into the crumbly stone pillar to his right. ‘We are sending in backup immediately-‘

‘Redfield that is not of your command, we’re not taking that risk-‘ petty, for anyone to want to argue with Chris Redfield. He’s always been full charged if not spewing out electricity by the second in the heat of the moment, head and heart. There was no negotiation. He knew first hand how shitty it was to go into a mission without support, albeit you did have ‘support’, yes- but it was a matter of if the goddamn CO would agree.

‘I’m not asking. That is one of our best agents tied up in there and you’re not gonna find another.’ To anyone else that tone alone would have them pissing their pants running under Redfield’s control, maybe this was why everyone was always cleaning up after him.

‘I’m going in.’ He mumbled, a stern one, signalling to his team to pack it forwards beyond their assigned parameters.

‘Patch me through.’ The next thing you know, your name is repeated frantically over the comms. Redfield’s voice is stern, searching, worrisome, but stern in his best I-am-your-captain commandment way. As his voice became more desperate you managed to free a hand for the radio.

‘Chris you better turn the fuck around.’ You groaned through your teeth, dropping down to your knees behind a collapsed brick wall. There was currently a wave of bioterrorist minions on your six and a massive B.O.W making its way through the maze of collapses infrastructure ready to pull you head off your neck the moment you’re seen in the line of fire. They had dogs two, all three parties together would be more than the current BSAA deployment had issued in the area and the next few surrounding countries. It amazes you how much terrorism groups can out number the fucking military, how many people are willing to sign themselves up to suicide compared to those who enlist in the army. They’re probably not cowards like the rest of the world that’s for sure.

‘I can get you my final intel order but if you fucking surpass that parameter-‘

‘I am not leaving you out there.’

‘I’m dead! I’m fucking dead Chris!’

The line goes silent, you can hear him thinking over the static of the radio. He had no purpose in sending rescue, you were a valuable asset, but the job was finished and there was enough evidence for the FBC to deploy troops to other locations and carry out necessary protocols to prevent whole countries from collapsing. The South American sun was starting to get its way with you, there was dust thickening through the air and you could hear firing in the near distance, which was enough for you to pull yourself up from you current location. Shots fired, straight your way and heard through the radio. You were scrambling for shelter around this abandonment of a city block, you shad two magazines left which you knew wouldn’t last for nearly enough time before an evac squad gets here.

Washington DC

Joint Base Andrews

12:30PM

2009

The pilot had just announced takeoff over the PA system. You watched the runway shrink into small grey veins over patchy land as the plane gained altitude. You could also see Leon’s impulsive leg tapping in your peripheral vision, his eyes settled in examining your body language as you pretended not to notice. His arms were crossed, disinterested by anything outside or in the cabin as his mind was purely focused on figuring you out. Out of annoyance, you turn your head, dropping your hand which was once propping your chin up, onto the armrest by the window.

‘What?’ You blinked at Leon.

‘Nothing, you look tired.’ He simply shrugs. Well that’s little to say for someone who’s been peeling your complexion apart for the past five minutes. You don’t respond, dropping your gaze to his bouncing leg, which stops upon your eyes settling on it. Your hand was now wrapped tightly around the bulge of the armrest, fingers slowly digging into the fabric and picking at the seams. Something about Leon’s all-too-understanding way of looking at you just didn’t sit right. He wasn’t one to remind you of your troubles but in every way, he did, and you can’t blame him for that. A faint rustling sound traveled towards you as he shifted in his seat, now more relaxed as his head hung back towards the headrest, still arms crossed and looking at you softly. Oh how you wished a little turbulence would break up this awkward exchange, you couldn’t argue that there was anything interesting other than fogs of cloud infecting your view.

Three hours into the flight and it was approaching night across the time zones. You’d irresponsibly gone through two glasses of rum and coke to ease your nerves, to which earned you a scoff and hum of amusement from Leon. Thought he was insistent on getting more than three words out of you, there was nothing he could do about your isolated bitterness and he figured that you’d melt along with time. You watched as the sky had lost its sunset, turning into an inevitable, cartoonish night.

‘Get some sleep will you?’

No answer, you pouted and went back to staring out the window. The emptiness plagued the entire sky and all that could be seen was the annoying red eye on the wing of the plane. Leon pushed his following words back into his throat, and left it at that for the rest of the evening before your subsequent arrival. You watched as he quietly dozed off for the next two hours, leaving you with a sense of peripheral comfort.

AN: this chapter is a little slow i know, it’s getting there. I’m also trying to keep my formatting consistent but I’m not sure how well that’s working atm 😂

[longitudinalwaveme]

Voice Acting for Arkham Files: Flash Rogues

These vignettes, and, more specifically, the characterization of Dr. Hugo Strange, are based on the wonderful Arkham Files YouTube videos produced by Mr. Rogues.

Here's his channel: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCyxNOHiNclZlVpeRhYV2QRQ

Since I am a huge Flash nerd, I decided to use this idea as a jumping-off point to explore how the Rogues would respond to therapy sessions. Again, all credit to the basic format goes to Mr. Rogues.

I wrote this about a year ago, and now I am wondering if anyone would be interested in doing some voice recordings/voice acting of the sessions for the characters.

Here's the list of characters that I'm hoping to eventually cast:

Professor Hugo Strange: This is by far the biggest role, since he's in all the sessions as the psychologist. Strange has a German accent (it seems to fit the character), and he's generally calm and fairly soft-spoken. Strange is intelligent, and he's very good at his job, but there's an undercurrent of menace and obsession in his voice whenever he's discussing superheroes.

Captain Cold (Leonard Snart): Captain Cold grew up poor and relatively uneducated, and he doesn't try to hide it in his speech. He talks tough because he is tough, and those who don't know better might assume that he's a dumb thug. But nothing could be further from the truth. Captain Cold is very intelligent; he's very street smart and an excellent strategist. Bringing in some of the drawl that Wentworth Miller used when playing the character would be nice, but only if it doesn't conflict with the rest of your performance. Midwestern US accent. It's also worth noting that Cold has a tendency to drop the "g" sound from the end of words like "trying" or "calling".

Mirror Master I (Sam Scudder): Midwestern US accent. The first Mirror Master also grew up in poverty, but unlike Captain Cold, he's tried to drop some of the speech quirks that would identify his background, which he is somewhat embarrassed by. Sam is dramatic and prone to theatrics; he talks himself up and likes to present an air of being calm, cool, and collected. He's also a chain smoker (in fact, he's smoking through his whole interview), and, while he hasn't quite developed the horse rasp yet, that's something that should be reflected in his voice.

The Top (Roscoe Dillon): The Top is from the Midwestern US, like most of the Rogues, but he's desperate to sound intelligent and sophisticated, so he puts on a very posh accent that sounds somewhat like the "Transatlantic Accent" that's common in movies and radio broadcasts from the 1930s and 1940s. However, when he gets stressed, excited, or angry, his fake accent does slip a bit and he falls back into his more natural accent. He's also on the autism spectrum (like me), and due to this, he is excessive formal and grammatically correct in speech when talking to people he wants to impress (like Dr. Strange in this interview), since he hopes that this will help him avoid social blunders.

Captain Boomerang (George "Digger" Harkness): Like Captain Cold, Captain Boomerang grew up poor and undereducated, and he doesn't really try to hide it in his speech. Unlike Captain Cold, Captain Boomerang is from Australia, and his accent reflects that. More specifically, he has a "broad" Australian accent (the Australian accent that Americans usually think of when they hear "Australian accent"), and he uses a lot of Australian slang. That being said, don't play up the accent so much that it becomes a caricature. Throughout his interview, Digger is calm and relatively friendly towards Dr. Strange; he's not threatened by him since he's totally happy and content with who he is. Unfortunately, "who he is" is a thug and lowlife.

Weather Wizard (Marco "Mark" Mardon): Even though he was born in Guatemala, Mark came to the US when he was only a year old, so he probably has a Midwestern US accent for the most part. That being said, he does speak Spanish fluently, and since he grew up with parents who likely did have Guatemalan accents to at least some extent, there might be twinges of that in his regular speaking voice. Really, the most important requirement for playing Weather Wizard here is being able to speak Spanish fairly fluently. Other than that, Weather Wizard spends most of his interview in a heightened state of emotion (talking about his brother will do that to him); he's trying and failing to maintain his image as someone powerful and scary for much of the interview.

Heat Wave (Mick Rory): Midwestern US accent. Heat Wave has a very deep and raspy voice (in part because he's damaged his vocal cords due to a lot of smoke inhalation). He's friendly and affable, but he's not the sharpest knife in the drawer, and he knows it. He also has to start crying during his session, so being able to fake-cry with some degree of realism would be helpful too.

The Trickster (James Jesse): Since he grew up in the circus and moved around a lot, he doesn't have any particular accent, although he's an expert mimic of all sorts of accents. He's cheerful and mischievous, and he sees his interview as a game in which he can outsmart Dr. Strange. He's extremely clever and quick-witted, and he has a lot of energy.

Golden Glider (Lisa Snart): Midwestern US accent. Like her brother, Captain Cold, she grew up in poverty, but unlike him, she does make some effort to hide her background (though she might start sounding a bit more like him when she gets stressed). Her overall diction is probably a lot like the first Mirror Master's. Golden Glider has a very intense hatred of Barry Allen and an equally intense love for Roscoe Dillon. While she is very loyal to her friends, she is also terrifying when she's angry, and she is not nice. She also swings between being calm and being angry very quickly and with little warning.

The Pied Piper (Hartley Rathaway): Very upper-class, "posh" accent that he's trying to hide by adopting a more standard Midwestern US accent. His parents were millionaire publishing magnates, and this is reflected in the way he speaks. He's very passionate about helping the poor, but is otherwise rather quiet and soft-spoken (due in part to his extremely sensitive hearing). Pied Piper is also probably suffering from some level of depression in this particular interview, and that should probably be reflected in his voice.

Mirror Master II (Evan McCulloch): Working-class Scottish accent (more specifically, he has a Glaswegian accent). He's endlessly amused by the fact that Americans don't fully understand him and deliberately plays up his accent to confuse people. That being said, I don't want the accent to become a total caricature. McCulloch is a very strange man with a very strange sense of humor, and of all the Rogue, he seems to be the most out-of-touch with reality. He's generally cheerful, but is very dangerous when angered.

Dr. Alchemy/Mr. Element/Albert Desmond: Midwestern US accent. Albert Desmond suffers from a very fantastical, fictionalized version of Dissociative Identity Disorder. All three of his personalities have the same basic voice. Dr. Alchemy is quietly threatening; Albert is sad and horrified; Mr. Element is rougher around the edges. Dr. Alchemy is by far the least human-sounding of the three.

Zoom (Hunter Zolomon): Midwestern US accent. Zoom is prone to stretching out his vooooooowel sounds at random, apparently due to his ability to control his position relative to the timestream. He speaks very quietly and might have a slight rasp; his voice also echoes a bit. He's quietly but menacingly obsessed with his goal of making Wally West a "better" hero through suffering.

Professor Zoom the Reverse-Flash (Eobard Thawne): The Reverse-Flash is from the 25th century, so ideally he should sound somewhat different from the rest of the cast (since word pronunciations tend to change over time). He's pompous and dramatic ("HA-HAAA!!!"), but that doesn't take away from his menace.

The Flash (Wally West): Midwestern US accent. It's hard for me to not simply say "do Michael Rosenbaum's voice from the DCAU", but that's not fair to anyone, so instead I'll just say that Wally should be passionate, a bit hot-headed, and a bit sarcastic. He's a very good guy, but he's not at all happy with the fact that Dr. Strange is treating him like a criminal.

[fibula-rasa]

Lost, but Not Forgotten: The Madness of Youth (1923)

Direction: Jerome Storm

Scenario: Joseph Franklin Poland

Original Story: George F. Worts

Camera: Joseph August

Studio: First National Fox (production) & (distribution)

Performers: John Gilbert, Billie Dove, Wilton Taylor, George K. Arthur, Ruth Boyd, Julanne Johnston, Donald Hatswell, Luke Lucas, Dorothy Manners (potentially miscredited as Louise/The Dancer)

Premiere: 8 April 1923

Status: presumed entirely lost

Length: 4,719 feet, or roughly 51 minutes.

Synopsis (synthesized from magazine summaries of the plot)

A sophisticated, young gentleman, Jaca Javalie (Gilbert), is travelling on a cross-country train to California. As Javalie traverses the smoking car, it’s apparent he’s being tailed by a detective. However, somewhere between the smoker and the pullman, the detective loses the trail—as if Javalie had disappeared into thin air. 

Later, out from the ditch beside the railroad, Javalie emerges—dressed now in tatters, a bindle stick slung over his shoulder. Javalie makes his way on foot to the California mansion of the Banning family. 

Within the estate, the patriarch, Theodore P. Banning (Taylor), has built a private vault to secure his millions after being burned by bank failures in the past. 

Banning’s children, Ted (Arthur) and Nanette, a.k.a. Nan (Dove), are now young adults and, though he loves them, he knows they’ve been spoiled rotten. Ted is selfish and unfeeling. He had brought home from France a wife, Jeanne (Boyd), but has since made her life miserable. Nan spends every night out gallivanting with the caddish mooch, Pete Reynolds (Hatswell), currently staying at the Banning’s as a guest.

Banning found comfort only in spiritualism—often communing from beyond the grave with his wife.

Javalie makes his entrance in the middle of another family quarrel. He presents himself to Banning, Sr. as a man with mystical powers, which he learned in India. He claims that has come to the Banning home after visions of their familial strife, sure that he can bring them peace. Banning agrees to let Javalie stay a while. Something about Javalie’s manner has a quick effect on the younger Bannings, who begin acting with a bit more reverence and grace. At dinner, Javalie lays his mysticism spiel on a receptive audience, save for the guest, Reynolds. 

George K. Arthur, John Gilbert, Billie Dove, Ruth Boyd, and Wilton Taylor in The Madness of Youth from Motion Picture Classic, June 1923

Later, the Bannings throw a lavish masquerade ball with the theme “winter frolic.” At the ball, Nan gets Javalie alone and says she doubts his supernatural gifts. He assures her he isn’t trying to fool her, and she takes that as flirting. The gentleman thief Javalie is softening. 

Next, Jeanne approaches Javalie and pleads with him to save her husband from the temptation of a dancer hired for the ball, who has a reputation as a vampire.

Ruth Boyd, George K. Arthur, John Gilbert, and Julanne Johnston in The Madness of Youth from Motion Picture Classic, June 1923

Javalie and Nan take a walk through the garden and she teasingly goads him into an embrace. Pleased with her machinations, Nan flutters away. 

Now left alone in the garden, Javalie is greeted by the dancer. Under her mask is a familiar face, Louise (Johnston), Javalie’s ex-girlfriend. Louise threatens to expose him to the Bannings. Javalie reveals that he’s been planning to rob the Banning vault for three years. Louise agrees to publicly play-act that Javalie has saved her soul in exchange for a cut of the loot and Javalie’s hand in marriage. Javalie preaches to the crowd of attendees and, on cue, Louise repents. Jeanne and Ted reconcile.

After the party, Javalie finds Banning alone in his library. Javalie hypnotizes Banning and gets him to reveal the location of and combination for the vault. The two men were not alone however: Reynolds had been eavesdropping. Reynolds confronts Javalie and extorts him.

John Gilbert and Wilton Taylor in The Madness of Youth from Motion Picture Classic, June 1923

The next day, inspired by Javalie’s preaching, Ted and Jeanne decide to start again on their own. Banning happily offers to build them a home. Javalie is shaken by a note from Louise saying that his preaching worked better than expected and she did, in fact, feel reformed and was off to make amends with her family.

Disturbed by Louise’s actions, Javalie defiantly steels himself and heads to the vault, combination in hand. However, when Javalie reaches the vault door, he’s overwhelmed and faints. When he comes to, Javalie is surrounded by the Bannings. Ted plans to call the police. Nan holds Javalie close and begs for mercy through tears, claiming that Javalie must have had a change of heart just as they all had. Jeanne backs her up. Seeing Nan and Javalie together, Banning says he understands and the police are not called.

John Gilbert, Billie Dove, and Wilton Taylor in The Madness of Youth from Motion Picture Classic, June 1923

---

Points of Interest:

John Gilbert appeared in an astounding 90 silent films in his career from bit roles to starring roles and he even dabbled in writing and directing. While Gilbert had already worked on over 60 films by the time Madness of Youth came around, he was newly minted as a star just two years prior when he signed with Fox Film Corp. Gilbert would truly break out as a star when he signed with Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer in 1924. Of those 90 silent films, 58 are considered lost films, which means that only 35% of Gilbert’s film work is known to survive today.

Madness of Youth is one of many films believed to be lost after the 1937 Fox vault fire. In the summer of 1937 at the Fox vault in Little Ferry, NJ a fire broke out that destroyed a majority of films produced by Fox before 1932 as well as films from other studios, most notably Educational Pictures. The fire also killed a child in a neighboring building. All in one night, thousands of films were lost, leaving a gaping hole in our film heritage.

from Motion Picture News, 7 April 1923 and Exhibitors Trade Review, 28 April 1923

☕ Buy me a coffee! ☕

---

Transcribed Sources & Annotations over on the WMM Blog!

[artsycervidae]

I am here to enable you to talk more about your Demon Slayer Trio, because I love them. From the emoji ask meme: ❤️ RED HEART (what are three of your oc's positive traits?),💯 HUNDRED POINTS SYMBOL (share three random facts about your oc that others may not know), and🚫 PROHIBITED (does your oc drink/smoke? do they do it regularly, or is it more on occasion or for special events?)

Ahhhhhh thank you so much!! This is perfect for when I hit a brief writers block but I wanna keep playing in the space. Deeply appreciate you, you're saving my life here xD

❤️ RED HEART (what are three of your oc's positive traits?)

Nobutoshi is patient, dedicated, and sophisticated.

Hinata is loyal, clever, and curious.

Tetsuya is quick, kind, and has integrity.

💯 HUNDRED POINTS SYMBOL (share three random facts about your oc that others may not know)

Hinata's design lends itself to a proto Love Hashira. Except it's the fucked up kind of love that makes them do war crimes for the people they care about.

Nobutoshi was going to be indirectly related to Muichiro, but I decided that we've already got Junko and Tetsuya as 'failed Shonen protagonists' with familial blood ties to power, and decided to give him different baggage with a different powerful family.

Tetsuya and Junko were nearly swapped places-- Tetsuya would be the older brother who died gloriously, and Junko would want to carry on his legacy. But boo, give women agency, also Daki already takes the role for 'little sister trying desperately to keep up with her big brother.'

🚫 PROHIBITED (does your oc drink/smoke? do they do it regularly, or is it more on occasion or for special events?)

Minor spoilers-- Hinata used to drink and smoke, but it was just during a particularly bleak moment of their life. Not so much anymore: they indulge in another sort of substance abuse. (But Modern AU Hinata would be a heavy smoker and frequent drinker.)

Nobutoshi probably only drinks during formal events, and only one or two. He's too uptight to really party.

Tetsuya meanwhile is a good boy and says no to drinks and drugs.

[disco-elysium-via-polls]

UNLOCKABLE CHECKS

INTERFACING - [Challenging] Fix the broken faucet in our hotel room, [Medium] Find a figurine in Roy’s store.

COMPOSURE - [Legendary] What is it about the Smoker?

HAND/EYE COORDINATION - [Legendary] What kind of gun fired the bullet? MAXED

EQUIPPABLE THOUGHTS

MAGNESIUM-BASED LIFEFORM

Temporary bonus: -1 Shivers: No shakes

It is generally understood that human beings are carbon-based organisms, fusing little carbon tubes together to form complex, mushy structures capable of thought, love, and locomotion. It is also known that these structures sometimes like to “take the edge off” by consuming ethanol, amphetamine, etc. In such cases, it is important to supplement your body with magnesium. Tired? Mag it! Down? Mag time! Liver damage? MAXIMUM MAG! Some people say magnesium doesn’t really do anything and you just need to quit. What do we tell them?

DETECTIVE COSTEAU

Temporary bonus: -2 Conceptualization: An idiotic idea

Detective Raphaël Ambrosius Costeau – when you say it, it feels like you’re taking a bite of lemon meringue while sitting on the terrace of a seaside cafe. On a cool summer day. In Sur-La-Clef. It’s everything you’re *not*. You haven’t created many things during your stay in Martinaise, but you’ve created this. A fancy, sophisticated name that makes you sound intelligent. And that no one seems to *acknowledge*. Don’t you feel like you deserve a reward for coming up with something so special? And what would that reward *be*?

BRINGING OF THE LAW (LAW-JAW)

Temporary bonus: -1 Rhetoric: Weird jaw

Hey, so a little observation. It’s all cool, man. Don’t freak out, but every time you say “I am the law“ – and you say it *a lot*, it’s basically *hello* for you – your jaw does this *weird thing*. It sort of shifts sideways, hanging off your face at a jaunty angle, while the word *law* sounds oddly guttural and low. It’s… strange. You wouldn’t notice it, but after saying you’re the law eighty thousand times, the question *does* come up: why *do* you have Law Jaw?

DATE OF BIRTH GENERATOR

Temporary bonus: None

Your face looks like it’s 58 and your body feels like it’s 60. Your mind feels like it’s lived for one day or a hundred. Both longer than they ought to be, the day and the century…. But for how long, then, has this thing attached to your sentience walked the planet’s crust? Time to start racking those brains of yours, Elder One. When and where were you born?

ONE MORE DOOR

Temporary bonus: +1 Half-Light: What is behind it?

God dammit, it cannot be. A disgrace! That door on the coast… you remember the one, right? The one that leads to the abandoned supply depot? Why, in the name of all that’s holy, does it not open? *Why*?! There *has* to be a way to get through that unopenable door. By gods, you’re the police – all doors are supposed to open before you. What will the others at the precinct think if you can’t open a goddamn door? There must be a way.

COP OF THE APOCALYPSE

Temporary bonus: -1 Rhetoric: Rambling madman

You woke up in a hotel room and started rambling about the end of the world. It’s not your normal everyday doom-crying, either. Something truly colossal is approaching – the Gloaming. The Culling. The Bloodletting of Unimaginable Proportions. Until now you’ve been *pleasantly* vague about the precise nature of this cataclysm. No more! Put the Bloodletting on the burner and *really* figure out what’s threatening the fragile physical reality you just found yourself in.

[wildmonkeysects]

Propaganda and censorship

Addiction, directness, stealthiness, inertia, propaganda and censorship:

Over the years, I have annoyed more than a few nicotine addicts, I mean cigarette smokers, who inevitably get pissed off about me telling them what to do, when, in fact, I am telling them directly about what smoking does to their bodies (and other bodies breathing second hand smoke), what the dirty tricks, the mindfucks the tobacco industry and lobby do to get them hooked and keep them hooked. They inevitably circle back to some argument or another about choice; even after I point out that they did not consciously choose to become addicted, that they were tricked by stealthy propaganda of the tobacco industry and lobby.

I should remind you that Edward Bernays, the grandfather of Public Relations, flat out stated that his invention, propaganda, ceases to function once it is exposed as propaganda; that it needs to function undetected by the target audience, manipulating primordial emotions and bypassing any reasoning by the target audience. Control the narrative, control the audience, but primarily in ways the audience does not realize.

So, to the smoker, direct reasoned persuasion is annoying and rejected, while sneaky undetected emotional manipulation is embraced as totally fine. Cognitive dissonance is a powerful form of turbulence that serves the perpetrators of propaganda, in a form of chaotic inertia.

Having learned from the tobacco industry and lobby, Israel has studied the techniques and technologies of propaganda, and has been applying them to direct the narrative in their favor.

I suspect that the clumsy, amateurish press releases by the IDF that are removed after public exposure and derision; actress as a fake nurse, Hamas operatives that are actually calendar days in Arabic, metallic weapons planted next to an MRI machine, tunnels that don’t exist except in Sweden, the list goes on --- may not be as accidental as they appear. They do serve to distract the audience, much like the clowns at a circus, while the real illusionists perform their sleight of hand magic on stage under the spotlights.

Public debate over stupid details and the debunking of those stupid details accomplishes a few objectives for Israel. It keeps the focus off the sleight of hand, keeps the factual conversation steered away from what Israel is doing in Palestine, war crimes, genocide, ethnic cleansing, the usual. It dissipates the emotional outrage away from Israel, buries the truth in noise. It also fakes incompetence, giving the audience the false sense that a sophisticated, sneaky spy and propaganda organization might not be so much of threat. Divide and conquer. Don’t be fooled.

So, more than a few of my friends have swallowed the Israeli propaganda narratives, drunk the whole bucket of kool-aide without realizing it, and suffer from the turbulence of cognitive dissonance when I point out, directly, what Zionist Israel has been doing since 1948, and is currently doing in Palestine. Nakba round 2:

[whumpthefifth]

Margaret Wright — Original Character Profile #1

WARNING FOR - Violence, mentions of sex, war crimes, xenophobia (brief), Emotional, physical and psychological manipulation/sadism/abuse (most are brief mentions, but just in case :])

Summary: Margaret Diane Wright, or Maggie as she is simply called, is one of the main antagonistic characters in my OC story. She is a dual figure - she lives a double life of high society and crime, though those lines, as they so often are with other aristocrats in Gane, are blurred. On one side she is friendly, witty and personable, and on the other she is sadistic, perverted and egomaniacal.

Basics:

Age: 32

Gender: Female

Height: 5’9

Complexion: Very pale.

Hair: Black, with silvery streaks. Eyes: Mahogany

Build: Gaunt, lithe and wiry.

Detailed Phys. Description:

Maggie has a very striking appearance. She is thin and bony, with large, half-lidded eyes. Her gaze is intense, and can make people uncomfortable, stuck in a permanent, piercing leer. Clothes-wise, Maggie retains a well groomed, elegant appearance. She is very aesthetically inclined, as her appearance must play a part with her charisma to help with the illusion of friendliness. It’s stylish and smart, yet her attire is not over the top. She pulls her hair back into a ponytail for practicality, and has not styled her hair since girlhood.

Non-Visual

Her voice can best be described as a low croon. She does not speak too quietly nor too loudly, and speaks with a lilt that is often entrancing. This is aided by her accent, that which characterizes her upbringing in the Ganish countryside - it resembles a mix of Cockney and Cajun. Despite her sophisticated, mellifluous voice, she laughs - or more, giggles - like a little kid. She has a slight smoker’s voice, as she owns a pipe which she uses frequently for tobacco or mild substances.

Maggie has a very particular way of speaking, often putting on a more sophisticated cadence around aristocrats over her usual way of speaking. She mixes somewhat childish slang in with the more high brow way of speaking characteristic of the wealthy. It’s quite uncomfortable to listen to - imagine someone talking about the economy crashing and then randomly saying it’s ‘real stinky-winky’

Personality Maggie’s personality is a slew of contradictions. She wears a façade of politeness and graciousness when interacting with those she intends to manipulate, concealing her true nature. However, beneath this mask lies a highly dangerous, ruthless, and conniving individual who stops at nothing to achieve her goals. She is physically, emotionally and psychologically sadistic - she ‘gets ‘er jollies off’ at other people suffering, whether it be pain, distress or discomfort. She’s a schadenfreude (I hope I used that right). Often she may make off-hand, completely inappropriate comments to make people on edge, because she likes to provoke people (and she’s also a weird pervert). Whether this may be unwarranted lewd comments, backhanded compliments, intentional insensitivity (lmao ur grandma died) or straight up xenophobia/bigotry, she’ll do it if she finds someone boring or annoying and wants to ‘spice up’ the conversation, with little regard to anyone else.

She does not really view other people as, well, people. She thinks they’re toys or obstacles, completely unable, or unwilling, to acknowledge how her actions affect others. She thinks life is a game, and she pursues her own needs above all else.

This, of course, is when the polite facade drops. Her real self may slip through when talking to those she intends to trick, but for all many know, she’s a friendly, upbeat person to be around.

Around adversaries, however, she exudes an aura of coldness and menace, and her mere presence can evoke an intense feeling of threat. When things don't go as planned, Maggie is prone to sudden fits of anger, which can escalate into acts of violence against anyone unfortunate enough to have crossed her.

She is, in fact, a diehard Ganish patriot, particularly so as she’s a veteran of the Scarlet War. She also collects harpoon guns, which she treats with more affection and doting than any living creature in her life.

She is also an incel/femcel, very much having a ‘nice girl’ complex. If she existed in this world today she would be a 4chan regular.

Biography:

Margaret Wright was born into a wealthy family in the Ganish countryside, raised on a sprawling estate. Her father, Wayne Wright, was the retired owner of a weapons manufacturing company, while her mother, Justice Wright, was a disgraced doctor seeking to regain her standing with the Healer’s Guild. Maggie enjoyed a privileged childhood, showered with love and gifts from her wealthy parents as a youngster, though she was not particularly demanding.

Maggie's sadistic tendencies began to manifest at an early age. She engaged in cruel acts against small animals, such as killing rats with hammers, and later escalated to tormenting her schoolmates. One such being a young girl named Penny O’Laughlin. Penny was an academic girl, though insecure and shy. Maggie ‘befriended’ her, though really, she tormented her for years. Not just bullied her like other kids, no, she straight up used her as a verbal and physical punching bag, which would traumatize Penny for years, practically ruining her life. Maggie was like a female Souichi from Junji Ito, except not an outcast and with the favor of the adults in her life.

Astonishingly, her parents not only permitted her sadism but actively encouraged it, believing they could use her deviant behavior for Justice's research on child development. They also had very rigid and warped beliefs on Ganish traditions, and believed Maggie was showing normal signs of a Good Patriotic Child.

As Maggie grew older, her parents' interest in her waned. Her father was an alcoholic, wrought with paranoia as he feared he would be killed for Blood Inheritance. Maggie had a better relationship with him than her mother, however, and Wayne Wright taught her various firearms skills as they planned to send her to military school. Her mother focused on her research, emotionally distant and cold toward her daughter. Her parents' increasing coldness and disinterest pushed Maggie toward frustration and hatred.

In her teenage years, she drifted into a life of petty crime and delinquency, a path that brought her more joy than her peers who joined her. While her friends did it for excitement and rebelliousness, Maggie planned the whole schtick out in meticulous detail, taking it very seriously. Her wealthy background shielded her from serious consequences while her friends got the grunt of it. At sixteen, Maggie's frustration with her parents boiled over, leading to a crime of passion - she shot her mother in the stomach and fled, escaping onto a train to the main city of Gane. The bullet ultimately caused her mother's death from sepsis, and her father got the blame for it due to his increasingly erratic behaviour.

Maggie got a job at various small businesses, living under the care of a haggard old butcher called Mervy Glunch. She retained her taste for misbehavior and a penchant for violence, however, and Maggie got involved with a criminal crowd. Her actions and aggression escalated, which got her fired and evicted by Mr. Glunch. Luckily (well, no, not really) she was approached by a military recruiter, landing her in the military during the Scarlet War at age 20.

She LOVED it, unlike her rather miserable comrades. She loved the thrill of war, the violence, the patriotism, the guns and the prestige. Power and blood, a cocktail made just for her. She would forever look back on it with fondness, considering her “service” the peak of her life. Her extreme sadism and disobedience toward superiors led to her discharge, but her violent tendencies continued.

In the following years, Maggie endured depression and a sense of purposelessness. She had been kicked off the high of war, and felt empty. She lived in a shabby apartment in the ghettos, developing a drinking habit much like her father and starting her smoking habit also. She engaged in various jobs before rising through the ranks of various service jobs, where she used her charm to cater to wealthy, elderly clients. Much like Ciaccolata from Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure, she would torment and then kill the elderly people under her care, knowing they were helpless due to their frailty and senility.

Despite this, she was somewhat good at her job (and covering up the murders) — good enough to land her a place at the royal Butler’s Academy. She underwent rigorous training to join the elite butlers destined to serve at the grand Ganish palace.

She graduated, and her life took an intriguing turn as she became a personal butler for the royal family. She in fact became a valet for Prince Louis III.

Eventually they developed an affair, though Maggie only saw Louis as a tool and a sex object. Using her influence over Prince Louis III, Maggie could pull strings in the aristocracy and gain influence quickly. Her charisma wooed the wealthy, making her quite popular - and while she was still technically a butler and systematically inferior to them, she was elevated to aristocratic status by every other account. Maggie's relationship with the royal family remains precarious, marked by secrecy and controversy. The aristocrats go crazy for a scandal — Though they remain oblivious to Maggie’s true, sadistic self.

Maggie’s life in crime really kicks off with this newfound influence. She becomes a middle man, working for the kingpin Lady Jane’s Drooz drug empire. Drooz is a drug manufactured from hormones in the blood, but is highly unethical to produce. That’s no matter — Maggie’s pals with a quack doctor and a chemist, Dr Eustace Crawford and Dr Esther Crawford. There, she distributes the product to wealthy aristocratic clients, splitting the shares with Jane — Though their relationship is tumultuous, as Jane finds Maggie rather repulsive.

Trivia

Maggie has a lecherous and creepy side, especially toward men she finds attractive. She collects erotic magazines and photos.

She has a deep affinity for guns and often fantasizes about her military days. Her shelf is stacked with every model of a handheld harpoon known to man.

Maggie's favorite color is periwinkle. She also quite likes purple.

She calls Prince Louis "pet" and “Louie” as affectionate nicknames.

She holds xenophobic views thanks to her obnoxiously patriotic parents and also the fact she’s. Well. A war criminal

Sunflower seeds are her favorite snack, and absinthe is her drink of choice. She's a heavy smoker, using fragrance to mask the smell of tobacco wafting off of her. She smokes through an elongated pipe which resembles a kiseru.

[molasses-house]

Cigarettes and Cereal Milk

I was 12 when I started working at the Jersey Shore grocery & deli.  It was old school with no air conditioning, some pinball machines and Ms. Pacman with only a counter and stools that would be filled in the morning with old men.  They’d sit reading Racing Form and the Bergen Record - slugging down their coffees, smoking their cigars or cigarettes and eating the State Delicacy of Pork Roll, Egg and Cheese on a hard roll.

Ran by a fiery Italian couple from Brooklyn (or the Bronx?) and partially by their two adult children, I was initially hired to work Saturdays and Sundays to stock and stuff the then-thick Sunday newspapers with inserts: comic pages, circulars, auto, arts and classified sections that made the weekly paper as big as a Bible or the yellow pages phone book.

For me, summer and a job at the deli was jubilant.  It was freedom.  I’d leave for our 1950′s era seaside bungalow with my family the day school ended and hardly go back “north” (about an hour and change away from our home in North Brunswick) the whole summer.  Like clockwork, every Saturday afternoon I would race down our lane of bungalows across Central Avenue to get to work and do the same at the crack of dawn on Sunday mornings.  

Along with my newspaper responsibilities, I had the pleasure of refilling the coolers with cans of Coke, Tab and Dr. Pepper.  I’d wipe down the pinball machines, replenish the Milky Ways, Gobstoppers and Fun Dip.  I even got to venture behind the counter to restock the cigarette display cases.  

Everybody smoked cigarettes or so it seems.  It was the late 80’s and although the Surgeon Generals Warnings were in full effect – nobody seemed to give a shit.  Cigarettes at the deli cost $1.50 a pack.  I remember when a new tax was introduced that pushed them close to $2 and it was like someone canceled Christmas.  Angry brows and hard scoffs abounded.

In those days – cigarette packaging and marketing was an art form.  A literal science! The shiny, little packs of smokes were like works of art.  

Shiny, snazzy and colorful rows of greens, beiges, reds, blues, pinks, gold, silver, and bronze with dramatic names that sounded like television soap operas or westerns or legal dramas:

Bel Air

Salems

Winstons

Benson & Hedges

Parliaments

Kent

Chesterfields

Capri

Lucky Strikes

Virgina Slims

Camel

Newport

Vantage

True Blue

Carlton

Kool

Lark

Tareyton

Marlboro (duh)

Viceroy

Merit

I was enamored.  Ripping open the fresh cartons of vibrant sophistication and stacking them neatly in rows – it was like a tobacco Tetris.  Seemingly, everyone smoked.  The surfers, the lifeguards, the boomers, the Greatest Generation, the beach badge checkers, the cops, and the kids that also worked at the store…all puffers.  My father was also a smoker.  A secret smoker.  The worst kept secret ever.  Despite a massive heart attack that required open heart surgery at the age of 37…he couldn’t shake it.  He’d have to slip away to go tend to “yardwork” and come back smelling like an ashtray and the family (me, my brother, sister and mother) would pretend to not notice the waft of smokey perfume that he’d come back into the house with…for decades!

I don’t remember when I picked up the habit definitively but it was between middle school (8th grade) and high school (9th grade).  Eerily, I mimicked the actions of my dad.  Stashing packs of cigarettes deep within drawers or in my little lockbox adorned with childish stickers.  I’d keep handy a bottle of cologne (probably Drakkar Noir or some ilk of it’s day) and whisk outside the minute the parents left the house and crouch down outside against the side of the house near the BBQ grill to fume a Marlboro.  

I was in my early teens but looked like a contradiction…tall, superskinny and blonde but self-consciously young for my age.  How did I purchase these vile decks of cancer sticks?  It was shamefully easy.  In those days, there was no legal age to buy them.  During the off-season and away from the seaside store, I could hop on my bike and ride to any number of convenience stores in the area of my “northern” home.  For $2 (and change as the prices rose higher), I could satisfy my physical and mental cravings usually without a hitch.  

If the purveyor did have some tinge of guilt serving cigarettes to a pubescent-ish Ricky Schroeder lookalike…I had a cover story in my back pocket:  

“My grandmother (or aunt or step-sister) hurt her legs and can’t get around real well, kind sir” was a standard lie.  If I was really organized, I’d have a friend waiting by their landline telephone to pretend to be said relative and say to the clerk, “She said you can call her.”  99.9% of the time that worked like a charm and only once did a phone call actually get made and “Kim” – an older girl by a couple of years magically performed the part of the ailing kin.

Freshman year of high school, I took the bus – having not yet made friends with anyone with a drivers license.  The bus would pick me up on the back street parallel to mine.  I’d wake up (usually with a teenage attitude fueled by nicotine withdrawal) and eat some breakfast before the bus.  In order NOT to miss my ride, I had the timing down like a Swiss watch maker.

Breakfast consisted of a Benadryl (allergies), a cup of coffee (light and sweet – and yes the Stankovits kids were all early coffee drinkers…) and usually some cereal.  We weren’t allowed real sugary cereals so we had to “settle” for Rick Krispies, Chex or Raisin Bran and the occasional Cap’N’Crunch.  Depending on the sugar content, I’d pour the milk over the cereal and dollop a spoonful of sugar in the bowl.  After the crackles of crispy rice or soggy lumps of bran were consumed, there was the sweet reward of the leftover cereal milk.  It was like breakfast’s dessert.  

I’d slurp that down and head out the door, towards the end of our dead-end street where there was and still is a section of woods where I could cut through to the next street where the bus would pick me up.

Lighting up, I would get my fix and mentally prepare for the day ahead standing in the woods next to the wooden fence that captured the backyard of the last house on our block.  It was meditative.  Who the hell knows what I was thinking about…”Algebra quiz!  Fall Dance!  Fuck, am I queer?  I can’t wait to drive and get the hell out of here?!”  

The bus would come and I’d hop on with a waft of smokey aroma and cheap cologne enshrining me like Pig Pen from Peanuts.  Usually, a pack would last a week or more.  I’d check my pack to see how many cigarettes I had left before I had to begin another hunt…hiding away my Marlboros in my duffle bag (those were in style...) until the last school bell rang…ready to repeat another day.  Inhale, exhale.  Inhale, exhale.

[ncrcissism]

lachlan pierce >> deputy mayor >> jon hamm

tw: mental health mention, substance abuse mention

— BASICS.

Name: Lachlan Adrian Pierce

Nickname: Pierce, Lach

Age / D.O.B.: 50 / August 13, 1974

Gender, Pronouns: Cisman. He/Him

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Ethnicity: White

Hair Color: Dark Brown

Eye Color: Green

Height: 6'2

Hometown: Tonopah Valley

Residence: Glenn Estates

Occupation: Politician ( Deputy Mayor )

Affiliation: The Enterprise

Education: MBA, MB in Economics. Public Administration and International Relations.

Languages: English, German, Italian, Portuguese, Spanish, French, Swedish, Norwegian

Relationship Status: Divorced

Children: None

— STATS.

Personality Type: ENTJ

Moral Alignment: Chaotic Evil

Positive Traits: Indomitable, Strategist, Eloquent, Assertive, Cunning, Dominant, Ambitious, Bold, Decisive, Resourceful, Self Disciplined, Confident, Perceptive, Stoic

Negative Traits: Narcissitic, Power Hungry, Malicious, Manipulative, Cynical, Serpentine, Arrogant, Emotional Detached, Methodic, Volatile, Competitive, Vengeful

Mental Health: Narcissistic Personality Disorder

Fears: Loss of their false sense of control, autonomy and perfectionism

— FAMILY .

Grandfather: Edgar Pierce

Father: Michael Pierce

Mother: Esther Pierce née Buchanan

Siblings: TBA Pierce, TBA Pierce, Flora Pierce

Notable Relatives: Zeynep Demirci

— HEADCANONS .

Lachlan is the eldest of four siblings. Even though they grew up in a golden cradle, they all had a difficult childhood due to the dysfunctional environment experienced at home.

He is going through a divorce process.

Highly narcissistic, driven by an insatiable hunger to be recognized and receive unconditional respect from others. Master of manipulation, engaging in sophisticated deception tactics. Regulates himself through grandiosity, power, control and dominance - as long as he is winning, succeeding and surpassing his competitors, he is fine.

The Pierce family is annually featured on Forbes' billionaires list

He has never officially joined The Enterprise as an affiliate, remaining loyal to the organization as long as he gets what he wants.

Dares to be overlooked.

The whole old money aesthetic. Perfect tailored suits, expensive watch and luxury cars.

Had complications with drug addiction, always on the media radar, and is often criticized due to his lifestyle.

Has a dog named Monty, a Husky-German Shepherd mix

Plays the piano. Good luck convincing him to do that.

Regular drinker. Fond of distillates, in particular whiskey

Smoker

Passionate over vintage movies, old songs and art in general

If he hadn't pursued a political career, Lachlan would have become an investment banker

He’s a Brioni ambassador