#karate cowboy up

[mysticfoxdesigns]

So I have been stuck at a karate tournament for the last two days. Here are some memorable moments from this time.

A kid did Kata to the Black Parade

A 8-9 year old is better at handling a sword than me

Watch children fight each other

A family got mad at me cause I didn't "put down the right points" for their child - spoiler alert, I did

Watched several of my students do their sparring, and am incredibly proud of all of them

Watched a Venezuelan and a Puerto Rican duel it out for 1st place

Right after they demolished 4 other boys in sparring

Watched a short kid beat down a tall kid

Some guy actually spoke in Japanese before his Kata

Watched one of my students take place in his first international competition

Saw some amazing karate stunt groups perform on stage

Watched toddlers perform master level katas

Witnessed people get kicked out of the ring area because they interfered with the sparring by yelling too loud

A coach got mad that the system randomized fights

When a kid doesn't have a competitor we find one from the crowd for them to still have a fight. They however default to 1st place

The 1st place metals were Texas shaped

#karate #karate tournament #cowboy up #karate cowboy up #mysticfox rambles #mystic chaos

[r-2-peepoo]

I honestly aspire to be the specific kind of messy bitch that Obi Wan Kenobi is. I mean that dude is barely hanging on but you would literally never know from looking at him. He has a signature look. The hair, the beard, the knee high boots. And he has a colour scheme for his wardrobe and it is working for him. Not everyone can pull off such a severe amount of beige but he can. He has a very specific aesthetic which I can only describe as sexy karate instructor and part time cowboy (I can see him pulling off cowboy boots) and he sticks to it. Maybe he’ll switch up his hair once and a while but he knows what works for him because when you look that good, no one can tell you are seconds from having a mental breakdown and I have nothing but respect for it.

#star wars #obi wan kenobi #clone wars #star wars prequels

[jaidens]

— updated masterlist !

[ THEME CHANGES BASED ON MY PROFILE! ]

MOVIES —

THE OUTSIDERS — [CIRCA. 1983.]

dallas winston

cowboy like me — taylor swift.

james dean daydream — taylor swift.

your lips are my idea of luxury — taylor swift.

no words appear in the aftermath—taylor swift.

willow — taylor swift.

ponyboy curtis

pulchritudinous!

can you feel it? — taylor swift.

johnny cade

on the back said 1958 — taylor swift.

hands are tough — taylor swift.

drew stars around my scars — taylor swift.

sodapop curtis

darling, id wait for you —

you're the only thing i know — taylor swift

wished them away — taylor swift.

steve randle

my daddy said stay away! — taylor swift

because he really knows me — taylor swift.

i would marry you in an instant!

two-bit mathews

what would you do if only you knew!

darry curtis

got his father's eyes

so scarlet it was maroon

THE KARATE KID — [CIRCA. 1984]

daniel larusso

hopelessly devoted

smile that could light up this whole town

looks at me like a trend

rumors from inez

break in a million pieces

can never look away

never see a love as pure as it

lit a fuse

crazier

like you do

making me want you!

in and out

sense of what you've seen

with you all night

i need you

boyish look

SPIDERMAN : ACROSS THE SPIDER VERSE — [CIRCA. 2023]

miles morales

you're losing me

miguel o’hara

speak now

take it off!

prettiest lady

tan skin

TOP GUN — [ CIRCA. 1986 | 2023 ]

pete mitchell

evermore

be okay, promise

watch you sleep

laughing from the passenger side

miss you

used to feel you breathe

doorway

timeless

bradley bradshaw

love you for you

afterglow

after all

seven and nine

the next train

timeless

grown men don't cry

electric touch

salt air

peace

nick bradshaw

kiss

bob floyd

won't ever tell

jake seresin

everything has changed

best friend

sweet nothings

careless mans careful daughter

TV SHOWS —

SUPERNATURAL — [CIRCA. 2005 – 2019]

dean winchester

make you stay

see the good in me

illicit affairs

sam winchester

lover

red

cowboy like me

THE WALKING DEAD —

rick grimes

altar

CRIMINAL MINDS —

spencer reid

can you see right through me

cardigan

will you please stand

didn't mean to stare

you never did

ride cowgirl

smaller acts

[ tagging some mutuals. @renqiisnce @mictodii @crazyf0rswayze]

#masterlist of jaidens

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

24-Karat Harrison | BODY BACK Update #3

THE WRITING UPDATE WE'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR (I’M WE)!

Let's chat chapter 3 of my literary fiction novella, BODY BACK! Harrison stares at himself in so many bathroom mirrors, gets down to Don't Cha (Pussycat Dolls), tries to forget the man he once was, reclaims himself through excess, & more! Post under the cut!

Logline: After an argument with his mother draws him much too close to the past, Harrison turns to Jeremiah to help him develop a gilded persona.

Update 1 | Update 2

BODY BACK taglist (please ask to be added or removed :))

@thelivingdeceased @writinglittlebeastss @cuntylittlesalmon @obssesedwithscandaledits @jaydewritesfiction @keira-is-writing @onomatopiya @dustyplotbunnies @euphoniouspandemonium @rowansghost @strangerays @rodentwrites @wildswrites @saltwaterbells

Random thoughts turn into...

A couple weeks ago, I was oversharing in my tags and in the process of doing so, came up with the phrase "24-karat harrison."

#I don't drink but I can positively say drunk rachel would 100% be just harrison like 24 karat harrison #actually going to get him to describe himself as 24 karat harrison in the next bb chapter fantastic this was a productive random thought

AND SO 24K HARRISON WAS BORN!

What does it mean to split yourself into two facets, one polished, one unpolished? What could you do if YOU were "24-karat" for a day? This phrase instantly shaped the entire direction of this chapter.

Also, as a poet, I cannot overlook how wonderfully "24-karat" and "Harrison" match each other. VISUAL congruency?? Syllabic harmony??? THE ASSONANCE?? He was built for this.

The plot

CW: this is the most *mature content* chapter I've written in BB so there are mentions of sex, drugs, and suicidal ideation.

"24-Karat Harrison" jumps right off the last chapter of BB where Harrison's stormed away from his mother after she drives him to Lonan's apartment (lol). He arrives at Jeremiah's place tired of who he is and in desperate need of a major change.

The chapter is split into two simple halves: scenes in Jeremiah's apartment, and scenes in a Las Vegas nightclub. How Harrison manages to get into so many shenanigans in these two locations alone astounds me! :)

Scene A:

Harrison turns up on Jeremiah's doorstep soaking wet from the rain. He's looking for a distraction :) & Jeremiah provides :)

Scene B:

A Haremiah pillow talk moment that ends abruptly when Harrison asks Jeremiah if he has Tylenol???? (romantic king /s)

In scene A, Harrison noticed Jeremiah hosted a party. Here, he asks him why he wasn't invited, and Jeremiah suggests it's because he seems too quiet to party

Scene C:

In an attempt to manufacture a more confident personality, Jeremiah helps style Harrison, complete with a fur coat and cowboy hat (horrifying).

Scene D:

Harrison retreats to the bathroom while he and Jeremiah wait for their ride to the club. He's not confident despite the new outfit and goes feral on Jeremiah's hair products, makeup, cologne etc. He finally sees 24-Karat Harrison in the mirror and is pleased.

Scene E:

At the club, Harrison and Jeremiah run into Biyu, Jeremiah's friend from Chapter 6 of Moth Work. His confidence is shot when she suggests he's quiet despite his new persona.

Scene F:

Harrison dances with Jeremiah, but is unable to shake Biyu's comments. He presses Jeremiah for validation, but Jeremiah wants to have a good night, not therapize the man he's seeing.

As Harrison continues to pester, Jeremiah reunites with his friends and is drawn into a (potential) group make out session. Harrison gets overstimulated.

Harrison flees to the club bathroom for reprieve when he again catches his reflection and doesn't recognize himself. His lack of recognition angers him--he's tired of seeing everyone in his face but himself.

A man--Perry--who is one of Jeremiah's friends, interrupts Harrison at the mirror to flirt. Harrison is agitated but drawn to him nonetheless.

Writing process & themes

I talked about how I structure chapters for BODY BACK in THIS post, but essentially, I orbit each scene around a particular theme.

I didn't really know what the theme of this chapter was until yesterday. I'd noticed I kept "repeating beats" throughout this chapter--particularly, Harrison analyzing himself in bathroom mirrors, which happens THREE times. At first, I thought I'd done something wrong because Harrison seemed to keep "backtracking" in narrative which made his psychology seem inconsistent.

By the time I got to the final reflection analyzation though, I realized THAT was the theme--bobbing between extremes when you're in the middle of an identity crisis.

What Harrison doesn't admit to himself in this chapter is that he's lost himself since he broke up with Lonan. The only Harrison he knows is the Harrison who chased Lonan across the country, put his needs above his own, etc. Now that Lonan's gone, Harrison doesn't know himself at all. This is why he reaches toward 24k Harrison, a caricature of himself painted in broad, unsubtle strokes--at the very least, he won't forget himself if he looks ridiculous.

But it doesn't work! This is because versions of who he "was" keep popping up. He can't help but feel like the vulnerable person he was when he was with Lonan.

Therefore, we really explore extremes in 24kH. Extreme pleasure VS extreme hollowness (Jeremiah kissing him in the doorway and then immediately walking away in scene A). In scene C he’s hot but he’s not. He wants to sleep with himself but he’s not desirable at all. He's alright with begging but wants to be begged. He wants to live a very specific life where he buys cowboy hats for livestock and eats ice cream with his hands but he also wants to die. He’s Jesus but he’s discarded bits of gold (THANK YOU for pointing that out @jaydewritesfiction!). He’s twinkling but he’s the dullest person in the room.

It took me a while to actually see I'd been doing that--purposefully creating contradictions in narrative--the ENTIRE chapter. Smh Rachel, good job with all those literary devices you didn't realize you were using.

This chapter took me a lot longer to write than I wanted it to (about a month), but it's also because it's SO long (7k, which is currently half the manuscript). I'm so happy with how it turned out though because its creation represents EVERYTHING I love about it: impulsivity, chasing highs, uncovering darker folds of you the longer you sit inside manufactured gold.

Music

Music was SOOO important in the conception and understanding of 24kH for me, more than usual! In fact, I've made a very specific playlist that is a track-by-track breakdown of the chapter (in order).

Here's a quick breakdown of each song & where they go in the chapter!

1. Nobody by Greyson Chance (studio version) - Backbone of the ENTIRE chapter!!!! Chapter starts with this song.

2. Hands by Greyson Chance - Haremiah make out ANTHEM <3. Also in scene A.

3. Hellboy by Greyson Chance - End of scene A where Haremiah gets... intense lol love <3

4. Fade Into You by Mazzy Star - This is on the radio while Haremiah gets DOWN. Start of scene B.

5. Aloe Vera by Greyson Chance - Haremiah sharing a joint & pillow talk song. Middle of scene B.

6. I Got So High That I Saw Jesus by Noah Cyrus - Haremiah sharing a joint & pillow talk song but it's getting sadder & more internal. End of scene B.

7. Nobody by Greyson Chance (live version) - CRITICAL song for this chapter so it appears twice!!! Live version is Harrison at the start of scene C.

8. Black Mascara by Greyson Chance - Harrison analyzing himself in the mirror ANTHEM (this song is also the backbone of this chapter). Harrison goes feral in the bathroom because he thinks he's better off when he does what he fucking wants etc.

9. I'm Too Sexy by Right Said Fred - Actually this is supposed to be the Shrek version :) so :) anyway self-explanatory. Rest of C.

10. Welcome to the DCC by Nothing But Thieves - Walking into the club anthem (scene E).

11. SexyBack by Justin Timberlake - Dancing and feeling real good about it (beginning of scene F).

12. Don't Cha by The Pussycat Dolls - SELF-EXPLANATORY don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like 24-karat Harrison (middle of scene F).

13. Sex & Other Drugs by Greyson Chance - Fleeing to the bathroom anthem (for sex & other drugs??? maybe; rest of scene F).

I also wanted to talk about the significance of the track Nobody because... it's this WHOLE chapter! I wrote this tag essay about it a couple weeks ago when I shared an excerpt where Harrison sees himself as a trophy while in the 24kH getup (excerpted later in the post):

#also there are many greyson chance easter eggs here #the trophy bit i've already mentioned is a reference to the live version of “nobody” #where he goes 'i'm not the trophy you think i am' #which is actually not in the studio version #ANYWAY the LIVE VERSION is a sad piano ballad of THAT #so anyway I love that the trophy line #was cut from the studio version but is in the sad piano version lol #don't know how to more articulately describe harrison's psychology in BB except for... that

The idea of "I'm not the trophy you think I am" really is the thematic crux of this chapter. Harrison KNOWS he's not good enough for Jeremiah. He also knows he wasn't good enough for Lonan. Everyone's looking at him like he's a saint somehow--to Lonan he was, only mattering when he was long martyred. Jeremiah sees too much good in Harrison, good that Harrison doesn't see in himself. At moments, Harrison IS confident. He IS the trophy. But then there are those sobering moments when reality hits him and he knows he just isn't (SAD). It's why he creates 24kH because HE could be good enough (and the truth is, he still isn't).

Excerpts

Jeremiah greets Harrison at the door lol:

Jeremiah might be the only man alive who’d open the door for someone as soggy as Harrison.

He’s shirtless and damp from the shower, a green toothbrush lodged against his gums. His heathered sweats drape low on his waist, bronze skin varnished with moisturizer. And Harrison likes this—a man mid nighttime routine—but what he likes more is how unstartled Jeremiah is when he grabs him by the hips and kisses him so hard, bristles jolt against his tongue. What’s he looking for in another man’s mouth—heavens, gods, a prayer? Fuck if he knows. What matters are Jeremiah’s chiclet teeth, Jeremiah’s healthy gums, the way in one gulp, they all become Harrison’s. And this is what normal is, yeah—Jeremiah a minty man ensconced by a bare tungsten bulb, Harrison his midnight lover, both of them in need of the other simply because they are here, alive, men.

Jeremiah gives Harrison whiplash lmao show him king!!!:

But in one dizzy breath, they’re separated, and the thought is gone as quickly as Jeremiah who slinks through his apartment like an unbothered shorthair, telling Harrison to lock the front door, to follow him to the bathroom.

Harrison’s ears buzz. He stares at the living room, wipes his mouth of foam, his lips tingling with menthol. Jeremiah hosted a party earlier. A game of parcheesi scattered on the coffee table, the kitchen sink teetering with mismatched cups, saucers. Cigarette butts pock a strawberry-shaped ashtray like seeds. Harrison salivates, tempted for a moment to filch around for one salvageable enough to relight. It’s only when Jeremiah calls his name that he shakes out of his stupor. But still, by the time he reaches the beaded bathroom door, he has to distract his mouth by digging his lips into the scalloped moulding.

Jeremiah crooks a brow at him in the mirror, then turns to the sink, spits. He’s gargling with mouthwash when he asks a question.

“What?” Harrison asks. His head hurts. Jeremiah would have a bottle of acetaminophen in his medicine cabinet, wouldn’t he?

Jeremiah holds up a hand as he swishes, rubbing at spats of toothpaste on the mirror with his wrist. He spits again. “You go swimming or something?”

Jeremiah is an ANGEL in the bathroom:

Jeremiah leans against the counter, haloed by one of three lightbulbs that isn’t blown out over the vanity. Harrison offered to replace them a week ago and still hasn’t done it, perhaps because the low light is more inviting, the way it cups Jeremiah like mist. Though maybe any lighting would be inviting to Harrison when he’s like this—in such high need of ravaging something.

Jeremiah wets his lips, glancing away with a mute smile before he looks right back. “Or is the rain really bad?” Harrison takes a step forward, and then another, another. Suzanna could be looking for him, calling everyone she knows in this city to help bring her son home. She won’t sleep tonight, and Harrison won’t either but for different reasons. In front of him, Jeremiah is as sunny as he is unaware, his curls plump around his ears, a man Harrison would like to undo with one look—to make beg, like gods make their believers do.

Lonan Clark behaviour:

“You’re like a wet dog,” says Jeremiah. A breath wheezes in his chest.

Harrison looks up at him. From this angle, bowed against another man’s body, he could look like a believer in supplication. Please go gently. Please spare my life. “Thank you.”

CUTE Haremiah interrupted by Harrison's terrible timing:

Now Jeremiah nuzzles into his ribs. He smells like soap and orange rinds, his tattooed skin downy under Harrison’s callused fingertips. He traces an empty fishbowl on Jeremiah’s arm with his pinkie, a half-finished anatomical heart with his thumb, a wobbly dandelion with his ring finger, the cherub guarding his elbow with his index. I love you, he could say. They’ve known each other for two weeks, hung out less than ten times, spent most of their time examining each other’s hands. But this could be love, right? Jeremiah’s made him breakfast every night he’s stayed over—peach French toast, hot muesli, black coffee. Every time they watch film noir on Jeremiah’s two-seater, they simply find each other’s hair and twirl, sometimes meet each other’s mouths and hover there, these clement weekend lovers.

“You got any painkillers?” Harrison asks.

Jeremiah jerks against his skin, his nose knocking into Harrison’s shoulder blade. He hikes onto his elbow, brows furrowed like he’s about to say something when his eyes narrow on Harrison’s finger.

“You’re wearing my ring,” he says, leaning toward Harrison’s hand for a better look.

“Am I?”

If I were Harrison I would simply just forget about Lonan because JEREMIAH???

Jeremiah should paint his room sage. The cherrywood picture frames warrant it. In the corner, a gold mirror flares like Jesus’ spoked halo. Two crinkled issues of the New York Times on the vanity, an ivory sheepskin throw collapsed in the corner. Jeremiah exists here mid-motion—the condom wrappers on the hardwood leading to the mattress like Hansel’s pebbles, sunglasses spoked in a magazine rack, a used cotton ball stained with black nail polish on the windowsill. Harrison absorbs it all on his back like rapidly flattening dough. He could be part of this room, too. Last Monday, Jeremiah suggested he move in. “You can sleep in the bathtub,” he joked, but kissed the back of Harrison’s neck. He’d smelled bright like the leather polish he’d buffed onto his bomber jacket. “Or elsewhere.”

Jeremiah as a trophy & LMFAO tYLeNoL???

Now, Harrison weakly reaches for Jeremiah’s hair, winds a curl around his finger. Jeremiah is soft like brioche and as dazzling as a mirror ball. And what’s the difference between worshipping him and Jesus if they are both men? At least Jeremiah is here, a trophy in front of him.

“Tylenol?” he whispers.

Cont'd:

Jeremiah places a hand on Harrison’s face. In his eyes, Harrison is insufficient, an edge of a man. Perhaps it’s the headache or Jeremiah’s gentle concern, but after a moment, the feeling is so unbearable that he pulls away and buries his face in the pillow. The mattress springs when Jeremiah rises, and for a moment, Harrison feels suspended in air like a crucified Jesus above the altar. He doesn’t have a face, a body, a heart. He is just dust.

Harrison wants to be a spider so he can finally be a homeowner?? ok same:

He slumps back onto the bed, analyzing the popcorn ceiling when Jeremiah climbs in next to him. He slings an arm around Harrison’s bare shoulders, and they pass the joint back and forth, its scent rich like oregano. The smoke is delicate as a dissipating spider’s web, pale and gauzy like a curtain in morning light. As Harrison smokes, he imagines what it might be like to be an arachnid—the many homes he could make.

Harrison really knows how to ruin a moment pt. 5 bajillion:

There’s a damp spot on the ceiling that’s only visible when car headlights skirt past the building. Harrison’s meant to ask about it, but what would be the point now? It’s not like he could fix it—and if Jeremiah doesn’t look at the right time, he’ll never notice. “You didn’t invite me,” Harrison says.

Jeremiah jumps. From here, he’s a mere lump under the covers, the only physical evidence of him his warm breaths on Harrison’s stomach. “What?” he asks.

Harrison twists the joint, puffs. His tongue feels bloated like his jacket. “To your party.”

A pause. When Jeremiah next speaks, his voice is muffled by the sheets. “I didn’t think that was your scene.” He rests his cheek on Harrison’s sternum, and he’s heavy like the jacket too. “You know. Crowds.”

“What made you think that?”

Jeremiah burrows out from the duvet. Harrison knows he’s trying to look at him, but he’s caught up in the ceiling again, the way that patch ebbs like a candle’s flame. “You’re…”

“What?”

“I don’t know,” Jeremiah says, crossing his legs. “Meek.”

Harrison wants to laugh—meek like a lamb, a poplar, a monotonous prairie, a man’s whispered okay, a frail river, a piano’s high C played over and over and over and over and over again—but what comes out instead is a whimper. Jeremiah cups his face again, says something about good things, compliments, the power in mildness. He smells like baby powder now, plumeria—and why is that? He’s a man forever in change even in the simplest of ways, thriving in his evolution. Harrison’s favourite colour has been the same since he was four.

He holds Jeremiah’s jaw to shut him up. His eyes are flecked with topaz today, sienna tomorrow. If Harrison could touch God tonight. If Harrison could believe in something for just a minute.

“Make me feral,” he whispers.

COWBOY HAT??

Jeremiah starts with a new jacket. He’s made it clear that Harrison can’t go clubbing soaking wet, so they rifle through his closet and land on a fur coat that was last dry-cleaned months ago. It’s knee-length, the sleeves wide catacombs, the taupe fur brindled like Eliza’s tortoise-shell ring. Lonan’s ring, technically. In front of his standing mirror, Jeremiah unearths it from the garment bag like it’s a body, holds the hanger in front of Harrison so the fabric drapes off his chest.

“You like it?” asks Jeremiah, cheek pressed to Harrison’s shoulder blade. He’s laid out a tasseled button-up for himself that glitters like hematite in the light, and he’ll dazzle in it, of course—Jeremiah is built for this, the sharpened eyeliners on the bathroom counter, the dented cans of hair mousse, the nail file on the dresser, the ridged perfume atomizer he’ll mist himself with a moment before they leave the apartment. He is sleek beauty, a marbleized man ready to be polished, adored.

And what is Harrison, then? With the fur coat cinched against his body, he could be polished, too, couldn’t he? Sure, he isn’t a gilded icon, but maybe he sees Jesus in his face right now because he has the potential to be, or because at their cores, they’re both sad men. His hair doesn’t have to look like Suzanna’s, but instead like the young bark of cinnamon. And his eyes—they’re not his father’s but his own, an unmarred pool of teal. Maybe he’s a little rough where he should be suave, but that’s hot nowadays, isn’t it? Besides, if Jeremiah sees something angelic in that mirror, then yeah, Harrison could see it too. Forget his cryptic mouth, his hair that’s too long as Suzanna pointed out, his eyes and the way they’re wounded, not like a deer’s in headlights but like a deer’s in death. Forget the scar across his forehead, the way another man’s hands used to touch it not like it was lightning but a pathway to some better place. Sure, Harrison’s no Christ, no Jacob, no God—but why should he be? He’s here under the tungsten bite of Jeremiah’s chandelier, a man in shameless excess, eyes more spangled than this country’s flag. And he could stay here, couldn’t he? He could enjoy staring at himself, not like he’s bronze but like he’s pure gold.

Cont'd (this is so sad LOL):

He straightens, adjusts the fur on his shoulder. In truth, he looks too much like his mother, stands too much like his father, stares too much like Lonan. His hands aren’t soft. He’s got split ends. At best he smells like cigarette smoke, car exhaust, chlorine. But what does Jeremiah see? Maybe someone loveable yeah, maybe someone to cry over. For a moment, Harrison worries the answer is nothing at all.

And then a nose nudges against the back of his neck, Jeremiah muttering about Madonna’s new album, buying new razors, growing his own marijuana. In minutes, they’ll be dancing until the room spirals or until they’re extensions of the other, whichever comes first. And Harrison will love it all because he loves everything about his life—this new jacket, this new man, this face that isn’t a reminder of who used to look at it, this muggy room, this mirror like a portal he could almost step through, this breakthrough because he’s gold. He’s gold.

Harrison steps away from the mirror, presses a hand against his eyeball. He’s going to need another Tylenol. An Ibuprofen for the hell of it. What if Jacob never dreamt of God, made the whole story up? What if Jacob just wanted to run away with his livestock? Harrison could use livestock.

He turns to Jeremiah. “You got a cowboy hat?” he asks.

Harrison making out with himself because that's a normal thing to do:

Funnily, Jeremiah does have a cowboy hat. It’s aptly doused in cow-print, smells like plastic and mulch. In the bathroom, Harrison adjusts its stampede strings around his chin.

He leans against the counter, pressing his thumbs to his cheeks. He pulls at his eye sockets, his skin giving like a tablecloth twisted under the heave of roasted turkey. His eyes are rimmed in scarlet—how many times has he seen Suzanna with these eyes, and do her eyes look like this now? She’s probably looking for him, calling his name out in the night like it’s a prayer she knows won’t be answered. Would he take himself to bed like this? In thirty more minutes when he guzzles a vodka soda, his answer will be absolutely.

Harrison, he mouths to himself in the mirror. The bathroom is filmy or maybe it’s him—he’s in chrysalis, bloated in his own becoming or suffocation or whatever the fuck. The thing is, he doesn’t need a god and might be a king, but he’s also a man with a pounding headache. He tries again, his mouth shifty like cornmeal, like ash: Harrison. What do kings do when they get migraines? Buy a donut? Eat a saint? His eye sockets are vacant, his cuticles spinning into one another, hair sentient from the pool. Harrison. The walls smell like Jeremiah’s hair gel, Jeremiah’s fingerprints, Jeremiah’s latest cologne. In a minute, the paint could start peeling and Harrison could pick up the chips, tack them to his jaw like they’re gold stars or little HELLO my name is stickers. HELLO my name is, HELLO my name is, HELLO my name is. Harrison. Harrison. Harrison. He kneads his cheeks like he’s sourdough, pinches his eyebrows, goes: Harrison, sticks his fist in his mouth tries again—Harrison. Jeremiah knocks on the door, says something about leaving soon, a friend waiting on them.

Harrison sinks onto his elbows, hovering closer to his reflection. If he were another man, he’d kiss himself, right? Without a thought, he does, mouth glugging against the mirror. He doesn’t need any touch but his own—not Jeremiah’s, not Lonan’s. He’s a man in love with himself, right? He’s a good dancer, never burns pancakes, isn’t afraid of spiders. What’s not to like? When he pulls back, panting, his eyes are watery and he needs a drink now, a god to abandon, a lake to drown in, a coastline to paint, a mother to cry into, a Bible to burn, a guitar string to snap, a dragon tree to kill, a father to remember, a prayer to scream, a place to close his eyes and sleep forever.

He grabs Jeremiah’s eyelash curler off the counter, crimps his lashes so hard he pinches his skin. He doesn’t care. He’s yanking open cupboards and pulling out an eyeshadow palette, smearing silver pigment onto his eyelids, under them. He’s raking a wand of black mascara through his lashes like he’s the grass buried under leaves—like this is the only way to reveal himself. And maybe this is the way, spritzing himself in Jeremiah’s vetiver or orange rinds or baby powder. Harrison. He wants to punch his nose until he bleeds. He wants to kiss himself again.

0 to 100 all the way back to 0 babe:

Harrison meets his eyes in the mirror. Is he an animal? He must be something feral, starved of something and ravaged by that hunger. He could touch himself right here. Or not. He’s barely a man, staring at his face not like it’s his, but like it’s someone else’s. And how tired he is of that. Being a shadow.

He is the MOMENT:

Before he exits the bathroom, he studies his sterling reflection. He’s not who he once was. No Christ, no Jacob, no Jeremiah. And he shouldn’t be. Because he’s twenty-four karat, twinkling, not just otherworldly, unforgiving, untouchable, not just a god or a man—but a trophy at last.

Biyu puts Harrison in his place lmaoo:

By the time they cab to the club, Harrison’s so high he can nearly taste the neon lights. As they slot through the front door with other partygoers like flocking geese, he blinks at the rush of it all—the women comparing press-on nails by the coat-check, the men wearing vinyl and leather and glitter, drenched in cologne and sweat.

“You’re late,” comes a voice which should be familiar to Harrison, but under the thump of bodies, sounds as generic as a bag of baby carrots.

“Fashionably late,” says Jeremiah, his arm slung around Harrison’s furred shoulders. He pulls him close, toward the person, the woman, smells like sea salt, iron, a new set of rings flaring in the blue spotlights. “You remember Harrison?”

As if on cue, Harrison lifts his eyes to Biyu’s, Jeremiah’s friend from the restaurant. Tonight, she wears a gold cowlneck dress, her lipstick the colour of rust. And something’s different about her hair—the sides of her bob shaved, which is more of a relief than he’d like to admit. She’d looked alarmingly like Reeve when they’d met, moved like her, sounded like her. Maybe he’s too high to see it now, but what does it matter—a win is a win.

Harrison tips his hat, already searching for the bar.

“The quiet one,” Biyu says.

His eyes snap back to her. Her pupils are large disks, and if he squints, almost look like they’re pulsating. “What?”

“You were quiet,” she repeats.

Don't Cha!! ft. this:

Harrison dances because he knows exactly how to. To thready vocals, he lulls his arms through the air, drags his palm down Jeremiah’s chest when an electro version of Like a Virgin comes on. On the lighted dance floor he’s nothing but rattling limbs, inelegant turns, raunchy dips. Shifting atop his head: the cowboy hat. In his hand: a vodka soda topped with a maraschino cherry. Through half of Don’t Cha, he holds the red cocktail sword between his teeth like it’s a rose, nudges it against Jeremiah’s lip as they kiss, break apart, kiss again.

“Do you think I’m quiet?” he asks between a spin, his head unspooling like a cylinder of thread. The clang of drums spikes up his throat—soon, he’ll need a refill on the drink. More weed. A crucifix to snap.

Jeremiah twirls under Harrison’s arm, a magnetic man in his tourmaline glister. He could follow any man in this club home tonight with his silver nails, his exposed collarbone. “Kiss me again,” he says, sweating, his fingers hard around Harrison’s shoulders—half from his grip, half from his rings.

Jeremiah is really too patient:

This is what he needs, a consideration of fruit and the man in front of him, all svelte limbs, acidic mouth, sharp eyeliner. As he ducks to In Da Club and shimmies to Waiting for Tonight, he digs a palm into Jeremiah’s cheek—he’s solid like limestone, burnished as bronze, his eyes amber portals like a patch of quicksand.

“Did you tell Biyu about me?” Harrison asks. His head pounds, the music too loud, swelling in his ears like an inflating airbag. He should go back to the bar now. They’ve got whiskey sours, gibsons, margaritas. If he flutters his eyelashes long enough at the bartender, maybe he’ll get a little more than a free drink—that’s fine too. Kelly Clarkson sings about praying, breaking, and he could do both in the hands of someone who smells like blood oranges, tastes like Bible paper, stares like Jesus the moment before he performs a miracle, couldn’t he?

“Focus on me,” Jeremiah says, guiding Harrison closer by the hips, so confident as his wooden Mary bracelet jolts with the movement because he’s here in this blinking room, dancing because he’s twenty-one just like Harrison, because he’s electric, alive, because he’s blinding like noonday sun, steady as a fountain cycling the same water over and over, because he’s unashamed in this brisk light, shocking like the zip of battery acid on a tongue. He doesn’t need to try, melds into the bleating crowd like he’s part of it, and he is. He smells like pomegranates, tastes like cherries the next time Harrison kisses him—Chapstick? Cocktail?—and tomorrow, he’ll rise early for a shift at Greta, slip on his navy uniform polo, his makeup untouched despite everything Harrison will do to him tonight because he’s faultless, not quiet, hair precariously puffed, nails buffed to a glassy sheen. He and Biyu might catch breakfast at dawn, bond over their glittery eyelids, their intrinsic closeness, wonder over poached eggs if he’s worth it—graceless Harrison in this cowboy hat and smudged makeup, his jacket cuffs soaked with vodka soda, his head lolling to the insistent voice of Justin Timberlake.

“Biyu thinks I’m quiet,” Harrison says, knocking back the rest of his drink, his neck cracking. He wants to scratch off his face, replace it with someone else’s. “You think I’m meek. So what is it? Do I need to get a tattoo or something?”

Jeremiah glances around the club, his irises starred by a spotlight. What does he see when he looks out at the crowd? Perhaps he recognizes half of these people—from the way he ordered at the bar to the way he slunk so easily onto the dance floor, Harrison assumes he’s been here before. And maybe it’s not just that he recognizes everyone else on the floor, but that they recognize him in return.

Cont'd but with a lot more mouths:

“Did you hear what I said?” Harrison asks.

Jeremiah’s eyes snap back to his, except there’s something hazy there, something tired. “What would a tattoo do for you?”

“I don’t know. Edge? I just think I could—”

And then Jeremiah’s turned away again, right into the arms of someone else—a tanned man with a dense mustache and olive eyes, the man going, “It’s been too long,” and Jeremiah going “It’s been too long,” their grins calcium white, flashing in Harrison’s face. He throws a hand up to his eyes, squints when a second later, the man pulls a woman toward Jeremiah, her hair cropped low and cotton candy pink. She kisses his cheek, says he looks ravishing, he looks like a comet on its way to ignite planet earth, and they’re all holding each other now, friends bopping to Gwen Stefani, admiring each other’s bracelets, thumbs, friends curving toward each other’s ears, kissing each other’s cheeks, each other’s mouths.

Harrison blinks because how many hands do they have now? Every second they seem to multiply—pink hair girl with four, Jeremiah with six. One’s tongue the other’s. Their fingertips fusing. The club fritzes around them like it’s confetti, the lights rippling into a Christmas bow and now there’s a redheaded man running his nose along Jeremiah’s neck, down Jeremiah’s shoulder, wrist, hand. Harrison had just done that back in his apartment, pinned chest-to-chest against him like a monarch fastened to a spreading board, and here Jeremiah is now, enmeshed in touch, in adoration because he should be adored—the men congregating around him now have their priorities straight. If they all got on their knees at Jeremiah’s feet, Harrison would understand. They aren’t exclusive, don’t even know each other’s last names, and besides, how can Jeremiah help how everyone magnetizes around him? Harrison can’t blame them. Jeremiah is illusory under the disco ball’s speckled light, his throat long, biteable, his eyes syrupy in his high. A woman takes him by the shoulder, but not just any woman—Biyu, and her eyes are pinched, analyzing, because she’s looking at Harrison, her glossy crimson nails on Jeremiah’s cheek, and she’s kissing him too now, her body joining the cluster, and it’s good, the way they all roll limbs to synth, the way they turn into each other’s faces and kiss, kiss, kiss. The music clangs, their mouths full of spit. The DJ says to hold your partners close, and they don’t have to. They are not simply together, not simply in chrysalis, but osmosed in their becoming.

Cont'd (GIANT sentence - CW: self harm)

A hand on Harrison’s elbow. He flinches and is surprised to see it’s Jeremiah who’s touched him. How did he get here so fast? Harrison expects a trail of blurry bodies to follow him, but where did everyone go? They’ve dashed from the club like embers scattering from a dulled fire, nowhere to be seen but dangerous anyway and weren’t they all just over there, under there, and are they lonely on the ceiling and how do they plan to get down and is it too loud in here and why is no one using their indoor voices and should he cover his ears and where is his mother now and how did Mary say I love you and did she ever dream of fleeing to Hollywood or speeding down the I-40 or telling Gabriel no and why does everyone worship a god who demands and calls it creation and what’s his name again—Harrison?—and when did his hands sprout from child to whatever he is now and should he dye his hair red, cut his wrists again and is it possible to be young and happy about it and is he still dancing, he’s still dancing, dancing, dancing, dancing, and someone’s complimenting his silver eyelids and would he like them to touch him gently and is it hot in here to anyone else and does he taste blood or the ocean and is this what it feels like to die in holy light and Jeremiah’s right in front of him, unkissed, still as dark water, as Lonan in the night, and now he’s holding Harrison’s face, his rings cool against his skin, and he’s kissing him too, tastes like spearmint and chocolate lip gloss, rum and Coke, rusted metal—the mouths of everyone in this room and this isn’t so bad, how their bodies net into each other, how in one breath, Harrison’s teeth clack against Jeremiah’s, and in the next, clack against another man’s and then another’s, his stubble rough, mouth sour, a chandelier earring flailing against his cheek, and then through his ear, his hands wound into cinnamon hair and he could be kissing himself and maybe he is and doesn’t he want that, the floor gelid, the music like cotton wool, their pelvises threaded, the walls caving, their mouths locked, the floor lava, the room too bright, his headache like an earthquake, two pairs of hands rattling to the beat of this bursting room one moment, then clutched together as they follow each other to a dim bathroom.

This section was inspired by @dallonwrites' lyrics in narrative post!!! also soft Felix cameo <3

The room is electric purple, smells like grapes, sweat, flexes under Harrison’s shoes like a sandcastle collapsing, like a sinkhole swallowing a house. Bodies weave across the floor, someone lighting a joint in the corner, someone reciting Sylvia Plath into a paper bag, going, the happening of this happening, going, the earth turns now.

Harrison’s head pounds—he should’ve brought a blister pack of acetaminophen because at least then he’d have something to punch, or he should’ve punched out his own eye by now, disappeared with another man who isn’t Jeremiah and didn’t he try, and where is the man with cinnamon hair now? Harrison turns to look for him, but the room ripples with his movement, shirring in staccato clacks around him like a shaken rice maraca. He’d hoped he’d write his number on a man’s wrist tonight even though he doesn’t have a cell phone—he’d hoped he’d go home with someone who shouts the lyrics to Madonna’s Everybody in twilight’s stillness, a man who’d let the DJ shake him, a man who’d let the music take him. And he could do all of that with Jeremiah—Jeremiah who probably did those things at the party Harrison wasn’t invited to, Jeremiah who knows how to pass off frozen spanakopita as homemade because he’s a good host, Jeremiah who knows how to kick people out of his apartment with kindness, Jeremiah who’s built to be kissed, to be loved. And where is he now? In the artificial light, Harrison hunts for him too—but he’s not in the unhinging bathroom stalls, not in the teal grout, the running sinks, and maybe he never existed at all, missing like Jesus in the tomb—body gone, body gone, body gone.

Cont'd BODY BACK BODY BACK BODY BACK:

Harrison rubs his eyes. His ears still ring from the clatter outside, and he stands at the bathroom’s entrance like a child who’s lost his mother in the mall. Should he sit down? A group of girls form a ring on the floor, chant about Leos, Britney, men. Someone shuffles in past him, knocks into his shoulder by accident, apologizes over and over, their hands clutched against his face—I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.

He yanks away. Don’t touch me, he wants to say, I don’t want to be touched ever again, but by the time he’s located his mouth, his eyes pulsing to a hi-hat, his nose burning on a cloud of cherry smoke, the person’s gone too. He presses his fingers to his eyes, wishes for a soft bed, a place to land, but then he’s rocking forward, right into someone else.

At first, they just stare at each other. The man’s got the same look in his eye—something gilt, something feral, an identical fear in his mouth. Harrison blinks hard, and the man does too—not a man, actually, but his own reflection.

He approaches the mirror, jolts at the way he touches himself—more carefully than he’s ever been touched before. Who are you? he wants to say. He’d like to leave this place now, the club, Las Vegas, the earth. He’d like to buy himself a pet tarantula, run off a cliffside, eat a tub of ice cream with his bare hands. Why did he come here again? His mind is so quiet. This could be peace. But who is he? In Jeremiah’s bathroom he knew, but now there’s this stranger ahead of him, the person who must be him—someone’s chandelier earring grazing his jaw, the cowboy hat lopsided, mascara running down his cheeks even though he hasn’t cried. Where did you go? he mouths, but he knows. He’s disappeared also like Jesus in the tomb, his limbs vanishing one by one, his skin melting off his hands—body gone, body gone, body gone. He grabs his cheeks, panicked because he’s on fire, gold tossed into the crucible. He’s going to burn to ash. He’s going to need a burial soon. His face has been stolen, his breastbone and knuckles too. A month ago, someone spat him into a basket like his body was ripe for the offertory—body gone, body gone, body gone.

“Back,” Harrison says, nose grazing the spattered mirror. His chest swells, and maybe he is burning, and maybe he’s right here, hidden somewhere in the pinprick of his reflection. “Back,” he repeats. He isn’t thoughtful. He isn’t profound. Maybe that’s fine. He squeezes his tear-duct, sticks out his tongue. He’ll die eventually, let his body disappear, but not right now. “Body back, body back, body back.”

Cont'd ft. Harry-something (CW: mild violence):

“I know you.”

Harrison whips around. In front of him stands a redheaded man—the same redhead who’d held Jeremiah close on the dance floor, trailed his oily nose along his neck. He wears a pair of browline sunglasses, a black vinyl vest draped with silver chains. He holds a clove, its smoke clouding the ruby pinging off his ring finger, his mouth ghosted with what looks like red lipstick.

“What?” Harrison says, jumping when the bathroom door clangs open and in come two more women. He lifts his fingers to his mouth, pulls up a hangnail until it stings.

“I saw you out there,” says the man, taking a puff of his cigarette. “Harry-something?” He looks like a scarlet ibis, strangely translucent. “JJ’s friend.”

Harrison digs his fingertips into his eye socket. His head feels like it’s been cleaved with an axe. “Harrison.”

Redhead smiles, blows smoke into Harrison’s face. “What’d you say?”

“My name is Harrison.”

“I’m Perry,” he says, and Harrison wouldn’t give a fuck if his name was Matt Dillon or Rob Lowe or Nash Baker because he’s blowing smoke into his face again, his clove flailing like a dislocated finger. He gestures to Harrison’s outfit, nodding. “You’re like a one man show.”

Harrison covers his eyes. Maybe he can find a dark hole in this club to dive into, somewhere no one will find him again. “What does that mean?”

Perry’s smile falters momentarily, but then it’s back, all teeth, no lips. “You’ve got this flair. You ever been told that? Weird, but good, it’s—”

The second he purses his lips to blow out more smoke, Harrison grabs him by the throat, pulls him so close he can see a constellation of blackheads on his chin, feel his heart hammering.

Perry yelps, nearly losing his hold on the clove altogether.

Harrison arcs his jaw around his ear. He smells like orchids, freshwater. “Don’t ever do that again.”

Cont'd - Harrison is weird :)

Perry laughs, the sound strangled beneath Harrison’s grip. Smoke fumbles out of his mouth like worms. He really does look like a bird, which in this case, isn’t a good thing. “Noted.”

“Do you want to kiss me?”

“You have a hand around my throat.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Well, I'll leave it there lmao!!! Sorry I subjected you to this man, but hope you enjoyed this gigantic update!

FIN. MAGNUM OPUS COMPLETE!

See you soon!

Rachel

#writeblr #writing #amwriting #writerblr #writingupdates #ohhhh harrison #this was so hard to write because of all his bad decisions but also SO FUN FOR THE SAME REASON #PLS TELL ME WHAT U THINK IT'S BEEN ME AND THIS CHAPTER FOR A MONTH ALONE I NEED VALIDATION <3 #next chapter perry gets his moped STOLEN (I wonder by who...) #bodyback

[prosperowrites]

Walker Texas Ranger is an absolutely bonkers show, and I don't know if people ever really talk about that.

Like you look at it and you think it's just "Chuck Norris is a cowboy who karate kicks criminals," and granted a lot of the episodes are that.. the ones that aren't, well, that's a different matter entirely.

There's an episode where a gang from China find an ancient statue, and it gives them magical chi powers (Uncle Iroh was a guest star in the episode).

There's an episode where a child with psychic powers lives in a facility overseen by a talking AI and Walker has to deal with the evil company testing on him.

There's an episode where a group of monks visit a kid who is a reincarnation of their spiritual leader to keep him safe from an old enemy who wants to kill him. The kid also has magical powers.

There's an episode where a little girl gets shot by gangsters in a drive by, and a literal biblical angel saves her from death.

There's an episode where Walker is stranded in the wilderness, and he gets attacked by a giant mountain man who looks like Nemesis from Resident Evil, and is saved by a grizzly bear he befriended.

If you end up watching an episode you gotta flip a coin on if it's gonna be 'crime procedural' or 'Power Rangers but with cowboys.'

#walker #walker texas ranger #chuck norris #tv #tv show

[gaymer-hag-stan]

Ok so, with the Tekken 8 Closed Network Test now concluded, I'd like to share a few thoughts.

The game looks great, I love the new redesigns, I love the new animations and the fact that they got the entire cast to rerecord their battle grunts and win / pre battle quotes, it was especially weird to have certain characters use voice lines from different actors, some of whom weren't even speaking the same language 🤣

The redesigns are almost exclusively great so far, but I do hope we get alternate costumes. Yeah customization is there but I don't really care to have Nina in jeans and cowboy boots or Jin in platinum blond pigtails like... A lot of fighting games just have a palette swap as the second costume and call it a day, but from the very beginning all the way up to Tekken 6, Tekken had an alternate outfit for every single character. Not only that, but it was usually a more "casual" outfit too like, Kazuya's Tekken 1 1P was his karate gi pants but his 2P was a tank top and jeans. Asuka's Tekken 5 1P was her Aikido uniform and her 2P was her trademark shorts and tank top and so on. Tekken 7 originally went for the 2P palette swap, but at some point they added extra costumes, including classic looks, via an update, and I hope they are there from the start this time.

I played almost exclusively as Nina because she's been my main since 2005, with a little Jun, a little Xiaoyu and a little Jin thrown in. I also tried Lili's, Hwoarang's and Asuka's combo trials (nice that they FINALLY added combo trials, I don't know what took them so long lol) I gotta say it's extremely satisfying to see Harada CONSTANTLY shading Street Fighter on Twitter by saying that the base roster will feature a lot more fighters than our competitors an also Mortal Kombat by saying that they are focusing on legacy fighters before they even start considering guests. Like. That's a ball move and a huge reassurance for the fans. I also know it's in good faith and no harm is meant towards Capcom or Netherrealm but he's right and he should say it!

If there's one thing I hope they copy off of Capcom is Word Tour mode. Yeah NetherRealm Studios' cinematic story mode is fine... I guess... But World Tour mode is the best single player mode ever featured in a fighting game and Namco even have their own blueprint in the form of Tekken Force. We're probably still getting a cinematic-style story but there's still hope for Tekken 9, or maybe even a smaller-scale Tekken Force return, in the style of Tekken 4 or sth.

Arcade Mode needs a proper reintroduction as well, in Tekken 6 you only got 4 battles and you were done and in Tekken 7 you straight up got nothing at all out of Arcade mode and character endings were instead for the base game characters who weren't prominently featured in the cinematic story and you got them after a single battle... Very underwhelming.

Also hoping other "missing" modes like Team Battle return and maybe Tekken Bowl will be included from the get go this time? I've also had this request forever but I'd love to see 1P Vs. Com or Com Vs. Com fights be included in offline versus. Literally every other fighting game has it except Tekken and Virtua Fighter and I can't tell why. It shouldn't be hard to implement and honestly sometimes it's just fun to pick characters, costumes and stage and just fight it out with the computer, as a break from online grinding and whatnot.

Now, as for the battle system itself... It's lots of fun! There's tons of stuff going on at all times but it feels great to experience and it's not really overwhelming or anything. It's cute that they have included an "easy mode" for new players to ease themselves in the fun. I'm not a master player by any means but I've had almost two decades of experience in Tekken and legacy skill does play a big role in the Tekken meta so it's an interesting way to even out the playing field. Interestingly, they also seem to have simplified some of the more complicated commands like, I can pull off all of Nina's combo throws now with a total of like, four button presses at most? Crazy! The heat system feels a bit weird at first but it's a huge asset once you get into it which doesn't take all that long anyway.

Overall I am very satisfied with what I got to play and I feel like Tekken 8 is gonna be another huge chapter in Tekken's history as well as the FGC's as a whole and I honestly cannot wait! Hopefully I will have moved out of Greece by the time it's out because my internet connection was killing me 😭🤣

I also better see miss Anna and Christie in the game or else I'm rioting.

#Tekken #Tekken 8 #Tekken 8 Closed Network Test #Tekken 8 CNT #Bandai Namco #Namco #Harada #Katshuhiro Harada #Tekken 7 #Video Games #Gaming #Fighting Games #Nina #Jin #Jun #Xiaoyu #Lili #Hwoarang #Asuka #Nina Williams #Jin Kazama #Jun Kazama #Ling Xiaoyu #Emilie de Rochefort #Asuka Kazama

[stardewremixed]

More random Halloween headcanon

Olivia would make a kickass Jessica Rabbit. That glittery red dress would look stunning on her. 💃

Robin could pull off the Rosie the ariveter. Freaks Demetrius out. Embarrasses Maru. Seb wouldn't care. Just another day in the Valley with his weird mom swinging her ax. 💪

Harvey is a bit of a Trekkie. Has a uniform he pulls out at Halloween. Oh Doc Bones. Laughs halfway through his line. Damn it, Maru, I'm a doctor not a rocket scientist. 🦴

Caroline is a bit of a prankster on Spirit's Eve. A sugary spider in the orange Jello, anyone? 🕸

Pierre hates the holiday, but it's a great way to make money. All the pumpkin and candy sales. Abigail calls her dad a grinch. Wrong holiday, sweetheart. 😁

Elliott would make a dashing swashbuckling pirate. Complete with an eye patch borrowed from Marlon, a sword borrowed from Lance, the 18th century tricorn borrowed from Willy, and the parrot 🦜 from Emily.

Willy dusted off the old Sherlock Holmes outfit. A good excuse to smoke his pipe. Plus he's solved a mystery or two at sea, and reading Sir Arthur Conan Doyle helped pass the time. 🕵️‍♂️

Marlon doesn't really like dressing up, but he does it for the kids. Jas especially lights up when he arrives with his purple glowing orb. , Fortunes abound. It brings a smile to Marnie's face too. 🔮

Lance can't go as an Adventurer. It would be too obvious. Instead he cosplays another famous Arthur - a king from Camelot. The Round Table does sound ideal. Plus he hopes to tempt a pretty townsperson to play his Guinevere. 👑

Morris drunkenly crashes the festival, dressed as Daddy Warbucks. 💰 🤑 💸 Bald is not a good look on you, dude.

(Somehow I headcanon Claire as his neice. She was attending as Marian the Librarian from the Music Man musical. And she is beyond embarrassed when her uncle shows up). 📖

Gus came as a cowboy and rides to the rescue, offers to drive Morris home. 🤠

Sam and Shane, fellow Joja buddies, both try to make a distraught Claire feel better, after they find her hiding out on the beach. Well really Sam with his quips and Shane smoking and leaning against the rocks, offering to TP Morris' home nonchalantly. 🧻

Penny makes an amazing Amelia Earhart. Famous pilot who disappeared over the ocean somewhere. Cute coiffed curls peeping out from her aviator cap. Random aviation facts gathered from her library research. Harvey is smitten. 🛬

Clint wants to impress Emily. He goes as the Karate Kid. 🥋 Nearly gets wiped out during Marlon and Gil's annual demonstration.

Gunther tries juggling. He keeps dropping the ball. Everyone appreciates the effort. 🤹

Leah makes an appearance as Diana, alter ego Wonder Woman. She looks incredible in leather. Alex is drooling. He can't believe he's never noticed her before. 🦸‍♀️

#stardew valley thoughts #stardew valley #sdv headcanon #sdv demetrius #sdv robin #sve olivia #sdv sebastian #sdv maru #sdv harvey #sdv caroline #sdv jodi #sdv pierre #sdv abigail #sdv elliott #sdv willy #sdv marlon #sdv emily #sve lance #sdv marnie #sdv jas #sdv morris #sdv penny #sve claire #sdv sam #sdv clint #sdv shane #sdv gus #sdv gunther #sdv leah #sdv alex

[letstalkwhump]

Let's Talk Whump No.13

Welcome to Let’s Talk Whump, a series of interviews that spotlight the amazing people in our whump community. I’m Malice and I’ll be your host. 

Our wonderful interviewee for today is @unicornscotty!

Let’s start with something none non whump related about yourself!

I do Karate and have done for as long as I can remember. I've gone to a few abroad competitions such as World and European championships and hope to do them more in the future. It is a huge part of my life outside Whump.

What does whump mean to you?

I think its just a type of writing that is very different for everyone. To some it is a way to deal with trauma or it is a release. I don't know exactly what it is for me but... its a small corner of the Internet where I can write without judgement and that makes me happy. Also whumping OCs is fun.

And how did you find the whump community? What made you want to join? 

Well I just found it through prompts on Pinterest. Then I found some Tumblr blogs through Pinterest and became a recurring anon on the amazing milk-carton-whumps going by the unicorn emoji who convinced me to make a blog and now here I am.

Are there tropes you now love/hate that you didn't at first? 

I don't think there's been a big difference. I haven't read as BBU lately but at the same time I haven't found any new BBU/ pet whump. I know it's out there. I'll keep looking. I have been writing it privately with Milk.

And your favourite whump tropes?

Mistaken identity, hidden injury, royal whumo.is always good

Favourite piece you've written? Hype yourself up, we want to hear it!

My Pirate story I do love Alex I am proud of ch 10, but it holds alot of spoilers for the previous chapters. https://www.tumblr.com/unicornscotty/681796100215144448/chapter-10?source=share

Do you have a standard writing routine?

... I just take what I can get. My brain refuses to write sometimes!

Is there anything you struggle with writing?

Ummm I haven't written enough to find that yet. Once I get into the story, the words usually flow quite fast.

Anything new you’re working on?

I'm about to get a lot more free time in about 2 weeks and I plan to start writing a lot more.

Care to share a little bit of writing advice?

Oh no uhm... it doesn't matter what you write in the first draft, just write it, get it out of your head and onto paper or the screen.

Shout out to your favourite writing/whump blogs, bffs or people who've inspired you.

Trying to remember usernames now!

@milk-carton-whump as I have mentioned 

@just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

@spookyboywhump

@cowboy-anon

@sideblogformindtrash

@tears-and-lilies (they haven't been in for a year but their work is amazing!)

Anything you'd like to add? 

Keep writing, don't worry about whatever one else thinks.

It was a pleasure to have you on the show, @unicornscotty! Thanks so much for joining us today!

And to all you folks at home, have a whump-derful day!

[depressed-sasuke]

Triplets continued

Ok even longer post I'm writing this somewhere else lol

Joe- possibly my fav

I feel like Joe is the kindest and most sociable of the triplets. Although he doesn't have another supporting character in his movie, the way he interacts with the others says a LOT, he goes out of his way to talk and just be friendly. He even ends up staying at the bartender's place. He shows how he Builds relationships with people Manco and blondie might have said a quick word to.

He also smiles a lot >0<

I can tell if he did have another person, he'd be playful and easy to get along with.

He definitely doesn't like people disrespecting him or his horse lol, he drags out the fight and gives the guys a chance to redeem themselves, shooting them just as they start to shoot. He definitely drags it out which makes him seem silly, doing the same when he fights Ramon, teasing him with remarks like "Shoot for the heart Ramon, or you'll never kill me" "The heart Ramon"

He goes out of his way to help a ton he had been in town for less than 10 minutes! He makes up this whole plan to kill one side then to join the other nd turn them against eachother for a final battle. We can see he doesn't do it for money either, because after he learns of the woman's dilemma, he risk his life to put her and her family back together and give them all the money he earns because ...

"I knew someone like you once and there was No one to help."

(His own mother perhaps?)

Then he goes back into town, gets beat and refuses to leave permanently until he kills Ramon and saves the town.

What a cool guy! Definitely a Drifter with a cowboy complex, which could be correct as he was kinda the first "Anti-Hero" in a western, not good nor bad and the first Sergio did!

Sergio and Clint definitely nailed the final one with Blondie.

Manco-

Slightly more difficult because he and blondie are more alike.

He is more talkative than blondie and less talkative than Joe.

But he is more BOLD, the way he finds out who Col.Mortimer is and immediately decides to force him to leave town. When that doesn't work he punches him and then tries to intimidate him by shooting his hat.

And while it took some time he got involved with personal matters too, while it wasn't deciding to help an entire town, he got to know Mortimer and decides to help out with his final battle, bringing up their partnership when all is done, like he expected the two of them to ride off together.

He's definitely not afraid to make threats at possible danger and when time to kill he doesn't take much time talking before he shoots. He seems to get in physical fight as equally gunfights, according to how well he fights in the beginning of the movie (like three karate chops happened) and then punching the colonel.

He definitely doesn't care if someone he threatens is good or bad, young or old, as long as the thing gets done and the information is told. Making him more abrasive than his other siblings, he does whatever he wants to get whatever he wants.

Having a soft spot for Mortimer makes him seem softer however, helping him in the final battle. I think he likes the way Mortimer holds himself up. He's respectable yet dangerous. He definitely does what he wants to get what he wants Aswell, but he holds his head up high in doing so, making him endearing to Manco. Of course Manco is impatient and likes things done quickly and effectively unlike Joe, giving him and Mortimer something to bicker about.

Also the reason why he would probably hate tuco . Unlike blondie, he seems to outwardly hate things that annoy/Test him and as I said more abrasive, Which would make him more reactive to tucos antics, because of course he's not going to let some guy insult him or whatever. Manco thinks he's annoying, messy, stupid, ect. He'd try to kill him after they first met, hah.

Blondie-

The epitome of Western Drifter, Lone wolf. Yet somehow he is the Good!

He is the least sociable out of the bunch and doesn't talk much and he doesn't get visibly angry or upset.

While he does a few kind things like blow up the bridge for the general and give his cigarette to the dying man his bad actions even them out.

He leaves Tuco stranded in the desert 70 miles from town because "I feel a man like you can make it" He just abandoned Tuco for no reason!

Unless it was because he missed his shot, That would make him the most prideful out of the three, he doesn't like to be wrong, especially in front of someone like Tuco, who at fhe start he proably assumed lesser than himself. It's his own way of being upset.

Like his brother Manco, he definitely only grows close to a few people and that person happens to be Tuco!

After Tuco gets his rightful revenge on him, he definitely mellows out about Tuco and is kinder to him, like offering his cigarette after overhearing the brothers' convo.

And When he inquires Angel eyes about tuco after hearing he was being beaten up as the song played. He definitely likes how loud and dangerous Tuco is and enjoys putting up with him because he's equally as petty and messy. While never fully trusting him, he definitely preferred him over the cold hearted Angel eyes.

Yet still hangs him at the end of the movie and sets him free, soo very petty lol.

I rambled about and blondie too much!!

He's definitely the most complex out of the three.

He doesn't kill for right or wrong he kills because he has too, every situation he kills is called for, he never goes out of his way to kill for somebody (Joe) or kill -or at least try too- Just for the sake of getting something out of it. (Manco)

He obviously didn't have a goal at first. Something about how he and tuco played scammers instead of just bounty hunting. Not liking to work hard, just wanting to take an easy way out?

He probably doesn't think about it too hard, he kills the living sometimes. That seems to be it for him.

That seems to be it for now I guess! I love all of them equally!! Just my take on them being triplets haha.

#the good the bad and the ugly #dollars trilogy #a fistful of dollars

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Video Killed The Radio Star ⭐️ | Rhett Abbott Headcanon

Link to my Rhett Abbott Masterlist

Rhett dating someone obsessed with the 80s would look like:

The second verse in the song “1985,” by Bowling for Soup literally describes you when it goes, “She’s seen all the classics. She knows every line. Breakfast Club, Pretty In Pink, even St. Elmo’s Fire. She rocked to Wham! Not a big Limp Bizkit fan. Thought she’d get a hand on a member of Duran Duran.” Yeah, you’ve seen all the classics (including Dirty Dancing, Footloose, Top Gun, The Outsiders, The Karate Kid, Terminator, etc) and can recite every line to the point you don’t even need your eyes on the screen when the scene plays. Rhett was amazed the first time he witnessed it and would challenge you during the scenes with a lot of dialogue.

Rhett was well aware of your love for the 80s. The movies, the music, the aesthetic, just everything. The whole damn reason y’all met was because you worked at the record store in town. He’d always admired you from afar and finally got the courage to go in and talk to you. Wearing an AC/DC shirt and smudged eyeliner, you definitely gave off that classic rock look. Sometimes he’d come in and you were more colorful like when channeling Cyndi Lauper or Witney Houston.

After that first conversation Rhett swore he could hear you talk for hours. You spitted fact after fact to him when he asked questions about a particularly band or movie. Like you knew the exact date MTV launched on cable (August 1st, 1981) and the first music video that aired (Video Killed The Radio Star by The Buggles). Other famous events you knew by heart were Charles & Diana’s wedding, the Space Shuttle Challenger explosion, the Berlin Wall coming down, and the fact the 1984 L.A Olympics was boycotted by the USSR & their allies.

Rhett could easily pick up on who your favorite bands/artists, songs, movies, and 80s heartthrobs were by how consistently you spoke of them. It amazed him, especially because you were likely either a small child or not even alive when the 80s happened, but everything about you screamed you were born in the wrong decade. “I take it if you could go back in time and choose a decade to live in, It’d be the 80s huh?” “Is that even a question? It’s why I need them to crack the code to time travel so I can go!”

Anytime y’all go on road trips you are in charge of the aux and Rhett has grown accustomed to your choice of music. By now he knows all the lyrics from Def Leppard’s Hysteria and almost everything from Journey and Whitney Houston. Before he met you, all Rhett listened to was country and maybe a modern pop or jazz/blues artist once in a blue moon, now his music taste has broaden to classic/metal rock & techno pop. He personally prefers AC/DC, Guns n Roses, & The Simple Minds and you’ll catch him jamming when he thinks you’re not in the room. “Don’t look at me like that, Y/n.” “I’m just admiring those moves, cowboy.” “Stop right there, or imma have to punish you.” “Does punish involve playing ‘Pour Some Sugar On Me,’ if you know what I mean?”

Anytime y’all go on road trips you are in charge of the aux and Rhett has grown accustomed to your choice of music. By now he knows all the lyrics from Def Leppard’s Hysteria and almost everything from Journey and Whitney Houston. Before he met you, all Rhett listened to was country and maybe a modern pop or jazz/blues artist once in a blue moon, now his music taste has broaden to classic/metal rock & techno pop. He personally prefers AC/DC, Guns n Roses, & The Simple Minds and you’ll catch him jamming when he thinks you’re not in the room. “Don’t look at me like that, Y/n.” “I’m just admiring those moves, cowboy.” “Stop right there, or imma have to punish you.” “Does punish involve playing ‘Pour Some Sugar On Me,’ if you know what I mean?”

Not many groups/artists still toured, but the ones that did you guys would try your best to attend the concerts. Together you both saw Pat Benetar, Def Leppard, Journey, & even Rick Springfield a couple times. On your bucket list is to see Mötley Crue, Metallica, Cyndi Lauper, and Joan Jett.

When it comes to birthdays & holidays, Rhett loves to spoil you when he gets enough money too. Merchandise and collectors items are usually what he sets his eyes on to get you, but then he discovered the annual ‘80s in the Sand’ festival that takes place in the Dominican Republic where several of your favorite artists/groups will attend. When he heard about that, Rhett was on a mission. For over a year he saved every penny to book flights, tickets, rooms at the resort before surprising you on your birthday with an envelope. You were a fucking mess at the table when you opened the envelope and read the writing—you couldn’t believe he actually got you tickets for the festival. “What the fuck, Rhett—o-oh my gosh how did you—how did you do this!?” You stuttered between sobs, tackling him to the floor and kissing all over his face as he laughed beneath you. “I love you so much—thank you thank you. This is the best gift ever!!”

The anticipation and working so hard to take you to the festival was so worth it when you guys arrived. The smile on your face never left and Rhett swore you were gonna pass out when Simon Le Bon from Duran Duran waved to you. “I just fucking made eye contact with Simon fucking Le Bon—Rhett!! He waved at me!!” Then after y’all had some drinks at the hotel bar you about shit your pants at the realization Nina Blackwood, one of the five original MTV’s VJ’s, was sitting next to you and had complimented your outfit.

Each time you happened to get the once in a life time chance to meet/interact with the artist/group you spent years fangirling over, Rhett would have a tissue ready to catch your tears (of happiness of course) and capture every picture/video so you could have it forever. He literally was the best boyfriend you could ask for, still in disbelief he had given you such an amazing gift he knew you would cherish till the day you died. It was truly the experience of a lifetime.

That entire trip Rhett fell more in love with you and with your love for the decade. He could see it in your eyes and how you connected with people not only y’all’s age who were there, but also the older folks who grew up during that time. Rhett couldn’t wait for you both to go again the next year, making it a goal to attend annually and working to save every penny to make sure he could see that light in you shine bright in the place you belonged.

#rhett abbott x y/n #rhett abbott headcanon #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott x reader #rhett Abbott fluff #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbott #rhett abbott outer range #outer range imagine #outer ranger headcanon #lewis pullman #fluff

[cosmixsoupmix]

A Deep Dive into Gorillaz's "Hallelujah Money" (repost)

I have already written this post on my main blog (@cosmixbun) but I am putting it on this one so I have it here too !! (originally written in 2022-2023)

For those who don’t know the song ‘Hallelujah Money’, it is a song released by the band, ‘Gorillaz’ on the ‘Humanz’ album on January 17, 2017. Or more known as the eve of Donald Trump’s inauguration (keep this in mind, it’s very important.). The majority of the vocals were sung by Benjamin Clementine, the rest of course, was 2-D. The lyrics can be found here, if you want to read them. The music video can be found here. I suggest watching and reading both before really looking into this.

DISCLAIMER: I am not a big music person, I only find music video interest in the Gorillaz music videos. If I say something that you do not believe or have differing opinions, great. This is just what I bring to the table all these years later. There’s plenty more where I come from.

THE VIDEO:

I’m going to explain as best as I can with both parts so bear with me. Again, it would help to watch the video to see the background and the emotions in the video as portrayed by Benjamin. So, in the music video upon opening, we see the only person who will be the center of the whole music video, Benjamin. We see him in a shiny, gold building. This hallway, in the building, is a reference to the Trump Tower and Benjamin is portraying Trump, or at the least his ideals. The background images that are used in the music video are disturbing and can sometimes set an uneasy feeling. I’m not going to go super in depth on each image or video because there’s a lot but you can find the breakdown somewhere. In the music video we see flashes for symbols or things that symbolize power, such as the pyramid with the eye on the back of the US dollar bill (which is said to represent God or the illuminati, so pick one), a cowboy, and even a creepy clown video (not really a ‘power’ in a societal sense, but they affected how we lived for a while.) While the videos and pictures are shown in the back, the lyrics are being said. The majority of the time, the video and pictures have somewhat no connotation to the lyrics being sung. The end of the video ends with a clip of Spongebob screaming and crying, this was taken from the episode called ‘Karate Choppers’ from season one. The clip is right after Mr.Krabs, his boss, tells him that he’s fired. “You’re fired.” is one of Donald Trump’s signature quotes.

THE LYRICS:

Going into the lyrics I will also tie into the things that I had talked about in the music video. The lyrics in the beginning are more of acknowledging that the US is a growing country and that everyone is allowed here, except for `The scarecrows that come from the far east”. Benjamin then sings that to keep them away “Is by building walls, Walls like unicorns In full glory and galore” making a reference to the wall Trump had promised in his campaign that he was going to build. A lot of people in the states were looking forward to this and as it states, it was going to be a big project that would be looked at by many. Benjamin at this time in the music video is calm and collected and seems to be confident in what he is saying. He is also singing his thoughts about the American Dream, and how it is only for the starving, To me, this is saying that the people who don’t have it bad in this country don’t even have to think about the American Dream because they think they are already living it. Those who are struggling to get by everyday dream about the day where they won’t have to get up and wonder what their next meal is or even if they will see next week. Those people have their own dreams about the American Dream. He then thanks the people for trusting him, a reference to the fact that he is going to get inaugurated the next day. I’m going to skip 2-d’s parts for now and skip to the next time Benjamin starts to sing. The next verse that Benjamin sings is ‘Trump’ saying that even though this is how life is, we can’t do much about it, everyone in the world just wants power. We can’t be upset over something that is bound to repeat itself. He even says, “And the whole beasts of nations desire, Power”. In some way or another we want power. Trump definitely understood this and had taken it to a whole new level.

Now going into 2-d’s parts he sings both bridges in the song. In both parts that he sings he is singing directly to Benjamin. He’s asking these questions that we still ask today, “When the morning come, We are still human, How will we know? How will we dream? How will we love? How will we know ?” These questions are from the people and they are asking that if the world is so corrupt, how will we ever be able to love each other if all we can do is fight and argue. The first time 2-d comes to ask these questions, all Benjamin can do is listen. 2-d sits in Benjamin’s silhouette and Benjamin stays still. The second time he sings the same lyrics, Benjamin seems uneasy and  worried, scared, and fearful. Benjamin’s hands are shaking and the book he’s holding, he is weary about. The music becomes more, ‘anxiety filled’. Then not too long after 2-d is done, Benjamin goes back to normal. Symbolizing that in his campaign and unknowingly, the years to come, he was going to be questioned and under heavy watch because not only was he a public figure, but a lot of allegations and scandals came up about him. In the same moment, he starts to sing, “Hallelujah Money” and rub his hands together in a way that you would say money, with your thumb, pointer, and middle finger. This was then showing that even after all of that, he still had support and his fame, all the efforts did nothing to him. He wasn't phased by a single thing that came towards him.

MY THOUGHTS:

So what are my thoughts on this music video? Three words.

Absolutely.

Fucking.

Incredible.

This music video was not only amazingly made, but Benjamin did the entire music video in one take. But coming away from that, the message that this brings to the table about how the former president saw the American Dream? How he felt about power and wealth? I think it captured it perfectly. The imagery that was used in the back of the video is stunning. The way they used the analogies in this was so intricate, but it worked and fit so well. The way that they went into it and went, ‘Ya know what. Let’s give it to em’.’ My absolute favorite part of this was the lines used to describe the different sides of the American Dream. The way they also used the tree analogy in the beginning to describe the idea of western prosperity just really sold it for me.  The way this song was produced and how it sounds like a choir is singing with Benjamin to me is just the opinions of the people who agree with Trump and his ideals and them being like, ‘yeah, for the money.’ The kind of tone that song has is kind of 'rejoiceful' but having that hint of that ‘uneasiness’ that I had mentioned earlier. It just makes you think that it’s a normal Gorillaz song. The entire song is just powerful to me and after seeing it once again and hearing the song once again, and celebrating 4 years of the album...My appreciation only grows for it.

That’s pretty much it but I would like to close out with a quote from none other than Murdoc Niccals himself:

"In these dark times, we all need someone to look up to. That's why I'm giving you this new Gorillaz song, a lighting bolt of truth in a black night. You're welcome."

#gorillaz #russel hobbs #murdoc niccals #stuart pot #2d gorillaz #noodle gorillaz #media analysis #media criticism #analysis #discussion #criticism #opinion #essay

[myveryownfanfiction]

I’m bored. I’ve had a bad week. So I’m just gonna answer these.

What do you do for work? Currently retail. I also work comic cons. I’ve worked in a library before too.

Tell me about your first kiss. Haven’t had it yet.

What playlists do you have on your phone? A few. I have one that’s a cowboy emoji for Jensen ackles and Christian Kane. I have a vampire for kiefer Sutherland and the lost boys soundtrack. I have one with a pirate flag that’s a mix of Alice cooper, Jeff beck and Johnny depp and the Hollywood vampires. I have one of just music that makes me feel good and I have another one of music I’ve just bought that I will listen to for weeks until I’m tired of the songs. And a Christmas list.

Do you like cooking or baking more? Cooking. I’ve burned myself on an oven too many times to enjoy baking.

Guilty pleasures? Uh actors turned musicians? Does that count? Sue me but I enjoy kiefer Sutherland and Jensen ackles and Johnny depp doing their new thing.

Something you regret. Not saying goodbye to my loved one. And getting an education degree.

Celebrity crush? Oh god where do I start haha currently it’s hugh grant and John larroquette. Since I was a kid it was kiefer Sutherland and Harrison ford. I’ve also been known to crush on a marvel actor or five.

How many languages do you know? Two. English and French.

Make a confession. I absolutely hate being in social situations. Parties, work, just being in places with lots of people but for some reason I am able to navigate and enjoy conventions with no problems.

What's your favorite book? Hmmm. That’s tough. Probably between three. Peter Pan and Wendy by JM Barrie. The body by Stephen king. Or one flew over the cuckoos nest by Ken Kesey.

What was your childhood dream job? Funny enough, I wanted to work with celebrities. Didn’t matter what I was doing just work with famous people. And I am.

Do you have any pets? No. But I want a husky and a black cat.

How many siblings do you have? Are you oldest, middle, or youngest? Technically, I’m the youngest and I have one older half sibling. But considering she left and basically has been cut off, I tell people I have no siblings.

How tall are you? 5’4”

What's something you're insecure about? I have muscle from years of dancing and karate. Lots of people get confused as to why I have it and makes me appear a little bigger than I am, especially when going to the doctor.

When is your birthday? 12/27

Embarrassing memory? Probably asking out my ex in the most anxiety inducing way while my friends played Disney love songs in the background

What's the most expensive thing you've ever bought? Material item would probably be my arc reactor from Disney. In terms of like con stuff, an autograph/photo op pair with kiefer sutherland.

Have you ever had a one night stand? Nope.

Have you ever been caught doing the do? Nope

A song that evokes a good memory? It varies. People are strange evokes the memory of meeting kiefer. Jesus of suburbia evokes the memory of seeing Green Day for the first time. The other side from greatest showman evokes the memory of being up at midnight dancing on tables with friends (we were sober too which was hilarious). The avengers main theme evokes Disney memories from this past October. Welcome to the black parade reminds me of meeting Kevin smith. A thousand years reminds me of my first con.

A song that evokes a bad memory? Not a bad memory per se but a sad one. Wake me up when September ends for my loved ones funeral.

Do you prefer phone calls, facetime, or texting? Texting. FaceTime with one or two people.

Your favorite pet name from your partner? (baby girl, honey, brat, etc.) my ex called me cap cuz of my love of marvel.

What's a controversial opinion you have? Y’all ain’t ready for it since it involves the beloved Taylor swift.

Do you believe in second chances? Yes

3 things you love about yourself. My knowledge of weird things. My apparent ability to get along great with people I grew up watching. The ability not to give a fuck about what people think of me.

What is something you are sure you'd NEVER do? Skydive

How different is your actual adult self from how you pictured it when you were little? Not much. I’m doing my dream job twice a year and I work in a nerd store rn.

Have you ever met a celebrity? Many. So freaking many.

Free Pass! (Ask whatever question you want to know that's not on the list)

[mitochondriaandbunnies]

The second season of the occasionally enjoyable and frequently groan-inducing Street Justice has given Carl Weathers YET ANOTHER grown ass white man to vaguely parent in a questionable and possibly fetishistic fashion.

a) this one is Eric McCormack less-than-convincingly playing a rich-boy-turned-rules-are-for-losers-cop b) Carl Weathers tells this rich manboy's actual-for-real-father (this one isn't a war orphan) that he "cares for his son" after knowing (and largely disliking??) him for about twelve hours c) his other 30-something white man (the war orphan who does karate) is definitely jealous d) why is this Stephen J. Cannell's incredibly specific kink e) does Stephen J. Cannell want Carl Weathers to be his constantly flustered and morally conflicted daddy too

Also in the episode following the introduction to McCormack's character, Carl Weathers' 30-something adoptive Irish-pub-owning daughter (truly, every single character in this show simply decides they have a new dad the moment they meet Carl Weathers) has a whirlwind romance with a random cowboy she knew from high school (WHERE does this show take place. Is it Cananda??? Why is there a cowboy?). At one point she asks CarlDad if he is jealous of her cowboy boyfriend because the show CANNOT make up its mind whether it wants him to be Actual Dad or Hot for Daddy and he is like WTF NO and seems deeply weirded out by this question, and then the episode ends and frames CarlDad and Son 1 (karate idiot war orphan) behind Pub Daughter and Cowboy Boyfriend like this:

This show is a fucking treasure

What the hell am I watching

#street justice #stephen j cannell #carl weathers #bryan genesse #charlene fernetz #i would say there was no way that framing wasn't purposeful except this show is so deeply stupid that it genuinely could be #'what a beautiful romantic parallel between Malloy and her cowboyfriend and Grady/Beaudreaux- the postures and costuming are the same an-' #'a romantic what between what and who' #'we did what' #'we don't even have a costumer they just came in in their regular clothes'

[philipjohnclapp]

Fandoms I’ll write:

Also, I can write as basically anyone. No limits, but I prefer angst & smut. Leave your suggestions/request please.

JACKASS MASTERLIST

Click Above!! ^^

I Am The Number Four By Pitticus Lore

That Was Then This is Now By S.E. Hinton

The Outsiders By S.E. Hinton

Rumble Fish By S.E. Hinton

Tex By S.E. Hinton

Taming The Star Runner By S.E. Hinton

Hawkes Harbor By S.E. Hinton

Jackass [MTV Show and Movies]

Spree

Action Point

Rosy

Gnarly By Steve-O

Grease

Hairspray

Hamilton

Stranger Things

BoJack Horseman

Cobra Kai

Karate Kid

Erased

Zach Stone is gonna be famous

Devilman Crybaby

My Hero Academia

The Breakfast Club

Young Guns [All Movies]

ST. Elmo’s Fire

Freejack

the War at Home [100% YESS!]

In the Custody of Strangers [PLEASE]

Up the Academy

Teachers [1984]

The Three Wishes of Billy Grier

Wild Things

Drugstore Cowboy

My Bodyguard [1980]

Kiss before Dying

Liar's moon

Youngblood [A fav]

Oxford Blues

The Hotel New Hampshire

Rain Man

Born on the Fourth of July

Dirty Dancing

Ghost [1990]

Road House

Point Break

Red Dawn

Grandview USA

The Hitcher [both]

Secret Admirer [1985]

Haikyuu

The Umbrella Academy

Top Gun

Top Gun Maverick

Jerry Maguire

Just Tom Cruise in general

House MD

Inception

The Cable Guy

House MD

#jackass #roleplay #the outsiders #youngblood #emilio estevez #cobra kai #karate kid #action point #angst prompt #spree movie #se hinton #hamilton musical #zach stone is gonna be famous #young guns #the breakfast club #stranger things #st elmo's fire #steve o #johnny knoxville #born on the fourth of july #rain man #dirty dancing #the hitcher #the umbrella academy #the war at home

[rhysles]

☆ CHRISTMAS 2022 ― gifts from rhys.

☆ DYLAN DUNSMORE. ( @dylandunsmore )

for dylan, rhys seized the opportunity back in october when he’d spent a few nights over at her place to kidnap her favorite stuffed frog plush, taking it with him so he could send it away to have it very carefully and lovingly cleaned and refurbished. he’s returned to his rightful home in a gift bag, nestled between homemade beeswax candles in mason jars ( a side endeavor he’s been working on, she’s the first to receive them ) and an assortment of candies and snacks like he used to stuff her stocking with when she was growing up. under all of it is another small, wrapped gift ― a photo clearly taken on an old, disposable camera many years ago of the three dunsmore siblings out in the backyard of their old house in the middle of a blizzard as children, dylan up to her knees in snow. rhys made the frame the photo is in out of scrap wood he found in the same backyard where it was taken.

☆ ELLIOT DUNSMORE. ( @elliotxdunsmore​ )

for elliot, rhys spent several months at the beginning of the year collecting wood from finn’s junkyard to repurpose into a bookshelf he built by hand out in the back yard and kept locked away in the shed to hide from his brother for the few more months it took him to build it, working on it for an hour or two here and there when he could. it isn’t wrapped because rhys isn’t sure he wants to fight that battle, but the shelves already have a few books on them, old ones rhys found of elliot’s when he was digging through their childhood things at their pops’ house.

☆ CORA STANLEY. ( @corastanley​ )

for cora, actual days are spent trying to decide on the right gift. christ, he hasn’t had a girlfriend in how long? he’s rusty, and he doesn’t want to make too grand a gesture ( and he’s not sure how well his wallet could manage one ) but he doesn’t want to disappoint her either, because she deserves something she’ll love. he eventually settles on a necklace, something small and simple that she might be able to wear every day if she wanted to — a fourteen karat gold chain adorned with a tiny bee charm. it’s kept in a small box on his person christmas day until the right moment under the mistletoe arrives that evening and he can gift it to her along with a kiss.

☆ EMMA STANLEY.

for emma, a small stuffed bear with a baby blue cowboy hat to match the one he’d gifted her at the rodeo, and it holds an envelope containing a hand-written coupon good for either one afternoon spent playing games with rhys and her mom at snake eyes or one movie night at the drive in as soon as the weather’s warm enough. in light of the gift she gave him for christmas, it doesn’t feel like enough — he’s only a little bit embarrassed to admit that the drawing of the three of them standing on the lawn outside of cora and emma’s house, all holding hands, was enough to make him tear up in the moment when she gave it to him and actually break down and cry hours later in his truck, pulled into the driveway, after he’s left christmas dinner at the stanley house.

☆ ANGEL O’CONNOR. ( @angeloconnor​ )

for angel, a hand-bound leather journal embossed with an ornate celestial design and featuring an onyx stone set in the cover to match the lighter case he got her for her birthday and a set of pens to go with it. the journal is empty, save for a note written on the first page by rhys reminding her that he’s always there to listen whenever she wants someone to talk to, but now she’s got a couple hundred blank pages for when she doesn’t. ( or when she just gets tired of talking to an old man. ) the bottom of the page is filled with shoddy doodles of snowflakes and what were supposed to look like snow angels but turned out more looking like crime scene outlines, and of course, love your brother from another mother, rhys.

☆ FINN O’CONNOR. ( @finn-oconnor​ )

for finn, a bottle of redbreast twelve year and a set of four new whiskey glasses. they’re nothing fancy and didn’t set him back too much for the whole lot, but rhys did take one of them in to a very kind older woman who occasionally runs a stall at the rodeo in the winter who personalizes gifts — typically leather or metal, so it was a long shot that she’d even be able —  and found that she could etch a monogram into the glass for him, so it’s engraved with his initials and a shamrock, and he’ll always know which one’s his when any of the rest of the south side hooligans come to bother him.

☆ DANNY ANDERSON. ( @danny--anderson​ )

for danny, a crewneck that still remains wrapped in his living room, a gift he’d gotten danny before their fight. he hasn’t seen him since, and fuck if he doesn’t miss his best friend, and he’s honestly tempted to just show up on his doorstep with the poorly wrapped, vulgar sweatshirt as a way to start to try and mend things with him.

☆ DJ ANDERSON. ( @dougie-anderson​ )

for dougie, a copper japanese tamagoyaki omelette pan. it’s small and strange looking to rhys, who hasn’t the slightest clue about cooking, but he knows he did see a youtube video of a guy rolling an omelette with a very similar pan and talking it up, and it seems cool, so he goes with it anyway, pairing the gift with a six pack of a citrusy IPA and a note that he’s gotta break the pan out next time they do brunch or something... is brunch too fancy for the southside? rhys doesn’t know. it’s just an excuse to drink at his favorite meal of the day.

☆ DUSTY ANDERSON. ( @dusty-anderson )

for dusty, rhys didn’t actually have a gift planned and was probably going to offer him a six-pack of beer. until the drunk bastard stumbled into his yard and smashed his beehive one night not long before christmas, that is. in return, rhys decides to get him a small breathalyzer on a keychain so he can carry it around with him and make sure to stay the fuck out of rhys’ yard when he blows a little too high.

☆ SOFIA SILVA. ( @sofia-silva​ )

for sofia, a handmade wooden boot rack for her mud room that he built over the summer and has spent the past several months trying to convince himself not to give her early because he’s actually really awful for that. it’s hand-delivered to her house with a bottle of wine and a hug a few days before christmas, and a promise to come visit her even more in the new year.

☆ STRIKER CANNON. ( @strikercannon​ )

for striker, a carton of marlboro reds and a twenty-four pack of beer that he picked up on sale at the liquor store. it ain’t much, but rhys knows it’ll at least be enough to hold him over long enough to have a couple of good nights. or maybe one really good night, knowing striker.

#☆ christmas 2022 #☆ dylan #☆ elliot #☆ cora #☆ danny #☆ finn #☆ angel #☆ dusty #☆ dj #☆ sofia #☆ striker #this is so belated but it took me forever laksdfalkjsd #anyway merry christmas from rhys y'all

[susiesamurai]

For the ⚡ 80s movie asks (lol had to keep the lightning) - Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure, The Karate Kid, Drugstore Cowboy, Heathers annndd Dead Poet's Society! ^_^

Okay here we go!

bill and ted’s excellent adventure: are you more of an optimist or pessimist? - I am the secret third option, a realist lol I like to always be prepared or pleasantly surprised.

the karate kid: when did you last have to work really hard to achieve something you’re proud of? - ummmm... I spent two days doing a Swarovski Crystal insurance claim for work with nothing more to go on than photos of the 200+ items that went back to the 70s?

drugstore cowboy: which historical figure most spikes your interest? - yeeesh, hard one here. I have honestly gone blank and forgotten every single historical figure ever.

heathers: did you apologise the last time you were unreasonably mean? - yes I did! I was in a lot of pain and answered a young coworkers question with far too much sarcasm. Apologised right away and offered her some nuts haha

dead poet’s society: the last time you made a decision that everyone around you told you not to make, how did it work out? - I ended up getting married and becoming a step-mum, so far it's worked out pretty great.

Thanks for asking friend!

#ask me stuff #8os movies ask game