#once I'm done with school i want to dedicate real time to it

[bby-bo]

When The Boss Comes Knocking

the following is a CEO!Sakusa fic that landed somewhere between sfw and sorta nsfw, but its kiyoomi and he just makes my brain go buzz in every situation so i just couldn’t help it 

Part 2

Summary: You dated Sakusa in high school but went your separate ways after graduation. Turns out he missed you much more than he let on. 

Warnings: none, just kiyoomi being hot. use of “sweetheart” and “baby”

Sakusa Kiyoomi always has been and will always be the man of your dreams. Tall and broad shouldered, even in his high school years he was the pinnacle of your existence, and all you wanted was to be near him. Your wishes were granted for only a brief period of time when you finally dated in your junior year, but your Kiyoomi was ripped away from you when his family decided he needed to start preparing to take over the business.

The Sakusa Group was well known and respected for their acquisition of many successful start-ups, but details of their business dealings were always very secretive. And the company had only grown and expanded since Kiyoomi became CEO at just a mere 25 years old- not that you were stalking the Sakusa Group’s movements in your free time or anything.

When the two of you broke up he had encouraged you to “follow your own dreams”, and made sure to mention he would be extremely busy in the years after graduating high school.  You had received the underlying message loud and clear. He wanted to be left alone and didn’t want a girl from a regular family ruining his image when he entered the executive world. Your heart was shattered, but that didn’t stop you from missing Kiyoomi dearly even years later. The hugs that completely enveloped your frame and the scent of his light cologne, the one he brought you to pick out for him on his birthday. The rasp of his deep voice and how its sound had burrowed into the back of your brain, the memories of random things he once said to you popping to the forefront of your mind haphazardly throughout your days.

You had done as he said, and moved to the city to become an author as you always dreamed. Actually, you were pretty successful in the romance industry and even though you only had a handful of books published, your fanbase was so dedicated and charismatic. In your single year of dating Kiyoomi you had amassed a lifetime’s worth of romantic material, and between your real life experiences with him and the melancholy fantasies that kept you up at night nowadays, you had lots of inspiration. Although, even you were prone to the classically dreaded writer’s block.

Today was just a regular Tuesday morning in the office, where you preferred to write when you were stuck in a rut. Unfortunately, the coffee mug on your desk was not bringing the inspiration that you wanted and you glared at the last sip, willing some piece of creativity to be hiding inside as you downed it. Nothing. Loosening a sigh, you dropped your head into your hands just as a knock rapped on the door. Without lifting your head you greeted the visitor, already knowing who was on the other side.

“Come in!”

“How’s it coming? Anything I can get you right now?” It was the sweet front desk girl, Josie, checking in on you. Again. 

“Unless you can write in my place, there’s not much you can do for me i'm afraid” Josie meant well, but her insistent interruptions certainly were not helping your workflow, and this was the third time within 30 minutes she’s asked if you needed anything.

“Okie dokie, I’ll check back later then! Keep at it! ” 

“Oh, you don’t have to-” She was off with a wave without hearing your response, the door slamming behind her. With another sigh, your head dropped back into your hands, frustration building. 

Not 5 minutes later, there was another knock at the door. But this time the door opened before you could respond.

“Holy shit, Josie i’m really fine I swear- K-Kiyoomi???” You burst from your seat in surprise, your eyes all but popping out of your head.

And there he was, like a fever dream come to life, standing in the doorframe. His handsome face tilted to the side slightly, a smirk pulling across his lips.

“There you are, I’ve been looking for you” His voice had gotten deeper since the last time you spoke. His hair a little longer, his chest a bit stronger. But his eyes remained the same, that dark gaze enticing you and melting you down with just a look.

“W-what are you doing here? How did you-? What is this??” 

As much as you wanted to cave and run straight into his arms, you vividly recalled your last conversation with Sakusa. Not Kiyoomi. He had corrected you so coldly before parting, saying “you should call me by last name from now on, otherwise people may get confused”. As if it would be bad if people mistakenly thought you were still dating. As if to push you that much further away. Your confusion only grew as you looked at him now, unsure of his motives for being here. 

“Came to scope out a new prospect. I sent an executive to meet with your publishing house’s CEO last week” His smirk widened as he took deliberately slow steps into the room, sleek confidence dripping from him. 

That's right, your boss had mentioned that your little publishing house had been recently approached by a huge parent company with an amazing offer, but as far as you knew nothing had been made official. And you certainly had no clue that said parent company was the Sakusa Group. The realization settled in, and the frustration you felt earlier was starting to bubble up again. 

All of a sudden he was in your space, sleek black button-up shirt in your direct line of sight. What was his goal here? Certainly this has nothing to do with you? Right. Exactly. He claimed he was here for business. Then why..??

Long fingers gripped your chin, thumb tugging your bottom lip from between your teeth where you nervously chewed it. 

“Where did you pick up this bad habit? And when are you planning on acknowledging me properly?” Your heart dropped to your stomach. His firm grip brought your face to look up at his, a little too close for comfort. Kiyoomi’s smirk tilted into a small frown, an admonishing look starting to grow.

“Of course sir, I apologize. Good morning Mr. Sakusa.” Backing out of his hold, you bowed in respect. Of course he was here for just business. 

This only seemed to irritate him further though, and when you rose from your greeting he took another step closer. You may as well have been toe to toe now. 

“Since when do you address me that way?” His eyes were too intense, and you could feel the memories of your past relationship coming up in your mind, emotion nearly overwhelming you before you swallowed it down.

“I’m not sure what you mean sir, it would be improper for me to address you otherwise” 

If he was irritated before, then he was surely pissed off now. 

His hands gripped your shoulders, roughly pushing you back against your desk before planting his palms on either side, caging you in. 

“Why won’t you look at me, hm? It’s disrespectful to ignore your superior sweetheart” Shit. That voice had you in a vice grip and he knew it. He was using it to his advantage. 

“I was unaware you would be my business superior until a minute ago, forgive me sir” How long will your legs hold up before melting completely?

“Seems like something is bothering you. You don’t like the idea of working with me? Or maybe you don’t like the idea of me being your boss? Sweetheart, I hope you realize I know you’ve been writing about me.” 

“No! No thats not-!” Your head shot up in a rush to disagree, or maybe to explain. Either way, you immediately realized your mistake and you were silenced once more. The tip of your nose brushed his, and his breath brushed your lips in an intimate greeting, as if to say “hey, i missed you”. 

His mock irritation melted away, the smirk returning once more. You fell into the trap too easily.

Most people knew Sakusa to be the cool and straightforward man he showed to the world, but when you dated in high school he quickly shattered this image. Though he certainly preferred to stay away from crowds and strangers, he was still human after all, and loved to be in your personal space whenever he got you alone. He had always enjoyed making you blush and stutter, thriving off the knowledge that he could affect you so deeply. Clearly, he still enjoyed that feeling. 

But you were not a toy, and he was interrupting your work day. And how dare he just come back into your life after throwing you aside for so many years?! Absolutely not, you refused to be disrespected this way. Your hands came to his chest, giving him a solid (and completely ineffective) shove.

“No. This is not professional Mr. Sakusa-!” 

Sakusa didn’t back up a single inch. Instead he gripped your face, long fingers pinching into your cheeks slightly. Your breath caught in your throat, previous arguments completely obliterated.

“Stop. Saying. No. Now answer me. Since when do you call me by my last name? You’re purposely not answering my question” 

When you took a breath in you caught the scent of his cologne, and it was the same one you picked out for him in high school. He still wore it. Every single thought emptied out of your head, except for the recognition of how close he was to you, and where he was touching you. 

“Say it.”

“K-Kiyoomi...”

“Say it like you mean it, baby.”

“Kiyoomi.” A smile broke out as his name fell from your mouth a second time.

“That’s my girl, just as pretty as ever. I missed you so bad sweetheart, I’ve been looking for you in the city for some time now. And don't worry, I’ll make up for lost time, so don’t push me away.” 

His second hand came up to the back of your head, tugging you back by your hair and bringing your mouth to his. But he didn’t kiss you, he denied you the pleasure, only speaking against your lips. You let him do as he pleased, no longer able to deny how much you missed him. Missed this. 

“Look at you with your hair so grown out now.”

“Do you like it?”

“I love everything about you.” He moved to plant a firm kiss to both of your cheeks, and to your disappointment he slowly released his hands from your face and hair. 

“The Sakusa Group will officially be in ownership of your publisher by the end of the week. You’ll be seeing a lot more of me, so get used to it sweetheart.” He offered no further explanations or goodbyes, and he left your office with only your disheveled and flustered state to prove that he had really been there at all. 

You made absolutely zero progress on your writing the rest of the morning and afternoon, but when you returned the next day ready for another day of failure, you opened the door to see your office transformed into a florist. 

There were flowers on every single surface, completely covering your desk and the floor. There were roses of every shade, along with tulips, orchids, and other kinds of flowers you had never even seen before. Each bouquet was bursting with color and life, wrapped in silk ribbons and set in gorgeous porcelain vases that looked absolutely priceless.  There was only a small path left open for you to walk to your desk seat, and on your keyboard was a note. 

“A flower for every occasion I missed. And more just because.” 

Your hand came up to your mouth, tears already welling up in your eyes. You looked to the bottom, and saw he signed the note,

“Always Yours, Kiyoomi”

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa comfort #sakusa x y/n #msby sakusa #sakusa #kiyoomi #anime #sakusa fluff #sakusa smut #kiyoomi sakusa x reader #sakusa x reader #sakusa x you #sakusa scenarios #bby bo sakusa #hq sakusa #sakusa fanart #sakusa fanfiction

[cowgurrrl]

Keep the Wolves Away

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author's note: Dedicated to my real life Andies. Thank you for making me feel easy to love.

Summary: The worst decision [5.2k]

Warnings: platonic threatening, discussions of bad mental health, so much flirting that (spoiler alert) might be real, possible THE shittiest ex I ever could've written, all the southern pet names, alcohol consumption, the resurgence of an old nude of readers, gaslighty behavior, smoking cigarettes (don't smoke kids), Joel talking reader out of a spiral, two (2) kisses

"So, it's a date." Andie declares once you're done explaining everything to her over FaceTime. You pause your blush application to roll your eyes at her. 

"It's not a date!"

"I'm sorry, so I'm just supposed to believe you when you say you're going to be just friends with the hot, sweet single dad who sounds like he's head over heels for you?"

"He is not head over heels for me." You sound a little petulant, and Andie laughs like she did when you were in high school and trying to hide a crush from her. 

"Babe, he willingly went on a high school field trip just so he could see you."

"His daughter was there. I'm sure he wanted to spend time with her."

"I'm sure he did because he's a great dad, but he also wanted to see you in your element. It's sexy watching someone do the thing they love." 

"Yeah, yeah." You brush her off, and she scoffs. You toss your makeup brush back into its bag and check out your outfit in the mirror. It's nothing insane— just a plain black slip dress— but now that Joel's arrival is getting closer and closer, you're rethinking everything. "Do I look okay?"

"You look stunning!" Andie chirps. "I'm sure your not boyfriend will think the same thing."

"I'm going to get a plane ticket to Austria just so I can choke you out with my own two hands." You threaten, but she laughs so hard you can't stop smiling. Once the trans-Atlantic giggling dies down, the line goes quiet, and you take a deep breath as you pull your mascara out. 

"Are you nervous to see him?" She asks gently. Andie came home for the summer dubbed The Dark Days. She stayed over when the one-bedroom apartment felt too big and got you out of the house when you couldn't stand the four walls anymore. She took whatever he left behind to his new apartment so you wouldn't have to (and gave him a piece of her mind while she was at it). She made you believe in love again. Not sticky, frustrating, unpredictable romantic love but pure, easy, all-knowing love that can only come from long-enduring relationships such as yours. 

For a long time after he left, you thought you were hard to love. Too loud, too bright, too much. Until you were out at a bar with her one night, trying to find the remnants of your independence and self-esteem tucked under sweaty beers and cracked leather chairs, when someone pointed out how similar you and Andie were. "Like two sides of the same coin," the woman told you. Andie is one of the easiest people in the world to love with her quick wit, creativity, and smile. And you realized for the first time if you had even a shred of that, even if only by dint of knowing and being loved by her, then you must be easy to love too. You must be worth the mess and heartache and stained fingerprints. 

So, yeah, Andie was less than pleased to hear that all that hard work could be undone by seeing him again, but she was supportive. 

"I don't know," you sigh. "I'm not a kid anymore. I've had more years without him than I did with him, but it's still scary."

"I know." 

"I don't even know what I'm gonna say to him."

"He'll probably be too busy with the gallery and everything. Maybe you won't even have to." She says, and you groan at the uncertainty of everything. 

"God, why did I say yes?" You ask as a knock interrupts your whining. You end your call with a quick "I love you, thank you, I'll text you" before throwing your phone down. "Come in!" You yell from the bathroom as you rapidly finish doing your makeup. There's a pause on the other side before he jiggles the knob and finally comes in. "I'm just finishing up in the bathroom. Give me a minute." 

"D'you always leave your door unlocked?" Joel asks. The sound of his unsure footsteps reaches your ears, and you smile at the thought of him looking around your apartment like a lost toddler. 

"Only when I know someone's coming over," you say. "Sorry, it's a mess."

"Oh, this is nothin'. You should see Ellie's room." He says, his feet pacing the floor. You swipe on a cute lipstick you never wear and finally step out into the living room where Joel is waiting. He's wearing a black button-up shirt with nice pants as he stands with his back to you, looking at some of the things on your wall. 

"Well, don't you look nice?" You compliment, making him turn around with a shy smile. His eyes roam over you, taking in every detail or sliver of skin he hasn't seen before. His intense gaze reminds you of how he looked at you in the bar when you were sure his eyes would melt you. He looks dumbstruck, and his Adam's apple bobs when his eyes finally settle on your face. 

"Wow… you look-"

"Choose carefully." You tease to take some of the tension out of the room. 

"Beautiful," he says, thwarting your efforts. "You always look beautiful." 

"Thank you. Not so bad yourself." 

"You like it? Ellie helped me pick it out," he anxiously fiddles with the sleeves of his shirt. "Feels weird." 

"What specifically feels weird?" You ask, stepping closer to him to examine his outfit. He smells like aftershave and the cologne he's prone to wearing. Why the fuck do you have his cologne memorized, you think to yourself. 

"I dunno. I think I just feel outta place." 

"Well, you don't look out of place," you say. "These might be what's doing it, though." You tap the top buttons of his shirt, the ones buttoned all the way up to his chin like a toddler going to Christmas mass. 

"Ellie said I should do all of 'em since it's a fancy art thing."

"Well, you should stop taking fashion advice from a fifteen-year-old," you laugh. "I promise it's not fancy enough to justify being uncomfortable." 

"I'm takin' your word for it." He says as he reaches up to undo his top two buttons, revealing freckles across his chest and collarbones and the tiniest sliver of a gold chain resting against his throat. For some reason, you can't tear your eyes away from the veins in his neck or the delicate necklace stuck to his warm skin. "What, it really looks that bad?" He thankfully breaks through your thoughts, and you try to recover by shaking your head.

"No, no. Not at all. You look really nice," you say, clearing your throat. "Let me get my purse, and we can go." You don't even wait for him to respond. You just turn on your heels and walk to your bedroom. In the security of your bedroom, you let out a long exhale and try to get your mind back on track. 

You're just nervous. He's being nice. You're being nice back. It's nothing. It's nothing. It's nothing, you mentally chant. When you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, you almost have to laugh at the fierce blush on your cheeks and the distracted look in your eyes. "You better get it together." You say, pointing at yourself in the mirror like it's gonna do anything to make tonight smoother.

The gallery is packed when you get there. Joel curses under his breath as he tries to find a parking spot, and you try to keep your anxiety at bay. All you have to do is show your face, look at the paintings, and leave. Maybe you can manage to steal a bottle of the cheap wine they're undoubtedly serving. It'll be an hour. Two tops. You can do this. 

You're so in your head that you didn't notice that Joel parked the car or that he was looking at you until he bumped your knee with his. 

"You okay?" He asks. You take a deep breath and nod.

"Just need a second." You mumble. You fiddle with your earrings, your dress, anything to keep your hands busy as you psyche yourself up. 

"When's the last time you saw this asshole?"

"He wasn't always an asshole," you try to redirect, but he raises his eyebrows at you. "Since I graduated college." 

"We don't have to go in." He offers easily, and you give him a look. 

"Yes, we do. My name's on the list and everything." 

"So?" He shrugs. "The world's not gonna end just cause one person didn't show up."

"But you drove all the way here."

"And I can drive you all the way back. Besides, it's nice having a pretty girl in my truck. It wouldn't hurt to have you here next to me for a little while longer." He says, and you laugh, feeling some weight lift off your shoulders.

"You get many pretty girls sitting in your truck?"

"Just my pretty girls." 

"Right." You say, and he smiles, creating familiar crinkles in the corners of his eyes. They look a little deeper in the moonlight, but his eyes shine differently. Your fingers itch to draw them if only to critique your work and find the answer to why he has such an effect on you. You're aware that you're staring, but you also can't find it in yourself to look away. Not when he's staring back at you so fondly. 

"What can I do to help you?" He asks. You feel like you could cry at the sincerity in his voice. You've talked to Ellie about her anxiety, so you know he has some practice in dealing with it, but he's acting like it's second nature. Like this is what he was meant to do. He bumps you again when you start messing with your purse. "Do you want this to be like at the bar? Do you want me to take you home and pretend like we were never here? Do you want me to go in there and crack some skulls? You say the word— any word— and I'll do it for you, darlin'." 

Darlin’. It's what he called you when you promised revenge for almost kissing you at the bar. Normally, you'd be against any form of pet name. Henry was not openly affectionate in that way, and you learned not to expect it from him. But here's Joel, dropping the term of endearment almost every time he's been alone with you. It could be that cowboy accent or his knee pressed against yours, but the nickname fills your chest with warmth and pushes away your anxiety. 

"Any word, huh?" You ask, and he chuckles. 

"My mama raised me not to make promises I didn't have every intention of followin' through on." He says. "What'll it be?"

"I think… I just need you to be there with me." 

"Then, that's what I'll do." 

"Okay." You mumble, and he smiles as a new wave of comfort washes over you. 

"Okay." He says.

"Okay." You take a deep breath and look at him in the driver's seat one more time. "Let's do this." Finally, you open the door and step down from his truck. He's quick to come to your side and offer you his arm before he can even finish locking the car. You smile, tuck your hand under his bicep, and let him keep you upright as you walk in. 

The gallery is full of people who look way more qualified than you— art critics, journalists, and other artists who can actually sell a piece. They barely glance at you and Joel when you breach the doorway, which you're silently grateful for. When a waiter walks by with champagne glasses, Joel quickly snatches two glasses from the tray and hands you one. 

"Here's to us." He says, and you cock an eyebrow at him. 

"Us?"

"Well, we're sure as hell not toastin' to that asshole, are we?" 

"I guess not," you laugh as you clink your glasses together. "To us." You each take a sip, and Joel tries to hide his reaction to the champagne, but you see right through it. "Not your speed?"

"Not at all." He groans as he chokes it down. 

"Don't worry, maverick, we'll get you something else later." You promise and tuck your hand back under his arm as you start walking through the gallery. 

A lot of his newer work resembles his work from college— normal portraits of things like fruits, beds, or people but with unexpected lines of colors lining them like they're vibrating. You even recognize some from your college days. You just never expected them to actually be displayed in this way, not even when you were dating and telling him what a good artist you thought he was. Some have vague titles like "$12" and "Jack," while others are untitled. You can see why it would get taken in by a gallery. There's a very clear skill in how he paints and manipulates everyday objects into something new. It would be impressive if it was interesting. 

Maybe you're just used to the way he paints. Maybe this is exactly what you expected of him. Maybe you thought he would've grown, if not in attitude than, at least, in skill. But it's clear that too many people told him good things about his work, and he saw nothing he needed to change or fix. Somehow, it makes you feel better, not worse, about your own art. 

"So, are these supposed to be good or bad?" Joel whispers to you as you get closer to the next section, and you laugh a little too loudly. The people around you give you nasty looks, but you can't find it in yourself to be sorry.

"Like I said at the museum, I can't tell you that, but…" you glance around to make sure nobody's listening to you. "As someone who saw him make a lot of art, this is definitely not his best."

"Okay, that's what I thought," he says before pointing at a specific part of the painting. "The shape is really weird right there, like he ran outta space or somethin'." You let go of his arm and step between him and the painting, smiling knowingly.

"Did you study for this?" You ask, and he nervously plays with the chain around his neck. 

"I may have… snuck a look at Ellie's notes." He admits sheepishly, and your eyes widen. 

"You were actin' like you were gonna have to rely on me this whole time! You don't need me to tell you what good art is!"

"Yeah, but I want you to." 

"Oh, whatever. C'mon, I wanna hear what else you think." You pretty much drag him to the next section of the gallery, but he's pliant and almost giddy at your hold on him. You take more time in the next part, and he ducks so his lips are near your ear to point out little things he notices. He said he was scared of being wrong in front of people "smarter than him," but all the observations he makes are valid and accurate. He lets you add your own analysis to his and watches you with a smile when you start talking with your hands excitedly. Suddenly, you're not nearly as miserable as you thought you would be, and you're even laughing together as you jump from painting to painting. 

"See, this isn't so bad!" You say as you move to the final part, but your smile and enthusiasm die when you step over the threshold. There, staring at you unashamedly is the painting Henry did of you when you were twenty and topless. He told you it was for his own artistic development, and you were more than happy to do it for him. You just never thought he would've kept it after all these years. Thank God your face isn't visible in the painting, but your rigid posture tells Joel everything he needs to know. He politely turns his back to the painting and steps between you and your likeness. 

"You wanna go?" He whispers at the same time someone calls your name. You take a deep breath and grab Joel's hand for support as you turn around and face Henry. His wavy blonde hair frames his face like it did in college but he's matured. His beard is a little more filled in, and he's gotten a little broader. Other than that, he's still the same person you met freshman year. 

"I'm so glad you could make it!" He says as he approaches. He doesn't try to hug you, and you don't move to let go of Joel's hand. "You look great. I mean, you always looked great, but you know what I meant," he says, looking over you. Only when Joel clears his throat does Henry even look at him. "Oh, sorry, man! We're old friends. I'm Henry." He holds his hand out for Joel to meet halfway, but he doesn't. You think it probably took fighting every single bit of southern hospitality in his veins to stop himself from shaking Henry's hand.

"'M Joel." He says, and Henry awkwardly drops his hand. 

"Nice to meet you, Joel. How are you enjoying the exhibition?" 

"'S alright." Is all Joel offers, not willing to gas up Henry's ego anymore, and you have to stifle a laugh at the expectant look on Henry's face. "Well, I think we were just goin'."

"Oh, so soon? You haven't even seen the last few pieces."

"Are those any better than the thirty identical ones I already saw?"

"Joel," you scold quietly, and his jaw flexes when you look at him.

"It's okay. Not everyone understands art enough to enjoy it." Henry says. 

"Oh, I understand everythin' just fine." You swear Joel would've punched him if he wasn't holding your hand so tight. You step in between them and raise your eyebrows at Joel. His shoulders are squared, and you can feel the molten anger rolling off him, but it softens just a bit when he meets your eyes. You squeeze him twice to let him know you're okay, and he nods. 

"Can you get me a refill on champagne? I think they're still walkin' around with some." You suggest. He gets the hint, but he obviously doesn't like it. He glances between you and Henry like he's trying to make a decision but folds when you mouth, "please," at him. 

"’Course," he says through gritted teeth. "Anythin' else I can get for you, baby?" Baby, that's a new one, you think. 

"No, I'm alright. Thanks, though." You say. Without thinking, you let your other hand rest on his jaw and kiss Joel's cheek. His jaw unclenches when your fingertips graze his stubble, and his shoulders relax when your lips make contact with his skin, but you know he's still upset because you're still upset. Joel smiles and walks away before you can get a good look at the blush creeping up his neck, and you're resigned to watching him disappear into the crowd. 

"He seems nice," Henry says the second Joel is out of earshot, and you have to resist the urge to laugh. 

"He is." 

"How'd you two meet?"

"Through work." You say, knowing that bringing up teaching will make his skin crawl. He sucks his teeth and nods, the champagne in his glass sloshing slightly.

"Ah," he says. "That's nice."

"Yeah," you agree. An awkward silence falls over the two of you quickly, and you're itching to find Joel in the sea of people. Henry notices your lack of attention on him.

"It's really good to see you," he says. "I feel like I haven't talked to you in forever."

"Yeah, that's usually what happens when you leave someone." 

"That's kinda why I invited you here tonight. I wanted to apologize for the way things ended," he acts brokenhearted and torn up about it, but he's years too late for the pity party he's expecting. "I should've talked to you about what was going on. We were just... becoming so different, and it felt like you were always talking to Andie or other people in the program, and there was no way to reach you."

"What are you talking about? I asked you multiple times if we were okay, and you said yes every time. I was talking to Andie so much because I needed someone who would understand me and be able to help." You say, and he waves his hand like he's swatting flies.

"Let's not do this. My therapist says it's not healthy to rehash the past like this. I just wanted to make amends and let you know I'm sorry for how you felt." It's not an apology. Not a real one, anyway. Jesus Christ, what did you ever see in him? Before you can even open your mouth to say something, he gestures to the gallery. "So, what do you think about all this? Crazy, right?"

"It's... something," you say. "Wish you would've given me a heads up about that one before I brought someone with me." You point in the direction of your half-naked body on the wall, and he gives you a confused look.

"I thought I did in the email." 

"Nope, I think I would've remembered if you said something about a half-naked painting of me from college being displayed," you shake your head. "Why do you even still have that? I thought you would've thrown it away or painted over it or something."

"Why would I do that? It's a good piece."

"I know it's good because it's my body. What's weird is you leaving me without a word one day and then keeping a naked picture of me all these years." 

"I didn't even think of it as your body. After a while, it was just a body," he says with no remorse, and you think you might hit him yourself. "Besides, you should take this as a compliment. Not many women get the opportunity to be depicted as art. It's a wonderful thing. You might even thank me one day when you're older." Finally, you see Joel walking toward you with a glass of champagne, and you take refuge in the fact that he's returning for you. "But, from what I can see, they've definitely stayed the same, so you probably don't have anything to worry about." He says like it's a secret or a compliment. You don't even wait for Joel to say or do anything. You just grab the wine from him and throw it in Henry's face. The people in the immediate vicinity gasp as you slap him and shove the empty glass into his hands. 

"Out of all the stupid things I imagined for myself when I was younger, thinking I would marry you was the stupidest," you spit. "Don't you ever try to fucking contact me again."

You feel like a fucking idiot. What did you expect? An apology? Repentance? Regret? He barely apologized when you were together. Why would he start now? God, was he always that bad? How could you have been so blind? How could you have shed so many tears over him? How could you have let yourself be so vulnerable with him and for so many years? It's a miracle he didn't call the cops and try to get the two of you arrested, even though Joel didn't do anything. You think, at least. The second you finished your sentence, you ran to the bathroom to cry and then snuck out through the back to wait outside Joel's truck. For all you know, Joel (rightfully) beat his ass and is on the run from artsy Austin hipsters. 

You put the lit cigarette back in your mouth and take a long drag, the familiar burning in your lungs a sick relief. You quit during The Dark Days because smoking was something he did, and you wanted to rid yourself of any reminder of his impact on your life. Apparently, at the same time you were scrubbing his fingerprints from your bones, he was in possession of and doing God knows what with the visual reminder of your vulnerability and love-sickness and acted like it was nothing. Like it was a compliment. Like it was just an object instead of your body. Andie would be pissed if she were here but especially if she saw you smoking after she braved all those shaky days and nights of nicotine patches and dried fruit and whatever other remedy recommended to help you quit smoking. You half-expect the same anger when you see Joel walking toward you. 

"Before you even start, I know I shouldn't, okay? It's a bad habit from when I was a kid, and I've mostly kicked it. I just... had a lapse. I'll be back on my best behavior tomorrow," you say as he stops in front of you. He doesn't look angry or upset. He just looks concerned and maybe even a little sad. Suddenly, you regret running away from him when all he probably wanted to do was help. You probably wouldn't have bummed a cigarette from a busboy if you let him. "Don't tell Ellie." You plead. His eyes flick over your face before he takes the cigarette from your fingers, puts the lipstick-stained filter in his own mouth, and inhales deeply, making the ember glow in the dark of the night. When he exhales, he blows the smoke away from you and lets the wind carry it in the opposite direction. A considerate smoker. You should've guessed.

"Don't tell Ellie," he says, handing the cigarette back to you. "Are you okay?"

You shake your head and take a long drag. It's quiet between you two for a while, the only sound being the cicadas and the distant chatter of the gallery. They're probably still talking about the psycho bitch who threw her wine in the artist's face. You don't really care. "I'm sorry for tonight. I don't know what I was expecting, and I sure as shit didn't know that painting was gonna be displayed. I swear, if I had any idea how bad this was gonna be, I wouldn't have invited you." 

"Why are you apologizin'? It's not your fault." 

"I shouldn't have roped you into this. I should've just said no, ignored the email, or came by myself. It's not fair that you got put in the middle of all this, especially when you were just trying to be nice. You're the parent of one of my students, and for you to see that side of me is just inappropriate. I just-" he stops your rambling by putting his hands on your shoulders and making you look at him, the cigarette falling to the pavement in the process. 

"Hey, hey. Stop. Take a breath." He says. Your head hurts from crying, and part of you wants to crawl into a hole and stay there until these feelings go away, but his eyes are gentle, and his hands are warm. You think he might be the only reason you're holding it together right now. "None of this is your fault, okay? Not the painting, not the conversation, none of it. We're both adults, and we can handle these things rationally. I'm not scarred for life just 'cause you lost your temper."

"But I-"

"No, buts. You told me the situation, and I didn't care. You warned me bout the art people, and I didn't care. You threw a drink in that asshole's face, and I didn't care," he says. "The only thing I care bout right now is makin' sure you're okay. Fuck everythin' else." You search his face for anything to tell you what he's telling you is going against his inner monologue but find none. He's completely and wholly concerned about you and nothing else. Not how fast he can get out of this. Not how this might look. Not what other people might think about him. Nothing. You take a deep breath and nod.

"Fuck everything else." You agree. 

"Now, you're gettin' the hang of it." He jokes, and you roll your eyes at him. He takes it in stride, his smile never fading as he looks down at you. You stop messing with the hem of your dress and let yourself relax for the first time all night.

"Thank you for being here, Joel. I really appreciate it."

"Not our best not-date, but definitely a memorable one." He says, and you laugh. You seem to realize how close you are at the same time because you both fall silent. His curls are beautifully draped over his face, and you can't stop watching his tiny expressions. An eye squint. A purse of the lips. A bite to the inside of his cheek. You want to blame your bad night or the emotions, but you can't. There's something more there. Something that's been brewing beneath the surface since he came into your classroom. Something that will kill you if you don't act on it.

You let your hands come up from your sides and tentatively brush against his waist as you stare at him, waiting for him to say something, but he doesn't. He just stares down at your lips, and the hands on your shoulders slowly move across your skin and up your collarbone— leaving goosebumps in his wake— until his hands are on your jaw and your pulse is thrumming against his palm. You pull him closer by his belt loops, and he doesn't hesitate to crowd your space, pushing you into the side of his truck with his body. His lips ghost over yours, just barely touching, and his nose bumps yours. 

"This is a bad idea," you breathe, tightening your hold on him. He nods and presses his forehead against yours. He's still close enough to breathe the same air as him, but the distance feels like miles. You lean forward a fraction as a test, and he doesn't move. If anything, he seems annoyed you didn't kiss him.

"D'you want to stop?" He asks, sounding just as breathless as you feel. You shake your head and swallow hard when he brushes the hair off your shoulder, and you can feel his heavy hand holding you. Your hands skate over his ribs, feeling muscles and a crazed heartbeat, and his jaw clenches. "Then you better do somethin' cause you've been drivin' me fuckin' crazy for weeks." 

Finally, you catch his lips with yours. He tastes like nicotine and smoke, and you know it's going to take a lot more than patches to get you to want to stop doing this. It's gentle and sweet, all relieved sighs and shy touches until you pull away for just a second to second-guess yourself or ask him something. You don't even start to form the words before he's back on you with more fervor. Suddenly, it's like he's everywhere but not nearly close enough. He nibbles at your bottom lip and tests a hand on your sternum, long fingers grazing your throat. The metal of the truck digs into your back, but you stop caring when a little moan slips from his lips when you pull him closer.

This is a bad idea. A horrible one. A bad habit you're gonna need to kick. 

But he might just be your favorite bad idea so far.

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3 @ignorethisplz2004 @buckyispunk

#hippies and cowboys #joel miller au #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel tlou #the last of us au #tlou au #joel miller tlou #the last of us fic #the last of us x reader #the last of us hbo #the last of us fluff #joel miller fluff #i fucking love this

[lucysgraybird]

part 2 of modern!uni!coriolanus x fem!reader. part 1 here, part 3 here. as promised, reader's a lil cuckoo which i hope yall are into because it's here to stay. on this, if anyone feels like offering thoughts -- would longer updates be preferable, or does it make no difference? the only tradeoff would be that they'd come out less frequently (once a week vs every 2-3 days). warnings: blood mention, minor suggestive material. this is not a healthy relationship but BOY is it fun

Coriolanus Snow, as it turns out, is wonderful to date, at least for you. You've been back from the winter holiday for a month, and though you've yet to make anything official with him, things are going very well. He doesn't text constantly, but there will always be a good morning text when you get back from the gym, and a good night text when you check your phone after hours at the library. He makes it clear that you're together when you're out with an arm around your waist or a hand over yours on the table, or with the faint bruises that trail across your collarbone and down your shirt. That's your favourite mark of your relationship: it's illicit, obvious. You know it makes other people a little uncomfortable, and you like that they can't seem to look away. 

He's also fascinating. Orphaned when he was quite young and raised by his grandmother and cousin, you've learned that while he obviously has money now, he didn't always. He had a stint in the military to pay for school, and got a job for his best friend’s father as a thank-you for saving the boy’s life in battle. Apparently the friend had been court-martialed for something – Coriolanus wouldn't go into detail – and now they weren't as close. He now makes more money than most people would dream of twenty years out of school, and though it means he's almost always busy, you like that he's so dedicated. 

Right now, you're bent over a sheet of stats equations at a table on the quad when Coriolanus sneaks up behind you. He drops a kiss on your head and settles in an open seat at your table.

“Hello,” you say, setting down your pen. 

“Don't let me distract you,” he replies, pulling a book out of his bag. “I'll wait until you're done to talk.”

This is another thing you appreciate about Coriolanus. Besides that first date, he understands how much you value school and your grades – he actually seems to like it – and never expects to come first. You blow through the last few problems, check your work, and clip the paper neatly into your binder.

Coriolanus looks up from his book. “Finished?”

“Mhm.”

“Good,” he says. “How's that class going, by the way?”

You keep apprised of each other’s academic performances – you're both shooting to graduate valedictorian next year, so you've got a little bit of competition going. As far as you can tell, it only serves to push both of you further, as winning seems more of a reward if there's been a real challenge for it. This being said, he knows that your statistics class is giving you a little bit of trouble, just like you know that his Victorian literature class is driving him up the wall. You're going to win, but you'll let him hope.

“Not as badly as you might hope,” you tease. “I'm on track for a decent A. How goes the adventures in Victorian lit?”

He lifts his book miserably, revealing the cover of Middlemarch. You wince.

“Rough. Don't make winning too easy on me, though.”

“Wouldn't dream of it, sweetheart.”

You smile at the pet name, however targeted it is. “So did you come to make fun of my homework, or did you have something you wanted to talk about?”

“Right, yes. We've been going out for a little over a month now.”

“This is true.”

“And I think it's time we make some decisions. I'm not looking for something casual. Between school and studying for the LSAT and work, I don't really have the time to devote to something that's definitely not going anywhere.”

“I hope you're not proposing, Coriolanus.”

“Not at all. But I am asking if you would like to be my girlfriend, officially.”

“Oh! Yes.”

“Yes?” He seems surprised. 

“I'm not particularly interested in anything casual either,” you say. “I’ve tried it and it doesn't work. I just get jealous.”

“I wouldn't have pegged you for the jealous type.”

“You haven't given me any reason to be. Believe me, if I'm jealous, I'll make sure you know.”

You regret saying that the minute you do – not because it's not true, but because it could be a little off-putting. But it seems to have the opposite effect for Coriolanus, who bares his teeth in a smile. The wider his smile gets, the more he looks like a wolf, the more you feel like he is waiting for the perfect moment to sink his teeth into your neck. Perhaps it should scare you, but it doesn't. It thrills you. It makes you want to tilt your head back and let him take hold, because you want to see your blood on his teeth and trickling down his chin, staining the starched white of his collar. You want to ruin this boy, which you would feel worse about thinking if you didn't get the sense that he wants to destroy you, too.  

“I hope you would,” he says, lifting you from your reverie. “As long as it's okay that it goes both ways.”

“Of course.” Perfect.

“Are you free tonight?” 

“I have a class that ends at 6, but after that, yes.”

“Would you like to meet my family? You'll love my cousin, and my grandmother…well. She doesn't like anyone, but she's interesting.”

“That sounds lovely,” you say, a thrill flooding you at going from occasional dates and make-out sessions to meeting his family in the course of an afternoon.

“Fine, then. I'll pick you up at 7.”

–

The Snow apartment is incredible. There's a sterility to its modernity that should be disquieting but isn't: you can't imagine Coriolanus growing up anywhere else. You're sitting with his cousin, Tigris, while he disappears to make drinks. The fabled grandmother was apparently refusing to make an appearance. Tigris seems anxious, fiddling with her floral skirt.

“So you're dating Coriolanus?” She asks finally. Your brows knit together – is she daft? Coriolanus introduced you as his girlfriend. 

“Mhm. We've been going out for a little over a month.”

“Oh.”

When she doesn't say anything else, you shift uncomfortably in your seat.

“Coriolanus tells me you basically raised him,” you say, wanting to fill the silence.

Tigris nods. “He was such a kind little boy. I worry I didn't do enough sometimes, you know?”

What a weird thing to say. “I'm sure you did your best. I can't imagine it's easy bringing someone else up when you're a kid yourself. And he's turned out well, from what I can tell.”

“He can just be…intense. I'm sorry, I know this is strange, I just want you to know what you're getting into.”

You laugh lightly. “Maybe I need to find someone to give him this speech about me. I'll be okay, Tigris. I can be a lot too; I think we'll be good for each other.”

Coriolanus returns just at that moment.

“I think we'll be good for each other too,” he says, handing you and Tigris each a glass of red wine. “I hope my cousin hasn't been telling you too many embarrassing baby stories.” 

Something passes over Tigris’ face – grief, maybe, or fear – before she settles into a demure smile. 

“Not at all, Coriolanus. Your girlfriend is so sweet.”

He sits next to you and puts his free hand on your knee. “She's perfect, isn't she? I knew you guys would get along.”

Tigris gives him a tight smile, then lets her eyes go unfocused into space. 

–

The rest of the night passes with much of the same uncomfortable conversation, until Coriolanus finally decides that it'd be best if he drove you home before it got too late. It's the first time you've seen him drive, and you just enjoy the way the streetlights cast shadows on the angles of his face and the way his hand sits hot and heavy on your thigh.

“I'm sorry if Tigris said anything strange to you,” he says finally. “She's been odd ever since I got back from being deployed.”

“She was fine. I think she was worried you'd be too much for me.”

A muscle jumps in his jaw. “She doesn't approve of my job. Or my ‘work-life balance’, as she calls it.”

“Sounds like she cares about you.” It's hard to say more, because you don't really know what he does for work. Something with national security or defense tech, but beyond that, you're in the dark. It also seems like there was more to the way Tigris was acting than just complaints about Coriolanus working too hard, but it's not your place to pry. Nor do you really care.

“No, you're right. She does. I just wish she'd keep her opinions to herself.”

“That’s fair. I'm still glad I got to meet her.”

“I am too. And I'm always glad to spend time with you.”

To say that, he takes his eyes off the road for a moment and gives you a sweet, close-lipped smile. You return it and place your hand over his on your thigh. His fingers dig in a little too hard, and you curl your nails like claws into his skin in reply. He pulls the car into a parking space in front of your apartment.

“Here you are.”

You turn to him and take in the way he's looking at you, the way his eyes have gone murky in the dark of the night and trail across the scooping neckline of your top. The skin on your neck is pristine again, and you need him to fix that.

“Would you like to come upstairs?”

“I was hoping you'd say that.”

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coryo snow #tom blyth #tom blyth fanfiction #tom blyth x reader #coriolanus x you #coryo x reader #coryo #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader

[justzawe]

Zawe Ashton Covers AMAZING Magazine | Issue 4

Actor, author, playwright and new mum Zawe Ashton adds another string to her bow: supervillain. As she joins the Marvel Cinematic Universe, she tells AMAZING about her love of poetry, getting physical on the set of The Marvels and the unwavering support of her own parents.

Zawe Ashton is no stranger to playing the antagonist. From her very first film role as rude schoolgirl Bianca in 2009’s St Trinian's 2: The Legend Of Fritton's Gold, to playing the intimidatingly cool Violet “Vod” Nordstrom in four seasons of student sitcom Fresh Meat and – more recently - as the rejected Julia Thistlewaite in 2022 period drama, Mr. Malcolm’s List, Ashton has a knack for taking on characters who appear unlikeable on paper… and making audiences fall in love with them. However, for her latest role as Dar-Benn in The Marvels, she had to go full villain.

“Very little can prepare you to have to embody an antagonist at this level, in a Universe that is literally not known to anyone – like our Space - and to make it real and impactful,” says the London-born actor, a new recruit to the Marvel Cinematic Universe. “There's something deeply humbling about having to return to the sandbox; you have to go back to the playground and that was something I was not expecting. You have to indulge in adult play and it’s surprisingly vulnerable. I know that there are gamers out there, there are cosplayers out there, there are adults who have managed to keep that level of childlike play going and I respect it so much. There's a self-consciousness that can take over if you are not careful. Trying to react realistically to a laser coming towards you is not something I’d done since I was seven years old, and I had to get to that level of childlike confidence to just delve into the imagination. Once that was all clearer, the villainous elements came so much from the physical world, with costume and hair.”

For 39-year-old Ashton, adult play will likely become a more frequent fixture in her life, thanks to her most exciting new role – as a mother. She welcomed her first child in 2022 with fiancé Tom Hiddleston, her co-star in the 2019 revival of Harold Pinter's Betrayal on London’s West End, later transferred to Broadway. “What has genuinely surprised me about motherhood is how much I don't feel ready to talk about it,” she laughs. “And this isn’t to shut down the conversation. I have gained so much insight from public people who have this incredible candour and this disarming, relatable dialogue about it very early on, but it's something that I am just dedicating time to absorbing. I’m listening rather than expelling energy. That genuinely has surprised me, because it's something you want to shout from the rooftops about; it's the most unparalleled, most important role in my life. The surprise has been how quiet I want to be about it. Maybe that's also me as a writer and this is something that will come through the pen at some point.”

Ashton attended London’s Anna Scher Theatre School from the age of six and was a member of the National Youth Theatre, before getting her degree in acting at Manchester Metropolitan University, but writing has always been significant in her life. She won the London Poetry Slam Championship in 2000, becoming the event’s youngest winner, at 17. “I may have been knocked off that pillar long ago, but in my head I'm still the youngest,” she laughs. “I love poetry. I had not written for a really long time; during the pandemic I lost a huge chunk of my creative soul when it came to putting pen to paper, which was really scary and was clearly the fallout of being in survival mode and feeling quite fearful. People's attention spans just went all sorts of different ways, didn't they? It was very hard for me to read, and it was very hard for me to write, which is very strange for me.

“More recently, a friend of mine from drama school who I used to do open mic nights with in Manchester – I used to perform poetry and she used to sing - asked me to write a poem for her wedding. I had a few moments where it was really tough, but I did it. I love her and I'm so happy for her, and being inspired enough to get a poem out and read it aloud really opened the floodgates. So, weirdly enough, I've been writing a lot of poetry recently and found a new love for it. I will always continue to use poetry as a way to understand the world. It's just so much part of who I am.”

For Zawe's full interview and shoot, order your copy of AMAZING issue 4 now. The Marvels is out now.

#zawe ashton #amazing magazine #interview

[milesfingers]

Outlast antagonists headcanons

I'm only considering the ones from the first game, because for the other ones I haven't much to say. I consider Father Martin a morally grey character so he isn't here.

Chris Walker

The little pig plush it's always been his confort toy since he was a child. When he came back from the war Chris used it to mourn himself to cope

If he wasn't killed in the underground laborator and managed to kill everyone there he eventually would stay in the asylum and kill anyone who came near the facility, becoming a sort of urban legend

He really wanted to kill Trager but he was too concentrated on Miles. He barelly know him but he's still very angry with every Murkoff employees to think straight

Chris surely knows everyone in the asylum, judging Father Martin's purpose as ridiculus.

Richard Trager

I actively decided to ignore canon so before the mutation he had grey hair tied in a ponytail and glasses

His dedication to self-learning medicine is at the point that he sewed a ton of cuts himself. Also he told peolpe that he was an actual doctor and convinced them to be analyzed by him

When was a regular employee Trager used to call "kiddo" any coworker younger than him

(I once saw a fanart of this on pinterest) I think Trager is the type of mindfucker that tells kids things like "Don't smoke kids, its dangerous” but then snorts cocaine

The Twins

Not much to say about those guys exept they were sigly abused by their negletful parents who leave scars on their bodies. Later the social services took them and entrusted them to another family, but the damage was already done

They always lived symbiosis, isolatimg themself from the rest of the world, Their adoptive parents tryed to help them, but slowly they gave up. Later the two brothers killed them

They decided to follow Father Martin for basically no reason. They think that being under his protection would have make them untouchable, somehow.

Eddie Gluskin

I am a horrible person and I hc his birthday as February 14th

While he was basically a serial killer, I like to think that he worked in a wedding dress shop. At some point of his life he dropped school and the owner of that shop thaught him how to sew and pack clothes. Eddie could have stabilized himself, but he was already too deranged

Eddie hates women that much because his mother always knew what his father and uncle done to him and when they get to prison she blames him for taking her husband away from her

I actually think he would be a decent father. Of course he's a borderline psychopath and would rise his child in a sick environment full of torture and murder, but I don't think he would ever hurt them (intentionally, at least)

Frank Manera

I do think he murdered his family and cooked them after years of instabiliy

When he went to the Mount Massive he was put in the hands of a pretty sadistic guard who basically starved him in order to "punish him in the proper way"

His hair turned gray due to the stress of captivity

Actually he managed to not being catch by the SWAT but later he died for some kind of diase because of eating raw human meat

Jeremy Blaire

This man screams daddy issues. Like, have y'all present the song "Are you satisfied?" by Marina? Yeah, that's Jer.

While he was friend with Trager he used to be very embarassed of him and his chaoticity. They went on golf club like any bored rich but Jer constantly avoied Trager at parties

Actually treats like shit EVERY employee that's not his superior, but he really targeted Waylon more than anyone. Like one time he challenged him to arm wrestling and kept him busy for an hour and a half to make him understand how a real man behaves

Example of a cisgender straight white male, bye

#outlast #outlast game #outlast whistleblower #waylon park #outlast headcanons #miles upshur #red barrels #eddie gluskin #richard trager #frank manera #jeremy blaire #the twins outlast #chris walker #headcanons outlast #outlast meme #blake langermann #outlast 2 #mount massive #father martin #outlast antagonists

[riding-with-the-wild-hunt]

your tolkien edits are always so lovely, do you have graphics editors that inspire you?

hey anon.. would you perhaps want to join me in a small and tumbledown cliff-side castle by the shining sea within whose shelter we can spend the rest of our days. circle yes or no

anyways!! tumblr is the school of athens and i am but a humble student sitting at the feet of greater talents, so here are a few of my biggest editing inspirations for your happy perusal:

@himemiyaaah / @tarninausta - probably my original editing inspiration back when i took my first waddling steps into making graphics myself! rosie just has such an amazing command of color, style, balance, etc.. her edits are so beautiful and harmonious, and i love her expressive use of text.

@miriel-therindes - also someone i discovered early on! i swear there isn't a form lyndeth hasn't tried her hand at and succeeded with in high style. her incredible sense and editing of colors and creative typography are just !!!

@arwenindomiel /@edwinas - the enormously talented mastermind behind tolkien south asian week! her edits are striking and have a real cinematic feel with bold, gorgeously cohesive color palettes (her dramatic shadows are spectacular) as well as innovative use of text and other graphic elements that just tie it all together each time.

@emyn-arnens - save me atlas of arda series atlas of arda series save me !! whenever i need inspiration on how to make dynamic edits that don't include people, i go to this master of her craft. her colors mesh so well together, her formatting is creative and refreshing, and her photo choices are on point. whence does her power flow.

@aredhels - so elegant and sleek! sari is so good at using all the parts of her edits to evoke the desired mood--for lack of a better word, everything she makes is just so aesthetic. i love her understated, low-text style and how she can make incredibly compelling edits just with her impeccable image choices and color editing. and besides all that she singlehandedly gave me the confidence to experiment with the eight-image picspam format yayay

@tilions - legendary user of non-text elements! i honestly have no idea how emily comes out with some of the image layering that they do. her edits feel professional-grade (hoping tentatively that this is a comparison that makes sense but who knows). she makes such bold color choices! it's easy to be scared off by bright palettes but apparently emily is immune to aesthetic fear. she also concocts these amazing silhouette edits that are like those 70s nasa posters and it's. so cool.

@russingon - i want to imbibe mayim's delicious color palettes into myself for real. something about them is so distinctive and pleasing! how much punch he can pack into a two-image edit never ceases to astound. i'm especially fond of their family/house edits (i love seeing their great faceclaim choices all together)!

@brighter-arda - toi is so endlessly committed to making the tolkien fandom a more diverse, inclusive, and accepting space, and i really admire all the work she puts in to uplift other creators. her own edits have really interesting and creative themes and formatting, and it's wonderful how she always incorporates meaningful elements of the character's culture.

@someoneinthestars - their use of darker colors is so evocative, and i love their latine tolkien series! they often align text to elements within the image, which takes such precision (i've only done it once, i think!), but when they do it it always comes out gorgeously.. awuagh.

@outofangband - the attention and research nelyo puts into their environmental edits could power three mid-size cities and i have nothing but respect for them and their dedication. honestly i think they know more about the ecology of middle earth than tolkien himself did when he made it (and he also never made edits about it, so another point to nelyo)!

anyways, this is only a cross-section of the plethora of amazing and talented people i get to share this community with, but i hope it was what you were looking for anon! many many thanks for giving me the ever-welcomed opportunity to kvell a little over some of my favorite creators, and as always, many many thanks to those creators themselves for sharing their spectacular works ♡♡♡

#i hope you have a safe + happy day anon :] #call and response #the professor's world #btw if any of you would like to not be tagged here just let me know and it shall be banished #edits with the wild hunt #brought to you by me

[zawescource]

Actor, author, playwright and new mum Zawe Ashton adds another string to her bow: supervillain. As she joins the Marvel Cinematic Universe, she tells AMAZING about her love of poetry, getting physical on the set of The Marvels and the unwavering support of her own parents.

Zawe Ashton is no stranger to playing the antagonist. From her very first film role as rude schoolgirl Bianca in 2009’s St Trinian's 2: The Legend Of Fritton's Gold, to playing the intimidatingly cool Violet “Vod” Nordstrom in four seasons of student sitcom Fresh Meat and – more recently - as the rejected Julia Thistlewaite in 2022 period drama, Mr. Malcolm’s List, Ashton has a knack for taking on characters who appear unlikeable on paper… and making audiences fall in love with them. However, for her latest role as Dar-Benn in The Marvels, she had to go full villain.

“Very little can prepare you to have to embody an antagonist at this level, in a Universe that is literally not known to anyone – like our Space - and to make it real and impactful,” says the London-born actor, a new recruit to the Marvel Cinematic Universe. “There's something deeply humbling about having to return to the sandbox; you have to go back to the playground and that was something I was not expecting. You have to indulge in adult play and it’s surprisingly vulnerable. I know that there are gamers out there, there are cosplayers out there, there are adults who have managed to keep that level of childlike play going and I respect it so much. There's a self-consciousness that can take over if you are not careful. Trying to react realistically to a laser coming towards you is not something I’d done since I was seven years old, and I had to get to that level of childlike confidence to just delve into the imagination. Once that was all clearer, the villainous elements came so much from the physical world, with costume and hair.”

For 39-year-old Ashton, adult play will likely become a more frequent fixture in her life, thanks to her most exciting new role – as a mother. She welcomed her first child in 2022 with fiancé Tom Hiddleston, her co-star in the 2019 revival of Harold Pinter's Betrayal on London’s West End, later transferred to Broadway. “What has genuinely surprised me about motherhood is how much I don't feel ready to talk about it,” she laughs. “And this isn’t to shut down the conversation. I have gained so much insight from public people who have this incredible candour and this disarming, relatable dialogue about it very early on, but it's something that I am just dedicating time to absorbing. I’m listening rather than expelling energy. That genuinely has surprised me, because it's something you want to shout from the rooftops about; it's the most unparalleled, most important role in my life. The surprise has been how quiet I want to be about it. Maybe that's also me as a writer and this is something that will come through the pen at some point.”

Ashton attended London’s Anna Scher Theatre School from the age of six and was a member of the National Youth Theatre, before getting her degree in acting at Manchester Metropolitan University, but writing has always been significant in her life. She won the London Poetry Slam Championship in 2000, becoming the event’s youngest winner, at 17. “I may have been knocked off that pillar long ago, but in my head I'm still the youngest,” she laughs. “I love poetry. I had not written for a really long time; during the pandemic I lost a huge chunk of my creative soul when it came to putting pen to paper, which was really scary and was clearly the fallout of being in survival mode and feeling quite fearful. People's attention spans just went all sorts of different ways, didn't they? It was very hard for me to read, and it was very hard for me to write, which is very strange for me.

“More recently, a friend of mine from drama school who I used to do open mic nights with in Manchester – I used to perform poetry and she used to sing - asked me to write a poem for her wedding. I had a few moments where it was really tough, but I did it. I love her and I'm so happy for her, and being inspired enough to get a poem out and read it aloud really opened the floodgates. So, weirdly enough, I've been writing a lot of poetry recently and found a new love for it. I will always continue to use poetry as a way to understand the world. It's just so much part of who I am.”

For Zawe's full interview and shoot, order your copy of AMAZING issue 4 now. The Marvels is out now.

#zawe ashton #interview #in: amazing #2024

[toxicanonymity]

My dude, as I get notification after notification about your posts every day, I had to wonder... How do you find the time to write SO much? Only because I can't even keep up with READING it all, let alone having the creativity to write that much 😂 And by that I mean, Kudos to you 👏🏻 Truly an inspiration 🙌🏼 Love the dirty, depraved world you've created 😝

Thank you 😅🖤 This might be rhetorical but I'm gonna give it a real answer. Also, I don't read nearly as much as I write. I feel guilty about all the amazing fics I haven't read. But I get caught up in getting my thots out.

I "write" in my head a lot when I'm not actually writing. Like I'm bound to have a mess of thoughts while I drive, so to make that time more productive and relaxing, as I walk to my car I might decide which story I'm going to think about and what I want to figure out. With that focus and some luck, it might come together enough that once I'm in a position to "actually" write, it pours out of my fingers.

I can type really fast. Full speed is well over 100 wpm, brazenly making typos and nonsense. Of course I rarely type that fast, but the fact that I can when I need to get a thought out helps. I had to take typing in school but really honed my skills on AOL AIM lol. I was able to type and edit "night walks morning after" in < 1hr because the thoughts were there.

For me it replaces other habits like scrolling the news or insta or Twitter or watching Netflix. Also I will write anywhere. I once wrote a whole smut scene standing in line at Burlington for 40 minutes. If I'm standing in line or a waiting room more than a couple minutes, better believe I'm opening google docs or my tumblr.

I multitask to get thoughts out. Like I will write on my phone at the gym while I'm on the recumbant bike.

It's my favorite thing to do these days, so I will dedicate time to it. Over recent weekends, I've spent a good bit of time at the library writing.

I maximize efficiency by writing whatever I feel like at any given moment. This helps me be in a natural flow where I'm not thinking too hard. This is why I can't say whether or when I'll do or finish something. And why a request may sit in my inbox so long then suddenly get done when inspiration strikes,.

#toxicanonymity writer's room

[lpham2525]

To Love is to Suffer

***Inspired by Love and Death (1975) 

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Mentions of war and trauma.

INT. ANIMATION STUDIO – NIGHT. 

FRANKY: So, Twilight, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something. 

LOID: Is this about the listening device you’ve been promising me? 

FRANKY: No. 

LOID: Or the dating simulation program you’ve been building? 

FRANKY: HELL NO. How did you even find out—you know what? I don’t want to know. 

LOID: Okay, is it the fact that you’re running low on tobacco supplies? 

FRANKY: Also no, but thanks for reminding me. I’ll make a note to go check on it. 

LOID: What’s this about then?  

FRANKY: It’s about the sneaking suspicion I have that you might be...falling in love with your family. 

LOID: What. 

FRANKY: See, I knew you’d do that. 

LOID: Do what? 

FRANKY: That deadpan, non-committal thing you do when you don’t want to admit to something that’s so obvious even a blind bat can see it. 

LOID: Franky, we’ve been over this. You know what we are. You know the work we do. You know how every single one of these missions ends. This one is no different. People like you and I? We can’t afford feelings. We can’t afford mistakes. We sure as hell can’t afford... 

FRANKY: Love? 

LOID: Yes. That. 

FRANKY: You’re so deep into it, you can’t even say it. 

LOID: I can say it. 

FRANKY: Okay, say it then.   

LOID: What is this, grade school? 

FRANKY: SAY IT OR I’M GOING TO CALL YOU OUT ON THE STUPID EMOTION YOU’VE BEEN HIDING FROM THIS ENTIRE MISSION. 

LOID: *hesitates, the word heavy on his tongue, the implications heavy in his heart* 

LOID: Love. We sure as hell can’t afford to love. 

FRANKY: Well, if you can’t afford to love, what’s all this then?

FRANKY: *gestures to LOID’s stubble and tousled hair and disheveled appearance* 

LOID: I don’t follow.  

FRANKY: You don’t think that you're putting a bit...too much into this? 

LOID: If this helps Anya learn, then it’s worth it. After all, as a spy— 

FRANKY: Yes, yes, I know. “As a spy, I must do all I can to ensure the success of the mission.” 

LOID: Precisely. The fact that I'm putting in extra effort means that I’m dedicated to the mission at hand. It's not a reflection of how I feel at all. 

FRANKY: Yeah, sure...  

FRANKY: *rolls his eyes, then straightens up as he mentally shifts gears* 

FRANKY: You’re right. Of course you’re right. I mean, just because you’re going above and beyond doesn’t mean that you’re developing any real attachment to anything.  

LOID: Exactly. Like I said, if this helps Anya do better in school, then it will culminate in an Imperial Scholarship. That will help me reach my target, and ultimately, prevent a war. This is all for the sake of the greater good.  

FRANKY: I couldn’t have said it better myself. After all, our job is to end or even prevent world suffering, and this... 

FRANKY: *gestures to the studio and the towering stacks of frames and the expensive sound equipment* 

FRANKY: This just happens to be a necessary part of it. A necessary expense, if you will. It has nothing to do with how much you want to create something for Anya that you know she enjoys. 

LOID: Well, you already know that a significant part of my role is to care for Anya— 

FRANKY: And Yor. 

LOID: Yes, and Yor. 

FRANKY: And don’t forget about the dog. 

LOID: Yes, yes, and Bond, too. You already know I care for my whole family as much as is necessary to maintain appearances. 

FRANKY: Yeah. Uh-huh. I get it now. That’s exactly the point you were trying to make earlier. It’s not like you’d do anything so out-of-character as to develop any real feelings for this fake family. 

LOID: No. Of course not. 

FRANKY: Of course...not. Once this is all over, it’s not like disbanding this family is going to cause you any grief. You’re the best there is, after all. You’ve done this dozens of times before. No attachments, no feelings to get in the way.  

LOID: *pauses in the middle of adjusting the lighting for a shot and fixes Franky with a piercing look* 

LOID: Somehow, I get the feeling that you actually mean the opposite of what you’re saying. 

FRANKY: Who, me? NOoooo...Why would I do that? Surely, the greatest spy in Westalis can detect sincerity when he hears it.  

FRANKY: *blinks innocently at LOID while he continues to calibrate his optical filter* 

LOID: *glares at FRANKY, then turns away* 

FRANKY: *puts down his optical filter* 

FRANKY: That’s not the real reason, is it? 

LOID: I don’t know what you mean by "real reason". 

FRANKY: This I-can't-love-because-I'm-a-spy schtick. 

LOID: I can’t love. I am a spy. Those are facts. Spies only deal in facts.  

FRANKY: So do informants, but facts also include what’s happening in places that no one sees. And I’m not talking about covert exchanges in back alleyways.  

FRANKY: *strides up to LOID* 

FRANKY: I’m talking about places like here. 

FRANKY: *pokes the left side of his chest* 

LOID: *swats FRANKY away* 

LOID: Quit it. It has nothing to do with things like that. 

FRANKY: Come on, you really think I believe that? ‘Cause I know you don’t. 

LOID: Franky, you know I can’t love because... 

FRANKY: Because you’ll have to leave them someday. 

LOID: Yes, but also... 

LOID: *jaw tightens* 

LOID: To love is to suffer. Everyone I’ve ever loved...well, you know what happened to them. 

FRANKY: ... 

FRANKY: Come sit down a minute. 

LOID: I’m in the middle of— 

FRANKY: THAT WASN’T A REQUEST, YOU STUBBORN ASSHAT. 

LOID: *sits down next to FRANKY, taken aback by his insistence* 

FRANKY: Here.  

FRANKY: *cracks open two beers and hands one to LOID* 

FRANKY: I’ve been thinking about that, too.  

LOID: … 

FRANKY: Listen, I know where you’re coming from, and you’re right. I do know what we are. I know what we do and why we do it and how this has always ended. It’s the road we’re on, even if it’s not one we would have chosen for ourselves. FRANKY: *stares into the neck of his beer, his memories reaching back through time* FRANKY: To love is to suffer. Trust me, I know. But recently, I realized something else. I realized that one can also suffer from not loving.  

LOID: *snorts dismissively* 

FRANKY: I’m serious about this! Love is one of the most basic human impulses and to deny yourself of that...it’s like denying an essential part of your own humanity.  

FRANKY: *looks over at LOID, a haunted expression in his eyes* 

FRANKY: And haven’t we lost enough of our humanity already?  

LOID: *tightens his grip on the beer bottle* 

LOID: That’s why I’m doing this. I’m fighting for a world where no one has to go through that again.  

FRANKY: Yes, but what about you? 

LOID: What about me? 

FRANKY: Do you think it’s fair to deny yourself the very thing you’re working so hard to give to everyone else?  

LOID: … 

LOID: This isn’t about fairness. Nor is it about me. I’m a spy. I gave my life over to this. Nothing else in my life will be as important. 

FRANKY: I don’t think you believe that, either. You think I don’t know that you’ve been doodling pictures of your family every chance you get? I doubt it’s because you’re using them as reference material. 

LOID: It...it helps me when I have a mental block. 

FRANKY: You sure have a lot of blocks then. 

LOID: *silently rolls his beer bottle from one hand to the other* 

FRANKY: Listen, you’ve been different lately. You know it. I know it. I’ve seen the change in you. Nothing has ever come over you like this. I’ve never seen you more yourself, whoever that may be, than you are when you’re with them.  

FRANKY: *finishes his beer and grabs another one* 

FRANKY: Hell, it’s almost like I’m seeing the man behind all the masks. The man before Twilight. The man before Roland even. Whoever the hell you were before everything happened. Before everything broke you. 

LOID: That guy is gone. He’s not coming back. 

FRANKY: *slurring slightly* 

FRANKY: And why the hell not? 

LOID: You sure curse a lot more when you’re drunk. 

FRANKY: I’m not drunk. And don’t change the subject. 

LOID: The man I was before Twilight was an angry, vengeful soldier, blinded by rage. 

FRANKY: And the one before that?  

LOID: The one before that was a street rat, scuttling through life wondering if I would have enough to eat or would live to see the next day. 

FRANKY: And before that? 

LOID: I was cowering all the time, hiding and waiting for sirens, for bombs, for the end. 

FRANKY: *gives him a “Go on” look* 

LOID: *sighs* 

LOID: And before that, I was a naïve boy playing soldier. And before that, I still had a fam— 

LOID: *breaks off suddenly* 

FRANKY: Whoa, whoa, whoa! Easy there! Any tighter of a grip and that bottle’s going to shatter. 

LOID: *loosens his grip on the beer bottle, then hands it to FRANKY* 

LOID: We shouldn’t even be having this talk. I don’t know why you brought this up. 

FRANKY: *unfazed* 

FRANKY: You know why. 

LOID: *glares* 

FRANKY: Because if running away is all you’re going to do, you’re going to run away from the best thing that’s ever happened to you. 

LOID: You were the one who warned me about getting attached. 

FRANKY: And when have you ever taken my advice? 

FRANKY: *downs the second beer* 

FRANKY: Besides, don’t you think it’s too late now? 

LOID: No. Because I’m not attached. 

FRANKY: Keep telling yourself that, buddy. Your spy brain can fill you with all the propaganda it wants. These, however... 

FRANKY: *pulls out squares of paper, figures of ANYA and YOR and BOND drawn on them* 

FRANKY: These don’t lie.  

LOID: How did you— 

FRANKY: I’m an informant. We collect information. Especially when you put it right under our noses. However, I, unlike you, do not fail to see what’s right in front of me.  

FRANKY: *waves the drawings in LOID’s face* 

LOID: Give me that! 

FRANKY: I don’t think I need to. You already have so many replications of these hidden all over the studio. 

LOID: I... 

FRANKY: You what? Can’t admit to the truth? 

LOID: Fine. Keep them. I don’t need them. 

FRANKY: You might not need these drawings, but you do need what they represent. As a matter of fact, you already have it. Now it's only a matter of realizing it before it's too late.

FRANKY: *tucks away the drawings, then rises and brushes himself off* 

FRANKY: Remember that you only have so much time with them, whether you decide to stay or not. At this point, you’ve taken the path of Twilight many, many times. You know where it ends. For once, wouldn’t you rather see where the other road goes? The one created by Loid Forger?

FRANKY: *hands LOID a small book* 

LOID: What’s this? 

FRANKY: A little something I put together. Although I think you’ll find it quite familiar.  It's something you've looked at many times before, but have never really seen.

LOID: That doesn't make any sense.

FRANKY: Give it a shot. You'll see what I mean.

FRANKY: *returns to his work* 

LOID: *opens the book to find his own drawings of his family in there, then tosses the book away into a drawer and slams it shut, inexplicably angry* 

********************************************************************* 

INT. ANIMATION STUDIO - NIGHT. 

FRANKY: Well, that's it for me. I'm heading out for the night.

LOID: You go on ahead. I want to grab something before closing up.

FRANKY: All right. See you tomorrow.

LOID: See you.

LOID: Now, where is that list of gift ideas? I know I left it in here somewhere... 

[LOID opens a drawer to find FRANKY’s book in there again. He pulls out the book and rifles through it quickly in case he stuffed the list in there. That’s when he realizes that FRANKY had carefully organized the drawings into a flip book and as LOID flicks through it, a scene emerges before his eyes. It’s a simple scene of his family having an ordinary day together, but the last drawing is a composite sketch of LOID tucking in each member of his family. LOID stands there for several long minutes, staring at his own handiwork. Finally, he puts the book away, dons his hat and coat and leaves the studio, turning out the lights and closing the door on the way.] 

EXT. ANIMATION STUDIO - NIGHT. 

[LOID is scribbling something on a sign on the door. On one side, the sign says “OPEN”. On the other side, LOID has crossed out “CLOSED” and written “OUT WITH FAMILY”. He lets go of the sign and watches as it swings back and forth.] 

LOID: I gotta remember to thank him someday.  

#spy x family #loid forger #franky franklin #long post

[dollarbin]

Dollar Bin #33: Grace Slick's

Welcome to the WRECKING BALL!

Something you just gotta kneel down and submit to whatever The Dollar Bin offers.

I was down on my hands and creaky knees in my favorite shop a week or two back when I hit a vinyl goldmine: seven records I did not already own and knew I'd listen to at least once. Seven records for a dollar each. Seven!

Well, a lot of what I bought ultimately sounded pretty mediocre so calling it a goldmine is a stretch. I'm guessing you need a lot of iron to forge a wrecking ball big enough for Grace Slick to mount and crash about on so let's say I hit an iron mine. Check Grace out on the album's backside.

I'm guessing OSHA did not approve this photo shoot. But saying I hit an iron mine still doesn't sound quite right... After all, I suspect a lot of what I bought sucks: Stephen Stills 2 was in the stack. So maybe it was more like a tin mine? Tin doesn't sound like a valuable metal and, sorry Grace Slick, but ridiculous as your record appears it may win up not even worth a buck.

Even so, did I waiver before laying down my 93 pre-tax cents for Grace Slick's Welcome to the Wrecking Ball, an album which I knew absolutely nothing about from an artist who, apart from her early penchant for chasing rabbits and someone to love, is largely a mystery to me? Definitely not. After all, what the hell else are you gonna buy for 93 cents and then take any interest in? 1/8th of a burrito?

And there's always the chance that a record which looks this wacky will have songs that are equally bonkers. And bonkers is good, yeah? Slick on the cover looks like she'd spent the day as an extra for a B grade zombie flick featuring a lot of smoke machines. And I love how Slick's name and the album's title were slapped on post production, perhaps by a real zombie. What's more, she's standing prominently on Steiner Avenue. And that has got to mean something. Right? Maybe? Please tell me this a big, well thought through concept record, every line and every sound and every image dedicated to one silly cause...

Including the gatefold image; what's Slick out to smash here? The patriarchy? Stephen Sills? Us? Man, I'm getting excited.

There are no Captain and Tennelle and their corpulent dog records framed on the walls of my home as ironic testaments to my wit; nor do I own any savvy Hanging With My Gnomies or Dogfather tees that proclaim my sardonic depths. But who the hell would have a record collection and not want to own this record based on its looks alone?

It's not strictly true to say that I don't know anything about Slick post Jefferson Airplane's debut record, the one which features the aforementioned two songs that everyone knows. I got a copy of Bark, their 71 record, out of the Dollar Bin the same day I picked this little number up and it sounds... unimpressive.

To begin with, that album's vinyl has more flexibility to it than the quinoa tortilla I tried to eat for lunch today; seriously, I could wrap up some beans and rice in my copy of Bark record and call it lunch (I guess I should add a fish head or two based on that record's cover).

Those quinoa tortillas, on the other hand, would be right at home on my turntable, and they might ultimately sound better than Welcome to the Wrecking Ball. (Fair reader, I'm still getting up the courage to finally drop the needle on this thing; I promise to do so before we're done.)

But Grace Slick deserves my respect and open mind, and I'm going to give it to her. After all, she helped me learn how to dance. For reasons that are now lost in the sands of time I went to an 80's elementary school in which the mothers and the cool kids decided that dance parties, complete with placing our mostly chaste hands on each other's hips for slow dances (one poor young lady had to dance every one of those with an insistent and utterly uncool me for three straight years; sorry Amy!), were meant to start in the 4th Grade.

Seriously! Starting at age 10 we'd gather together for birthday parties at the Badminton Club or in someone's backyard with the most intense of the cool kid's older brother as DJ (he'd do a steamy lip sink to Shout! mid-party; we'd all freak out with awe. That dude probably sells commercial real estate these days and actively fantasizes about building a time machine so he can go back and repeatedly relive the greatest moments in his life at those parties, during which he was a cheesy, corpuscled combination of Marty McFly, Ferrris Bueller and the Fonz to all us kids) and go two steps left and two steps right with a clap accompanying each motion to everything from Buffalo Soldier to, you got it, We Built This City on Rock and Roll, Slick's incredibly regrettable 85 anthem about the pressing need for more easily accessible rock clubs in everyone's hometown which routinely tops "Worst Song of All Time" lists.

Did we think We Built This City on Rock and Roll was the worst song of all time back in 4th grade? Heck no. Often, some of the 4 foot tall cool kids would mount party tables and dance on them during the track, belting out the lyrics in their smurf voices. We were a pack of 4th grade white kids and we were actively building a city on rock and roll in real time. And it was awesome. Honestly, I don't know if I've ever even heard the song as a grown up, and I'm not plastering it here. Play it in your own blog; I'm listening to it in my ten year old brain, and it's working some serious magic.

And so, Grace Slick deserves the benefit of the doubt! Let's drop the needle and see what her wrecking ball of a dollar bin record has in store for us.

Holy Freakin' and Sagging Space Balls. This record sounds like Joan Jett, only inexplicably worse; it sounds like Poison covering Motley Crew while on speed; it sounds like Tesla's, (we're talking about the band here, not the automobile; and why we're at it, are the members of Tesla sitting around right now even richer than Elon all because they copywrited their band's name?), follow up to their even-then-it made-me-apoplectic record Five Man Acoustical Jam entitled Listen to Us Destroy All Sense of Purpose Within You With Our Glam Rock Ninja Moves (okay they don't really have a record by that name; I made that up; but they do have a record entitled Bust A Nut, and I'd argue, without any basis of knowledge whatsoever, that that record sounds a lot like Welcome to the Wrecking Ball).

This song sounds like what they'd play in the concourse area before a Donald Trump rally: everyone's standing around bumping each other's fists behind their wrap around sunglasses indoors, no one has sleeves on their shirts, and everyone wishes they could get a pair of red, white and blue Trump brand solid gold sneakers for their very own; and of course they all know Jesus will soon descend once again, only this time he'll rock a polyester jumpsuit and go agro on everyone who doubts the Donald.

To be fair, there's nothing here to suggest that Slick was a Republican; I'm making unfair analogies. But there's also nothing here to suggest that Slick had any capacity for making music anyone would ever enjoy listening to. Come on, you decide: does a song like this give you any version of pleasure?

What's worse, I can't find anything on the record that's actually as good as the title track. Slick sings, or perhaps declaims is a better word for it, about how much she loathes music critics, then moves on to describe dominatrices with their hands on the whip who have the devil in their heart and so on; then she lays this on us:

Slick chases us around the stereo space while we flee in terror; listen to the guitar soloist prance, pose and persuade us to reconsider everything we hold sacred; and then, at the end of the song, listen to everyone go totally nuts. I hear screams, laser beams and drum drops; I hear the effects of a lot of coke. Or maybe Slick was just going all in a few years early, trying to come up with something that would get fourth graders to dance on tables. Because we absolutely would have done so to this song.

Someone, please, call Alice; tell her to bring the doormouse. I want my 93 cents back.

#grace slick #jefferson airplane #Youtube #stephen stills sucks #we built this city on rock and roll #go ask alice #tesla the band #joe freakin' lala

[tea-key-tangled]

✨Roleplay Partner Search✨

I'm looking for 18+ text based roleplay partners that are active and can meet the following requirements:

Long-term: I am used to doing a semi-to-slow burn and have written easily into the hundreds of thousands of words with a dedicated partner.

Paragraph-Literature Style (Third Person): I can easily do one thousand words for a post but have done more during setup and a bit less for dialogue-heavy interaction. Quality over quantity but attempting to match length is appreciated.

Activity: I like to post multiple times a day if possible and would enjoy someone who could meet this pace. I'm in US EST, and my schedule is currently very open. Once a day would be acceptable as well.

LGBTQ Friendly Pairings: I heavily enjoy playing male/male, male/transman and male/non-binary character dynamics.

BDSM/Kink Friendly: I like to use Safe, Sane and Consensual as well as Risk Aware Consensual Kink if we are adding BDSM elements. I have a wide variety of kinks, so please don't be shy when asking after one!

Fandoms: The following are my preferred fandoms with the setup being Top/bottom (* is who I enjoy playing.)

Attack on Titan

Levi*/Eren

Pairings: These dynamics are what I enjoy the most when creating either a fandom or original roleplay. No preference is given to which is played and what side of the slash is top or bottom.

Human/Werewolf

Human/Merfolk

Human/Eldritch Horror

Human/Demon

Mage/Demon

Mage/Summoned

Werewolf/Werewolf

Alpha/Omega

Teacher/Student

Master/Slave (BDSM oriented)

Kidnapper/Kidnapped

Stalker/Victim

Neglected Spouse/Enamored Neighbor

Camboy/Watcher

Brother/Brother (Can be twins or adopted)

Sugar Daddy/Sugar Baby

Genres/Tropes: These are elements that I adore including in my writing when building a plot with a partner. Not everything has to be added but just know these are well loved.

Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics

Soulmates/Fated Mates

Hurt/Comfort

Mpreg

Reincarnation

Angst

Slowburn

Fuck or Die

Monsterfucking

Soul Bonds

Yandere (Lovers don't hurt each other)

Enemies to Lovers

Forbidden Lovers

Things I Need: I love to world build and plan. The plot and characters matter over the smut but I definitely don't mind doing a lot of smut if the setup requires it (BDSM themes exploring character vulnerability and growth for example.)

Things that I Dislike: Straight up slice of life without any paranormal elements or conflict. I just find the pacing and themes too dull to keep my interest. No god-modding and please, let me know if you lose your muse or want to try something else. I won't be offended and understand, I promise!

Places: I prefer to roleplay through Discord or Email. It helps me keep track of things and stay active.

-x-

Here are some plots I have!

~Fixated~

Themes: Eldritch Creature, Mutual Obsession, Dark Themes. Possessive Love. A Darker Love.

Levi is an Eldritch God of the Void that has been masquerading as a school janitor while feeding on the students there. Eren is a new student baffled by all of the rumors surrounding the staff member, even though none of them are anywhere close to the truth. Levi is bored but Eren wants to know him more.

Hook: They develop a mutual obsession with each other. Eren is amusing at first but then has the God experiencing love for the first time. Eren and Levi fall into a dark but all encompassing love.

Additional secret: They can be reincarnated from canon to add more interest.

~Take Me Further~

Themes: Actual BDSM, Kinks, Fetishes, Dynamics and RP borrowing real life experiences from someone in the community.

Levi is a community leader of the local BDSM chapter while Eren is a brand new submissive that is eager and wants to try. This RP is meant to share and develop a unique experience with the character's dynamics and how they discover themselves and each other.

Note: Any dynamics or tropes listed above can be worked in these plots.

#rivaere #levi ackerman #eren yeager #roleplay

[ineffablyrandom]

Books are always a big part of me. I remember reading The Adventures of Tom Sawyer when I was in Elementary when I slept over with my cousins, I saw it on their bookshelf, picked it up, and read it. Even when I was young, I enjoyed a book with stories, parables, fables, and Alamat/Legends. I always borrowed my Tita's pocketbooks when I was in elementary and high school, too young to read that kind of material, but too stubborn for anyone to stop me from finishing and reading one. When I didn't have a book to read, I picked up the bible (New Testament and Old Testament) and read it. Sometimes I skimmed dictionaries just because I wanted to read, list down all the interesting words that I encountered, and forget them as soon as I reached for another (newspaper) to entertain me with. I remember picking up Who Moved My Cheese? I liked it so much, and I knew that's when I started loving quotes and one-liners, paragraphs, and sentences that I dedicated one notebook to fill in all the good words I've read so far. I remember borrowing my high school classmate's book Ghostgirl by Tonya Hurley - the first book series I've loved. Right there and then, I wanted to buy books and collect them after I read them. But alas, I don't have the luxury and the privilege yet to buy books whenever I want. So as much as I could, I borrowed books. Little by little, I saved up and bought some if ever there was any extra money. It was my guilty pleasure. Books are not cheap. But I can't give up on them. I think maybe that is one of the reasons why I am a very hopeless romantic even when I was a child. I consider myself a bookworm/book girly.

But as all the bookworms have experienced, there was also a time when I couldn't even pick up a small book. I knew I loved reading, still love books, but I couldn't even finish reading Chapter 1. I guess you can say I was in a book slump. But it was more than that. I stopped doing things I'm happy about. I stopped buying books. I stopped reading, painting, and listening to music. I don't know what it took for me to pick the books on my TBR list and finish them, the only thing on my mind back then was not to think of heartbreaking things other than the stories in the books I've read.

I started buying tragic, tear-jerking books so that I'd have a good reason to cry because even though I have enough reason in real life to cry about, I was empty. And I didn't want to face the reality. I turned to books when I wanted some escape, and for a while, it helped. So I cried when a character died, I cried when it was too relatable, and I cried when the plot/story was so good that my heart felt so full it could burst. And I wished. I wished for a love story similar to the love stories written in a book. If it were just so simple.

There was a time I thought I was done with that hobby, thought I would never pick up a book again. But here I am, reading my 51st book of the year, and I am so damn proud of myself. I can't stop. I promised myself, that life would turn dark again somehow, with obstacles, and life-changing experiences, but there's too much goodness also spread across the world and in my life, and books are one of them. So I will take a break once in a while if I ever feel like I'm in a book slump again. But I think, out of all the hobbies I acquired throughout the years, being a bookworm will forever be one of my favorites.

So cheers to 50 books I've read this year. Maybe I'll list my top 10 favorites and least favorites.

To more books to read and books to buy next year!

#memory keeping #books #random thoughts #bookworn #book lover

[oh-my-damn]

Wow. You're sure putting in a lot of time and effort into a man you claim not to like. A normal person, with a normal, rational brain, would simply walk away and pay him no mind. Say you're jealous and go because girlie, it's embarrassing as fuck and so many blogs on here laugh at you behind the scenes. There's a whole ass group chat dedicated to just laughing at you and your friend's nonsense. That's how embarrassing you, and your friends, are. ///

Okay. Here we go.

First: this is absolutely not about jealousy. Bringing up problematic behavior and people needs to happen. Here’s the best part: you don’t like what’s being said, so you probably are part of the fucking problem.

@oh-my-damn has done nothing but listen and share experiences POC, myself included, have had with this, and why our feelings are the way they are. We may not agree on real or PR, but that doesn’t affect shit between us because we are fucking adults who can have grown ass conversations.

What she’s done, just by listening and not speaking over POC voices and experiences is way more than other mods on here have done. She posts the food and the bad. And if you’re uncomfortable with that, you’re part of the fucking problem.

Do you really think she nor anyone else who is friends with her actually care that there’s a ducking group chat made just to talk shit? No. Wanna know why? You probably don’t, but I’m still going to tell you.

It’s because she and her friends address the shit talking head on. There are no passive aggressive posts or asks, they don’t need to go on anon to say their piece. They talk about it to and in front of the people that cause the fucking issues in this fandom. Creating a group just to shit talk cause you’re too fucking scared or hypocritical to actually say it outright is being a fucking coward and a child.

Run back to your fucking group chat. You belong there. And trust, that’s not a good thing. Get the fuck on and outta here with this bullshit

Listen. Y'all can make as many group chats about me as you fucking want. Y'all can even try to blame me for doxxing, or talking shit, or being jealous, or being a hater, or whatever the fuck you want.

At the end of the day, I'm here doing me. I'm living my fucking life, I come on here when I have time, but otherwise I go to Law School (yes, you read that right. Keep that in mind next time you want to harrass, honeys. Oh, and that's not even my first degree. It is my second one. So yeah, come suck my dick), I write occasionally about characters or storylines that intrigue me, and I talk to my friends (and also people who are more than friends but I digress), and SOMETIMES I speak about topics that MATTER. They matter to a lot of people and they SHOULD matter to you. And the reason they probably don't, is because you're a bigoted racist. There, I said it.

Fucking hell. Make that fucking group chat. I hope you even put my pfp as your fucking cover photo. I hope you name it "Mandy's Hate Squad". I hope you talk about me all day.

ALL DAY. TALK ABOUT ME ALL DAY.

I am proud that I, little old me who started a blog without even knowing how to fucking use tumblr, am on your mind enough that you NEED A WHOLE ENTIRE CHAT TO DISCUSS ME AND WHAT I DO.

God. What an honor.

I will be handing out headshots and autographs soon.

Stay tuned for my con dates!

And @adulting-sucks? I love you. Thank you for being you, always ❤️

Oh, and I also want to add... That this entire ask from the original anon was created to, once again, DEFLECT. from the REAL ISSUES. Because that's what the Defenders do. They are apologists of REAL SHIT THAT SHOULD NOT BE EXCUSED. LIKE RACISM. AND ANTI-SEMITISM. AND FATPHOBIA.

I am sure they don't understand what it means when people start excusing that kind of shit. But luckily a lot of us do.

So fuck them.

Come suck my big sweaty balls you losers 🥰😘

#mandy answers #chris evans #fandom #im sorry #i cant be your man #I'm sorry #SHE A FUCKING FAN #cant believe i have a fandom #oh my gosh #if you want to speak to me book a time with my assistant #apparently im that important #💅

[thoughtsofanexcitedspacechild]

Surviving College: The First Semester

Now that I'm finally back home for the rest of the month and my very first semester of college is over, I thought I'd share some valuable advice on how I survived being away from home for an extended period of time, managing all my school, events, and appointments myself, and in general how I made it through my first semester with pretty okay grades (All A's for now, and unless my profs hate me I think those are final) an actual sleep schedule, and a thriving social life (not really, but I definitely have more friends than last year who I adore).

If you have the option to meet each other beforehand or pick your roommate, do it. Some colleges (including mine) had a roommate matching service. It may seem stupid but do it. It makes things so much easier if you know who you're dealing with before you even move in.

Going off of number one, try and make friends with them. College is scary, and you're gonna want to start to meet people from the day you move in. Your roommates are perfect places to start. Yes, some people do have terrible or just neutral experiences with roommates, but try your very best to befriend whoever you're rooming with. I know that my roommates definitely helped me to feel more like I was living with a family rather than just by myself in a different state. They were the first people that supported me and listened to me. I celebrated victories and went through hard times with them. We were all there to support each other throughout the semester and it helped a lot.

Keep the dorm (or your side of the dorm) clean. It's so hard to get anything done in a messy space, especially when it's small. You're going to get busy during the semester, but if you don't set aside time every week to clean up at least a little bit, things are going to get messy real fast. Here's a checklist of things I kept that helped me feel like my space wasn't as filthy:

Make your bed EVERY DAY. (Even if you're bed is lofted, it makes a huge difference and takes probably five minutes max)

Have a laundry bag to keep dirty clothes in and just throw your outfit from the day in there. Keeps dirty clothes off the gross floor and out of sight

Laundry needs to be done every week. Check to see what day is the least busy wherever you do your laundry and dedicate an afternoon to sit up there and study while it's going. Often times the best times to do this is on a weekday morning. If you don't have a class one day of the week in the mornings or early afternoon, do it then. It's not fun, but having clean clothes is a must and if you do it then, laundry doesn't eat up your weekend.

Fridge (if you have one) is cleaned out every week.

Bathroom (if you have a private or shared bathroom that you're responsible for) is cleaned weekly. Even if you just spray stuff down with some bathroom cleaner and wipe it down. Germs spread in dorms and the bathrooms are breeding grounds for the frat flu.

Clean your sheets every other week at least. Please. Just do it.

Vacuum the goddamn floor every once in a while. The carpets already crusty enough.

If you have dishes, clean them. If you don't there's a risk of mice coming to clean them for you.

Wipe down your desk and tech items if they look gross.

Make sure you're clean as possible. Take showers, wash your face, and keep up with personal hygiene. It's good manners.

Attend class. Don't skip unless you're sick or really can't make it. Attendance is a major part of your grade for most intro classes, and even though most of the time, yes you could catch up on your own, most of having good grades your first semester is showing up. Just do it.

Going off of that, if you're not feeling well, even a little bit, stay home. Please don't be that person that's coughing up a storm in a 100 person lecture hall. Especially after a global pandemic, be courteous of others and allow yourself to rest. You need it. The more you rest and take care of yourself, the faster you're gonna get better.

If you don't want to get sick, don't go to huge parties. Yes, this does suck. Yes, there is gonna be some FOMO. It's not worth it though when people are all partying and passing around sickness like candy. Small get togethers are usually ok, but stay away from larger frat parties if you can.

Also, it's ok to drink, but don't get so drunk you get hungover. Seriously, it's gonna mess with you later.

If number one and number two sound prude and boring, remember that unless you're getting your tuition payed out of daddy's pockets, you're the one paying for a degree. In college, time is money. The longer you're out sick with the frat flu or hung over, the more fun things and school time you miss.

While C's do get degrees, graduation comes up fast. It's gonna feel way better if when it does come you can graduate cum laude or summa cum laude. What you put into academics and mostly taking care of yourself so that you can take care of your academics is what you'll get out of it.

Join three different clubs: One for social development, one that keeps you active, and one that can supplement either a personal interest or academic interest. (Ex I joined fencing club (harder and more intense than it looks) a sorority for social and professional growth, and am currently serving as a board member for undergraduate anthropology association)

This may seem so backwards to some of the advice I'm giving, but join greek life. Depending on where you go there's options to join an academic frat or sorority or a social one. While yes there are parties, most of the stuff I've experienced with my sorority are social events, community service, and professional development. I've also made a ton of close friends, and met upperclassmen I know I can trust.

Going off of that make friends with a trustworthy upperclassmen. These are gonna be your teammates in your intramural sports club, older board members for your clubs, your big brother/sister in your greek org, your CA/RA and in general an upperclassmen who's your friend who you know is trustworthy and responsible. People make college seem like you have to do everything on your own and you're completely in charge of yourself, but you need to have an older friend who's still close enough in age for you to be able to have someone older to talk to and give you advice. You're not always going to want to call your parents and explain to them you're in a sticky situation or you're lonely or you feel sick of school. These people are gonna be your first responders when things pop up, especially if you're on the other side of the country and you can't get home or your parents can't get to you.

Have an ADULT (like a home-owning, job-having REAL adult) you can trust that you know is in the area or can reasonably pick you up if something happens. Before I moved me and my mom set up arrangements with one of her friends that lives an hour away from my school just in case. While I don't mean to scare anyone, sometimes things do happen on a college campus. If something were to happen, I have a contact and a place I could stay if things were to get bad.

Back to less scary tips dining hall food sucks. It just does. Even though it sucks, it's way better on you and your wallet than eating out all the time.

If you're going to spend money anywhere, have it be at your local coffee shop. Shitty coffee from the dining hall isn't going to cut it when you have four classes, an advising appointment, an essay to write, and fencing practice all in the same day.

While on the subject of caffeine, try not to down energy drinks. If you really need more caffeine, do coffee or a black tea instead.

Get a water boiler kettle. Mine has saved me and my roomies many a time.

If your campus is an open campus, there's gonna be weird people that show up. The most important thing is to not engage or you could get roped into having your cheek swabbed to see if you're compatible for organ donation for cancer research. Point in question, do not approach or engage unless you personally know the organization/person.

If you're bored with the dining hall food near you and you have the option, go to a different dining hall. They usually have different stuff.

It's ok to cry. You're going to cry at one point. College is hard. Let it out.

It's also ok to come home for a bit. If you have the chance, go home.

Fall break and Midwinter break are for breaks. Do not plan anything and try to get stuff done before then.

This is getting too long. Part two soon maybe?

[bogdan522rp]

Roleplayers are Mentally Unstable

(I'm greatly exaggerating, but the title isn't all that far off from reality.)

Throughout my years on Discord, I've met all kind of people - and I can safely assume that at least half of them either have a mental health problem, they're just massive pieces of shit, or both. To be fair, I've met loads of incredible people, but even the best have their failings.

I'm no better - hell, I'm probably worse than some of my friends; I'm an emotional wreck reliant on other people's validation to continue functioning. But I've recognized that, well, roleplayers can be, in a lot of cases, vulnerable escapists who might not easily tolerate critiques.

Creative people aren't exactly the models of mental health, and with roleplaying, the problems only multiply. It's a hobby for those who want to escape the daily struggle of reality, to forget their troubles and just do stupid shit. That's generally fine, really - but very often, escapism doesn't seem to be a healthy way to approach roleplaying, let alone the rest of the world.

I think that comes due to an issue with one's mentality. I've also started roleplaying partially to get away from the monotony and pain of high school (cursed be it's name), but as I became older and more experienced, the other reasons for having this hobby - curiosity, a sense of community - trumped escaping the real world. Hell, while I'm still generally isolated from other people IRL, I no longer see roleplaying as an avenue for running away from real life; it's 'just' a passion that takes some of my time away and helps me make friends.

I admit, though, I spend too much time inside a cramped room.

Obviously, other people aren't so lucky. I'm generally well off, but some of the acquaintances and friends I made are worse off; hell, I've seen a handful of them basically melt down, go off on really unhinged rants, and admit to thinking some really fucked up shit, which... yeah, that happens. I've done that too a couple of times.

It also doesn't help it's full of youngsters over there. It's not necessarily a bad thing, but teenage drama, combined with escapism, leads to some pretty cringey or even outright terrible events - 2019 wasn't the brightest year in my life.

That, and when you start roleplaying, you're generally bound to have terrible ideas and shit writing; it happens, and you shouldn't ashamed of it, but remembering the teen edgefests and the power-ups and abilities I ripped off of Dragon Ball isn't exactly uplifting.

I still remember my first romantic relationship, and holy shit, it's kinda hilarious to look back on.

Yeah, it was a long-distance relationship on Discord of all damn platforms; it wasn't perfect, we were too horny for our own good (especially myself), and we were both emotional crutches to each other, but it was a positive experience overall for me.

Then, after a strange breakup some months before, she vanished, and soon after I found out she had cheated on me with other friends in the server we were a part of. I wasn't terribly upset about it, but I do know one of my friends was pretty fucked up once he found out.

I'm not mad at her. I think she was just too desperate to connect with other people for her own good. I think she was generally honest about who she was or the life she lived; but I wish she had at least been honest and admitted this to all of us before she left our lives.

If you're reading this, old friend, I'm not upset. I'm just confused about why you did all this.

Sorry for going off on a tangent like that (and that this isn't a coherent rant), but yeah. That's about it, really; you'll get better at roleplaying, but you can also slowly get better as a person. It just takes effort, dedication, and a couple of good friends. That, and maybe a change of mentality.

Don't get upset when you people critique your MHA knockoff OC (not to be confused with outright insulting you, obviously); just ask for feedback. Besides, with enough practice and time, you'll get better at it, and you'll even come up with your own ideas. Don't expect them to be (wholly) original; but that's not an issue on it's own, it mostly depends on how you implement those ideas.

#roleplay #discord rp #bad advice #ranting

[darkvitas]

🌻

// OOC: Is this meme a free pass to gush about your favorites? It does say "whatever you want to talk about" so... as a result, I’m gonna talk about (one of) my oldies favorites. You know when I gush, I get long. And I apologise, but here we go. (Also if I get a fact wrong or if you have a source to add, pls let me know and I'll add it accordingly! I'm still learning.)

This is the Big Bopper. His real name is Jiles Perry Richardson, Jr, born in Sabine Pass TX, (October 24, 1930 - February 3, 1959). Friends called him Jape! You may or may not know him from his songs Chantilly Lace, or White Lightning. Anyway, he was rock n' roll, rockabilly, etc, in the '50s. Not only was he known for those songs, he was probably also known for being on the ill-fated Winter Dance Party tour, the tour that ended up taking the lives of him, as well as Buddy Holly & Ritchie Valens, among other things. But... The reason why he's a favorite of mine is because, compared to Ritchie and Buddy (who are also favorites, Buddy especially more so) I feel like he's overlooked, in my opinion, & I want to give him more recognition. Maybe he is overlooked, or maybe he isn't. That's just how I feel. If you feel differently about that, then that's okay! I just learnt more about him, and he became a musical favorite also. He is more known because of his exuberant and "comical" (if you want to call it that)? character in his songs, but there are other songs that show another side of him that are very nice, such as "Beggar to a King", "Someone Watching Over You", "The Clock", or "Strange Kisses". Now, Bopper here was also a DJ for the radio station KTRM, so you can hear that in his voice in some of his tunes: deep, smooth. His voice is very satisfying to listen to, for me, when it comes to his more serious songs at least. Back during his time, he also set the record for on-air time, according to Wikipedia, for "a total of five days, two hours, and eight minutes". Another neat thing about Jape is that he once mentioned "a tape device you hook to your TV -- long before VCRs -- and watch your favorite music video by your favorite music artist." It's amazing to think about how he was even thinking of things like that, during that era. Apparently also he was one of the first pioneers... of the music video... from what I've read. I also saw somewhere that on KTRM, he played Elvis' records also, but I forgot the source for it. Elvis DID, however, send a special wreath to his funeral. That's pretty big. (Edit: You can read about Elvis & The Big Bopper here!) He graduated from Beaumont High School in 1947, was also in the army as well, studied prelaw at Lamar University in Beaumont, TX, and played American football. To be honest, I'm astonished to know that he isn't in the Rock n' Roll Hall of Fame, while Buddy and Ritchie are. Buddy has a statue in his hometown, a museum, I'm sure Ritchie has things dedicated to him as well. I mean, a post office in his hometown is being renamed in dedication of him. I looked into things for Bopper in his area, but I've not really seen anything for him, besides a marker telling you about him at his gravesite, which is a good start, but to me, more needs to be done in my opinion. Maybe I've just not looked deep enough to see if there is more there in dedication of him? Not sure. I did see that a statue was in the works, but I didn’t see any updates on it... I just think he deserves to be in the RnR HoF. He was very talented. Maybe one day.

To read more on Bopper: x & x

#undine speaks #wrongarmofthelaw