#20-year-old bottling of its Lock

[slowlyoats]

The Lost Boys: What they do in their free time

Marko

- Beach-combing

- Since low and hide tide happen often at night or early in the morning when it’s still dark he gets to comb the beach for new TriNkEts

- David always yells at him when he returns from his treasure hunting with “more crap”

- There is a TON of sea glass in his corner of the cave. It’s all kept in glass jars, but he keeps the red pieces in a separate little jar because that color is super hard to find

- He also likes to look for washed up toys, bottle necks, and shiny rocks

- HE DESPERATELY WANTS A ROCK TUMBLER

- Unfortunately they are expensive, and Dwayne says that there isn’t enough electricity flowing through the cave to power one

Paul

- Ease dropping

- This man LIVES for the DRAMA

- He doesn’t even know the people he is ease dropping on or who they are talking about, but you bet your bottom dollar he doesn’t mind his tea unfamiliar and piping hot!

- Because he is with the boys 24/7 they really don’t have any secrets between them (that Paul knows of )

- So he has to get his tea fix elsewhere

- He likes to listen in on conversations while he’s in line for rides

- at the record store

- around the food vendors

- he gets lots of tea from just hanging out on the beach and at the local drive in

- You would be surprised the amount of people who talk during movies….

- His ease dropping skills have come in handy on occasion

- Every once in awhile a vampire hunter will wander into town, and start asking the locals questions they have no business asking

- Paul usually hears of their arrival through the grapevine and is able to warn the boys

Dwayne

- Helping out Laddie’s family

- It’s kind of sick that he does this, but he honestly can’t help himself

- After Max brought Laddie to the boys, Dwayne couldn’t help checking out Laddies kin and seeing for himself what this kid’s background was like

- It wasn’t great

- They lived in a run down apartment complex, that was missing half its ruff and probably hadn’t passed an inspection in 20 years

- After some snooping around, and stalking the place a few nights Dwayne was able to determine that Laddie had an aunt (who was his guardian it seemed ) a sister a few years older then him, and a 5 year old cousin

- At first Dwayne HELLA judged the aunt, because clearly if Laddie was able to find his way to the board walk and into the arms of Max, she was not keeping an eye on him in the first place

- He witnessed her grief, her tears, her confusion, when she realized Laddie was missing

- he gave her no sympathy for what he thought were the consequences of her incompetence

- but then

- He witnessed a family dinner in their small apartment that changed his opinion

- They were all sitting down to eat dinner, when there was a knock on the door. One of the children who lived in the apartment complex stopped by to play with Laddie’s sister. The aunt was just about to tell the boy to come back later, when the boy’s stomach growled. And it wasn’t a “ I’m a little peckish” or “ gee I forgot to eat lunch” type of growl. It was an“ I haven’t eaten in a few days” growl

- Without hesitation, she gave her meal to the boy and told him to come back whenever he had no food to eat at home

- Dwayne found himself to be in a little bit of a dilemma after this

- He felt guilty, but sending Laddie back wasn’t an option anymore

- The kid was half vampire now and he belonged with his brothers

- But then he noticed the lock on the door was broken, and the least he could do would be to fix it. So he snuck in once everyone was asleep and took care of it

- And then he fixed the leaky faucet

- And the loose cabinet

- And the floor board that was coming up would only take two nails to get back into place, so he might as well fix it, right?

- Dwayne soon found himself paying the apartment a weekly visit to repair stuff here and their

- Laddies aunt just assumed that the landlord decided to do his job for once and so doesn’t suspect anything

David

- breaking into Max’s house

- He LOVES to screw with Max and he would do it on a nightly basis if he could

- But

- The boys *cough cough* Paul and Marko, would probably be a tad too destructive if they came along

- Together the boys like to find vampire related objects and leave them outside Max’s house as a joke

- They’ve left costume vampire teeth

- Cloves of garlic

- Fake blood packets

- Vampire comic books

- The bat kite we see in the movie

- Max secretly finds it endearing though!

- He’s sons are playing little pranks on him and he find’s it adorable

- But what Max doesn’t know is that David takes it a step farther

- Max doesn’t lock his door, because, you know, he’s a vampire and he has Thorn to guard the place when he’s gone

- Max some how has not figured out yet that David likes to spend time in his home when he’s not there

- I think it’s because Max spends a decent amount of time around the boys, so that their scents feels normal to have around and be on his clothes. So when it’s been a long night at the video store, and he strolls into his house and can smell David it doesn’t feel out of the ordinary

- David has slowly become cordial with Thorn. I would say friend, but Thorn would rip David to shreds if Max gave him the command. But! if David brings Thorn a nice, juicy bone, then he will let him pass

- Kind of like Cerberus

- David likes to sit on Max’s back porch, and in his recliner

- He likes to snoop around his books and in his desk drawers

- He will swipe cash here and there when he finds it

- He just really likes the idea of being in Max’s space with out Max’s permission

[babeitaintme]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥❀࿐HOTTER THAN JULY (dick grayson x fem!reader) a summer day with your boyfriend <3

this isn’t proofread because i got the idea for it while i was tanning and wrote it in <20 minutes…

⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔:･･°❀⋆.ೃ

the sky was a striking blue, unaccompanied by any clouds or contrails, and the sun looked as bright as ever. you felt like you were in heaven as you lounged in your old beach chair, dressed in one of the few bikinis you owned, your skin slick with spf, and your eyes gently closed.

but this only lasted for 5 minutes.

the sun had only blessed you with its warmth and heat for only five minutes before it seemingly disappeared. your source of light was now replaced by a shadow, completely ruining your barely-started tan session. with your attempt at gaining that summertime shade now temporarily obscured, you let out a dramatic groan.

“richard grayson, you have two seconds to get out of the way or else your ass is grass.” you warn, though you’re sure the man blocking your view of the sun was far from threatened. your eyes were still shut but you could hear his hands flop to his side as he sighed in defeat, “how’d you know it was me? i didn’t even say anything!”

you open your eyes now, getting a look at your boyfriend standing in front of you. he’s wearing a pair of shorts that hang flattering around his waist with his toned body and abs, in all their glory, fully on display. you can’t help but smile at the sight. “because you’re the only one who’d think to bother me on the only sunny day of the year.” you say, trying to keep up your irritated facade despite the smile that stretches across your face.

dick chuckles at your antics before sitting down in the lawn chair directly next to yours. he stretches his arms above his head before speaking, “i figured i’d join you on your tanning adventure since i have the day off,” he takes a minute to look you up and down. “and i’d be a fool to miss seeing you in a bikini.”

you roll your eyes, feigning annoyance at his flirtation despite the heat that rises to your face. “i guess I don’t mind having you around—especially if you’re shirtless.” you shoot back. he smiles brightly in response. “although,” you pause to reach for something on the table beside your chair, “if you’re going to tan with me i expect you to wear spf.” you throw the small bottle at him and he catches it immediately. he’s quiet for a moment as he looks at the bottle in his hands.

“i’ll wear it, but only under one condition.”

your eyebrow shoots up, “and what’s that?” you know where he’s going with this. “you have to put it on for me.” he says, leaning into the space between your chairs with the bottle outstretched towards you. you wordlessly grab the bottle from his large hands and walk towards him.

you’re standing in front of him, looking slightly down at him due to the new height difference. for some reason you feel slightly bashful and dick notices, resting his hands on your waist to guide you closer to stand between his legs. his blue eyes stare up at yours and his plump lips are slightly parted as he watches you open the bottle, putting the smallest amount onto your index finger. you quickly swipe the product on his cheeks and finish with a playful “boop!” on his nose.

he boyishly smiles and blushes at this, “i knew you’d do that.”

you put more spf on the palms of your hands and begin gliding your hands across the broad expanse of his chest. his skin is hot beneath your touch and you, almost selfishly, take your time to savor the moment. his grip on your waist tightens as you work your way down to his abdomen. you continue to move slowly, not only for your own enjoyment but because you can tell his mind is already wandering.

“you’re awfully quiet for someone who usually has so much to say.” you comment, peeking through your eyelashes to meet his gaze that’s locked on your steadily moving hands. “it’s not my fault you’re being such a tease,” he says as he grabs your wrists to stop your movements.

“i’m just helping you out. ‘s wouldn’t want you to burn, baby.” you say, playfully pouting at his actions.

dick clicks his tongue in his response and momentarily releases your wrists, just to pull you down to his lap seconds after. the chair is too small for the two of you and has your legs hanging uncomfortably over the armrests, but you pay little attention to it as you bask in the warmth of your body pressed against his. wordlessly, dick rubs his hand along the plush of your thigh and rests his other on the back of your neck.

he looked into your eyes, searching for permission. you lean in slowly, his hand guiding for your face towards his as your lips met into a tentative kiss. dick, in typical dick fashion, deepens the kiss by pulling you closer and getting a soft grip on your hair. in the moment it feels as though everything else has faded around you, your tanning session long forgotten as you lose yourself in dick’s touch.

you pull away to catch your breath, “was this your plan all along?”

⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔:･･°❀⋆.ೃ

feel free to leave me a comment!

[icemansaviators]

Just seen this on TikTok and- AHHHH IM CRYING ABOUT THESE OLD GAY PILOTS AGAIN. So I wrote a quick little Drabble!

“Maverick”

The brunette turned, setting down a grease covered wrench as he wiped his hands on the towel slung over his shoulder.

Ducking below the wing of his beloved P-51 he’d been busting his ass to work on.

“Who is it dad?” Bradley’s head poked around the opposite side of the plane as he fixed his mustache.

“Tom-….what’r…..” the shorter man was interrupted by a pair of arms coming out to hug him tightly. As soft sobs were left in the junction between his neck and shoulder.

“Hey Tom….its okay, what’s going on?”

“Uncle Ice?” Bradley cocked his head, concerned bubbling in his stomach as he seen the picture laid out before him.

“Hey baby bird, could you grab your uncle some water? He’s gonna need it” Mav asked, and so Bradley was off, heading into the trailer parked inside the hangar that Maverick called home.

“Cmon Tommy, talk to me” he muttered, rubbing slow circles on his back.

“I’m so sorry….I’m sorry I wasted so much time, I feel so stupid!” Ice spit out, coughing into his elbow before meeting his wingman’s eyes.

“Ice whatr you-“

“What kind of a fool was I…..”

“A-a fool? Cmon don’t talk like that you’re-“

Ices eyes, blue and true as the ocean laid out before them so many times before….locked onto Mavericks green ones, like the horizon line between sea and land meeting as their carrier approached home.

“What kind of a fool was I, to have married her, and not waited for you” the blondes hands came up to cradle the shorter pilots face. Thumbs brushing away newly formed tears on the others part now.

“I-I don’t understand” Maverick was crying now, holding onto Ices wrists with gentle hands.

“Maybe this will enlighten you, you beautiful idiot”

Through two sets of tears their lips finally met. Waves crashed against a grassy shoreline, they were home….

Mavericks arms slung around the back of Ices shoulders. Slotting his head to the side to deepen the kiss. As tears continued to fall from both sets of eyes.

“I gave up on the idea of you ever wanting me…” Maverick whispered, resting his forehead against the blondes.

“Pete….sweetheart, I always wanted you….I was just so fucking scared….I didn’t know how to show it, so I decided to be the best wingman and friend you could have ever asked for. Because it’s all I knew how to do….its all I was ever allowed to be….”

“I understand…..it’s okay”

“It’s not….I wasted so much time Pete….so many of our years….”

“You didn’t”

Maverick wiped away Ices tears, smiling up at him with that huge dopey grin that the blonde came to know and love over the years.

“Even though I couldn’t kiss you, or hold you for as long as I wanted, or tell you I loved you….I got to see your eyes light up when I made a stupid joke, I got to see you shake your head when Goose and I would do something incredibly stupid. I got to sit out on the tarmac with you under the stars for hours and talk about everything and nothing. I got to be right by your side on dangerous missions. I got to fly through the pink and orange sky above the sea with you. I got to be the first person waiting for you on shore when we couldn’t go together and vice versa….we’ve been inseparable since….i mean if you really think about it we’ve basically been an old married couple since the 80’s”

They both chuckled, Ice running his hands through Mavericks dark hair. “This is true….but I still don’t want to waste another second not being able to kiss you…or hold you, or tell you just how much you mean to me….and how much I both love and hate those cowboy boots”

“Hey cmon now” Mav faked a wince. “The boots are golden and you know it!”

“Hangman owes me 20 bucks” Bradley interrupted, holding a bottle of water, leaning up against a toolbox as both men stared at him.

“You placed a bet about my love life?” The darker haired man questioned as they both approached him. Ice grabbing the bottle of water.

“I knew it all along….I do have eyes yknow? And you two weren’t exactly discreet.” Bradley snickered, fixing his own hair. “Hangman said it could never happen, I told him I wouldn’t be

Surprised if the whole Sarah thing was just a lavender marriage”

“So you and hangman are on talking terms now?” Ice spoke this time, resting his hand on the small of Mavericks back as he drank some water.

Bradley’s cheeks turned pink for a moment and his eyes fell down to his feet. “Well….you could say that….”

“And now you owe me 20 bucks darling” the older blonde placed a small kiss on Mavericks cheek.

Bradley froze. “Wait what?! You two placed a bet on MY love life?”

“To be fair I thought you two hated eachother” Mav chimed in, flipping his wallet open and handing the spoils to the victor.

“To be fair, everyone thought we hated eachother”

“This is true”

Bradley’s jaw was about to the floor as the two men before him discussed the topic amongst themselves. Beginning to walk towards the plane and past a very confused Bradley.

“Welp baby goose, it looks like the apple don’t fall far”

“Dad, I love you, but we’re not even biologically related….HOW CAN THE APPLE- yknow what…Nevermind”

Ice let out a small laugh. “Hope you don’t mind seeing more of me these days kiddo” wrapping an arm around Bradley’s neck as smiles painted on everyone’s face.

[honestsilasbirchtree]

About

(This blog is an experiment in finite RP that explores the Ciphertology storyline in "The Book of Bill". No threads, but asks/anons/other follower content are welcome as the main narrative progresses! Read my Rules and see (most) OOC asides and updates at @tesser-rp )

(Be advised, this blog will contain quite a lot of the following content: themes pertaining to cults and religious fanaticism, depictions of brainwashing and manipulation, some amount of violence and death, copious body horror and other kinds of horror -- but all within a PG-13 rating to the best of my ability.)

(Also, MASSIVE SPOILERS for Gravity Falls and other material, TBOB and its tie-in website. Read on at your own risk.)

ABOUT SILAS

(Silas Birchtree is a decently good-looking man of average height, with fair hair, conspicuously pale and cold skin, and unusually wide eyes. He smiles constantly and wears a suit and bowtie, and extremely shiny shoes. He smells strongly of formaldehyde and a faint buzzing sound is heard wherever he's standing.)

("Silas" is stuck chronologically in 1952. He will not know who the Pines family are or about anything plot-related that happened after that year. He knows about the prophecy and can see into the future, but it's an imprecise art.)

In life, Silas Birchtree was a failed, aimless snake-oil salesman drifting across shiny and desolate post-war America. (20% off the top-shelf cottonmouth, and two bottles of the ratsnake for $14.99 for a limited time only!) Early in 1952, while stopped in Orchard Lake, Kansas, he choked to death on a nickel and was buried quickly.

The next day, he was seen alive and... well??? And not only did he return from the dead with an entirely new and pretty obnoxious personality, but he also had something new to sell...

ABOUT CIPHERTOLOGY

Ciphertology was an apocalyptic cult that rose and fell within 1952 in the isolated and humble town of Orchard Lake BillVille, Kansas, which through the actions of the United States government no longer exists.

Ciphertologists were all about three things: throwing off the yokes of law, order, decency, humanity, and common sense; spreading "the Bad News" to whoever they could force to hear them out; and building, by order of their Lord and Master Silas Birchtree, a mysterious giant metal structure out in a field, that their leader called a "portal".

The cult ultimately met their demise around a year later, after a two week standoff with the Kansas state troopers and a helium explosion set off by a disgruntled old lady.

ABOUT BILL CIPHER

Silas introduced his followers to his "muse", an extradimensional entity of perfectly triangular form named Bill Cipher, who inspired madness whenever it spoke through its human host, and would frequently enter and take over the minds and bodies of dozens of the cultists at a time. (You've probably heard more about this unholy triangle fellow elsewhere.)

In truth, Cipher and "Silas Birchtree" were one and the same, Silas being nothing more than a husk for the beast to inhabit. It is fortunate that the creature's dark designs for our reality never came to pass.

(Bill will sometimes talk directly, instead of through Silas, under the tag #CIPHER SPEAKS. This version of him is canonical (or at least canon compatible), but is also chronologically locked in 1952.)

ARE YOU DEPRESSED? LONELY?

Then Ciphertology might be for you! That's right, you CAN, if you so choose, toss either yourself or your beloved roleplay character into this (possibly) metaphorical meat grinder of a triangle fanclub! Just follow, drop a line in the askbox, or contact @tesser-rp and we can, at next to no cost to you, let you sample some interesting perks, including:

A totally new and very dapper fashion sense! Mandatory bowties!

License to eat off your own fingers!

A rural 1950s Kansas town to run around in, shrieking all of Cipher's fun catchphrases to your heart's content! (Historical accuracy not guaranteed.)

Complimentary helium tanks!

Plenty of body modification options, starting with a shave and a cattle-brand!

The opportunity to marry into the Ciphertology family! Mass weddings are held every Friday at noon-- bring the kids! Bring the dog! Already married? Even better!

SEE YOU REAL SOON, AND REMEMBER--

(The bottom's been burnt off.)

[denimbex1986]

'...23. Sherlock – Series 2, “The Reichenbach Fall” (2012)

The triumphant conclusion (which, as it turned out, wasn’t really a conclusion) to Steven Moffat’s initial Sherlock run was a tour de force in TV suspense, pitting Benedict Cumberbatch’s eponymous super-detective against his greatest frenemy, genius villain Moriarty (Andrew Scott). All anyone could talk about for the next two years — until the third season finally arrived in 2014 — was that devilish cliffhanger when, right at the end of “The Reichenbach Fall”, Sherlock and Moriarty meet for the final time atop St. Bartholomew’s Hospital.

Moriarty offers his nemesis-slash-wannabe-boyfriend a choice: dive from the roof to his death, or allow his closest friends and loved ones – among them, Una Stubbs’ Mrs Hudson, Rupert Graves’ Lestrade and Martin Freeman’s Dr Watson — to be murdered instead. He then pulled his cruellest trick of all, putting a bullet into the roof of his mouth, forcing Sherlock’s hand. The result, Sherlock apparently falling to his death, fuelled rampant fan speculation for months. Until he turned up spick and span in the next season, that is...

20. Broadchurch – Series 1, “Episode 8” (2013)

Murder mysteries are a game of cat and mouse for both the characters on screen and the audience at home, as both try to beat each other to nail down the killer. Bad ones make it too easy, good ones pull the wool over our eyes and great ones change the rules entirely. After seven hours of Broadchurch hunting down the possible killer of 11-year-old Danny Latimer, we knew we’d leave hour eight with an answer, expecting a final-minute reveal born from some intense action sequence that would mask the tragedy in adrenaline.

Instead, halfway through the episode, the killer, Joe, our lead detective Ellie Miller’s (Olivia Colman) husband, gives himself up, sick of being consumed by guilt and shame. It knocked the classic whodunnit structure on its head, changing the focus from the murderer to the fallout of his crimes. There’s Danny’s parents’ grief, which is finally felt in all its horrendous weight now that there are no longer question marks over the case, the town’s reckoning with the aftershock of such a harrowing crime, and Ellie’s life imploding before her eyes. Even though many viewers had worked out that Joe was the murderer, the real shock came from the horror of what it meant to be right...

16. Fleabag – Series 2, “Episode 4” (2019)

Throughout its two seasons, Fleabag became a beacon of rare relatability. It was a show about a woman actively not trying her best, self-sabotaging to bury emotion and hoping that none of it ever found its way to the surface. In its fourth episode of season two, it finally did. The episode is a bait and switch of sorts, as Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s titular Fleabag takes rejection from her hot priest crush (Andrew Scott) as a challenge, aiming to get him to relent on his spiritual allegiances and give into some good, old-fashioned carnal sin. For so long, it seems as if it’s not working, despite the pair dancing around the kind of sexual tension that feels like lightning in a bottle. But then she finds herself alone with him in the church late at night. He has had a few drinks. What starts as Fleabag in control ends with her walls breaking, the vulnerability she feels with the first person she’s connected with since the death of her best friend Boo corroding the armour that’s kept her feelings of guilt and shame and sadness locked away. He commands her to “kneel” and, well… you know the rest...

11. Fleabag – Series 2, “Episode 6” (2019)

Bringing back Fleabag didn’t seem like a good idea. Its beautifully constructed first season felt like the classic case of a one-and-done, particularly because of its gut-punch ending (the reveal that Fleabag had slept with her best friend Boo’s boyfriend shortly before she had died by suicide). And we’ve seen worse shows tarnish their legacies with ill-thought-out second runs. But, as evidenced by its dominance on this list, Fleabag series two went on to eclipse that first outing by every metric. This finale is a devastating conclusion to Waller-Bridge’s tragic romcom, with Andrew Scott’s sexy priest ultimately choosing God over love. Before that, we get to enjoy her father’s wedding to her ridiculous stepmother (Olivia Colman), her sister Claire (Sian Clifford) finding love with her Finnish namesake and a deeply moving and funny sermon from the hot priest (“Love is awful. It’s awful”). And, boy, that ending. The grim, bus-stop bench, the CGI fox, the priest’s devastating reply to her “I fucking love you”: “It’ll pass.” I defy you to see a fox at night on the streets of London and not think of it. But somewhere in here there’s a glimmer of hope, a sense that we’re leaving Fleabag better off than we found her...

9. Doctor Who – Series 3, “Blink” (2007)

Every episode of Doctor Who leans on existential wonder, conjuring concepts of the far reaches of time and space as the Time Lord navigates existence. “Blink” is a fascinating non-linear episode that introduces arguably the most terrifying monster yet – The Weeping Angels, lightning-fast creatures that can send someone through time with a single touch.

The perspective is switched from the usual Doctor and companion to place you in the shoes of Sally Sparrow, a normal girl roped into the world of the Doctor. She is tasked with deciphering the Doctor’s cryptic messages as he warns of the Weeping Angels. However, they turn into stone statues if they are laid eyes upon by a living creature – hence the iconic phrase “Don’t Blink”.

This anxiety-inducing episode prompts you to think at every moment what would I do? Every little action could prove to have deadly and unchangeable consequences. The prospect of being whisked away into another time is an unbearable thought. It is one of the best episodes of the show as it exemplifies everything wonderful about Doctor Who; evoking horror, mystifying time and space, as well as drawing upon emotion as the results of these life-changing stakes steadily come to fruition...

3. Fleabag – Series 2, “Episode 1” (2019)

“This is a love story,” says Fleabag (Phoebe Waller-Bridge) from the floor of a restaurant bathroom, dabbing at her bloody nose. So begins the opening episode of Fleabag’s triumphant second season, which turns a family dinner into a tense negotiation, punctuated with cigarette breaks for gasps of air and set to the operatic thrum of classical music.

Arguably the great achievement of the episode is managing a seamless recap of the previous season, reintroducing all of the faultlines within the family while adding a new face to the table in the Priest (Andrew Scott). The tension ratchets up as an annoying waitress hovers in the wings, Fleabag resists the temptation to bite over and over again, and her sister Claire (Sian Clifford) looks as though a vein in her temple might blow like a pipeline from the effort of holding her emotions in. Andrew Scott’s performance throughout the season is astonishing, but the charm he brings to his introduction is irresistible. Among a table of family members who don’t get her, here, finally, is an equal to tempt Fleabag into opening her heart fully. You can see it in her face as she shrugs him off during one of those cigarette breaks, and he says, in that sing-song voice: “Well, fuck you then.”...'

[signalwatch]

WA Watch: Rushmore (1998)

I figure this is me and my nephew in about 8 years

Watched:  07/16/2023

Format:  Streaming Amazon

Viewing:  Unknown

Director:  Wes Anderson

Recently, I was watching some old Bugs Bunny cartoons, circa 1940, and I was surprised to see the name "Charles M. Jones" in the credits.  While "Chuck Jones" is synonymous with WB animation, he's really associated with a certain artistic style and flair that is characterized in certain styles of background, character design and with his comedic timing in everything from "What's Opera, Doc?" to The Grinch Who Stole Christmas.  But there was his name in plain text.

He had not yet timed how long it took an anvil to fall or for Wile E. Coyote to hang in mid-air before plummeting for maximum comedic effect.  He hadn't quite gotten the rise of an eyebrow or a sly look to the viewer.  But.  It's there.  

Jamie was the one who requested a watch of Rushmore (1998) a film we saw together way back at the Arbor IV upon its release.  And we've watched a number of times over the years.  And, for her, it was an academic exercise in "what was he doing in 1998?  and how does it true up to what's there in 2023 with Asteroid City?"

It's interesting how Anderson springs into a form we all would have been fine with here in 1998 and with his second feature (after the excellent Bottle Rocket).  He's locking in on some of the themes he'd return to (certainly distant, bad dads), certain camera shots/ edits, formal dialog fit more for a 20th century short story than a film in the naturalist mode, aesthetics of symmetry and retro-ism.  

It's also curious to ponder how much of the Wes Anderson story that Owen Wilson occupies.  The two were roommates at the University of Texas, and Anderson - maybe UT's brightest star in film - did not actually participate in the film program, but got a Philosophy degree.*  Bottle Rocket was a deep partnership between Anderson and the Wilson brothers and he'd co-star in the film as well as co-writing and appearing in Royal Tenenbaums.  And, of course, he appears in numerous other Anderson pictures, including French Dispatch, which I haven't seen yet.  

I assume the pacing of events means Anderson and Wilson wrote Rushmore while in their mid-20's to late-20's, and while there's certainly a level of goofiness to the proceedings and it is, in part, about a middle-aged man in a juvenile spat with a 15-year-old, there's some great character stuff that rings even more true here as I roll towards 50.  

I don't know that Anderson could do Rushmore again.  Maybe.  He's never quite given up on teen geniuses, including underperforming teen and adult geniuses.  He's still working through dead parents, bad parents, indifferent parents.  He's still invested in messy romance treated as a matter-of-fact.  I'm not sure a studio would be as ready to fund a movie about a teen and teacher with a complex relationship in the last 20 years.  

But, in general, there's nothing  - to me - about Rushmore that doesn't work.   

I'm glad it's shot in Houston.  Bleak, wintery Houston in all its no-zoning-laws glory and mix of industrial mess and bucolic park-like environs.  I love that dumb town.  

And, of course, it really gave the world Jason Schwartzman and a new view of Bill Murray.  Co-star Olivia Williams has remained feverishly busy, appearing in American works, from The Sixth Sense to Hyde Park on the Hudson (reteamed with Murray).  

But the film also has Brian Cox, briefly Connie Nielsen, Luke and Andrew Wilson, and the late Seymour Cassel.  Sara Tanaka and Mason Gamble seem to have retired from acting - but I think Tanaka is a cardiologist now?

Anyway, 25 years later, the movie still works as well as it ever did, and at this point, it's much more than a curious artifact of Anderson's early work - it's clearly pointing the way he's headed.

  *Little tip for you brainiacs like me who burned through 5 years of college and panicked in their 4th year and also got a history degree

https://ift.tt/3a8Kv9V

from The Signal Watch https://ift.tt/qFbXNlR

[krissiedeathyart]

August 19, 2022

Catfish

Bakeneko - Japanese 300+ YEARS old. Changes names often. Likes to trick people. List of names Bakeneko uses; Gogo, persephone, himeko, Shimi, sumiko, Tomomi, Haruna, Mizuki, Frye, speckle. Bakeneko is a tortishell chat. Has torititude. Very sassy.

Mermaid -Based on manatee/dugongs. Age 25+/ Chill. Laid back person. Welcoming/warm. naive/gullible. Possible names Sara, Sasha, Gwen, Tallu, Tallia.

Tallu stretched as she surfaced. Swimming felt great. It was a shame that swimming in the sea was harder where they currently lived. It was hard being a mermaid in a human ran world. Tallu didn’t like having to move so far inland for work. But who was going to believe she was a mermaid? Answer; 80% of humans. 

Tallu dived into the pool again. The pool was smaller than the ocean but at least she could swim. Sure the pool was only 20 by 30 feet, but hey anything is better than nothing. She could go to the ocean to swim free whenever she felt like.

Tallu jerked as she felt something sharp pierce her tail. She turned and pulled herself about the water. Her eyes locked on the eyes of a cat. The cat had fluffy fur with patches of orange and white on its mostly black fur. The cat went stiff as its eyes bore into Tallu’s brown ones. 

Tallu opened her mouth only for it to feel all too dry. She close her mouth, licked her lips before she spoke. “Hi there kitty. Um.. I”m not food. If you could be so kind to remove your teeth… and claws?” she winced in pain. “I can get you some actual food if you want.” She figured offering a not having to swing the small creature off. It’s fur looked matted in spots and she was sure under that wasn’t a lot of meat. 

There was a long pause of silence between the two. 

The cat jumped back with a yelp. “I’m so so sorry!!” Came the cry. 

Tallu blinked as she wasn’t sure if she heard right. But that cat did speak a human language. Tallu morphed into her human legs as the cat hid underneath a chair. “Hey it’s okay.” She spoke in a soft quiet voice. 

“I’m sorry.” The cat choked as it hid its face behind its paws. Tallu took note of several cuts and scrapes on the cat. Poor thing must have been caught and abused by humans. Tallu couldn’t tell what kind of mythical or magical creature this cat was, but she knew they needed help.

“It’s okay.” Tallu reassured her. “You must be very hungry.” Tallu held out her hands. 

The cat eyed her hands with apprehension. 

“I just want to carry you inside and get you some food.” The cat inched forward slowly to her hands before going limp in them. Tallu gave a sad smile. Cat was skinny and she could feel their bones and sores. Tallu hoped her first aid kit was up to date. She held the cat close to her chest as she walked inside.

She pulled a blanket off of her couch as she walked into the kitchen. She wrapped the cat in it as she placed her on the table. 

Tallu turned to examine her fridge. She mostly ate veggies and fruit. But cats mainly eat meat. Eggs, mushrooms, cucumber. She frowned at the lack of appreciate options as she grabbed the eggs and mushrooms. She juggled them in her arms as she flipped a pan onto her stovetop. She flicked the burner on as she put the items down on the table. She struggled a moment with the top of the olive oil bottle before the top screwed loose. She poured a good amount into the heating pan. She dropped a handful of mushrooms in the pan to sautee. Once the mushrooms reached a good point, she cracked in two eggs and grabbed a spatula to scramble them. Scrabbled eggs do cook faster than regularly fried eggs. Within a few minute, Tallus presented the cat with a plate of scrambled eggs with mushrooms cooked in it. “Be careful, it’s hot.” Tallu stated as she slide the plate in front of the cat.

The cat leaned forward to sniff the plate. Tallu busied herself with cleaning up and checking the cabinets for more possible food options to give the cat. She pulled out a can of chicken soup. It had a layer of dust on it and she couldn’t recall ever buying it. She flipped it in her hands to check the date. It expired forever ago. Tallu rolled her eyes as she dropped the can into the trash. She wiped the dust grime off her hand. She glanced at the cat slowly nibbling away. 

1st aid kit. Tallu walked with purpose to the bathroom. She pulled the first aid kit from a shelf and returned to the kitchen. She smiled upon seeing the cat nibbling away with a livelier tone. 

“I brought the first aid kit.” Tallu stated as she gently put the thick plastic red box on the table. She clicked it open and pulled out several items. “My name is Tallu. What’s yours?”

“I’ve had several names.” The cat muttered. They thought for a long moment. “What do I want to be called now?” The cat thought as they slowly chewed. “Sumiko or Sephie.” They stated.

“Those names are lovely.” Tallu beamed. “Those are femine names. What are your pronouns?”

Tallu made small talk as she tended to Sumiko/Sephie’s injuries.

“I identify as a girl.” Sumiko nodded, “But I don’t mind they/them pronouns.” Tallu nodded. 

“What kind of foods do you prefer? I’ll buy some when I go shopping next.”

“You don’t need to do that.” Sumiko stated, “This is already more than enough.”

Tallu made tsking sound. “Nonsense! You’re so thin. Covered in sores, cuts, and matts.” TAllu felt her anger rise. She took a deep breath to ground herself. Tallu placed a firm hand on sumiko’s paw. “Stay with me until you’re on your feet. I’m a mermaid. While I’m not sure what species you are, I do know that humans suck and it’s run by them. Let’s help each other when we can. You deserve kindness.” Tallu ended with a smile.

Sumiko could only stare at Tallu. She didn’t know much about mermaids, but each culture was different depending on the group. But Tallu had been so calm. Sumiko didn’t like her anger. But it oddly felt nice that someone would be mad on her behalf. Sumiko couldn’t remember the last time that happened. 

Once a basic patch up was done, Tallu showed Sumiko around the house. She covered the guest room bed with blankets and pillows. Tallu made sure Sumiko was comfortable in the bed before she went to get an entertainment system.

Sumiko chuckled as she watched Tallu push in a cart with a older small tv and pc tower on it. Tallu plugged in the tower and turned on the tv. She popped batteries into a wireless keyboard and fancy mouse with a large shiny red ball on it. She slid them close to Sumiko.

“I don’t have cable, but I’ve got good internet.” Tallu beamed.

“I haven’t seen such an old school tv in a while.” Sumiko mused. “It even has knobs.” A laughed escaped from her.

“And I modified it to connect to the pc which has wifi.” Tallu smiled. “This ball on the mouse moves the curser.” She gesture to the gian shiny red ball on the mouse. “I’m going to the store to get food. And maybe some other things you need. Do you have a soap/shampoo preference?”

Sumiko thought for a moment. “I like the scent of cucumber.”

Tallu nodded as she made a note on her cell. She paused as she turned to the door. She opened the ottoman and pulled out a box of snack cakes. “I store junk food here. Eat as much as you like.” She placed the box of Debbie snack cakes on the bed. 

“I’ll be back in two hours. Help yourself to anything while I’m gone.” 

Sumiko carefully moved the mouse to open the web browser. She smiled at the magical girl wand curser. She examined the bookmark bar for a streaming service. She clicked one she recognized and smiled as it was already logged in.

She selected an older anime and pressed play. The music was bubbly and happy. 

Pure serotonin.

Sumiko needed that.

Tallu put an ear bud in as she got out of her car. Grocery stores were oddly loud and felt one on her phone. Sumiko/Sephie needed food that would provide nutrients but also be something she would happily eat. After all food that’s good for you means nothing if you won’t eat it. Tallu compared the cuts of chicken. Trying to figure out which would be the best texture wise. Afterall, Sumiko was probably too injured to chew large pieces or tough meat. She bobbed her head to the music as she read the facts on the labels. What she liked she put in the cart, what she didn’t want back on the shelf. 

Tallu sang softly as she unlocked the door. She carried the bags into the kitchen and hummed as she put them away. Her ears perked as she heard a familiar tune. She loved that show! Sure it was technically aimed for young school children. But it was pure joy. She sang along to the song as she carried the bag of bathroom supplies to the guest room sumiko was in. She paused in her singing as she knocked on the door. “Sumiko, I just got back. Can I come in?”

“Coming!” the door opened softly. Large eyes on a 4 foot 10 human body frame. Choppy strands of black hair framed her face. One eye was a bright shiny yellow and the other a pale jade color. 

“You have a human form too.” Tallu smiled. “We’ll have to get you clothes.” Sumiko glanced down as she fiddled with her fingers. Her cat ears on her head shifting to lay against her head, her tail curling against her body. “I’m glad you’re feeling well enough to take this form. But don’t push yourself.” Sumiko nodded. “I got ice cream if you want a treat to celebrate.” 

Sumiko giggled. “I kind of ate a lot of snack cakes.” She gestured to the small trash can full of wrappers. 

Tallu laughed, “That’s good. You need food. Do you want to take a shower while I get you some clothes?”

Sumiko nodded before turning to turn off the tv and pc tower. 

Tallu lead sumiko to the bathroom. She headed to her bedroom. Tallu was 6foot and Sumiko was 4’10”, so all of her clothes were sure to be too big for her. She pulled out a pair of pants with draw strings. She skimmed over large shirts in a drawer. She landed on a shirt with a pattern based on video games. Once Sumiko was feeling better, hopefully tomorrow, she would take her clothes shopping. Tallu wondered what Sumiko’s clothing taste would be. Tallu giggled at the image of Sumiko in several different styles. 

“Sumiko!” Tallu sang as she knocked on the door to the bathroom. There was a strong scent of soap and a soft scent of cucumber. “I brought you some clothes.”

“Thank you,” Sumiko smiled as she opened the door. Her body was wrapped in an oversized towel.

“No problem!” Tallu handed her the clothes. “If you’re feeling better tomorrow, we can go get you clothes.”

“That would be nice. Thank you.” Sumiko gave a soft smile.

Tallu cooked a dinner of seasoned chicken breat with some panseared asparagus. She plated a serving for Sumiko when she came out of the bathroom. Tallu ddidn’t eat meat often and she wasn’t in the mood for it. She made herself a simple salad with cucumber, tomatoes, croutons, and spinach. 

Sumiko came into the living room dressed in clothes much too big for her small frame. She looked at the set table. 

“I made dinner.” Tallu stated as she put the dishes in the dishwasher. “You don’t have to eat if you’re not hungry yet.”

“Oh, I’m hungry again.” Sumiko assured as she sat down.

“That’s good,” Tallu laughed, “A healthy appiete is a good sign.” She sat down at her plate. She had served themselves a glass of water since she didn’t know Sumiko’s preferences. 

“Are you a vegetarian?” Sumiko asked as she noticed the salad. 

“Not quite,” Tallu explained, “But I don’t eat meat often.” 

Sumiko nodded as she took a bit of the food. 

“Please don’t hesitate to tell me if my cooking is lacking.” Tallu assured.

“The meat is seasoned well. A bit too much paprika, but otherwise it’s good.” Sumiko stated.

“Oh, I forgot, is there anything you can’t eat?” Tallu mused.

“Onions. I think.” Sumiko explained. “I’m a Bakeneko. So I was originally a regular cat. Kind of. After 300 years I gained magical abilities. I remember eating an onion in my early years and getting very sick. Since i’ve lived so long though, most things bad for regular cats, I can have.” 

Tallu nodded as she listened. “Let’s not test it until we have a doctor on site.” 

Sumiko nodded, “That sounds smart.” 

The first store was a basic all goods store. Sumiko was still too weak to morph her ears into human ears. So she wore a beanie with penguins stitched on the hem. Tallu towered over the stort racks as they walked through the clothing department. Sumiko looked over the items with a slight disinterest. She shifted the fabric inbetween her fingers. Sumiko wanted a comfortable fabric. After all, some fabrics were too itchy, too warm, too thin, etc. Plus certain stitching made clothes too uncomfortable to move in. 

Tallu watched Sumiko explore the different styles. It was fun to watch and Sumiko’s eyes light up or squint as she examined each item. She pushed the buggy slowly at a distant. Items sumiko wanted to try on were lineded up in the basket. Shirts, pants, dresses. At least four to five outfits would be needed at least for the time being.

Once they had tried on several outfits and bought what Sumiko liked the most. “I’ll pay you back.” She stated as they left the store. 

“You’re still recovering.” Tallu nagged like a mother. “Give yourself at least a week or two before trying to find a job.”

Sumiko chuckled. “You’re very nurturing.”

Tallu beamed with pride. “Thanks.”

“I worry someone might take advantage of that trait.” Sumiko stated as she helped put the bags in the trunk of Tallu’s car. 

Tallu sighed. “Not going to lie, it has happened before.” She fiddled with the seat belt. “But I’ve grown. I know my boundaries and how to enforce them.” She smiled as she looked down at Sumiko. “Plus, I can sense that you’re not the kind to take advantage of me.”

Sumiko laughed, “Have you ever seen a cat?”

Tallu laughed, “Are you going to knock stuff off my tables while napping in a box?”

[worldviewnews]

Held Captive for 20 Years: The Shocking Case of Kimberly Sullivan

For two decades, a Connecticut man lived in the shadows, locked away from the world. The 32-year-old, whose name has not been disclosed, had been held captive since he was just 11 years old—starved, neglected, and denied even the most basic human needs. His ordeal only came to light on February 17, when he set fire to his own prison—his stepmother’s home—desperate for escape.

A Fire That Exposed the Unthinkable

The blaze broke out around 8:42 p.m. in a modest home on Blake Street in Waterbury. Firefighters arrived to battle the flames, expecting nothing more than another routine emergency call. But what they found inside would leave them shaken.

Kimberly Sullivan, 56, had managed to flee the burning house unscathed. But her stepson remained inside, trapped, until emergency responders pulled him from the inferno. He was weak, malnourished, and suffering from severe smoke inhalation. As paramedics treated him, he uttered a chilling confession: he had set the fire himself—because he wanted his freedom.

A Lifetime of Isolation and Abuse

In the hours that followed, investigators began to piece together a harrowing story of abuse. The man, police say, was found in a "severely emaciated condition," with no access to medical or dental care for years. His hair was matted, his body filthy, his teeth rotten beyond repair. He had been given only meager amounts of food and water—just enough to survive, but never enough to thrive.

According to arrest documents, the victim told police that Sullivan kept him locked in a small, second-floor storage room, its door secured with an exterior lock. His captivity had started as early as age three, when he would sneak food at night, only to be punished by being locked in his room. By fourth grade, after school officials expressed concern, he was pulled from school altogether, disappearing from the outside world entirely.

"We knew it. We reported it. Not a damn thing was done. That’s the tragedy of the whole thing," said Tom Pannone, the former principal of Barnard Elementary School, which has since closed. He recalled how teachers and staff noticed the boy’s frail frame and his frequent claims of hunger. But despite multiple reports to authorities, no intervention ever came.

A Childhood in Chains

The victim’s life was a cycle of deprivation. He described being locked in his room for 22 to 24 hours a day, allowed out only briefly to complete household chores. For years, his primary diet consisted of two sandwiches and two bottles of water daily. When he needed to relieve himself, he was given newspapers and a bottle—his access to a bathroom was nonexistent.

Even after his father’s death—an event that could have altered his fate—his captivity only worsened. Sullivan, he told police, became even stricter, cutting him off further from the world. The only sliver of normalcy he experienced came on rare weekends, when his father had once let him watch TV or help with yard work. Once his father was gone, so was that small mercy.

His connection to the outside world was limited to a single radio, placed outside his locked room. With no formal education past the fourth grade, he taught himself to read by using the few books he was allowed each year. In a cruel twist of fate, it was through reading that he learned about fire—specifically, that hand sanitizer is highly flammable. It was that knowledge that finally set him free.

Sullivan’s Defense: ‘He Had Free Reign of the House’

Sullivan was arrested on multiple charges, including first-degree assault, second-degree kidnapping, unlawful restraint, and reckless endangerment. She is currently being held on a $300,000 bond.

But Sullivan and her attorney, Ioannis Kaloidis, insist the allegations are false.

"She’s never been in trouble. She’s never harmed anyone," Kaloidis told USA TODAY. "She denies these allegations, and I would just ask people not to rush to judgment here. We’re confident that as the facts come out, she will be vindicated."

Sullivan claimed that her stepson had “free reign of the house” and that he had not been locked away. She admitted that he had never been diagnosed with a mental illness but described him as having "a lot of problems." She alleged that he had seen a psychiatrist in the past because he had mentioned self-harm.

Justice at Last?

Medical evaluations following the fire confirmed the devastating toll of years in captivity. The man was found to suffer from PTSD, severe depression, and physical limitations from prolonged malnutrition and restraint.

As the case unfolds, many are left asking the same question: how did this go unnoticed for so long? Teachers, relatives, and neighbors had seen the signs. Some had even reported their concerns. Yet, for two decades, no one stepped in to help.

For the victim, the road ahead is uncertain. But after 20 years of darkness, he has finally stepped into the light. His fire—a desperate act of defiance—may have nearly killed him, but in the end, it granted him what he craved most: freedom.

[groovybry]

Here is another story that I wrote with my ghost rider, and artificial intelligence. It’s not complete but this is what I have so far

Here’s a story woven from the details you provided, set in the humid, mysterious swamps of southern Louisiana:

---

The air hung heavy over the Bayou, thick with the scent of cypress and mud. Jake Guidry maneuvered his small johnboat through the tangled waterways, the motor’s low hum blending with the chorus of cicadas. At 6’6” and built like an oak tree, Jake was a man who filled any space he entered—his broad shoulders, thick arms, and massive, calloused hands a testament to a life of hard labor. His size 15 boots, weathered and caked with swamp muck, thudded against the boat’s floor as he shifted his weight. He wore them barefoot, as always, the leather conforming to his wide, rough feet after years of breaking them in. His deep voice rumbled a quiet hymn under his breath, a habit from his churchgoing days, though lately, those hymns felt more like pleas.

Jake was 33 now, a single dad since his divorce five years back. His ex-wife had left him with their son, Troy, and little else. They lived together in a cramped studio apartment on the edge of Houma, a single bed pushed against the wall their only luxury. Money wasn’t scarce—Jake bounced between construction gigs, swamp boat repairs, and the occasional stint on an offshore oil rig—but it wasn’t plentiful either. Sharing a bed kept the bills paid, and Jake didn’t mind the closeness. Troy was his world, even if that world was starting to crack.

Troy was 13 now, small for his age, with a delicate frame and soft features that made Jake’s stomach twist. The boy had always been a little different—quiet, gentle, effeminate in ways that gnawed at Jake’s nerves. Jake was a man of faith, raised on fire-and-brimstone sermons that left no room for doubt: homosexuality wasn’t natural, wasn’t right. He’d been 20 when Troy was born, a young father determined to raise a son in his image—big, strong, God-fearing. But as Troy grew, Jake’s prayers grew louder, begging the Lord to steer the boy straight.

Two years ago, those fears had solidified into a nightmare. Jake had woken in the dead of night, needing to pee, and found Troy curled up at the foot of their shared bed. The boy was asleep, his face pressed against Jake’s massive, rough feet, breathing deeply as if drawing comfort from them. Jake’s heart had seized. He’d stumbled to the bathroom, locked the door, and dropped to his knees, praying harder than he ever had. But the image stuck with him—Troy, small and fragile, worshiping something Jake couldn’t understand.

After that night, Jake’s faith began to waver. He’d always enjoyed a beer with the boys after a long day, but liquor? That was the devil’s juice, a line he’d never crossed. Until Troy. The weight of his son’s nature pressed down on him, and soon, a bottle of bourbon found its way into the apartment. One glass became two, then three, the burn dulling the ache in his chest.

That summer day on the swamp, Jake was alone, the bourbon still warm in his veins from the night before. He’d taken the johnboat out to clear his head, the water stretching endlessly around him. That’s when he saw it—an old house on stilts, rising from the mist like a ghost. Smoke curled from its chimney, strange in the oppressive heat. Curiosity tugged at him, a rare impulse for a man who preferred the familiar. He eased the boat to the rickety dock and stepped onto the creaking boards, his boots thudding with each step.

Inside, the air was cold—impossibly so, given the fire crackling in the hearth. The dim light flickered across the room, casting long shadows. Jake’s massive frame felt heavier as he moved forward, his boots dragging like they were filled with concrete. A rocking chair sat by the fire, swaying gently, and a voice—low and guttural—spoke from the darkness.

“Stop there, my child.”

Jake froze, his breath catching. The flames pulsed with the words, growing and shrinking in rhythm. His deep voice trembled as he asked, “What are you?”

The figure in the chair shifted, a shadow given form. “We are all children of the Creator,” it said, its tone calm but commanding. “I came to answer your call.”

Jake’s mind raced. “Why am I here?”

“The Creator wiped His hands clean once He made the two originals,” the figure continued. “He commanded that we be fruitful and multiply. With that multiplication came diversion. He cannot answer your prayer directly, but He sent creatures like me to guide you. You want your boy, Troy, to be like you. I cannot change him, but you can.”

“How?” Jake’s voice cracked, desperation seeping through.

“You do not need to pray for him,” the figure said. “You need to let him feed on your power, your strength, your size. You will know what to do when the time comes. But it will take effort—as much as you’ve given to your God. And I warn you: sacrifices will be made. It will change you as well.”

The flames flared, and the figure faded into the shadows. Jake stumbled back to his boat, the words echoing in his skull. He didn’t understand—not fully—but a seed had been planted.

Back home, he watched Troy more closely. The boy still slept close, still lingered near Jake’s boots when he thought his father wasn’t looking. One night, Jake sat on the edge of the bed, his massive feet bare and planted on the floor. Troy hesitated, then knelt beside them, his small hands brushing the rough skin. Jake didn’t pull away. He remembered the figure’s words: *Let him feed.*

Weeks turned to months. Jake stopped praying for change and started acting. He brought Troy to work, taught him to haul lumber, to wrench engines, to stand tall even when the world pushed back. He let the boy draw strength from him—physically, emotionally—sacrificing his own comfort to build something new. And slowly, Troy grew. Not in size, not yet, but in spirit. The softness remained, but it hardened into something fiercer.

Jake changed too. The liquor stayed, a quiet companion, and his faith shifted—less about rules, more about survival. The swamp had spoken, and he’d listened. Whatever Troy became, Jake would be there, towering over him, guiding him through the mire.

---

Let me know if you’d like me to expand or tweak anything! 

[sylvyviolett]

Chapter 1 - First Day

“Nggggh…”

A small figure rustles underneath a thick layer of blankets on a bed in a small, but modest bedroom. The room is cluttered with various trash, such as water bottles, juice bottles, various junk food, and crumpled sheets of paper containing random scribbles. The bedroom is also furnished with a desk, and on it is an alarm clock, a laptop, a stack of notebooks, a lone, unopened journal, and an empty mug with a tea bag still inside. Finally, near the desk is a shelf and a body-length mirror.

The small figure makes its way out of the mountain of bedding, and reaches for the alarm clock which reads 11:40 am.

“Oof… it’s almost noontime already?” they groaned in dismay, in a soft, high pitched voice.  They then walk to the door, saying, “Oh well, I guess I gotta get myself some food-”

They stop to look at themselves in the mirror, and see a lithe, feminine figure that of a 12 or 13-year-old with long, lush light brown hair, complemented with a soft, youthful face. The round, wide eyes had chocolate irises and black, shiny pupils complemented with thin eyebrows. Their nose was small and their lips tiny. Below the shoulders is a small but growing bust. Their arms, hands, and legs were thin, smooth, and delicate, as if they were silk. The whole body was covered in a gray, baggy shirt that hangs past the elbows but just above the knees.

“No way…” they say in confusion and excitement as they look at themselves more closely. “Is this… really me?” They run their fingers through the soft locks, and immediately felt a sense of euphoric bliss that they never experienced before. They then examined the rest of their body all over, until they heard the bedroom door open.

“Jamie!” an older girl says from behind the door. She had a physique that was appropriate for a 20-year-old woman. She had dark brown hair tied up in a bun, with brown eyes that complemented her sisterly look. She was wearing a simple red blouse and a modest skirt, laid over by a white lab coat.

“Jamie, it’s about noontime already, so why don’t you get up and-” She is cut short by the sight of their sibling innocently feeling their body in the mirror, and admiring the changes.

They looked at their sister in a mix of surprise and embarrassment. “J-Jaiden! I was just, um… checking myself?”

Without a word, Jaiden checks her sibling from head to toe, taking note of the changes in a tablet computer she was carrying inside her coat. “Yep, looks like everything’s going great! You sure got a lot cuter though, you look like a middle schooler…”

They look in bewilderment as Jaiden makes her way to the mug on the table. She picks it up, and remarks, “It seems that my formulation worked better than I thought…”

It didn’t take long for them to put two and two together and realize that their sister drugged them to turn into a girl. “Wha-what was that you put in my tea last night?” they demanded.

“It’s an experimental drug of mine. I decided the test subject should be you, since I have no one else willing to try…” Jaiden answered.

“But… why? What do you think you’re doing with that?”

“You’ve been a lock-up for two years now! You don’t even go outside for a simple neighborhood walk! That’s why I created this medicine to show you what it would be like to…”

Thoughts ran into the newly-transformed girl’s mind as their sister was rambling. “No way… My younger sister… did this for me? Jennifer, a locked-up and closeted loser, given a second chance at life? This feels like a dream! Now I can do what I always wanted to do: be the girl I always wanted to be! I wanna try on some girl clothes, make some friends, get a girlfriend, and-”

Jennifer’s train of thought was interrupted by Jaiden catching her daydreaming. “Jaime? Were you listening to me at all?”

“Y-y-yes! S-so, um… Where were we?”

“I got brunch for you at the kitchen table. You haven’t eaten properly in like, forever! And after eating, can you please clean your room? It looks like a petri dish in there!”

“S-sure thing! I’ll clean it up later!”

Jennifer made her way downstairs to the kitchen and dined on what is possibly the first great meal she had in a while. Maybe it’s because she’s been living off of junk food for months or that her new body makes the food taste better, but whatever the case, she’s enjoying every second of it.

After a great brunch, Jennifer went back to her bedroom and cleaned up three years’ worth of garbage, all while musing about what her new life will be like. Three hours later, the room was tidy, and she opened up the blank journal she was saving to document her first day as a girl.

------------------------

Hey guys! I hope you liked this little idea for a novel I'm planning to write. Basically it's my interpretation of a manga I love which has helped me crack my egg. What do you think of the story so far? Please let me know!

- Violett

[cattleyamay]

Thieving Furniture

His quick steps echoed through the empty hallway. he tried to slow down his pace, but the nerves didn't allow him. After years of construction, the new outlet mall had finally opened, and he needed to make his move before all the security measures were settled.

Petrified was a tame word for how he felt. Ever since his fallout with his accomplice, he hadn't dared venture into burglary again. Yet, the thief job market was as dry as the Sahara, and his money was thinning out faster than he could manage. Without his former accomplice's lock-picking skills, he decided to test the water with the good old-fashioned armed robbery

The cold metal of the dagger in his pocket brought him comfort. He knew a gun was a better idea, but had always felt like it was far too dangerous to carry one for a simple store robbery.

He spotted a dark corner of the hallway where a small store entrance stood.

Two Moons Outlet: 20% sale on all crystals

The cursive letters on the storefront were unusual for such a modern mall but he assumed the store just wanted to stand out.

The only entrance was a small carved wooden door, its intricate patterns of vines and constellations met in the middle where two silver moons were painted. The windows on the sides were tinted to the point you couldn't see anything inside the store.

Perfect he thought what a better store to rob than one where no one could see a thing.

He looked around the almost empty mall before entering the inconspicuous store.

Ding

The door’s bell jingled the moment he passed the door frame and the strong smell of burned incense inundated his nostrils. The air was thick with fog floating in the store’s atmosphere. The cobblestone floor and the brick walls only emphasized the store's unique ambiance, a stark contrast to the outside.

His eyes went from shelf to shelf noticing the strange objects in them, small bottles with colorful contents, parts of fantasy creatures he was sure were made of wax, stones with rudimentary writing sat atop some books whose titles were written in a language he was sure didn’t exist.

A tiny book with wings flew by him as he approached the counter. He wondered where the battery pack would be hidden in such a small flying object. A small attendant was sitting behind the counter lounged in an enormous dark green velvet chair. Only her bright red hair and a dozen sparkly bracelets prevented her from blending into the chair completely.

The attendant glanced at him, her disinterested eyes barely settled on him before she looked down at her book again and spoke.

“Welcome to the Two Moons Outlet: the best sorcerer’s shop on the American continent, what spell can I get started for you?” Her monotone voice lacked any intention of actually helping the supposed customer. Then she hit a metallic triangle dangling above her head twice, the sound echoed once from the front of the store and strangely again a second later from the back.

He set the dagger on the counter with a loud thud. Just as he was about to start his speech she interrupted him.

“My regrets sir, we don’t do refunds” She didn’t even look up from her book.

“I’m not looking for a return—”

“We don’t do trades either, that’s the one moon shop” her voice dripped with apathy. Again she didn’t look up.

“I’m not here for a trade!” He snapped. “Give me all you have in the cashier right now!!” He bellowed.

He had practiced this part in front of the mirror a dozen times the night before trying to sound as intimidating as his voice allowed, now he just sounded as frustrated as a kindergartener without a toy.

“Oh, you're robbing us? rude” She yawned, he couldn’t believe the PUNK YAWNED while he was trying to rob her.

If thieves had a dignity she had just mopped the floor with his.

“I said!” she raised one eyebrow at his tone. “Open the cashier and give me all the money” Her head tilted with curiosity, not a hint of fear in her void eyes.

“What cashier?” just then he realized there was no box or cashier on the counter, just more weird objects and a worn down yellow paged open journal. He squatted and looked at the rest of the counter’s shelf, all filled with different objects none looked like they would hold money. He grabbed his dagger again by this time the attendant had gone back to her chair and to reading her book.

Perplexed and a bit insulted he walked around the counter until he was right in front of her, and with a swipe grabbed the book from her hands and tossed it away across the store. She looked up at him, her eyes still void of anything but boredom. Could the woman even feel a thing?

He pointed the dagger in her direction

“Wherever you keep the money, I don’t care but give it to me NOW!” He shouted threateningly. She let out a long yawn as if the whole ordeal was terribly inconvenient.

“We don’t deal in money human” She flicked her wrist and the book flew back to her.

Astonished, he stared at the book he had just tossed across the store now on her hand. She flipped a page, as if he wasn’t still standing there with the dagger pointed toward her.

He slowly turned around confused beyond explanation, he gathered the book must have a similar mechanism to the tiny winged one from earlier. A mechanism she could activate with her bracelets or something. It was the only logical explanation.

He started to walk toward the exit. Frustration boiling in his veins. Part of him wanted to go home and hide his embarrassment under the blankets.

On his way out he spotted a golden necklace on a shelf, the necklace consisted of a series of intertwining golden chains, with two sizable round pendants each positioned at opposite ends.

Pure gold. He knew it was right away, all his years of robbing jewelry stores in the dark with his accomplice had trained his eye to perfection. He knew pure gold from a mile away.

He pushed the glass case holding the necklace onto the floor. The glass shattered everywhere as the gold necklace spilled on the cobblestone floor.

The attendant snapped her head upward at an abnormal speed and narrowed her eyes at him.

He quickly bent down and grabbed it hoping the attendant wasn’t going to try and stop him.

She stood slowly from her velvet chair, setting the book to one side.

“Now, you are a true thief” She smirked at him, and at that moment he wished to see her turn back to apathy for it was terrifying to see her smile.

He tried to run, but his legs felt paralyzed. He looked down at them and saw with horror that, in place of his legs, there were two wooden planks.

His back gave out making him contort. His torso turned flat and parallel to the floor as his hands touched the ground. He wanted to scream as he saw them turn wooden and flat. His eyes glanced up at the attendant wanted to ask for help but all she did was hold her smile as any noise died before it came out of his mouth. Then he couldn’t move it or feel it anymore. Only his eyes stayed movable.

He watched helplessly as the attendant gathered some trinkets from the counter and walked towards him. He felt as she placed them on top of where his spine used to exist, now replaced by a flat wooden plank. He wanted to protest, to scream, to run, to wake up from the nightmare.

“Don’t worry thief, I’ll let you keep what you sought” She pronounced sweetly as she placed the necklace in another glass display box and then moved it on top of him.

She dusted him off as though he had been a table in the shop all along, rather than a paralyzed human. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of an intricate vintage mirror, and what he saw in its reflection was beyond comprehension. It was a table with his eyes.

No.

He was a table with only eyes.

She walked back behind the counter without a trace of concern. Grabbed the book again and settled in a snug position on her chair.

“I love thieves, they make exceptional furniture” She smiled to herself, and only then did he notice the pleading human eyes staring back at him on the velvet chair.

[theboysfromaustin]

This story contains descriptions of the scene of a suicide. Fair warning.

February 20, 2009

It had been almost 2 years since Gav had joined the family and become Ian's paralegal.

He loved them, and he loved his job, but he was still curious about one thing.  Kazuo's grandfather Kensuke.  He studied the photos Ian had along the walls, photos that went from the 1960s into the present day.  There was a group photo of Ian, Maureen, Shirley, and people he knew were Kazuo's family.

Gav looked over at Kazuo, feet up on his desk, fiddling with a Rubik's cube.  He wasn't getting very far with only his teeth and one hand, the whole thing was a bit chewed up and gooey.  Ian was bent over his desk, writing, reading glasses perched on his nose.  He approached Kazuo, leaning on the back of his chair, "Hey." Kazuo popped the slobbery cube from his mouth, "Yo.  What's up?" "I was looking at the photos, and…your grandpa.  He didn't look much older than Ian."

"Yeah, he was only 3 years older, so…I don't know.  It could have been natural causes."  Ian had frozen, staring straight ahead.  "What was he like?" "Thing is…" Kazuo placed the cube on his desk, "I…don't…I don't know.  I didn't really know my grandparents.  My dad…" Kazuo shut his eye, "My dad hated them.  Kept them away…I was five when I last saw them.  My grandma died not long after my mom." "Well, then…"

"Ian, you knew them, what were they like?" Kazuo looked to his partner.  Ian turned in his chair, sweat on his brow, "I did, yes. Your mother was a couple weeks old when I hired your grandfather.  He was a good man, good employee.  Loved his family, great friend of mine.  Your grandmother was very sweet, a great mum.  She liked to cook for me.   I loved your grandparents and your mum."

"Do you know why he died?"

Ian didn't respond, fingers gripping the arms of his chair more tightly.  He wouldn't meet Kazuo's gaze.  "Ian?  Hey…" The older man shut his eyes, "I…I'm sorry.  Kazuo, I should…" He bit his lip.  "Tell me," his voice was quiet, "Please."  Ian exhaled softly, "Okay…"

—--

May 22, 2004

9:28 AM

Ian looked worried as he pulled into the lot outside Kensuke's apartment building.  He hadn't seen him in two days, when he was supposed to come into work and start helping with a case.  It wasn't like him to not come in - the last time…

The last time he hadn't come to work for days was after his daughter Nanami's death.

He swallowed hard as he climbed the stairs, down the hall, where he stopped in front of the door and knocked, "Kensuke?  Hey, Kensuke!" There was no response, and he began to feel uneasy.  He listened carefully - he swore he could hear something inside - it sounded like the dial tone of a phone off its hook.

He inhaled softly, steeling himself as he looked for the key on his keyring.  He glanced down as it bounced off the lock - his hand was shaking.  Stop it!  Quit…. He swallowed hard, Quit expecting the worst….  He unlocked the door, fear gripping him.  Ian stepped into the kitchen, replacing the phone receiver.  Next to it was a piece of paper on which a number and KAZUO were written.  Kazuo?  That's Nanami's boy. 

"Kensuke?"

Something crunched underfoot and he glanced down - a couple of pills, now partially ground to dust.  "No…" His voice wavered as a terrible thought crossed his mind, "No…no, please…" He shook slightly as he entered the bedroom and froze, "Oh, Kensuke…" Ian approached, gently putting two fingers to the side of Kensuke's neck.  No pulse, his skin lukewarm.  He pulled his phone out and dialed 911, "Yes, I've just found my friend deceased in his apartment….He looks like he's been gone a couple of hours." He gave the address and hung up, sighing softly as he looked at his longtime friend splayed out on his bed, an empty bottle of sleeping pills and a flask near his hand.

"It all became too much to bear, didn't it?"

Ian blinked back tears as he left the room to lean on the kitchen counter.  He picked up the paper and saved the number in his phone - he would have to call it when he got home.  He'd never met Kensuke's grandson, and hadn't seen a photo of the boy since he was six, but he had a vague idea of what he looked like - jet black hair, a fine bone structure and deep amber eyes, well, eye - just like his mother.

He must be in his early twenties now.

Sirens interrupted his thoughts as he headed for the door to meet the medics, "He's in the bedroom." They passed by, wheeling a gurney, so Ian stepped outside, leaning on the railing.  His thoughts returned to Kazuo.  How the boy would react.  Hell, Ian didn't even know if his father - the bastard - was even around anymore.  He looked up as they reappeared, Kensuke's shrouded body on the gurney,

"I'm his power of attorney.  He wished to be sent to Cook-Walden, have them call me," he wrote it on the paper, tearing off a piece and handing it over along with a business card.  He watched them leave, then turned to go and lock up the apartment.  He lingered for a moment before shutting the door.

He decided he'd wait to try and contact family until he got a definitive date for the funeral.  Ian sighed, eyes shut as he got into his Aston Martin.  The floodgates opened as he began to sob, "Oh god…Kensuke…I'm sorry.  I'm so, so sorry that I couldn't help you…" He wished Kensuke had reached out to him, that he could have at least tried to help him.  Ian leaned back, staring at the ceiling of the car.

He didn't know what to do.

—--

Kazuo was silent.

"Kaz?" Gav glanced at him.  The black-haired man was staring at Ian.  He looked…angry, and Gav had never seen Kazuo angry at Ian before.  Ian stared at his feet.  Kazuo got up, heading for the bathroom, and slammed the door.  Ian flinched as if he'd been struck.  "Ian?" Gav's voice was soft.  Ian kept staring at his feet, recoiling when the redhead touched him.

"Hey…" "I fucked up.  Bad," his voice was soft as he got up, heading for the break room, and out the back door to the small patio.  Gav shifted his feet, glancing at the bathroom.  Kazuo sat against the door, face buried into his knees.  A knock came at the door.  "Fuck off!" "Kaz?  Hey, you want to talk?" No, I mean…what the fuck is wrong with him?!" "Kaz, you know he didn't mean to hurt you." "He didn't even…after all this time…""

Ian sat on the back porch, head in his hand, phone to his ear.  "Hello, Ian?" "Maureen, I fucked up.  Bad.  Really bad." "What happened?" "I told Kazuo what happened to Kensuke.  I….he, he never asked before!  And it was such a horrible thing that I didn't just want to offer it up!  He's mad.  Really mad…"

"Ian, he loves you.  He won't be angry forever." "I…it's my fault.  I shouldn't have kept that information…should have come right out…" "Would he have been ready for that info?" "I don't know!  I thought he'd suffered enough, with his mum…He hates discussing death!" Ian leaned into the chair.  "Give him time, Ian, he…" "What if he leaves?!  What if this is just me fucking up another relationship like I always do?!" He broke down sobbing in shame, angry at himself.  Maureen shut her eyes, wishing she could help her son.

"All this time, I thought my grandfather had…I don't know…died naturally.  He died horribly.  And Ian didn't tell me." "Did you ever ask?" Gav leaned his head on the door.  "No, I…he should have told me.  It wasn't right." "Kazuo, I think he was protecting you." Kazuo leapt to his feet, "I don't need protecting!" He barged out the door, past Gav, and out the front door of the office.  Gav stood stock still, terrified.  He snapped out of it, running after him, looking back and forth once he got outside.

He didn't see Kazuo.

"Fuck!" He dashed to the back, slamming the door open, "Ian!" Ian looked up, misery on his face, "What did I fuck up now?" "Kazuo's gone." "What?" Ian's voice shook.  "He ran off.  I'm sorry, I should have tried.." Ian pulled him into a tight hug, "You didn't do anything wrong.  I did." "I'm scared…" "We're gonna get him back."  Ian grabbed his phone, pulling up Kazuo's number, pressing it.  It went to voice-mail, "Kazuo?  Kazuo, it's Ian.  I…I'm sorry.  I did a terrible thing, I should have been truthful.  Please come back.  I love you."

Kazuo stared at his phone as he walked, letting it ring.  A voice-mail notification popped up, and he pressed it.  His expression softened, but he still kept walking.  He needed to clear his head, and…he stared at the sidewalk, exhaling softly.  Kazuo wasn't sure where he was going.

He stopped, realizing which way he’d gone, staring up at the courthouse.  This was Ian's place.  How he provided for the family.  Kazuo turned up the steps, pushing the doors open.  He was hoping…and his lower lip quivered as he saw her.  Maureen looked up from her computer, "Kazuo!" "Hey…" His voice was dull as she left her seat to meet him.  She took him back to her post, letting him settle into a chair, taking up one across from him.

Kazuo shut his eye, inhaling shakily, "Maureen…the only one of us that didn't fuck up today was Gav.  Ian hurt me, I hurt him…Neither of us meant it, but…damn it, I'm such a fucking hothead!" He hit his fist against his knee in frustration, "I'm afraid I fucked up a great thing." "Kazuo, Ian already called me." Kazuo straightened up, "He…"

"You need to talk to him."

"I know." "He loves you.  A lot." "I know.  I love him." "He's afraid." "Of what?" Kazuo raised his head. "He's afraid you'll leave him." "What?!" "You know that he had a string of failed relationships, right?" "Yeah, really bad ones," Kazuo stiffened, "Does…does he think I'd…?" "He's used to people walking out on him." “I’d never…but…Maureen, sometimes he’s too protective of me.  He shields me from things…” “He does it for me, too.  Probably for Gav as well.  He protects because he fears loss.  Especially since…”

Kazuo stared at his feet.

Ian was still grieving the loss of Jeremy.

“Okay, maybe…I wouldn’t have been ready to know.  And he was grieving.  He knew my grandfather way better than I did, and…he told Gav and I that he loved him,” Kazuo straightened up, “I should talk to him.”  Ian sprinted down the sidewalk, followed by Gav, people parting for the well-dressed men to pass by.  Ian was in a panic state, skidding to a stop when his phone rang, which he answered, “Hello?  Hello?” “Ian, calm down,” Maureen’s voice was gentle, “I have your man in custody.” “I’m coming,” he ended the call, “Gav, courthouse!”

They changed course, running up Guadalupe, and up the courthouse steps, bursting in the doors, Ian skidding on the floor and knocking Maureen over.  "Just like old times." "Oh god, I'm so sorry, mum!" He helped Maureen to her feet, giving her a hug.  "Hey, Maureen." "Hello, Gav!" "Kazuo?" Ian bit his lip as his partner approached, "I need to apologize.  I should have been forthcoming about how your grandfather died.  I got too caught up in my own grief, and in the new feelings I was developing for you…It was wrong.  I was wrong.  I'm sorry."

Kazuo stared at him, then lunged forward, enveloping Ian in a tight hug, tears streaming down his face, "Thank you.  I know you were just looking out for me.  I love you." "I love you, too.  Maureen?  You still need lunch?" "I do." "Scholz Garten?" “Damn.  Sounds good.” “Ian, I’m eating nothing but meat and cheese.” “And then I’m moving your desk to the patio.” Kazuo grinned, mood instantly improved.  Sure, they fought sometimes, but they always came out stronger.

Nothing would break them apart.

[goodspiritsnewsat]

GSN Spirited News: January 26th 2021 Edition

GSN Spirited News: January 26th 2021 Edition

San Diego-based Cutwater Spirits is expanding its lineup of RTDs. This month, Cutwater debuted a Mango Margarita (12.5% abv) in California, ahead of a nationwide launch in February. Strawberry and Peach Margaritas will follow in April. Additionally, Cutwater is introducing Frozen Margarita ice pops in a mixed pack featuring lime, strawberry, mango, and pineapple flavors nationally in March. The…

[holyfruitsnax]

Hidden In Plain Sight

Warnings: Cursing, Violence, Guns, Angst-ish?, Fluff, Smut (Later Chapters), Possible bad writing? Def not proofread.

Pairing: Mob!Tom Holland x Detective!Reader 

Summary: The Hollands have built their empire for years and now a young detective wants to take them down. In a world where Tom figured it would be kill or be killed, He’ll soon find that maybe, just maybe...She can be convinced.

Y/N: Your Name  Y/L/N: Your Last Name

  The sound of your gun clinking in its holster echoed throughout the room as your eyes scanned for any clues they could find. “Man, are we sure this is the right place? I mean... I trust your judgement y/l/n but...this place looks like it’s been abandoned for a while.” Hugh furrowed his brows shining his flashlight while gesturing to the ragged furniture and family photos seeming to be left behind. “That’s what they want us to think Greene.” You sighed giving your partner a glance before shining your light in another direction. “Called the landlord. This place was owned by a Mrs. Gertrude Lightwood.” you couldn’t help the concerned look on your face. “Sure, most of this is hers...but she’s been in a nursing home for years. Do you honestly think this is her mess?” you kicked a few old beer bottles around for emphasis. Hugh’s head dropped shaking a little, “No...No I suppose not...” His British accent thick with the same concern shown on your own face.

“You think it’s them?” Hugh leaned against the kitchen countertop, asking a question he knew the answer to.

“I know it is.”

  You’d only been a detective for a short amount of time, but you’d surely proven yourself with a knack for research. At the ripe age of 20, you’d solved your first case just about all on your own. The department paired you up with Hugh since the beginning of your career, now the slightly portly old man seemed like the only family you had since moving to London. The current case? Thought to be a band of misfit teens, turned out to be a link to one of the largest mafia’s London has to offer. The Hollands, their power is deep seeded in SouthWest London. No one dared to touch a part of their case, that is until now. Hugh figured you’d gone mad when you offered to take them head on, but he’d help none the less.

  “Well...Let’s get going before the sun comes up. No telling if or when they’ll come back.” The white haired man clapped a large hand upon your shoulder. “I could go for Greggs right about now.” He smiled wide making you smile in return. The two of you walked out of the old townhouse and heading into the car. “I think they know we’re onto them.” you stated while bucking up. Hugh nodded “Probably. You don’t keep up with something like this for so long if you aren’t good at hiding it. No one even knows what these people look like, only guesses.” He pointed out and took off towards their favorite breakfast place. “Hey..That’s not bad..” you smirked jotting down something on your little notepad using a cute pen with a duck at the top Hugh had gotten you a year ago. “What?” Hugh’s eyes darted over confused “Oh don’t start with this shi-”

“I’m just saying!” you laughed, pleased with his reaction. “What if they’re not hidden...or better yet.” you winked. “Hidden in plain sight?”

  “You’re due for the looney bin any day now y/n!” Hugh laughed parking in front of Greggs, you only chuckled and shrugged back. The little breakfast shop was full, but it is eight am on a Wednesday morning. your detective side was still in high gear, making sure to memorize every face you could since the stake out house hadn’t been very far away. Over at a table buried away in a corner sat a group of young men. A tall blonde with striking blue eyes, a shorter curly red head and a grumpy looking brunette. What a group. Hugh Ordered for you both, opting to chat with the cook rather than join your speculation. you took a seat at a table not too far but not too close to the group of men, scrolling through your phone to seem as though you were minding her business. That is until you locked eyes with a chestnut brown pair.

  “Psst!” a sharp kick to the shin pulled Tom from fiddling with the many golden rings adorning his fingers. “Ow! That hurt asshole.” Tom hissed reaching down to rub where Harry had abused him. “Cops.” Haz stated quietly as to not draw attention their way, which was always a difficult feat seeing that Tom ultimately looked like a mob boss. “We’re fine, just keep your cool. Try not to be an idiot and they’ll move along.” Tom hummed clasping his hands together so he could rest his chin atop his bruised knuckles. His eyes found you sat at a table playing on your phone, He couldn’t quite tell your age but, he knew you were young, around his age maybe? He didn’t recognize you though. Tom couldn’t help but swoon at the way your hair framed your tired face perfectly, eyes holding a bit of dark color beneath them. He must’ve been staring too long, seeing that your eyes flicked up just in time to meet his own. Boy was Tom enthralled, but the interaction was short lived as his brother and best friend tugged him out of the shop.

  “What was that about?” Hugh muffled out through a bite of his breakfast sandwich. “I....I don’t know..” you for once felt stuck so, you opted to eat your breakfast instead of talking. “Those boys sure did look flashy.” Hugh pointed over towards the table the group had previously been sat. You nodded giving a content hum “Maybe, but we can’t just jump to conclusions. Maybe they’re just rich.” Hugh snorted a little at your sudden halt on the whole ‘It could be anyone’ idea. “Why don’t we rest up, you give me a call if you catch anything new and I’ll do the same? Sound good?” He slapped his cap back atop his head crumpling up a food wrapper. “Good to me.” you confirmed standing up from your seat to say goodbye to Hugh before walking the short distance back to your apartment.

 ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  The day had gone by and shifted London into darkness, but lights and music still boomed on for the drinkers, dancers, and all of the above to enjoy. Tom would be one of them if he wasn’t getting his ass chewed out. “You mean to tell me after being told police were on their way to your hideout, you chose to go eat breakfast in the middle of fucking town?!” Dom yelled down at the three boys. “Yeah well we were hungr- I’m sorry.” Harry’s head hung in shame, Haz stood tall and calm whilst Tom’s face begin to turn red. “You’re the one who can’t handle his own fucking dirty work! It’s your guy we’re after, why didn’t you go and sit in an old run down house that smelled like mothballs for hours to watch some guy’s house? Oh RIGHT because you’re the boss of course!” He laughed deep in his chest. The rest of the family backed away but kept watching, Dom and Tom are like dynamite together it just takes one to be the match that strikes the others fuse.

  “Correct! I am the boss, so you will listen to me or you’ll suffer just the same as that man will when I get my hands on him.” Dom growled, gripping Tom by his white button up. “I can’t believe you’re the one I’m passing this shit down to..” He puffed letting Tom go due to Nikki’s pleas. Tom’s courage faltered at his father’s insult, it felt like a low blow. “Yeah...Whatever..” He huffed back fixing his jacket. Dom lit a cigar sitting next to his wife waiting for the explosion. “Now Tom, why don’t you take off your shoes and have a seat. You know your father didn’t mean that- He just gets that way.” She smiled patting the couch. Tom felt a heavy, sickly, almost guilty heat rise to his chest. He’d have to deal with that feeling the only way he knew how, to cover it up with something else. “You know what. I’m sick of being treated second hand by him, I’m sure everyone else does too!“ He seethed beginning to push insults towards Dom. Rage was like an illness to Tom, so easy to fall back to. Before Dom could shout anything back Tom grabbed the nearest lamp and tossed it against the wall with a loud crash. “I’m- I’M FUCKING GETTING OUT OF HERE, FUCK THIS HOUSE, AND FUCK YOU DOM” Tom shouted. He didn’t hear footsteps following him, so he didn’t look back.

  The thumping of his heart in his ears had been replaced by music with thick bass. Making his way into his family’s bar Tom found a table with ease. “Woahhhh...Rough night?” Skips, the main bar tender around the places laughed only to shut down the second he met Tom’s killer gaze. “I’ll just...Leave this here.” Skips practically yelped setting down a bottle of whiskey while he ran off to get a glass and ice. Tom popped the top off the bottle of expensive whiskey downing a few chugs before slamming it down on the table again. His outburst was starting to become hard not to notice but if you wanted to keep your eyes, you’d act like you didn’t even if you did.

  That is unless that someone is you. You’d found your way into the bar confident there would be evidence of anything from the Holland in there, it is their side of town after all. Deciding to blend in a bit and to purely have some fun you joined in on the dance floor scooting through the crowd trying to get to the bar. Suddenly a large man in a suit stood before you. “Uh..excuse me if I could just slip-” “My friend asked for you at his table.” The large man oddly enough was the sweetest person you’d met all night. “Uhm..” You turned your head in the direction the man pointed in and froze. The guy from Greggs this morning. “Thank you!” you smiled calmly, making your way over to the brunette. Your eyes couldn’t help but drop as he leaned forward and unbuttoned his shirt enough to expose his toned chest while sending you a smirk.

  “Hello Darling! I thought I recognized you~” Tom teased, obviously a bit buzzed from chugging whiskey. “Yeah, breakfast this morning..um. I didn’t catch your name however-” “Tom.” He spoke immediately taking two glasses pouring whiskey for them both and slid a coke your way. “Nice to meet you Tom, I’m not much of a drinker.” You cleared your throat a little. “Well for tonight, maybe you should?” He nodded pushing your glass closer towards you. Why the hell not? “Okay, Tom. What exactly..” “Your name Darling.” He smiled sipping at his own drink. “Y/n.” You swirled your cup around a little before drinking half of it to ease your nerves. Why was this guy messing with your nerves? “Pretty~” Tom’s voice deepened and his eyes darked while raking over your figure. You’d chosen a tight red dress that showed just enough cleavage for most, but not enough for Tom

  Tom watched as you finished your first drink and drank a little coke while he poured you both another. Thirty minutes became an hour, an hour became two and before you knew it you and Tom were on the dancefloor together. His firm hands gripped tightly at your hips keeping you close in the dancing crowd as the two of you grinded together. “You’re fun!” You drunkenly laughed wrapping your arms around Tom’s neck. “That’s what I like to hear Darling!” He grinned dipping his head down so his nose brushed yours. Your mouth fell open slightly and everything seemed to slow down. What were you doing. “There is of course...” Tom slid a hand up your body grabbing your chin with his thumb and index finger, the cooling effect of his rings against your warm skin made you shiver. “Something else I’d love to hear you say as well.” He tisked leading you towards the back of the bar. “And what’s that?” You raise a brow, tilting your head making Tom pull his bottom lip between his teeth. The next thing you knew you were in a private area and Tom pulled two red curtains shut before turning back to face you. “Daddy.”

[twstedstoryshop]

Scavenger

Freeform prose. Just wanted to really let myself go ham with imagery and quick dialogue. So apologies if the pacing is all over the place. Based on the idea of older TWST characters from this post. Had a gut feeling to just go for Leona with this prompt. Also brownie points if you can guess why Yuu’s cigarette can make funky smoke trails. -Shopkeep

A recently back Yuu takes a moment of peace to recollect themself from their sudden arrival. Leona, their old love, joins them and the two wonder if they can pick up where they last left off.

Content: GN!Yuu x Leona, Pre-Established Relationship, Swearing, Tobacco Use, Alcohol Mention, Mild Hurt/Comfort

The sudden rollarcoaster of a welcome from all sides had dwindled down. A luxurious suite on Sage Island became Yuu’s hideaway despite friends’ protests to party the night away. They wanted to hear stories, laugh, cry all over a number of colorfully named alcohol bottles. But that would be saved for another day. Yuu’s mind and body needed to readjust with the dimension-hopping equivalent of jetlag. Lazily hung from their bottom lip, a cigarette sat and puffs of colorful smoke plumed around Yuu. They curled and formed into whimsical scenes, from a crocodile waving its shining tail to fishes swimming along an invisible current. Yet the visions dissipated as they escaped through the open window and into the night air.

The taste was infinitely better compared to the shit back home. To be expected, when you’re indulging in the vices of a technicolor magical world. Their gaze flicked to the room’s door as the lock clicked open. A tall, built form stalked through the doorway and eyes colored a jungle’s verdant green during a summer day, landed on the bare torso of Yuu. Long ago they had discarded their shirt to enjoy the cool night air. A low growl of a voice mentioned something about a spare key being left behind, but Yuu could care less as they stared openly upon their old flame.

Leona Kingscholar, like wine, the more he aged, the more intoxicating he looked. It wasn’t a one-sided attraction though. For Leona, there was no sign of the herbivore he once knew. Bright-eyed, naive, and such a goody-two-shoes to a fault. Now that spark has faded just a bit over the years to reveal a wizened traveler with some bad habits on their heels. Namely the piercings, the tattoos, and the cigarette that played on their tongue. 

Leona sat down with them, thighs ever so close to touching, but a half-inch of uncertainty kept them separated. His gaze lingered on the intricate imagery that adorned Yuu’s arms and back. His main focus was of course on the earth-toned silhouette of a lion that roared ferociously with a hyena and wolf by its side. His fingers reached out and traced along the fangs it bore. Yuu didn’t reel back at all. They watched him closely as he admired their body’s art.

“I etched you all on my skin. Because I was afraid I was going to forget. Like this was all just some fever dream.”

“Hmph, dream huh? Is that what we were?” He couldn’t fight the bitterness that clawed its way up. Unresolved tensions, questions left unanswered, they festered much too long in the Prince’s heart like roots hiding away the most vital parts of a tree. But Yuu wasn’t keen on playing gardener though.

“Don’t you dare try to pin this on me. You knew exactly why I had to leave, but I promised, didn't I? I promised to be back. And I’m here!”

“Why after so long? What if you were gone for 20? 30? 40 years?”

Yuu groaned, combing their hair back in exasperation. “For fuck’s sake Leona! You wanna me to have the fucking Dark Mirror on speed dial!? I don’t have magic back home! I can’t pull off Godly crap like you and others can!”

Leona bit back his tongue at the annoyance that flashed in herbivore, no, scavenger’s eyes. They looked so tired. Tired from exhausting god knows how much resources to make contact back here. They scraped by on what little they had in their homeworld, praying on bones and leftovers for a miracle to happen and where was he? What was he doing on his side of the mirror? Sitting around, fat, and happy with how life has been treating him alright after Night Raven. But at least he knew one thing to do after all the time that’s passed.

“Sorry… That was unfair of me…”

It was Yuu’s turn to look at him bug-eyed. He growled.

“You won’t hear that outta me a second time…”

“Pfft, and here I thought the lion finally had a heart,” they joked, their tension now subsiding.

“Shut the hell up.”

“Heh,” the cigarette was passed to him. “Want a hit?”

“Nah. Stuff messes with my tongue too much. Plus it tastes horrible.”

“Damn, this is horrible for you? Y’all wouldn’t last a minute back at my place,” even if it was a joke, Yuu felt a frown curl on their lips at the truth that statement held. Leona paid no mind. Instead he reveled in the calm, letting the cool breeze that entered the hotel room soothe his nerves. Unconsciously, he felt at edge, but the more he and Yuu talked, the more a familiar energy came to settle between the two. One, two, three moments passed. Yuu took in a huff and spoke with smoke curling around their talking mouth.

“Leona… Are we still–” A pause and a frustrated sigh.

His hand gripped a bit tighter on his knee. “What?”

Yuu made a vague hand gesture, their cigarette humorously leaving trails that formed into wheels to represent their racing mind. “Y’know! Are we still– together? Even after so long?”

“... Yuu, I got angry that you took too long to come back through a magic mirror. When you don’t have magic to begin with. You think I’m not into you, after all this? Are you an idiot?”

“I just wanted to double-check, damn! It’s never bad to ask!” The two laughed breathily, though maybe more on a scoffing side for Leona. Slowly, the barrier from before crumbled down as Yuu now sat side to side with Leona. He looked down and Yuu met his gaze with such deep yearning, it blind-sided him. Hesitation was gone now as Yuu drew boldly close.

“Hey, can we kiss?” They asked softly. Smoke still hovered over their lips. Leona would have abhorred the thought of kissing someone with tobacco still strong on them. Yet the way that Leona nearly dove in to catch Yuu’s lips could have said otherwise. In the quick moments when they both surfaced to breathe between their kisses, the smoke escaped and leaked between their mouths. The shapes they made were of lions chasing antelope, ravens fluttering wildly in the air, then everything crashing into a meld of hearts. Quickly as they appeared, so too did they disappear, leaving only a hunter and a scavenger trying desperately to satiate their hunger.

[signalwatch]

WA Watch: Rushmore (1998)

I figure this is me and my nephew in about 8 years

Watched:  07/16/2023

Format:  Streaming Amazon

Viewing:  Unknown

Director:  Wes Anderson

Recently, I was watching some old Bugs Bunny cartoons, circa 1940, and I was surprised to see the name "Charles M. Jones" in the credits.  While "Chuck Jones" is synonymous with WB animation, he's really associated with a certain artistic style and flair that is characterized in certain styles of background, character design and with his comedic timing in everything from "What's Opera, Doc?" to The Grinch Who Stole Christmas.  But there was his name in plain text.

He had not yet timed how long it took an anvil to fall or for Wile E. Coyote to hang in mid-air before plummeting for maximum comedic effect.  He hadn't quite gotten the rise of an eyebrow or a sly look to the viewer.  But.  It's there.  

Jamie was the one who requested a watch of Rushmore (1998) a film we saw together way back at the Arbor IV upon its release.  And we've watched a number of times over the years.  And, for her, it was an academic exercise in "what was he doing in 1998?  and how does it true up to what's there in 2023 with Asteroid City?"

It's interesting how Anderson springs into a form we all would have been fine with here in 1998 and with his second feature (after the excellent Bottle Rocket).  He's locking in on some of the themes he'd return to (certainly distant, bad dads), certain camera shots/ edits, formal dialog fit more for a 20th century short story than a film in the naturalist mode, aesthetics of symmetry and retro-ism.  

It's also curious to ponder how much of the Wes Anderson story that Owen Wilson occupies.  The two were roommates at the University of Texas, and Anderson - maybe UT's brightest star in film - did not actually participate in the film program, but got a Philosophy degree.*  Bottle Rocket was a deep partnership between Anderson and the Wilson brothers and he'd co-star in the film as well as co-writing and appearing in Royal Tenenbaums.  And, of course, he appears in numerous other Anderson pictures, including French Dispatch, which I haven't seen yet.  

I assume the pacing of events means Anderson and Wilson wrote Rushmore while in their mid-20's to late-20's, and while there's certainly a level of goofiness to the proceedings and it is, in part, about a middle-aged man in a juvenile spat with a 15-year-old, there's some great character stuff that rings even more true here as I roll towards 50.  

I don't know that Anderson could do Rushmore again.  Maybe.  He's never quite given up on teen geniuses, including underperforming teen and adult geniuses.  He's still working through dead parents, bad parents, indifferent parents.  He's still invested in messy romance treated as a matter-of-fact.  I'm not sure a studio would be as ready to fund a movie about a teen and teacher with a complex relationship in the last 20 years.  

But, in general, there's nothing  - to me - about Rushmore that doesn't work.   

I'm glad it's shot in Houston.  Bleak, wintery Houston in all its no-zoning-laws glory and mix of industrial mess and bucolic park-like environs.  I love that dumb town.  

And, of course, it really gave the world Jason Schwartzman and a new view of Bill Murray.  Co-star Olivia Williams has remained feverishly busy, appearing in American works, from The Sixth Sense to Hyde Park on the Hudson (reteamed with Murray).  

But the film also has Brian Cox, briefly Connie Nielsen, Luke and Andrew Wilson, and the late Seymour Cassel.  Sara Tanaka and Mason Gamble seem to have retired from acting - but I think Tanaka is a cardiologist now?

Anyway, 25 years later, the movie still works as well as it ever did, and at this point, it's much more tha a curious artifact of Anderson's early work - it's clearly pointing the way he's headed.

  *Little tip for you brainiacs like me who burned through 5 years of college and panicked in their 4th year and also got a history degree

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