#memoryserved

[goldticket]

ooc unicorn and vampire!

october positivity.  ( + accepting! )

unicorn:  tag someone who is so good, so pure.

@bugdown  is… incredible. such an amazingly supportive person of me and of weird writing ideas i want to try. and of my wonka!!! writing with their charlie is so inspiring and so fun and so so bang on and such good writing (have you seen the similes and metaphors they use? love em!). i mean, just a genuinely fantastic person that i freaking love interacting with in any and all ways.

vampire:  tag someone of whom you’ve been a longtime fan.

@memoryserved  ive followed james for years??? for? maybe? something like five or six years? and he still blows me away with his writing and characters and style and flow. like, the fact that we not only get to read james’s stuff for free, we get to write with james???? is? mind boggling to me. it’s something i treasure b/c i view him as one of the best writers i know. and by “i know” i dont mean personally (even tho thatd still be very true, it’s just a much smaller pool) i mean, just, like, ive read their stuff. with a few of my mutuals it feels like im collaborating with, like, picasso before he got Big or whatever. and james is one of those ppl i feel that way about.

[brutlistarchive]

     𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 , 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞 . just as they had gone they are back again , they are a face that heugh has not seen before but he knows that it’s them because he would know that look anywhere , jacob heugh would know that jacket anywhere ; he has hung it over his arm and put it over their shoulders and had it sprawled across his home what must be a hundred times now , maybe a thousand . there’s guilt in his belly just as much as there was the thunderous gallop of all the syllables in their name punching out of his chest ; kennedy , kennedy , for hesitating , for the microsecond of caution . of course it’s them . who else would it be ??

     he thinks of them once for even the silliest things , too much soy in his stir fry     ---     it’s as if it’s their summons to his door ; and he smiles , and it says all the things they just don’t have the time for .     “     hey , kennedy .     “     so suddenly , heugh’s made so aware of all the gray that’s touched his hair . time has passed , hasn’t it . he’s a new child , now .     “     isn’t it a little hot to be wearing that ??     “ 

@memoryserved // sc

[perfcell]

magic anon here: chumby rp? chumby rp? chumby rp?

              *tap tap tap*

                       *sniffs ur hand*

[keyhop]

ken casually befriending/frenemy-ing asshole senators the sequel

[bonnmot]

@memoryserved

‘Kennedy, dearie,’ one cheek and then the other, kiss kiss. Rollo doesn’t give them any time to take off their shoes, hustling them into the mansion house with a hand on their lower back, ‘what’s the meaning of this lovely visit? Oh, don’t tell me. I’d much rather not know, given the choice, I do get ahead of myself sometimes. Come, come. I’ll get the tea on and you can find that light. Do you need turps for your brushes?’

[eidetective]

@memoryserved liked for a starter!

Squint. Stare. Then, the moment of dawning recognition. He always gets it eventually—the eyes, the smile, the way they carry themself.

“—You ever think about wearing a nametag, kid?”

[bunburie-a-blog]

@memoryserved

     He has to call them back. Reception’s spotty out here anyway; he rarely gets more than a bar, but all he gets at work inside the thick brick walls of the packing plant is an obstinate No Signal. He has to walk a little ways outside, head bowed down against the bitter wind, to catch enough signal to call.

     “Ken.” He’s holding a cigarette between his teeth to light it when they answer, so it comes out muffled. “You alright?”

[unconceivable]

@memoryserved.

ollie is laying lengthwise across kennedy’s entire couch, crunching down on a bowl of cereal from a brand that isn’t even stocked in their kitchen. actually, most supermarkets don’t even sell fruit brute anymore.  

   ‘ i really wanna go clothes shopping with you, ok? i’m sold on your whole- ’ she pulls the spoon from her mouth to wave it in their direction, ‘ -style. ’

[abouttiimeadjacent]

      ❝ Maybe it was stupid. I guess I just-- I mean, I didn't-- ❞ He sighed. His thoughts were jumbled, all trying to get out at once. Too much to process. ❝ I thought everything would work out. ❞ He'd barely considered the possibility of not getting home before-- even when Doc had told him he was stuck here, Marty felt there had to be a way home. There had always been a way. But without the car...

      ❝ He's trying-- Doc, he's-- he's trying to fix the car. But the way the mine collapsed... I mean, who knows how long it will take. ❞

@memoryserved

[ribleyscotcha]

@memoryserved.  

    ‘ -is it instantaneous? does a new face feel different from an old face? you don’t have to answer, i understand not wanting to, i’m just very fascinated. ’ he pushes his plate of pie towards them, a gesture in how casual this conversation really is, and egging them to at least try the thing. 

     ‘ you’ve have all the mystery of a well preformed magic trick. ’

[singingrass-archive]

"Merry Christmas! I ammm wasteeed.” This is his hello when Kennedy takes his call, slurred words followed by a low sort of huff, as though trying to stifle his own laughter. “How’s it goin’, bub? Preparations for the party okay? Oh --- shit, ain't catching you at a bad time, am I?”

@memoryserved // tiny Christmas starter call.

[goldticket]

@memoryserved continued from here.

In between the lines of those newspaper articles is something far more fantastic: not a single one of the children lied. Or divulged Wonka’s secrets. They could have said anything. They could have said everything. There were chocolate rivers and flavored wallpaper and golden eggs. Although, we mightn’t be so generous: they did--Wonka reminded them after the tour before they filed out two by two--sign a non-disclosure agreement. In the very first room.

They weren’t allowed to share much. But their sorry states said enough.

The contract, it turns out, was hardly needed. No one wants to know what’s inside an old chocolate factory when before their very eyes stands a blue child. Literally blue.

Some newspapers are spinning Wonka as a villain. Wonka makes no effort to dissuade them. For days, news vans herded at his gates like geese around the brim of a pond, their microphones gawking toward the factory like hungry goslings. Wonka makes no appearances. He does no interviews.

He has not, does not, and will not justify himself. He does not care for commentary. Not even the good ones. The only feedback Wonka cares for is the sound of boisterous burps. And those aren’t exactly worth televising and don’t translate into newspaper text too well.

When Kennedy says what they say, he sets his wrench down gently, but his muscles tense, and sharp creases in his vest tear across his back like a scrunched, angry face. He stops tinkering with the everlasting gobstopper machine. He is still. His back to them.

He does not turn to look at Kennedy, but his eyes, if they could see them, look as blue as two iced over lakes, three feet deep. Pitiless and pitless. So cold you’d shiver.

He talks at the machine and his words bounce off its metal body--giving the hard consonants a steely twang--and to Kennedy. Curt but casual:

          “Would you have liked for me to have danced and watched? Why, I certainly could’ve. But that might’ve been a tad inappropriate. A smidge too much.”

[oldyuppie-blog]

@memoryserved / sc.

     “So, like, you know D&D, right?” Some people have a certain vibe about them. Sometimes it’s one of those wow somebody needs to punch this guy vibes, while other times it’s a hey I could be real good friends with this person vibe. Whatever Kennedy’s vibe is makes him want to write character sheets and traverse the Forgotten Realms with them. “Have you ever considered uh, playing it? With me? Or anyone, but especially me?”

[cuyanir]

@memoryserved 

he stands out from the crowd in a battered, dangerous way. most hired bodyguards at the party at least had the decency to wear formal clothing. he didn’t. but there was no need, how else would those gilded profiteers be able to tell that kennedy is clearly loaded enough to hire boba fett himself? a pair of bankers from coruscant walk past them, looking at his armor and exchanging hushed, excited remarks. he follows their gaze, helmet moving unnervingly slow. once they’re chased away, he cants the T-shaped visor towards kennedy: ❛ get something to drink. expensive. you won’t look the part without a glass in your hand. ❜

[hivemnd-blog]

@memoryserved / call

They’ve been hit in the face. Or, it looks like they have. Look weak, garner sympathy, pounce. They have been watching through the eyes of birds.  “I don’t suppose you have a tissue?”

[bonnmot]

@memoryserved

He’s behind the counter, which is only a problem if you perceive the counter as a boundary. Just in case, Ari holds up both hands, one containing the remains of a blueberry muffin that he’d snaffled from a plate waiting to be cleaned. 

‘Don’t call the cops.’