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tizianacerralovetrainer · 1 month

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“Questa sono io mentre stavo tornando a casa da un provino per King Kong dove mi era stato detto che ero troppo brutta per la parte. Un momento cruciale per me. Un parere del genere avrebbe potuto far deragliare il mio sogno di diventare un'attrice oppure costringermi a tirarmi su le maniche e a credere ancora di più in me stessa. Ho fatto un respiro profondo e ho detto "Mi dispiace che tu pensi che io sia troppo brutta per il tuo film ma sei solo un parere in un mare di altri migliaia di pareri e io ne vado a cercare un altro: oggi conto 18 nomination agli Oscar.”

Meryl Streep

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dickfuckk · 1 year

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A list of season 2 cast and crew members, confirmed and speculated

I will try and keep this updated

Not counting the obvious ones

Please note that this is a list of both cast and crew members, so PAs and such are also included and not just actors

Also if you're interested: on my bts instagram I only follow people who have worked on season 1, and people I suspect worked on season 2. So feel free to go through the list of people I follow if you're into that

Aaron Morton (Camera) - he’s listed on the very last picture as the camera-man

Adam Stein(Writer)

Alan F. (English solider)

Alexandria S.

Alison Telford (Casting)

Alistair Gregory - from this tweet so uncertain, but followed me back on my bts instagram account so seems to have some interest in ofmd

Amy Barber (Sound department)

Amy Tunnicliffe

Amanda Grace Leo

Amanda M. (Wedding guest)

Andrea Basile (Costume)

Andres Gomez Zamora (Visual effects)

Andrew DeYoung (Director) - I don’t remember if there was any other reason than the fact that he was in Aotearoa during filming

Andy McLaren (senior art director)

Andy Rydzewksi (Cinematographer)

Angelina Faulkner (Sound department)

Blair Nicholson (Camera)

Blair Teesdale (Camera)

Brad Coleman (Visual effects)

Brad McLeod (Special effects)

Brian Badie (Hairstylist)

Bronson Pinchot (“Torturer”)

Bryn Seager - I don’t remember why but I follow him

Bryony Matthew (Food stylist)

Caleb Staines (Camera)

Chantel Partamian (Visual effects)

Colin Elms (Art department)

Colin Rogers (Sound department)

Cora Montalban (Makeup and/or hairstylist) - I believe she was tagged in an instagram story once, and she’s followed by a ton of cast and crew members

Corrin Ellingford (Sound department)

Corey Moana (Camera)

Corry Greig (Art department)

Coti Herrera (Prosthetics/Makeup)

Damian Del Borrello (Sound department)

Daniel Fernandez (Spanish priest)

Danica Duan (Assistan accountant)

David Boden (production manager)

David G. (Stand in)

David Rowell (Financial controller)

David Van Dyke (Visual effects)

Dennis Bailey (Hairstylist)- Leslie revealed that he’s there.

Dion Anderson (Rescue diver)

Don A. (Swampy Town folk)

Donna Pearman (Assistant accountant)

Donna Marinkovich (set decorator)

Doug McFarlene (Pirate)

Duncan Nairn (Visual effects)

Eliza Cossio (Writer)

Erroll Shand (Prince Ricky)

Esther Mitchell (Camera)

Fernando Frias (Director)

Gareth Van Niekerk (Sound department)

Gary Archer (dental prosthetics)

Gemma Campbell (Visual effects)

Grant Lobban

Greg Sager (Safety manager)

Gregor Harris (Camera)

Gregory J. Pawlik Jr. (AD)

Gypsy Taylor (Costume designer)

Haroun Barazanchi (Set designer)

Harry Ashby (AD)

Helene Wong (Voice work)

I-J

Jacob Tomuri (Stunts)

Jaden McLeod

James Crosthwaite (Set decorator)

Jamie Couper (Camera)

Jason Samoa, possibly spotted on location

Jemaine Clement, pretty sure this is only based on his friendship with Rhys and Taika tbh

Jes Tom (Writer)

Jessica Lee Hunt (Makeup artist) - followed by a ton of crew and cast members and I believe she’s been tagged in instagram stories and such

John Mahone (Writer)

Jonathan Bruce (Sound department)

Jono Capel-Baker (Groom)

Jonno Roberts didn’t get the role from his audition, but could still have gotten a different role - hung out with Ruibo

Judah Getz (Sound department)

Julia Huberman (Sound department)

Julia Thompson (Costume)

Justin Benn (Republic of Pirates Town)

Karl L. (Action extra)

Kate Fu

Kate Leonard (Casting)

Kathleen Zyka Smith (“Red Flag”)

Kosuke Iijima (Fabricator/Sculptor?) - due to interaction on this post

Kris Gillan (Fabricator/Sculptor)

Kura Forrester - followed by quite a few cast and crew members, but I don’t remember if there was anything else to it

Laura Stables (SFX makeup artist)

Leanne Evans (Art department)

Lee Tuson

Leslie Jones (Spanish Jackie) - she’s spoiled this so many times, but gjfhdks

Leyla - followed by a lot of cast and crew members, don’t remember if there was more to it than that

Lindsey Cantrell (Set decorator)

Louis Flavell Birch (Blue coat)

Luke V. (Stand in)

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd 2 #ofmd speculation #ofmd spoilers

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angiuluzz92 · 9 months

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Primo giorno di ferie iniziato malissimo. Avrei dovuto prendere un treno alle 07:26 per Lamezia Terme (6 ore di treno) ma mi sono addormentato senza sceglie verso le 3, perché non avevo ancora finito di sistemare tutte le cose da portarmi, dovendo poi andare anche al mio paese dopo Lamezia. Mi sveglio di soprassalto la prima volta alle 05:46 e dico cazzo ho perso il treno, ma per fortuna ero in tempo, e dico ok ora mi alzo. E invece no, mi giro e mi riaddormento di botto senza nemmeno scorgermene, e mi risveglio alle 07:30. Dio cane (e anche io) ovviamente.

Corro a Termini perché comunque dovevo scendere oggi e partire in mattinata assolutamente, stavo valutando di salire irregolarmente sul freccia rossa successivo per poi farmi fare la multa tipo non lo so, viaggiando anche in piedi, ma tutti i treni sono esauriti fino al pomeriggio e la tipa in assistenza di Trenitalia non mi aiuta in nessun modo a capire come fare. Quella di Italo mi da l’illuminazione, incastrare tratte diverse lungo la tratta fino a Lamezia.

Quindi prendo un freccia rossa fino a Salerno, coincidenza con intercity fino ad agropoli, e da lì Italo fino a Lamezia. Sembra tutto risolto, anche se con 110 euro in meno nel portafogli (mi sono anche dimenticato di usare lo sconto per il freccia rossa del 20% ma vabbè, ormai va così oggi).

Problema: sono seduto nel frecciarossa che sarebbe dovuto partire alle 09:15, e sono le 09:46. Perderò matematicamente il primo cambio, a meno che non viaggi alla velocità della luce ora che partirà. Se partirà.

Ho finito tutte le bestemmie dels giornata, prestatemene qualcuna.

EDIT: a saperlo scrivevo prima qui, partito ora alle 09:48. Corri Forrest corri!

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jessicafurseth · 1 year

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Reading List, Spring Sap double edition.

"You begin with what you know, and what you know changes." - Cheryl Strayed

[Image by Katie Benn]

"On the first day of spring I would forgive anything; the air ... smells like forgiveness wide-armed enough to raise up all of history’s beloved dead. No one who ever went outside on a spring afternoon could really believe that there aren’t second acts in everyone’s lives." Helena Fitzgerald

"Awe has always been available to us. It’s an artefact of our own attention, rather than a force that emanates from magnificent things. It is perpetually nearby, but we like to imagine that it’s far away, a place that we visit on once-in-a-lifetime holidays, rather than a practice that we can foster across a lifetime. I’ve tended to see it as a frippery, an unnecessary decoration on the edges of experience that I can safely afford to ignore most of the time. I no longer think that’s true. Instead, I think that those vulnerable, ground-shifting encounters like awe, wonder, fascination and mystery are crucial to our survival." [Katherine May, The Guardian]

"I now kindly understand that a world which tells me not to mark my own skin is the world where outside opinion is more important than my choice, and prejudice has been carelessly applied. I believe that a body cannot be deemed inappropriate." [Corrie Foreman]

The Indelible Marks Of Apo Whang-Od, still tattooing at age 106 [Audrey Carpio, Vogue Philippines] ... and her apprentice, Grace Palicas, on Instagram.

Tattoos are about change [Rachel Jepsen, The Cut]

"I agreed that something needed to give. I disagreed that the something needed to be my work." Excerpt from 'You Could Make This Place Beautiful' [Maggie Smith, The Cut] ... and in response, this incredible Twitter thread solicited by Isabel Kaplan, with stories of relationships which are the opposite.

Pet-Custody Agreements Are a Bad Idea [Ines Bellina, The Cut]

"I had sought permission my entire life to make choices; I had been well-behaved and studious as a youth, jumped through all the required hoops – academic, extracurricular and otherwise. But freedom was to be explored and exploited, I had now decided. These travels taught me that moving around wherever I liked was possible. And that I was always at home as long as I had a few necessary items: a journal, some blue jeans, a few ducats and, most of all, a sharp mind." Lessons from a life on the move [Jami Attenberg, The Guardian]

"'I think there’s probably a misconception that the more you plan, the less joy you get from something,' Johnson said. Sure, some of her favorite days are the unplanned ones, she said. But she’s found that those sorts of days can only be fully appreciated if you’re already created the space — and gotten the things done — to enjoy them." The case for planning your free time" (at least a little) [Madeleine Aggeler, The New York Times - this is a free link]

PSA: Some airlines will sell you a "couch" on long haul flights - that's three seats in a row in Economy at a price that's actually affordable, so you can sleep flat. This is potentially game-changing.

Why are we so fascinated by super-organised homes? [Amelia Tait, The Guardian]

“I don’t know what I think except that I don’t think any of us has to have a firm opinion about what it means to be a woman.” On a hysterectomy [Anna Holmes, The New Yorker]

To Accept My Chronic Condition, I Needed to Grieve the Life That Could Have Been [Carolyn Todd, SELF]

"Elements of my character I used to think of as my personality are gone: intense sentimentality, worrying about everything, moroseness. So what is personality, and what is symptom?" Who Am I Without My Depression? [Imogen West-Knights, Vogue]

Name and shame, a column by Emma Forrest [The Guardian]

Shades of grey in Bilbao [Juan Navarro, The London Review of Books]

The people who still use a London A-Z map [The Londonist]

"I always felt [Nemesis] was a missed opportunity to create a story and play a story line that had a fitting and proper conclusion to it. None of us knew that was going to be our last outing. So there was always, at least for me, a sense of a missed opportunity, something unfulfilled. That ship had sailed. Two decades have passed. I had long since given up on any hope of a conclusion as satisfying as this one is." - LeVar Burton ‘Star Trek: Picard’ Gets the ‘Next Generation’ Band Back Together [Sopan Deb, The New York Times]

Patrick Stewart will look great forever [Caity Weaver, GQ]

The peerless Natasha Lyonne on what surprises her, at 43: "The only surprise is how false the bill of goods is that we’re sold as young women. We’re supposed to be terrified of anything after 17 or 21. So it’s a revelation to discover what a lie that was. The truth of the matter is, it’s way better over here. I’m sure any woman in her 40s is gonna tell you, that’s when it all starts clicking, because you get to let go of so much concern about what other people think, and you get to focus on what you care about. And, of course, life being that funny karmic beast that it is, as soon as you let go of certain things, those are the very same things that come to you."

#reading list

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fallimentiquotidiani · 1 year

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Voleva o vorrebbe che fossi sua, ma soffre di manie di possessione e sta male mentalmente, che odio, è da denuncia, non è normale.

Fai come Forrest: CORRI!

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obsesseddiary · 7 months

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A bagunça do dia 6 de Outubro

No dia 6 de outubro, que por acaso caiu numa sexta-feira (como se isso já não fosse o suficiente para deixar todo mundo com os cabelos em pé), minha vida virou uma verdadeira palhaçada. Foi um dia daqueles em que até o relógio parecia estar debochando de mim, correndo mais rápido do que Usain Bolt na Olimpíada.

Tudo começou de manhã, quando eu estava tentando me concentrar nas minhas aulas de francês e semântica na faculdade. Mas aí, o meu celular decidiu fazer um protesto surpresa e apagou todos os meus lembretes importantes. Enquanto eu tentava desesperadamente recuperá-los, estava ao mesmo tempo na aula de semântica, mas claro, sem entender absolutamente nada. Foi tipo fazer malabarismo com ovos de avestruz enquanto andava de monociclo em um arame bamba.

No horário do almoço, eu voltei para casa com a esperança de um momento tranquilo, mas a vida me deu um soco no estômago. Descobri que a dona da pensão, que a mulher que deveria entregar minhas roupas limpas, estava doente e só poderia fazer isso à noite. Enquanto eu almoçava, percebi que só teria uma aula na próxima semana devido a um feriado. O problema é que eu já tinha comprado as passagens de ônibus para voltar para casa na quarta-feira, dia 11, de manhã. Fiquei pensando se a minha professora acha que dinheiro cresce em árvore ou se ela acredita que eu sou o Tio Patinhas.

A professora ainda soltou a pérola de que haveria um simpósio imperdível. O único problema era que o horário de abertura era às 17 horas do domingo, o que basicamente significa que eu precisaria de uma máquina do tempo para estar lá. Achei os temas do simpósio super interessantes, mas só ir dois dias seria tipo ganhar uma medalha de bronze nas Olimpíadas da preguiça, e olha, eu não tenho 30 reais sobrando só para isso.

Decidi então ir à rodoviária para tentar antecipar minha viagem de volta para casa na sexta-feira, 6. Mas adivinhem só? Todos os ônibus para minha cidade estavam lotados até segunda-feira. Aí, como num conto de fadas, apareceu um tio gente boa na rodoviária e me deu 7 reais, dizendo que eu poderia encontrar um ônibus para Ouro Preto. Corri como o Flash, mas perdi o ônibus das 14 horas.

Depois de devolver o dinheiro ao tio da rodoviária, peguei um táxi que custou os olhos da cara, uns 50 reais, só para conseguir pegar o ônibus das 15 horas. Corri feito o Forrest Gump na maratona e finalmente consegui comprar a última passagem disponível no ônibus das 16h30. Finalmente, cheguei em minha cidade por volta das 19 horas, depois de uma odisseia que faria até mesmo o Ulisses ficar impressionado. E em casa, só pude descansar às 21 horas, mais exausto do que um gato em dia de mudança.

Definitivamente, meu dia foi uma verdadeira montanha-russa de eventos inesperados e desafios que eu não desejo nem para o meu pior inimigo. Mas olhando pelo lado bom, pelo menos eu tenho uma história maluca para contar no próximo churrasco com os amigos.

#Sexta-feira #Correria #Confusões #Aulas #Celular #Lembretes #Almoço #Roupas #Passagens #Simpósio #Rodoviária #Ônibus #Tio #Táxi #Desafios #Aventura #Humor #Surpresas #Montanha-russa #Comédia

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byneddiedingo · 1 year

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Early Hitchcock

Ian Hunter, Carl Brisson, and Eugene Corri in The Ring

Lillian Hall-Davis and Jameson Thomas in The Farmer's Wife

Anny Ondra, Carl Brisson, and Malcolm Keen in The Manxman

The Ring (Alfred Hitchcock, 1927)

Cast: Carl Brisson, Ian Hunter, Lillian Hall-Davis, Forrester Harvey, Harry Terry, Gordon Harker. Screenplay: Alfred Hitchcock. Cinematography: Jack E. Cox.

The Farmer's Wife (Alfred Hitchcock, 1928)

Cast: Jameson Thomas, Lillian Hall-Davis, Gordon Harker, Louie Pounds, Maud Gill, Olga Slade, Ruth Maitland. Screenplay: Eliot Stannard, based on a play by Eden Phillpotts. Cinematography: Jack E. Cox.

The Manxman (Alfred Hitchcock, 1929)

Cast: Carl Brisson, Malcolm Keen, Anny Ondra, Randle Ayrton, Clare Greet. Screenplay: Eliot Stannard, based on a novel by Hall Caine. Cinematography: Jack E. Cox.

These nicely restored silent Hitchcock films don't have a lot that's "Hitchcockian" about them except his ability to tell a story visually. Even compared to his other silents like Downhill (1927) and especially The Lodger (1927), they feel a little routine. What sets them apart from his later work is the focus on working-class people: carnival workers, farmers, and fishermen. Two of them are romantic melodramas involving a love triangle, the other a comedy about a widower in search of a wife. The Ring is the liveliest, with an impressive opening sequence that establishes the carnival setting with some kinetic camerawork and introduces the hero, "One-Round" Jack Sander (Carl Brisson), a carny boxer who takes on all comers, with the promise that anyone who lasts more than one round with him wins a pound. His girlfriend, Mabel (Lillian Hall-Davis), is the ticket-taker, and our first sight of Jack in the ring comes as she pulls up a flap between her booth and the interior -- a characteristic Hitchcock point-of-view take. Hitchcock also doesn't show the fights at first, only the boastful contenders being knocked back by Jack's punches, until his real antagonist, the professional fighter Bob Corby (Ian Hunter), puts up a real fight. From there, it's a story of Jack's rise as a pro and Mabel's increasing infatuation with Corby, even after she marries Jack. This is the only film on which Hitchcock took a solo credit as screenwriter, and though it's an entirely predictable plot, it's a workable one. Brisson, the handsome Danish actor who plays Jack, returns in The Manxman, which is somewhat overplotted -- it's based on a popular novel. Once again, he's on the outs in a marriage. Pete (Brisson), a fisherman, loves Kate (Anny Ondra), a publican's daughter, who agrees to wait for him while he earns his fortune on an overseas voyage, but she also loves Philip (Malcolm Keen), Pete's best friend, a lawyer with ambitions to become a "deemster," the name for a judge on the Isle of Man. And when a report comes that Pete has been killed, she and Philip feel free to indulge their love, though his family opposes their marriage as destructive to his ambitions -- apparently Philip's father damaged his career by marrying beneath him. When Pete turns up very much alive, he marries Kate, who is pregnant with Philip's child, whereupon much anguish ensues. Eliot Stannard wrangles the material from the Hall Caine novel into something coherent, but Hitchcock rarely seems terribly interested in it. The Farmer's Wife gives Hitchcock a chance to show off a talent for comic pacing that he rarely exhibited in his later career except in the "lighter side" moments of his thrillers and in such marginally successful comedies as Mr. & Mrs. Smith (1941) and The Trouble With Harry (1955). The film opens with Farmer Sweetland's (Jameson Thomas) wife on her deathbed, followed shortly by the marriage of their daughter, leaving the farmer open to suggestions that he needs to take a new wife. Completely, and somewhat illogically, ignoring the pretty housekeeper, Araminta (Lillian Hall-Davis), he courts -- disastrously -- some obviously unsuitable local women before realizing that Araminta is the one for him. A hint of misogyny pervades The Farmer's Wife in the comic portrayals of the mannish Widow Windeatt (Louie Pounds), the prudish Thirza Tapper (Maud Gill), and the hysterics-prone Mary Hearn (Olga Slade). It could be said that a similar misogyny colors the portrayals of Mabel in The Ring and Kate in The Manxman, women who seem to have no fixity in their affections. But Hitchcock was never the most "woke" director when it came to the treatment of women in his films.

#The Ring #The Farmer's Wife #The Manxman #Alfred Hitchcock #Ian Hunter #Carl Brisson #Eugene Corn #Lillian Hall-Davis #Jameson Thomas #Anny Ondra #Malcolm Keen

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iskra81 · 6 years

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Quanto dovrò correre per tutto quello che ho mangiato in questi giorni?

Una maratona basterà?

#corri forrest corri #buongiorno #domenica #io

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spaceskam · 3 years

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woke me up from the longest dream

Summary: Alex and Michael follow up on a lead and find something powerful.

Tags: canon compliant (for the most part), visions, road trips, my deep sky still sucks agenda

ao3

"Why is it so fucking cold?"

"Welcome to Montana," Alex said dryly.

Michael made a face and shoved his hands in his pockets. He was doing his best to be mature about Alex inviting him on this trip. It was another loose lead he found and he was irritated that he didn't find it until after he came back home. Michael had offered to help after a grueling time in self-induced misery and Alex had agreed and he had planned to use this time to show Alex how much he'd grown.

However, there was something about being alone with Alex that made him feel a little like he hadn’t.

"Are you not cold?"

"Didn't we deduce that your species is from a really cold planet due to your body temperature and the clothing Tripp described they were wearing?" Alex asked back.

Michael was used to a vaguely snarky Alex, it was in his genetic makeup. This was a different level though. Alex was in one of the worst moods Michael had ever seen him in that didn't result in a fight, instead it was all icy silence and irritated answers. Michael wasn't sure if it was because of his breakup with Forrest or if it was something else entirely. Maybe it was the fact that Michael was here at all.

He decided to keep quiet.

"You got me," Michael said, taking slightly bigger strides to keep up with Alex.

They were in a small town that served as a hub for a few even smaller towns that surrounded it. It had one small stretch of road with all the local businesses in it, a shabby hotel, a diner, and a farmer's market being the three biggest options. There were a couple others buildings, but Michael couldn't say what they were by just looking at them from the outside.

Alex seemed to know where he was headed though and he waltzed up to a building that was only identifiable by a sign that was meant to say CORRIE'S but was missing a few letters and said CORE instead. He pushed the door open and Michael followed. The inside had the heater blasting in a way that immediately smothered him, but he managed to keep his face even. It looked like a convenience store with only three rows of shelves in the middle. A sign at the back door read GAS PUMP IN BACK. Michael thought that was bad advertising.

"Hello," an older woman at the counter greeted. She seemed to be the only one here.

"Hey," Alex said, approaching her and turning on an easy smile. Logically Michael just knew he was being charming to get what he came here for. Illogically, it felt like Alex could be nice to everyone but him.

How many times could he tell himself to grow up?

"What can I help you two with?" she asked.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but this place is owned by someone who used to live in Fort Belknap?" Alex said, not even beating around the bush to charm her more. That was the only thing to convince him it wasn't just him.

The woman stared at him, face unchanging.

"Who's asking?"

"Holt," Alex said, smiling and tilting his head a little bit, "Carla Holt, to be more specific."

She breathed in and closed her eyes for a moment before opening them a few moments later.

"Their timing has always been impeccable," she said, gesturing towards a door behind her, "Come."

"Who's Carla Holt?" Michael whispered to him as they followed. Alex grabbed his arm and squeezed, nearly causing Michael to fully trip over air.

"Just follow my lead. Stay quiet," Alex explained quietly, "I'll tell you later."

And Michael did as he said.

"You must be the littlest Manes boy," the woman said as she led them into a little office. It was cluttered and didn't really seem like the top secret place Michael was imagining.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Corrie," she corrected, "I never did like the sound of ma'am."

"Alright," Alex said, laughing lightly even though didn't reach his eyes, "My mother told me the same thing."

"I bet so," Corrie said, digging through messy drawers of a desk. She sat down heavily into the beat up chair and started digging through a file cabinet. "I kept telling myself it'll eventually come and bite me in the ass, carrying secrets for someone I only hear from once every few years, but you never know what you're getting yourself into until after you're stuck."

"Yeah, I know how that feels," Alex sighed. Michael's eyes drifted to him. He avoided eye contact completely.

"I'll be honest, I wasn't expecting you. Your brother, maybe. Part of me expected your father to bust down my door more than anyone," she went on. Corrie pulled out a small box and opened it, looking in and making a face before closing it and tossing it over her shoulder.

"Guess I'm the sucker who agreed to clean up duty."

Corrie laughed.

Truly, Michael expected more danger and more difficulty. He expected a fight or at least tension. Instead, Alex and Corrie made small talk about their shitty affiliations while Corrie dug through decades worth of clutter. Eventually, she pulled out a box and opened it and took a deep breath. She closed it again before giving it to Alex and Alex didn't reopen it so Michael had no idea what was in it. All he knew was that it went into Alex's bag.

"Thank you "

"Keep it safe," Corrie said, "Keep yourself safe." Then for the first time her eyes drifted to Michael. "You too. There aren't many of you left."

It was hot in the building, but somehow Michael felt like he'd jumped in ice water.

"Thank you."

"Mhm. Now get the hell out of my store before somebody follows you."

"Of course. Thank you again," Alex said politely and then he did as she said, turning on his heel and walking away. Michael wanted to stay and ask more–if she knew what he was, maybe she knew things he didn't and they could get rid of Mr. Jones–but Michael simply followed Alex's lead.

"Alex," Michael said, nearly having to jog to keep up. Alex opened the door of the store and a blast of cold hit Michael in the face, colder than before due to the extreme warmth inside. It took him a moment to reboot his mind enough to finish what he was saying. "Alex, what's in the box?"

Alex managed to close his eyes and shake his head in disapproval without slowing his pace.

"Can you wait until we get to the hotel?" Alex asked, cold again. Michael nodded despite the fact Alex couldn't see him, deciding that a verbal answer probably would be annoying in itself.

The problem with silence was that it was a sure way to get Michael to spiral. He had discovered very recently that being alone when he wanted to be alone the most was the worst idea. Now, he didn't want to be alone as much as he wanted answers. Walking in silence down a street while wondering what was in Alex's bag, who Carla Holt was, why Alex was angry, etc, etc, etc, was only making his mind race.

By the time they stepped into the lobby of the hotel, Michael was sure that Alex had just borrowed a bomb from an old lady and he was going to explode himself and whoever Carla Holt was was going to hunt Michael down in revenge. He of course didn't say that. Instead, he tapped his foot as Alex requested a room with two queens and didn't realized that the worker snorted because he was assuming they were two queens until after they were already heading to the room.

"Should I go spit in his drink?" Michael asked when he realized.

"No," Alex said, "You'd probably make it taste too sweet."

Michael again found himself stumbling over nothing and he looked at Alex, wondering what the hell was he talking about. But it was the nicest thing he'd said to him the whole trip and Michael decided to take it very personally.

"You sayin' I'm sweet?" Michael asked, grinning. A smile pulled at Alex's mouth that he very quickly schooled, slowing as he came to their room.

"I'm saying your saliva, and probably your other bodily fluids, have a higher concentration of a glucose-like chemical," Alex said, "As proved by Kyle and Liz when we got drunk."

"You guys drunkenly tested our saliva's glucose levels?" Michael asked, laughing a little. Alex finally speaking to him made his brain stop wandering as much. Not completely–he was still wondering about that box–but enough.

"We were talking," Alex said, unlocking the door with the keycard, "And noticed we all thought you three tasted sweeter than other people we'd kissed and, well, you know. So we did some tests."

"That's... Interesting," Michael said, letting the door close behind them.

Alex walked over to the bed closest to the door and carefully sat his bag down. Michael watched him, staying near the door. He was still unsure about where they stood. He knew Alex cared about him and he knew Alex didn't hate him, but he was also still holding him at arm's length. And then there was that box. He didn't want to push.

But Michael wasn't known for his patience.

"Alex," Michael said, "What's in that box?"

Alex swallowed and looked up at him for a moment before patting the bed beside him. An invitation. One that made Michael's stomach drop and twist in 11 knots. But he walked closer, sitting beside Alex. Alex stared at him, his features slowly loosening up to betray his feelings. His eyebrows pulled together in that kind of worry that meant he felt like he was drowning, scrambling to pull himself to the surface and never able to get a good grip. Which would explain the coldness, he supposed.

"You know you can trust me, right? I'm... I'm working on not being so self-destructive, and, like, knowing I'm helping you out kinda helps when I feel shitty," Michael said. Alex huffed a small laugh and shook his head, dropping his chin to his chest for a moment. When he looked Michael in the eye again, he was back to being serious.

"I did something stupid," Alex said, softly like it was a secret, "I agreed to something without knowing what I was getting myself into. And I'm kind of stuck right now."

"Stuck? What do you mean stuck?" Michael said, following his lead and whispering.

"I'm figuring it out, alright? Don't worry. I'll tell you later," Alex said, reaching out to squeeze his arm before dropping it back to the bed, "And I checked before we even left that I wasn't bugged and I've kept my eye out to know that we aren't being followed. And my computer definitely isn't. We're good. They're tracking me, but only to the extent I'm letting them. It's okay."

"That doesn't sound okay," Michael said.

"Trust me like I trust you, alright?" He said. Michael reluctantly nodded. "I need you to hold something for me."

Michael blinked. "The box."

"Yeah."

"Who's Carla Holt?" Michael asked. Alex smiled softly

"It's not a who, it's a what. It's a code from my mom's side of things. She knows more about the alien shit than she let on," Alex sighed, "I didn't stand a fucking chance not being involved with this shit. My dad, my mom, you. So, you know, if you ever feel bad about that, it's my fucking destiny."

Michael swallowed and nodded, feeling more eager by the second to know what was in that box. Needed to keep hearing Alex say how fated they were to know each other. Needed Alex to touch his arm again and smile.

"Okay," Michael said, trying to stay in his own space, "So we're fated. Cosmic connection. Called it."

Alex broke into a wide smile, genuine and welcoming as he shoved Michael's shoulder gently. "Shut up."

"Show me," Michael said instead. Alex's smile faded just a little.

"Do me a favor and double check our surroundings," Alex said. Michael nodded and tilted his head, sending a chair to lodge itself under the doorknob and pressed the curtains tightly to the wall. His eyes slid closed as he did a mental sweep of the building, not noticing anything out of order. When he opened his eyes again, Alex seemed to be closer. "Thanks."

"Show me."

Alex sighed and nodded, hesitantly reaching into his bag and pulling out the box. It was clear now that it was made of really nice wood, intricate carvings covering it. Alex handled it with an extreme care that Corrie didn't have with it. His eyes flickered between the box and Michael a few dozen times before he hesitantly opened it and Michael leaned closer to see.

"It's just a ring," Michael said, almost disappointed. It looked like a normal, silver band that was old and unpolished after years of being tucked away.

"Not just a ring," Alex said, he kept his fingers very precise as he picked it up. Michael didn't miss the way it seemed to ripple at his touch.

"Something alien," Michael acknowledged.

"Something alien," Alex confirmed, "Most of the glass and even the rocks that you've had so far all seem to be crafted and at least heavily altered by your people to be as useful as they are. This... This was passed down as a pure substance that was mined and cut into a wedding band to mimic human customs." Alex looked at him. "It pre-dates your mother landing here, Michael."

Michael let out a shaky breath, eager and hungry for knowledge for the first time in a long time. He'd poured over Tripp's journal over and over, poured over Caulfield and Project Shepard records, all of it painful and sickening with an unhappy ending. And now there was something new– old –that might actually give him something more. Proof that aliens were here before his mother, proof that there was a reason they came to Earth of all places. More secrets he craved to uncover. He missed the feeling.

"It's powerful and, as far as I can tell, the last of it left. The rest was probably destroyed with your planet. But it's old and... and sentimental. One of the older women on the reservation told me the sentimentality powered it more. Because it's not just a ring that symbolizes love or a bond between two people, but it's a new start. Blending the past they chose to leave behind together with something new and different. Safer and secure. Together," Alex said. Michael swallowed, eyes unable to break away from Alex's. Alex cleared his throat and looked back down at it. "That's what she said anyway. There was probably two at one point, but I'm sure the other is lost to time."

"Yeah, okay. Okay," Michael said, agreeing without hesitation, "I'll take care of it and keep it safe."

He went to grab it, but Alex pulled it out of his reach.

"Michael," he said, "When I say it's powerful, I mean the moment you put it on, something's going to… happen."

Michael hadn't really intended to put it on, but it seemed Alex knew him well enough to know that eventually he would.

"What kind of something?"

"I don't know, Michael. I just know legend says it has unspeakable levels of power. So, please, be careful with it. I'd prefer you do it with someone around in case it overloads you or something," Alex said. Michael didn't point out what Isobel had before–he was the only one who didn't have a limit.

"Why not just put it on right now?" Michael said, "We're in the clear and you're here. Why not?"

Alex breathed in and out, staring at him with that same worried, downing look. Michael selfishly enjoyed it for a few moments–enjoying that he cared that much. So he smirked and held out his left hand, feeling confident.

"Go ahead, Alex. Put a ring on it," he said. A smile pulled at Alex's lips that he fought, but he relaxed his shoulders and grabbed Michael's hand with his empty one.

Alex's hand was warm. Michael was sort of obsessed with the feeling of it. Why hadn't they been holding hands this entire time?

"I'm right here, okay? So if you need me to take it off or if you feel like you're going to lose control, let me know. Try not to throw me," Alex said. Michael rolled his eyes.

"I don't give a shit how much power I have injected into me, I'm not going to hurt you," Michael said. Alex raised an eyebrow. "Physically. Come on now, cut me some slack."

"Maybe," Alex said, putting the ring closer. Michael could feel it now that it was millimeters away from his skin, the power of it overwhelming. And Michael was intrigued. "Ready?"

"Always."

Alex slid the ring onto his ring finger.

The wave of power hit him instantly and, before he could adjust, sent him into a mindscape. Or–he thought it was. The room was damp and dark, unwelcoming. Michael looked around for something, someone, but he was alone. It was crowded with things, though, inventions and technological structures. It looked like his own lair but significantly less familiar, less comforting.

“Michael?”

Michael turned towards the voice and saw Alex at the top of a ladder, staring down at him with a face that said he was doing everything to stay calm. He had red stains on his clothes. Michael stared at him, unsure what to do. Alex was down the ladder and centimeters away from him so quickly that it could only be achieved by him seeing something that wasn’t happening just yet.

“Are you okay?” Alex asked, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Michael said, instinctually, “Where are we? What is this place?”

Alex looked around the room, his face betraying his pain before he met Michael’s eyes again. Then his hand was on Michael’s cheek with a warm and grounding presence. Michael’s heart was about to burst out of his chest.

“My research,” he sighed, “Half of it’s destroyed anyway. Let’s go.” Michael didn’t really think that sounded right. This didn’t feel like Alex’s space. He’d been in enough of Alex’s spaces before to know what they felt like. This wasn’t it.

“Your research?” he said. Alex gave him a look and stroked his thumb over his cheekbone.

“I’ll tell you later.”

“Stop that,” Michael said, his voice sounding more irritated than he meant. He could feel the anger in his body, but he didn’t know the source. “Stop not telling me things. You keep doing that. You need to tell me.”

“You’re right,” Alex agreed, swallowing, “But we need to get out of here. I swear I’ll tell you once we get in the car. But we need to get out of here.”

“You promise you’ll tell me in the car?” Michael said. Alex nodded.

“I promise.”

They were upstairs just as fast as Alex had been downstairs. Michael saw blood. He turned his head to find the source, but Alex’s hand was back on his neck to stop him.

“Don’t look. Let’s just go to the car.”

“What, you tryna baby me?” Michael asked, “You know I’ve seen some shit.”

“Yeah, I know,” Alex said, still leading him towards the door as his thumb dug slightly into the muscle on his neck, “Doesn’t mean I have to show you more.”

Michael sucked in a breath and he was thrown back into his body, the power from the ring still thrumming through him and teasing a possible second surge. It was old and unused and desperate to stretch out some of it's pent up energy.

Alex was there, staring at him and holding onto him. He was so close, so real, and so was that memory that was just in the opposite direction. Michael stared at him, taking him in.

"What happened?" Alex asked, hands squeezing his biceps. His hand started to slide up, but stopped at his shoulder. "Hey, you with me?"

"Yeah," Michael said, "I'm okay."

"What happened?"

"I think, uh," Michael breathed, swallowing. His throat felt dry again. The heat of the hotel seemed to work with the heat inside him; he was on fire in the best way. "I got, like, That's So Raven'd."

Alex blinked a couple times, his thumb moving in slow circles against his collarbone not too far from where it’d been moments ago in his vision. Michael wanted to let his eyes roll back into his head and just sink into the bed with Alex beside him and let this undeniable strength course through him.

"You saw the future?" he said, "Like one of Maria's visions?"

"I think so," Michael confirmed, "Only… mine wasn't of something bad. I mean, not really, anyway."

"What was it?" Alex asked.

Michael licked his lips, studying Alex for a moment. The ring on his finger fit perfectly as if it was made for him. The power it gave settled nicely in him, pulsing and eager to be used just a little bit more, but in a childish, playful way. It wanted to stretch after too many years being cooped up.

"Hey, I'm going to try to see something else," Michael said. Alex's eyes went wide as saucers.

"What? Tell me what you saw the first time," Alex pressed, his hand shifting just enough to cup the side of his neck. Michael layered his hand over his, feeling bold and unperturbed. At some point, they were going to get there. He was sure of that more now than ever.

And he wanted to see more.

" Michael ," Alex said, but Michael closed his eyes and breathed in, letting the power in the ring take him somewhere else.

And he was somewhere else.

He was standing at the end of a driveway. He looked around and tried to grab some sort of identifier, but all he saw was a house behind him and then a school bus headed towards him. It stopped in front of him, a kid stepping off and running towards him with a backpack almost as big as she was.

"Daddy!" the kid yelled and Michael tried his damnedest to act like he was meant to be here as the little body slammed against his legs for a welcoming hug. "Is Dad home yet? Can you tell him to get ice cream? I think we need ice cream."

"Oh, you think we need it?" Michael asked, walking with the kid towards the house. It felt natural, oddly enough.

"Yes," the kid said simply, running towards the door. She threw it open and Michael laughed and jogged the rest of the way. He could hear her already telling a story about school and he was trying to stay close enough to follow.

He walked into a foyer, pictures lining the wall. Family portraits.

Him and Alex. The three of them.

When Michael came back to his senses, Alex was right there again and staring at him without faltering. The ring was still alive, but it was at a sated hum now that it had been used a few times. He wondered how it would feel doing something he understood. He couldn’t wait to try.

“Hey,” Alex said, soft and comforting as he welcomed his weight. The vision he had was definitely not what he was looking for, he wanted to know more about Alex’s research and why it all felt so wrong and where the hell they were, but the second one…

“Hi,” Michael said, breathing and his eyes drifting down to his lips. Michael had experienced a lot of urges to kiss Alex before. Somehow this felt more dire.

“Please don’t do that again,” Alex said, “Maybe we should take it off.”

Michael shook his head carefully, eyes scanning him, “No, it feels fine now. It just needed to be used after being in a little box for decades. It’s good. Feels good.”

“Okay,” Alex said, still clearly hesitant. His fingers played with the hair at the back of Michael’s neck. There were two beds, but Michael was trying to figure out how to convince him to share one. They could fit. They’d shared smaller. “What’d you see?”

Michael breathed deep, wanting to get closer. He kept his hands to himself no matter how much he wanted to touch. He was being good. To get to where those visions said he was headed, he had to be good. Good for himself and Alex.

“Tell me what’s going on,” Michael said softly, “What are you researching? Who are you working with?”

Alex blinked once, twice before dropping his hand off of Michael. Which definitely hurt, but the fact that Alex didn’t move away definitely helped.

“What did you see?” Alex asked again, more pressing, “I know you saw that I’m researching something.”

Michael shrugged. He technically did, but he didn’t see anything identifiable. He didn’t know what it was. He would like to. Then again, he’d always wanted to know everything about Alex Manes.

“I didn’t see what,” Michael said, “I just saw that someone’s going to fuck with it. I think. I don’t know, we were in this basement looking thing and it felt really off and, and not like you, but you said your stuff was in it. And you had blood on you and when we went upstairs, there was more blood. But you said not to look. I don’t know what you did or what happened, but, like, if you told me, maybe we can prevent it getting that extreme.”

Alex stared at him for a long moment.

“You saw that both times?” Alex asked softly. Michael hesitated before shaking his head. “What else did you see, then?”

“Um,” Michael breathed, trying to think of the right words to say, “Uh. I don’t think, um…”

“ Michael.”

“Family portraits,” he said carefully, figuring that was easier to start with than a whole person who called them dad, “Like, ours. Um. I know we don’t belong in suburbia, but I guess we fucking get it anyway.”

He laughed. It wasn’t funny, but it was easier to say it like it was a joke. Alex looked at him, face confused.

“Suburbia? Like. White picket fence kinda thing?” Alex asked. Michael took a slow breath.

“I, uh, I didn’t see a fence, I was too focused on the‒” he stopped, licking his lips. Michael rubbed his thumb over the ring. It seemed to purr at the attention. Michael couldn’t wait to get back home and see what he could really do.

“On the what?” Alex prodded, reaching out to rest his hand on his leg and reigniting the contact. It felt so good. Michael really liked when he was touchy, it was his favorite thing about Alex.

“Um,” Michael breathed, feeling drunk off the attention and the ring all at once. He thought about lying, maybe that they were babysitting because that was close enough, but he was so tired of lies and half-truths and I’ll-tell-you-laters. “On the kid.”

Alex froze for a moment, “The kid?”

“Yeah,” Michael said, shrugging softly, “I, uh, I guess she was ours. She was calling us dad. Do we have any water? My throat is super dry.”

“I… I don’t think you’re seeing the future then, I’m never having kids. Do you realize how awful of a parent I would be? Awful. Neglectful. That’s not… And after I clearly fucking hurt people?”

“Maybe not,” Michael said, not about to argue right now. He was too busy feeling good. Alex kept his hand on his knee. “But whatever it was, it was good.”

Alex stared at him, quiet and clearly thinking things through. Michael let him. It was easier to give him space and time now. He’d gotten better at it before his visions, but they solidified to him that they were on a good path. It felt like they were making good choices and taking good steps. This was just a part of it.

Alex eventually took a deep breath, looked him in the eye.

“I’m gonna tell you what I’m doing, but you have to promise you’re going to stay out of it and trust me,” Alex said, “You promise?”

“I promise.”

“And you’re gonna promise to be honest with me?” Alex said, “And stay safe. Like, seriously. Don’t be reckless just because. I know you.”

I know you.

“Yeah. I’m doing better now,” Michael said, stretching his hand out, “I am. But I’m… I’m tired of not doing shit together. Doing stuff separately always gets us in shitty situations, Alex, I wanna be a team. Can I be on your team?”

Alex swallowed and moved his hand up, tucking Michael’s hair behind his ear.

“Yeah. Be on my team. Let’s be a team,” Alex said. He shifted and Michael waited patiently, watching him. “Okay, so. Deep Sky. It’s… it’s got some good people, I think, but it’s overall fucked. I don’t trust anyone in there, but it’s where I’m doing my research. Sort of. So I’ll tell you.”

It almost felt too good to be true to hear, but he didn’t need the ring to know that Alex was being honest. It showed him anyway. Truthfulness radiated off of him in vibrant blues and whites. He didn’t even need to get in his mindscape to be sure of it. It was strange to feel like that was unnecessary, like his body didn’t need confirmation because it already knew. It didn’t feel like he was stepping off a ledge. He hoped Alex had the same confidence, wondered what would happen if he put the ring on him.

If Alex still felt like he was stepping off the ledge, he was going to be sure to catch every inch of him this time. No piece would hit the ground like all the times before.

He was going to make this work.

“Everything?”

“Everything.”

#malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #roswell new mexico #my fic

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julemmaes · 3 years

Text

Playlist(s) Lorcan made for Elide in Honey + a little scene (cause I'm dumb and I couldn't write today, sorry)

fic masterlist

this takes place just right after part one

Lorcan walked into her room moments after she'd slipped into her pajamas and Elide thought about how many times she'd risked being caught naked by her roommate unintentionally and how many times, instead, she'd wanted to walk into his room in one of those lacy little underthings she wore for everyone but him just to see how he'd react.

Her best friend looked like a whipped dog as he walked over to the bed and reserved a coy smile for her, "I did something for you."

Elide sighed, closing the laptop on her legs and looking into his eyes. She was still angry that he'd lied to her for months, but the fact that he'd brought her his cigarettes and his trusted lighter had cooled the blinding rage that had hit her the day before.

"Is it a playlist?" she asked under her breath.

He nodded, "I sent it to you five minutes ago but you didn't see it," then pointed at the bed with his chin, "May I?"

Elide didn't answer, but moved in between all the papers and books to make room for him and he settled down next to her on the pillows.

"I called this one 'I'm sorry' - because it's true," he murmured, spreading his legs until his thigh touched hers. Elide felt a jolt go through her body, as she did every time he grazed her, but Lorcan didn't seem the least bit touched by the fact that their bodies were in contact in at least three places as he continued to scroll through his spotify account.

He handed her the phone and the second their fingers touched, Elide had to call on every sane part of her brain not to grab the pillow behind her back and scream into it.

She frowned, scrolling through the songs, "You chose them just for the title didn't you?"

"Obviously." he said and when Elide looked at him she saw he was holding back a smile.

She couldn't help but smile back, "Did you even listen to them?" she asked already knowing the answer.

He shook his head, scratching his neck, "Only one or two."

She giggled, "You're an idiot."

Lorcan actually smiled at her at that point, and then spread his arms, wrapping one around her shoulders, "I made you another one, like the usual ones, but I don't feel like giving you two playlists in one day. You don't deserve them."

She turned a confused and angry expression on him, "I don't deserve them? And let's hear it, why not?"

"Because you've been ignoring me all day," he said, lowering himself to her and nudging his nose to her hair, "And you made me miss you."

Elide scrunched her nose, "I'd like to remind you that we're fighting-"

"Are we?"

"We are," she shoved him, "And normally fights go on until the one in the wrong apologises."

Lorcan looked at her, pulling her tighter against him, "I'm sorry?"

Elide nodded, snuggling against his chest and playing the apology playlist, making him explain why he had picked up smoking so soon after quitting. They talked for over three hours and when she woke up the next morning, Lorcan was gone and her bed had been cleaned of books and notes.

Now, the playlist(s) - Lorcan normally doesn’t name the playlists, but he puts the date in which he put them together

14.01

1. Honey – Johnny Balik

2. imagine if – gnash

3. Honeybee – The Head and The Heart

4. HEY GIRL – JERZY

5. Maine – Noah Kahan

6. Running After You – Matthew Mole

7. Fresh Roses – Juke Ross

8. You Are Loved – Matthew Mole

9. No Right To Love You – Rhys Lewis

10. You & Me – James TW

11. I Can’t Make You Love – Dave Thomas Junior

12. Walk With Me – Taba Chake

13. Home To You – Sigrid

14. Alone With You – Canyon City

i’m sorry

1. I’m Sorry – Peach Tree Rascals

2. I’m Sorry – Joyner Lucas

3. I’m Sorry – John Denver

4. I’m Sorry – Brenda Lee

5. Sorry – Mali-Koa

6. Sorry – Halsey

7. I’m Sorry – Zauntee

8. I’m Sorry – Arilena Ara

9. I’m Sorry – Mokita & Stand Atlantic

10. Sorry – Future

11. I’m Sorry – curlybamm

12. I’m Sorry – TobyMac

13. Sorry – Beyoncé

14. Sorry – Tanya

15. Sorry – Joel Corry

16. Sorry – Otis Stacks

17.01

1. Vacation – Johnny Stimson

2. Changes – Jeff Bernat

3. How Does It Feel? – Samm Henshaw

4. Your Soul – Forrest.

5. Emerald – Rini

6. Take Yours. I’ll Take Mine – Matthew Mole

7. I’m With You – Vance Joy

8. Have I Told You – Matthew Mole

9. Morning Breeze – Juke Ross

10. Please – Noah Kahan

tog tag list (if you wanna be removed or added just send me an ask or dm me)

@maastrash @ireallyshouldsleeprn @sleeping-and-books @ladywitchling @thegoddessofyou @ghostlyrose2 @claralady @anne-reads @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @letstakethedawn @simping4bookboisngrls @post-it-notes33 @booksstorm @nalgenewhore @queen-of-demons-and-hell @miserablemusings @lanyjoy-13 @vasudharaghavan @cupcakey00 @bri-loves-sunflowers @queen-of-glass @thewayshedreamed @the-regal-warrior @fangirlprincess09

#honey playlist #honey #elorcan #elorcan fic #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre

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i-am-a-polpetta · 4 years

Text

Be' raga sono appena tornata dalla mia corsa e c'è il mio vicino che quando mi vede uscire si mette con la sedia vicino al bordo della strada e comincia ad urlare "CORRI KLA CORRI!!!"

A seconda di quanti kilometri faccio, ripasso dalle 2 alle 8 volte e ad ogni singolo giro scatta sulla sedia ed esulta manco fosse passato Gianni Morandi "corri kla, ancora uno, ANCORA UNOOOO"

Mi sento come Forrest Gump? OH SÌ CAZZO!

HO PURE LE SUE STESSE SCARPE MADONNA BEATA VOLO