Pinned
My Masterlist
Just making a collection of the fics that I’ve posted on here. If you would like to read more of my works you can find me on AO3 @DarlingDrew27 :) (credits to @saradika for the header and divider!)
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CHAPPELL ROAN — attending the Valentino FW25 show at Paris Fashion Week, March 9, 2025 (via @mxeva.mood)
Reblogged imomnba-x07
It was the living apart from Sam that did it. I just know that being away from his husband so often got real old really fast lol
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I know most people don't care about anything unless it has to do with the U.S. but can we please start talking about the Canadian election.
Please don't vote for Poilievre. He's basically the Canadian Trump and plans to put in place laws that harm trans youth, and lots of other shit.
Please vote istg this is the only way anything will get better. Poilievre has been kissing millionaires and billionaires asses. He'll make life even harder, and he loves Trump.
Reblogs are appreciated, especially if you aren't Canadian.
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Planting Roots - James Kelly
Summary: you meet your new neighbour… or rather, he catches you staring. (James Kelly x Reader)
Word Count: 2k
Warnings: mild suggestive dialogue, age gap briefly mentioned (reader is in their early 20s, James is in his early 30s), kinda ditzy reader, female reader, no use of Y/N, fun banterrrr.
Notes: in this house, we <3 hayden christensen.
You were so excited to finally have your own place. You worked your ass off throughout high school and college to save up for a nest egg. You survived roommates from hell and even worse dining hall food. The second you got your degree, you decided to leave everything behind and get the hell out of Dodge. That’s how you now find yourself in New Orleans. The house you bought is humble and in a rather shitty neighborhood. But hey, at least you aren’t in your hometown. You surprisingly don’t mind the sketchy neighborhood all that much. Sure, you’ll have to invest in some pepper spray and maybe a crappy security camera system, but at least the space is your own. It’s not like you really plan on socializing with your neighbors, anyway.
So you dragged in your own furniture – all procured locally. You didn’t exactly have the room to pack up your entire life in your car. You dragged the dusty couch you found on the side of the road up the porch steps. You heard scraping, though if that was the underside cloth ripping, the stubby legs getting scratched, or the inevitably termite-infested deck wood falling apart, you weren’t sure. You broke a sweat in the sweltering New Orleans summer moving thrifted tables and chairs and not that many boxes (still too many for your lone liking). All this while feeling some eyes on you. You’re sure you seem like some kind of crazy. Who moves houses entirely by themselves? Whatever, this is a clean slate. Who cares what they think of you? Here, you can be whoever you want to be, no matter how unserious and antisocial. The house isn’t… maximalist, but decoration is a luxury that will come with time. You have your essentials, and that’s what counts. So you get used to the vicious-sounding dogs barking in the middle of the night, hearing couples argue through not-well-insulated walls, and the weird smell lingering outside. After all, this place is your own.
You’re breaking apart boxes on your porch when you hear the loud ruckus of your next-door neighbor yanking open his front and storm doors. He leans against the front of his house and fishes a pack of cigarettes from the back pocket of his oil and grime-stained gray coveralls. You’ve caught glimpses of him around before – mostly during his much too-frequent smoke breaks, and sometimes if you happened to be up when he left for work. Other than that, he keeps to himself. You assume he’s a mechanic from his usual attire and the beat-up old car he likes to tinker with in his driveway.
You’d be lying if you said he isn’t a bit attractive. A lot attractive, actually. Part of you feels a little guilty. He looks to be older than you – maybe around his early to mid-thirties. It’s not age that really bothers you, you’ve shamelessly been attracted to older celebrities before… There’s just something more humbling when it’s a tangible, real-life person whose house happens to be eight feet away from your own. From what you’ve gathered during your little ogling sessions through your windows, he’s tall, with short dark brown hair and a few tattoos. One of which is an intricate design cascading down his right arm and hand, though you’ve never been close enough to quite make it out. It’s that right hand that now flicks on his damaged lighter in a way so natural that you assume he’s done it thousands of times before. For some reason, you’re mesmerized by the way he moves. Now that you get to see him from a bit closer, he truly is fucking h-
“Can I help you?” his voice breaks you out of your trance. He speaks with the cigarette dangling from his pink lips. Shit. Those stormy blue eyes are locked on you as he blows out a puff of smoke, awaiting your response.
Fuck it. Fresh start. You decide to lean into getting caught staring by laying it on thick. It’s not like you usually cross him outside anyway. “I could think of a few ways.”
The handsome stranger’s brows shoot up, surprised by your bold response. A smirk plays at his lips, his left hand in his coveralls’ front pocket. He pulls the cig from his lips between two long, tatted fingers. “Care to list them?”
Oh god, he’s actually going along with this. You did not plan ahead. You feel warmth rise to your cheeks. “No, no. I don’t do harassment.”
“And staring at me isn’t?” He tilts his head and takes another puff.
You can’t help but smile. So the man’s got a sense of humor… “Oh no, that’s just people watching.”
“People watching, huh?” Small whirls of smoke escape him as he speaks. “And what’ve you gathered?” He exhales.
It’s your turn to smirk and tilt your head. You move up closer to the railing of yours facing the side of his house. “You’re on track to contract lung cancer by age forty.”
He chuckles and raises the cancer stick to his lips again, utterly unfazed. “Oh really?” He takes his time to exhale, looking straight into your eyes for all of it. “What other genius observations have you made?”
You hum and purse your lips, deciding on what other information to reveal that won’t seem too much like a stalker. “You live alone… And I’m pretty sure you’re a mechanic.”
He smirks again. “Not bad. You a Sherlock Holmes wannabe or somethin’?”
“Only if you’ll be my John Watson.” You grin.
He chuckles, a small, genuinely amused smile tugging at his lips. He looks you up and down, and it seems like you’ve brushed off on him because he doesn’t bother hiding it before looking back up to your face. “Guess that makes you the smarter one. That’s kinda hot, Sherlock.”
You pretend to be exaggeratedly flattered because, in reality, your heart is pounding out of your chest right now. “Awe, you think?”
“I do.” He walks up to lean on his railing – which, by the way, looks like it’s about to tumble over. “You’re very attractive, you know that?”
You mirror his actions and lean on your own railing. “And what makes you say that?”
He smirks, seeing right through you. “I don’t think you really know what to do with yourself when someone’s givin’ you the attention that you give them.”
Oh, damn. You blow out air. “Well, shit. We were being playful until you went real on me.”
“Ah. I hit the nail right on the head, huh?” He laughs softly.
You laugh as well. “I swear, I’m not a slut or anything. The only reason I opened with a borderline creepy line was because I thought you’d ignore me. I figured I’d at least have some fun out of it.”
The hot neighbour just smirks. “So I’ve noticed.” He takes another slow drag of smoke. “You thought I was gonna ignore a pretty girl in short shorts on her porch?”
So that’s how he’s going to play it… Truth be told, you hadn’t even given much thought to your clothes- some risky denim shorts and a cute little baby tee. You suppose you should now that you live somewhere where the houses are so tight together. “Ohhh, so you’re the slut out of the two of us-” you feign realization.
“Oh really?” He snickers and looks down, his gaze lingering on your little shorts for a moment. “That’s a bold accusation, Sherlock.”
“You’re not denying it, Watson.”
“Mm. Guess I’m not.” He smiles smugly and flicks some ashes off the cigarette before his eyes wander back up to meet yours again.
The sight makes your ego swell a bit. “Who’s staring now?” you tease.
His smile turns into a wolfish grin. He shifts his weight against the railing, making a point of maintaining eye contact. “Ah. So we’re even.”
“I guess so.” You laugh and offer a genuine smile, truly amused by this man.
His smirk fades for a moment as he notices the authenticity of your beam. It catches him a bit off guard – the way it lights up your face. “Hey, Sherlock?”
“Hmm?”
“Your smile is cute as hell, you know that?”
You try to suppress the joy that fills your chest from the simple compliment. You can’t explain the hold this stranger has on you. “Thanks, Watson.”
“You should smile more.” He leans up straight again as the soft smirk returns to his face.
You smirk right back. “Are you saying that in a creepy guy at the grocery store kinda way or a genuine way?”
“It’s a ‘you look nice and I’m trying to compliment you’ kind of way.” He chuckles lightly.
Your cheeks warm up. “Honestly, I think you’re the only person around here who’s made an effort to talk to me.”
He glances at the neighboring houses. “Yeah, well-” He points at the house across from yours. “That’s Mrs. Dowers – she’s barely sentient. The others don’t really talk much. We’re not exactly a block party bunch… Everyone around here’s kind of an asshole.”
“Ah.” You nod, looking along the road. “Lucky me.”
He just appears to be entertained by your sarcastic responses. His gaze lingers on you a moment before he speaks again. “I’ll be honest, Sherlock. You don’t seem as much of an ass as the others are.”
You shrug with a playful smile. “Give me a few days.”
He laughs again, surprised by how much he’s actually enjoying talking to you. “So you’re secretly a dick, huh?”
“Oh yeah. The full nine inches.”
“Ohhh, impressive.”
It’s your turn to laugh, glad that he’s matching your humor. It’s fun to shoot the shit with this man. “I mean, I don’t go around showing it off to everyone, but-”
He shakes his head, licking his teeth. After a moment, he nods in the direction of the abandoned half-destroyed boxes on your porch. “Pretty thing like you shouldn’t have had to move around heavy boxes and furniture by yourself, you know?”
Your teasing grin returns. “You were lookin’?”
“You weren’t?”
Fair point.
“Your boyfriend wouldn’t help ya?” he continues.
You shoot him a half-hearted glare to let him know you’re onto him. “Don’t have one. I don’t have the most bustling social life at the moment.”
“You sure ‘bout that?”
You cock a brow. “About what? That I’m incredibly boring or painfully single?”
“The second one.” He scoffs. “You not interested?”
“Not actively searching… but not opposed if an opportunity came up.” You feel a sense of relief, recognizing where this conversation is going. It was inevitable, really, with the way you’ve been talking.
He thinks for a second before speaking again. “So, if I said I was interested, what would you say?”
You straighten up from leaning on the railing, suddenly feeling the need to hold yourself with some air of self-regard. “That depends. You like girls who play hard to get or those who get straight to the point?”
“Mm. Guess I prefer getting right to the point. I don’t do too well with hard-to-get.”
You hum. “Then I’d say when and where?”
He grins. “You free tonight?”
Your smile shifts into a more earnest one to let him know you appreciate this. “Yeah.”
He finds himself liking this more sincere side of you that slips through the jokes. His shit-eating grin softens into a warmer smile. “Alright, then. You mind if I come knocking at your door around six? I know a great Chinese place.”
You nod, starting to back up toward your door. Fuck the mess of boxes, you need to start getting ready now. “It’s a date.”
He chuckles, lifting his hands. “You gonna tell me your name?” he calls out.
You laugh. “Isn’t it more fun this way? It’s not like you don’t know where to find me.”
He shakes his head in disbelief for the second time that afternoon and pushes himself off of his railing. It makes his exposed forearms tense. “Fair enough, Sherlock.”
“Later, Watson.” You disappear into your house.
A tree. The tattoo veiling his right hand and arm is of tree roots and its trunk.
Maybe this neighborhood isn’t so bad after all.
Author’s note: I don’t know how to feel about this one 😭 I kinda just went off and had fun with the dialogue so pls don’t take it too serious (gets cringe if u look too hard). I know James is ooc, I see it as more of a fun what-if-u-were-neighbors-and-both-hella-flirty headcanon. Also I like giving my reader characters lil personalities so sorry if it’s one of those “I would never do/say that” instances. We just have fun here. Thanks for reading <333
Reblogged dailyanakin
HAYDEN CHRISTENSEN as JAMES KELLY — American Heist (2014) dir. Sarik Andreasyan
Reblogged dailyanakin
so let me tell you this...
Reblogged lesbiancaptnamerica
You know what that is? Growth.
Reblogged lesbiancaptnamerica
I'd just like to clarify some things about Senator Cory Booker's marathon Senate speech in protest of the present administration and everything they are doing to the American people.
Senator Booker was NOT allowed to sit down, eat, or use the bathroom during his speech. Sitting or leaving the room to use the bathroom would be considered yielding the floor. Eating would have interfered with his speaking and the person who has the senate floor must continue to speak, except when listening to questions that they will then answer.
He only took occasional sips of water.
The person who previously held the record for longest speech on the Senate floor did have bathroom breaks and also did things like read from the encyclopedia.
Senator Booker did not do that. His speech was to point out the damage that this administration is doing and he stayed on that subject.
Senator Booker's speech did reach many people. It wasn't a silly stunt that was done so that he could take the record for longest speech. He wanted to show the country that democrats will do something to bring attention to the problems we are facing. That democrats are listening to them.
Senator Cory Booker spoke for 25 hours and 4 minutes to "make good trouble."
also like, a Black man breaking Strom Thurmond's record is absolutely *chef's kiss*
for those who are too young to know about Strom, he was literally a white supremacist
Not just ‘a’ white supremacist. He was *THE* white supremacist. INCREDIBLY IMPORTANT CONTEXT HERE is that Storm Thurmond’s speech that he broke the record of? It was 24 hours and 18 minutes opposing *the Civil Rights Act of 1957*. He voted against the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the Voting Rights Act of 1965. He was a segregationist POS who was the blueprint for the Southern Strategy which was designed by Lee Atwater, a former Thurmond aide. Having his record broken by Booker is astounding and I’m so happy.
If hell exists, Strom Thurmond is being flambéed and I’m happy for it.
Reblogged mrs-elsie-barnes
no one will come to save you but some will offer you their hand to hold when life gets tough and those are the ppl that matter
Reblogged mrs-elsie-barnes
Black Widow is arguably one of the darkest and most interesting Marvel movies with one of the most terrifying villains because people like Dreykov are real and the themes of family, human trafficking and hope from Natasha and her family is so powerful
Reblogged mrs-elsie-barnes
CHAPPELL ROAN Attends Paris Fashion Week, 9th March 2025
Reblogged mrs-elsie-barnes
it’s such a tomato-throwing moment when people try to police what kind of fics authors should write… like if you know you won’t like something because it has something don’t read it! yes this applies to rape/incest/abuse/shit n piss and whatever floats someone’s boat!
you’re allowed to not like something but you’re not allowed to tell fic writers what they should or shouldn’t write or shit on them bc of it!!
FR!!!!!!!!!!!