more head canons kind of

i’ve figured out definitively how carlos and intern dana appear in my head

cecil tends to either look like his voice actor or, more often than not, ronald howard. i went kind of the ronald howard route here. 

"Some Sort of Neighborly" (2/10) | Once Upon a Time

Title: Some Sort of Neighborly - (2/10)
Fandom: Once Upon a Time
Rating: M
Genre: Romance/Humor
Words: 3,580/6,131
Completed: 08/26/2014
Summary: Modern!AU Captain Swan. They’re not neighbors, not exactly, and they’re not friends either. It’s pretty hard to find reasons to bump into the woman who lives next door to your best friend, especially after your only interaction with her has been waking up on her couch one Saturday morning. Sequel to Rude Awakening.

Long story short: this is both earlier and later than I’d planned on updating, and I feel like I’ve reached Baggage Claim levels of rereading this SO. Just had to post it so I can get some peace of mind to start on the next chapter!

On here | On Tumblr under “Read More”

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A not very flattering, but unfortunately rather true to life, portrait of a woman in my “neighborhood”. It’s not much of a neighborhood. More like a collection of homeowners, individually doing their nails and watching tv. Everyone is so damned entitled, with their SUVs and non-sustainable lifestyles. God, after 6 years of this I can’t wait to move!

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Be Neighborly. Part of the richness of Living the American Dream are the people that surround you. Get to know them. Enjoy them and your American Dream will be a better, fuller experience. So…get out and meet the neighbors.

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Neighborly Encounters

Author: Cloudsungie

Genre: Fluff, Romance, Slight!Twitter au

Rating: PG13

Summary: Kyungsoo moves to a new house and laments over it on his Twitter account. (featuring snarky remarks from baekyeol)

Admin V’s Notes: Last fic I want to rec before I leave. It’s complete fluff and honestly the best thing I’ve read in a long time. The only flaw is that it’s too short /sobs this fic makes me want to convince my parents to move like holy crap must read you’ll love it I promise! :DD


Neighborly- Harry Styles Series: 1/6

**Note: Smut will be present later on in the series**

July rolled in with a bang, it’s heat nearly suffocating you with every breath you tried to take. Sitting sprawled on your front lawn, where the shade stretched the longest, you could practically see the little waves of heat wiggle through the air on the pavement that was the residential neighborhood you lived in.

Luckily, your town was right towards the middle of the city and the countryside. You held the brunt of the passerbyers, most of whom didn’t have the time of day to stop. And while you lived in the kind of neighborhood where the houses were so close together that you could count the eyelashes of the woman doing her makeup next door, and the block houses were nearly identical in shape and sizes, it wasn’t the kinds of neighborhoods your parents reminisced constantly about growing up in. Neighbors barely waved hello when both getting the paper at the same time, let alone actually becoming friends. You lived in a world of strangers, each only interacting in brief moments of forced politeness, fake smiles and impossible indifference.

Especially in this heat. On a normal day, a pretty girl walking by would stir up at least more than a subtle nod from a group of boys, but now everyone was so focused on keeping conscious that they could barely even look each other in the eye. Which was why you didn’t have a problem lounging out in the open in just your purple bikini. Basketball had given you a body you were fairly proud of—sure there were imperfections, everyone had them, but you’d grown accustomed to them, even coming to the conclusion that to didn’t mind them. You had a kick ass body, you had a stellar ass and you knew it.

You closed your eyes, trying to block out the feeling of muggy air pushing down on you like a hot and heavy body. Footsteps clicked on the walkway behind you, alerting you that your mother was coming and you braced yourself for a lecture of some sort.

"Now how do you expect to find a respectable young man when you expose yourself out in public like this?" She asked, folding her arms across her chest. "Oh I’m just kidding, it’s hot out, do what you want." You let you a breath of relieved air. "You remember we have Aunt Millie’s wedding this weekend right?" Millie wasn’t really your aunt. She was actually your mom’s college roommate from back in the day, though you’d grown up calling her aunty so you made no objections to the name. You made a face.

"Yes, I remember mom."

"Well, I’ll be heading up tomorrow. Millie just called, her cousin got food poisoning and won’t be able to stand in as her bridesmaid so she asked me." She tucked her phone into her purse.

"What am I supposed to do?" You demanded. Your father and brother were long gone on a soccer tournament down in Vermont, so you only had one car.

"Oh, well the groom is —you know, Anne right? Our next door neighbor, Anne! She’s a lovely woman!—Anne’s nephew so her family is going. I’ve arranged for her son— you remember Harry right? we always spend the Fourth with them?—to bring you." Your jaw dropped as a thousand disapproving arguments ran through your head.

"Mom! It’s like a three hour drive! We aren’t that close!" You weren’t about to tell her that the real reason was that Harry was a very confusing subject for you, a topic you had never really been able to figure out.

You’d grown up next to him your entire life, though he was a couple years younger than you. Your bedrooms faced each other, and on more than one occasion you’d caught him peeping on you. He’d always had that title, Peeping Tom. Even in school, he was once in detention for sneaking into the girls locker room with a group of his friends. This was in my last year, I was even in there, though I had luckily just stepped into the shower when they came in so he hadn’t gotten a peep of me then. He’s made up for that many times, however.

Harry was clearly attractive, but he wasn’t necessarily the hottest guy you’d ever seen. He had some acne problems across his face, a few red bumps you knew he was a little self conscious about. He was tall and used to be this skinny, lanky kid. But in the last few years he’s grown into himself in ways that made you uncomfortable—though, which you didn’t like to admit, you’d always had a thing for the younger boy next door. Something about him just set you off in ways you couldn’t explain. But now he was so much taller than you, his arms practically bulged with muscle. He still had that boyish appearance in his face though, the slightest amount of baby fat left, a few pimples scattered around, his hair repulsively long.

And even with all of his imperfections, somehow he was still the star of your wet dreams, every last one of them. You’d woken up countless times in the night panting, clenching your thighs as your heart raced in your chest, the only sound in the room it’s beats and your labored breath. So many nights you’d found yourself fantasizing about him—was he as big as you assumed? He had to be long, if the old wives tale was true. ‘You know what they say about big hands.’ And what did he taste like? You’d given blowjobs before and hasn’t really enjoyed the taste, but you wouldn’t so much mind….

"Are you listening to me?" You blinked, realizing your thighs were clenched together, your palms sweating from more than just the brutal July heat.

"Sorry," you said, hoping your mother would think you had just innocently zoned out, instead of been dreaming about the taste of the neighbors sons dick in your mouth… "What did you say?"

"I said it’ll be a good chance for you to get more acquainted with the boy then," your mother said suggestively, and you rolled your eyes. "He comes from a pretty wealthy family you know. And he seems like a nice kid."

Nice kid. Right. ‘That’s because he hasn’t told you he likes your tits after he watched you change from a shower.’ You would never say that out loud however, and so you just shook your head. “Never in a million years.”

Suddenly a shiny black Ranger pulled into the driveway adjacent to yours, cutting off your conversation with your mom. Curiosity got the best of the both of you, and you were shocked to see none other than Harry step out of the car. And cue the embarrassing mother.

"Harry!" Her voice took a high note not even opera singers could hit, and you winced. Harry whirled around, his face lighting up as he took in the scene. He smiled pleasantly at your mother, and when his eyes fell on you his lips curled into a sly little smirk. He loped across the lawn until he stood in front of the two of you, his gaze completely unabashed.

"Mrs. Y/L/N, always a pleasure," Harry charmed your mother to make her giggle like a schoolgirl. "Ready for this weekend?"

"Oh yes. I’ll be leaving tomorrow morning. You two will get there alright, yeah?" Harry’s piercing green eyes fell on you, making your skin crawl. Though you weren’t sure if it was in a bad way.

"Yeah, we’ll get there alright." You wanted to punch him right then and there, though you restrained.

"Wonderful! I’ll just leave you two be then." What your mother never was, was subtle. You rolled your eyes as she hurried away. "See you soon harry! Drive safely!"

"You too, ma’am!" Harry waited until she was out of earshot to turn back to you, eyes again roaming your body. You crossed your arms. "Well look at you. All grown up."

"You say that as if I’m not older than you," you sneered. God he was annoying. Annoying and unfortunately cute. It was distracting, really.

"Oh I know you’re older," he said. "I’m just not accustomed to seeing you in anything other than basketball clothes or a sweatshirt." He paused, smirking. "Or nothing at all."

"You’re a pervert," you said, though your cheeks flamed. You couldn’t help it around him.

"I’m just honest," he said innocently. "Excited for our little road trip?"

"Not at all. No funny business," you ordered him. He tossed his head back and laughed, the Adam’s apple in his throat bobbing with the motion. You found you really the sound of his laugh.

"We’ll see about that."

Part 2

•• Use ‘#neighborly mini series’ for all other postings of the series!•••

Fic Update: Neighborly Affection

Chapter Three is now up!

Or, you can catch up with chapters one and two.

Summary: Emma Swan’s new neighbor, Killian Jones, is the talk of the neighborhood, and living next door to him is almost more than she can stand, especially since the man doesn’t seem to own a shirt! But the tug she feels toward him is inexorable, and the genuine feelings that develop between them…quite unexpected. Captain Swan AU.

Rated M for sex.

An anon asked for a 'Neighborly' drabble.

On the drive to school, Katniss is so preoccupied by thoughts of Peeta that she almost runs a red light. Twice. Prim locks the strap of her seat belt, clutching her hands together nervously.

"Uh…everything alright?" she asks, giving her sister a nervous sideways glance.

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Neighborly- Harry Styles Series: 4/6

{ Catch up here: 1 , 2 , 3 }

You managed to get pretty tipsy that night, liking the way the bubbliness of the champagne could be felt spreading throughout your body like wildfire. You’d been asked to dance by a cute groomsmen, which had been nice and the highlight of your night.

It was late when you finally got back to your room. Very late. Your bleary eyes had to squint to read the 2:13 on the clock beside your bed. You stripped down into just your panties and a loose tank top, dropping onto the incredibly fluffy pillows. You were exhausted, but as soon as you had let the threads of sleep pull you under, a commotion came from the floor above you. You popped open your eyes, peering up at the grainy ceiling above you.

"Oh yeah! Harder! F-faster! Yeah! Oh baby!" A female’s voice could be heard through the floor board and you set your jaw, covering your face with one of the goose feather pillows. If it was just another random room maybe you’d have been able to block out the excessively loud moans, the bumps, the groans. Maybe you’d be able to go back to sleep as if it hadn’t happened at all. But you were all too well aware of the fact that Harry’s room was directly above yours. and now that you were awake, listening, you were suddenly an insomniac who hadn’t taken her medicine.

Of course he’s brought that blonde bimbo up to his room, of course he had. The thought made you sick to your stomach and irritable all at once for the full fifteen minutes you were forced to listen to it. You breathed a sigh of relief when you listened to some footsteps and the sounds of what sounded like someone going to bed. Maybe now you could sleep.

Until your phone rang. Was that bastard really calling you right now?

You knew you shouldn’t answer, but it was Harry and you couldn’t help but be pulled into all of his little games. So you glared at the screen and answered it. “Hello.”

"Having fun down there?" His cheeky voice asked. His accent was even thicker through the phone, especially when he was this tired.

"You’re such an ass. Thanks for finally shutting up so I can get some sleep," you muttered, shaking your head.

"Why, so you can dream about me again?" Your heart stopped, and you held your breath. Neither of you had mentioned your sleep mumbling since the car ride, and you still hadn’t had a clue of what you’d said. "What was it you said about me again…"

"Tell me," you demanded.

"Oh like you’re gonna get me that easy," he snorted. "Nice try."

"Harry, come on," you pleaded. "I really want to know. Please tell me. I’m begging you."

He made a little sound, one under his breath. “Okay.” There was a pause, and you listened to the sound of him shifting. When he spoke again, his voice was much closer to the phone, and deeper. “You said something about wanting to know what my cock tastes like, wanting to suck me off and make me cum so you can swallow all I give you. Does that sound about right? Were you dreaming about that, pretty girl?”

You swallowed. You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol pulsing through your veins, or just Harry’s warm voice in your ear that made you play along, but you did.

"Yes," you whispered. You could hear a little grunt, and realized harry was touching himself. "Are you touching yourself to me?"

"Fuck, of corse I am," he said hoarsely. "Been doing it for years. Every time I catch a peek of you changing. Fuck you’re so sexy. Your voice. The way you practically begged for me in your sleep. You want me, don’t you? Say it, I want you to say it."

You could hardly form a proper sentence. “I want to suck your cock,” you murmured into the phone. “I want to taste you. Feel you.” He groaned, loud. All of this made you snap to attention as to what was happening. That’s when you decided not to answer any calls when you were irritated and intoxicated, that’s for sure. “I need to go to bed, Harry. I’m tired.” You were panicking, and you could almost hear the smirk in his voice as he said, “Don’t worry. I think I can finish now.”

And you cursed to yourself when you hung up, cursed for the fact that you’d admitted more feelings for Harry than intended.

Next: Part 5

•••Use ‘#neighborly mini series’ for postings about the series!•••

Fic Update: Neighborly Affection

Chapter 4 is now available! Enjoy!

Or start from the beginning with Chapter 1.

Summary: Emma Swan’s new neighbor, Killian Jones, is the talk of the neighborhood, and living next door to him is almost more than she can stand, especially since the man doesn’t seem to own a shirt! But the tug she feels toward him is inexorable, and the genuine feelings that develop between them…quite unexpected. Captain Swan AU. Rated M for sex.

Why are so many parents being arrested?

By Michael Brendan Dougherty, The Week, July 21, 2014

This summer has seen a rash of stories of parents being hauled away in cuffs for such sins as letting their kids roam unaccompanied in a park, or keeping them in the car while performing a short errand, or even leaving them alone in their own home for a few hours.

My own childhood seems to have become illegal. I was the son of a single mother. During summers I would explore my neighborhood, visit friends’ houses, walk to a pond to fish, ride my bike from our home in Bloomfield, N.J., to the abandoned lots of Newark, and jump it over curbs. I could be unsupervised from 10 in the morning until 8:30 at night, when the streetlights started coming on. If I was home with my grandmother, sometimes she would leave me alone to do grocery shopping.

As early as 7 years old, I was allowed to walk more than a mile to school. I traveled long commercial streets like Bloomfield Avenue, and went under the overpass of the Garden State Parkway, all during a time when violent crime rates were much much higher than they are today. The worst that ever happened to me was that I got punched in the head by a junkie. But I told my D.A.R.E. officer, spent an afternoon looking at photos of local junkies and ne’er-do-wells, and got over it, having learned the valuable lesson that I could take a punch in the head.

Often during this time, and especially in my own neighborhood, I was being silently and unobtrusively guarded by a community of people, many of whom knew my name, and knew something of my mother’s situation. When I scratched someone’s car with my broken bike handle, I would be returned to my home, and the note explaining it would be addressed to my mother by name. Some of the nosy Italian ladies watched the streets, looking for gossip. But they could help a child who skinned his knee, or bring him inside for a few caramels and a soda if it was raining and the kid had left his key at home.

Last month, when the first wave of these stories came out, I suggested it was a problem of helicopter parents enforcing their notions of parenthood on others. But the number and variety of such incidents suggest that something more is at work. The communities that are happy to watch the kids in the neighborhood, and help parents with an extra set of eyes and a few caramels, are just gone. We’re arresting parents because civil society is retreating from children altogether.

Timothy Carney, a columnist for The Washington Examiner and a father of five, attributes it to a decline of “neighborliness.” And that’s certainly true. People see a kid, imagine a bad thing could happen to them, and then think they should call the cops. Whereas “neighborly adults look after other adults’ kids when the parents are unavailable.”

Gracy Olmstead, in a very smart article for The American Conservative, says that all of this waning of society and waxing of the state was predicted by communitarian libertarian Robert Nisbet:

Nisbet predicted that, in a society without strong private associations, the State would take their place—assuming the role of the church, the schoolroom, and the family, asserting a “primacy of claim” upon our children. “It is hard to overlook the fact,” he wrote, “that the State and politics have become suffused by qualities formerly inherent only in the family or the church.” In this world, the term “nanny state” takes on a very literal meaning. [The American Conservative]

My own childhood community in Bloomfield was then a well-established one composed of descendants of Irish and Italian immigrants, many of us going to the same church on Sunday. There were a few baseline expectations shared by the community about how children should behave in people’s yards or in the streets. People could talk to each other from some shared moral premises.

But today those communities seem rarer, and so, too, those shared premises about how kids should behave. More than that, there’s a fear of taking responsibility for kids in the neighborhood. Deliver a short report on a child’s behavior and his parents may snap back, “Don’t tell me how to parent my child.” A neighbor’s interest may seem invasive or even creepy. Lacking church or community, bystanders in a neighborhood refer their concern about a suboptimal parental situation (one they usually know little about because they are not very neighborly) to the only other institution empowered to look out for the welfare of children: the state.

The state’s guardianship functions were developed to handle only the most extreme cases of neglect or abuse. The incentives of those within these departments incline them to suspicion and dramatic intervention. “We only get called in an emergency, so this must be one.”

There are two ways to solve the dilemma. The first is a return of those communities, something that seems less likely in an America that is more mobile and more influenced by immigration, which results in constant neighborhood flux. The other is to reform the state’s institutions so that they might actually assist parents—not just punish, shame, and harass them.

Want to end US poverty? Lets start by banning name-calling

Want to end US poverty? Lets start by banning name-calling

Conservatives and liberals alike understand that handouts alone are not the complete answer to poverty, and that people in poverty must have the chance to use their own efforts to move off the bottom rung of the income ladder as well as immediate assistance with hunger and housing.

Each side has a different take on how to achieve it. The conservative point of view tends toward minimal…

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Neighborly- Harry Styles Series: 6/6

{ Catch up here: 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 }

A week and a half later, you were home alone for the night while your parents and brother were a few towns over for your brother’s soccer games. He played all across New England, just as you did with basketball. The weather was even worse than before, the hear creeping higher into the triple digits, the humidity feeling like you were swimming instead of grabbing the paper. It was awful. You hadn’t left your air conditioned house in days.

You were cooking spaghetti in the kitchen and dancing to Little Mix playing off your phone when someone knocked on the door. You padded bare footed there, surprised to see Harry on the other end. You hadn’t seem him since the wedding.

"Uhm, hey?"

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