The phone rings loud and shrill, echoing in Clint’s mostly empty bedroom. It’s not so much the noise, but the vibration of the ring that wakes him up. He cracks one eye open and the light from his phone seems like it blinds him.

He turns the volume of the phone up as high as it can go and then answers it. 

“Hello?” He rubs his eyes.

“We need you to come in.” Clint is pretty sure that this is Coulson speaking, but he can barely make out his words without a hearing aid.

“What is it?” Clint asks wearily. He rolls onto his back and closes his eyes.

“A KGB agent who goes by the name Black Widow is here to see you.”

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writing prompt: describe the days of the week as people

m o n d a y She’s the president of every club you can think of, and treasurer of a few more. Her voice is shrill alarm clocks and impatient hands ticking down the minutes to the next deadline. She is newspaper ink spilling across an antique desk and workout playlists on full blast at 3am. She is frustratingly opaque; you’ll never see her transcendental logic as she preaches Thoreau in linoleum halls covered in thumbtacks and laborantum tapestries.

t u e s d a y He is sixteen minutes from a breakthrough of (the most dramatic word you’ve got) proportions when his pencil snaps and his internet disconnects. He is the one who will come in second place every time but plaster a smile on because next time might be the time. He is heavy baggage on an airline going nowhere. His coffee is too bitter and he dropped his lunch in the hall, but he’ll try again tomorrow.

w e d n e s d a y Her eyes are the icy glass that cuts your lip when you smoke clove imports and her smile is misleading rosy whispers that say it’s true for everyone else but never you! She is ripped stockings and foggy mason jars and whispered confessions, wrapped in black lipstick and a nose ring. She’ll tell you you’re beautiful and wonderful and your best friend is twice the man you’ll ever be, and you’ll wonder if the orchids you bought her are wilting in her bedroom or a landfill.

t h u r s d a y He is a leather briefcase holding one newspaper, six pens, a company memo, and an eighth of whatever your heart desires. His lips are sinister bookends that hold together your thoughts like a padlock that’s been picked. He’s more trouble than he’s worth and he’s “one more day and I swear I’m done.” He’s a cadillac off a cliff, a fire on a bridge, the last cigarette on the sidewalk outside your tenth-floor apartment. He’s flannel and lightning and cheap vodka in a  suitcase under the bed.

f r i d a y He’s battered converse, black and white tattoos, electrohouse beats that shatter the floor. He’s a drop of honey in tea spiked with absinthe, neon lights against white walls, fog hovering over a cityscape made of budding dreams. He’s every endless night and every infinite jump into the void. He’s  shot in the dark, a ripple of water on the banks between now and forever. He’s a map heading nowhere and everywhere and none of the above.

s a t u r d a y She doesn’t feel anything. She’s a crystal chandelier at a paper lantern party, sitar chords and whispers behind royal purple curtains. She speaks like broken promises and sings like candle smoke on a brick wall. She’s toxic and hopeless and you’ll try to bleach her from your heart but nothing gets out bloodstains.

s u n d a y He’s ripped ties sewn with a threaded backstitch, black nail polish chipped away so he can show his face in church. He’s eighteen years in hiding but no directions can find him. He’s a hopeless case but those are the ones you like best, anyway.

-b.h.

LINK: my favorite thing about the nicknames “plajus” and “link” is that they give the chance to be completely androgynous at face value. it’s nothing like “princess” or whatever that forces an idea of gender. although link tends to be a mans name, it also predominantly brings to mind the image of a connection. or a chain. or an adrogyneous elf with sick sword skills. that kind of stuff works so well for us genderqueers.

the other day plajus came into my work to say hi and i heard someone yell “LINK!” across the store and it confused my coworkers when i answered. it felt like a true name call to me, i looked immediately. even though perhaps it was not what i thought i heard, because i certainly didn’t recognize the shrillness of plajus’s voice. but i looked and there was plajus and we chatted up a bit.

i think by now a lot of people recognize that my real first name is mikayla. which is cool and i don’t care because my tumblr url is literally my pen name, mikayla gawain. and anyone who has seen my deviantart account, my name is in that too. i like mikayla, it’s definitely a defining part of myself. but it’s so fricking girly. i like being called link because it’s like a bunch of question marks. or a hylian hero.
sometimes to me i think link is the person who can wear a suit and cry at how handsome she looks and wear a tight fitting outfit that shows curves and still feel like a bro &&& then mikayla is that nice young woman that looks extremely like her mom so whenever she meets someone thats the first thing she hears. and then she’s gotta be like young version of said mom. even though she knows there’s a lot more to it than that.

wtf is names. i love them so much. they are so LOADED.

Sventsta getting fitted up for some new merc kit because nothing says community protection from bloodbarges like a Svenna with a RPG platform on it’s back.

Shrill noises behind his head as Thrip climbs up and spins around and around on it screaming pewpewpewpew and accidentally blows up a tree.

Alien Dad has four arms and two prehensile tails and still can’t keep up with Tiny Human Child Thing

anonymous said:

any advice for a new scare actor going to their first audition?

Admin Nat: 
Be ready for behavior based questions like “How well do you work with a team vs alone?” “What would you do in this situation?” etc.  Most importantly though, go there with a purpose. Practice any sounds or mannerisms pertaining to the part you are trying for. If no specific parts, try to nail down some generalized characters.

  • Zombies/Undead/Mutants attributes include- moaning, groaning, snarling, chomping, any unsettling noises.

  • Crazy Rednecks/Carnies- Loud, boisterous voices, fast and gritty dialogue, vaguely comedic but always ominous. I always say to use a character resembling Beetlejuice for this model. 

  • Clowns- Laughing, think of your scariest laugh. Make it shrill, annoying even, but enough to be unsettling. Also Vaguely comedic. But not comedic for the customers, comedic for yourself. Reach in for some of your darkest humor, for things that should not be in any way funny, but disturbing.  

  • Victims- Give your best screams. Practice different types of screaming, eg How would you scream if you were surprised, in pain, calling for help, possessed? Whimpering, or crying on command also helps. Practice being afraid at different levels to help you react appropriately to whatever is “Frightening” you. Also practice breathing and projecting your voice from your diaphragm not your throat, so you don’t lose your voice. 


You tend to see several variations of those characters at any haunted attraction, so give them a go and be ready to show the attributes you are most confident in. Let them know you are willing to train and learn. Especially if this is your first audition for an attraction, in my experience when casting people and at big haunts especially they tend to appreciate a Jack of all Trades than a master of one. 

OTHER ADMINS, Edit or Reblog for any more advice to offer!

Good luck friend, and Happy Haunting!

It makes me fucking tired.

I was feeling profoundly depressed about the UCSB shootings and equally depressed about the number of men who just don’t get why women are horribly upset and scared by this. Then I found the #YesallWomen hashtag on twitter and it helped.

Because, well, yes. Not all men are predators. But every woman you know has had experience with men who are. Every woman. Me. Your mother. That lady in the upstairs apartment with the dog with the annoying clicky nails ALL NIGHT ALL DAMN NIGHT PUT BOOTS ON THAT THING.

All of us.

I’m not even talking about rape or threats of violence here, though of course that’s part of it. It’s not just being taught from an early age that we’re prey animals, and we always have to be ready to fight or flee. It’s that creepy fifty-something guy who tried to pick me up on a city bus when I was fourteen. The fellow writer who stared down my shirt after his third glass of wine. The mail carrier who pulled over to ask me out on a date, and when I told him I was married, argued with me. (Notice, I told him “I’m married,” not “That’s flattering, but no thank you.” Because belonging to another man is safer than saying no.) There was the airport shuttle driver who bugged me for my phone number all the way from Hartford to New York, until another passenger entered the van.

That wasn’t scary at all. Nuh uh.

I’m not saying that it’s always inappropriate to pay a compliment. I was never offended by the guy who stopped me in the supermarket to tell me I had pretty hair and carried myself well, and it brightened his day—because he so patently did not want anything from me. He was complimenting, not coming on.

We can tell the difference.

If we’re conventionally attractive, we’re abused when we refuse to cater to men—when we don’t want to be bothered when we’re reading on the train or give them our phone number if they stop us on the street. If we’re dyky or fat or old, we’re abused for being ugly lesbo bitches, which is to say, not fuckable. Because being fuckable is the only excuse a woman has to exist, to these dudes.

It makes me fucking tired. It makes a lot of women tired.

And what you’re hearing right now is a lot of tired women asking for a little fucking respect. If you haven’t behaved that way, well then. It’s not directed at you, is it?

If you have behaved that way?

Maybe this could be a learning experience, then.

8

Karen and Arthur comment on the roof scene from TATM (x)

Still Shrill
  • Still Shrill
  • Sorority Noise
  • Forgettable
Play

Day 306: Still Shrill-Sorority Noise

I thought i’d grow out my hair, 
to see if you’d notice. 
and I’d start dressing nice, 
to make you believe that I’m alright. 
and I’d start playing sports, 
to be more like my brother, 
and my dad might be proud, 
for once in his life. 

2

MYTHOLOGY MEME - [4/8] LEGENDARY CREATURES: RUSALKA

"This is my life among sprites and dryads,

The moon is my sun and I bring death,

Longing, mournful, silent death

By beauty, by kisses, a fairy tale nightmare

In pale light and cold water.”

BLACK SISTERS: Narcissa Malfoy

She is neither pink nor pale,
And she never will be all mine;
She learned her hands in a fairy-tale,
And her mouth on a valentine.

She has more hair than she needs;
In the sun ‘tis a woe to me!
And her voice is a string of colored beads,
Or steps leading into the sea.

She loves me all that she can,
And her ways to my ways resign;
But she was not made for any man,
And she never will be all mine.

(inspired by THIS amazing fic)

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