how-the-other-half-lives

  • Person A: *holding person B's face between their hands and squeezing*
  • Person B: Will you please stop squishing my face?
  • Person A: Nope
  • Person B: Why?
  • Person A: At the beginning it was because I wanted to see how ridiculous you would look like this but instead you still manage to look adorable and pretty and now I want to keep holding you because your skin feels nice
  • Person B: ...
  • Person B: These are the moments where half of me is asking why I fell for you and the other half is wondering how could I have lived without you for so long
How the Other Half Lives - Chapter 2

TITLE: How the Other Half Lives
CHAPTER NUMBER: Chapter 2
AUTHOR:  theothercourse
WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: Jonathan Pine
GENRE: Drama, Mystery, Crime
FIC SUMMARY:  A year after Jonathan Pine helped Angela Burr capture Richard Roper, he is still working with MI6 to bring down some of the world’s most elusive crime lords. Undercover, Jonathan is running surveillance in New York City on Nigel St Clair, an ex-pat known as ‘The Accountant’ for the Wallace Empire.  Ten years ago, while charming NYC clients, Nigel met a young singer/actress, Kristiane Taylor. Enchanted from her first note, he became a mentor for her, enabling her to pursue a career as a Broadway star.

At the age of twenty-nine, Kristiane is about to take the theatre world by storm, stepping into the leading lady role of a highly anticipated new musical, unaware that her world is about to collide with one of NYC’s most prolific crime families and England’s most adept spies.
RATING: Mature (for smut, later)
AUTHORS NOTES: If you’d like to read the background where this story came from and why I’m writing it, you can click this link. Any likes, reblogs, comments, constructive criticism are all helpful. Thank you for reading! This story is dedicated to one person, and she knows who she is. This wouldn’t have been possible without her.

Book Cover | Chapter 1

How the Other Half Lives

By Tuesday morning, when Jonathan gulped down the last of his coffee and threw back the last of his stale bagel, Angela had some new information for him. Nigel St Clair had been spending his Sunday night with an actress, Kristiane Taylor, the current star of an off-Broadway show called Bat Boy and the upcoming star of Pretty Woman the Musical. The new musical was a vehicle for her, produced by Nigel, the very production Jonathan had started to investigate.

Within 36 hours of laying eyes on her, Pine knew more about her than he’d ever need to know, like her schooling (graduate of Tisch), her career (four Broadway shows, one off-Broadway and two national tours) and her accolades (a Tony nomination and two Broadway choice awards, whatever those were). She was well-known within the theatre community, but hadn’t pursued any television or movies to get any recognition beyond Manhattan.

Keep reading

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there’s a good reason these tables are numbered honey, you just haven’t thought of it yet // panic! at the disco

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Jacob Riis, How the Other Half Lives, 1890

The belief that every man’s experience ought to be worth something to the community from which he dew it, no matter what that experience may be, so long as it was gleaned along the line of some decent, honest work, made me begin this book...

The outrageous overcrowding, too, remains. It is characteristic of the tenements. Poverty, their badge and typical condition, invites - compels it. All efforts to abate it result only in temporary relief. As long as they exist it will exist with them. And the tenements will exist in New York forever….

What are you going to do about it? is the question of to-day…

This classic of American literary journalism is a much needed reread during our own 21st-century economic crises, crushing unemployment, and rampant homelessness. Riis’s text is every bit as progressive and compassionate as I remember from my first reading of it, but just as regressive and conservative in its reification of ethnic stereotypes and glorification of temperance and the protestant work-ethic. For someone who cared so deeply about social reform, he had little interest in political reform, making it clear that while he was a forerunner to the American Progressive Era, he was not one of its intellectual founders. Nevertheless, his compassionate storytelling and desire to convey a potent working-class and immigrant urban subjectivity along with his provocative photographs of the Lower East Side of Manhattan (at that time the densest urban center on the planet) stimulate the modern reader and imply that a political solution must exist, even if latent and unconscious, among this inchoate mass of American gallimaufry. As such, it is a perfect post to honor my new Tumblr moniker, Ragpicker and Poet. We must as, what are the poetics and politics of poverty? How can we think unconventionally and expressive working-class points of view with hope and a promise of justice and redemption, rather than simple condescending pity and moralizing? Posing such questions and working towards their answers is what it means to be a Ragpicker and Poet in modern times.

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I saw people calling Charlotte shallow and greedy so naturally I had to draw her getting married to someone she loves and is gonna treat her right (◡‿◡✿)

Newsies Resources

If anyone is interested in finding out more about the real 1899 strike, here are the books I’m using for research right now:

1. Children of the City, At Work and At Play by David Nasaw
- is probably the most detailed resource about the strike. Highly recommended

2. How the Other Half Lives by Jacob A. Riis
- is mostly about tenement life in New York but also has great photographs and a few pages on what life was like for the newsboys

3. Kids on Strike! by Susan Campbell Bartoletti
- really cool book about all sorts of movements headed by children. Includes a lot of great pictures and quotes

So just saying, since the nameless Rebels got a movie to themselves, it’s only fair that the nameless Stormtroopers get their own movie.

“FN Corps: A Star Wars Story”

I want to see a movie where the Stormtroopers are treated with humanity, instead of just being blaster fodder. And I don’t mean have every trooper be like Finn. I mean, there should definitely be a Finn-type character in the movie. But all the soldiers should be different in some way.

Like maybe one is diehard pro-Empire, one is disillusioned with the war, one is in love, one is a scholar, one is a poet, one used to live in an orphanage on Coruscant, one is a former Rebel (or used to believe in the rebellion), and so on and so forth. It’d be interesting to see how the other half lives since we’re used to seeing the Rebels as the heroes and the Stormtroopers as the villains. 

I’d rather have this movie than a Boba Fett spin-off tbh. 

About 50 shades of Grey

[TW: Racism and mention of rape and abuse]

Now that we have another 50 shades of grey movie, is good to remember how this shit treated poc characters (José, like Jacob in Twilight, its “I’m another love interest to the white protagonist but I’m not white so you know what will happen…”).

Some quotes of these books:

*“Ana” he [Jose] smiles his “dazzling toothy all Hispanic-American smile“ [Fifty Shades of Grey, Page 70]

“DIOS MIO, ANA!” Jose jumps back in disgust. [Fifty Shades of Grey, Chapter 5]

*“’Dios mio, how the other half live.‘”

*”His [José] breath is soft and smells too sweet – of margarita and beer.”

*“Please, Ana, cariño,” he [José] whispers against my lips" [Fifty Shades of Grey, Chapter 5]

*“’Dios mio! Ana!’ Holy crap, it’s José. He sounds desperate.”

*The writter shows that José tried to kiss Ana when she was drunk. Of course it’s a way to the white dude looks like a nice guy (even if Christian will threat her ~“I would find you. I can track your cell phone, remember?” said Grey.“~, assault her and force sex after he invaded Ana’s bestfriend house chapters later ~”“If you struggle, I’ll tie your feet too. If you make a noise, Anastasia, I will gag you.”~).

Submitted by  Maria

________ 

I’m so grossed out that Christian was still preferable despite the abuse.

mod m

Mac comes out of the closet. He decides there’s no God (no Father) to reject him. Mac says his dad loves him even though he doesn’t write him - acknowledges he and his dad don’t talk. There is no father to reject him.

Mac starts imagining his life as a gay man, how it looks, where he lives. He imagines Dennis as the other half of the couple. He starts getting bossy again, taking control of the dinner party. 

He smashes the fantasy when it doesn’t go exactly as planned..He starts considering the logistics of the sex - whether it’s clear he’s the one on top. His issues with authority and masculinity are starting to filter into his new idea of himself. Doubt creeps in.

Dennis’s betrayal is revealed. Mac reveals cracks in his denial about Luther: “You mean I could have had a relationship with my dad this entire time?” Mac would normally act out physically, hurt Dennis back, but something’s different, he’s different. In accepting things as they are, his resistance is gone. Opening himself up to reality also opens him up to pain.

“I could have had a relationship with my dad.” There may still be a father to reject him.

God seems to answer his prayer. There may still be a Father to reject him. He takes time to hurt Dennis on the way up out of the water.

Mac goes back in the closet.

Mac’s denial is the same as the gang’s other acts of resistance. It’s Charlie and Dee denying they slept together. It’s Dennis believing he’ll look twenty forever. Mac can only be out when he feels he has nothing left to lose.

Chapter 3 of Everything But Money by MTK4FUN is now posted at ff.net and AO3.

Katniss Everdeen learns  how the other half lives, and finds love in this Everlark historical set in 1936 during The Great Depression.

“So this is how the other half lives.” Mike remarked as he walked into the box reserved family, team managers, and VIPs. Evelyn rolled her eyes.

“Yes, this is the Hen House.”

Mike grimaced. The nickname was an invention of the younger teammates because of the large number of wives and girlfriends that made up the majority of the box’s occupants.

“About that.” He began, but Evelyn just tossed her hair over her shoulder and walked away. Mike glanced around the room. The other members of the luxury box pretended not to notice him, but he could feel their eyes on him; feel the questions they must be asking. ‘What was former Captain Mike Lawson doing here?’ There were rumors circulating around him and Ginny since he’d defended her on ESPN. Him being here wasn’t going to help things. He felt as though he was trapped under a microscope. Following Evelyn, he grabbed a champagne flute and muttered, “Blip tell you everything?”

“Mhmm.” She hummed, looking out onto the field. The game hadn’t started yet and the team wasn’t even on the field. He shifted, nervous. Evelyn rolled her eyes. “Relax Lawson.” She said. “They’ll do fine without you.”

Mike snorted. “No they won’t.”

Evelyn glared at him. “You saying there’s something wrong with the new captain?”

Mike grinned. He was sure Blip was going to kick ass, but it helped his ego to believe they were lost without him. It was also fun to wind Evelyn up. “Face it, Evie; they’re doomed.”

Evelyn arched an eyebrow, then smirked. “I’ll abandon you to them.” She motioned behind him to the crowd of curious people who were hoovering.

“For the love of god no.” He hissed. “I get enough shit from the media. I really don’t want to deal with them…” He should have bought a seat closer to the field. Hell, he should have gotten on right behind the dugout so he could yell at his team. Anywhere but in this box. “I don’t want to hear what they "know” about Ginny.“

Evelyn took a step sideways and Mike swore the crowd of onlookers got closer, like circling vultures.

"No.” He lurched towards Evelyn. “Blip is an amazing captain. The best captain the Padres ever had. He’s going to lead them to victory. Please don’t leave me.”

Evelyn seemed to consider it, but eventually took pity on him. “So the Cardinals, huh?”

Mike huffed, looking out on the field. “Don’t remind me.” The last time they’d faced off, he’d barely been able to hold Mount back from attacking her. Not that he didn’t trust Ginny to hold her own or Blip to have her back. He just would feel better if he was down there.

“Lawson.” Evelyn pulled a flask from her purse and handed it to him. “Drink,”

“Yes Ma'am.” Mike took the flask and swallowed, coughing as the taste hit the back of his throat. “What the hell?” He coughed. “What is this?”

“Vodka, Tequila, Rum, and Cognac.” Evelyn answered, matter of factly. Mike gaped at her.

“And you bring this to every game?” He took another sip, now that he was expecting it, the taste wasn’t as jarring. “If I had known, I would have retired earlier.”

Evelyn scoffed. “I brought it for you.” She gave him a side eyed glance. “Because you’re going to need it.”

Mike shook his head. “I’m going to be completely zen. Oh yeah.” He said in response to Evelyn’s laugh. “So zen, I could be a monk. I could start my own damn religion.”

“Well you’ve already got the beard.” Evelyn murmured.




An hour later Mike was grateful for her foresight, because he was about to break the box window and jump down onto the field like Batman to take out Falcone. Ginny was up at bat and Mike knew, he could feel it; Falcone was going to hurt her. He squeezed his fist, pressing his face against the glass, feeling the 98 degree heat from the outside, even with the air conditioning on full. A quick glance to his left told him that Evelyn was worried as well.

“He better not.” She growled.

There’s a silence in the entire stadium. It’s so overwhelming it makes him want to scream. All eyes are on Ginny and Falcone. Mike clenches his fists as Falcone pulls his arm back and lets a ball fly. Time slows as Mike watches the ball fly towards home plate. There’s a roar, that he dimly registers as his own voice, as the ball makes contact with Ginny’s hip. The force of the pitch was enough to send her stumbling back and Mike saw red. Evelyn grabbed his arm, trying to hold him back as he barreled to the door.

“Lawson.” She hissed.

“I’m going to kill him.” He growled as he walked out of the box.

“No.” Evelyn blocked his path, glaring up at him. Shutting the door to avoid prying eyes and curious ears, she glared up at him. “Besides me, Blip, and Amelia no one knows about you and Ginny. You charge down there, you won’t make it anywhere near the field, but you will be caught by the media and what do you think they’ll say? Right now the story is that Falcone is an aggressive jerk who attacked the first female player in MLB history. You go all caveman and the story changes. People ignore Falcone and focus on the fact that you and Ginny are together and speculation as to how long and whether she benefited from special treatment while you were captain.”

She was right. Mike slumped his shoulders, exhaling. He turned and walked back into the box. The screens are replaying Ginny’s exit from the field. She was walking, her head held high, her shoulders tense…and she was limping.

Evelyn sucked in an angry hiss. “I’m regretting holding you back.”






Ginny was behind curtains in her part of the clubhouse, pressing an icepack to her hip. Closing her eyes, she ignored the pain radiating through her.

“Unacceptable.” The curtain was opened and closed.

Chuckling, she didn’t even bother to open her eyes. She knew who was there.

“What is it, Lawson?”

He sat next to her with a huff. “I’m not even gone a game and you’re here, lazing around and only pitching in one inning.”

She opened an eye. His expression didn’t match his playful tone; he was worried, but he didn’t want to say anything because the rest of the team didn’t need to know how their relationship had changed.

“You might have missed it while you were flirting with models in the VIP booth, but Falcone beaned me in the ass.”

Mike groaned in disgust. “Never say that again.”

There was a slight uproar from outside. Blip stuck his head in. “Trevor’s here and wants to-”

“No.” Ginny said. She knew it wasn’t his fault, but she wasn’t interested in hearing what he had to say. Trevor was her past and she wasn’t looking back. Mike cleared his throat. Blip gave him a look that was disturbingly similar to Evelyn’s signature 'don’t test me’ look, but left.

“He and Evelyn are like…one person.” Mike’s face scrunched up. Ginny shook her head. Mike looked around, then leaned closer, his hand reaching for the hem of her sweat pants. “Can I see?”

She shook her head. “Not here.” She murmured. “Later.”

“Then let me knock Falcone’s teeth out.” He said.

“I highly doubt, you’d do that for anyone else on this team.”

“Bull.” Mike said.

“Oh really?” The chance of ribbing Mike for his stubbornness giving her something besides her pain to focus on. “So if this had happened to Blip-”

“Falcone would never have seen the dawn of another day.” Mike said solemnly. Ginny laughed. “Hey, what Blip and I have is special.”

And just like that, the humiliation and pain of her injury was gone.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Mike asked. Ginny nodded. He sighed. “Good. Because I have a vested interested in keeping other men away from that ass.”

Ginny reached out and smacked his arm. He caught her arm, holding onto her hand. They sat there for a second, simply taking comfort in each other’s presence.

“When you get home.” He murmured. “I’m giving you the best massage you’ve ever had.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Are you sure you don’t want to give it to Blip?”

“He’s not as pretty as you.” Mike retorted. “But if DiCaprio shows up, you’re toast.”

“I’ll remember that the next time you beg me for a knee massage, gramps.”

“Oh.” Mike clutched at his chest. “My poor old heart can’t take such salty words.” He glanced back at the curtain and quickly brushed his lips against her cheek before standing. “I’ll see you at home, he whispered. Straightening up, he cleared his throat and declared loudly. "And make sure you tell Blip how great he’s doing as team captain. Usually it takes 3 games in a season for someone to get beaned.”

“Be nice.” Ginny chided.

“Uh no.” Mike said. “Because of this.” He motioned to the icepacks. “I have to be nice to Miller.” Tommy had retaliated, hitting Falcone in the shoulder when it was his turn to pitch. “I hate being nice to Miller.” Mike muttered, shaking his head and stepping behind the curtain.