so i had to deliver

anonymous asked:

So I really need to buy a bed (I've had the same futon for two years, and it is horrible.) I'd like a full/queen that could safely hold two people, and will give me room to sleep all octopus-like. I've been looking at some online retailers that sell foam mattresses, which seem nice, especially since they're on the cheaper side, which is important. Any advice on this big purchase? Dos/don'ts? Anything is welcome. I'm hoping you can be the adultier adult I need on this.

The last two times I bought a mattress, I just went to Ikea and tested all of theirs until I found one I liked, then had that one delivered, so I may not be the best person to advise at this point :D I don’t know if you know that most mattresses you buy, you’ll also have to buy a box spring to go underneath it (basically a stable mattress base, which sometimes costs as much as the mattress and is very heavy). Ikea mattresses don’t require box springs, just a slatted wooden base that costs about $30, which makes them very cheap indeed on top of being inexpensive to start with – but it also means that if you’re buying a bed frame it should be an Ikea frame, and while they do have some very inexpensive frames, that of course will add to the cost. And if you are counting on delivery to bring you your mattress, there are places that have much cheaper delivery than Ikea. Some furniture places will deliver free if you’re buying over X amount, which honestly, with mattresses you usually are.  

But since I haven’t bought a mattress anywhere else in 10+ years, I am of limited use regarding purchasing elsewhere :D I don’t know if there are now mass-market mattresses that don’t need a box spring; I know from endless podcast advertising that when you buy a Casper mattress you don’t get a box spring with it, but I don’t know if that’s because they like to ship in small boxes and expect you to have one, or because you don’t need one. (Also this is not an endorsement of Casper mattresses, I have no idea what they’re like, they’re just advertised on every damn podcast I listen to.) 

So I think question one, when buying a mattress, should probably be “will I also need a box spring?” 

Question two would probably have to be “How comfortable will this be to sleep on?” Because having slept on spring and foam (my current mattress is foam), I don’t really notice much difference between the two, but I know that other people have very strong preferences. Your best way of figuring this out is probably to find a local mattress store and go test some mattresses out; this will also give you a good idea of whether you want a Full or a Queen (I used to own a full, now own a queen, and while I love having a mattress that size, I probably only use about 2/3 of it). You don’t have to buy at the store, just use it to test size and whether you like spring or foam better. I sleep on an extra-firm, which I bought by mistake, I should have bought the regular-firm, but I kind of love the extra-firm now. 

Some mail-order-only mattresses, where there’s no showroom or anything in which you can test them, have a “trial period” setup where you get usually something like 100 days to see if you like their mattress, and you can return it if you don’t. I suggest that if you go with a company that has one of these options, which is not a bad way to go, maker sure you google around a little to check that returning it isn’t an impossible task – sometimes “trial period” style returns are made deliberately impossible so that you’ll give up and keep the thing even if you don’t like it. 

I hope this helps! 

8

When I was a boy, discovering my powers, I had no one. I had to figure out the Downworld all on my own. It was awful. So… I vowed to myself that if I ever found someone in a similar situation, I’d try to make sure they didn’t have to go at it a l o n e.

10

under appreciated films challenge - favourite song
when you believe (the prince of egypt)

there can be miracles when you believe
though hope is frail it’s hard to kill
who knows what miracles you can achieve?
you will when you believe

2

Title: The Execution of the Last Steal [AO3]
Pairing: J2
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Thief!Jensen, Hacker!Jared, Protective!Jensen, BAMF!Jared, BAMF!Jensen, Jealous!Jensen, Friends To Lovers, Pretended Couple (between the Js), Mild Violence, Top!Jensen, Bottom!Jared, Happy Ending
Word Count: 97k
Summary: Anyone who meets Jared Padalecki would think he has the perfect life: a college degree, a normal life and an apparently perfect fiancé, Stephen Amell, the son of a Senator with a bright future. Except for one thing: it’s all based on a lie. Five years ago, he created a new identity for himself to cut all ties to his criminal past and ex-boyfriend Jensen Ackles, a world-renowned thief.

But Jared can’t run forever. A threat from his past comes back looking for him and the only person who can help him is the man he thought he left behind forever, the only person Jared’s never been able to forget.

Incredibly charming and just as cocky, Jensen Ackles is a thief that is too good at his job for his own good, who would do anything to protect Jared now that his life is in danger. Years have gone by, but he has never been able to forget Jared either.

And perhaps now that they are forced to escape together, Jensen might be able to do what he’s best at: steal Jared’s heart one last time and win back the only person Jensen has ever loved.

the days when i think of the 2003 anime often are behind me but sometimes I remember the time Envy disguised as Winry randomly yelled “ALPHONSE YOU’RE THE ONE I ALWAYS LOVED” to distract Al AND IT WORKED! Al got kidnapped because of that even though Al already knew it was Envy! and I giggle.

Bc honestly I can see that happen in manga continuity only instead of being shocked Al’s reaction is  to break down into uncontrollable laughter and he’s so busy laughing he is successfully kidnapped for like five whole minutes.

He’s just armor convulsing on the ground and Envy just grabs his foot and starts dragging him away meanwhile Ed is screaming “AL PULL IT TOGETHER YOU’RE BEING KIDNAPPED” 

AND aL IS LIKE “BUT BROTHER DID YOU HEAR WHAT HE SAID”

“YES AND I HOPE YOU TWO ARE VERY HAPPY TOGETHER BUT SERIOUSLY FOCUS”

“i CAN’T IT’S TOO FUNNY”

“i SWEAR TO GOD AL”

And once he calms down Al just basically spends the whole time giving Envy a speech on why his shipping preferences are WRONG and brother and winry are OTP BC REMEMBER AL IS THEIR BIGGEST SHIPPER and once Envy’s finally like “OKAY FINE THEY’RE CUTE TOGETHER NOW WILL YOU  SHUT THE FUCK UP” and Al ‘s like “cool OK bye” and immediately busts out.

Now I actually want a series where Envy imitates people and says things in an attempt to psychologically torment them and ends up cracking them the hell up instead

                         i will be the answer at the end of the line
                      i will be there for you while you take the time
                in the burning of uncertainty i will be your solid ground

I do get annoyed with the wiki page sometimes. 

“ Despite his intelligence, Shinichi is rather dense when it comes to love or romantic subjects.”

…No.

So this is gonna be a chaptered story line about an Alien hybrid named Iqi who struggles with his perception of himself and others. Chapter One

I peered down at the dwarf planet my mother once called home. It’s swirls of white and blue were slow moving and mesmerizing. I saw Captain Ki’rnne’s reflection approaching me in the glass. I turned and looked up at his towering stance. He stood nearly twice my height on his quadrupedal legs, he was even more formidable when he reared back onto his back legs. A thick armour like red exoskeleton covered his back, tail and top of his head, ending in a point at his forehead like a war helmet. His four black eyes regarded me inquisitively.

“Are you excited to finally see your mother’s home?” He asked in his rough native language.

“I think I am?” I sighed.

“You are nervous.”

It wasn’t a question. “What if…” I shifted anxiously. “What if they don’t like me?”

Captain Ki’rnne turned his gaze to the planet we were slowly approaching. We would make our descent in less than four clicks.

“The Soenil are different from the Darite. Your mother’s people are far more accepting and tolerant of beings different from them. In fact they are known for it, otherwise you wouldn’t be standing here today. Besides you look more like the Soenil than the Darite, acceptance would be easier regardless.”

“Fu’knlgt says I don’t look like either of them,” I frowned looking at my reflection in the glass.

“You’ve seen what other Soenil look like,” Captain Ki’rnne said. “You bare resemblance to both.”

“But not enough,” I turned from the glass.

“Iqi,” Captain Kiernan sighed.

“I’m going to go prepare for arrival, Captain,” I said switching the conversation into Basic Intergalactic Language.

“Very well.”

I could feel his eyes on my back as I left the common area. I was certain the Soenil would find me just as wrong as the Darite did. The Darite were no strangers to cross breeding with different species but I was a particularly horrific combination to them. I was old enough to remember the look of their faces as they took in my appearance, I remember my father’s reaction. A hairless, short limbed, crippled abomination were the exact words my father’s sire had used to describe me.

To his credit my father did attempt to defend me. It wasn’t my fault I was so deformed. I was the first pregnancy and birth recorded between a Soenil and any other species. Of course there would be some complications. But my father’s sire would not accept me, so I was sent back to the ship that had delivered me to my father’s planet.

I waved my hand over the sensor at my door. The door slide open with a soft whoosh and I stepped inside my room. Sighing I side stepped my passed out roommate and walked to the mirror. I gazed at my features warily. Captain was right that I looked more Soenil than Darite, but that was only in structure. I had a Soenil’s short stance and limbs, their head hair, colorful iris and fleshy lips, but I could not say I looked like a Soenil. I inherited my father’s pale white hue, flat bifurcated nose, long pointed ears and wide feathered wings. But my wings were not big or strong enough for travel. They were stunted in growth and only as wide as my body was long. I come fly but only short distances.

“Attention crew members: We will be landing on Planet Soen in less than a click. Please prepare yourself for entering the atmosphere. As you all know Planet Soen is Class 5 and extremely temperamental. Make sure all equipment is prepared for landing and all crew are accounted for before descent.”

A loud piercing alarm signified the beginning countdown to entry of Planet Soen’s atmosphere. I quickly dressed myself in the Soen garments Captain Ki’rnne purchased me on Planet Dtriun. I kicked my roommate Hud’erpaktr. He just groaned and tighter his coils around himself.

“Wake up Huder,” I sighed practicing the Soen style hair-dos I researched. The Soen were weirdly obsessed with altering their appearances to “fit in”. I figured I should at least look like I made the effort to assimilate.

“What do you want?” Huder hissed at me.

“We’re going to enter Soen’s atmosphere any moment,” as if on cue the ship shuddered as it descended on the planet. “You need to get up and try to look presentable.”

Huder uncoiled himself with a aggravated growl. H slithered his thick, long body over to his cot and pulled his wrinkled uniform over his head with his two clawed arms. He gaze me a once over with his yellow vertical slit eye.

“What are you wearing?” he barked in laughter.

“This is Soen fashion. Captain thinks I should dress like them to make it easier to assimilate,” I frowned looking down at the outfit. It was a bit ridiculous looking, but it actually fit me so it was less ridiculous looking than most clothes I wore.

“Oh you definitely look like them,” Huder laughed slithering around me.

“Get off,” I scowled still trying to imitate the Soen braid. Huder continued to wrap around me with his almost foot thick body, he teasingly contracted.

“You do know that Soelin is female right?” Huder chuckled in my ear having wrapped around the entire height of my body.

“What? How can you tell?” I gasped as he contracted again.

“Soelin’s females generally have longer hair while the males cut it short,” Huder said flicking his forked tongue in my face.

“You’re gonna wrinkle my clothes,” I gasped at the increasing pressure on my chest and legs.

“Hmm, you know what to say if you want me to let go,” Huder hissed in my ear.

I cursed in Shinguo at him. “Let go,” I choked struggling against his powerful coils.

“Say it,” Huder smiled predatorily.

I knew that although Huder was my friend he was absolutely the type of asshole to strangle me until I passed out, even on a day as important as this. I swallowed my pride.

“D’idptgat,” I gasped.

Huder laughed heartily releasing me from his grip. I swallowed a deep breath and stretched my crushed wings.

“Great now my feathers are a fucking mess,” I gripped. I looked in the mirror, the pathetic braid I had been working on had come undone.

Growling I brushed my hair down and let it fall in waves down my back. I plopped myself down on my cot and began to fluff my feathers up properly. The ship again shuddered but with the familier tremble of touching land. We were on Soen.

“Shit,” I cursed.

“Relax you’re wings are gonna look weird to them no matter what,” Huder yawned. “Just go with it.”

“Shut up.”

“Welcome crew please gather at quadrant four exit number 3,” the intercom announced.

I groaned and stood gave my wings a few good beats to fluff out the other feathers quickly. Huder hissed at me as his papers flew around the room, I ignored him and hurried out to quadrant four.

Captain Ki’rnne gave me a disapproving look as I half run half flew into quadrant four.

“A new look Iqi?” he asked.

I looked down at my thoroughly wrinkled Soenil garments. There was nothing to do about it now. The first doors began to open.

The Soenil’s had made arrangements to keep us in a temperature and gravity control building during the duration of our stay, which was good because Soen’s gravity was much more powerful than other planets despite its small size.

With Captain Kiernan leading the way we exited our craft unto a vehicle that would transport us to the building. A Soenil was waiting at the front of the vehicle to greet us. It was the first time I had seen a Soenil up close. This one had long hair that was tightly pulled back to the back of its head. I groaned inwardly. Who knew what it would think of my hair loose and unstyled like this?

The Soen greeted the captain first.

“Welcome to Earth Captain Ki’rnne,” it said in the Soen language called English. “My name is Sarah Campbell, I will be your guide to the welcome committee. This is Dr. Willoughby, she is an alienologist who is the one who will be studying Iqi, the human hybrid you spoke to us about.”

The other Soenil was so small and unassuming I had missed it completely.

“Thank you for your welcome humans,” Captain Ki’rnne said, his translator changing his words to English. “This is Iqi. He is a human and Darite hybrid.”

I stepped forward holding out a hand, careful to keep my wings from extending as well. “Hello, I am Iqi. I’m very pleased to be here,” I smiled politely.

The reaction from the two Soenil - no humans they call themselves - was almost instantaneous. The welcome human’s eyes widened and mouth opened slightly, but it composed itself and extended its hand to greet me. The other one greeted me verbally with a “Holy Shit!”

Harvey Weinstein Is My Monster Too

By Salma Hayek

Dec. 12, 2017

Harvey Weinstein was a passionate cinephile, a risk taker, a patron of talent in film, a loving father and a monster. For years, he was my monster.

This fall, I was approached by reporters, through different sources, including my dear friend Ashley Judd, to speak about an episode in my life that, although painful, I thought I had made peace with.

I had brainwashed myself into thinking that it was over and that I had survived; I hid from the responsibility to speak out with the excuse that enough people were already involved in shining a light on my monster. I didn’t consider my voice important, nor did I think it would make a difference.

In reality, I was trying to save myself the challenge of explaining several things to my loved ones: Why, when I had casually mentioned that I had been bullied like many others by Harvey, I had excluded a couple of details. And why, for so many years, we have been cordial to a man who hurt me so deeply. I had been proud of my capacity for forgiveness, but the mere fact that I was ashamed to describe the details of what I had forgiven made me wonder if that chapter of my life had really been resolved.

When so many women came forward to describe what Harvey had done to them, I had to confront my cowardice and humbly accept that my story, as important as it was to me, was nothing but a drop in an ocean of sorrow and confusion. I felt that by now nobody would care about my pain — maybe this was an effect of the many times I was told, especially by Harvey, that I was nobody.

We are finally becoming conscious of a vice that has been socially accepted and has insulted and humiliated millions of girls like me, for in every woman there is a girl. I am inspired by those who had the courage to speak out, especially in a society that elected a president who has been accused of sexual harassment and assault by more than a dozen women and whom we have all heard make a statement about how a man in power can do anything he wants to women.

Well, not anymore.

In the 14 years that I stumbled from schoolgirl to Mexican soap star to an extra in a few American films to catching a couple of lucky breaks in “Desperado” and “Fools Rush In,” Harvey Weinstein had become the wizard of a new wave of cinema that took original content into the mainstream. At the same time, it was unimaginable for a Mexican actress to aspire to a place in Hollywood. And even though I had proven them wrong, I was still a nobody.

One of the forces that gave me the determination to pursue my career was the story of Frida Kahlo, who in the golden age of the Mexican muralists would do small intimate paintings that everybody looked down on. She had the courage to express herself while disregarding skepticism. My greatest ambition was to tell her story. It became my mission to portray the life of this extraordinary artist and to show my native Mexico in a way that combated stereotypes.

The Weinstein empire, which was then Miramax, had become synonymous with quality, sophistication and risk taking — a haven for artists who were complex and defiant. It was everything that Frida was to me and everything I aspired to be.

I had started a journey to produce the film with a different company, but I fought to get it back to take it to Harvey.

I knew him a little bit through my relationship with the director Robert Rodriguez and the producer Elizabeth Avellan, who was then his wife, with whom I had done several films and who had taken me under their wing. All I knew of Harvey at the time was that he had a remarkable intellect, he was a loyal friend and a family man.

Knowing what I know now, I wonder if it wasn’t my friendship with them — and Quentin Tarantino and George Clooney — that saved me from being raped.

The deal we made initially was that Harvey would pay for the rights of work I had already developed. As an actress, I would be paid the minimum Screen Actors Guild scale plus 10 percent. As a producer, I would receive a credit that would not yet be defined, but no payment, which was not that rare for a female producer in the ’90s. He also demanded a signed deal for me to do several other films with Miramax, which I thought would cement my status as a leading lady.

I did not care about the money; I was so excited to work with him and that company. In my naïveté, I thought my dream had come true. He had validated the last 14 years of my life. He had taken a chance on me — a nobody. He had said yes.

Little did I know it would become my turn to say no.

No to opening the door to him at all hours of the night, hotel after hotel, location after location, where he would show up unexpectedly, including one location where I was doing a movie he wasn’t even involved with.

No to me taking a shower with him.

No to letting him watch me take a shower.

No to letting him give me a massage.

No to letting a naked friend of his give me a massage.

No to letting him give me oral sex.

No to my getting naked with another woman.

No, no, no, no, no …

And with every refusal came Harvey’s Machiavellian rage.

I don’t think he hated anything more than the word “no.” The absurdity of his demands went from getting a furious call in the middle of the night asking me to fire my agent for a fight he was having with him about a different movie with a different client to physically dragging me out of the opening gala of the Venice Film Festival, which was in honor of “Frida,” so I could hang out at his private party with him and some women I thought were models but I was told later were high-priced prostitutes.

The range of his persuasion tactics went from sweet-talking me to that one time when, in an attack of fury, he said the terrifying words, “I will kill you, don’t think I can’t.”

When he was finally convinced that I was not going to earn the movie the way he had expected, he told me he had offered my role and my script with my years of research to another actress.

In his eyes, I was not an artist. I wasn’t even a person. I was a thing: not a nobody, but a body.

At that point, I had to resort to using lawyers, not by pursuing a sexual harassment case, but by claiming “bad faith,” as I had worked so hard on a movie that he was not intending to make or sell back to me. I tried to get it out of his company.

He claimed that my name as an actress was not big enough and that I was incompetent as a producer, but to clear himself legally, as I understood it, he gave me a list of impossible tasks with a tight deadline:

1. Get a rewrite of the script, with no additional payment.

2. Raise $10 million to finance the film.

3. Attach an A-list director.

4. Cast four of the smaller roles with prominent actors.

Much to everyone’s amazement, not least my own, I delivered, thanks to a phalanx of angels who came to my rescue, including Edward Norton, who beautifully rewrote the script several times and appallingly never got credit, and my friend Margaret Perenchio, a first-time producer, who put up the money. The brilliant Julie Taymor agreed to direct, and from then on she became my rock. For the other roles, I recruited my friends Antonio Banderas, Edward Norton and my dear Ashley Judd. To this day, I don’t know how I convinced Geoffrey Rush, whom I barely knew at the time.

Now Harvey Weinstein was not only rejected but also about to do a movie he did not want to do.

Ironically, once we started filming, the sexual harassment stopped but the rage escalated. We paid the price for standing up to him nearly every day of shooting. Once, in an interview he said Julie and I were the biggest ball busters he had ever encountered, which we took as a compliment.

Halfway through shooting, Harvey turned up on set and complained about Frida’s “unibrow.” He insisted that I eliminate the limp and berated my performance. Then he asked everyone in the room to step out except for me. He told me that the only thing I had going for me was my sex appeal and that there was none of that in this movie. So he told me he was going to shut down the film because no one would want to see me in that role.

It was soul crushing because, I confess, lost in the fog of a sort of Stockholm syndrome, I wanted him to see me as an artist: not only as a capable actress but also as somebody who could identify a compelling story and had the vision to tell it in an original way.

I was hoping he would acknowledge me as a producer, who on top of delivering his list of demands shepherded the script and obtained the permits to use the paintings. I had negotiated with the Mexican government, and with whomever I had to, to get locations that had never been given to anyone in the past — including Frida Kahlo’s houses and the murals of Kahlo’s husband, Diego Rivera, among others.

But all of this seemed to have no value. The only thing he noticed was that I was not sexy in the movie. He made me doubt if I was any good as an actress, but he never succeeded in making me think that the film was not worth making.

He offered me one option to continue. He would let me finish the film if I agreed to do a sex scene with another woman. And he demanded full-frontal nudity.

He had been constantly asking for more skin, for more sex. Once before, Julie Taymor got him to settle for a tango ending in a kiss instead of the lovemaking scene he wanted us to shoot between the character Tina Modotti, played by Ashley Judd, and Frida.

But this time, it was clear to me he would never let me finish this movie without him having his fantasy one way or another. There was no room for negotiation.

I had to say yes. By now so many years of my life had gone into this film. We were about five weeks into shooting, and I had convinced so many talented people to participate. How could I let their magnificent work go to waste?

I had asked for so many favors, I felt an immense pressure to deliver and a deep sense of gratitude for all those who did believe in me and followed me into this madness. So I agreed to do the senseless scene.

I arrived on the set the day we were to shoot the scene that I believed would save the movie. And for the first and last time in my career, I had a nervous breakdown: My body began to shake uncontrollably, my breath was short and I began to cry and cry, unable to stop, as if I were throwing up tears.

Since those around me had no knowledge of my history of Harvey, they were very surprised by my struggle that morning. It was not because I would be naked with another woman. It was because I would be naked with her for Harvey Weinstein. But I could not tell them then.

My mind understood that I had to do it, but my body wouldn’t stop crying and convulsing. At that point, I started throwing up while a set frozen still waited to shoot. I had to take a tranquilizer, which eventually stopped the crying but made the vomiting worse. As you can imagine, this was not sexy, but it was the only way I could get through the scene.

By the time the filming of the movie was over, I was so emotionally distraught that I had to distance myself during the postproduction.

When Harvey saw the cut film, he said it was not good enough for a theatrical release and that he would send it straight to video.

This time Julie had to fight him without me and got him to agree to release the film in one movie theater in New York if we tested it to an audience and we scored at least an 80.

Less than 10 percent of films achieve that score on a first screening.

I didn’t go to the test. I anxiously awaited to receive the news. The film scored 85.

… Read the rest at https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2017/12/13/opinion/contributors/salma-hayek-harvey-weinstein.html