Today's Document
Xuebing Du
oozey mess
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Love Begins
KIROKAZE
dirt enthusiast
RMH
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Product Placement
Not today Justin
titsay
ā
Kaledo Art
Game of Thrones Daily
d e v o n
Sweet Seals For You, Always
Misplaced Lens Cap
if i look back, i am lost
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seen from Canada
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seen from Singapore
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@prxfessors
JoJo. 28. AEST.
Indie rp sideblog. Mature plots with mature fcs. My rules are the same as everyone else. Dm always open for plotting. Give me your middle aged women!
open starters. muses. wanted plots. prompts. desired opposites.
main @jojos1x1
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Rosy (2018) Directed by Jess Bond
@fuyante
@siinncrs
The soft blue glow of the laptop screen illuminated the dimly lit bedroom. Noah lay beside his wife, his body warm and insistent against hers. She was still propped up against the pillows, fingers flying across the keyboard, that focused expression on her face that always drove him a little mad. "Come to bed, my love," Noah whined softly, his voice a low, teasing rumble as he reached over. His fingers hooked the thin strap of her green camisole, tugging it down with deliberate slowness to expose the curve of her shoulder and the swell of her breast. He leaned in, pressing open-mouthed kisses along her exposed chest, trailing lower with heated intent until his lips closed around her nipple. He bit down, his tongue swirling in lazy circles. Pulling back slightly, Noah looked up at her with a wicked smirk, his eyes dark with desire behind the faint reflection of the screen. "Or don'tā¦" he murmured, voice husky against her skin. "I can work while you work." His hand slid under the laptop's edge, fingers brushing her thigh suggestively as he held her gaze.
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Jared Harris in B.Monkey (1998)
bonus ~
Jonathan Carnahan, master of priority.
Noahās mouth opens, ready to argue that a single vague text wasnāt nearly enough to stop him from worrying himself sick, but her quiet admission drains the fight out of him. He lets out a slow, heavy breath and shakes his head, hands settling on his hips, eyes dropping to the floor. For a long moment he just stares at the hardwood, processing.
"Weāre a team, arenāt we?" he asks, finally looking back up at her. The words hurt even as he says them, because they havenāt felt like a team in a long time. "Our relationship isnāt something for you alone to āfixā, Meena. What about me? I can help. I want to help." His voice softens, almost pleading... however, when she suggests she should have just stayed quiet on their anniversary and left things as they were, he makes a face, brows pulling together in a mixture of confusion and something close to offense. "Why not? That doesnāt make any sense." He takes a small step forward then stops himself as the words come out sharper than he intended.
"If youāre unhappy with me, you need to tell me..." Her words poke at an old wound heās carried for months; the way she so often keeps things to herself, the careful way she edits what she shares about her family visits to India, the way she withdraws and tries to handle things alone instead of telling him when she needs more from him. "...Because right now, it feels like I'm on life support and youāre deciding whether or not to pull the plug... Don't I deserve a fighting chance?" Of course you don't, Noah. The insecurity flares hot and familiar in his chest. That quiet, gnawing voice that always reminds him heās the lucky one here. Sheās the one with the money, the successful career, the family who could probably find her someone far more suitable. Heās just the academic who forgets anniversaries and plays in the dirt for a living.
We're a team, aren't we?
His words, though well meaning, fell with a phantom weight of promises long expired. A glance in the reflections of their relationship revealed a trail of frayed edges slowly unraveling with each passing month. I'm not sure we know each other anymore. Except to say such a thing felt needlessly cruel, despite the seed of certainty in her chest. Because if they knew one another, then she would have seen the earnestness in his proposal...and he would have known better than to do it then. You will adjust. A phrase uttered by elders so many times in passing and yet Bharati's words were no less prominent: You still have time to decide if you want to adjust. Merely thinking it filled her with a sense of guilt as she witnessed the shift in his emotions, her fingers twitching along the windowsill.
His request sounded so simple, yet Meena was familiar with wounds borne from emotional honesty, of the scars left when someone dared to rise above maintaining peace. "We've given this a fighting chance." Her words teetered on hollow, a gentle resignation woven in threads of sadness. "We've met one another's parents, we live together, we intertwined our lives..." And here we are. Her throat tightened. There were sharper things she could have said: complaints, resentments, fears buried for months. Things would no doubt delve into an argument and that along filled her with a sense of anxiety. "I think we have different approaches to life and different ways of communicating. I think we love each other," she admitted sincerely because denying it would have been pointless, "but in some ways...we don't understand each other. In some ways we're strangers." The next sentence nearly caught in her throat. "And I fear we're holding on to something that's already faded."
Noah stands frozen for a beat, her words hitting him like a slow-motion collapse. His chest tightens painfully, a sick, hollow feeling spreading through his stomach. He didnāt know it had gotten this bad. He knew things had been strained since the last trip to India, but strangers? The word hits him like a gut punch. He scoffs, a sharp, disbelieving sound that echoes in the quiet apartment. "Wh-where is this coming from?" His voice cracks with disbelief. He feels slightly hysterical, like the ground beneath him is crumbling and heās watching it happen in real time. "I'm sorry I forgot our anniversary. Iām sorry the proposal came out all wrong! But strangers, Meena?!" He shakes his head, looking physically ill, his face paling as the full weight of her words sinks in. The woman heās been sleeping next to, waking up beside, building a home withā¦ thinks theyāre strangers. It makes him want to be sick.
"I donāt believe you," he continues, voice rising with raw emotion. "How can you stand there and say weāve given this a proper fighting chance, when youāve been going out with other men every time you go home to India?" His nostrils flare, eyes glistening with barely-held tears and mounting anger. "Yes, I know about your suitors. Do you even tell them you're taken?" The question hangs heavy in the air. "What am I to you? A placeholder until you find someone more suitable? How would you feel if I was going on dates with other women every time I went overseas? Keeping my options open too?" He takes a shaky breath, trying to steady himself, but the hurt keeps pouring out. "And you know what? I wouldnāt have even cared that much if you had just told me... If weāre strangers, Meena, itās because youād rather discuss what goes on between us with your cousins and friends - people who have never liked me - instead of speaking to me like Iām actually your partner, and not just your roommate."
THE MUMMY (1999)
endless gifs of Jonathan Carnahan 11/?
"You'll see," Noah grinned, a spark of mischief in his blue eyes. When Meena complimented him, he stood a little taller. "Thank you," he replied, warmth colouring his cheeks. As they crossed the threshold, Noah leaned in slightly, voice dropping with dry humour. "You know, I was just getting comfortable with the breeze between my legs when you kicked me out of-"
"Mr. Noah! My favourite Englishman." The host, an older Chinese man, spotted Noah and lit up. "Good to see you back on your feet!" he called out, coming around the stand to clap him on the shoulder. "Table is ready, just as you asked. Come, come." Noah gave Meena a quick, almost boyish glance before they followed the host through the cozy dining room. The man led them to a quiet corner table, partially tucked behind a beautifully painted folding screen for privacy. Soft lighting glowed over the crisp white tablecloth, which had been decorated with a small vase of fresh flowers and a little tea light. Right beside them sat a large, gently bubbling fish tank filled with colourful koi and neon tetras, casting shifting light across the table. Noah pulled out Meenaās chair for her, waiting until she was seated before taking his own. He was aware this wasnāt the most upscale place in New York, but was hoping the effort and charm would count for something. Plus the food here was excellent.
"Iāve been coming here for years," he explained, settling in with a small, genuine smile. "Mr. and Mrs. Wei were some of the first friends I made when I moved here from London, ten years ago. They practically adopted me when I didnāt know a soul in the city." He gave a light, self-deprecating chuckle. "I can cook, by the way," he added jokingly, eyes meeting hers across the table. "But it seemed only fitting to get takeaway while I was still unpacking boxes in a new country."
Meena's eyes had just begun to widen, unsure if he was about to say what she thought was about to say, when an older man's voice cut through just in the nick of time. A quiet breath left her and she couldn't help a smile as Noah was swept along in the flow of things. Inside, soft lighting and low conversation gave the restaurant an inviting intimacy. It felt lived in, beloved. As they followed the host deeper inside, Meena found her attention drifting to passing tables, drawn by the fragrant dishes tickling her senses. There was open curiosity in the way she catalogued each plate, mentally narrowing down possibilities as if she even knew the names. She was so focused that it took her a a beat to realize they were stepping behind a partition. Her gaze swept over the tucked away table, lingering first on the small vase of flowers, then the flickering tea light, before settling on the large aquarium nearby bathing the corner in a quiet, dreamlike glow. It was far more romantic than she'd anticipated and something about that realization made her face feel warm. This is a proper date. She draped the coat neatly over the back of her chair before claiming her seat, al but hidden from view of most of the dining room now.
"Oh, how lovely." Meena smiled, her eyes crinkling when he assured her he could in fact cook. "If you didn't cook, I don't think anyone would notice." She teased gently. "Most of my coworkers live off takeout or dine in- unless they have children." A faint lift of her shoulder followed. "I do think people get attached to certain places here. Especially transplants. Everyone has that one restaurant they swear by from when they first arrived." Her fingers traced along the edge of her napkin as she glanced around, a thoughtful warmth in her voice. "I think it's very telling when someone brings you to their favorite place." Her eyes returned to his then, softer now beneath the aquarium's shifting blue hues. "It's like getting a peek into them." A small smile touched her lips after she said it, recognizing how sentimental it sounded despite believing it all the same. "Ten years is a long time away from home. What brought you to New York?"
Noah watched as Meena slipped off her coat and draped it over the back of her chair. The rust-coloured dress underneath caught the soft light beautifully, and he drew in a quiet breath, suddenly feeling a little out of his depth. Even so, Noah couldnāt stop smiling. It was subtle but persistent, the kind of smile that reached his eyes and made the corners crinkle. He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the table, utterly captivated by the calm, melodic way she spoke. It was the same soothing voice he remembered drifting through the anaesthesia fog; warm, steady, and far too easy to listen to for hours. "And what peek are you getting from my favourite restaurant?" he asked, blue eyes bright with amusement and curiosity.
"Adventure, mostly. Iām an archaeologist by trade. Fancied myself a little like Indiana Jones, minus the whip and the hat, sadly." He gave a lopsided grin, a touch of embarrassment colouring his cheeks. "I wanted a completely new setting. Different energy. Different stories buried under the concrete." Noah paused, gaze softening as he studied her face in the gentle blue glow from the fish tank. "And you?ā¦ forgive me if Iām being presumptuous, but I love your accent. Itās beautiful. How long have you been in New York? Or are you a native to the city?" He tilted his head slightly, clearly content to let her talk all evening if she wanted. A few moments later, their waiter appeared, politely placing menus in front of them both with a knowing little smile, clearly in on Mr. Wei's special treatment. "Good evening. Can I get you both something to drink to start?" the young man asked.
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Charade (1963) dir. Stanley Donen
@prxfessors
@fuyante
Even as evening began, the dusty streets of Cairo hummed under the relentless Egyptian sun. Noah Fischer wiped the sweat from his brow and pushed through the heavy wooden door of the dimly lit bar. The place was a classic Cairo watering hole with low ceilings, flickering oil lamps, and the sharp scent of hookah smoke. It wasn't his first time in this chaotic city, but he still stuck out like a sore thumb. Tall, fair-haired, dressed in a slightly rumpled cream linen suit with a loosely knotted tie, like a proper Englishman whoād taken a wrong turn on the way to the British Embassy. Back in London, he'd been a mediocre archaeologist... more treasure hunter than scholar, if he was honest. He'd only gotten into the field for the money. But nothing important had ever turned up. His late mentor, Dr. Harrington, had been the real expert on ancient Egypt. Noah had just tagged along for the funding and the occasional big score that never came.
Then British Intelligence came knocking. They'd pieced together whispers that the Americans were sniffing around for some legendary artifact, and worse, the Germans were in the mix too. The target? The Book of Amun-Ra, said to be hidden in the lost city of Hamunaptra. Most dismissed it as myth, a fairy tale. But the Queen wanted whatever ancient power might be buried out there in the sand - better in British hands than anyone else's. Intelligence had better things to do than chase ghosts, so they recruited Noah. Your mentor's notes are our best lead. And so here he was. No grand expedition, just a solo mission with a local guide, a man named Anouihl. Instructions had been clear: meet at this bar, wait, make contact quietly.
Noah had been nursing the same warm drink for over an hour now, boredom setting in hard. He'd asked around for Anouihl earlier, discreetly at first, then with growing impatience, but the responses were the same. Narrowed eyes, muttered curses, and a few locals who spat on the floor near his boots. Either Anouihl was bad news, or the locals were simply fed up with foreigners digging up their history like it was their own backyard. Sighing, Noah reached into the bowl of dates on the bar, a small mercy for his rumbling stomach. He leaned back against the worn wooden counter, scanning the room with that roguish half-smile of his, and his eyes landed on a striking woman at the end of the bar. Noah straightened up a bit, running a hand through his messy dark hair. "Well now," he said, his British accent smooth and playful as he slid a little closer, flashing a grin. "Name's Noah. Waiting on a rather unreliable fellow, but suddenly the wait doesn't seem so bad. Care for a date?" He offered one from the bowl with a wink, his tone light but undeniably flirtatious, the weight of his secret mission momentarily forgotten.
Paul Newman in From the Terrace (1960) dir. Mark Robson
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THE MUMMY (1999) dir. Stephen Sommers
CLOSED STARTER for @prxfessors PLOT:Ā justĀ vibing,Ā coworkers?? MUSE:Ā maddisonĀ "maddie"Ā ellis,Ā 43,Ā she/her,Ā biĀ demisexual,Ā archivist
TAKING ON A NEW POSITION was both exciting and terrifying. maddie was not a fan of change. she was routined, found comfort in them. having to change those routines and figure out a new city was overwhelming in a way that maddie didn't quite know how to describe. but her recent breakup and the subsequent tensions at work due to the fractured friendships made the change a necessary evil. then her ex could continue to say whatever he wanted to say about her and she would be too far away for any of it to matter. and with settling into her new apartment and job there was little time to even think about him or their friends, anyway. it felt like she had blinked and the first two weeks had gone by. maddie, unsurprisingly, had barely introduced herself to any of her colleagues. she had tried to keep to herself as much as possible ā¤ not wanting to mess anything up when she was still so new. maddie was finishing up for the day when one of her new colleague's approached. they said something about grabbing dinner or a few drinks and it took maddie a moment to realize they were speaking to her. "oh, right, um -," maddie paused for a moment, thinking of a polite way to decline before remembering her painfully bare refrigerator and cabinets, "yeah, that sounds nice." making a new friend wouldn't hurt, right? it wasn't like they were asking her out on a date. maddie didn't need a repeat situation from her last job.
The group had settled into a corner booth at the little wine bar downtown, the kind with low lighting and jazz humming in the background. June wore a tailored black button-down rolled at the sleeves, the top two buttons undone. Effortless, but deliberate. She had made sure she was sitting directly across from the new girl. Sheād been watching Maddie for the last two weeks: the way the redhead kept her head down in staff meetings, the quiet confidence in her stride despite the obvious nerves... June wasnāt the welcome committee type, usually left that to the chatty ones, but tonight sheād made the move. June had a well-documented weakness for redheads. Always had...
She waited until the others were deep in their own chatter before turning her full attention to Maddie. She leaned forward, elbows on the table, her dark curls falling just so over one shoulder. "So," June said, her voice low and warm, a little smoky from the single cigarette sheād allowed herself on the walk over. "I heard youāre new in the city?" She took a sip of her old fashioned, letting the question hang. "Whatās your story, Maddie?" She tilted her head, a small smirk playing at her lips.
