PARKER ZHAO; THE NETWORK
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LINNEA SHAW; NIGHTSHADE
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i don't do bad sauce passes
NASA
almost home
art blog(derogatory)
we're not kids anymore.
todays bird
Monterey Bay Aquarium

Kiana Khansmith
Sweet Seals For You, Always

@theartofmadeline
$LAYYYTER
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
No title available
Claire Keane

ellievsbear
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
RMH

Origami Around

blake kathryn
occasionally subtle

seen from Malaysia
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seen from United States
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seen from United States
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seen from Iraq
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@messypasts
PARKER ZHAO; THE NETWORK
↳ intro + replies + mirror + starters
LINNEA SHAW; NIGHTSHADE
↳ intro + replies + mirror + starters
@bloodnglorystart @ The Melody Bar
"No, no, no. Do I look like I sing? Because I don't, I'm just here to drink." Parker insisted as he tried to get his jacket off, eager to sit down and have a glass of something expensive until he stopped feeling so tense. "I want to relax and singing? Not my version of that. I thought about hitting up the spa for a massage, but my regular masseuse was stating to give me looks and I've been humming the spa music." Which didn't mean he wanted to sing, just that he needed to find his zen somewhere else and chances were that his complaining would soon drive the other person away and grant him some peace. "Hey, you ever heard of ASMR?"
Location: Palm View Park
open ( @bloodnglorystart )
There’s a nonchalant aura about him as he sits leisurely on the park bench, one leg folded over the other, looking down at his own feet as though he’s trying to find something. He only has one highly overpriced shoe on. They used to be a pair, he swears.
“Why would they steal one shoe?” he mutters to himself—and to the person beside him, because who wouldn’t want to play riddle me this with one of LA’s most coveted (eternal) bachelor, really?
The sun shines on his baby face, turning some of his locks into rusted gold, kissing the chiseled shape of his cheeks in a way that feels flattering yet completely exposes his exhaustion to the naked eye—he looks like the picture of reckless youth, dark circles framing the ghostly blue of his eyes, glitter peppered over honeyed eyelashes that seem to blink with strenuous effort against the morning light.
He glances down at his phone, face-up on the bench. A picture of himself, naked, on the back of a police horse. Chaos ensues.
“In my defense… it was the Fourth of July.” The judge hadn’t appreciated that excuse either. He thought it was perfectly reasonable.
“It was hot.” The cop who nearly tasered him, however, was not.
He swipes a finger against sooty eyelashes, looking down at the sparkling bits clinging to his skin.
“Does this look like glitter to you?”
He should try to remember, but he’s a little afraid to—there’s a vague recollection of being on a stage. And G-strings.
"Are you sure someone stole it?" Walks were supposed to be good you. Not just in the sense of getting your steps in, but something about sunlight and hormones or chemicals, something that was supposed to help your mental health. Considering the fact that The Family leadership wanted to kill him (maybe not him specifically, just whomever had his job title) and the Hollow was out there somewhere, Parker figured a sunny walk wouldn't hurt.
(Okay, yeah, he would rather keep drinking wine and popping pills, but some people had a problem with that. Go figure.)
"Shame it wasn't Halloween. Could have said you were Paul Revere." Did Parker know history facts like when Paul Revere did his ride? Nope, not in the least, but being smart was never his job. "Or Ichabod Crane, the headless horseman guy. You were so panicked that you forgot your clothes." It was a flimsy excuse, but what could he say? He was used to flimsy plot lines.
Leaning down, Parker frowned a little. "Yeah, that's body glitter. Not easy to get off, right?" Fun to put on, fun to wear, but after that? Getting it off? Not to much. Better to stay sparkling.
"I bet you lost your shoe. Gave it to someone to drink champagne in."
"Okay, okay." Both hands rise slightly in mock defense, the ghost of a smile on her lips. "But I need you to trust me. When have I ever steered you wrong?" His nerves are palpable, but she doesn't know how to convince Parker that the public nature of this event is precisely what's keeping him safe. A suit jacket dangles between Esra's hands, beckoning his uninjured arm to slide in. "Good," she accepts, albeit clearly disbelieving. The show must still go on. "Make lots of friends. Be your usual, charming self. Don't text me in thirty minutes asking to come home."
"I'm not going to answer that, but I do trust you. I'm surrounded by beautiful, talented women who are smarter than I am and you're my favorite." His ego was never wounded by that and he did enjoy Esra's company more than anyone else's, something he always told her. "Make friends or make powerful allies? I know which one is more important right now." He sighed, shrugging into the jacket with her help before running his fingers through his hair and smiling, slipping into that false persona reserved for the cameras. "But it's so hard being without you for that long." He quipped. "Have faith in me, I'll wait at least an hour."
"recycling, very honerable. very respectable. and you know what, if you're so inclined, you can cut that paper up and leave some cool, kidnapper-y messages for your friends. i bet you're the crafty kind, considering you're so eco-conscious and all." maybe he was being a bit of a dick, or maybe he was just being funny. generally luca aimed for funny, but he knew that some people took his teasing the wrong way. at least she wasn't throwing trash at him, so that was a win. "oh, yeah? guess that makes sense, because snoopy's probably part of the estate. intellectual copyright or something. that snoopy movie they did like ten years ago or whatever was actually pretty good."
"Right." Linnea didn't even know where to go with that and when in doubt, just politely ignore and keep on point. It was her usual method of dealing when things when she didn't know what people were talking about and it served her well because there wasn't any use in wasting her mental energy on people that wanted to play games. There was enough of that in her life without trying to seek it out from others. "Oh, yeah, I think I saw that? I'm a little surprised they haven't done more movies, but maybe it wasn't popular enough or something?" She asked as she started to glance through the paper.
"I was staring because I was debating if I should offer you some food or some cash. I thought you were going for the other guys half-eaten sandwich." She couldn't tell if she was someone who needed help, but she decided that she shouldn't judge someone ... too harshly on how they looked. "They aren't that expensive, you know." Her manicured finger wiggled in the air towards the newspaper she'd fished from the garbage can. "Like I can give you five dollars for a new one that doesn't smell like coffee and whatever drunken idiot vomited last night." The thought alone made her shudder as she began to fish into her purse. "You'd owe me of course. But I don't need anything from you right now. Maybe at some point."
For a moment, Linnea couldn't quite tell if the woman was serious or not, the idea of receiving charity because she saw someone throw away a newspaper and decided to read the comics so outlandish that she couldn't believe it. That disbelief soon gave way to outrage, the insult of it churning at her stomach like a sickness. Sure, she wasn't one of the assassins, she was just a cleaner for Nightshade and didn't have the same resources, but she wasn't a beggar on the street. "Just because I grabbed a newspaper doesn't mean I need charity. No, thank you." Despite the irritation she felt, Linnea kept her tone civil despite wanting to make a comment about how she wasn't going to be put on retainer for the price of a newspaper and didn't need to be bribed into doing her job, either.
he waves his hand dismissively, his shoulders shrugging slightly. "it's not the same as a newspaper, but i once took a box of unopened nerds out of the trash can and ate them." cassidy tended to do weird things while high. he clearly remembered how much he was craving something sweet, but didn't feel like buying anything from the store. so to the high musician, it was like a miracle that he found those nerds and was able to satisfy his craving. he was in no position to judge the other like some would. was that normal? he didn't really want to go through life judging others when he spent most of his adulthood being the judged. "listen, you don't have to explain it to me, okay? i don't care what you do. it's not my business." he throws her a smile, attempting to be nice towards her. "they still have those? i'm honestly surprised newspapers are still around. what comic is your favorite?"
"Oh. Well, as long as they weren't open and nothing had soaked into the box, I don't see what the problem is? Weird they threw them away." Linnea said, surprised by the story, but not about to question the generosity of the guy. "Right? With everything online, it's weird that the printed word is still a thing. I don't know if they still do it, but when I was a kid, my dad actually had a couple of comic books that - wait, that sounds misleading. It was a book, but it was like a collection of page long spread about the same thing? So it's not just a bunch of three panel strips, it's not an entire book devoted to one thing, either. Maybe some of them were a couple of pages long like short stories, I don't remember, but I've never seen another book like that before. I guess I like Peanuts? I remember watching the movies when I was little."
Tori let out a quiet chuckle, a flicker of gratitude passing through her for the helpful woman. One hand rested on top of the counter while the other drifted to her stomach, absently tracing slow circles of the fabric as if it would sooth the faint queasiness she was feeling.
"That's exactly how my mom used it," she murmured. "Grated into tea." Life had felt so much simpler then. "But then I got older," She continue, "And suddenly everyone's handing you tiny bottles with childproof caps and ingredients you can't pronounce without a chemistry degree."
She glanced back up at the woman with a raised brow. "Really? That's... Kind of clever. Weirdly comforting, in a way."
"Well, we had to do something before science. Someone told me once that people reciting prayers wasn't just religious superstition, it was also about trying to time things. How long to stir, how long to leave something sitting, things like that."
It was amazing the kind of little stories people told you at a check out. Linnea thought it was supposed to be bartender and taxi cab drivers dealing drunks who heard all the random stories, but at least some of them were fun and kind of educational. She'd take stories like that over dealing with a Karen any day.
"Marketing schemes can really make a difference in sales prices." Linnea agree, giving a smile as she tilted the price display. "There's your total, cash or card?"
"I'm not, you're just funny," Adam said fondly. He watched in silence as Parker continued, slowly sipping his beer and trying to digest all the information thrown at him. How could this be worth it? All the damn stress, the bureaucracy, Adam was sure the pay check didn't hurt but not enough money in the world could convince him to be in Parker's position. "Okay, okay..." he said, manoeuvring himself to stand next to the mirror so that if Parker continued primping, he'd have to deal with Adam staring him down too. "Firstly, you've literally never looked bad a day in your life, so chill. Second, she's trying to help you out, man, and it's probably because she can smell how fucking anxious you are. You wouldn't be in the spot you are now if you weren't capable of it, have a bit more faith in yourself." It was easy to say these things when he was looking in from the outside, but Adam could only hope this was actually helpful. He liked Parker, he wanted to see him succeed. "Like, if I'm going to work a spot and some other dealer tells me the crowd's no good or whatever, I'm not going to listen if I know better. Gotta take some risks, you know, maybe that's what's going to get Mei Lin to respect you. But hey, the fuck do I know?"
Glancing at Adam's reflection, Parked hummed as the other started talking, wanting to preen as the praise as he soaked it up eagerly. A costar had one compared Parker to a jittery lapdog, all aquiver until someone spoke to him right and then he melted. It had been insulting at the time even though Parker hadn't admitted it, but that didn't stop the man from being right. Parker didn't admit to that, either, and wasn't about to share that little gem of a memory to Adam of all people. "You are a true salesman, you know that? You give a better peptalk than half the people paid to give them to me." Maybe it was because he knew Adam, used to have Adam's job and considered Adam a friend, but Adam was able to calm Parker down faster than most people were. Sure, the idea of Mei Lin sniffing out his anxiety like a shark smelling blood in the water wasn't a soothing thought, but everything else was stroking his ego just right. "You don't listen to another dealer when they say shit like that because they're probably trying to keep the customers getting their score only from them. It looks better to bring in the big bucks, we both know that." The was a familiar and distracting topic, easier to think of than about the party as Parker grabbed a bottle of cologne and, instead of spritzing himself, turned it on Adam.
where : Radiance Wellness
who : Parker Zhao (@messypasts)
When Chloe stepped through the door of the private treatment room, her hair pulled up in a messy bun and a soft, plush robe wrapped tightly around her petite frame, she didn’t expect anyone to be on the other side. Even as her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, she quickly spotted a figure seated in the corner, where a table and three comfortable chairs had been placed. For a moment, her eyes widened, and her jaw almost dropped, but she caught herself in the blink of an eye. She focused on the man—his perfect hair and even more flawless skin making many celebrities justifiably envious. With her head held high and a touch of haughtiness, she crossed the room in a few quick strides. Rather than sitting, she placed her hands on the back of one of the plush chairs, standing tall and watching him with sharp, observant eyes. The lavender scent of the room, which had become a signature fragrance, didn’t seem to overpower the familiar cologne he wore—a scent she had come to recognize as her mother increasingly placed him in the spotlight beside her. She didn’t envy him, not one bit. But for a stranger—an artist—to be chosen over one of her siblings, she knew that decision hadn’t sat well with certain people in the company.
“Didn’t know you had a part-time job as a masseur, Zhao,” she said, her voice laced with a cool edge. “Your presence is far too radiant to be wasted in such a dimly lit room.” She paused, allowing the silence to stretch before she added, “What could possibly be so important that you felt the need to drag me out to a private meeting room?”
It was amazing how even in a plush spa robe, Chloe looked utterly judgemental as if he was doing something wrong just by being seated in a chair. You'd think she'd be glad that he wasn't stopping her relaxation completely - just a brief moment to talk, then they could go on their separate ways and not talk until it was necessary. Even though Parker outranked her in the Network's hierarchy, it was always so strange to run into someone that he knew was personally close to Mei Lin because he feared her favoritism gave a power that his title never could, co-leader or not.
"Didn't you know that the Network made sure I was good with my hands? Occupational requirement." Parker pointed out as he gave her a cheeky grin, knowing better than to display any kind of weakness or uncertainty around her. When he first started selling drugs for the Network, he hadn't planned on becoming a porn star, and when he became a porn star, he hadn't planned on becoming a co-leader, but he'd always believed in the concept of fake it until you make it. And until he made it, he'd keep on grinning, popping pills, and going to get a massage to deal with all the tension the job caused him, no matter how carefully sweet Chloe was with her words. "You're our event coordinator, so I'm here to talk to you about an event. After the gala, I had a meeting with Kaan Aydem of Nightshade to see about protection for the most important players in our group. With the party coming up, it may not hurt to reach out to them again."
CC had never been good at minding her own business, not when it was entirely too much fun to get herself involved in other people's. So while she'd regarded the woman plucking something from the trash with fleeting amusement, she quickly caught sight of the man looking at the scene with something close to abject horror. The brunette scoffed slightly, finding his sensibilities ridiculous. "Come on dude, you need to get out more if you're thinking too hard about that. It's not even the weirdest seen I've seen this morning." Face screwed up at him slightly, as though she found him lacking and it seemed as though her attempts to redirect the shame onto him worked as he scurried off. Curious look was sent the other woman's way, question posed when she'd never been anything other than wholly unapologetic and the notion of explaining herself was lost on her. "Do you always explain yourself to strangers?"
Linnea hadn't even seen the woman at first, which likely didn't bode well for her observation skills, and the surprise she felt didn't say much about her people reading skills, either. "I guess I've never thought about it that way? Someone asks a question, someone needs to answer it, right?" Except they hadn't actually asked a question, they'd just looked at her funny in a way that made her wary of trouble even though all she was doing was checking a newspaper and not something worse, like hiding a body. Actually, she probably would have been calmer in that case because social situations really were so much easier when one person ended up dead. "But thanks, I guess." It took effort to cut herself off there and not to try to go into a ramble breaking the behavior down, explaining herself away again.
Alright, she won't deny it—it is a little bit funny. She was mostly dissociating, but she supposes it's her fault for letting her eyes linger too long. It did look like staring, didn't it? There was a time in her life when she could see herself doing this too—stumbling over her own words, feeling guilty over nothing.
"I don't know... stealing a discarded newspaper is a pretty serious crime," she jests, loosening her grip on her handbag. The gloss on her plush lips shimmers as it catches a sliver of warm sunlight, curving into a sugary smile. "I might have to call 911."
Something about the woman's behavior instantly put her at ease, some of the tension leaving Linnea's shoulders as she smiled back. "It could have been a serious crime at one time, you know. Like back in the fifties or something when people had paper routes." She suggested, wondering if people ever had called the cops over a missing paper.
Looking down at her ink and paper contraband, the headline still screaming about the fire like that was the only thing that ever happened in the city, Linnea looked for the index before glancing bag up. "Um, this may be a stupid question, but do you want part of the paper?"
"hey, i'm not judging. one man's trash is another lady's treasure or whatever," luca said as he raised his hands in the air, not planning to fight her about it. "so, uh, you come here often for this sort of thing? to go dumpster diving?" okay, so it wasn't a dumpster and she wasn't diving in it, and yeah, some people had to do that to find food to eat, so no disrespect, but it seemed a weird thing to walk around in the park and hope to scavenge a newspaper just to look at comics. "any chance that you want to share snoopy's sagelike wisdom with me? man, is snoopy even a thing anymore?" he wasn't the one that went around liberating newspapers, so he didn't know.
"It's not dumpster diving!" Linnea immediately protested, although she'd done that for the sake of her job before and likely would again. it was a good thing they had a laundromat under their charge or else she would have been in trouble, that much was for certain. "It's - you know what, nevermind. We can call it recycling if you have to have a name for it." It would have been nicer if they just left it alone, but you didn't get everything you wanted in life. "They still do Snoopy. I think it's actually the man's son that does them now, I'm not really sure." Linnea admitted with a frown as she started to flip through the pages.
“i promise i won’t rat you out” mick sarcastically replied, toeing the line between amused and outright condescending. not that anyone cared what she did with it, it was just trash “that’s a bummer then” he went on, exhaling smoke through his nose before rolling the cigarette between his fingers “last week’s comics were actually funny” the man admitted with a soft shrug, flicking the last of his cigarette onto the sidewalk and grinding it out under his boot “i’m more of a crossword kind of guy now” a decade inside didn’t leave much room for distractions. he either kept his mind moving or let the walls close in and crush whatever was left of him.
Tilting her head back to look at him, the corners of Linnea's mouth pulled down as she watched him, but didn't comment on his tone. "Comics usually too disappointing these days?" She asked, wondering if it was one of those things where he remembered reading comics as a kid and they'd all changed on him and it just wasn't fun anymore. She couldn't do anything about that, but the crossword? Maybe. "Did you get the issue they did, oh, I don't know, a month or two ago with the puzzle special? It was like two or three pages?" She asked as she started flipping through the paper. "Maybe you're in luck and that guy was more of sudoku person? Let me see if I can find the crossword for you… I was always more of a word search person, myself."
Glancing around to at least give the impression of humoring the apparently very aggressive and blunt man, Parker had to wonder if he was someone's hired muscle because Parker couldn't see how he made the guest list with manners like that otherwise. Unless he was some really entitled one percenter, perhaps. "Then what are you here for?" Parker asked instead, knowing that shifting focus and showing interest in another person was usually the best way to diffuse a situation. getting bogged down in whatever remarks someone happened to make about you personally was always a recipe for disaster, it made you go off course and lose track of your goal, and sure, Parker was hardly trying to charm the guy or sell him something to get a pay check, but he didn't exactly want to end up on someone's hit list. There was the distinct feeling that the man thought him dumb or uncultured because he'd admitted he didn't like the art, and it was unexpected to be accused of hiding something after admitting to the kind of thing that most people wouldn't have admitted to. God, this was starting to feel like a mistake, his attempt to be charming and flit through the crowd by giving only a few moments of his time to people had suddenly fall off track with all the internalized drama of a train wreck.
Cole’s eyes, sharp and unwavering, barely moved as Parker spoke, though the slightest flicker of amusement danced in their depths. He’d heard that edge of uncertainty before—the kind of defensive charm people used when they weren’t quite sure if they were in trouble yet. Cole didn’t blame him. He was used to making people uncomfortable without trying. “Relax,” Cole said, his tone as measured as ever, but not unkind. “I’m not here to interrogate anyone.” His gaze swept the room once more, as if cataloging every detail with quiet efficiency before landing back on Parker. “Just observing. That’s what I’m paid to do.”
He took a step back, creating a deliberate distance, aware that proximity only heightened the tension. “My boss wants me to keep an eye on things,” he added, voice low but firm. “And to make sure nothing… unfortunate happens.” There was no menace in his words, but there was certainty—a calm, calculated assurance that suggested Cole didn’t deal in hypotheticals.
“I’ll get out of your way,” he said after a beat, tone shifting just enough to sound almost polite. “I’m only here to keep order.” And with that, he excused himself, slipping back into the crowd with the quiet grace of someone who preferred to be unnoticed—until the moment he decided otherwise.
the end.
END!
"Oh, yikes. Sounds like highlighter yellow is too outlandish for you?" Despite her flat delivery, she couldn't prevent the obvious amusement from creeping along the edges of her face. "Yes we're going with black, I'm not unreasonable." Parker might have disagreed on multiple occasions, but Esra hoped it went unspoken that never in a million years would she place him inside a situation where he couldn't rise above and come out on top. Not only as a requirement of her job, although she probably didn't emphasize the other aspect enough. Vulnerability was hardly a strong suit these days. "I was only going to say if you really want me there, I can be." Nimble fingers began quick work of buttoning up his shirt. "But you need to make the decision."
"Don't be like that, my heart can't take it." Parker warned, stressed beyond belief by the recent events. Sure, he knew what they did was criminal, but it wasn't supposed to be dangerous like this, especially not when you worked for the Network. They weren't going out and robbing people, they weren't doing drive by shootings, all they did was sell pleasure and entertainment and suddenly multiple people wanted a hit out on them. It wasn't a good place to be in and if he had to die, he at least wanted to be stylish for the inevitable pictures of his demise that would be splashed on the front page. "It's fine." It didn't feel fine, but he wasn't going to tell her that. Instead he just sucked in a deep breath, sighed, and put on a winning smile. "Showing up without a lady on my arm just means more attention for me."
"The comics?" Noemie repeated the woman's explanation, doubt written all over her face. She had stopped to catch her breath after running half of her set goal, a small tradition she had held up for many years now. It probably would've been so much easier to just go to the gym and use the treadmill, but there was something so wonderful about fresh air, and just being part of the city and the nature. "You know they've gone down in quality lately, right? Some of the stuff there has no proper punchline at all."
Seeing the woman clearly out of breath, Linnea turned and dug in her bag, trying to see if she still had part of a bottle of water in there before realizing the woman probably wouldn't want it. Strange germs and all. "Oh, I mostly like to read the old ones? Well, I guess they're old, I like Snoopy and Garfield and the one with the army guys? But you're right, I don't actually get the point of most of them, I think they're drawing just to draw. And I really don't get the ones that are sports related, like I saw one where this guy - well, actually I think he's a pig? Was saying some philosophical thing, then the end panic broke the fourth wall and the pig was asking the artist how many football teams he named. I was not the target audience for that."