You know, after rereading the Scarlet Letter, I am like 90% sure that the reason little Pearl is seen as a little demon is just because the kid is neurodivergent.
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❛ i hate you! ❜ + rickycody!
enemies era <3
+
Cody disliked pretty much everything about being an intern - except the pay. The pay was worth the constant headaches and long hours and having to deal with stuck up rich people who pretended he didn't exist. He could deal with all of that, no sweat. There was just one little thing that made him question whether it was all worth it.
Scarlet looked up from her clipboard and sent him a disinterested glance. "Cody, you and Ricky will be with me today. Twins, you'll be with Teddy in the fabric room. Kylie and Angie, you'll be sorting through the catalogues. We all good with that?"
That thing wasn't really a thing, so much as a person. The coffee driven highlighter thief, and absolute menace, known as Ricky, was a perpetual rock in his shoe that he couldn't shake out no matter how hard he tried.
"No, not good," he said, earning an eye roll from Scarlet. "Can me and Kylie work together instead?"
She laughed. "It's cute that you think you have a choice. C'mon."
+
They ended up in the back of Scarlet's car as she drove them to wherever the fuck they were going. Cody didn't really listen to the little details.
She was in the driver seat, singing along to the radio softly under her breath and ignoring their existence.
Ricky was sitting to his right, engrossed in a book that he'd had in his stupid little messenger bag.
"Psst, Hernandez," Cody said. He was ignored, but he could see the way Ricky's focus broke. A win. "Psst."
"You sound like a tire with a hole in it," Ricky grumbled. He closed his book, dog earring the page like the monster that he was. The cover read Brokeback Mountain and something odd swirled in Cody's stomach. "What do you want, Price?"
"Where are we going?" he asked.
For a moment, Ricky stared at him, blank faced and obviously unimpressed. When he realized Cody was actually waiting for an answer, he scoffed. "You don't listen to anyone besides yourself, do you?"
"I'm listening to you not answering my question right now, aren't I?"
Ricky looked to the front of the car. "Miss Scarlet, can you please unlock the car door so I can throw myself out of it? I can't be stuck back here with him any longer."
Scarlet snorted but didn't respond.
"C'mon, just tell me," Cody groaned.
Ricky opened his book, apparently deciding the conversation was over. "Nope. You gotta wrack your pea sized brain to figure it out on your own, or wait til we get there."
Cody glared at the side of his head. "I hate you."
Ricky laughed, a mocking little sound. "The feeling is more than mutual." To add insult to injury, he pulled Cody's stolen highlighter out of his bag, using it to mark a line on his page.
"Stop flirting in my car," Scarlet said. "She's not built for homoeroticism."
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“Lillian Gish parted company with Griffith in 1921. After she had done independent work with a number of directors, Louis B. Mayer in 1925 offered Gish a lucrative and unusual contract that gave her the rights of script selection as well as director and cast recommendations for the films in which she would appear. Under these arrangements Gish helped give MGM two of its last great silent masterpieces: The Scarlet Letter (1926) and The Wind.
Renowned for her fragile, vulnerable screen personae and for transparency in conveying human suffering, Gish saw in The Scarlet Letter’s heroine, Hester Prynne, a character ideally suited to her acting acumen. Playing a woman branded for adultery in a puritanical society, Gish superbly conveyed a victimized but stoic sufferer.
She had recommended and won for the project the acclaimed Swedish director Victor Sjostrom (or “Seastrom” as he called himself while under contract at MGM in the 1920s). It was a good choice. Seastrom’s talent for creating an environmental mise en scene that underscored character emotion and psychology was evident in his pastoral rendering of a 17th-century New England landscape. Together Gish and Seastrom turned The Scarlet Letter into a critical and popular triumph for MGM.”
article by Frank Beaver – film historian and critic and Arthur F. Thurnau Professor Emeritus of Film, Television, and Media at U-M.
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So the solution by deaf spouse' employer to customers violently and consistently LOSING THEIR SHIT because she can't hear them and think she is being rude or ignoring them is to have her wear a t shirt with the words I AM DEAF on the back of it.
Why don't they just have her wear a shirt with the words YOU CAN EASILY ATTACK ME FROM BEHIND AND MURDER ME.
I mean the real solution to those customers complaining and screaming would be to tell them not to be assholes and to GTF out of the store until they learn to behave in civilized society but I guess putting a target on someone's back is the preferred corporate policy.
For those who think this is an overreaction: You've clearly never had an enraged old white man screaming and throwing things at you in the aisle of a store or stepping up aggressively or yanking stocking cart away and grabbing your arm.
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