#but alan is so fleshed out I’ve seen alan more than I’ve seen all the others combined except perhaps red | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dollycas · 22 days

Text

Special Guest - Connie di Marco - The Light Beside the Sea (A Zodiac Mystery) #AuthorInterview / #Giveaway Great Escapes Book Tour @Connie di Marco

The Light Beside the Sea by Connie di Marco It is my pleasure to welcome Connie Di Marco back to Escape With Dollycas! Thanks for inviting me to Great Escapes, Lori! Hi Connie, Please tell us a little bit about yourself. I grew up in Boston and a few years after college, relocated to San Francisco where I lived for ten years. I loved the city and still miss the fog, and I think that's the main reason I decided to set the Zodiac Mysteries there. I now live in Los Angeles, I'm a mom of two daughters and now a grandmother, with three darling grandchildren, two born in the midst of Covid. What is the first book you remember reading? My mother told me I started reading at a very early age. I'm not sure I remember my earliest books, but the series that still stands out in my memory is The Borrowers. They were fascinating books -- to think that a tiny family could be existing in the walls and under the floorboards of a large house, furnishing their home with "borrowed" cast-off objects. I loved those books and was so disappointed when I finished the last one and knew there'd be no more adventures for Pod, Homily, and Arriety. What are you reading now? At the moment I'm reading Rachel Maddow's Prequel, sadly not a mystery but a great historical book. Before Prequel, I read The Astrology of Family Dynamics. I try to keep up with my research for the Zodiac Mysteries by reading non-fiction astrological books. But other than these two, you can always find me with a mystery or thriller by the bed or tucked into my purse. What books have most inspired you? I think the Sue Grafton Alphabet Series has most inspired me. But I've always been an avid reader of all American and British mysteries, particularly Agatha Christie. I love espionage stories, such as those by Alan Furst and John LeCarrė or thrillers by foreign writers, like Jussi Adler-Olsen who writes the Department Q series. What made you decide you wanted to write mysteries? For many years, I worked as an actress in Los Angeles. One day, I found myself on the set of a mini-series, and a shoot that was delayed for hours and hours. I was completely bored, creatively bored, and even though the thought of writing my very own mystery had rattled around in my head for a long time, that day I made the decision to try. My goal was to write one mystery. If anyone had told me I'd be the author of two series, and maybe more, I would have never believed it. Do you have a special place where you like to write? In our tiny office in front of the computer. I'm not someone who can work in a coffee shop with noise and interruptions. I really need quiet to focus and become completely invested in the scene I'm writing. I can't even listen to music. That's the only way I can completely sink into the story I'm working on. Where do the ideas for your books come from? From everywhere! News articles, murder stories, a neighbor that hasn't been seen for weeks. You name it, there's mystery all around us and human motivations are often dark and intriguing. It's fun to imagine the worst. Is there anything about writing you find most challenging? When I had my first publishing contract, that would be the Soup Lovers' Mysteries written as Connie Archer, with Penguin, I struggled with translating what was in my head to written words. I finally realized the most important thing is to just write, not edit or judge until it was time to revise. Sometimes, whole passages needed to be cut, but sometimes I was surprised that what I had written was actually okay. That gave me a lot of courage. What do you think makes a good story? I think creating solidly fleshed-out, believable characters that readers will really truly care about is the most essential thing. That's true no matter the genre. Of course, in mystery, there also has to be a very well-thought out and detailed plot. Mystery is not a genre where one can wander too much. Which, of all your characters, do you think is the most like you? Every writer probably invests some part of themselves into a character. There's a good bit of me in every character I've written. But perhaps Julia would be the character most like me. She's younger than I at the start of the series, but she loves her city, San Francisco, and uses astrology to help her clients and solve crimes. What makes your books different from others out there in this genre? I'm not really sure. I consider the Zodiac Mysteries to be traditional mysteries, not cozies, even though my protagonist is an amateur sleuth. I'm certainly not a professional but I have a great interest in the subject of astrology, so I guess I'm a well-read amateur. I also wanted to bring the subject to life in a real way, not in a newspaper column sun sign pop culture way. When my agent first tried to sell the Zodiac Mysteries no publisher was particularly interested. One editor thought astrology was too complicated for their readership. Another felt there wouldn't be enough interest in a protagonist who was an astrologer. I didn't agree, so I just forged ahead. What’s next on the horizon for you? I've started work on Zodiac #6 which will feature Gale, Julia's friend and owner of The Mystic Eye Bookshop. Gale has a secret past that will come back to haunt her. I know some of the things that will happen, but haven't completely worked out all the details of this story yet. I've finished a police procedural set in Los Angeles that was a lot of fun to write but still needs some revisions and tightening up. And I've been mulling a possible ghost story, set in present day with a ghost from another century. All I need is time to finish all these projects and with new grandbabies in the family, that's a little difficult right now. But a wonderful distraction! Thank you Connie for visiting today! _____ Keep reading for more information about Connie and her new book, The Light Beside the Sea. About The Light Beside the Sea The Light Beside the Sea (A Zodiac Mystery) Traditional Mystery 5th in Series Setting - San Francisco, California Publisher – CMA Literary (May 6, 2024) Paperback ‏ : ‎ 341 pages ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 979-8989009596 Digital Print length ‏ : ‎ 318 pages ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0D393JQ87 San Francisco astrologer Julia Bonatti has been haunted for years by the hit and run death of her fiancé, Michael Sefton. The driver of the vehicle was never apprehended. The lone witness to the accident spoke to no one and now is dead. Even the cold case detective assigned to the case died before any resolution was found. Every time Julia thought she might be getting close to an answer, each clue led only to a dead end. Michael, a graduate student, had just returned from an archeological dig in Guatemala when he was killed. But why did he mail his journal to Julia for safekeeping before his return home? What was he afraid of? Why did another graduate student fall to his death on that trip? And now, another man connected with that journey has been murdered closer to home. And the murderer hasn’t finished. When Julia finally finds the courage to delve into the journal Michael sent to her years before, she learns of the undercurrents, jealousies and anger between members of the group. She begins to understand the pressure and fear her fiancé was coping with and his suspicions of their University mentor who was most likely engaged in unethical and illegal behavior. But events soon take a darker turn when Julia finds a likeness of the Maya god Hunhau, god of death and the underworld, on her doorstep. A strange man covered with markings and tattoos keeps appearing to her but no one else seems to see him. With guidance from another professor she’s introduced to a world she never knew existed. Is the man she sees human? And is he under the sway of the Maya god of death? Will he unleash evil or is he here to right a wrong done to his people? Julia must move quickly or her death will be the next. More About Connie di Marco Connie di Marco is the author of the Zodiac Mysteries featuring San Francisco astrologer Julia Bonatti, a woman who never thought murder would be part of her practice. The fifth book in this series, The Light Beside the Sea, has just been released. Writing as Connie Archer, she is also the author of the national bestselling Soup Lover’s Mysteries from Berkley Prime Crime. You can find her excerpts and recipes in The Cozy Cookbook and The Mystery Writers of America Cookbook. Connie is a member of Mystery Writers of America, the Crime Writers Association, International Thriller Writers, and Sisters in Crime. Author Links Blog Facebook Twitter/X Instagram GoodReads This post contains affiliate links. If you make a purchase using my links, I will receive a small commission from the sale at no cost to you. Thank you for supporting Escape With Dollycas. Purchase Links Amazon The Rest of the Series Also written by Connie TOUR PARTICIPANTS - Please visit all the stops. May 6 – Literary Gold – AUTHOR INTERVIEW May 7 – Christy's Cozy Corners – AUTHOR GUEST POST May 8 – Maureen's Musings – SPOTLIGHT May 9 – FUONLYKNEW – SPOTLIGHT WITH EXCERPT May 10 – Brooke Blogs – SPOTLIGHT May 11 – Escape With Dollycas Into A Good Book – AUTHOR INTERVIEW May 12 – Celticlady's Reviews – SPOTLIGHT WITH EXCERPT May 13 – StoreyBook Reviews – AUTHOR GUEST POST May 14 – Socrates' Book Reviews – SPOTLIGHT May 15 – Read Your Writes Book Reviews – AUTHOR INTERVIEW May 16 – Ruff Drafts – AUTHOR GUEST POST May 17 – Cozy Up With Kathy – REVIEW May 18 – Baroness Book Trove – SPOTLIGHT May 19 – Sapphyria's Book Reviews – REVIEW a Rafflecopter giveaway Have you signed up to be a Tour Host? Click Here to Find Details and Sign Up Today! Want to Book a Tour? Click Here Your Escape Into A Good Book Travel Agent Read the full article

0 notes

twittercomfrnklin2001-blog · 9 months

Text

Dear Heart

I have a strange relationship with Geraldine Page’s work. I like her best in the material for which she has the least respect. Put her in a mindless comedy or melodrama, and she delivers a wonderful performance, often much more fleshed out than what was in the script. And I delighted in her deft playing of Alan Ayckbourn’s farce ABSURD PERSON SINGULAR on Broadway. Put her in Tennessee Williams or Woody Allen at his most serious or, goddess help us, Chekhov, and after five minutes I want to step out for a smoke. I’ve never smoked. I hate smoking. But I’d take it up to get away from those self-conscious, mannered performances. Between her on-screen bouts with Williams and Chekhov, Page was cast in Delbert Mann’s romantic comedy DEAR HEART (1964, TCM), and she’s a delight. You can see echoes of her more serious work — the fussiness she brought to Alma Winemiller and a gesture she would slow down to an almost glacial pace in INTERIORS (1978) — but here it all serves to make the character more endearing and dimensional. As a single woman of a certain age attending a post master’s convention in New York, she’s like the new Jean Arthur. Her Evie Jackson comes off the train from Ohio at the start and knows the names of all her fellow passengers and the porters. She leaves messages for herself at the hotel desk or has herself paged just to feel somebody cares. Then she meets Glenn Ford’s womanizing greeting card salesman, who’s about to move into an office job and marriage to “that tomato from Altoona” (Angela Lansbury), and something magical happens. Her fussy, detailed acting and his proficient, studio-trained mining of personality meet and make something beautiful. There’s a scene in which he shows her the apartment he’s just rented for himself and Lansbury that’s a gorgeous acting duet, and they have a fully dressed scene in Page’s hotel room that’s one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen. You half expect them to light cigarettes when it’s over. Tad Mosel adapted the script from his TV play. When he’s writing for the adults it’s spot on. The early scenes for Lansbury’s son (Michael Anderson, Jr.) appear to have been written by somebody with no understanding of young people, and Anderson comes off almost unbearably glib (he settles in later). Lansbury is very good as Ford’s fiancée, and the supporting cast also includes Barbara Nichols as another of her cheap blondes (but this one is funnier than she is irritating), Richard Deacon as the convention’s manager and a glorious trio of cranky old women played by Ruth McDevitt, Mary Wickes and Alice Pearce (I’m always amazed at how much nuance she can bring to roles like this). The Henry Mancini-Jay Livingston-Ray Evans theme song — the producers liked it so much they named the film for it — was more successful than the movie, but I think the film is ripe for rediscovery along with some of Delbert Mann’s other late works.

#romantic comedy #geraldine page #glenn ford #angela lansbury #michael anderson jr.#barbara nichols #ruth mcdevitt #alice pearce #richard deacon #mary wickes

1 note · View note

tmisaccidentreportbook · 2 years

Text

MAG005, Thrown Away

Case #0092302, Keiran Woodward Release date: April 2, 2016 First listen: 14th October I think? Going but the notes. Presumably early on the walk into work.

Ah, the buck toothed step child of a statement that no one could categorise until Jonny set it straight in the Q&As. He admitted that this is a version of The Flesh that still hadn’t been quite realised, but I really liked it. And by really liked, I mean it freaked the bejeezus outta me.

- I have vague memories of listening to thing on the walk into work. Walking in the early morning, y’know, the same sort of time that the refuse collection teams are out…

- I’m not sure if I’m built odd, and I appreciate that refuse collection is hard, sometimes dangerous work, but I think I’d prefer it to office work. I don’t have the constitution for office work, I did admin for a year and it got to the point that every time a phone went I hissed at it. And that role had puppies included.

- ‘A strange side to humanity, but an honesty one at that,’ feels like such a fond line. I love it. And I can appreciate it. I have a somewhat odd inherited habit of skip diving and I’ve found�� strange things. Also, I know well the planning needed for the strategic disposal of wine bottles. I don’t drink, but my family has hosted A LOT of shindigs over the years and you learn to chip away at the pile.

- The dolls. Actually, no, the doll heads. An excellent, damn creepy choice Jonny. I didn’t really have a problem with dolls before this podcast, but it’s amazing how many things I’ve come to realise, oop, yup, nope, don’t like that. But I have spent time working at the find arts auctions with my mum on occasion, and I usually on the miscellaneous lots; lots with no real category and were all thrown in together so it was unreasonable to have the person manning it have a deep understanding of everything, so throw the student who knows nothing but is delighted to learn on there. Only, sometimes they had dolls. And they always attracted a strange breed of dealers. Typically little old ladies with slightly unnerving stares.

- I think this episode was a discussion on surplus and waste but there’s something odder still. It’s one thing to have a bag of doll’s heads. It’s another to have a bag of doll’s heads that look purpose bought and then purposely distressed only to be thrown out.

- ‘Waste collecting, second most dangerous profession in England’. OK, checking that out… So a few tabloids are putting it around 12th but they appear to be going off the same data set. uk.indeed.com have it in 2nd after deckhand. Business leader has ‘waste management’ in 5th but I think that’s an entire industry rather than roles. I’m tempted to go with Jonny, Kieran and uk.indeed.com’s assessment because any other publication I’d trust more than The Mirror or The Sun have their articles about the reports behind a sodding paywall…

- Not UK related but I think I read somewhere about the mottos and titles of different city departments in New York. Fire fighters, ‘New York’s Bravest’. Police, ‘New York’s Finest’, ACAB. The Department of Sanitation, are ‘New York’s Strongest’.

- Alan so interested in the bags’ contents. Another one being punished for curiosity. Or rather, the curiosity, almost morbid in this case, made for an easy take.

- The Lord’s Prayer, written over and over again in Latin. Latin = Bad News. We’ve got another one! I’m really interested to hear how Jonny came to this choice. The doll’s heads and the teeth are macabre and could be seen examples of waste and excess and the expandability of people. But I’d love to hear what inspired this line of thought. Was it just something unnerving and almost occult? A prayer passed over a flame? Was it about the organised religion and the history of excess and corruption? Was it about the impacts of prayer over action? The same prayer over and over and over again? Was it just something that was damn creepy? No, I’m not spiralling, Jonny I just want to talk. I’m an atheists, I have no horse in this race, but I have been in a lot of churches and sat through a lot of services, Jonny, what does it mean!?

- The teeth… The mounting dread of the team, apart from Alan. Kieran, the designated pick-uper of the bag. I wonder how many teeth you can fit in a bin bag… Am I gonna risk goggling that?

- All I got was ideally that they need to be disposed of in medical waste and sites selling tiger bags, yellow and black striped bags.

- Dave, vomiting into a drain. Good lad, not compromising the scene or the evidence. Well done.

- Phoned the police. Yeah, there’s no confidentiality clause with the bin teams.

- It’s a little thing, but the officer that knocks on the door is gendered as female. So was one of the officers that attended to Not!Graham and was shown his passport photo. Part of me wondered if perhaps they were either Basira or Daisy or perhaps the same officer. But I’ve looked at the map, and I don’t know how the allocation of police beats works, but Clapham and Walthamstow are clear across the river from one another. And can not see Daisy or Basira laughing with Not!Graham or being rattled by the teeth.

- Poor old couple being the unwitting site of eldritch fly tipping… Ooooh THIS might be why I got so upset someone was leaving bags to go out with my rubbish…

- Yeah, in a job like that, the last thing you want is someone becoming a danger.

- ‘Needed to know’… Ermmm… and coupled with the appearance of the music…

- Fell asleep at the wheel. Jonny makes a point of saying no one was hurt, but there has been a number of terrible and tragic collisions involving bin lorries in recent years in the UK.

- Dark green ribbon. Why dark green? In mockery of the typical council uniform?

- Bronze heart ‘roughly carved’ but the name ‘Alan Parfitt’ engraved with ‘machine like precision’? Like… although whoever it was knew it was to be Alan, but just not what memento was to be left?

- I have often fantasised about disposing of things in our medical waste bins to be incinerated... This is not to be used against me in a court of law, but there’s padlock on that thing and if you put it in a tiger bag… OK, so I will say that during one summer internship, a friend and I effectively wrote a murder mystery between us in an effort to keep ourselves sane and discussed all the ways we could THEORECTICALLY dispose of a body at a falconry breeding centre. We were going to call it ‘Tuppence A Bag’.

- ‘End of statement. So nice to be able to verify this one.’Jonathan, so happy, yes, time stamps, names, addresses, good.

- ‘Got Martin out of the archive for an afternoon, which is always a welcome relief.’ MEAN. SO MEAN. An aside, but I love time travel aus where they go back in time and see just how grumpy and mean past-Jonathan can be. And just how ‘not taking your shit’ future-Martin is. I love starfleetrambo’s stuff.

- Apparently the officers called to 93 Lancaster Road were Officer Suresh and Officer Altman, so defiantly not Basira or Daisy. I can’t remember if it’s mentioned what units the two served with beyond Section 31.

- So you can get 2780 teeth in a bin bag, good to know. The deliberation he takes to say ‘the exact... same... tooth...’ screaming

#MAG005 #the magnus archives #The Flesh

1 note · View note

popculturebuffet · 3 years

Text

House of Mouse Reviews: Mickey and Minnie’s Big Vacation: Around the World in 80 Hyucks (Patreon Review for WeirdKev27)

Hello all you happy people! And it’s time for the second House of Mouse Patreon review this month as Kev, my patreon who requests this show is doubling up. As such it’s time for something special. See while most House of Mouse episodes had the formula of either two regular shorts and either a tiny one minute short or

There were about 4 or 5 episodes that broke from this, instead having one super sized, extra special short. These were some of the most memorable, having longer runtimes to flesh out the story and do something truly neat.

The wraparound here was no slouch mind you, but when you usually do gag based 7 minute shorts every episode it stands out when you do something diffrent. So join me under the cut as Mickey and Minnie try to take a much needed vacatoin and go around the world in 80 days won’t ya?

Doing the shorts first this time, obvious reasons, let’s go!

Around the World in 80 Days:

So this is an adaptation of the classic story that’s been adapted about a dozen time, was done for real twice both by pioneering journalist Nelly Bly in the 1800′s and Comedian Micheal Palin in the 1980′s, and that naturally i’ve never seen none of that and primarily know the story from this very short. What can I say i’ve just never THOUGHT to watch any adaptation of it. It’s not a bad story probably, it’s a great concept I just never got around to it. It happens.

So as an adaptation, I have no idea how this rates. It does make two major changes I can comment on though: The first is the motive for the trip: Original Protagonist Phineas Fogg was a rich man who wnated to prove his mettle as an inventor and thus made the bet, sinking his life savings into it (half for the actual money for the bet, the other to finance the trip) just to prove a point.

The problem was this personality just didn’t fit the Mickey at the time, the all loving aw shucks hero. From Epic Mickey onward he got a bit of his old Rascal Self and how much of an all loving goodie two shoes he is largely depends on the work, with the Wonderful World of Mickey Mouse taking it to parody levels.

So they changed Mickey to the kindhearted runner of an orphanage.. which apparently has the bear version of dogen boole as a resident.

Naturally said orphanage isn’t doing so good so when our hero finds out he has an inheritance , he naturally jumps at it. There’s a massive obstacle in his way though: the executor of the will, Scrooge McDuck. Scrooge’s sometimes villiany is played up here with him making the travel the world in 80 days bet entirely to try and prove Mickey isn’t worthy and thus pocket the fortune himself. He’s a perfect fit for the role though and this being an alternate universe Scrooge being suddenly being this terrible works. IT’s also utterly lovely to hear Alan Young in the role again. Just a true treat.

This does leave me with a big question though: Why didn’t they just have Donald be the star? Donald seems to fit Fogg’s personality bettter, Daisy could still play the princess like minnie does, and Goofy could still be the sidekick. It makes MORE sense to have Donald be the one going up against Scrooge and they could have a lot of fun with the guys foibles. What we got wasn’t bad, I just feel that might of been better.

The final product is still good and sends Mickey off with Goofy to travel the world via montages> The two end up in India and have to ride an elephant, because of course, and find a princess who dosen’t want to get married played by Minnie... and having a white coded character with a white actress play an indian princess is quite cringeworthy thanks for asking. It dosen’t ruin the movie but it just hasn’t aged well, though given the last disney thing I reviewed that hadn’t aged well had bucktoothed Siamese cat yellowface, I’m just thankfully it’s not much worse than it is.

So with Mickey making good time Scrooge stows away on his boat to sabotage him. MIckey promises minnie the world when he gets back, after he pays off the orphanage’s debts of course, but has a problema s Scrooge steals all the coal and books it leaving them with nothing to fuel it and no crew because the plot siad they didn’t need one.

Mickey has a bright idea though: snce the ship is wood they can use it for fuel and do indeed use most of it and nearly get home.. only to sink, arriving seemingly late. Mickey tries to give Minnie what he has but she states the obvious: She loves him for who he is. I’d make some joke about them only having maet two minutes ago but to the stories credit as compressed as this adaptation is, and we’ll get to that in a moment, Mickey comes off young enough and enough weeks pass off screen that him being so devoted works.

But in the series famous twist, it turns out they gained a day over the international dateline, and thus book it, making it just in time. Mickey wins his rightful inhertince, gets the girl, and the orphanage remains open... oh and Goofy dances iwth an elephant they rhode earlier....

Final Thoughts:

This short is pretty good. Admittedly in the nostalgic corner of my mind I kept it it was better, but it still adapts the novel decently enough, Micke’ys fairly likeable and Alan Young is a delight as always. It’s only weakness is it’s run time honestly: having only 12 or 15 minutes to tell a story of this scale means we don’t get a lot of globe trotting fun.. granted we don’t get mickey being flamed for a bombing either, but still the compressed pace does hurt that aspect. But even with that handicap this is still a fun adaptation and a charming one at that. There’s just something about putting Disney characters into this story that just plain works and Disney would honestly be well advised to do a feature length version of this some day. A delight to rewatch.

Donald’s Dynamite: Fishing

The best of the microshorts i’ve rewatched thus far, and the one that stuck out in my mind from watching it as a kid for good reason. It’s a very simple one: donald fishes up a bomb and ends up playing a short long game of hot potato with a frog over it with said frog coming up with increasingly clever ways to bat the bomb back, my favorite being sneaking up behind donald with the bomb in an elevator. Not much to comment on but still a good short.

Mickey and Minnie’s Big Vacation

Mickey’s in a Hawaiian shirt to kick off this week..

youtube

Mickey and Minnie are about to take off on a long overdue vacation, with Donald and Daisy taking over running the club in their absence. This leads to the kind of plot you’ve seen before where one character has to run “insert buisness” because another character is going on vacatoin or whatever but the character going on vacation isn’t convinced the person can actually run the business and worries the whole time, the sister trope to “parents leave kids in charge for the weekend. “. Like that time Peter from FoxTrot tried enslaving his siblings and then locked them in a basement.

This was in the FIRST MONTH of publication.

Anyways, the designated fretter here is Minnie, And honestly it fits perfectly: Mickey believes in everyone and is the second coming of Mouse Christ, while Minnie is usually the voice of reason at the club, the one who keeps it running and thus her being a workaholic whose terrified her carefully run club will be run into the ground by two of her closest friend is fully credible and dosen’t make her come off as an asshole.

Instead both sides come off sympathetic: Donald and Daisy just want to run the club, both because their friends deserve time off and because frankly they deserve a shot at the driver’s seat. Especailly Donald who may fuck up from time to time, but does not only half own the club but never gets any CREDIT for doing so.

But Minnie being worried is understandable both because this is her life, and because the two DO genuinely fuck up with the acts the bring in: First up is Mr. Toad who wrecks up the place with the sounds of a switchblade and a motorbike. They coudln’t show the former onscreen though, no one wants to see someone drive by stab Winnie the Poo. Minnie simply pops his tires.

Their second choice though is the real show.. and also BATSHIT INSANE. The two decided to bring in the Pink Elephants from Dumbo. Aka the horrifying beasts who, as far as I know having never seen it, only show up in a drug induced haze the main characters have. It’s a clever use of the animated actors premise showing the pink elements THEMSELVES are real. We also get a LOT of fun crossover as they torment the club from one stowing away in Pocahantas canoe to Hercules being unable to lift them to Timon complaning about “what an unfortunate view” when he ends up behind one’s ass. The mouse from the film ends up stopping them again.

So with that Daisy shoves her best friend out the door finally, twice actually first before the pink elephants as seen above and on a package dolly the second time... because let’s face it the only ways Minnie was leaving were either by force or in a body bag and Daisy just started her necormancy class.

The payoff gag is also great as Mickey and Minnie return a month later.. only for the club to have BURNED DOWN due to Donald and Daisy’s stupidity, the two admitting they coudln’t handle it and running off for ther own vacation. It’s down and out hilarous and mickey just shrugging it off in his outro is also classic.

Final Thoughts:

The wraparound is excellent and one of the better one’s i’ve seen, taking a simple premise and using a combination of fun cameos and character work to keep the laughs a coming> there’s a decent amount of clever gags and the payoff is easily one of the best jokes the series ever did.

So overall this episode is absolutely worth a rewatch wherever you can find it as, almost a YEAR into reviewing house of mouse every month, Disney+ STILL hasn’t added the show. STILL.

Anyways next month on house of mouse it’s a THREE FER. kev’s paying for both halloween episodes as our heroes deal with grim grinning hopes and try to get hades laid, and then combining his patreon review slots for a movie. Yes it’s finally time for the villians to rise as I’ll be ending Halloween with a look at house of villians. And if you can’t wait a few weeks for more house of mouse and still need more disney content from me check back friday.. as I kick off halloween with a bit of.. CHAOS.

Thanks for reading and i’ll see ya real soon!

#house of mouse #around the world in 80 days #scrooge mcduck #mickey mouse #minnie mouse #donald duck #daisy duck #goofy #dumbo #mr. toad's wild ride #mr. toad #the pink elephants #timon #alan young

9 notes · View notes

glowcrizzle · 4 years

Audio

Today is the 1 year AO3 anniversary of Slow Show by @mia-ugly. I am beyond grateful that this experience (and it is an experience) has existed in my life for a year and felt it needed commemorating. 🎂

I’m not a creator but I made this playlist for me, so I could take the fic with me, have it with my eyes closed, while driving -- you get it. Today seems like an appropriate day to share it.

It’s a. It’s a lot. Excessive you might even say. Tumblr will only give you the first 100 songs in this, so, Spotify will fulfill you (or overwhelm you). If you hit my username on the playlist, there are separate playlists for each chapter.

This is also on Apple Music, if that’s your jam, just hit me up and I’ll send you the link.

🎉 Happy Slow Show Day!! 🎉

13 pages of track-lists and excerpts below the cut. Godspeed! 💙

Key:

Songs from Mia’s soundtrack

Songs from the Fic

--Title--

Slow Show – The National

--Prequel--

Loverman – Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds

Devils – Say Hi

--Chapter 1--

Here I Go Again – Whitesnake

bad guy – Billie Eilish

-trash a set and shag your husband

Something About You (ODESZA Remix) – Hayden James

-what it would take for Avery Fell to let his guard down

A Little Wicked – Valerie Broussard

-The handkerchief in his hand is now stained purple

You Light Me Up In the Dark – The Hounds Below

-His hair catches the light like a halo, making him look more of an angel than ever.

Lazarus – David Bowie

-This could be a problem

--Chapter 2--

Unsteady – X Ambassadors

-much easier than talking about the way his heartbeat is still racing

Heart of a Dog – The Kills

-Call me darling again.

The Twilight Hour - Still Corners

-Looked across the set and thought, Ah fuck me. I’m in love with him.

God’s Mistake – Tears for Fears

-Avery: He’s closed his eyes again, mouth going flat and still.

Lounge Act – Nirvana

-Tell her all the terrible things I want to do to her husband

Transatlanticism – Death Cab for Cutie

-There’s a strange urgency tonight, though, and Crowley can guess why.

Do I Wanna Know? – Arctic Monkeys

-What could it hurt?

Clueless – The Marias

-“Better - yeah. ‘S late.”

Motel – Meg Myers

-The hotel room is another disaster

--Chapter 3--

Alone in a Room – Asking Alexandria

-“I’m having a moment here!”

Since You’ve Been Around – Rosie Thomas

-makes Crowley feel like he can breathe again

Home Again – The Disco Biscuits

-It’s starting to feel like home again

Every Other Freckle – alt-J

-Perfect. Ridiculous and impossible and perfect.

Something For the Longing – The Orchids

As Far As I Can See – Phantogram

-it’s been a really, really long time

Sinister Kid – The Black Keys

-“Mothering buggering shit-”

All These Things That I’ve Done – The Killers

-Crowley fists one of his hands against his forehead, shuts his eyes tightly.

--Chapter 4--

I Like Me Better – Lauv

-I liked the outline of your face under the stagelights

I Do This for You (ft. Marlene) – Giorgio Moroder

-“Let me see what I can do. About your precious Hamlet.”

The Longing – Imelda May

-Avery POV: “Look at him like - like - you can’t let him see the way you look at him.”

Just a Man – Los Lobos

-Avery POV: like he’s being led into battle and not onto a set to do the job he loves

World In My Eyes – Depeche Mode

-wants to make that bastard purr

Tired (ft. Gavin James) – Alan Walker

-Let me be a magpie for you

Blow My Mind – The Benjamin Gate

-Avery: “I know you now.”

Breathe You in My Dreams – Trixie Whitley

-Crowley’s seen that expression on Avery’s face in his dreams

Love Me Like That (ft. Carly Rae Jepsen) – The Knocks

-What have I done to - oh. Oh. Right.

Like Real People Do - Hozier

-“Sure, angel, what- whatever.”

Clearly – Grace VanderWaal

-Crowley waits for the rest of the night.

Gwendel – PeelsDeen

-Az sits in the back seat, away from Crowley. Alone.

Now I’m In It – HAIM

-Avery POV: It’s a look like an open grave, a look like desire tempered with grief…

Flesh for Fantasy – Billy Idol

-Crowley isn’t lonely for the rest of the night

--Chapter 5 (Avery POV)--

Smalltown Boy – Rosborough

-1978, Hartlepool

Bright Horses – Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds

-1986, Newcastle Upon Tyne

The Runner – Foals

-1991, Bristol

Shock To Your System – Tegan and Sara

-Tracy: “Why d’you let them?”

Cracking Codes – Andrew Bird

-“Forever, of course. I’ll never -”

Colour me In – Damien Rice

-Their fingers - just touch. Slightly.

I’m Not in Love – 10cc

-Less to regret by not ever speaking of it.

--Chapter 6--

Electric Current – Lower Dens

-“I’ll let you know when you find it.”

Guess I Miss(ed) You – The Daylights

-Keep talking, keep him here a little while longer.

Reflecting Light – Sam Phillips

-“don’t meet his eyes like that, it looks like it’s a lead-in to a kiss”

King of Pain – The Police

-a good reminder of the kind of life he’s got to live

I Wanna Get Better – The Bleachers

-and Avery’s gaze is so gentle it hurts a bit

Feather – X Ambassadors

-Avery: “Someone has to”

Darker Side - Jonny Lang

-Avery: “Oh - good Lord.”

Firestone (Acoustic) – Conrad Sewell

-“Will you show me?”

Velvet Gloves and Spit - Timber Timbre

-“Anthony - ”

Wrong – Depeche Mode

-Avery: “I have to go.”

F**k it I love you – Lana Del Rey

-“Not your fault, angel”

--Chapter 7--

Somebody to Love – Queen

Heavenly – Cigarettes After Sex

-“I fucking still.”

Will Do - TV on the Radio

-“You too. I’ll see you there.”

Monster – Colours

-No wonder Avery ran off like a thief after a heist

Swallow My Pride – Ramones

-“I feel fucking ill about it.”

I Was Wrong - The Oh Hellos

-Avery: “I’m the one who has to apologize, not you.”

The Lost Art of Keeping a Secret – Queens of the Stone Age

-Avery: “Please don’t tell anyone”

Wait for Me – Kings of Leon

-Avery: “Right now, I’m just - a bit in pieces.”

Don’t Stay – X Ambassadors

-“You can - stay or leave or - whatever you like.”

The Moth - Aimee Mann

-Avery’s eyes meet his, and then it’s like a car accident

Red Door – Julien Baker

-“I can - I can wait longer.”

Can’t Pretend - Tom Odell

-“I wasn’t apologizing for that. This morning. I won’t.”

Come Down to Me – Saving Jane

-Avery: “You were wonderful”

Secret Smile – Semisonic

-And if sometimes he catches Az watching him between takes

I Want More - KALEO

-Az laces both of their hands together, stares at them.

I’m Gonna Do My Thing – Royal Deluxe

-“So don’t tell me what will hurt me. I know what hurts.”

--Chapter 8--

Perfect Day – Lou Reed

Remember to Breathe – Sturgil Simpson

-“You can’t sit in the car all night you absolute nightmare”

Wild Love (Acoustic) – James Bay

-The two of them stare at each other and then both look away awkwardly.

Seasons – Future Islands

-finally, fucking finally, he’s exactly where he wants to be

Closer – Tegan and Sara

-Avery: “if you like”

I Want All of You – The Verve Pipe

-“If you think I can survive this without looking at you -”

Use Me – Miguel

-whatever he sees in Crowley’s face makes him come to some sort of decision

So Much Love – Depeche Mode

-Love, he said love

Don’t Be Scared, I Love You – Bill Ryder-Jones

-I know you, Crowley wants to say, but doesn’t.

Become My Dream – Silya & The Sailors

-“Even if - anything, angel.”

I Belong In Your Arms – Chairlift

-For nearly two weeks it goes like this.

Faster - Matt Nathanson

-“You’re going to fucking kill me, angel -”

Come Together (feat. Sivu) – LAUREL

-In case you think they don’t wake up together

The High – Kelela

-Az has pulled a stool over to the edge of the tub

Just in Time – Valerie June

-Then Az’s hand is on his shoulder, turning him around.

I Can’t Take It – Tegan and Sara

-Avery: “Don’t rush, just - like this.”

Like This – Jake Scott

-Avery murmurs and it takes Crowley back to their first kiss

Terrible Love – The National

-Flinches away from him.

Help You Out - Emarosa

-And he nods.

--Chapter 9--

I Remember You – Ramones

-The first person Crowley loved was a liar.

Brighter Skies - Race Banyon

-As if they were cut with a jigsaw, as if they were meant to fit.

Not Tonight – Tegan and Sara

-When they reach the edge of the city, his hand slides out of Crowley’s.

As Sure as I Am – Crowded House

-So Crowley kisses him.

A Promise – Miriam Makeba

-And for awhile, he believed her.

Mistaken for Strangers – The National

-They’re only two small words, but they still make Crowley’s teeth ache.

Hey, That’s No Way To Say Goodbye – Leonard Cohen

-“Good-“ Swallow, speak, leave.

The Fear – Pulp

-Crowley should have been smarter this time. He really should have been.

Take Me – Leela James

-“I’d like you to close your blinds.”

Whenever You Want It – Clare Maguire

-“What do we do now?”

At My Weakest – James Arthur

-“It will be.”

Komm zurück - Fotos

-For years and years and years, nothing did.

Come on Get Higher – Matt Nathanson

-their feet sliding in the tub

Lay Down – Sarah Proctor

-I want to wake up with you.

Sort Of - Ingrid Michaelson

-Why is my heart breaking?

Fairytale of New York – The Pogues

-Just pump that shit straight into his veins.

What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve? – Ella Fitzgerald

-Avery: “What do you think?”

We’re Gonna Have A Real Good Time Together – The Velvet Underground

-“You want to grab dinner somewhere?”

Hiding – IAN SWEET

-Crowley stops walking. Looks at Az in the darkness.

Romance Dawn – Radkey

-A slice of light cuts through the darkness.

Crown of Love – Arcade Fire

-Crowley feels like the world has never been darker, and his heart will never stop beating

Devil’s Backbone – The Civil Wars

-He thought he was ready for this conversation, but at the sight of Az’s face, his throat has gotten too tight to speak.

Sinners – Lauren Aquilina

-“If this all goes down in flames, if it all falls apart - we can go off together.”

Please Forgive Me (Song of the Crow) – William Fitzsimmons

-Avery: “It’s over. I’m - I’m so sorry.”

Start a War – The National

-He twitches and trips and yet somehow manages to walk away without falling over.

Broken – Daley

-And this soft heartache was somehow the sharpest of them all.

--Chapter 10 (Avery POV)--

Daily Battles - Thom Yorke & Flea

-He tries to remember these things - but the background is still a chorus of beeping machines. There’s nowhere he can be but here.

Everybody Wants You - Red Hearse

-Go out and surround himself with people much more interesting and available than Avery. Better people, certainly.

A Thin Line – Blackchords

-But still - roads not taken, and other fun middle-aged spirals.

My Own Soul’s Warning - The Killers

-When was the last time someone asked Avery that? When was the last time he asked himself?

Who Am I - NEEDTOBREATHE

-I miss you. There. It didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would.

Wait for Me - Jack Curley

-What he wants to say is ‘don’t find someone else. Not yet. You and your black leather and your cut-glass profile: you’re gorgeous and God knows other people want you.’

Coming & Going – Amaal

-“Two ships passing in the night,” he says quietly. Then he takes a swallow of wine, lets it roll down his throat. “If you were here -”

Iron - Woodkid

-Crowley leaves him there, pressed against the wet brick wall. Crowley leaves him there. Crowley steps between Avery and a camera, and then leaves him.

The Greatest Bastard - Damien Rice

-He can’t be the person that kicks Crowley into the ashes again. He can’t hurt him like this, and Avery’s going to hurt him - he already has.

No Right to Love You – Rhys Lewis

-He deserves someone like - like Daniel. Deserves to be loved in the daylight.

If It’s Hurting You - Robbie Williams

-Time is a tricky business when you’re dying slowly; it skips like a flat stone on a quiet lake.

Happy For You – Gayle

-But surely - surely he’s allowed just this much. Just one message, just so Crowley knows that - that he’s happy for him. That Avery is so happy.

I See You (ICU) - Phoebe Bridgers

-When Avery sees Crowley on the red carpet, it feels like the sudden remembrance of a lovely dream.

Once In My Life - The Decemberists

-Crowley: “I know there’ve been some - hard times. That’s - that is what it is. But for me - it’s been a privilege. A dream. So.” He nods and nods and nods again. “Thank you.”

Coming Down - Dum Dum Girls

-Tracy: “But I wasn’t. I was hurting you. This whole time, Az.” She shakes her head, wiping frantically at tears that won’t stop falling. “He loves you.”

I Don’t Know Anything – Little Voice Cast

-He’s afraid of finding out that all this time - he was doing the wrong thing anyway. He’s afraid that Anthony Crowley will never talk to him again.

Sweet Sour - Band of Skulls

-"And you're fired"

Heart Attack - Devarrow

-The sun is still rising when Avery gets out of the car, closes the door behind him. Though some of the roads have changed, his feet still know the way down to the docks of his youth. He was never a sailor, but the shoreline is familiar as a childhood sweetheart, as a long lost love.

Landslide - Robyn Sherwell

-He’s alone, and he’s nearly fifty years old. He could get on a ship, he could throw himself into the sea. There’s no one holding him back anymore.

All I Can - Sharon van Etten

-And he knows. He knows.

--Chapter 11--

Salvation - The Strumbellas

- there’s a moment where he swears he sees a young idiot in black standing in the crowd. Red hair gelled up into spikes, black t-shirt full of holes and safety pins. A young man who has no idea how much he’s about to lose.

Soldier - Fleurie

-And he’s still fucking here.

Easier – Mansionair

-Then he gets the fuck above ground and he calls Beez (oh great, they’re his emotional-support-asshole now. That’s healthy).

Deep End – Holly Humberstone

-“I brought you cheese,” Beez says, and Crowley starts crying.

Falling Short – Lapsley

-For the next few days, he lets his stupid body do what it needs to do to keep himself upright.

Chariot (Stripped Version) - Gavin DeGraw

-Shit, this was a bad bad idea.

Quiet Light - The National

-There’s a text from Az later that night, and his name on Crowley’s phone makes him feel like jumping off a cliff.

All That We Had is Lost - Postiljonen

-He’s not allowed to be in love with that man anymore. Wasn’t ever, really.

Heal - Tom Odell

-It makes a rather hysterical laugh well out of his throat. Anthony fucking Crowley. You are still alive.

Let Me Go - HAIM

-Crowley tries to ignore the soft, injured expression on the other man’s face as he turns away.

A Beginning Song - The Decemberists

-“What’s more frightening than having a choice?”

The Spark - William Prince

-And he likes to think he would have just burned the world to ashes with the power of his love, would have said fuck everyone, I choose you – but who knows.

Sharp Scratch - The Slow Show

-So stupid, I know, and I’m - sorry, I still love you and I’m tryin’ to stop and I will I just - needed to tell you that. I’ll be fine. You’ll be fine. Just miss you.

Beautiful & Brutal – Plested

-Crowley moves without thinking. Falls like a stagelight, glass everywhere. He walks forward and is kissing Az before the door has even been pulled shut.

Bad Chemistry - Fake Shark

-“I’ve been - thinking about this -” Az says between darts of his tongue against Crowley’s overheated skin.

All We Do – Oh Wonder

-“But I - I love you. And I can’t - hide. It hurts too much.”

Broken Strings - James Morrison (ft Nelly Furtado)

-“I wouldn’t survive it. That way it was. I wouldn’t.”

Stole the Show – Parson James

-But even on their distant shores, Crowley and Az don’t stop looking at each other. It feels like an ending. Maybe it is one. Not a happy ending, but not a bad one either.

Level Up - Vienna Teng

-excerpt from Anthony Crowley: Out of the shadows, under the spotlight

The Wire (Alternate Version) – Patrick Droney

-Avery: “I’m rather in - in love with you.”

Sweet Thing - Van Morrison

-“You can stay at my place. If you like.”

Falling in Love - Cigarettes After Sex

-“I love you. I’ve missed you, and I love you, and I want you -”

Stay - Cat Power

-He watches the slow flicker of awareness in Avery’s blue eyes. The curve of his mouth into a shade of smile that Crowley’s never seen before.

Freedom - George Michael

-“To the world.”

--Chapter 12--

Banks - NEEDTOBREATHE

-What he wasn’t used to was bringing someone else down with him, and jail would be a bloody blessing compared to seeing Az grey-faced and staring out windows, or that one time Crowley’s pretty sure the man was crying in the bathroom, trying to swallow down the sound so that Crowley didn’t notice (he clenches his hands into fists just thinking about it).

Black Mambo - Glass Animals

-“It’ll have to be.” Crowley drops to his knees. “There’s a lot of ground to cover.”

Florets - Grace VanderWaal

-Crowley can let his fingers curl against Az’s palm, can watch him open as a flame, not caring who notices.

Sight of the Sun - fun.

-That this longing won’t destroy him, and won’t destroy Az either. It’s not a shovel for burying Crowley alive - it’s a spade for planting things.

Pale Blue Eyes - The Velvet Underground

-Az drops his hand onto Crowley’s knee (“What is this song? I rather like it.”).

Only Everything (Acoustic) – Quinn Lewis

-“It’s nice to have someone make it for you, right? Sometimes,” Crowley says softly, too much love in his throat and in his hands. It’s hard to breathe around it, especially when Avery is looking at him.

The Book of Love - The Magnetic Fields

-“You bought a cottage for us.” Crowley is an animal being taught to speak through scraps of meat and electric shocks. “This cottage.”

Say You’ll Be Mine – Christopher Cross

-Avery: “But if you wanted -” Fuck, there are tears in Avery’s eyes. “If you want. I’d like to call you my husband. I’d like to say ‘let me ask my husband,’ or ‘I brought my husband with me’ or ‘my husband won a BAFTA’.”

Anthem - Leonard Cohen

-Their broken edges match. And somehow, the light still shines through.

Precious Love – James Morrison

-When the light catches them both, they shine. And so do you. So do we.

Good Man (acoustic) - Josh Ritter

If you made it this far...wow, hi hello. So, this is ours and my musical exposure is limited, if you’ve got a better song for an excerpt, feel free to shoot it over, more than happy for this to be a living changeable thing. 🤡

#slow show #slow show playlist #tumblr html code after read more is some bullshit #it's fic for your ears

177 notes · View notes

babyspiderling · 4 years

Text

Under the Lights Daveed Diggs x reader

Before I even paste this into Tumblr, I want you all to know that this took me two days of constant writing, and FOUR pages on google docs. I know that the second I hit paste, it’s going to be like one page. Anyways, here’s Daveed x reader.

2010

“Hey, Y/N, I brought you muffins!” A woman with a mouth full of pins, her hair up in a messy bun, measuring tape sloppily tied around her neck, and a pincushion on her wrist, exited a space separated from the rest of the apartment by a thin curtain. Seeing her best friend and roommate enter with goodies, a bright grin fluttered onto her face. “Wanna see what I did while you were gone?” He nodded and followed her to her half of the work room. On a mannequin, a beautiful dress was fleshed out much more than it had been when Lin had left this morning. It had been nothing more than a sketch on paper for the Newsies show. As a major in history with a minor in design, Y/N was accepted by Disney to create the costumes. It didn’t hurt that The Lin Manuel Miranda of In the Heights fame was on her list of references. She had decided to start with Medda’s dress first. Medda was a personal favorite of hers and was excited to do her own spin on it. A deep purple sash had been half pinned under the bodice and sadly hung from its haphazard placement. “The sash would look better if you hadn’t distracted me with food dork.” He smiled and pressed the folded paper bag into her hand. “Alright. I’m going to finish this for Alan. It’s a miracle I have this job. I’m not screwing it up. I also meant to tell you that one of my guys are going to be here tomorrow for a measure and design session. Sweet kid. Amazing dancer.” Lin grinned teasingly as he set his laptop down on his desk. “Am I getting replaced? Is he going to be your new roommate and best friend?” Y/N stuck out her tongue at her best friend and continued her work. The sounds of humming and a machine whirring mixed in with the excited clacking of keys to make a strangely beautiful symphony.

2013

“Y/N! I need your help!” In the tiny apartment in the upper east side, an over-caffeinated Wesleyan Alumni burst through the front door, a paper bag of bagels clutched tightly. At the yells, another Alumni ran from her section of the apartment. “Lin! What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” He thrusts the bag into her searching hands, and lets out another shriek. “Y/N! I’m fine! They want to put The Hamilton Mixtape through a workshop! And if we get this right, they’ll move us to a real show!” Shoving his shoulders, she muffled her screams behind pinched lips. “Lin, you can not go scaring me like that! I’m going to get gray hairs before we even get to the off Broadway! What do you need my help with?” He pulled her onto the ratty couch they had in the little space. “I need a costumer. You’re the best in the business. Not to mention I’ll be with you all the time, so there’s no chance of miscommunications!” Standing from her forced seat, she cradled Lin’s head in her hands. She saw the excitement glimmer in his eyes and softened. “Lin, of course I’ll help you, I am a history major after all. Who else could make it historically accurate while still being functional? Thank you for even considering me, and for the bagels.” She pressed a kiss to the crown of his head. Giving a crooked smile, she pointed a finger in his face. “If you ever scare me like that, I swear I will never cook or bake for you again.” He smiled sheepishly and shrugged in apology. “Sorry, but hey, you’re my costumer now!” She smiled and bumped her hip with his. She dug through her pads of paper and snatched her laptop off the charger. “Alright. Give me your tracks and I’ll get started.”

July 27th, 2013

“Alright, I’m here. Sorry I’m late, I got halfway down the block before I figured out I left my notes on the desk. Who do we have here?” Three men held my attention, understandable since they were the main cast. I recognized Brian D’arcy James from other productions, there was another man with big hair and bright eyes, and finally my eyes fell on Christopher. I smiled at him and gave him a quick hug. “Oh my God! What are you doing here? I haven’t seen you in so long! How’ve you been.” He chuckled and pulled me in again. “I’m good. I was missing our Vanessa for a while, but you’re working with us now so I won’t have to miss you anymore! Lin told me about the project and I couldn’t turn it down.” He turned me to the stranger at the clearing of a throat. “Oh, this is Daveed. He’s playing Thomas Jefferson and Lafayette. He raps.” I looked at him up and down, remembering the songs Lin had written for him. I cocked my head, and he looked at me with nervous eyes. “This will work. This is going to work great actually.” I saw his shoulders relax and sag with relief as I walked back to the table set up for the behind the scenes people. I gripped my pen in my hand, ready to jot down every little thought that passed through my mind for the time of the workshop.

After hours and hours of rehearsals and run throughs, I’d filled up a notebook and a half for costumes for the characters. This time around Lin wanted his cast flexible. Those whose characters were not in the second act were recast as another role, so I had to figure out how to do quick changes not only for the nine main cast members, but for the entire ensemble. As Lin and I packed up our things to head home, the man with the beautiful eyes stopped me. “Hey, Vanessa, right?” I heard Lin and Christopher snicker somewhere behind me and I shot them a look. “Actually, it’s Y/N.” His eyes widened in embarrassment and his hand lifted to rub the back of his neck. “Sorry, I just thought it was Vanessa since that’s what Christopher called you.” I shook my head and smiled. “Oh, no. That’s just a little joke between us. I was the demo Vanessa when Lin was trying to sell In the Heights. I’m the reason why Vanessa never speaks Spanish. I took French all through high school and college.” He nodded and rocked back and forth on his heels. “I’ve got some questions about costumes and everything you do. Could I have your number to keep in contact?” I nodded and pulled out my phone, switching it with his and I plugged in my contact information. “Alright. I’m headed home, but I’ll make a schedule for measuring and design sessions. I’ll see you tomorrow?” He nodded enthusiastically, making his hair bob with his movements. I waved goodnight and followed Lin out of the building.

“So, Daveed.” I looked up from my buzzing phone to Lin out of the corner of my eye, giving him an eyebrow. “What about Daveed?” He shrugged and wore a small smile. “You texting him?” I put my phone down to look at him headlong. “And if I am?” Once again he shrugged and got up to grab a snack. “Nothing, just remember your worth.” I shake my head good naturally. “Alright Dad. Now, I’ve got to sketch out what my brain was screaming during the workshop. And how to create every outfit as a quick change. Thanks loser.”

July 15th, 2015

“Alright everyone! We’ve practiced these changes for weeks! Remember your number, remember your cue. You all have been a wonder to work with and to create for. I love you all and break a leg!” Everyone is dressed in white for the opening number, and I am proud of my work. “Oh, and Daveed;” Daveed looks up at me, a strange look in his eyes. “Yes, Y/N?” I looked him in the eyes, stoic and serious. “If you rip your pants during Guns and Ships again, you will repay me by organizing the scrap bin.” He swallowed visibly and nodded his head. I smiled once again and put my hand out for a group theatre circle. “Break a leg!” Everyone scurried to their cue spot in their costumes and Lin hugged me from behind. “Thank you for doing this for me. I never would be able to have costumes this good if it weren’t for you.” I turned in his arms and smiled. “I’m glad I did too Lin. Now go, they’re calling your name.” I listened from my side of the stage, getting everything in order for the main cast. I pulled Daveeds coat off quickly and held out his blue one for him to slide on. “Hey, Y/N, maybe after the show we can-“ “Diggs! Get to your cue!” I smiled and nudged him. “Go. Talk to me after the show.” He gave a quick kiss to my cheek and went to do his thing on stage. As I pinned the rose to Renée’s dress, her sweet voice teased at me. “You do know that he loves you too, right?” I know what she’s talking about, but I pretend to play dumb. “Who loves me? Nevermind, neither of us have the time for this. Go kick ass out there.” She scrunched her eyebrows at me and pointed her finger to say “This isn’t over.”

The first act went by in a flash, costume changes and character changes took up all of my time. After I had hung up every dress, every coat, every pair of trousers and corset, Daveed had changed and packed up all of his things. I had just finished mending the lace cuff on his magenta sleeve when he had walked in. He wore a sleeveless Oakland jersey with a matching hat pressed onto his freed hair. “Oh! Daveed! Perfect timing! I was just finishing up here. What was it that you were wanting to tell me?” At my question, it was like a switch had been flipped in him. He went from the cool and collected suave man who the fans fantasized over to a shy and awkward man who had run out of words. Self-doubt and insecurity filled my inner dialogue as I watched him shut down and clam up. I was filled with the fear and anxiety that he had come to ask me to stop staring, to stop caring. I let the silence carry on for a while longer until Anthony called for us to leave. “I, I should probably go, then. You were amazing tonight, not a single trip or stutter. I am so proud of you.” I swallowed down the tears making their way up my throat and gave him a watery smile. I grabbed my bag, and started to make a hurried exit until my wrist was caught by a large and calloused hand. “Wait, no. Y/N, I wanted to know if you wanted to grab something to eat, go do something when we don’t have a show. You know, like maybe a date? Unless you don’t want to, then it’ll just be us as friends. I’d actually really appreciate it if you just forgot this whole ordeal and-” I smiled and blushed at his sweet ramblings. I stepped up onto my workbench and gripped his face in my hands. Taking a deep breath I leaned in and connected our lips, praying to every spiritual being in the heavens that they would allow him to kiss me back. I guess praying did me good because after getting over the shock of being interrupted, he kissed me back with the same fervour. Once more, we are called to leave the theater and we break apart, panting lightly with swollen lips and pink cheeks. He helped me down from my step and I lifted myself onto my toes to give a peck to his cheek. “Alright big guy, let’s go home. Lin’s either knowing of what we were doing, or he’s pacing in our living room, police on speed dial. And I would love to go on a date with you.”

#daveed diggs #daveed x reader #daveed diggs x reader #hamilton #hamilton x reader #lin manuel x reader #lin manuel miranda #lin manuel miranda x reader #hamilcast #hamilcast x reader #theatre #theatre x reader

152 notes · View notes

gumnut-logic · 3 years

Text

Gordon the Octopus

I finished one of the WIPs on my list. Admittedly, this is an older one amd I had a good chunk of it written, but I found an end to it tonight :D

Totally @godsliltippy ‘s fault. She sparked the idea back in August last year, I just took a long time to see it through.

Marks & Wings AU, lots of Virgil and Gordon, complete fluff, silliness and self indulgence. The first bit has been posted before, but that was ages ago and it works better as a whole rather than in bits so I’ve reposted the whole thing. 2332 words.

Thank you to all the kind Thunderfam who commented on my WIP list ::hugs you so much:: You guys continue to be amazing.

I hope you enjoy this :D

-o-o-o-

The sun touched the horizon and lit up everything in gold.

Virgil closed his eyes and let its waning warmth soak into his skin.

The breeze was gentle, little more than a tease. It caressed his cheeks, lingered in his hair and tantalised the tracings of his mark across his bare back.

He shivered.

He was wearing only an old pair of cut-off jeans between himself and the warm rock. His feet were bare and dangling in the cool water, his toes teased by the ebb and flow.

His soundscape was filled with that water. The ripples of the lagoon splashing against the rock he was sitting on, the distant surf outside the safety of the caldera.

The squabbles of the petrels on Mateo as they argued about roosts for the night.

It was home.

The day had been a good one. No rescues. A moment to relax and sit back. Each of them had disappeared to their own corners, dabbling in their own pastimes in order to wind down.

Alan had taken to the air in the morning. He hadn’t managed to escape a cautionary word from Scott about staying close to the Island, but that was nothing unusual.

Scott said that to all of them.

Their youngest hadn’t been gone long, choosing only to stretch his golden wings with a few loops of their tiny volcanic rock in the middle of nowhere. Virgil had taken the moment to look up and watch his little brother swoop and dive, golden wings quite a sight in the early morning sun.

Scott and John, of course, were all about catching up on work. Virgil had to intervene at about midday and demand they eat. John was yanked down from orbit with a little extra threat from Grandma.

Virgil had been so happy to see his space brother. A little math and he realised he hadn’t seen him in the flesh for over two weeks.

John indulged him a hug as he knew Virgil craved a physical connection to ground him. Virgil was gentle, knowing that those two weeks in zero gravity would make his brother sensitive to touch.

But he had to.

The spark of connection as their minds reacted was like a tension release. Virgil sighed into his shoulder with relief.

John held him.

But after that, it was all Grandma and eat something, kid. Fortunately, lunch hadn’t relied on her cooking. Virgil had done a supply run on the way back from a minor situation just the day before and the larder was stacked with lazy day goodies.

It was a good meal. For once, everyone was there.

They had spent a good part of the afternoon just lazing about the comms room talking. While they lived most of their lives together, it had become rare being together all at once with no dire emergency needing attention.

There had been sun, conversation and rest.

John. John, of all people, had fallen asleep on the couch.

That had prompted a number of things. Lots of quiet. An interrogation of Eos from the kitchen regarding their brother’s sleep schedule.

This was promptly followed by grounding him for a week to play catch up.

Grandma was not happy.

And no doubt, John would be even less when he woke up.

But hey, the man needed to take better care of himself.

A blanket had appeared.

Virgil may have snuck in a medical monitor and gently clipped it to his shirt to boost the basic vitals his gravity wear provided.

John slept on.

So, they left him there and returned to doing their own things in other parts of the house.

As always, Gordon gravitated towards the sea as late afternoon rolled in. This time Virgil followed him to the water’s edge.

His fish brother’s forays out into the ocean always made Virgil just that touch nervous. There had been times where the aquanaut had gotten himself into trouble…alone, out in that vast wilderness under the surface.

It wasn’t that Gordon didn’t know what he was doing. It was just…Virgil couldn’t reach him.

And he worried.

But Gordy was as much a part of the sea as it was part of him and while the brat respected his concerns, he was still a brat. When he leapt up, morphed into his favourite eagle ray form, and made a splash large enough to soak his engineer brother, it was not unexpected.

There was a reason why sting rays always looked like they were smiling. At least this one thought he was funny.

The smart ass.

A flicker of shadow beneath the surface and Gordon was gone.

Virgil felt him grow distant, only to have a sun shower of mental energy thrown in his direction.

Clearly a ‘cheer up, Virg, I’ll be fine’.

Virgil grunted as he stared out at the water that had swallowed his brother. Gordon would be gone a couple of hours at least. Virgil would occupy himself for the rest of the afternoon, but he knew that come sunset, he would be down by the shore, waiting for him.

And here he was.

Staring out at the sea and the sunset, waiting for that little spark to return.

It wasn’t a chore. It was just something he felt he had to do.

Part of him wished he had brought his sketchbook or his tablet, but the risk was too high. Gordon wouldn’t intentionally soak his stuff, but accidents did happen.

And besides, he didn’t mind taking a moment to just...be.

The sun’s warmth was a caress on his skin and he revelled in it. He let his eyes close and just felt and listened.

Sun.

Water.

Wind.

Birds.

A wet touch on his shoulder.

He couldn’t help it, he flinched. Instinctively he knew what was happening, he knew his brother was being a little shit, but evolution tagged human receptors with flight response for a reason.

Suckers grabbed at his skin.

He stumbled on the rocks as he flung himself to his feet.

The tentacle did not go away.

It had friends.

Virgil suddenly found himself wrapped in several long, wet, suckered appendages.

“Gordon, what the hell are you doing?”

But then cephalopods weren’t the greatest of listeners since they didn’t really have ears.

Gordon, fortunately or unfortunately, did have the ability to transmit emotion to his brother, despite the muffle of transmutation, and the laughter sparkled across Virgil’s mindscape like a rain of sunny stars.

The evening was still golden and warm, but just a touch less relaxing. Virgil stood amongst the rocks with a giant Pacific octopus wrapped around his torso.

He idly stared at the flickering colours of laughter strobing across the chromatophores he could see.

“Gordon, you’re a shit.”

That, of course, only increased the mirth.

Virgil settled his mind and came to terms with the fact he was currently wearing a cephalopod and instead turned to problem solving.

The giant molluscs were quite fascinating. If there was one thing Virgil shared with his fish brother, it was a fascination with life in general, and because his brother spent so much time underwater, Virgil had done his fair share of reading on the topic. Unbeknownst to Gordon, Virgil found cephalopods quite fascinating, both in their communication methods and for painting subjects.

But then, this kraken was a whole different kettle of shellfish.

Virgil stood still for a few moments, waiting to see what his brother would do and, if he was honest, see if his brother would simply let him go.

The mental snickering pretty soon negated that response, so Virgil had to look for a more proactive retaliation.

He prodded a tentacle wrapped around his belly. It wriggled back at him.

Virgil was ticklish. He stifled the thought that his brother might take advantage of that while possessing eight arms.

He could lift. That would bring eight metres of black feathers into the equation, but Gordon was physically in contact with his mark, the feathers would likely phase through him like a piece of clothing.

A tentacle caressed his ribcage and he shivered.

He felt Gordon’s outburst of glee and before he knew it, all of those tentacles were moving, suckers puckering along his ribs and belly, a riot of tickle and tease. There was even one in his hair, its tip dangling in front of his eyes.

His brother’s maniacal mental laughter was all consuming.

Swearing, Virgil spun and leapt into the lagoon, the drop-off immediate enough to take the dive.

His world became a rush of bubbles.

Several tentacles came loose in the chaos and Virgil twisted in the water, hoping to dislodge the rest.

But the water was Gordon’s native environment, and the engineer didn’t have a hope.

The giggling was obnoxious.

Breath soon became an urgency and Virgil pushed towards the flickering light above. He surfaced with an octopus head bopping his nose. Somehow Gordon had slithered around to hang off his front instead of his back.

Virgil glared at his brother through the hair dripping in his eyes.

The head tilted and squirted water into his face.

“Gordon!”

Damnit, Kayo needed to show him some self-defence skills against cephalopods.

The thing was octopuses were strong, but their bodies were somewhat fragile and part of Virgil was worried he might hurt his brother.

Knowing Gordon, he knew that and was playing it to his advantage.

“Why are you doing this?”

Because I can.

Virgil didn’t need telepathy to answer that.

But there was a spark of something beyond the humour. Beyond the rain of sunshine sparkles there was a deep red, a welling of emotion his brother was reluctant to share.

A frown and Virgil reached out mentally to his little brother just that little bit more.

The octopus scrambled up his torso, over his face – to Virgil’s muffled protest – and perched on his head like a turban.

Virgil spat into the water and rubbed his face with both hands. “God, Gordon! Why?!”

But the answer wasn’t built with words, it was built with emotion and it suddenly washed over him.

An overwhelming need to touch, to hug and to feel.

But…?

Virgil reached for his cephalopod hat, but Gordon slipped off into the water with a splash and darted away.

Virgil dove to follow.

He didn’t have a hope in catching up, no matter his brother’s form, but it didn’t stop him from trying.

But Gordon had disappeared.

Damnit!

Oxygen became a necessity far too quickly and, yet again, Virgil cursed his inability to follow his fish brother.

Surfacing dragged his hair into his eyes.

How had he missed it? Gordon could be as in need of touch as Virgil was at times. How had Virgil not seen that his brother just needed a hug?

He mentally kicked himself.

“Virg, it’s not a thing. Don’t tie yourself in knots.”

He spun to find his little brother in human form treading water quietly behind him.

“Why didn’t you tell me you needed a hug? Hell, why didn’t you just give me one?”

Gordon snorted. “Is that a prescription, bro? You dispensing brotherly hugs?”

“I’m dispensing whatever works, Gords.” His head tilted just a little as he stared at his brother. “C’mere?” He held out his arms, his legs doing the best to keep him stable in the water.

Gordon rolled his eyes. “Don’t drown yourself.”

“Gordon…”

When his brother didn’t respond, Virgil took matters into his own hands and dove at him. The fact he was successful in grabbing a flailing leg proved that Gordon didn’t really want to escape.

A little manhandling and Virgil had his brother in the biggest hug he could manage. It was complicated by the fact that hugging was not conducive to swimming and if Virgil didn’t surface soon, he was going to start losing brain cells, but it was the best he could do with a wriggling fish brother.

Ultimately, it was Gordon who threw them to the surface with a spark of exasperation.

“Virg, I’m fine! What the hell?”

But the emotion bouncing across their connection told the truth. There was little but fondness and love for his silly brother.

“I’m not silly.” Virgil wrinkled his nose.

“Never said you were. However, you did nearly drown yourself trying to give me a hug.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Not.”

“Too.”

“Gordon!”

“What?”

Virgil glared at him.

Predictably, Gordon just smirked at him.

It was Virgil’s turn to be overwhelmed with fondness and love.

Gordon groaned. “Oh god, you are so soppy.”

“What? You’re my brother. I’m allowed to care.”

Gordon fell silent, and for a moment, those brown eyes just stared at Virgil.

Then he found his arms full of brother again. “Love you, bro.”

Surprised, but touched, Virgil’s arms tightened around Gordon and again they dipped below the surface.

Hugs were really conducive to drowning.

And disturbing to sleeping brothers as John startled awake with a rain of confused midnight stars.

Oops.

Virgil made to kick back up to the surface, but suddenly found his arms full of cephalopod again.

Damnit, Gordon.

The sparkling sunshine giggles were back and it was with resignation that Virgil kicked towards the surface.

Perhaps Gordon had a reason for the change and for the cling because when Virgil walked back to the villa and into the comms room wearing his rather heavy cephalopod brother wrapped around him, it brought Scott’s tirade of lecturing John to a sudden halt.

Both brothers stopped and just stared.

Virgil stared back. “What?”

“Is that Gordon?” Scott pointed with both hope and a little fear at the octopus back-pack headwear combination.

A tentacle poked at Virgil’s nose from his forehead. He ignored it and shrugged. “Gords wanted a hug.” He turned away. “I’m going to go have a shower.” An absent wave of a hand.

If his brothers stared as he walked out, he could only smile to himself.

The rain of sunshine laughter from his hat just turned his smile into a grin.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Virgil Tracy #Gordon Tracy #John Tracy #marks and wings

28 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

tapestry 👑 XXIX

Warnings: dark elements, dub/noncon sex

This is dark!(king)Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: King Steven had a wandering eye but you never thought it would fall upon you.

This Chapter: The royal court begins their yearly progress.

Note: Steve’s darkness is starting to show y’all but now we getting messy up in here!!! Hope y’all enjoy as I work my but off moving oversize tv’s and helping boomers buy tech they don’t understand. ✌️

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply! Love ya!

masterlist

The royal progress set off at dawn. The king rode his tall black steed as you sat in an open carriage with several ladies. He was just ahead of you with his most favoured men; Lord Barnes sat stiffly upon his golden gelding and only nodded when spoken to. You tried not to look at him and instead focused on the winding roads.

Behind the nobles and their painted carriages followed the servants, their mules, and wagons full of luggage. Marion sat on one side of you and Beatrice the other. Joan and Mary sat across from you. Rose had left a week earlier for her confinement with Lord Alan. You missed her calmness; her confidence.

You were tired. Not just from the king and his list, but for the dream that had ripped you back into consciousness. That of you on your knees, the swordsman at your shoulder, the jeering crowd before you. You looked up and found the king to be your executioner but as he swung his blade his features distorted and it was Lord Barnes who would plunge his steel through your neck.

Then you awoke in the dark. Steven snored beside you, his nakedness barely covered by the twisted blankets. Your own made you shiver as you pulled a quilt over you. You laid awake until he stirred and wanted what he did every morning past.

Your body ached at the thought. His endless desire consumed you and every waking moment. You prayed that travel would see him distracted.

He had, however, agreed to change the route of the progress upon your request. The night after your coronation, as you lay beneath his arm, you pet him and asked if he should let you visit your sister. He consented easily, sleepily even. But he remembered and Lord Edward sent word to his castle to have it prepared.

You stopped to eat at noon but pressed onto Priskham where Lord Reginald would host the first week of the progress. The estate was chosen for its proximity to the capital. It was dark when you approached the chubby noble's keep, the party was well worn from the day's ride.

There was a flurry as guards and servants set about unpacking and surveying the sprawling yard. As you approached the king, Barnes was near and looked up from listening to his companion's whispered comments. His blue eyes sparked and flicked away.

Reginald's staff greeted him and the lord welcomed you and Steven to his abode with a bow as he guided a servant to show you first to your chambers. The king took your arm as you were led to the doors and Barnes stepped around you decisively. You had only seen him in passing since that night.

You tried not to think about it. About the look in his eyes. Was it judgment? Hurt? Hatred? You didn't know what was worse; the spite when he deigned to look at you or when he would refuse to.

You let Steven guide you after the servant. The chambers were fine enough. A round receiving chamber with long windows and an attached bedroom with a large bed and narrow hearth. A finely woven carpet matched the deep red drapes and there were fresh rushes upon the floor.

It wasn't long before you were abed. The king closed the door between the chambers as you listened to the servants unload the chests in the next. You wore nothing but a sleeping gown and rolled onto your side. The sun and the spring air had tired you.

Steven laid down beside you and you pretended to doze, hoping he would leave you be. He shimmied against you and wrapped his arm around you. He was naked, you could tell by the prod along your rear.

"Are you so tired, my queen?" He cooed.

You grumbled as if awaking suddenly. "I am, I do apologize."

"You needn't," He rubbed his nose against your hair. "You may stay as you are…" His hand floated over your thin gown and tugged it up your leg. "...I shall do all the work."

"Might we not wait until the morning?" You yawned. "It was a rather long day."

He chuckled into your hair as he snaked his other arm beneath you. You gasped as his fingers wrapped around your throat. He pressed his body to yours as he squeezed.

"Why do you continue to resist me even when we are wed, hmm? You would feign sleep to evade me?" His voice gritted dangerously. "As if you do not enjoy it as I do. As if you do not want it." He gathered your skirt around your waist and pushed your ass back into him. "You are not the maiden you were though it does rile me to imagine it thus."

He pushed between your legs and forced you to arch your back. He guided himself between your thighs and his head poked at your entrance. He shoved himself inside and you let out a whimper. You were dry and he did not hold back.

"I do not… I do try to be a good wife," You grabbed at his hand and he held you tighter until you could barely breath.

"And so you will not deny me my marital right," He snarled. "Hmm? Waking or not I shall have you." He thrust sharply and you reached back to claw at his thigh. "So, while you might wish to rest it will not overrule me."

You were frightened as your vision sparkled and his hand did not move from your throat. His flesh clapped against yours as you heard a chest clatter atop another in the next room. He grunted as he carried on without heed to your struggles.

He turned you onto your stomach and smothered you against the mattress. He rutted into you as you found it harder to breathe with your face buried in the pillow. His weight and grip were worse as you suffocated beneath him.

The bed shook with every jerk of his hips. "Though you are just as delicious as our first night." He spoke into your hair as he plunged into you. "And every night hence."

The strength went out of you and you let him continue. It hurt but it would only be worse if you fought him. He grunted and groaned in your ear and sped up with each tilt of his hips.

He let go of your neck and pushed himself up with his hands on your shoulders. He pinned you as he pounded into you spasmodically. He let out a roar as he emptied himself in you.

He panted but didn't pull out as he lowered himself again. He rolled you with him back onto your side. He held you as his chest slowed. He hummed.

"Sleep now, my wife," He slithered. "You are learning." He pushed himself as deep as he could go. "But not quick enough."

👑

You awoke as the king pulled out of you. You slept heavily despite his lingering touch. You ached and felt cold without his warmth. Sticky too. Dirty.

He stood and stretched in the sunlight as it streamed between the curtains. He strode lazily into the bath chamber and emerged shortly after. He passed into the receiving chamber and returned with a silk robe around him. He offered you your own as he caressed your bare shoulder.

"I will send for our breakfast," He said as he stood straight and tied up his robe. "The men were hoping for a hunt today but there is time yet."

"A moment, husband," You rose and pulled on the robe.

He retreated and you went to the bath chamber to wash between your legs. The water was cool but soothing. You closed your robe and swept back through, fighting not to show how sore you were.

The king sat at the round table as he rubbed his stubbled cheek. His beard was growing back fast. You sat and flinched as it sent a pang through you. You tucked your hands into your sleeves and stared at the table.

"Go on, my queen , it will be a while before our food is readied," He pushed his chair out slightly and leaned back. "Serve your king."

You swallowed dryly as you stared at him. He grinned and spread his legs so that his robe fell apart.

"Kneel for me."

You stood numbly and nearly fell to your knees. You walked on your knees to him. You kept your eyes down as you braced his legs and drew close. His hand brushed along your arm and to your face. He cradled your cheek and made you look at him.

"I was only curious as to what you'd learned, wife," He taunted. "Very much, I see."

You blinked at him and sat back on your heels. He took your hands in his and raised them to his lips as he bent.

"Take your seat. We shall eat before we begin our day."

You slipped your hands away and grabbed the table. You stood shakily. Embarrassed. Your stomach roiled to think he would debase you thus to prove his grasp upon you.

You sat again and he pulled his robe back over his lap. He watched you and you tried not to shy away. Queen in name only, you reminded yourself, queen upon his whim.

👑

As you finished your meal, rather pushed your food around the plate tentatively, the king spoke but you found it hard to listen. He didn't care much as long as the topic remained on him. You nodded dumbly and smiled when he paused. And then a rap came at the door.

Steven rose and adjusted his robe. You made to stand and retreat but he waved you down. You sat back and checked that your belt was secure. He opened the door and welcomed his guest with a smile.

"You're early," Steven boomed. "All the better. We have only these weeks of progress for our plans."

Lord Barnes stepped in and barely seemed bothered by the thinly clad king. Then he saw you. His cheek twitched. He turned away quickly and looked to Steven.

"I can come back later--"

"You are here now," The king resumed his seat and drank deeply from his goblet. "We have some left if you should like a plate."

"I've eaten, your highness," He answered as he followed reluctantly. "I should hate to intrude, or interrupt even."

"Interrupt what?" Steve smirked. "I promise my queen and I won't sate our appetites on more than these rashers."

Barnes sighed and pressed his lips together. "You don't seem the mind for business, your highness."

"Pull up the stool and let us begin before I am not," The king said tersely. "Or do you mistrust my queen?"

"Of course not, I--" Barnes stopped and turned to grab the cushioned stool a few feet away. He sat and kept his eyes to the king. "You read the letter?"

"At least thrice," Steven answered. "We will end our progress early upon our visit to Edward's estate and then we can port at Shell's Harth and make our voyage to Asgard from there."

You bristled at the mention of the maritime city. What had been your last hope. That which the man who now sat prickly beside you had stolen.

"And you do not worry… that the country might not welcome the man who did see their princess executed?" Barnes ventured.

"The cardinals passed the sentence, Not I," Steven shrugged.

"And the queen you replaced her with?"

"A queen nonetheless." Steven assured. "Why? Do you worry for my queen so?"

"I only worry for our people," Barnes countered. "I should hate to offend a powerful land such as Asgard."

"They did consent to the ruling. I see no issue to be had. Do you?" Steven stared at the noble.

Lord Barnes tilted his head slightly and smiled. It was dry and hard-fought. “No,” He said thinly. “I only do my duty as your adviser and your friend.” He peeked at you from the corner of his eye. “As your queen does her duty and you do yours.”

“Always so loyal, Buck,” The king praised. “You certain you wouldn’t like a rasher? A boiled egg?”

“I have little appetite.” Barnes replied.

You slowly stood and clutched the front of your robe to keep it from drooping. “My king, I think I should go change for our discussion.”

“Nonsense, you are modest enough,” He pointed to your chair. “There is nothing I see which should heed the time needed for such.”

You lowered yourself back to the chair and let out a shaky breath. The king barely seemed to notice as he leaned on his arm. His other hand glossed over his lap and you didn’t miss the twitch. You prayed the nobleman hadn’t noticed. The way he stared ahead sternly, you wondered if he saw anything but his own irritation.

“King Thor did invite us to Asgard, not the other way around,” Steven declared. “I should think a greater insult would be to deny him. And to have my new queen introduced alongside me cannot be a greater opportunity for the realm.”

“I worry we do not have the time to prepare,” Barnes replied. “I know it can be done but to arrange the ships by autumn and all that would be required will be most taxing. Wouldn’t you rather make the voyage so that we might arrive in our best light?”

“If you know it can be done, do it,” The king said. “I’d rather have it done with and be back to my people by next spring.”

“Very well,” Barnes nodded and picked at his cuff. “Is that all?”

“Hmm,” Steven trailed his fingers along his chin. “I suppose… well, there was one other matter.”

“Are we to change our route again for this progress?” Barnes wondered.

“No, not again,” Steven smiled as he felt his stubble. “It is a matter of confidence… between the three of us.”

Barnes looked between you. His brow wrinkled as he shook his head at the king. “I don’t understand. I won’t say a word of Asgard until we are able to secure the vessels and I receive confirmation from the king.”

“I speak of a different matter.” Steven dropped his hand and played with the silk along his knee. “What you witnessed during the coronation feast… our little… tryst you stumbled upon.”

“I don’t--” Barnes blanched as he shook his head again.

“I did hear footsteps and it did occur to me who it must be as it was not long before that I did meet you previously in the corridor.” The king seemed all too pleased to make his closest friend squirm. And you too. “And while I have little concern for the people and their gossip, I should hope you wouldn’t repeat what you saw to another. Perhaps in hopes of defaming my new queen.��

“I have no such intent.” Barnes said. “I shall forget I ever saw it.”

You fidgeted in your chair. You could barely hold your head up as your cheeks burned. He had known and carried on. And he hadn’t said a word. Had he gotten off on the intrusion? There was little that did not arouse him.

“See that you do forget it,” The king warned. “Now, we are done.”

“Your highness,” Barnes stood and bowed, turned to you, and repeated himself.

He marched awkwardly to the door. With each step, he went faster and disappeared swiftly into the hall. The door clattered behind him and left you in silence. You looked to Steven as he stared at you across the table.

“You saw him,” He said. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I… was embarrassed, my king, and I did try to stop you but--”

“But you said nothing.” He insisted.

“I was… scared. My king, I know that I should have but I was unsure how to say it.” You slid forward on your seat as you beseeched him. “Are you angry with me?”

“Angry? No.” He was still smiling. “Because, my wife, I know you to be loyal and honorable to a fault. Isn’t that so?”

“Yes, yes,” You stood and whisked across to him. You took his hand in yours and kissed it. “My king, did I not save my virtue for you? Did I not swear myself to you? Did I not wait for you as you did for me?”

“You did, yes,” He turned his hand over and grabbed yours. He drew you between his legs as he looked up at you. He pulled you down into his lap and played with the silk trim of your robe. “It is not you who concerns me, my wife.”

#tapestry #Steve Rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #dark steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark fic #dark!fic #fic #series #au #medieval au #mcu #marvel #captain america #bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes

729 notes · View notes

pinkysfaultorbrainsfault · 4 years

Text

pinky and the brain - s1e6: brainania

i’m running on like the barest dregs of energy let’s fucking do this leeroy jenkins

episode summary: brain needs to build a Very Big Tumbly Drier. he needs a lot of money to build a Very Big Tumbly Drier. he decides the best way to do this is to.... invent a country and scam the us out of a foreign aid cheque.

hm.

the rundown:

it’s acme labs!

there it is.

as we zoom in a little, we hear pinky laughing maniacally at the very mention of tom ruegger, while a couple of women are dead on the floor.

hm.

SPEAK TO ME, PHYLLIS, SPEAK. as it turns out, things aren’t quite as dire as previously thought, as pinky affirms that brain looks “simply fetching.”

narf.

“these are the only garments i could obtain. and besides, you are no helen of troy yourself.”

ignoring the fact that he chose to wear the hat and the gloves as well, brain moves onto explaining his latest plan--

but not before giving pinky a static-y poke for his crimes.

“to generate global static cling, we shall construct a massive clothes dryer.”

BEHOLD.

THE TITANOCYCLE FOUR THOUSAND, WITH THREE SPEEDS AND AUTOMATIC WRINKLEGUARD. this will surely allow brain to.... trap everyone in their clothes via static cling and. uh. allow him to seize power...... somehow......... by putting everyone in a really big tumbledryer?????

it costs fourteen billion dollars.

“oh, i have it!”

“we build a huge tooth, leave it under a huge pillow, and then fairies will leave us lots of money!”

brain tells pinky to stop eating paint chips. it’s a well deserved response to pinky’s insane, bullshit idea, not nearly as dignified and scientific as Everyone Goes In The Big Tumbly Dryer By Brain Age Two And A Half.

as he heads off to ponder an Equally Sensible idea to get a lot of money, pinky assures brain that he will not “be a bother.”

“brain.”

“if i ate a hundred jelly rolls, would i explode?”

i don’t know why pinky is sticking his ass out. maybe that’s where the jelly rolls go, in the sense that whenever i used to eat cakes around my dad he’d often say something like “a minute on the lips is a lifetime on the hips”. (also? pinky is british, so what he actually means is jelly rolls, and that sounds disgusting.)

so anyway brain gives him a piece of paper and tells him to try origami.

BUT WAIT.

“pinky! are you pondering what i’m pondering?” “i think so brain, but why the bitch stacey foreign aid office is giving chad all the money while i’ve always been a nice guy and showed her a basic level of human respect is beyond me. narf.”

no i’m sorry. he didn’t say that. pinky respects women. also apologies to the residents of the actual country of chad. big ups to all of you. lol. (he actually says “but pantyhose are so uncomfortable in the summertime”, which is wild, considering this episode was aired in november.)

brain doesn’t want to wear the pantyhose.

well, maybe he does, but not right now. instead, he suggests that they form a bogus nation and demand reparations from the united states, which is, of course, easier, saner, and far less work than Really Big Tooth. as he folds the Chad Newspaper into a vague key shape (the Virgin Tabloid never had a chance) pinky points out that, uh

you can’t just invent a country, brain. “won’t people know we’re not a real country?”

“the average american’s grasp of geography is pitiful. they’ll think we’re part of the former soviet union.”

“or canada.”

so they pick a random, tiny island on the label of a Science Chemical and set off on the boat to Being A Coloniser Town.

a long sea voyage awaits us! and at the end, we shall found a nation! and that nation shall be called!

BRAINANIA.

“can’t we call it pinkyland? or eric?”

“don’t vex me, pinky, or i shall turn on you.”

so they get on the S.S FATTY LUMPKIN and bugger off to Island X.

“i haven’t seen anybody yet, brain. i guess we’re alone here.”

“excellent, pinky. it’s time to flesh out the terrain.”

“that volcano will be mount brain.”*

“this clearing will be brain flats,”

“and that water over there--”

“very well.”

“the fjord of pinky.”

and they hoist their adorable, homemade flag, while pinky doots them a little themetune.

(*perhaps when they’re not in the middle of the jungle.)

how lovely!

less lovely.

significantly less lovely. still, it got brain to make the little O:O face, so it’s not all bad.

as the mice are scooped up onto a sphere and presented in front of this presumably-maori gentleman, brain decides to put his White Gay From Los Angeles skills to the test, and reassures pinky that he will communicate with them in the Primitive Argot Of The South Seas.

ME NUMBER ONE FELLA. OTHER FELLA NUMBER TEN. CATCHY ALL SAME SAME. YOU SAVVY?

“good day, mate. d’you speak english?”

hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

anyway apparently this has happened often enough that these guys learnt english. from all the times it happened. and then they ate the guy they learnt english from and shrunk his head, but to be honest, i don’t blame them.

this is alan. “hello, alan.” says pinky.

“i would be pinky! and this is prime minister brain.”

“who is IN CHARGE OF THIS ISLAND AND EVERYTHING YOU SEEEE.”

“narf.”

sneaky bastard knows what he’s doing.

alan isn’t too happy with that, because the island belongs to the volcano god, whanganui,

WHO PROTECTS US FROM EVIL AND HAAARM AND WHAT ALL ELSE.

(i can find no evidence that whanganui is actually a god, as opposed to just A Bit Of New Zealand. if they are, i’m more than happy to go back and edit this as would be religiously considerate.)

this is the face of a man who knows he has fucked up.

still, brain decides yet again that his pride comes before any kind of rational decision, so he decides to tell them that whanganui sent him to the island to rule over them,

as proven by his fire powers.

(ETA: i missed this last time. why is brain carrying a lighter around? that episode isn’t for a good few more seasons yet.)

alan is unimpressed.

I CAN TRAP YOUR SOULS INSIDE THIS GLASS

“i can make bubbles with my spit!”

apparently this is a real talent on the island. who’d have thought. (they do not believe it to be a sign of god. it’s just really cool.)

so brain gets a hand building brainania.

it has everything one could possibly need.

actually pretty much as soon as the airport and the gift shop are built, brain heads to washington, so evidently he holds the strong opinion that this is everything a country could possibly need. odd. still, maybe he plans on adding stuff once he becomes world ruler, or whatever.

so with that established, The Most Exalted ned limpopo gets out of the car. hassan lembeck is also here. he is attempting to make an origami bird out of a newspaper.

no bird for you, mr lembeck. no bird for you.

they wander off to go and see mr bisck, who is currently playing with a little toy plane.

he reacts to the news that the prime minister of brainania is here to see him with “oh great, more moochers,”

and does not seem to take kindly to having tiny mice on his desk, even if they are reasonably exalted.

though a quick database search tells him said mice have no record of financial trouble, or, indeed, a credit rating, so. he tells them to go away.

“go away.”

okay. hassan doesn’t take this well.

as Exalted Ned Limpopo gently tries to persuade mr bisck that he could “harm negotations” between brainania and the us (a lot more politely than he usually explains things to people, may i add) hassan chimes in with a haven’t you people ever heard of bold claim that brainania, if slighted, will INVADE YOUR LANDS

GO BOOM BOOM BOOM

AND MAKE YOU ALL OUR PATHETIC SLAAAAAAAAAAAAVES.

mr bisck does not like this idea, it seems.

as he rushes off to tell the UN, brain informs pinky that he has

“just created an international incident.”

“oh, thank you, brain.”

“in the words of the immortal yogi bear, this is dejavu all over again.”

so the boys turn up on PUNCHLINE, WITH FRED FLUBBLE.

there he is. “perhaps you gentlemen would care to climb up on the desk?”

they make it, just about.

and sing a fun little song about brainania’s war victories, i guess.

WE WILL FIGHT AND NEVER QUIT

FIND ME A ROOFTOP AND I WILL SPIT. NARF

this is not well recieved by the us military.

unfortunately, as the US press secretary points out, the us cannot go to war with a country it can’t find,

(wuss.)

so instead the mice are invited to dinner at the white house.

“in a few short hours, pinky, we shall have our foreign aid loan, and then the world!”

“birdy birdy birdy! narf!”

“i sense much of this historic moment is lost on you.”

at the white house, a very bored looking individual introduces The Most Exalted Ned Limpopo (feat. hassan lembeck), and bill clinton shakes his hand.

“me number one fella. other fellas number ten. catchy all same same. you savvy?”

“i speak fluent english.”

“eyyyy. haha. sure you do.”

“all brainania ever wanted from the US was friendship. friendship, and fourteen billion dollars and fifty nine cents. the friendship i will treasure. the money i will spend on polo ponies and cruise missiles.”

brain has a brief discussion with hilary clinton over the advantages of strontium ninety versus uranium two-thirty-eight,

bill clinton pulls this face and tells them it Sounds Smart,

and the mice bounce merrily back to mr bisck to get their foreign aid check.

“you better not lose it, buster!!! i just erased your records!! you won’t get another one from me!!!!”

HA.

“one should be enough. thanks and farewell, “

“you niggling bureaucrat.”

conclusion:

upon returning back to brainania, The Most Exalted Ned Limpopo finds a letter from alan addressed to him. it’s also mouse sized, which is adorable. apparently, whanganui,

WHO PROTECTS US FROM EVIL AND WHAT ALL ELSE

is “blinking mad”, and the volcano is going to explode.

brain, obviously, does not believe in whanganui, and is mostly just mad that he’s lost his workforce. still, as pinky points out,

“at least we've still got brainania!”

“i sense life has taken another sardonic twist.”

still, they do, barely, have enough time to reach the shoreline and start swimming away from the imminently exploding volcano. perhaps it should have been, yknow, a pretty decent sign that the natives cleared out. historically, people who live in these places tend to know about them, but what of that when brain is number one guy same same you savvy.

🙄

anyway the karmatic response to all of that previous racism is that a tidal wave sweeps them back onto the volcano,

which then blasts them into space.

(okay not literally space. but they do end up on a little raft in the middle of the ocean. don’t ask me where the raft came from. i have no idea.)

oof.

“mother nature has slammed her unmerciful fist on our fair isle, pinky.”

“do you know what this means?”

“birdy birdy birdy!!!!”

brain does not appreciate Birdy Birdy Birdy.

“blast it, pinky!”

“i said, do you know what this means!!”

“it means you just ripped up our foreign aid cheque.”

one should be enough, huh?

brain: 7 pinky: 7 outside influence: 13

like, i don’t know. maybe pinky shouldn’t have been making oragami birds out of the foreign aid cheque. but, while silly, it’s not like it did any harm. brain.... brain just needs to chill.

“well, aren’t you the tiniest foreigners i’ve had in here all morning. i’m mr appleby, can i help you?”

“yes. we would like to have relations with you. and steal some milk duds.”

“we wish to establish diplomatic relations with the us. i am the prime minister, and this is my minister of finance.”

“brainania--? oh, i remember you. you used to be a.... suburb of prague.”

“can you prove you’re a nation?”

“yes! we have postcards.”

“that’s the fjord of pinky.”

“you foreign folk sure have your own.... queer little ways.”

#patb #pinky and the brain #i did not like this episose much but. i suppose it was like thirty years ago #bizarrely it's actually more respectful to the natives than a lot of cartoons at the time were which is #even worse actually.

29 notes · View notes

hypnoticwinter · 4 years

Text

Down the Rabbit Hole part 2

At first I don't know what woke me, but then I feel a buzzing somewhere on the bed and I grope around blindly for the phone until I find it and bring it to my ear. "Hello?" I say, feeling horribly groggy.

"Hi, Roan, honey."

"Dad?" I ask, sitting up straighter. I squint at the clock on the bedside table. It's not actually as late as I thought it was, only one in the morning. I yawn and crack my jaw accidentally. "Ouch."

"Are you okay? Is this a bad time?"

"No, no, I'm fine. What's up? Isn't it late there?"

"It's only two in the morning. Your mother and I just got finished watching a season of West Wing and I thought I'd call you, see how you're doing."

"West Wing is still going?"

"No, no, it's just the latest show we're watching. We just got through with season three. How are you, honey?"

"I'm good."

There's a brief pause.

"Yeah, you're good? I'm glad, I'm glad to hear that. We, ah, we think about you pretty often."

"Yeah, I think about you guys too. How's mom doing?"

"She's good, she's good. She got through with that last operation and, you know, she was really out of it for, ah, for a couple of weeks, but she's all rested up now and she's – she's doing a lot better."

"That's great, I'm glad."

I get up, slip on some sandals, and push the door open, making sure I've tucked the room key into my pocket, and let the night air swallow me up. I lean on the second-floor railing just outside my room and look up and down the row of rooms; ordinarily you'd expect to see at least one or two chain-smoking Latinos out there burning the midnight oil, at least judging by my experiences with similar motels in the past, but it's completely deserted, just like the rest of Gumption.

"What are you up to these days? Are you still working for that paper down in Corpus Christi?"

"Yeah, the Star-Tribune."

"How's that going?"

"It's good."

"Yeah? That's good, that's good."

Another silence passes. I close my eyes. "How about you?" I ask. "How's everything at the shop?”

"Oh, it's fine. I guess it’s car crash season, now that it’s summer. We’ve been very busy. I just wish it wasn’t so hot."

"You and everybody else."

"Right," he laughs. "So yeah, that's alright. It’s good money, at least, we’re bringing it in hand over fist. And then in a couple of months your mother and I are going to go visit Alan and Margaret in Louisville like we always do.”

"I keep asking you to get me one of those little bats and you never do."

"Well, I have five of them sitting in my closet back home, if you'd come and visit once in a while."

This conversation, as it usually does, is steering in a direction I don't much like. "Well," I say briskly, "I'm glad mom's doing okay. And you seem to be doing alright as well."

"I wish you'd call more."

"Well, you know, I'm busy."

"Too busy to call your parents?" he asks, and I roll my eyes.

"Well, you know," I start, but he sighs heavily.

"Forget it," he says. "I just wish you'd talk to us more."

I think, not for the first time, of the letter laying on the floor of my apartment, five hundred or so miles away. I lick my lips and try to ignore the cold drip of apprehension at the pit of my stomach. "Dad, I –" I start, and then I trail off.

There, below me and just barely out of reach of the tall streetlights, someone is walking purposefully into the desert, headed straight for the far-off smudge on the horizon that marks the Mystery Flesh Pit.

"Roan, I think we lost connection. Roan? Can you hear me?"

I hang up the call. I spend only a moment thinking before I hustle down the stairs and, quickly thumbing the phone to silent, head into the desert as well, my eyes glued to the bobbing pinprick of a flashlight there in the desert ahead of me.

I made the decision before I had a chance to rationalize it and talk myself out of it. I have my phone, I guess, so I'll be able to record audio, but the camera is still in my room, as is my good voice recorder. Keeping an eye on the light ahead of me I sneak the top of my phone out of my pocket and look at the battery; somewhere close to sixty percent, and I know the voice-recording app that I use eats the hell out of the battery, so I probably won't get more than thirty minutes of audio out of it.

I'm not dressed properly at all and while it isn't unbearably cold I know it's going to get to me after a while. I kick myself inwardly but I'm already about a half-mile out of town, and maybe a half-mile behind the guy, so there's no point to me turning back now. I stamp down the rising head of fear in my stomach – what if I step on a scorpion and it stings me? What if I run into that homeless guy from the drainage ditch and he rapes me?

That last one, at least, I think, would have its own form of justice to it.

Whoever this guy is, he isn't making any effort to hide his movements. Although it isn't quite sandy enough for me to be able to just follow his tracks, he isn't getting down to prevent himself from silhouetting starkly against the starry backdrop of the West Texas hills, and he isn't, as best as I can tell, checking to see if he's being followed. At least, the flashlight he's holding never swings around to point towards me, although I think I'm far enough away from him that he wouldn't be able to see me even if he did look back.

The walk turns into a trudge. It's a long way to the Mystery Flesh Pit; not an impossible walk, but long. I keep losing my footing and tripping over myself and more and more this seems to be becoming a bad idea. How am I going to find my way back? I turn and look behind me, hoping to see Gumption in the distance, but if it's visible it's behind one of the slumping hills we crossed about twenty minutes ago. I want to rest but clearly this guy isn't quite as tired as I am, despite it being...two in the morning already. Christ.

At least I have all day to try and track down the librarian's brother. I'll be able to sleep in, maybe take a bubble bath...assuming I make it back to the hotel safely.

Ahead of me the guy clicks off his light and I freeze; for a moment I think he's spotted me but once I squint I can make out that he's still moving ahead, just without the light now. Before I can wonder why that is, exactly, I realize that ahead of both of us, partially masked by the nearest hill, there's another, brighter light. I drop to my stomach as it turns and points in my direction, and I see the man I've been following hold up a hesitant hand in greeting.

I pull myself forward and up onto a sort of berm and see a small gathering of people, five in total, all centered around one man, holding a much more powerful flashlight than the man I'd been following had, one of those low-slung heavy-duty jobs. I squint harder, trying to will my eyes to work like binoculars.

The guy in the middle is talking, looking between the four others. From this angle their faces are shrouded in darkness, I can't make them out at all, but there's something familiar the one in the middle. I wonder if I've seen him in town somewhere, if I've walked past him on the street...

Oh. Of course.

The face I'm staring at clicks into place and I realize that the man in the center of the circle, looking around at the others seriously, like a leader, is the hobo I saw hiding in the drainage ditch on the way back from the Mystery Flesh Pit.

They're moving now, the light clicked off, all of them ducked down into a low crouch, the man who I'd thought was a hobo leading the way. I can't tell which of them is the man I'd followed now, they distance and the darkness has made them all too uniform for such distinctions.

We crest two hills like this, them leading, cautiously, stopping when the man in front raises his hand and going when he puts it back down again, myself trailing along behind, half-bent and cautious, before we slip over a third hill and I flatten down again, for there, ahead of us, is the tall, electrified fence surrounding the remains of the Mystery Flesh Pit.

There are fewer lights than I would have expected. They're dotted every hundred yards or so, tall imposing fixtures that provide wells of pallid, fluorescent light but leave great blistering swaths of darkness between. There's no trail or road alongside the outside of the fence, but I think I can make out one on the inside, wide enough for two cars abreast, perhaps. It seems utterly deserted. I wonder if I ought to have covered my face, to try and baffle any cameras there might be, but the group ahead of me doesn't seem to be concerned about that, so I put the thought aside.

We've come at the fence at an oblique angle, far away from the main gate, which I can just barely see in the distance, well-lit and secure-looking.

Between the moonlight and the lamps I should be able to tell what the group does from this hill. I sit down, dangle my legs over the side before drawing them in beneath me Indian-style; it's too cold for anything else. At least I have the sweater that I'd slipped on before taking that phone call from my dad outside, but my bare legs are freezing.

The group ahead of me hustles over to the fence, to a small boulder nearly resting against it, and the man in the lead sets the unlit black box of the flashlight down on the ground and rolls up his sleeves and then picks up the boulder and sets it aside. I blink at that but then I realize as it falls over and he reaches down to steady it that it's hollow, like one of those fake boulders they sell at Home Depot to put over utility meters and pipes and stuff in your lawn. Beneath it is...

I again feel that same prickly feeling working its way up my spine. I can feel my mouth drop open loosely.

Beneath it is a dark, yawning mouth of a tunnel, large enough, perhaps, for an average-sized man if he were to drop on his belly and crawl through it. The leader of the group turns to the others and gestures, saying something to them. He seems to be describing a long, crescent arc, and then he points downwards, and the others nods. He pats one of them on the back and stands up, away from the tunnel, and then, one after the other, the rest of them crawl through. When the last one is through, he puts the rock back, picks up the flashlight, and hurries away from the fence, heading straight towards me.

"Damn," I growl under my breath, looking around for a place to hide. There's a bush off to the left that might conceal me if I get behind it quick enough...

I scurry backwards as quickly as I dare while he walks towards the incline of the hill, still looking off towards the main gates, and then once I've put the lip of the hill between him and me, I roll onto my hands and knees and clamber behind the bush. Fifteen seconds later, as well as roughly thirty of my rushing heartbeats, I’m still waiting. I look around quickly, wondering if he changed his course, but I see nothing, the bare rocky hill face is utterly bare. I creep forward a little, as quickly as I dare, trying to look over the edge, but I can’t reach it without getting out from behind the bush entirely.

“God dammit,” I mutter, glancing around nervously. My heart is throbbing heavily in my chest but I try to will myself to calmness. He just - went another way. It only looked as though he were heading straight for me, that’s all. He went a different way, changed his mind, went to go get something. There’s nothing that -

From very close behind me I hear a small mechanical click that I immediately recognize as the cocking back of the hammer of a handgun. Everything goes very still and silent and I raise my hands slowly, not daring to look behind me.

“Get up,” a harsh male voice says. A flashlight clicks on and throws my shadow far out in front of me. I can feel my hands trembling; my jaw shakes as though I were frostbitten. I feel like I might throw up.

I slowly get to my feet. “P-please don’t -“ I start, but the man cuts me off.

“Hands clasped on the back of your head.”

I link my fingers together and do as he says. “I don’t have any money,” I tell him.

“This isn’t a robbery,” he says, and the stab of fear I feel twists, somewhere deep down inside of me.

“If y-you touch me, I’ll -“

“Shut up,” he tells me. “Start walking. That way.”

I glance back to see where he’s pointing and after a moment of hesitation, seeing no way out of it, I put one shaky foot in front of the other and walk.

* * *

After about fifteen minutes or so he tells me to stop. I’m still shivering, both from the cold and from the fear. We are very, very far out in the desert now; if he were to shoot me out here, probably I’d never be found.

“Turn around,” he orders. I do so, squinting against the glare of the flashlight. There is a long, long silence and then he sets it down at his feet. He’s holding the gun low at his hip. His finger is outside the trigger guard, I notice.

“I don’t have any money,” I tell him again.

“And I told you this isn’t a robbery,” he says. “Who sent you?”

“Who sent me?” I ask. The question doesn’t make any sense to me.

“Yes. Who was it, FBI? NPS? The Company itself?” I can see his dark eyes shift as he looks me up and down. “I must say, whoever it is, they pick some very underwhelming field agents.”

“Field agents?” I blurt. “You’ve got the wrong idea -“

“Look,” he growls, “there’s no point denying it. There’s no other reason for you to be following me out here. So let’s just cut to the chase. You know who I am. Who sent you?”

“I - I really have no idea at all who you are,” I tell him. I look at him very seriously, willing him to believe me, and I think I seem him falter a little.

“What are you doing out here, then?” he asks.

I open my mouth, then close it again. I shake my head. “It’s a long story.”

“Tell it.”

“I’m a reporter,” I tell him. “I found out about the Pit a few days ago and I decided to come down and see it. Stayed in Lubbock for a little bit, got some tips, some people to talk to, that kind of thing. Earlier today, I drove out here, took some pictures of the fence. Then this evening, I saw someone walking out into the desert beelining for the Pit, and I decided to follow him. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” he asks.

“Swear. I’m not - I don’t know who you thought I was, but I’m not here for you. I’m looking for some guy named Peter,” I laugh. “Apparently he works at the 7/11 in town, he used to be a ranger, he was there on the Fourth when the - when the disaster happened. I ran into his sister at the library in Lubbock, she tipped me off. Wanted to ask him some questions about it, maybe do an interview.”

The man is looking at me very strangely indeed. I shake my head. “I know it sounds crazy,” I say, “but that’s all I have to go off.”

“You’re looking for a man named Peter?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“Who works at the 7/11?”

“Yes.”

“Because you want to…interview him about the 2007 disaster?”

“Yes,” I say. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He stares at me for a while longer and then shrugs. “Well,” he says, tucking the gun back into his waistband, “you found me.”

* * *

"So how long did you know I was following you?" I ask. I take another puff of the cigarette and hold it, then let it out. He shrugs.

"I noticed one of my...guests had a tail, but I paid attention to you and you didn't act like a cop."

"I'm not a cop."

"I know."

He has a low, gravelly voice, but it has a mellowness to it that doesn't make it quite so unpleasant to listen to. He glances over at me every now and then but for the most part keeps his eyes glued to the fence, to the buildings beyond, to the vast expanse of desert within the fence beyond the buildings. He looks over at me. He has very dark eyes and a rough, coarse beard. He hasn’t yet apologized for pulling a gun on me but with the gun away I can feel myself relaxing a little, like this is a perfectly normal conversation and surroundings and time.

Peter takes a long drag on his cigarette and then examines it. His eyes cut over at me.

“Corpus Christi is a long way away,” he remarks.

“Not a very long plane ride,” I point out.

"Even so,” he nods. “Long way to go on a whim."

"I –" I start, and then stop, shrug at him again. "It didn't feel like it was real," I say, going through it slowly in my head. I need to make sure I have my story straight. "I had never, ever heard of this place before, and I grew up here. Not here here but in Texas. I thought it was a hoax or something but the more research I did the more I couldn't deny that there was something here."

"So you flew all the way out here to look at the fence and then go back?"

I look at him, wondering if he's getting at something. "I guess," I say after a moment. "I was thinking that maybe there'd be something here I could do a story on but it seems like all of this is ancient history now."

He laughs. "For some people it is. For others it isn't."

I look at him. "Why are you smuggling people inside the fence?"

He's silent for a moment. When he answers me it's with a question. "When you were doing all your research," he asks, "did you come across a recording of the news that day?"

"Yeah," I say, remembering it. "It was CNN, I think."

"What did you see?"

"Well...I saw a pit, full of blood, and all of the emergency vehicles, and –"

"Was it daytime?"

"Uh. Yeah, it was. Why?"

He looks at me significantly. "The disaster happened a little after midnight on the Fourth. That video was taken the next day, on the fifth."

I frown. "Wait..."

"That's right, work it out."

"Why wasn't there video of it that night?"

"Oh, there was. But it was never broadcast. Same as all the photographs journalists took that night, those were never published."

"What? Why?"

"Because of two things – first, the disaster was horribly mismanaged, and a lot of people died or got hurt who didn't need to, and secondly, because of something that happened later on, after everything was calming down."

"Which was?"

He licks his lips and looks at me. "You could just drop this and let it go. You weren't there, you don't have any connection to this place," he says, gesturing behind himself in the direction of the fence. "Least I don't figure you do."

"You're right, I don't."

"So why? Why bother?"

"I just found it fascinating. I wanted to learn more about it the moment I heard of it." I briefly relate the story of being stuck in the traffic jam and what lead me to make my way down to Gumption, and he shakes his head.

"I'll only tell you this once," he says. "You'd better get out of here."

"Is that a threat?"

"Not from me. But if you stick around you aren't going to like what you find."

I take a deep breath, let it out. I feel very calm, like a still lake is inside of me, untroubled by ripples. "Tell me what happened on the night of the disaster."

He shrugs. "About forty people who'd been injured and put in a field hospital right on the edge of the pit, after everything had died down, got up and walked to the Pit, got down to the orifice, and threw themselves in."

"What?"

"Just what I said. I don't suppose you found that fact in any of the research you did, huh?"

"No," I shake my head. "No, I didn't. But why, why did they –"

"I was there," he says softly. "I was in one of those field hospitals and I watched the woman in the bed next to mine get up, even though she had an acid burn all down her leg that would have made it impossible to stand without excruciating pain, and walk out the hospital. I couldn't move, they had me in a cast rigged up to the bedframe, I'd broken my leg getting out of the Pit."

"Did she say anything?"

"Didn't say a damn thing, didn't even look at me. She was walking like she was in a dream."

"Why did she do it? Do you know?"

"She felt it calling to her."

"Is that what that sign's about, over there by the gate?" I ask. He nods.

"Yeah. Used to be a lot of people would wander up, try and get in. That's why it's an electric fence now."

"How widespread is this?"

"Depends on how you look at it. Not very many people know about it. They took it off of the incident report that was released to the public, none of the newspapers or websites mention it. They’ve done a very good job of burying it."

"Why?"

"Why do you think?"

"Cause people would get scared," I mutter, more to myself than to him. "We like to think that we're special, that we aren't animals, but something that can manipulate our minds..."

"Exactly. So they just get rid of it, hope that nobody ever finds out about it."

"But if this many people go missing –"

"I don't think it affects everybody in the same way, or at all. The more sensitive you are, the more emotional, creative, and intelligent you are, the harder it hits you. But it might just be an obsession for a few months before it fades, or it might turn into a pathology, and those are the people who either can't take it any more and kill themselves, or they make their way here."

"And you let them inside the fence."

"Yeah."

"What happens to them, in there?" I ask, jerking my chin towards the Pit. He shrugs.

"One of two things. Either the guards catch them, in which case I don't know what happens to them, or they make it to the Pit."

"And?"

"And if they make it to the Pit, they either chicken out, if it isn't such a severe case that they literally can't any more, or they throw themselves in."

"And you help them do this?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Because if it's at that point, either way it'll be a mercy to them."

"What? How do you know?"

Peter chews on his moustache for a moment. I study him carefully. He looks…kind. It’s not what I had expected.

"I used to be one of them."

"What?" I say again. "I can't believe this story you're telling me, it's macabre."

"It's the truth. You're writing a story on this? Gonna put it in the paper?"

"I don't know," I tell him. "I thought I might but the more I learn the more I think I won't."

"Good," he nods. "They'll get you if you do. Bad idea."

"They?"

"You know. They. Capital T."

"The Powers that Be."

"Sure."

"So you help people kill themselves?" I ask. He doesn't look so threatening, now that I've been talking to him for fifteen minutes or so, but he's still a man and I'm a woman, he's still stronger than me just intrinsically, even without the gun. Stupid, stupid Roan, not taking any sort of weapon with her...not that I have one to begin with.

"It's more complicated than that."

"So it's about money?"

"Hell no. I don't take a dime from 'em."

"So tell me."

"This is your last chance to get out. You can go home, you aren't tangled in this yet."

"I'm not going anywhere."

He smiles then, and I smile back, I can't help it. There's a grinding sound, over beyond the fence, and we both look over; a Humvee is driving past, floodlight swinging back and forth along the fence. He nods. "That's the patrol. That means at least one of them made it to the Pit."

"They don't have regular patrols?"

"If you only knew what budget cuts have done to that place. See that fence? Ten thousand volts? They don't even power it any more. Too expensive. They leave all the signs up to try and dissuade people but it never works. All those cameras? Most of 'em are broken, or fake, I can't tell which. Too expensive. They're running on fumes in there. There's no research any more, no search for a permanent solution, they just keep the plant running to keep the thing asleep and keep taking the ballast out."

"Ballast?" I blurt. “They’re still taking it out?”

“Of course,” he says, giving me a look. “Not like they’re going to stop making a buck off the thing if they can help it.”

“I read online that they’d stopped taking it out,” I mutter. “Where does it go?” I ask. “If they’re taking it out.”

He shrugs. “I can’t say for certain. I think probably it goes to the highest bidder. And to my understanding, those bids can get very high.”

“Okay, but -“

Peter shakes his head. "It ain't safe out here. We'll talk tomorrow, alright?"

I nod. "Okay. How will I - ?"

"Come by the 7/11, it's dead all night, guarantee it. We can talk about whatever you want. Just…be careful."

“Of what?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Just - be careful. Don’t let anybody else know why you’re here. That’s all.”

“What do you mean - ?“

“Not now,” he says, then he gets up, starts to walk back towards town. "Come on," he says, turning back around when I don't move. "It isn't safe out here this late," he repeats. "I'll guide you back to town."

We walk in silence for a long while. I shiver to myself quietly, staring at Peter’s broad back. “You know, I didn’t think this little adventure would go like it did,” I mention. Peter lets out a little snort.

“How did you think it’d go?”

“Um. I guess I didn’t think much about it at all.”

“You ought to be more careful,” he tells me, glancing back at me. “I mean, following a stranger out into the desert is a pretty bad idea, no matter how you look at it.”

I swallow hard, try and give him a flippant shrug. I think I don’t make my eyes as insouciant as I’d like; I can see his gaze flicker up to mine for a moment before he turns back around and keeps walking. “Good way for someone to hold you up with a gun,” I suggest, and he laughs.

“I’m sorry about that,” he says. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just thought that you must have been on to me, I figured you were from the National Parks Service or the FBI or something.”

“Would you have killed me if I was?” I ask, eyeing him. He stops.

“I’m not a killer,” he says.

“What would you have done, then? If I was?”

“I don’t know,” he admits after a moment. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

I just shake my head and keep walking. Peter follows me after a moment.

“Did my sister say anything?” he asks after a while. “When you met her in the library, I mean. I know it must have been her you talked to, nobody else would have known to send you to look for me.”

I think about it for a moment. "She's sorry," I tell him.

"She told you to tell me that?"

"More or less."

"More or less?"

"Well, she told me that if I mentioned she'd sent me looking for you you probably wouldn't tell me anything."

He laughs at that, long and mirthless. "Yeah, that's my sister," he says. "Come on."

The walk back to town is long and cold and surprisingly scary, considering that about halfway through we heard what we both thought was a cougar (mountain lion, catamount, puma, painter, shadow cat, panther...) off in the distance and we both froze. I felt myself huddling closer to Peter, grievously aware of the goosebumps pebbling my legs and arms. We looked at each other for a moment then said nothing. I hoped he wouldn't get the wrong idea.

I try to say something to him when we get back to the motel but he just looks at me and nods and walks off. I realize I don’t know what I was going to say anyway. Eventually I call after him.

"Hey, what time tomorrow?"

He turns around, still walking, and shrugs. "After five," he calls back.

"You want me to bring anything for you?"

He frowns. "Like what?"

"I don't know, dinner?"

Peter waves his hand. “Do whatever you like,” he says, and then he passes around the corner and is gone. I start to yell something after him but instead I just shake my head and go back up the stairs to my room. Inside I flop into bed and then roll over onto my back, stare up at the popcorn ceiling lurking ominously above me, blow a long breath out.

I have two missed calls from my dad, back from when I put the phone on silent, right before I began this whole adventure. I double-tap the icon so that it calls him back, and then after a second I shake my head and hang up the call.

“Fuck it,” I say out loud.

Then I roll over onto my side and try to sleep.

Continue with Part 3

Back to Table of Contents

#writing #mystery flesh pit

32 notes · View notes

fridlyckans0 · 3 years

Text

Training Your Dog Humanely: Part One

Welcome the Dog to the Human World

Have you ever watched The Dog Whisperer and thought, 'Wow, that guy is amazing! What a great way to train a dog!" I know I have many times. Cesar Milan teaches one basic principle about dogs - a dog is a pack animal by instinct. According to Cesar, your job is to become the pack leader, a dominant Alpha male/female with 'balance'. I guess by 'balance' he means you should treat the animal fairly, as they would expect to be treated in a wild pack. He gets very good and fast results with this method. I won't say it's a bad method, but it's not the way I choose to train my dogs and here's why.

There's one thing very wrong with the 'you're the pack leader' concept - it assumes the dog inhabits a dog's world, and for you to control it, you must behave as a dog would, the Alpha male or female of the pack. For the majority of dogs who are family pets this means the owner will treat the animal as though it had only instinctual processes going on in its head, no rational thought processes. To refute that thinking go and watch these two short videos of Lucy's behavior: Lucy Remembers Her Ball and Lucy and The Vacuum Cleaner (links appear at bottom). A dog does not inhabit a dog's world unless it's in a pack of dogs, roaming the wilderness like a wolf, bringing down prey and sharing its kill. This is not your dog. Your dog wouldn't chase its supper if it went hungry for a week! It would no more kill a raccoon and rip its flesh apart than would your six year old child! If you do have such an animal it's a sure bet that it's a dangerous dog, one that causes people in your neighborhood to cross the street to avoid.

If you become the pack leader, you've descended into the dog's world. Having done so, the dog will integrate well with other dogs, live in a pack happily, know its place in the human pack, and generally behave well, but it won't reach its full potential. When you adopted the dog into your family, you didn't decide to become a primeval growler, (which can work if you have the cahones to back up the threats), you decided to introduce an animal into the human world. As the two videos show, Lucy is an animal with human-like tendencies developed to the full potential of her smaller dog brain. She, like 99 percent of dogs today, belongs to a family, has been introduced to human concepts, and lives in a human world. It's better that you train your dog to live well in your world, rather than you in its, for the sake of the dog and yourself. You will have a much better companion, and so will the dog. The dog will learn to love humans above dogs.

Lucy is a thinking dog. Lucy will position herself at the ready depending on where a person places their foot behind a ball. She correctly anticipates which way the ball will be propelled by the positioning of the foot. She also cheats quite badly, arriving at the destination of a tossed toy before it gets there. Her brain has computed where you're likely to throw or kick an object. Lucy knows which way you will kick a ball simply by shifting your weight from one hip to the other, without even moving your feet! Better than a goalie in football (soccer).

Lucy knows several hundred concepts and commands, from Jump In The Boat, to Don't Go In The Street. She rarely plays now but when she was younger I would throw her ball into the street (a rural highway) and when she realized the ball had gone out of reach, rolling into forbidden territory, she would put on the brakes and stop before crossing an imaginary line. That line used to be a piece of yellow rope lying across the driveway about 20 feet from the street. After she learned the concept the rope was taken away, she was allowed to go out to pee on her own; I could trust her not to go past the imaginary line. That concept, Don't Go In The Street, is central to a dog being able to live happily in the human world. It's the difference between a deer or a raccoon crossing the road and your pet's thinking. It has learned that highways (a human construct not appearing in the dog pack vocabulary) are very bad.

Dogs have rational thought processes. Dogs have emotions. Dogs also have a conscience. Dogs learn to love. Dogs have language skills and can understand about five hundred human concepts with words. None of these things are in a puppy when you get them, they are learned behaviors.

A dog cannot do differential calculus, that's obvious, but it can reason out how to manipulate an owner into giving it food. Lucy was given a treat every time she asked me to go pee outside. If she gets slightly hungry, she has learned to ask to go outside, wait for thirty seconds and then come back in the house to get her reward. She will do this every hour or so until I've clued in and watch her. If she doesn't pee, the rewards stop, and so does the manipulative behavior since it's now a waste of time. But that shows you a dog can manipulate people. It isn't surprising really; a dog manipulates its owner many times during the day. If you rattle its leash, it will waken from a dead sleep and circle, pant and bark at the thought of going for a walk. That is doggy manipulation. The dog is saying how happy they would be if they went for a walk, and you're feeling guilty already if that wasn't your plan.

So higher reasoning aside, what can a dog do? It can learn. A dog can learn so many things you'd be surprised. If you simply teach it what it needs to know to function well in a human world, it would knock your socks off. Every day that Lucy and I wake up, we tell each other with hugs and kisses how happy we are that we have each other. Lucy loves humans, so much so that she almost ignores dogs. Can they make her food for her? Can they throw her ball? Her stick? Her little teddy bears?

There's a Border Collie in Germany that can remember any one of two hundred and fifty toys. Alan Alda of Mash fame visited this dog for Nova on PBS. The dog has all her toys in a big pile in one room. In another room she is shown a miniature sample of the desired toy (about one fifth scale). The dog leaves, enters the room with the massive pile of assorted frogs, teddy bears, squirrels, puppets, dolls, devils, Muppets, rummaging around and returning quickly, and surprisingly, with the correct toy. She does this flawlessly, even when it's a new toy that she's never seen before.

But once you've taught that dog human concepts, it's no longer a canine - it's a Canine Sapiens, a hybrid between dog and Homo Sapiens (which is Latin for Thinking Man). It cannot happily go back to the pack. Without wishing to conduct such an experiment, I went to England for two weeks and Lucy went to the kennel. The kennel belongs to a reputable breeder and Lucy had her own 'penalty box' (cage) placed inside a three by six foot kennel. There were other dogs there so you'd think she'd be fine, but these were 'Pack Dogs', dogs that the breeder keeps solely for breeding. One barks, they all bark. One runs around the yard, they all run around the yard. Lucy was having none of it, and their primitive antics had her stressed out. When I returned to pick her up she went wild with joy! She ran around the truck about ten times barking, crying, tail wagging, face licking, and all manner of expressions of love. I began to speak with the breeder about England but Lucy jumped into the truck through an open door and barked her head off so loud that she could not be ignored. "I guess I'm being summoned," I told the breeder. Man, was she happy to get out of there!

This is why several universities in the U.S. have stopped teaching gorillas and other primates American Sign Language in doctoral theses. Once the studies are over the animals are returned to cages in the zoo. No more riding around in cars for you! No more ice cream cones for you! The animals, now capable of reasoning to a degree, are back in cages languishing for the good old days with their human friends, unable to relate to the other primates around them. The universities have decided that it's unethical behavior to abandon them once they've formed attachments to their trainers. You need a PHD in behavioral psychology to figure that out?

It can be frustrating to try teaching a dog an advanced concept. If you find yourself yelling or getting frustrated with the dog simply back off. Stop. The problem is too complex for her present state of understanding and she doesn't know what you want. The solution is to break the problem into smaller steps. You didn't learn algebra before you learned to count, add, subtract, divide and multiply. You didn't learn to multiply until you learned to add the same number three times to itself. Dogs have similar minds to humans, except that they're somewhat limited in potential. But if you give the dog credit for being able to think with the ability of a three year old child, you'll be surprised at what they will learn.

Your dog has a conscience. How do I know this? Your dog dreams, which is a sure indication of a bifurcated mind with a conscious and a subconscious. The dog dreams after having a good day, or a bad day. When they've had a good day, they fall asleep and within five minutes enter the REM phase of their sleep pattern. REM stands for Rapid Eye Movement, and it happens almost right away in dogs. In humans it takes about an hour and thirty minutes. During REM sleep the dog can be whining, barking, chasing, wagging its tail, eating, chewing, swimming. You'll recognize a dog who is dreaming when you see it, trust me, but what that dream indicates is that it has a subconscious mind that's free to relive the experiences of the day. If it has a subconscious mind then it must have a conscious mind, because you can't have one without the other, unless it's in a coma.

if you need more information fridlyckans kindly cheakout our site.

1 note · View note

carryonmywaywardwriters · 4 years

Text

One Day At A Time - Jensen x Reader

A/N: Part Five! I jumped on to edit tags, so have it half an hour earlier than it was queued for. If you’d like to be tagged, please send an ask or message. As always, feedback is incredible. And, I hope you all enjoy <3

PSA: I am NOT a minor friendly blog. If you are below 18, please come back when you’re older. I don’t want to lose my blog because you were too eager to grow up. If I discover you, I WILL block.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Widower!Jensen. Unrequited feelings. Sexual awareness. Guilt. The usual, at this point. We’re about to pick up!

Word Count: Roughly 2,800

“Papa Ackles!” You were hugged by the older man, tightly when you opened the door. The name had been adopted by you teasingly and had somehow stuck for the one and only Roger Alan Ackles. He liked to kid that his son was the prettier of the two, but the family resemblance hadn't been spared. Namely in that smile. Then there was the crinkles by his eyes. His genes were every bit as present as his wife's. “I didn't know you were coming over. Is Donna here, too?”

“Nah, she's busy checking in on Mackenzie.” A wink sent your way made you chuckle. You could only imagine the drilling the younger sister was busy getting from the sweet, mother hen. “Is my boy busy, or can I bug him for a bit?”

“He's in the pool with the kids.” Your thumb pointed towards the back, as you opened the door further to allow him inside.

“And why aren't you out having fun, too? Too old?” To the patriarchal figure, you weren't a housekeeper and nanny mix. You were part of the family and that was that. And, it was his and his wife's duty to look over the herd. Which meant you weren't spared from the loving questionnaires. “My son overworks you.” He knew it wasn't true. Was just trying to get a reaction. You simply tsked, not taking the bait as you got back to work. “What're ya working on today, missy?”

“I'm only thirty. Who're you calling old, Pops?” You teased, lifting up the laundry basket you'd set out. You'd gained the response you wanted. That tossed back, full bodied laugh his son had inherited. If it ever came to you leaving? You'd miss that over exuberant old man. “And this?” The laundry basket was kicked forward a bit for emphasis, “This is the last thing I've got queued up. Now, go harass your son. He'll love it.”

A pat to your shoulder and an affectionate kiss on the cheek left you alone as he moved down to the pool room. You knew the moment the kids had spotted him. The echoing 'papa's sounding loudly up the stairs.

You moved down to the old cellar to pick up the discarded clothes from the kids. Or so you told yourself. It had nothing to do with the desire to be one of them. Nothing at all.

There wasn't even ten minutes of peace that passed before another, younger, Ackles invaded your alone time. A still damp Jensen walked in, rubbing his hair with the towel. Shirtless and completely at home in his skin when away from the camera, he padded over to the wine cellar. Searching out his favorite stash. You wanted to believe that you were strong enough to not lift your gaze away from the cleaning repeatedly. But, you weren't.

The sinewy muscles across his arms and back were outlined as he moved. He could be a little shy about the less than chiseled belly, but he had no reason. Mouthwatering still accurately described the being in front of you. Small drops of water trailed down as he grabbed two beers from the mini fridge he'd installed some time back. His swimsuit was dry enough to not drip, but damp enough to cling to the curve of his ass.

Every fan girl's wet dream was less than a foot away. And you couldn't touch. Shouldn't have even looked.

As he turned back around, you forced yourself to stare down at your hands. Not letting the lust you were sure was obvious anywhere near his eyes. “You're not gonna visit?”

There. That I can handle. With a shaky breath, you yanked your mind off him. Back to reality, instead.

“No,” You answered easily, folding the little dinosaur shirt that Zeppelin had almost destroyed neatly. “I already said hi.”

A low hum was all you got for a moment. Leaving you to believe that was the end of the discussion. But, he hadn't walked away.

“Are you alright?” The troubled question took you by surprise well enough that your head lifted. That was a mistake in itself. It left you to stare temptation down. “You've been...different.”

“I...” Clearing your throat didn't get the lump out of it when that bearded, overly attractive bastard's unreal pine gaze seemed to bore into your very soul. “I'm...I'm fine.”

“No, you're not.” That finally gave you the strength to jerk the pile of clothes upwards as he set down the beverages. Before you could make it out of there, a hand gripped around your arm. You froze at the firm touch. “Y/N...what's going on?”

His hand was ice cold from the both drinks and pool. You shouldn't have felt so warm. Yet, the contact made your blood pump faster. Looking down, his fingers weren't tight enough to leave marks. Simply catch your attention. And, boy, did it.

Breathlessly, you finally found your voice, “Let me go, please.” You were dropped as if he'd been burned. You knew the feeling well. The flesh he'd touched felt as if he'd branded you. “I said I'm fine.”

“Did...Did I do something?” He was trying to understand the distance that had sprung up over the past few weeks. His tongue wet his lips as he stared you down. Only making it harder to focus.

Even with the kids, you seemed to have taken a step back. They assumed you weren't feeling good. He was just clueless. As often as you were there, and as much as he knew, there was still a whole lot of empty resting between you two. It could have been anything.

“No.” That didn't help him piece it together, any. He wanted to know. Needed to. “Look, I'm okay. I just...I need to finish this up.”

Your eyes continued to evade him. Seeking a way out. As if he'd held you trapped in his home. Immediately, he wondered if that were the case. You hadn't said anything. But you wouldn't. He knew that beyond doubt.

“Look, the kids and Pops were hoping you'd join us back there.” He pointed towards the door. Hoping that the old man could see past your guard. Get you to open up. “You can take a beer. Wind down a bit. Socialize with someone other than us.”

Arguing the point was useless, then. Unless you wanted to look like an ass, anyway. Jensen, bless his heart, was truly unaware of what was plaguing you. Even if half the world seemed to see right through the wall.

His obliviousness was both endearing and maddening. The loyalty to his late wife so sweet that it ached. Blindness to you? Scalding. Even though it never should have mattered.

“Okay,” Your shoulders wilted as you said it, making him frown further. Settling on the defeat. So confident that he'd solved the riddle.“Give me a minute and I'll be out there.”

“About time!” Roger boomed, drawing eyes your way.

You'd taken your time about it. An extra few minutes to clear your head. Long enough that everyone acted as if you'd been gone for weeks rather than had a few extra moments to yourself. Kids chattering all about; beyond excited that one of their favorite humans had finally decided to join them.

“Yeah, but I brought food.” The tray you carried held chicken salad sandwiches, some fruit, and some more drinks. It gave you the out you'd needed. “It's excused.”

“You keep this one around,” Papa Ackles hummed happily as you set the tray down in the middle of the large picnic table that rested on the perfectly manicured lawn. Rubbing his hands dramatically as he dug in.

The kids joined in, but Jensen waited. His eyes latched on you as you sat across from him. Careful not to bump your legs with his bowed ones. As if a single touch were more than you could stand.

You tried to ignore him. Focusing on the munchkins that were determined to make up for lost time. Talking with mouths full. Spraying water from their bodies everywhere as they fought for their feast. Not the food. But, your attention.

Texan sun beat down on your back. Hot and heavy in only the way the south could accomplish during the summer. Scalding through the clothes. You slipped the flannel you'd been wearing down over your arms as you managed a slightly average conversation with the older gentleman over the desperately goofy children.

The sun kissed skin wasn't anything that Jensen hadn't seen before. Yet, he found himself gazing over it as you patted down his curly coated dog. Imagining himself burying his face against the place where your neck met your shoulder. Pressing a kiss to the pulse point that would be racing. It was so vivid that he couldn't quite shake it away.

What the fuck? He came to his senses as you tossed the shirt over to the chair at the end of the table that had his clothes. However, it was soon lost when he focused on the pile. All he could picture was the bare skin meeting just as fabric had under the sun. Maybe Cliff is right...maybe I do need to get laid.

His body couldn't agree more as it awakened for the first time while he wasn't buried in his subconscious. The cold water that still clung to him doing nothing to slow his blood. A mistake in the making.

His mind tried to rationalize it away. You were too young. A young thirty just that year. There was the fact he was technically your employer. You'd been his wife's friend, for fuck's sake. A million reasons why it would never work. Yet, the longer he sat there, the more he found himself studying you.

There was the curve of your neck that came into his line of vision when you turned to address Zeppelin on one side, or Arrow on the other. The way the top of your breasts peaked out of the tank top as you leaned over to pour some homemade lemonade for J.J. How soft your legs were against his when Oscar knocked under the table.

“Jensen,” His name was said in confusion. Not the feminine, lust hazed moan he'd imagined. Slowly, he blinked away every piece of carnal sin that lined his deprived brain to stare at his future face. Roger didn't hesitate to investigate. “You okay?”

“I'm good,” The crack of his all too high voice said otherwise, but you didn't call him on it. Instead, you simply frowned a bit before excusing yourself. Making him feel ever the heel.

–

“Night, love.” You whispered back to Zeppelin as you shut his door. Sighing in relief. Everyone's worried gazes were getting to you. As if you were going to fall apart at the slightest inconvenience.

Sneaking out the back, you practically ran to your escape. Only to be caught by a looming shadow. There wasn't time to scream before the fuzzy beast beside him made it clear who it was.

“Can we talk? Without the kids, around?”

“About what?” You wheezed, holding your hand over your heart. Still trying to recover from the shock. There wasn't an option given. Instead, you were dragged to your home by your wrist. “What the hell is up with you?”

As soon as your door shut and light flicked on, he got down to business, “I could ask you the same thing.” Oscar danced around your living room. Sniffing the aquarium housing the clawed frog as he ignored two of his favorite people. “What's going on, Y/N?”

“Nothing.” You shrugged out. Refusing to make eye contact.

“Right...Okay, let's approach this differently.” That made the E/C sweep back his way. Distrust lining them. “My name's Jensen...not Mr. Ackles.” The commanding tone went straight to your ovaries as he stepped closer. Looming over you as he made his point.

“Really? Because right now? All I see is Dean Winchester.” The sass fell short as you caught your breath. Swallowing tightly, you got to the point. Hoping it would give you some space. “You want the truth?” A simple, stern nod was your only response. “You were right.”

“On what, exactly?”

“You're all about to switch up your lives completely, Jay.” Heavy defeat seemed to line your face as you backed away. Plopping on the couch in clear exhaustion. The poodle mix waddled your way. Reaching up to sniff your cheeks while his owner stared in utter confusion. “You're going to have all the time in the world....and...You guys aren't going to want me around, forever.” Your fingers pulled out a small knot in the coat you'd brushed just that moment. “It just seemed easier to back off, now, than to just walk away later.”

“Huh...” As he processed what you said, he turned away. Looking back around the room. Taking in all the pieces of you for the second time. “You really think those kids,” His fingers pointed to a selfie they'd taken with you, “are just going to let you walk away because I'm home more?”

“They have you,” Was shrugged out. As if it were really that simple.

“Yeah...but they want you, too.” Your head bowed at that. You'd known they had. But, that didn't mean it had to last forever. “I didn't mean to make you think that the ending changed...this.”

“It does, though.” The words were soft, but sad. Tearing through the air like a bullet as you focused in on the dog. “I'm a nanny...that's it. The second you're done? My job isn't as important. You can take on the brunt of it, and still be fine.”

“If you were just a nanny? I wouldn't be here right now.” Slowly, your gaze lifted. “Hell, Y/N...even if you decided to leave on your own? That door'd always be open for a visit. You've gotta know that.” Something in your eyes said you hadn't quite believed him. “Not everyone is just going to boot you out and never look back.”

“It doesn't feel that way.” The vulnerability on your face was unexpected. Jensen didn't bother to hesitate. Plopping down beside you. His arm flung around your back. Tugging you into a friendly hug. “What're you doing?”

“Trying to get past those feelings,” He huffed out. Resting his chin on the top of your head. “Besides...pretty sure my dad loves you more than me.” The small laugh against him made his lips kick up. “If I tried it? He'd off me.”

“You're probably right,” A gentle sigh left your lips as you held on tightly for a moment. But, then, you pulled back. “Thanks...I needed that.”

“Anytime, Y/N...” A short whistle followed. Immediately, the doodle turned tail. Diving to his owner's command. “And...I was thinking.” His hand stilled the squirming beast as he moved to open the door. “Maybe you'd wanna help me take the kids out. Laser tag, family night?”

“Count me in.”

–

“We're all ready,” Your hands pressed on your hips as you looked over the packed up SUV. Filming was about to begin. And with it? Would be the announcement. Things were speeding up and no one quite knew what to do with it all.

It had taken over a week to get everything ready. The kids had stayed with Danneel's family while you and Jensen worked on packing up for them and the dogs. You stocked up for the house sitter while Jensen finished rounding up the heathens. And then? It was time. You were all due to meet Jared at the airport.

“It's kinda bittersweet,” Jensen stepped up beside you as the kids fastened their seat belts. Awaiting their annual trip to Canada. The dogs wagged their tails eagerly from inside. Crowding in a fashion that screamed all American family.

“Focus on the sweet,” Your fingers squeezed his arm. An action that was nothing more than a way to express empathy before your name was cried out from inside. “And, that's my cue. You got the last bag?”

“Yeah, I got it,” A crooked smile made his stomach twist. A problem that hadn't ebbed since the day at the pool. As you climbed in, he focused a little too long on the way your shorts rode up when you bent over to help Arrow buckle up. Jensen shook his head before lifting the final bag. “You're losing your damn mind, Jay...”

“Sure as shit,” Cliff barked beside him. Making him jerk in surprise. “But, what's new?”

A glance your way seemed to catch the security guard's attention, “We'll talk later.”

Part Six

ODAAT: @winchester-ofthe-lord @smoothdogsgirl @ima-be-a-mongoose @briagallen @agusdoti @my-proof-is-you @thevelvetseries @blacktithe7 @sucker-for-dean @deanwinchestersmydaddy @sociopathtime @deans-baby-momma @aomi-nabi @brandinicole911 @demonqueen47 @c-ly-g @bakabozza @socalgem1124 @hillface89

Dean/Jensen: @akshi8278 @screechingartisancashbailiff @woodworthti666

Forever: @dean-winchesters-bacon @supernaturalginger @lilulo-12 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @michaelneedssomemilk @lemondropirwin @fanfictionismydeath

#supernatural #SPN #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #Supernatural angst #spn angst #supernatural reader insert #spn reader insert #Jensen Ackles #jensen #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen fanfiction #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x y/n #jensen ackles x you #jensen x reader #jensen x y/n #jensen x you #jensen x danneel

213 notes · View notes

aestherians · 4 years

Note

Hello! Do you know of any winged humanoids from folklore or mythology, apart from angels? I've been trying to figure out my kintype for a while now, and I have a strong and yet hard to explain feeling that I was a winged humanoid of some sort. I've considered angelkin and even faekin, but neither of them felt right. I apologize if this isn't the right place to ask - I love your blog and have found all your information very useful, so I figured I might as well ask here just in case. Thanks!

Disclaimer before I get into this: Please get your back checked out to make sure what you’re feeling isn’t actually tension. If you slouch or sit down a lot or wear a backpack, there’s a good chance you have built up some tension in your shoulders. This can often feel similar to phantom wings. If you feel any kind of pain, definitely see someone to fix your back, cause that’s not normal or healthy. Even if there’s no pain, there’s still a good chance it’s tension.

Okay so. My immediate thought is Apkallu, which are demi-gods or protective spirits from ancient Mesopotamia - most a fish-people, but some are bird-people with either just wings or wings and a bird head.

Most winged people in mythology are specific people, like Icarus or Garuda. And most winged species (i.e. not specific people) are far more bird than human, like Harpies and Kinnara.

There are also several mythological creatures who have no defined basic shape, like the Jotun, who can look like literally anything. Regular people (Skadi), birds (Hræsvelgr), horses (Svadilfari), giant snakes (Jormungandr), and mermaids (Margyge). If I recall correctly, Jinn are kinda the same (except very tied to fire and smoke, and more often specifically depicted with wings). I’m sure more creatures like this exist in a lot of cultures, but Jotun are the only ones I’m really familiar with.

I have a few creatures that could fit your description:

Anemoi - Gods/personifications of the winds in Greek mythology.

Ekek - People with wings and beaks who eat human flesh at night in Phillippine mythology.

Tengu - Winged people with beaks/long noses from Japanese mythology.

Cryptids - Believe it or not, some consider winged humanoids to be real and cryptozoological in nature. One 1969 encounter tells of a bat-winged humanoid, and several Mothman encounters describe feathered wings.

Aliens - I’m 99% sure I’ve seen bird-winged aliens in some old alien lore (think Pleiadians and Reptilians kind of lore). But for the life of me, I cannot find it. Maybe you’ll have more luck than I.

Lastly: Don’t be afraid of looking into fiction: There are a lot of books with winged humans. The only one I’ve read was The Fledging of Az Gabrielson, which was,,, not good. But it featured the Airborn which were literally just normal people who happened to have wings. Author Brian Alan Burhoe has referred to winged humanoids in general as “Ornithanthropi” (singular ‘ornithanthropus’), which might be a useful word.

And don’t rule out the possibility of being an original species! Plenty of people end up realizing that their species, while similar to something already written about, is different enough that it’s really its own unique thing not to toot my own horn or anything but i have some experience with this.

All in all, I think you need a bit more info than just wings to be able to narrow it down to any specific species.

#otherkin #alterhuman #ask

15 notes · View notes

nitrateglow · 4 years

Text

Favorite film discoveries of 2019

Every year, my new-to-me favorites list always shocks me in some way. This year, the sheer amount of movies made in the 2010s on display is INSANE by my standards. Of course, most of the modern movies here are throwbacks or tributes to older styles of cinema, so maybe it’s not that shocking in the long run.

Another running trend this year: movies that are old but not as dated as we would wish. Many of the older films here deal with xenophobia and political strife in ways that still feel shockingly prescient today-- the more things change...

ONCE UPON A TIME... IN HOLLYWOOD (DIR. QUENTIN TARANTINO, 2019)

I never thought the day would come where my favorite movie of the year would actually be made after the 1970s, let alone by Quentin Tarantino. Then again, this movie is all about the end of Old Hollywood as well as a big love letter to the 1960s, so maybe it’s not that shocking a state of affairs. I adored this movie, the level of detail, the laidback yet elegaic vibe, the comedy and the relationships between all the characters. It was one of those movies where I loved even the scenes where nothing seems to be happening at all-- I mean, who knew Brad Pitt feeding his dog and watching TV could be entertaining?? But it is and I can't wait to see this one again!

INTENTIONS OF MURDER (DIR. SHOHEI IMAMURA, 1964)

Intentions of Murder has an insane premise, one that runs the risk of being tasteless: a housewife in a miserable, exploitative marriage is raped by a sickly burglar during a home invasion. Even worse, she can’t shake him, as he’s suddenly infatuated and wants her to run away with him to the city. And weirder still: her current existence is so miserable that she’s TEMPTED. While abuse and rape are grim subjects for any story, Intentions is actually about a woman coming into her own and finally standing strong against all these men trying to use her. It’s a weird blend of drama and dark comedy, a truly savage satire on patriarchy and class-snobbery.

JOKER (DIR. TODD PHILLIPS, 2019)

I went into this movie expecting to think it was overhyped and when I first left the theater, I was all ready to say “it’s good but not THAT good.” But it ended up haunting me for weeks afterward, and I found myself thinking about how everything just tied up so well together, from the grotty urban hellscape which serves as the setting to Phoenix’s brilliant performance. It reminded me a lot of A Clockwork Orange in how intimate it lets you get to this violent man while never pretending he is someone to be glamorized or imitated.

SIMON (DIR. MARSHALL BRICKMAN, 1980)

How do I even describe Simon? Alan Arkin is brainwashed by a group of overpaid intellectuals into believing he is descended from an alien toaster. Then he gets a messiah complex and starts gathering disciples as he rails against television, condiment packets, and muzak. It’s a little uneven at times, sure, but the satire is really inspired. The whole thing is like a combination of Mel Brooks, Stanley Kubrick, and Woody Allen’s styles, and it is quite hilarious for those who thrive on cult oddities.

PEEPING TOM (DIR. MICHAEL POWELL, 1960)

Though it came out the same year as Hitchcock’s Psycho and has been nearly as influential for horror cinema, Peeping Tom remains underseen by everyone save for film theorists. And what a shame that is, because this movie is more frightening than Psycho. Sure, that may be because Psycho is so predominant in popular culture and just so influential that it no longer has the same shock value, but there’s something about Peeping Tom that gets under my skin, something sad, even disgusting. I felt dirty after watching it-- and this is 2019!

MIDNIGHT MARY (DIR. WILLIAM WELLMAN, 1933)

Loretta Young got one of her juiciest roles in this pre-code crime drama. Her Mary Martin is more than just a good girl forced into criminal circles-- she’s a complicated creature, compassionate and desperate and lonely and bitter and sensual all at once. This movie is a fast-paced, beautifully filmed ride, cloaked in that Depression-era cynicism that makes pre-code Hollywood of such interest to movie geeks the world over.

WILD BOYS OF THE ROAD (DIR. WILLIAM WELLMAN, 1933)

Wild Boys of the Road is a quintessential Depression-era movie, relentless in its bleakness and rage. That the main characters are all starving kids only looking for work makes their struggles all the harder to watch. William Wellman is quickly becoming one of my favorite directors: his gritty style and compact storytelling are just perfect for a ripped-from-the-headlines drama such as this. And the “happy” ending has one little moment that just knocks any smile you have right off your mug. Absolutely see this.

THE RUSSIANS ARE COMING, THE RUSSIANS ARE COMING (DIR. NORMAN JEWISON, 1966)

Sometimes, when you watch a movie only because a favorite actor is in it, you get subjected to pure trash like Free and Easy (oh, the things I do for Buster Keaton). Other times, you get cute gems like The Russians are Coming, The Russians are Coming, which, as you probably guessed, I mainly sought out for Alan Arkin. But the whole movie is hilarious, the best kind of farce comedy, populated by enjoyable characters and a sweet-tempered humanism that grounds the wackiness. While a little overlong, this movie is quite underrated-- and sadly, its satire of American xenophobia and Cold War panic is not as dated as we would like to believe.

ALL THE PRESIDENT’S MEN (DIR. ALAN J. PAKULA, 1976)

Who knew a political thriller where most people know the twist could be so intense and riveting? It’s about as nonsensical as feeling suspense when you watch a movie about the Titanic and hope the boat won’t sink-- but damn, it’s magical. All the President’s Men is real white-knuckle stuff, with Robert Redford and Dustin Hoffman projecting both youthful excitement and deep panic as they proceed with their investigation. It scarcely seems to have aged at all.

WHISPER OF THE HEART (DIR. YOSHIFUMI KONDOU, 1995)

There’s a scene near the end of Whisper of the Heart where the protagonist Shizuku shows the finished first draft of her fantasy novel to her first reader, the grandpa of one of her schoolmates. She weeps because it isn’t the perfect image she had in her head, despite how hard she worked on it, but the old man tells her that it takes polishing and discipline to make the work come to its full potential. Few movies about artists are so honest about how hard it can be, how unsupportive others can be in their demand that everyone be “practical.” As a writer who struggles to create and constantly doubts herself, this movie spoke strongly to me. I recommend it to any creative person.

THE PHANTOM OF THE PARADISE (DIR. BRIAN DE PALMA, 1976)

I’d been wanting to see this movie since my high school phan days. Holy crap, is it WEIRDER than I could have ever imagined, a true camp masterpiece. I’m shocked it was never tuned into a stage show actually, but then again, we would miss those trippy camera angles and we wouldn’t have Paul Williams as one of the greatest villains of all time.

DUEL (DIR. STEVEN SPIELBERG, 1971)

When people talk about the best movies made in the “Hitchcock without Hitchcock directing” tradition, why is Duel so seldom mentioned? The scene in the cafe, packed with paranoid tension and tense camerawork, alone should qualify it. Duel is most known as the movie which put the young Steven Spielberg on the map. It’s quite different from his later work, grittier and less whimsical for sure. Even the ending seems almost nihilistic, depending on how you view it. But damn, if it isn’t fine filmmaking.

CAROL (DIR. TODD HAYNES, 2015)

This gorgeous throwback to Douglas Sirk melodramas is also one of the best romantic movies I’ve seen in a while. Cate Blanchett and Rooney Mara have the sweetest, tenderest chemistry-- it was like seeing Lauren Bacall and Audrey Hepburn as love interests in a film. Unlike Sirk, there is little in the way of ripe melodrama here-- everything is underplayed, aching, mature. And I can say this is an adaptation that is better than the source book: it just feels so much warmer.

12 ANGRY MEN (DIR. SIDNEY LUMET, 1957

All I can say is that this was every bit equal to the hype. Common movie wisdom says people sitting and talking in a room is going to be boring on film, but movies like 12 Angry Men prove this is not so when you’ve got an excellently tense atmosphere, an inspired script, and a stable of fine actors to work with. Like The Russians are Coming, the Russians are Coming, this movie has not significantly aged-- much to society’s discredit.

A STAR IS BORN (DIR. GEORGE CUKOR, 1954)

Another movie I went into not expecting to love as much as I did. When movies from the 20s or 30s tended to get remakes in the 1950s, I always find them too garish and big, victims of glossy Cinemascope and overlong runtimes. Compared to the lean 1937 classic original, I expected sheer indulgence from this three-hour remake. Instead, I got my heart torn out all over again-- the longer runtime is used well, fleshing out the characters to a greater degree. Judy Garland and James Mason both give what might be the best efforts of their respective careers, and the satire of the celebrity machine remains as relevant and scathing as ever.

BLANCANIEVES (DIR. PABLO BERGER, 2012)

Oh, it feels like this movie was made for me specifically. It’s shot in gorgeous, expressionistic black-and-white. It’s set in the 1920s. It’s a clever adaptation of a classic fairy tale. It’s as funny and charming as it is bittersweet and macabre. Instead of more superhero movies, can we get more neo-silent movies like this? PLEASE?

THE FAVOURITE (DIR. YORGOS LANTHIMOS, 2018)

I’ve heard The Favourite described as a “bitchy lesbian Shakespeare play,” but this description, while a little true in terms of general tone, does not get to the heart of what makes this film brilliant. More than love or sex, this movie is about power-- particularly the corrupting influence of power. And it corrupts not only morals but love itself. Innocents become Machiavellian schemers. Lovers become sadomasochistic enemies. Good intentions turn to poison. This certainly isn’t a happy movie, but it is moving and, strangely enough, also hilarious. I was reminded of the chilly, satirical world of Kubrick’s Barry Lyndon more than once-- and for me, that is not a bad movie to be reminded of.

ON THE WATERFRONT (DIR. ELIA KAZAN, 1954)

Another classic that’s been on my list forever that I was delighted to find worthy of its reputation. It’s a classic tale of redemption and social justice, perfectly acted and shot. While I still prefer A Streetcar Named Desire as far as Kazan is concerned, this might be a better movie in the objective sense. Actually, more than even Brando, Karl Malden is the acting highlight for me-- he plays a priest torn between staying silent or truly speaking for the Gospel by demanding justice for the poor parish he serves. Just brilliant work.

KLUTE (DIR. ALAN J. PAKULA, 1971)

A perfect thriller, just about, and a great example of the “NYC is hell on earth” subgenre of the 1960s and 1970s. Jane Fonda is a revelation: she feels so real, not at all like a starlet trying to seem normal if you know what I mean.

KISS KISS BANG BANG (DIR. SHANE BLACK, 2005)

As far as subversive noir goes, this is the most entertaining. I would put it up there with The Big Lebowski as far as goofy takes on Raymond Chandler are concerned-- I don’t even really know what to make of it, but I laughed my ass off anytime I wasn’t going “WHAT???”

What were your favorite film discoveries in 2019?

151 notes · View notes

bobasheebaby · 4 years

Text

100 Boy Meets World Prompts

Cory

1 “And I just want to ask one thing: What's this?” “No, NAME, we were just --“ “Undapants!”

2 “They want you to take the rolls!”

3 “Please pay at the register, honey. And tipping is not a city in China.”

4 “NAME, you're trying to seduce me.”

5 “No, I don't get hit by a bus.” “Why not?” “Because I use the crosswalks, I memorize the bus schedules, and if I've got a husband/wife like NAME, I ain't leavin' the house.”

6 “NAME, just face it, you're afraid to make a commitment.” “I'm not afraid to make a commit -- I've been with NAME for fifteen years!” “Ah, they've been good years.”

7 “Wait, is this you or NAME talking?” “He/She decided we're one person.”

8 “This is raw, hot, unfiltered passion, and that kiss opened the gates.” “There are no gates.” “Oh, there's gates.”

9 “You were one of those kids that enjoy getting spanked, weren't you?” “I always deserved it.”

10 “But I've never failed before.” “There's a first time for everything.” “That argument doesn't get you anywhere with him/her.”

11 “You're not my father/mother, NAME.” “If I were your father/mother, I'd spank you, NAME. Because that's what you deserve. A big spanking! Now take down your pants.

12 “How could you possibly get into this much trouble in one day?” “It didn't take me the whole day.”

13 “It's us against him/her. Living on the edge, babe.” “I like when you call me babe.”

14 “Maybe I'm dreaming. Pinch me! ... Not on the butt.” “Sorry, it was just right there.”

15 “Gee, NAME, I'm looking around the room trying to see if anyone asked your opinion. I don't see anyone. Is anyone? No?”

16 “Did you hear how I referred to myself in the third person for emphasis?” “I thought that was a nice touch.” “NAME did too.”

17 “Finally someone understands my particular genuis.”

18 “First of all, there is a Whipped Magazine. I didn't subscribe; somehow they found me.”

19 “You know, you're a very sexy boy/girl, NAME.” “Really? I'm a sexy boy/girl. Thanks. I can't wait to tell NAME.”

20 “I'm in! Those idiots let me in.”

21 “Well I am shocked and dismayed.” “Well now you can't be both. You be shocked, I'll be dismayed.”

22 “Wear something of mine. What do you want, a jacket or a hat?” “A jacket. I'm very prone to hat head. Sometimes I get it without even wearing a hat.”

23 “So how was your weekend?” “Ah, one of the all time greats. I slept in, I watched TV, I played video games. And Sunday I took it easy.”

24 “I'm supposed to see other people. You're supposed to wait until I die.”

25 “This is so great. I wish NAME was here.”

Shawn

26 “Use a mirror, babe.”

27 “You know, NAME, NAME said something interesting before that got me thinking.” “Wait a minute. NAME got you thinking?” “He/She seemed well rested.”

28 “You listened to NAME.” “Oh my God, I listened to NAME.”

29 “I mean, NAME, you're much cooler than I am. At least I thought you were.” “Trust me, I am.”

30 “Hey, if I had things my way, NAME would walk in the day after the honeymoon and have the whole thing annulled.”

31 “You know, I'd give up on them but I don't think they'd notice.” “What?”

32 “He’s/She's your ex. Let me spell that for you, X.”

33 “Please get out and don't ever come back.”

34 “Yeah, so it's like you're a couple and we're a couple, and we're exactly the same except that --“ “You're married and we're happy.”

35 “Well what kind of stupid thing was it for you to care whether I put you back together again? What are you, Humpty Dumpty?”

36 “I hate myself.” “You're not alone.”

37 “NAME, his/her lover.” “Oh, very tasteful honey. Did you hear that, NAME?” “NAME, his/her lover.” “Oh, shut up Yoko.”

38 “You're a disgrace to the entire back row.”

39 “You don't think I'm a geek?” “Of course not.” “You think I'm cool?” “Of course not.”

40 “You're thinking too much. Do what I do, don't think.”

41 “You sure that's three cheeses? Because I only see two. Where's the Gouda, pal?”

42 “Don't move. Maybe he/she doesn't see us.

43 “Oh, man, I gotta do something now. Think.” “You gotta think, NAME.” “Ow.” “Thinking cramp?” “Yeah.” “I get those, too.”

44 “Look, NAME, I've been doing some thinking. Ow!”

45 “We have to come up with a plan.” “You know that's so crazy it just may work.” “What may work?” “The plan.” “I didn't tell you what it was.” “That way they can't get it out of me.” “Get what out of you?” “Nice try.”

Topanga

46 “We've waited for this moment all our lives. What are you thinking?” “I can't believe NAME’s not here.” “I love you too.”

47 “NAME!” “Oh, no.” “Oh, don't you run away from me, you old goat.”

48 “NAME. My dear little butt-head. May I call you butt-head?” “Sure.”

49 “I don't want to offend any one and my family's feelings are the most important thing to me. But if she thought I was getting married in that freaking monstrosity, she must have been hitting the sauce.”

50 “Have you looked at him/her?” “Okay, so he’s/she's pretty, he’s/she's tall, he/she drives a new red convertible. Oh heck, I'd go out with him/her.”

51 “NAME, you transparent moron. If you sigh one more time, I'm going to give you something to sigh about.”

52 “You know I could take you.” “You don't want to dance with me, boy/girl.” “You don't see me running, do you?” “Bring it on, NAME.” “It's on.”

53 “That's it. That's it, I've had it! I don't want to put the Sweet & Lo in my purse.”

Eric

54 “Hey, little bro/sis. Life's tough, get a helmet.”

55 “So I said to myself, NOT THEIR NAME --“ “NOT THEIR NAME?” “That's what I call myself.”

56 “I'll do it. I'm the oldest.” “Actually, I'm the oldest.” “Yeah, but I've lived the longest.”

57 “I don't know what's going to happen to me. But I know I'm gonna be a good person who cares about people. And I blame you for that.”

58 “I sort of thought you guys would keep my room the way it is.” “Actually, NICKNAME, for that I think you have to be unexpectedly killed by a truck or something.”

59 “What are you going to do when your hair grows back?” “It's not going to grow back. I got my receipt!”

60 “I'm dead.” “I'm dead.” “I'll get as sick as you can get without actually dying.”

61 “NAME, one word: You're with me.”

62 “NAME, I think he’s/she's a witch. And not a good witch like Glinda, a bad witch like with the monkeys.”

63 “NAME, what are you doing to me? We had a deal. You and FRIEND are so perfect for each other you should be married!” “I'm not ready.”

64 “Oh, look at that. You wobble like a weeble!”

65 “Don't you see what you're going through? This is your middle east crisis.” “Middle age crisis.”

66 “Of all the nights to fight, I mean Halloween, this is the one holiday that's supposed to bring loved ones together.”

67 “How can I let it go when it haunts my very thought?”

68 “By the way, that last paper you wrote, I couldn't stop thinking about it.” “That's because it was smut! ‘My lips quivered.’ -- it was filth. It was screamy filth.”

69 “You can't do that, NAME.” “Why are you calling me NAME?” “Because that's your human name.”

70 “Stay out of this, NAME, it's a one man/woman mission. ... Will you help me?”

Mr. Feeny

71 “Don't you mean ‘do well’?” “No, I mean do good.”

72 “You are the worst babysitter that ever lived.” “And your children are the spawn of Satan.”

73 “I was expecting you. Today, tomorrow, yesterday. It was only a matter of time.”

74 “How are we supposed to get home?” “Wait 'til it's dark. Then run, very quickly.”

75 “You're still moving away? Ah, for the love of Mike, stop with the mind games, man.” “You know this is the reason I can't sell my house.”

76 “I know my man/woman.” “It's like we have one brain.” “Yes, well. That's too easy.”

77 “Ho, ho. Is that the stupid idea train coming 'round the bend?”

78 “Oh, I think you're much more stupid than you give yourselves credit for.”

79 “Well, since you're not set on a name for the baby, I, myself, have always been partial to THEIR NAME.”

80 “I'm not responsible for Dream THEIR NAME!”

81 “For years I've seen you give advice to everybody, but never me. Why is that?!” “You don't ask.”

82 “The guy on our couch eating our beer nuts.” “Mmm, nutty.”

83 “Wait a minute. Maybe we should all just think for a second.” “No, NAME and I tried that. It doesn't work.”

Jack

84 “You don't know what it's like to live here, man. You don't.” “Why do you stay?” “Because ... he’s/she's my friend. Because I like him/her. And no matter what crazy things he/she says or does, I still like him/her. God help me I still like him/her.”

85 “You know, NAME, I'm having trouble opening this jar.” “That's because it's a can.”

86 “I can't be poor. I'm too good looking to be poor.”

87 “I would never pay for that shirt.”

88 “He's/She’s too passive. He/She needs to voice his/her opinions more.” “Ooh, NAME, what do you think about that?” “I don't know.”

Angela

89 “You guys are our closest friends, but we are sick and tired of you!”

90 “Because I'd rather give him/her attention for acting normal.” “Oh, honey. We know that's never going to happen.”

91 “Let me ask you this, in all the time you were with NAME, did he ever call out the name S/O NAME?” “No, but he called out the name PERSON ANAME.” “In what context?”

92 “No, I was just a little surprised seeing you here, eating my food, which is mine.” — Rachel

Alan

93 “It's quarter after three. Only creeps and wierdos are up now.” [person c enters]

94 “Anything happens to NAME, I'll kill you.” “You like him/her better than me.” [person a nods]

95 “I have an incomplete future.” “Of course you have an incomplete future. The future's always incomplete. When it's complete, people tend to call it the past.”

96 “You chose FRIEND over your own flesh and blood? You're dead to me.”

Amy

97 “I don't like it when you call him/her an idiot, NAME.” “I didn't call him/her anything.” “Oh, well I guess I must have thought it in my head.”

98 “NAME, we used you as a decoy. We knew you'd be stupid so we used it against you.”

99 “What happened? I used to be good.” “NAME, I say this with love and respect. You were never good.”

100 “We're just asking you to get us off the hook.” “No. This is your hook, you're going to hang there like the worms you are.”

#boy meets world prompts #boy meets world quotes #cory matthews #shawn hunter #eric mattews #topanga lawrence #george feeny #writing prompts #drabble prompts #dialogue prompts #quaratine sucks and making these keeps my mind busy #i live in covid 19 hell #i love the feeny call #fee hee hee hee heenay

25 notes · View notes