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petty-crush · 1 year

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“Notorious”

-ahhhhhhhhhh, so refreshing

-what a great picture to start off the year with

-it would be his just as great any other time, but especially satisfying this early

-a woman gets involved in a international weapons conspiracy, and is torn between the spy who loves her and the other fool who craves her

-I haven’t seen 40s Hitchcock in a while, snd I gotta say, it’s beating the pants off 50s Hitch pretty easily (which is also great)

-this picture’s strength’s are endearingly obvious; fantastic visual set pieces, sharp characterization, a dynamite ending, and possibly the most erotic kissing in the history of film

-some choice word nibbles first (courtesy of Ben Hencht, a fierce wordsmith)

-“with my father now dead, I don’t hate him any longer....or myself”

-“I did love you. I was just a big fathead, filled with pain”

-so Hitch had the nerve to start the film with a simply voyeur shirt, a courtroom framed by the opening door

-note how he has the woman walking, but always has her on the right side of the frame, and like a conveyer belt has reporters bursting into the left side asking invasive questions

-hey, cinema lovers, I think this guy might be a great director

-later a continuous one shot, with a stranger introduced only by the back of his head, while the woman walks from one shoulder to another, drinking, drinking other men, laughing

-is this a joke at the reporter from citizen Kane? I got a feeling

-one enormous advantage 40s films have is their excellent black and white photography. So rich, so lush, so dreamlike

-so romantic too, which plays rather well into the torrid affair between Cary Grant and Ingrid Bergman

-note the almost sensual manner Hitch shows a close up of Grant moving his hand to pull the steering wheel from the drunk Bergman, only to hesitate and let her find her way

-get ready to have your mind blown by that shot of Grant entering the room after Bergman is in bed

-it has a cloudy vortex rip to it

-it looks like it could inspire “inception”, but really is stealing from the German expressionists (as Hitch always did) proving film is a ripple of waves splashing again and again

-I also like the reverse shot of Bergman, on her side in bed, with the glass of hangover killer occupying the frame with her face

-this film had some of the best camera work of all time

-I don’t simply meaning the details in the frame or even the motion, but how the story is told robustly and effortlessly visual

-ok, let’s talk about the smooches

-those fucking puritans, those rednecks in the south, told Hollywood via the hays code that no kiss could last more then 3 seconds

-they for sure kissed their cousin or mistresses (do I repeat myself there) for more then 3 seconds, but they project on others

-Hitch then has reasons they keep getting interrupted but kiss again, interrupted, kiss, repeat for 3 mins

-it is unbelievably sensual, and delightfully horny

-from an Englishman? Well, I’ll be

-Bergman must indeed have some of the wettest eyes in cinema history

-what I like about this film is that since everyone is spying, and used to guarding their faces, it’s in the second to second gestures, the gaps in the armor, that we see the real feelings come out

-each close up is a invitation to pour over the eyes more then usual

-How Grant truly wants her but is torn between longing and duty is spectacular

-I’m beyond impressed that Hitch and Ben were able to show American agencies in such a unflattering light, right after world war 2, when many was desperate to return to normal

-the CIA/FBI/etc equivalent is totally willing to have a woman marrying a guy for information, even kill her with no worry. That shit is like oxygen now, but way outside of polite society at the time

-then again, Hitch fucking hated cops (as he should)

-that scene where the five weapon dealers are in a darkened corner, the candles lighting them, looks positively ghastly and medieval

-Claude Rains plays one of the great patsies

-the woman playing his mom only had this one American film credit (more known in Germany) and boy does she make it count

-this is an fascinating piece to watch in view of the way a mother is central to Hitch’s “Psycho” and its world

-I forgot this great line almost

“We are protected by the enormity of your stupidity...for a time”

-oh shit, I also almost forgot this great shot too

-the camera starts high, goes down the stairs, through the party goers, through the champagne being passed around, to a close up of a key in Bergman’s hand

-when people talk about watching a great picture more then once to absorb it, to get the plot out of the way, and just enjoy the symphony of the shots and emotions, this is fucking exactly what they are talking about

-no single viewing will reveal all its tricks and treats

-I adore the part where after Bergman is poisoned (and realizes it) the light goes out on the back, leaving the human only darkened silhouettes

-feels like a powerful acid trip

-the ending is truly spectacular

-you sit there wondering how the hell Hitch is going to pull the cat n mouse game off, how Grant can walk down side by side with Rains but pull it off...and then he does

-there are many a famous shots in cinema, even endings, of doors and a fate closing with them, and I truly think this might be the best one

-I dare say it even outpowers the use of the door in “The Searchers”

-I left the the theatre dizzy with delight, the wonder of motion picture planted firmly in my heart and soul. What a great time at the movies

#notorious #alfred hitchcock #cary grant #ingrid bergman #film #new beverly cinema #new bev

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dizzybevvie · 2 years

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STOP THATS SO FUCKING CREEPY

#what happens to Bev with the vampide in episode 61 #i cant continje it bc im in school but i feel ill #Poor Beverly :(#the line abt the journals is very funny but like he IS a child and that IS an ADULT MAN #granted he shouldnt have been taken there but still #naddpod #apollo says stuff #praying the day goes quickly so i can scream down rayas ear abt it #TURN ON THE TV TJEY HIT THE PENTAGON THEY HIT THE FUCKING PENTAGON #beverly tag #brennan is also cool as fuck tho #I wanna save it for later but its gonna distract me all day if i dont talk abt it nos glhngggggfbsjdsjsvrhehdbd #SPECIFICALLY BECAUSE HE. A #DISGUSTANF

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fanaticsnail · 1 month

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Donquixote Rosinante's Journey with Modern Slang

Masterlist here.

Mild background context: Law's skills as a doctor saved a person with the devil-fruit with the ability grant a single wish. Law used that wish to bring back Donquixote "Corazon" Rosinante as he was: lying in the snow and unresponsive. He wanted the chance to use what he's learnt to save him, and save him he does. Both now in their 20s, Rosi is adjusting and attempting to learn the current slang to relate to his grown son. Enjoy crack dialogue.

Notes: Coming from a conversation had with @feral-artistry in a resurrection au.

Tag List: @sordidmusings @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @gingernut1314 @carrotsunshine @cinnbar-bun @vespidphoenix

(Image link)

Rosi: "So, I went on a date last night and no cap: was lit, my guy."

Law: 😑

Rosi: "So we were being extra and had some bevs, which high key slapped. Then we ubered to the gig because she had mad FOMO, but then she ghosted me for flexing?"

Law: 😑😑

Rosi: "But then we found each other again, and I asked her out and she was like 'aight, bet,' which I'll take a 'W' when I'm offered one."

Law: 😑😑😑

Rosi: "Gee, kid. No need to throw shade when I'm spilling the tea! You're acting sus. Salty 'coz I got clout. So, anyway. It was a lit night-."

Law: "Dad, C'mon!!!"

The rest of the heart pirates barely holding in their laughter throughout the entire interaction, Shachi throwing Rosi thumbs ups every time he uses slang in the appropriate way, while Penguin keeps gesturing for Rosi to start 'mewing' to piss off Law more.

Although Law pretends he hates it, each time he hears Rosinante speak: his heart soars at the knowledge that his dad is back with him - no matter how embarrassing it is.

#one piece #trafalgar law #corazon lives #donquixote rosinante #op corazon #heart pirates #shachi #penguin one piece #shachi and penguin #trafalgar d law #son!law father!corazon #op crack dialogue

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sapphicsandscience · 4 months

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gates mcfadden made beverly crusher

which i think we don’t talk about enough. granted she is left behind in a lot of in depth trek discussion as a result of her role in the franchise. if we are honest, with a few (and powerful) exceptions, on paper there wasn’t a lot to work with most of the time.

which brings me to gates mcfadden.

so much of what we think of when we hear the name beverly crusher comes from her. she gave a strong female character in science and medicine a lot more - gave her a personality (as a scientist i loved seeing bev also interested in the arts like me) - a depth as a dedicated and intelligent woman & mother in a much wider scope. it may have taken a while but it came through.

because of gates.

from tap dancing in the studio parking lot to in the holodeck with data. her theatre productions. writing. warmth & care for her crew beyond that of a doctor. her growth and imperfections as a human. all little tidbits and glimpses into a character from gates.

i realised this more reading an interview where gates spoke of how she would make sure to touch and be more present with patients in scenes even if it wasn’t in the scripts. based on how she would want to be treated. that was all her.

all of this fed into the beverly crusher we just got to witness in season 3 of picard. a beverly crusher that we wouldn’t have seen if gates had not put in the decades of work in building a character beyond what was there at face value and advocating for more (even when it came at a cost).

so thank you gates ❤️

#thoughts #gates mcfadden #beverly crusher #Star Trek #tng #star trek the next generation #dr. crusher

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always-andromeda · 8 months

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·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐋𝐋, 𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐃

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ✯ Father Paul Hill x Fem!Reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ✯ 2925

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 ✯ taboo au + "Everything I've done...every atrocity, it's been for you."

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ✯ okay, I haven't exactly finished a piece in a good while. so this one is sort of serving as a warm-up and if it's terrible (which I have a good feeling it is lmao), I'm gonna have to ask y'all to be gentle on me. I've loved this man for a while now and this is sort of experimental. tl;dr: I am a sensitive little baby right now so treat me as such.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ✯ smut (minors, do not interact), obviously a pretty massive gap in both age and power, depictions of blood and death, could be read as dub con at first (if you squint really hard) but firmly lands on the side of full con, a lot of religious mumbo jumbo (lmao let's ignore the fact that I know almost nothing about Catholicism <3), so much blasphemy, oral (female receiving), a twinge of sub!Paul, and that's all I can think of!! let me know if more is needed!!

(mdni banner template credit goes to @cafekitsune!!)

Behind closed eyelids, all you saw was darkness. And through that darkness came white hot agony. It was practically blinding as it shot up your spine before detonating in your brain. Those little fragments of pain speckled across the inside of your skull.

You wanted to scream, hurl, cry, something. Anything to physically release the intense pain assaulted your nerves. But you wouldn't be granted that mercy. No.

For now, your suffering was confined to this unending darkness. For now, you waited in the void of your own being for the tragedy to subside.

For weeks you anxiously waited for the return of Monsignor Pruitt from his mission trip. Though spending your afternoons looking after the dementia ridden clergyman wasn't exactly your idea of a good time, it was far better than slumming it with Beverly Keane. After all, you were 99% sure that whatever Bev heard managed to make its way all around the island.

Crockett Island was a melting pot of rumors. By now you'd heard the stories; the mythology of the island's residents had woven together to form a complex tapestry. And the longer you stayed, the more you realized how little you desired to be a part of it all.

But you didn't have a choice. Whether you liked it or not, Crockett's citizens had already spun your narrative.

Everyone knew how your mother had taken you away from the island at the ripe age of five years old; saving you the heartache of being raised by an alcoholic father. Part of you had always been grateful for it despite how tough it had been being raised by a single mother who hardly had anything to her name. Yet you couldn't help the guilt that poured into your lungs like cement whenever someone mentioned how much your father had suffered before he died.

Because that was the only way you would've gone back to the island that lived in the shadows of your memory: death. And upon meeting Monsignor Pruitt, it became clear that death would also be the only way you'd want to leave.

The relationship that had bloomed between you and him was a humble one. He'd offered to talk you through your grief which you'd promptly denied. Though you attended services, you weren't much for religion and you weren't about to embrace it fresh off of the death of a father who was practically a stranger. It felt disingenuous.

Finding God is reserved for real tragedies, right?

You'd asked the question like it was a joke.

Monsignor Pruitt had merely tilted his head before replying in that lilting, raspy voice of his: Depends on what you think qualifies as a tragedy.

With a quick eye roll, you'd written the answer off as one of those unbalanced moments of his. Over the course of a few months, you'd become well acquainted with them. Going to services and keeping him company was something to do. Something other than rifling through decades of your father's clutter and further entangling yourself with the community. Something other than being reminded of your own wasted potential.

Strangely, the monsignor felt less like an all seeing eye and more like...a friend. And now, faced with his "temporary" replacement, you were finally certain of what qualified as a tragedy to you.

From the moment Father Paul had addressed the church, you were unsettled. He may have been perfectly kind and personable enough, but his mannerisms edged on the uncanny valley. It was the way he spoke during sermons and how that tone rarely changed during one-on-one conversations. Though he couldn't have been older than thirty, he often held himself as if he'd been around the block more times than anyone could fathom. It was easy to chalk it up to his nature. Of course the man of God had an eerie way of making you feel like a puny mortal.

But Monsignor Pruitt had never made you feel like that. You couldn't brush the thought of the old man out of your mind.

Every time Father Paul attempted to placate your worries, it only pushed you deeper into the depths of distrust. Somehow you just knew he was lying.

And for all of Father Paul's wisdom and mystique, he wasn't a good liar. His tone would shift as he glossed over your concerns with a quick reassurance that Monsignor Pruitt was recovering just fine on the mainland. When you felt brave enough to press him for more, he'd wring his hands or squeeze them into fists. Almost as if he had to physically stop himself from reprimanding you. After all, who were you to question him?

When your eyes finally opened, your vision was overwhelmed by the light. Softly, slowly, the light haloed around the head of a figure that carefully came into view. As your sight sharpened, you quickly realized who stood over you.

The man you held the most wariness for was kneeling over you. His long face wrought with concern, the alarm bells were already blaring in your muddled mind. But as much as you tried to force the air from your lungs to scream, you could only let out a pathetic, strangled squeak.

That was when he spoke. His voice shook with what sounded like uncertainty, "You mustn't overexert yourself. You're still coming back. But don't worry, you'll be yourself again soon. All in due time."

No matter how much you tried to speak, to move, neither of the actions came to you. All you could do is watch as Father Paul pulled your paralyzed body into his arms and cradled you. And as the potency of your helplessness settled in, you vaguely felt tears prick at your waterline.

Normally, you would've rather died than allowing yourself to cry in front of someone, especially in front of the father. This time you couldn't control the few tears that slid freely down your cheeks, landing on the father's hand where he gripped your still aching shoulder.

He noticed them immediately and let you out of his grasp long enough to stare into your glossy eyes.

You couldn't quite decipher the intent behind the softness of his gaze. But somehow it was enough to allow the nausea that had slowly been rising in your chest to subside.

Father Paul raised a hand to cup your face. His thumb carefully stroked your cheek, sweeping away the wet trails left by your despair. And whether it was from your sensitivity or the intimacy of the act, you didn't know. But your skin shivered.

As you gradually regained the feeling in your body, you realized that the first thing you felt after the pain was him. The inherent warmth of his embrace. And in some fucked up way, it was comforting. Feeling like prey, you blinked back the rest of your tears and allowed yourself to soak up as much of him as you could; anything to get rid of the dull pain that plagued your nerves.

You noticed there were tears brimming his own eyes as he smiled softly. "There, you mustn't cry. You've been so brave and in return you've been blessed."

It was then that you began to regain enough cognizance to question what was happening.

Flashes of memory played each time you blinked.

That damned question had been on the tip of your tongue again.

So you found him in the recreational center. There he’d been, on his knees, praying fervently.

Hopefully you're praying for the monsignor's return.

You regretted the words almost as soon as you'd said them. Because as soon as Paul turned, he gave you that dark look that rarely graced his features. This time he hadn't even tried to hide it with his usual discretion.

He merely stared right past you with his eyes wide and pleading.

You hadn't had the chance to see the thing that attacked you fully. But you felt its teeth at your neck. You felt your own blood dripping from your neck in such a thick stream that the dizziness came almost as soon as you hit the ground. You felt the rough, pale skin of the creature as it smothered you, greedily devouring every ounce of your life.

Of course you were surprised to find yourself lying on the sheets of Paul's bed in his modest home, but that shock was the least of your worries. How were you still alive?

He told his tale as your body mended itself. You didn't know how much time passed. All you knew is that you were enraptured with the sticky sense of dread that was growing in your stomach as he spoke.

You were acutely aware of just how much it sounded like a sermon. How, whether he was aware of it or not, he was pulling out every stop in the preacher's handbook to try and convince you. And if he didn’t sound so convinced himself, you would swear this was deliberate manipulation. But nothing else could possibly explain his youthful appearance and all that he knew. He could recite your history right back to you despite the fact that you’d never once trusted him nearly enough to give it. Only the monsignor knew your deepest fears and your darkest secrets. But this wasn’t your monsignor.

Father Paul was some new beast; an amalgamation of the sweet old man you’d once known, the deceptive preacher who took his place, and some other supernatural force that you couldn’t quite name.

Though you’d only caught half a glimpse of the creature, you attempted to express your terror. That only spurred him on further as he contended that when an angel of the Lord appeared to the shepherds upon the birth of Jesus, it deliberately told them to not be afraid.

But none of that explained himself. None of it allowed you to comprehend how Monsignor Pruitt could've shed decades of life; how the old man could now stand there, blood drying on the bottom half of his face, and look at you as if you were something he could have.

You didn't have to ask. You knew by then that when the creature had had its fill of your blood, Father Paul had pulled the scraps of you away for himself. The thought hit you dangerously and made something deep inside you rumble. Like a natural disaster, this had unearthed a litany of complications that you never could’ve anticipated.

“We are at a crossroads," Father Paul said gently before letting his conviction surge again, “Now, you once said that finding God was reserved for those experiencing tragedy, correct?”

You nodded sagely.

Father Paul grasped your trembling hands in his own, “Have you not experienced one of life’s greatest tragedies? The ending of it? You fell right over the edge of life and before the waters of death could claim you, He brought you back. Hebrought us together.”

You shook your head in defiance.

“This was meant to happen. This was part of His plan, for our faiths — our lives — to be renewed.”

With your throat still stiff and dry, you croaked angrily, “There was nothing wrong with my life! There was nothing that needed to supposedly be renewed!”

He raised his voice suddenly, “Why did you come to this island?”

“Because my father died.”

“A father who was no better than a stranger to you,” he recalled your own words quickly. If the monsignor had been wise, Father Paul was as sharp as a knife, taking his jabs at you with complete accuracy. “You didn’t have to come here. You didn't have to make friends with a crazy old man. By the grace of God, you were led here. You were led here so you could be shown this truth; this gift. And you are denying this gift."

You had to admit that your draw to Crockett had been strange. At first you'd attested it to some childhood curiosity. But you'd deliberately put off taking care of your father's run down property, instead opting to spend time walking in the light of Pruitt. In truth, his companionship had been a breath of fresh air.

Though the people of Crockett adored him, it was always tinged with pity. You'd never pitied him; only admired him for his wisdom and his resilience.

Paul's expression softened as he held your face in his hands. "Everything I've done...every atrocity, it's been for you." That was when you saw the edges of his wisdom begin to lift and fall away like a second skin he'd crafted over his own vulnerability.

Underneath it...he was simply a man. A man who wanted to save you.

“Let me give you more. Let me show you how you can trust me," he whispered.

The first kiss inspired an odd mix of emotions in your chest. There was the coppery tang of dried blood on your tongue, strong enough that it took everything in you not to flinch away from his hold on you. But you remembered his reference to the angel and the shepherds.

Do not be afraid.

So you continued, deepening the kiss with a turn of your head. And for all of the worldly experiences Paul had, you became acutely aware that this sort of connection was not among them.

Whether there'd been any true romantic feelings for the aging monsignor, you couldn't quite say. But your fondness of him had transferred to the man before you. Granted, the transfer wasn't smooth, but it was there nonetheless. Somehow it was stronger than ever as he took your hand and brought it to his lips. The kiss he pressed against your palm was slightly tacky with your own half dried blood still lingering.

You brushed a lock of his wavy, dark hair back so you could properly meet his gaze. With the shroud of time having fallen away from his features you could see just how handsome the man was. It was a hesitant sort of attractiveness; as if the banner of God had prevented him from seeing his full potential.

He'd fed on your life and made himself new. And the thought of your monsignor living on in that small way...all because of you? The electric twinges that sparked in your chest were almost too much to bear.

Without fear you devoured him in another kiss. Quickly the mood turned from reverent to ravenous as Paul attempted to keep up with your fervency.

He couldn't remember the last time sin had overpowered his sense of morality. Because he knew in the traditional sense, this was pure sin. No matter how wrong he believed it might have been to let his hands roam your figure, in his bones it was a temptation that finally felt correct. There was none of that hesitance or shame or fear that he'd felt before. The pendulum had shifted on morality and he knew exactly what he needed to do.

Hardly a moment was spared as he tore into the long skirt and the underwear that had kept you modest for far too long. Perfect beauty like this had to be cherished.

So that is what he did. Planted firmly between your legs, he stared up at you with eyes that gently pleaded for permission; for salvation. With your own half lidded eyes, you nodded before spreading yourself open for him.

Like a flower, you bloomed beautifully and Paul groaned at the sight. He could practically feel the thrumming pulse before him as it waited to indulge him. His hot breath teased you and made sparks dance right beneath the surface of your skin. Still you stayed in place, patiently allowing him time to drink in the sight of your folds already puffing and glistening with slick.

Quietly, you heard him mumble something that you only caught the tail end of.

“–forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.”

It wasn't too long after that when his tongue found a home in that tight, warm crevice. Your hand knitted itself into his dark hair as you searched for something to ground yourself from the overpowering sensation. Something about this new condition of yours heightened every aspect of pleasure.

If you were in your right mind, it would make sense logically considering you'd felt the unbearable pain of your spine shattering and being put back together again. But this was overwhelming in the entirely opposite direction.

You experienced the pleasure on a cellular level as your climax rushed through your limbs. You seemed to feel the vibrancy of every emotion and atom that comprised your being. Nothing was spared from the glory of this blessing. Not your spasming cunt as it contracted around Paul's blessed tongue. Not your heart that was firmly on the track of restoration. And not your mind as it all at once fell apart in time with your quivering thighs. Blood pulsing, every single one of your pores felt more alive than ever as you finally embraced the higher power that had been waiting for you in the shadows all along.

At that moment, you believed it all. From the Angel to Father Paul's divine transformation to the euphoric paradise that enveloped your entire being...it was all real. And most of all, it was all yours. Thanks to the father's grace and generosity, you would create paradise with him. And that seemed possible. After all, with his head between your thighs, you’d both already created one.

#˚ʚ meda writes ɞ˚#hauntedhoedown #midnight mass #father paul hill #monsignor pruitt #father paul x reader #father paul x you #father paul x y/n #father paul hill x reader #father paul hill x you #father paul hill x y/n

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drewsbuzzcut · 1 year

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My Dear Devoted Delicate

mat barzal x model!fem!reader

a visceral in doses fic

Italics are flashbacks! The orange text are the words embroidered in the veil!

warnings: mentions of sex, mentions of being high and drugs but not actually taking drugs, alcohol consumption, being drunk, marriage

Everyone from your bridal party left you alone in your changing room, wanting to grant your wish of having time to yourself before marrying the love of your life. You took the time to write, not your vows, though. You had written your vows in one go about 3 months ago, it was easy to pour your heart out whenever it came to Mat. Therefore, you just wanted to write your overall feelings about the day. Nothing bad, of course.

Excitement rushed through your body, stimulating your heart and supplying you a high like no other drug could. Your fingers clenched into fists every now and then, wanting to have Mat or Nolan in your grasp. God, you couldn’t wait to see Nolan in his little outfit.

You look at yourself in the mirror, smiling at your reflection. You love the way your wedding dress clings to your body. The corseted, backless dress was crafted by you and the most amazing fashion designers, bringing your vision to life and tears to your eyes. The day you tried it on for the first time is never far away in your memory. You were a crying mess. Your best friend, Beverly, was the only one with you, having to wipe away both of your tears. The fabric was perfect as was the fit and the feeling it gave you.

The dress was paired with a beautiful, vintage pearl necklace, gifted to you by Mat’s mom. It was her necklace that she used to wear all the time. It was your “something old.”

Your “something blue” was not for everyone’s eyes. You had a blue 13 embroidered into the back of your panties from your wedding lingerie set. You picked out your lingerie set a while ago, with some help from Mat. He didn’t know about the 13, though. It’d be a pleasant surprise for tonight.

The “something new” and “something borrowed” belonged to Mat. Traditionally, the bride will have all of them, but this is Mat’s day, too, so you wanted him to take part in the little tradition. You gifted Mat a signet ring with an N engraved- standing for Nolan- as his “something new.” Mat’s father let him borrow his pocket square from his and Mat’s mother’s wedding day as his “something borrowed.” You smile giddily, thinking about how eager Mat was to participate.

“Wait… you want me to do what?” Mat asks, confused about what you were talking about.

“It’s an old tradition that’s usually for the bride only, but I think it’d be nice for you to do it with me,” you explain, watching his eyes light up and mouth twitching into a shy smile.

“I want to do it, yeah!”

You throw your body into his, hugging him around his neck. You can feel his laugh vibrating in his chest.

“Baby, really? I don’t want to force you to do it,” you mumble into his neck, suddenly feeling shy.

“Of course I want to do it. I’ve heard stories of the husband barely being involved, and I know for sure that I want to be involved because I want to marry you just as much as you want to marry me,” he states.

You melt instantly. You grab both his cheeks and bring his lips to yours. One of his hands goes to the back of your neck while his other lays on the small of your back. You’re so into the kiss, you didn’t even realize you were moving until you’re on your back and Mat is on top of you. He’s pressing kiss after kiss into your neck, making your back arch into him. You giggle and direct his lips back onto yours, getting interrupted by Nolan’s cry coming from the baby monitor.

Your face flushes at the sweet memory, accompanied by a few tears daring to fall from your eyes.

A knock on the door, signals the time winding down. You were 5 minutes away from becoming a married woman.

“Y/n/n?”

“Hey, Bev.”

“It’s time to put your veil on. Then we have to go line up. Are you ready?”

“I’ve been ready!”

Beverly grabs your veil. Your very very special veil. It is your favorite thing about your outfit. It is long and made of lace, and embroidered at the end of the train. Not just any embroidery, but Mat’s words he spoke to you when he proposed.

“I want you forever. I want to love you when you feel like you can’t be loved. I want to kiss you, knowing that we’re sharing each other's air. My love for you knows no limits.”

You were shaking from nerves and excitement. You had no idea Mat was going to propose to you. It was just a planned date night at your favorite restaurant in New York. When you got there, you did find it strange that you both had the entire place to yourself. But when Mat led you to a different area filled with your favorite flowers and candles, you just knew. Your thoughts were confirmed when he got down on one knee.

“Y/n, will you marry me?”

He had tears brimming his eyes and his heart was beating fast. He was afraid you could feel the vibrations travel from his fingertips to yours.

“Mathew, of course I’ll marry you. Oh my god! I love you so much, baby. So much!” You exclaim, dropping to your knees so you can kiss your fiancé.

“Y/n, you look so beautiful!”

You smile bright, smoothing down your dress and tousling your hair.

“Bev, let’s get this show on the road!” You didn’t want to waste any more time.

You take multiple deep breaths, you were nervous about walking in front of so many people. You are a model, it’s your job, but this was different. It wasn’t a job. It was the start of your forever with your small family.

You watch all the bridesmaids and groomsmen walk down the aisle, trying to get a glance of Mat without him seeing you. Once you hear the instrumental opening of “Lover” by Taylor Swift, you make your way down to Mat. Mat who’s taking deep breaths, trying to control the tears spilling from his eyes. Mat who’s smiling so wide his jaw probably hurts. Mat who’s holding onto Nolan’s hand while Nolan smiles at you when he sees you moving towards him. He gives you a little wave with his smile that looks just like Mat’s. You love your boys.

As you get to the end of the aisle, Mat reaches his hand out for you. You take it without hesitation, dying to touch him in any way after spending the night away from each other.

“You’re gorgeous,” he whispers to you, lifting your veil over your head.

“You look so handsome. So does Nolan. I can’t wait to be your wife,” you say trying to not get emotional, but you couldn’t help it.

As the officiant welcomes everyone, your and Mat’s eyes remain in contact. You’re both conversing without even speaking. It’s something you’ve become accustomed to, knowing just what the other is thinking or feeling, and knowing how to be there for them mentally and emotionally in times when you can’t physically.

The officiant continues with a short story of your relationship. Everything from when you both first met to small anecdotes of you and Mat becoming parents. You and Mat have to stifle snickers at certain moments and there’s one story that makes you cry, and Mat is quick to wipe away your tears. It’s the story of Nolan’s first night home. It was crazy to hear that night from someone else’s point of view as you asked Mat’s parents if they could provide stories for the officiant, and they were with you that crazy night.

After laughs and awes from the audience, you’re led into the vows. You going first.

“Mat, I remember the first time I met you; we bumped into each other outside a bar that I shouldn’t have even been at. You followed after me when my embarrassment got the best of me and I walked away. Well, I’m so glad you did. We had so many problems at the start. I thought that maybe we weren’t meant to be together, but then things just started falling into place. We found a rhythm that worked for our crazy lives. We proved a lot of people wrong, too,” you speak your thoughts, winking at Mat after your previous sentence and earning a blush and chuckle from him.

“I never knew a love so powerful could exist. Every time I stare into your beautiful eyes, I see our future. I see the never ending love that pumps through your veins. I feel it when you touch me. Any simple touch: you kissing my neck tattoo, or you tracing the tattoo that goes down my spine. I feel that warmth. It’s so invasive, in the best way. From witnessing you achieve great accomplishments in hockey to witnessing you become a father, I have never appreciated someone so much. No one tells you how special it is to see the man you love become a father. Mat, you’re the best father ever. I have no doubts that you’ll be the best husband ever. I cannot wait to love you for the rest of my life; I’m glad I’m the one that gets to love you for the rest of your life,” you finish through tears, hands squeezing Mat’s.

He lifts your hand to place it over his heart, knowing that the thumping will soothe you.

“Y/n, you’re the love of my life. You always will be. There’s not a day that goes by, a second even, when I’m not thinking about you and our life together. And now, our family together. You’re the strongest person I know. You’ve put up with me and hockey, you’ve worked with me through our challenging times, and you’ve never given up on me, on us. When you brought Nolan into our lives, you also brought out a new side of yourself that I got to love. The intimacy of being understood is complicated, but you, my love, have figured it out. You know me and you understand me. Y/n, you’re the best person that there is. You’re the best mother, and you’re my best friend. I love you. I promise to always love you,” Mat says his vows.

He’s crying and you’re crying. Even the audience is shedding some tears.

You lay the palm of your hand on his cheek, wiping away his tears. He just turns his head and kisses the inside of your wrist. Butterflies spread throughout your entire body at the small action.

“And now, Y/n, do you take Mat to be your husband? Do you promise to love, honor, and cherish him for as long as you shall live? To stay faithful and in love through good times and in bad; in sickness and in health?” The officiant asks.

“I do!” You state, no hesitation.

“Mat, do you take Y/n to be your wife? Do you promise to love, honor, and cherish her for as long as you shall live? To stay faithful and in love through good times and in bad; in sickness and in health?”

“I do!” Mat commits and you hake in giddiness, ready to leap into his arms and kiss the life out of him.

“Y/n and Mat will now exchange rings as a symbol of love and commitment.”

Mat softly grabs your left hand, tingles spreading like wildfire. He slides on the ring, mouthing “I love you,” right after. You bat your eyelashes at him, willing him to just kiss you. The cold, gold ring: a reminder of forever being wrapped around your finger. After you slide his ring on his finger, Mat steps a bit closer to you. He ever so gently and discreetly, brings his hand to wrap around your waist.

“Y/n and Mat, by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss your bride!”

Mat closes all remaining space between the two of you, lips pressed to yours, earning cheers and hollers from everyone. His hands are placed on the small of your back while yours are wrapped around his neck, and when you feel him start to dip you, you hold on even tighter.

“Mama, kith,” you hear Nolan mumble with his cute lisp as he tugs on your dress.

“Hi, my baby! I will give you all the kisses you want. You look so handsome!” You quickly pick him up and shower his face with kisses, making him squeal.

“Like daddy?” He shyly asks. Nolan always loved matching with his dad, and he loved when you’d say that he looked just like him.

“Just like daddy, baby,” you assure him. He smiles and nuzzles his face into your neck, clutching onto your body.

Mat hugs the both of you, overjoyed and needing you in his arms.

The three of you walk back down the aisle in your own worlds. You’re too thrilled and filled with love to pay attention to anything else besides Mat’s large hand pressed on your bare back, and Nolan’s warm body in your arms.

Before you and Mat part ways with everyone, you hand Nolan to his grandparents so that you can have privacy on your way to the reception venue. You were very thankful for Mat’s parents and Liana as they all agreed to watch over Nolan during your wedding night and honeymoon.

When you’ve entered the small, but quiet space of your limo, you immediately pull Mat in for a kiss. Kicking off your heels, carding your fingers through his hair, you swipe your tongue along his bottom lip and thrust your tongue into his mouth when it opens just for you.

“You smoke show. You’re sexy,” he whispers into your lips, making you whimper. You’re doused in need.

“I can’t wait to fuck my husband,” you moan.

“I can’t wait to make love to my wife,” he says back, making you blush.

“Tonight. When we get to the reception, I need to change into my other dress,” you explain, playing with the ends of his hair.

He kisses you in response. He stares into your eyes, brushing your hair behind your ears. You lean your body more into his, head resting over his heart and his hands rub your arms.

“I love you.”

You were so glad the venue had a private room. It saved you from having to change in a stall, and allowed for Mat to unzip your wedding dress in a private, intimate matter.

Your second dress was a white, silk slip dress. It was perfect for dancing and walking around while you greeted your guests. Plus, it is backless just like your wedding dress, and Mat loves whenever you wear something backless.

“We’re married, barzy!” You squeal as you finish changing.

“We are! God, I love that you’re my wife. My wife! Mrs. Barzal, that’s hot,” Mat blurts out, pulling you into his arms.

“Ughhh… you’re hot. My hotshot, nhl superstar, sexy ass husband. I fucking love you,” you whisper in his ear, nipping his lobe for good measure.

“Baby, thank you,” it’s his turn to whisper in your ear.

“For what?”

“Loving me. Giving me Nolan. Being you. Everything,” Mat explains.

“Baby, maty, I love you and I’d do anything for you,” you kiss him again before he can respond.

“I think it’s time to have our first dance, wife.”

Everyone takes their seats, clapping when you and Mat are announced to the dance floor for your first dance as a married couple. The melodious sounds of the piano fill the room as the song you both picked starts playing. He pulls you in by your hands and then moves his to rest on the small of your back. You wrap your arms around his neck, loving the close contact. You sway your bodies to the soft beat. Mat’s finger is tracing your divine feminine tattoo that’s inked into the skin of your spine.

One of Mat’s hands moves to settle on your waist, his other holding your hand as you start to waltz around the dance floor. As you’re spinning around, you feel yourself letting the world slip away. You stare up at Mat, eyes full of stars. His eyes are just as lovestruck, gazed over with wonder. As the song winds down, Mat spins you out and the spins you back in, so your back is pressed to his front. He has a hand resting on your lower stomach, and you swear you can feel how fast his heart is beating. Who knew two imperfect souls were destined to come together and make something so beautiful out of life.

The song ends, resulting in everyone cheering and Mat kissing you on the lips, shoulder, and side of your neck. Everything feels so fuzzy; you’re high on just emotions. You and Mat parade each other around the room, visiting with guests and laughing at different stories. His hand doesn’t leave your waist for one second. He needed to be touching you in some way.

You try to eat, but the flurry of excitement and happiness distract you many times. For a good part of the party, you spend it dancing around with everyone anyways. Mat was also very tipsy, so he for sure wasn’t leaving your side.

After a couple hours of dancing and drinking, the DJ announces a mother and son dance. It was your idea to show thanks to Mat’s mom for raising such an amazing person. You watch from the sideline, with tears filling your eyes, how Mat laughs and talks with his mom. Her eyes are joyful and she looks so proud. You can only hope you will be as good of a mom as she is.

You carry Nolan from where he was seated, to the dance floor. You twirl around with him in your arms. His head is resting on your shoulder with his arms wrapped around your neck, and he’s staring up at you with tired eyes, but his smile is content. Your poor baby boy, he has had a long day. His little hand is rubbing your neck, something he does when he’s on the verge of falling asleep.

“Momma pretty. Love you,” you have to hold in your tears at his sweet voice and sweet words.

“Thank you, baby. Mommy loves you, too. You can go to sleep if you want,” you whisper into his skin as you kiss his cheek.

During your little moment, you didn’t notice the song ending, so Mat was quick to come over to you to see what was wrong.

“Babe?” He questions, brows furrowed and a hand on your back.

“Yeah?”

“Is everything ok?”

“Yeah? Nolie is just tired,” You point out, Nolan already asleep.

Mat takes him from your arms into his, patting his back to keep him relaxed and asleep. You both finally take this moment to sit down. Mat’s hair is sweaty and a little wavy, he’s only wearing his button up with the sleeves rolled up. He looks extra sexy. Plus, Nolan is laid across his large upper body, making him even more attractive. As said before, there’s just something so attractive about your man being a father.

Even as the night continues to dwindle down, it’s still full of dancing and laughing. You and Mat are still glued together. At one point, you stuff yourselves in a secluded corner and make out like horny teenagers. It’s hot and touchy until Liana had to interrupt you because she was taking Nolan up to her hotel room to sleep.

Once the majority of people left around midnight and it was just some of yours and Mat’s friends, you started another round of drinking and dancing.

“Maty,” you whine, buzzing on the Vin Santo Di Carmignano Riserva wine that you both requested for the event. Your body is practically wrapped around his and his strong arms are holding you up even though he has had a lot more to drink than you.

“Yes, baby?”

“Take me upstairs and love on me,” you whisper in his ear, not drunk enough to not know what is going on and what you want.

“Not everyone has left yet.” Mat has an amused look on his face, even though he knew damn well that he wanted to take you up to the hotel suite just as much.

“So? I’m sure they can find their way out. I need you, please,” you beg, kissing his sweet spot on his neck.

“You win, let’s go!”

Hook, line, and sinker.

You perk up, wrapping your legs around his waist, earning whistles from whoever was around still, but you were in your own world where just you and Mat existed.

“Happy wife, happy life,” you muse cheekily, earning a breathtaking kiss and laugh from Mat.

a/n: It’s finally here! I hope you all enjoy. I am going to do a separate piece of their wedding night, and I might do a piece or a few small pieces on their honeymoon!

#mat barzal #mat barzal fic #mat barzal fanfiction #mat barzal smut #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal fluff #mat barzal angst #mat barzal blurb #mat barzal x reader #nhl imagine #nhl fic #new york islanders #visceral in doses

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fastbreakpoints · 3 months

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NBA trade season 2k24: a summary

raptors - pacers

raptors get: bruce brown jr, 3 first round picks pacers get: pascal siakam

hornets - heat

hornets get: kyle lowry, 2027 first round pick heat get: terry rozier III

kyle lowry expected to get bought out by the hornets

jazz - pistons

pistons get: simone fonteccio jazz get: kevin knox, 2024 second round pick

celtics - grizzlies (war flashbacks lol)

celtics get: xavier tillman grizzlies get: 2 second round picks (2027 via atlanta, 2030 via dallas), lamar stevens

timberwolves - pistons

pistons get: shake milton, troy brown, 2030 second round pick timberwolves get: monte morris

pacers - sixers - spurs

sixers get: buddy hield pacers get: doug mcdermott, furkan korkmaz, 3 second round picks spurs get: marcus morris, second round pick

furkan korkmaz to be waived by the pacers

jazz - raptors

raptors get: kelly olynyk, ochai agbaji

jazz get: kira lewis, otto porter jr, 2024 first round pick

thunder - hornets

thunder get: gordon hayward, vasilije micic, draft compensation

hornets get: tre mann, davis bertans

pistons - knicks

knicks get: alec burks, bojan bogdanovic pistons get: quentin grimes, malachi flynn, evan fournier, ryan arcidiacono, 2 second round picks

wizards - mavs

wiz get: richaun holmes, draft compensation mavs get: daniel gafford

raptors - nets

raptors get: spencer dinwiddie nets get: dennis schroder, thad young

spencer dinwiddie likely to get waived by the raptors

hornets - mavs

mavs get: PJ washington hornets get: grant williams, seth curry, 2027 first round pick

sixers - bucks

bucks get: pat bev sixers get: cam payne, 2027 second round pick

bucks - kings

kings get: robin lopez, cash

robin lopez to be waived by the kings

sixers - celtics

celtics get: jaden springer sixers get: second round pick

celtics - blazers

celtics get: protected second round pick blazers get: dalano banton

grizzlies - nets - suns

grizzlies get: pick swap (suns), yuta watanabe, chimezie metu nets get: second round pick, keita bates-diop, jordan goodwin suns get: royce o'neale, david roddy

warriors - pacers

warriors get: second round pick, cash pacers get: cory joseph

waived (so far):

danuel house jr (pistons)

killian hayes (pistons)

james bouknight (hornets)

victor oladipo (grizzlies)

christian koloko (raptors)

#welp. pretty uneventful trade deadline compared to prior seasons lol #the siakam and rozier trades didn't really happen during the deadline week by I thought I should include them just to be sure #anyway my biggest takeaways from today are: grant sucks (been saying it lol) and I hope the bucks sixers knicks fight to the death in the p #ayoffs lol #trade deadline 2k24 #*#nba

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undergroundrockpress · 9 months

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The Living Theatre, Fillmore East (october 1968). Photo : Bev Grant.

#Bev Grant #The Living Theatre #1968 #Fillmore East #60s counterculture #1960s

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bluejelly8 · 6 months

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so i am sobbing uncontrollably after finishing Midnight Mass and I'm really glad i didn't see it sooner. Its very good but i was not in the place to see it or process it then and im still not sure if i am now, but i am typing this in tears because god fucking dammit I have lived pieces of that show.

little pieces, tiny pieces, but those pieces changed and defined so much of my life and in many ways still do.

For starters, Riley and I share a name and an attitude with the church. I have had the same conversation he had with his father at the beginning of the show many, many, times. I have been made to sit through my own confirmation and see the entire congregation look over at me as i sat in the pew because my fucking name was still in the hand out listing the confirmation candidates. My best friend got confirmed to appease her parents, but i was stubborn and i wouldnt on principle. That doesnt really matter and i dont want to ramble, but needless to say, going into this show i knew it would be emotionally heavy for me for that reason.

I have met so many people like Bev in my life. I have sat in churches just like St. Patricks and I know that is the point but Flanagan makes it well. I watched Riley sit back for eucharist and i watched the camera zoom in on his face and the empty pews behind him. I know that feeling. I know that feeling of isolation and loneliness in a place where supposedly you are never alone. Because god is in all his churches.

And i was so scared watching this show that i would watch him find faith where i have failed to. I have been burned so, so, so many times by atheist characters converting and its a celebration and 'thank god they found god!' and the relief i felt as he burned away on that boat I cannot describe. I dont honestly think i can describe how this show has made me feel at all, but i am still crying.

Hearing Erin's speech at the end. Watching Hassan and Ali pray on the beach, one last time. Seeing everyone gather in the square to sing, one last time. To praise their god one last time, to pray for his mercy and forgiveness and to know that they would be granted it. To watch John and Mildred hold their baby. To see that bitch Bev try to dig a hole in the beach only to die screaming and in agony. She is the only one who screamed.

I dont really know where im going with this, sort of just train of consciousness-ing this i guess. But i think there was something really cathartic in this for me and nothing nothing has left me this shattered yet whole before.

im not one to usually post anything here and the first rb or message i get from someone saying 'not all christians' or 'jesus loves you' or fucking anything like that ill delete this post and block the fuck out of you. You can keep that shit to yourself. Yeah i didnt have to post this, but you dont have to say anything, either. And that seems hostile but i am sick and tired of being told shit i already know.

#midnight mass #mike flanagan #vent post #vent #at least i think this is a vent idk anymore #this show has done something for me that no priest or deacon has managed to do in entire life #tw catholicism #midnight mass spoilers #yeah mike fucked me up with this one #good on him #religious trauma #that tag also feels fair #i have to remind myself that thats what it is #tw religion #tw religious trauma #those only seem fair too for someone else

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thesporkidentity · 4 months

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an incomplete list of texts i sent as i slowly lost my mind over the second book of rivers of london, because i fully intend to drag at least one more person into this pit with me. come read with me i promise you're gonna feel so good and normal over this book, come closer

wow okay peter remains the absolute horniest bastard ever. is he a tits or an ass man? yes

oh we are just getting the surface levels hints of nightingales MOUNTAIN of unresolved PTSD and i am very 🥺

you ever feel like a character was written specifically to appeal to you? i'm getting so many tantalizing hints and i KNOW he's going to destroy because he's catnip. he is bait specifically designed to hurt my feelings

also his description makes me think of lee pace or like, 90s/00s paul mcgann and that's just Very Good and i'm being deeply not normal about it

also nightingale reads as SO queer to me, and the potential in fic to explore what that means insofar as how he has navigated the changing landscape of queerness from 1900 to present day is so tantalizing. i don't care that the author says he's not, in this case the author is wrong lol

i must say, i do not care for simone. if we absolutely MUST have hetersexual nonsense in this book i would like beverly back please. she was cool and not a cheating homewrecking jazz groupie lol

still not impressed with simone. i mean, far be it from me to judge a woman's grieving process and all, but she doesn't seem very broken up over her within-the-week dead lover. i mean, i LOVE peter and all and he's hot shit, but immediately falling into bed with him? sus

in conclusion bring 👏 bev 👏 back 👏

also peter, buddy, WHAT ARE YOU DOING

he's a disaster so even though i'm screaming DON'T DO THAT i am unsurprised he is being led around by his dick by a beautiful woman throwing herself at him

but i just. i Don't Trust Her. she doesn't make sense, and i can't tell if this is a case of male author writing wish fulfillment and thus not giving the hot girl adequate motivation of her own

or whether i AM supposed to find it suspicious the way she basically doesn't mourn the man she homewrecked who died very suddenly and then IMMEDIATELY jumps into bed with the magic cop investigating his very probable murder

and i REALIZE the only way to find out is to keep reading, it's just frustrating that women are written poorly so often that, even if he's written good women before, i still have to debate with this is a subtle clue or just Male Author Syndrome

oh my god he finally twigs that this may be weird behavior. peter. bud.

at least he got it before trying to sneak her past folly wards?

side note: god lesley really got the short end of the stick. like, her face fell off, her teeth are a fucking mess, and she probably has brain damage. she got royally shafted

peter "i'm totally straight" grant, talking about how he wants to take a muscly guy by the shoulders and kiss his cheeks and making sure to mention how many phone numbers her got while canvasing the gay bar.

hmm sure, jan

look i KNOW peter is Incredibly Horny All The Time when near any attractive woman, but simone appears from NOWHERE half dressed while he's canvassing for the jazz vampire and he just skives off like that? while looking for a potential killer? that doesn't seem like him he's not that irresponsible. that smells like conspiracy and glamour and i don't trust herrrrrrr

like, peter was already horny wanting to motorboat mama thames (lol don't think i didn't catch that pun) last book. but this book has been a whole new level of horny, and peter may be distractible but not THAT distractible surely

another side note. i love molly and nightingale's weird friendship they've developed living basically with just each other for decades.

oh jesus that's fucked up

oh the severed head is talking

oh. oh no. it got worse

peter, darling, beloved, is now REALLY the time to be talking about how hot your boss is? like i appreciate your dedication to the thirst but time and place, bud

oh never mind i forgive you nightingale is so fucking cool, i get it, i love him

he's so good. the most tragic backstory and perfect stiff upper lip old fashioned english gentleman on the outside, and then just below the surface he's a daredevil and a bit of a bitch and he fucking CARES just SO MUCH and have i mentioned how much the casterbrook wall HURTS ME?? this was revealed in the last book but i just remembered it and it stabbed me again

okay i'm done

i feel like peter has miscalculated making a deal with his cousin to teach her if she aces latin. that's gonna come back to bite lol hope you like teaching too smart for their own good teenagers cuz that's gonna be your life now

"but sir, what do we do if you die??!" "well, that doesn't seem like it will be my problem at that point :)" he's such a bitch sometimes and i LOVE him, mother

ohhhhh. oh no. the pale lady looked like molly and now molly is obviously not okay after she died, that resemblance wasn't just coincidence she definitely knew her 😢

and this is the first person peter has killed, no matter how accidentally. and nightingale is back in the hospital with his chest infection. wow everyone is just having a terrible time right now

okay. i realize that as a memory for him this probably isn't a GOOD one, it's from the war and probably much scarier and MUCH more traumatizing than he makes it sound with his dry narration of it. but god. nightingale knocked out two TANKS. by himself. with his mind. fucking sexy lol

oh damn it why can't they just let me be horny about how powerful he is instead of immediately following it with the fact that he was rear guard and making emotional that it means he was the one trusted to watch over and protect the rest of his men while they retreated as that one final shield between them and enemy fire

hhhhhhhholy shit what did simone DO to mama grant???!!!!

she just bitch slapped her!

OH MY GOD SHE TRIED TO HOMEWRECK HIS PARENTS TOO???

she's PLAUSIBLY IMMORTAL???

fuck i was right she was sketchy as hell!!

she's a fucking jazz vampire and she's been glamouring and sucking him dry! buddy, get to dr walid STAT for a brain scan and make sure she's not turning you into cauliflower!

peter don't you make excuses for her you KNOW it's possible, stop lying about your mum and trying to make her feel better you need to take her in she's a m u r d e r e r

i mean, glamour yes i realize but god, frustrating

good lad peter, i see you fighting it 💪🏾

ohhhhhhhh. oh fuck. she didn't KNOW. she didn't know she was from the 40s and killing people. oh this is bad

nightingale, attempting to show concern: "that was not the most intelligent thing you've done" xD 10/10 nailed it buddy

umm, nightingale? this may not be the black and white moral situation you think it is to go in guns blazing...

it's both funny and little sad how militant both molly and dr walid are when nightingale is injured like. i do LOVE when the person who is SUPPOSEDLY in charge gets lovingly bullied, but it hurts because that's also probably the ONLY way to make him take care of himself is if they FORCE him. and peter's not any better, he's gonna need bullying too

i do love when they team up though. molly and nightingale ganging up against peter like. nightingale gets the special treatment and a hot cocoa from molly, but peter gets the dog's leash and smug little "i'm on bedrest :)" or nightingale foisting the rest of his kidney pie on peter while molly is out of the room then grabbing his empty plate back to pretend he ate it all himself when she returns xD

the cases are interesting and all, but i think it's the core characters that are really the standout of the novel and the reason i keep reading even while i'm asking myself things like, but WHY is she killing via vagina dentata instead of literally any other assassination method? i think it's also why simone stood out so much. she HAD no background that we were told (until now) aside from being sexy. which of course i now know was intentional

"this is your brain, which is not only clean and unsullied by thought..." i love dr walid. it probably says something about me that my favorite characters all have to be at least a little bit of a bitch

oh no i'm having feeeeeelings about both nightingale and peter trying to keep the other out of the vampire raid to shield them from the emotional effects of it, just from opposite ends. nightingale doesn't want peter to have the pain of ANOTHER death on his hands, this one purposeful as opposed to the accidental death of the pale lady, so he's trying to just cut him out of it. and then peter ALSO doesn't want NIGHTINGALE to have the weight of more deaths on his soul and wants to protect him from what he sees as the unfortunate necessity of having to off someone who isn't intentionally hurting someone but still may be too dangerous to live. nightingale trying to save peter from his bleeding heart and peter saving nightingale from his practicality overriding his morality 😭 i just love when characters try to take care of each other in mirrored ways

uh...uh oh peter...no i don't think those are the police OR nightingale's paratrooper buddies

okay the audiobook is fucking excellent though, his infomercial voice while extolling the virtues of doc martins is KILLING me

oh this posh wanker. "oh what is feeding on people but another form of exploitation, and we all know there's nothing wrong with exploiting workers, equality is morally bankrupt anyway" god i hate you already you're insufferable

like of COURSE a dining club oxford nose wipe would think that way. he thinks he's sooooo slick and original with his chimeras they're such exciting new COL crimes but it all just boils down the the exact same rich white bullshit mentality

he would hate it if he realized how dull and banal his villainy is once you strip back the shock value of the trappings. just another entitled prick who views people as things, fuck this dude

i'd be tempted to say the faceless man's signare smelling like pork was a dig at david cameron and piggate if i didn't know it was written a few years too early for that lol

peter: oh no nightingale is going to give me SUCH a bollocking nightingale, obviously so relieved he's alive: very much does NOT give him a bollocking and instead tells him how impressive it is that he didn't just immediately die against the faceless man

"for a terrifying moment i thought he was going to huge me, but fortunately we both remembered we were english just in time. still, it was a close call" 🤣🤣🤣

oh ouch peter. just use all his dead friends against him. effective but also, low blow

god he wants so badly for peter to be right, too, that they and HE doesn't have to kill anyone anymore, that how that it's not Just Him ALl Alone they might have the support structure for other options. oh no i want this to work so badly so that hope is validated, but i just know something is gonna go wrong

welp

i didn't like her but i didn't want her fuckin DEAD you know?

and now the ones left standing have to deal with the trauma and the fallout

oh lesley :( they're both trying so hard to be normal about it and they're such good friends 🥺

LESLEY DO MAGIC?

LESLEY JOIN TEAM FOLLY???!!

also don't think you've been sneaky there and that i haven't noticed SOME sort of thematic symmetry of lesley struggling with having lost her face involuntarily from magic, and the faceless man having voluntarily masked himself. involuntary vs voluntary loss of identity. i'm sure there will be more parallels in the next book but like. i see you. i see you setting up face themes with these two

hopefully with lesley regaining her face somehow and thus reclaiming identity while the faceless man is unmasked thus losing the identity he built for himself and revealing the true one he hid. maybe hopefully? i want good things for lesley and bad things for the faceless one.

#rivers of london #under a readmore because it's so long and i don't want to owe even MORE of an apology to everyone in the tag than i already do

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usafphantom2 · 2 months

Text

New Reality Series Stars Texas MiG Pilot

February 14, 2024 Luc Zipkin Warbirds News 0

Randy W. Ball is North America’s PREMIER Jet Demonstration Pilot. Randy has performed well over 1,500 performances to date! No other North American Jet Demo pilot even comes close to that number of performances. Photo via Fighter Jets Demo Team

Aircorps Art Dec 2019

PRESS RELEASE

An exciting new aviation reality series based on a Smithsonian Air & Space magazine article about a remarkable jet restored to fly at 600 miles per hour will begin streaming on Thursday, February 15, 2024, at 8 pm Eastern time. Airshow Team combines the thrill of the aerial cockpit experience with hands-on maintenance in the hangar, all performed by the talented team behind one of the world’s most famous aerobatic jets.

The first season, dubbed Airshow Team: Red 620, stars Randy Ball, a commercial captain and civilian demo pilot with a penchant for flying upside-down at high speeds; Jon Blanchette, octogenarian owner and restorer of the only flying MiG-17PF in the world, Red 620; and Erin Kelley, the only female crew chief of an aerobatic jet demo team in North America.

Randy is the ONLY Jet Demo pilot (military or civilian) to be granted both a day and night unlimited aerobatic rating in jet fighters by the FAA. He has flown over 44 different types of aircraft, manufactured in 9 different countries. Photo via Fighter Jets Demo Team

“Airshow Team is like Top Gun meets Top Gear,” said Lynn Rebuck, creator, producer, and director of the series based on her Smithsonian story. “Viewers get to experience the thrill of the 600-mph ride from in the cockpit and then go into the hangar to see what it takes to make the jet fly.”

While the first season primarily follows Ball, Kelley, and Blanchette, it also features performances by the USAF Thunderbirds and other military jet demo teams including the F-22 Raptor, F-16s, B-2 bomber, and B-52s, as well as top civilian airshow performers. Rebuck hopes to expand the franchise to follow other airshow teams in future seasons. But it all begins with the simple story of a man who was determined to make a rusty old jet fly.

Retired General Motors engineer Jon Blanchette did what many believed impossible: he bought a scrapped Polish fighter jet and turned it into an airshow star. Remarkably, he relied only on his retirement funds, not corporate funding, to restore it. Blanchette then tapped accomplished airshow performer Randy Ball, who boasts more time flying MiGs than any other pilot in North America, to fly the jet at airshows. Ball and his traveling mechanic, Erin Kelley, inspected and tweaked Red 620 before Ball launched into the sky for its first post-restoration flight and began flying it at airshows on the East Coast.

youtube

Impressed with the pristine restoration, Ball urged Blanchette to enter the jet into competition at AirVenture Oshkosh, the largest and most prestigious airshow in the country. Blanchette’s jet took top honors in its Warbird division and received the coveted Silver Wrench for the Best Restoration. Those achievements landed Blanchette’s jet on the cover of Smithsonian’s Air & Space magazine, thanks to Rebuck, a producer and journalist who met the team at an airshow in Pennsylvania.

“When I first spoke with Jon, his wife Bev, and Randy at the airshow, I knew this incredible story of this jet needed to be told,” said Rebuck. “But then I watched Randy fly Red 620 just 20 feet off the ground approaching the speed of sound and realized that it needed to be seen.” So Rebuck began filming airshow performances, interviews with the team, and documenting the team’s jet maintenance routines and repairs. The series, as Ball says, shows “all the stuff that goes on at airshows that you just never see.”

Ezoic

In one episode, viewers will get to see pilot Randy Ball and his team of volunteers put the tail back onto a MiG-17 fighter jet. Another shows Erin Kelley reconfiguring the oxygen system.

“A jet demo pilot rarely works on his planes,” said Rebuck, “and even more rare that a female mechanic is shown performing jet repairs in a streaming series.”

The Texas cast of Airshow Team: Red 620: (l to r) Mechanic/crew chief Erin Kelley, airshow demo pilot Randy Ball, and volunteer mechanics Sam Swink and John Carmical pose with Ball’s MiG17F at the Tyler Pounds Regional Airport in Tyler, Texas. Photo credit: Lynn Rebuck/LITitz Media Group

Airline staffing shortages have disrupted travel worldwide in recent years, arising from shortages of maintenance technicians, ground crew, and pilots. Multiple industry sources anticipate that the worldwide aviation industry will require at least an additional 500,000 technicians to maintain aircraft in the coming few years, and about 300,000 new pilots to fly them. Rebuck opted to stream Airshow Team for free to encourage a broader audience to pursue careers in aviation.

Airshow Team: Red 620 will stream for free online at www.AirshowTeam.TV. The family-friendly series will premiere globally with the first two episodes of its season on Thursday, February 15, followed by one new episode every Thursday for the next 10 weeks. Airshow Team is produced by LITitz Media Group, an award-winning, woman-owned digital media content creation company.

@VintageAircraftNews via X

#Youtube

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