#Finding Steve McQueen

[himbofag]

yknow i am a big fan of the “I don’t self sacrifice” shtick in house in relation to wilson but i’m rewatching euphoria/the foreman illness episodes and God. God he really is just a man who cares but has been conditioned to never show it huh

#he was willing to let Steve McQueen the rat die without a second thought. to hopefully find out what’s wrong with foreman #oughhhhhj #house md #house md 2x21 #certified himbofag original

[hotvintagepoll]

Congrats to the ultimate winner of the Hot & Vintage Movie Men Tournament, Mr. Toshiro Mifune! May he live happily and well where the sun always shines, enjoying the glories of a battle hard fought.

A loving farewell to all of our previous contestants, who are now banished to the shadow realm and all its dark joys and whispered horrors—I hear there's a picnic on the village green today. If you want to remember the fallen heroes, you can find them all beneath the cut.

What happens next? I'll be taking a break of two weeks to rest from this and prep for the Hot & Vintage Ladies Tournament. I'll still be around but only minimally, posting a few last odes to the hot men before transitioning into a little early ladies content, just like I did with this last tournament. The submission form for the Hot & Vintage Ladies tournament will remain up for one more week (closing February 21st), so get your submissions in for that asap! Once the form closes, there will be one more week of break. The first round of the Hot & Vintage Ladies Tournament will be posted on February 29th, as Leap Year Day seems like a fitting allusion to leaping into these ladies' arms.

Thanks for being here! Enjoy the two weeks off, and send me some great propaganda.

In order of the last round they survived—

ROUND ONE HOTTIES:

Richard Burton

Tony Curtis

Red Skelton

Keir Dullea

Jack Lemmon

Kirk Douglas

Marcello Mastroianni

Jean-Pierre Cassel

Robert Wagner

James Garner

James Coburn

Rex Harrison

George Chakiris

Dean Martin

Sean Connery

Tab Hunter

Howard Keel

James Mason

Steve McQueen

George Peppard

Elvis Presley

Rudolph Valentino

Joseph Schildkraut

Ray Milland

Claude Rains

John Wayne

William Holden

Douglas Fairbanks Sr.

Harold Lloyd

Charlie Chaplin

John Gilbert

Ramon Novarro

Slim Thompson

John Barrymore

Edward G. Robinson

William Powell

Leslie Howard

Peter Lawford

Mel Ferrer

Joseph Cotten

Keye Luke

Ivan Mosjoukine

Spencer Tracy

Felix Bressart

Ronald Reagan (here to be dunked on)

Peter Lorre

Bob Hope

Paul Muni

Cornel Wilde

John Garfield

Cantinflas

Henry Fonda

Robert Mitchum

Van Johnson

José Ferrer

Robert Preston

Jack Benny

Fredric March

Gene Autry

Alec Guinness

Fayard Nicholas

Ray Bolger

Orson Welles

Mickey Rooney

Glenn Ford

James Cagney

ROUND TWO SWOONERS:

Dick Van Dyke

James Edwards

Sammy Davis Jr.

Alain Delon

Peter O'Toole

Robert Redford

Charlton Heston

Cesar Romero

Noble Johnson

Lex Barker

David Niven

Robert Earl Jones

Turhan Bey

Bela Lugosi

Donald O'Connor

Carman Newsome

Oscar Micheaux

Benson Fong

Clint Eastwood

Sabu Dastagir

Rex Ingram

Burt Lancaster

Paul Newman

Montgomery Clift

Fred Astaire

Boris Karloff

Gilbert Roland

Peter Cushing

Frank Sinatra

Harold Nicholas

Guy Madison

Danny Kaye

John Carradine

Ricardo Montalbán

Bing Crosby

ROUND THREE SMOKESHOWS:

Marlon Brando

Anthony Perkins

Michael Redgrave

Gary Cooper

Conrad Veidt

Ronald Colman

Rock Hudson

Basil Rathbone

Laurence Olivier

Christopher Plummer

Johnny Weismuller

Clark Gable

Fernando Lamas

Errol Flynn

Tyrone Power

Humphrey Bogart

ROUND 4 STUNGUNS:

James Dean

Cary Grant

Gregory Peck

Sessue Hayakawa

Harry Belafonte

James Stewart

Gene Kelly

Peter Falk

QUARTERFINALIST VOLCANIC TOWERS OF LUST:

Jeremy Brett

Vincent Price

James Shigeta

Buster Keaton

SEMIFINALIST SUPERMEN:

Omar Sharif

Paul Robeson

FINALIST FANTASIES:

Sidney Poitier

Toshiro Mifune

and ok, sure, here's the shadow-bracket-style winner's portrait of Toshiro Mifune.

#hotvintagepoll #hot men finals #a winner crowned! #fuck that old man (requiem) #shadow bracket #toshiro mifune

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Hook Man | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, mentions of religious trauma/parental abuse

Word Count: 4869

A/N: Guys. We hit a bit of a milestone earlier in the week. Just wanted to say in celebration that I am so beyond grateful for all of your love and support. I'm so glad you guys are enjoying reading this as much as I enjoy writing it! Giving big big kisses to all of you!!! Taglist is open!!

Edit: Hey.... I suck I forgot to add the taglist when I published. So sorry!!! fixed now!!!!

Series Rewrite Masterlist

You and Dean were sat at an outdoor cafe; coffee cups in hand. He was clacking away at his laptop while you wrote in your journal. You wrote your excerpt on the shapeshifter next to a drawing of Dean’s necklace. 

“Is that…?” Dean asked, pointing to your journal.

You nodded. 

“I didn’t know you could draw,” he said.

“No offense, lovebug, but you don’t know much of anything about me,” you retorted.

He scoffed. “Will you take the compliment and be quiet?”

“I didn’t hear a compliment,” you giggled. “Well, maybe in ‘Dean Winchester Land’ it was a compliment.”

“Oh, shut up,” he responded playfully. 

Sam hung up the payphone he was standing in and came back over to your table.

“Your, uh, half-caf, double vanilla latte is gettin’ cold over here, Francis,” Dean jabbed at his brother.

“Hey, don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” you told him.

“So, anything?” Dean asked Sam.

Sam huffed. “I had ‘em check the FBI’s Missing Persons Data Bank. No John Does fitting Dad’s description. I even ran his plates for traffic violations.”

“Sam, I’m tellin’ ya, I don’t think Dad wants to be found.”

Sam looked disappointed.

“Check this out.” Dean turned his laptop around to you and Sam. “It’s a news item out of Planes Courier. Ankeny, Iowa. It’s only about a hundred miles from here.”

“Thank god, a short trip,” you sighed. 

“ ‘The mutilated body was found near the victim’s car, parked on 9 Mile Road,’ “ Sam read from the article.

“Keep reading.” Dean nodded at his laptop.

“ ‘Authorities are unable to provide a realistic description of the killer. The sole eyewitness, whose name has been withheld, is quoted as saying the attacker was invisible.’ “

That last line caught your attention. “Could be something interesting.”

“Or it could be nothing at all,” Sam protested. “One freaked out witness who didn’t see anything? Doesn’t mean it’s the Invisible Man.”

“But what if it is? Dad would check it out,” Dean responded.

***

The one hundred mile drive concluded with the boys dropping you off at a sorority house. 

“Remind me why I have to play barbies for the week again?” you asked.

“Because this is Lori Sorensen’s sorority house; the witness from the killing,” Sam replied.

“Great,” you mumbled.

“Have fun making s’mores and singing campfire songs,” Dean remarked.

“Bite me,” you snarked. “You’re going to a frat, though, Steve McQueen, so I wouldn’t be so cocky.” 

“Yeah, don’t remind me,” he grumbled. 

“I’ll catch up with you guys later,” you said and shouldered your duffel bag. You bid them goodbye and reluctantly marched up to the door of the sorority house.

A girl with long, dark curls opened the door. “Hi,” she said. “Can I… help you?”

“Yeah, I’m (Y/N),” you explained. “I’m your sorority sister from Ohio State. Do you guys have an extra bed I could sleep in? I just transferred here.”

“Sure,” she grinned. “I’m Taylor, by the way.” 

“Nice to meet you.” 

She led you inside and introduced you to Lori Sorensen. She was a sweet girl; very naive and a little stuck-up. Taylor seemed a little more like a party girl, but still relatively tame. You decided you could gel with these girls for the time being. 

They told you they were headed to Sunday service at Lori’s father’s church and invited you to go with them. You obliged.

In the middle of the introductory rites, you heard the heavy church door slam shut. Your head swiveled to find Sam and Dean frozen and looking guilty. You scoffed amusedly and rolled your eyes, turning your attention forward for the rest of the service. 

Taylor invited you and Lori out to a party after the service, but Lori said she couldn’t. Her father had dinner with her every Sunday since her mother passed away. She and Taylor hugged and Taylor bid you goodbye before heading off.

Sam and Dean came over to you and Lori.

“Guys!” you said excitedly. “Sam, Dean, this is Lori.” You introduced her to them. “They’re my friends from Ohio. They transferred with me.” 

“I saw you inside,” she told them.

“We don’t wanna bother you. We just heard about what happened and…”

Dean cut his brother off. “We wanted to say how sorry we were.”

You knew where this was going; he was cruising for another hookup.

“I kind of know what you’re going through,” Sam broke back in. “I-I saw someone..get hurt once. It’s something you don’t forget.”

Lori nodded slightly. Just then, her father came up to your group.

“Dad, um, this is Sam, Dean, and (Y/N). They’re new students.”

Dean shook the reverend’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. I must say, that was an inspiring sermon.”

“Thank you very much,” he smiled. “It’s so nice to find young people who are open to the Lord’s message.” 

“Yes, sir,” you replied and began leading him away from Sam and Lori. “Actually, we’re looking for a new church group…”

***

Later that day, you and the boys were sitting together in the local library. Sam relayed to you what Lori had told him about the passing of the guy she was with.

“So, you believe her?” Dean asked him.

“I do,” he nodded.

“Yeah, I think she’s hot, too.” Dean smirked at him. 

“You think almost everything with a vagina and legs is hot, Dean,” you remarked.

“Not you,” he jabbed back, still smirking.

You clutched a hand to your chest. “I’m hurt, you dick.”

He rolled his eyes at you.

“Can we focus, please?” Sam broke in. “There’s something in her eyes. And listen to this: she heard scratching on the roof. Found the bloody body suspended upside down over the car.”

“Wait, the body suspended? That sounds like the—”

 Sam cut you off. “Yeah, I know, the Hook Man legend.” 

“That’s one of the most famous urban legends ever,” Dean added. “You don’t think that we’re dealing with the Hook Man.”

“Every urban legend has a source. A place where it all began,” said Sam.

“Yeah, but what about the phantom scratches and the tire punctures and the invisible killer?”

“Well, maybe the Hook Man isn’t a man at all. What if it’s some kind of spirit?” 

You had the librarian bring over boxes of arrest records. The three of you poured through pages upon pages for hours. 

“Hey, check this out. 1862,” Sam said finally. “A preacher named Jacob Karns was arrested for murder. Looks like he was so angry over the red light district in town that one night he killed 13 prostitutes. Uh, right here, ‘some of the deceased were found in their bed, sheets soaked with blood. Others suspended upside down from the limbs of trees as a warning against sins of the flesh.’ “

“Get this, the murder weapon?” Dean was looking at another page. “Looks like the preacher lost his hand in an accident. Had it replaced with a silver hook.” 

You pointed to a page in Sam’s book. “Look where all this happened. Nine Mile Road.”

“Same place where the frat boy was killed,” Sam chimed in. 

“Nice job, Dr. Venkamen and Annie Potts. Let’s check it out,” the older brother quipped.

The three of you headed to Nine Mile Road. Dean parked off the road in a clearing in the woods. He popped the trunk and handed Sam a shotgun. “Here you go.”

“If it is a spirit, buckshot won’t do much good,” Sam said.

“Yeah, rock salt. It won’t kill ‘em. But it’ll slow ‘em down.” Dean led the three of you through the clearing. 

“That’s pretty good. You and Dad think of this?” 

“I told you. You don’t have to be a college graduate to be a genius.”

“Cool it, Winchester. You and your daddy aren’t the first people to think of rock salt bullets.” You loaded your own gun with shells of your own.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“They’re a bitch to roll,” you said.

“Oh, one hundred percent,” he remarked. 

You suddenly heard rustling in the bushes.

“Over there,” you whispered to Sam. The two of you aimed your guns and cocked it. 

The “ghost” came out from behind the trees. A sheriff. 

‘Dammit.’

“Put the gun down now!” he yelled. “Now! Put your hands behind your head.”

“Wait, wait, okay!” Dean told him. 

You immediately dropped your gun and put your hands up.

“Now get down on your knees. Come on, do it! On your knees!”

You three obeyed.

“Now get down on your bellies,” he commanded. “Come on, do it!”

“Are you just on a power trip or something? ‘Cause— ah!” you were cut off by a sharp kick to the shin from Sam. 

The sheriff brought the three of you into the station. It was early the next morning by the time you were able to leave.

“Saved your asses!” Dean jeered. “Talked the sheriff down to a fine. I am Matlock.”

“How was it that you were left in charge of talking him down?” You raised a brow at him. “And how in the fuck did you do it?”

“Sweetheart, this may surprise you, but I’m good at my job. And I told him Sam was a dumbass pledge, you were his girlfriend we’d dragged along, and we were hazing you.”

You and Sam both recoiled at the idea of dating each other.

“First of all, ew,” you started, “No offense, Sam.”

“None taken.”

“But what about the shotguns?”

“I said that you were hunting ghosts and the spirits were repelled by rock salt. You know, typical Hell Week prank.”

“And he believed you?” you asked incredulously.

“Well, Sam looks like a dumbass pledge.”

“Can’t argue with that.” You stuck your tongue out at Sam.

Moments later, several officers ran out of the building to their cruisers. Barely needing to share a look with the boys, you hurried into the car and sped away to follow them.

You could see Lori wrapped in a disposable blanket in front of the sorority house you were staying in. You weren’t exactly sure what was going on, but you had no doubt that it was another murder. The stretcher carrying a body bag rolling out of the front door affirmed that thought seconds later.

Dean parked the Impala around the back of the house. 

“Why would the Hook Man come here?” Sam asked as the three of you crept around the building. “This is a long way from Nine Mile Road.”

“Maybe he’s not haunting the scene of his crime. Maybe it’s about something else,” Dean suggested. 

You pulled his arm back seconds later to avoid being seen by your “sorority sisters.” You used the fact that you had now pretty much pulled yourself in front of him to allow you to lead the way up to the second floor. 

While Dean made a stupid joke about a naked pillow fight, Sam was busy giving you a boost before climbing up himself. You looked back down at the ground to see Dean struggling to find his footing.

“Need help?” you smirked.

“No,” he grumbled.

“I think you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

You waited patiently, leaning your head in your hands on the railing of the balcony and smiling down at him. He struggled for a few more moments before he conceded. All he did was open and close his hand he was extending upwards, similar to a toddler asking to be picked up.

“What’s the magic word?” you sing-songed.

“Come on!” he hissed. “Please?”

“There we go,” you smiled. You dug your heels into the ground and pulled him up.

You then realized the window you were entering was the one in Lori and Taylor’s closet. You hoped to god in that moment that Taylor wasn’t the one dead.

Your fears were realized, however, when you entered Lori and Taylor’s room to find the words “Aren’t you glad you didn’t turn on the light?” crudely etched into the wall above Taylor’s blood soaked bed. You didn’t exactly get attached to people on hunts, but seeing good people die was never easy for you. It didn’t get easier. Your dad would call you soft, but you always liked to look at your compassion as a strength.

“ ‘Aren’t you glad you didn’t turn on the light?’ That’s right out of the legend,” Sam whispered.

“Yeah, that’s classic Hook Man all right.” Dean tapped his nose as he spoke. “It’s definitely a spirit.”

“Yeah, I’ve never smelled ozone this strong before,” Sam muttered.

“(Y/N), you okay?” Dean asked you. 

You nodded, biting your lip. “Yeah. Fine. It’s just… look at this symbol.” You were referencing the one beneath the writing. “Does that look familiar to you?”

Your head jerked toward the sound of footsteps approaching. You quickly shooed Sam and Dean back into the closet and out of the house. Thankfully, you made it back to the car without being seen. You pulled the copy you’d made at the library of one of the pages on Jacob Karns out of the backseat. That was where you had seen the cross symbol; on Karns’s hook. 

You showed it to the boys. “Told ya.”

“Alright, let’s find the dude’s grave, salt and burn the bones, and put him down,” Dean said.

Sam took the page from your hand. “ ‘After execution, Jacob Karns was laid to rest in an Old North Cemetery. In an unmarked grave.’ “ He flicked the page with his finger, looking aggravated; as were you and Dean.

“Super,” the older brother muttered.

“Ok. So we know it’s Jacob Karns. But we still don’t know where he’ll manifest next. Or why,” Sam pointed out.

“I could just be spitballing here, but Lori definitely has something to do with it,” you said, looking up at the sorority house.

***

You managed to get into a party at the fraternity house Sam and Dean were staying in later that night. Dean had been busy mingling with thin college girls dressed in mini skirts while Sam stuck to the outside wall. You bounced around from talking to Sam and hustling some of the drunk frat guys in multiple rounds of pool.

The three of you reunited around the pool table you’d been dominating that night.

“Man, you’ve been holding out on me,” Dean told Sam. “This college thing is awesome!” He smiled and winked at a passing girl.

Sam looked intensely uncomfortable. “This wasn’t really my experience.”

“Let me guess. Libraries, studying, straight A’s?”

Sam nodded. You chortled.

“What a geek. Alright, you do your homework?” 

“Yeah. It was bugging me, right? So how is the Hook Man tied up with Lori? So I think I came up with something.” Sam unfolded a piece of paper. 

“1932. Clergyman arrested for murder. 1967. Seminarian held in hippie rampage,” Dean read.

Your eyebrows knitted together.

“There’s a pattern here,” Sam explained. “In both cases, the suspect was a man of religion who openly preached against immorality. And then found himself wanted for killings he claimed were the work of an invisible force. Killings carried out— get this— with a sharp instrument.”

“What’s the connection to Lori?” Dean asked.

“Her dad. Man of religion who openly preaches against immorality,” you pointed out. “Maybe this time, though, instead of saving the whole town, he’s just trying to save his kid.”

“Reverend Sorensen,” Dean tsked. “You think he’s summoning the spirit?”

“Maybe it’s like when a poltergeist can haunt a person instead of a place,” you suggested.

“Yeah, the spirit latches onto the reverend’s repressed emotions, feeds off them, yeah, okay.”

“Without the reverend ever even knowing it,” Sam chimed in.

“Either way, you should keep an eye on Lori tonight,” Dean told his brother.

“What about you?” 

Dean looked over to the opposite side of the pool table where the blonde you’d been playing with smiled at him. He reluctantly said, “(Y/N) and I are gonna go see if we can find that unmarked grave.” 

“We are? I wanted to play more eight-ball,” you told him. 

He looked back over at the blonde, back at you, and shook his head in disappointment. “C’mon. I’m not happy about it either.”

***

“Are you sure you don’t wanna go back?” you asked Dean as the two of you trudged through the Old North Cemetery. You were holding shovels and flashlights searching for the grave of Jacob Karns.

He shot you a look.

“I know, I know, I’m kidding,” you laughed. “But seriously. Now that we’re… acquaintances, we should go out to a bar sometime. Preferably one with a pool table.”

“That’d be cool, actually,” he said, smirking at you. “You’re pretty good.”

“What, at pool?”

He nodded. “I could probably still kick your ass, though.”

“You’re on, pretty boy.”

He stopped and turned to you. “Don’t objectify me.”

“What?” you asked, stopping next to him. “You know you’re gorgeous. You frequently use it to your advantage.” You marched on.

You smiled when you heard him mutter, “You are so confusing, woman.”

You walked for a few more minutes before your flashlight landed on a grave marked with that cross symbol from Taylor’s room. “Jackpot.”

You and Dean set to work exhuming Jacob’s corpse. Your back and shoulders ached more and more the deeper you dug. “How fucking far down is six feet?” you remarked breathlessly. 

“I don’t know, but next time, I get to watch the cute girl’s house,” he replied.

“Aw, you don’t wanna spend quality time with this cute girl?” you asked playfully. 

He eyed you strangely with a lopsided smile. 

“What?” you asked.

“Nothing. You’re just funny,” he told you.

You smiled back and got back to digging. Your shovel finally hit the wooden box lying below. You broke through it to reveal his corpse. Or at least, what remained of it. 

“Hello, preacher,” Dean said. He threw his shovel aside and helped you out of the hole you had dug. After he had climbed out, you poured salt and lighter fluid all over the bones. 

“Goodbye, preacher.” Dean threw a match down into the grave.

Your nose twisted up in disgust. “I will never get used to that smell.”

“What, burnt, hundred-year-old preacher? Me neither.”

You and Dean packed up and headed back to the car that was parked in the cemetery’s parking lot. Your body was exhausted. 

“Um, weird question,” you started. 

He turned to you and threw his shovel and duffel bag in the trunk. 

“You think we could sleep in your car for a bit? I’m running on two days of no sleep.”

He shrugged. “I don’t see why not. It should all be over now and Sam should be layin’ it down with Lori.”

And so, you did. You stretched out over the backseat, and Dean laid down on the front. A few moments of silence passed between the two of you, and strangely, you no longer felt tired. You supposed it was the strangeness of the situation. You were now sharing a somewhat intimate moment with a man you despised just weeks prior. You weren’t quite sure where your relationship with Dean was heading, and that bothered you a bit.

“Dean?”

“Hm.”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, (Y/N).”

***

Four hours of shut-eye later, you felt recharged. You awoke to the sound of Dean’s phone vibrating over which Sam told you to meet him at a hospital.

“Hospital? Why? Is he okay?” you asked Dean, climbing over the front seat to sit shotgun. 

“I think so, but he said the reverend’s hurt.”

About fifteen minutes later, you were walking down a long corridor only to be stopped by two cops in wide-brimmed hats. 

The sheriffs put a hand to Dean’s chest to stop him.

“No, it’s alright, we’re with him. He’s my brother,” he explained. “Hey! Brother!” he called, waving dorkishly at Sam.  

“Let them through.”

“Thanks.” 

You and Dean began walking toward Sam, who met you in the middle.

“You okay?” Dean asked. 

“Yeah,” sighed Sam.

“What the hell happened?” 

“Hook Man.”

You looked incredulous. “You saw him?”

“Damn right. Why didn’t you torch the bones?” Sam responded.

“We did,” you rebutted, confused. “You sure it’s the spirit of Jacob Karns?”

“It sure as hell looked like him,” Sam returned. “And that’s not all. I don’t think the spirit is latching on to the reverend.”

“Well, duh, he wouldn’t send Hook Man after himself,” you remarked.

“I think it’s latching onto Lori. Last night she found out her father is having an affair with a married woman.” He whispered that last part.

“Damn.” You gritted your teeth. “I could see how that could upset her.”

Sam nodded. “She told me she was raised to believe that if you do something wrong, you get punished.”

“Ok, so she’s conflicted,” Dean chimed in. “And the spirit of Preacher Karns is latching on to repress the emotions and maybe he’s doing the punishing for her, huh?”

“Right,” the younger brother nodded. “Rich comes on too strong, Taylor tries to make her into a party girl, Dad has an affair.”

“Remind me not to piss this girl off,” Dean muttered. “But we burned those bones, buried them in salt, why didn’t that stop him?”

“We must’ve missed something,” you said. 

“No, we burned everything in that coffin.”

“Did you get the hook?” Sam asked the two of you.

Realization struck you. “Fuck,” you grumbled. “No.”

“Why does that matter?” Dean asked.

“Well, it was the murder weapon, and in a way, it was part of him,” Sam told him.

“So, like the bones, the hook is a source of his power.”

“So if we find the hook—”

The three of you finished Sam’s sentence in unison, grinning. “We stop the Hook Man.”

“Well, back to the drawing board,” you said as the three of you began walking away from the reverend’s hospital room.

“What do you mean?” Dean asked.

“Do you know where the hook is?” you raised your eyebrows at him. 

He said nothing.

“Exactly,” you giggled.

***

Your next stop was the library for the second time this hunt. As much as you liked to read, obnoxious amounts of research was not your thing. Finally, you thought you’d found something. “Log book, Iowa State Penitentiary. ‘Karns, Jacob. Personal effects: disposition thereof.’ “

“Does it mention the hook?” Sam asked you.

“I don’t know. ‘Upon execution, all earthly items shall be remanded to the prisoner’s house of worship, St. Barnabas Church,’ “ you read aloud. “That’s where Lori’s dad preaches.”

“Where Lori lives, too?” Sam asked, but it was more of a statement than a question.

“Maybe that’s why the Hook Man has been haunting reverends and reverends’ daughters for the past two hundred years,” Dean added.

“Yeah, but I think someone would’ve noticed a blood-stained, silver-handled hook hangin’ around the church or Lori’s house.”

Dean pulled out another book and slapped it down in front of you. “Check the church records.”

Sam pulled the book to sit between the two of you. You and he flipped through pages upon pages of records before he found something. “ ‘St. Barnabas donations, 1862. Received silver-handled hook from state penitentiary. Reforged.’ “ He sighed. “They melted it down. Made it into something else.”

“Goddammit,” you grumbled. 

Later that night, you and the boys returned to St. Barnabas Church. Dean shouldered a duffel bag and began leading you to the church. Sam followed close behind.

“Alright, we can’t take any chances,” the older brother began. “Anything silver goes in the fire.”

“I agree. So, Lori’s still at the hospital. We’ll have to break in,” Sam added.

“Okay, take your pick,” you told him.

“I’ll take the house,” Sam responded.

“Dean and I will take the church, then.”

“We will?” the older brother asked.

“Yup.”

You led Dean up to the church. He called back to his brother. “Hey. Stay out of her underwear drawer.”

You could hear the smirk in his voice and giggled.

You took the top floor of the church while Dean scoured the basement. The two of you, along with Sam, met up in the furnace room. 

“I got everything that even looked silver,” Sam told you.

“Better safe than sorry,” Dean said. 

Your head turned upward at the sound of footsteps. You could hear Dean taking his gun from his jacket as you grabbed yours.

“Move, move,” Dean told you quietly.

You crept up the stairs as quietly as possible. When you got back to the ground floor, you could see Lori hunched over, her shoulders shaking. You lowered your gun and lightly pushed Sam forward. He shot you a look, but headed over to Lori anyway. You and Dean went back downstairs to continue melting the silver. 

“I feel for her,” you said quietly. “I know how much religion can fuck you up.” Silver clanked against the coals in the furnace as you spoke.

Dean turned his head to you. “You do?”

You nodded. “I’ve watched so many people go through crisis after crisis when their loved ones end up dead.”

“Me too,” he said earnestly. “Probably why I don’t pray.”

“Well, it’s a little difficult to believe in a higher power when all day, everyday is blood, guts, and monsters,” you remarked.

He chuckled. “Yeah. I don’t know if I’ve met one religious hunter.”

“I have,” you said. “My mom.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. She was somehow still convinced of ‘God’s plan.’ “

“Catholic?”

“Oh, very.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he replied playfully.

“Yeah, me too,” you smiled. “My dad wasn’t, but, uh, he had his… other issues.”

Before he could ask further questions, you heard commotion upstairs. It sounded like running heading toward the opposite side of the basement.

“C’mon,” Dean urged, sprinting out of the furnace room with his gun in hand. You followed closely behind. You could hear the breaking of boards and slamming of what you assumed were bodies that practically shook the walls that got louder as you got closer. Sam was maneuvering himself behind the Hook Man’s clunkily-moving apparition. 

Dean gruffly called to his brother, “Sam, drop!”

His brother obeyed and Dean shot the Hook Man, who disappeared.

“I thought we got all the silver,” you said.

“So did I,” the older brother answered.

“Then why is he still here?” Sam’s voice was frantic.

“Well, maybe we missed something!”

You looked around and noticed Lori’s cross necklace. “Lori, where did you get that chain?”

“My father gave it to me,” she responded nervously.

“Where’d your dad get it?” Sam asked.

“He said it was a church heirloom,” she answered quickly. “He gave it to me when I started school.”

“Is it silver?!”

“Yes!”

Sam ripped the chain off her and threw it to you. You caught it with ease and went to start running back down the hall when the invisible Hook Man started dragging his hook along the wall.  

You threw Sam your gun and started running down another corridor you hoped would bring you to the same destination. You could vaguely hear Dean say to his brother, “I’ll cover (Y/N), shoot anything that moves!” before you heard approaching quick footsteps behind you.

You sprinted down winding hallways and thankfully quickly made it to the furnace room. You threw the necklace into the fire and watched as it slowly began to melt. “C’mon, c’mon,” you muttered anxiously. It took longer than you would’ve liked, but the cross broke off the necklace and burned into ash. As soon as it did, you and Dean ran back to the latter’s brother to make sure the ghost was gone. Thankfully, he had, but Sam seemed injured. He was clutching his left shoulder and wincing. 

You called the police to the scene and urged them to send an ambulance. They arrived in no time, and Sam was able to get his injury patched up. 

“And you saw him, too?” A sheriff was asking you and writing in a notepad. “The man with the hook?”

“Yeah, we all saw him,” you responded. “We fought him off and then he ran.”

“And that’s all?” The sheriff was skeptical.

“Yes, sir.”

“Listen. You and those two boys—”

Dean came up behind you and answered for you. “Oh, don’t worry, we’re leaving town.”

You laughed at his response. Sam and Lori talking near the ambulance caught your eye. You continued watching them in the rearview mirror once you’d gotten in the backseat of the car. Sam soon left Lori, who looked after him sadly, and stooped down into the car. 

“We could stay,” Dean suggested. 

You could tell Sam wanted to, but he shook his head. A deflated air had settled over the car, but you knew the younger Winchester wasn’t ready for anything yet. He’d been dating Jessica for a year and a half and had just lost her less than four months ago. You knew he needed more time. The best way you knew to comfort him was to wrap your hands around his shoulders gently, minding his injury, from your place in the backseat. He tensed for a moment, but allowed you to hug him nonetheless. He responded by holding your arm with his good hand. And for a moment, if you closed your eyes, it was almost like hugging Steven again. 

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @davina-clairee

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #supernaturals series rewrite #spn series rewrite

[chere-indolente]

Newlyn Fisher Clothing Set

I come to you today with this little historical seaside fashion interlude (before going back to work on more 1880′s sets). This set includes cable knit sweaters in high and low waisted, and variations on traditional fishermen smocks. More pics and download below

This set is partly inspired by the works of the school of Newlyn, a group of painters known to have depicted the surrounding of Newlyn, a Cornish coastal town, and its many fishermen in the 1880′s to 1900′s. And here is the painting that I referenced in the promo picture.

—————————  Cableknit Sweater  ————————

———————————————————————————

This is the sweater from the Werewolf pack without the little laced up strings on the shoulders (why do you always add these unnecessary details EA ? 😅). I’ve made a short version (S) for my high waisted needs and a long (L) version, for both masc and fem frames, as well as both adult and children. 

Cableknit sweaters originated from Ireland, in the Aran Islands, though other types of knitted jumpers called gansey already existed in the British, Irish and Channel isles. They were created between the 1890′s and 1900′s. They were initially knitted with unwashed and undied wool. Both the natural lanolin from the virgin wool and the knitted patterns made for water resistant sweaters and as such : good alternatives to the previously used ganseys made of oiled wool died with indigo.

 These Aran sweaters slowly became some fashionable sportswear item during the 20′s and 30′s, and later reached its peak popularity in the 50s’ and 60′s worn by the likes of Grace Kelly and Steve McQueen.

40 solid swatches

for adults and children

2 lenghts : S & L

——————————— Vareuse V1 ——————————

———————————————————————————

Vareuses are a style of fishermen smocks with a V neck. This style was typical of Brittany fishermen though I have seen depiction of Norwegian fishermen for example sporting this style of smocks on 1880s paintings too. While I couldn’t find substancial informations on their origins and date of appereance, vareuses seem to have been used at least as far as mid 19th century and were still worn as work wear up til the mid 20th. 

It is said that traditionally fishers wore different colors depending on their fishing style : yellow ones for those shellfish picking, rust colored ones for those using fish traps, red ones for oyster farmers and blue ones for those fishing in the open seas.

Fishermen smocks were oiled to be water repellant and worn on top of clothes and knitted garments to protect them from water and keep them relatively clean.

On this 1st version of the vareuse I’ve not put any clothing “underneath” to allow for warm weather and for combinations with accessory shirts or turtlenecks.

33 solid swatches

for adults and children

——————————— Vareuse V2 ——————————

———————————————————————————

This 2nd version of a vareuse include a cableknit jumper sticking out of the V neck collar. The set also includes an overlay to pick the color of said cableknit jumper.

33 solid swatches

39 solid swatches on the cableknit overlay (located in the right wrist section)

for all ages

—————————  Cornish Crewneck  ————————

———————————————————————————

Similarly to the vareuse, the crewneck is a style of fishermen smocks. This style is traditionally associated with Cornwall, in the north west of England. Cornish crewneck smocks were used similarly to vareuses.

33 solid swatches

for all ages

———————————————————————————

Download : dropbox — simfileshare

———————————————————————————

#my cc #decade challenge #ts4cc #ts4 historical #sims 4 cc #sims 4 historical #maxis match #1880 #1890 #1900 #1910 #20s #30s #40s #50s #60s #clothes #child #grown up #chere-indolente #Newlyn Fisher Clothing Set #WOOLENS

[bougiebutchbitch]

move over steve mcqueen

House has a new animal sidekick and - that’s right - it’s the dog Wilson used to share with his ex wife

y’know, the one Wilson refused to take in after the divorce

House agreed to take it in only after pretending to be interested in Bonnie’s realtor service - then spending the entire apartment-viewing grilling her about how good Wilson is in bed

And finding out that he is apparently very, very, very good

Only then Wilson’s wife told House that he practically broke up their marriage despite Wilson’s premium dick game

So she named their dog after House because he’s an aggressive little terrier who keeps piddling on the rug and ruining her relationship with Wilson

And House immediately went ‘yeah that’s my dog now’

Yeah anyway that’s the dog

#hilson #house md #no this is a totally normal thing to do <3 why would you suggest otherwise #greg house #james wilson #gregory house #house x wilson #wilson x house #I have! no! words!!!!!! #liveblog

[sweaterkittensahoy]

Hello!

Just saw your post about prompts… 👀

If you’re interested, I’ve been dying for a very particular Buck/Bucky fic, where, during the interrogation scene, the officer has Gale brought in to try and get answers out of Buck ✨

Im a sucker for the extreme angsty stuff, but other than that, I’ll leave the prompt broad and up to your interpretation!

Thank you! ♥️

(This went more "two Steve McQueens fight a couple nazis" and less "oh god why must I watch you be hurt" but I hope you enjoy! Personally, I think Buck's likely the shithouse crazy one of them when it comes down to it, and Bucky just tags along when it happens.)

[cw: blood mention]

After several minutes of going back and forth, the interrogator questioning and Bucky replying over and over with his name, rank, and serial number, the interrogator pauses, then says, "Well, let us try something else."

Bucky expects the man to stand up and threaten him. Instead, he pushes a button on his desk. There's a buzzing outside the office.

Bucky expects guards and guns, maybe a fight. He keeps his seat even as the door opens, ready to spring up if needed but trying to hold himself in check.

There's two sets of footsteps, and then Bucky looks to his left where they stop.

It's a guard, all right. And next to him, still in his uniform, is Buck. He's bruised and busted, though not as badly as Bucky. He's standing at ease, like he's not shocked to see Bucky.

But Buck looks not shocked to people who don't know him a lot of the time. Bucky, though, he can read that face like his favorite book. And Buck's face is stoic, but there's mayhem in his eyes.

"John Egan," Buck says, and Bucky leans forward, ready to go, "What took you so long?"

"Well, I had to come back from London, you know," Bucky replies. "Told you you should have come with."

"Maybe next time I will," Buck says. He licks the corner of his mouth where there's a spot of blood. He looks at the interrogator. "I suppose I'm here for a reason."

The interrogator smiles thinly. He rests on his desk and waves at the guard, who takes two steps back.

Stupid, Bucky thinks. Absolutely and fantastically stupid.

"Major Egan is not being forthcoming," the interrogator says. "And you have also not been forthcoming, Major Cleven."

"Attaboy," Bucky says in his most obnoxious drawl. It makes the interrogator glare at him. Perfect.

"If you think showing me Egan's alive is going to be make me cooperate with you, you're wrong," Buck says, cool as you please. He scratches his wrist. The guard behind him doesn't even twitch. Bucky catches the way Buck's hand doesn't fully uncurl when he drops it to his side again.

"What he said," Bucky adds.

"You Americans and your confidence," the interrogator says, looking like he wants to spit. "Always so certain you can't be stopped."

Bucky shrugs and slouches further in his chair. He finishes his cigarette, stares at the interrogator, and flicks the butt to the floor. The man's nostrils flare. "Buck, when we're out of here, I'm taking you dancing."

"You can try," Buck says, and Bucky moves at the same moment Buck does, grabbing the interrogator by the throat and snatching the letter opener off of the desk. He stabs him through the jugular, holding him up as he bleeds all over his pristine uniform.

He lays the interrogator on the floor and glances at Bucky. The guard's down, too. His neck slashed clean across. There's a razor blade with fabric wrapped around the dull side next to him.

"How'd you get a razor blade?" Bucky asks as he takes the interrogator's gun and knife and searches through his pockets. He finds money and a gold watch.

"They made me scrub their bathrooms," Buck says. "I think it was meant to emasculate me. I found it in the wastebasket."

"They didn't search you?" Bucky asks. He walks to the door and presses his ear to it. There's no noise outside.

"They're undisciplined," Buck says. "Not lazy or dumb, but undisciplined."

Bucky reads between the lines. It won't be easy or simple to get out of here, but the men here won't be expecting a fight. "It's quiet out there," he says.

Buck walks up next to Bucky and hands him a box of ammunition. He tucks two folders into his jacket, then tucks another two into Bucky's. They all have a large stamp on the front that seems to imply importance. "Where's your sheepskin?"

"Traded it out," Bucky says. "You hated it."

Buck stares at him for a moment, then pulls him in and kisses him. "You ever fly without it again, I'll shoot you down myself."

Bucky kisses back. "I'm telling Marge you paused my heroic rescue to kiss me like a bad movie."

"I'm telling Marge you were dumb enough to get captured," Buck replies. He pulls Bucky into a quick hug that Bucky happily returns. "Ready?" Buck asks, holding up the knife he's stolen. His gun's tucked into his waistband so he can grab the doorknob.

Bucky stands behind him, the knife in his right, the gun in his left. The box of ammunition in his pocket makes him feel lucky. The sharp concentration and determination in Buck's eyes makes him feel sure. "Let's get the hell out of here."

#masters of the air #egancleven #buckybuck #bucksquared #fic #fic prompt #bucky egan #buck cleven

[thiskryptonite]

If you click HERE you'll find 621 gifs of Steven R. McQueen from his role in Vampire Diaries Season 3. Steves is white, filipino, and spanish, so please cast accordingly. All gifs were made by me from scratch and are 268 x 170. You are welcome to resize these/edit for personal use, but do not redistribute or claim them as your own. Content warning: alcohol, violence, blood, death, and kissing.

#steven r mcqueen #steven r mcqueen gif pack #srm gif pack #my gifs #steven r. mcqueen #steven r. mqueen gif pack #gifsociety #fcxdirectory #userdevon #dear indies #support content creators

[i-like-what-this-says-about-you]

in 8x09 (pretty sure) house says something about having a pet rat which could be 1. Steve McQueen, 2. him lying/joking, or 3. he had a pet rat when he was younger

Imagine little house, going to a pet store and looking at the rats to see one alone in its cage, barely moving. He asks about that one and they say it’s not for sale because it’s sick. He spills dog food and shampoo to distract the person working there so he can steal the sick rat and run out. He spends the entire night researching rat diseases and figures out the rat has some rare infection. Somehow curing it, he keeps it and it lives for another 2 years without his parents finding out. At some (rare) family dinner at some point house mentions his pet rat and his parents are very confused. “YOU KEPT A RAT IN OUR HOUSE FOR 2 WHOLE YEARS?!”

#house md #hate crimes md #hatecrimes md #gregory house #greg house #dr house

[shares-a-vest]

tw: the mildest of reckless driving. psa don't show off with some speedy driving as a flirtation tactic (nothing bad happens, trust me). idk, I just think Steve would be like this with his car on a date.

Steve focuses on the road ahead and gently pushes further down on the gas. He taps his fingers on the steering wheel while placing his other hand directly on the window rolled all the way down.

The late afternoon spring air is warm on the back of his hand as he travels along the one road out of Hawkins.

He contemplates turning the radio up or fiddling with the dial, but it's either Madonna currently playing on the radio or whatever rural station he can tune in, preaching god knows what. It's not like a mixtape is an option either, considering Eddie is sitting right next to him.

He really doesn't want to spend the car ride on their way to their first date arguing about each other's music tastes.

Instead, he looks in his rearview mirror to find no cars in sight. He speeds up more still, setting a nice pace that feels like he is gliding as his baby purrs around him.

Because he needs to focus on something.

Anything to stop him from practically shooting out of his car seat and straight up through the damn roof with anticipation as Eddie – his date, Eddie – sits quietly beside him, appearing far too relaxed.

So, driving along like a movie star trying his luck at Le Mans it is then...

He flexes his hands on the steering wheel as he licks his lips, readying himself to get up some real speed in his pride and joy –

"Easy there, Steve McQueen," Eddie says, as he reaches his hand over to pat a lot closer to the inside seam of his jean leg than anywhere else.

Steve jerks the steering wheel and slams on the brake as he veers into the middle of the road. He and his passenger jolt forward and then back again into their car seats, the poor things squeaking from the sudden movement.

"Sorry," he splutters, white-knuckling the steering wheel.

"Stevie, get off the road," Eddie chuckles, reaching over again.

But thankfully, as Steve braces himself, Eddie is placing a controlling hand on the wheel. He bats him away and lifts his foot off the break as he catches his breath.

The clearing stops a ways ahead, giving way to another dense swath of trees on both sides of the road. There's a small dirt patch not too far in. A popular make-out spot he has used on more than one occasion.

He gets them there in one piece, pointedly ignoring Eddie's snickering as he helps himself to rifling through the glovebox to occupy himself.

In one swift move, Steve places the car in park on the dirt patch, kills the ignition and unclips his seatbelt – all so he can launch himself over the centre console.

It's more awkward than he'd expected (his dang sneaker catches on his seat) as he more stumbles into Eddie's lap than carefully straddles him.

"Steve," Eddie warns, manoeuvring around his legs, "I thought we were seeing a movie first," he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and gives his hips a tight squeeze.

"You like Steve McQueen?" Steve rejoices, looping his hands around Eddie's neck.

"Please don't force me to sit through The Great Escape," he whines, dry-sobbing at the car ceiling, "Wayne watches it every time it's on TV! And that other one with the... the... uh..." he gestures at his black shirt, "That boring one where he has the butterfly chest tattoo?"

"Papillon?" Steve guesses, already insulted and feeling a lot less enthusiastic.

Eddie clicks his fingers, "Yeah, that one."

Steve rolls his eyes, forever frustrated (and confused) by Eddie's movie tastes. Somehow the guy only likes new nerdy stuff, bloody horror of any kind and those weird old black-and-white films Robin loves too.

"But..." Eddie continues, biting the 't' and jolting Steve straight out of a need to bicker about film preferences, "He does have that pretty spot on his face."

Eddie's doe eyes fill with mischievous glee as he lifts his index finger and presses against the duo of moles on Steve's left cheek just off his nose, "Boop."

As a rush of heat travels right across Steve's cheek and melts into his ears to fry his goddamn brain, he reaches down to pull the lever on their seat to send them back as horizontal as the thing will go.

#i think there would be an overlap between steve's fave older movies and wayne's go-to faves #aka eddie hates that his boyfriend and his uncle have the same interests #follow up question: is there an au out there where steve is a racing car driver??? (i need to devour it) #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #lilys ficlets #steve x eddie #steddie headcanon

[o0oooooo0o]

uttara bhadrapada is all about honing that cool crystal center within. ppl will find that in association with these natives “most” is the word you will often see next to their name and not always in a socially acceptable way. These natives leave behind gifts to humanity transcending the boundaries of good and evil.

‧₊˚✩彡 🙀

-losing people close to you

-inhumanism

-aliens

-synth

-being non pc

-extreme wealth and 💸💸💸💸💸

-reptilian beings (dragons, snakes,…)

-aquatic beings (mermaids)

-cold, frigid, aloofness, indifference, apathy

-underworld

-fantasy

-collateral damage

-humanity

-secret societies

-control & restriction

-evolution

-combat

-reluctant leader

-burden

-deep space, the unknown

-two faced

-blue/iridescent/chromatic/purple

-eccentricity

-cyberpunk

-conspiracy

-high technology

-destiny & fate

-funeral

-inertia

-legacy

-skeletons in the closet

-in plain sight

-contradiction

-transformation

-war

-drugs/psychedelics

-stoners

-plastic surgery

-victimhood

-delusion

-manipulation

-the end

-transcendence

-the chosen one

-being ahead of your time/creating something timeless

-aristocracy

-anger

-doomsday

-dreams

-dissolution

-destruction

-innocence

-cunning

-isolation

-apotheosis

-evil

-genius

-tamasic

-fixed

-being the brain/face of capitalism ngl

-prophecy

-elongation

-escapism

-the ocean

-for the greater good

-tying together future/present/past

-being afforded a greater, more terrible purpose

Grimes (confirmed*-ish) sun & moon in uttara bhadrapada

other notable natives (moon)

-rihanna

-hillary clinton

-kim kardashian

-anya taylor joy

-antonio banderas

-rose

-taeyeon

-rooney mara

-gemma ward

-rick owens

-jin

-felix

-tyra banks

-salma hayek

-daniel radcliffe

-joaquin phoenix

-lil kim

-rebecca ferguson

-Luca Guadagnino

-sujan stevens

-janet jackson

-steve jobs

-bill gates

-catherine zeta-jones

-andré leon talley

-anna wintour(*)

-eugenia cooney

-IU

-tupac

-riley keough

-wiz khalfia

- jay park

-timothee chalamet

-samantha morton

-sullyoon

-aidan gillen

-josh o’connor

-salvador dalí

-junji ito

-sophie turner

-hayao miyazaki

-ed sheeran

-kendall jenner

-jessica white

-alek wek

-dev patel

-james cameron

-city of los angeles

-harry potter

-wanda maximoff

❌

-jeffrey e*stein

////(disclaimer, lowkey i’m pretty good at guessing between naks but i can’t say for sure that they r ubp moon some of these r just my own intuition/pattern recognition/symbolism unless their birth time is confirmed but also ppl lie even about their birthday so it is what it is)

///*I will keep updating this list

others:

billie eilish ubp asc (like ??? the rating is aa too but still ??)

alexander mcqueen (ubp sun+rahu)

lisa (ubp sun+venus+ketu) +saturn*mercury in revati

quentin tarantino (sun+mercury+jupiter)! …

shakira (ubp asc and venus)

brie larson (ubp asc)

cha eunwoo (sun+venus+ketu+saturn)

lady gaga ubp sun

diana ross ubp sun

yasmeen ghauri ubp sun c mercury revati

mariah carey ubp sun c rahu *mercury pisces pbp

eren yeager ubp sun

steven tyler ubp sun

karina (revati sun c ubp mercury+venus gemini moon ruler ubp mercury)

ketu in ubp-

zoe saldana

bella hadid +ubp saturn

jaehyun +ubp saturn lagnesh saturn in ubp

fernanda ly

#uttara bhadrapada

[kwisatzworld]

MotoGP mutterings: life ‘inside the goldfish bowl’

by Mat Oxley, November 2005

It’s not easy being Valentino Rossi. Imagine: you’re trying to get on with your day-to-day job of being the world’s greatest-ever motorcycle racer and you’ve got Ferrari’s F1 bosses all over you like an expensive Italian suit and the Italian media all over you like a bad case of the pox. (And not only that, between races you’ve got to work out how to blow your annual earnings of 15 million quid.)

Rossi’s life has been out of control for years, hounded wherever he goes by a pack of media sharks, but since the Ferrari F1 rumours shifted into top gear, his life in “the goldfish bowl” (as he calls it) has gone from uncomfortable to intolerable. The bike racer who courted fame like no other and whose stardom has eclipsed all others now finds himself embroiled in a guerrilla war with several Italian journalists whom he’s banned from his media conferences for writing stuff he doesn’t like. This is dangerous territory, so is everyone’s favourite bike racer commencing his descent into paranoid megalomania or Jacko-style meltdown?

Rossi has always insisted that he understands the nature of the Faustian pact he’s made with fame and fortune. But if he’s getting upset by what he reads in the papers, he’s obviously forgotten what it means. (And if he thinks he’s got a media witch hunt on his ass he should have a chat with the great Pete Doherty.) To remind him, the Faustian deal for 21st century celebrities goes something like this: you become unimaginably rich from a new kind of global fame which beams you into hundred of millions of homes around the world, day after day, week after week. You are a product with perhaps half a billion customers who all own a little piece of you, whether they’ve bought your T-shirt, drank the beer promoted during a MotoGP ad break or smoked the cigarettes advertised on the side of your motorcycle. It’s not pretty but that’s why you’re so filthy rich. If you don’t like it, there’s a really easy way out of this particular hell hole.

Apparently Rossi fell out with those Italian journalists because they’d written stuff about his private life – revealing details of his night-time shenanigans, questioning his status as a bona fide Italian tax exile, calling his family a bunch of gypsies and so on. Not nice, but that’s the nature of 21st century media, it’s a beast, as another Italian superstar knows all too well: “When a journalist write about the positive, he write five lines,” says opera legend Pavarotti. “When he write about the negative he become a poet.”

If Rossi is to maintain his sanity he’s got to stop reading the papers, whatever they’re saying about him, he’s got to ignore the media bullshit and get on with his life. And if the media give him a hard time for shagging girls, getting drunk or whatever, fuck ‘em. He is a motorcycle racer, after all, and that’s what racers are meant to do – live fast and loose. As someone once said of Rossi’s idol, Hollywood rebel and half-tasty dirt racer Steve McQueen: “Steve loved anything with wheels or tits, probably in that order,”. No reason why Valentino should be any different...

And from now on it seems that either two wheels or four will do for Rossi. Years back he hated F1 because he reckoned it was all about money but more recently he’s been seduced, either by the Ferrari gold or by the challenge of becoming only the second man in history after gentleman John Surtees to win world titles in both bikes and cars. Either way, he’s welcome to it. F1 is a stinking world of repugnant decadence and ostentation, full of money-grabbing, tax-dodging ego-maniacs and obsessive-compulsives with small penises. (I know this for a fact because I used to go out with a girl who once shagged one of F1’s more famous bosses, who failed to impress her despite having popped a Viagra after dinner. Charming, I know, but you get my drift.)

And as for the now relentlessly asked question – will Rossi be able to rule in F1 – two observations: one, who cares, it’s cars not bikes, two, of course he will win. Even former bike racer Damon Hill managed to win the F1 world title, and, hell, I used to beat Daisy (as he was called in the rough, tough club racing paddocks of the early Eighties) when we raced Yamaha LCs around Snetterton. So it really can’t be that hard, can it?

#valentino rossi #motogp #the valentino rossi files: everything i've ever written about vr #by mat oxley #reading

[dontirrigateme]

Thanks for the tag, @panzershrike-pretz and @executethyself35!

List 5 things you talk about for an hour without any preparation

1 ww2 (with focus on a particular airborne unit...)

2 1920s mafia (I find it fascinating, back off, jeez)

3 formula 1

4 classic movies (especially steve mcqueen and Paul newman movies)

5 the dark tower (one of my favorite series, still waiting on a decent movie/TV series)

6 I'm breaking the rules to add mad max. Just because I love it. The whole franchise.

No pressure tags: @1waveshortofashipwreck, @themysciraprincess, @stfrancisprayer

[cadfreakingspinner]

Pixar cars background character headcanons

These are all non human btw

Cars 1

Leroy traffik: while he was driving to radiator springs he stopped at a bar and woke up to find himself inside a museum 300 miles away.

Chuck manifold: accidentally ate a really hot pepper while trying to get into the racetrack and had to miss out on an interview chance with lightning McQueen

Bertha butterswagon: she is a HUGE fan of lightning McQueen. Her room alone is painted red with lightning bolts all over, of course she would never let anyone know about this though.

Cars 2

Tony Trihull: he didn’t “die”. Although he was exploded, he was recovered by a group of lemons that escaped being arrested and got fixed up after 2 years of hard work. He later went on to become a lawyer and got happily married to a cruise ship.

The Popemobile (not the pope itself but the Popemobile): they got their job as hauler of the pope after showing up and asking for it drunk.

Topper deckington lll: he managed to land himself a job working for a small business in Japan after moving away from London to “find himself”

Cars 3

Caleb worley: he got into a bad crash after driving bumper first into a buidling (jet Robinson dared him to do it)

Scott tiller: idfk if he’s even sentient or not but for this I’m assuming he is. He can not sleep no matter what. Nothing can make him sleep. He spends every waking second of his life on the job, and he loves it.

Steve hearsell: got arrested for 3 accounts of break in, assault, and robbery. Later changed his name to randy and worked at that creepy fucking hotel from cars on the road.

Anyways that’s all so byeee :333

#pixar cars #cars 2006 #cars pixar #disney cars #cars 2 #planes #cars movie #disney planes #planes fire and rescue #dusty crophopper

[repulsiveliquidation]

Younger sister trauma that you can’t help but laugh at.

When I was 10 and my sister was 6 I had a ginger hamster called ginger (creative I know) any way we kept her cage in our room (the hamster not my sister). One night ginger was running on the hamster wheel all night and my sister couldn’t sleep so she let her out her cage and put her in the toy washing machine set we kept in our room so that she could sleep.

And it would’ve been fine if it wasn’t for the fact that my hamster channeled its Steve McQueen and climbed out the whole in the back of the washing machine toy and ran away.

Now it’s the next morning and I wake up to feed ginger and see that she’s missing and I start shouting for my parents when my sister pipes up saying that she couldn’t sleep so she put ginger in the washing machine BUT DIDNT CLARIFY IT WAS THE TOY ONE so we start panicking but it eventually comes out what happened. And for 3 weeks ginger was missing and the only reason we found her was because my mum had left the piano on one night and ginger ran across it when my dad was sleeping on the couch and next thing I know she’s been found and is in my cage when I wake up.

Flash forward to now when I find out that IT WAS A NEW HAMSTER that my parents bought to replace ginger because I was so depressed about it 😭😭😭

OH LORD HAHAHAHAHA 😂😂

WAIT YOU DISCOVERED IT WAS A GINGER DUPE ONLY NOW?!

#liquidation asks

[kristenswig]

most anticipated 2024!!!!!!!!

Bird (Andrea Arnold please change this title)

Blitz (Steve McQueen)

Nosferatu (Robert Eggers)

Wolf Man (Leigh Whannell)

Emmanuelle (Audrey Diwan)

Alien: Romulus (Fede Alvarez)

Those Who Find Me (Dea Kulumbegashvili)

Aurora (Kathryn Bigelow)

La cocina (Alonso Ruizpalacios)

Abderrahmane Sissako's Shell Company d/b/a "Black Tea LLC, a Delaware Corporation" f/k/a "The Perfumed Hill" (Abderrahmane Sissako)

Longlegs (Oz Perkins)

Babygirl (Halina Reijn)

Cuckoo (Tilman Singer)

Dreams (Michel Franco)

Megalopolis (Francis Ford Coppola)

Maria (Pablo Larrain)

Humane (Caitlin Cronenberg)

The Watchers (Ishana Night Shyamalan)

Queer (Luca Guadagnino)

Resurrection (Bi Gan)

Rosebushpruning (Karim Ainouz)

Sontag (Kirsten Johnson)

The Brutalist (Brady Corbet)

The History of Sound (Oliver Hermanus)

In a Violent Nature (Chris Nash)

[emilysidhe]

Tonight’s Halloween movie is The Blob (1958)! Is it really a Halloween movie? No, it was a summer blockbuster. But it has a title song that I think belongs in Halloween party playlists by virtue of being about a monster, so close enough!

The Blob is one of the more memorable films in the ‘50s sci-fi sub genre of “small town teenagers discover a monster but can’t get the adults to listen to them,” movies and is in many ways an outlier: it’s in color for one, and has an unusually creative monster, and surprisingly good special effects, and it’s Steve McQueen’s first starring role, though I think his inexperience shows as he’s not, in my opinion, particularly good here. It was also originally intended to be a horror-comedy, and so keeps pausing from the Blob eating people to do bits about the teens goofing around and the small town cops using the radio to play chess with neighboring stations on slow nights and whatnot.

I actually started this movie earlier because I remembered it as rather slow and thought it would be good background for paperwork, only to find myself getting distracted by it being much better than I remember. I’m now giving it a full watch, so we’ll see if I initially misjudged it and it’s good all the way through, or it’s one of those movies that starts strong and gets dull in the middle. I almost don’t see how it could, though, it’s only 82 minutes.

Watching mostly older movies this Halloween season means I’ve been watching a lot of films that are less than 90 minutes long and it’s really starting to feel like this was the Correct length for movies to be. I’ve never wished one of these was longer the way I frequently wish modern movies were shorter.

Anyway, The Blob!

Full disclosure warning: this is one of the movies that even the website “does the dog die?” doesn’t know if the dog dies. We see it imperiled, we cut away, we never learn it’s fate. The website marks it as, “probably.”

#the blob #halloween movie #? #Youtube