#doctor sampson

[whump-a-la-mode]

I just read the Signal Prologue aka Wind Tunnel and I was thinking... Are there more humans who suddenly sprouted wings and are held hostage by the scientists? It's not just Signal? Imagine if Dr. Sampson got a new winged human lab rat because Signal's wings were mutilated because they sticked needles in them. What will Dr. Sampson do now with her "broken" lab rat? Will she keep her because she wants to take samples from them? Will she chop of their wings all together and let them go(highly unlikely) OR will the other scientists suggest euthanazation. MAYBE the new lab rat and Signal can become friends since they are both stuck in this horrible situation.

Oh, I absolutely ADORE this idea, I hope you don’t mind that I kind of ran with it. I think I managed to fit most of your ideas in, and I really hope you enjoy! Thank you so much for the ask!

CW//Medical settings, medical whump, pet whump, dehumanization, wing whump, surgery talk, euthanasia talk

Signal was not sure whether or not they believed in hell, but whether or not it was real, they already knew exactly what it would be like: Exactly like the facility’s medical wing.

At the very least, for once in their life, they had some indication of time. A laminated calendar had been hung on one of the walls in their hospital room, a place for the constantly rotating cycle of white coats to make their notes. The more days got marked off, though, the more Signal feared that they would never be making it out of this place.

Was that it? They’d never leave here? Would they always be stuck in this hellhole?

That thought had stuck with them as they watched the little boxes being crossed off. One, two, three, four, then a whole work week. Saturday and Sunday gone as well. Would the medical staff really keep her longer than a week. And yet it kept going, and going.

Now, it was their second Sunday inside. Two whole weeks.

Everything about the medical wing was the very definition of hellish. For one, they were stuck in a blank, white room, from floor to ceiling. At the very least, in Doctor Sampson’s lab, they had their cage.

As much as they bemoaned it (because of course they did, they were a human being, locked in a cage), they now missed those wire bars. At the very least, they had a nice, padded floor, water whenever they wanted it, a hiding place, and, as much as they hated them, their toys.

Now, Signal had a blank, white room. They traced a line with their eyes from the ankle cuff they wore, along the chain it was attached to, and finally to the bedrail that the other cuff was locked around. Even in the few times that they’d dared to clamber off the bed, they’d found that they had barely a foot or two of room before the chain pulled them back.

It was far worse than the cage.

Yet, they couldn’t care less about the boredom, or the restriction. Signal was more than used to such indignities. It was the treatment that was hellish.

Every three hours, day or night, someone would come to check on them. A faceless nurse, checking their vital signs, testing their restraints, taking cheek swabs and blood samples from finger-pricks.

The worst part of it was their wings. Signal had thought that things could not possibly get worse for the abused, feathered limbs. Yet, as it turned out, the exoskeleton around them had a purpose other than keeping the wings uncomfortably stuck outwards.

No, they were meant to be twisted. Supposedly, in their panic, they had twisted their wings out of place, quite literally. Now... They needed to be twisted back.

Bit by bit. Every three hours.

Their wings, their agonized, sensitive wings... Even when they weren’t being bothered, they could hardly sleep with the pain. When they were, fragile bones twisted within a metal frame... Well, they weren’t proud to admit it, but they screamed.

Were they making progress? They had no idea. It didn’t matter, though, not at that point. Signal would rather be dead than endure one more twist.

They missed Doctor Sampson.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

Seventeen days had been the final count. Seventeen checkmarks on the calendar. How many twists? How many in a day? Times seventeen... Signal had never been the best at math.

It didn’t matter.

Signal dragged themself up into a sitting position when the door to their hospital room opened that morning. They’d been bothered all throughout the night, of course. This was just one more visit. One more torturous session.

If that was the case, though, why was-

Signal hated the way that their face lit up at the appearance of Doctor Sampson. It was disgusting, really, to think that they were so absolutely overjoyed to be trading one torturer for another. Yet, they couldn’t help the glee, which was only slightly hindered by the fact that Doctor Crane was trailing just behind her partner.

“Oh, Signal, sweetheart, how are you feeling?” Sampson’s face broke into a wide grin as she strode to their bedside. “You look so much better! I knew I was right to give you a chance.”

Give them a glance? That meant...

Signal didn’t want to think about the other option.

They cringed, but begrudgingly allowed Sampson to wrap her arms around them, squeezing them in an embrace. Gross.

“It’s still broken.” Doctor Crane commented as she approached, examining Signal like a cow up for auction. “What are we ever going to do with it?”

“Oh, I’m sure we can figure out something.” Doctor Sampson smiled back at her. “Just ‘cause it can’t fly doesn’t mean we can’t study the rest of the anatomy! Besides, what if the other one needs spare parts? It’ll be good to have an extra around!”

Spare parts? An extra?

Signal wasn’t sure they wanted to leave the medical wing anymore.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

Of course, it wasn’t Signal’s choice. They were transported, as always, in the back of a van belonging to the facility, in a transport crate. They always fought the cage, and the leash that came after. Yet, this time, they simply couldn’t bring themself to.

Obediently, they allowed to leash to be clipped to their collar, and for Doctor Sampson to lead them inside. The lab was familiar, of course. Far more homey than the facility ever could be, though that wasn’t saying much.

They entered Doctor Sampson’s lab to the sound of a crash.

Signal’s gaze immediately shot to their cage, their wire-barred home.

Someone else was in it.

The cage had been split in two, a wire wall separating it in the middle. A second water dispenser had been added to the side that did not already have one.

Their home had been split in twain.

The source of the crash immediately became apparent as Doctor Sampson led Signal forth, towards the cage. The stranger, the strange person inside their home, stood up, slamming their hands into the mesh walls.

From their back extended a pair of fresh, undamaged wings.

Spare parts.

“Signal, meet your new roommate!” Doctor Sampson exclaimed as though it were something exciting. With that, she shoved them into their side of the cage, separated from this stranger now by only a barred wall.

At once, Signal no longer felt all so brave.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

If you’ve read this far, thank you! I have a little challenge for everyone reading: What should Signal’s new roommate be named? Comment on this post to let me know, thank you!

#signal #wing whump #lab whump #med whump #winged whumpee #lab whumpee #test subject whumpee #doctor crane #doctor sampson #whumpblr #whump community #whump writing #whump prompt #whump trope

[too-funky]

Tenth Doctor | The Sontaran Stratagem

#david tennant #tenth doctor #freema agyeman #martha jones #catherine tate #donna noble #ryan sampson #luke rattigan #bernard cribbins #wilfred mott #doctor who #the sontaran stratagem #dwedit #rtdedit #my gifs

[sconesfortea]

Countdown to the 60th anniversary rewatch | 4.05: The Poison Sky

#doctor who #10th doctor #david tennant #catherine tate #freema agyeman #billie piper #ryan sampson #gif #my gifs #| #dwrewatch #dwedit #doctorwhoedit #queued

[unholybinchicken]

the actor who plays timothy voss having @ dollydoctor as his instagram handle is the funniest thing ever

#heartbreak high #fun fact i once ran a dolly doctor parody tumblr #and then forgot about it #but also people sent questions into it #it was very funny #australian things #dolly doctor #angus sampson #timothy voss

[indiafishydish]

We need considerably more women doctors than men doctors even the men want female doctors in America now because these little boys like Will Frazier know exactly how nasty they can be and it is usually lower IQ fellas like Will who are that nasty, but they want a female doctor

And I will get you money that Nancy and Julie wish I had my medical degree right now mkay

Ashley young will later pray I have it guaranteed

No Ashley, a politician didn’t tell me to go back to school to be a doctor my God aren’t you a doctor Ashley Young oh you’re not a doctor oh okay, I thought you were just so smart or whatever. No a politician would never say that to me, but if a politician in Kentucky did say that to me, what would you say?

Before this pawn hits the conflict, I need one of you guys to delete this blog for me very serious

#aids #Hollywood #Asian discrimination #nope Ashley young #Ashley Erin pedigo young #Ashley the Asian racist #smh u should know better #Ashley young #narcissist #no lip white bitches #md #black lives matter #tj sampson bagels #respecting mds #doctors are tired of your shit Ashley #Nick meador #a dead man either way #artists on tumblr #star wars #stranger things #preventing crises #sexism in medicine #ethics #news ha #rand Paul

[driftwoodframe]

An eye for an eye

Well I’ll tell you

I’m not going to hell alone if there’s where they’re trying to take me.

These drs wanna know how far they can get away with pushing sick people before they’ll open fire

They will when you least expect it

Because y’all have been killing folks. That’s terrorism.

#tj Sampson hospital #an eye for an eye #doctoral abuse #stupidity in medicine #if I go to hell I’m not going alone Jenny #there’s plenty more where that came from

[gallifreyanhotfive]

Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know, Part 31

The Master and Ace can sense when each other are near because they were both infected with the Cheetah Virus.

The Eighth Doctor met Lucie Miller before The Blood of the Daleks but did not tell her this to protect the timeline.

The Ninth Doctor once told Rose that he had at one point married a woman named Mary Wortley Montagu for love.

The TARDIS translation circuit has a swear filter.

The Seventh Doctor gave his companion Raine presents for every birthday she had growing up.

The Fifth Doctor had been teaching Adric how to fly the TARDIS. During simulations, Adric kept killing everyone while in flight.

The Tenth Doctor kept Winnie the Pooh bed linens on the TARDIS.

Teddy Acree stated that the Eighth Doctor had "destroyed millions and killed himself twice." This was set before the audios, where he would do this several more times.

The Eleventh Doctor once speculated that Gavrilo Princip had been conditioned by the Daleks to assassinate Archduke Franz Ferdinand with the intent of plunging Earth into war, which the Daleks would have used to their advantage. This notion was never confirmed to be true however.

Becky was the Sixth Doctor's dance teacher (and paradoxically the Sixth Doctor was her dance teacher). She is one of the few people the Doctor entertained potentially having a romantic relationship with, but he discarded the notion quickly. She knew what his real name was.

The Fifth Doctor was once mistaken for a hired assassin called the Scorpion. Although he had begun to deny this, Nyssa went along with their assumption, saying that she was his apprentice, the bloodthirsty Nyssa the Destroyer.

Grace Holloway came up with the alias Dr. James Alistair Bowman for the Eighth Doctor while trying to get into the New Year's Eve party. He would continue to use this as an alias occasionally throughout this regeneration.

Roberta Sampson was a young werewolf who became Susan's friend. When she transformed, the First Doctor shot her in the leg with silver bullets and went on trial for her murder. The Second, Third, Fifth, and Eighth Doctors infiltrated the jury to ensure he would be found not guilty.

Despite being Susan's son, Alex was only 7% Gallifreyan. He had one heart, no telepathic skills, and couldn't regenerate.

The Doctor and other Time Lords have body temperatures of about 15 degrees C.

The Eighth Doctor has worn blue eye shadow before.

First 1 Prev 30 Next 32

#doctor who #dw #dr who #classic who #new who #big finish #big finish doctor who #big finish audios #dw eu #doctor who eu #doctor who expanded universe #eighth doctor #fifth doctor #sixth doctor #eleventh doctor #tenth doctor #seventh doctor #second doctor #first doctor #third doctor #the master #ace mcshane #lucie miller #adric of alzarius #adric #nyssa of traken #grace holloway #susan foreman #ninth doctor #rose tyler

[midwestmade29]

Cuffed 😏

This was a spicy request that I just couldn't turn down 😁 I hope I did it justice and turned it into something you will enjoy! This one is for you @madhatterbri 🖤

Disclaimers: Oral sex, unprotected sex, restrained with handcuffs, cursing, mention of injury. Read at your own discretion 🙃

Word count: 1,544

Divider by: Me 🙂

GIF is not mine

Side note: Yes, I know about the reports on Hangman's ankle. I'm not going to spoil anything for anyone in regards to it, but I'm aware that my story may or may not follow what's going on in the "real world." We just out here having fun 🤷🏻‍♀️🙂

You try something new to help distract your cowboy from his thoughts…

Last night, Adam had a big 6-man tag match that was pretty eventful to say the least! Everything was going well until the end, when he rolled his ankle after Samoa Joe tried to do a muscle buster on him. While you watched the events unfold on the monitor backstage, your heart almost stopped when Adam slid out of the ring and onto the floor. He was wincing in pain and urging the cameraman not to show him in his current state. The look on his face when he walked off limping and needing the assistance of Doc Sampson was very concerning! After being examined in medical, it was determined that he had a mid-grade ankle sprain and was sent home with specific instructions from Doc to ice it and stay off it as much as possible for a few days.

The next day you and Adam flew home, his ankle still sore and swollen. You did your best to ensure that he was following the doctor’s orders, but he was starting to get restless. You were sitting next to him on the couch catching up on the tv shows you missed while you were gone, when you noticed his mind was somewhere else. You scooted closer to him, placing your head on his shoulder, “Just a few more minutes with the ice, and then you need to keep it elevated. Can I get you anything?” Adam only sighed and shook his head “no,” prompting you to get to the bottom of his somber mood. “What’s wrong, baby? What’s on your mind?” “I’m just frustrated. This injury couldn’t have happened at a worse time, you know? The PPV isn’t that far away, and I can’t miss it,” he explained while running his fingers through his hair. “I just hope I’m good to go by then,” You were going to offer some words of comfort, but Adam stood up and started to walk away. “Where are you going?” your voice was laced with concern. “I know I’m supposed to sit, but I just can’t. I’m going to take a shower.”

You had high hopes that the hot water would offer Adam some relief from his thoughts, but when you walked into the bedroom you were sadly mistaken. He was leaning up against the headboard with his towel still wrapped around his waist, mindlessly scrolling through his phone. “Hey, feel any better?” you whispered in his direction. Adam tossed his phone onto the bed and sighed, “Not really. I wish there was a way I could shut my brain off,” You were walking towards him, lost in your own thoughts about how you could cheer your cowboy up when something silver and shiny caught your eye on the dresser. A mischievous smile crept across your face as you picked up 2 metal objects and tossed them on the bed in Adam’s direction. “What’s this?” he asked while reaching towards the objects. “Handcuffs? What are these even from?” Instead of taking a seat next to him on the bed, you straddled his lap, causing his towel to shift underneath you. You leaned forward and wrapped your arms around his neck and spoke softly, “Well, they were a gift for a bachelorette party I went to last week, but I forgot to put them in the gift bag. I was going to return them, but now I have a better idea,” Your words made Adam’s eyebrows raise in surprise and his lips to part in curiosity. “I see. So, what’s your idea then?” You brought your lips next to his ear and spoke low and slow, “Let me handcuff you. I’ll take care of you and help you relax. No touching, no thinking. Only feeling,”

A quick conversation and some ground rules later, Adam surprised you when he agreed to let you handcuff him! He needed the distraction from his injury, and you wanted to provide exactly that for him. “Get comfy and raise your arms,” you instructed. With 2 clicks, Adam’s hands and wrists were securely bound to the bedframe. You couldn’t help but chuckle when he tugged on the handcuffs and they rattled against the metal frame, “Are you ready, baby? Just sit back and let me give you a show," With a peck on his lips, you backed up from him and he watched your every move. You pulled your shirt up your torso and over your head before tossing it on the floor, placing your hands under the waistband of your pants and sliding them down your legs. When your breasts sprung free from your bra, you could’ve sworn you heard Adam curse under his breath! Once your panties joined the rest of your clothes on the floor, you stood at the end of the bed causing Adam to forget momentarily that he was restrained until the clank and clang reminded him. “Be good for me and I’ll let you go. If not, I guess you won’t be laying a finger on me tonight...”

You positioned yourself in between Adam’s thighs, undoing the twist he had on his towel that was keeping it securely in place. His hard length was set free when you pulled the towel away, both of you were more than ready for you to dive in. He sucked in a sharp breath when your lips made contact with his tip, planting kisses all around it. You drug your tongue up the vein, making Adam squirm and strain against the handcuffs. You took every inch of him inside your mouth and began working your magic. His pants and soft moans filled the bedroom, encouraging you to continue exactly what you were doing! “Fuck, Y/N! That pretty little mouth of yours, taking me so well! If you don’t stop, I’m going to cum down your throat!” You had no intention to stop or slow your pace, even when Adam warned you one last time. His body shuddered against you when he came, the handcuffs forcefully clashing against the headboard. He was a panting mess as he tried to catch his breath, making you smile as you wiped the corners of your mouth! “Are you going to release me?” Adam asked breathlessly. You maneuvered your way up the bed and straddled the cowboy once again, biting and kissing his neck while murmuring against it, “Release you? I don’t think so! At least, not right now baby. I’m not done having my way with you just yet,”

It didn’t take long for Adam to harden under you while you kissed him and spoke filth into his ears. You positioned your entrance on top of his length and began lowering yourself down on him. You groaned into the air with every inch you took inside of you. His cock stretched you in the best way, filling you completely when you rocked yourself against it. “Shit! You feel s-s-so good, Y/N! Yes, just like that baby,” Adam encouraged. Between the sound of your bodies connecting, the cursing and moans, and the sound of metal scraping against metal, there was no denying that the two of you were enjoying yourselves! The pressure deep inside you continued to build, just begging to be released with each rock of your hips. “I’m so close Adam! So, fucking close!” you cried out. He began thrusting himself inside of you, hitting new spots that drove you wild! You could tell that he was losing himself in pure ecstasy too when he begged you to set his hands free, “Undo the handcuffs, Y/N! Please, I…fuck! I need to touch you!” There wasn’t a lot of time to spare as you felt your orgasm getting closer and closer, so you gave the handcuffs your best try when you attempted to undo them! Unfortunately, the “easy release lever” wasn’t so easy to use after all! “Adam, I-I can’t get it! I can’t undo them!” you said in a pleasure filled panic. Your cowboy wasn’t about to let anything hold him back from touching you, so he pulled and tugged the handcuffs with incredible force, causing the little chain links to bend and break! “Oh my God!” you gasped when you saw one broken handcuff on each of his wrists. His hands were now gripping your hips tightly and the dangling metal lightly scraped against you as your orgasms ripped through each of you! You collapsed onto his chest from the intensity of it, and he wrapped his arms around you. You moaned and hummed against his bare chest as you welcomed each wave of pleasure that continued to crash over you.

Once you were steady, you removed yourself from him and rolled over onto your side of the bed and began to giggle at the mess you had made of Adam, “I cannot believe you broke the handcuffs!” you playfully scolded. “How are your wrists? Are they okay?” It took a few seconds for him to respond since he was still coming down from his high, but what he said only caused you to laugh more, “My wrists are fine, baby. Obviously, the handcuffs are not, and I can’t guarantee the headboard is either. But what I can guarantee is we will be purchasing new ones so I can use them on you next…”

#hangman adam page fanfiction #hangman adam page smut #adam page fanfic #adam page fic #hangman page #adam page #hangman adam page #aew fanfiction #all elite wrestling #aew #smut #adam page smut #hangman adam page x y/n #Spotify

[himbos-hotline]

✘ “if I asked, would you stay?”

for Hangmega

no lover leaves the rose garden without blood on their hands

Word count: 1932 words Ship: "Hangman" Adam Page/Kenny Omega Characters: Kenny Omega, "Hangman Adam Page", Doc Sampson, The Ghost of Kota Ibushi Triggers: Blood, Refrences to self harm, Mentions of fire Authors note: I rewatched the contract signing...I had thoughts and blacked out..Enjoy READ ON AO3

Touching blood is meant to bring bad luck and Adam has never believed in that superstition more than what he has right now. Laying in a pool of his own blood, feeling it trickle down his face as Kenny tugs his head back his hair. Adam pushes away the urge to fight, the sound of his boot scraping against the mat is barely audible over Kenny's manic yelling. There's a pressure in the middle of the wound as Kenny digs his nail into it, ring-torn nails tugging the wound open more as he collects Adam's blood against his finger. There's the bitter smell that floods Adam's nostrils as he heaves in a trembling breath as the sound of paper crumpling echoes above him. It takes him a few moments to realize that Kenny is standing over him, signing the contract for their match in Adam's own blood and there's a warmth that's wrapping around his throat.

There's almost something possessive about it, Adam thinks later on while he's laying down, getting his head stitched up in medical long after everyone had left the show. He stares up at the patterned ceiling of the medical room and smiles to himself, letting the sighs slip out as Doctor Sampson pulls the needle through his forehead again and again. Kenny had signed their fight in Adams' own blood, tying him to him. The title technically, in Adam's foggy half broken brain, is theirs; the match is going to be one built on red blood cells and the decaying roses that still sit in Adam's kitchen back home.

The last stitch is sliced through Adam's forehead and he blinks his eyes open, staring up at the doctor as he runs more tests; he shines a light into Adam's eyes and smiles when the younger man doesn't flinch away. "It doesn't seem that you have a concussion. Is there anyone who can keep an eye on you tonight, just in case?" Doc Sampson asks, rolling his gloves into one another before tossing them into the trash bin beside the medical table. He stares at Adam from the corner of his eyes, squinting slightly at the younger man's silence.

Adam swallows a little, shifting himself into a sitting position, wincing slightly as the world shifts a little in front of his eyes. He pauses and when the doctor presses a hand against his thigh, Adam quickly paints a face of lighthearted shyness, pretending that the doctor's concern was the first sweet thing Adam can remember. He shifts his legs, pressing the heels of his boots against the stained linoleum floor before smiling. "I'll be okay." There's an aura of confidence in his voice, the flash of foolish bravery in his eyes. "It's not the first time Kenny's made me bleed."

The doctor presses his lips together, hand leaving Adam's thigh quick enough that Adam almost misses the gentle touch. "I want you to stay here until the arena closes, so we can monitor you." He slowly moves Adam into sitting down again, resting his hands against his shoulder. "I have to quickly restock but stay here."

Adam does nothing but nod and lay himself back down on the medical gurney, eyes closed. He's not sure how long he spends on his back, just breathing and breathing but the overhead light flickers off and Adam can almost feel his brain edging on sleep. He takes a soft breath and lets his head roll to the side. He borders on sleep until there's the sound of footsteps and the door to the medical room being shoved open.  

The light flicks on at the movement, making Adams eyes burn behind his closed eyelids. He grumbles a little, nose wrinkling before he blinks his eyes slowly open, staring face to face with his reflection, twisted and stained, in Kenny's aviators. For a few seconds, Adam tries to find Kenny's eyes behind the dark plastic but all he finds is empty pits. "Take a picture it'll last longer." Kenny complains as Adam sits up, stepping away when his boots settle against the stained linoleum.

"Shove off." Is what Adam says, dropping his gaze to Kenny's shoes because Kenny told him to stop looking and Adam has always been one to follow whatever Kenny says. "Why are ya here? I didn't hurt you" Adam feels like there should be anger on his tongue and something burning, bright and scaling in his eyes, but there isn't. He stares down at the floor, tracing the patterns in the marbled tiles until he feels Kenny press his nail into the fat of his bottom lip, and Adam's sure he can taste the pain in his mouth; he rolls it between his teeth and swallows obediently.

"Does it matter?" Kenny whispers, running his thumb slowly across the dents in Adam's lips. He smirks a little when Adam raises his eyebrows, pupils pin-pricks against the woodlands of his eyes and when Kenny feels his tongue dart out against the calloused pad of his thumb he cant help the chuckle that slips past his lips. "You're still covered in blood."

"When have you cared about that?" Adam asks, lips feather soft against Kenny's thumb, he stares at his reflection again in the dark plastic of Kenny's glasses and frowns at him. He's so pathetic crawling back to Kenny to let the man who buried him alive hold him, picking dirt out of his hair as his fingers press against decaying skin. He flinches when Kenny chuckles, dropping his hand back to his side and Adam, even though he doesn't want to, falls into Kennys gravitational pull and tilts his face forwards and almost like Kenny is emitting electricity, it burns Adam's cheeks.

Kenny doesn't say anything about Adam following him, elbows now resting against the faded knees of his jeans and the half-lidded eyes that now follow, trying to track kennys eyes as he stares at Adam. He simply watches and tilts his head slightly watching as Adam twists his body, fighting back against some invisible force thats tangled its way around his throat. He listens to Adam dry heave, spit drizzling down his chin and into the gap between his legs.

"You're pathetic aren't you." Kenny doesn't ask it like a question. He looks at Adam flopping back against the wall, staring up at Kenny with a furiousness that almost makes him smile, Adams green eyes sparkling as it catches the bright glow of the overhead light. "A poor, pathetic cowboy with nobody who loves him anymore..."

Adam opens his mouth, wiping his chin before closing it. Kenny was right; Adam wakes up in strange hotel rooms with nobody beside him. It's always just him and the reflection of the moon in a shattered glass, the distant sting of fresh cuts on his hips and the foggy memories of Kenny's hands against his throat, pressing down against his chest. "Love? You're one to speak 'bout love." Adam keeps his voice low, eyes never leaving the pout on Kenny's bottom lip and the taste of hatred growing at the back of his throat.

"Has Kota called recently?"

Even his name feels golden when Adam spits onto the floor in front of kenny. Kota glows like the early morning sun and Kennys fingers itch to reach out and cradle his name close; to burn himself alive but he doesn't. Kenny simply stands there, lips puckered in annoyance and watches Kota burn himself alive, becoming nothing but the embers of a man plagued with injuries. There's silence between the two of them; Kennys lips twisted in disgust and Adam staring at him, waiting for him to do something. But he doesn't.

Kenny doesn't hit Adam, he doesn't yell at him or snap at him. He simply stares him down, shrinking him down until Adam is a blurred smudge against the medical bench, a smoke stained wall in the house fire that is Kenny Omega.

“If I asked, would you stay?”

Adam doesn't know why he asks. He doesn't look at Kenny when the question whistles past his teeth, simply a whisper that could very nearly float past Kenny's ears. Kenny huffs out a laugh; a sound that's cold and disgusted. He wraps his hand into Adam's hair and tugs back, picking at the stitches again until red blood flows slowly down Adam's forehead, twisting its way down his fluttering eyelashes and trailing pathetically down the racing pulsepoint of Adam's neck.

Kenny laughs as Adam squirms, there's the echo of skin hitting Adam's jawbone and something deep in his brain cracks like a buckshot echoing around his head. Adam's body goes limp and his jaw opens again. Kenny pushes their foreheads together, lips brushing against Adams.

Kisses stain Adams lips like raspberry juice and greedily Adam licks into Kennys mouth, moaning as his hands tug backward, tipping his head into Kenny's. Kenny's kisses burn like the open wound in his head, like the fresh skin of a razor across his wrist, the bitterness of the first taste of whiskey down his throat, the timeliness of birdsong out in the forest. Kenny's kisses burn Adam alive and he walks barefooted into the hellfire that is loving Kenny Omega; an Orpheas walking into the underworld, looking over his shoulder for the Euridice that never existed in the first place.

Kenny pulls away, leaving Adam emotionally soft and pathetically hard. He stares down at him in all his bloody submissive glory and his hands trail down Adam's neck, squeezing against his throat until Adam is whimpering for breath, clinging to Kenny for dear life.

"Not if you were the last person on Earth."

He drops his hands, licks Adam's blood off the tips of fingers and smirks. "Matt was right yknow? You really are the next great wrestling tragedy. Bleeding out all by yourself. Even your blood tastes like failure."

Adam stares at the door long after Kenny has left. Doc Sampson washes the blood away and sends Adam on his way. The hotel is quiet by the time he returns to his room. He stares into the mirror, presses his fingers into the bruise around his eye and chuckles, lowly at first like someone far away had told a joke that Adam didn't really get at first but it builds until his fingers grip, white knuckled and shaking at the bathroom counter; tears twist down Adams face as he laughs, the anger turning into something painful. He lays a hand against his chest, slicing his ribs open until there's a perfect hole for cupid's arrow; blood twists around his fingers, dried under his nails and Adam holds his hands up to the lights, knees collapsing to the floor.

Blood. Red and dark. The life force of man is trapped under Adam Pages's nails as he sobs into the sticky air of late night heat. Under his nails, it glows like lava.

It glows like Kenny.

Adam glows like Kenny.

Adam burns alive like Kenny Omega; two falling angels, laughing at each others pain as they fall to Earth. 

And oh, how Adam sobs as he paints his angel wings in blood and the sharp end of a blunt razor, laying on the bathroom floor, twisting his fingers through his own blood. 

Touching blood is meant to bring bad luck but no lover leaves the rose garden without blood on their fingers, balling under their nails. No lover is left unwounded. 

No cupid arrow to the chest comes without headache. Love is pain and touching blood is bad luck. 

And Adam Page is filled with both. 

Tag list: @allelitesmut @homoeroticgrappling @dustinslovehandles @paradoxunknown @katries @mrsmattt @malewifemoxley @kass-the-kitten @itsnoosetome @josiewrites @basil-the-texas-gentleman @ss-trashboat @racerchix21 @anairbri @jacedoe @chuckstaylors @old-no7 @thekadster @mandiableclaw

#hangkenny #hangmega #last call #kenny omega #hangman page #hangman adam page #mouse writes #reblogs are appreciated #fanfic #aew fanfic #aew fanfiction

[dirtyvulture]

😎I have had this idea kicking around in my head for awhile. Depending on when exactly R was born and if she was in the American civil war. She would have possibly pulled a Mulan or a Deborah Sampson ( The fist woman to take a bullet for America , in the American Revolution) and dressed as a man to fight in the war . She was fully in the fight ( on the union side , of course) and wasn’t tending to the wounded or looking out for the local civilian communities like she did in all the Wars since WWI. That is until the Battle of Antietam on September 17 , 1862 ( the bloodiest single day battle in the civil war) and R came with Clara Barton Aka “ The angel of the battlefield” ( She was the who founded the American Red Cross, and she also ran a bunch of flied hospitals during the war and ran the missing soldiers office to help found missing soldiers after the war) who brought in the MUCH NEEDED medical supplies ( they were in such bad shape in way of supplies, words can’t describe how badly they needed this) and R led a hand tending to all the wounded . While R was tending to the wounded she had felt  content, much happier in this contribution to the cause then all the out right fighting even if a huge number of the men did in fact ended up dying ( the estimated number of CASUALTIES was 50, 000. The battle of Antietam was only a THREE DAY engagement. ) R still felt contentment In trying to save the men and for those she couldn’t well at least they weren’t alone in their final moments. So R continued tending to the wounded and watching out for the local communities until the war ended on April 9, 1865. ( The very last battle of the Civil War happened on may 13, 1865)

You know I kept picturing Esther with Redhair and green eyes but didn’t want to say anything as I wanted your input Vulture. And I kept thinking that the red hair and green eyes were all passed down to each Hudson wartime nurses. I also kept seeing R  mumbling “ fucking red heads man” whenever she is “ displeased” at being made to allow others to take care of her.

When the time came for the credit of the invention of pads to be pass out R tried really hard to dodge it, trying instead to bestow it on Esther or all the WWI nurses in general. Both would not allow it( especially Esther) as they wanted R to be recognized and have all the credit due in inventing pads . R finally agreed but only if Esther was credited with R in the inventing pads.

Tampons were spuriously enough invented by a man in 1931 named Earl Hass . He was a doctor and originally invented them for helping to stop bleeding caused by injury and to apply medication. Not intended for the feminine hygiene that it is used for today.

I really like the idea that R enjoyed being a nurse much more than someone engaged in the fighting, despite how good she is at it

R will forever have a thing for redheads, no doubt started by Esther Hudson herself :)

If tampons were invented by a man for a different use, I would like to headcanon that R was the first one to discover they could also be used for feminine hygiene purposes too. :)

#😎 anon #vulture answers #darkest knight au

[whump-a-la-mode]

I am a sick and twisted individual and I am requesting to see poor Signal's wing be broken

Yesss, I believe this is in reference to an ask I did, where Signal said one of the worst things that ever happened to them was having their wing broken. Let’s see it happen >:)

Masterlist can be found here.

CW//Lab whump, dehumanization, nudity, bathing, disease, knife torture, broken bones

The scientists, during that time, had been focusing on healing.

Signal never quite understood where their orders came from, why they did what they did. Were they writing papers? Reporting back to someone? Surely, their orders came from the facility, at least in part, but oftentimes, they seemed random, switching haphazardly from one thing to the next.

Whatever they did, however, it always hurt. It never stopped hurting. It was ironic, in a way, how their focus was on healing, and yet, it was one of the most painful kinds of work that had ever been done on them.

The winged test subject curled up in the back of their hiding place, a plywood structure painted a dull grey and settled in the back left corner of their cage. They had just awoken from their slumber perhaps an hour ago (not that there were any clocks in this wretched place that they could see), which meant, of course, the scientists would be arriving soon.

Signal always tried not to think about the future, to not think about what the next torture would be. More times than not, the worst thing they could imagine would come to pass, making them feel like the world’s worst prophet. So, usually, they tried not to think about it.

That didn’t make it easy to keep the topic far from their mind, though. How could they simply forget that, in a mere few hours, some horrible torture would be enacted on them, while they could only scream and struggle in vain?

It wasn’t an easy feat, and they’d never been much of a fan of mental exercises.

So, even as they struggled to stray their mind from it, they always wound up going back to what the next day might bring.

At first, the testing had focused mostly on disease-- Injecting strains of different viruses into Signal’s system, constantly taking their temperature and monitoring their level of hydration. If anything, that part of it was almost pleasant. Sure, the illnesses themselves were less than pleasant, stuffing their ears and nose with snot and their head with cotton, but they were no worse than the flu or a stomach virus. The pleasant part was being, more or less, left alone, except for having their vitals taken and being frequently hydrated. Once, Doctor Sampson had even brought them a blanket!

Yet, after a few trials, the doctors had seemed satisfied. What had the results of the trials been? Signal had no clue, no one ever told them such trivial things.

What they did know, however, or had at least realized in hindsight, was that things had grown far worse after that point.

Their immune system had been thoroughly documented. It was then time for a more physical sort of healing.

Strapped down on an unfortunately familiar table, Doctor Crane, with some aid from Sampson, had made continuous cuts along their body, delicate and precise with the wicked blade of a scalpel. First, they had been tiny, before growing bit by bit larger, up until the whole side of Signal’s torso was taken up by lacerations.

There had been no blankets, that time.

Yesterday had been the last day of that particular series of tests, Doctor Sampson had assured them.

That, of course, meant that something new would be coming today.

Signal laid absently on their side until the time came, the two scientists pushing through the door of the lab. Doctor Crane had decided to make herself particularly involved in this avenue of testing, annoyingly.

The majority of the morning was relaxed, almost suspiciously so. The doctors had dictated that Signal needed a bath, so they did just that, stripping them down and spraying them down in that ridiculous grooming tub the bathroom was equipped with. It was humiliating, of course, but after a while, you got surprisingly used to having shampoo roughly lathered into your hair. Once they were dry, the doctors once more took their vitals and cleaned their wounds from the last experiments, with Doctor Sampson delivering her regular round of pets and praise.

They were almost lured into a false sense of security when the revelation came.

“Signal, get up on the table, please.”

They bit their lower lip, even as they sat at the base of the table already, collar around their neck and leash held firmly in Sampson’s hand.

That was the restraint table. Whatever was going to happen there, it wasn’t going to be good. Nothing good ever came of the table.

“Oh, dear, I’m sorry.” Sampson frowned.

They felt their blood run cold. If Sampson thought it was going to be bad, then it was going to be hellish. Signal began to whine, pulling at their leash and backing up.

“It’s alright, come on, let’s go.”

Despite their wings, Signal still weighed just about nothing, and Doctor Sampson was well strong enough to override their will. Within a second, they’d been hauled up onto the table and strapped down, spread eagle style.

The sound of metal on rollers made them want to faint. From either side of the table, Sampson rolled out a large, metal flap. Restraints for their wings, specially made, just for them.

That meant they were going to be touching their wings, hurting their wings-

“No no no no no no no- Please, no- Just give me one day, not the wings not the wings!” Signal plead as they struggled, but found the attempts useless.

“Shh, shh, sweetheart, this time we only have to do the one.” Sampson soothed, running fingers through their damp hair, now growing wet again with sweat instead of water.

It was only then that they noted just how suspiciously long Doctor Crane had been gone for. When they heard her voice, a lump formed in their throat.

“Right or left?”

“Let’s go left.”

“Alright.”

Doctor Crane was behind them, just outside of their visual field. Yet, that didn’t mean she couldn’t hurt them. Far from it.

A shiver ran up and down their spine as they felt something cold and metal touch their wing. It was about halfway down, in the middle of one of the bones.

The tool felt like pliers, almost, just far larger. No, bolt cutters would be a better analogy, but-

“No, wait, no!” Signal screamed as they realized what was about to happen.

It didn’t matter.

Crunch.

And the lab was filled with howling. Who knew birds could do that?

#signal #doctor crane #doctor sampson #whump #whumpblr #whump community #whumpee #whumper #caretaker #lab whump #wing whump #lab whumpee #winged whumpee

[ultrameganicolaokay]

JIll and the Killers #1 by Olivia Cuartero-Briggs, Roberta Ingranata and Rebecca Nalty. Cover by Sanya Anwar. Variant covers by (2) Marguerite Sauvage, (3) Alison Sampson and (4) Celia Lowenthal. Out in January 2024.

"A DOUBLE-SIZED AND DANGEROUS 48-PAGE DEBUT! Rising stars Olivia Cuartero-Briggs (Mary Shelley Monster Hunter) and Roberta Ingranata (Witchblade, Doctor Who) present a new kind of game where even murder is much more than it seems... Returning to school after the unsolved disappearance of her mother, teenager Jill Estrada can't wait for things to return to normal... even as her friends become compulsively obsessed with Box Killers, a true-crime subscription game where each month's 'unsolved case' is custom-tailored to the life of its player. There's only one catch: Jill's game seems to be all too real... and when her clues begin to connect to a series of disappearances in her town, Jill and her friends must uncover the truth behind these mysterious crimes before one of their own becomes the next victim."

#jill and the killers #jill estrada #oni press #olivia cuartero-briggs #roberta ingranata #rebecca nalty #sanya anwar #marguerite sauvage #alison sampson #celia lowenthal #variant cover #comics

[tjreidwrites]

Movie reviews for spooky season!

A Haunted House movie who’s big tag line for promotion was ‘It’s not the house that's haunted’... This film depends on good characters, a creepy atmosphere, uneasy anxiety and scary imagery. James Wan is a legend for launching the ‘Saw’ franchise, and is possibly the best at practical effects in the modern horror genre.

We see a family move into a big old house that happens to be perfect for this haunting movie. Old school, lots of nooks and crannies. The Lambert family seems to have been pretty happy before all this went down. Josh (Patrick Wilson) is a teacher, Renai (Rose Byrne) is a piano player and the boy Dalton (Ty Simpkins) is the kid who likes to get into shit. When he eventually finds himself in the attic, he falls off a ladder. The next morning he doesn't wake up, the doctors say its coma but signs show otherwise.

Renee is the most convinced something supernatural is going on. Doors and windows are opening and closing on themselves. Boxes that are still heavy packed with things are getting shuffled around by who knows what. We (the audience) becomes even more sure than she is as we begin to see the beast in shadows.

The pacing begins to suffer a bit in the second act. As Renai becomes more and more aware of the creepiness and how real it really is, Josh the father starts staying at work to grade papers later than normal, and we get a good twenty minutes of Renai trying to convince Josh something is up. The acting is what saves this section, with some really good performances, its hard to notice the lull in story telling until watching a second time.

They hire a psychic named Elise Rainier (Lin Share), who send over two helpers who mainly exists for comic relief (Angus Sampson and the writer of the film Leigh Whannell). Lin Shaye actually becomes the face of the Insidious franchise, in this first film though, she comes to break the ice and let this family know exactly what she knows this to be by experience.

FINAL THOUGHTS

James Wan nailed this movie when it comes to practical effects, make up, and creating tension by real creepy imagery. There are a lot of jump scares in this film, but the difference is, and the reason this movie is better than all the cookie cutter genre films, is because every scare has some sort of pay off. Every time the score gets more dramatic something actually pops up that is creepy and the camera doesn't just cut away instantly, it lingers on the frame to let us see the creäture we are looking at.

The music plays beautifully with the direction. Lots of stringed instruments playing choppy, creepy chords. The cinematography plays off the writing in the same way, becoming paler in certain instances and brighter in others.

This movie does remind me of my past as well. I remember watching this for the first time in 2011. The scene in Dalton’s room with his dad, Josh. Josh is looking over all of his son’s drawings and comes across a duo that writes ‘Last night I watched myself sleep, and then I flew away.’ As Josh breaks down crying, he is convinced that his son can in fact astro project. In my case, this is called lucid dreaming. I used to be able to know I was dreaming. I used to be able to see myself sleeping and fly away too. Coincidentally, as I've gotten older its become more impossible to lucid dream again. Maybe what they say is true. A childlike mind is so free and capable of anything.

#book blog #writing #fiction #new writers corner #authors #writers and poets #writers on tumblr #literature #music #writers #movies #movie reaction #movie review #making movies #film #halloween movie #happy halloweeeeeeen #Halloween film #spooky #spooky season

[swervestrickland]

post match

Word Count: 788

Characters: Hangman Adam Page, Jon Moxley, Eddie Kingston, Ortiz, Doc Sampson, Nora, Renee, (baby Page mention)

Warnings: injury mention, Mox facetimes his kid (i know some people don’t like kids mentioned), Renee is not explicitly mentioned as his wife so do with that what you will. yes this is kind of shippy. hangman likes mox. sue me

Author’s Note: I needed something after the end of the Hangman/Moxley match so here it is. hurt, angst, comfort. i’m pretty sure there will be a part 2. |READ ON AO3 INSTEAD|

Hangman hovered at the threshold of Doc Sampson’s makeshift clinic room for what felt like hours. Refusing to look inside, he overheard the shuffling movements of the good doctor and the mumbling replies from the man on the table. That almost nasally, albeit deep voice of the man whose face he wanted to cave in (kiss) not even hours ago. The doctor’s constant questions, the ones Hangman had heard over and over and over again after the first time they had met in the ring. He could hear the agitation in Mox’s tone rising, and Hangman’s heart ached at the sound. But he couldn’t bear to look up. He couldn’t bear to look inside. To catch a glimpse of Mox’s baby blues and feel the self-hatred, the pity, the disappointment wash over him again. That same feeling, that same fucking feeling from all those months ago.

“What happened?” What’s his name? 

Somebody brushed past Hangman, an almost shove. “You all right?” came the thick New York accent. A sharp pain stabbed Adam in the chest. Of course Mox would have someone here for him. Mox is a likeable guy.

He couldn’t hear what Mox replied. He sounded so far away, his voice a quiet murmur. Hangman continued to stare at the ground, his ring boots shaped in the cowboy style, forcing himself to memorize every sparkle, every white line, the pattern of the tile.

“What happened?” Eddie asked. What’s his name?

Adam swallowed a breath, choking back a cough, his Adam’s apple bobbing at his throat. His nose flared at the tears beginning to well at his eyes, and his vision blurred. He hadn’t wanted this to happen. This wasn’t what he wanted. Sure, he had wanted to win the match, but not - not like this. Never like this.

Someone else passed by, much shorter than Eddie. He recognised the man by his walk. Ortiz was quiet, but Hangman could hear the words. “Aye, Papi, que paso?” What happened? 

What’s his name?

Hangman wanted to vomit. He pushed off the wall with a hand, eyes never leaving the floor, turned to walk away. This was too much to handle, especially a second time, with a different perspective. He couldn’t do this again. He didn’t think he was strong enough.

He thought of the little boy waiting at home in his grandmother’s arms. His beautiful eyes, so very like his own. Of Mox’s daughter back in Cincinnati with her bright blues, just like Jon’s.

What happened? What’s his name?

Hangman sniffled as he walked off, his eyes and his nose stinging.

“Nora, baby!”

He stopped. Nora’s delighted squeal rang clear as a bell from the room. He turned on his heel, stopped just shy of the door. Listening. Waiting. Anticipating. 

“Hey, babygirl, what are you doin’ up? It’s past your bedtime!” Mox’s voice was like crystal, no longer far away from him, but so close that Hangman felt like he could reach out and touch him. And he wanted to. Oh, how he wanted to.

Renee’s voice, then. Hangman realised now - Mox was facetiming the girls. “She saw the match, wanted to make sure her daddy was okay.”

Hangman couldn’t see him smile, but he could hear it, and it made the tears well up again. “I’m okay, Nora, baby.” Mox cleared his throat. “Nora, I’m okay.”

It doesn’t matter what happened, Nora, he’s okay. He knows your name. He knows your name. Nora, Nora, Nora, baby.

Hangman stood at the doorway for another half an hour, relishing in the sound of Mox’s voice, his eyes closing. If anyone passed by, it would’ve looked like he’d fallen asleep standing.

Eddie’s voice walked through the door, along with Ortiz’s, both of them wishing Mox well, as they were slated for a match against House of Black in a few minutes. They had to leave. Hangman’s heart fluttered, wondering if they would say something. He kept his eyes closed.

He felt a heavy hand on his shoulder.

“Hey,” Eddie said, shaking him a little. His voice wasn’t as loud as it had been, quieter now. “Hangman. Wake up.”

His eyes shot open. Eddie’s clear, grey eyes bore into him.

“He’s fine. He’s okay. Stop beating yourself up. Shit happens.”

Hangman’s eyes furrowed at the words, but the muscles in his shoulders underneath Eddie’s grip relaxed, easing his tension. He nodded.

Eddie’s head flicked over at Ortiz. “Listen, we gotta go. But he wants to see you.”

Ortiz took a step closer, put fingers beneath Hangman’s chin. “Don’t apologize. He don’t wanna hear it.”

Hangman’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but they didn’t wait for a reply. They hurried off toward the stage, leaving him to face up to his own fears.

#hangman adam page fanfiction #jon moxley fanfiction #aew fanfiction #wrestling fanfiction #mine #my fics

[musingsofahistorymajor]

YO YOU GOT ANY COOL WOMAN'S HISTORY FACTS ALSO HISTORY IS POG LIKE I GOT A LECTURE WORTH OF STUFF ABOUT JAMES CAGNEY

Oh my god SO MANY! Where do I even start!! Here is a quick and short rundown of some of my favorite womens history facts:

Women in the military during ww1 and ww2 is one of my favorite subjects. Let's talk about that for a second:

Women served in every branch of the U.S. military throughout both world war 1 and world war 2

Did you know women served in the US Army and as such were stationed in every front of the war during WWII?

Female switchboard operators served in the trenches of France during ww1.

The most feared bombers in ww2 were Russian women flying wooden planes and physically throwing the bombs out

Women were the ones to help break enemy codes

Women helped planned D-Day

Russian snipers were fierce badasses.

We have computers thanks to women. Ada Lovelace, Grace Hopper, Hedy Lamar, etc.

DNA's double helix form was discovered by a woman. Rosalind Franklin.

Women got us to space by performing complex mathematical calculations by hand during launches.

Science Fiction was started by a woman. Mary Shelley.

One of the most fearsome pirates ever was a woman. Ching Shih. She was undefeated and was one of the few pirates who retired.

Hypatia was the last last librarian of the Library of Alexandria and is said to be the first female mathematician

The first female historian was Anna Comnena of the Byzantine empire

Sybil Ludington was a 16 year old girl who joined the famous "Midnight Riders" and rode from Putnam County, New York to Danbury, Connecticut to warn of advancing British troops.

Hatshepsut is the the fifth pharaoh of the Eighteenth Dynasty of Egypt. She was the second historically confirmed female pharaoh, after Sobekneferu

Deborah Sampson was a woman who served in the army during the American Revolution. She disguised herself as a man and served admirably

We wouldn't have airplanes without Katherine Wright who made sure her brothers had everything they needed. She ran their family shop, booked speaking engagements for them, was basically their marketing director and made sure these two idiots didn't die from starvation.

Agent 355 was a female spy in the Culper Ring during the American Revolution.

Virne “Jackie” Mitchell, a pitcher, was the first woman in professional baseball. During an exhibition game, she struck out both Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig.

The first novel. As in the very first novel. Written by a woman. Murasaki Shikibu who wrote the Tale of Genji in 1000 AD

The earliest recorded female physician was Merit Ptah, a doctor in ancient Egypt who lived around 2700 B.C. Many historians believe she may be the first woman recorded by name in the history of all of the sciences, making her achievement all the more impressive

Victoria Woodhull ran for president in 1872.

Julie d’Aubigny was a French bisexual opera-singing sword fighter from 17th-century France. A total badass.

Valentina Tereshkova was the first woman to go in space.

Stephanie Kwolek was an American chemist who invented Kevlar

Lyudmila Pavlichenko is the most successful female sniper in human history. Initially barred entry into the Red Army to due to her sex, Lyudmila would go on to rack up 309 confirmed kills in WWII. Her terrifying skills as a sniper and impressive kill count earned her the nickname “Lady Death” from her German enemies.

Nancy Wake who killed an SS Officer with her bare hands

Khutulun was the great-great-granddaughter of legendary conqueror Genghis Khan. Taught the inner workings of military life by her father, Khutulun became a skilled and powerful warrior. For her marriage, she proposed a challenge: any man that could best her in a wrestling match would have the honor of taking her hand in marriage. If they lost, they would have to give her a horse.

Boudicca was a queen of the Iceni tribe of Celtic Britons, who led an uprising against the conquering forces of the Roman Empire in AD 60 or 61.

Honestly I can go on forever. There are so many amazing and interesting women in history and I can't learn enough about them. This is only a very small list and a condensed version of their stories. I highly recommend looking into each of them more.

#women's history #badass ladies of history #ask #mod post #mod replies

[homomenhommes]

THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … December 17

1760 – On this date, Deborah Sampson Gannett American Revolutionary War hero was born (d.1827). Sampson was the first known American woman to impersonate a man to join the Army and take part in combat. Masquerading as "Robert Shurtlieff," (the ID of her deceased brother), she was the most famous female soldier of the American Revolution.

Though her motives in fighting were patriotic, she had always shown great delight in wearing men's clothing and in drinking "with the boys." For both those "offenses," in fact, she had been excommunicated from the First Baptist Church of Middleborough, Mass.

While in the army, Sampson developed a bit of a reputation as a ladies' man, and the stories of her exploits with women are too numerous to be anything but apocryphal. After serving seventeen months in the Continental Army (and being wounded in the Battle of Tarrytown), Deborah Sampson was discharged by General Henry Knox at West Point.

Twice during her stint in the forces, she was almost exposed. First, during her first battle, on July 3, 1782, outside Tarrytown, New York, she received 2 musket balls in her thigh and an enormous cut on her forehead. She begged her fellow soldiers to just let her die and not take her to the hospital, but they refused to abandon her. A soldier put her on his horse and they rode six miles to a hospital. The doctors treated her head wound, but she left the hospital before they could attend to the musket balls. Fearful that her true identity would be discovered, she removed one of the balls herself with a penknife and sewing needle, but her leg never fully healed because the other ball was too deep for her to reach.

The second time was when, during the summer of 1783, Deborah came down with malignant fever and was cared for by a doctor, Barnabas Binney. He removed her clothes to treat her and discovered the band she used to bind her breasts and, thus, discovered her secret. He did not betray her secret; he took her to his house, where his wife and daughters further treated her.

When Dr. Binney asked her to deliver a note to General John Patterson, she thought that her secret was out. However, General Patterson never uttered a word; instead, she received an honorable discharge from the service, a note with some words of advice, and a sum of money sufficient to bear her expenses home. Thus, on October 25, 1783, General Henry Knox honorably discharged Deborah Sampson from the Army at West Point, after a year and a half of service.

Eight years later, in January 1792, she petitioned the Massachusetts State Legislature for back pay, which the army had withheld from her, since she was a woman. Her petition passed through the Senate and was approved, then signed by Governor John Hancock. The General Court of Massachusetts verified her service and wrote that she "exhibited an extraordinary instance of female heroism by discharging the duties of a faithful gallant soldier, and at the same time preserving the virtue and chastity of her sex, unsuspected and unblemished". The court awarded her a total of thirty-four pounds.

Ten years after that, in 1802, she began giving lectures about her experiences in the army. Deborah enjoyed speaking about serving her country. These speeches were initiated due to her own financial needs as well as a desire to justify her enlistment. But even with these speaking engagements, she was not making enough money to pay her expenses. She had to borrow money from her family and from her friend Paul Revere on many occasions. The soldiers in the Continental Army had received pensions for their services, but Sampson did not because she was female.

In 1804, Paul Revere wrote to Massachusetts' representative, William Eustis, on Sampson's behalf. Revere requested that Congress grant her a military pension. This had never before been requested by or for a woman, but with her health failing and family being destitute, the money was greatly needed. Revere wrote, "I have been induced to enquire her situation, and character, since she quit the male habit, and soldiers uniform; for the most decent apparel of her own sex; and obliges me to say, that every person with whom I have conversed about her, and it is not a few, speak of her as a woman with handsome talents, good morals, a dutiful wife, and an affectionate parent." On March 11, 1805 Congress in Washington obliged the letter, and placed her on the Massachusetts Invalid Pension Roll. This pension plan paid her four dollars a month.

 Paul Cadmus - portrait by Luigi Lucioni

1904 – Paul Cadmus (d.1999), American painter, is best known for the satiric innocence of his frequently censored paintings of burly men in skin-tight clothes and curvaceous women in provocative poses, but he also created works that celebrate same-sex domesticity.

Born in New York City on December 17, 1904 into a family of commercial artists, Cadmus studied at the National Academy of Design and the Arts Students League. He lived in Europe from 1931 to 1933, where he traveled with artist Jared French and where he produced his first mature canvases.

In the 1930s, Cadmus became the center of a circle of gay men who were prominent within the arts in New York City. This circle included his brother-in-law, Lincoln Kirstein, who helped found the American School of Ballet, and the photographer George Platt Lynes, for whom Cadmus frequently modeled.

In the 1930s, Cadmus used caricature, satire, and innuendo to veil the homoeroticism of his subjects, which radically pushed at the boundaries of acceptability. Cadmus's 1933 painting The Fleet's In! was selected for inclusion in a show at the Corcoran Gallery of Art in Washington, and in 1934 it placed him at the center of a public controversy.

The Fleet's In

Like many of his early works, the painting is ostensibly heterosexual in its depiction of sailors flirting with young women, who may be prostitutes, but it nevertheless manages to suggest a homosexual exchange between a well-dressed civilian, who sports a red tie, a widely recognized signal of homosexuality from the turn of the twentieth century, and a sailor to whom he offers a cigarette.

The painting's homoerotic subtext led to its removal after the opening of the exhibition. Frequently cited as one of the earliest incidents of government censorship, the removal of the painting was almost certainly motivated by homophobia.

Cadmus's painting Coney Island (1935) also became the subject of controversy. Its portrayal of local residents engaged in provocative (heterosexual) antics enraged Brooklyn realtors, who threatened to file a civil suit against the Whitney Museum of American Art.

Similarly, his commission for the Port Washington post office was also scandalous and was cancelled: the mural he produced, Pocahontas and John Smith (1938), so emphasizes the buttocks and genitals of the Native Americans that it obscures the subject, which is the rescue of John Smith.As a result of Cadmus's notoriety, his 1937 exhibition at Midtown Galleries in New York attracted more than 7,000 visitors.

Other early works of particular interest for their homoeroticism are YMCA Locker Room (1933), Shore Leave (1933), and Greenwich Village Cafeteria (1934). Like The Fleet's In!, these works also document homosexual cruising and seduction.

In Cadmus's paintings, significant exchanges of glances signal sexual longing and availability, often in the very midst of mundane activities. His work documents the surreptitious cruising rituals of an urban, gay male subculture in the 1930s.

Cadmus's painting What I Believe (1947-1948) was inspired by E.M. Forster's essay of the same name, in which the novelist expresses his faith in personal relations and his concept of a spiritual aristocracy "of the sensitive, the considerate, and the plucky. Its members are to be found in all nations and classes, and all through the ages, and there is a secret understanding between them when they meet. They represent the true human condition, the one permanent victory of our queer race over cruelty and chaos."

What I Believe

Cadmus's allegorical painting, which depicts such figures as Forster and Christopher Isherwood in Socratic poses, makes clear his intellectual allegiance to the humanism that Forster depicted as gravely threatened by fascism.

In still other later works, such as The Bath (1951) and The Haircut (1986), Cadmus explores the joys of his long-term relationship with his partner and model, Jon Andersson. These paintings are particularly touching in their illustration of an entirely ordinary but rarely depicted subject: the domesticity of a same-sex couple.

Although he stopped painting towards the end of his life, Cadmus continued to draw at his home in Weston, Connecticut, particularly portraits and figure studies of Andersson, his favorite model and companion of 35 years.

Cadmus died on December 12, 1999, five days shy of his 95th birthday.

Tony Tavarossi and bike

1933 – Homo-masculine proto-leatherman Tony Tavarossi (d.1981) was a native San Franciscan who was as important to gay liberation history in San Francisco as his contemporary, the drag-queen politician José Sarria.

He came out at the age of twelve under the tables (literally) in the curtained booths of the South China Café at l8th and Castro streets. He nick-named himself "Tony"; his birth name was Elloyd Tavarossi.

He was a “walking oral historian” who in his own personal history set in motion a “domino effect” in gay liberation history:

Tony Tavarossi founded San Francisco’s first bike bar or leather bar, the Why Not? (1960), where he was himself arrested for propositioning an undercover cop, thus closing the Why Not? in a raid that was a rehearsal for the police raid on the Tay-Bush lnn (1961) which emboldened Chuck Arnett to hire Tony in opening the legendary Tool Box bar (1961) which, as a symbol of masculine mutiny, fortified the gay resolve to found the Tavern Guild (1962) to protect gay citizens from harassment by the San Francisco Police Department.

Tony Tavarossi said later that the gay bar scene in 1966 was a riot led by a mixed crowd of Levis-wearing leathermen, straight-trade hustlers (many of them ex-Gls from World War II and Korea), and tough drag queens.

He died of AIDS ]u1y 12, 1981, two days after the epic fire that destroyed the Barracks baths on Folsom Street, putting an end to the turbulent 1970s.

Cashman with Paul Cottingham

1950 – Michael Cashman, born in London, is a British former actor, and a Labour politician. He has been a Member of the European Parliament for the West Midlands constituency since 1999.

As a child actor he was cast in the role of Oliver Twist in the original run of Lionel Bart's musical Oliver!, but he is possibly best known for his role as Colin Russell in BBC TV's EastEnders - a character remembered for being a participant in the first gay kiss in a British soap opera. He also appeared in the ITV drama serial The Sandbaggers and the Doctor Who story "Time-Flight".

Cashman was a founder of Stonewall, an Honorary Associate of the National Secular Society and a Patron of The Food Chain, a London-based HIV charity.He is a trenchant critic of discrimination against minorities within the European Union. He is leading a cross-party coalition to tackle the rise in homophobia throughout Europe. He has in the past supported the gay pride march in Warsaw, which he attended. He is also the President of the European Parliament's Intergroup on gay and lesbian issues.

In 2007 he was awarded an honorary doctorate from the University of Staffordshire for his human rights work.

In line with current guidelines the European Parliament paid his domestic partner, Paul Cottingham, £30,000 per annum for his work as Cashman's "Accounts Manager, Personnel Manager and Payroll Administrator". Cashman registered a civil partnership with Paul Cottingham, his partner for 31 years, on 11 March 2006.

In March 2011 Cottingham was diagnosed with a very rare cancer, angiosarcoma, and he died on 23 October 2014 in the Royal Marsden Hospital, London. He was cremated in a humanist service at the City of London Cemetery on 7 November 2014.

Cashman was appointed Commander of the Order of the British Empire (CBE) in the 2013 New Year Honours for public and political service.

On 23 September 2014 he was created a Life Peer taking the title Baron Cashman, of Limehouse in the London Borough of Tower Hamlets, which is also his birthplace.

1968 – Fabrice Neaud, born in La Rochelle, France, is a French comics artist. He got his baccalaureate in literature (option graphic arts) in 1986. He studied philosophy during two years. Then he entered an art school and studied there four years. In 1991 he quit the school. For four years he had been looking for a job, making a living on various works.

He is a co-founder of the Ego comme X association. In 1994, the first number of the Ego comme X magazine was released. In it, Fabrice Neaud published his first works. It was the beginning of his Journal (which is a diary in comics), an ambitious autobiographical project. The first volume of the Journal was released in 1996. It got a prize Alph'art (best work by a young artist) in Angoulême in 1997.

From an entry in his Journal

Fabrice Neaud keeps on drawing his Journal. Three more volumes have been published between 1998 and 2002. He published also many short stories in Ego comme X, Bananas and other magazines. Some of his works have been translated into Italian and Spanish. A reviewer notes, "But Neaud isn't a simple diarist: he's also an artist concerned with various problems of our society, including homophobia and gay life in small towns." His works have been the subject of academic papers.

1979 – United States District Court for the Central District of California Judge Irving Hill rules that the marriage of Australian Anthony Sullivan and US citizen Richard Adams, under a license issued by Boulder County, Colorado in 1975, is not valid for purposes of Sullivan’s immigration.

1990 – The OutRage Christmas Celebration for London's Extended Queer Family was held in Covent Garden.

2007 The Parliament of Hungary gives the same rights to registered partners as to spouses with some exceptions: adoption, IVF access, surrogacy, and taking a surname.