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nia-journals · 2 years

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heartbreak high rant - spoilers ahead

let me just start off by saying I absolutely love this show (have watched it twice already) and I cannot wait for season 2.

- this show is one of the rare ocassions where i adore the main character so fucking much - amerie is the main girlie of the main girlies.

- i love malakai and thats besides is charming smile and good looks. i think he's genuinely a very likable character and we also get to see his vulnerable side/insecurities and difficulties and i love that despite everything he's still a good guy.

- don't know if this is deemed unpopular but im my humble opinion dusty and harper were a good couple UNTIL they did what they did to malakai.. i do think they took advantage of him and honestly after that i could not stand to look at them at all.

- harper shouldve also eventually been held accountable for the map.

- i cannot lie and say i have any love for harper (in the beginning she was so annoying and did many fucked up things) but i do feel bad for what she went through with those boys and her father and i am glad she was finally able to open up and rekindle her friendship w amerie.

- spider should have stayed the way they depict him in the last episode cause he was sweet to amerie but I GUESS what happened in amerie's room was a punch at his ego so he started acting like a little bitch baby.

- CASH MY DEAR SWEET CHILD CASH!!! i want no hate towards this man or nothing had to ever happen to him. love him w my entire heart.

- cannot wait for more darren and cash in season 2 and i hope they can communicate more about they want, cash being ace and eachothers feelings.

- FUCK SASHA AND I HOPE QUINNI DOES NOT GIVE HER BITCH ASS ANOTHER CHANCE BECAUSE SHE DOES NOT DESERVE IT.

- i love quinni and daren's friendship so much. they are literally platonic soulmates.

- i feel bad for darren and their family situation - i feel like their parents should be there for them and show them that they care and shower them with the love they deserve!

- BACK TO THIS BITCH DUSTY. I LITERALLY CANNOT STAND HIM AND HIS COMMUNITY DICK HAVING ASS AT ALL.

- we need more of cash's nan in season 2 as well.

- the comedy and comedic timing in this show are golden and i found myself actually laughing as opposed to cringing as i usually do with shows that are geared towards gen z.

- ant i love him and he's funny but he needs better friends! lets get him on the malakai train and he can dump spider.

- OR we can get spider and ant less platonic more romantic iykyk (the scene in the office during the protest).

- for now though, i feel like amerie and malakai should stick to being friends, don't get me wrong i ship them but i think some space is what they need for now.

- MS. JOJO IS THE BEST UGH LOVE HER.

- did i mention i CANNOT stand dusty?

- srsly i cant.

- can we get malakai exploring his sexuality a bit more. thanks.

- missy's brother jai is an angel and i just wanna hug him.

- cash pls also drop your eshay friends!

- that's it? yea i think!

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pricklypearflowers · 10 months

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First look at what our SLT’s will look like in season 2. Sasha, Quinni and Harper’s hair!!!!!

📸 from Chloe Hayden’s insta

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goodsniff · 1 year

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Heartbreak High // Sasha & Missy // Dusty

#heartbreak high #character design #netflix #n that's all folks #dusty heartbreak high #sasha heartbreak high #missy heartbreak high #josh heuston #sherry-lee watson #gemma chua-tran #dusty reid #sahsa so #missy beckett #thanks for all the kind words about these appreciate ya

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donnatroyprincessofthemyscira · 1 year

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Art Credit to Dusty Abell

#Romy Jones #Dusty Abell #Spiderman #Peter Parker #Spiderverse #SpiderWoman #SpiderGirl #Venom #Madame Web #May Parker #Mary Jane Watson

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calaisreno · 11 months

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Trying It Out

May 20 Prompt: Experiment

“What are you wearing?” Sherlock looks up from his experiment, distracted. Something John is doing has broken the order of his disciplined mind.

John frowns. “Erm, clothes?”

Sherlock stands, approaches John like a specimen. He sniffs. “You’re wearing cologne.”

“Yes. Occasionally I do wear fragrance.”

This is a new one. It’s lighter, fresher. Not the rubbish he ordinarily wears when he’s—

“You have a date.”

“Oh, yes. I might, that is. Going out in a bit.”

“But I thought— you broke up with… the last one. The one with the hair.”

John laughs. “They all have hair, Sherlock. I don’t recall dating any bald—”

“The one with the Hair. Big Hair. Uncontrollably Big Hair.”

“You mean Sylvia. It wasn’t that big, you berk. Just a bit retro, with the teasing.”

“Teasing?”

“What people do when they want their hair to look bigger. You take a comb, and you—”

“What have you done with your hair?”

“My hair?” John is blushing, a clue that things are not as they should be. “I just… had it highlighted. A bit. I mean, why not? Women don’t have a monopoly on—”

Gently, he lays his hand on John’s head. “Product. You never use product.”

John looks annoyed now. “If you’re done examining the crime scene, I’m going out.”

Alone, Sherlock contemplates what sort of woman could make John put product in his hair. And wear a fragrance that doesn’t smell like something his father would wear. He can draw no conclusions.

He continues his investigation, undeterred by his lack of success. John Watson is a tough case, but he has no doubt that he will solve him.

John hasn’t worn a jumper in days. He’s grown a small goatee, and then shaved it off. He’s joined a gym, lost five pounds.

At this moment, he’s wearing a pink shirt. Nothing bright, just a dusty pink, touchable-looking shirt, well-fitted to his torso.

“Nice shirt,” he ventures.

“Thanks.” John blushes again, almost as pink as his shirt. He’s disturbed, perhaps, because if Sherlock ever says anything about what John is wearing, it’s to suggest that he burn whatever jumper he’s wearing.

Who is this man, and what has he done with John Watson? Sherlock’s flatmate dresses like an old man: check shirts, cuddly jumpers, trousers that sag a bit in the bum. Always in colours like beige, tan, brown, grey, and occasionally blue or green. He never wears pink.

“It’s a good colour on you.”

John smiles awkwardly and walks away. The seat of his jeans is not sagging. John has a rather nice arse, he thinks.

Several evenings each week John goes out, always around nine. He looks a bit different each time. Once he spiked his hair. He’s worn different colognes, shirts that have miraculously appeared from somewhere. Certainly not the usual shops where John buys new khakis and ugly jumpers whenever Sherlock has spilled acid on the old ones or used them in an experiment. These shirts and trousers are more expensive, much nicer than anything he normally wears.

And Sherlock deduces: John is dating a man.

The realisation socks him in the gut, takes all the air out of his lungs, and makes his heart sink.

Once, many months ago, John tried to flirt with Sherlock. Across a table at Angelo’s, he asked if Sherlock had a boyfriend. And he said he was unattached. Sherlock’s reaction to this was half-panic, half-disdain. Sherlock Holmes was married to his work. He didn’t have what other people have— girlfriends, boyfriends, people he went places with.

He had John, who dated women. John, who wore lumpy jumpers and trousers that sagged, and walked like that. John, who could never get a woman to go out with him more than twice. John, who would never leave Sherlock.

And now? John might have a boyfriend. And it’s not Sherlock, as it should have been.

Lestrade looks like he’s itching for a cigarette. Anderson looks bored. Donovan is smirking at John, who is— checking out Lestrade’s arse?

Before Sherlock can process this, John is turning to the other cop on the scene, the one who found the body. He’s tall, darkly handsome, and obviously flirting with John.

And John is not frowning. He’s smiling, giving him that charming look he often gives Sherlock when he’s done something unusually brilliant. That look is for Sherlock, and John’s giving it to this tall, handsome idiot!

“Come along, John,” he says, swirling his coat impatiently and raising his hand for a cab.

John comes along.

It’s ten in the evening, about the time when John usually starts yawning and washing the tea mugs, making sounds like he’s going to bed.

Not tonight. John is wearing a fitted black shirt and a pair of jeans that show off a number of things that Sherlock is dying to see without that layer of denim. His highlighted hair is carefully tousled, making Sherlock’s fingers itch to touch it.

“Where are you off to?” The fact that Sherlock hardly ever asks where John is going off to means that he’s giving John an awfully big clue that he cares where John goes off to late in the evening, returning in the wee hours smelling of other mens’s cologne.

“Just meeting some friends,” John says.

It’s true. John has friends— unlike Sherlock, who has just one.

“Wanna come with me?”

Sherlock looks up, startled. John has never invited Sherlock along for pub night, or watching the footy with the blokes, or meeting up with old army buddies.

“Me?”

John smiles. “Sure. I’d like you to meet my friends.”

It’s a gay bar, as Sherlock suspected, a rather nice, upscale place. He’s actually been here before, for a case.

“John!” The man who is calling out and motioning them over to a table is the very man of Sherlock’s nightmares. Tall and handsome, he has dark, curly hair and blue eyes. He’s grinning at John and as soon as they’re within an arm’s length, he pulls John into a hug.

He has a companion as well, a man who is shorter, with reddish-blond hair.

“Sherlock, meet Alex and Dustin.”

“Finally!” the taller one exclaims. “We’ve been dying to meet the boyfriend!”

Instead of declaring that he’s not gay, and that Sherlock is not his boyfriend, John smiles sheepishly at Sherlock. “Alex works in retail, men’s clothing. I met him when I decided to upgrade my wardrobe. Dustin is his boyfriend.”

And instead of denying that John is his boyfriend, Sherlock slips an arm around him. Smiling at Alex, he says, “You’ve worked an absolute miracle on his man. Thanks to you, I no longer have to resort to spilling acid on his ugly jumpers.”

John laughs. “Oi! You leave my ugly jumpers alone, you git!”

“A pleasant evening.” Sherlock studies John’s face as they walk home. “So.”

John ducks his head, smiling. “So.”

“An experiment?”

He huffs, shaking his head. “I haven’t been totally clear with you. I’m not gay. I’m bi, and I decided it was time to explore that side of me, learn to live with it. I told Alex I wanted to impress you, the poshest man on the planet, so he picked out things for me to try.”

Sherlock stops walking, takes John in his arms. “And you told him… I’m your boyfriend?”

“Well, I’d like to be. Maybe we could consider it an experiment?”

“Hm. It might be good to collect some data.” He leans down, kisses John. “I’m fairly sure, though, that I can predict the results.”

“Me, too,” John says, rising up for another kiss.

Flash Fiction / 1264 words

@lisbeth-kk @meetinginsamarra @raina-at @bertytravelsfar @momma2boys @jrow @helloliriels @the-reading-lemon @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @elwinglyre @mydogwatson @thetimemoves @jobooksncoffee @lhrinchelsea @peanitbear

#flashfiction #johnlock #bbc sherlock #may 2023 prompts

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myemuisemo · 3 months

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"On the Great Alkali Plain" part 2, from Letters from Watson, arrived in my inbox this morning, bringing with it a predictable cloud of dust from approaching horses (since this isn't a George R.R. Martin novel, so we're not going to introduce characters just to kill them off immediately).

But what a caravan! When the head of it had reached the base of the mountains, the rear was not yet visible on the horizon. Right across the enormous plain stretched the straggling array, waggons and carts, men on horseback, and men on foot. Innumerable women who staggered along under burdens, and children who toddled beside the waggons or peeped out from under the white coverings.

Either we're running late on the Oregon Trail (since Doyle did not have social media to live-blog progress across the dusty waste) or the year 1847 is important, and these are Mormons.

“Shall I go forward and see, Brother Stangerson,” asked one of the band.

These have got to be Mormons.

“Nigh upon ten thousand,” said one of the young men; “we are the persecuted children of God—the chosen of the Angel Merona.”

Tell me you're a Mormon without telling me you're a Mormon.

“We are the Mormons,” answered his companions with one voice.

OMG, they're Mormons.

This makes the geographic names a little dicey -- the Mormon Trail ran through Wyoming, similar but not identical to today's I-80, so the Rio Grande River should be nowhere nearby -- but Doyle didn't have access to Google Maps, and it's not like his readers in the UK would go factcheck. Even with the Transcontinental Railroad completed back in 1869, most places in the Great American Desert were still remote in the 1880s, and California on the far end was still feeling the effects of isolation. Doyle also misspells the Angel Moroni and uses a masculine-ending name on a Sierra, so he's working from popular myth and the memory of things he's read. I wonder how many letters with corrections he received.

(At the time Doyle was writing, "Mormon" was the term used by the group themselves. Since about the 1980s, church leadership started urging the use of "Latter-Day Saints" instead. When I lived in Phoenix, that's near a big LDS population in Mesa, so I wince at using the older term. From here on out, if I'm quoting Doyle, I'll use "Mormon," but if I'm talking, I'll stick to LDS.)

The big reason the LDS wagon train is headed west is because they practiced polygamy at the time, and this was considered both illegal and immoral in larger U.S. society. (That's not a critique of polyamory today, when enthusiastic concept and clear rules are normalized.)

So far Doyle's account of the LDS party is generally positive -- they're organized, efficient, knowledgeable about their surroundings, prepared for danger, and responsible toward people needing rescue, if a bit holier-than-thou -- but I can't believe he's going to handle polygamy with anything other than distaste.

Polygamy is the thing LDS have been known for (to their chagrin after the mainstream LDS church banned it), so at the end of this section, Doyle's original audience is split into two groups:

Readers who have no real idea what a "Mormon" is and accept it as just one more crazy American thing, who now figure Lucy is rescued and wonder what goes wrong later to lead to murder; and

Readers who know about polygamy and are feeling dread for Lucy.

#sherlock holmes #letters from watson

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redrobin-detective · 5 months

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"come in," she said, "I'll give you shelter from the storm"

Marceline woke to the smell of something amazing cooking.

Her reactions were a little less startled and a little more excited every time she woke up and remembered that Simon was back. She quickly dressed and flew down the stairs and into the kitchen as Simon was finishing whatever it was he was making. His hair was pulled back in one of Marcy's hairbands and was wearing a bright pink sweater gifted from Bonnie over top his usual white collared shirt and black slacks. He looked so different from how she remembered him growing up but he was still her Simon.

"Good morning, or rather good afternoon, sleepyhead," Simon said with a smile as he flipped something in his pan. "Sit down, I'm almost done. I have something I want to talk to you about."

"Is this something the thing you've been talking to my girlfriend in secret about for the past few weeks?" She asked playfully. Simon groaned.

"How could you possibly-"

"I've known Bonnie for hundreds of years, you think I don't know her tells by now," Marcy grinned. "And it barely took me a year to learn all of yours."

"Yes, yes, I shall always be the Watson to your estimable Holmes so here is your reward for another case brilliantly solved," Simon said with a flourish. He placed a completely red grilled cheese sandwich in front of her with a bowl of tomato soup. "Strawberry jam toasted bread with ham, red bell peppers and tomato. The cheese I soaked in the jam too, it's not as red but hopefully it'll taste better than the beet juice cheese I made for you that one time. Bon appétit, mon cher."

"That beet cheese haunts my nightmares," Marcy said, trying to act casual when she wanted to cry with how much love she was feeling. She thought she had lost this forever and having it back, it was a miracle she couldn't put into words. "You don't have to go to this much effort, I can eat anything red. It doesn't even have to be real food."

"I like to cook and I like to cook for you. Sharing a meal together is something you do with your loved ones," he smiled and sat down with his own soup and sandwich. "I have a second chance to enjoy the little things in life and I don’t want to waste it.” He said, biting into his sandwich.

“Yeah,” she smiled back as her fangs sampled the sandwich. Deliciously red and made with love. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Oh uh,” Simon looked flustered and ducked his head closer to the soup. “I hate having serious discussions over a meal. How was your show last night?”

“Fine,” Marcy said with a suspicious frown. Simon was being cagey but she’d get it out of him eventually. “It was just a small gig at Dirt Beer Guy’s new place. It would have been better with my partner there. You can’t spend all your time inside reading those dusty old books, you know.”

“I’m not your partner, Marcy, I’m your-” Simon paused and turned away with embarrassment scratching at the back of his neck. She found herself wishing he’d just say what they both felt but he trailed off as usual. “Music is just a hobby for me, I’m not nearly the professional you are. Besides I’m not really suited to the kind of music you play, trying to keep up with you would just diminish your natural talent.”

“Dude, you’re like the best pianist I’ve ever heard and you know all those old world songs,” Marcy argued as she slurped up the remaining red in her soup with annoyance. “And you’re no slouch on the guitar or violin or drums or-”

“I don’t play the drums, Ice King did,” Simon interrupted with a flat frown.

“Yeah, okay whatever,” Marcy grumbled as she floated up and gathered up the now empty plates to clean. “So come on, stop avoiding the issue, what did you want to talk about?”

“I don’t want to have this conversation angry, let’s relax with a little jam session first,” Simon said cheerfully. “It’s been a while since I’ve been on strings, I’ll join you today on guitar. Just like the good old days.” The image of Simon’s large, blue tinged hands on top of hers on the half broken guitar they’d scrounged from the rubble, lightly moving her fingers over the frets. His gentle voice walking her through the notes and the beautiful sounds they’d made to fill the apocalyptic silence.

Even after a thousand years of insanity, he knew just how to tempt her.

“I’ll grab my guitar while you finish up,” he said before rushing out of the kitchen. She was drying her hands when the sound of a tuning guitar flitted through the house. Marcy had dreamed of a situation like this: her and Simon safe, with no magic or madness or sadness between them, just hanging out. But sometimes a wall could be made of other things too. She grabbed her bass as she floated into the living room where Simon was strumming his acoustic with deep concentration. She sat next to him on the couch and began strumming too, the familiar motions leeching some of her tension.

They sat in companionable silence for a while, playing their own thing with the separate melodies sometimes coming together and harmonizing. Every now and again she’d recognize something he played, some dim lightbulb of a memory from when she was a child listening to music on the radio. Simon always got a little sad when she reminded him of the world they’d both lost. She’d mourned and moved on but it was harder for him to let go.

"Marcy, I need to move out,” Simon said suddenly, snapping her out of her head. She jerked a discordant chord on her guitar as she dropped it, causing him to wince. “Princess Bubblegum is getting me set up with a little place on the border of the Candy Kingdom," he continued awkwardly.

"Move out?" Marcy yelped, reaching over to grab Simon's hand then quickly releasing when she saw him wince. "Why? You've only been back as yourself for six months! You're- you're not ready yet! You can't live on your own in Ooo, you'll get killed!"

"I got through the apocalypse, remember. I believe you were there," he said with a raised eyebrow.

"Is it the house? Too small? Too dark? We'll move together, somewhere bigger and brighter that has everything you need-"

"The house is fine, Marcy," Simon sighed, "it's not that it's..."

"Is it me?" She asked quietly. Simon set aside his guitar and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in close. Marcy tried to relax into his touch like she used to but instead dug her hands into his sweater and held on tight.

"No, Sweetie, no, of course not. Believe me, this isn't an easy choice for me either but... Marceline, we always knew this was going to be temporary. You're a beautiful, brilliant, vivacious young woman and you don't need an old dinosaur cramping your lifestyle."

"You're not, I promise. I love having you here. I am so happy I get to see you everyday, to wake up to your cooking and making music together," she said, pulling back to look up at him.

"And I treasure those things too but Marcy, you're not going out with your friends, you're canceling shows and I know you don't feel comfortable bringing your girlfriend around when I'm here. I don't, I guess I'm worried about trapping you."

"You're not, I want you here, I promise. There's always other parties, other gigs and Bonnie, well she's old too, she knows that the most precious things are the ones that-that won't be around forever."

Simon was human again and that meant he was no longer deathless. He'd been in his mid 30s when he first wore the crown, hardly a spring chicken but not old either. That left Marcy about 50 years or so before he was gone and there was no magic on Earth or beyond that could bring him back while she went on and on and on and on and-. She loosened her grip on him before her claws put holes in his sweater, or him.

"Sweet Girl, I know what it's like to cling to something because it’s safe and familiar but we can’t live in the past. I, well, I need to find my own way. You know, learn and adapt like you have and I can't do that living in the backroom in the house of my uh... friend. We’ve had time to reconnect and recover but now it's time for this old bird to fly from the nest."

“You could stay if you wanted,” she said softly, weakly, feeling like the abandoned child she never really stopped being. “You could live here with me the rest of your life and I would love you every minute of every day. If you really want to move out, find your own space, I’ll gladly help. But I want you to know you are always welcome here, in my home and in my life because- because you’re like my dad and nothing will ever change that or how I feel about you.”

They never really spoke the words: dad, daughter, family, even if that's what they were to each other. There was always the risk Hunson would overhear and take it out on Simon. But also 'dad' had come to represent disappointment and anger and fear while 'Simon' fit the meaning much better. Who needed a dad when she had a Simon?

“Oh Marceline,” Simon said softly, resting his cheek against her hair. “I don’t deserve your love after what I put you through.”

“Like you said, we can’t live in the past,” she mumbled, squeezing him as tight as she dared. Time moved so quickly for her, how many more times would she get to hug him before he was gone? They stayed like for a while before he pulled back and wiped his misty eyes underneath his glasses.

"Princess Bubblegum said the place should be finished soon. It's not very far and, you, likewise, are welcome to visit anytime. I've even asked the Princess to set aside an extra bedroom for you and Finn if ever you need somewhere to stay." Simon said, breaking eye contact to grab his guitar and lightly finger the strings.

"Do Finn and Jake know about this?" Marcy teased. It's been an endless source of amusement watching Simon latch onto Finn like a mother hen and for it all to fly over the boy's head. Simon cooks for them, teaches Finn when he can pin the boy down between adventures and positively dotes on him and her unofficial little brother still didn't get it.

"Jake thinks it's a great idea," Simon sniffed. "Finn is almost 18 and full of reckless, teenage energy, not to mention a whole load of unaddressed trauma. Jake's getting older, he can use all the help he can get managing Finn."

"Word to that," She laughed. The heavy emotional pall lifting, she picked up her bass again and played the same simple melody as Simon. "Was that all you wanted to talk about? The house?"

"No," Simon looked uncomfortable. "I've put it off too long really but with the house set to be up soon, I do need to collect the rest of my belongings from the uh..."

"Oh yeah, you had that whole secret room in the Ice Kingdom, all those books and artifacts and stuff," Marcy noted.

"The last remnants I have of Betty are there too," Simon said dully. They don't talk about her much, mostly because the grief and guilt reminded both of them too much of Ice King. He still had his bad days spent alone doing glob knows what in his room. "I have a lot of things I need to get that I’ve been putting off because well…”

“It’s got to be weird,” Marcy said with an understanding smile. “You were Ice King then Gunter is now Ice Thing. I think everyone needed space after what went down. Me and PB can go get your stuff if you want.”

“No, no, it needs to be me. I can’t run away from the past forever,” Simon sighed. “I could use your help with moving as well as sorting through what’s important and what’s just sentimental junk. I collected as many pre-war artifacts as I could before I was consumed by the crown so I’m not even sure what’s all there.”

“Of course, I’m sure Finn would like to be involved too if it’s about human stuff,” Marcy said

“I’ll message him and I’m pretty sure Gunter gave me his new number too,” Simon muttered absently. “The Ice Kingdom still doesn’t have any citizens so hopefully Gunter will be able to accommodate us.”

“But that will probably take some time to coordinate,” Marcy said in a lilting tone, “and you still owe me a jam session. Show me that one song you used to play on guitar all the time, you know, the one that goes like-” she hastily strummed out a few chords. Simon laughed.

“A thousand years after the end of the world and Bob Dyland still endures,” he said, making some minor adjustments to his tuning keys. “Ok, my memory isn’t what it used to be so don’t complain if I get the lyrics or melody mixed up. So it’s a simple song that has a repeat rhythm of D, G, C, G. Got it? Ok and a one and two and a three-”

The house was soon filled with music and laughter and lots of love.

#adventure time #simon petrikov #marceline abadeer #finally finished #this is gonna be part 1 of 3 or 4 part series #exploring simons relationship with his kids through music #song title is shelter from the storm by bob dylan #love simon and marcy but look at all the regrets and abandonment issues and avoidance tactics they have stuffed into a trenchcoat #they're both overly clingy and distant at the same time I love it #both clinging to a past that doesn't really exist anymore and trying to cope with this new reality #they make me insane

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eludin-realm · 6 months

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Character Name Ideas (Male)

So I've been browsing through BehindTheName (great resource!) recently and have compiled several name lists. Here are some names, A-Z, that I like. NOTE: If you want to use any of these please verify sources, meanings etc, I just used BehindTheName to browse and find all of these. Under the cut:

A: Austin, Aiden, Adam, Alex, Angus, Anthony, Archie, Argo, Ari, Aric, Arno, Atlas, August, Aurelius, Alexei, Archer, Angelo, Adric, Acarius, Achilou, Alphard, Amelian, Archander B: Bodhi, Bastian, Baz, Beau, Beck, Buck, Basil, Benny, Bentley, Blake, Bowie, Brad, Brady, Brody, Brennan, Brent, Brett, Brycen C: Cab, Cal, Caden, Cáel, Caelan, Caleb, Cameron, Chase, Carlos, Cooper, Carter, Cas, Cash, Cassian, Castiel, Cedric, Cenric, Chance, Chandler, Chaz, Chad, Chester, Chet, Chip, Christian, Cillian, Claude, Cicero, Clint, Cody, Cory, Coy, Cole, Colt, Colton, Colin, Colorado, Colum, Conan, Conrad, Conway, Connor, Cornelius, Creed, Cyneric, Cynric, Cyrano, Cyril, Cyrus, Crestian, Ceric D: Dallas, Damien, Daniel, Darach, Dash, Dax, Dayton, Denver, Derek, Des, Desmond, Devin, Dewey, Dexter, Dietrich, Dion, Dmitri, Dominic, Dorian, Douglas, Draco, Drake, Drew, Dudley, Dustin, Dusty, Dylan, Danièu E: Eadric, Evan, Ethan, Easton, Eddie, Eddy, Einar, Eli, Eilas, Eiljah, Elliott, Elton, Emanuel, Emile, Emmett, Enzo, Erik, Evander, Everett, Ezio F: Faolán, Faron, Ferlin, Felix, Fenrir, Fergus, Finley, Finlay, Finn, Finnian, Finnegan, Flint, Flip, Flynn, Florian, Forrest, Fritz G: Gage, Gabe, Grady, Grant, Gray, Grayson, Gunnar, Gunther, Galahad H: Hale, Harley, Harper, Harvey, Harry, Huey, Hugh, Hunter, Huxley I: Ian, Ianto, Ike, Inigo, Isaac, Isaias, Ivan, Ísak J: Jack, Jacob, Jake, Jason, Jasper, Jax, Jay, Jensen, Jed, Jeremy, Jeremiah, Jesse, Jett, Jimmie, Jonas, Jonas, Jonathan, Jordan, Josh, Julien, Jovian, Jun, Justin, Joseph, Joni, K: Kaden, Kai, Kale, Kane, Kaz, Keane, Keaton, Keith, Kenji, Kenneth, Kent, Kevin, Kieran, Kip, Knox, Kris, Kristian, Kyle, Kay, Kristján, Kristófer L: Lamont, Lance, Landon, Lane, Lars, László, Laurent, Layton, Leander, Leif, Leo, Leonidas, Leopold, Levi, Lewis, Louie, Liam, Liberty, Lincoln, Linc, Linus, Lionel, Logan, Loki, Lucas, Lucian, Lucio, Lucky, Luke, Luther, Lyall, Lycus, Lykos, Lyle, Lyndon, Llewellyn, Landri, Laurian, Lionç M: Major, Manny, Manuel, Marcus, Mason, Matt, Matthew, Matthias, Maverick, Maxim, Memphis, Midas, Mikko, Miles, Mitch, Mordecai, Mordred, Morgan, Macari, Maïus, Maxenci, Micolau, Miro N: Nate, Nathan, Nathaniel, Niall, Nico, Niels, Nik, Noah, Nolan, Niilo, Nikander, Novak, O: Oakley, Octavian, Odin, Orlando, Orrick, Ǫrvar, Othello, Otis, Otto, Ovid, Owain, Owen, Øyvind, Ozzie, Ollie, Oliver, Onni P: Paisley, Palmer, Percival, Percy, Perry, Peyton, Phelan, Phineas, Phoenix, Piers, Pierce, Porter, Presley, Preston, Pacian Q: Quinn, Quincy, Quintin R: Ragnar, Raiden, Ren, Rain, Rainier, Ramos, Ramsey, Ransom, Raul, Ray, Roy, Reagan, Redd, Reese, Rhys, Rhett, Reginald, Remiel, Remy, Ridge, Ridley, Ripley, Rigby, Riggs, Riley, River, Robert, Rocky, Rokas, Roman, Ronan, Ronin, Romeo, Rory, Ross, Ruairí, Rufus, Rusty, Ryder, Ryker, Rylan, Riku, Roni S: Sammie, Sammy, Samuel, Samson, Sanford, Sawyer, Scout, Seán, Seth, Sebastian, Seymour, Shane, Shaun, Shawn, Sheldon, Shiloh, Shun, Sid, Sidney, Silas, Skip, Skipper, Skyler, Slade, Spencer, Spike, Stan, Stanford, Sterling, Stevie, Stijn, Suni, Sylvan, Sylvester T: Tab, Tad, Tanner, Tate, Tennessee, Tero, Terrance, Tevin, Thatcher, Tierno, Tino, Titus, Tobias, Tony, Torin, Trace, Trent, Trenton, Trev, Trevor, Trey, Troy, Tripp, Tristan, Tucker, Turner, Tyler, Ty, Teemu U: Ulric V: Valerius, Valor, Van, Vernon, Vespasian, Vic, Victor, Vico, Vince, Vinny, Vincent W: Wade, Walker, Wallis, Wally, Walt, Wardell, Warwick, Watson, Waylon, Wayne, Wes, Wesley, Weston, Whitley, Wilder, Wiley, William, Wolfe, Wolfgang, Woody, Wulfric, Wyatt, Wynn X: Xander, Xavier Z: Zachary, Zach, Zane, Zeb, Zebediah, Zed, Zeke, Zeph, Zaccai

#will i use these names for future characters? absolutely yes #okay to reblog this #okay to reblog

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bella-rose29 · 1 month

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episode 4 commentary - Sweet Dreams

warnings: swearing, once again barely any of this is proper commentary it's just me calling everyone pretty and simping over their hands and arms, SPOILERS FOR THE SHOW AND BOOKS, when I have multiple of the same letter in a row (so like AAAAA) I have to press the key every single time (fun) so... idk why it's a warning but I felt like you just needed to know how excited I got

that's a funky headboard

omg I want her jumper

LOCKWOOD WITH THE ALICE IN WONDERLAND REFERENCE

that toast would have scared the shit out of me too Lucy dw

angry

concerned bbs

"we were not 'rescued'" and "stuck up mediocrities" will forever be iconic

"he lacks respect"

this whole scene always makes me laugh tbh

so many good quotes

"you take the lie, and you take Kipps' face and put them together--"

"and you just wanna watch him... die"

"please tell me there's tea" mood AND THEN HE'S THE ONE MAKING TEA

concerned bbs again

"you're just not rude enough to her, George"

the way he appears round that door 😭

FUCK OFF JOPLIN

hand

I will not be discussing the sound I made at lockwood sat in the chair after passing on the business card

Georgie no

spiky shoes

my dried mango I'm eating is so good

"pre-pleb?"

lockwood's so pretty omg

so is lucy

hmmmmmmmmmm lockwood

^^^

why does his mouth not move

also why was that hot

rainy taxi

hand

George looks so excited talking about the black market I love him

hand

George I love you

lockwood could your ego get any bigger (but also hehehe)

"proper honest blokes, real salt of the earth"

"you've never even spoken to them"

*pause* "yeah well they're a bit scary"

"go write a poem about it!" George you beautiful human being

showman speech! showman speech!

hand

BOBBY I CANT HEAR ANYTHING BUT BESHPOKELY NOW

"you will have my undivided attention" gbsgsukrhgosuruhgksh I would melt and then evaporate when he smiled

"no backbone this generation!"

"I am not filling out more forms" mood

he's so pretttyyyyyyyyy

NOT THE CAMERA SPINNING AROUND LIKE THE BONE GLASS

woo they have chains now!

lockwood is so angry

"it knows you're there" oh very comforting

bzzzzzzzzzzzz

JOPLIN GO AWAY

omg Lucy nooo

hehehe it's her bestie

touching locklyle moment of: "Luce, what's going on? are you okay?"

*George in the background* "WhERe'S mY LiGht?"

bestieeee

yeah well don't open it

"stand by" lockwood honey she's not in any state of mind to deal with this

Georgie nooooo

idk if it's a thing but the fact that lockwood was the only seemingly unaffected??? Lucy obviously has Listening, and George can do some of the Touch stuff, so does that mean they're more susceptible to psychic emotions? George had the nausea and Lucy had the headache and all the rest of it but lockwood was fine? idk

"all someone had to do was apply themselves!" iconic

DON'T FEEL EXCITED BITCH

GEORGIE NOOO

whoops

bit dusty now

BADASS BITCH MOMENTTTTTTT

THROW THAT RAPIER!!!!

heavily breathing lockwood 👀

hehehe bestieeee

already trying to get out lolllllll

oh no the boys are fighting :(

"you'd never bollock her like this would you"

tired-of-this-lockwood is one of my favourites I think

"iS iT tALkInG tO yOu nOw?"

oops

don't talk about the room

"clinically insane-" "really FUCKING powerful" I love them

"you gave her a free pass just 'cause you like the way she looks at you" ok 1) DUDE SAID THAT WITH LUCY IN THE ROOM I LOVE HIM and 2) honestly I am lockwood bc I too would give her a free pass if Lucy looked at me like 😍 (or even if she just looked at me tbh)

"I don't know what you're talking about" "yeah sure" I AM GEORGE IN THIS SITUATION

boy's angry

"why, 'cause you can't handle being my Tom Rotwell?" OOOO WHAT A BLOW TO THE EGO

THE MICROEXPRESSSIONS S SIESR0[HORUSHGOSRUHGOA CAMERON CHAPMAN THE MAN YOU AREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

sorry can you tell I love that bit

aw Georgie nooo

lanky boy

I WANNA GIVE HIM A HUGGGG :((((

Georgie noooo

IS THAT MARY WATSON

is that a FQD I see?

hehehe he's so silly

"he was a massive prick to me just now" he deserved that

awkward teens hehehe

SJRHGIUSRHGOURHSOUGHSEORIGJORS THIS SCENENEEEEEEE

TENDING TO WOUNDSSSSSSSSSSDSDIUSGHESIUHGOSUR H

"the real reason you might be here is to shine it on somebody else" AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

WHY AM I TEARING UP (I think it's the hormones actually)

HE IS SO BAD AT NOT LOOKING AT HER LIPS (me too)

his smileeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

WHY AM I CRYING

WTF

HE LOOKED AT HER LIPS AGAIN

NOW THEY'RE TENDERLY HOLDING HANDS

NOT THE PINKY FINGER

NOT HIM LOOKING AT HER LIPS FOR THE THIRD TIME

omg the awkwardness after they sat in silence staring at each other and holding hands

ok but the fact they cut to george's room but showed it through the mirror on his wardrobe???????? omggggg deep analysis of when mirrors are used here we come

he's so pretty

peekaboo

not the biscuit 😭

"do not cross" *crosses*

he looks like a guilty child

he sounds like one too

"absolutely by the book" sure...

BOBBYYYYYYYY

heavily breathing lockwood hmmmmmmm

I'm sorry I can't take bobby Vernon seriously bc I just think of bobby (who isn't that small) and I laugh

I've had to pause it which is a problem bc it's gonna take me a while to get through this 😭

he's so smug omg 😭

"there you go, sir" with as much smugness as possible

screeching like a parrot at bobby's laugh

I actually can't stop laughing this is ridiculous

"yes, I do, actually" YOU SHOW THEM GEORGIE

"you sure you do?" "I know who that man is"

"this better be good Karim" *immediately aims his attack at bobby*

"they'll be glad of the work, but this is Phoenician" I AM A PROUD BESTIE JUST LIKE LOCKWOOD AND LUCY ARE IN THAT MOMENT

"bobby, just a hunch. something I read in a book, if you remember those" I LOVE HIM YOUR HONOUR

he's having so much fun being smarter than bobby Vernon and I love it

"thank you bobby, you've been a wonderful assistant"

*gets a shot of just him concluding his point like the DIs in death in paradise while looking awesome*

"shut up karim" "you thought it was a brewer!" ah, rivalry

lockwood looks so thin (like thinner than he normally does) he kinda looked like a cartoon I won't lie

barnes is so done

"shall we get hotdogs"

he's so smug

stop calling him irrelevant bestie

lucy's "oh for god's sake" in the background is me

"Quill Kipps, the walking appendix" ok 1) honey go to bed and 2) why was the way he said that kinda 👀🤭

lockwood seriously go to bed, your brain is clearly not functioning properly

"three less amateurs stumbling around" um kipps if you're going to insult them could you at least say fewer? (I'm a pedant just like lockwood)

"what the hell is he doing" "whatever the hell he wants" hehehe

#lockwood and co #lockwood & co #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #george karim #quill kipps #montague barnes #belle's episode commentaries

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16bruises · 1 year

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Victims of Time

Vampire / Kas(?) Eddie x gn Reader

word count: 1.67k

masterlist

“Love bleeds you dry until the red organ ceases to beat.”

-Sonya Watson

When Eddie died in the upside down he never thought he’d wake up and never go back to sleep.

Every day is just a continuation of the day before. Every day was March 27, 1986.

He died to everyone who knew him but he didn’t really die. Whatever venom that was within those demo bats did this.

The world seemed like it was mocking him when The Lost Boys came out in 1987; teasing him for being lost —for basically being a godforsaken creature with a thirst for blood.

He hated seeing how the people he loved move on from his death, or at least attempt to move on, and in one case; not move on at all. He hated that he left his people.

The one, unfortunate person, who wasn’t able to move on was his Uncle Wayne.

Wayne loved Eddie. Nothing would ever take or change the love he felt for his son. Certainly not death.

Eddie watched in horror over the course of 2 years, his uncle slowly falling apart from the inside out.

Wayne passed away on March 22, 1989. He had a nice funeral. Eddie watched it from far away, not like anyone was searching for him or would notice his presence.

Nancy Wheeler had made it a priority to check in with Wayne every Monday and Thursday, she was distraught when she heard about his death, she hadn’t noticed any sudden changes, no startling decline in health or anything.

Nancy and Wayne had an unlikely friendship, so in honor of him, she wrote a genuinely lovely article about him. Eddie still holds onto that newspaper and rereads that article from time to time.

The three people who tried moving on were Dustin, Lucas, and Steve.

Eddie’s chest tightens when he thinks about how horrific and traumatizing his “death” must’ve been for Dustin.

Dustin tried to stay positive and even handed off the guitar pick necklace Eddie once wore to Wayne, thinking it’d give him closure. But it didn’t. Nothing seemed to.

Eddie doesn’t really know if Dustin ever moved on. He moved away though, that he knows for certain.

He moved to Utah, presumably to live closer to Suzie.

Lucas, while battling the grief of losing Max, was trying to battle the loss of Jason, Chrissy, and Eddie.

Lucas doesn’t like to admit it, in fact, he hates coming across little crumbled up and ripped pieces of notebook paper that contain the neat handwriting that once belonged to Chrissy Cunningham or a dusty stack of Polaroids showing him with the basketball team.

He hates that he knew them. He hates that he knows how much Jason adored Chrissy and was completely head over heels for her. He hates that he can remember the countless times Jason would just talk and talk and talk about Chrissy.

He hates how he, deep deep in his mind, feels like to an extent Jason’s actions were justifiable —redeemable even.

He hates finding little notes from Chrissy in his bag or in his pockets, especially the ones from right after he and Max split because Chrissy would pass him notes in class asking how he was handling things and if he was doing alright.

And he hates more than almost anything how he was so sure he was going to be able to talk to Eddie after everything.

Lucas Sinclair is somewhat of a shell of the happy boy he once was. It hurt to watch him go visit Max every day until her body was no longer held in the hospital. Then to watch him visit her and bring her flowers, that almost hurt more. They were both only kids.

Lucas was smart though, always was. He got a good job, as far as Eddie could tell. He always bought really really nice flowers for Max and made sure to keep her headstone as clean as possible. He always wore nice clothes to visit her.

Steve had a hard time moving on but he also didn’t stick around for too long for Eddie to tell for sure.

Steve felt like shit about Eddie. He was always quick to judge Eddie, quick to talk shit about him. Steve watched Eddie be so himself so easily and it pissed him off.

Steve left in the early months of 1990, he and Robin left together and moved to New York together.

Nancy moved on from Eddie’s death. Yes, she was sad, especially for his friends and family. She wasn’t in either of those groups to him though.

Eddie appreciated her though.

She didn’t stay hung up on him and was able to help Wayne during the little time he had left.

You, however. Tore Eddie apart. He’s no stranger to being selfish when it came to you. He just despises how often he finds himself trying to justify why he didn’t want you to move on.

The thought of you falling apart as Wayne did brings Eddie to his knees and tears to his eyes.

At times he wishes you would’ve just left before you had been able to move on. But you never did. Kinda

Eddie watched you grieve, for a long long time. But sometime in the summer of 1988, you started to become who you were before. Slowly but surely you recovered from the grief.

Eddie watched you cry for Wayne, the process of grief starting all over again, but a little different this time. Yes, your heart broke at the news of Wayne dying, but not in the same way your heart shattered at the news of Eddie’s.

Eddie watched you recover once again, he watched you make new relationships, he watched you grow and loved you consistently the entire time.

When you were 46 you were diagnosed with lung cancer. Figures, you used to smoke with Eddie and picked up chain smoking for a few years after he “passed”

you didn’t make it to 50.

Eddie felt like he was going to flip his body inside out when he found out you died. He had never, and hasn’t since, cried that hard before.

He found out about 2-3 days after you had actually died. Which almost made it worse for him.

He had existed for a few days, not even knowing you weren’t there anymore.

While you never made it to your 50th birthday, Eddie did. He wrote you a long, long letter and left it folded (as neatly as he could manage), at your headstone along with the pretties wildflowers he could find.

He hated thinking about birthdays, it makes him realize how much time has passed. How long he’s been dead to his loved ones.

Eddie’s most recent birthday was his 95th- stings.

He doesn’t like how he’s begun to recognize more and more names while he walks through the cemetery to visit you every night.

Eddie only likes one thing he did over the course of the past 75-ish years he’s been cursed.

He remembers everything about it…

He loves that this curse seemingly tattoos some memories in every corner of his mind.

It was just past 8, it was a warm night in 1987. It was September 28th.

You were trying to clean up your room, but you came across a box that had a ton of old pictures, letters, gifts, and cassettes from Eddie.

He watched your neutral expression fall into one of distress, then to one of pure sorrow as you carefully lifted the contents of the box close to you, holding a photo of you and Eddie to your chest as you shakily placed one of the cassettes into your cassette player before hesitantly continuing to sift through the box.

Eddie could hear the sound of his own guitar playing fill the room. He’d been so strict with the rules he harshly laid upon himself but something about this situation hurt too much.

It hurt to watch, to hear, to be the centerpiece of your suffering.

He couldn’t control himself when he heard a sob break from you. He yanked your window until it was fully open, catching your attention with the sounds of his heavy footsteps.

He remembers the light gasp that escaped you when he looked back towards you.

You still held the photo to your chest as you hesitantly stood up and stepped closer to Eddie.

He could see the tears that hadn’t yet escaped your lower lashes.

“Hey Baby”

Your eyebrows furrowed, you didn’t understand what was happening. You thought maybe this was a grief thing. You thought that maybe you were so stricken with grief your broken mind is now resorting to hallucinating Eddie in your room.

But no, he was there.

He reached out and held your face, bringing you closer to him.

”What is this?”

Eddie kissed you, repeatedly in an attempt to silence to the confusion you were feeling.

“Don’t worry about it- don’t worry about any of it right now” He kissed you probably a million times that night. He held you and told you he loved and missed you and cried with you until you fell asleep.

He brushed the hair away from your face, leaned over, and pressed lingering kisses to your face and your lips.

He slipped out the window and slid it back shut the way it had initially been.

He stole quite a few things from your home after you passed away, so he’d always have some parts of you, but he gave you two final gifts to try to make up for it before your casket was closed forever and put in the ground.

Even though he was only 20 before he “died” and you were only about 19 at the time- he knew he wanted to marry you, without a doubt.

He saved up, Wayne even pitched in as a way to show his support for Eddie, and Eddie bought you a pretty ring he was going to propose to you with.

He slipped that ring onto your ring finger and slid a guitar pick into your palm before closing your fingers around it for you.

He pressed his lips to your cold knuckles, taking in your face for the last time.

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holmesillustrations · 4 months

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Vote for your favourite, the top 9 will proceed in the bracket. Since theyre all different shapes and sizes, make sure to click into the full views!

Paget Eliminations // Other Artist Eliminations

Full captions and details for each illustration below the cut:

All Sidney Paget illustrations are for the Strand Jul 1891 - Dec 1904

"He gave a cry and dropped." Scandal in Bohemia Characters: Holmes, crowd

"He looked about him anxiously." Five Orange Pips Characters: John Openshaw

"Good-bye, and be brave." Speckled Band Characters: Holmes, Helen Stoner, Watson

"Holmes shook his head gravely." Copper Beeches Characters: Violet Hunter, Watson, Holmes

"He lifted the little child." Yellow Face Characters: Effie Munro, Grant Munro, Lucy Hebron, Holmes

"What do you make of that?" Crooked Man Characters: Watson, Holmes

"Holmes examined it critically." Naval Treaty Characters: Joseph Harrison, Holmes, Percy Phelps, Watson

"He held an old and dusty boot in one of his hands." The Hound of the Baskervilles Characters: Sir Henry, Holmes, Watson

"The Hound of the Baskervilles." The Hound of the Baskervilles Characters: Hound, Holmes, Watson

"I suppose that you are the detectives from London?" said he." Dancing Men Characters: Watson, Holmes, Stationmaster

"Exhibiting the butt of a large revolver, which projected from the inside pocket." Charles Augustus Milverton Characters: Watson, Holmes, Milverton

"He looked up with no very pleased expression upon his dour features." Missing Three-quarter Characters: Dr Leslie Armstrong, Holmes, Watson

#acd holmes #sherlock holmes #tumblr bracket #sherlock holmes illustrations #elim poll #sp elim

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rabbitcruiser · 24 days

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Alaska Highway, CDN (No. 4)

The original agreement between Canada and the United States regarding construction of the highway stipulated that its Canadian portion be turned over to Canada six months after the end of the war. This took place on April 1, 1946, when the U.S. Army transferred control of the road through Yukon and British Columbia to the Canadian Army, Northwest Highway System. The Alaskan section was completely paved during the 1960s. The lower 50 miles of the Canadian portion were paved in 1959, but the remainder was largely gravel. While the entire route is now completely paved (mostly with bituminous surface treatment), as late as the mid-1980s the highway still included sections of winding dusty road sandwiched between high quality reconstructed paved segments.

The Milepost, an extensive guide book to the Alaska Highway and other highways in Alaska and Northwest Canada, was first published in 1949 and continues to be published annually as the foremost guide to travelling the highway. The settlement of Destruction Bay was originally a work camp for the highway.

The British Columbia government owns the first 82.6 miles (132.9 km) of the highway, the only portion paved during the late 1960s and 1970s. Public Works Canada manages the highway from Mile 82.6 (km 133) to Historic Mile 630. The Yukon government owns the highway from Historic Mile 630 to Historic Mile 1016 (from near Watson Lake to Haines Junction), and manages the remainder to the U.S. border at Historic Mile 1221. The State of Alaska owns the highway within that state (Mile 1221 to Mile 1422).

The Alaska Highway was built for military purposes and its route was not ideal for postwar development of northern Canada. Rerouting in Canada has shortened the highway by about 35 miles (56 km) since 1947, mostly by eliminating winding sections and sometimes by bypassing residential areas. The historic milepost markings are therefore no longer accurate but are still important as local location references. Some old sections of the highway are in use as local roads, while others are left to deteriorate and still others are plowed up. Four sections form local residential streets in Whitehorse and Fort Nelson, and others form country residential roadways outside of Whitehorse. Although Champagne, Yukon was bypassed in 2002, the old highway is still completely in service for that community until a new direct access road is built.

Source: Wikipedia

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