#vernon morse

[gladyssite]

Old Sims 4 cover characters

#ts4 #sims 4 townies #maxis premades #ts4 base game #andre dasilva #babs l'amour #cassidy purdue #ollie purdue #june kay #steve fogel #vernon morse #gladys morse #gladyssite

[cantseemtohide]

With Vernon chasing them everywhere, Robita and Aura decided to hide in the closet.

'So, where are we going next?' asked Vernon.

#the sims 4 #ts4 #ts4 gameplay #ts4 nocc #ts4 vanilla #ts4 aliens #robita #aura the alien #vernon morse #the solar flare #oasis springs

[avargesims4player]

#ts4 #gallery sims #simblr #ts4 cas #ts4 makeover #morse family #idk i made them like mother and son #vernon morse #gladys morse

[cultfaction]

The Unforeseen

The Unforeseen was a anthology mystery series which aired from 1958 to 1960 and was seen in the UK on Granada television. Each episode was a short play covering the inexplicable, the supernatural, the occult or science fiction. Each episode had it’s own writer, director, and actors. It ran for two seasons (58 episodes). Across its run the likes of Barry Morse, Gillie Fenwick, Ivor Barry, George…

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#Arch McDonnell #Barry Morse #Charles Palmer #Corinne Conley #David White #Frances Hyland #George Sperdakos #Gillie Fenwick #Ivor Barry #Jack Creley #James Doohan #James Edmond #John Colicos #John Vernon #Joseph Fürst #Larry D. Mann #Leo Leyden #Lynne Gorman #Patrick Macnee #Peter Sturgess #Richard Easton #Robert Goulet #Sean Sullivan #Sharon Acker #Susan Douglas Rubes #The Unforeseen #Tudi Wiggins #Walter Massey

[sporktato]

Ghost has bad luck with sergeants

His first is an American named Washington, and we know how it ends but it starts like this.

Sergeant Simon Riley steps onto American soil, not quite certain why he's been placed with an American squad, or even how long he's supposed to be with them, and it's Sergeant Marcus Washington who grabs his attention with a call of, "English!" Later that night, at his welcome party at the local bar, it's Washington who shoves Riley's first glass of bourbon into his hand with some explanation that Washington himself is from Kentucky.

Despite the first day's welcome, it takes time for the two to become close, because he's still Simon Riley so he trusts people as far as he can throw them, but he's still just Simon Riley at this point, so he tries to match Washington's attempts at comradery.

It's easier, once they realize they both know the weight of their father's fists. It's easier once Riley realizes the constant games of pickup basketball Washington forces him into playing is his own flawed coping mechanism. It's easiest once Washington catches him on the phone with his family, and Riley's ready to knock his lights out because he is still Simon Riley and will die protecting his family, but Washington lights up and starts rambling about his baby sister. His baby sister who got the looks and the smarts (Washington's words, not his), and who just finished her electrical apprenticeship last month, and whose schooling was paid for by Washington's military pay after their parents found out she liked kissing girls as well as guys. Very quickly, it becomes Washington and Riley. At the bar with bourbons, in the lounge trading sibling stories as Washington made a valiant attempt to teach Riley how to play guitar, or on the court as Riley set up shot after shot after shot for Washington to sink.

When Riley gets promoted, Washington hoots and hollers for him, ramping up in noise when he learns he's going to be Riley's sergeant and the entire squad ends up at the bar to celebrate. There's a polaroid somewhere from that night, Riley red faced from embarrassment or alcohol smiling wide with Washington's arm over his shoulders, leaning on Riley and laughing as Sparks falls into Riley's other side - no one will ever admit if he tripped or was pushed. All three of them and the troops surrounding them are all dead and gone now, but here, in this little square, they're frozen in time, abundantly alive - mid-smile, mid-laugh, mid-fall, middle of the rest of their lives for all they know. It's months before Vernon sends them to Mexico.



Ghost's second sergeant is Roach, and we know how it ends but it starts like this.

Ghost is just shy of a feral mutt when they're paired together. No one really realizes - he passed his psych evals, Shepard doesn't care enough to notice, and Price, well, that's complicated. So the hand Ghost bites is Roach's. Silent Roach who blares music constantly, to express himself, or to cover their joint silence, or just because he loves music. Roach loves a lot of things. Bugs and the beach and key chain charms and coffee shops (but not coffee). Candles, dogs, tv shows about zombies, and history documentaries. Life.

It's Roach who spends months getting a knife to his throat every time he wakes Ghost up from his memories. It's Roach and Roach alone that helps the corpse of Simon Riley become Ghost, and Ghost become... not human, not good, but not wild and wrathful either. It's Roach that reminds Ghost what it means to be a lieutenant and that it's his responsibility to take care of those under his command. Ghost learns BSL, and finds his own sliver of solace in it. There are days Ghost can't talk either, or days he's afraid if he opens his mouth he'll start screaming and won't stop till someone puts a bullet in his head. The two of them get good at Morse Code, at whistling, even at charades. They get good at understanding each other (mostly it’s Roach navigating Ghost’s new minefield), and it’s as silent a friendship as Riley’s and Washington’s was loud. It’s Roach that convinces Ghost to trust Price and Nik and the others. Ghost doesn’t know when he started listening to Roach, but a small, fragile attempt at trust is silently - always silently, now - given to Price.

They do not talk of family, or of how Ghost will order bourbons but never drink them, or the aversion Ghost has for the ratty basketball hoop on base. They spend Christmases on base, physically together but Ghost so far away for most of it. Roach makes him eat and shower and sleep and go for walks, even if Ghost doesn’t remember most of it. At some point Ghost all but begs Roach for music recommendations, Roach’s love finally making Ghost understand his own craving for playing music, but all he knows are the country songs Washington taught him and he can’t do that now, he just can’t.

There is a picture tucked somewhere in Price’s belongings of Ghost and Roach sitting side by side in a heli, both silent, unmoving, faces covered, but joined by a pair of headphones connected to the battered ipod in Roach’s hand. It was taken by Scarecrow as they flew over the Russian border, hours before Roach is killed by a mortar strike, mere feet away from Ghost.

Ghost’s third sergeant is not Gaz. He refuses outright, metaphorically throwing the younger man at Price. Ghost goes a very long time without a sergeant, without a friend, without someone he allows himself to trust aside from Price. He isn’t half insane anymore and Roach trained him too well to revert back to that form fully, so Price allows this isolation. His solitary reputation is cemented with time, and he is not Simon Riley and he is not the creature Roach eventually tamed and so he is monotonous. Two-dimensional. Translucent in the sun. It’s fine, ideal even, no one gets hurt if no one touches him. (He doesn’t know if he’s protecting them or himself.)

Ghost’s third sergeant is Soap, and we know how it starts - a punch and a promise - but fuck is Simon terrified of how it ends.

#ghost #simon riley #ghost headcanons #cod #COD MW2 #mw2 headcanons #ghostsoap #john price #gary roach sanderson

[hpowellsmith]

my brother in law and i have made our ways through all of your available cog stories (you have become a household name); i wanted to ask if there are any choice of games or other interactive fiction you recommend? i saw you answered in 2020, but wanted to see if there's any more on your radar since then!

I have a bunch of links and recommendations over here including my top ChoiceScript games ever. And I am here to recommend lots more!

Please note that I have the time and energy to play very few games and a vanishingly small number of WIPs. This only a tiny snapshot of the amazing interactive fiction out there. Do check out IFDB, sub-Q, the IF Comp and Spring Thing archives, the Narrascope and AdventureX speakers and exhibitors, and the interactive fiction tag on itch.io.

More below because there are A LOT:

Here is a big bunch of ChoiceScript games that I had a great time with!

Choice of Broadsides by Adam Strong-Morse, Heather Albano, and Dan Fabulich

Choice of Romance by Heather Albano and Adam Strong-Morse (note that it is not romantic and is not a dating sim!)

A Crown of Sorcery and Steel by Joshua LaBelle

Blood Moon by @barbwritesstuff

Deathless: the City's Thirst by Max Gladstone

The Dragon and the Djinn by @atharfi

The Eagle's Heir by Jo Graham and Amy Griswold

Fine Felines by Felicity Banks

Hollywood Visionary by Aaron Reed

Nikola Tesla: War of the Currents by Dora Klindžić

An Odyssey: Shadows of War by Natalia Theodoridou

The Play's the Thing by Jo Graham and Amy Griswold

Rent-a-Vice by Natalia Theodoridou

Siege of Treboulain by Jed Herne

Stronghold by Jo Graham and Amy Griswold

Their Majesties' Pleasure by Leia Talon

Thieves Gambit: Curse of the Black Cat by Dana Duffield

Tower Behind the Moon by Kyle Marquis

Turncoat Chronicle by @zincalloygames

Weyrwood by Isabella Shaw

Visual novels:

Analogue: A Hate Story by Christine Love

Dream Daddy by Game Grumps (writers: Vernon Shaw and Leighton Gray)

EXTREME MEATPUNKS FOREVER by Heather Flowers

Ladykiller in a Bind by Christine Love

Other IF-adjacent games with visuals that I have loved:

80 Days by inkle (writers: Jon Ingold and Meghna Jayanth)

Fallen London by Failbetter Games

Overboard! by inkle (writer: Jon Ingold)

Over the Alps by Stave Studios

Twines:

There are so many more that I've enjoyed but these were what popped into my head right now - this is one where it's essential to check out itch.io:

Anything by porpentine charity heartscape especially With Those We Love Alive and Vesp

16 Ways to Kill a Vampire at McDonalds by Abigail Corfman

Cactus Blue Motel by Astrid Dalmady

Detritus by Maz Hamilton (published as Mary Hamilton)

Faith by @kithj

Invasion by Cat Manning

Human Errors by Katherine Morayati

If I Die, Consume Me by @fiddles-ifs

Mama Possum by Kevin Snow

Nine Months Out by @nellplays

Salvage by @atharfi

Tangaroa Deep by Astrid Dalmady

To Spring Open by Yoon Ha Lee and Peter Berman (as Two-Bit Chip)

Parser games:

The Boot-Scraper by Caleb Wilson

The Compass Rose by Yoon Ha Lee (note that I didn't finish this one because I am bad at puzzles)

Galatea by Emily Short

Gun Mute by C. E. J. Pacian (as above)

Laid Off From The Synesthesia Factory by Katherine Morayati

Lime Ergot by Caleb Wilson

Midnight. Swordfight. by Chandler Groover

Take by Katherine Morayati

Games made with other tools:

Cape by Bruno Dias (Raconteur)

Honeysuckle by Cat Manning (Texture)

Prospero by Bruno Dias (Raconteur)

I play such a vanishingly small number of WIPs that it's ridiculous but I did really enjoy what I played of these two and am looking forward to more:

Body Count (@bodycountgame) by @nellplays (Twine)

Chop Shop by Becky @losergames (Twine)

Fervency (@fervency-if ) by Niko Charos (ChoiceScript)

#interactive fiction #choicescript games #twine games #indie games #visual novels

[twogyuu]

Feu D'Artifice

Pairing: Vernon x fem!reader (ft. Chan and Mingyu)

Synopsis: "The Robin Hood of street racing," Chan liked to call him. You had laughed in your friend's face when he first told you about Vernon, but when you actually met him, you couldn't help but be curious about what was behind that stoic façade and his rusted Toyota Celica.

Please note this particular fic focuses on another moment in time after Vernon and OC have met!

Genre: I'm not sure what to label this? Fluff? 😬 Hints of crack, the ending hints at angst. S2L, mild idiots-to-lovers, streetracer!Vernon, mechanic!reader, mechanic!Mingyu, streetracer! Chan, implied antagonist!Baekho

Warnings: Use of profanity, mentions of alcohol, clubbing, mild themes of misogyny, mildly suggestive(?) - they just kiss . . . also contains inaccuracies about cars and street racing (all I know is that it's illegal - kids please do not do illegal things okay? Y'all know better)

WC: ~4.2K

Permanent taglist: @sleeplessdawn @woozarts @wonuziex @sadkidwarexpert @rockwidthyou @jeonghanniehae95 @nanamioo @bibinnieposts

A/N: I write like I'm a frequent club goer lol, but promise I've only gone twice 😅 Let alone to one of those basement parties. Partially inspired by the 'Anyone' special choreography, partially inspired by Baekho's 'Festival In My Car' (yet I made the man the antagonist smh 😅). this is probably one of my favorite pieces in a while 😊 Some day, I'll flesh out this whole story of streetracer!Vernon, but for now, have this - I was too excited and deep in my Vernon feels and wanted to share it with you all. @aceofvernons LOOK AWAY - I'm inconsistent with my biases. . . wbk 😞✊🏻

A purple neon light that once boldly stated ‘Joshua’s,’ flickered pitifully overhead– it was probably on its last few batteries. The wooden door to the parlor was seemingly intimidating despite how ordinary and beat up it looked; there was even a dent in the bottom right corner. One would think that a club this popular among street racers there would be a line snaking out the door and wrapping around the building. Yet, the streets were eerily empty, sans a few hobos making their way across the empty field across from the rundown brick buildings. The pebbled and broken pavement were damp from the sleet earlier today. There was an icy bite in the evening air that seemed to seep into every opening of his clothing and settle into his skin. 

Sucking in a sharp breath, Vernon tucked his hands into the depths of his leather jacket, letting the cold air pierce his lungs as he tried to collect himself before knocking in code against the door as you had instructed. The memory of you leaning against his car with that grease-stained jumpsuit wrapped around your body and your arms folded across your chest was fresh in his mind. He remembered the way you had leaned over, lips ghosting against the shell of his ear, your sweet voice telling him, “It’s morse code for speed.” Your hands were already knocking softly against the metal of the hood of his car. 

Vernon did not like to “go out” and “party” like other street racers. He did his duty on the streets, won his money, and went home. It was his routine and it was the promise he made himself. He vowed never to get involved in the social aspect of street racing. His mentor, Sohee, had told him, “that’s how you lose yourself in the game.” 

Yet here he was, plain and in fact, he had come to the club for a girl. 

Vernon didn’t like to be cliche, but he did honestly, think you weren’t just any girl. 

You were different. You didn’t wear tiny skirts and shirts that barely covered your chest to the race tracks (sans the first night that you let Chan dress you so ill-tastefully). You opted for heavy boots and jeans instead; a bandana always donned your head to hold loose strands of hair back. You didn’t ask for attention from anyone, yet you still had an aura about you that commanded every street race you entered – no one dared question your expertise on their car (except for Vernon). You challenged authority (read: Baekho) and took shit from no one. More often than not, it has put you on people’s shit list – nonetheless, it didn’t seem to bother you. 

To put it simply, Vernon’s interest was piqued and he knew if he wanted to know more about you, he’d have to go further than the race course to learn more.

“Vernon?” one of the bouncers said aghast, surprised to see the street racer at the club. His colleague slapped his shoulder, shooting him a warning look for letting Vernon’s name slip before he could think. 

Vernon scanned the bouncers up and down. They looked vaguely familiar; probably another set of boys from the races that he didn’t know well, nor did he necessarily care to know well. Leaning against the door frame, his eyes lingered across the room: like the streets outside, it was also eerily empty. There was a short counter in the corner with a few bottles of alcohol lining the dusty shelves and two round and worn wooden tables in the center, a set of cards splayed in a game on one of them. 

“The club?” Vernon turned back to them and asked simply. 

“Shh!” the taller one hushed him, eyes wide. He ushered Vernon inside, while his friend secured the door. Vernon complied, wrinkling his brows together in confusion. 

“You can’t just speak so openly about it,” he noted, “There are several of us down there – if the cops found out we’re all gathered in one place, easy bust.”

Vernon hummed in understanding. “Sorry – first time.”

The two friends exchanged looks; the shorter one widening his eyes and gesturing to the taller one to take him back. The latter shook his head silently; Vernon noted the sweat that broke out on his forehead. They seemed to be in a silent argument, oblivious to the fact that Vernon could see their struggle clearly despite the lack of words. 

“Look, if it’s a problem that I’m here –”

“It’s fine, really,” the shorter one chuckled. He shot a glare at the taller one before flickering back to Vernon, a grin on his face. “I-I’ll take you down.”

“Alright,” Vernon shrugged. 

Vernon followed him, pushing past the drapes that shielded the backroom that appeared to be some combination of a kitchen that was transformed into a storage room. Clearly, it hadn’t been used properly for the last couple of years as the stainless steel tables were stacked with boxes that had a few rusty car parts in it. The white deep porcelain sink was also stained brown – lord knows what has been poured down that drain. 

“Coming?” the bouncer called. 

Vernon looked up to see him holding open a door. He cocked his head to the side, noting how it was eerily dark beyond the threshold. Vernon could make out a few clinks of glass bottles and there was an echo of loud laughter, but nothing else: there was no bass of the music and no shrieks of joy.

Was this truly a club? Or had you set him up to be murdered?

He straightened his posture – he had to be on guard in case anything goes wrong. Vernon noted the newspaper covered windows and the door bolted shut in the opposite corner, presuming the way the slight wind whistled through it, it led outside as well. 

“Well?” the bouncer urged, getting annoyed. “We don’t have all night.”

Silently, Vernon walked over and followed him down. Darkness surrounded them immediately as the door slammed shut; the only source of light was the flashing green and blue hues pooling at the bottom of the stairwell. Vernon paused momentarily, letting his eyes adjust before descending down the rickety stairs. He felt himself calm as he could feel the faint thump of a rhythmic drum vibrating underneath him. 

When their feet landed on the cement, just yards away from the steeled entrance of the party, Vernon could already feel the various eyes of the people loitering outside on him. Bottles of beer stopped abruptly at their lips. Cigarettes placed between teeth but went unlit. The eyes of skimpily dressed women with too much eyeshadow on their lids lingered from their dates to the chestnut-haired man. 

Vernon paid no mind though – he was here for you and you only. 

“Right in there,” the short man pointed at a metal door. It was cracked open a notch. “Party ends at 2AM. Don’t get into fights and have fun.”

With that, he left Vernon alone, marching back up the stairs. 

Sucking in another sharp breath, he tugged at the hem of his leather jacket before marching inside. Immediately, he was met with a crowd of people. Some sort of alcoholic drink in hand, they danced and jumped to the beat of fast bass, ignoring the way the gold color liquid sloshed out of the bottles and red cups and dripped onto the cement floor. 

How was he supposed to find you amidst this?

“She doesn’t dance, but you’ll find her there somewhere. She’s always looking for ways to make money,” Vernon remembered Mingyu remarking.

The bar. 

Walking along the edges of the dance floor, he kept his eyes peeled for you and any signs of a counter filled with liquor. He pushed past sweaty bodies grinding against one another and brushed off the manicured hands that landed on his biceps in an attempt to seduce him. He recognized several familiar faces amidst the crowds. Stella who wore different colored wigs to every race. Minhyun, the pretty boy who refereed the start and finish of each race. Cindy, Baekho’s younger sister who came rather infrequently to races, but she was hard to miss decked out in flashy designer outfits each time. Wonwoo, the fox-eyed and stoic man, who never talked much, but he was neither friend nor foe. 

“Chwe!” Vernon heard a familiar voice call after him amidst the noise. He spun around to find Mingyu, the handsome, 187cm-man hard to miss, waving at him from afar. He was leaning against a counter, an amber-colored drink in his hand, and Chan sitting in a bar stool next to him. 

Vernon nodded in reply and made his way over, weaving through the crowd. 

Chan sniggered playfully, clapping Vernon’s shoulder. “Glad you could make it,” he shot Mingyu a sly look, “Though I assume it wasn’t for us.”

“Nah,” Vernon jokingly punched the younger’s shoulder, “You tweakin’.”

“Are we?” Mingyu closed one eye as if he was trying to match a target. He tipped his bottle towards Vernon, “Or are you?”

Vernon shook his head and looked away at your friends’ accusation; nonetheless, a grin growing on his lips at the hints of you being around. 

“Where is she?” Vernon relented. 

“And he indirectly admits it!” Chan raised his hands over his head in triumph.  

Mingyu smiled into the tip of his bottle. He was silent, but the direction he was looking said it all. Vernon followed his line of sight to find you wiping down the opposite counter after a few guests had left to rejoin the party. Despite the rather plain outfit of jeans and a black t-shirt you had on compared to the others here, Vernon thought you looked pretty. 

“Hi,” Vernon greeted you simply as he made his way over. He settled into the empty bar stool directly in front of you and leaned over the counter so you could better hear him. 

You looked up from your line of cups. He noted the way you tried to keep a straight face, but failed when the right corner of your lips twitched up into a suppressed smile. 

“You made it,” you noted, trying to feign cool. 

He shrugged playfully. “Yeah, I’m here.”

You nodded, dipping your chin into your chest, gripping the ledge to prevent you from keeling over. You couldn’t stand looking at him for much longer, your knees growing weak, and you weren’t sure why. It’s not like he looked any different than he did from the races. He still wore his beat up red and black leather jacket with the black t-shirt tucked into his jeans. His hair was perfectly messy – unstyled, yet still stylish. 

It was just Vernon. 

But why did he make you queasy and dizzy all of a sudden. 

“What do you wanna drink?” you asked. 

“What do you have?” he asked in return. 

“Beer, tequila, vodka, and Sprite,” you rattled off, “Ran out of diet Coke – our options are limited, on a budget.”

“Is it on-the-house?” Vernon replied. 

You cocked a curious eyebrow at him. 

“I could repay you in other ways.”

You chuckled at his attempt to flirt and waved him off. You opted for a Sprite for him, remember Chan saying something about Vernon not being the type to drink a lot. You scooped ice and sprayed the drink from the fountain into a red solo cup and slid it over to him. 

“Seduction is not a pretty color on you,” you teased, before turning around to rearrange a few items on the metallic counter behind you. 

“Oh c’mon,” he sipped on the fizzy drink, “That’s not what I meant.”

You threw him a look over your shoulder. “Oh yeah? Then what?”

“Dance with me.”

You turned around and leaned back, arms folded over your chest. “I’m working.”

“Ask Mingyu to cover for you like you did for him.”

“You dance?”

He hadn’t had a drop of alcohol, but he felt like liquid courage was coursing through his veins. The adrenaline of seeing you again made him feel bold and willing to try things he wouldn’t normally do. 

“Here and there,” Vernon lied. He tilted his head coyly. 

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. Nonetheless, Vernon could tell from the way you squirmed in your spot, he gave you an offer you couldn’t deny. He noted the way your eyes flickered over to your colleague resting on a white plastic bucket in the corner and pulled your bottom lip in between your teeth. You played with the hem of your navy blue apron wrapped around your waist, your fingers dancing along the loose tie. One pull and it’d come off, and you’d be his for the night. 

“You didn’t invite me just so I could watch you work, did you?” Vernon tried when you didn’t answer. 

“And if I did?” 

You weren’t the jealous type – Vernon knew teasing you with the idea of dancing with other people wouldn’t bug you at all. If anything, it’d only deter you further, regretting inviting him out in the first place, and worse, perhaps never getting a chance to see you again. If he was honest, however . . .

“I’d have no reason to be here then,” he gave you one last soft smile and pushed himself off the bar stool. His heart beat erratically in his chest, his mind raced at all the possible outcomes of this tease. This was bold for him. Vernon didn’t flirt like this. He wasn’t the dauntless type, he didn’t play games with women – let alone anyone. 

It wasn’t him, yet simultaneously it was. 

If you weren’t going to keep him company, he wasn’t going to do the same for you either. 

As he took his first step away, you came rushing to his side, hands wrapping around his forearm to stop him. He looked over, peering into your eyes, wondering if you could see the precariousness in his own right now. 

“F-fine,” you stammered. With one pull of the loose string behind you, the apron became undone. You let go of him to catch the falling garment. “I-I’ll dance with you, just . . . give me a second.”

Your gaze lingered on him a second too long as you returned behind the counter and walked in the direction of your co-worker. Anyone could tell, you were nervous that the chestnut-haired boy would slip out of your grasp between now and the time you went back to him. You whispered something to your friend who shot you a sly smile when you finished before looking over at Vernon again. She nodded and ushered you to go on. Your eyes remained trained on him, the world surrounding you melting alway. It was only him and you. The crowd behind him blurred together into a colorful swirl, while the blue and green lights danced across his untainted skin. Mingyu’s and Chan’s whoops fell on deaf ears; you could only hear a ringing and your controlled breathing.

“Ready?” Vernon extended a hand towards you, dragging you out of your daze. The music grew louder again. You couldn’t help, but notice the envious eyes of the few women and men loitering behind him – and it’s as if he knew. “Eyes on me.”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you wiped your sweaty palms down your jeans before placing your fingers on his palm. He was quick to fold his fingers over yours, giving you one last reassuring squeeze and a lop-sided grin. Your gaze fell on your intertwined hands, his skin feeling cool against your hot ones. You wondered if he could see through your quiet facade, that inside your chest, it felt like the excitement of when you were little and someone lit a sparkler for you. The flames crackled in front of you, the naive belief that the sparkler would continue forever. A quiet moment passed between the two of you as you let all of it sink in. 

Without a warning, Vernon tugged you onto the dance floor, the two of you being swallowed by the hoard of people. The rough sequin of someone’s dress scratched your arm, another set of dark-painted seductive eyes shot a wink in Vernon’s direction, someone’s hands skimmed across your forearm almost as if to stop you from going further. Amidst all the chaos, neither of you minded it, however. 

Vernon was here for you, and you were here for him tonight. 

Somewhere along the way, Vernon came to a stop. He had assumed he was somewhere in the middle of the dance floor and despite his best efforts to find clearing and some space where you could be comfortable, your sneakers were still toe-to-toe with one another. You peered up at him innocently, waiting for him to make a move, place his hands around your waist, spin you around and pin you flush to his back, or heck, kiss you even – but none of it ever came. He stood stiff as a sim character.

“You don’t know how to dance, do you?” you asked softly. He could hardly hear you. 

“May have fibbed a little to get you to come out from behind that counter,” Vernon chortled.

A playful smile spreading across your face, your hands slinked up his forearms until you hit his elbows. You tugged them close towards your waist, then wrapping your hands around his rough fingers and gently setting them on your sides, as if to silently tell him it was okay to touch you. It was as if some other song other than the hype music was playing and you started slowly stepping side to side, wrapping your arms around his neck. Vernon planted his forehead on yours, watching the electricity spark in your eyes while the blue hues of the club engulfed you. Your lips were merely inches from each other – he could smell the spearmint gum you always chewed on your breath. Your breath hitched at the way he looked at you so intensely, yet with so much adoration. You hardly knew a thing about one another, but the way his eyes bore into yours felt as if you spent a whole century together. 

Perhaps if it was possible, the sparklers in this lifetime with him would shimmer in the dark forever.

During street races, while waiting for a pair to finish their course, you always watched your surroundings out of boredom, waiting on the hood of Chan’s car with your red toolbox right beside you. When the crowd had thinned, half still at the start, the other half at the finish, everyone was always off doing their own thing to preoccupy themselves, including one another. 

You didn’t like to think of yourself as “the other girl,” but felt like you were at these races. Spectators came with their faces caked with the latest Dior foundation and their lips painted with the classic shades of YSL lipstick. Your scuffed up steel-toed shoes were no match for their stilettos and thigh high boots. Not to mention, you were severely underdressed in your grease-stained jumpsuit that hung around your waist. The people here commanded attention and as suffocating as it was to you, they definitely got it. 

You’ve seen them in the alleys of buildings. Their bare backs pressed up against the rough, cracked brick walls, a low-tier racer who had chosen them as prey for the night had their hands perched above their head, whispering sweet nothings into their ear before stealing kisses from their pouts. Sometimes, they would disappear into the night and not be seen until the next race, nestled in their new lover's arms. 

Never in a hundred years did you think you’d find yourself in the same compromising position with Vernon, out of all people, tucked away in the dimly lit hallway of the club basement. His leather jacket was shrouded over your shoulders because you had complained about feeling cold earlier. He stood in front of you, leaning over on his forearm placed on the wall behind, chuckling as the two of you exchanged quiet words – they were nothing deep, nothing particularly sweet either, but he made your chest bubble in ways you didn’t know it could. Every time he let out that low chuckle that managed to seep through his sealed lips, his hazel eyes curving into crescents, you couldn't help but giggle in return.

Part of you hoped the vomit-green wall behind you would open up a portal and swallow you whole, unsure if your fragile heart could take all of this affection. You felt silly for being so love-drunk; it’s not like you grinded on him on the dance floor or took love shots when Chan and Mingyu urged the both of you to. Heck, Vernon hadn’t done anything more than placing his hands on your waist. Yet here you were, giddy like a teenager holding hands with their crush for the first time. 

It was embarrassing.

The other part of you wanted to stay and see where this would go. Would you ever know his life beyond the four walls of his beat-up, gray 2002 Toyota Celica? Neither of you were drunk and you were both well-aware of your decisions tonight, though perhaps blind to the consequences to come. It was never said, but you knew you both were curious about this, whatever it was between the two of you. The light teases, the off-beat slow dance to the fast-paced song, the shared giggles for no reason whenever you caught one another’s eyes, the stupid stories made up while people-watching, this cliche moment right now – selfishly, you wanted it all.

“This is a stupid question,” Vernon mumbled, he fiddled with the zipper of his leather jacket, flipping it up and down in hopes of the cool metal would calm his nerves. His eyes flickered back up to you. “But, um,” he let out a breathy chortle. His expression didn’t quite match his laugh though – he looked rather confused as he squeezed his eyes shut momentarily, furrowing his eyebrows together. “Can I . . . can I kiss you?”

Unconsciously, you drew your lips in between your teeth and peered up at him innocently, heat coloring your cheeks. The cold seeping through the basement window behind you was not enough to cool your hot skin. All you could hear was your own blood rushing in your ears and suddenly, he seemed like he was too far from you - you were scared. 

Pressing his lips into a tightline he shook his head in embarrassment. “It’s too soon – I shouldn’t have, sorry,” he pushed himself off the wall. He lifted his foot off the ground, ready to take a step backwards to give you space. 

Before you could stop yourself, your hand shot out and grabbed onto the front of his black t-shirt to stop him from moving away. You took him by surprise at your eagerness, noting the way you tugged at the fabric, not caring that you were stretching out the cotton. 

“Um,” he hummed as he settled back into his position close to you. 

“You can,” you finally answered his question breathlessly. 

He nodded once and planted his palms on either side of your face, letting out a sigh of relief. “Okay.”

“Okay,” you repeated after him. 

Your heart was beating out of control at this point. If you were to faint in his arms right here, you wouldn’t be surprised. You stared at him, eyes wide, your gaze lingered across the sharps and curves of his features, noting every lash to the divots of his acne scars on his cheeks from puberty to the slight bump in his nose bridge. Your eyes finally landed on his pink lips, now glossy after he’d swipe his tongue over it. 

“Um . . .” you hesitated, when he hadn’t made a move yet. Were you doing something wrong?

“S-sorry, I just don’t usually do these kinds of things,” Vernon stumbled. 

You let out an equally nervous chuckle, “Same.”

“I just,” he dipped his head in to move closer, the tip of his nose bumping ever so slightly into yours, “Go for it,” he inhaled deeply, “Right?”

You blinked a few times, finally opting to let your lids fall shut and inhaled just as deeply. “Right.”

“Okay,” you heard him mumble. He must’ve moved in even closer now as you could feel the vibration of his words against your skin. You could feel the tickle of his lips grazing against yours, the slightest hesitation in his breathing to move in and seal the kiss. Contrary to your own, his eyes were still peeled open, looking for any signs of uncertainty and that you didn’t want this anymore. The last thing he wanted to do was to make you feel uncomfortable. Fortunately, he found that you seemed rather impatient for this kiss to happen. He noted the way your shoulders were stiff, hands squeezed by your side and your fists balled up in anticipation. There was a small droop in the space between your brows as you squeezed your eyes shut tighter. 

“Cute,” was the last word you heard him say before he pressed his lips against yours. 

It was no longer the sensation of sparklers that shone in the dark in the visions behind your closed eyelids and tingled up and down your skin, but rather fireworks. There was a zap in your lips, satisfied but hungry for more. Though his thumbs gently brushed against your cheeks, each touch felt like 100 joules electrifying your skin. It burned, but it was euphoric.

However, with every evening of celebratory fireworks, came a hazy morning filled with residual smoke.

#vernon x reader #hansol x reader #chwe hansol #vernon #vernon fluff #vernon angst #svt vernon #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen drabbles #seventeen fanfic

[chill-vibes-but-rainbow-panic]

I originally wanted to draw some of these (and I still might), but I don't have the energy right now, so Incorrect Quotes textpost it is!

Bobby: Come on guys, nothing in life is free! Dante: Love is free. Mick: Knowledge is free. Lyle: Adventure is free! Sandra: Self-respect is free. Kilroy: Everything is free, if you take it without paying.

Ridley: If I die, my funeral is going to be the biggest party ever, and you're all invited. Leila: ...If? Carter: Great! The only party I've ever been invited to, and she might not even die!

Carter: I would like to live a safe life, in which I am not forced to steal. Uncle Sly: God, you are extremely fucking selfish. Die! Carter: I am 13 years old.

Leila: You really put aside everything and came all this way for me? How did you even get here so fast? Theo: Several traffic violations. Ridley: Three counts of resisting arrest. Carter: Roughly thirteen cans of energy drinks. Izzy: Also, that's not our car.

Cop: You're receiving a ticket for having three people on one motorcycle. Bobby: Shit. Kilroy: ...Wait, three? Cop: Yeah? Lyle: OH MY GOD, MICK FELL OFF!

Kincaid: Release my brother! Kincaid: He did that shit, but I don't care!

Mr. Vernon: You're the love of my life and my best friend. I would do anything for you. The other Mr. Vernon: I want you to eat three meals a day and have a decent sleep schedule. Mr. Vernon: Absolutely not <3

Dean: How many kids do you have? Mr. Vernon: Biologically, emotionally, or legally?

Carter: *Gently taps table* Leila: *Taps back* Olly: What are they doing? Theo: Morse code. Carter: *Aggressively taps table* Leila: *slams hands down* YOU TAKE THAT BACK-

Theo's brother: Please, bring home PURIFIED water with NO minerals added for taste. Theo: I got spring water. Theo's brother: NO! Theo: With extra minerals. It's like licking a stalagmite. Theo's brother: DON'T COME HOME! Theo: Mmmmm, cave water.

#I have no idea how old anyone in this story is tbh. I imagine current Carter's like 14 or so #Also with constantly getting almost arrested and attacked and murdered; I think Dante is kinda going through it lmao #incorrect quotes #I apologize for all the character tags in advance #the magic misfits #magic misfits #bobby boscowitz #dante vernon #mick meridian #lyle locke #sandra santos #kilroy kalagan #ridley larsen #leila vernon #carter locke #uncle sly #theo stein-meyer #izzy golden #kincaid kalagan #kalagan #james vernon #the other mr. vernon #olly golden #swearing

[atlantisblasebl]

WELCOME TO THE ATLANTIS GEORGIAS BRACKET: ROUND 1

I wanted to call it "The Cup of Water," but I wasn't sure if that would be as clear.

Since it's March Madness, and the people of Tumblr have fallen in love with making brackets for pretty much anything, it's time we settle once and for all who the most popular Georgias player is. Sixty-four will enter, but only one can win. (Since there have only ever been sixty-one Georgias players who have seen active play, however, three NPCs have been picked to fill in the remaining slots.)

The bracket was largely seeded based on how I perceived each player's popularity to be within the Georgias' fanbase (with some margin of error), but anyone is allowed to participate in voting! Simply vote for whichever player in each matchup you like more, and winners will proceed to Round 2!

You can find all matchups under the #georgias bracket round 1 tag on our blog, or in the list below:

Rigby Friedrich vs. Poseidon

Niq Nyong'o vs. Goodwin Morin II

Flattery McKinley vs. Nagomi Mcdaniel III

Neerie McCloud vs. Jenkins Ingram

Siobhan Chark vs. Vernon Glump

Jan Canberra vs. Basil Ball

Geraldine Frost vs. Montgomery Bullock

Yurts Buttercup vs. New Megan Ito III

Nanci Grackle vs. Pitching Machine

Ortiz Lopez vs. Dickerson Morse

Ankle Halifax vs. Cote Loveless II

Ji-Eun Clove vs. Alexander Horne

Mint Shupe vs. Lachlan Shelton

Steals Chark vs. Justin Alstott

Chorby Soul V vs. Jelly Burgertoes

Hercules Alighieri vs. Goobie Ballson

Waverly Mori vs. Jessica Twolephone

Manu Candle vs. Doc Cash

Juan Murphy vs. Knight Triumphant

Beck Whitney vs. Lance Serotonin

Slosh Truk vs. Gita Biscuits

Frankie Hambone vs. Jon Tumblehome

Fish Summer vs. Wyatt Mason III

Mckinney Vaughan vs. Hiroto Wilcox

Emmet Atomic vs. Zephyr McCloud

Norman Muggins vs. Agnes Caster

Kit Ratoon vs. Mordecai Kingbird

Lady Matsuyama vs. Erin Jesaulenko

Randy Dennis vs. Angelika Aufdiscord

Daisuke Witless vs. Sosa Hayes

Penelope Video vs. Wyatt Mason IV

Son Jensen vs. Khulan Kebede

#blaseball #atlantis georgias #georgias bracket #georgias bracket round 1 #sorry about all the polls on the dash of everyone following this blog

[ackarcue]

Screw it, imma stay on this accursed app. School be big oof and I need my emotional support fandoms.

Crossover headcanon time. Tmbs and Tmm

The misfits and the society met at a science expo. Mr. Larsen was preparing something but just happened to run into Mr. Benedict. At first, both blorbo groups paid no mind to the other, but it all started when they understood the Morse code.

Reynie and Carter like to read books quietly together. It’s a good thing they have similar tastes in literature.

Sticky is rather impressed with Ridley’s wheelchair, if a bit intimidated by the tigress herself.

Kate’s immediate action was to compare height with Theo. Height dominance is necessary.

The Golden Twins found Constance to be adorable, until she started speaking.

In fact the only one capable of matching Constance is Ridley, the stare down was legendary.

Kate jokingly proclaimed Carter as her long lost brother, which was ironic since Carter was falling for her pretty hard. In fact, when Leila was teaching Kate a few tricks with her rope, Carter could barely hide his jealousy. Everyone else saw through him, but he was adorable and he wasn’t trying anything sneaky about it.

Constance began to soften up towards the stranger blorbos quite fast when it came to her, abilities. Sad pasts and all.

Sticky always tries to find out how each of the misfits do their tricks, but Theo’s levitation is still a mystery. Constance would and could say something, but seeing Sticky confused is well worth a secret.

Kate can’t visit the Stein-Meyers. Falcon + Doves equals disaster. She also gotta be careful around Top Hat.

The society was slightly spooked by Dante’s appearance, much to the misfits’ curiosity. Something about well-dressed men apparently.

Ridley wanted Kate’s microscope telescope. Insert arm wrestling. Also insert 10 minute tie.

After a while, both groups opened up to why their group was a thing. They all had a slight chuckle with twins being an issue, much to the Goldens’ dramatic dismay.

Presto loves to annoy Madge

Moocho and The Other Mr. Vernon are a cooking duo for the ages.

The misfits find the Ten Men to be rather goofy. In return, the society is rather skeptical about Frown Clowns. Out of everything these two have been through, the irony is hilariously lost.

Bad guy headcanons

Mr. Curtain and Kalagan would team up, if only to backstab the other. Curtain finds Kalagan to be obsessed with revenge, while Kalagan finds Curtain to be a sniveling coward who could never get his hands dirty.

The Ten Men terrify most of the Frown Clowns. McCraig finds them kind of funny. Even Kalagan was disturbed to find out that the Ten Men don’t really care about their secrets.

Kalagan could sneak a few gadgets from Crawlings, but the other Ten Men are too clever for it.

Milligan could take on Kilroy, but the latter would use every trick he has. The blade wand is quite lethal.

Curtain finds a parallel with him and Ridley, something he could use to his manipulative advantage

McCracken has already made a list of targets of the citizens of Mineral Wells. Hertz and Crawlings are already on standby.

Dante would not find himself winning against McCracken. His illusions would most certainly buy valuable time, but he does not have Kalagan’s ruthlessness. Pray that he does not have to fight more than one.

#the magic misfits #the mysterious benedict society #always wanted to make this post #crossover #pseudobored #nothing due today lemme be #Kate and Carter sitting in a tree

[dear-indies]

hey! do you have any suggested faceclaims for daredevil/matt murdock? im not sure it’s appropriate to use charlie and would love to use a blind fc if possible

Stephen Wallem (1968) - is visually impaired.

Bruce Horak (1974)

Chris McCausland (1977)

Adam Morse (1983) - also did his own stunts in "See."

Blake Stadnik (?)

Melchior Beslon (?)

Ben Mehl (?) - has Stargardt's disease.

Non-actors:

Scott MacIntyre (1985) - only has 2% field of vision and has tunnel vision both due to Leber’s Congenital Amaurosis.

Justin Kauflin (1986) - blind due to retinopathy.

Vernon Barnard (1993) Afrikaner.

Mac Potts (?)

HOLLYWOOD HIRE ACTUAL DISABLED ACTORS CHALLENGE. Natalie and I made a blind/visually impaired masterlist over HERE but these are the people who (seem to!) have the most content but it'll be worth going over the list yourself too!

#fc help #rph #rpc

[gladyssite]

MONSTER MASH : CAS Challenge by @mickimagnum

Day 18 : Pop Culture Reference, The Joker by Vernon Morse

#ts4 #towniemonstermash #simblereen #vernon morse #gladyssite #ts4 cas challenge

[cantseemtohide]

While Vernon searched out on the street, Robita and Aura decided to make the best of it. Although I'm pretty sure that's not the first time they've woohood despite what the game believes but never mind.

#the sims 4 #ts4 #ts4 gameplay #ts4 nocc #ts4 vanilla #robita #aura the alien #vernon morse #the solar flare #oasis springs

[anchormuses]

thinking about university!morse and this quote and this canon conversation

“Isn’t all that rage so ugly? And isn’t it mine, still? Good god, isn’t it mine?” - Ashe Vernon, from “Buried,” Not a Girl

Morse:    I like the work. To be honest, I’m not sure that I fit in. Alice:    No. You were never like the rest. Morse:    Well, I wanted to be. Tried to be, I think. Alice:    When? Morse:    I did. I tried to like Trad and the Angries. Sartre. French cigarettes. Alice:    That’s why I liked you. You were difficult. Morse:    Different, surely. Alice:    Difficult. Definitely. And awkward. You were all corners, socially. Morse [ awkwardly ]:    Ah, well... Alice:    And so angry. Contra mundum. But yourself, most of all.

( contra mundum means defying or opposing everyone else )

        because just. he’s so KIND. he’s painfully kind. he has an inherent vulnerability to him and i think it’s partly the way he looks and partly the way he conducts himself. he just has something about him that appears soft. and then all of a sudden, he’ll have this edge to him, and he’ll push you away. he’s so unbearably soft and kind with others but the SECOND someone tries to turn it the other way, he’s sharp and difficult. he’ll twist and obstruct your attempts to look after him and see anything that he doesn’t want you to see. 

        and there’s the anger. the second somebody begins to see his pain, there’s an underlying anger with it. he’s angry with the world for not being what he wanted it to be. morse is a romantic. he wants the world to be kind, desperately. and it isn’t. he’s had that shown to him in the cruellest ways, and that’s made him bitter, and it’s made him angry with himself for wanting the world to be something that it isn’t. he denies himself, doesn’t let himself ask for what he wants. he holds onto that anger as a reminder, i think, that he’ll get hurt if he ever stops denying himself what he wants. of course, at several points he seeks it anyway, and he does get hurt, and it only reinforces the anger. he doesn’t like the part of him that yearns for a fair and kind and gentle world, he thinks it’s ugly and he’s angry that it exists, but feeling angry means he can tell himself he’s in control of it and he owns it. the anger is a necessary companion to the longing, to stop himself from becoming too soft. to protect him. it’s ugly, but it’s his. 

        but he wants the world to be kind and so he is kind. he tries to be what he wishes the world was and give it to everyone else while denying himself it. but that doesn’t mean he can get rid of the anger, so he just hides it deep inside with the pain. and if somebody’s getting too close, pushing for information, he’ll let a tiny bit of it out, almost as a punishment. he says it bluntly, and makes them sorry they asked. it’s his protection.

        i think she reads him so well here. it’s a terrible move on her part considering she’s trying to get off with him, because all she’s doing is pointing out that she can see the parts of him he’s tried to hide. he goes shy and awkward but there’s an edge to him there as well, there’s a kind of irritation to his voice. he doesn’t want it pointing out when he’s just told her he feels like he doesn’t fit in. i mean it still works out for her in the end because morse is a simp but that’s beside the point. the point is that in morse’s head, that rage is ugly, but not as ugly as the softness it exists to protect. 

#now if only i could put this much brain power into my essay #i just had to get this out of my head #show commentary. #about. #anchor.txt #long post.

[greywelshwolf]

Defence of the Realm - 1986 Film

Defence of the Realm is one of the best British films of its generation, produced in 1986 and distributed by the Rank organisation. It has what forms a stellar cast of British actors - Gabriel Byrne, Greta Scacchi, Denholm Elliott, Robbie Coltrane, and Fulton Mackay. Other actors are of the "I know him from somewhere!" category, so familiar across British TV in the era from Doctor Who, to Inspector Morse. The plot is simple and harks back to the Profumo Affair - a senior British politician has been sharing the same prostitute as an Eastern Bloc agent, creating a potentially serious intelligence risk. This politician, Markham, was also about to ask some difficult questions in parliament, but with the revelations and his resignation those are shelved. The main setting is a newspaper office, with Gabriel Byrne and Denham Elliott as reporters. The plot is cleverly woven on 3 levels - the story the newspaper is putting together to destroy Markham, the machinations behind these revelations that Vernon, the character played by Denham Elliott unveils, and the truth about the events that Markham had been going to raise questions about in parliament. As viewers, we see Nick, Gabriel Byrne's character, both chasing the story for the newspaper to publish, and working to find out what is going on behind the scenes. Part of the latter enquiries bring him into contact, and co-operation with Markham's secretary Nina, played by Greta Scacchi. Thus, as viewers we are well aware that when Nick is celebrating the newspaper story resulting in huge sales, and in political repurcussions, he is at the same time doubting the veracity of what they have reported. The investigation into what Markham was going to ask difficult questions on is a parallel quest of Nick's, and we see him dig back through relevant newspapers, visit those people who can still be located, and piece the story together. As he and Nina do so, we see how both strands of the plot are interconnected, and how politics is playing with the newspaper trade. There are a lot of clever moments, and dramatic tensions, building up to the climax when Nick and Nina try to get the true story out to the public. Nick's story in the newspaper is spiked by the proprietor, Victor Kingsbrook, played with great effect by Fulton Mackay, and it seems that their attempt to mail the story to foreign newspapers has failed too. However, we see that the visit to the post office was a lure, and that the package has been sent to Germany where it will be front-page news, by a different means. As Nina enters Nick's apartment to celebrate, there is one further bomb shell for the viewer.

#film review

[kerlonbusters]

Art of illusion discography.rar

RKO Pathe Studios, NYC, Decem2934-4 Metronome Riff Capitol 15039, M-11031 * Atlantic 864 Eddie Safranski - Turmoil / Jumpin' For Jane The Metronome All Stars + Stan Kenton And His Orchestraĭizzy Gillespie, trumpet Bill Harris, trombone Buddy DeFranco, clarinet Flip Phillips, tenor sax Nat King Cole, piano Billy Bauer, guitar Eddie Safranski, bass Buddy Rich, drums + Buddy Childers, Ken Hanna, Al Porcino, Ray Wetzel, trumpet Milt Bernhart, Harry Betts, Harry Forbes, trombone Bart Varsalona, bass trombone Art Pepper, George Weidler, alto sax Bob Cooper, Warner Weidler, tenor sax Bob Gioga, baritone sax Shelly Manne, drums. * Atlantic 851 Eddie Safranski - Sa-Frantic / Bass Mood * Atlantic EP 45-512 Jazz Session Featuring Eddie Safranski And The Poll Cats * Unique Jazz UJ 36 Vido Musso, Maynard Ferguson, Eddie Safranski - Three Kenton's Be Boppers Groups 1947-50 NYC, Decem91 Sa-Frantic Atlantic 851, EP 45-512 Unique Jazz UJ 36ĩ3 Turmoil Atlantic 864, EP 45-512 Unique Jazz UJ 36 Ray Wetzel, trumpet Eddie Bert, trombone Art Pepper, alto sax Bob Cooper, tenor sax Pete Rugolo, piano, arranger Eddie Safranski, bass Shelly Manne, drums. * Capitol (J) ECJ-50070 Art Pepper - Those Kenton Days Eddie Safranski And The Poll Cats RKO Pathe Studios, NYC, Decem2667-5 Cuban Carnival Capitol (J) ECJ-50070 * Capitol (J) ECJ-50070 Art Pepper - Those Kenton Days Stan Kenton And His OrchestraĬhico Alvarez, Buddy Childers, Ken Hanna, Al Porcino, Ray Wetzel, trumpet Milt Bernhart, Eddie Bert, Harry Betts, Harry Forbes, trombone Bart Varsalona, bass trombone Art Pepper, George Weidler, alto sax Bob Cooper, Warner Weidler, tenor sax Bob Gioga, baritone sax Stan Kenton, piano Laurindo Almeida, guitar Eddie Safranski, bass Shelly Manne, drums Carlos Vidal, congas Jack Costanzo, bongos Jose Mangual, timbales Machito, maracas June Christy, vocal. Radio Recorders, Los Angeles, CA, Octo2361-1 Unison Riff Capitol (J) ECJ-50070 * Capitol (J) ECJ-50070 Art Pepper - Those Kenton Days 1947 (age 22) Stan Kenton And His OrchestraĬhico Alvarez, Buddy Childers, Ken Hanna, Al Porcino, Ray Wetzel, trumpet Milt Bernhart, Eddie Bert, Harry Betts, Harry Forbes, trombone Bart Varsalona, bass trombone Art Pepper, George Weidler, alto sax Bob Cooper, Warner Weidler, tenor sax Bob Gioga, baritone sax Stan Kenton, piano Laurindo Almeida, guitar Eddie Safranski, bass Shelly Manne, drums Jack Costanzo, bongos Rene Touzet, maracas June Christy, vocal. MacGregor Studios, Los Angeles, CA, Novem113-3 Harlem Folk Dance Capitol (J) ECJ-50070 Ray Borden, John Carroll, Buddy Childers, Karl George, Dick Morse, trumpet George Faye, Harry Forbes, trombone Bart Varsalona, bass trombone Eddie Meyers, Art Pepper, alto sax Morey Beeson, Red Dorris, tenor sax Bob Gioga, baritone sax Stan Kenton, piano Bob Ahern, guitar Clyde Singleton, bass Joe Vernon, drums Dolly Mitchell, vocal.Ĭ.P. 1943 (age 18) Stan Kenton And His Orchestra

#Art of illusion discography.rar