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lizmitches · 1 year

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smoke and sirens on display - post 2x15; barbara/melissa

“Hey,” Melissa pops her head into the classroom, her presence a sudden spark. “Ava said you’re headed home. You got someone to cover? Okay to drive?” The question is asked with a mirthful grin, her cheeks pink from the cold and eyes still full of childlike wonder.

Barbara can’t help but dissect the joy Melissa exudes; not out of jealousy, per se, but a gentle curiosity. As if the idea of a simple kind of happiness—a contentment so fierce you never feel the need to search for more—is so unimaginable it needs to be studied.

“Gwen’s going to take over when the kids get back from lunch,” Barbara replies, busying herself with collecting supplies for the substitute. “And yes, I’ll be able to manage a motor vehicle without further incident, if you can believe it.”

“Just don’t pull over to light any candles,” Melissa interjects, making her way into the room and closing the door purposefully behind her. At Barbara's warning glare she adds, “What? Too soon?”

Barbara cautions a glance to the hallway as Melissa steps toward her with intention. She stands up straight, her practiced posture a little loose, exhaustion creeping in at the edges. “What are you doing?”

“Just—“ Melissa opens her arms toward her by way of explanation. "C’mere. Let me hold you for a second. The ops are outside filming Jacob pawn off his cookie pucks to passing joggers. We’re in the clear.”

"I can't." Barbara crosses her arms over her chest protectively—a cheap imitation of Melissa's embrace—just as she’d done earlier. As with many things lately, she has to suffocate the urge; starve the flame until it dies out. But Melissa is a solar flare, bright and dangerous, and Barbara fears she might ignite by proxy.

“You’re not gonna get struck by lightning, Barb. Come on, just for a second. You’ve been holding it together all day.” Melissa bites the inside of her cheek. “Worried you're gonna fall apart."

"I'll only fall apart if you touch me." She holds her palm out to Melissa’s chest, delivers a minuscule shove that forces her back by a few inches. "So don’t."

Melissa—beautiful, tender Melissa, who believes in Barbara’s goodness even when her interal ugliness, her sinfulness, bubbles to the surface—shoots her a wounded look filled with so much understanding that Barbara wishes the ground would open up and swallow her whole. It’s only after she looks away that she realizes there was pity in Melissa’s eyes, too, and she wonders when every facet of her life had been reduced to kindling.

“Look, I just wanna say that, um,” Melissa hesitates, unable to find the right words. It used to be so much easier for the two of them; words rolling off their tongues so fast they could barely keep up, a frenzied undercurrent of excitement living beneath each one of their conversations. An alluring, indescribable newness. Now, Melissa hems and haws, puts her hands on her hips. It’s stilted and unfamiliar. “I know I’ve been distracted with Gary lately,” she says finally.

Barbara can’t help but roll her eyes. “For goodness’ sake, Melissa, you’re not distracted. You’re in love. With a…“ Now it’s her turn to search for words. “With a nice man who treats you how you deserve to be treated. He’s your partner.”

“Yeah, and you’re my friend.”

The word hangs between them the same way it always has. Because friend so easily gives way to family. Family becomes forever. And yet every second they stand here it becomes clear that the current iteration of their relationship is anything but permanent.

“I should have seen that something was wrong. I should have been there for you.” Melissa reaches out despite the cold shoulder, lets her hand fall on Barbara’s bicep like it had earlier. “Honey, I really am sorry.”

Barbara shakes her head. “You don’t need to carry that. I’m a big girl. I make my own decisions and start my own fires, apparently.” She picks up her work bag from underneath her desk, hoists it over her shoulder. “Gerald and I are meeting for lunch and then I’m going home to take a nap.”

“You take naps now?”

Barbara can’t help but smile, close her eyes against the question. She remembers the lazy summer afternoons toward the beginning. The giddiness and guilt giving way to heavy eyes, the way she’d push herself out of bed despite Melissa’s protestations. It was as much a punishment as anything, but it had also become something akin to tradition. A denial that gave way to drowsy truths, hushed confessions, an intimacy existing only in the inbetween.

“No,” she says, and Melissa beams. The kind of smile Barbara’s used to, hasn’t seen in nearly a year; a knowing, warm thing reserved only for her. An expression full of mutual understanding, shared history, affection. It’s like aloe. “But maybe today I’ll start.”

Melissa shoves her hands in her pockets. “I miss you.”

There’s a split second where Barbara considers ignoring it. Considers making up an excuse to walk out, to avoid the delicate balance they’ve struck since the cameras got here; since Gary came into the picture. It would all be so much easier, she thinks, to walk away without saying anything. But she knows it would continue to ferment, to bubble underneath the surface until it all broke down much more painfully. Much more publicly, heaven forbid. And after a day of being seen—by Janet and the kids and the cameras—Barbara seeks a kind of closure that can’t be replayed.

“I can’t—things are too complicated,” Barbara says, and judging by the way Melissa shifts from one foot to the other, the wince that flashes across her features, it seems she knows what’s coming next. “I know it was never simple, but it was our simple, and now—“

“Now you have a sick husband and I have a guy dumb enough to love me.” Melissa taps her heel on the floor. “Sheesh, getting broken up with doesn’t get any easier once you hit 60, does it?” She shakes out her arms like it’ll make the blow sting less. “Can’t say I didn’t see it coming.”

“We’re not—Melissa. There’s nothing to break up, we were never—“

“Hey, give me this, alright?” Melissa pleads. “Look, I really don’t want to take up more space than you have room for. You’re spread thin, you’re stressed, you need to be there for Gerald. You also need to take care of yourself.”

After a day of relying on false facts, Barbara is caught off guard by hearing real ones. Melissa grabs her hand, their fingers tangling together with a sense of familiarity, and for the first time in months she doesn’t attempt to pull away.

“Things have changed. I know we’ve both been feelin’ it,” Melissa says, thumb running across Barbara’s knuckles. “So let me be the collateral damage.”

Barbara’s not sure how to respond to Melissa’s sacrifice. Has to fight with the fact that Melissa has always been the braver one, more likely to run into a burning building without looking back. But it’s her sureness accompanied by the soft look in her eyes that makes their newfound distance, their undetermined future, less terrifying. They’ll be alright, the two of them. They’ll survive.

Barbara squares her shoulders, smiles, replies the same way she would to a stranger holding the door open, a random woman complimenting her shoes. “I appreciate that.”

A clean, amicable break. She drops Melissa’s hand.

“Just want you to be happy,” Melissa murmurs. “You and the hubby—your golden years with no fire engine red-haired miscreants to worry about—that’ll do it, right?”

“I—yes. We’ll be happy.” She wants to add, I’ll always worry about you, but she extinguishes the thought.

“Good.”

“I miss you, too,” Barbara breathes, and it’s simultaneously an olive branch and a goodbye; fuse lit and seconds left until the house they’ve built is set aflame.

Her phone dings in her purse. Gerald texting to say he’s arrived at the restaurant, has ordered her favorite. He’s waiting for her, solid and breathing and alive. She can’t see through the smoke.

She loves him.

“Mel?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll take that hug now.”

Melissa’s smile is no longer bright. Her eyes don’t sparkle. She reaches out to pull Barbara in. “You got it.”

It’s different this time than all the others. Years of embraces that set off chain reactions, fireworks, explosions that engulfed them both, and now they stand in each others’ arms—pressed against each other tightly and holding, holding, holding—and there’s nothing left to say. The clock ticks. Sneakers squeak against linoleum. Birds chirp in the early spring air.

She loves her.

It’s only when Barbara extracts herself from Melissa’s arms, steps back into their new shared existence, that she realizes they’re both covered in ash.

#barbara is the bug on the sidewalk and melissa is the one holding the magnifying glass on a sunny day … something something something #barbara x melissa #work wives #abbott elementary #loosely based on the h/c prompts i asked for forever ago!#i think athenaseden sent this one in <3 #my fic

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creaturefeaster · 11 months

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How do you pronounce your OC's names correctly? cuz I used to call Rede (Red-eh) and Caela (Kay-lia) and now I pronounce them as Reed(Rede) and Kayla(Caela)

I am just going to list mimes & any other names that might not phonetically translate well over text. I assume you already know how to pronounce characters such as Tim, or Bonnie.

Uppsulka: uhp-SOL-kuh

Foxglove: FAWKS-gluhv

Caela: KAY-luh

Magdelyndriannamberlynataliovannah: Mahg-duh-lihn-dree-awn-am-berr-lihn-nawt-uh-lee-oh-vawn-uh (The stressing on certain syllables here is really entirely up to the one speaking)

Rede: REED

Twiddle Niddle- TWIH-dull-NIH-dull

Chickenstab: 🐓🗡

Holly: HAW-lee

Jarna: YARR-nuh

TyV/TyVson: tie-VEE, tie-VEE-suhn

Ching: CHING

Calamea: kahl-uh-MAY-uh

N&O: EHN, OH

El Ganso: ell-GAHN-soh

Atrox: EY-trawks

Weepy: WEE-pee

Atromea: ah-troh-MAY-uh

Oxaclock: OCK-suh-KLAWK

Hamburger: 🍔

Vindemia: vin-DEE-me-uh

Vilmr: Same as the traditional spelling Vilmer, VILL-murr

Maja: MY-uh

Gary's last name, Villafranca: VEE-(l)yuh-FRAHN-kuh

Frigus: FRIH-gus

#the phenomenon of people calling rede reddey or some equivalent #is understandable but also really funny to me #it's not his name but i wish it was.#actually honestly its more interesting than funny.#i wonder how many more people say red eh than just reed #at the same time i wonder how many people dont know the j in jarna is a soft j?#hrmm 🤔#brambleramble

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odinsson2021 · 1 month

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Here's the Playlist of my Tonight's Show!

I hope you liked it!

Stormwitch-Rondo ala Turca Def Leppard-Foolin' Heroes del Silencio-Entre Dos Tierras Alice Cooper-House of Fire Oz Hawe Petersson’s Rendezvous-Midnight lady (Dangerous Game) - Oz Hawe Petersson’s Rendezvous 22.03.24 Gary Moore-Livin' on Dreams George Thorogood&The Destroyers-Bad to the Bone Neon Rider-Neon Rider – Destination Unknown 22.03.24 Ghost-Hunter's Moon XYZ-A Roll of the Dice Universe III-I am – Universe III 17.05.24 Winger-In my Veins Whitesnake-Shut up and Kiss me White Lion-Sweet Little loving Nestor-Victorious – Teenage Rebel 31.05.24 Judas Priest-Love Bites Lääz Rockit-Dreams die hard Leatherwolf-King of the Ward Leave’s Eyes-Hammer of the Gods – Myths of Fate 22.03.24 Legions of the Night-Hell Ozzy Osbourne-Under the Graveyard Holy Mother-Fire – Rise 07.06.24 Pain-End of the Line Palace-No One break my Will Accept-The Reckoning – Humanoid 26.04.24 Ride the Sky-New Protection Rough Silk-Deadline Satan-No turning back Blind Guardian-Mister Sandman

#hard rock party #youtube #hard rock #rockchicks radio #rock #rock of ages #rock music #rock n roll #rock party #classic rock #glam rock #80s rock #glam metal #heavy metal maniac #heavy metal #metal #speed metal #death metal #groove metal

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msmargaretmurry · 2 months

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becky, my dear, I just woke up and for some reason felt very insane about the fact that leon not only went to gary’s summer training with connor but also went to boots with connor ON THE DAY OF THE HAW ANNIVERSARY LAST SUMMER

please tell me you feel insane about it too because I’m still losing my mind about this

(are you a fortune teller? tell me your secrets!)

miriam my dear i regularly feel insane about it. HOW was that real life. WHY didn't we get more leon at boots photos! i know they must exist!! how dare they keep their personal vacation photos private!!!

alas if i were a fortune teller i would spend way less time being stressed about sports i think. but if any other hockey players want to make my fanfictions into real life they should please feel free

#ask #ratnovel #hockey for ts

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andrevasims · 2 years

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1980s Horror Film Character Names

I totally forgot I’d started making this last year! I think I never posted it because I wanted to find more names, but there’s already a decent amount and I don’t feel like being that tedious about names right now lol.

It’s first & last names (separated for mix & match potential) of characters from iconic late 1970s & 1980s horror movies. I think I started looking for cheesier B-movies to pull from, but yeah it’s been a whole year so I forget.

First Names

Alice Allen Allison Ally Amy Angela Annie Arnie Artie Axel Barry Bill Billy Bobby Brady Brenda Brent Brett Brooke Buddy Burt Buzz Carol Anne Carter Casey Charley Charlie Chili Christine Chuck Cindy Courtney Craig Cynthia Dana Darcy Debbie Demi Dennis Diane Donna Doug Doyle Duane Elaine Ellie Emma Ernie Ferdy Foster Gary Gene George Gerald Ginny Glen Hal Hank Helen Jack Jackie Jake Jason Jeff Jennifer Jerry Jesse Jimmy Joanne Jodi Joe Joey John Johnny Judd Judy Kate Katherine Kathy Katie Kelly Ken Kenny Kim Kimberly Kristen Larry Laurie Lea Leigh Lenny Leroy Linda Lisa Liz Lynn Marci Marcia Marcie Mark Mary Lou Masen Max Meg Megan Mel Melissa Mike Molly Monica Nancy Ned Neil Nick Nicki Nikki Patti Patty Paul Paula Peter Phoebe Polly Rachel Ralph Reilly Rennie Richie Rick Ricky Rob Rod Roland Ronnie Roy Ruby Rudolf Rudy Russ Sally Sandy Sara Sarah Shane Sharon Sheila Shelly Sissy Steve Steven Susie Suzie Tad Taryn Teddy Terri Tina Toby Tom Jesse Tommy Tracy Trish Valerie Vic Vickie Vicky Warren Wendy Wes Will

Last Names

Andrews Angelo Badger Baker Barnes Barrington Bates Baxter Beringer Brand Brewster Bringsley Brown Burke Burns Cabot Camber Carrington Cassidy Caulfield Challis Clarke Cole Cologne Corben Corvino Costic Crusel Cunningham Daigler Dandrige Daniels Darnell Darrinco Deagle Dier Doyle Duke Dumpkin Duncan Essmont Evans Field Franklin Freeling Frye Futterman Garris Garth Geiger Graham Gray Grimbridge Guilder Halavex Hammond Hanniger Hardy Harper Hawes Holland Hopkins Jachson Jarvis Jessup Junkins Kemp Kessler Kincaid Kopecky Kupfer Lane Lantz LeBay Lynch Lynn Macauley Maloney McBride McFadden McGregor McNichol Meeker Meisel Mercer Morgan Mott Nagle Nessler Newby Palmer Parker Parks Parsley Pataki Peltzer Penmark Perry Pervier Powers Priswell Repperton Richards Shote Spool Stanton Stark Statler Stavinski Steele Stevens Strauber Strode Sykes Taylor Thomas Thompson Thorn Toomey Trenton Vanders Venable Walsh Warner Weatherall Webber White

#names #name ideas #naming ideas #naming #sims names #making sims #my name lists

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tv-moments · 2 years

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Slow Horses

Season 1, “Follies”

Director: James Hawes

DoP: Danny Cohen

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herrmannhalsteadproduction · 2 years

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Oopsie Baby (Chapter One)

Summary: This is Part One of my series A Herrmann/Halstead Production. It is an AU where Christopher Herrmann's mom had an affair with Pat Halstead resulting in a baby. The series follows this OC character (Rebecca "Bex" Herrmann) as she grows up and gets to know her brothers and the various Chicago teams.

Rating: Teen Audiences and Up Relationships: Christopher Herrmann & Original Female Character, Jay Halstead & Original Female Character, Will Halstead & Original Female Character, Jay Halstead & Will Halstead Warnings: Cheating (not between any main characters), Car Accident, Minor Character Death, Pat Halstead being a Jerk A/N: I'll post the link to the ao3 page at the bottom. I wasn't sure if people would want every chapter posted here, but I can do that if it's easier and there's interest. Please enjoy my mostly fluffy with a bit of angst story. :D Chapter One:

Chris hadn’t planned on spending the summer before his sophomore year helping his mom get ready for a new baby, but here he was building a crib while she hemmed and hawed over five shades of yellow that all looked the same.

Not that he was pointing that out. Not for a second time anyway.

Nope, he was keeping his head down and getting this crib put together. Not thinking about everything his friends were getting up to without him. Not thinking about the fact that he was going to be fifteen years older than the little rugrat. Not thinking about how much of this prep work his dad was missing out on because he’s on the road so much.

Definitely not thinking about that because that would start him thinking about how often his dad had been away this year and how if his mom was six months along right now then the timing really didn’t make sense considering his dad’s travel schedule…

And now he was thinking about how his dad was probably definitely not the father.

He could tell his dad was working on the same math. There’d been all kinds of whispered fights down in the kitchen every time he was home over the past few months. More than a few ending with his dad stomping out the door to the bar and then sleeping it of off on the couch.

Part of him understood. His dad was away a LOT. His mom had to be lonely. But cheating...

And now there was a baby who was going to be born into a mess that was none of their fault.

So yeah. Chris wasn’t thinking about any of that.

He finished tightening the last screw and set the crib right side up on the floor. His mom turned around, samples in hand and beamed at him. “Thanks, sweetie,” she said.

Chris smiled back and peered over at the samples. “You know,” he said. “I think that one would look real nice.”

“Yeah?” His mom squinted at it and held it up to the wall before glancing back at him. “You think so?” Her face looked so hopeful and Chris had a sudden urge to punch both his father and whoever this mystery baby daddy was. At least one of them should be here, helping his mom, supporting her. But they weren’t. All she had right now was him.

So, he smiled again and said, “Yeah, Ma, I really do.”

Things came to a head two months later when the whispered fights became an all-out yelling match and instead of heading out to the bar, an already half-drunk Gary Herrmann headed down the street and punched Pat Halstead in the face.

Chris managed to drag him back home before things escalated, but not before most of the street was hanging off of their front porches and starting to do the math he’d previously be stuck on.

He dumped his father on the couch and grabbed the bag of frozen peas from his silently weeping mother. Dumping the peas in his dad’s lap, he sank down into the arm chair and buried his face in his hands.

Christ on a cracker.

At least that was one question answered.

Chris glanced up at the kitchen where the gentle clink of the kettle being placed on the stove sounded from. He wanted to storm in there and ask his mom what the heck she’d been thinking. Of all the guys on the street? Pat Halstead? Hopefully this baby retained mostly her genes otherwise they were about to have a raging a-hole on their hands.

His dad groaned from his spot on the couch.

“Hey.” Chris reached over to shake his knee and get his attention. “Pops, you with me?”

A grunt was the only response.

“Hey, listen,” he leaned in close, whispering urgently, wanting to get his message across before his mom came in with the tea no one would drink. “I hope this got it out of your system because you need to get it together,” he said. “Mom needs you. The baby needs you. If you’re going to keep this up, then just stay away because you’re making it worse.”

“Wh’ you t’ tell me,” his dad started and Chris cut him off with a squeeze of the knee.

“I’m the one who’s been the man of the house while you’re off working or drinking,” he snapped. “I’m the one who’s been getting everything ready for this kid.”

“Not my kid,” his dad muttered.

“Screw that. Decide. Right now.” Chris crouched beside his dad, shaking his shoulder until he got a small measure of eye contact. “Either yes, this is your kid. Yes and you cut this crap and you stay and you help mom and you keep this family together and you love that baby. Or no. It’s not your kid. And you leave. And you don’t come back.”

His hands trembled as he held on to his dad’s shoulders and his stomach felt like it was gonna make a break for it, but he held on and wouldn’t let his dad look away.

He was this kid’s big brother and apparently the only member of this family who had it together even a little bit. So he was going to be there for them and do whatever it took.

Even if that meant kicking his dad to the curb. He wasn’t about to let that little baby grow up in a house where it felt anything but loved. It hadn’t hit him how strongly he felt about it until that very moment, but if he really thought about it, he knew it had been building for awhile.

Chris waited his dad out until the man slumped down into the couch. “Yes,” he mumbled. “Yes, what?” Chris asked. This was too important not to make sure.

“Yes, it’s my kid,” he said, voice a little strong, a little clearer this time.

“Okay.” “Okay.”

They nodded at each other and for the first time in months, Chris felt like he could breathe a bit easier. He would have figured out how to make it work. Life with just him and his mom and the baby. If it came down to it. But this was better.

His mom came in with the tea and Chris left them alone to talk.

And it was better, after that. No more fights. His dad was home more and one day, proudly showed up with a gleaming wooden rocking chair for the nursery. And he talked to Chris’s mom’s belly. Telling the baby all about his day and what kind of things they’d get up to once they were all together.

It was weird. There was no doubt about that. But still better.

Finally, on October 31st at 8:36 pm, Rebecca Marie Herrmann was born.

Chris couldn’t stop staring at her – while she slept, while she waved her little fists, while he held her in his arms. She was so tiny and perfect. Definitely mostly his mom’s genes. Barely a drop of Halstead in her. Thank god.

Every once in awhile while he was staring at his tiny, perfect little baby sister, he wondered about them. Her other family. The Halsteads had two little boys. She had two other brothers just down the street. Was it fair that none of them would ever know about the other?

But that’s wasn't his choice. No matter what conflicting thoughts cropped up for him, his parents had made their choice. Rebecca – or Bex as he was calling her, much to his mom’s displeasure – Bex was a Herrmann, all the way.

His parents were actually solid these days. More so than before Bex was born. It was like having her be real finally and in their home made all of the difference. His dad doted on her like he’d built her from scratch. Which…was nice. Chris hadn’t been sure his dad could go the distance on this, but seeing him actually keep his act together? He felt like things might be okay.

About freaking time.

Now he could focus on getting through school and convincing Cindy to go on a date with him.

Which he did. Four months later.

Not sure how he managed it, especially when he realized once he got home that he’d had baby spit on the right shoulder of his shirt the entire time he’d been talking to her. Nice of his buddies to not bother pointing that out to him. And Cindy. She was clearly taking pity on him by agreeing to the date. Girl like that? Funny, smart, beautiful – way out of his league.

But she said yes and Herrmanns didn’t believe in takebacks so he was going to show up at her place this Saturday and sit on her porch until she came out and went to the movies with him as promised.

One date became two and then three and before long, he had a girlfriend. A ridiculously awesome girlfriend.

“We’re keeping her, aren’t we, Bex?” he cooed at his baby sister as he bounced her in the air. She laughed and slapped at his face. “Okay, okay, I won’t get ahead of myself. You’re right.” He tucked Bex into his arm and tickled her belly. “But we’re definitely keeping her.”

Cindy, amazing girl that she was, hadn’t even blinked at his years younger baby sister. Never asked a single awkward question. Just took it in stride and made fast friends with Bex. His parents had managed to turn a few of their dates into babysitting jobs. But he and Cindy never argued. A few hours alone in the house while Bex snoozed in her play pen?

Yeah, sure thing, parents. (Cindy always pumped the breaks before things went too far, but still. It was a pretty sweet deal.)

And on it went. Bex got bigger and he made sure “Cwis” was her favourite person.

He and Cindy graduated high school and she went on to college for interior design and he started out aiming for a business degree. His dad had made enough noise about following in his footsteps that he thought he should give it a try.

He hated it. After bitching to Cindy about it for the billionth time, she told him to quit. “Quit?” he echoed. “But I already paid and Dad—”

“Will eventually understand that you should be doing something you love just as much as he loves his job,” Cindy said. “Chris, sweetie. You’re miserable.”

Bex crawled into his lap and patted at his cheeks. “Don’ be sad.”

“See?” Cindy laughed. “You’re outvoted.”

Chris smiled down at Bex who was now pinching his chin. “I guess I could get at least some of my money back for next semester,” he said. “But then what?”

Cindy leveled a look at him. “You’re telling me you don’t already have another idea lined up in that brain of yours, Christopher?” She reached for his free hand. “I know you,” she said. “It’s not just not liking the courses that’s bothering you. There’s something else pulling at you, right?”

This gal. Always somehow able to see directly into his heart. He looked down at Bex and waggled his eyebrows at her. “Good thing we kept her, eh, Bex? She’s a smartie.” Bex giggled and pulled Cindy closer to their little cuddle fest.

He flopped his head back against the couch and blew out a sigh. “There is something I’ve been thinking about for awhile,” he admitted. Cindy patiently waited him out. “It’s, uh, the Academy,” he said. “I want to be a firefighter.”

Cindy paled a little at that. He’d kept it to himself because he was afraid of how she’d react. Forget his dad. Cindy was the person whose opinion he cared about. This might be the thing that scared her off. Make her realize she could do better than some dumb kid who wanted to run into burning buildings for a living.

But like always, his girl managed to surprise him.

“Well,” she said, gripping his hand tight. “Then I guess you’re going to be a firefighter.”

A slow smile spread across his face. “I guess I am.” “Yay!” Bex cheered, bopping him in the cheek with her fist.

The next day, he went to school and withdrew before heading directly over to the Academy. The following months of training were grueling, but he loved every minute of it. Once he finished, he was bounced around a few houses as a floater before finding a permanent home at firehouse 51.

Cindy’s program finished up in two years and he was feeling solid in his place at 51 so he proposed. Lots of people said they were too young, but Cindy didn’t. She was sure and so was he. So was Bex – not that they were taking votes, but it was nice to see how well Cindy fit in with his favourite Herrmann.

He realized later that Bex was mostly excited about being a flower girl which she’d heard about from some kid in her kindergarten class. The kid ran down the aisle, chucking her petals at everyone. Poor Mouch got some in his mouth.

They got a tiny little apartment with a pull-out couch so Bex could sleepover. It took up most of the living room, but it was worth it. She loved getting to hang out at their “cool ‘partment.”

A year went by and Chris didn’t think life could get much better. Spring was in the air and he and Cindy were circling around maybe possibly talking about having a kid of their own. Wrangling a wild six year old was giving them plenty of experience.

They were spending the night back at his parents place so his folks could go out for their anniversary. The big 2-5. Bex had school the next day so it was easier for them to hang out there and put her to sleep in her own bed. After dinner, he had her out in the yard playing some kind of convoluted tag game she’d made up. And seemed to be still making up? The rules kept changing. Usually in her favour.

Shouts down the street caught his attention. The two Halstead boys were out in their driving shooting hoops and talking trash at each other.

Christ. The Halsteads. He’d nearly forgotten about them. Nearly forgotten about Bex’s other family. He felt a little hand grab at his leg and looked down to see his baby sis leaning against him as she stared down the street at the two boys. Chris wondered if she’d ever talked to them. Felt any kind of connection to them.

“That’s Will and Jay,” she said. “Mama says not to talk to them.” Oh. That answered that. Kind of. Bex said it very matter of fact, but her eyes never left them. He doubted his mom was going to be able to enforce that rule for very long. Not without any explanation.

“Hey, you two,” Cindy called from the front porch. “Time to come in. Bex, you need a bath before bed.”

“Come on, you,” Chris said, hauling Bex up over his shoulder as she squealed. “We gotta scrub you up. Mom and Dad wouldn’t even recognize you right now, you little dirt monster.”

After a bubble-filled bath (“Seriously, Chris?” Cindy side-eyed him and he shrugged. Sue him for being a push-over for his baby sis.) and not one, but three bedtime stories, they finally got Bex to bed and collapsed on the living room couch. They watched some random home makeover shows and waited for his parents to return.

And waited.

Until 1 am when the flashing lights of a police car showed up and a pair of police officers came to the door to change all three of their lives forever. Click here for Chapter Two.

Click here for Chapter Three.

And here's the link to read it on ao3 if you want:

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cuti-romeros · 2 years

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Carraville + joy for @carraville-adm

I was mulling over this prompt while watching the news about the uk government collapsing, and somehow an AU with running-for-MP!Gary and his-campaign-manager!Jamie was born. Also they talk about their feelings, which might be the bigger AU actually. Thanks for the prompt, hope you enjoy!

“Do you think we’ll do it?” Gary asks him, when it’s just the two of them left in the conference room.

All the rumblings are that the final results are due to be announced within the hour, and everyone else—party officials, friends, family—has already left for the main ballroom, waiting to celebrate (or suffer) as a collective group. But Gary, ever the contrarian, is still in here—so Jamie is too.

“I’m your campaign manager. It’s literally in my job description to tell you we will,” Jamie replies, even though he knows Gary won’t accept that as an answer.

Still, he expects Gary to huff and roll his eyes, not fix him with the kind of deadly serious look that pins him right to the spot. A stare worthy of an MP, Jamie thinks with pride, remembering just how much work went into crafting and perfecting this particular expression.

“You were my friend first, James,” Gary says, and Jamie’s glad he’s still sitting because his whole body just sort of melts at the knees—even now, even after all these years—at hearing his name said low and gravelly in that stupid Manc voice. “And as a friend, what do you think?”

He sounds far too forlorn for the night of his ascendancy into political power.

“I said I’d make you Prime Minister, Gary. Wouldn’t have even bothered if I didn’t think you could become a measly MP first.” They are both well aware, having shed thousands of hours of blood and sweat to prove it, that becoming any kind of government official is a difficult and grueling task—but Gary cracks a smile, and that’s all Jamie was aiming for anyway.

“Should I be worried about finding a new campaign manager if it doesn’t go well for us tonight?” Gary stands from his chair, wincing subtly enough that most people wouldn’t even notice.

Jamie notices. Jamie also isn’t most people.

“Should I be worried about finding a new candidate to prop up?” He glances theatrically Gary’s left knee, which has long been the troublemaker, but lets it go when Gary only frowns a little, as though he’s genuinely been wondering whether Jamie would turn traitor and find a different politician to devote every waking minute of his life to. As if he would, as if he even could. “You do know I’d resign if we don’t win. If a team gets relegated they usually bring in a new manager to tackle the promotion campaign.”

“Don’t you dare bring football into this, the last thing I wanna think about tonight is United playing the Europa League,” Gary retorts, then chews at his lip the way he always does when he’s hesitating. Jamie waits him out, knows he’s never been one to hem and haw over his words for long. “What if I didn’t want someone new?” Gary says at last, very quietly. “What if I just wanted—”

Gary trails off and shakes his head, making himself very busy adjusting his already-perfectly-knotted tie (Jamie would know, he tied it), but Jamie can’t unhear what he said.

And it’s—going over in sharpie what they’ve only danced around with pencil before, the idea that maybe they’re more than just college friends turned professional partners, that maybe something deeper has settled down and grown roots when they weren’t looking.

Or it’s just Gary having grown attached to his particular brand of cheerful criticism and surly advice. It’s probably just that.

Probably.

So he tackles that angle first. “Gary, we need politicians like you. And if I can’t get you into Parliament, you have to find yourself someone better who can. You need to do what’s best for you and your career.”

A beat.

“The best thing for me has always been you.”

The “Gaz” that comes out in response is shaky and breathless, punched from deep inside him without any part of his conscious mind actually forming the word.

Are they doing this? Maybe they’re doing this. They might be doing this.

Gary looks him dead in the eye, and there isn’t a single shred of politician in the stare this time. This one is all Gary, sharp and intense and strangely raw.

And then Gary leans forward and hugs him.

Oh. Oh.

He can count on one hand, maybe even one finger, the number of times that’s happened before, and Jamie’s mind—blinks, shutting down for a moment before roaring back at twice the intensity. This close, he can feel the warmth and shape of Gary’s body, can feel every little point where they’re touching from knee to forehead, can feel the rise and fall of Gary’s chest against his own, can feel the tickle of Gary’s exhale against his cheek when runs a hand down his back.

So they’re definitely doing this.

It’s a heady feeling, like the fizzing rush of a strong drink mixed with the gentle warmth of a bowl of soup. He can’t describe it better than that—he’s not the wordsmith of the team, that’s what they have speechwriters for. All he knows is that Gary’s stubborn and obsessive and nit-picky and such a goddamn control freak, and Jamie loves him in a way he doesn’t even have words to explain.

Only emphatic four-letter ones, which he probably shouldn’t be using right as he’s about to become arm candy to an honest-to-god Member of Parliament.

Although really, the results have never mattered less. This moment, this might be all he needs for the rest of forever—this is pure, utter joy.

Plus maybe a kiss. (Another time, perhaps)

They pull apart, and Jamie grins. “Forget the election, I’m handing in my resignation right now.”

“What?” Gary still has a dopey look on his face, like sustained positive human contact might have actually broken him, and he’s never looked more kissable in his entire life.

Jamie pushes that thought away. Somebody could walk in any moment to drag them to the ballroom, maybe even one of the journalists dotted around the place, and that isn’t how he wants to announce this fledgling little thing between them to the world.

“I can’t be your boyfriend if I’m your campaign manager, and I’d much rather be one of those things than the other right now.”

Gary rolls his eyes. “You don’t mean that. This is your career too.”

“I mean every word,” Jamie says, pausing for dramatic effect, but knows it isn’t quite that simple. “No, listen, I’m not resigning, alright? Got the message loud and clear, so stop looking like someone stole your Wheaties.”

(But he would, for this. He would in a heartbeat)

“And boyfriends makes us sound like lovesick teenagers,” Gary adds, but that isn’t his irritated voice, so Jamie doesn’t pay it too much mind.

Besides, he feels just about as giddy as a lovesick teenager right now, so maybe it isn’t the most inaccurate description.

There’s a knock on the door, two sharp bangs one second apart.

“That’ll be Phil,” Gary says, sounding unhappy about it. “Results are probably imminent.”

Jamie tries not let it fuel his ego that Gary seems more interested in staying in his room with him than finding out if he’s achieved the singular goal of his professional life. He tries, and he fails.

Gary notices, because it’s been a long time since they missed anything about each other. “Don’t look so smug, James. I’d only rather be in here because there’s nothing worse than losing in front of a crowd.”

“I think I’ve already won,” Jamie says softly.

It’s stupidly sappy, but he’s stupidly happy, alright? He’s allowed.

#carraville #*writing

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gothamgirlgayngs · 1 year

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I'm workshoping a tribute gif series to Legends that I'm calling The ABCS OF LOT

Astra / Amaya

Behrad / Bishop

Constantine / (Ava)Clones / Charlie

Damien Darhk / Desmond

Enchantress

Firestorm / Fates

Gideon / Gary / Gwyn

Hell / Heywood Family

Immortality

Jax

Kendra / Kauasa / Kidnapping

Leonard / Lita / Legion of Doom

Mick / Mona / Mallus

Nate / Neuron

Occulus

Professor Stein / Period Costumes

Queer

Rip / Robot Legends / Rebecca Silver

Sara / Spooner/ Space /

Tarazi Siblings / Time Bureau / Time Bros

Unicorn / Undercover /

Vixen

Waverider / Wolfy / Witchcraft

Yee Haw Legends

Zaris

I'd like to have at least three sets for each letter. Please help me fill out this list.

#legends of tomorrow #WHAT AM GONNA DO FORX

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bamboomusiclist · 3 months

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1/30 おはようございます。 Matt Dennis / Dennis Anyone Lpm1134 等更新完了しました。

Jaye P. Morgan / Lately PLP-S6540 Matt Dennis / Dennis Anyone Lpm1134 Matt Dennis / Welcome Matt jgm1105 Matt Dennis / She Dances Overhead Lpm1065 Ella Fitzgerald / Lady Time 2310825 Hampton Hawes Martial Solal / Key For Two byg529125 Leroy Vinnegar / Leroy Walks C3542 John Coltrane / The Believer prt7292 本田竹曠 / T Honda Meets Rhythm Section Featuring S Watanabe pa-9718 本田竹曠 / Jodo pa-9720 Gary Bartz / Singerella A Ghetto Fairy Tale p10083 Val Stoecklein / Grey Life DLP25904 John Stewart / Willard ST-540 Electric Prunes / Just Good Old Rock And Roll RS6342 John Kay / Forgotten Songs & Unsung Heroes Dsx50120 Sons of Chaplin / The Sons Of Champlin st50002 Bruce Springsteen / Tunnel Of Love OC40999 Rock Workshop / the Very Last Time s64394 Queen / a Night at the Opera emtc103 Dan / The Music Of The Dan BM30L2301

~bamboo music~

[email protected]

530-0028 大阪市北区万歳町3-41 シロノビル104号

06-6363-2700

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tomorrowedblog · 5 months

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Slow Horses S3 premieres today

The third season of Slow Horses, the TV series from Will Smith and James Hawes, is out today.

“Slow Horses” is darkly funny espionage drama that follows a team of British intelligence agents who serve in a dumping ground department of MI5 due to their career-ending mistakes. In season three, a romantic liaison in Istanbul threatens to expose a buried MI5 secret in London. When Jackson Lamb (Academy Award winner Gary Oldman) and his team of misfits are dragged into the fight, they find themselves caught in a conspiracy that threatens the future not just of Slough House but of MI5 itself.

#TV #SlowHorses #News

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buzzdixonwriter · 7 months

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Turn-On! Turned Off (part 1)

Turn-On! Is a legendary 1969 TV show legendary for all the wrong reasons: It was cancelled during its first commercial break.

Typically when TV shows of that era are discussed it’s out of context with the time. This is okay when discussing conventional westerns or cop shows or comedy-variety shows since they typically took great pains to avoid the social issues of their day in order to maximize appeal.

But there’s a different breed of cat that went out looking for trouble, and boy howdy!, was Turn-On! one of those. It was a brilliant misfire, w-a-a-a-y ahead of its time, offensive then, and in an odd way, even more offensive now.

First off let’s set the culture temperature for the U.S. on February 5, 1969, Turn-On!’s premiere:

1967’s Summer of Love morphed into 1968’s days of rage

The Vietnam War continued to drag on in the wake of the Tet Offensive in January 1968

Martin Luther King Jr. and Robert Kennedy were assassinated

Political infighting split the Democratic Party, culminating with the infamous 1968 Democratic

Convention riot in Chicago “The whole world’s watching!”

White racist George Wallace created the proto-MAGA American Independent Party and siphoned off enough votes from Hubert Humphrey to cost him the election

Richard Nixon and Spiro Agnew, who until recently were the sleaziest bastards ever to set foot in the White House, won election for the so-called “silent majority”

The popular and innovative 1967 show The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour became increasingly more political, rousing both White House and network ire (it would be cancelled on June 6, 1969)

On January 22, 1968 Rowan And Martin’s Laugh-In, produced by George Schlatter and Ed Friendly. replaced The Man From U.N.C.L.E. and became an immediate smash hit

The latter bears great importance on the story of Turn-On! and not merely because Schlatter and Friendly produced both shows.

Turn-On! has been accurately described as watching a half-hour’s worth of TikTok videos back-to-back. While Laugh-In pioneered fast paced rapid-fire editing for skit comedy, it nonetheless maintained enough form for (most) audiences to get their bearings. Whenever things grew too frenetic, they could always return to hosts Dan Rowan and Dick Martin or announcer Gary Owen to give viewers a chance to catch their breath. They employed regular skits so the folks at home could find reassuring familiarity each week as well as more or less conventional satirical musical numbers, all backed by well placed laugh tracks.

They also hired a good cast, created several recurring stock characters who remain familiar to this day, and launched several catch phrases emblemic of the era: “Sock it to me” “The flying fickle finger of fate” “You bet your sweet bippy” “Here comes the judge” (Okay, that last one is actually a call back to African-American vaudeville, but bravo to Laugh-In for sharing it with the rest of the country.)

And while the show didn’t steer clear of political and social satire, they lacked the heartfelt intensity the Smothers Brothers brought to theirs.

You’re scarcely nibbling the hand that feeds you when you invite Richard Nixon to say “Sock it to me” on national television.

So Laugh-In had a sense of rebellion, a sense of daring, but in truth often appeared no more edgy than a copy Captain Billy’s Whiz Bang. It was a format swiftly and ironically even more successfully imitated in cornpone by Hee Haw (and don’t get me wrong, Hee Haw could be damn funny).

Turn-On! episode one with Tim Conway

Turn-On! episode two with Robert Culp and France Nuyen

#Turn-On! TV show #George Schlatter #Ed Friendly #Digby Wolfe #Tim Conway #Robert Culp #France Nuyen #censorship #TV censorship #comedy #experimental television

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