#little women 1978

[thatscarletflycatcher]

Jo could not speak, and for several minutes there was no sound but the sigh of the wind and the lapping of the tide. A white-winged gull flew by, with the flash of sunshine on its silvery breast. Beth watched it till it vanished, and her eyes were full of sadness. A little gray-coated sand bird came tripping over the beach ‘peeping’ softly to itself, as if enjoying the sun and sea. LITTLE WOMEN (1978) Dir: David Lowell Rich

#Little women #perioddramaedit #adaptationsdaily #Little Women 1978 #Jo March #Beth March #Susan Dey #Eve Plumb

[littlewomenpodcast]

1978 Amy and Laurie are super cute

#amy and laurie #little women 1978 #amy march #laurie lawrence

[claudia1829things]

"LITTLE WOMEN" (1978) Review

"LITTLE WOMEN" (1978) Review

There have been many adaptations of "Little Women", Louisa May Alcott's 1868 novel. And I have seen most, if not all of the live-action versions. But the first adaptation I have ever seen was NBC's adaptation that first aired back in 1978. If I might be honest, I ended up developing a rather high opinion of it.

Since my first viewing of 1978's "LITTLE WOMEN", I have seen other adaptations. And over the years, I had developed this belief that this television production from 1978 had not been good as I had originally believed. It took many years for me to give this two-part miniseries a second chance. "LITTLE WOMEN" told the story of Josephine (Jo) March and her three sisters during the 1860s - Meg, Beth and Amy. The two-part miniseries opened during the Christmas holidays in December 1861 and follow the sisters, their other family members and friends throughout the Civil War and the early post-war years. Because Jo is the main character, despite being the second sister, this adaptation of "Little Women" has the distinction of being the only version that allows her to serve as narrator.

After my recent re-watch, I could see why my opinion of "LITTLE WOMEN" had diminished over the years . . . at least from a superficial point-of-view. To be blunt, I was not that impressed by the miniseries' production values. The entire production was shot on the Universal Studios backlot and one could sometimes see the California hills in the background. Granted, I still believe set decorator Richard G. Goddard, art director Howard E. Johnson and cinematographer Joseph F. Biroc did the best they could to recreate 1860s Concord, Massachusetts, New York City and Italy. But I did have a problem with the miniseries' costume designs. On the surface, they seemed . . . serviceable for a television production set during the 1860s. But if I must be frank, the costumes also looked as if they had been taken from a costume warehouse for second-rate stage productions. Even worse, all or most of the actresses seemed to be wearing mid-to-late 1970s shoes underneath their mid-19th century dresses and gowns. I was shocked to discover that one of Hollywood's most iconic costume designer, Edith Head, had created the miniseries' costumes. So . . . what on earth happened? Head had created the costumes? "LITTLE WOMEN" was not even Head's first or last period drama. So, what happened?

Did I have any other problems with "LITTLE WOMEN"? Well . . . I did not care for leading actress Susan Dey's hairstyle in the second part of the miniseries. I realize her character, Jo March, had cut her hair to raise funds for her mother's journey to Washington D.C. But her hair never grew back. Never. Instead, it remained shorter than it originally was and styled into a bob. Why? And I had a problem with two particular performances. I will discuss one of them later. The other involved leading lady Susan Dey serving as the miniseries' narrator. Do not get me wrong. Dey is a fine actress and did the best she could. But I found her narration a bit clunky and unnecessary, thanks to the words provided to her by screenwriter Suzanne Clauser's teleplay.

Despite my quibbles, I found a lot to admire about "LITTLE WOMEN". I believe its status as a two-part miniseries, instead of a movie, screenwriter Suzanne Clauser had plenty of opportunities to fully adapt Alcott's novel with less shortcuts and more depth. I have always believed that Alcott's novel was basically a coming-of-age story for Jo March and her three sisters. To me, this made any adaptation of "LITTLE WOMEN" a major character study. And if there is one thing that the two-part miniseries did well was explore its characters and their situations with great depth.

This especially seemed to be the case of Jo's relationship with her neighbor and friend, Theodore "Laurie" Laurence, his personal relationship with his grandfather James Laurence, Amy's European trip and her romantic travails, and Meg's relationship with Laurie's tutor John Brooke. I was especially impressed by the production's handling of Jo's relationship with Professor Friedrich Bhaer. I found it very dynamic, thanks to Suzanne Clauser's screenplay, along with the performances involved. Some, but not all of the adaptations of Alcott's novel tend to forget - at times - that part of it spanned most of the U.S. Civil War. Fortunately, this adaptation never forgot. And as much as I seemed critical of the miniseries' narration, it also reminded television audiences that . . . yes, part of "LITTLE WOMEN" was partially set during the Civil War.

Speaking of performances, "LITTLE WOMEN" had the blessed luck to feature a first-rate cast. I may not have been impressed by the narration provided by Susan Dey (for which I blame another), I was more than impressed by her portrayal of the story's leading character, Josephine "Jo" March. I though she did a superb job in capturing Jo's mercurial personality and obsession with her developing profession as a writer. Meredith Baxter gave an excellent performance as the oldest March sister, Margaret "Meg" March. She conveyed Meg's vanity and obsession with the family's social status and stubborn refusal to give up her love for John Brooke. My only issue is that I believe the actress may have been a bit too old portraying a character that aged from 16 to her early 20s. Eve Plumb portrayed the shy, yet musical Elizabeth "Beth" March. I thought she did an excellent job of combining Beth's emotional, yet retiring nature and in the end, gave a very poignant performance. Ann Dusenberry was roughly 24 to 25 years old when she portrayed the youngest March sibling, Amy. Before my recent re-watch of "LITTLE WOMEN", I had assumed she was too old to portray a younger Amy. But upon my viewing, I realized that she actually managed to give a rather convincing and skillful performance of Amy during the war years (between ages 12 and 16) without to resorting to exaggerated histrionics. And I also admired her portrayal of the older Amy who found herself drawn between two men during her European trip.

I cannot deny that most of the actors who have portrayed Theodore "Laurie"/"Teddy" Laurence over the years gave some pretty damn good performances. But I believe that Richard Gilliland's portrayal of the emotional and moody "Laurie" has to be one of the two best I have ever seen, hands down. His only equal - at least in my eyes - is Jonah Hauer King's performance in the 2017 BBC miniseries. But if I had to choose my favorite portrayal of Laurie's stern, yet warm grandfather, James Laurence, it would be the one given by Hollywood icon Robert Young in this miniseries. May I be frank? I believe both actors provided some of the production's best dramatic moments in their depiction of the developing relationship between grandson and grandfather.

Dorothy McGuire gave a fine performance as Mrs. March aka "Marmie", the four sisters' mother. Thanks to the actress' performance, her Mrs. March seemed more like a well-rounded human being, instead of an archetype. Greer Garson was in fine form as the March family's tart-tongued, yet wealthy matriarch, Aunt Josephine March. William Shatner was excellent as the German-born professor who befriended Jo in New York City, Professor Friedrich Bhaer. Although I found his German accent a bit questionable, I cannot deny that he managed to provide a great deal of energy and complexity to Friedrich's relationship with Jo. Cliff Potts gave a solid performance as Meg's love interest and Laurie's tutor, John Brooke. I can say the same about Virginia Gregg, who portrayed the family's housekeeper, Hannah Mullet. I wish I could provide a better opinion of William Schallert's portrayal of the sisters' father, John March, but his presence in the miniseries seemed very limited, aside from one scene that featured the birth of Meg's children. One performance really failed to impress me and it came from John de Lancie, who portrayed Laurie's English-born classmate from Harvard and Amy's suitor, Frank Vaughan (Fred in the novel). Quite frankly, I found his performance a bit off. Knowing de Lancie for the first-rate actor he truly is, I suspect that between Alcott and screenwriter Suzanne Clauser's writing, the character ended up as a flat, one-note plot device - a situation that not even de Lancie could rise above.

Yes, I had some issues with "LITTLE WOMEN". I found some of the production values questionable, especially some of Edith Head's costumes, the hairstyles and one particular character. But overall, I believe it proved to be a first-rate adaptation of Louisa May Alcott's novel. If I must be frank, thanks to David Lowell Rich's direction, Suzanne Clauser's screenplay and a superb cast led by Susan Dey, I consider the 1978 adaptation of Alcott's novel to be among the three best I have ever seen.

#little women #little women 1978 #louisa may alcott #susan dey #jo march #meredith baxter #meg march #eve plumb #beth march #ann dusenberry #amy march #richard gilliland #theodore laurie laurence #dorothy mcguire #marmee march #robert young #greer garson #william shatner #john de lancie #david lowell rich #virginia gregg #cliff potts #u.s. civil war #gilded age #william schallert #joyce bulifant #carlene watkins #period drama #period dramas #costume dramas

[joandfriedrich]

#little women #little women 1933 #little women 1949 #little women 1970 #little women 1978 #little women 1994 #little women 2017 #little women 2018 #little women 2019

[louisa-may-alcott]

#polls #little women #louisa may alcott #little women 1918 #little women 1933 #little women 1949 #little women 1994 #little women 2017 #little women 2019 #little women 1978 #little women 1981 #little women 1987 #tales of little women 1987

[courseyoulovemeyoudontknowme]

Best Meryl Streep movies and performances:

1. The Deer Hunter - Michael Cimino (1978)

2. Fantastic Mr. Fox - Wes Anderson (2009)

3. Manhattan - Woody Allen (1979)

4. Kramer vs. Kramer - Robert Benton (1979)

5. Little Women - Greta Gerwig (2019)

6. Adaptation - Spike Jonze (2002)

7. The Bridges of Madison County - Clint Eastwood (1995)

#meryl streep #the deer hunter #fantastic mr fox #manhattan #kramer vs kramer #little women #Adaptation #the bridges of madison county #michael cimino #wes anderson #woody allen #Robert Benton #greta gerwig #spike jonze #clint eastwood #1978 #2009 #1979 #2019 #2002 #1995 #1970s #2000s #2010s #1990s #70s #00s #10s #90s #1970s movies

[nasa]

LaRue Burbank, mathematician and computer, is just one of the many women who were instrumental to NASA missions.

4 Little Known Women Who Made Huge Contributions to NASA

Women have always played a significant role at NASA and its predecessor NACA, although for much of the agency’s history, they received neither the praise nor recognition that their contributions deserved. To celebrate Women’s History Month – and properly highlight some of the little-known women-led accomplishments of NASA’s early history – our archivists gathered the stories of four women whose work was critical to NASA’s success and paved the way for future generations.

LaRue Burbank: One of the Women Who Helped Land a Man on the Moon

LaRue Burbank was a trailblazing mathematician at NASA. Hired in 1954 at Langley Memorial Aeronautical Laboratory (now NASA’s Langley Research Center), she, like many other young women at NACA, the predecessor to NASA, had a bachelor's degree in mathematics. But unlike most, she also had a physics degree. For the next four years, she worked as a "human computer," conducting complex data analyses for engineers using calculators, slide rules, and other instruments. After NASA's founding, she continued this vital work for Project Mercury.

In 1962, she transferred to the newly established Manned Spacecraft Center (now NASA’s Johnson Space Center) in Houston, becoming one of the few female professionals and managers there.  Her expertise in electronics engineering led her to develop critical display systems used by flight controllers in Mission Control to monitor spacecraft during missions. Her work on the Apollo missions was vital to achieving President Kennedy's goal of landing a man on the Moon.

Eilene Galloway: How NASA became… NASA

Eilene Galloway wasn't a NASA employee, but she played a huge role in its very creation. In 1957, after the Soviet Union launched Sputnik, Senator Richard Russell Jr. called on Galloway, an expert on the Atomic Energy Act, to write a report on the U.S. response to the space race. Initially, legislators aimed to essentially re-write the Atomic Energy Act to handle the U.S. space goals. However, Galloway argued that the existing military framework wouldn't suffice – a new agency was needed to oversee both military and civilian aspects of space exploration. This included not just defense, but also meteorology, communications, and international cooperation.

Her work on the National Aeronautics and Space Act ensured NASA had the power to accomplish all these goals, without limitations from the Department of Defense or restrictions on international agreements. Galloway is even to thank for the name "National Aeronautics and Space Administration", as initially NASA was to be called “National Aeronautics and Space Agency” which was deemed to not carry enough weight and status for the wide-ranging role that NASA was to fill.

Barbara Scott: The “Star Trek Nerd” Who Led Our Understanding of the Stars

A self-described "Star Trek nerd," Barbara Scott's passion for space wasn't steered toward engineering by her guidance counselor. But that didn't stop her!  Fueled by her love of math and computer science, she landed at Goddard Spaceflight Center in 1977.  One of the first women working on flight software, Barbara's coding skills became instrumental on missions like the International Ultraviolet Explorer (IUE) and the Thermal Canister Experiment on the Space Shuttle's STS-3.  For the final decade of her impressive career, Scott managed the flight software for the iconic Hubble Space Telescope, a testament to her dedication to space exploration.

Dr. Claire Parkinson: An Early Pioneer in Climate Science Whose Work is Still Saving Lives

Dr. Claire Parkinson's love of math blossomed into a passion for climate science. Inspired by the Moon landing, and the fight for civil rights, she pursued a graduate degree in climatology.  In 1978, her talents landed her at Goddard, where she continued her research on sea ice modeling. But Parkinson's impact goes beyond theory.  She began analyzing satellite data, leading to a groundbreaking discovery: a decline in Arctic sea ice coverage between 1973 and 1987. This critical finding caught the attention of Senator Al Gore, highlighting the urgency of climate change.

Parkinson's leadership extended beyond research.  As Project Scientist for the Aqua satellite, she championed making its data freely available. This real-time information has benefitted countless projects, from wildfire management to weather forecasting, even aiding in monitoring the COVID-19 pandemic. Parkinson's dedication to understanding sea ice patterns and the impact of climate change continues to be a valuable resource for our planet.

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space! 

#NASA #space #tech #technology #womens history month #women in STEM #math #climate science #computer science

[nerdyrevelries]

I’m cursed with the knowledge that Little Women 1970 exists. 

#Little Women #Little Women 1970 #It's so bad. I just can't #Reviews of 2019 and 1978 are still forthcoming. I will get to them at some point.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

a list of some autumnal movies/series 🍂

i am nothing if not an organised little goblin who can not stop themself from making a good list. this is just in case you want something with that fall vibe but can't think of any. just close your eyes and point somewhere on this little list, or even put the numbers in a generator and go with whatever the result is ♡

winter | spring | summer

🥧 ‧₊˚ ⋅ movies ⋅˚₊‧

nosferatu (1922) 

rosemary’s baby (1968)

halloween franchise (1978-)

friday the 13th franchise (1980-)

an american werewolf in london (1981)

a nightmare on elm street (1984)

ronja rövardotter (1984)

clue (1985)

princess bride (1987)

dead poets society (1989)

when harry met sally (1989)

hocus pocus (1993)

addams family values (1993)

interview with a vampie (1994)

the craft (1996)

the first wifes club (1996)

the scream franchise (1996-)

halloweentown (1998)

practical magic (1998)

you’ve got mail (1998)

the blair witch project (1999)

sleepy hollow (1999)

chocolat (2000)

amelie (2001)

the lord of the rings franchise (2001-2003)

scooby doo (2002)

pirates of the caribbean franchise (2003-2017)

north & south (2004)

pride and prejudice (2005)

the descent (2005)

the devil wears prada (2006)

el orfanato (2007)

the edge of love (2008)

twilight (2008)

julie & julia (2009)

jennifer’s body (2009)

dorian gray (2009)

coraline (2009)

true grit (2010)

the cabin in the woods (2011)

the odd life of timothy green (2012)

the conjuring franchise (2013-)

what we do in the shadows (2014)

the riot club (2014)

as above so below (2014)

the age of adaline (2015)

the witch (2015)

mary shelly (2017)

murder on the orient express (2017)

get out (2017)

a quiet place (2018 + 2020)

the guernsey literary and potato peel pie society (2018)

on the basis of sex (2018)

knives out (2019)

little women (2019)

the gentlemen (2019)

emma (2020)

ammonite (2020)

the dig (2021)

the batman (2022)

🧦 ‧₊˚ ⋅ series ⋅˚₊‧

gilmore girls (2000-2007)

outlander (2014-)

anne with on e (2017-2019)

queens gambit (2020)

moomin (1990-1992)

a discovery of witches (2018-2022)

virgin river (2019-)

supernatural (2005-2020)

shadow and bone (2021-)

vampire diaries (2009-2017)

stranger things (2016-)

the chilling adventures of sabrina (2018-2020)

once upon a time (2011-2018)

vikings valhalla (2022-)

peaky blinders (2013-2022)

downton abbey (2010-2015)

poldark (2015-2019)

dickinson (2019-2021)

killing eve (2018-2022)

ghost files/buzzfeed unsolved (2016-)

critical role (2015-)

lucifer (2016-2021)

the walking dead (2010-2022)

criminal minds (2005-2020, 2022-)

i’ll be gone in the dark (2020)

buffy the vampire slayer (1997-2003)

how to get away with murder (2014-2020)

the good fight (2017-2022)

american horror story (2011-)

teen wolf (2011-2017)

#♡ ♡ ♡ #lea speaks #• comfort if you need it • #movies #comfort movies #movie recommendation #autumn aesthetic #fall aesthetic #halloween aesthetic #studyblr #cottagecore #dark academia #autumn #autumn vibes #fall #fall vibes #cozycore #cosycore #hygge #witch aesthetic

[dearharriet]

By Any Other Name; Sirius Black ☕️

“D’you have a name, love?” He was spitting mischief into every word. “Or should I just call you angel face?”

By God, he was not pulling any punches. His voice being as silky as your knickers didn’t help, nor did his wicked teeth or his lithe hands. It was a feat of its own to close your mouth, and another altogether to speak.

Your name spilled off his lips with an exhaled drag, hot and smoking and swept away by the wind.

“Pleasure to meet you, angel face,” he said cheekily. “You can call me Sirius.”

summary: by the will of mother nature, you meet your charming downstairs neighbor—who has been dying to meet you just as much.

word count: 3K

warnings: fem!r, sexually implicit comments, lots of mentions of underwear and lingerie

authors note: me 🤝🏼 making sirius act like my other favorite scorpio (ryan gosling)

1978. London, England.

+

More than anything in the world, you wished you had a tumble-dryer. The London winds turned brutal in autumn, and you’d lost nearly ten items of clothing before the season was done.

A pretty sundress, a flannel you’d nicked from your father’s dresser. A skimpy little black nighty, the top only lace and the bottom sheer satin.

That one had been the most recent, only the day before. You blamed yourself, really; You thought you’d be coy and hang it outside for the boy downstairs to see, and the wind tore it off the line and blew it to who knows where. Now some creep probably had it in his sock drawer.

Despite all of this, you still did not have a blessed tumble-dryer. Which meant even at present, in wind that might’ve blown your makeup off, you were outside clipping your soggy knickers to the line. Three clips each, thank you very much.

You can’t say it was all that embarrassing. London wasn’t particularly a town of modesty or shame, especially in more recent times. All the ladies along your alley hung their undies out, and no one seemed to mind. Maybe you just lived on an especially progressive block of the city. Whatever it was, you liked it.

You hummed a soft tune as you hung the last piece of clothing on the line, feeling chilly yet accomplished.

The wind had died down just slightly, leaving the clothes swinging on the line—suspended between your building and the one neighboring it. You peeked across to ensure that everything seemed secure, just in time to watch a pair of silky pink undies slip from their clips and fall a story down into the alley.

You clicked your tongue, promptly making your way down the fire escape to retrieve them.

As you rounded the landing to descend the second half of stairs, you were aghast to see the boy from downstairs—the one you so desperately wanted to see your cheeky nightgown—leant against your flat building. He was smoking a cigarette languidly and intently watching your sad knickers which landed before him.

You stammered at first, unsure what to say. The remaining shreds of daylight were reflecting quite stunningly off of his pitch black hair, in a way that was all too distracting. Eventually, you settled for something apologetic.

“God, I’m sorry.” You inched forward until you could bend down and rescue the pink knickers from the filthy ground. You frowned at the specks of dirt on them. You’d have to wash them all over again. Or maybe you should just toss them.

Or cast them into the sea. Perhaps donate them to a bluebird to use for nesting. God, you were embarrassed.

For a split second you became mortified with a scenario where you kept the dirty undies and this handsome-boy-downstairs wanted to shag you, only to find you’re wearing the disgusting alley knickers. Your cheeks grew hot.

You pushed the underwear behind your back then, hoping he didn’t see them in full. When you looked up, he blew a cloud of smoke from his nose and smiled devilishly.

“Not to worry, darling. I’m quite accustomed to women dropping their knickers in front of me.”

Your mouth popped open in shock. A boyish but refined laugh bubbled out of him as you failed to respond.

“D’you have a name, love?” He was spitting mischief into every word. “Or should I just call you angel face?”

By God, he was not pulling any punches. His voice being as silky as your knickers didn’t help, nor did his wicked teeth or his lithe hands. It was a feat of its own to close your mouth, and another altogether to speak.

Your name spilled off his lips with an exhaled drag, hot and smoking and swept away by the wind.

“Pleasure to meet you, angel face,” he said cheekily. “You can call me Sirius.”

“I can’t call you handsome?” You blurted, and Sirius’ smile got so much worse, which is to say humbler and far more genuine.

“If the shoe fits,” he mumbled.

A gust of wind blew and his hair billowed with it, just as he took a final drag of his cigarette. The embers lit his face warmly.

It fit. It definitely fit.

Sirius stomped his smoke out on the cobblestone and brushed his hands off on his slacks.

“I actually have something I want to give you.” Sirius inched toward his flat window, ignoring your pinched brows. “Wait right there.”

Contorting his long limbs, he slipped inside and disappeared.

Within seconds he returned, holding what you instantly recognized as your black nighty. He walked it to you, growing taller with every step.

“Think this belongs to you,” he prodded. You took the garment from him, smiling coyly.

“Do you happen to have any of the other clothes I’m missing?” You accused, and he ducked his head sheepishly.

“Just this one,” he promised, “it fell last Sunday, just here, like your knickers.”

You flushed. “Sorry.”

Sirius’ expression turned boyish. “You should be. I’d have preferred that you came with it.”

The wind picked up again and wafted his cologne with it, something citrusy and clean. A pit stirred in your stomach.

“Maybe next time,” you murmured, and slipped up the fire escape before he could respond.

+

You sincerely didn’t expect to see Sirius after that. Not because you didn’t want to, but because it felt too simple. Too convenient.

Stunning, charming boy downstairs, holding onto your nightclothes to give back to you…

He had to be a creep. There was no other explanation. Or worse—he was only trying to be nice to save you from embarrassment.

You kept running through your conversation with him, adding new motivations and hidden meanings. Each one was like a warning siren, and it kept you from seeking him out.

Sirius, however, was not dissuaded at all.

A week later and it was the turn of November. The winds were cruel and rain barely ever let up, and any sunny day became laundry day.

One fateful, blessed dry Friday, you popped out to hang your loathsome clothes. If being clean was this much trouble, you weren’t sure it was worth it anymore. You were halfway through the soggy hamper when someone downstairs began to whistle.

“Darling, do you do anything but laundry?” A familiar voice called, posh and smug and handsome.

You peeked over the railing, and Sirius was in the alley with an amused grin on his face.

“Do you do anything but watch me do laundry,” you shot back, which made him laugh.

Sirius was making a paper boy cap look very stylish, holding the lip of it to aid his theatrics. There was something quite old fashioned about him, even in his boyish demeanor.

“I like to hear you sing,” he defended. “You have a pretty voice.”

You weren’t sure how to respond to that. You didn’t entirely realize you sang at all. Sirius shoved his hands into his pockets and looked around.

“Does this seem a bit cliché?”

You looked around, too, at your balcony and the shaded alley; At Sirius, who was the shining image of a hopeless romantic, ready to profess his undying love.

“I suppose,” you agree. “Wherefore art thou? No—a minute is not enough.“

Sirius pushed his tongue into his cheek, grinning.

“I was imagining something else,” he said. “Let down your hair…Or—your clothesline?”

You snorted.

“Luckily, this damsel has stairs.”

Smile widening, Sirius raised his eyebrows, wondering if you’d meant to invite him up. You nodded, and he took the steps two at a time.

It was charming. While you were still reserved, you couldn’t help but admire his complexities. He’d seemed so subdued upon first meeting him, but now he was almost howling with excitement.

He was completely out of place on your terrace. A sharp and shining bachelor lording over your half-dead plants and damp t-shirts. He looked like he had a tumble dryer, and an iron, too. Or a maid. Definitely a maid. It was a mystery why someone so put together was living on the floor beneath you.

“What,” Sirius asked, looking dubious.

“What?” Your cheeks warmed. You’d been spacing out.

“You’re looking at me weird,” he accused, but he kept a lightness in his voice. “You don’t still think I stole all your clothes, do you?”

“No,” you denied. Then, feeling cheeky, you added, “just the nighty, right?”

He blinked, looking shy again. “Well. It—it fell.”

“Oh, right, my mistake. It fell,” you nodded, and watched his mouth open and close.

“Y’know, most neighbors bake something if they want to make friends,” you continued, enjoying his squirming, his brown pearly loafers scuffing on the grated platform.

You thought he was handsome when you met, with his cavalier confidence and dangerous smile, but seeing him so embarrassed was just as enthralling; His fair skin flushed pink, his broad shoulders hunched…his voice turned raspy and unsure.

“I was never good in the kitchen.” He said it like it was a fatal flaw, unfixable.

“No, of course not,” you said with unwavering mirth. “You’d hire someone to do that, wouldn’t you?”

Sirius’ head snapped up, shocked, confirming your suspicions.

“What are you robbing my clothesline for, rich boy,” you teased, wrinkling your nose at him.

Scratching his jaw, he blew out a bewildered laugh.

“What gave it away?”

You snickered, making a sweeping gesture over him. “What didn’t?”

Sirius looked down at his pressed white dress shirt and well-fitted vest. He then ripped his hat off, deflating.

“Thought I was doing a good job of fitting in,” he muttered.

“Sorry,” you cooed, though you weren’t sure why. It should’ve been insulting, that this upper-class idiot was so upset at seeming as well-off as he was, but he kept striking you with an odd sincerity. He didn’t seem ignorant, he just seemed lost, and you felt sorry for him.

“If it’s any consolation, you look quite handsome.”

Sirius looked up at you through his lashes and shyly smiled.

“Do I?” He needled. You hummed affirmatively.

“If a bit chilly. Who’s been making your cuppas?”

Grabbing your basket, you backed away towards your window and slipped inside. You waited for Sirius to follow, hoping your invitation wasn’t too indirect. Thankfully, he crawled in after you, loitering by the window awkwardly.

“Well, don’t let all the heat out,” you called over your shoulder, dropping the basket onto your couch and bee-lining for the kitchen. Sirius closed the window and meandered further into your space.

“You’re not going to poison me, are you,” he asked from your kitchen threshold, watching you put the kettle on.

“I’m not sure you should be as paranoid as me,” you said, leaning against the counter. “But I’m fresh out, so not this time.”

Sirius laughed. “Oh, good.”

“So,” you started, crossing your arms to mirror him, “who are these girls dropping their undies for you? I’m painfully curious.”

Sirius sucked his teeth, hiding a grin.

“I’m not sure you have enough tea,” he sighed solemnly. “We’d be here all night.”

Eyes tracing over the long hands splayed over his biceps, you bit your lip.

“I can imagine,” you humored. “A pretty boy like you…you never catch a break, do you?”

Sirius looked constantly unprepared for complements like this, and you couldn’t get enough. He was pink and silent and restless, faltering for something witty to reply with.

In the end, he just shook his head.

When the water was hot, you made up Sirius’ tea, and he thanked you shyly as his hand brushed yours. He put far too much sugar in it, and not a spot of milk, but you found that just as charming as the rest of him. You sat at your kitchen table, smiling over your cups.

“I haven’t had a good cuppa in months,” Sirius sighed, spinning his mug in absentminded circles.

“Thought you had a maid,” you prodded, and Sirius’ responding smile was bittersweet.

“Not anymore,” he said quietly, “not for a while.”

You took a slow sip of your tea, watching him carefully. As you set your cup down, you licked your lips, and Sirius instinctively copied you.

“So…no maid.” You leaned back, lifting a brow. “Who presses your clothes, then?”

Sirius frowned. “I do.”

“Oh.” You frowned, too. “But you can’t make a cuppa?”

“I—“ Sirius chuckled. “I can make a cuppa. It just tastes better when someone else makes it.”

“Ah.” Picking up your cup again, you smiled at him. “Well, I’m happy to help.”

Sirius pulled his lip between his teeth as you drank, rubbing his hands on his slacks.

“Well I—“ he cleared his throat, “—I should go.”

Confused, you watched him as he pushed his chair back and stood, ducking to you gratefully.

“So soon,” you complained. It was odd. You’d been avoiding him all week, but once he was around you didn’t want him to go.

“Yes, well. I wouldn’t want to intrude.” Sirius smiled kindly, if a little distant.

“Well, I invited you, handsome. That’s hardly intruding.” Your words were intentionally soft and sticky, cloying, to change his mind.

Sirius’s eyes swept over your face for a moment, his mouth chewing on words that never came out. Eventually, he left a thankful caress on your hand, where it laid dormant on the table.

“Thank you for the tea,” he expressed, and then he was gone.

You sat at the table long after he left, until your tea was cold and his empty cup was dry.

+

The whole week after that, you turned your conversation with Sirius over in your mind again and again, looking for what you’d done wrong.

He’d never seemed angry, even as he left. He was almost sullen.

In the days following, it was like he’d never existed. The alley had a Sirius-shaped hole in it every time you hung your clothes, and—as if it was missing him, too—the wind had stopped blowing.

Singing softly, you hung your final garments, enjoying the still evening while you could. When you sucked in a new breath, it was thick with the scent of burning tobacco. You looked down through the slats, and as you expected, Sirius was leaning where he was when you’d first met him.

Sucking your bottom lip, you looked at the cloth in your hands, and then back at Sirius. At the sudden absence of your voice, he’d looked up, and your gaze met his. He stilled, the ash growing perilous on his smoke, and watched as you held your dark nightgown over the railing. You let it go, and watched Sirius sigh, tracking its feathery fall to the ground.

When he looked back up, you were already halfway down the rickety stairs.

“Darling, don’t—“

“You know, it’s rotten manners to leave a girl wondering what she’s done wrong,” you scolded, plucking the gown off of the cobblestones. “Especially after being so charming all the time.”

Sirius winced. “I’m sorry.”

He looked frustratingly good, more casual than you’d ever seen him. His hair was messy and his collar unbuttoned, sleeves rolled to the elbow. It only made you bolder.

“Well,” you prodded, “won’t you at least tell me?”

He furrowed his brows, his cigarette long forgotten between his fingers.

“Tell you what?”

“What I did,” you huffed, exasperated.

His face crumpled.

“Darling,” Sirius stressed, “nothing. You’re the loveliest neighbor I’ve ever had.”

The compliment felt like an insult, calculatedly detached, and you wondered if you’d invented the whole thing in your head.

“Why’d you leave, then?”

Sirius shifted, his expensive shoes crunching on the ground.

“I didn’t want to impose.”

Unbelieving, you shook your head in disappointment. It must’ve been something awfully offensive if he still wouldn’t tell you.

“I can’t afford the expensive teas, so if it tasted odd—“

“—Love, it wasn’t the tea, it’s—“ Sirius licked his lips, hesitating. “I shouldn’t have taken it.”

Lost, the corners of your mouth pulled down. Sirius sighed.

“The gown, I—“ He gestured to the satin in your hands. “It was inappropriate. I’m sorry.”

Avoiding your eyes, he finally ashed his cigarette, but left it abandoned in his hand. Stepping closer, you batted your lashes at his shameful face.

“Sirius, if it worried me, I wouldn’t have invited you inside.”

“It should worry you!” His face contorted. “It was manipulative and debauched—“

“Debauched!” You grinned, eyes bright. “What exactly did you do to my nightgown, hm?”

Sirius’ mouth pursed disapprovingly. “Love, please.”

You stepped closer, pouting.

“You didn’t imagine me in it?” Sirius shook his head passionately, but his cheeks warmed. “Shame. I hung it for you, you know.”

Sucking in a breath, his cigarette met the ground as you waded closer. You reached out, tugging on the top button of his vest.

“Will it take a cyclone for you to ask me out?”

Sirius let out a heavy breath and shook his head. When he said no more, you tilted your head and pulled him into you.

“Well then?”

His eyes searched yours.

“Go on,” you said. “I’m not sure someone who likes his tea with seven sugars could be very scary.”

Brightening, Sirius took your hand where it fiddled with his vest. You watched with heat in your chest as he brought it to his face and pressed his mouth to it. He then turned it over and did the same to your open palm.

“Could I please take you out, angel face?” His breath was hot on the inside of your hand, sending chills up your neck. “To repay you for the stunning cuppa?”

Chuckling, you traced a feather-light finger over his jaw.

“Certainly.” You licked over your teeth. “I’ll wear my driest knickers.”

His smile slipped into wicked territory.

“Don’t sweat it, love.” A big hand smoothed over your shoulder, and you melted. “You’ll only be wasting your time.”

+

thank you for reading! 🦢

masterlist

#sirius black #marauders #sirius black imagine #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x female reader #marauders era #sirius black fic #sirius black fluff

[bradshawsbitch]

“Shut your mouth before I shut it for you.” With our boy Rooster!

oof, we love our boy Rooster! but we also know our boy can have a bit of a temper... thanks for requesting it!!

disclaimer: It's funny how I promised myself I'd never write this trope, but here we are lmao.

description: the squad is enjoying a night at the hard deck, and some fucker makes nasty lil dumbass comments that makes rooster pissed.

warnings: bar fight, misogyny, feminist king!Rooster, protective Rooster, mentions of blood

(y'all already knew i had to use this gif)

Bradley was, according to himself, usually a very level-headed man. Except for if you mentioned his father. Or his mother. Or Maverick. Or you, for that matter. But other than that he was cool as a cucumber. He never really figured himself to be a jealous type, either - he usually trusted people to do their thing and he did his.

Which is why, when looking back at the incident that had gotten him into his current predicament (you, holding an icepack to his split lip), he figured maybe he had been wrong.

It had all started off as any old night at the Hard Deck. Coyote and Hangman occupied the darts board, Phoenix and Bob were laughing at something that had happened during their flight earlier that day as they racked up a game of nine-ball, and you were dancing to the jaunty tune of Shania Twain's 'Man! I Feel Like a Woman' whilst Rooster sat by the bar, nursing a beer and a big grin watching his girlfriend dance and laugh with Halo. As Shania sang the line 'let our hair down', you looked at Rooster, flipping your hair and swaying your hips seductively with a little secret smile on your lips, enjoying your time letting loose after a week's hard work flying. He grinned back at you, sending you a quick wink and relishing in the giggle that slipped past your lips before you turned to Halo again.

"This is why I don't think women should be in the navy," a voice scoffed from beside Bradley, who turned to look at the man sat next to him for the first time since he'd sat down. Bradley had hardly noticed him at all until he spoke up. Seeing as Bradley considered himself a level-headed man, he gritted his teeth - surprised at how young the man beside him was.

"C'mon man, the first female aviator in the Navy was 1978. Don't you think it's time to let it go?" Bradley grumbled, having read through the female history of the Navy, just because he thought it was important to know. 1978 was a long time ago, sure - but he figured they'd let women do what they wanted before that. But apparently not. The man raised a brow, and Rooster just knew this was going to be a painful conversation to have. But he would have it, because if he didn't - who would?

"What are your reasons for thinking women shouldn't be able to enlist?" Rooster continued, glaring at the lieutenant sat next to him.

"Well, it's obvious isn't it? They're obviously weaker both physically and mentally. And then there's-- all of this," the man gestured to you and Halo having fun on the dance floor, now doing a silly move where you bumped hips before jumping the other way and bumping the other side. Rooster frowned, looking back at the young man.

"Because they can dance?" Rooster was bewildered, and he could feel his cheeks turning red with anger. That level-headedness of his was being tested thoroughly by this man.

"They're sluts, man! They're just looking to fuck anything that moves, okay? Fucking shaking their asses and hanging off any lieutenant that'll look their way. It distracts the whole team, honestly - it throws the whole order off," the man obviously couldn't think of a reason other than his own damn misogyny.

"Don't fucking talk about them like that. What gives you the right?" Bradley seethed, his fists clenched at his sides.

"Oh, I see - which of the whores are you fucking?" the man stood up, laughing condescendingly at Bradley. This made Bradley get out of his seat, standing at his full height, still keeping his distance before he growled out;

"Shut your mouth before I shut it for you, fucker" the man stepped closer to Bradley, and Rooster furrowed his brows as he pushed the man in the chest to make him back down. That was apparently the straw for the other man, who immediately swung at Bradley, his fist making contact with Roosters chin and lip. Bradley was too surprised to be able to brace himself for the impact, and his head snapped to the side at the impact, stumbling for a moment before his eyes grew black with rage. He was shouting now, telling the fucker to get the fuck out of the Hard Deck, easily putting his strong arm around the other mans neck in a headlock, dragging him to the door and giving him a hard shove in the back so that he landed on his back on the ground.

"Don't you fucking ever talk about our girls like that again!" Rooster shouted, pointing his finger at the man before spitting blood right at his face.

The bar had gone eerily quiet as he returned. He saw you making your way towards him, a concerned look etched on your face. He looked around a moment before he barked that everyone should mind their business. Everybody started before returning to hushed conversation.

"Rooster, what happened?" your eyes were filled with worry, your hands finding his face as they gingerly cradled him, and his large hands settled softly on your waist.

"Don't worry about it, darling.." he mumbled as you grabbed his hand and led him to a booth, where you scurried to ask Penny for ice and some medical equipment. You tended to him silently, brows furrowed.

"I was just helping Penny ring the bell," Rooster joked, smiling at your exasperated look. His anger had disappeared the moment you'd laid your hands on him, and now you stood in between his legs, your hands gingerly tending to his split lip. He was looking up at you with so much adoration that you started to feel your cheeks heat up.

"It was kind of hot," you admitted, the sight of Rooster's biceps flexing in his black t-shirt forever ingrained in your brain. Bradley smirked, his hands gliding down to rest at the swell of your ass, bringing you closer to his broad chest, your other hand resting on his shoulder as you looked down at his gorgeous form.

"Yeah?" Rooster smirked, wanting to kiss you senseless for admitting that to him.

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #thanks mak!! #300 celly

[thatscarletflycatcher]

The 1970s adaptations of LW are so funny, because 1970 is possibly the worst written and worst acted of them all, but has pretty much impeccable casting looks wise for the vast majority of the characters, whereas 1978 is arguably the best written of all LW adaptations, and generally surprisingly well acted for a 1970s TV production, but any physical resemblance between actor and character is mere coincidence most of the time.

#little women #little women 1970 #little women 1978

[littlewomenpodcast]

Little Women 1978 Series Analyzed (Little Women Podcast)

Hi Friends. In this episode Christina and I will be chatting about the Little Women adaptation from 1978. Starring Susan Dey as Jo, Greer Garson as Aunt March, Richard Gilliland as Laurie and William Shatner as Professor Bhaer.

It is sometimes obscure but I actually really like it.

#little women #little women 1978 #jo march #amy march #beth march #meg march #susan day #william shatner #richard gilliland #Youtube

[claudia1829things]

My Ranking of the “LITTLE WOMEN” Adaptations

Below is my ranking of the movie and television adaptations of “LITTLE WOMEN”, Louisa May Alcott’s 1868-69 novel:

MY RANKING OF THE “LITTLE WOMEN” ADAPTATIONS

1.  “Little Women” (BBC; 2017): adapted by Heidi Thomas and directed by Vanessa Caswill

2.  “Little Women” (1994):  directed by Gillian Armstrong and adapted by Robin Swicord

3.  “Little Women” (NBC; 1978):  directed by David Lowell Rich and adapted by Suzanne Clauser

4a.  “Little Women” (1933):  directed by George Cukor and adapted by Victor Heerman and Sarah Y. Mason [tie]

4b.  “Little Women” (1949):  directed by Mervyn LeRoy and adapted by Victor Heerman and Sarah Y. Mason [tie]

5.  “Little Women” (BBC: 1970):  directed by Paddy Russell and adapted by Denis Constanduros and Alistair Bell

6.  “Little Women” (2019):  adapted and directed by Greta Gerwig

#little women #louisa may alcott #little women 1933 #little women 1949 #little women 1970 #little women 1978 #little women 1994 #little women 2017 #little women 2019 #david lowell rich #suzanne clauser #dorothy maguire #susan dey #eve plumb #meredith baxter #ann dusenberry #greta gerwig #saoirse ronan #florence pugh #Emma Watson #eliza scalen #denis constandurous #alistair bell #jo rowbottom #janina faye #angela down #sarah craze #paddy russell #george cukor #victor heerman

[joandfriedrich]

This episode is all about Amy´s and Laurie´s romance in the book and in the adaptations, but also how filmmakers and scriptwriters between 1917 and 2019 are obsessed with Jo and Laurie and include scenes between them that do not happen in the novel and erase the character arcs.

#little women #little women 1978 #little women 1970 #little women 1994 #little women 2019 #jo march #laurie #amy march #friedrich bhaer #cinema #books #Youtube

[shitpostingperidot]

How old is Carol Danvers???

(Inspired by a post by @blindluck which was in turn inspired by a post by me and @marvelsassbutts )

So I just found out the official Captain Marvel wiki places Carol Danvers’s birth date in 1965. At first I thought “that’s ridiculous” for reasons that will become clear through this long ass post. But then I saw they cited drawings by the assistant art director on Captain Marvel, found on her portfolio! That’s pretty official!

Wait what’s that at the bottom…

1984???? For Carol’s USAFA basic training???? This is impossible, the movie is wrong, and here’s why.

(Excerpt from my future video essay incoming)

There are no dates in Higher, Further, Faster; the marketing text on Amazon, Liza Palmer’s website, etc just says “80s.” So, we need to do some detective work.

We know that the 2019 film Captain Marvel takes place in 1995. Since it takes place in Southern California and Louisiana, the warm weather doesn’t tell us much about the time of year. Personally, I believe it takes place on March 8, 1995, because that’s the exact day I was born, and my birthday is the day the movie was released on to coincide with International Women’s Day. Regardless, Monica Rambeau is eleven years old in the film, putting her birth in 1983 or 1984. So, Maria’s pregnancy must have begun in 1982 or 1983.

Here’s a “fun” fact about US military academies: until less than one year ago (summer 2023, a full three years after Captain Marvel came out), cadets at USAFA who became pregnant were required to either drop out, have an abortion, or relinquish their parental rights to their child.

Dropping out also means reimbursing the government for your tuition for all classes you’ve taken up to this point, and giving up your ability to be commissioned as a second lieutenant in the Air Force upon graduation. Definitely not an option someone as driven as Maria wants to consider. In fact, we know this isn’t what happened, because this news article Carol hung up in her spaceship in The Marvels says that Maria Rambeau is a USAFA graduate.

We also know that Maria didn’t have an abortion, because, well, Monica Rambeau herself is tangible evidence. Theoretically, it is possible for Maria to have given up parental rights and adopted back her own child after graduation. Before the policy change in 2023 that allowed cadets to be parents, many found this to be their best option (see the article I screenshotted above). However, this process is really expensive and takes a lot of work with a lawyer over a period of months or years. From the little we know of Carol and Maria’s life pre-crash, (it was busy, they lived in an expensive area, and Maria only had Carol for support), I think we can assume that it’s less likely that Maria was forced to adopt her own daughter than that Maria graduated USAFA before becoming pregnant in 1982 or 83.

That still doesn’t answer the question of when this book takes place, though. The exact year is important, as the military had some major differences under the Gerald Ford, Jimmy Carter, and Ronald Reagan administrations of the 70s and 80s, and one of the things I want to assess this book on is accuracy.

Oh wait, what’s that? Another discriminatory policy that helps us date this book? That’s right, USAFA didn’t enroll women as cadets until Public Law 94-106 went into effect in 1976.

What’s more, Carol and Maria cannot have been part of this first group of women cadets, because in the book, there is an upperclassman character who is a woman. Officer Cadet Chen is one of the leaders of Basic Training for Carol and Maria’s flight, a position cadets aren’t allowed to hold until their third or fourth year at the Academy.

So, Carol and Maria must enter USAFA no earlier than 1978 to be two or more years younger than Chen, and must graduate no later than 1983 for Monica to exist. To comply with the marketing blurb’s declaration that this book takes place “in the 80s”, let’s say that Carol and Maria’s first year is the 1979-1980 school year.

(End excerpt)

In conclusion, Maria and Carol were born in 1960 or 1961 (with pretty equal likelihood of which birthday makes them 18 at the start of the book, since USAFA basic happens the summer before the school year), not 1965. It would be impossible for them to have done basic training in 1984 as in the production drawing, because they would have to have already graduated and be well on their way to test pilot school which is a whole other policy can of worms before Monica’s birth in 1983 or 1984.

In conclusion conclusion, Carol is ~34 in Captain Marvel and ~64 in The Marvels, and the MCU should hire fans to fact check for them.

#thank u blindluck for bringing my attention to this wiki I had such a fun time on this rabbit hole #the marvels #captain marvel #carol danvers #maria rambeau #higher further faster book #carolmaria #danbeau #monica rambeau