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cas-kingdom · 1 year

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For drabble requests how about something for Greys Anatomy where while Derek is busy in surgery the reader comes in injured and Amelia is there to comfort her and make the medical decisions? It doesn’t have to be anything serious really, I’d just love some reader and Amelia bonding 🥰🥰🥰

The walk of shame along the corridors of Grey Sloan was not altogether unfamiliar to you. Many times had you trudged reluctantly along the polished floors of the surgical unit, clutching some injury or another, purposefully trying to avoid the eyes of anyone you knew--which, in such a unit, was pretty impossible.

Years ago, you would have been slightly less embarrassed. Kids always got into medical equipment, right? At least kids of surgeons who were constantly working. But now, it didn't seem quite right. You were a month away from Johns Hopkins, had aced all your exams and probably wouldn't have even needed the reference letters from half the surgical team, and here you were, head hung low in disgrace as you held your bleeding hand to your chest.

If it weren't for the fact you knew your dad would absolutely murder you if he found out you had hidden an injury from him again, you would have locked yourself away in a break room somewhere and attempted to patch yourself up best you could. Alas. Your father was Derek Shepherd. And after the broken nose you'd managed to keep from him for almost twenty-four hours a couple years ago, he'd all but held you hostage until you promised on his life you wouldn't do it again.

So, here you were. Reluctant as hell but somehow still not regretting the situation that had lead you to this moment.

"Hi, have you seen Dr. Shepherd around?" you asked a passing intern. When he made to walk over to the surgery board, finger already pointing at one row in particular, you visibly grimaced.

"Uh, no, the other one. Amelia Shepherd?" You had no intention of crying to your dad today. Your pride had been smashed to pieces enough.

The intern pointed down the hallway and you saw your aunt walking around a corner with another nurse. Pressing your lips in a thin line, you thanked the intern and followed after her. Your pace was fast enough not to lose her but slow enough that you had time to rehearse your lines before you were bombarded with judgment.

Amelia ducked into a radiology room and you steeled yourself before pushing the door open. "Amelia?"

"Y/N. Why are you holding your hand like that?"

You wouldn't have been surprised at the question, in fact you had fully expected it, if Amelia had turned around to actually see who had walked through the door. Your aunt could do powerful stuff, but mindreading was not on that list.

"I saw you earlier." Amelia turned, arms crossed, brows raised. "Well done, by the way. Meredith thought it would take you longer to find someone. I said it would take..." She glanced at her watch and shrugged. "Twenty minutes. Not bad."

Her supposed victory was short-lived when she looked up. Her eyes fell on your hand and her face dropped as she walked quickly over to you. "I'd rather you not drip blood on the floor," she said, an obvious tease behind her words, as she gently pulled you over to sit down.

You made a face, not having realised. "Oops."

"Oops is right, kiddo." Amelia knelt in front of the swivel chair and let you uncover your hand, humming under her breath when she noted the long, jagged line running down the side of your hand from the base of your wrist to the middle of your pinky finger. "How'd you manage this, huh? Don't tell me you found the electrical saw again."

You rolled your eyes. "I stabbed myself, actually," you said matter-of-factly.

"Ooh, that's a new one. With what?" When your reluctance finally kicked in, Amelia looked up. "With what, Y/N?"

Your hand began to throb and only then did you decide that answering your aunt's questions was probably the easiest way to getting relief. "A needle," you said. "I found a suture practice kit and, oh my God, Amelia, you know that's like giving me candy. I couldn't just leave it alone."

Amelia nodded along, gently probing at the red skin around your wound. "So you practiced sutures on fake skin and, what? Sewed yourself?"

"There was a noise outside and I jerked my hand," you deadpanned. Amelia glanced up, on the verge of laughter, and you looked away stiffly. "It hurts."

"Well, lesson learnt. For now," she added after as a second thought. There was a short silence after that was broken only by your hiss of pain when Amelia touched an exceptionally sensitive spot. Sucking a breath through her teeth, the surgeon sat back on her heels and looked up at you. "How were your sutures?" she asked. "Straight? Neat?"

You lit up, Derek's smug smile curving your lips not a second later. "Straightest and neatest you'll ever see."

"That's my girl." Amelia squeezed your knee before standing to her feet and taking out her phone. "Now, what do we tell your dad when he sees you later with stitches in your hand?"

You couldn't have groaned louder. If the chair didn't have a straight back, you would have fallen backwards with the force of it. When you righted yourself, a fierce look of indignation on your face, Amelia wasn't even attempting to hide her amusement.

"I need stitches?"

"Yup. Aaand, lucky for you, I think Derek should be out of surgery by now." Chipper as ever in the face of her niece's almost tangible disgust, she held open the door and nodded in its direction. "Come on, kiddo. He'll be glad to do a little needlework. Bring him back to basics."

You rolled your eyes once more as you got up, cradling your hand to your chest. "Like brother, like sister," you grumbled as you passed your aunt.

"What was that?"

"I said: like brother, like sister, you sadist."

Amelia snorted.

Grey's Masterpost

#grey's anatomy #amelia shepherd #derek shepherd #amelia x reader #amelia shepherd x reader #derek x reader #derek shepherd x reader #amelia x derek #derek x amelia #reader #reader fic #daughter reader #daughter!reader #mine

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raina-at · 19 days

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Experiments in Compatibility II

This is a sequel to this ficlet from last year, for the prompts Experiment and Chaos.

I'm putting this under a cut because it's a bit NSFW.

This is nice," John mutters as he traces the shell of Sherlock's ear with his lips. "Isn't it?"

Sherlock shudders and nods into the pillow. They're both naked, and John is plastered to his back. He can feel every inch of John's body in contact with his skin, can feel the enticing curve of John's erection pressing against his lower back.

They're taking it slow, and Sherlock is grateful, so grateful. He's also painfully aroused and his entire body feels like a plucked violin string, vibrating with sensation. He wants John to touch him everywhere at once, and they're awfully close to achieving that goal, pressed together front to back as they are, nearly head to toe.

Ears, Sherlock thinks. He never thought ears would be so erotic. But John's lips against the delicate shell, his breath, his voice... it's thrilling.

"I wonder what it would take for you to let go completely," John whispers, nosing along Sherlock's neck. "I bet you're incredibly hot when you lose control."

Sherlock freezes, feeling icy tendrils of doubt and worry snake along his limbs, chasing away the aching arousal with dread.

"What?" John asks, moving away from Sherlock's neck, craning his head around so he can look at Sherlock's face. "What is it?"

This is why this wasn't a good idea, Sherlock thinks. "Nothing," he says. "Continue, please."

John takes a deep breath, then gently turns Sherlock to his back, so Sherlock can't avoid looking at him. "What is it? Please tell me. What did I do that you didn't like? Remember, you promised to tell me. You don't like it, it's off the list for good. That was the deal."

"It's nothing. It's fine."

John just looks at him, and Sherlock knows that John doesn't believe him, and he realises, in a sudden moment of insight his brain occasionally gifts him with, that they're at a crossroads, and he has to decide now. In, or out. John isn't a mindreader. If Sherlock isn't capable of voicing what he wants and doesn't want, this entire experiment is doomed to fail from the start. So either he starts talking, or he ends this now, before either of them gets badly hurt.

"It's..." he takes a deep breath, then decides he can't do this while looking at John. So he pulls John's arm back around himself and rolls to his side away from John, returning them to their previous position. He takes a hold of John's hand and pulls John tightly against his back. "It's nothing you did."

"Then what.... wait. Something I said?"

Sherlock nods.

He can tell the exact moment John gets it from the small huff of breath he exhales against the back of Sherlock's neck. "You don't want to lose control."

Sherlock shudders at the very thought of how much giving up his hard-won control over his life, his body and his mind scares him. "I- bad things happen. When I lose control."

John says nothing for a moment, pressing gentle lips against Sherlock's shoulder. "When I met you, I thought you were chaos impersonated. Hurricane Sherlock, dragging me along in your wake. But that's not true at all, is it?"

"It is, and it isn't. It's controlled chaos. Chaos I control, at least."

"And you're afraid of losing that control again," John finishes the thought. Sherlock thinks for a moment that John is going to ask the next logical question.

Is this about the drugs? Is this because deep down, you're still a pathetic little junkie in an expensive suit, hanging on to sobriety by the skin of your teeth?

But John, thankfully, says nothing, just presses a gentle kiss into Sherlock's hair, and waits.

Sherlock brings John's hand to his lips and kisses his knuckles in silent gratitude.

"It's not—It's not because I don't trust you," Sherlock finally says, his voice muffled a bit against the back of John's hand.

"I know," John says, squeezing Sherlock's fingers with the hand Sherlock has trapped between his. "I don't think we would be here right now if you didn't. But it's early days yet, and I need to earn your trust in here," John gestures at the bed with his free hand, "as well as out there. And that's fine."

"But you want—"

"I want what you want to give me, freely and enthusiastically. Nothing more, nothing less."

"But—"

"No. Listen." John traces the shell of Sherlock's ear with his nose and says, quietly, gently, "I get it. You want to give me what I want, and I want to give you what you want. But sex isn't like trading apples for oranges during lunch break in primary school. There's no itemised list to check off, no clear path to follow. That's what makes it complicated, and that's what makes it great. Good sex is about more than body parts, and so much more than just getting off. It's about trust and communication and closeness and intimacy, about respect and acceptance. And you can't even imagine how much more valuable your trust and comfort are to me than any one physical thing I might have thought about happening in this bed between us. So if you say stop, we stop. Period."

Sherlock huffs out a frustrated breath against John's hand. He hates that John's right. There's nothing easy about sex. There's no manual, no standardised steps to follow, no predictable response. No rules. There's just trial, and error.

But as John traces soft lips along Sherlock's throat and hums quietly against his skin, undemanding but showing Sherlock in no uncertain terms that John is here because he wants this, Sherlock is reminded forcefully by the shiver of pleasure down his spine that there's also trust, and lust, and love, and that there's plenty of all three between them. And he reminds himself that he started this in the first place because sometimes, the reward is definitely worth the risk.

John Watson, he thinks as he pulls John closer again, is worth every risk.

John gently rakes his teeth along Sherlock's neck, and Sherlock feels arousal spark all over his body. "Do that again," he breathes.

He feels John's smile against his skin as John answers, "With pleasure," and does as Sherlock asks.

-----

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @jrow @meetinginsamarra @jolieblack @lisbeth-kk @helloliriels @salmonsown @weeesi @thalialunacy @thegildedbee

#johnlock #bbc sherlock #may prompts 2024 #ficlet #experiment #chaos

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variousqueerthings · 2 years

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i was meeting a friend of mine the other day and I'd basically screamed about cobra kai at him and turns out he binged the whole thing between our meetings and basically summaries of our talk were:

1. daniel is transmasc

2. johnny is gay and repressed

3. terry silver is a trans egg, who'll probably never really realise

4. kreese is gay, but like... deeeeeply repressed (moreso than johnny even)

very satisfying when people come to their own conclusions and they align practically exactly with yours 😂

#it's the transmasc to transmasc mindreading #cobra kai #ck #daniel larusso #johnny lawrence #terry silver #john kreese

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mxpseudonym · 2 years

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Mx's Tommy Shelby x Reader Masterlist

** NSFW

(Q) Queer Pairing

(GN) Gender Neutral Reader

Snacks (0-500 words)

> Bad Habits; or, To all the bad habits you pray you’ll never break (GN) You and Tommy both have bad habits, including each other. > Happy Birthday… Eventually (GN) To your dismay, Tommy is both private and stubborn > Magic Trick (GN) You’re quite perceptive when it comes to Tommy's fixation with Grace. > 10 Quid It's Alfie's Fault (GN)- Tommy's mad, and you and John try to guess why.

Shorties (500-1k words)

> Socks and Scarves and Jumpers, oh my! (GN, Q) Despite it being Spring, Tommy’s winter socks have still fallen victim to your quest for warmth. > You’re not a mindreader…right? (GN) Can you or can you not read Tommy’s mind, that is the question. > Tea for Two (she/her pronouns) You can tell a man loves you by how he’s willing to take his tea. > It’s a “No” for Dinner (Black!Reader) Tommy Shelby is trouble, but can he charm you into a date? > Worth The Fall (GN) Tommy tries to charm the one person who seems the least interested. > Like a Pocket Watch (she/her pronouns) “What will you do when you learn everything about me?” > Catching On (GN) Tommy… he’s tryin’ y’all, but you're aloof as fuck.

One Shots (1k-3k words)

> A Phobia of Being on Time (she/her pronouns) Reader’s disregard for schedules drives Tommy bananas. > Proof You Have A Soul (she/her pronouns) Tommy asks you to look into his eyes and tell him what you see. You were, maybe, a little too honest. > Your Last Good Pair (she/her pronouns) Tommy wants to make sure his replacement gift fits > Falling in Love Isn’t Fair (GN) You're in love with Tommy Shelby. You're also married to someone else. Tommy can fix that, easy. > Punishment** (she/her pronouns) Tommy’s wicked games leave you breaking the rules, but punishment for you means punishment for him too. Who can hold out the longest? > Just the Guy From The Club (Modern AU) (she/her pronouns) - Tommy’s supposed to be a posh, untouchable GQ cover man, and yet he’s exhibiting real slut (affectionate) behavior in the bathroom of a club with a stranger

Full Fics (3k words)

> Permission** (she/her pronouns) Tommy helps you with your nerves about attending the family meeting by building up your… stamina? The logic is sound

Series (Tommy x Reader)

>> Just Good Business (she/her pronouns throughout)

>> As You Please (BDSM Series)** (she/her pronouns reader)

>> The Madam Universe (she/her pronouns)

>> Mx's Main Masterlist <<

>> Mx's Tommy x OC Masterlist <<

>> Mx's Peaky Blinders Masterlist <;<

#Peaky Blinders #Tommy Shelby #Tommy Shelby Fanfic #Tommy Shelby x Reader #Tommy Shelby x OC #Tommy Shelby Smut

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taiey · 3 years

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Melanie has this self-image that she's—not just angry but dangerous, a hairsbreadth from violence. We hear it in 131 when she talks about her past:

Anger is… Anger’s been all I’ve had for a very long time. Years. Maybe since… oh, I, I don’t know. ... Angry at being passed over, being disrespected, ignored. That sort of anger, it – it powers you. Right up until it slips out and hurts someone.

and in 190 when she talks about how she feels about the cult:

If I didn’t have Georgie, I think I might just snap and beat them all to death. ... I swear, if it’s another hymn I am going to break something!

But look at how she actually reacts to Arun:

MELANIE: [Awkward] Oh, okay, um… Right, so… Arun, I just think that the… GEORGIE: I don’t think either of us is particularly comfortable with your use of the word “redeemers”. MELANIE: That’s… that’s not how it works. Is it? John? ARCHIVIST: Oh? No. That’s not how it works.

John and Georgie are included to demonstrate what "person being distinctly less gentle with Arun than Melanie is" looks like. Actually, ‘gentle’ is a bit of an understatement—I might be better to say ‘timid’.

And it’s not like this is the product of the therapy or, idk, Georgie. This entire post is inspired by pronouncingitwang’s post pointing this out—rewind to her first appearance:

I waited for another five minutes, but when Sarah still hadn’t returned I started to get a bit worried. I should have woken the others, but if it turned out she’d just gone to the bathroom, I didn’t want to embarrass her in front of everyone. In that case she should have got one of us up to take over watching, anyway, but she’d hardly been the most professional while she was working with us, so it wouldn’t have surprised me if she hadn’t. After another five minutes, I decided to go look for her.

Like, Sarah is not fulfilling her responsibilities that she agreed to carry out. (and in a kinda dangerous way) But Melanie’s worried about embarrassing her.

In the end it was actually Toni that asked we not work with Sarah Baldwin again. Apparently she’d gotten “weird vibes” and didn’t feel comfortable around her. I agreed, though I didn’t share my reasons.

She doesn’t even speak up first to say “let’s not work with her again”—again, this is kinda crossing the line from 'gentle' to 'timid'. Like, you can react to things that negatively affect you without over-reacting? (This is something she works on in therapy! Speaking up that she doesn't like 'Mel'; work-stoppage at her evil work: constructive responses.) (the apocalypse, uh, derails this a tad. :| )

What effect does the Slaughter have on this? Well, the next example is while she's got the bullet in her.

In episode 100, she's already tired and frustrated when Brian comes in. (let’s get this over with. I just don’t hold out a lot of hope for… coherence.) She does not get coherence. Instead she gets a panic attack. (Admittedly kinda her fault, because she said that the archives couldn't help with his spider problem. But like, that's more about the circumstances being objectively panic-inducing, she wasn’t being Mean or anything.) And... she's gentle.

I… Please, just… There’s, there’s tea there. Okay. Right. Yes. Okay, breathe. Yeah… well… Drink, drink the tea.

I’ll, I’ll get you some biscuits. I’ll get you, I’ll get you, I’ll get you… something… Just breathe! Breathe for me… [BRIAN TAKES SOME CALMING DEEP BREATHS] Okay, yes. Good. Good.

She's not confident or practiced or comfortable at it. She's out of her depth and kinda at the end of her rope and... gentle. Trying.

I think the through-thread is—people she has power over. She feels that anger and chokes it down because she could hurt them.

It’s difficult to strike the right balance, when you’re doing that.

(There’s another bucket of just—equals. Basira’s always there; John is for the rest of season 4 after 125; Helen :| ; Martin at least in season 5; etc. She has casual, unguarded conversations, too; and ones that are mostly focused on some goal, and ones where she’s getting what she wants, and all sorts of things.)

Towards people with power over her (the guy with the steady office job and authority over whether her experience counts as genuine; apparent boys’ club; evil mindreading murder boss; etc) she bites back. The difference is it's safe to do that because—one part she can't hurt them, and one part it'd be deserved. (Melanie as a comedian who always punches up.)

Except, you know... there's this bit in where 106 Basira and Melanie discuss how she 'literally' made Tim and Martin cry, and... while you can construct reasons they could 'have power over her'—seniority, gender—Basira's only been around since 092. Since that point, it's obvious that those aren't real power here. That's what the Slaughter is doing to her with her; validating seeing the world as more and more against her, handing her power and encouraging her to see herself as a put-upon victim, free to fight back guiltlessly.

And then she wakes up to a numb, wounded leg and stabs John. I wonder—what if "Right up until it slips out and hurts someone. I hurt someone." & "It didn’t stay in my leg because of some ghostly master plan. It stayed because I wanted it." in 131 are saying that - like - it wasn't taking out the bullet that de-Slaughtered her? That it was the wake-up call that she hurt John, someone who was trying to help her, and she didn't want to do that.

Didn’t want to be that.

@melaniemonth I don’t know if this is Platonic, or Health: therapy&recovery, or simply Self, but it is very, very Melanie.

#Melanie King #the magnus archives #melamonth2021 #tma #tma meta #meta #mine #characterisation

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dyns33 · 3 years

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Ashley : "So... We don't know yet how to help Homelander, but ! I found a way to communicate with him, without him having to write on the walls with his laser, destroying everything. It was a bad idea."

A-train : "It was his idea."

Ashley : "It was a great idea ! But too dangerous. So, here's someone who can read minds !"

Mindreader, visibly already scared : "Of course Homelander. I won't. yeah."

Y/N : "John, don't threaten the poor man."

Cat Homelander : "Meow !"

Mindreader : "He said he won't, he's sorry. He just doesn't like my smell. Almost everyone smell bad, it's awful. Except you Miss. And Noir, but he doesn't have any scent and it's a bit weird."

Deep : "Does he know who did that to him ?"

Mindreader : "... I... He won't..."

Y/N : "Does he know who did that to him ?"

Mindreader : "No. But he'll... No, I can say that. I can't say that either... Please Homelander."

Starlight : "What's happening ?"

Y/N : "I'm guessing he's talking about everything he'll do to the people who turned him into a cat."

Mindreader : "... Yeah."

Y/N : "And I'm sure he added some crude things about what he'll do to me when he's finaly back to normal."

Cat Homelander : *purrs and goes on her laps*

Mindreader : "... What did you call me if she can read him so well ?"

#homelander #homelander x reader #homelander imagine #catlander

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barry-j-blupjeans · 2 years

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“Well maybe I like having you alive, ever thought about that?” and Magnus and/or Merle?

11. “Well maybe I like having you alive, ever thought about that?”

Magnus, being the big stupid oaf he was, had gotten himself injured in the five minutes they had been in this new cycle. Merle didn't even know how Magnus had managed that and he was a little on the fence about asking. Either way, there were other pressing things on his mind. For example, how Magnus had gone immediately to Merle upon getting injured. Merle knew he had been... absent for a few straight cycles now, but the way Magnus went right away to get help instead of stalling made him think something was suspicious about all this.

Magnus was tugging his shirt off so Merle could look at the injuries when he spoke. He had somehow gotten three dark bruises in the middle of his stomach already.

"So, uh," Magnus said, setting his shirt aside. Merle found his step stool and climbed up it, pushing Magnus to lay down on the bed. "How're the meetings with like, the entirety of the Hunger going?"

"Well first off," Merle said. "How in the hell did this happen?"

"You tell me about your thing first," Magnus argued, though he winced when Merle poked around the edge of one of the bruises.

"Well, I'm not really speaking to the entire Hunger, Mags, I'm just speaking to John."

Magnus rolled his eyes. Merle purposefully pressed down on one of the bruises a little harder and Magnus yelped.

"Alright! Alright, how's your meeting with John then."

"Eh," Merle said. "He's just kinda lonely, I think. We mostly talk about stuff like, uh, well him, I guess. And us. Stay there, I gotta get my bruise balm."

"And the meetings aren't very long, right?" Magnus asked, turning on his side to watch Merle dig through his drawers. Merle could not remember where he put his bruise balm for the life of him.

"They're gettin' longer!" Merle said, fishing out a stack of bandages from one drawer. "I think I'm growing on him. And y'know, he's obviously wanting to jump at any chance he gets to talk to someone. Like I said, it's real lonely in the- the wherever he is when we're not talking. Not like the Hunger has a mouth to communicate, right? It's all eyes, Magnus, just a buncha creepy eyes." Merle flicked out his fingers, trying to mimic blinking. Magnus sighed.

"So you're not actually getting anything from him, then?" he asked.

"No, I'm gettin' something!" Merle said. The bruise balm was definitely not in this drawer. He moved on to the next one. "But it's like- personal stuff. He's not the whole Hunger, he's just kinda some guy in charge of it all. An asshole, sometimes, but not the worst he could be, all things considerin'."

"Yeah, but, Merle-" Magnus groaned. When Merle glanced back at him, he was pulling at his hair in frustration. "Why, though? Like, you go in for ten minutes, you die, and then you repeat? Where does that leave you? And the rest of the crew? Barry and Lucretia have taken up healing but they're both shit at it."

"Are you sayin' my healings good now?" Merle snorted. "I really think I'm getting somewhere, Mags, you just gotta believe-"

"Well, maybe I like having you alive!" Magnus interrupted, voice tight. "Ever thought about that, Merle? Maybe we can all learn to heal a bit but I don't miss your shitty spells, I miss you. And you keep dying! Every year, it's like 'oh hey, Merle's back- no he's not, he's already dead again and we haven't even touched down!'"

Merle paused, turning back to give Magnus his full attention. Magnus curled in on himself slightly, but his jaw was set and his eyes were firey. Merle closed the drawer he was looking through.

"Magnus," Merle sighed, suddenly very much feeling his age. His actual age, cycles included. "Where'd you get those bruises from?"

Magnus hid his face in his arm and mumbled something.

"Speak up, man," Merle said, climbing up the step stool to sit on the cot with him. "I'm not a mindreader. Yet."

"Had Taako magic missile me," he muttered. "But it's a level one slot and he wasn't even looking to hurt me!"

"Mags," Merle said, rubbing his face with the palms of his hands. "You're real stupid sometimes, kid."

"Yeah, well, pot meet kettle," Magnus said.

"Yeah, that's fair," Merle allowed. "Listen, I'm not- It's not like I wanna be dying all the time! 'Cus it hurts! A lot! But I just- I feel like I'm getting somewhere with him and if it can stop the Hunger? Or at least like, make it less... angry? I feel like that's kinda worth it."

"Just take a year," Magnus pleaded, sitting up. He turned to Merle, placing two big hands on his shoulders. Merle kinda felt like he should have his shirt off, too. "We can deal with an angry Hunger every once in a while but we miss you, Merle. It's not the same without you."

Merle took a deep breath and patted Magnus's arm.

"Yeah, alright," he said, shrugging. "What John don't know can't hurt him, right?"

"Yes!" Magnus said, pumping his fists into the air. "Hell yes!" He swept Merle into a big hug. Merle choked a bit, not even trying to hug back. He tapped at Magnus's arm repeatedly until he was let go.

"Don't- don't mention it," Merle said, out of breath. "Seriously, don't, everyone's gonna think I've gone soft or somethin'. And I'm not healin' those bruises! You did that to yourself, you live with it, man."

"That's- that's fine!" Magnus said, practically vibrating with excitement. "I'm gonna go tell Dav!"

He was gone before Merle could get another word out and he left his shirt on the cot. Merle rolled his shoulders, trying to get his breath back completely, and went back down the step stool. He really needed to find his bruise balm before they needed it for real.

#merle highchurch #magnus burnsides #taz #taz balance #taz stolen century #mine #ise cube writing #asks #tentatively positive 3

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zmediaoutlet · 3 years

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loving these fic thoughts! for the ivory of tooth and eye, #6 How did you decide on the main pairing? har har har. no, #6. How do you balance thought and action? #7. Talk to me about the relationship between trope and canon here or how you feel about them. #25. Favourite thing, brag away!

har har nige leave it to you to do naughty questions!!! but okay your wish, etc, you know the drill

the ivory of tooth and eye

fake 6. How do you balance thought and action?

hmmm I guess in the same way that I balance scene and summary, to wit: by instinct? There's a weighting that each story needs that changes depending on length/genre/style/topic, but you need to hit it right to make the story feel how you want it to. This story feels basically how I wanted it to, so I guess the balance was okay (because if it were rebalanced it would be a different story). Here so much of the story is inside Sam's head (and Dean's), and so there's a lot more that just -- exists on that level. Thought inside the dream, thought as Sam moves through the dazed newly multipart world, thought as Sam sits nervous across from Dean at tables and knows too much. Another, longer version of this story would've included a hunt (which I guess means it would need to move to another spot in canon) and there would've been a lot more action to provide breathing room from the intro(outro)spection, but correspondingly there would need to be more of everything -- more decision-making from Sam, more destabilizing moments from Dean. That makes it a different story, though, that doesn't focus on this one thing -- this scenario, ha -- and would make it more about say incest panic, or more about John, or bringing in more of the fear of freak, etc -- and so I kept it pulled back more into thought, to keep it tight, and here, in the motel room and in Dean's head. But it's interesting to see where thoughts jolt back into real-world movement -- Dean interrupting a summarized tide with cheesesteaks -- because if you stay too curled into those navelgaze moments the story has no vibe at all.

fake 7. Talk to me about the relationship between trope and canon here, or how you feel about them.

Mindreading is really not my thing. It used to be, more -- oh, easy answers! love discoveries! -- but increasingly it seems like a shortcut. But what's s2 of spn without tangled up miseries and no shortcuts at all? Of course Sam's powers are a fecund exploration space, but the tropes of the Psychic Protagonist actually fit against him a little uncomfortably, don't you think? I don't want magic jedi witch Sam, because it's important that he's bodied and meaty and holding a gun and punching someone in the face. A matched model to Dean, which is of course the point. I find it interesting that in Krip's original Luke/Han model he did creep toward that but he kept pulling back, which shows good instincts (or at least good decisions brought on by a tiny budget, which I'll count as the same thing). So, Sam has visions; he's not Matilda. For the best! But -- of course, the job here was to make him more magic, and I'm obedient, so he's more magic -- but it's sure tf not easy because canon isn't easy and it doesn't, in fact, help at all. Makes it worse. Dean's going to get something he thinks he wants but when he realizes that Sam's doing it for the reasons he's doing it that will cause... so much damage, lol. Like so much damage. (There's an echo-story there that I won't write but is horribly wonderful, I'm realizing: not, for once, Dean letting someone have what they want because it's an easy way to manage expectations and move us all along -- but instead someone doing it to him, and how much intensely more that would hurt him. Proof again of not being wanted but of being a problem to solve. Oh No!)

real 25. Favorite thing about the fic - this is your permission to brag!

Good opportunity to look the thing over, since I hadn't gone back to it in a long while. Maybe this:

He spends the day casing details of Ava's life, job and fiancé and family history and any single second where her life might have brushed against the dark, and at night his dreams are a flood. Black water, rising. Dean, terrified, and his skin that kind of white that comes from a flare of too much exposure, and his eyes dark hollows, and the bones standing out in his hands, clutching at his head. On the fourth night of everything the same choking claustrophobia Dean turns his face and Sam sees that he's bleeding, from the ears and from the corner of his mouth, and the blood is so dark it looks black, too, and Dean covers his mouth with one hand and then though the surrounding water is the same endless expanse the boat becomes that cabin where Azazel rode their dad's body, the shift seamless and unexplained in the way of dreams, and Dean's got a hole in his stomach, the blood flooding out onto the dry wood of the boat/cabin floor, and he puts lax fingers against it that don't stop the bleeding at all, and Sam wakes up that time and has to scramble for the bathroom, retching, although when he clutches the sides of the sink nothing comes up and his mouth just tastes like—saltwater.

and just how the dream courses through the whole thing, brackish and worrying and symbolic-but-still-dreamlike. The ending is maybe a little Written and obvious but it works (I think) for how the whole story is a step removed, dreamy, uncertainties in it. This thing that Dean wants is not a good idea but it's what they've got. Nightmares rising but not yet taking over. (That'll come at the end of this year.)

#idk if that answer for fake-six was good at all #a lot of those kinds of process questions miss me because like #it just... happens. idk.#i had a lot more scene-summary troubles when starting out #as of course we all do #but now it just seems obvious when to thought and when to action #i guess if i ever submitted to doing a real draft #and sending it away for a real edit #i'd probably get some correctives #but i like how it works out most of the time. so [shrug emoji]#writing meme #answers #(also thx bud smoochies to oz for u)

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autisticandroids · 3 years

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All these posts like “Dean even slightly hints he likes boys in front of John/attempts to come out to him then gets punished by the gay nun case.” No!!!! Dean represses that shit down so deep even he doesn’t know he likes me at age 17. And if he knows it, he knows better than to let his alcoholic abusive father find out in any way shape or form. If John knows, it’s because of Homophobic Parent Mindreading and not cause Dean did anything in his hearing or sight to deliberately inform him

yeah dean does NOT figure out that he likes men until purgatory and then he like. spends eight years having a crisis about it. and he would never have let john know.

i also don’t think john would practice homophobic parent mindreading, i don’t think john was obsessively homophobic. he wouldn’t have wanted either of his kids to be gay but he wasn’t so scared of them possibly being gay that he obsessed over it or looked for it, y’know? like if anything i think he would have been willfully ignorant of any slight homosexual tendencies. like he would not have wanted to believe that HIS son could be QUEER.

#spn #asks #Anonymous

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simplyclockwork · 4 years

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Hi! I love, love, love your stories! They're really helping me through some hard times. I wonder if you could write a fic where it's near the beginning of the series, and Sherlock is being very sad and distant from John because he hates that John is always dating these women because he loves him. And maybe John confronts him and it all comes out (no pun intended) and it's sweet and happy johnlock after angst. I'm over 18 so smut is fine (as long as it's bottom Sherlock which I prefer). Thanks!

----

Hi, Anon! Thanks for your patience on this fill - I was busy all last month with National Novel Writing Month, and am slowly getting back into prompt fills. I hope you’re well, and that the fill is what you hoped for!

You can read the fill below the line break, or on Ao3 here.

Please feel free to send me prompts again in the future 🥰

----

The atmosphere in the lab was thick enough to cut with a bread knife and growing thicker with every silent minute that passed. Sherlock sat scowling down at his notes, stubbornly ignoring John’s fretful pacing.

It was a little over a month since they’d become flatmates, and things were not working out the way Sherlock hoped. When they’d met, he’d taken to John at once. But he’d resolved to keep his distance, and when John made a pass at him, Sherlock had been far too out of touch with the dating game to catch on until after he’d brushed aside any chance at pursuing a relationship.

At the time, he’d been too embarrassed to take back his statements. After the case, he’d thought. He would address the miscommunication once things settled down.

But then there was another case, and then another, and then it was too late because John was dating. Not only was he dating, but he brought his dates home. Paraded them past Sherlock in what he imagined wasn’t possibly meant to be retribution for Sherlock’s rejection, but which certainly felt like it.

Penance. It felt like penance.

Halfway to Bart’s, the frustration and burrowing sadness had poured out of Sherlock like water from a burst dam, and he’d spewed a flood of venom like nothing John ever saw from him before.

It left both of them smouldering like smoking craters, with John stunned and confused, and Sherlock horrified by how he’d deduced John within an inch of his life. How he’d shouted at John in the back of a cab about the disappointing sex John seemed to be having, how he’d gained a quarter-stone — which he desperately needed after losing weight following his injury — and how he would never amount to anything greater than a part-time locum doctor.

It was cruel, he’d been cruel, and Sherlock knew it.

But, staring at the notes and figures in front of him, he couldn’t find the words to take it all back. So he feigned distraction in the form of research and let John stomp and pace and mutter under his breath until Molly appeared and kicked them both out so a group of students could use the lab.

“I don’t know what your problem is,” John began the second they were alone in the hallway outside the lab, “but you’re a right bastard today.”

Instead of responding, Sherlock quickened his pace. His legs were longer than John’s, and he was a master at escape, and he did his best to leave behind the angry storm cloud that had replaced his flatmate.

He severely underestimated John’s tenacity.

With a sound not unlike an approaching thunderstorm, John stomped after him. “Oh, don’t you dare!” Sherlock moved to side-step him when John caught up, but they’d reached the lift, and there was nowhere to go.

Rookie mistake. He should have gone for the stairs.

Frustrated, Sherlock stabbed at the down button, praying the lift was close. To his relief, it rose from the first floor at once, and he sighed, knowing he only had to weather the storm of John Watson for a little longer. Then he could jump into a cab and disappear.

“Sherlock.” John’s quiet growl was difficult to ignore. But the lift dinged before he could speak, and the doors slid open, providing the perfect avenue for escape.

“Come along, John,” Sherlock said in a bored voice, sweeping into the lift without so much as looking John’s way.

The storm cloud followed on his heels. John crowded in close, his anger erasing his usual respect for personal space.

“You git,” he huffed, jerking his chin upward to meet Sherlock’s eye. “I don’t know what your bloody problem is today, but you’d better explain what that was right now.”

“John,” Sherlock said in a placating tone. His eyes were on the floor numbers, silently urging the lift downward. He just needed to buy time, talk some nonsense and leave no room for John to butt in.

He opened his mouth to do so when the lift shook, made a sharp grating noise, and ground to a halt. The lights flickered and died before the emergency lighting came on, slowly glowing to life with a low hum.

Oh, god, no, Sherlock thought, panic rising. No, no, no, don’t do this. His mouth snapped shut with an audible click of teeth. “What happened?”

Next to him, John frowned up at the emergency lights. “Power outage?”

Blowing a frustrated sigh out through his teeth to release some of his building anxiety, Sherlock nodded. “Seems like it.” He prodded at the darkened buttons without much hope, unsurprised when they failed to respond. “We’re stuck here.”

“Good,” John snapped, and Sherlock shot him a scowl.

“How is this good, John?” he demanded, only to back away when John advanced on him again.

“Because there’s nowhere for you to go, which means you’ll have to bloody well talk to me like an adult.”

Sherlock’s expression soured enough to curdle milk. “Oh, is there something we need to discuss?” he asked, feigning ignorance.

It was the wrong move. John’s thunderous face darkened further. The ever-present tremour in his left hand stilled, and Sherlock’s eyes dropped down to his motionless fingers with dawning horror.

Oh, he was in for it now.

“Where the hell do you get off,” John began in a low, dangerous voice, “ripping into me the way you did in the cab?”

His eyes fixed on the unlit control panel, Sherlock pressed his lips together and didn’t answer. Maybe if he ignored John long enough, he’d lose interest and give up.

Again, he was wrong.

“Don’t give me that,” John huffed. He stepped closer, getting right up in Sherlock’s face as much as he could with the height difference between them. “Don’t give me the silent treatment, Sherlock. What you did, those things you said, they were uncalled for.”

Sherlock held his silence, now staring over John’s head, and John’s mouth twisted downward.

“I put up with a lot, you know.” A change in John’s tone, an unexpected softening, made Sherlock glance at him in spite of himself. Seeing that he had Sherlock’s attention, John’s lips twitched to the side in a humourless smile. “Severed heads in the fridge, toes in the crisper — yeah, sometimes I make a fuss, but not as much as someone else would. I make my little fuss, and then I let it go because I know it’s part of who you are. It’s part and parcel of living with you, and while I don’t love finding body parts in the fridge, I live with it.” Eyes narrowing, John paused to make sure Sherlock was listening. “You hear me? I live with it.”

Staring down at him, Sherlock blinked. He kept his lips pressed together and waited.

John seemed to gather his thoughts before he spoke again. When he did, his voice was even softer, almost low enough to make Sherlock lean forward to hear. He resisted, instead straining to catch the words.

“What I don’t plan to live with is… is… whatever that was.” John waved his hand toward the lift doors as if indicating outside. He poked a finger into Sherlock’s chest. “I don’t know what bug crawled up your arse and died this morning, Sherlock, but I know it wasn’t my fault. So don’t take it out on me.”

The words, it wasn’t my fault, struck Sherlock like a physical blow. He stiffened and reared back, pressing into the railing running the length of the lift wall. Eyes wide and unblinking, he stared down at John, drawing up to his full height to better loom over him.

“Not your fault?” he repeated in a low voice. “Not your fault?”

But John refused to be intimidated, and he held his ground, jabbing his finger harder into Sherlock’s chest. “Yeah, that’s what I said, or weren’t you listening?” His voice dropped into a sneer, a passable imitation of Sherlock’s harshest tone.

To hear himself mimicked threw Sherlock for a loop, and he gaped. By the time he came back online, John was off and running, ranting away as he tapped his fingertip against Sherlock’s sternum.

“...and if the body parts aren’t bad enough, there’s the noise and the mess, and that mad thing you do with your violin where you make it sound like a bloody cat is dying in our flat, and—”

“Oh, and you’re the best flatmate ever to exist, I take it?” Sherlock interrupted. His cold voice cut through John’s words like an icy wind through thin fabric.

John went silent and still. Eyes narrowed, he said, “Didn’t say I was perfect, but if you’ve got a problem, you can damn well speak up. I’m not a sodding mindreader, am I?”

Annoyed to be shut down so thoroughly, Sherlock clenched his jaw and looked away. “This conversation is over.” He folded his arms over his chest to block John’s jabbing finger.

“It bloody well isn’t,” John growled, trying to pry Sherlock’s arms apart for some unfathomable reason.

Sherlock tried to shift away, but his back pressed harder into the railing. Flustered, he snapped, “What exactly are you trying to do here?”

“I don’t know!” John said, his voice rising as he threw his hands into the air. “God! You really are the most annoying bloke alive, aren’t you?”

Piqued by the insult, Sherlock hissed, “At least I’m not desperate!”

John frowned. “Who is desperate?”

“You!” Sherlock bit out, jabbing a finger toward John’s face. John leaned back, his frown deepening.

“Excuse me? How, exactly, am I desperate?”

“Oh, I don’t know, John, let me think.” Sherlock’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Maybe because you’ve lived with me all of one month, and you’ve already managed to drag half of London’s female population through our flat while trying to get off.” He hissed the last, pushing as much disdain as he could summon into the words.

John stared at him. He stared at him so long that Sherlock thought his eyes might burn two twin holes into his face. Just as he began to shift from one foot to the other, John burst.

“This is about me dating?” He sounded confused now, caught on the defensive by Sherlock’s revelation. “What do you have against me dating?”

Pushed to his breaking point, Sherlock snapped, “Everything.”

His confusion only growing, John blinked. He tilted his head to the side. “But why?”

The words poured out without cessation, Sherlock at the mercy of both his frustration and a month of suppressed emotions. “I hate it. I hate every single one of them, every woman that you parade through our flat. It’s never-ending, John! I swear, if you’re doing it just to punish me, then well done! You’ve succeeded — I’m properly sorry for rejecting you. Is that what you’d like to hear? Shall I say it again? Sorry, John, so sorry.” His voice was hard and acerbic, pushing the apology toward mockery instead of anything genuine.

He opened his mouth to go on, but John held up a hand, clapped it over Sherlock’s mouth, and said, “Alright, shut up a bloody second. Let me catch up.”

His lips mashed against John’s palm, Sherlock stared daggers down at him.

“Okay, let me get this straight,” John began slowly, looking at Sherlock from beneath a furrowed brow. “You’re angry because I’ve been dating, and you don’t like that I bring them back to the flat? No, shut up, I’m not finished yet.”

Sherlock scowled. He considered biting John’s hand before dismissing the idea and subsiding.

John’s eyes searched Sherlock’s face as he went on. “So you don’t like that I’m dating, and you’re sorry for rejecting me? Also, you think I’m punishing you?” Frowning, John shook his head. “But when have I ever…” he paused, going deadly still as their eyes locked. “Are you talking about Angelo’s? That first night?”

Sherlock didn’t move, didn’t so much as breathe, refusing to validate the guess. But John figured it out on his own.

“Sherlock,” he said slowly, bemusement spreading over his face, “you rejected me. Remember? You said—”

“I know what I said,” Sherlock growled, shoving John’s hand away from his mouth.

John’s confusion only seemed to increase. “Then what are you—”

“Nevermind, John!” Sherlock turned his head away, frustrated that the lift wasn’t moving and he couldn’t escape.

“Oh, no, I’m not gonna do that,” John replied, his hand dropping to Sherlock’s arm. “Not until you explain what’s going on here.”

Sherlock pressed his lips together and glared at the wall. He felt John’s gaze on his face, still searching, and his jaw clenched.

“Hold on…” Something flickered in John’s face, the rising glimmer of realization sparking in his eyes. “Sherlock… do you…” He paused and wet his lips in a nervous tick Sherlock caught from the edge of his vision. “Do you have feelings for me?”

“Feelings,” Sherlock repeated in a hiss, pushing a depthless disgust into the singular word. “What sentimental rubbish, John. As if I—”

Before he could spew more ire and venom, John grabbed him by the lapels and tugged him down, cutting off his words. Rocking forward, Sherlock opened his mouth to ask what John was doing, but then John’s lips were on his, and Sherlock’s brain ground to a halt.

He took in the sensory input through a narrowing sense of awareness. Each thought struggled to make its way into his mind. The first thing he thought was soft, and the last was wet, because John opened his mouth and swept his tongue over the seam of Sherlock’s lips, and the rest disappeared beneath a rush of physical reaction.

By the time his brain finally rebooted, John was leaning back and breathing heavily with his eyes fixed on Sherlock’s mouth.

“You utter git,” he breathed, the warmth of his exhale hot against Sherlock’s lips. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Dazed and still several steps behind, Sherlock blinked. “I,” he tried and had to clear his throat, to John’s visible amusement, “I thought it might be too late.”

“Well, speak up sooner next time, then,” John teased, the sheer 180 degree shift of his mood making Sherlock’s head spin.

Frowning, he said, “I thought you were mad.”

“Oh, I’m furious,” John said, eyes flashing. His fingers wiggled, grip tightening on Sherlock’s lapels. “And I think you’re going to have to make it up to me.”

“Oh?” Sherlock’s voice wavered, nearly wheezing from his lips. “How am I going to do that?”

John’s eyes dropped to his lips again, half-lidded and lingering. “I’m sure I’ll think of something,” he murmured.

This time, when he pulled Sherlock back down for another kiss, Sherlock was ready.

#johnlock #prompt fill #first kiss #angst with a happy ending #prompt #Anonymous

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papermoonloveslucy · 3 years

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ORSON WELLES ALMANAC

May 3, 1944

“Orson Welles Almanac” aka “The Orson Welles Wonder Show” (1944) is a CBS Radio series directed and hosted by Orson Welles. Broadcast live in California and Arizona via CBS West Coast studios, the 30-minute program was heard Wednesdays at 9:30pm beginning January 26, 1944. Its last broadcast was July 19, 1944. Orson Welles Almanac presented readings from classic works, drama, music, sketch comedy, magic, mindreading, and personal commentary by Welles. Many of the shows originated from US Army camps where Welles entertained the troops. Welles had an ongoing battle with the program’s sponsor, Mobil Oil, which shortened the life of the series. Twenty six broadcasts were produced; all but four shows have survived.

This is the 15th episode of the series, aired on May 3, 1944. Previous guests were Groucho Marx, Lionel Barrymore, Ann Sothern, Robert Benchley, Hedda Hopper, and Victor Moore. Lucille Ball previously guest-starred on the series on March 3, 1944.

CAST

Lucille Ball (Guest Star) was then filming Ziegfeld Follies for release in 1945. Her films Best Foot Forward and Thousands Cheer (both released in 1943) were still in local cinemas. Ball was in her fourth year of a rocky marriage to Desi Arnaz, who she would divorce in September 1944, although the papers were never officially filed. Two days earlier, she had be heard in “A Night To Remember” for radio’s “Screen Guild Players.”

Orson Welles (aka ‘Wonder Boy’) arrived in Hollywood in 1939 when Ball was a contract player at RKO Studios. To squelch rumors that he was a homosexual, the studio sent Lucy to escort him to a premiere to be photographed. He later recalled,

“We went to see the opening of some movie or other—I simply picked her up at her house and we went to the movie and got photographed and came home and I said ‘Good night,’ and that was the end of that. That was the end of that romance, but it was the beginning of a long friendship.”

A veteran of the theatre, in 1941 the actor / director completed his magnum opus film Citizen Kane. In the 1950s he was under contract to Desilu to film a pilot for an anthology series called “The Fountain of Youth,” which wasn’t aired until 1958 and did not result in a series. Despite that, it won a Peabody Award, the only pilot to ever do so.

On February 5, 1956 Lucy and Desi appeared with Welles on Ed Sullivan’s “Toast of the Town.” They were there to promote their film Forever Darling. Welles was there to promote his revival of his King Lear at New York’s City Center, which he initially performed in a wheelchair due to injuries to both ankles. By the time he performed it on “Toast of the Town” (aka “The Ed Sullivan Show”) Welles was using a crutch.

When the Oscar-winning actor and director was down on his luck he was invited to stay in the Arnaz guest cottage. Notorious for his drinking and rude behavior, Lucy had to find a way to politely get rid of her guest so she decided to have an episode of “I Love Lucy” written for him so she could pay him a salary. With that in mind, Desilu paid him the exorbitant sum of $15,000! Ball’s memories of Welles were mixed. “I had a real love-hate relationship with Orson,” she said towards the end of her life. “His mind was awesome…but he was also a pain in the ass.”

At the time of this broadcast (March 8, 1944) Welles’ film Jane Eyre was playing in cinemas.

Aurora Miranda (Musical Guest) was a Brazilian singer and actress. She began her career at the age of 18 in 1933. Miranda appeared in several films, including The Three Caballeros, where she danced with Donald Duck and José Carioca, singing the song, "Os Quindins de Yayá". Her sisters were Carmen Miranda and Cecilia Miranda.

The All-Star Jazz Group: Mutt Carey (trumpet), Kid Ory (trombone), Barney Bigard (clarinet), Buster Wilson (piano), Bud Scott (guitar), Ed Garland (bass), and Zutty Singleton (drums).

John McIntire (Announcer)

EPISODE

This episode was broadcast from the Naval Air Station at Terminal Island, San Pedro, California, at the time, the fastest ship-building station in the world.

ORSON: “All the way out I had to sit on Lucille Ball’s lap!”

The sailors in the audience respond very vocally to Lucille.

Orson and Ball enact a scenario depicting Lucille Ball pulling over to pick up a prudish sailor who is hitchhiking. The sailor says he’s headed to the Museum of Natural History, and maybe the Aquarium. They drive off, the sailor uncharacteristically staving off Lucille’s advances. He admires her car - a 1941 Cadillac.

ORSON: “You get much pick-up?” LUCILLE: “You’re the third today!”

She takes him on a ‘short-cut’ and they run out of gas. She wants to stay and cuddle...but he is afraid. Afraid that the museum will be closed!

Welles introduces Aurora Miranda to Lucille Ball. He has to ‘translate’ her heavy accent. She sings "No Tabuleiro da Baiana", with Welles joining her briefly in duet.

Lucille asks Orson if she can do a love scene with one of the sailors. He recruits someone from the audience - George. Although he claims no acting experience, he knows he can kiss! Orson sets the scene: a boy comes home from college to meet his sweetheart for the first time in a long while. Orson acts as a director.

ORSON: “Woah! Slow down! What’s the rush?” GEORGE: “I’m expecting a transfer any minute.”

Although the scene calls for hand-holding the sailor puts his arm around her. Lucy senses that Orson is deliberately intervening to prevent him from kissing her, but finally he does.

ORSON: “Cut! That’s it! This isn’t commando tactics! She’s an actress, not an obstacle course!”

Orson introduces the All-Star Jazz Band playing “Savoy Blues.” The piece was first recorded by Louis Armstrong in 1927 and was composed by Kid Ory, who plays trombone here.

Orson Welles reads the honor speech from Shakespeare’s Henry V on the subject of honor.

In 1965, Welles made a film called Chimes at Midnight (aka Falstaff) which incorporated monologues from several of Shakespeare’s “Henry” plays, including Henry V.

#Orson Welles #Lucille Ball #Shakespeare #Aurora Miranda #Orson Welles Almanac #1944 #Terminal Island #Falstaff #Henry V #Savoy Blues #Kid Ory #All-Star Jazz Group #Jane Eyre #I Love Lucy #Radio

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words-in-air · 4 years

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Class 2B and their favorite artists

Hotaru Imai — Lorde, Jacqueline du Pre, Martha Argerich, Lana del Rey (although she will never admit it), ASMR of typing when she’s studying. It’s the perfect solution for her, she imagines Mikan or Nogi is at the other end of the table typing. So she gets company, but also peace and quiet

Mikan Sakura — old 80s jpop songs her ojiisan listens to, that piano music that Hotaru is always playing, the Beatles, youtube videos titled “Hufflepuff Common Room Ambience” (she gets Hotaru lowkey addicted also. Hotaru will never tell her that though), Taylor Swift, random 1d songs that she just knows, Clairo

Natsume Hyuuga — Mikan also gets Natsume hooked on the Hogwarts ambience Youtube videos. He’ll also die before telling her. He likes listening to opera music (his father tells him that Kaoru was a major opera fan). On a good day you can find him humming random Beatles songs...

Ruka Nogi — French pop! Lots of europop too. Ruka also listens to Jacqueline du Pre. He and Hotaru banter over which recording of Elgar Cello Concerto was better, the one with Sir John or the one with Barenboim. Likes listening to birds chirping in the morning. Thinks it’s the best way to wake up

Sumire Shouda — all the popular tiktok songs. Why? Bc our girl is tiktok famous !!!! 900k under the belt. Current obsession is Daddy Issues by the neighborhood and Michelle by Sir Chloe. She also really likes the It Girls trend and makes Koko take pictures of her that match each girl. Koko rolling his eyes but agrees once she promises to give him a shoutout on her account (spoiler alert: she doesn’t, LOL)

Kokoroyome — Lil Uzi Vert, blackbear, Machine Gun... he thinks he’s so cool. Some perks of being a mindreader though is that people r always singing in their heads. He gets that premium concert experience from his seat. This is also why he also knows a lot of songs. Secretly Wants to be tiktok famous so bad LOL he used to shit on the app but now he’s Shameless in wanting followers

Kitsuneme — iann dior, Tyler, ARIANA GRANDE.... Major major ari stan since dangerous woman. Cried when she and mac broke up, cried when she and pete broke up... he just Wants her to be happy. U best bet he has all the merch. Choked and tripped over air when he first saw the Positions promo

Mochu — doesn’t really listen to music. But he’s suspiciously been listening to a lot of podcasts.... among them are addison raes Mama Knows Best and barstools Call Her Daddy... JSJEKEKKEE MOCHU

Yuu Tobita — Listens to a lot of guided meditations, and a lot of podcasts too, but informative ones. Thinks it’s important to widen his perspective. He also is strangely addicted to a “brain wave enhancing vibrations” playlist on spotify, it’s on his friend activity 24/7.. also listens to a lot of lofi while studying

Anna Umenomiya — kpop STAN. my girl is crushing over and doing the most for nct. Best moment of her life was when she went to a concert and they smiled right at her camera. She tweeted it and it got over 499,000 retweets. Has a twitter stan account for sure and it’s really popular too. One of the kindest people in the stan industry even though it’s known for being toxic

Nonoko Ogasawara — umm kpop isn’t really her thing.. she’s into KDRAMAS. Her favs have to be lee minho (even though his latest was disappointing) kim soo hyun (SHES been a fan ever since dream high) and lee jong suk. Has written 20 letters so far demanding a proper dream high remake

#gakuen alice #alice academy #2b #gakuen alice headcanons #学園アリス

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squidproquoclarice · 4 years

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Yeehawgust Day 20: Ropework

July 1899: Clemens Point, Lemoyne

The business of feeding close to two dozen people, most of them hardworking adult men, was nothing special to Simon Pearson. The Navy, and merchant sailing, both prepared a cook handily for that, and more. He’d fed close to a hundred men working their asses off on the old Calliope, and making palatable food towards the end of a long voyage around the horn to Japan delayed two weeks by colossal storms in the Roaring Forties had stretched his ingenuity to its limit. They’d been down to weevily hardtack and grey and slimy salt pork, the last bits of flour and oil. The day he’d used the very last of the sugar hidden away to sweeten the porridge, knowing they needed something, he’d sworn he’d seen grown men about to cry from both pleasure and realizing this was the last of it.

He’d kept them fed, but it had been nothing pretty, and neither had the mood. A good cook always watched the mood the way a rated seaman watched winds, looking for both direction and intensity. The mood with the gang had turned, and for the better, now that they’d been here for a week. They’d settled down here after being chased off from Horseshoe Overlook. At least he’d had enough time to pack the whole chuck wagon. And they had regular access to fresh food, both from shops and from the hunters who had stepped it up. Including his former assistant.

Though at least sailing meant a set Goddamn watch schedule, and that meant meals were reliable as anything for both sailors and the cook. None of this stuff with men riding in whenever they damn well pleased, and being pissed off that food wasn’t right there the moment they wanted it, and coming to twist Pearson’s ear about it. He was no mindreader. The best he could do was keep a stew kettle going most of the day so that those who weren’t there during regular meal times could help themselves to a plate.

It had become something of a running joke that Arthur in particular probably assumed all Pearson could manage anymore was stew, given the man was rarely in camp, always out scouting, hunting, looking for jobs. Pearson had slipped some sweets and biscuits into the mess of Arthur’s saddlebag here and there, knowing he’d need it.

But they’d settled in, and that meant there was free time here and there. Right now, the stew was on, the dishes were washed, and he wouldn’t start dinner--elk steaks, Charles had brought in a fine one, and it would be nice to have a beautifully roasted cut of meat--for a few hours. He could be working on that table cover he’d promised Dutch, and he would get to it, but right now, young Jack had his attention.

Wrapping the hemp rope around his fingers, turning it, weaving it in and out, he carefully demonstrated, and then pulled the knot tight at the end, turning it into a round, tight ball. “There, you see? A perfect monkey’s fist.”

“I don’t think I got it,” Jack said forlornly, the rope woven between his fingers in a cat’s cradle mess.

He hadn’t expected Jack to follow along. “It’s a hard one,” he said, “so we’ll just play with it for fun.” He handed over the scrap of rope with the monkey’s fist on the end. “Here. You keep this one.”

Jack looked at him hopefully. “It’s pretty, but can you teach me to tie my boots? I tripped and falled down again.”

Probably part of why Jack walked around barefoot half the time, not to mention the cost of new boots meaning it was smarter to not wear them as long as possible, and a hot summer led to that. Though being in snake country like this meant it would be smarter for him to wear them again. You ought to have your daddy for teaching you that, he thought, glancing towards John, busy fixing a wagon wheel with Charles. The man never seemed to know exactly where his mind was when it came to the kid, though Arthur sure as shit wouldn’t let John forget it either.

How old had he been when he’d learned to tie his boot laces? He couldn’t remember. Older than four, he was pretty sure. But Jack was having to grow up too fast in many ways. “Sure, kid,” he said, kneeling and slipping off one of his own boots forward to demonstrate. “We’ll see what we can do.”

Carefully showing the steps, Jack clumsily tried it, tiny fingers growing more steady with each attempt. He’d learn the dexterity of it soon enough. “Just keep practicing,” Pearson said. “Give it a few days, I bet you’ll get it.”

Jack’s face brightened.

“Jack!” There it was, Abigail calling for her boy again.

“You’d better go. Don’t want your ma upset.” He winked at Jack.

Jack grinned at him and jumped up, tucking the monkey’s fist in his hand. “Bye, Uncle Pearson!”

He smiled, getting to his feet, watching Jack run off towards Abigail, ready to show off his new prize. Better to think about bow knots and monkey’s fists for a little boy’s delight, bowlines and hitches for raising the tents and securing the supplies, nail and arbor knots for fishing lines. Knots for fun, knots for practicality.

After all, there was another knot lurking around the Van Der Lindes that he preferred to deliberately not think about, namely the sort that came with thirteen turns, a black sack over a man’s head, and a pine coffin. Knots had all sorts of uses, and killing was one of them.

#yeehawgust #simon pearson #jack marston #rdr2 #writing #fic from the parking lot

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sagehaleyofficial · 4 years

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HERE’S WHAT YOU MISSED THIS WEEK (4.15-4.21.20):

NEW MUSIC:

Machine Gun Kelly has continued to drop daily cover videos in his isolation, which has now expanded into freestyle raps. His newest song, “In These Walls,” samples PVRIS’ “My House” with Lynn Gunn’s vocal melody overtop the track.

A Day to Remember released the third single off their upcoming album You’re Welcome, along with a new music video, titled “Mindreader.” Fans received prior confirmation that new music would be arriving before the album’s release.

Asking Alexandria released a new single from their upcoming record Like a House on Fire titled “Down to Hell.” The band is once again recording with producer Matt Good, who also produced their self-titled record.

Fall Out Boy bassist Pete Wentz dropped a new song called “Check Your Phone” with another project named Cheap Cuts. Along with the song’s debut, Wentz is also giving a new interview with Zane Lowe of Apple Music.

After 5 Seconds of Summer announced the song “Wildflower” as the final single from their album C A L M, fans now have a music video. The video, which was filmed at each band member’s respective homes, was directed by Andy DeLuca.

After a teaser posted on April 14, Angels & Airwaves finally released a new song titled “All That’s Left is Love.” Frontman Tom DeLonge spoke with Zane Lowe, stating that all of the proceeds would go directly toward Feeding America.

The Used have gifted fans two singles titled “Cathedral Bell” and “Obvious Blasé,” off their upcoming album Heartwork. The former video stars a strangely animated figure while the latter features the use of fan-made tarot cards.

Rapper Iann Dior dropped a new collaboration with Machine Gun Kelly and Blink-182’s Travis Barker titled ”Sick and Tired.” The video shows the musicians each trapped and dealing with their respective issues before joining forces.

The Maine’s John O’Callaghan revisited his side-project, John the Ghost, for a new single titled “Rolled Down Window.” The song marks the first music from the project since the 2016 album, Sincerely, John the Ghost.

Frank Iero and the Future Violents dropped a new video for the song “Medicine Square Garden.” The video is the last song off of their most recent studio album, Barriers.

TOUR ANNOUNCEMENTS:

Due to the global coronavirus pandemic, the 320 Festival will now be held online. The nonprofit event, founded by Kevin Lyman and Talinda Bennington, is partnering with KNEKT.TV to have the event streamed via the internet on May 8-10.

YUNGBLUD has created a new web series titled THE YUNGBLUD SHOW LIVE. He recently performed a new cover of Sublime‘s “What I Got” with frequent collaborators Machine Gun Kelly and Blink-182 drummer Travis Barker.

What would have been My Chemical Romance‘s first show since their December reunion has now been postponed, possibly until next year. The Eden Project show in Cornwall, England, was first announced on February 12.

For the first time in 50 years, San Diego Comic Con has been canceled due to the coronavirus pandemic. Fans and organizers alike had long hoped that the pop culture event would take place as originally planned.

Ash Costello of New Years Day and Matt Montgomery of Rob Zombie, also known as the side project the Haxans, announced their first ever tour dates. The duo will be hitting the road with Wednesday 13 and Dead Girls Academy in August.

After the tragic passing of Fountains of Wayne bassist Adam Schlesinger over complications related to coronavirus, the band are reuniting for a benefit show during a live stream fundraiser event. The band will be joined by Sharon Van Etten.

OTHER NEWS:

For the new Quarantine Coloring Book project, My Chemical Romance guitarist Ray Toro turned one of his own photographs into line art for the book. Featured in the drawing is a tin of Nestle’s hot chocolate and a bread tin.

Bring Me the Horizon announced they are auctioning off the guitar from their “Ludens” music video, with proceeds going towards NHS frontline workers through Help Our NHS. The guitar’s design was inspired by the video game Death Stranding.

Jimmy Webb, beloved stylist and buyer at New York’s Trash and Vaudeville and more recently owner of another shop called I NEED MORE, passed away. It was known he was battling cancer, and many punk icons have since paid their respects.

The Used’s Bert McCracken has taken his marijuana advocacy to a new level by partnering with Five Star Extracts to launch a line of products. The first item is a tincture called “The Taste of Peach,” a parody of the band’s song “The Taste of Ink.”

Twenty One Pilots’ Josh Dun has once again partnered with SJC Custom Drums to release a custom-designed crowd snare. Covered by an acrylic shell that is the signature yellow from the band’s album Trench, it also features flat black hardware.

Dr. Martens revealed a line of boots in their 1460 collection with a brand new color scheme. The British footwear company announced it is releasing boots in bright pink, orange, yellow and white.

My Chemical Romance are fundraising for MusiCares‘ COVID-19 relief fund with their “desert screening” masks. The masks were made as a tribute to their friend and manager Lauren Valencia, who passed away prior to the pandemic.

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Check in next Tuesday for more “Posi Talk with Sage Haley,” only at @sagehaleyofficial!

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