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sirduckytontheduck · 4 months

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Fics Finished - December

1. Scorched Earth by AmberXBoone, corrupt_touch (AmberXBoone)

word count: 155,527

Mary Winchester died in a presumed-accidental house fire in Queens, New York in 1983. Nearly 40 years later, her sons, Dean (now an EMT) and Sam (a New York City corporate attorney) discover that their father, now-retired cop John Winchester, intentionally set the fire that killed their mother, and Dean finally gets his revenge. Queens County District Attorney Castiel Novak knows that Dean Winchester is a suspect in John Winchester's murder - but he also knows that his own father was once a likely-corrupt judge who helped John escape punishment. Against what might be his better judgment, he lets himself get too close to Dean. And even as the cops build their case against Dean, he knows that, maybe, the right thing to do is help Dean Winchester get off (yeah okay pun intended).

I thought this was an interesting premise, however, I did not like this fic. Nothing to do with the writing or anything, but it just wasn't my vibe. I think maybe just the characterizations of each character kind of threw me off, but that just speaks to the world-building--the characters are written to be unlikable and so I didn't like them, and I think that is the mark of a good writer. It is definitely a good story though, I liked the twists and turns and the way people from the SPN universe were incorporated into the plot.

2. Let it Be by Persephoneshadow

word count: 143,239

Dean Winchester's life changed forever the night a demon appeared in his brother's nursery and killed his father. As a hunter Mary is determined to protect her sons from the evil she has run from her whole life - the same evil that took John. But Dean also trusts his protection to the angel in a trench coat he talks to in his dreams. Through years of tribulation and uncertainty, the Winchesters (plus a corgi that might be magic and an angel that may not be real) must fight monsters, demons, and even fate itself to survive as a family. Or: The one where Mary lives, Cas is there, and nothing and everything changes.

This was an interesting take on the spn timeline and I was all there for it. I find Mary's characterization in this fic interesting compared to John Winchester's characterization in the canon and how it kind of parallels but also very obviously contrasts (in the sense that Mary is written as an actual mother while John is interpreted canonically as a bad father). I dunno I just feel like that aspect of it takes away from the integrity of the canon which shouldn't even really matter because it's fanfiction and you're supposed to take creative liberties. But other than that I thought this one was very creative.

3. The Leap by FriendofCarlotta

word count: 82,932

1961: Sixteen years after the end of World War II, Berlin remains occupied by the Allied Forces — America, Britain, France and the Soviet Union. Castiel Krushnic is a police officer in Soviet-occupied East Berlin. He is also gay, in a city where that’s a dangerous thing to be. One night, he meets Dean Winchester, a mechanic from the American sector. Their mutual attraction is instant, and a convenient hookup quickly turns into a passionate love affair that defies all rules and expectations. But Cold War Berlin is a troubled place, and as more and more residents flee Soviet-occupied territory for the West, Castiel’s superiors begin to make plans to build a wall. The wall would cut off East Berlin from the rest of the city — and leave Dean and Castiel on opposite sides.

After Ninety One Whiskey, I was a little scared about how this one was going to be even though it isn't a war fic like 91W was. However! it was not! I enjoyed that like 91W, it incorporates historically accurate information and events and is clearly well-researched. Its short and mostly sweet and I enjoyed it.

4. Living in Agony by ChasingRabits

word count: 120,136

Dean Winchester's life is... well, it's not great. He's a gym teacher, he's in his thirties, and he can't seem to keep any part of his life straight. When the aftermath of a one-night stand goes awry, Dean is dragged kicking and screaming out of his cozy little closet and into the harsh light of reality. Enter: Castiel Novak, the new history teacher, who knows full well that life gets crappy when you don't allow yourself to live it in the way it needs to be lived.

Lowkey this one is just PWP but like good plot! I mean, relatively. The characterizations are interesting and creative liberties were definitely taken, but it's kind of sweet. I feel like some of the background stuff like characters' jobs are not really fleshed out and they're kinda just there to be there--it doesn't really feel like its important to the story at all. But you know how it be. At the end of the day, Dean and Cas are in love so that's all that matters.

5. take the bones, begin anew by JustStandingHere

word count: 103,254

What else was I supposed to say, Sam?” Dean asks him. “I’m not...look, Cas is my best friend, and I care about him. That’s it.” “And you renovated a house for him,” Sam continues. “And live with him.” or: a year in the life, in which it takes some time, but they figure it out

I like these kinds of fics, the ones that are more slice of life, I think that it accentuates the character dynamics rather than the plot. I feel like the Dean and Cas in this fic are very real characters in the sense that their thoughts and flaws are written very organically rather than stereotypically, and I really like that too. I mean, obviously there's the ever-present cliche moments but it adds to the charm of the story. Overall, 8/10!

6. The Nanny by Kimistry

word count: 119,676

He had style, he had flair, he had...well, actually, he didn't have any of those things. But he did have pretty green eyes, and Claire didn't want to murder him on sight (all Castiel was asking for these days). And that's how Dean became the nanny!

To be honest, even though this seemed interesting, it didnt speak to me. Its based off of a sitcom from the 90s which I appreciate, y’know like a little AU action, but it's pretty much a name substitution thing in terms of character, especially for Cas. I dunno, the characterizations are a little off but that's creative liberties, baby.

#destiel fic rec #destiel #supernatural

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hits1000 · 11 months

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All Winners of the Eurovision Song Contest (1956-2023)

All Winners of the Eurovision Song Contest (1956-2023) Here is a recap of all winners of the Eurovision Song Contest, from the start in 1956 to the latest contest in 2023. In 1969, four countries shared the 1st place by getting the same amount of points. Copyright Disclaimer under section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976, allowance is made for "fair use" for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, education and research. Fair use is a use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be infringing. Non-profit, educational or personal use tips the balance in favor of fair use. 🇨🇭 Lys Assia - Refrain (1956) 🇳🇱 Corry Brokken - Net Als Toen (1957) 🇫🇷 André Claveau - Dors, Mon Amour (1958) 🇳🇱 Teddy Scholten - Een Beetje (1959) 🇫🇷 Jacqueline Boyer - Tom Pillibi (1960) 🇱🇺 Jean-Claude Pascal - Nous, Les Amoureux (1961) 🇫🇷 Isabelle Aubret - Un Premier Amour (1962) 🇩🇰 Grethe & Jørgen Ingmann - Dansevise (1963) 🇮🇹 Gigliola Cinquetti - Non Ho L'Età (1964) 🇱🇺 France Gall - Poupée De Cire, Poupée De Son (1965) 🇦🇹 Udo Jürgens - Merci, Chérie (1966) 🇬🇧 Sandie Shaw - Puppet On A String (1967) 🇪🇸 Massiel - La, La, La (1968) 🇫🇷 Frida Boccara - Un Jour, Un Enfant (1969) 🇳🇱 Lenny Kuhn - De Troubadour (1969) 🇬🇧 Lulu - Boom Bang-A-Bang (1969) 🇪🇸 Salomé - Vivo Cantando (1969) 🇮🇪 Dana - All Kinds Of Everything (1970) 🇲🇨 Séverine - Un Banc, Un Arbre, Une Rue (1971) 🇱🇺 Vicky Leandros - Après Toi (1972) 🇱🇺 Anne-Marie David - Tu Te Reconnaîtras (1973) 🇸🇪 ABBA - Waterloo (1974) 🇳🇱 Teach-In - Ding-A-Dong (1975) 🇬🇧 Brotherhood of Man - Save Your Kisses For Me (1976) 🇫🇷 Marie Myriam - L'Oiseau Et L'Enfant (1977) 🇮🇱 Izhar Cohen & the Alpha-Beta - A-Ba-Ni-Bi (1978) 🇮🇱 Gali Atari & Milk & Honey - Hallelujah (1979) 🇮🇪 Johnny Logan - What's Another Year (1980) 🇬🇧 Bucks Fizz - Making Your Mind Up (1981) 🇩🇪 Nicole - Ein Bißchen Frieden (1982) 🇱🇺 Corinne Hermès - Si La Vie Est Cadeau (1983) 🇸🇪 Herreys - Diggi-Loo, Diggi-Ley (1984) 🇳🇴 Bobbysocks - La Det Swinge (1985) 🇧🇪 Sandra Kim - J'Aime La Vie (1986) 🇮🇪 Johnny Logan - Hold Me Now (1987) 🇨🇭 Céline Dion - Ne Partez Pas Sans Moi (1988) 🇭🇷 Riva - Rock Me (1989)* 🇮🇹 Toto Cutugno - Insieme: 1992 (1990) 🇸🇪 Carola - Fångad Av En Stormvind (1991) 🇮🇪 Linda Martin - Why Me? (1992) 🇮🇪 Niamh Kavanagh - In Your Eyes (1993) 🇮🇪 Paul Harrington & Charlie McGettigan (1994) 🇳🇴 Secret Garden - Nocturne (1995) 🇮🇪 Eimear Quinn - The Voice (1996) 🇬🇧 Katrina and the Waves - Love Shine A Light (1997) 🇮🇱 Dana International - Diva (1998) 🇸🇪 Charlotte Nilsson - Take Me To Your Heaven (1999) 🇩🇰 Olsen Brothers - Fly On The Wings Of Love (2000) 🇪🇪 Tanel Padar & Dave Benton & 2XL - Everybody (2001) 🇱🇻 Marie N - I Wanna (2002) 🇹🇷 Sertab Erener - Every Way That I Can (2003) 🇺🇦 Ruslana - Wild Dances (2004) 🇬🇷 Helena Paparizou - My Number One (2005) 🇫🇮 Lordi - Hard Rock Hallelujah (2006) 🇷🇸 Marija Šerifović - Molitva (2007) 🇷🇺 Dima Bilan - Believe (2008) 🇳🇴 Alexander Rybak - Fairytale (2009) 🇩🇪 Lena - Satellite (2010) 🇦🇿 Ell & Nikki - Running Scared (2011) 🇸🇪 Loreen - Euphoria (2012) 🇩🇰 Emmelie de Forest - Only Teardrops (2013) 🇦🇹 Conchita Wurst - Rise Like A Phoenix (2014) 🇸🇪 Måns Zelmerlöw - Heroes (2015) 🇺🇦 Jamala - 1944 (2016) 🇵🇹 Salvador Sobral - Amor Pelos Dois (2017) 🇮🇱 Netta - Toy (2018) 🇳🇱 Duncan Laurence - Arcade (2019) 🇮🇹 Måneskin - Zitti E Buoni (2021) 🇺🇦 Kalush Orchestra - Stefania (2022) 🇸🇪 Loreen - Tattoo (2023) #allwinnerseurovision #allwinnersesc #allwinners #allesc #alleurovision #winnersesc #esc1956-2023 #winners1956-2023 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6KPUrKWenhs

#80S Greatest Hits #Songs Of 1980S #Old Songs #80S Songs #80S Music Hits #80S Hits #80S Songs Playlist #Grea

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ordinaryschmuck · 2 years

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Marvel Facts That You Probably Know, But Also Probably Don’t #2

Hey, are you a casual Marvel fan who gets most of their information about Marvel characters from movies and TV? Well, here are some facts about some classic characters that you probably know, but also probably don’t. Facts involving their history and a few odd stories you might not have heard of.

Today, we’re going to be talking about facts connected to the following characters/groups:

Hulk

Iron Man

Spider-Man

The Avengers

Thor

Ant-Man and the Wasp

Doctor Strange

And one quick fact about Cyclops

Here are the facts:

What's technically the first big Marvel crossover is when the Fantastic Four went up against the Hulk in issue #12 of their 1961 run.

The Hulk's first solo run in 1962 only lasted for six issues.

And you know Hulk's sidekick Rick Jones? HE formed a team of teenagers called the Teen Brigade, who send messages around the world. And it's them who inadvertently brought the Avengers together when calling for help against the Hulk...I'm not kidding.

Like Thor and Ant-Man, Iron Man made his debut in an anthology comic, with his stories often taking place in Tales of Suspense.

Iron Man didn't get captured by the Nine Rings. He got captured by a Wong-Chu, an evil Vietnamese general...it was a different time.

Tony Stark used to need to wear an entire iron chest plate to keep himself alive, rather than just a small arc reactor.

He then painted his MK I suit gold after his lady friend Marien suggested it.

And if you think his suit in Avengers: Infinity War was OP, wait until you see his MK I suit from 1963. It was basically Batman's utility belt as it just so happens to have a dozen tools and attachments that allow him to do anything. It's kind of cool but also insanely lazy.

Did you know Steven Strange wasn't the first Doctor Strange? Because he wasn't. There was actually another character called Dr. Strange, who actually came close to killing Iron Man if not for his daughter ruining things.

Spider-Man was initially a one-off character in Amazing Fantasy #15. It wasn't until many fans demanded more did Stan Lee and Steve Ditko give him his own series in 1963.

In the very first issue of The Amazing Spider-Man, Peter Parker is referred to as Peter Palmer.

J. Jonah Jameson published both The Daily Bugle and Now Magazine.

Odin explicitly states that Thor is his favorite son...what a dick.

If Thor lets go of his hammer for sixty seconds, he'll revert back to Donald Blake. But if he's in Asgard, which is beyond Earth's time, Thor can stay as Thor indefinitely.

Also, Thor doesn't like publicity and crowds of photographers. He was too scared people would see through his god-like physique and see him as Donald Blake.

Loki was a blonde once...that is all.

And alongside telling stories of Thor fighting the villain of the week, Journey Into Mystery would have Tales of Asgard, which basically had stories of adventures the Norse gods went before Thor's.

Hank Pym's Ant-Man used to be married to Maria Trovaya before meeting Janet Van Dyme...Maria was murdered by communists for betraying communism...it was a different time.

It was retconned that the main reason why Hank Pym became Ant-Man was because of Maria's death.

It was The Wasp who came up with the name for the Avengers...I bet she doesn't get enough credit for that.

Doctor Strange also started on an anthology comic, but it wasn't in his own like Iron Man, Thor, and Ant-Man. Instead, he shared a slot on Stange Tales alongside the Human Torch.

Unlike most superheroes, Doctor Strange's first story wasn't an origin. Fans didn't figure out how the good doctor came to be until his third appearance.

Doctor Strange also didn't start with his cloak of levitation. Shocking right? To find out that an iconic piece of a hero's costume didn't even exist when that hero was made.

Scott Summers, Cyclops, was originally called Slim Summers.

#marvel #marvel facts #hulk #iron man #spider-man #the avengers #doctor strange #thor #ant-man #the wasp #loki #cyclops #odin #rick jones

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werezmastarbucks · 4 years

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neighboring [2]

previous part

this is a request

I am sorry I’m terrible at time management and utterly lazy and an awful request author

word count: 1319

“You’re not the most talktative, are you?” he asked. You could tell boredom was eating him from the head.

You looked up and down the wall, where Neighbor was examining the dust on the floor. You could see his white palm form a fist and squeeze a handful of grey and brown sand he’s been gathering. Nothing else to do here. Just gather the dust. Seeing you watch his simple hobby, he added,

“There used to be little pebbles here”.

“They took them away?”

A vampire can turn a simple pebble into a bullet. Those people who kept such dangerous creatures here should think about things like that, and, unfortunately, as you found after several days of observing your cell, they have.

“Here. They turn into dust eventually”.

“You know you can somehow use rocks and dust to light up the metal, right?”

Neighbor gave you a funny look.

“What kind of silly nonsense do they teach you in schools nowadays?”

You sighed deeply.

“No, I meant... of course, I meant like... the rock on the metal, bang, spark...”

“And then what?”

You chewed on your lip hard and sat on your knees because your ass was growing numb.

“Then I’ll light you on fire”.

“How nice. I don’t even know your name and you’re planning to kill me already. Talk about losing spirit, eh?”

You winced at his way of speech. Ridiculously, that was one of the harder things to get used to here.

“I’m Y/N”, you said, thinking that it would do no harm to be more than just a skeleton across the cell to him.

“I’m Lorenzo St. John”, he introduced himself.

“Jesus. So...”

He smiled self-lovingly, his dark eyes and hair contrasting with his white, white face. Maybe you were mistaken about him a little. Lorenzo St. John seemed an enigma, inert and indifferent one day, completely out of it the next one, and then suddenly, lively and youthful.

“I’ve heard that last name a couple of times - mainly on vampire tv shows”, you nodded. The vampire cocked his head apprehensively.

“Vampire tv shows? What is that?”

Your mouth gaped open.

“God, you’ve been here... how long? You... oh my god”, you crawled closer to the bars that separated your cell from his, “you’ve missed everything completely. How long have you stayed here exactly?”

Lorenzo stayed at the wall, seemingly unwilling to move and admit his absence in the world. Suddenly you realized the real depth of the picture here; it wasn’t only that he was trapped, tortured and deprived; he was immortal which meant he had a very special way of perceiving the world and history. Vampires are generally known - and now you could say so as one of them, seeing that all that romanticized bullshit is true - for taking interest in the flow of time. The empires fall, so to say, the times, they are a-changing, and the generations die out. But you stay the same. And you watch all that, still the same, except maybe for the hair. As a young vampire, one thing that made you very optimistic about the future was the future itself. That was before you were caught and incarcerated. Lorenzo was not robbed of that future he was supposed to witness from aside, as all vampires do. His privilege, as an immortal creature wise enough due to his transformation and observations, was taken away.

“I told you it’s been nearly sixty years I’ve been alone but I had been captured before that”.

“You’re talking in riddles”.

“I really am not. Better tell me about what I missed”.

“Tell me the year you got here”.

Lorenzo sighed, turning into a frowning statue and away from you. For a minute, you thought he was daydreaming again, or just bitter about your questions. Funny how he was the one who started nearly all conversations - and then was sorry about them half way through. He seemed empty enough not to care about a new, fresh roommate, but got visibly hurt when you tried to speak to him. At the same time you were trying to keep distance not to get infected with lack of hope. Maybe Lorenzo was many things, but not hopeful.

“Hey, are you over me?”

He turned back and pierced you with his eyes, amused a little.

“What a curious way to express frustration”.

“You are pretty frustrating, Lorenzo St. John”.

“I’m sure it’s the place and not me”.

You’re the plant here, you wanted to say but didn’t wish to upset him even more.

You rolled away and started staring into the corridor. Impatience and exhaustion of not doing anything, boredom that might kill you one day, made it all worse. It felt like you were waiting for something - for them to come and take you to the lab again, or something else. But it was clear nothing was actually coming. You finally started realizing one thing that was probably the scariest - not knowing when it ends and whether it ends at all. Sitting on needles, feeling you’re wasting precious time that you could use to plan your escape. You looked left and right and couldn’t see anything that would help you. Thoughts were swarming in your skull like worms, making you agitated; you didn’t notice Lorenzo side-eyeing you, weighing you, learning you without talking. You didn’t realize you were even more exposed than you thought.

_____________________________

“People went to space”.

“Hmm?”

You were laying on your back, hands behind your head, and looking at the ceiling, imagining blue sky. Pity, just a... week? Month? Century? ago you resented your neighbor for doing that. Now, you found it so easy and natural. You did it many times even before ending up here. End up, a funny phrase. Means that it’s the end.

“People have gone into space, Lorenzo, while you were sitting here”.

“When?”

“In 1961″.

“What’s it look like?”

It was dusty and stuffy in your separate cells shared by the flies and ashes of the previous lodgers.

“I think it’s... vast”, you said gloomily. “Lorenzo?”

He quivered himself, like something in your voice made shivers run down his spine.

“Huh?”

“Am I... are we going to stay here long?”

He sighed, and there was so much in that sigh that you winced when he accompanied it with words,

“I’m really the wrong person to ask, love”.

You’d hoped he’d give you some kind of closure, something. But it seemed he forgot whether he was an optimist or a pessimist.

You sat at the bars and looked inside his cell, discovering that he mimicked your position on the floor, and was staring up, too.

“Can I feel your hand?”

“Why?”

You felt hungry. You tried to scan him, like you usually do with people as a vampire. When hungry, you can’t help seeing the blood underneath their skin, running in small rivers, rushing up and down, you can hear the quiet hush of the flow. It’s the best sound.

“I think I am scared right now”.

He turned his head and looked at you, with his coal-black eyes, as if measuring, calculating. You were far younger; compared to him, you were still very much human. Maybe, if he bit you, you’d even feel a little bit like mortal to his old, dark, thick blood.

He sat up, brushing off the dust from his shoulders, flexible like a snake, a lump of wasted energy. Leaning to the side, he took a breath, smelling you, taking in all your thoughts, your young naive hope, and there was black flame in the mouth as he said,

“That shall pass, too”.

Then he retreated back to the wall and pressed himself to it hard, as if he was trying to become it completely. Hard silence fell down on the floor, and his face expressed resentment, distrust, and complete indifference.

You were so very alone.

#enzo st john x reader #enzo st. john #enzo st john imagine #vampire diaries

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percyscourt · 4 years

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Imagine Travis Stoll from Percy Jackson in Ferris Bueller's Day Off

travis stoll is a nyc high school senior. known and well-liked by everybody- except his principal and older sister- travis is funny, mischevious, and has a way of always getting what he wants.

it's towards the end of the year when travis decides to take one of his many "skip" days in order to skip a history test he has to do. the only problem? he's already used up all nine of his abscences for the year. this isn't going to stop him, though

when travis' parents comes to wake him up in the morning, he's already been up for an hour planning. the plan- to claim he's sick and get them to let him stay home. travis knows he can't just claim he was sick though, no, he has to prove it. using his top three tricks.

1. Fake A Stomach Cramp

2. Moan and Wail

3. Lick Palms

this morning, he used all three, with an added "I'm seeing spots" for good measure. just as he knew it would, his plan works. both his mom and dad agree to let him take a sick day, telling him to call them at work if anything comes up

as soon as they leave, travis throws his covers off himself and gets out of bed, getting ready for the day

meanwhile, his sister Annabeth is at school, and suspects knows that travis is faking. she's not the only one. besides Annabeth, the dean, Pr. D, also suspects travis of skipping school, and he commits to catching him himself

while his sister and principal both stress over how to catch him, travis gets to work perfecting his plan. after getting out of bed, he sets up a mannequin stunt-double in the bed to look as if he's there sleeping. and for icing on the cake, he plays a recording of himself snoring to make it more legitimate.

after this, it's time for travis to make some calls. the first one goes to luke, his best friend, who is currently at home and actually sick. luke answers, sounding like death, but travis doesn't really care. "We're going out today. See you soon." luke argues, of course, but travis knows he'll eventually give in

travis walks to luke's house and they make a call to the school- as the dad of Katie Gardner, Travis' girlfriend. despite his protests, luke ends up as the one making the phonecall.

"Well, I can't do it, Luke! You know you have the best adult voice!"

he tells the school to please excuse "his daughter" as there has been a death in the family, and they need to prepare for the funeral and mourn as a family

the dean, thinking it's travis, starts yelling and threatening luke to "expose" him- until travis calls him from the other line to let him know that he's sick, and that he really wishes he could be at school. embarassed, the dean immediately sends for katie to leave school early, no other questions asked

"I'll even walk her out, myself, sir, sorry again sir, I-" luke hangs up in the middle of the explanation, hands shaking and already regretting everything. travis, on the other hand, is just getting started for the day

while katie is getting her stuff together to leave, everybody is talking about travis and his "near-death" illness. a couple kids start gofundme pages, and several sell cookies and bracelets to raise awareness. annabeth hates it, and it takes all her power to not kill the freshmen girls that ask to come over after school to see him

the next step of travis' plan is convincing luke to take out his dad's car to go pick-up katie; as travis doesn't have a car of his own. mr. castellan's car is a vintage 1961 Ferrari 250 GT California that he personally restored to mint condition. luke has a mini-panic attack before again giving in to travis, and even agrees to let travis drive

before they leave, travis visits mr. castellan's closet for some inspiration. he grabs a top hat, sunglasses, and a buisness coat. he also pulls out a fake mustache from his pocket, and luke doesn't even bother to aks. in just the ten minute drive to he school, travis runs five red lights, luke almost pukes, travis almost hits somebody, and the car almost runs into a tree. somwhow, they both make it to the school in one piece

when they pull up, just as he said, the dean is waiting with katie, one hand on her shoulder in what travis assumes is an attempt at comfort. travis pushes luke's head down in the front seat and gets out of the car and stands in front of the driver's seat. when the dean starts walking towards him, travis shoos him away, saying they really need to get going. the dean stays at the door while katie runs to the car, and the whole time he's apologizing for his behavior over the phone.

travis dismisses him, and when katie gets to travis, he pulls her in for a long kiss. the dean looks on perplexed, then chalks it up to a simple "oh, they're that kind of family." travis and katie get in the car, and travis speeds off.

while the dean was outside, annabeth was in the hallway, watching the whole thing. annoyed, she decides that when she gets home she'll bust travis before he can get away with it

though luke begs travis not to, travis takes them and mr. castellan's car to downtown NY, blaring loud music and speeding the whole time. when they get to the city, travis decides they need to ditch the car and he leaves it with parking garage attendants. of course, as soon as they leave, the attendants decide to take the car for a joyride

after leaving the garage, travis leads them on a sight-seeing walk around downtown, looking at sights such as places in SoHo, the Hudson River Park, and even the one world observatory. the whole time the kids are trying not to run into Mr. Stoll, who's working downtown

the whole time, luke is obviously uninterested and nervous. travis looks for a way to cheer him up, then finds it. while luke and katie are watching fish swim in the river, travis disappears. just as they start to look for him, they find him. on a float. in the parade.

"TRAVIS! GET DOWN FROM THERE! YOUR DAD COULD SEE! THE DEAN COULD SEE, FOR PETE'S SAKE!" both luke and katie run alongside the float and try to get travis off. travis, in response, of course, performs a lip-sync cover of the Beatles' Twist and Shout.

mr. stoll hears the song from his office and even starts dancing along, though he doesn't see his son

while travis continues his performance, the dean goes to his house to investigate the credibility of travis' sick day. at the same time, a frustrated annabeth skips class to come home early and catch travis. when annabeth gets home, Pr. D has successfully broken into her house. not realizing who it is, Annabeth knocks him out with kick then runs upstairs, scared of retaliation. she tries to phone 911 in her room but the phone operator thinks she's prank calling her, and hangs up the phone

when the dean wakes up, he walks outside and sees that his car has been towed. he runs after the tow truck, and annabeth walks downstairs to find his wallet on the kitchen floor. recognizing him, she takes it and puts it in her pocket.

despite hanging up, the operator did send police to the house- to arrest annabeth for a false report. they arrest her and take her to the station, forcing her to call her mom for bail. when Mrs. Stoll gets there, she sees Annabeth kissing a delinquent named Percy, and she grounds Annabeth immediately, though annabeth is at the point past caring

looking again to travis, he's now done with his performance and tells katie and luke they should go to lunch. instead of going to their usual diner, travis picks a fancy restaurant where you can only get in by reservation. when they get to the front, travis uses his persuasion skills and gets a table, by saying he had reserved it as a "Hermes", a very famous buisnessman in NY. when they sit down, the friends notice that travis' dad is right outside, and they carefully evade him as they leave the restaurant

much to luke's liking, travis tells them they're done downtown and they go back to the garage to pick up the car. on the way home, they realize that hundreds of miles have been added to the odometer, and luke starts freaking out

after getting back to the castellan house, travis works on calming luke down, and comes up with a plan to run the car in reverse in place in luke's garage to reverse the odometer. when they realize this isn't working, luke goes crazy. ranting about his abusive, unloving father, luke starts kicking the front of the car. because of this, the cars becomes unstable on its stand, and when luke stops to rest on it, it rolls back into the garage's glass windows and lands in the ditch below

luke stares at the car for maybe five straight minutes before starting to laugh, unnerving travis. while he laughs, travis offers to take the blame, but luke tells him he'll own up to his actions and maybe finally stand up to his dad after taking the consequences

travis leaves luke and runs katie home. travis himself sprints home, cutting through the street to reach his house faster. he's runnin full speed when he's almost hit by a car- a car with his mom and sister inside. while his mom doesn't recognize him, annabeth does, and hits the gas pedal for her mom in order to beat travis home

when travis gets home, not only is the dean there but annabeth is also waiting for him. despite her attempts to catch him, annabeth wraps an arm around travis and starts scolding him- from walking home from the hospital when he was in such bad shape

when the dean starts protesting, annabeth hands him his wallet from earlier and thanks him for driving travis home

before his parents check on him, travis races to his room, and is comfortably in bed when they come to see him

AND FINALLY, TRAVIS LOOKING INTO THE DISTANCE LIKE JIM FROM THE OFFICE AND UTTERING THE WORDS

"Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it."

#travis stoll #pjo #pjo au #riordanverse au #ferris buellers day off #katie gardner #luke castellan #annabeth chase

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dweemeister · 3 years

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The Haunting (1963)

Why do people like being scared? I am not one to answer this question, but even a non-thrill seeker like myself can appreciate a decent fright. For centuries, humans have been imparting to others stories of haunted places, ghastly monsters, the occult. That storytelling tradition has long endured and, of course, it would someday touch cinema. As film matures as a medium, there are certain films that produce experiences that are uniquely cinematic, unconstrained by older mediums. One of those movies is The Haunting – released by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer (MGM) and directed by Robert Wise in between his work on West Side Story (1961) and The Sound of Music (1965). Though the film may no longer be scary to those expecting machete-wielding murderers and torture-happy mannequins, The Haunting boasts a suffocating eeriness in what initially appears to be just another haunted house film. Its disturbing visuals break it from its source material’s (Shirley Jackson’s novel The Haunting of Hill House) prose, embedding itself into the imaginations of its viewers. No less significantly, The Haunting is a striking validation of the beauty and necessity of black-and-white film – it is impossible to imagine it as a color film.

In the prologue, Dr. John Markway (Richard Johnson) introduces our primary setting before telling of its violent history:

…Hill House had stood for ninety years and might stand for ninety more. Silence lay steadily against the wood and stone of Hill House, and whatever walked there… walked alone.

Dr. Markway is an anthropologist with research interests in the paranormal. To determine whether or not Hill House is haunted, he invites six individuals with extrasensory perception (ESP) or past history with paranormal events. Only two of those invitees arrive at this Massachusetts mansion: Eleanor (Julie Harris; whose character is often called “Nell”) and Theodora (Claire Bloom; whose character, heavily coded as queer, is often called “Theo”). Heir-to-the-house apparent Luke Sanderson (Russ Tamblyn) is also here. Following the opening narration, The Haunting shifts its perspective from Dr. Markway to Nell. What the four main characters find at Hill House is an estate with off-center perspectives; numerous rooms and ceilings without right angles; stylistically-clashing art and furnishings; and isolation from humanity (the house is far from the next town and is staffed by two individuals, who leave before sunset).

This is barely a spoiler, but let it be clear that Hill House is indeed haunted. What happens is no ruse, and there is no living being orchestrating the abnormalities that occur. Much is left to the viewer’s imagination – neither discovered by the characters nor explained by the filmmaking. Whatever lurks down the hall or the floor above is beyond any explanation The Haunting provides. Davis Boulton’s cinematography provides few comforts. Boulton, whose career was defined by still photography and not cinematic work, liberally employs low-angled shots and film noir-influenced chiaroscuro to highlight the house’s unusual structure and to intensify the contrasts between lit and unlit areas. Color film would make Hill House seem too inviting, too sunny, too earthly. Viewers may notice some spatial distortions along the left and right-hand side of the frame during scenes within Hill House. The effect is caused by the fact that Wise and Boulton used a technically unready 30mm wide-angle Panavision lens to shoot this film. But Wise and Boulton lean into their imperfect lens by keeping the camera moving as characters move, in addition to the unsettling Dutch angles and unusual tracking shots in the film’s second half. The widescreen Panavision format appears to be ill-suited for haunted house films, when a filmmaker may want the audience to feel as trapped as the characters. But in this exceptional case, it (perhaps unintentionally) benefits Hill House’s quietly spooky atmosphere.

Production designer Elliot Scott (1958’s Tom Thumb, 1989’s Who Framed Roger Rabbit) and set decorator John Jarvis (1953’s Knights of the Round Table, 1972’s Sleuth) have crafted a frightening set to accompany with Boulton’s cinematography. Hill House’s exterior were shot on the grounds of Ettington Park in Warwickshire, England; the interiors housing Scott and Jarvis’ work were shot at MGM-British Studios near London. The dark wood-paneled walls; the heaving large doors; dearth of right-angled corners; the creepily-placed and sad-eyed statues, limited light sources (a motley assortment of candles, gas lights, and electricity); and excessive dark-wooded furniture contribute to the house’s oppressive dread. In daylight, these rooms appear curious, eccentric. By night, the environment of the house is – at best – unnerving. The two most terrifying interior scenes during The Haunting involve interactions with the set itself. The first instance occurs in stillness, with a view of a bas relief bedroom wall. The second features a door moving in ways impossible.

The Haunting merges the paranormal and the psychological to the point where the two become indistinguishable. That may alienate some viewers, but it will certainly keep one on tenterhooks. This merger of the paranormal and psychological is mostly thanks to Julie Harris as Nell. We are not given Nell’s entire biography. Yet, the viewer can surmise that she has lived a sheltered life. Nell claims that her trip to Hill House is an opportunity for adventure, a departure from a homebound existence where she mostly spent caring for her late, bedridden mother. Harris also expresses her character’s noticeable sexual repression and need for nurture – no other actor in this film is doing as much (or as brilliantly) as she is. Nell’s tendencies and desires are sometimes articulated aggressively, without tact and consideration for the feelings of others. She can be downright loathsome as her grip on reality crumbles, with no apologies to give after a horrible remark. As Nell, Harris pushes hard against the audience’s desire to find a relatable, sympathetic central character – and thus makes the viewer question about which scenes presented from her viewpoint might be believed (days after watching this film, I am still having difficulty grappling with Nell’s unreliable perceptions).

In 114 minutes, Nell’s relationships with Theo and Dr. Markway (not so much the smarmy Luke) become more turbulent. We sense that Nell has had little interaction with people outside her household. For what might be the first time in her life, she finds comfort in both Theo and Dr. Markway. But her frustration with her family life is never far behind. Her idealization of human connection beyond the family sees her lash out at the slightest violation of said idealization. There is some mutual attraction between Nell and Theo, but the former cannot bring about herself to say anything (Nell also ineptly flirts with Dr. Markway, who thinks nothing of these advances). On occasion via voiceover, Nell reveals her inner thoughts. This is a clumsy device when first utilized, but as the film progresses, it accentuates Nell’s madness. Her thoughts become incomprehensible, contradictory, hypocritical, and divorced from observable reality.

The use of sound in The Haunting is deeply strategic. I can not write much on this without revealing much of what makes this film scary. But on multiple occasions throughout, there are wonderfully-timed sound effects – some as soft as a whisper; others as loud as thunder – that will jolt the audience from its sense of complacency and safety. Wise’s sense of timing in this regard originates from his work as director on The Curse of the Cat People (1944), the sequel to Jacques Tourneur’s Cat People (1942). Both those films shared a producer in RKO’s Val Lewton, a low-budget horror specialist. Both those films innovated the “Lewton bus” – the gradual buildup of tension, culminating in abrupt aural and/or visual terror. The Lewton bus is the progenitor of the modern jumpscare, which became de rigueur sometime in the late 1970s or early ‘80s. Compared to modern horror films, let’s just say that this Lewton bus does not mind taking its time to pull up to the station – the influence of Cat People and The Curse of the Cat People on this film is unmistakable. Through its use of its own versions of Lewton buses, The Haunting twists the terror into its viewers’ stomachs slowly, agonizingly.

English composer Humphrey Searle’s soundtrack has never been released commercially. Searle, an expert of serial music (a form of contemporary music; in brief, it is a reaction against atonalism through a form of fixed-order chromaticism), composes an uncharacteristic tonal score here. Yet, it is just barely tonal. The score mostly disappears after the opening few minutes, but it is colored by high string tremolos and runs, foreboding brass triplets, and tinny bells that are a valuable contribution the sound mix. It flirts with atonalism, but there is always some melodic sense to this score. Searle’s score is unorthodox without being experimental for its time. There appears to be no sign of motifs in Searle’s score, but the horror genre tends to resist such musical construction anyways.

Upon release, audiences and critics did not know what to make of The Haunting. Most detractors were hostile to its plot (or lack thereof). In the years since, the film has been reevaluated on how Hill House itself is a character – shrouded in the darkness, its worst secrets unknowable. Robert Wise, the cast, and the numerous technicians working on this film all contribute to one of the greatest, most spine-tingling haunted house films ever made. The paucity of its special effects and dependence on a superb acting ensemble – Julie Harris especially – have shielded The Haunting from aging.

The house or whatever is haunting it is the star of this film. It is actively searching to kill. It does so biding its time, wearing down the psychological defenses of those who, seeking excitement or a deathly fright, dare spend a night within its walls. One will see how quickly such barriers, created over a lifetime of traumas and broken dreams, can be breached. In the moody shadows that could never be created on color film, therein lies the suggestion – functionally similar to, but artistically dissimilar from Jackson’s original novel – of something sinister, calculating, and cold.

My rating: 9.5/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. Half-points are always rounded down. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found in the “Ratings system” page on my blog (as of July 1, 2020, tumblr is not permitting certain posts with links to appear on tag pages, so I cannot provide the URL).

For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, check out the tag of the same name on my blog.

#The Haunting #Robert Wise #Julie Harris #Claire Bloom #Richard Johnson #Russ Tamblyn #Fay Compton #Rosalie Crutchley #Lois Maxwell #Valentine Dyall #Shirley Jackson #Nelson Gidding #Davis Boulton #Ernest Walter #Humphrey Searle #Elliot Scott #John Jarvis #TCM #My Movie Odyssey

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nerianasims · 4 years

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Billboards #1 1961

Under the cut.

Bert Kaempfert – “Wonderland By Night” -- January 9, 1961

It's an instrumental, but it's a sexy one. It makes me think of being alone at night in a big city hoping to find someone to go home with, if just for a night. It definitely sounds of its time, but it's still very good.

The Shirelles – “Will You Love Me Tomorrow” -- January 30, 1961

For all the innocent-sounding music and beat, this is a straightforward song about sex. In 1961. Also a great song.

Lawrence Welk – “Calcutta” -- February 13, 1961

Blargh. Lawrence Welk's music gives me a pain. To say this sounds like a German music hall song is an insult to German music halls. Whatever music hall this plays in, they have a strict no-alcohol policy and don't serve caffeinated drinks either because they're opposed to every kind of drug. You get skim milk or nothing. There is nothing Calcutta-ish about it.

Chubby Checker – “Pony Time” -- February 27, 1961

An attempt to recapture The Twist. But that was lightning in a bottle. This is some dead fireflies in a jar. Unlike the Twist, the dance is sort of complicated. More importantly, the song doesn't make me want to dance at all. Sadly, not good.

Elvis Presley – “Surrender” -- March 20, 1961

I don't feel like Elvis really connected with this song. I certainly don't. It sounds like it belongs in one of his movies. He ramps up the belting, there's a background chorus that sounds like it’s from a Disney movie of the time, and the mariachi band overwhelms it all. How do you overwhelm Elvis? He's trying to sing to someone to seduce them, and he's failing with me. An embarrassing song.

The Marcels – “Blue Moon” -- April 3, 1961

This version of Blue Moon deeply annoys me. It's like they'd be embarrassed to sing a heartfelt love song, so they sped it up and threw a bunch of silly noises in instead. Go for the one Obsidian was smart enough to put in Fallout: New Vegas instead, by Frank Sinatra. Or the Mel Tormé version. Or the Chris Isaak version. Not this one.

Del Shannon – “Runaway” -- April 24, 1961

It's about a breakup, not a runaway. He doesn't get why his girlfriend ran away from him. And it is pure melodramatic cheese, yet it works. Del Shannon commits. Also is that a slide whistle? I can't really say it's a good song, but I kinda like it anyway.

Ernie K-Doe – “Mother-In-Law” -- May 22, 1961

Hah hah aren't mothers-in-law awful. That's it, that's the song. It's a bad sitcom joke. And musically it sounds like a commercial jingle. Yuck.

Ricky Nelson – “Travelin’ Man” -- May 29, 1961

The "every woman in an area is exactly the same" subgenre is one I hate. Yes, this means I hate The Beach Boys' "California Girls." The Beatles were absolutely right to send up this kind of bilge with "Back in the USSR." So, I hate this song. The narrator travels around the world and has a girlfriend everywhere, including a "senorita" in Mexico, an "Eskimo" in Alaska, and a "China doll" in China. Really, really bad.

Roy Orbison – “Running Scared” -- June 5, 1961

I think I just don't get Roy Orbison. In this song, he's afraid his wife (probably) will go back to her ex. At the end, she tells her ex to go away and chooses the narrator. The beat is repetitive and insistent as all hell and gives me a headache. I dunno, other people seem to like it. The lyrics are fine. Orbison's singing is fine. I cannot deal with the beat.

Pat Boone – “Moody River” -- June 19, 1961

Listening to Pat Boone is like putting mayonnaise in your ears. And not good mayonnaise. The narrator's girlfriend drowned herself because she felt oh so guilty about cheating on him, and he sounds awful cheery about it. I have another theory as to how she died. But someone like Pat Boone couldn't get convicted if he tried, especially in 1961. Now, how does one get mayonnaise out of one's ears? Probably vinegar, that's the solution to everything.

Gary U.S. Bonds – “Quarter To Three” -- June 26, 1961

What an odd name. The song sounds like an impromptu recording of a band at a club. It does make me want to dance. Gary shouts the song, sounding like he's had a few Red Bulls. I kinda dig it. It slaps.

Bobby Lewis – “Tossin’ And Turnin'” -- July 10, 1961

The narrator couldn't sleep because he couldn't stop thinking about you. He's got an awful lot of energy, considering that. But I understand that kind of nervous energy. Great saxophone solo too. It's a fun dance song about romantic desperation.

Joe Dowell – “Wooden Heart (Muss I Denn)” -- August 28, 1961

The narrator says not to leave him because he doesn't have a wooden heart and he might die. The way Joe sings the song though, I think he is lying. He's made of wood and will never be a real boy.

The Highwaymen – “Michael” -- September 4, 1961

So this is a version of "Michael, Row the Boat Ashore." Sung by the most comfortable and privileged people imaginable, who may also be on valium. I'm sure the members of The Highwaymen had some kind of pain in their lives; everyone does. But you'd never know it from their rendition. They seem to have had all emotion surgically removed. Absolutely terrible. It belongs in a Twilight Zone episode. I had to listen to the Harry Belafonte version afterward to cleanse my brain.

Bobby Vee – “Take Good Care Of My Baby” -- September 18, 1961

The narrator lost his girlfriend because he cheated on her, and he regrets it. He's telling her new boyfriend to take care of her. It's fine. I think maybe it's too fast. Too much snare drum.

Ray Charles – “Hit The Road Jack” -- October 9, 1961

Ray, I love you. Also Margie Hendrix, the lead backup singer here. I hope Ray worked the same magic he did in 1960, and the rest of 1961 will be good.

Dion – “Runaround Sue” -- October 23, 1961

Not only does Sue cheat all over the place, but also "she'll love you and she'll put you down." I like the song. It's upbeat and yet the singer sounds appropriately bitter. It's obviously no "Hit the Road Jack", but it's good.

Jimmy Dean – “Big Bad John” -- November 6, 1961

Yep, Jimmy Dean the sausage guy. It's one of those baritone spoken story things. I do not like those at all. So I'm not the audience for this. As a simple folk tale about a guy everyone's afraid of because he's so big, but then saves a bunch of lives at the cost of his own, it's fine. I wish it were sung though.

The Marvelettes – “Please Mr. Postman” -- December 11, 1961

An early Motown girl group song. The narrator is waiting for a letter from her boyfriend, which isn't there and clearly hasn't been there in a long time. Not one of my favorites, as the background singers sound weirdly like beeps to me. But still good.

The Tokens – “The Lion Sleeps Tonight” -- December 18, 1961

The saga of this song seems to be a convoluted semi-accidental stealing thing, and I'm not qualified to get into it. I do like it, but I liked it more as a child; I think it's a child's song. But the song it originated from is much more interesting. Look up Zulu singer Soloman Linda's "Mbube."

BEST OF 1961: "Hit the Road Jack" WORST OF 1961: A lot to choose from again, but I'm going with "Michael"

#billboard number ones

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breadrollsequel · 4 years

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May the darkness within you find peace in the light

Read the full fic here on AO3!

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy (TV) Rating: Not rated, contains some mild descriptions of drug abuse Wordcount: 1714 Tags: Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Ben Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves, Vanya Hargreeves (minor), Klaus Hargreeves Deserves Better, Reginald Hargreeves’ A+ parenting is back with a vengeance, Canon Compliant, pre-S1, Side B takes place a little after the final scene in S2

Summary:

Two one-shots, where Klaus loses Ben in some form.

Side A: The first time Klaus manages to shut out the ghosts, he shuts out Ben as well. Side B: Hours after losing one Ben, Klaus meets another in the flesh.

*Spoilers for S2 finale*

“You know, I’m tired of seeing you wallow in self-defeat.”

“Then avert your gaze.”

The screams were getting quieter now. He was going to make it.

Klaus groped for the bottle and shook out the remaining pills onto the palm of his hand.

“Klaus, that’s enough.”

The voice cut through his senses like hard sunlight cutting through the blinds in a dark, smoke-filled room. A few capsules slipped through the cracks between his fingers.

Ben’s face swam into view amongst the shifting pinks, yellows and blues of his vision.

Go away, Ben, he wanted to say, why was he always such a buzzkill when it came to parties?, but instead he let out a giggle.

Oh, but Ben didn’t have that disappointed look on his face that he usually had whenever he came to crash one of his parties. He looked frightened.

“Klaus, you’re in bad shape. You have to stop now.”

Klaus blinked. He didn’t feel any different from how he usually did. In fact, he couldn’t really feel much at the moment, other than being way, way out of planet Earth. The sounds of people laughing around him sounded like he was hearing them through a really thick carpet, the guests were acting out a scene from his favourite romantic drama and his brain felt like cotton candy and – he could see a face now, beside Ben’s, the dark circles under her eyes and the bridge of her nose caving back into her face, whispering and pleading his name…

“Oh, no. No, no, no.” The colour was draining out of his vision, out of the fountain and the towers of red cordial. It was getting louder again, they were coming back. He held his hands to his ears. “Shut up!”

“Klaus - ”

He’d never heard Ben this distressed before. More faces were starting to appear behind him, blue smudges that made awful whimpering noises, faces that would later turn into bodies…

“Shut up!” He crammed the pills into his mouth.

They tasted like fire and then they tasted like the toffee he and his siblings used to sneak back on the way back from missions. Ben was also calling his name. Shut up, Ben, he thought. I need the ghosts to shut up. He pounded at his head with the base of his palms so it could be quiet –

When he blinked his tears away, Ben’s face was inches from his. “You’re going to be fine, stop it, please.”

The other ghosts started to scream. He felt his head starting to split open. There were many times for Ben to be annoying, but this wasn’t one of them. “Don’t be stupid, Ben.”

He pawed the ground for the lost pills, found one lodged in the folds of his pants, and gulped that down. Colour burst to life in his vision. The blue faces exploded into blue flowing water that soaked his feet and sparkled as the sunlight hit its surface. Ben’s face became… smudged, there was no face there, like how he’d looked when Klaus popped his first pill. He didn’t like that.

He saw a bright yellow fruit smiling at him from where it floated in the water. He took a bite out of it.

The blue smudges turned into yellow smiley faces, and their mangled, misshapen bodies turned into brightly-coloured dresses and suits. Ben was wearing the suit he’d worn the day he died, with a splitting gash that stretched from his neck to his stomach, leading down to a void that seemed to suck out all the noise in his head. That wasn’t right. Klaus rubbed his eyes with his fruit-stained fingers, and waved his hands like he used to back when he thought it would shoo away the ghosts.

The party was over. There was no more screaming. He’d done it.

Klaus clapped with glee. It was the only sound in the silence of the room. “What’d I tell you, Ben-Ben? Suck it up!”

Ben sat further away from him now, almost blending into the shadows. He sat hunched over himself, his eyes closed.

“Ben?” he tried again.

When Klaus woke up the next morning with a sip from his flask, there were no ghosts, and there was no Ben.

“He wanted me to tell you that he was too scared to go into the light. It wasn’t you that made him stay.”

“Your uncle Ben, he took down four of them at the same time.”

Time travel was weird. It was the only thing Klaus could keep telling himself, the minute he met him. Suddenly he couldn’t really blame Five for murdering his way into a mid-life crisis at thirteen, with the powers that he had.

Ben was dead, right? He’d felt him – realised he’d felt him go, almost a day ago. And now he wasn’t.

And it wasn’t because the feeling of Ben’s physical presence - instead of the floaty, omnipresent presence he’d felt throughout half his life – was unfamiliar to him.

This Ben didn’t feel like his Ben.

A spinning wheel of statements went round his head before he started the conversation. “How was… not dying?”

Sparrow Academy Ben raised an eyebrow, confused.

“In our timeline,” Klaus coughed, searching for the right words. “The timeline where you are my brother - ” The words came out more desperate than he intended, it happened and no amount of time travel could change that. “ – you died.”

“Your timeline me must have been a colossal wimp, then,” Ben said.

“How’d you become such a prick?” Klaus muttered, then back to Ben, “Yeah, you were. Your timeline Dad didn’t make you read those dead-language, cult-y tomes in the middle of the night until you broke out in hives? Force you to eat that weird casserole so little Ben Jr. inside you wouldn't get hungry, that made you puke black goo for a week? Made you sleep on a pentagram to see if a different tentacle monster would pop out of you like some sick Kinder surprise?”

“He did,” Ben said firmly. “But Dad was very patient with me, and while my training was painful, I learned to get over it.”

“He was patient with you?” Klaus forced out a laugh. He held his arms out in faux admiration. “Well, congratulations on becoming daddy’s boy, because Dad wouldn’t have ‘changed tactics’ if it wasn’t us who showed him the wonderful shitshow his normal parenting came out with.”

“I see why he decided not to adopt you happy few,” Ben sneered, the scar on the bridge of his nose appearing more jagged.

Klaus balled his fists, but he couldn’t bring himself to deck Ben upside the head.

Vanya took a cautious step forward. “Klaus, don’t fight him, That’s not –“

“Not our Ben.” Klaus made a swallowing sound, then continued, pacing towards Ben. “I can’t believe I was stupid enough to believe that all this while, sweet, voice of reason, sometimes a little annoying Ben was the least likely to turn out like Dad.” He stopped, cringing at Ben’s uniform. “Did Dad liking you more this time inspire you to be daddy’s little monster?” He nodded at the Sparrow siblings on the other side of the room. “I guess your new siblings turned out to be even bigger assholes so you had to play daddy to keep them in check?”

“My brothers and sisters pushed me to be the be the best version of myself,” Ben countered, his voice raised. Klaus remembered the other time he sounded like this was when he was berating him for going on one of his drug runs. “They didn’t hold back.” He frowned as he said this, but his tone returned steady. “But I’m thankful that I had them.”

“But you didn’t have me,” Klaus said bluntly.

“I can’t imagine you being my brother.” Ben shrugged. “You’ve got a lot of trouble letting it go. I’m sure you’d drag the whole family down with you.”

Klaus was quiet. His fists trembled.

“Klaus,” Vanya tried quietly, touching his shoulder. “Now’s not the time.”

“If you’re telling the truth, then Dad trained us well,” Ben’s tone softened slightly, almost in a consoling manner. “And maybe I owe it to you six that he learned not to make the same mistakes. And I came out stronger because of it.”

Reginald Hargreeves had considered that the early demise of Number Six was in some part due to his own miscalculations. So unlike the new six that he’d decided to raise, he’d decided to take a different approach with the number he’d failed – slower steps this time, more nurturing, more encouragement, all for building Number Six to live up to his name, until the day came when The Horror emerged from a room littered with the broken bodies of criminals, uniform drenched in blood and hair sticking to his forehead, with a bright smile on his face.

“I guess you could spend a few minutes with my siblings and see how much of an improvement they are over you,” he continued. “Before Dad kicks you out of the house.”

He nodded to the rest of them, and walked away.

“I’ll pass,” Klaus mumbled, putting on his hat.

Vanya gripped his arm firmly. “Our Ben was real.” She looked at him with the eyes that had watched him fade into the light. “Nothing changes that.”

“Actually it felt just like talking with our Ben,” Klaus said to the ground. “But if every conversation we had was an argument.”

Vanya nodded.

Before she pulled away, Klaus grabbed her shoulders. “He didn’t meet us. That’s why he’s such a prick. If you guys are planning something - " He took a shaky breath. “We need to kidnap him, or something, take him on a life-changing field trip with us, with me…”

It felt like Dave in 1961 again, begging him to believe in a future that would definitely change as soon as he talked about it. What did he care, time travel wasn’t his thing. “Or what do you think?” Klaus sighed. “You’re the expert on supervillains. No offence.”

Vanya put a hand over his, one of the few affectionate gestures she’d started showing her siblings after the incident in Dallas. “We’ll come back for him.”

Klaus nodded, blinking back the stinging in his eyes. “We’re coming back for him.”

#the umbrella academy #tua #ben hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #tua spoilers #umbrella academy spoilers #go easy with me on the summary the actual content is way better written i promise ;-;

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fluffy-marshmallow-heart · 5 years

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A Twist of Fate ch.16 -In My Eyes

The Elementalist AU

Beckett x MC (Oriana)

Words: 1961

Warnings: NSFW

Master List (Catch up here)

This AU is set after everyone graduates Penderghast, and Beckett and Oriana were never friends. Fate, however, may have a different plan for them.

The next morning, Beckett groggily opened his eyes, immediately overcome with Oriana’s presence. His room smelled of their joint arousal, and he found himself smiling, thinking back to the previous night…or rather, the whole night. He thought of their date, and how well it went, he thought of Chase showing up and how he punched him, hard. He thought about how he fingered her in his car, and how much she liked the sweet comments he murmured in her ear while doing so. The way he undressed her, and touched her gently, before entering the slick apex between her legs. He’d never had sex without a condom before, and it was the most amazing thing he ever experienced. But it was amazing because it was with her. He was her first for something, and he could hardly believe it.

In the middle of the night, he woke up to her gently stroking along his inner thighs, teasingly not quite touching his growing erection. He’d made love to her again and she purred in contentment after he came inside her for the third time that night, and then he didn’t stop kissing her until she was just about to sleep again.

Instinctively, his arm tightened around her in the early morning hours, and he pressed gentle kisses on her shoulder and back. He couldn’t get enough of her, and the evidence of that was pressed into her back. He felt her stir in his embrace, and he froze his movements, not wanting to scare her.

“Mmmm you don’t have to stop.” She murmured. “By all means, keep kissing me.”

He chuckled lightly and resumed his kisses, now starting to run his fingers up and down her stomach, moving his head so he could kiss her neck, making sure to get that one freckle he discovered behind her ear. He fell in love with that freckle the first time he saw it, years ago. He was sitting directly behind her in class. She had swept her long dark hair over one of her shoulders, revealing one side of her neck, and there it was, almost hidden away. He’d felt a current of electricity when he saw it and wanted to kiss it ever since. He always looked forward to days she wore her hair up, as he knew it would be revealed to him once more. She gasped as he sucked gently on her earlobe, and reached an arm behind her, until she was touching his back, pressing him closer, and giving him better access to her front.

He massaged one of her breasts, gently kneading it and rolling her nipple between his fingers, causing her to whimper in pleasure. He thrust his hips into her, letting her know exactly how turned on he was. He took his top leg and moved it between hers, so one her legs were draped over his, then slowly brought his fingers down, cupping her pussy in his hand.

“You’re soaked…again.” He groaned into her ear. He circled her sweet spot with his finger, going faster and faster until she was begging him to take her. Not needing any more encouragement, he removed his hand and guided himself into her, grunting at the sensation as her silky warmth wrapped around his cock like a glove.

“Oh my god, Beckett, you feel so…ohhhhhh….”

“Your pussy fits me perfectly, Ori.” He thrust harder into her, his hand splayed across her stomach, keeping her tightly against him, curious how she likes sex. Does she always like it slow and sweet? Does she sometimes like it hard and fast? Which does she actually prefer? He was determined to find out.

She cried out at the pressure, but to his surprise, encouraged him along. “yes, Beckett, yesssss…take me…fuck me…ohhhhhhh”

She pushed her hips back into him, taking him deeper and matching his thrusts, and he buried his face in her hair. His finger was back at her clit, rubbing it in the tempo he was fucking her. She was writhing with pleasure, and Beckett felt himself become even harder. He didn’t even think that was possible, especially since he was already inside her, but the sounds she was making drove him wild. “How do you like it, Ori, tell me more what you like.”

“I like you!” She rammed herself into him, taking him as far inside her as she could, and Beckett exploded inside her, unable to contain his orgasm.

“Shit” He muttered, completely embarrassed, after he’d finished emptying his seed inside her. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” She laughed. “Why on earth are you sorry for that?”

“I...came too fast. You should have come first. That won’t happen again.”

“Hmmm. So, you really, really like it when I say that I like you?” She teased, and Beckett turned bright red, thankful she wasn’t facing him right now.

Then she moved so he fell out of her and turned herself around in his arms, cupping his cheek with her hand. He stopped breathing as she met his eyes. “I really do, you know. I know it may not seem like it…and you’ll probably say I’m crazy, but…I’ve always…kinda…felt you. Not like this.” She added quickly, seeing the surprised look on his face. “But I could tell when you were around.”

“What do you mean?” He asked.

She bit her lip, and he leaned into her, taking it between his own teeth, biting softly while pulling back. He grinned when he saw her smiling at him.

“Well…” She trailed off, looking at him sheepishly. “I kindof already told you. Not that I ever expected you to think anything of it, or that I’d ever explore to just what depths that sense could go.

Beckett furrowed his eyebrows. “Ori, what are you talking about?”

“When you were around, I would always feel this…tingling sensation. It really troubled me at first, but as time went on…eventually I found a bit of comfort in it.”

“Tingled?” He asked. She nodded, and he looked over to his bookshelf where his yearbook now sat. The words she wrote to him flashed in his mind.

I would notice you near me, and I would tingle in excitement thinking you were going to come up to me.

His heart started fluttering as she continued. “I felt it in the bar before you approached. But I hadn’t actually seen you. I thought it was weird feeling that again when you clearly were not around. I hadn’t felt it since graduation. But then you were next to me, stubbornly refusing to leave my side.”

Beckett went silent. She…felt me? She felt that same recognition I felt when she was near?

“Beckett…”

That’s not possible. There is no way this happens. No way it’s always happened, no way it’s grown.

“Beckett!”

In all my studies, why did I never research this? There has be literature, why did I never come across it? I was constantly in the library, it doesn’t make any…

“BECKETT!!”

He snapped his eyes to hers, finally realizing he had actually stopped breathing.

“What’s wrong?” She asked

“Oriana, is that a serious question?”

“You’re freaking out again.” She said quietly.

“I…”

“It’s okay” She sighed. “I get it. I’m a freak.”

“On the contrary.” He responded. “I felt it too.”

She gave him what he interpreted as a look of relief mixed with surprise. “Really? You don't have to say that”

He smiled softly. “Really. And you’re right, I did always put myself near you. In class, in the quad…I just wanted to be near you. I still just want to be near you, Ori. Do you have any idea how excited I was to see you? How excited I still get to see you? You are the best part of my day, every day. Being with you, it’s…it’s like a dream.”

“You know, you are very sappy, Beckett Harrington.”

“Only because I love…” He stopped short, exhaling loudly and avoiding her gaze.

“You love…?” She pressed

He could feel the blush creeping up his neck, spreading over his face, his cheeks burning. Shut up you idiot. Don’t say it. Whatever you do, don’t say it. Oh my god, I’m such an idiot, I almost said it!

“I love kissing you.” He quickly supplied.

She eyed him a long moment before responding. “Then I guess you should kiss me.”

And so he did. He kissed her and poured every ounce of love he had into it, and she returned it eagerly before breaking apart breathlessly.

“You said you wouldn’t cum before me again?” She murmured, reaching down and wrapping her hand around his length.

“Within reason.” He told her, suspicious.

She flashed him a mischievous smile. “I’d love to see you try.” She placed her hands on his chest and pushed up to straddle him.

“I’m afraid you’re at a disadvantage, Oriana. I just came. I probably won’t even be…” He moaned as she ground into him, causing his dick to harden immediately.

Her eyes lit up as she saw the effect she had on him, as she turned herself around, her pussy directly over his mouth, taking the tip of her tongue and running it along his shaft before swirling it around his head and taking him deep in her throat.

“Fuck” He hissed, diving into her depths with his own tongue. She moaned in response, the vibrations of her mouth around his cock driving him wild. He gripped her ass as he ate her hungrily.

“You taste so fucking good.” He growled against her and she moaned again, louder, more desperate, before letting him go with a ‘pop’.

“I want to taste all of you” She murmured, and once again Beckett turned a deep shade of crimson.

And then she was on him again, her sweet mouth warm and enveloping, and he was trying so hard to continue with her, but he was failing. She took him more and more, deeper and deeper into the back of her throat.

He grunted as she worked him, and good god, how many times he’s fantasized of this, never allowing himself to get out of control and take matters into his own hands. This is astoundly better than he ever pictured, and he began involuntarily bucking into her mouth, moaning loudly as she cupped his balls with one hand and started sucking on just his tip.

“Ori” He muttered out

She went faster, swirling and sucking and running her tongue along his shaft.

“Ori. I can’t cont…ohhh”

She released him, turning herself back around, sliding herself down his body, meeting his gaze as she lowered her head between his legs and began again. She never broke eye contact, and the visual became too much to bear. He came inside her mouth with a loud guttural growl, still pumping inside her while she swallowed every last drop of his fluid.

He stared at her, at this goddess before him, unable to speak, having no words to describe what he was feeling. There is so much he wants to tell her, so much he wants to say, starting with how he’s been in love with her for years and wants an entire lifetime with her.

She crawled back into his side with a smirk. “Now who’s the silent one?”

He turned his head and stroked her hair gently with one hand. “Thank you.” He whispered.

She looked at him curiously. “For the blow job? You don’t need to…”

He cut her off with a deep and soulful kiss. “Just for being you.” He murmured, before kissing her again. Pulling away, she swallowed, hard.

“I, uh…you’re welcome…” She said uncertainly, searching his eyes for something he couldn’t quite pinpoint.

In a million years, he never could have guessed she was thinking the exact same thing he was.

You are everything.

@annekebbphotography @gardeningourmet @zigortega4life @eileendannie @thequeenofcronuts @drakewalkerfantasy @friedherringclodthing @alesana45

@emerald-bijou @xo-endlessmayhem-xo @divergentofhogwarts @rissah @syltti78 @damienswhore @askdana @giulia2372 @symonde @coffeebeandragon @flyawayboo @pbmychoices @wickedgypsymoon @kendrasgue @timmagicktoad @feartheendlesssummer @elainew13 @the-soot-sprite @paisleylovergirl @dottie-minerva-mikas @the-writerly-night-owl @endlessly-searching-for-you @nerdynstoned @brightpinkpeppercorn @emichelle

#a twist of fate #beckett harrington #beckett harrington fanfic #beckett x mc #beckett x oriana #playchoices fanfic #playchoices fanfiction #playchoices #choices stories you play #the elementalist fanfic #the elementalist #choices the elementalist #the elementalist 2 #fluffy-marshmallow-heart

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hits1000 · 2 years

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Reaction to the Winners of the Eurovision Song Contest (1956-2022)

Reaction to the Winners of the Eurovision Song Contest (1956-2022) Here is a recap of all winners of the Eurovision Song Contest, from the start in 1956 to the latest contest in 2022. In 1969, four countries shared the 1st place by getting the same amount of points. 00:00 Introduction 00:41 First Part (1956-1989) 04:23 Reaction to Part One 04:54 Second Part (1990-2022) 08:06 Reaction to Part Two 🇨🇭 Lys Assia - Refrain (1956) 🇳🇱 Corry Brokken - Net Als Toen (1957) 🇫🇷 André Claveau - Dors, Mon Amour (1958) 🇳🇱 Teddy Scholten - Een Beetje (1959) 🇫🇷 Jacqueline Boyer - Tom Pillibi (1960) 🇱🇺 Jean-Claude Pascal - Nous, Les Amoureux (1961) 🇫🇷 Isabelle Aubret - Un Premier Amour (1962) 🇩🇰 Grethe & Jørgen Ingmann - Dansevise (1963) 🇮🇹 Gigliola Cinquetti - Non Ho L'Età (1964) 🇱🇺 France Gall - Poupée De Cire, Poupée De Son (1965) 🇦🇹 Udo Jürgens - Merci, Chérie (1966) 🇬🇧 Sandie Shaw - Puppet On A String (1967) 🇪🇸 Massiel - La, La, La (1968) 🇫🇷 Frida Boccara - Un Jour, Un Enfant (1969) 🇳🇱 Lenny Kuhn - De Troubadour (1969) 🇬🇧 Lulu - Boom Bang-A-Bang (1969) 🇪🇸 Salomé - Vivo Cantando (1969) 🇮🇪 Dana - All Kinds Of Everything (1970) 🇲🇨 Séverine - Un Banc, Un Arbre, Une Rue (1971) 🇱🇺 Vicky Leandros - Après Toi (1972) 🇱🇺 Anne-Marie David - Tu Te Reconnaîtras (1973) 🇸🇪 ABBA - Waterloo (1974) 🇳🇱 Teach-In - Ding-A-Dong (1975) 🇬🇧 Brotherhood of Man - Save Your Kisses For Me (1976) 🇫🇷 Marie Myriam - L'Oiseau Et L'Enfant (1977) 🇮🇱 Izhar Cohen & the Alpha-Beta - A-Ba-Ni-Bi (1978) 🇮🇱 Gali Atari & Milk & Honey - Hallelujah (1979) 🇮🇪 Johnny Logan - What's Another Year (1980) 🇬🇧 Bucks Fizz - Making Your Mind Up (1981) 🇩🇪 Nicole - Ein Bißchen Frieden (1982) 🇱🇺 Corinne Hermès - Si La Vie Est Cadeau (1983) 🇸🇪 Herreys - Diggi-Loo, Diggi-Ley (1984) 🇳🇴 Bobbysocks - La Det Swinge (1985) 🇧🇪 Sandra Kim - J'Aime La Vie (1986) 🇮🇪 Johnny Logan - Hold Me Now (1987) 🇨🇭 Céline Dion - Ne Partez Pas Sans Moi (1988) 🇭🇷 Riva - Rock Me (1989)* 🇮🇹 Toto Cutugno - Insieme: 1992 (1990) 🇸🇪 Carola - Fångad Av En Stormvind (1991) 🇮🇪 Linda Martin - Why Me? (1992) 🇮🇪 Niamh Kavanagh - In Your Eyes (1993) 🇮🇪 Paul Harrington & Charlie McGettigan (1994) 🇳🇴 Secret Garden - Nocturne (1995) 🇮🇪 Eimear Quinn - The Voice (1996) 🇬🇧 Katrina and the Waves - Love Shine A Light (1997) 🇮🇱 Dana International - Diva (1998) 🇸🇪 Charlotte Nilsson - Take Me To Your Heaven (1999) 🇩🇰 Olsen Brothers - Fly On The Wings Of Love (2000) 🇪🇪 Tanel Padar & Dave Benton & 2XL - Everybody (2001) 🇱🇻 Marie N - I Wanna (2002) 🇹🇷 Sertab Erener - Every Way That I Can (2003) 🇺🇦 Ruslana - Wild Dances (2004) 🇬🇷 Helena Paparizou - My Number One (2005) 🇫🇮 Lordi - Hard Rock Hallelujah (2006) 🇷🇸 Marija Šerifović - Molitva (2007) 🇷🇺 Dima Bilan - Believe (2008) 🇳🇴 Alexander Rybak - Fairytale (2009) 🇩🇪 Lena - Satellite (2010) 🇦🇿 Ell & Nikki - Running Scared (2011) 🇸🇪 Loreen - Euphoria (2012) 🇩🇰 Emmelie de Forest - Only Teardrops (2013) 🇦🇹 Conchita Wurst - Rise Like A Phoenix (2014) 🇸🇪 Måns Zelmerlöw - Heroes (2015) 🇺🇦 Jamala - 1944 (2016) 🇵🇹 Salvador Sobral - Amor Pelos Dois (2017) 🇮🇱 Netta - Toy (2018) 🇳🇱 Duncan Laurence - Arcade (2019) 🇮🇹 Måneskin - Zitti E Buoni (2021) Copyright Disclaimer under section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976, allowance is made for "fair use" for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, education and research. Fair use is a use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be infringing. Non-profit, educational or personal use tips the balance in favor of fair use. #reactionwinnerseurovision #allwinnerseurovision #allwinnersesc #allwinners #allesc #alleurovision #winnersesc #esc1956-2022 #winners1956-2022 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xYtRkI7MuvY

#80S Greatest Hits #Songs Of 1980S #Old Songs #80S Songs #80S Music Hits #80S Hits #80S Songs Playlist #Grea

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sherry-smith · 5 years

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We’ll Forget The Tears We Cried

Written for @ineffablehusbandsweek!

Day 4: Senses; Touch/Sight/Hearing/Taste/Smell

Summary: It's a matter of balance, after all.Four times Aziraphale and Crowley question their relationship across the 20th century and one time they actually find the answer

On AO3

Mayfair, 5 November 1918

He’s not quite sure why he keeps staring out of the window, instead of going back to bed.

The first time he woke up was May 31st, 1915; it’s not easy to sleep while bombs explode all around you, no matter how many miracles you’d previously cast to protect your house against anything that could possibly happen. He didn’t exactly expect a war to happen, nor raids in the middle of London. Crowley used to believe that he could miss even a century and almost nothing would’ve changed; now he knows that this is a brand new world, in which suddenly even so little as 53 years can make a difference. This is called, apparently, “progress”, and whoever invented it didn’t really do a good job.

Going back to sleep in 1915 was out of question. So he’d popped across the Channel, tempted soldiers into disobeying orders and desert, forged reports and documents, instilled fear in generals’ and colonels’ hearts, anything to make those silly humans go home and end this stupid war.

(Had Aziraphale been there, he would’ve sworn that Crowley was just making up excuses to save as many lives as possible. But Aziraphale was in London, helping civilians, which spared the demon the embarrassment of being called nice.)

Now, three years later, he’s back in his flat, in his favourite pyjamas, frustrated. When he closes his eyes he sees death and destruction, trenches and explosions, horribly disfigured bodies and amputated limbs and intestines sprawled all over the place. He feel like he’s going to puke any moment now.

It’s not like he’s never seen such things, he’s a demon after all, he’s fought in so many battles, both among humans and celestial beings. Except this war is different, somehow. He’s not sure why, he just feels it. Maybe it’s the fact that humans keep finding better ways to kill each others, to the point where he should consider retiring for good on another planet, since his job had been stolen by puny mortals centuries ago. Yet, he stays.

He’s not quite sure why he keep staring out of the window, instead of going back to bed. It may, or may not, be related to that guy who died a month ago in the flat on the other side of the road. Or rather, to the figure on the pavement who is staring mournfully at said flat.

Robbie Ross. That’s the dead guy’s name. He’s made researches, while dealing with insomnia. What was so special about him remained a mystery; Ross’ story was one of sorrow, persecution and lost love, as many other men’s. And yet, once in a while, an angel would discreetly miracle some flowers on his doorstep. That was, most likely, due to the fact that these days it’s complicated to get to Paris, where the guy’s buried, side by side with a certain Oscar Wilde, apparently a famous writer.

(Had Crowley been awake, he would’ve probably enjoyed Wilde and his friends’ company. It seemed an unlikely company for Aziraphale, though, so he’d tried reading some of the author’s works to understand. One novel and five short stories later he was still confused, although The Nightingale and the Rose sounded vaguely yet inexplicably familiar. Maybe one day Aziraphale himself would explain it to him, but not now, and not in a long time.)

The angel turns his head and Crowley quickly hides behind the curtain. Through the thin fabric, he sees a face he barely recognises. There’s no softness in those eyes, no joy, no hope; just grief, as deep as the deepest ocean, as dark as the darkest pit. Aziraphale stares longingly at his window. On one side of the road lies the friend who’ll never walk the Earth again; on the other side lies the friend who’ll never walk the Earth again by his side, or so he fears.

“Do you miss me, angel?” Crowley thinks, trying to read his mind and heart, trying to find the old, cheerful Aziraphale behind this mask of sorrow and loss and despair.

“Would you greet me like an old friend or smite the enemy you were never supposed to fraternise with?”

Deep down he knows Aziraphale misses him as much as he misses him, but the rejection still burns on the surface and he feels vulnerable, too vulnerable to be seen. So he keep staring, and Aziraphale keeps staring too, both afraid to make the first step.

“Smile, my angel.” he finds himself thinking “Smile and I’ll know everything’s okay and we can fix this mess and forget about the last 53 years. Smile and I’ll come running to you right now, through the scandal and the bombs. Please.”

But he doesn’t smile. Instead, he blinks away the tears and heads back to Soho.

The world has changed and turned a depressing shade of grey. Quietly, in their own ways, Crowley and Aziraphale have changed too.

London Underground, 26 February 1944

He wonders how long his eardrums can resist. Not that he needs them, strictly speaking.

The awful whistle of the bombs is painfully familiar; it reminds him of 1915, a disrupted nap, trenches and bullets and screams that echo through the years. Someone decided that that hadn’t been enough, so here it is, the brand new rerun, with brand new weapons and tortures and horrors. It had took him a whole year, back in 1918, to finally go back to sleep and, as soon as his head hit the pillow, 1939 was there and farewell bed! He didn’t feel rested at all, but one’s gotta do what one’s gotta do, so he joined the Secret Services. No playing with soldiers this time round; he was aiming higher. Strike where it matters, where you have to operate so subtly that neither of the two sides are undoubtedly sure you are working for them. Not Nazis and Allies, not Heaven and Hell. The line between good and evil is so blurred in this new kind of war that it’s incredibly easy for someone like Crowley to do whatever he likes without any higher authority complaining. He’d always craved freedom; this is not the kind he’d hoped for, but it’s something, and that’s a start.

These days, London is disturbingly similar to Hell, except when it’s not. At this point, Crowley’s not sure what he likes best. Lost souls wander, desperately trying to carry on a somewhat normal life, and failing. Children cry, adults weep, sirens wail, bombs explode, all around, all the time. He sometimes suspects that German pilots don’t actually need to see the lights to recognise London, they just have to hush for a bit and follow the broadcast of misery.

And when you think the noise will never stop, it suddenly does. As soon as the raid ends and the last explosion fades into the darkness, Crowley is the first living being to emerge on the surface. He examines the crumpled buildings by the light of the few fires that are yet to be extinguished. He walks the empty streets that can’t belong to London, not the fierce city he’s so proud to be living in. And the silence is somehow louder than any other sound. It’s a delicate moment in which Death walks beside Crowley, collecting dust that used to be alive mere seconds ago, before people come out of the ground and press play once again in the game of survival.

It’s not always easy, but he’s usually able to detach himself. He thinks about the Ineffable Plan and convinces himself that there is a greater good, there has to be, otherwise it means that nothing, nothing matters, and that prospect is far too frightening to be worth being considered. Funny how when he used to be an angel he always doubted divine plans while now, after almost six thousand years on Earth, he desperately wants to believe in them. That’s called “faith”, possibly, in some dark and twisted way.

One night, amidst the deafening silence, he found a teddy bear in the ruins. He showed weakness, for the first and last time during the war. Besides, there was just Death to witness. He knelt and picked it up and cried, the only sound to be heard for miles and miles. He would’ve even prayed, if only he’d remembered how to do it. Truly dark years, if even demons resort to prayers.

He was vaguely aware of Aziraphale standing behind him, piercing him with wet eyes and unasked questions. He had ignored him, too lost in his own grief. Neither of them has mentioned that night so far, and probably neither of them ever will. Besides, they rarely talk these days.

Contrary to the last war, this time he didn’t wait for an angel’s smile; he ran into a church and claimed that blessed smile at the risk of being discorporated. It was worth it, obviously.

Now he’s looking at Aziraphale, who is too busy concentrating to be paying any attention to him, and wonders what exactly is the nature of their relationship. He’s thinking about a song, the most beautiful celestial harmony he can recall, but soon discards it. It’s not really what he’s looking for. It’s something that starts unexpectedly with a loud bang, and then gets quieter, and grows louder and louder until the orchestra tumbles and silence falls. Like the silence that scares him in the streets of London.

He wants to ask, because he truly has no idea wether it’s the town’s noise or the angel’s silence that is driving him mad.

«Crowley… Help…» he whispers, and he snaps out of his pensive trance. He gently takes the weight of the Underground’s ceiling off Aziraphale’s shoulders and on his own. They’ve been doing this for four years, like Atlas in their little world. Activate the sirens. Take people to the shelter. Divert the bombs. Make sure the ceiling doesn’t collapse. Let people go home. Repeat. Again, and again, and again.

When the raid is over, they part their ways without even saying goodbye. Perhaps one day he’ll hear the angel’s merry voice again. Perhaps one day their sweet music will start playing again.

Soho, 6 October 1961

He immediately senses that something’s wrong.

For starts, the bookshop is closed. It’s not that unusual, truth be told; the opening hours have always been erratic, to discourage potential clients. What’s unusual is that it’s been closed for four years now. On top of it, Aziraphale is not there most of the time, and that’s definitely weird. However, when they do see each other, everything seems fine, so he never voices whatever doubt he might have.

It’s well past midnight and Crowley produces a key he’s owned since 1800 (“You know, just in case”

“In case of what?”

Aziraphale had never elaborated further, for some reason.)

There was a time when the bookshop had been the most familiar place in all of London, even more than his own apartment. He would know by heart the entire catalogue and the location of each and every book. He knew the place like the palm of his hand. There was a tricky step by the entrance, so subtle that every single person who set foot in the shop would trip over it; Crowley was rather proud of that addiction of his. The bookshop had been a sort of home for him for nearly 62 years. When he came back, 79 years later, things had changed, but so had Aziraphale and so had Crowley, so he told himself he just needed to get used to it again. Easier said than done.

However, certain things never change, or so he believes. Despite Aziraphale’s best efforts, there’s always been this lingering, undefinable scent that lured you rather than drive you away. It was a delicate mixture of old books and incense, difficult to describe but undoubtedly fascinating. He doesn’t know it yet, but it’s also not there anymore, lost in almost a century full of history.

After the Blitz, Crowley and Aziraphale stopped meeting each other in the Underground, in favour of St. James Park. It took some time to regain the intimacy they used to have, and yet there’s still the feeling that they are not quite there yet. This means that the last time Crowley stepped into the bookshop was exactly one hundred years ago. He’s not prepared to what is waiting for him.

Being a snake, he’s more sensitive to smells than humans. His tongue flickers in the blink on an eye and he realises that something is wrong, really wrong: there are no odours at all. The shop feels cold and aseptic, making him feel deeply uncomfortable. He sits by the desk and leafs through the nearest volume, not really interested in it, wondering what could’ve possibly happened. And waits.

It’s well past midnight when the bell on the door rings and someone trips over the faulty step. He helps Aziraphale up and notices two dreadful things. One: he’s drunk, and that’s shocking; Crowley has never seen him drunk, not once, not ever. Two: he smells like whiskey, and sweat, and something else he can’t define, but it’s definitely awful.

«Where the hell have you been? What happened?»

Aziraphale is only vaguely aware of his surroundings. Not a good sign.

«Just a… reg… regu… normal Sunday night.»

«It’s Thursday. Well, technically, it was Thursday, must be Friday by now.»

«Whatever.» He falls on the sofa and closes his eyes.

This is far worse than Crowley expected. He can’t cope with a drunken Aziraphale, so he snaps his fingers to sober him up. The smell of alcohol is still in the air.

The angel covers his eyes with a hand and sighs. «What are you doing here?»

«Oh, no, you don’t get to ask question. I’m the one asking, you sit there and answer me, understood?»

He peeks through his fingers. This is new. And bizarre.

«Where have you been?»

«What do you care?»

«I said, where have you been?»

«You’re not my mother. Mind your own business!»

It clicks. It’s the early sixties, it’s Soho, he’s male-presenting. Of course, he’s been to a gay pub. Wait, what?

He recalls the whole business of the guy who died in Mayfair in 1918; it had something to do with gross indecency and a scandal.

Whatever happened in the late 19th century, it had deeply broken Aziraphale, possibly beyond repair. He cursed himself under his breath for not having been there. From what he’s gathered, it’s a miracle he hasn’t fallen; deep down, he still hopes his conclusions are wrong.

He’s not sure what to say. He feels like he’s walking on thin ice. «The bookshop’s different.» he tries.

«Must be the change of management. Asher Fell doesn’t own it anymore, I’m afraid. Nor Ishmael. Or Remiel.» His voice breaks upon mentioning that last name. Crowley doesn’t push it; instead, he makes a mental note to investigate further in the future.

«Asher?»

«Asher Ziv Fell. The letters on the sign do mean something.»

«Do they? I’ve always wondered who’s behind Co.»

«Not sure. What was your grandfather’s name?»

«Really? Do I look like I own a bookshop?»

«Appearance can be deceptive.»

He’s secretly pleased, though he won’t admit it. After all, this is kind of his place too.

«So, who owns it now?»

«Ezra J. Fell. He’s Asher’s great-grandson, or great-great-grandson, I don’t remember which one is it. It hardly matters, doesn’t it?»

«Yeah. Wait, what does the J. stands for?»

«It’s just a J.» Aziraphale is staring at him, and it’s impossible to decipher his gaze. It’s making Crowley uncomfortable as much as the lack of smell.

«Right.»

An unbearable silence settles, during which the demon hopes to come up with something clever to say. He doesn’t.

«Crowley, why are you here?»

“Because I missed you, I missed you so much and I hate this whole situation. I’m sorry for what I did, I didn’t mean to screw up, I only wanted holy water because it’s the only thing that will get rid off any demon who dares to put himself between us.”

He comes up with a watered down truth instead. «Have you considered moving to Mayfair?»

Aziraphale frowns.

«I mean, living in Soho now is not like a century ago. The place is full of… bad influences. Sinners. Might be dangerous for an angel.»

He tries to read between the lines and fails. «Aren’t sinners the ones who need angelic influences the most? Besides, these people are not dangerous at all. They’re my people.»

He doesn’t like the implications at all. He groans, frustrated. «At least, be careful. Getting drunk won’t have angelic influences on anyone. And try to be a woman, if you really must have relationships with men, for somebody’s sake.»

«Why? - Aziraphale pretends to be confused, but he obviously isn’t. He’s not as naive as he used to be - It wasn’t necessary among the Greeks. Or the Romans.»

«Yes, but you didn’t have outlawed sexual intercourses with the Romans, angel, that’s the bloody difference!»

Aziraphale’s silence speaks volumes.

«No. You didn’t really… Have you gone mad?»

«I must kindly ask you to leave.»

«But…»

«Get out, demon!»

Crowley is too stunned to properly react, so he doesn’t oppose resistance when he’s pushed out of the bookshop.

That was meant to be a hyperbole, not the truth. Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit. This is wrong, wrong, wrong. This is not Aziraphale. This is a fallen angel who has not fallen, surprisingly. This is someone who has suffered a great deal and is licking his wounds in the most inappropriate way.

Is it possible for angels to suffer from depression? He doesn’t know. What he does know is that blaming himself is easier than blaming him. “Where were you when your angel needed you the most?”

The smell of whiskey haunts him. There is no way out of this mess.

Hyde Park, 6 July 1996

By 1967, Aziraphale is back to being his usual self, the one who used to watch Shakespearean comedies by Crowley’s side or take him to lunch in Paris during the Reign of Terror. He even gave the demon a flask of holy water, trusting him a great deal; the most awful chapter of their lives is finally over.

It’s lunch time, they’re sitting on a blanket on the grass in Hyde Park, a basket and a bottle of champagne between them. Crowley can’t help but feeling grateful. “Perhaps we can go for a picnic, someday.” had said Aziraphale that night. And here they are, having a nice picnic. Progress is slow, but it doesn’t matter; after all, they have all the time in the world.

«Remind me, why do we keep coming here every year since 1972?» he asks playfully.

There’s a new unspoken rule now, both in Heaven and on Earth, that says that Aziraphale is the guardian angel of the - as it has now been renamed - the LGBT community. Crowley’s fine with it. He justifies himself by claiming that people coming out spread hate among families; of course he doesn’t like to put it that way, but Hell does, so it’s sort of alright.

He’s glad that things have changed, that finally Aziraphale is happy and safe. He no longer risks to fall because of a hedonistic, highly immoral lifestyle. He doesn’t even interact with humans that much these days; he helps them, befriend them, but nothing more. The worst that could happen to him is to be mistaken for Crowley’s partner by random people on the streets. Crowley doesn’t mind it at all; actually, he secretly likes it. He wonders if Aziraphale doesn’t mind it too. Probably not, judging by the way his fingers brush the other’s for far too long when taking the glass of champagne handed to him.

«My dear boy, you know perfectly well why. Cheers!»

The glasses clink against each others.

People march past them, thousands of people, waving colourful banners, laughing, singing, kissing.

«I just love all this love! Look at them, how happy they are! Look at how they glow when they are unafraid to be who they are. It’s beautiful.»

Aziraphale glows too, Crowley thinks. His hair is golden under the gleaming sun, his eyes sparkle with enthusiasm. He tries not to stare too long at his rosy cheeks, or else he might tempt himself into caressing them; more than that, he tries to avoid his lips.

He’s been thinking about it for quite a long time - 29 years, to be precise. He’s always been aware of the feelings he harbours for him, despite not daring to say it out loud, or even admitting them for several millennia. But now things seem to be different, easier, maybe, apart from the small detail of him being a demon and he an angel. He hopes that’s something they can sort out. Now things seem to be different because he suspects those feelings are mutual. He wants to ask, but doesn’t want to risk; so he keeps hoping, and staring, and longing for his touch.

«Is everything alright, dear? You are unusually quiet.»

«Am I? Nah, don’t worry, it’s fine. I’m fine. Just thinking.»

«About what?»

“About that couple over there. You see them? How softly they’re hugging? How one of them is shielding the other with a flag? That could be us, if we forget about Heaven and Hell for a second. Can we?”

«About London Pride. Is it one of ours or one of yours?»

Aziraphale smiles fondly. «I can’t recall.»

Of course he does, they both do. It’s one of those things human invented themselves. Doesn’t mean they didn’t both put a hand in it; in the end, they both earned a commendation from the respective sides.

«That reminds me of that time a friend of mine was accused of being the leader of an underground organisation composed by 47,000 gay men here in London. Of course it’s ridiculous, but we found the idea rather amusing. I wish he was here now; I bet he would’ve loved it.»

Aziraphale’s smile fades. Crowley knows exactly who he’s talking about, even though he’s not supposed to. One day he’ll find the courage to ask, but right now his priority is cheering his friend up.

He puts the glass down and gets up. The basket, the bottle and the glasses disappear as he extends his hand.

«Do angels dance?»

Aziraphale looks puzzled. «No, they don’t. Do demons?»

«Not really. Once in a disco in the 70s a guy mocked my moves. Let’s say it was an eventful night.»

Aziraphale hand is delicate and impeccably manicured, his skin smooth and soft, and his fingers fit perfectly against Crowley’s.

They move around quite awkwardly. Neither of them really knows how to dance; neither of them cares.

Aziraphale’s head ends up on Crowley’s shoulder, who suspects his body is going to spontaneously combust. He’s never been so intimately close to him, or at least not in a long time. He thinks it would be a lovely yet weird way to die.

«Crowley?» he calls, uncertain.

«Yes, angel?»

«Can you feel it? All this love, I mean. It’s so strong that even you might be able to sense it.»

Crowley is grateful to Someone that Aziraphale can’t see his stupid, blissful grin.

“Oh, I do, my angel. I do”

Berkeley Square, 2 June 2024

He wouldn’t call it a date, despite it actually being one. It’s more of an anniversary anyway, though he wouldn’t use that word either, because it would imply that there is something more than friendship in their relationship; there is, but it’s not official, so he ignores the voice in the back of his head that keeps calling this a date.

Actually, they don’t go to the Ritz that often. When they eat together, they prefer to explore little restaurants. “We must support local businesses” had declared Aziraphale, or something like that.

(«Besides, isn’t it more interesting than dining at the same old place every day?»

«But they have the most expensive wine, I like good wine.»

«You do realise those are not synonyms, don’t you?»)

They’ve been building this new habit slowly and without much thought. It started with occasional take-away sushi late at night at the bookshop, then weekly outings, depending on what they felt like eating on the appointed Saturday night. Now Crowley’s fridge is always full and they end up having lunch at his place every day, like it’s some kind of ritual.

If someone had told Crowley a decade ago that someday he would’ve had lunch every day, he wouldn’t have believed them. He didn’t need food, so it seemed a pointless waste of time. And anyway his sense of taste is more similar to that of snakes than humans’, meaning he doesn’t have taste buds; he tried to explain it to Aziraphale once, but the angel struggled to grasp the concept.

(«What do you mean you don’t have taste buds?»

«It’s a snake-biology thingy. I just, you know, flick my tongue and smell. It’s like taste, really. Don’t see why you have to separate the two senses, they’re basically the same!»

«No, they’re not!»

«Well, they are to me.»)

He still doesn’t eat much, but he does eat. Although, even more unexpectedly, he realised a couple of years ago that he prefers cooking. So the habit goes like this, Crowley cooks and Aziraphale eats. There’s a certain intimacy in it, a sense of domestic life that shouldn’t be possible for angels or demons. It’s not perfect, not yet, but it’s enough to make Crowley wonder what would it be like to live under the same roof, to properly share a house. He tries not to think about it, as he tries not to label lunches as dates; he fails most of the time.

They don’t go to the Ritz that often, but they go there once a year, on June 2nd. It’s another habit they’ve been building in the past five years, to readjust their lives after having lost their respective sides for good. It’s about tiny details that make them both feel grounded, like they still belong to somewhere. Except somewhere is not a place, but rather each other’s presence.

After lunch, they sit on a bench in Berkeley Square and silently watch passers-by. Kids pretending to be fearless pirates, teenagers snogging not-so-discretely, young couples strolling pushchairs and old couples walking hand in hand.

«It’s wonderful, isn’t it? - says Aziraphale, licking his ice-cream - And to think all of this might have been swept away! I’m so glad the Apocalypse has been averted.»

«Yeah, me too.»

There’s a stain of chocolate on Aziraphale’s cheek, which makes Crowley smile fondly. Day after day, the angel is more and more human, and probably he, too, is less and less of a demon. “It’s not bad, once you get used to it.” he thinks.

«Crowley?»

«Mh?»

«I’ve been thinking. It’s been five years now, maybe… don’t you think it’s time for a change?»

He’s confused. Time to change what, exactly? Things are fine - they are fine - why change anything?

«You remember Anathema and Newt’s wedding last year, don’t you? It was lovely. So, I was thinking, is it possible - I mean, if you want to, of course - could we… be like them?»

«You mean married?»

«I mean, living together. Leave London. Buy a cottage somewhere. We are retired, after all.»

Crowley frowns. He’s not sure whether he’s imagining it or it’s happening for real. He’s not sure what to say, either, so he settles for a neutral statement. «What about the bookshop?»

«I’d be satisfied with a library. Actually, it seems to be the best option. I’m running out of excuses to drive away costumers.»

«And you’d be happy? In the middle of nowhere, with… me?»

Neither of them dares to look at the other. Crowley’s eyes wander from person to person, from tree to tree. Aziraphale is staring at his ice-cream with so much intensity, as if his own life depends on it.

«Wouldn’t you?»

Something snaps inside Crowley’s mind. Here it is, the promise of the perfect future, within reach. Only a fool would turn that down.

«Do you… love me?»

«Oh, my dear, - he whispers adoringly - wasn’t that obvious?»

Carefully, Crowley turns his head to find Aziraphale looking expectantly at him. Carefully, he learns towards him; it’s the angel who fills the gap.

As they kiss, every piece falls into place. This is where they truly belong. “ ‘till Death do us part. Or the next Armageddon. Or whatever.”

Crowley’s overwhelmed, so much that he feels the urge to breath, despite not technically needing it.

Aziraphale laughs. «You have chocolate on your lips, my dear.»

«Oh, angel, I’ve just tasted something far better.»

#good omens #ineffable husbands #ineffable husbands week 2019 #aziraphale #crowley #fanfiction #my writing

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aint-nodenying · 5 years

Text

seeing life through a new light (p.m)

y/n is a badass in a band with her college buddies, the abolitionists, and paul mccartney comes in to watch one day and is immediately entranced by the guitarist’s skill and beauty. however, there’s a wild twist about her...

word count: 3,628

a/n. alright, here it is!! now i wrote this pretty quickly (well for me lol) but i’m still really proud of this and how i put my idea on “paper”. now the song that i used in this one was black smoke rising by greta van fleet because i imagine that y/n’s band is like led zeppelin-esque where led zeppelin literally takes inspiration from them (since this is before led formed) but yeah most of their songs that i’m gonna write with this series is gonna be gvf or led,, sorry not sorry.

remember that my taglist is open and you can join it right here: xxxx

let me know if it’s not working and i can try to fix it!! anyways, enough rambling, enjoy this bad boy!!! (ps if anyone wants me to make a outfit look book for this lmk because i’d be very much up for it)

also i didn’t know who to tag because my normal list on victims didn’t heed my advice and fill out my taglist (ahem) so i’ll just tag y’all too, don’t be mad at me since y’all didn’t listen but just don’t read if you don’t want to. don’t come for me for tagging you if you didn’t want to be bc you literally didn’t follow my instructions. have a nice day!

----

October 1961

You loved the feeling of the wind against your skin. You loved the feeling of the fretboard touching your fingertips when you pressed down on the strings. You loved the feeling of the bass booming against the stage when you performed live. You loved getting lost in the adrenaline when performing. You loved to just feel. However, you didn’t love it when some asshole bumped into you without apologizing. You were in a crowded bar, sitting on one of the barstools after a performance with your band, The Abolitionists. Your bandmates, Thomas, David, and Michael were nowhere to be seen. They had the habit of abandoning you once the set was over, opting to tend to their groupies. You didn’t have any problems with that though, normally you had your friends with you and the boys meant no harm in abandoning you.

At this point in your life, you were a second year in uni for computer science and performed with your mates at gigs every other night, quite successfully might you add. You hadn’t regularly gotten drunk with your mates since they had always been quite protective of you, especially David since he had known you since secondary school when you had moved to Liverpool from Australia at the age of 15. You were best friends with David since you had met him tutoring him in math class. You and him met the other band members in college, deciding to form a band in which you were the guitarist along with Michael (who was also the lead singer, mind you), occasionally playing a diddy on the piano - David was the bassist, and Thomas was the drummer. You had been performing together for about two years at this time and you all were very happy together, barely arguing. You were beginning to gain a crowd of fans, along with a couple of record companies listening to your original pieces.

You downed another shot of whiskey, immediately reaching for another one, wincing at the stinging sensation as you did so. As you held the full shot in your hand, your friends immediately tried to pry it out of your hands, protesting wildly.

“Y/N, love I think you’ve had enough for one night,” said Margaret gently. She reached for the small glass once more and was batted away by your blindly-given hits. Patricia scoffed and pulled on Margo’s arm by the crook of her elbow.

“Don’t bother, the woman is an Aussie, she can drink you under the table.” you giggled and winked, bopping your nose with your index finger. You quickly downed the second drink and hissed loudly at the burn. You gestured towards one of them and cleared your throat before jumping down from the stool.

“I need to use the loo, one of you accompany me, please.” you still had your arm out and felt one of them grab your hand (judging from the overpowering perfume, you guess it was Margo) and place it in the crook of their elbow. The two of you began to walk through the crowd of people before someone promptly bumped straight into you, pouring their drink all over the front of your button-up.

Margo gasped loudly and you heard a distinct slapping noise before she angrily yelled out, “Watch out, arsehole. Where were you looking?” you tugged on Margo’s arm impatiently before pulling her away from the stunned Brit. “Fuckin’ arse, who does he think he is running into you like that?” you snorted as you took off your shirt and exposed your black sports bra to the infuriated blonde.

“I don’t think he knew I was blind, Margo,” you said, scrubbing the shirt under the sink. There was a moment of silence before she gently grabbed the shirt from your grasp.

“I got it, babe, you weren’t scrubbing the right place.” You nodded and flicked off the water before feeling along the walls to go into a stall to relieve yourself. After you were done, you felt around the counter before grasping the faucet in your palm. You washed your hands and dried them before grabbing onto the edge of the counter and jumping up, sitting next to the sink. “I mean I understand you just performed beautifully, and it definitely doesn’t seem like a blind person could do that, he still should’ve apologized to you instead of just staring at you.” you giggled and swung your legs back and forth.

“Darling, maybe he thought my looks were to die for,” she scoffed, slapping a wet hand on your knee. You shrieked loudly and immediately started laughing along with Margo. She sighed deeply and held up your shirt.

“Yeah, the shirt is fucked, sorry love. I’ll give you my cardigan out there, it’s a bit chilly today.” you nodded and jumped off the counter, holding out your hand once more. She grabbed onto your palm and rested it in the crook of her elbow, opening the door. Upon opening it, you heard the jukebox play more clearly and the chatter less muffled. You also heard Margo scoff and felt her move jerkily against the side of your arm, as if she were pushing someone out of the way.

“Fuck off, you prick,” she pulled you towards the table while you blinked confusedly. You stopped suddenly and Margo placed your hands onto the tall barstool before letting go and going to sit in her own chair. “God, the boy is persistent, that one is.”

Patty looked between you two, confusion clouding her face. “What happened?” she glanced down at your chest. “Y/N, babe, where’d your top go?” you felt something soft touch your bicep and you reached out to find it was said cardigan from Mago and put it on.

“Some bloke spilled his bevvy onto my chest, and Margo is quite pissed about it, so don’t talk about it much.” you snickered. You felt around the table for a shot and when grasped in your palm, you downed it and heard a loud gasp from beside you.

“You again? Didn’t I tell you to fuck off?” you were confused before a loud scoff came from behind you. You set the shot glass down and turned towards the noise.

“Well you didn’t let me have a chance now did you, was too busy admirin’ your friend to get me words out,” snarked the mysterious man. You muffled your snickers behind the palm of your hand before Margo mocked him loudly.

“Oh yeah, admirin’, that’s a load of tosh. You were right oglin’ her, you were. Quite a creep this boy is, let’s go girls.” You felt the table shake before you felt a hand on your shoulder. You reached out, waiting for one of the girls to take your hand and guide you off the stool but it hadn’t come. “Oi, get your mangy hands off her, you tosser.” You felt a petite, small hand grab your elbow and pull you off the chair roughly, nearly making you fall.

“Wait, where we goin’?” you asked, tripping over your own feet by how fast they were leading you.

“Tryin’ to find David, he’ll help you. You’ve still got to clear the stage.” you nodded and felt yourselves slow down as you tried to maneuver through the large crowd of people. At one point, you were crushed between two people and the hand guiding you disappeared. You panicked and froze, not knowing what to do. You were without your seeing eye, without your cane; you were utterly lost and didn’t know what to do.

All of a sudden, you felt a hand on your shoulder and you screamed, beginning to smack the air in front of you. You came in contact with the person a couple of times before realizing it was the guy from before.

“Ouch, can you calm down?” he asked, grabbing onto both of your hands with his one. “Are you okay?” you gulped loudly and shook your head scared, panting.

“No, please don’t hurt me, I don’t have anything to offer,” you dry-sobbed. You tried to weakly tug your hands out of his grip before giving up, giving into your fate. He laughed dryly before letting you go suddenly.

“I wasn’t goin’ to try anything, you know. I was just gonna tell you how much I liked your performance. I’m in a band meself so I was goin’ to ask you how you do your riffs.” During his spiel, you managed to calm down to just occasional sniffles and glanced in his direction.

“Truly?” he nodded, which you couldn’t see. You didn’t say anything so he just confirmed it verbally once more. “Alright, help me out of this crowd then I’ll talk to you.” he nodded and grabbed your shoulder, leading you out of the crowd, just a little ways away from your friends. “Alright, what’s your name, what’s your band name, when’s your next performance?”

He gave a short laugh before letting go of your shoulder to cross his arms at his chest. “My name’s Paul McCartney, I’m apart of The Beatles, and our next performance is at the Cavern Club.” your eyes widened in recognition and reached out to slap him in his chest.

“Paul McCartney? Lord, who knew I was standing in front of pure talent? Yeah, I’ve heard of you blokes around, you’re very quite popular with the ladies. I’m sorry about my friend, Margo, by the way, she’s normally not that aggressive. She actually really likes your music, she’s just been a bit on edge lately. I’m actually quite surprised she didn’t recognize you.” he smiled bashfully, kicking his foot, glancing down.

“Thank you, I really appreciate that. I really like your new song as well, what was it, Black Smoke Rising?” you nodded. “Yeah, who wrote that one, it’s amazing.” you smiled and giggled a bit. You pointed at yourself and he looked at you in disbelief.

“Yeah, I wrote it like two years ago and we all came up with our own riffs and shit, David’s voice really brings it to life, though.” his smile slowly faded and he cleared his throat.

“Are you and David dating?” he asked timidly. “Just wonderin’ because it seems as though you guys have a lot of chemistry on stage, he looks at you quite a bit.” you laughed loudly at that comment, clapping your hands together joyfully.

“No, David is like a brother and I’m like a sister to him, don’t worry. We’ve just known each other since secondary so we’ve got a bit of memories, that’s all. I don’t really see his glances anyways, maybe he’s just seeing if I’m alright or summat like that.” he nodded and looked across the bar to look at his friends who were all winking and giving him thumbs up. He rolled his eyes and looked back at you.

“So, you’re quite talented and beautiful, do you mind if I could take you out on a date someday?” you smiled and rolled your eyes. “What’s that look for? I really do fancy you y’know,” you shook your head and rested your hand on his shoulder comfortingly.

“Oh, baby,” he blushed at your pet name. “You have no idea what you’re getting into,” he looked at you confused and asked you what you meant. “You do know that I’m-” you were cut off by a loud voice calling out your name to your right. You stopped talking and whipped your head towards your friend’s voice. “David?” you yelled. David yelled your name one more time, right in front of you before he softly grasped your hand in his, resting it on his arm.

“Who’s this wanker?” he asked nodding towards Paul, who was watching the exchange jealously. You shook his head and stood on your tiptoes to whisper in the 6’3 tall man’s ear. His eyes widened and immediately pulled you towards Paul, reaching out his other hand to shake the other Brit’s hand. “Paul McCartney, oh my god, we love your music, we do. We’d seen your performance from two weeks ago, we had - it was amazing, you know,” he rambled. “My girlfriend Margo absolutely fell in love with your friends, you know, it was hilarious since she’s my girlfriend but I didn’t blame her since you’re a bunch of fit lads,” his eyes widened at his words. “I mean, I’m not gay or anything but I can appreciate looks when I see it, but, oh, I mean, thanks for looking after Y/N. If she had gotten hurt, I wouldn’t of have known what to do,” you snickered at his nervous chatter and tugged lightly on his arm.

“Alright there, Dave, let the poor boy breathe.” you looked over at Paul’s direction. “If you can find me after today, come and ask me out again, maybe I’ll say yes.” You didn’t see Paul’s face light up with excitement and you definitely didn’t see David’s bewildered expression. You pulled on David’s arm once more and he began to walk towards your other friends slowly, out of shock and as to not lose you again. You both trekked through the sea of people to your band and friends. David pulled on your arm to indicate to stop walking and immediately a body slammed into yours, pulling you into a tight hug. You shrieked instinctively before recognizing the person’s perfume and patting her lightly on the back.

“Alright, love, let me go now. ‘M suffocatin’ in your hair,” Patty giggled through her sniffles and let go you go reluctantly. She stepped back and sneered in the air.

“I bet you fifty quid that jackass was leerin’ over our poor Y/N,” you giggled at her words and blindly walked over to the table that Thomas and Michael were sitting at, arms waving wildly around you. Thomas grasped your hand once you got close enough and sat you on his lap before handing you a drink. Meanwhile, David crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at Patty.

“What bloke; lots of black hair, big droopy eyes, and like six feet tall?” she nodded vehemently and glared at the thought of him. David burst out laughing and clapped his hands. Margo and Patty looked at him shocked, wondering what was funny with the situation. “Babe, Patty, that was Paul McCartney from the Beatles.” judging from the prolonged silence, you guessed that the girls were in shock while Thomas patted your thigh and Michael spat a bit of his drink out.

“Holy shit, Y/N, how the fuck were you chatting with Paul McCartney?” you shrugged and took a sip of the crisp beer (guessing it was lager since it was quite clean.)

“Look, I didn’t even know it was him at first - the man is a flirt, he tried getting my number before he even realized I couldn’t even see what the guy looked-” you were interrupted by a loud guttural groan coming from Margo. “What? What happened?” you asked panicked, ready to stand up.

“I can’t believe I just yelled at Paul McCartney, kill me now.” she hid her face in David’s neck and continued to groan loudly. You huffed out of annoyance and relaxed back into Tom’s lap, his arms wrapping around your waist loosely. You heard crackling in your ear as he lit a cigarette and held out your hand for a drag. He handed it to you and you inhaled deeply, holding the smoke for a few seconds before exhaling. You felt your muscles relax as Tom patted your leg.

“Alright pet, up you get. It’s time for us to put the shit in the van,” Michael said as he gently grasped your hand. You nodded and returned the cigarette to Tom before following Mike to the front of the stage. You carefully went up the stairs of the stage and removed the smooth amp cords from your guitar and from the amp itself. You wound them around your hand and placed them along the edge of the stage for Margo to grab to put into the van. You turned back around to pick up the amp off of the small table it was on to the front of the stage once more. This time, when you put the amp down, you felt a hand grasp your wrist before you screamed out of shock.

“Whoa, whoa, love it’s just me,” exclaimed Paul, letting go of your wrist immediately. You snatched your wrist back and got off the ground from when you fell on your bum when you screamed. You scowled and huffed obnoxiously, telling him silently you were upset.

“God Paul, you just don’t sneak up on a blind girl like that,” you walked back towards the stage and picked up your guitar. When you turned back to the other side of the stage, you felt around for your guitar case before placing it inside. You heard Paul stuttering beside your hip, in shock of the new information.

“You’re blind?” you nodded without looking up, still strapping in your instrument. “Well excuse my shock, you certainly don’t act blind love, you definitely got most people fooled. You snorted lightly before standing back up, picking up your case after closing it and started towards the stairs. He followed you out the door to the van and began asking the many questions you predicted him to ask.

“Might I ask you how much you can see? How are you getting around today without a cane or without a seeing eye right now? Are you still willing to go out on a date with me?” you were taken aback at the last question, not expecting him to still want to go out with a blind girl.

“Uh, I can see a little bit, like some light but mostly black,” you licked your lips and squinted in his direction in confusion. “Sorry, you still want to go out with me?” he nodded aggressively before realizing that you couldn’t see him.

“Yeah, you not being able to see as much as most people doesn’t change the fact that you’re gorgeous, and I like talking to you. You not having the ability to see literally had no effect on me before, I didn’t even know you were blind.” through his spiel, you blushed at his sweet words and nodded.

“Alright then, yeah I’ll go out with you,” you felt him take your guitar from your hands and took your hands to rest on his elbow. He began to lead you somewhere before you felt a rush of air hit your face. You assumed he led you to the back of the pub to the van and trusted him. He giggled under his breath and you could feel him practically skip with happiness. “Alright there Paul, you can calm down now, I said I’d try this out but we don’t know if this’ll work.”

He scoffed loudly before patting the top of your hand. “Ye of little faith, fair maiden. I’ll sweep ya off your feet, just you watch. Also, you never responded how you walked around the pub without guidance.”

You shrugged as you came to a stop. He let your hand drop from the crook of his elbow before you heard the back car door open and something heavy land on the carpeted surface. “I don’t know, maybe muscle memory? I’ve been performing here for quite a while, even before I joined The Abolitionists, and I also haven’t been blind forever you know,” he nodded intrigued with your back story. He grabbed your hand and began fiddling with your rough fingertips, making you blush.

“May I ask you how you went sightless?” you nodded and scratched your head with the hand he wasn’t fiddling with.

“Yeah, I had polio when I was around nine so I lost my sight that way, I started playing some instruments around the age of five so good thing I still had experience with that before I lost my sight, eh?” you laughed along with Paul at your sad joke. He continued to fiddle with your fingers as he looked at your face as if he was admiring your features.

“You’re gorgeous and so strong, Y/N,” his words made you blush as you slapped his chest in embarrassment. “I swear I haven’t been this forward with anyone before, there’s just somethin’ about you-” he was interrupted by a loud bang that made you and him jump. You then heard chatter come from inside the building leak out into the quiet autumn air. He held onto your hand as he led you to the other side of the van that faced the brick wall that kept the building shielded from the pedestrian's eye.

He leaned down to whisper into your ear, “I really do like you Y/N, I’m performing at the Cavern later this week on Friday,” you nodded as his other hand came up to tuck your hair behind your ear. You shivered at the sensation, the action not going unnoticed by the dark-haired male. “I’d be really happy if you came to listen.”

You bit your lip to mask your smile and nodded. “Sure, I’ll see if I can make it,” you said, pretending to be indifferent. He smirked and hummed in acknowledgment before cupping your face in his large palm. He leaned down to kiss you on the cheek softly, making butterflies race in your stomach and shivers all down your back. He leaned towards your ear to whisper into it once more before strutting away into the night, meeting his friends on the other side of the building.

“I’ll see you then, Y/N. Have a beautiful night, beautiful.” He walked away that night with your heart in his palm and his in yours.

usual victims:

@polaroids @magicwithaknife @rogersdrumkit @blitchen @mxrcury-love @lady1505 @shae-is-not-ok @alexfayer @fuckinghurricanesoul @committed-no-crime @fire-and-blood-got-blog @cosmicsskies

#the beatles #beatles #beatles fic #the beatles fic #paul mccartney #paul mccartney x reader #john lennon #ringo starr #george harrison #the beatles imagine #beatles imagine

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sugarpun-fairy · 5 years

Text

DOUBLE DARE - SEAN X OC / WARREN X OC

Word count: 1961

Warnings: just boys being boys and some really bad pick up lines

Summary: Where the boys dare Sean to confess to his crush, and he proceed to do the same with Warren when he gets the chance.

Requestes: ACTUALLY THIS IS A FUNNY STORY LOL

A/N: So this is half a request half a gift for my beautiful @imaginesandideas. I’m not sure if it’s good or if it’s fair for all the characters but here it is. Hope y’all like it! The whole thing is separated in four point of views, each is signalized w the initial letter of the character

-x-

“Sean my boy!” Alex’s voice made me turn around before opening the door to my room. “How you doing ginger? Wanna play a game with us?” asked putting his arm around my shoulders.

“What kind of game Summers?” I asked back cocking an eyebrow. That didn’t sound like a good idea.

“We’re playing truth or dare. Me, Scott, Warren, Peter and you if you want.” he explained.

“And what do I have to do if I don’t finish my dare?” he laughed.

“Something embarrassing.”

“Like your face?” I joked.

“Worse. Like yours!” He laughed again. “Does that mean you’re in?”

“Well I clearly have nothing else to do right now. Guess a little game won’t kill me.” I shrugged.

“Great! The boys are outside let’s go!”

I realized I should’ve heard my guts telling me that it wasn’t a good idea when I saw everyone sitting in a circle with an empty bottle of vodka in the middle.

“Okay since you just got here, you’ll spin the bottle first.” Scott said with a stupid smile, proving how drunk the kid was. I just did what he said and accepted my death sentence when bottle’s neck stopped pointing to Warren.

“I dare you, Sean Cassidy, to go to the person you’re romantically interested and confess using the worst pickup line you know.” Warren declared. I simply stared at him.

“Why are you doing this to me mate?” I asked taking a deep breath. “She’s gonna destroy me before I even finish speaking.”

“Who is she?” Peter snorted totally not believing me.

“One of the Vergara twins.” I confessed. Warren’s facial expression changed completely and one of his wings spread itself in my direction. “Harmony. Not Grace. Calm your feathery ass down I won’t steal your crush bird boy.” I grumbled slapping the feathers away.

The others stared at me in silence. Maybe it was the alcohol or they just had nothing to say. Either way I was fucked.

“Am I supposed to have company while talking to her or y’all plan on waiting the alcohol leave your body before moving?”

“I’ll go with you. Just to prevent your erasing of this planet.” Alex said getting up.

“It’s the least you can do pretty boy.”

Then we went back to the mansion to look for her.

“Hey Harmony.” Someone called behind me. I turned to see Sean looking like he was about to faint. “Can I ask you something?” I smiled and nodded.

“Sure. How can I help you?”

He took a deep breath and that caught me off guard. What could be so serious that got the famous Sean Cassidy this nervous?

“Did it hurt when you fell cause you’re only then I see.” He snapped. “Wait, no, that’s…”

“Sean are you okay?” I asked trying to reach his face, red as a fresh tomato. “Are you sure I’m the right twin?”

He almost jumped when I touched him. Then he held my hand and nodded.

“I couldn’t be more sure. You’re the one I was looking for.” He got closer and touched my cheek. I was the one taking a deep breath this time.

“Aren’t you scared that I might erase you from Earth if you piss me off?” I joked.

“I’m more scared of being erased without ever kissing you.” He whispered with a smile.

“Did you had time to rehearse for that?”

“If we have in mind that I’ve been planning on telling you for a couple weeks I guess I could say yes.”

We both laughed and he got closer, putting his hands on the counter behind me. His face got closer and closer and I closed my eyes, cupping his face with both hands. I felt his hands leaving the counter and holding me. His lips felt soft on mine, taking my breath away as he pulled me even closer, hugging me tight.

“For the love of all the gods what is happening here?” My sister’s voice echoed around the kitchen making me almost jump.

“Oh, hey Gracie!” I tried to say when Sean turned to my side, his hands still in my waist. “Did you finish your English homework?”

“Babe what do you think if we set up your sister and Warren?” Sean casually said while I tried to organize my desk.

I looked at the ginger boy laying in my bed and bit my lip.

“I hate how this is a good idea.”

“Well Warren was responsible for us being ‘us’ now so it’s only the fair move.” He pointed. “So, are we throwing them inside of a room and locking the door or what?”

“Grace could create a door if we did that. I’ll take care of that later.”

“And when will you take care of me?” he whined throwing a pillow at me.

“When you grow up.”

“Hey Angel, my sis asked me to give you this.” Harmony said running to me and handing me a small piece of paper. “But she made me promise I wouldn’t sneak.”

“Oh thanks.” I opened the note with the saying “meet me at the roof after lunch” and closed it again when I saw Harmony trying to read it. “Didn’t she made you promise you wouldn’t sneak?”

“Before giving it to you. Oh, come on Warren! She’s my twin sister! What is so secret that would have her hiding it from me?” Harmony complained trying to jump and get the note from me.

“Like you said, she’s your sister. I won’t stay between the two of you.” I answered putting the note inside my pocket. “But didn’t you hide from her you were dating Cassidy?”

“We weren’t dating yet. She walked on us kissing after you dared him to talk to me with the lamest pickup line he had.” She protested. “Whatever bird brain.” And left.

“Wow.” Sean laughed by my side. “You really de-harmonized her huh?”

“Remind me again how the fuck you got a girlfriend?”

“Well you dared me to use my worst pickup line and now I have my boo. What about you bird boy?” he snapped pinching my cheek. “What does the note say?”

“It says to meet her at the roof after lunch.”

“So that mean bird boy got a date? I like the sound of that,” Alex said approaching us.

“You know what other sound I like? The sound of me daring bird boy to confess his feelings for miss Grace.” Sean recalled crossing his arms against his chest. “Using his worst pickup line.”

“How long did you wait for that?” Alex laughed loud.

“Well it’s not as if he doesn’t have a choice. I mean he can do it or he can do something embarrassing…”

“I got it.” I growled at Sean. “I got it.”

“Don’t worry I heard she has a huge crush on you too.” Alex tried to comfort me. “Just be sober when you do it. Or it’ll be a huge disaster.”

I sighed. They were right. And Sean was having the time of his life by getting his revenge.

“Heard you were looking for me?” I said walking closer to her.

“Hey War.” Grace said with a smile. “My sis said you had something to tell me and wanted to meet me here.”

“Funny story. Harmony said that you had given her a totally secret note to give me.” It wasn’t hard to connect the dots. Harmony and Sean had set up for us. I took a deep breath. “But yeah I did want to tell you something.”

“Oh no did Harmony told you about me?” she asked hiding her face with both hands.

“What do you mean?”

“About my crush on you?” she whispered shyly. “Oh, my gods I should have waited what you wanted to say.”

“It was about it! Kinda. I mean… I have a crush on you too. Had for a while. A long time.” I confessed. “You’re such a great fighter and so smart and sweet! And… sorry but I have to say this: you remind me of an overdue library book, because you got fine written all over you.”

Her face turned totally red and she coughed for a whole minute before answering.

“Well… that was… I guess… In case you’re busy or not today would there be any way to add me to your to-do list?” she said with a laugh.

“Oh, honey you only need to say it and my whole agenda is yours.” I declared. “So, you’re free tonight?”

“I am. Are you?”

“Not anymore. Meet me at eight for the best night of your life.”

“It’ll be my pleasure.” She said blowing me a kiss and leaving back to the mansion.

“You set up for me!” I yelled at my sister. She didn’t even flinch.

“Would do the exact same thing if needed.” She said without taking eyes of her book. “Do you have a date or got a kiss at least?”

“A date. Tonight. He said to be prepared for the best night of my life.”

My sister finally put her book down and looked at me.

“This sounds like a fashion emergency.”

“Is that your focus? I mean are you totally forgetting you and your boyfriend set up for me and Warren?” I questioned her. She just shrugged. “Harmony!”

“He like you and you like him but both of you weren’t getting nowhere!”

“And you just figured that it would be better if you set up for us?”

“Sean wanted some revenge too.” She admitted. “Can we focus on your date now?”

“What do you have in mind?” I asked crossing my arms.

“Sean is trying to figure out where he’s planning on taking you tonight.”

“Your answer is a double date?”

“Calm down Grace, oh my gods!” Harmony complained. “Let’s just focus on finding something to wear.”

“How are you the smartest twin?” I grumbled.

“And prettiest I might have to add.” She laughed.

“We’re identical!”

We spent the whole afternoon trying to find something for me to wear. Something classy but cute, not too extra but it was kinda hard since we had no idea where he was planning to take me. Luckily my mutation would allow me to change if needed. So, we agreed on jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt along with denim jacket.

“You look awesome sis. Go get your boy.” Harmony said before pushing me off her bedroom.

I met him downstairs as there wouldn’t be a place in the world I wouldn’t recognize that pair of wings and he simply looked… angelic. Except for the leather jacket and ripped jeans. He looked like a dark angel.

He stretched his hand to reach mine and kissed the back of it with a smile.

“Are you ready princess?” he asked when we left the mansion.

“I was born ready angel.”

He hugged me tight before his wings stretched completely and raised us in the dark blue sky. He kissed me while the wind ruffled in our hair and I couldn’t know if the shivers I felt were because of the cold night air or the kiss.

Then I had an idea.

“Let me go.” I whispered. He widened his eyes in shock. “Trust me. Let me go.”

He hesitated but did as I asked. And I started falling.

I could feel the red cloud growing around me and the puncturing felling in my back when a pair of feathery wings, just like his, grew before it was too late. He met me halfway back up.

“Wow.” Was the only thing he said.

“Ready for the most memorable night of your life?” I said with a smirk, stretching my own wings.

“I was born ready angel.” He quoted me with a smile.

-x-

taglist: @batboys-and-other-messes @southside-sweets @grandmascottlang @imaginesandideas

#sean cassidy #sean cassidy imagine #sean cassidy fic #warren worthington iii #warren worthington imagine #x men #x men fic #warren worthington fic #alex summers #scott summers #pun fairy writes

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snowlessknitter · 5 years

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Today’s Golden Girls Guest Star Profile is on Bonnie Bartlett.

Bonnie appeared in one episode, “Dorothy’s New Friend”, which aired in 1988 as part of Season 3. In the episode, Bonnie plays a Florida-based novelist named Barbara Thorndyke who becomes friends with Dorothy over their shared love of literature. However, Rose and Blanche take consternation to this when they notice how arrogant and pompous Barbara is and that she has a habit of talking down to people. Dorothy takes offense to the Girls’ concerns, thinking that they just don’t understand Barbara. Barbara invites Dorothy to a writers’ symposium, which is scheduled for the same day as a party that Dorothy previously agreed to attend with Rose (as the back end of a horse costume), and Dorothy ends up accepting Barbara’s invitation. During lunch at a literary-themed restaurant with Barbara, Dorothy tells her about Blanche and Rose’s issues with Barbara, and Barbara decides to try and bury the hatchet by inviting the other Girls to eat at a place called the Mortimer Club, one of the most exclusive places in town. Later, when the Girls’ dates arrive, Barbara’s true nature is revealed when she informs Dorothy that Sophia’s date won’t be allowed in because he’s Jewish; it turns out the Mortimer Club is anti-Semitic, and Dorothy decides she wants nothing to do with a passive anti-Semite like Barbara (I say “passive” here because even though she doesn’t express anti-Semitic views herself, she tolerates those of the Mortimer Club), and tells her to “Go to hell.” After Barbara leaves, Dorothy apologizes profusely to Blanche and Rose.

Rose: Does this mean you’ll go to the masquerade ball?

Dorothy: Yes. And I’ll tell you something: after all the practice I have had lately, I’d be honored to be the horse’s behind.

Needless to say, Barbara Thorndyke is considered one of the most hated characters in Golden Girls fandom (along with Rebecca Devereaux’s onetime fiancé, Jeremy, played by Joe Regalbuto, who I previously covered on here).

Bonnie Bartlett was born 20 June 1929 in Wisconsin Rapids, Wisconsin, and raised in Moline, Illinois. Part of her motivation to become an actress came from her father’s failed experience as one (he later became an insurance salesman to provide for his family). She graduated from Moline High School in 1947, and four years later married her college sweetheart, actor William Daniels (who has an extensive and legendary body of work of his own), in 1951. They had met while they were students at Northwestern University. They had a son together in 1961, who died about 24 hours after he was born, and they later adopted two children: sons Michael and Robert. Bartlett and Daniels are still married to this day, and have even worked together in a few TV show’s, including ‘80s medical drama St. Elsewhere and Daniels’ later series Boy Meets World, where she played the Dean of Pennbrook University (where the main characters were attending college and where Daniels’ character Mr./Professor Feeny decided to teach after years in the Philadelphia public school system) and the pair began a romance resulting in Dean Bolander (her character) and Feeny getting married on the show.

Bartlett’s acting career began in 1951, with her first prominent role coming in the soap opera Love of Life, in which she played lead character Vanessa Dale from 1955-1959, and was the second of three actresses to play that role during the show’s 29-year run. She moved on to primetime roles in the 1960s. Though she has acted in a handful of films over the years, Bartlett is primarily known for her television work. Outside of The Golden Girls, she has also made guest appearances on shows like Little House on the Prairie, The Waltons, Gunsmoke, Kojak, The Rockford Files, Knots Landing, Barney Miller, Matlock, Murder, She Wrote, L.A. Law, Home Improvement, ER, Touched By an Angel, NCIS, Grey’s Anatomy, and most recently in Better Call Saul. She was also nominated twice for the Emmy for Outstanding Supporting Actress in a Drama for her work in St. Elsewhere, winning one. (And yes, her character in St. Elsewhere was married to William Daniels’ character on the show.)

Bartlett and Daniels share a home together in the San Fernando Valley in Los Angeles, and they made the news last fall when Daniels scared off a burglar who attempted to break into their home...all the more fascinating considering that Daniels was 91 at the time. Bartlett is due to turn 90 next month.

(And yes, that’s a more recent picture of them together on the right in my photoset of Bonnie.)

#the golden girls #golden girls guest stars #bonnie bartlett #episode: dorothy’s new friend

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gilfawley · 5 years

Photo

have you been re-introduced to gilbert fawley? last we heard, the pureblood was most familiar with timeline three. I don’t recall if they were always a hufflepuff, but I’ve heard the sixth year is still optimistic, determined, altruistic, and overzealous, sensitive, open-book, so that��s familiar. at least he remembers their way around the castle.

hi it bailey back at it again with another one. again it’s just a modified version of my app. o well.

born 21st of june, 1961.

sun sign is gemini — enthusiastic and uniquely charming; you are good at almost anything you put your mind to, and can make just about anyone laugh.

moon sign is libra — likely to be a natural peace-maker. you are probably adept at seeing things from another’s point-of-view, and can be counted on to both listen when needed, and offer objective advice when required. your instinctive ability to get on with others can make you popular and gracious in most situations. you are likely to be respected for your reasonable, fair-minded approach to life. principles will be important to you; you are likely to have a strong sense of justice, and will feel disturbed by any situation that you perceive as unfair.

ascendant sign is virgo — typically humble and at times self-effacing, you can be more concerned with being useful than being recognized. there is a need to be productive; to be of service somehow. you are usually willing to assist and be of service to others, being hardworking, conscientious and studious. nonetheless, you are likely to be a bit on hard on yourself, with a tendency to worry.

midheaven sign is gemini — usually easygoing, though if they have no feeling behind their words, their ideas may get lost in the shuffle. individuals with a midheaven in gemini have a strong sense of intuition, are good at managing their resources and generally have a good sense of pacing.

wand: english oak, unicorn hair, 13″, pliant — for good and bad times and as loyal as the wix who wields it, english oak takes affinity with the magic of the natural world. unicorn hair symbolizes those full of spirit, sweet and gentle, cheerful and value family and friendship. wix who are dependable, humble, independent, caring and loyal. kindhearted and free spirited; optimistic wizards and witches will attract wands of this core. particularly best for water and earth elemental magic, and difficult to turn to dark arts. wands that are of pliant flexibility warm up easily to people, however their potential is based solely upon their owner. pliant wands are what their wielder needs them to be, strengths and weaknesses are one-in-the-same. owners of them are often eager and enthusiastic, tending to be easily impressed or naïve.

familiar: a female snowy owl appropriately named owlivia. patronus: hedgehog — they show happy-go-lucky and kind, slightly naïve optimistic individuals. however it’s also said those with this patronus have a tough personality to them, as hard as it is to believe in gilbert’s case at first glance. to be more on the carefree side, yet still able to be grounded and practical when the situation calls for it; knowing when to fight and when to let it go is important.

amortentia: garden soil, fresh chocolate chip pancakes, bananas, and gillywater.

boggart: goblin — he knows it’s silly, that he shouldn’t be afraid of them really, but the irrationality never seemed to go away. having the displeasure to see one overly grumpy goblin at gringotts when he was six was enough to strike an everlasting fear in his bones. gilbert still feels awful for when he cried in first year after learning professor flitwick was part-goblin.

his sense of humor is lighthearted and genuine. you know that kid who unabashedly laughs at their own jokes/puns? that would be gilbert. that kid that laughs too hard while telling a story, so much that they can’t even finish it? that would also be gilbert.

he’s self-proclaimed king of the forbidden forest, but he also doesn’t like going out in them too much anymore ever since becoming a prefect because he doesn’t want to get in trouble if caught.

probably would stay up until 3am watching nature documentaries if he could get away with it.

absolutely adores gobstones!!!! has been playing since he was a little kid!!! what a nerd, bless his heart. he’s even captain of the hogwarts team. :’’) he’s a quidditch beater too!! joined in his third year.

baby boi is bi bi bi, but he only.....kissed one (1) girl and that’s it kjdbcfdjsnd he’s? not shy or anything, but like...hey sometimes life happens and/or he’s hyperfocused on something else. he probably gets rly flustered when thinking ab other guys like that though bc he’s!! not used to it.

ALRIGHT!

the fawley family was never one for fanatic blood purity, despite maintaining their own place among the sacred twenty-eight throughout generations. from former minister for magic hector fawley, to his son and daughter-in-law, to little gilbert. however they were quickly labeled blood traitors as years progressed. hector jr. and his wife, grace, taught their son the importance of acceptance. after all, they adopted a muggleborn witch and raised her as their own. these ideals and actions heavily clashed with the traditional pureblood beliefs, but the fawley’s paid no attention to the sneers and disapproving looks. they were happy and that was all that mattered.

with his sister being muggleborn, mr and mrs fawley thought it would be beneficial for both children to be acquainted in that world as well. a local playground in the muggle area, he and his sister would spend hours upon hours running around. often, he would pick nearby flowers and bring them to his mother with that bright smile of his. to this day, those moments are some of his favorite.

when his fifth year of hogwarts came around, gilbert was entrusted with a prefect badge. he still isn’t entirely sure how or why they chose him, because he thought there were better candidates, but that didn’t stop him from treating it with newfound pride. he also began working even harder in his classes, despite the occasional exploding cauldron in potions.......oops???? HE TRIES OK IT JUST.....DOESN’T ALWAYS WORK OUT. slug’s pretty patient with him, but like, also you can tell he’s #overit because c’mon gilbert goddamn you’re in sixth year now you can’t keep making silly first year mistakes sometimes :///

ESPECIALLY if you wanna be a healer??? get it together!!!

okay so like --- all in all, gilbert is ambivalent about the other timelines. on one hand, he thinks it’s interesting, but on the other it’s terrifying. he wouldn’t have minded getting the first timeline admittedly, though the mere thought of the second timeline gives him chills. with the war approaching in his original reality, who knew what could become of them? it worries him greatly.

but i mean again overall he.....doesn’t really care? it’s like eh....he’s the same, so is his sister & their family.......he’s kinda weirded out if his friends aren’t the friends he knows but.,,,, water off a duck’s back with this one lmao

TIMELINE ONE --- everything is pretty much the same??? he’s happy????? the happiest ball of sunshine???? still in hufflepuff, still a prefect, still a geek ass nerd who is president of the gobstones team...,,, it’s just gilbert minus the worry of a dumb war tbh

TIMELINE TWO --- it starts off exactly the same but when the war tipped in favor of the death eaters and they won?? hahahaha PAL. OH MAN. BUDDY. HE WAS SSSSSHAKING. not like oh my god i’m scared ( well, yeah maybe that too ) but like..............HECKA MAD. he’s never been really much of a fighter, and he’s the first to admit it, but he’s also not the type to sit back and watch shit like that? very >:( ,,,,,,,with his family being blood traitors, it wasn’t much of a good time regardless that he’s pureblood lol

buT!! gil definitely 100000% snuck as many assignments back to selina as he could since it was recommended that muggleborns didn’t attend school for, uh, obvious reasons. and you KNOW mcgonagall helped him do it!!

and....it’s ...,,, 1:40am, so. i should..........go to bed....or something. probably. idk this is a mess as per usual when it comes to me dsjjs but i love him a whole ton

#diversions.i #hERE WE GO BOYS

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