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mattzerella-sticks · 3 years

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john’s song (ao3 link)

A discovery of treasures from the Winchesters' past might disrupt Dean and Cas's celebrations... well, only if Dean lets it.

Destiel Anniversary (3.9k words) + a splash of The Winchesters goodness

Dean set the yellowed letter aside and next to the growing pile of other papers, all facedown, hiding his father’s faded script. He straightened in his seat, dragging his hand up over his face. He started at the chin, then slowly rode the planes of his stubbled cheeks forward until Dean’s fingers slipped under his glasses and pushed them into his chestnut hair. The wire frames plinked back into place after Dean’s palm finished its journey. They slid off his forehead to land on the table, again. Dean sighed as he closed his eyes. He assessed the twinges of pain rippling across his body like fireworks; intense in certain areas such as his neck and shoulders, his lower back and knees, with smaller bursts of pain cascading outwards. Dean pushed his feet harder against the pale tilework below, its coolness bleeding faster into him through his soles. It wasn’t enough to dull it.

“Maybe you should take a break,” Cas said from elsewhere. Dean craned his neck behind him, cracking an eye open. His husband stood by the stove, swaddled in his blue terrycloth robe and his flannel pants pooling around his ankles. The kettle sat beside him on the stove, steam still leaking out its nose while Cas held two mugs in his hands. He shuffled towards Dean, handing him one of the mugs. “You’ve been at this for hours.”

Dean sipped at his tea. The ginger, lemon, and turmeric competed for his attention as the cannabis slipped by unnoticed. “It hasn’t been that long,” he groused.

Cas took the seat next to him at their dining table, plucking a stray artifact off the table and examining it. He chose an old receipt from a probably long-gone diner in Kansas. The print on its front faded to the point of illegibility, however that didn’t matter. What Dean thought important were the runes etched on the back alongside doodled flowers. “Did your father draw this?”

“No,” Dean said, “circle’s’re too skinny. Dad drew’em plumper than that. And he always managed to overdraw, his circles looked like they had combovers. These are too… perfect.” He snatched the receipt from Cas and laid it back where it was. “And flowers definitely weren’t part of his portfolio.”

Cas huffed in agreement, a tiny sunbeam of a smile breaking through his clouded expression. “I’ll trust you on that.” He reached for Dean, his hand brushing past the hairs curling at Dean’s neck and kneading the skin hidden by his t-shirt. “If he didn’t, then who?”

“That’s… what I’m trying to figure out.”

Dean believed he knew of all John’s hunts. Even the ones his dad hid, at first. Dean learned them all later on in barrooms and motels, listening as John explained every horrid detail while his posture stooped further and further, his speech slurred into a conversational car crash of words and the bottles piled up around them.

Except now a collection of his dad’s past was in front of him. Of his dad’s and mom’s, it seemed.

“But dad didn’t know about any of this crap before the fire,” Dean told Sam a few days ago, “Hell, we watched his mind get wiped by the angels that one time he did come face to face with the truth.”

Sam hissed a sharp breath through thin lips, his nostrils flaring as his heavy stare broke the screen barrier separating them. “Be that as it may,” he said, “All this stuff was crammed under the floorboards of some old Bunker hideout Eileen and I stumbled on… so it’s either real, or someone went to a lot of trouble playing a joke on us. And I doubt anyone cares enough about us to plant false evidence.” He paused, mulling his next thought around like sour wine on his tongue. “Anyone with powers left to do something like it, that is.”

“Maybe it is Chuck,” Dean guessed, “Maybe he… scrounged up some mojo and decided to do a retcon?” Sam’s nonplussed look spoke volumes. “It could be!”

“If it is,” he said, “then you’ll be able to tell. I’ve sent everything we’ve found here by express, should be arriving in your neck of the woods in the next day or so.”

It waited for Dean at his PO Box a week before he strung together enough nerve to collect their dad’s stuff. It took another week of moving the box around their home, pacing, and staring at the duct taped cardboard while chewing the end of a lit joint for Dean to open it.

Now an assortment from his family’s past was strewn across their table. Dean catalogued everything – all the scribbles, seventies memorabilia, and the hefty journal that must’ve doubled the total shipping cost into a coherent timeline. A story of how John and Mary met, and the hell that was their honeymoon phase.

Though even with what Sam and Eileen found, Dean noticed there were more than a few blanks that needed to be filled. “How can this be possible?”

“What?”

“This…” Dean gestured at the mess between them, then slammed his hand atop the pile of letters. “My parents, hunting together? Dad was never supposed to know… he was my mom’s escape hatch out of the life. It doesn’t make any damned sense, Cas.”

“So these are John’s things…” Dean watched Cas’s fingers skim a few more pieces, brushing against the fraying cord of a talisman and tapping the edge of a grainy photograph – of a younger Mary, laughing, her arms wrapped around the shoulders of a darker-skinned girl near her in age. “Our lives are anything but ordinary,” Cas surmised with a quirk of his lips, snapping his hand back to his tea and holding it near his mouth, “and so were your parents. Daughter of a hunter… son of Letterman… two lines with destinies tied to duty, to protection. It shouldn’t be so shocking that they were called earlier than they were supposed to.”

“But I would’ve known if they were,” Dean growled, his body shaking. He placed the mug on the table and pressed down harshly on its wooden surface. “I’ve heard the story of how they first met more than probably any kid’s ever of their own parents. From dad, from mom… not a detail out of place – same as when I was four and when I was forty.” He leaned into Cas’s touch, the warmth at his neck, the steady grip on his wrist, and the nuzzle along his neck. “It’s…” his voice cracked, raw and splintered after going from not talking for hours to talking too much in the span of seconds. “Just… why?” He bowed his head into Cas’s hair, the soft tufts of it tickling Dean’s nose. “We got out. I don’t think I can make it if we have to get back in the game.”

Cas’s thumb rubbed soothing circles into Dean’s wrist as they sat together, Dean quietly snuffling every few seconds. Despite his best efforts, however, a few tears escaped. They caressed his face until disappearing under Cas’s dark waves.

“You know,” Cas said, fighting the repressive silence crushing him, “this doesn’t have to mean that.”

Dean whimpered. “What?”

“These pages and trinkets, they… they don’t have to mean anything bad,” Cas forged ahead slowly, moving, head rising so that their gazes met and Dean was almost blinded by the brilliance of his conviction shining within. “They don’t have to mean we’re piling into Baby and jetting off from one town to the next on some never-ending connect-the-dots hunting caper that’ll ultimately save the world somehow. They…,” Cas paused as he captured Dean’s lips in a kiss that stole his breath, Dean unconsciously chasing after that missing gasp once Cas broke them apart. “…Don’t have to be the omens you think they are.”

Dean swallowed past a familiar lump in his throat, too scared to move it forward and the lump too big to be shoved away. “What do they mean, then?”

“It’s…” Cas hummed, very obviously parsing his thoughts, searching for a golden needle hidden amongst the haystacks. Dean appreciated Cas’s care. “It’s an opportunity,” he finally said, “a chance to know your family better than you believed you did.” His touch moved from Dean’s wrist to his hand, entwining their fingers. “A chance to learn the truth… a truth long hidden for tens of years.”

Dean snorted at his theatrics, rubbing a limp fist under his eyes. “We could use one of those ancestry websites and save us all the trouble.”

“Some of those require DNA,” Cas reminded him, “we’d get a squad of cops outside our door before we learned anything important like what Eileen and Sam found.”

He sighed, bumping his forehead against Cas’s. “What if, in doing all this – we end up undoing whatever catastrophe they averted?”

“Why are you so insistent this is bad?”

�� It’s not an accusation. He didn’t reel backwards like he’d been slap, like Dean might have done in a time not that long ago, before he and Cas became heandCas. Instead he responded to Cas’s genuine curiosity with honesty. He’d changed, dammit. “Shoe’s bound to drop any day now, isn’t it?” he chuckled. Dean had changed, but not completely. “Sometimes I can’t believe we get to wake up next to each other and just… have this. Have us. And most days I can go about not thinking of expiration dates and bad luck. Then I wake up one morning and it’s like I’m ten seconds from scratching at the walls because there has to be another apocalypse on the horizon, and if I’m not ready it’s gonna burn everything we’ve built to the ground.”

Cas, like he always did, shouldered Dean’s worries alongside him and offered a gentle, uplifting smile. “At least this explains why you’ve been on edge the last few weeks…” Cas started with a joke, neither forcing a hollow laugh in the beats between their breaths. “I can’t promise that will never happen,” he told Dean, his voice slow and smooth, blazing down Dean’s ears like good whiskey. “Your concerns are valid… and definitely shared.” The hand on his neck travelled forward, Cas’s fingers lovingly carding through Dean’s mane. “You know, there are nights where I lay there in bed with my eyes closed, but I… I can’t fall asleep, because I’m afraid I might never wake up?”

“Really?” Dean asked, “Like… in a human ‘pass-in-your-sleep’ kind of way or the… the place-we-don’t-talk-about way.”

“The… latter,” Cas admit, “It’s completely irrational for me to think like that – someone who’s escaped there twice, but I… I still feel it. The scars are still there. And when the sun rises, and I realize the night’s passed me by, I’m in an even worse mood –“

“I just thought you weren’t a morning person –“

“The point is, Dean,” Cas brought their joined hands to his mouth, his lips running over Dean’s knuckles as he talked. “I don’t want you missing out on something that – something you never realized you were missing, all because you were afraid to try. We both know how miserable life was when we did give in to fear, and how… how amazing it felt once we overcame it.”

“There was a lot more that we had to get through before it was amazing, Cas.”

“We’re together now,” he said, “that’s what matters.”

“What if this tears it all apart?” Dean asked, stubbornness forcing him to keep picking at the most horrid scab, “What if… whatever we find hurts more than it helps?”

“Then it’s a good thing you won’t be alone during it.” Cas leaned away, giving Dean space, connected only by their hands. “Me, your brother and sister-in-law… the girls, Jody, Donna. Miracle. This might even give Jack a good enough excuse to visit.” Cas’s focus trailed off, shifting towards something on the table. He reached for a dusty cassette box, cover lazily written on in dark, slanted ink where all the letters blended into one block. Definitely not his dad’s handwriting. “Whatever your choice, however, I’ll stand by it.”

“Really?” Dean raised a wry brow. “Then why go through all this trouble with the speeches?”

“I’d rather you be confident you made the right decision, and not look back years from now wondering what might have been.” Cas squeezed his hand. “It’s your family.”

It was. Dean scanned the collection in a new light. This stuff belonged to John, and it belonged to him, too. These were part of the Winchester history. Its legacy. For many years, the burden of living under it, of being a Winchester – the expectations and the responsibilities, the sacrifices and consequences – cooled any affection Dean held for his origins. The blood in his veins didn’t matter because of where it came from, but because of what he did while it still pumped. However, maybe there might be something worth looking back on in pride. It’s a slim chance, but they’ve been motivated by less.

There was one matter he needed to deal with, though. “It’s your family, too,” Dean said, tugging Cas’s hand closer and kissing the silver band on his ring finger. “Mr. Winchester.”

“Mr. Winchester?” Cas parroted, tapping his chin with the cassette box, “It’s been a while since you’ve called me that… and out of the bedroom, too.”

“Castiel Winchester,” Dean purred, annunciating each syllable, every letter dripping with love. “You married into this family; only fair you have a vote.” He cleared his throat. “So? What do you say?”

Cas didn’t hesitate. “I do,” he said, “And you?”

“I do, too,” he sighed, “I just hope we don’t regret it.”

“We probably will,” Cas said. Dean’s lighthearted mood plummeted like a falling star. He struck Cas with an exasperated glare. “Not everything, I mean…” Cas amended, “but there’s bound to be a few pieces you’ll wish you never learned. The truth isn’t all that pleasant… and there are things we might discover that could prove to be ‘too much information’.”

Cas’s deadpan explanation and him struggling with one-handed finger quotes while still holding the tape box broke Dean free of the fleeting irritation that overtook him. He stole the relic from his husband and examined it himself. He hadn’t gotten to it yet during his work. “Why’re you so attached to this?”

“I was trying to place the artist,” Cas told him, “Though I couldn’t recognize the name with any of the bands in your collection.”

“That’s because I don’t own anything by a…” Dean re-read the box, “a Carlos Cervantez.” He shook it, hearing the tape hit all sides. “It looks homemade. You wanna get the stereo?”

“We’re listening to it?” Cas rose, heading towards their bedroom. “Now?”

“Why not?”

Cas returned with their stereo, a portable, silver device they discovered in town during a garage sale. He removed the current cassette inside, Cas’s well-listened to ‘Traxx’ mixtape pocketed. Cas waited for Dean to hand him the box.

Dean opened it, expecting only a standard mixtape. As he revealed the tape, a brittle, folded note of yellow paper fell out. Dean handed Cas what he needed, then bent down to retrieve the extra surprise. Cas asked what it was. “It looks like…” he opened it up, “it’s a list of titles.”

“Titles?”

“Song titles,” he continued, “I’m guessing for songs on the tape?” Dean read a few aloud, following the numbered order, “Moving On… Little Soldier Boy… Bullets for Flowers…” Dean kept going until he reached the last track. His heart stuttered, his body seizing slightly. “And, uh…” he coughed, folding the note over, “John’s Song.”

Cas sucked at hiding his reaction, too, slamming the cassette closed a bit harsher than intended. “John’s Song?” His gaze darted from Dean to the stereo. “Is this… should we still listen?”

His sudden skittishness went unappreciated. “The truth is the truth, Cas,” Dean shrugged, fiddling with the creases of Carlos’s note, “The seal’s been broken… not much we can do about it now except face it.”

Cas didn’t object. He pressed play, the opening notes of an acoustic guitar filtering through the speakers. Cas reclaimed his seat, sliding it closer to Dean until they touched from shoulder to toe. Dean handed Cas his now-cold tea, like Dean’s. They drank as the guitarist – Carlos – finished playing his haunting intro and finally began singing.

It was beautiful. A bit folksy, for Dean’s tastes, but it suited the narrative structure of Carlos’s lyrics. If he closed his eyes, Dean could imagine himself in a crowded, smoky bar. He and Carlos hunkered at a table, their heads brushing as Carlos whispered his story in time with the music that pumped into the room – the music he, in fact, created with his guitar.

The first track, ‘Moving On’, slowly faded as the next song started. ‘Little Soldier Boy’ flipped the tempo, launching into a frenetic pace. Dean laughed halfway through the first chorus, watching Cas’s knee bounce to the rhythm of Carlos’s music. “I take it you’re liking this?”

“It’s… nice,” he said, “I can, uh – dig this.”

“Dig?”

“It’s slang from that era,” Cas rattled off, his fingers tapping an imaginary drumskin on his lap, “a way for people to say they liked a certain thing, or they understood it. Like… if you were to ask someone what music they liked – if you were talking to them back then – they might respond, ‘well, I can dig El…’.” Dean’s amusement was very evident, and it didn’t surprise him when Cas noticed. Cas’s cheeks burned. He quickly hid them with a swipe of his head. “Hey,” Cas said, “do you feel like dancing? I could really dance right about now.”

“Cas, we don’t have to –“ Dean choked on his response, Cas dragging him out of his chair midsentence. He fought him for another verse, but a mixture of Cas’s come-hither gaze and his nerdy, inoffensive hip wiggling enticed Dean to join the fun.

They bounced around their kitchen, laughing, shaking their asses as ‘Little Soldier Boy’ transitioned to ‘Bullets for Flowers’, and kept going for the next three songs. Dean grabbed Cas’s robe lapels and tugged him nearer, their chests flushed together. His hands dragged downwards, following the slope of his husband’s terrycloth towards the hanging, untied sash and clung tight to them.

The music changed, a much melancholier song starting. Dean and Cas slowed to match it. Their feet brushed every other chord as they shuffled, their eyes met, and both smiles fell once they realized which song played.

It was a short tape. They reached ‘John’s Song’ sooner than expected.

Dean paid close attention to Carlos’s voice, hanging on every lyric of what’s undoubtedly a ballad. ‘John’s Song’ was a ballad. Dean’s head spun at the revelation, though he had ample time to prepare since the suspicion began after reading the song’s title. The kitchen wobbled and faded at the edges; Dean very aware how close to the edge of a panic attack he dangled on. Cas never wavered. He remained steady, so Dean’s gaze stayed on him.

As he watched Cas, and listened to Carlos’s song, his heart swooned in an accustomed manner. Moving past the fact that this song was about his father, Dean connected to the words Carlos sang. He related to the raw emotion kept alive by this recording. What Carlos felt then was what beat inside Dean as Cas’s face eclipsed all else. “You’ve been running a long, long time/and though we didn’t know it then/you were running home to me.” Dean hummed along, gravitating towards Cas. His lips grazed Cas’s cheek, his arm reaching around and hugging his husband. Cas hugged him with the same intensity. They existed in each other’s arms through the remainder of the song and minutes after it ended and the stereo went silent, drifting to a melody nobody heard but them.

That music ended soon, too. The world and their surroundings came into better focus, and somewhere in that shift Dean caught the oven clock mid-change. He cursed under breath. “Dean?” Cas asked, “What is it?”

“It’s two o’seven,” he said, “It’s tomorrow.” Dean murmured another string of expletives, then continued, “It’s our anniversary.”

“Is that so bad?”

“It is when I’ve kept you up half the night dealing with my bullshit.”

“Our bullshit,” Cas laughed, “remember? That’s what the ceremony was for.” His good humor didn’t rub off on Dean, and he clearly realized it. “Dean?”

“I’m sorry,” he told Cas, “Sorry our first anniversary’s starting off crappy.”

Cas laid a hand on Dean’s face, guiding him into a heated embrace. They ended their kiss with a gasp, Dean waiting for whatever it was Cas wanted his attention for.

He smiled, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Dean believed him, and he loved him for it. He loved Cas. How he loved him. “I love you.”

“And I love you,” Cas kissed him again. “Happy anniversary… and Valentine’s Day.”

He and Cas stood in their kitchen for another hour, swaying, peppering each other with kisses every now and then. It’s a sappier Valentine’s Day than Dean thought he’d enjoy but it’s also his anniversary, so Dean decided to indulge in this pleasure. The pleasure Dean never imagined he might have… and for many people, never believed they’d get.

Dean no longer needed to run. He had found his home.

Valentine’s Day – Lawrence, KS 1973

Carlos’s fingers hovered over his guitar strings after he finished, not wanting to break the moment yet. He was too enamored of the atmosphere he created, and too scared to see if those feelings were reciprocated. Instead, he let the final chord echo in the silence of his van.

John took the initiative, his laughter breaking the tension. “That was amazing,” he said, blunt dangling between his fingers, “you wrote all that yourself?”

Carlos nodded. “It helps when you’ve got inspiration.”

“What inspired this?”

He bit his lip, tracing the languid frame of John stretched out in his van – the way his hair swooped, the sliver of skin shown by a hitched shirt him, and the way his toes peeked from behind his raggedy bellbottoms. Carlos shook his head, forcing himself to think of a quick response. His eyes landed on John’s hand. “Grass, man,” he joked, “the best kind of inspiration! Now quit hogging my song-writing mojo…”

John, stoned enough to disregard his clumsy diversion, giddily handed Carlos the joint. He leaned farther than he needed to and collapsed on Carlos’s knee. Giggling, John turned over and stared at the ceiling above them. Carlos ground the end of the blunt flat with his teeth.

“That song,” John continued, finding his voice again, “does it have a name?”

Carlos answered, shrugging, “Not yet,” he said, “I’ve been… struggling with the name.”

“Bummer, man.” John lazily extended his hand again, this time whacking Carlos’s guitar in an off-key strum. “A song that good needs a name, pronto.”

“Don’t worry,” Carlos told him, “It’ll have a name. The perfect name, actually.”

They fell into another bout of silence, passing the blunt between them until it was a nub and with Carlos allowing himself the pleasure of running his finger’s through John’s hair. He figured, in this life, with the war they’re facing and the world they live in, it’s all Carlos could have.

That and his songs. John’s song. John’s… “Huh,” he murmured, brushing a hair off John’s forehead. The other man didn’t twitch, fast asleep. “What a great name…”

#supernatural #spn #supernatural fanfic #spn fanfic #destiel #deancas #destiel fanfic #deancas fanfic #destiel anniversary #dean winchester #castiel #human castiel #the winchesters #john winchester #carlos cervantez #some light john x carlos #johnlos?#cervantester?#listen i'm in my gay John Winchester truthing era enjoy the ride folks

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natromanxoff · 3 years

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Queen live at Nuevo Estadio de Vallecas in Madrid, Spain - August 3, 1986

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There was a fight backstage before the show, and virtually everything in the dressing room was destroyed. At some point during the altercation, Freddie insisted that this would be his last tour. In 2011, Brian recalled Freddie saying something like, "Oh I can't fucking do this anymore. My whole body’s wracked with pain!" Brian added, "He normally said things like that at the end of a tour, so I don’t think we took it seriously." But Freddie was for real this time.

In the blu-ray extras of the 2011 "Days Of Our Lives" documentary, Roger Taylor explained that John Deacon was going through a difficult time in his personal life. On this tour, Roger says "He had cocktail bar behind his amplifier, and his roadie would whip up a few cocktails throughout the show." Brian added that all of their their marriages were breaking up. They were completely immersed in Queen at this point, and the touring life particularly made family life a challenge. The frustation came out in various ways, like when John threw his bass at the Knebworth show.

The photos were taken by Dave Matkin, who recalls the show: "John appeared to be in a world of his own, at one point walking to the front of the stage in-between the Rock and Roll medley much to the consternation of Freddie who kept a watchful eye on him as he went on his travels."

Before Who Wants To Live Forever, Freddie sings the intro to Mustapha for the last time. Perhaps he skipped out on the usual "Queen's not gonna break up" speech because of the fight before the show.

Things seem to loosen up by the acoustic set, as Roger has a good time during Hello Mary Lou. He and John then jam a bit before Tutti Frutti, to which Freddie responds, "What beat are you doing, John?" which Brian finds amusing. Freddie then starts singing the song, and John jokingly doesn't play for the first two bars in light of Freddie's comment. After John starts playing again, between lines Freddie asks "What is happening?" However, after the show the band resumed their quarrelling, with many more things being broken backstage.

Here is a review of the show from a Spanish newspaper, submitted by Alessio Rizzitelli.

(x)

Fan Stories

“I saw Queen in Madrid back in 1986. When I was a kid, I remember having heard Mustapha (perhaps it was released as a single here in Spain, it's always been a popular track), and I loved the song. I also remember, after watching Flash Gordon, which I loved, that the music was great! I was only 12 so when I read music by Queen I thought that it made sense because those voices seemed feminine to me. It was only when Greatest Hits I was released that I became consciously interested in Queen, and I started buying all their stuff. What a shock when me and my friends found out that the singer was the mustached guy! Don't know why but we thought that the singer had to be either the short-haired or the blonde one. Funny, Brian always looked like a guitar player. We never saw any videos until Radio Ga Ga and Live Aid on TV. Anyway, in 1986 we had a terrific LP and great singles - and Queen in Spain. Me and my brother Carlos got a couple of tickets for the Madrid show and the concert was just excellent, they could have filled up the Santiago Bernabeu (twice as big as the stadium they played in), they were at the top of their success in Spain. We enjoyed every minute of their performance (but for the guitar solo, always a little long for me), we sang everything, favourite songs: Who Wants To Live Forever and Hammer To Fall. I remember the crowd jumping during Magic, Rock You, the wonderful Champions and Bo Rhap... what a laugh in Break Free when at the start of the 2nd verse Freddie stopped singing expecting to hear I've fallen in love, and the crowd erupted I WANT TO BREAK FREE again?!! I'll always remember Brian´s face (What the fuck?), staring at us (not me, I sure knew the lyrics!). Ga Ga was GIGANTIC! Not a favourite of mine up until that day... My only mistake was when Lap Of The Gods started and I yelled LILY OF THE VALLEY! After that I've always been a fan, and I was known as Freddie at university (nicknames were easier than real names when you got drunk, and they stuck with you forever!). Even after more than 10 years people still tell me that when they hear anything from or about Queen they think of me, not bad, huh? The saddest moment was when Freddie died. My brother Jose said after reading the lyrics to the show must go on when Innuendo was released "He's sick, this is some kind of farewell, he´s dying of AIDS." I replied "you don't know what you´re talking about." Well, yes he did (but he always says the same about everyone!). When Back to the Light was released I had the chance to see Brian in Madrid. Wonderful concert, all of us in our best Queen T-shirts (mine was the Magic Tour T-shirt). We missed Driven by You but we were treated to bits of Las Palabras de Amor, '39, Mustapha and a whole Teo Torriatte, which got so emotional...

A couple of funny things happened during this concert. One was the presence of one of the sisters of King Juan Carlos, who apparently seemed to enjoy the concert (even though she didn't really get up), even Brian's solo! The other one, I had the chance to speak with Jim Beach. I went to the concert with my friend Ricky, cheers man, if you're reading, and we started talking with some other Queen fans, basically showing off, trying to impress them with the sheer size of our Queen knowledge, we knew absolutely everything they asked, even why Freddie used a footless stand, but we were unable to convince them that Hot Space stinks (I mean I love it but just because it's Queen, otherwise, tracks such as Staying Power, Action this Day...) In the middle of this highly intellectual debate I see a little silhouetto of a man and as I seem to remember him from the Magic Years Videos I shout out loud "HULLO JIM!" The guy answers back "Hello", and quick as Han Solo I hit: "Think I know you, you´ve got something to do with Queen, right?" and then I realized "You're Jim Beach, aren't you?" Well, yes he was and very kindly he answered my questions (How's the tour going? OK. What's Roger doing? Basically nothing. Any chance to get anything new from Queen? Possibly). He explained he had to leave and I thanked him very much. When he left, everybody around me was nervous: Who's this guy? (remember the command of the english language here in Spain is not so fluent as it should be), What did he say? and, last but not least, how the fuck was I so dumb as not to ask him to take us backstage to meet Brian?” - Paco Andrés

#queen #queen band #roger taylor #freddie mercury #brian may #john deacon #queen concerts

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multi-fandom-imagine · 4 years

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Video Game One-Shots and Drabbles Master List.

-Drabbles are up to 300 words and less than 1000

-One-Shots are more than 1000 words

- ✦ means it is a drabble

- ★ means it is a one-shot.

- ♥ means it has sexual content or implied smut

-💔means it is an angst fic.

-★ means it is a Headcanon.

-⚜ means it is a Mini Series.

Assassin’s Creed:

Uncanny || Jacob Frye ||-✦

Smooth Talk || Deimos!Alexios ||- ✦ + - ♥

Marry me || Jacob Frye ||- ✦ + - ♥

Patching up a wound || Edward Kenway ||

Beautiful Music || Jacob Frye ||

A Scared Kiss || Ezio Auditore ||

Fierce Moon || Jacob Frye || - ♥

Bang Bang || Jacob Frye || - ♥

tall buff characters opening pickle jars (◕‿◕✿) || Jacob Frye ||

Tall Buff characters that are actually gentle giants || Connor Kenway ||

tall buff characters that are afraid of breaking their lovers || Shay Cormac ||

The Five Senses-Hearing || Alexios ||

Uncharted:

Did you hear? I’m going to be a dad! || Samuel Drake || ✦

You can call me Daddy Drake || Nathan Drake ||- ✦

Snowball Fight || Nathan Drake ||-✦

It’s just an Epilogue || Nathan Drake ||-✦

Mr. Wonderful || Nathan Drake || *Rewrite*-✦

Mr. Wonderful || Nathan Drake ||

Raging Storm || Sam Drake ||.

Being Pregnant has it quirks || Sam Drake ||

Turkey Trouble || Sam Drake ||

What if I'm a bad dad? || Sam Drake ||

Red Dead Redemption:

Tonight We Dance|| Arthur Morgan ||- ✦

I’m Crazy About You || Arthur Morgan ||- ✦

I’m Gonna Be A Daddy? || Arthur Morgan |||- ✦

I’ll Be The Best Father Around || Arthur Morgan |||- ✦

Stage 1 — The Meeting || Arthur Morgan ||- ✦

Stage 2 — Courting || Arthur Morgan ||- ✦

Let Me Stay Here By Your Side || Arthur Morgan ||- ✦

Mistletoe kisses || Modern!Charles Smith ||- ✦

Just Some fun in the camp || Arthur Morgan ||- ✦-♥

Arthur Morgan’s 25 Day’s of Christmas {{ Full List }}- ✦

A Bambi Kiss || Arthur Morgan ||

Arthur Morgan Sex Headcanon.- ♥ -✨

Resident Evil / Day’s Gone:

To The Man Who Let Her Go || Chris Redfield ||

So Many Kisses || Carlos Oliveira ||

I’ll never stop living you || James O'Brian ||

So many kisses || Carlos Oliveira ||

First Kiss || Carlos Oliveira ||

Sleepy Hug || Carlos Oliveira ||

The Little Things || Carlos Oliveira ||

She Wouldn’t Be Gone || Leon S. Kennedy ||.

The Lift hug || Carlos Oliveira ||

A Forehead Kiss || Carlos Oliveira ||

My Life ; My Princess || Carlos Oliveira ||

I’m going to hug you now || Carlos Oliveira ||

Fuck IKEA || Leon S.Kennedy ||

You look! I’m to Nervous || Rookie!Leon ||

Get your dad jokes ready || Rookie!Leon ||

Get your dad jokes ready || Leon S. Kennedy ||

Silent Comfort || Rookie!Leon ||

A kiss…. in relief || Billy Coen ||

Jealousy || Leon S. Kennedy ||

A kiss … …to pretend.|| Leon S. Kennedy ||.

an adrenaline kiss || Rookie!Leon ||

Summer Bike Rides and Picnics || Deacon St. John ||.

Hallway Sex is the best kind of sex || Deacon St. John ||

Supermassive Games: { Little Hope / Until Dawn / Men Of Medan }

Forget-me-not’s & Foxglove’s || Mike Munroe ||-✦.

Don’t You dare throw that snow ba-” || Mike Munore ||- ✦

First Date || Mike Munroe ||- ✦

I think I might be Pregnant || Josh Washington ||- ✦

It’s Not Just Make Believe || David Milton || - ✦.

He’s One Of The Good One’s || Anthony Clark ||-✦.

Keep Bleeding Love || Abraham Alastor || Pt I-✦.

Keep Bleeding Love || Abraham Alastor || Pt II-✦.

I’m so sorry || Daniel ||-✦.

Just kiss already || Abraham Alastor ||-✦

Love In The Mountains || Josh Washington ||

Lovin In The Forest || Wendigo Josh Washington ||

You’re Safe Now || Mike Munore ||

Take it off || Josh Washington ||

I think i might be pregnant || Josh Washington ||

Devil May Cry-

Baby Hog || Dante Sparda || - ✦

Please Don’t Cry || Nero ||

Baby’s First Kicks || Nero ||

What a wonderful Christmas Surprise. || Dante Sparda ||

Silent Night || V ||

Just this once || Dante ||

I said a book…not a poem || V ||

Leave it To Dante || Dante ||

Do you think they’ll have your eyes?|| Vergil ||

Expecting || Nero ||

Miscellaneous Games: { Wolf Among Us / Detroit Become Human }

Ralph likes to kiss! || Ralph x Reader ||- ✦

“Am I too old to go trick-or-treating?”|| Connor ||- ✦

It’s getting hot in here || Connor ||-✦

Romantic Kiss || Connor ||-✦

You want me to what? || Hank Anderson ||-✦

Sweet Boy || Connor ||- ✦

December 3rd: Snow || Bigby Wolf ||- ✦

Morning Kisses || Bigby Wolf ||- ✦

Cuddles || Bigby Wolf ||- ✦

Christmas Morning || Bigby Wolf ||- ✦

First Snow || Bigby Wolf ||- ✦.

Amortentia Bigby-★.

Then you kissed me || Bigby Wolf ||

Little Red Ridin’ Hood || Bigby Wolf ||

Everyone Needs a little lovin || Bigby Wolf ||

'So... Hypothetically, if we were to have a baby, how would you react? || Bigby Wolf ||

tall buff characters that are actually gentle giants || Bigby Wolf ||

What A Handsome Wolf || Bigby Wolf ||

Miscellaneous Games 2: {OverWatch / Mortal Kombat / Far Cry 5}

Heelllloooo || Johnny Cage x Reader |||- ✦

Vampire!Gabriel Reyes - ✦

Bats || Jesse McCree ||- ✦

Laughter || Gabriel Reyes ||- ✦

First Kiss || Sub-Zero ||- ✦

Oh My God || Kenshi ||- ✦

You’re Alive || Eli Palmer || -✦

I’ve Missed you || Sharky Boshaw ||-✦

The Dragon’s Nest || Hanzo ||

Miscellaneous Games 3: {Call Of Duty / Marvel Avengers / Ghost Of Tsushima}

Bambi Kiss || Steve Rogers ||

Tall buff characters that are actually gentle giants || Daniels ||

I’m so sorry. || Steve Rogers ||

When I am dead || Taka ||-💔

but it’s all coming back to me || Jin Sakai ||

Friendship is the Best Medicine. || Jin Sakai / Ryuzo ||

Pure love. || Jin Sakai ||

It’s Just A Kiss || Jin Sakai ||

I’ll make you feel better || Jin Sakai ||

Be The One You Need || Joseph Turner ||

The Ghost & The Kitsune. || Jin Sakai ||

The Last Of Us:

Amortentia Joel-★

A kiss to bruised skin || Joel Miller ||

Baby’s First Kicks || Joel Miller ||

You’re My Light || Joel Miller ||

tall buff characters || Joel Miller ||

Final Fantasy:

A kiss on the nose || Tseng ||

You’re glowing || Cloud Strife ||

The SOLDIER and The Baker || Cloud Strife || The Date-⚜

A Kiss…Out Of Love.|| Biggs ||

Just a little confession of love || Biggs ||

The SOLDIER and The Baker || Cloud Strife ||-⚜ Part 1 || Part 2. || Part 3 || Part 4. || Part 5.

I’m Scared || Cloud Strife ||

Cheiloproclitic || Cloud Strife ||

Sleepy Kiss|| Cloud Strife ||.

427 notes · View notes

amazingmaeve · 4 years

Text

Hesitant - John Shelby

Peaky Blinders Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Summary: Tommy ask Y/N, Johns wife, to seduce someone he needs some information fore. At first she’s hesitant but agrees cause she trust Tommy. Then one of the worst things happen to her and Tommy doesn’t get there in time.

Request: Hey can you please do a John Shelby imagine where y/n is his wife and tommy asks her to seduce someone or something she is kinda on the fence but agrees anyway so she does cause she trusts tommy but he doesn’t get their in time and tommy tries to comfort her but then John finds out and gets mad at tommy then comforts her. Obviously it’s very sensitive subject so if your not comfortable doing it that’s fine.

Requested by: @13reasonswhystan

Pairing: John Shelby x Female!Reader

Warnings: Sexual Assault (if get triggered by this I’d suggest you to not read for you own well being. I don’t want people have flashbacks of their own sexual assaults or Rape), Angst, a bit of fluff towards the end

AN: Hope you liked it 😊. Idk how to feel about the tittle. Also I put lines where it gets dark at least dark for me so if you don’t want read it read past the lines.

Word Count: 1280

"So will you do it," Thomas Shelby asked Y/N

Y/N was married to his younger brother John. She has known John his whole life and married him when she was pregnant at 17. They named him William

By the time he went to war she was pregnant for the second time. Y/N was upset he was leaving couldn't do anything about it.

4 years later John comes and her daughter being almost 4 just meets her father.

When they came back Y/N was in tears when she hugged John with a smile on her face. She introduced John to their daughter Rebecca.

Now years later Y/N has had two more kids one boy, Henry and one girl, Daisy. She's just given birth a couple months ago with Daisy.

Now here with Tommy, he asked Y/N to seduce a rival for some information and so that Tommy and his men could go snooping around his office to see anything.

When Tommy first said that Y/N eyes widened at what Tommy said.

Y/N didn't know why Tommy would ask her to do this since they've been close as friends. John would often get jealous but she reassured that he was the only Shelby for her.

"Why would you ask me to do this Thomas," Y/N snapped as she took a drag from the cigarette in her hand. She was sat across from Tommy in his office.

Tommy sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose letting out a huff of breath.

"Y/N love please consider it," Tommy argued with Y/N as he hoped the girl would do it. He didn't want her to do it but she was his last choice.

"What about Lizzie she always seems like she's up to please you," Y/N huffed putting out her cigarette.

"Already ask glared at me and slapped in the face," Tommy retorted taking a sip of his Whiskey.

"Atta girl," Y/N muttered under her breath with a smirk. Y/N felt happy that Lizzie finally stood up to Tommy. "The answer is still no and plus have you told my loving husband about it."

"No I haven't it would only be one night I wouldn't let anything happen to you. You know that darling," Tommy Elaborated lighting a cigarette.

"How long will this plan of yours take," Y/N murmured considering it for her brother in law.

"An hour at the longest," Tommy replied.

"Fine I'll do it but don't tell John I don't want him getting mad about it," Y/N agreed to doing it.

"Don't worry Y/N/N he won't know about."

Y/N sat next to the guy who she was 'flirting' with. She had a red dress on that was revealing in some areas.

She had arrived 20 minutes earlier and starting talking to the guy 15 minutes ago.

She was getting tired of flirting with this guy and playing the dumb girl. And she felt like she was cheating on John, she really hoped he didn't find because if she did she would feel so humiliated.

"Darling you ok," The guy Carlos asked as he saw that Y/N wasn't listening. Y/N eyes snapped to his feeling a bit uneasy. She looked at the time it had been half an hour already.

"Uh no I'm fine just a bit tired," Y/N giggled while twirling her between her fingers.

"Come on love," Carlos said while grabbing her wrist pulling her up along with him.

Y/N was shocked and a bit scared since she didn't know where she was going to take her.

He took Y/N to this back room with a couch on it. Y/N looked around not noticing him locking the door.

"Maybe I can make you big less tired," He whispered in her ear

—————

He pushed her on the couch and Y/N was shocked and was about to get before he came up climbing on top of her.

"Get off me you bastard," Y/N snapped at the guy pushing against him but wasn't strong enough since she was only 5'3 and this guy was about 6'0.

The guy rolled his eyes before shoving his hand on her mouth silencing her screams.

"Come on love you know you want it," The guy smiled creepily. He used his other hand to rip her dress then take off her panties.

Y/N was thrashing and trying to scream. She felt fear all over her body. Now she wished she had never agreed to do this.

As he was about to take his pants off she heard someone break the door down.

—————

Y/N sighed out of relief as she heard Thomas was here. But then she stared to cry as she realized what could of happened to her.

She sat up pulling her knees to her chest and let out tiny whimpers along with sobs.

She could hear Thomas beat the crap out of the guy before he called someone in here to take care of the guy and came over to Y/N

“Come on Y/N lets get you to polls," Thomas lifted her up when he noticed she wasn't moving. He felt incredibly guilty at what almost happened to her.

Now for Y/N she wished she had told John and she didn't know if he was going to be mad at her.

Y/N was now lying in one of Pollys guest rooms feeling numb.

She heard John yell at Tommy for what he told Y/N to do. But she couldn't bring herself to care.

Y/N heard Polly say that she'll take care of the kids and told John to go and see Y/N.

Y/N heard someone open the door but couldn't bring her self to look at John.

She knew she looked like a mess she hasn't changed since she was brought to Pollys house.

She felt someone come on the bed and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Come on darling look at me," Y/N heard John plead with her.

Y/N began to sob as tears stained the pillow case. John looked at his wife with sympathy. He really hate Tommy for making Y/N do this.

"C'mere love," John whispered turning her around and pulling her to his chest then started to stroke her hair trying to calm her down. She calmed a bit but tears were still coming out.

"I'm so sorry," Y/N whimpered while looking up at John with tears in her eyes.

"No no darling you have nothing to be sorry about," John consoled her while bringing his other hand to whip the tears away but they kept a coming.

“But-,” Y/N was about to argue but John interjected.

“No love this is not your fault it’s that assholes fault and Tommy’s,” John concluded while hugging her with a sad look on his face.

“It was my decision not Tommy’s,” Y/N whispered hoarsely her throat was hurting from the crying.

“Yeah but he’s my brother and supposed to protect you,” John explained as Y/N was starting to get drowsy and felt her eyes starting droop.

“Go to sleep darling,” John whispered.

“What about-,” Y/N was about to say but was cut off by John and herself yawning and John chuckled at how cute she looked.

“Don’t worry love I’ll be here,” John whispered while pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Y/N let her head rest on his chest and felt herself starting to fall asleep but hear John whisper something before falling asleep.

“I love you sweetheart.”

625 notes · View notes

lorna-d-m · 3 years

Text

Lights Out: Chapter One

Summary: Roxanne, recently graduated and unemployed, gets a call from her childhood friend and hero: her cousin James Hunt. In need of a social media manager after one too many scandals, he can think of no one better that Roxanne for the position. Excited about a fun job and getting to know more about her cousin, she jumps at the chance. However, amongst all the bright lights of both the circuit and the media, Roxanne falls in love with his rival: Niki Lauda.

Pairing: Niki Lauda (Rush 2013) x fem!OC Roxanne Hunt

Word count: 4,643

T/W: language, some mentions of drugs and drinking

A/N: It's race week baby. This is a fanfic so I have made some changes, namely in the consolidation of the teams. The grid I'm using is listed below the cut. Additionally, there have been minor changes to the Argentina 1975 race which I recreated here, so if you get curious feel free to read the race report on Wikipedia. Also, any mistakes in the set up of the paddock or the goings on are unintentional and a fan trying her best. :)

Tag list: @apparrio

Previous chapter

McLaren: #5 Emerson Fittipaldi & #6 Jochen Mass

Ferrari: #11 Clay Regazzoni & #12 Niki Lauda

Williams: #21 Jacques Laffite & #14 Bob Evans

Suertes: #28 John Watson & #27 Mario Andretti

Shadow: #17 Jean-Pierre Jarier #16 Tom Pryce

Brabham: #8 Carlos Pace & #7 Carlos Reutemann

Hesketh: #24 James Hunt #25 Mario Andretti

Tyrell: #3 Jody Scheckter & #4 Patrick Depailler

Lotus: #1 Ronnie Peterson & #2 Jacky Ickx

March: #10 Vittorio Brambilla & #15 Hans-Joachim Stuck

Argentina, Buenos Aires Circuit

Thursday, March 26th, 2020

Roxanne was tense. Although she spent the past three months researching and asking James a million questions, her stomach still did somersaults. All the basics she picked up quickly- ten teams, twenty drivers, flag colors, tire compounds- but it was the finer points that filled her with worry. She was still learning about the car itself, and asking James proved surprisingly pointless. He might be able to drive the car, talk with the engineers about it, and use all this technical language, but when it came time to explain anything to Roxanne he stammered, said “uh” and “well”, until finally he came up with some half-assed simplification. James knew the car, but he didn’t know how to describe it to her.

There was also the plain and simple fact that Roxanne was in the middle of the paddock with no sense of direction. James drove her and his wife Suzy to the circuit that morning and ditched Roxanne as soon as they arrived. She didn’t blame him- as soon as he walked through the gates he was greeted by friends, team members, and anyone else who wanted to talk to him and stole his attention- but she wished he had been more helpful. His hurried instructions before being swarmed were to get coffee from the café and to meet him at the press pen.

Admittedly, she stood where she had been abandoned in disbelief longer than she should have for someone in a time crunch. However, the massive amount of people and scale of the affectionately called “circus” overwhelmed her, and Roxanne needed a moment to absorb the fact that she was really here. Despite talking with other Hesketh employees, signing her own job paperwork, and a flurry of other activities, it hadn’t felt real until now.

She found the café by instinct. Roxanne wagered it would be near the gate where she entered since most people would want to grab their coffees, teas, or anything else as early as possible. The familiar scent of freshly ground and roasted beans comforted her, and as she waited in line she tapped her foot on the floor and her fingers on James’s wallet. She had to repeat James and Suzy’s fiddly orders three times for the barista, growing more frustrated but smiling politely each time as she struggled to be heard over the ambient chatter. Roxanne shuffled everything she was holding- his wallet, his keys, his schedule, her phone- so she could carry the drinks.

Looking out at the busy paddock from under the café awning, Roxanne realized she had no clue where the press pen was. Asking any one of the dozens of people around would probably work, but what if they looked at her like she was stupid? Maybe texting James would help, or since he probably wouldn’t check his phone, Suzy could assist her. Roxanne stopped to reshuffle everything in her hands again and reach for her phone, but before she could unlock it she was interrupted by a voice behind her.

“Great,” came the accented man, “first she stalls the line, and then she stops in the doorway to use her phone. Arschloch.”

“Great,” she retorted before turning around, “first he talks as if she can’t hear him, and then he insults her. Asshole.” Then she turned to face him.

Roxanne struggled to cover her “oh shit” face as she realized the man she just called an asshole was Niki Lauda. Even if she hadn’t poured over the results from the previous season, memorized the current lineup, or watched the Netflix documentary on Formula 1, she would have recognized him. He was the butt of over half of James’s jokes and the thorn in his side since they were racing in Formula 3. James griped that his off-track friend and on-track rival placed fourth the year before, and was even a championship contender, while all he could manage was eighth.

Niki laughed at her response and her expression. While he was known to speak bluntly and frankly like an asshole, he hadn’t expected her to bite back as much as she did. Suppressing a smile, he looked her up and down, noting the overstuffed backpack, the obvious Hesketh uniform, the surprised look in her eyes. Finally, he licked his lips and spoke.

“You are lost.”

“And you’re rude.”

“How am I rude?” he gestured to himself, and she took the opportunity to study him as he had her. He was shorter than she expected, maybe an inch or two than herself, but he stood with the confidence of someone in their element. His eyebrows arched over his sunglasses, and an errant curl fell across his forehead. “I am simply pointing out the obvious. You don’t stop like you did, look all around with your big eyes, and chew your lip like you are unless you are lost.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Gee thanks.”

He didn’t quite laugh, but he smiled more than he had a moment ago, revealing his prominent teeth. They weren’t too severe, but she understood why James called him rat, king rat, and super rat. “Are you going to the press pen?” he inquired.

“He wants to help now, does he?”

Cocking his head to the side, Niki explained: “If it will get you,” he pointed to her, “me,” he again gestured to himself with both hands, “and whoever else is stuck behind us out of this doorway,” he nodded to the people behind them, “then yes, I will help you.”

“Alright then, you have a deal, Mr. Lauda.” she extended the hand that had been reaching for her phone, and he shook it.

“Since you already know who I am, may I ask your name?” he asked, without letting go of her hand.

“Roxanne,” she grinned, surprised at how soft his hand was for a driver. He raised an eyebrow, anticipating a last name, but she didn’t give one. She made James promise he wouldn’t tell anyone they were cousins, not until she settled into the job and got to know everyone, so there wouldn’t be accusations of nepotism. It was, she admitted to herself, but she wanted the chance to earn her place.

“Roxanne,” he repeated, finally letting go of her hand and leading the way. “Hunt or Andretti?”

“Hunt.”

Niki shrugged. “He’s not so bad. Decent guy, even if he is an arschloch on the track. Hunt the shunt, I believe, after he took my line and crashed us a few years back.”

She decided to tease him, knowing Niki didn’t know she had heard that story half a dozen times. “Funny, I think he says the same thing about you.”

Niki stopped walking, pursed his lips, and placed his hands on his hips as he considered that. “He would, wouldn’t he?” He clasped his hands together and resumed walking. “Anyway, you should get your bearings around here soon enough. The paddock area is usually set up the same, no matter the country.” Niki went on to explain the layout and the patterns, assuring her she would know it by the end of the weekend. He didn’t stop to talk to reporters, assistants, engineers, or other drivers along the way; he acknowledged them with a tilt of his head and kept talking with Roxanne. She was one of the rare people that could match him tit for tat in conversation and seemed to enjoy his blunt humor.

“I don’t know if James told you,” he explained as they approached the press pen, “but the drivers go around the barrier, talking with each media group, and then go inside and talk some more bullshit until their scheduled interview.”

Roxanne arched an eyebrow and asked: “So it’s all bullshit to you?”

Niki chuckled at her question and elaborated. “I get asked the same question at least twenty times before I even get inside, and because there’s been no race, not even a qualifying or a practice session yet, it’s all the same shit about being excited for the season, excited to be back, excited to be here.”

“Not to sound like one of them,” she pointed towards the press pen, “but you are excited to be here, right?”

James, surrounded by cameras, microphones, and reporters, spotted Roxanne standing next to Niki. “Roxie!” He motioned for her to join him.

“I think that’s your cue,” Niki remarked, noting the nickname James used for her.

“It is.” She looked away from James and back at the man beside her. “Thank you for the tour, Niki.”

Niki turned to look at her, noting the genuine way and warm tone in which she thanked him. It was softer than anything she had said before, almost sweet. He licked his lips, again, and said: “It was the least I could do after insulting you.” Niki watched her walk around the press pen and stand beside James, who appeared thrilled to see either her or the coffee she carried.

“I see you met the rat,” James said in between sips of his coffee.

“I did. He was kind enough to lead me here.”

James nodded. “He’s a decent guy, well, when he’s not being an arsehole on the track.”

Roxanne couldn’t resist and grinned wickedly. “You know, he said the same thing about you.” Then she did her best impression of Niki’s accent. “He’s not so bad. Decent guy, even if he is an arschloch on the track.”

He cracked up at her remark, drawing everyone’s attention. James had the type of laugh that made everyone want to join in, to find out what was said and have a laugh too. Roxanne blushed deeply, realizing everyone in the pen was looking at them.

“Alright, come on, I’m running late for my slot.”

“James!”

“It’s not my fault,” he defended, “I was stopped a dozen times on the way here, and then everyone was just so nice asking me if I was excited to be here, and-” he stopped for emphasis, “-I was waiting for you.”

She shook her head with disapproval and smothered another laugh. He was like a golden retriever, she thought. He wanted to say hello to everyone and have fun. She realized corralling him from location to location, task to task, would be half the job this season. James wasn’t terribly late, thankfully, and he took his seat in the spotlight next to Peterson.

“James, it’s good to see you-”

“-It’s good to see you too!”

Everyone snickered at that, and the reporter reddened a bit. He took a minute to let the crowd die down before continuing. “New season, same team, how’re you feeling after pre-season testing?”

“Fantastic! I mean the car’s great.” When James turned the charm on for the cameras, he was on. Jovial tone, playful look in his eyes, expressive hand motions. They ate it up. “I can’t wait to get out there and see how Superstar does against everyone else, and me as well.”

Another interviewer took the microphone. “James, I have to ask the question on everyone’s minds.” He used a friendly tone, intimating that James could speak plainly. “Your hastily deleted post back in December. What was that about?”

Ah yes, the post. Roxanne hadn’t seen it herself when it was posted, but she read enough articles speculating about it and reposting it to know what the man was talking about. It was a picture of James and one of his friends at a concert, a pinprick of blood spilling from his nose, and what appeared to be drug paraphernalia on the table behind them. It caused quite a stir a few months back and nearly cost James his contract.

“Ah,” James smirked. “That. Well, it was an image that did not accurately reflect myself or Hesketh, and was deleted soon after due to that.” He tapped his foot on the floor. “There’s not much more I can really say about it.”

The reporter grasped that James could not and would not elaborate on the post, so he switched gears. “Is it true Hesketh have hired someone to manage your social media accounts?”

“That I can answer,” he grinned. “Her name is Roxie, and you can see her just over there,” he pointed towards her, and her heart nearly lept out of her chest. “No, don’t put the cameras on her, she’s shy,” he chuckled. The cameramen paused, Roxanne almost in their frames, and turned around at his insistence. “She much prefers to work behind the camera and with finished photos and videos than to be the subject of them. I mean she’s great though, and I love working with her.”

Saturday, March 28th, 2020

It was late, eleven p.m. rapidly approaching, and Niki needed to sleep soon if he wanted to be at his best for the race. He spent most of his afternoon in debriefing meetings and his evening with engineers and strategists. Fourth on the grid tomorrow was a better start than Regazzoni’s seventh, and the team worked to understand how Fittipaldi and Hunt squeezed themselves between the two Ferraris, and of course, how they could get him and Clay to take the front row next time.

But for all the race complications that normally bothered him- tyre degradation, race pace, getting a good start off the line- that wasn’t what prevented him from sleeping. No, Niki was thinking of Hunt’s PA: Roxanne.

This is stupid, he told himself as he reached for his phone. Completely stupid. And yet, he still opened Instagram.

Niki felt inexplicably pulled to her. Maybe pulled wasn’t the right word, he thought as he brought up James Hunt’s profile. Curious, perhaps. Damned curious. Someone who went toe to toe with him in conversation and could make him laugh, yet maintained such a close relationship with Hunt. She is his PA, he reminded himself. Still, he wanted to know more, and just as curiosity killed the cat, it kept Niki from sleeping.

He scrolled through the most recent posts, recaps on qualifying and the practice sessions, video clips from interviews, pictures of him headed to the circuit. It occurred to him that this wasn’t Hunt’s typical bullshit feed about being ready for the session and looking forward to the race filled with flexing fist bump emojis, but her creation. Niki paid close attention to the captions that mimicked Hunt. For event recaps, Niki was sure she directly quoted him and typed it up, as he read about their race pace in the practice sessions and their lacking qualifying speed.

Then he found posts from a few weeks back. Gym pictures clearly meant to flatter and entice his fangirls, sponsorships to show off protein shakes and sunglasses, sunny vacations in Ibiza. Here he wasn’t sure if it was Roxanne mimicking Hunt’s voice, or once again typing up whatever Hunt wanted, but it read just like his older posts. Then Niki found a picture from mid-January of Hunt and Roxanne at an airport, she had clearly just gotten off the plane behind them, and they were side hugging and smiling at the camera. He stopped scrolling.

The caption read “Roxanne! Nice to see you on this side of the pond!”. She wasn’t tagged in the picture or in the caption, and he remembered what Hunt said on Thursday. She much prefers to work behind the camera and with finished photos and videos than to be the subject of them. No wonder she wasn’t tagged in the post. She wasn’t a “superstar” like him.

Go to sleep, Niki, go to sleep. He sighed and went to the list of people James was following. Niki started to type her name into the search bar there and then stopped himself. This is ridiculous, he thought. Then, fuck it as roxanne.elizabeth.h popped up. It was a private account, but he scrutinized the profile picture. It must have been a candid picture because her smile was too wide and genuine to be posed. The green dress she wore in front of the pink garden made her look like she belonged there, as if she was Persephone personified. She looks pretty.

His finger hovered over the follow request button. He chewed on his bottom lip, wondering if it would be weird or creepy. Then again, Clay was always telling him to be more sociable, and he wanted to talk with her again. He looked for her on Friday and Saturday between the sessions, but she was always standing next to Hunt with a determined look on her face. Dismayed, he had turned back to his car and his people. Fuck it, when have you ever cared what people think of you? Niki hit the button and put his phone back on the nightstand, the screen facing down. Now he could sleep.

Sunday, March 29th, 2020

Part of Roxanne’s morning routine included scrolling through her phone and seeing what messages and notifications she had missed. Typically this catch-up happened while sipping coffee and grabbing a quick bite to eat before getting James ready for the day. While in England, there were a handful of texts from her friends she would read and respond to due to the time difference, but in Argentina, she was closer to their time zone. After responding to texts from her parents and friends wishing her and James luck for the season opener, she opened Instagram. A little red dot next to the notification heart caught her attention. Maybe Anne responded to my comment. Roxanne didn’t expect it to be a follow request from Niki.

She tapped her fingers on the back of her phone. Should I accept him? Allowing new followers always made her antsy as she knew they would instantly scroll through all her posts, reading the captions and inspecting the pictures. At least, that’s what she did, and she expected everyone else to do the same. Then there was the on-again-off-again tension between him and James. Right now they were calm, but there hadn’t been a race yet. Roxanne decided to let the request sit there for the moment.

***

James found her a spot in the garage where she could see the screen showing the live footage from the race and headphones to listen along. After that, he busied himself with his pre-race rituals which included sneaking a cigarette in the back and fist-bumping every team member. It was sweltering in the garage, and she wished she had brought a fan. Luckily, she remembered her reusable water bottle and took a sip.

He got the all-clear to pull out of the garage, and he gave Roxanne a thumbs up and a huge smile before leaving. She returned it in kind and turned back to the screens. The commentators were talking about the line-up positions when they played Jarier’s radio message on the warm-up lap to the grid.

“And that’s going to leave our pole sitter out of the race!”

“A shame, that, you hate to see it on the opening race of the season, Crofty.”

“That you do. That will push Carlos Pace into pole position with Reutemann beside him, a row of Carlos’s if you will.”

“I think I will! Lauda and Fittipaldi now fill out the second row, and Hunt and Regazzoni behind them.”

Before the race even started James gained a position. So did Niki, she reminded herself. The cars moved into their new places on the grid with James just behind Niki. She started chewing on her bottom lip and tapping her foot on the floor of the garage.

“And it’s lights out and away we go in Argentina!”

The swarm of drivers fought as soon as they crossed the line. Going into turn one there were several overtakes, with the bravest among them the last to brake, and some going up the inside to steal a position. Reutemann, the local hero, quickly took the lead from Pace, and James pushed past Fittipaldi before the lap was over.

James continued to push as the laps went on, eventually dueling Niki for third place on lap twelve. As a loyal cousin and assistant, she wanted James to prevail, but she couldn’t help but wish Niki would hold his own too. Despite being known as an asshole, he had been nice enough to her. As James drove in Niki’s slipstream, she realized her best hope was for James to make a clean pass without living up to his nickname of “Hunt the shunt”. At the next turn, James made to dive down the inside and Niki moved defensively, but James had faked him out and passed on the outside. Roxanne held her breath the entire time and didn’t breathe again until James was clear and ahead of Niki. They must have been inches or centimeters from each other and yet they didn’t collide.

“Oh! Herr Red Devil won't be too pleased about that one! He’ll be looking to take that back.

Niki stayed on James’s ass, never more than half a second behind him, but when he went to pass James was there to defend. Two laps after that, Pace took the lead again from Reutemann, only to spin out soon after. Pace went off into the gravel and yellow flags were waved with all drivers slowing down in acknowledgment. The safety car was deployed while the marshals worked to remove Pace’s car from the circuit, attaching it to the crane and lifting it over the barrier. With overtaking not allowed, all the drivers swerved their cars left and right to keep the temperature in their tires. Once Pace’s car and any debris were cleared, it was green flags again.

With Pace out, Reutemann took the lead. James was now up to second place and was fighting for first. Fuck! James could win this! Reutemann struggled with his handling for a few laps, Roxanne thought it was understeer based on how he awkwardly entered the turns, and her suspicion was confirmed by the commentators. On lap 26 out of 53, James took the lead.

Roxanne stared at the screens in shock. The Hesketh engineers were similarly glued to their screens, analyzing the data and giving James feedback on the radio, but the pit crew was cheering and high-fiving, celebrating the possible win. Satisfied with James’s position, she spared a thought for Niki and found him on the timesheet. After getting third place taken from him, he continued to move down the order. He was running in fourth place, but the gap between him and Regazzoni was dwindling.

That was when she noticed Fittipaldi’s gap to the next car disappearing. He started fourth on the grid but kept himself away from the earlier action. Now, though, he seemed to be pushing closer and closer, passing both Ferraris and making a move on the struggling Reutemann. After three more laps, he took second from the Argentine and set his sights on James in the lead.

James and Fittipaldi fought for the rest of the race. As soon as Fittipaldi went to make a move, James was there to defend it. Whenever James went a bit wide on a turn and left a gap, Fittipaldi was there to take it. The two tangled ahead of the pack, and Reutemann was still running in third but seventeen seconds off from them. Roxanne swore like a sailor every time Fittipaldi dove down the inside and sighed in relief whenever James cut him off.

On lap 45, Fittipaldi made another move, and it stuck. He pulled away from James and strengthened his lead. James tried to narrow the gap some but was unsuccessful. He’ll curse about that, but he’ll forget when he’s standing on the podium, she thought as he crossed the line and passed the checkered flag. It was the fourth podium of his career and a good indication for the season.

She spotted Niki’s name in sixth position, Regazzoni and Depailler having passed him in the final leg of the race. He’ll be fuming. But Roxanne didn’t have time to think about Niki; she had to join the rest of the team below the podium to cheer for their superstar.

***

Although neither he nor Clay were on the podium, they still made their way to support and cheer for those who did. It was the gentlemanly thing to do. Finishing fourth behind Reutemann, Clay was pissed off, cursing his car for not being able to pass him given Retuemann’s understeering issues. Niki complained about the race pace and the tyre degradation over the team radio, knowing it was their insistence to push earlier in the race that killed his tyres and lost time. He would have more to say about that in the debriefing.

Niki saw Roxanne cheering and waving to James on the podium, her phone in hand and recording. He wouldn’t be surprised to see that footage on James’s story later unless she received a better video from the Hesketh photographers and cameramen. James hopped up on the podium, a new Pirelli hat on his head and his racing jumpsuit unzipped in the heat. They handed him the trophy, and he held it up above his head, looking at every camera he could find. Finally, he popped the giant bottle of champagne and soaked Fittipaldi and Reutemann beside him. After, he took a big swig from the bottle, winking and holding a thumbs up.

***

James had been drinking champagne since the podium and had yet to stop the party. Roxanne celebrated with him for a while, downing some champagne herself, but while his work for the day was over hers was just beginning. She put some music on and continued reviewing the pictures she received from the photographers.

Stills from the podium ceremony should be first, but she debated between several pictures from the race. There was a great shot of him crossing the finish line that she wanted to use, and she needed to find another. James gave her total creative control over it, so long as it “looked cool” and sounded like him. Roxanne coaxed a statement out of him that she could use for the caption, so now she just needed to settle on the rest.

She swiped through some more of him on track, some from when he passed Reutemann for the lead which might work, and then she found the ones from his fight with Niki. James’s white Hesketh was so close to Niki’s red Ferrari, the two cars barely avoided hitting each other, as both drivers looked furiously ahead. It showcased their tenacity as drivers and certainly “looked cool”.

Niki. His follow request was still sitting in his notifications. She had no real reason not to accept it, James and Niki both admitted they were friends, just not when they sat in their cars, but it still made her nervous. She took a sip of her water and stared at the picture of them. Niki, Niki, Niki.

***

Other drivers were celebrating. Podium and points finishers admittedly had much to revel in. Niki, however, did not share their sentiments. He sat in front of his laptop, his room service dinner going cold, emailing his mechanics and engineers to dissect the race. Frustrated at their repetitive statements, Niki picked at the roast chicken and read the latest response.

“It really came down to tyre degradation. After following so closely they were worn out and couldn’t push. We’ll get them next time.”

Sheiße. He slammed the laptop shut. They were going around and around in circles, and he obviously wasn’t going to resolve anything then. Tomorrow morning, then. Niki glanced at the clock and picked up his phone, ready to scroll past everyone’s proud posts.

roxanne.elizabeth.h accepted your follow request. Now you can see their photos and videos.

For the first time since their conversation on Thursday, Niki genuinely smiled.

Next chapter

#daniel brühl #daniel bruhl niki lauda #niki lauda rush 2013 #rush 2013 #niki lauda fanfiction #Daniel brühl Niki Lauda #fanfic #Niki Lauda x fem!oc #lights out fic

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loversdelusion · 3 years

Text

Days Scattered

Deacon St. John x St. John!Reader

Part 1 of 3

part two-part three

The St. John Siblings.

(Y/n) and Deacon Lee St. John.

(Y/n), Deacon's younger sister by 6 years.

They were both very close growing up, Deacon would do anything for his little sister, her all the same.

Their bond was no different in the Apocalyptic wasteland of Oregon. Boozer, (Y/n) and Deacon stuck by each other's side since they left Farewell, since they said goodbye to Sarah.

"Deacon, (Y/n), you there? Lost Lake to St. John siblings, come back" Boozer's voice sounded through the walkie talkie strapped to Deacon's chest "Yeah, Boozer?" Deacon acknowledged him, his eyes keeping a close eye on his sister, who was currently harvesting some plants they could use "What's up?" Deacon's voice lowered, barely noticeable.

"A group of Rippers were seen driving by the camp, looked like they were heading in your direction, keep a look out" Deacon's dark brows furrowed together "Dammit.." Deacon muttered under his breath "Okay, yeah, we'll make our way back" his put down the device and looked around for (Y/n), who was suddenly nowhere to be seen.

"(Y/n)..?" Deacon's eyes darted around the area "(Y/n), where are you?" He turned, his worry was gradually climbing "(Y/n)?" He called, he could hear the sound of roaring motors in the distance- probably the Rippers Boozer was talking about "(Y/n)! Dammit, you were just here!" He hastily searched around the small grove "(Y/n)!" He fumbled around with the walkie talkie strapped to his chest "(Y/n)! Where are you? We need to go!" He spoke into the device, crackling noises sounded back.

"Deek? What's wrong?" He sighed in relief when he heard her voice "Jesus, (Y/n)..we gotta go, there's Rippers coming and we aren't safe here, where did you go?" Static again before her voice replied "I found a stream, and there's fish in it" he nodded like she could see him "Okay, ju- just wait there, I'm coming to you" he strapped the small device back to his chest and immediately set into a light jog.

"(Y/n)?" He called out in a normal voice, scanning the bank of the stream "Over here" her voice came from behind a small bush, practically hiding her figure "I caught a few, we can turn them into the kitchen" Deacon eyed four fish beside her "Okay, but we have to go, here let me" he knelt down beside her, pulling a roll of string out of his bag and quickly stringing the fish together. "'Kay, c'mon" he tied the fish to his belt and grabbed her wrist, pulling her along with him "If we make it in time, we can leave before they get here" he said through panted breaths.

Yet, as always, the St. John's luck was never on their side, Deacon came to a halt, pulling them down into a crouch "Fuck..!" He said through gritted teeth, (Y/n) sighed "We can take them, there's only 3" (Y/n) said, a hopeful lilt in her tone, Deacon's gaze hardened as 5 more Rippers pulled up "Of fucking course.." (Y/n) muttered under her breath.

"The Lost are here!" The pair listened in as one of the Ripper's exclaimed "Find them" The group of Ripper's spread out, slowly stalking towards them "Go, go back to the stream, hurry!" Deacon said through hushed whispers "I'm right behind you" he nudged her back in the direction of the stream, the younger St. John did as she was told, scrambling up in a low crouch, Deacon following after her.

"How are we going to get back to the bikes?" (Y/n) asked after they made it an okay ways away to stop for a few minutes "You go around, I'll distract them" Deacon and (Y/n) shared a worried glance. "No, that's crazy even for you" she said, taking his larger hand in hers "We go together, Deek" her tone was firm "Together or I'm staying right here" Deacon sighed heavily "Don't do this now, just go, I'll be fine" her brows furrowed in frustration "Fine" she said, pulling away from him and walking away "Be careful".

Deacon turned away from her fleeting form, seeing 6 of the Ripper's coming into view, armed with Machine Guns and Rifles "Okay, time to get low, motherfuckers" Deacon never did notice the absence of the other 2 Ripper's.

(Y/n) carefully treaded along the grassy area, keeping a steady watch on her surroundings "(Y/n)?" The sound of her brothers came through the walkie talkie, startling her for a brief second "Yeah?" She replied "Make your way back to Lost Lake, I'll meet you there" she rolled her eyes, shaking her head "I'll wait for you" (Y/n) neared the road, glancing in both directions to make sure no one was on it.

Seeing that no one was near, she walked back in the direction of the bikes, walking in the tree line to stay hidden in case someone did drive by. Her eyes caught sight of numerous bikes parked on the road, her pave quickened as she could see her and brothers bikes still there, looking to be in the same condition they left them in.

She let out a breath of relief as she stood by her bike, she quickly checked it over, making sure nothing was missing "Deek?" She pulled the walkie talkie closer to her mouth "I'm here, you at the bikes?" He replied, she smiled "Yeah, are they all gone?" Deek took a second to reply "Yep, all dead and accounted for" (Y/n) could hear the exhaustion in his voice "Heading back now" She put the device back in its place, doing Deacon the favor of also checking over his bike.

She was crouched down, eyeing the engine and all that, the scuff of boots meeting gravel caught her attention, she didn't turn to look "That was fast" she jested, coming to a full stand once she deemed her brothers bike good. "Expecting your brother..Mongrel Princess?" She gasped, turning to meet 2 Ripper's, their bloodied and cut up bodies in full view, she quickly reached for her walkie talkie but the Ripper that didn't speak to her lunged for her, knocking the device out of her hand.

"No!" She yelled, thrashing against the Ripper's hold, their drug fueled strength proved to be 10x stronger than her, she grunted as she continued to fight against them "Carlos will be most pleased to see that we have caught the little Princess" the Ripper was in her face, she could smell his breath wafting into her nose, she cringed.

"Let go of me, you fucks!" She cried, kicking at the Ripper that wasn't holding her, trying to push him away, her boot-clad foot ended up connecting with the Ripper's groin, he doubled over in pain, she smirked at the satisfaction "Did that hurt, motherfucker? I hope it did!" She growled, the Ripper stood "Little bitch!" was the last thing she heard as the Ripper slapped her so hard, she blacked out.

Deacon finished looting all of the bodies, hoping to find some rags so he could fix up some bandages for a couple hits he took, he walked towards the direction of the bikes, wrapping the bandage around a bullet gash on his arm "-you fucks!" He halted in his tracks, picking up the sound of yelling "(Y/n)" he said, taking on a full sprint, the sight of 2 Ripper's lugging his unconscious sister onto the back of their bikes entered his vision.

"(Y/n)!" He shouted, adrenaline fueling him "No, (Y/n)!" The 2 Ripper's turned to him, having fully got his sister on one of their bikes "Let her go, you bastards!" The Ripper's started their bikes, the rev of the engines haunting Deacon "No, no!" He sprinted even faster if at all possible, they were pulling away from the grove, Deacon ran at the bike that had (Y/n), lunging with his full body at it but they were too fast, Deacon landed face first into the pavement, he scrambled to his feet despite the pain.

He felt so hopeless as he watched them drive away, their figures getting further and further by the second, his knees crashed to the ground. Defeat, failure, hopelessness and fear clouded his mind and body, defeat because he couldn't stop them, failure because he couldn't protect (Y/n), hopelessness because he was so close to saving her, if he was any faster, she would be in his arms right now, and finally..fear, fear because of what they do to hostages.

He sat against his bike, back against the engine "St. John to Lost Lake, do you copy? Deacon St. John to Lost Lake, come back" static filled his ears as he waited for a reply "Deek?" The familiar voice of Rikki reached his ears "Is everything alright?" Deacon's head lulled back, hitting the tank of the bike "No, Rikki.." He muttered, gaze set on the direction of where the Ripper's went.

"What is it? Is (Y/n) okay?" A lump formed in his throat, scared his voice would crack and waver if he answered, he waited a few seconds, taking a deep breath before he spoke again "No, goddammit" his reply was quick "What happened? Is she hurt?" Rikki's voice was taking on a worried tone "She will be, we were attacked by Ripper's, I- I thought that I- I thought that I killed them all but I guess not.." Deacon held his head in the hand that wasn't holding the walkie talkie.

"They took her..the last 2 Ripper's that I didn't kill, they took her" it was quiet for what felt like forever until Rikki spoke again "Okay, come back to camp and we'll figure out what to do from there, plus Mike wants to see you, it's urgent" Deacon's hand slapped the ground "Dammit, Rikki! Iron Mike is the least of my problems right now!" His temper flared even higher.

"Skizzo sold you, Boozer and (Y/n) out to Carlos.." Her voice was quiet as she spoke the one sentence that Deacon needed to be pushed over the edge "That's why Carlos has been sending groups of Ripper's to harass the supply runs, it's also why Carlos sent a group of Ripper's to capture both of you, come back to camp, Deek".

Deacon stomped up the steps of the lodge, roughly pushing the door open "It was for the good of the camp!" Deacon's anger flared upon hearing Skizzo's voice "Christ, Skizzo! If we start turning on each other, then we're no better than the Freaks, Rippers or anyone for that matter!" Iron Mike gaze flitted to Deacon, who standing behind Skizzo "Your treaties not gonna hold with the way you're running things!" Skizzo still hadn't noticed the other presence that entered the room. "You're going to get our people killed, it's three bikers for a whole camp!" Skizzo argued, Mike shook his head "That is not how we do things and you of all people should know that!" He yelled, pointing a finger in Skizzo's face "It doesn't matter who you were or what you've done in the past, if we don't stick together, we'll be gone in a damn week!".

Skizzo rolled his eyes "Whatever, Mike, don't come groveling at my feet when Carlos attacks the camp to get them" he waved him off, turning around and immediately running into Deacon, Skizzo's eyes went wide as he took a step back, he didn't really get that far as Deacon threw a punch that knocked Skizzo on his ass, a cut marked his cheekbone "Deacon?!" Skizzo said, bewildered "Yeah, it's me, what, did you expect the Ripper's to have me?".

Deacon knelt to eye level with him, he shook his head "You know what they do have?" His voice had a dangerous edge to it "(Y/n)" Deacon pulled his boot knife out and stabbed the knife into the wooden floor right next to Skizzo's leg, Skizzo visibly jumped "You got my sister captured, because what? You trying to be a hero? Huh?" Deacon was basically growling at this point.

#days gone #deacon st john #deacon st john x reader #days gone x reader #pls like this #i love this game

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spencessmile · 4 years

Text

Bookworms

Pairing - Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary - Spencer and you bond over books.

Warnings - Fluff

Word Count - 587 words

And all imagines/fanfics/blurbs are written solely by me so please don’t steal my work and post it without my consent.

Feedback and comments are always welcome! Happy reading!

Requests are open!

You and the rest of the team were on your way home from Los Angeles. You sat on the jet a blanket wrapped around your legs as a book rested on your lap.

“No good book is complete without a cup of tea,” Spencer said, putting a cup of steaming tea in front of you. “I hope peppermint is okay,” He said, taking a seat in front of you.

“It is,” You said, putting your book down. You were about to get up but Spencer stops you. “I already added honey,” You sit back down and look at him. “After every case, you make yourself a cup of tea and add half a tablespoon of honey.”

“You watch me make my cup of tea?” You question.

“I don’t wa- I, uhh-” Spencer stammers, no coherent sentence coming out of his mouth. You laughed seeing Spencer so flustered, his cheeks turning a light shade of red. “4 months 2 weeks, and 6 days ago you told me that you take your tea with honey because you don’t like how tea tastes so bland, so you add honey for some flavor.”

You raised your eyebrow at him. “And you still remember that?”

“Eidetic memory, remember?”

Right, Spencer’s eidetic memory.

You joined the team 7 months and most of the time, you were in awe of all the knowledge Spencer knew but when Spencer told you about his eidetic memory you weren’t surprised.

"Of course.”

“What are you reading?” Spencer asked as you turned the cover to him.

“Dear Martin by Nic Stone. I think this was the last book in the library that I haven’t read,” You chuckled. “What about you?” Spencer looks at you, confused. “Do you have a favorite genre or book?”

“The Narrative of John Smith by Arthur Conan Doyle.”

“Shut up,” You said, putting your book down. “I absolutely love that book! It’s one of my top three favorite books."

“It’s a great read."

“It really is,” You agree.

“Do you have a favorite genre of books?” Spencer asked, curious.

You leaned forward in your seat. “If there is anything you should know about me, it’s that I’m a huge nerd.”

Spencer chuckles. “That makes two of us.”

“To answer your question though, I don’t have a specific genre because I feel like authors should be able to write whatever they want to without it being labeled into a genre. If we read only the genre that we like, we’re missing out on all of the other amazing books out there. It just doesn’t seem right to me. So, I’m all over the place.”

“I’ve never thought about it like that.”

“Next time you go to the library to pick out your books, just walk to a random aisle, close your eyes and pick up the first book that your fingers touch. I’ve been doing it since I was a kid and I’ve read some pretty amazing books.”

“I’ll definitely give it a try,” Spencer replies, a twinkle in his eyes as his smile warms your heart.

But little did you and Spencer know, books were just the start for you two.

Books are mirrors: you only see in them what you already have inside you - Carlos Ruiz Zafón

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x fluff #spencer reid x you #BAU #bau x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds masterlist

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andmaybegayer · 4 years

Text

Long Poetry Wallowposting

One of my favourite poems is William Carlos Williams’ “Red Wheelbarrow” (or “XXII” if you’re being dipshit about it), not because it’s an exceptional poem, but because of the circumstances surrounding the first time I read it.

In 2015 I convinced two of my friends to join me for a multidisciplinary academic competition thing. One of the rounds was the independent essay, which has an interesting twist: your team of three gets all three essay topics (critique a given essay, write an essay on a topic, and analyze a poem) and you have 30 minutes to discuss and split the topics before a 90 minute solo writing period.

(I could write another extended post about the bureaucratic shenanigans I went through surrounding that competition, someone remind me to tell that story sometime.)

I don’t remember what the other two topics were, but the poem was to analyze William Carlos Williams’ “Red Wheelbarrow”, a poem which looks like this:

so much depends upon a red wheel barrow glazed with rain water beside the white chickens

Now, I got roped into this competition by a teacher who I did not know and who gave us no more detail other than “Get a team of 3 together and I’ll vouch for you to skip a day of school and attend this competition” so we did not know that there was actually a published list of poems, books and artpieces that you should have studied before coming to this competition, including John Campbell’s “Hero with a thousand faces” and Jeff Koons’ “Puppy”.

So we were in for this Sight Unseen, No Background. We didn’t even know who Williams was.

Fortunately for me, my friends are horrible nerds. We’re not the dead poets society but we were still the kind of people who, bored in the back of english class, would write short poems and read each other’s shitty writing and who had fun proving that the integral of e^x was e^x and we took part in OTHER competitions and would show off obscure academic skills to each other and we thought that was cool. We were not lost at sea here.

So we stare at this for a second. With zero context, what the hell does this mean. Chicken is an implicitly funny word, of course, but that’s the 2000′s talking and this must be the 1900′s sometime. The enjambment is interesting but nothing crazy here, this isn’t e.e. cummings (not a fan by the way) and so, there’s really not a lot to look at. We spent ten minutes throwing ideas back and forth before almost simultaneously coming to the conclusion. This is just a scene, being described in poetry.

We discuss this idea for a few more minutes, and we allocate the actual writing of the essay to a friend (I messaged him about this to make sure I had my story straight) and then time was up, and we turned to our individual essays.

Reader-response analysis is a school of literary theory that is, some would say, kinda garbage. It asks the reader “what did that work make you think of, what did that work make you feel” and treats that as ground truth. The reader is an active element in this, and the way the reader feels is of course very flexible, leading many people to conclude that it is useless, since the reader is an unknown quantity here. Well, reader-response analysis is not actually garbage and can be a very useful tool in your literary toolkit if used appropriately. We all found we had the same reader’s response: a clear mental image of a scene. Maybe the floor is gravel, maybe it’s grass. There is a wheelbarrow leaned up against a shed, gleaming with the last drops of rain. A chicken pecks around nearby, with more close at hand. The smell of a heavy night of rain persists, the light is the bright cold glow of a wet morning that can shine without burning off the dew just yet.

So, that’s what we found. There’s no deeper meaning here. This poem is simply conveying to you the idea. We, of course, being dweebs, took it further. Attempting to find deeper meaning in this poem demonstrates an inability to take information at face value. Sometimes the pipe is just a pipe. Sometimes the red wheelbarrow is just a red wheelbarrow.

Turns out, that analysis is correct. At the time this was written, Williams was busy doing Imagism, which means he was being economical with words and precise with meaning. The poem is short because it needn’t be long. There’s some chickens and a wheelbarrow. The Wikipedia article for this poem is hilarious, there’s a section of quotes from people who believed there was a deep hidden meaning about a dying child Williams had cared for (he was a doctor) who had a red wheelbarrow as a toy. This explanation is nonsense, and I have rarely enjoyed reading someone being wrong as much as I have enjoyed reading phrases like:

At the time, I remember being mystified by the poem. However, being properly trained in literary criticism, I wondered what the real meaning of the poem was, what it was really about. ... What is left out of Williams' poem is the fact that when he conceived that image he was sitting at the bedside of a very sick child (Williams was a medical doctor). The story goes that as he sat there, deeply concerned about the child, he looked out the window, saw that image, and penned those words.

Of course you can't figure it out by studying the text. The clues aren't there. This poem was meant to be appreciated only by a chosen literary elite, only by those who were educated, those who had learned the back story (Williams was a doctor, and he wrote the poem one morning after having treated a child who was near death. The red wheelbarrow was her toy.)

and knowing that, you’re all wrong, get fucked. It’s just a wheelbarrow. According to Williams himself, he just saw this scene in a fisherman’s backyard and wrote a poem about the scene. I looked all this up the day after the competition, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt as good about a literary analysis.

Now don’t get me wrong, the curtains are sometimes blue for a reason. But in this case, absent any information indicating otherwise, the wheelbarrow really is just red because that’s what the author saw. In some cases you can draw additional meaning out of a work but it requires just as much discipline to read deeply as to prevent yourself reading too deep. We avoided the trap.

I think about this poem infrequently, maybe once every couple months. I can still recall it from memory. It is still an influential point of reference whenever I try to write something. I tried writing some Imagist works in high school, and I had those same friends read them. They thought I might prefer realism instead. Unfortunately it turns out that most of the time, I don’t find realism to be the best fit.

XXII by William Carlos Williams is a good poem, but maybe, not for you.

#poetry #literature #the red wheelbarrow #kali's life #william carlos williams

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slapshot-to-the-heart · 4 years

Text

Flatbush & Atlantic: part x

part i part ii part iii part iv part v part vi part vii part viii part ix

And we’ve finally come to the end of Cass and Mat’s story! I want to thank every person who’s read this over the past few months, especially those of you who have reblogged, commented, and shared this with your friends. Your feedback means the world to me, and please tell me what you think of this final part! I’ve also got some ideas floating around for an epilogue, so don’t be surprised if that pops up in the next few weeks.

part x

May 21 (fri)

For once, it wasn’t Cass’ alarm that woke her up. Her internal clock didn’t let her sleep in past 6, but as she lay in her bed, comforter pulled up to her chin and curls up in a haphazard messy bun, a realization struck her. She didn’t have anything to do, and that was just about as far from normal for her as possible. Normally, she’d be hopping in the shower at this time, getting out and shoveling some cereal down her throat before running to catch the train, or desperately trying to finish some last-minute reading before an early lecture. Her grandparents’ flight didn’t land at JFK until 1, and she wouldn’t need to leave until an hour before that to get Mat and drive to the airport.

Padding out to the kitchen, she just caught Ryanne, who was about to leave for a clinical rotation. “What department are you in this month?” Cass asked.

“OB/GYN,” Ryanne responded. “I got to observe a birth the other day, and it was one of my favorite things I’ve gotten to do so far. Obviously I don’t know for sure yet, but I think I might want to match into it. You get to do a little bit of everything — there’s some surgery, some routine care, some deliveries. And with the Black maternal health crisis, I figure we need all the Black OBs we can get as a country.”

Cass smiled. “That’s wonderful, I’m glad to hear.” She knew that Ryanne had been a little stressed out with the prospect of trying to pick a residency; she hadn’t felt drawn to any of the other rotations she’d gone through quite like this one.

“What about you? What’s your schedule like today?” Ryanne asked as she poured coffee into her travel mug.

Cass flopped down on the couch, looking over at her. “It’s just...I have nothing to do. Nothing needs to get done. No cases to read, no essays to finish, no paperwork to file or anything. Chris gave me this week off for finals anyways, so I couldn’t even go into the office if I wanted to because there’s just nothing for me to do. Do you know how rare that is for me?”

Ryanne laughed. “Cass, I’m in med school. The last time I had a true ‘off day’ was two weeks ago, and even then I spent most of it studying.” She slung her backpack over one shoulder. “See you tonight, have a good day, babe!”

After some toast and a smoothie, Cass was back on the couch, trying desperately to think of something to do. She thrived on being busy, thrived on feeling like she was needed and contributing to something worthwhile. Pushing herself up, she walked back to her room, deciding to change and go out for a run. Cass liked to keep in shape and exercise as often as she could, even though it had been a few years since she had been on an organized sports team. She was usually able to make yoga classes at the school gym twice a week, but typically didn’t have the spare time in the mornings for a run. And by the time she got back it was almost always dark, way too late to even think about going out alone.

Lacing up her tennis shoes and grabbing her AirPods and keys, she set out, down the stairs and past the door. As she jogged down the streets, making familiar turn after familiar turn, Cass realized something remarkably profound. Every place she passed had played a part in the last three years. St. Lucy’s, where she had stumbled in with inconsolable tears after her abuelo’s stroke, lighting a candle and praying with some old Italian woman for his recovery. The bodega on the corner run by Carlos Gonzalez, one of the first people she met when she moved to the city and the only one who knew how to smoosh her sandwiches down how she likes. The Edible Arrangements where she, Stella, and Ryanne had bought Alicia a congratulatory fruit bouquet for finally asking out her coworker Juliette. They had been dating for six months. The high school she passed every morning on her way to the subway station. These were the people and places that had made her life what it was, and she owed them her thanks.

An hour and five miles later, Cass decided to call it quits, walking the last few blocks back to the apartment as a sort of cool-down. She jumped in the shower, throwing her hair up in a towel once she got out and resigning herself to watching whatever was on TV. Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives it was, apparently. Four episodes and one snack break later, it was time to get in the car to head over and pick up Mat. Cass drove down Manhattan Island, tapping her fingers in boredom as she hit yet more traffic. It was noon, why was there even traffic in the first place? She pulled into the visitor’s spot in the underground lot of Mat’s apartment complex, taking out her phone. Just got here! Mat popped out of the elevator a few minutes later, holding a bouquet of tulips. “Sorry I’m late, I was going back and forth between tulips and sunflowers for awhile, but I figured the pink was maybe a better choice? What do you think?” Cass started to laugh, and Mat looked offended. “What?”

“Babe, it’s so sweet that you want to impress my grandma, but have you thought about how the poor flowers will fare?”

His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Cass adjusted her seatbelt, leaning over. “We’re going to be out for awhile. We’re not going straight back to their hotel. So…” she prompted.

“They’ll wilt.” Mat finished, his face falling.

She covered his hand with her own. “Don’t worry. It’s a sweet gesture and I’m sure she’ll appreciate them. We’re all going out for dinner after the ceremony tomorrow, why don’t you bring them then?”

He perked up. “I’ll run up and put them back in a vase, be back in a few!” Mat gave Cass a quick peck on her cheek, leaving her with just one question. Mat owned vases? He slid back into the passenger’s seat shortly after, clicking his seatbelt in and connecting his phone to the speakers.

Cass rolled her eyes. “I don’t know a single guy your age who’s not obsessed with John Mayer. It’s kind of weird, honestly.”

“You don’t like him?” Mat asked curiously. Cass was usually into more guitar-based, acoustic stuff, so he figured she’d be into at least some of his stuff.

“Some of it,” Cass responded, pulling out of the lot and onto the street. “Go ahead and play it, I don’t mind at all. Not what I’d usually put on if I’m alone, that’s all.”

Mat nodded, looking absentmindedly out the window. “So, what should I know about your grandparents?”

Cass’ face immediately burst into a smile at their mention. It was always so clear how much she loved her family, and that was one of Mat’s favorite things about her. How hard she loved. “Alright, so it’s Dolores and Roberto Cabrera. They’re wonderful people, I genuinely think you’re going to like them a lot. They’re both super fluent in English, so don’t worry about communication. They originally immigrated to Texas when they were in their teens, abuela was a housekeeper at a few hotels in San Antonio and abuelo worked in the fields for awhile before getting a job at a little hardware store in town, where he worked until they retired. My mom’s the middle of four, two older sisters and a younger brother.”Mat listened intently. “My abuelo’s a little more rough around the edges, so don’t be surprised if he gives you a little bit of a hard time, but it’s not out of malice or anything. He’s always been very protective over us, my mom and her siblings, and now us three. He might do the whole ‘nobody’s good enough for my Cassidy” thing, but he’ll get over it. He means well.”

She glanced over at Mat, who was looking decidedly nervous. “Seriously, chou, it’s going to be fine. Abuela’s totally different, they’re like polar opposites. I can almost guarantee that she’ll say something to the effect of ‘if my granddaughter loves you, I love you.’ Very much go with the flow, she’ll probably want to come over to your apartment and cook for you.” Her expression softened. “As long as you’re kind and respectful, they won’t have an issue with you, Mat. They’ll see that you treat me how I deserve to be treated and love me like I deserve to be loved.”

Cass pulled into the garage by the international arrivals terminal, cutting the gas and checking the time. “The flight was supposed to land at one, so they should be getting out of passport control by the time we get inside.” It was a little after one thirty, but if there was anything Cass knew, it was just how long customs could take at an airport as big as JFK. Even in the middle of the afternoon on a weekday, and even though her grandparents were travelling on their American passports and could use the citizen’s line, she had heard that it could take upwards of an hour or two to get through.

The concourse was pretty bare apart from a few kiosks selling “I ❤️ NY” shirts and a surprisingly busy Noah’s Bagels, so Mat and Cass made themselves comfortable on one of the rows of plastic chairs lining the room. The arrivals screen had marked their flight from Mexico City as having landed nearly an hour prior, so it was little surprise when Cass popped up from the chair, straightening her shirt and walking over to a couple that he could only assume were her grandparents. Mat quickly followed, catching up to her just as she threw her arms around her grandma. “Abuela, te extrañé,” she said, the sound muffled by Dolores’ scarf. She pulled back, kissing her grandpa on the cheek before stepping over to Mat, one hand placed reassuringly on his back. “Abuela, abuelo, this is Mat, my boyfriend.”

Mat stuck his hand out, shaking theirs. “Mr. and Mrs. Cabrera, it’s so amazing to finally meet you. Cass speaks so highly of you, and she always talks about her summers in Hermosillo.”

Dolores pulled Mat in, embracing him from the start just as Cass had expected. “Mat, it’s wonderful to finally meet you. Cassidy has told us so much about you, it’s clear she loves you a great deal.”

Mat ducked his head and blushed. “I’m not sure if she can love me more than I love her, but I’m happy to be in such good company.”

He took both of their suitcases as Cass gestured to the sliding doors. “I want to get back to the car before they charge me for another half hour,” she said.

Mat slid the bags in the trunk of the car as Dolores got in the passenger’s seat. With a gulp, Mat realized that meant he had to sit next to Roberto. He had been perfectly nice on the walk over, but as Cass had warned him, it was clear that he was a little guarded. Whether that was just his personality or whether Mat had yet to earn his trust hadn’t been determined.

Her grandparents had been to New York once or twice before, but it had almost always been just to fly in before driving up to visit Cass’ family in Connecticut; they had never really been able to see the city. Cass felt strongly that that had to change, so she had arranged for a mini-tour of Manhattan before they got dropped off at their hotel for the night. “So, Mat,” Dolores said, turning around in her chair, “Cassidy tells us you’re a hockey player? That must be so exciting, how long have you been playing?”

Mat nodded. “Yes ma’am. I play for the Islanders, so we’re right here in Brooklyn, but I live over in Manhattan. I’ve been playing the sport since I was four or so? Really little. But I just finished my fourth season on the Islanders. And it is exciting, I love being with my team and being on the ice, it’s one of the best feelings in the world.”

“That must keep you busy, though?” Roberto asked gruffly.

Mat froze. He couldn’t lie and say that he was home all the time, able to be there for Cass as often as he’d like to, because he wasn’t. But if he let on just how often he was gone, would that make him even more wary? “Oftentimes, yes,” Mat began slowly. “The team’s usually on two or so road trips a month, they’re usually about a week long. But they’re balanced out with plenty of home games, and there’s lots of guys who balance the job with a family and other responsibilities. I’m always excited to be able to be back in New York, I love it here. And to be with Cass.” Roberto nodded, not seemingly totally satisfied but content enough to not push the issue further.

“He’s really good about spending time with me, abuelo, even though we’ve both got busy schedules,” Cass added, catching Roberto’s eye in the rearview mirror. “We meet in the morning before a class to get coffee, or lunch in between studying if I’ve got time. I go to every game I’m able to when he’s playing here in the city, or over in Jersey. We spend plenty of time together, he doesn’t blow me off. You don’t have to worry.” He seemed much more at ease with his granddaughter’s response.

It was a whirlwind three hours around New York, Cass playing chauffeur as they went to the top of the Empire State Building — her pick — in St. Patrick’s Cathedral — her grandpa’s pick — and around Central Park, stopping at one of the many pretzel carts for a snack. They dropped them off at the hotel, Cass’ eyes getting misty as her grandma pulled out the serape stole from her purse. Her fingers danced over the colors, the stripes of red and blue and pink and green, and knowing that it was made by the hands of someone so important to her made it all the more beautiful. The rest of her family was driving in later that night, after Nick got out of school, so everyone wouldn’t be together until the graduation ceremony the next day.

The couple decided to get takeout on the way back to Mat’s apartment, Mat jumping out of the car to run in and pick up the order while Cass circled the block until he was out. As they sat on the couch, cuddled into each other as they broke into the boxes of Chinese food, Cass thought absentmindedly that Mat handled his chopsticks way better than she ever would have given him credit for. Her grandparents had been on her mind. More specifically, her grandparents and Mat had been on her mind. It wasn’t that she thought he had messed up in any way — she was positive he’d absolutely won over her grandma and her grandpa was slowly but surely coming around — but some lingering concerns about what they might think about their relationship. “I’m not sure that they’d actually care, but when you talk to them tomorrow maybe don’t mention how often I sleep over here? They’re wonderful people, but they’re a little old school about this stuff.”

“This stuff?” Mat asked curiously.

“Living together, sex before marriage, that kind of stuff.”

“And how do you feel about it?”

Cass raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you think you could ever get me to do something I didn’t want to do? I’m way too stubborn for that.” Mat threw his head back, laughing. “But seriously. I don’t make the decision lightly, because commitment and intimacy in that way is something really big and important to me. You already knew that I don’t do hookups, it’s just not my thing. But I can see this, us, going places. I want us to go places. And I’ve never been very good at listening to people when I don’t want to. So I’ve made my peace that my choices might not be ones everyone would be thrilled with, but it doesn’t really matter to me as long as I have you.”

Mat nodded, putting down his food to card one hand through her curls. “I get that, I do. Obviously that’s not so much the attitude with a lot of the boys, but your principles are part of what makes you who you are, and I love who you are. Every part of you.” Cass smiled against his neck, leaning down and kissing him on the shoulder. “I want us to go places too, I hope you know that.”

“Glad to hear.”

They ate without speaking for a few more minutes until Mat broke the silence. “Where do you see yourself in five years?”

“With you,” Cass answered honestly. “Here, or we could get a nice brownstone over in Brooklyn.”

“Somewhere with a yard,” Mat mused.

“Yeah, a yard would be nice,” Cass agreed. “I’d like to get a dog, I’ve always grown up with dogs and it would be nice to have someone to keep me company when you’re gone.” Her family’s two dogs, Patches and Scout, were back at the house in Connecticut, and on more than one occasion, Cass had made the two-hour drive up just to see them. She paused, glancing down at her hands. “In five years? You’d better have put a ring on my finger by then, Mat. I’ll be almost thirty. Approaching old maid status”

Mat laughed, an easy, breathy sort of laugh that somehow erased all of the tension in the room. “I think you should double-hyphen.”

Cass looked at him doubtfully. “Cabrera-Shaw-Barzal? Yeah, I’m going to have to pass on that one.”

He shrugged, the corner of his lip pulled up in a half-smile. “Just saying. It’s got a ring to it.”

“Have you given much thought to what you’d want to do with your name when you get married?” Mat asked curiously. It really didn’t matter much to him, since it would ultimately be Cass’ decision, but he didn’t want to assume anything regardless. And it didn’t escape Cass that he said when, as if it was certain, as if it was a given. The surety made her heart flutter.

Cass shook her head. “Not particularly. On one hand, I do like the idea of the whole family having the same name. It seems nice. Unified. But I don’t want to feel like I’m erasing my culture and who I am just because I’m getting married. And all due respect, chou,” Cass poked Mat’s cheek, “but Cabrera Shaw’s the name on my degrees. Cassidy Barzal didn’t go to law school.”

“Very fair,” Mat said with a chuckle.

Cass took a deep breath. If it seemed like they were having the “future talk,” she figured it was best to go all in. “Do you want kids?” she asked, tentatively, hesitantly. It was obvious that Mat was good with kids, she’d seen as much, but being good with kids and wanting children of your own were two very different things. Cass had wanted to be a mom since she knew what a mom was, and even though they probably should have brought up the topic earlier, she wasn’t sure what she’d do if he said no. Thank God, she never had to find out.

“Definitely,” Mat said, nodding. “Not now, obviously, we’re young and haven’t really settled down yet. If you got pregnant we’d make it work, but I don’t think either of us is looking to be parents right away. But in a couple years, once we’re married and have a proper house with space...Yeah, I’d like to have kids.” He looked over at Cass. “What about you?”

“Always wanted kids,” Cass responded fondly. “I loved growing up with siblings, and I know my parents were the same way. Two or three, I think. I’ve thought about adoption too, but obviously that’s way in the future.”

Mat kissed the top of her head. “We’ve got time.”

May 22 (sat)

The graduation ceremony itself wasn’t until noon, so Cass had more than enough time to get ready after waking up at 7. Alicia barrelled into her room at exactly 7:22, throwing a shirt at her and telling her to get dressed. Cass stumbled out of the room ten minutes later, pulling on socks and grabbing her phone from the charger by her door. “What are you guys trying to pull?” she asked, yawning and trying to wipe the sleep out of her eyes.

“Uh, we’re going to the diner, duh,” Stella said with a smile, tossing Cass her purse. “Come on! You know it fills up early on weekends.” Glen’s Diner had become an apartment staple over the past few years, the restaurant having been the first place the four of them had eaten in the city when they moved, not having bought groceries yet and not wanting to pay the premium for delivery. It was cheap, open 24/7, and Cass would swear up and down that their blueberry pancakes were the best she’d ever had.

They were seated just after 8, happily slurping coffee and stealing bites of each other’s breakfast twenty minutes later. It was a nice day and hadn’t gotten too hot yet, so they decided to walk back after finishing the meal. In reality, “going back” meant Alicia stopping to buy a new necklace, listening to a busker for a few minutes, and petting no fewer than five dogs on the one-mile walk. There was still plenty of time before they had to leave for the ceremony, but after Cass did her makeup and tamed her curls, there was just enough time to watch an episode of Parks & Rec before having to actually get her stuff together. Not as flexible as she once had been, Ryanne helped zip up the back of her dress, a white lace bodycon from her sorority days that she had definitely worn to at least two semiformals. Hey, Cass thought as she straightened her hemline, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

She had ironed her robe and put it into a dress bag the night before, and gently folded her school stole and the serape from her abuela into her purse. Mat’s necklace hadn’t left its place since Valentine’s. Her dad’s parents had given her a beautiful pair of pearl studs for her undergraduate graduation, and it felt only right to wear them for her next step. She fastened the ankle straps on her heels, and popped her head out to the living room. “Everyone ready?” She was met with a chorus of “yeses,” and grabbed her keys from their dish by the front door.

“Let’s go get our girl graduated!” Alicia hollered into the street.

The girls had originally objected to Cass driving herself to her own graduation, but relented as soon as Cass reminded them that she was the only one who knew where to find the free parking, and the rest of them only drove sedans. “Cheryl has way more room. Y’all want to be cramped on purpose?”

“Fair point,” Stella had said begrudgingly.

Exactly twenty-six minutes later, Cass pulled into a spot about two blocks away from the arena where she would be graduating in an hour’s time, hugging each of her friends as Ryanne handed her the dress bag. “You’re going to kill it in there,” she said, rubbing her back.

Cass laughed. “Ry, all I’ve got to do is walk across a stage without tripping.”

She shrugged. “It’s a fine art that few have mastered.”

Cass entered through the side, flashing her ID to the security guard standing by the door. Half an hour later, everyone had been ushered into their seats, carefully arranged in alphabetical order. For the most part, Cass was friendly with everyone in her class; if they weren’t outwardly hostile to her, she saw no reason why they deserved anything other than kindness, but was relieved to see Robin sitting next to her. “You excited?” Robin asked, brushing a piece of her auburn hair behind her ear. The lobby doors must have opened, because as she asked, crowds started to mill into the seats, waving at anyone who would catch their eye.

Cass bounced her head. “I am, but it’s kind of surreal, you know? I knew we’d get to this point, obviously. It’s what we’ve been working towards for seven years, really. But the idea that it all essentially comes down to this…”

“An hour, a few handshakes, and a piece of paper,” Robin helpfully supplied.

She nodded. “Yeah. It’s almost anticlimactic in a way? Like sure, we’ve got our JDs after this, but knowing we’ve still got to pass the bar. We’re not over the finish line yet.”

“Columbia has a 97% pass rate, and you’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met, Cass. And I’ve spent three years surrounded by the smartest people I’ve ever met.”

“Fair,” Cass said, “it’s just kind of a weird feeling, you know?” Robin nodded. “And plus, for most of us, we’ve pretty much spent our whole lives in school. Aside from positions as summer associates, or part-time jobs and internships, we don’t really know how to do anything other than school. It’s just a little bit of a daunting thought to suddenly feel like we’re being thrown out to the wolves without really knowing what to expect.” Cass’ phone, which she wasn’t technically supposed to have but had snuck in anyways, chose that moment to buzz with a text notification. It was from Mat.

Met up with the crew! Can’t wait to see you walk across that stage, Cass. I love you and we’re all so proud of you. Mat had attached a photo of everyone she had brought with her — both sets of grandparents, her parents and siblings, and roommates.

“Your boyfriend is nauseatingly cute,” Robin observed, looking over her shoulder at the message.

Cass laughed. “That’s true, but I knew what I was getting myself into.” The music started ten minutes later, and the ceremony began. If Cass was being honest, she didn’t really remember much of anything from the first half of the ceremony, before the conferral of diplomas. She was so excited and nervous and unbelievably ready all at the same time that all she recalled from the dean’s speech and the student speeches were vague comments about their “awesome responsibility” and “duty to pursue truth and justice” and “commitment to fight for what is right over what is easy.”

As soon as she realized it, her row was being ushered into line to receive their diplomas. “Cassidy María Cabrera Shaw.” She heard her name, but really had no clue who had spoken it. The dean? One of her professors? As Cass walked up the steps and across the stage, the only thing she could think was don’t trip don’t trip don’t trip. Then she was handed a diploma, flashed a brilliant smile for the photographer, and shook hand after hand after hand before walking off the other side of the stage. She was pretty sure she could hear Mat and Noah yelling their congratulations from her seat on the floor.

Having a name towards the front of the alphabet meant that Cass was almost always called on quickly in class, or on roll call, or at graduation, as the case was. But that meant that she had to sit, quietly and politely, for the other four hundred names to be called. And it took awhile. After Robin Cahill came Wesley Coleman, then Samuel Cogswell, then Fiona Chan. Cass didn’t mind having to sit through the whole thing, especially when Fiona, Les, Samaira, and her other friends crossed the stage — she cheered as much as anybody — but it was a long time to be sitting in a folding chair and the thousands of people packed into a small space didn’t help her temperature regulation.

There was the benediction and congratulations, and then the recessional of the graduates. Graduates, Cass thought. She was a graduate. She had finished, she was done, she had accomplished the one thing she wanted most to do since she was a little girl watching Legally Blonde for the first time, looking at Elle Woods and thinking I can do that. And she had. Her feet carried her to the back room of their own accord, where she picked up her bag and was engulfed in a flurry of hugs, congratulations, and kisses on the cheek from her friends, the people who she had spent countless late nights in the library with, bar hopping to celebrate the end of finals, and afternoons on each other’s apartment couches, yelling fact patterns at each other and trying to come up with an analysis before the timer went off.

Following the stream of sky blue graduation gowns, Cass walked outside, waving at her family when she spotted Eliana hanging off of a lamppost in the courtyard to get a better view. Her sister nearly tackled her as she made her way to the group. “Cass. I already knew you were brilliant, and I still think you’re the smartest out of any of us,” she gestured between the two of them and Noah, “but now you’ve got the degree to prove it. I’m so proud of you.”

Noah was next. “You worked hard, and I know how badly you wanted this. You’re a really good sister.” He wasn’t usually a big talker, and Cass’ eyes definitely got a little misty as he spoke. He had verbally committed to Minnesota State the week before, and Mat might have been more excited than even Cass when he heard the news. It was an incredible program that had a serious track record of sending players to the NHL, and she was so proud to see her little brother doing what he loved. Her mom and both grandmas were crying, as expected, and Grandpa Joe wrapped her up in a hug as soon as he got the chance.

Mat had been hanging towards the back of the crowd, not wanting to feel like he was intruding on family time, until her dad nudged him forward. “Go say hi to your girl, Mat,” Patrick said.

“Will do,” Mat said, squeezing Cass’ hand and pressing a quick kiss to the top of her head. “Sometimes it blows my mind how incredible you are,” he said. “Everyone’s already said how smart you are, and every bit of that is true. But you’re so much more than that, you know?” His thumb rubbed over her hand. “You’re beautiful, and curious, and you always keep me on my toes. You’re so passionate about your work, and you’ve got the biggest heart out of anyone I know. You’ve never met a person you didn’t want to help. And I promise I’m not biased just because I’m in love with you.”

Cass gave a watery laugh, blinking and thanking God she had the foresight to wear waterproof mascara. “God, I love you, Mat.”

Her dad had always been the picture type, insisting on documenting every waking moment. He was the living embodiment of “pics or it didn’t happen,” for better or worse. He took a few of her with her law school friends, then Alicia snapped one with just her immediate family, then there was one with everyone. Cass also got a picture with Mat, where he was bending down to kiss her, the tassel on her mortarboard just barely brushing his nose. Then she was in one with all of the seniors on the law review, and a friend pulled her away for a few with the Latinx Student Association. By the time they finally managed to tear Patrick away from his camera, it was time to head back to the hotel and get ready for dinner.

Mat got Patrick to send him the photo of him and Cass, and was about to post it on Instagram when he hesitated. “Hey, is it cool if I post this?” Mat said, showing Cass his phone. Most people knew who she was, and he had posted pictures of her before, but they had never been this obvious, this clear, this real.

“Go for it.”

Mat pressed post. So, so proud of my incredible girlfriend @casscshaw for graduating law school. You’re one of the smartest, most empathetic people I know, and you’re going to make an amazing lawyer.

Cass grinned, a big, genuine smile as she was surrounded by her family, the people who meant the most to her — whether they were related or not. She looked up at Mat, who was smiling softly down at her as he reached one hand up to fix her tassel. “What’s next?”

#hockey imagine #hockey smut #nhl imagine #nhl smut #mat barzal #hockey #hockey imagines #hockey writing #nhl #nhl imagines #nhl writing #mat barzal imagine #disney prince mat barzal #New York Islanders

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vintagegeekculture · 5 years

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What are some actually GOOD Sword and Sandal movies?

One of the bigger genres in Italy who’s popularity came and went in waves from the silent era to the present, Sword and Sandal (or Peplum) films are Italian movies about gladiators, musclemen, Ancient Greece and Rome, and who’s main characters include Hercules, Spartacus, Ursus, Maciste (a homegrown, semi-Marxist Hercules who fights the rich and decadent who is purely a creation of Italian cinema).

The genre started in 1912, with Cabiria, an ultra-early Italian feature that predated D.W. Griffith, featuring a muscular African slave named Maciste, and due to his muscles and screen presence, Bartolomeo Pagano may have been the first true movie star, making dozens of sequels. The popularity of these movies went into hibernation in Italy until 1959, when it got a huge resurgence when Steve Reeves starred as Hercules, and consequently became the highest paid star in Europe. Hercules (1959) caused literally hundreds of movies to be made, assembly line, in a burst of about 5 years. The genre burned itself out through repetition in only a half decade, only to be replaced by the Italian horror/slasher film and the Spaghetti Western. It was down for good, only to have something of a resurgence of popularity in Italy in the wake of the popularity of John Milius’s Conan the Barbarian in the early 1980s.

Sword and Sandal seems to be a genre where any given film picked at random could be a Mystery Science Theater 3000 episode. For the most part, Sword and Sandal movies are mostly known for being the training ground of people who showed their skills in other genres, like how Mario Bava became a horror director, or how Sergio Leone, a second unit director on a few, was best known later for Spaghetti Westerns. And there is certainly some truth to the idea that, if you have seen one, you’ve seen them all. But there are certainly some good examples of the genre that are worth seeing.

Goliath and the Dragon (1960)

Don’t be fooled, this is a Hercules movie, but they renamed it because of some begobbled distribution rights issue.

If you were a Greek mythology kid (and most nerdy kids went through a phase they were into sharks, dinosaurs, Greek mythology, AV/Radio, writing in Dwarf runes under your desk after reading Tolkien for the first time, and lego) you might remember reading about Hercules’s semi-tragic end, poisoned and killed by his own wife and a centaur. It was the most fascinating story, where Hercules’s great strength and courage was defeated by jealous and anxious little people who tore him down. Americans don’t have much of a taste for tragedy, so it’s very seldom been adapted for American audiences.

Goliath and the Dragon is that story. It literally starts with Hercules finishing his hardest heroic Labor, and retiring. However, his younger brother is jealous of him, and a conspiracy of schemers work to get rid of Hercules by manipulating envy. Along the way, Hercules feels abandoned by the gods and he turns against them in anguish after a lifetime of service. It has a dragon, and quests into the underworld, yes, but it is primarily not an adventure film, which is what makes it interesting.

It also stars Mark Forest, who might be the only one of the bodybuilders to play Hercules to have a legit screen presence. He later left movies to become an opera singer and voice coach.

Eric the Conqueror (1961)

This is one by Italian horror titan Mario Bava, and because it’s kind of a well known film, it actually has a half-decent transfer, including availability in the original language instead of a shoddy 70s dub - this is utterly, absolutely unheard of in this genre, where the copies of these movies on streaming (even on Amazon Prime!) are sometimes literally off VHS and have “snow lines” and other phenomenally half-assed signs of VHS transfer, like the original FBI WARNING stickers.

The film is about two Viking brothers, one of who is raised by Christians as a knight, the other of whom grows up the son of a pagan Viking warlord. It’s a film about the contrast between Christian and Pagan, and the one thing about it people remember is that it stars a pair of Playboy Playmate twins. Stylish and action-oriented with lots of red blood, it’s like a cool version of Disney’s “The Island at the Top of the World.”

Hercules in the Haunted World (1961)

Hercules vs. Christopher Lee –need I say more? Christopher Lee is a vampire who took over a kingdom and hypnotized Hercules’s true love, shrouding the land in eerie darkness…and so Hercules has to descend into the underworld. This is a case where the screenshots really tell the story, they get across the eerie, surreal Gothic ambiance of the film. It doesn’t actually feature Castle Greyskull, but it would perfectly fit in with the décor.

As far as I know, Hercules never actually encountered vampires in Greek folklore, but in Italian cinema, they seem to feel that the supreme challenge for the Son of Zeus is the undead (see also, Kobrak in Goliath and the Sins of Babylon).

I feel guilty having two Mario Bava movies on here. But of the two, this one feels the more…Mario Bava, in lighting, design, and ambiance, which is really the reason to see it. Essentially, it’s Hercules Goes to Hell, and it’s treated as more of a truly eerie horror movie, with weird lighting. The presence of Christopher Lee makes it feel like a bodybuilder accidentally wandered onto the set of a Hammer Horror film, with crumbling castles and she-vampires in negligees.

Maciste in Hell (1925)

Speaking of the essential plot of a muscleman going to hell, you wouldn’t think a movie of that kind would be whimsical, charming, imaginative, and creative, but it is. Satan tries to tempt Maciste, a pure in heart muscleman who represents the pure, incorruptible goodness and strength of the working class. Maciste movies, distinct from Hercules films, always had a strong Marxist undertone, with villains who were super-rich and decadent, all the while Maciste resisted their temptations and hung out with the lower classes and sponsored a revolution. The movie is full in intertitles like “the Dragon – Hell’s Aeroplane!” And the quest by female devils to turn Maciste into a demon himself with a kiss. Essentially, it’s a movie where if you’re pure in heart and have biceps of steel, there’s no problem you can’t bench press, grip, or grapple, even Satan.

According to his memoirs, this was the movie that made Fellini want to become a director.

Hercules and the Princess of Troy (1965)

Made at the absolute dying gasp of the genre, this one is essentially the “Enter the Dragon” of Sword and Sandal movies, in that it was a Hollywood/Italian co-production, much like how “Enter the Dragon” was the first Hollywood/Hong Kong co-production. It wasn’t a movie at all, but a pilot episode for a television show that never went to series…to everyone’s shame, because if it had been made, it would have been a crowd pleaser, if the pilot was anything to go by. I all but guarantee it would be a syndication favorite that would have turned everyone in it into a star, the kind that would be on Nick at Nite forever, or the earliest incarnation of F/X, where it was just a scrappy rerun network with a pre-Survivor Jeff Probst (I still remember the F/X house all the VJ like hosts lived in).

This one has Hercules (played by Tarzan Gordon Scott) as a sea captain and leader of a Greek ship named the Olympia, who is accompanied by two sidekicks, Ulysses (a young, clever Ulysses as Herc’s sidekick was also a trait of Paul Levine’s Hercules and Hercules Unchained), and Diogenes, Hercules’s smart friend, a medical doctor and proto-scientist who comes off as the project’s most interesting character, a Dr. McCoy like curmudgeon who adventures to stay away from his awful wife, who creates a chemical that burns on water and who uses the Socratic Method to solve a murder mystery. If this had gone to series, I can see him overshadowing the theoretical leading man in a similar way to Jonathan Harris as Dr. Smith overshadowing the Robinsons.

The pilot was great fun. It had mythological creatures like invulnerable horses and a terrifyingly unique sea monster, that was some of the earliest work by the now legendary Carlo Rambaldi (creator of E.T. and the Alien) that is light years ahead of the shag carpet dragons musclemen pretend to wrestle in movies like this. Not to mention a mystery, and Hercules facing intrigue that, as a trustworthy and direct man of action, he is incapable of dealing with (a trait of nearly every single interesting Hercules movie).

#sword and sandal #peplum #hercules #italian cinema

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cecilspeaks · 5 years

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159 - Cat Show

Be the annoying goose you want to see in the world. Welcome to Night Vale.

This day was foretold and now it is here. Some doubted it would come, but the signs were clear. And I could not be more excited! It’s the annual Night Vale cat show. [laughs] I know, I rarely report on this event, but this year, I finally entered my own cat, Khoshekh, into the contest. Many of you remember that I found Khoshekh 7 years ago. He was floating 4 feet off the ground in the men’s restroom here at the radio station, and he’s still in that exact same spot, cute as ever with his furry little white paws! And elegant little black tail, and just the floofiest tentacles you could ever see.

My husband and I adore cats! We’re always ranking them, because love is above all else a competition. So we figured we should put Koshekh out there for an objective ruling on our own beliefs that he is the best cat in the world! It should be an easy win for our little boy, especially with the home field advantage. Koshekh is stuck in a fixed point in space, and the cat show is being held here at the radio station to accommodate his condition. Station Management is a bit unhappy about this, because they’re terribly allergic to cats. All morning, as the cat show organizers and competing cats have arrived, I have felt the sneezes of Station Management from deep below the surface of the Earth where they have burrowed into the warm, molten core of our dying planet.

I sent our new intern Simon Peterson out to pick up some Benadryl for the bosses, and he did, but now he’s having trouble navigating the 16 inch wide rocky tunnel Station Management dug into the break room, and Simon keeps saying he’s claustrophobic and that his greatest fear is to be stuck in a dark place where the long spindly arms touch and prod his feet, but he cannot see them. And even if he could, he would not comprehend them. Ad n the prickly limbs grab at him with increasing desperation and he does not scream, because he knows no one will hear him except the inscrutable.. thing that is now tearing open the skin along the bottom of his feet. And I was like Simon, this office is a no excuses zone, so get in that tunnel and do your job.

More on the cat show soon, but first the news. Strange men arrived in town today. They were wearing suits and carrying briefcases. They drove a black sedan. One of them wore sunglasses. They claimed to be from Washington DC from an agency called the National Transportation Safety Board. They were inquiring about a missing plane. The strange men, one of them had a blister on his upper lip, met with Sheriff Sam, and told them that on June 15, 2012, Delta flight 18713 from Detroit Mistigan to Albany New York disappeared. The NTSB still has not found the MT-90 aircraft. The men told Sheriff Sam that for many years, the agency believed the flight to have gone down in Lake Erie. Sheriff Sam laughed at this silly fake name for a lake and told the men – one of them had a swollen red lump along the cuticle of his right index finger –that they must be remembering some spooky young adult novel, rather than a real life event. The strange men – one of them had an unceasing nose bleed – said it was in fact true. They said that they recently found a report indicating that right before Flight 18713 vanished from radar, it was detected all the way down in the southwest United States, right here in Night Vale. “How is that possible?” the strange men asked our Sheriff. Sheriff Sam stopped laughing and said: “I know the plane. Or rather, I know someone who saw that plane. His name is Doug, Doug Biondi.” The strange men – one of them wore three wedding rings – nodded and said: “Take us to Doug.” Sheriff Sam said: “Doug is in the Night Vale asylum. He is dangerous. He is not allowed visitors. But…” and Sheriff Sam leaned forward, clasping their hands together across the desk and continued in a hush town: “I… could… assist… in an undercover operation. Disguise you all as new inmates, treacherous psychopaths who must be kept in lockdown in the world’s highest security mental hospital. Then, then… you would be able to interview Doug Biondi about what he saw that day in the elementary school gym.” And the strange men – one of them was weeping thick yellow tears – agreed that this was a great idea, and set out with the Sheriff to the asylum, deep within the Scrublands, to begin their covert investigation. I’m sure those strange men from the NTSB will emerge soon with a full report. More on this story as it develops.

But I have to get back – to the Cat shooooow! [excited] Oh ho ho, [gasps] so many cats have arrived! [laughs] Th-there are cages and carriers full of sweet kitties all over the station! Representing all four breeds of cat: long haired, short haired, smushyfaced and miscellaneous. When I was filling out the entry forms for Khoshekh, they asked me this breed, and he’s definitely smushyfaced, but also long haired although he’s short haired along his coddlespine and pincers, soooooo… miscellaneous? I guessed. Also they wanted Khoshekh’s last name, and I have never thought of a last name for our cat. Huh. I told Carlos we should put his last name as Khoshekh’s last name, because Carlos has a much more interesting last name than me. Plus Carlos is pretty well known and very well liked in town. Everybody knows his last name, and I thought that might carry some political weight in the minds of the judges. But Carlos insisted that we use mine, because I found Khoshekh and I adopted him. So there you go, little kitty. You are Khoshekh Gershwin Palmer. A champion name for a champion cat.

Let’s have a look now at the community calendar. This Friday night is the Tour of Lights in Old Town Night Vale. Participants can meet at Galway and 1st at 7 PM, where a tractor pulling a trailer full of hay will drive you around to look at the bright and festive holiday lights adorning the various historic homes. Last year’s favorite, the Victorian mansion owned by Harrison Kip, included a 40-foot tall Santa, his arms outstretched overseeing a vast army of toiling elves, while an old Victrola played “Ave Maria” over crackling speakers and clowns leapt suddenly from the thick shrubs, handing unsuspecting but delighted guests red and blue balloons shaped by long dead family members. Tickets are five dollars and go to support the Bilderberg Group.

Saturday evening is the bi-monthly pub crawl in downtown Night Vale. Every eight weeks or so, every bar in town becomes overrun with 7 inch long bugs that look like… a bit like earwigs but with human faces. All participating bars and pubs are offering two for one specials on well drinks and bottled domestics.

Sunday afternoon, the Tamika Flynn book club will be meeting to discuss their most recent book, the 2018 Husqvarna YTH-24K 14-inch riding mower owner’s manual. This month’s book was chosen by John Peters – you know, the farmer? They’ll be discussing the themes, symbolism and subtext of this seminal work of contemporary technical literature. The book club is open to anyone and there will be a potluck benefit.

Monday is running a few minutes late, but wants everyone to know we can go ahead and start without it.

The cat show is finally underway and wow! What a sight! I’ve never actually been to a cat show before today, it is, it’s fascinating! So, the judges take each cat one at a time. They hold up the cat’s tail to examine its posture and form. Then they pry open the cat’s mouth to check its teeth. Then four judges hold each of the cat’s paws and stretch it out into a furry X, as a fifth judge measures the cat’s latitudinal, longitudinal and diagonal lengths. I’m surprised at how gentle these cats are with all this rough handling. Khoshekh – [scoffs] Khoshekh usually tries to bite me or-or sting me when I feed him, and I appreciate that about him. It’s hard to respect a cat that would let any stranger look it directly in the eyes, let alone touch it. People sometimes think cats will behave obediently and chummily, like dogs, but cats are individualistic. They show love, yes, but it is conditional and judgmental. You must give a cat space to learn its environment and develop its own social rules. Plus those pincers really hurt! The cats they’re showing right now are really cute, but it’s [sighs], it’s hard to respect them, like the way they let these judges just treat them like slabs of meat. [shouts angrily] Stand up for yourselves, you glorified sock puppets!

Oh, I’m getting some nasty looks from the judges and other contestants. Good, good. (-) [0:12:26] is important in contact sports. Let them know who’s the front runner.

Amber Akini and her husband Wilson Levy are showing their cat now, a tiny fist-sized orange and white shorthair named Berthold. Berthold might be my second favorite cat, behind Khoshekh of course, because he’s a - oh, oh what to call that kind of cat with extra appendages the poly.. polydactyl, polydactyl, that’s it. Anyway, Berthold is a polydactyl cat. He has eight legs and a mesmerizing array of shiny black eyes covering his cute little face. I’m not so sure Berthold has much of a chance of winning, though. Because when the judges tried to check his teeth, he skittered up the wall and won’t come back from the web he built up there. Ah, well now Susan Willman is showing her cat. He’s a scraggy, but otherwise basic tabby with dirty teeth like Spanish rice and the sunken posture of a playground swing. Oh I didn’t catch his name, although it sounded like she called Dumpster. [chuckles] [low voice] Not a chance, loser.

OK, oh wait. The judges are all wide-eyed and cooing over Dumpster, like he’s a rare bejeweled artefact. Wait, they’re nodding to each other as if they’re impressed. I don’t get this! He’s a trash cat. That’s why she named him Dumpster of, knowing Susan, maybe that’s a family name. Ooh ho-ho! Oh, I’m getting a shush sign from the judges, and Susan is glaring at me. [chuckles] I had no idea how political this cat show would be. What a racket.

Let’s have a look now at traffic. There’s a slowdown on westbound lanes of Route 800 near Exit 19. There is no construction or accident. Highway patrol said that everyone on that side of the road simply started thinking about Urinus and giggling. Every single driver, simultaneously, remembered how the name of that planet always made them laugh in school. Scientists want to study Urinus. They thought it wants really probe the dense noxious clouds covering the rocky surface of Urinus. They considered in unison, their ruddy cheeks quaking above sore jaws and below tear-filled crackling eyes: scientists think the pressure inside Urinus is so great that here may be diamonds inside Urinus. The drivers all howled, the audible din enough to slow even the eastbound lanes, who were trying to think of a single funny thing about Saturn, but could not. I’m not sure I get why any of that is funny. But expect westbound delays of 20 minutes or take an alternative route.

It’s the big moment, listeners. The judges are visiting Khoshekh right now in the men’s restroom. I tried to tell them to use hazmat gloves, but they sneered and said: “We know how to handle cats, sir.” OK, they are professional arbiters of all things feline, so I believe them. They’re holding up Khoshekh’s tails right now, examining his nacreous scales. They brought in two other judges to try to hold Khoshekh’s tentacles down because, well he keeps trying to grab at the main judge’s face as the judge attempts to examine Khoshekh’s teeth. Oh, I wonder if they’ll deduct points for Khoshekh having more teeth than a normal cat. I mean he has five rows of them. OH, oh! Oh no. Ohhh, the judges are not controlling this situation well at all, Khoshekh has wrapped up all of the jduges in his many spiraling suctioned arms. They’re struggling to break free, but those tentacles secrete a sedative oil and the judges are wobbling.. They’re passing out, yup, not good. Every single judge is unconscious, and now Khoshekh is wildly flapping his wings and, while I cannot hear it I can tell, he is emitting a shriek that only other cats can hear. He does this when he’s upset. OH, there’s Berthold coming down from the safe haven of his web. There’s Dumpster, hollow-eyed and purring, waling toward Khoshekh. And all the other cats are coming too. Their mouths agape, emitting I m sure the the same ultrasonic tone, a harmon of protest, of uprising, of bloodthirst. They’re gathering now in the men’s room, eyes glowing, all slack-jawed and silent screaming at the sky. On yeah, the other pet owners are sobbing and they’re running for the exist, but they know they cannot leave. They would not leave even if they could. It is silent now in the station safe for the panting exhaustion of frightened human owners, and the strained wheezing breaths of unconscious cat show judges. I think Carlos and I have a great shot at winning this thing, listeners. an announcement of a champion coming soon!

But first, The weather.

[”Weather: “Fuzzy Disco” by Talkie https://talkie.bandcamp.com]

The judges woke up, but they no longer speak in English nor any human language. They are licking themselves and eating moths that they caught by the single swinging light bulb in our radio station’s interrogation room. Their brains are feral and feline now, as they hide under tables and hiss at the other cat owners. I tried to warn them about using hazmat gloves, but they didn’t wanna hear me. [big gasp] Or maybe they did! Perhaps this was their gambit all along, I mean this is after all my first cat show, I don’t wanna pretend like I know how these things go. No winners were announced. The judges joined the high-pitched catervauling of the other cats. And then they all left in a unified clatter, out the men’s room window and into the street. I can see them now, running toward the alley behind the CVS, several other cats joining their ranks, all except - Khoshekh, who cannot leave his spot in the station restroom. Four feet in the air.

I told Khoshekh that he’s a winner in my mind, and I put on my thick rubber gear and gently stroked his smushed little face! [giggles] Right between his middle two eyes! Huh. It’s hard to tell what cats are thinking or feeling, but I think Khoshekh is happy. He’s happy to have such a loving home and two doting dads. But something in his eyes tells me he wanted to run free with his new cat friends. I gave him a catnip plushie though, and he looks content, if a little coked up.

Stay tuned next for a noise you cannot hear, rallying a feral insurrection.

Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

Today’s proverb: Wanna feel old? Don’t worry, you will.

#welcome to night vale #wtnv #wtnv transcripts #episode 159 #cat show

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everydisneymovie · 5 years

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THE LIST

Post #2

3/1/2020

Let’s get this out of the way: Every theatrically released Disney movie. A [X] near a movie means I have already seen it, but I will still be re-watching it for this project.

A [(number)] near a movie means it has been watched and reviewed so far.

Some movies were added to fit the rules, such as the High school musical movies and the March of the Penguins Movie.

Let’s do this:

1930’s

Academy Award Review of Walt Disney Cartoons [11] Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs [30]

1940’s

Pinocchio [21] Fantasia [25] The Reluctant Dragon [16] Dumbo [27] Bambi [32] Saludos Amigos [19] Victory Through Air Power [20] The Three Caballeros [17] Make Mine Music [17] Song of the South [12] Fun and Fancy Free [14] Melody Time [14] So Dear to My Heart [21] The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad [22]

1950’s

Cinderella [16] Treasure Island Alice in Wonderland [X] The Story of Robin Hood and His Merrie Men Peter Pan [X] The Sword and the Rose The Living Desert Rob Roy, the Highland Rogue The Vanishing Prairie 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea Davy Crockett, King of the Wild Frontier Lady and the Tramp [X] The African Lion The Littlest Outlaw The Great Locomotive Chase Davy Crockett and the River Pirates Secrets of Life Westward Ho the Wagons! Johnny Tremain Perri Old Yeller [X] The Light in the Forest White Wilderness Tonka Sleeping Beauty [X] The Shaggy Dog Darby O'Gill and the Little People Zorro the Avenger Third Man on the Mountain

1960’s

Toby Tyler [X] Kidnapped Pollyanna [X] The Sign of Zorro Jungle Cat Ten Who Dared Swiss Family Robinson [X] One Hundred and One Dalmatians [X] The Absent-Minded Professor The Parent Trap [X] Nikki, Wild Dog of the North Greyfriars Bobby Babes in Toyland Moon Pilot Bon Voyage! Big Red [X] Almost Angels The Legend of Lobo In Search of the Castaways Son of Flubber Miracle of the White Stallions Savage Sam Summer Magic The Incredible Journey The Sword in the Stone [X] A Tiger Walks The Misadventures of Merlin Jones The Three Lives of Thomasina The Moon-Spinners Mary Poppins Emil and the Detectives Those Calloways The Monkey's Uncle That Darn Cat! The Ugly Dachshund Lt. Robin Crusoe, U.S.N. The Fighting Prince of Donegal Follow Me, Boys! Monkeys, Go Home! The Adventures of Bullwhip Griffin The Gnome-Mobile The Jungle Book [X] Charlie, the Lonesome Cougar The Happiest Millionaire Blackbeard's Ghost The One and Only, Genuine, Original Family Band Never a Dull Moment The Horse in the Gray Flannel Suit The Love Bug Smith! Rascal The Computer Wore Tennis Shoes

1970’s

King of the Grizzlies The Boatniks The Wild Country The Aristocats [X] The Barefoot Executive Scandalous John The Million Dollar Duck Bedknobs and Broomsticks The Biscuit Eater Now You See Him, Now You Don't Napoleon and Samantha Run, Cougar, Run Snowball Express The World's Greatest Athlete Charley and the Angel One Little Indian Robin Hood [X] Superdad Herbie Rides Again The Bears and I The Castaway Cowboy The Island at the Top of the World The Strongest Man in the World Escape to Witch Mountain The Apple Dumpling Gang One of Our Dinosaurs Is Missing The Best of Walt Disney's True-Life Adventures Ride a Wild Pony No Deposit, No Return Treasure of Matecumbe Gus The Shaggy D.A. Freaky Friday The Littlest Horse Thieves The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh A Tale of Two Critters The Rescuers [X] Herbie Goes to Monte Carlo Pete's Dragon Candleshoe Return from Witch Mountain The Cat from Outer Space Hot Lead and Cold Feet The North Avenue Irregulars The Apple Dumpling Gang Rides Again Unidentified Flying Oddball The Black Hole The London Connection

1980’s

Midnight Madness The Watcher in the Woods Herbie Goes Bananas The Last Flight of Noah's Ark Popeye The Devil and Max Devlin Amy Dragonslayer The Fox and the Hound Condorman Night Crossing Tron Tex Trenchcoat Something Wicked This Way Comes Never Cry Wolf Return to Oz The Black Cauldron [X] The Journey of Natty Gann One Magic Christmas The Great Mouse Detective [X] Flight of the Navigator Benji the Hunted Return to Snowy River Oliver & Company [X] Honey, I Shrunk the Kids [X] Cheetah The Little Mermaid [X]

1990’s

DuckTales the Movie: Treasure of the Lost Lamp The Rescuers Down Under White Fang Shipwrecked Wild Hearts Can't Be Broken The Rocketeer [X] Beauty and the Beast [X] Newsies [X] Honey, I Blew Up the Kid The Mighty Ducks Aladdin [X] The Muppet Christmas Carol [X] Homeward Bound: The Incredible Journey A Far Off Place The Adventures of Huck Finn Hocus Pocus Cool Runnings [X] The Three Musketeers Iron Will Blank Check [X] D2: The Mighty Ducks White Fang 2: Myth of the White Wolf The Lion King [X] Angels in the Outfield Squanto: A Warrior's Tale The Santa Clause [X] The Jungle Book Heavyweights [X] Man of the House Tall Tale A Goofy Movie Pocahontas Operation Dumbo Drop A Kid in King Arthur's Court The Big Green Frank and Ollie Toy Story [X] Tom and Huck Muppet Treasure Island [X] Homeward Bound II: Lost in San Francisco James and the Giant Peach [X] The Hunchback of Notre Dame [X] First Kid D3: The Mighty Ducks 101 Dalmatians [X] That Darn Cat Jungle 2 Jungle Hercules [X] George of the Jungle [X] Air Bud [X] RocketMan Flubber [X] Mr. Magoo Meet the Deedles Mulan [X] The Parent Trap [X] Air Bud: Golden Receiver I'll Be Home for Christmas A Bug's Life [X] Mighty Joe Young My Favorite Martian Doug's 1st Movie [X] Endurance Tarzan [X] Inspector Gadget [X] The Straight Story Toy Story 2 [X]

2000’s

Fantasia 2000 The Tigger Movie [X] Dinosaur [X] Disney's The Kid Remember the Titans 102 Dalmatians The Emperor's New Groove [X] Recess: School's Out [X] Atlantis: The Lost Empire [X] The Princess Diaries Max Keeble's Big Move Monsters, Inc. [X] Snow Dogs Return to Never Land The Rookie Lilo & Stitch [X] The Country Bears Tuck Everlasting The Santa Clause 2 [X] Treasure Planet [X] The Jungle Book 2 Piglet's Big Movie [X] Ghosts of the Abyss Holes [X] The Lizzie McGuire Movie Finding Nemo [X] Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl [X] Freaky Friday [X] Brother Bear The Haunted Mansion [X] The Young Black Stallion Teacher's Pet [X] Miracle Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen Ghost in the Shell 2: Innocence Home on the Range [X] Sacred Planet Around the World in 80 Days America's Heart and Soul The Princess Diaries 2: Royal Engagement The Incredibles [X] National Treasure [X] Aliens of the Deep Pooh's Heffalump Movie [X] The Pacifier [X] Ice Princess Herbie: Fully Loaded [X] Sky High [X] Valiant [X] The Greatest Game Ever Played Chicken Little The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe [X] Glory Road Roving Mars Eight Below [X] The Shaggy Dog The Wild [X] Cars [X] Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest [X] Invincible The Nightmare Before Christmas 3D [X] The Santa Clause 3: The Escape Clause [X] Bridge to Terabithia Meet the Robinsons [X] Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End [X] Ratatouille [X] Underdog [X] The Pixar Story The Game Plan Le Premier Cri Enchanted [X] National Treasure: Book of Secrets [X] Hannah Montana and Miley Cyrus: Best of Both Worlds Concert College Road Trip The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian Dasavathaaram WALL-E [X] Beverly Hills Chihuahua Morning Light (High School Musical) [X] (High School Musical 2) [X] High School Musical 3: Senior Year Bolt [X] Bedtime Stories [X] Jonas Brothers: The 3D Concert Experience Race to Witch Mountain Hannah Montana: The Movie Earth Trail of the Panda Up [X] Lilly the Witch: The Dragon and the Magic Book G-Force [X] Walt & El Grupo The Book of Masters Disney's A Christmas Carol Old Dogs The Princess and the Frog [X]

2010’s

Alice in Wonderland [X] Waking Sleeping Beauty Oceans Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time Toy Story 3 [X] The Sorcerer's Apprentice The Crimson Wing: Mystery of the Flamingos Secretariat Do Dooni Chaar Tangled [X] The Boys: The Sherman Brothers' Story Tron: Legacy Anaganaga O Dheerudu Lilly the Witch: The Journey to Mandolan Mars Needs Moms Zokkomon African Cats Prom Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides [X] Cars 2 Winnie the Pooh The Muppets [X] John Carter Chimpanzee Arjun: The Warrior Prince Brave [X] The Odd Life of Timothy Green Frankenweenie Wreck-It Ralph [X] Oz the Great and Powerful Wings of Life Monsters University [X] The Lone Ranger [X] Planes Frozen [X] Saving Mr. Banks [X] Muppets Most Wanted [X] Bears Million Dollar Arm Maleficent Planes: Fire & Rescue Khoobsurat Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day Big Hero 6 [X] Into the Woods [X] McFarland, USA Cinderella Monkey Kingdom Tomorrowland Inside Out [X] (ABCD) ABCD 2 The Good Dinosaur The Finest Hours Zootopia [X] The Jungle Book Tini: The Movie Alice Through the Looking Glass Finding Dory The BFG Pete's Dragon Queen of Katwe Moana [X] Growing Up Wild Dangal (March of the Penguins?) [X] L'Empereur - March of the Penguins 2: The Next Step Beauty and the Beast [X] Born in China Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales Cars 3 Ghost of the Mountains Jagga Jasoos Coco [X] Expedition China A Wrinkle in Time Incredibles 2 [X] Christopher Robin The Nutcracker and the Four Realms Ralph Breaks the Internet Mary Poppins Returns Dumbo Penguins Aladdin Toy Story 4 [X] The Lion King Maleficent: Mistress of Evil Lady and the Tramp Noelle Frozen II One Day at Disney Togo

2020’s

Timmy Failure: Mistakes Were Made

There are about 431 movies on this list and I have seen about 124 of them, for a total of 28.7% of all Disney movies.

This should be a nightmare.

#long post #Disney #Every Disney Movie #I watched Every Disney Movie #late stage capitalism #capitlism #Late stage Disney #the list #movie theory #movie reviews #reviewing every Disney movie #film theory #movie review #movie ranking #welcome to the dumpster #Rey Rapids

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