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bird-slayer-brainrot · 9 months ago

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Soldier On, Come Down - Chpt. 1. - - Ineffable Husbands WW2 au human!Crowley angel!Aziraphale angst multi-chapter

(TW this chapter contains light gore (st*bbing so that bit will be marked with the first and final world in red text)

London, 1939

Aziraphale, Principality and Angel of the Eastern Gate of the Garden of Eden, loved humans.

He had lived amongst humans since his assignment on Eden had ended, and he quite enjoyed his role as Heaven’s official ambassador to humanity. It had been a shock to receive such a coveted position (as much as Angels could covet, anyway).

The job had its downsides, like any, but for the most part, Aziraphale could overlook these. The books, food, wine and art made it worth it.

Humans were amazingly clever creatures, with a knack for imagining purposeful, advanced creations to Angel in Heaven could have ever dreamed of, if they did dream. They were masterful artists, poets, writers, inventors. Aziraphale, nearly six thousand years into this extended assignment, stood in awe at the inventions of the human race.

The motorcar, however, was an exception.

On a Saturday evening in Soho, Aziraphale was particularly bothered. He had plans to attend an Opera at the West End. These plans were interrupted when the driver had stopped him miles from the theatre. It was drizzling, as it often did in London lately, and Aziraphale crowded himself underneath a canopy to avoid getting soaked.

Aziraphale could have miracled the driver to take him to the right language, but with the state of England and the war going on, he felt it was best to cut down on miracle usage just in case he needed them for something important, which he probably would. And he didn’t want to risk Heaven the memo from heaven about too many frivolous miracles.

“Are you going in?” a voice spoke beside him. Aziraphale turned, ready to offer his apologises

He hadn’t realised he had been standing in the entrance way to a storefront.

But he was stuck on the words as he came face to face with the man.

He was perhaps the most beautiful person Aziraphale had ever laid eyes on.

Aziraphale was still staring when the stranger cleared his throat.

“Oh, my apologies.” Aziraphale said too loudly. The gentlemen was dressed in black and grey, which would have struck Aziraphale as unusual if, immediately after, Aziraphale noticed his striking copper hair. He wore it longer than was the fashion. He was also very tall, and slender. He held a black umbrella that he seemed to be in the process of wringing out his umbrella before he’d noticed Aziraphale.

“Are you alright?” the gentlemen said with concern. Aziraphale was still staring, so he tore his gaze from the gentlemen’s face.

“No. Yes. I mean.” Aziraphale stuttered. “I just got caught in the rain.”

The man nodded, the small smile still on his face, then he held out his umbrella.

“Would you like to borrow mine?” he said without hesitation. Aziraphale looked up him again ready to insist he was fine, but stopped when he noticed his eyes.

They were the colour of liquid gold, except for the ring of green surrounding his pupils. It was deep, Earthy green Aziraphale last recalled seeing in the Garden back when he’d first received this assignment.

“No. No thank you.” Aziraphale said softly. “I think I should like to stay here.”

My Dear Anthony,

I hope by the time this letter reaches you in England that you and Anathema will be quite settled in, with Annie at university and you doing your things (I must confess, I don’t quite recall the word you used to describe your profession. It may come to me one day.)

I must admit, dear brother, that although you grumble when I express sentiments to you, that I will miss you terrible when you return to England. There shall be a Crowley-shaped hole in my heart, I should think, for a long time till come. Please do come back and visit us in California.

Thank you for taking care of Anathema. It has always been her dream to attend Oxford. Do you remember when she was a little girl, with her book on magic and fairytales? She’d take it with her everywhere.

She can be quite stubborn at times, but she is a remarkable young woman, and I know that, under your guidance, my dear Annie will be something great. Please give her my love.

Take care of yourself.

Your Loving Sister,

Lucy

Crowley smiled down at the letter from his sister. He would never admit it, of course, but he missed his sister terribly. California, too, with its bright, sunny weather. The rain and fog of London coloured the world bleak in comparison.

Crowley had been back in London for a month. Anathema, his niece, was due to start at Oxford, once she got her acceptance, in three months.

She was a standout in stuffy old England, with her American wardrobe, accent, and mannerisms. She stood out in LA, too. She’d spent the days

Crowley had an apartment in Soho that he’d rented out in the year he’d been in America. The death of Lucy’s husband and Anathema’s father had hit their family hard. With their pieces stitched haphazardously back together, Anathema had decided that Oxford was her calling. England was a fresh start, and Crowley had to return at some point. Her mother had, after some convincing, agreed.

He was meant to meet Anathema for dinner that evening at the pub they frequented later on. With nothing else to do, Crowley decided a walk and some fresh air would do him some good, and stepped out into the English rain.

The Drooping Donkey had all the grace of a typical Soho bar on a Saturday evening. There was a group of soldiers crowded around a pretty young woman playing the piano, a lively war-tune Aziraphale recalled hearing over the radio on the BBC earlier that morning when he was rearranging his Atlas collection. They nursed warming bears. Chatty patrons took up the tables. There was luckily one spare (Aziraphale may have the ability to have any table he wished to, however he believed in ethical use of miracles) and, after ordering a glass of the house red, Aziraphale made his way over to it and took a seat, content to wait out the storm before going home.

When Aziraphale looked up, he made eye contact with the red-haired gentlemen from earlier. He was alone at the bar, and when Aziraphale looked at him, he did something completely surprising. He smiled.

An hour later, Aziraphale was still recounting the event in self-pity. He could leave now, as the handsome stranger had left. In truth, he’d been too shocked by the gentlemen (who had, upon meeting him, offered him his own umbrella?) and had been unable to use his brain. He had no choice but to enter the bar after the gentlemen, who had held the door out for Aziraphale. Even now, Aziraphale replayed the memory of that brief, awkward interaction over and over in his head. It was pointless. It wasn’t like Aziraphale would ever see him again. He was a human. A handsome, kind human. Still, he had appreciated that small show of kindness. It left a warm feeling in Aziraphale’s chest. The war was getting to him.

It was dark outside by the time Aziraphale exited The Drooping Donkey. The rain had cleared and, while the street maintained most of the business of a typical Soho Saturday, the sidewalk was mostly deserted. That’s why, when Aziraphale heard a noise like a group of hushed voices and a loud banging sound, he immediately rushed to the source.

The redhead man from the bar laid crumbled against the wall of a deserted alley. He was bundled behind bags of rubbish. Aziraphale hurried over to him, kneeling down to see better and miracleing a source of light. Aziraphale’s checked that the man was still breathing first, which he was, but was barely conscious. In the light, Aziraphale could see immediately that he had multiple injuries. His face was bruised, and his knuckles and hands were red. Then, Aziraphale spotted the spreading red across his stomach. Just below it, there was a knife.

It lay discarded in the wet, tossed carelessly, as though it had not just killed a man.

The stranger groaned as Aziraphale lifted the fabric away from the knife wound to locate the stab wound. It didn’t take long to find it. Blood gushed down the man’s abdomen from the puncture, and bile threatened to rise in Aziraphale’s throat as he realised that the kind stranger likely wouldn’t survive it. He had lost too much blood. Aziraphale had no idea how long he had been here, left like this. There was no time to take him to a hospital. He hadn’t been with a wife or friends at the bar. He would likely die here, cold, and alone.

Aziraphale reached down, pressing a hand against the wound, and healing it. It was overkill, to heal it completely, but the man looked in enough pain that Aziraphale couldn’t help but want to help him as best as he could. He spluttered at the motion, coughing harshly. Aziraphale stood up quickly, miracleing his trousers clean from where they had been stained by water and blood. He also miracled the stranger unconscious.

Aziraphale would have liked to have stayed with the stranger to make sure he got better, but he couldn’t answer the questions the man would obviously have. With any luck, the gentleman would wake up with a nasty hangover, with little recollection of what had occurred the night before. He’d likely interpret the black eye as being the result of a minor drunken scuffle. He would not remember Aziraphale, and Aziraphale would never see him again.

A kindness for a kindness was all it was. Miracling him out of sight, Aziraphale turned, and walked away.

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markanthonypoet · 4 months ago

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The way you tremble when I touch you reminds me how fragile the space is between love and desire, between wanting and having and letting go.

-Mark Anthony Poet

#poetry #poem #typewriterpoetry

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itsloriel · 6 months ago

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May you find somebody who always knows how to make your soul smile. ~

Mark Anthony Poet Words from "Twin Flames"

Photo: kaleyfromkansas.com

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angelsonthesideline · 2 years ago

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#mark anthony poet #mark anthony

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thestarkerisobvious · 11 months ago

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Saltburn - A Starker Story (With Footnotes)

This is a spoiler-free story, starring Starker, with amazing art by @mrstarksbaby Enjoy.

Peter’s father has a title.(1) Peter’s family lives in a castle.(2)

Throughout Oxford(3), that is what people say about him. The first thing they say about him. Sometimes the only thing they say about him. His father has a title. His family lives in a castle. What else would you need to know?

Unless, of course, you talked to Peter. Then you would find out a few more things.

Like how his mother had been a ridiculously famous groupie, knowing all the bands that had been hot in London in the 90’s, to the point that she had songs written about her(4). Like how his father would throw lavish parties for almost-strangers, just to give him an excuse to wear his family’s armor. Like how his parents were so comically out-of-touch with the real world they had once asked him “where Liverpool was located.”(5)

He would also tell you about the many other people that lived at Saltburn. And, if you were VERY special, he might tell you about Mr. Stark.

Mr. Stark was an employee of the family, but in many ways he was a family friend as well. It was often that way when people worked together for decades. Peter’s father trusted Mr. Stark with his life, and with Peter’s life as well. Technically Mr. Stark's title was “Head Butler.” Which is why the family called him “Anthony.” It was customary for the royalty to call the help by their first name, and the help to call the family by their last name. Only Peter insisted, even as an adult, on calling the trusted man “Mr. Stark.” It sounded overly formal, but it was completely the opposite. Peter trusted Mr. Stark more than any other human being on earth.(6)

And with good reason. It was Mr. Stark that saw that Peter wasn’t doing well at school, not because of his title, but because of his brain. It was Mr. Stark that convinced the family that Peter SHOULD graduate a year early - that the challenge of the extra coursework would help Peter thrive where he had been floundering. It was Mr. Stark who convinced the family to let Peter take a math track,(7) rather than try to fulfill any vague artistic dreams his mother once had for him. Yes, the boy had the soul of a poet, but the mind of an engineer. A mind that would be be so much happier with a practical degree.(8)

And so Peter excels at school. You should know that about him. You should know that he went to Oxford a year early. And that he loves every minute of his studies. (9)

But not of going to university. Peter is a real brain, and a complete softy, but no one ever sees that. His cousin MJ never lets him forget, or lets anyone forget, that he has a title and lives in a castle. Peter MUST be a careless snobby playboy partier because everyone in the upper-upper-crust crowd is a careless snobby playboy partier and Peter, well, Peter fits in with everyone in the upper-upper-crust. (But that’s not really who Peter is. Peter is a dreamer. An artist. A photographer. But only Mr. Stark knows that about Peter. Only he encourages it.)

Peter is not happy at Oxford. (10)

Enter Quentin. (11)

Quentin seems to be everywhere for Peter. (12) There when Peter gets a flat tire while biking (13) to school. There when Peter needs a real conversation (14) while all his friends were doing shots. There when Peter needs someone to answer the question “Tell me about yourself.”

And so the year at Oxford goes on. Things are good. Quentin makes a good mate and Peter makes good marks and MJ doesn’t get too toxic when Peter doesn’t spend his every weekend partying with her friends. And Peter keeps Tony updated about everything and looks forward to break. (15)

But as the year comes to a close, tragedy strikes. Quentin’s family seems to have imploded - but the solution seems simple! Peter will simply invite Quen to Saltburn to stay the summer! It seems like a great idea - to have his new friend at his side all summer. And Peter is happy. Happy that he can help Quen now, the same way Quen helped him in his time of need. He’s thrilled!! His mother, as batty and clueless as she is, is thrilled! His father is not bothered! Even MJ, in her condescending muted way, seems to not-hate it…

Everyone is happy!!!

Except Mr. Stark.

Peter can’t explain it. But Mr. Stark is being odd. Awful. Mean. Cold to Quen, hostile, even. Peter can’t explain it. Mr. Stark had always been wonderful to him… (16)

Quen is saying Mr. Stark hates him because he is the “common man.” Not that kind of person that “belongs at Saltburn.” Peter can’t stand the idea. He “orders” Mr. Stark to “stop being so dreadful” to Quen. Sometimes he acts like it’s a joke and laughs it off. But mostly Peter just pretends it isn’t happening. Quentin is his friend. Quentin understands Peter. That’s why Peter gave Quen the room next to him.

That’s why they were sharing a bathroom. (17)

Okay, the TRUTH is, Peter was really trying to seduce Quentin. Only… he was bad at it. (18)

VERY bad at it. As in… Quen seemed to be hitting on… MJ?! Only MJ wasn’t having it!?! Only they were like… a couple now? Or something?!?!

Peter was NOT happy.

How could he be?

He thought his dream had just come true. He has a FRIEND(19) at Saltburn. A friend to spend the summer with.(20) A friend that MIGHT… just might… help him with his little problem. (21)

Except…

Except Mr. Stark does not like Quentin. At all. Keeps being cold to Quen. Mean to Quen. Actively. In ways that cannot be denied, cannot be ignored. Seems to always be appearing in odd places, rarely giving the boys any time alone to themselves. Keeps appearing at Quen’s shoulder saying cryptic, menacing things. “People get lost at Saltburn” Mr. Stark had said. Whatever that meant. And Peter didn’t know what to do.

He had hoped this summer would turn out to be like a movie, like a Romantic Comedy, or at least like an 80’s Sex Romp. But it is quickly shaping up to be a tragedy. (22)

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footnotes below

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1 Sir. Peter’s father is a knight. With an actual suit of armor.

2 Saltburn

3 A college he did NOT choose for himself. But going to Oxford was his only option. It was Oxford or nothing, a shameful secret that Peter has always resented.

4 See Common People, Pulp

5 But if you ever said “But Peter, you’re so down-to-earth!” he would go on to explain the influence of his aunt and uncle. Who lived, along with so many other family members, at Saltburn. He would explain how his aunt and uncle in essence raised him while his mother continued to globetrot and hob-nob with the famous elite as if she had never had children, or even had married, at all. He would explain how, when his uncle Ben died, his adulthood had really begun. It was the first time Peter had taken a hard look around him and made some decisions. Some decisions about who he wanted to be.

There was another man, an older man, who had a great deal of influence on Peter. A man who had worked at Saltburn on and off for decades, appearing and reappearing in Peter’s life for as long as he could remember. That man had taken up permanent residence at Saltburn the year Peter had graduated high school, and had given him the courage he had needed to make his own demands about how his college education would proceed. Everyone in Peter’s life knew that Peter was going to Oxford if he went to college, but only Peter knew that it almost didn’t go to college at all. But Peter had a secret - a man with a superpower. A man who could help him.

6 Like the fact that Peter DID NOT LIKE GIRLS. It was Mr. Stark (who Peter called Tony, but only in private. Only behind closed doors) that convinced Peter it was a simple fact that he would be able to speak out loud in time. Convinced Peter that his parents were so much more open minded about these issues than Peter realized (after all, Mr. Stark knew Peter’s parents well.) It was Tony that Peter confessed his secret to first, as well as his plan. To tell the world. Eventually. After a year or two at Oxford. At least.

7 Because Tony KNOWS Peter. Knows what he’s REALLY like. What he REALLY likes. How he doubts himself. Completely. Constantly. What he wants to be in life. What he finds attractive in a man. Yes, Tony knows everything.

8 And would that be SO BAD??!! To have a REAL job? To be an engineer, or an inventor? Or an innovator? To have his own career, his own flat, his own life? (He wouldn’t live alone, of course. That would be too scary. He would bring someone with him from Saltburn, of course. Someone to live with him. Someone he trusted.)

(Like Tony.)

9 Well, he loves STUDIES. But class ends eventually. You have to stop studying EVENTUALLY. Put down the pencil. Shut the book. THAT'S when the problem begins - when the tightness begins - when the low-grade panic starts. But Peter ALWAYS knows the cure for that - the balm for that. THAT'S when he turns to his superhero. That’s when he gets out a sharp pencil and a clean piece of paper. And he starts to write a letter to Tony.

10 SO WHY IS HE STILL AT OXFORD?! WHY has he not run scared, run back home, run back to safety? How can he find the strength to get out of bed every day? To walk out of the door every day?? Because of Tony. Because of his superhero. That’s why.

Because Tony writes back. Constantly. Weekly. Sometimes DAILY. And - hell - let's just admit it - sometimes the letters are not enough and Peter CALLS HIM ON THE PHONE. And Tony tells him it will be okay. He can stay. He can study. And then Tony starts to ask Peter about his classes, and then they are talking about maths again, and then it's all okay. Peter is okay. Because school is a GOOD thing. It is a hard thing, but Peter can do hard things. And because, when break comes, Peter can see Tony again.

And when those phone calls last long into the dark night, well, no one needs to know about that. About what happens after Peter says goodbye to Tony, after he hangs up the phone. About what Peter dreams about at night. About what Peter’s hands do in the darkness, while his ears still echo with the sound of Tony’s voice.

11 …with his stupid soulful eyes and his stupid handsome face. Peter doesn’t know if he wants to kiss him or punch him in his stupid beautiful face.

12 Really, it DID seem like Quentin was everywhere. Now that Peter knew his name, he realized he had seen Quen just about everywhere at Oxford. Funny how life throws you together sometimes.

13 Oh god, that flat tire. Peter was nothing without his bicycle. MJ and his mates would forever give him grief about it, but Peter didn’t drive. He had always been a year younger than everyone, and now he was two years behind, and driving was something that had always been done for his parents, not something that his parents did. But he had no fear, as long as he had his bike.

It would be different in the future, he knew. Tony had assured him that driving an automobile was not the mystery his parents made it out to be. Peter was smart (Tony said) and once Peter saw how it was done he would wonder why it had ever intimidated him.

Besides, Tony would teach him.

Just like Tony had taught him how to take care of his bike. Taught him how to take it apart and put it back together again. When you saw Tony in his official suit, you would never imagine what a “grease monkey” he had been in his youth. In his private time he liked to tinker with cars. Peter would never forget last summer when he had been allowed to sit in the spare garage and talk to Tony while Tony tinkered. Never forget what Tony looked like with his arms almost bare, his biceps bulging, sweat caressing his brow. Peter would remember that forever.

And Tony would actually teach Peter to drive, he was sure about it. That had been a promise. Peter thought about it often (mostly at night.) How Tony had pulled him into a friendly hug, Tony smelling of sweat and oil and something else… something… sturdy. Something strong. As if the man were made out of iron.

That’s when Tony had hugged Peter hard, clapped him on the back, and said “I’m your man, Kid.”

(He called Peter “Kid.” He was the only one allowed to call Petter “Kid.”)

“I’m your man, Kid,” he had said. Whispered, really.

“When you’re ready, I’ll teach you how to drive. I’ll teach you anything you want.”

He let go of Peter then, clapping him on both shoulders one more time. Letting his hands rest there for longer than a moment.

“When you’re ready.”

14 And while Quen could sometimes be invasive (sometimes annoyingly so) the man was a good conversationalist. Peter could talk to him for hours. And Quentin was well-read in all kinds of subjects. Really, anything Peter had latched onto, anything that caught his interest for a week or two that semester, Quentin always knew a lot about it. Whatever it was. It was uncanny, really.

15 Although when Peter DOES get home there won’t be any more letters from Tony. Which is funny, really. Peter loves those letters. Tony sometimes fills them with sketches of Saltburn - the towers or the gardens. And sometimes with sketches of Peter. “But I know what *I* look like - I see myself in the mirror every day” Peter complains. “Send me pictures of YOU.” And Tony does. Sends a single sketch of himself. In the sketch he is looking down. Looking tired. Looking a little guilty. But Peter likes to imagine Tony is looking down at something that has his complete attention. Something important.

Something like… Peter.

Yes, Peter likes looking at that picture of Tony at night. In the darkness. And then when he touches himself, he imagines his hands are Tony’s hands. Callused, but gentle. Knowing. But commanding as well…

16 …always gentle. Always helpful. Always honest. Because that’s what Tony WAS to Peter… the man who would cut through the bullshit. Cut through the pretension. Tell him the truth.

17 Because… and this was STUPID but… but Peter had a fantasy.

In that fantasy, he was done with university. He had his degree. He had freed himself, finally, from his family. And then, with his new career, with his new flat, with his new suit… he rang up Anthony.

Took him out. Took him on the town. They went to a pub together, took in a show. And then they talked. Talked like men. Talked like equals.

And then Peter took Tony home, and invited Tony into his bed.

As men.

As equals.

Only… only that’s where the fantasy abruptly ended. Because there was exactly one problem.

WHY would Tony go to bed with Peter if Peter was still a virgin??

And that’s where Quen came in.

Peter had a pesky problem, and he had set out to find another man to take care of that problem. And Quentin was that man. Peter had decided. This would be the summer - the summer that Peter lost his v-card and became a man. The kind of man that could take Tony Stark as a lover.

18 AND HOW COULD HE BE SO BAD AT IT?!? He thought he had made it CLEAR to Quen that he was ready. That he was just waiting for Q to make his move. I mean, how more obvious could Peter be?!? How many forehead kisses, blowing-kisses, and goodnight kisses, and jokes about oral sex, and late-night drinking games, would it take? Peter was being obvious, wasn’t he? He had given Q an adjoining bedroom. He had all but invited Quen to watch him bathe. He slept every night with his door open! What more did Quen want? An engraved invitation??

19 Okay maybe not so much “friend” as “boy I am using for one thing and one thing only” but hey. Friends used Peter all the time. And no matter what Quentin was, he certainly wasn’t hard to look at.

20 And it was going to be so perfect! Peter had it all planned out - he would tell Q that he spent every summer sunbathing - just like they did in France - completely in the nude. And then he and Quen would go shirtless and lay about on lawn furniture getting tanned. Shirtless - and eventually more than that. Peter had wanted so badly to do that last summer - and this time he would get up the nerve. To position himself outside the Great Hall window where Tony had his office. To take off his shirt - and maybe more - where Tony would certainly look out and see him. See his new, adult body. Realize that Peter was a man, now. A man to take seriously. A man that might want another man in his bed…

21 And okay dammit this was a big problem because that meant that PETER WAS STILL A VIRGIN HOW WAS THIS STILL A THING?!?!?!? Life was so damn unfair.

22 And, okay, maybe everyone is right. Maybe Quen does NOT belong here. Maybe everyone can see what Peter has been denying. Maybe Q IS too eager to please. Too eager to fit in. A little too obvious, too clunky, with his manipulation. But DAMMIT QUEN WAS JUST A MEANS TO AN END and Peter really REALLY can’t figure out WHY would Tony be mean to THIS particular classmate?! Dammit Peter just wanted to get laid…

At the dock MJ had demanded to know what was going on with Peter. Actually accused him of being in love with Quentin. Which was ridiculous - he wasn’t even 100% he would call Quentin a friend. Quentin was, at best, a study partner. He had invited Quen to Saltburn because of all the things he was going through at home… come on Quen’s dad having just died and his mom being a mess and…

Oh all right, let's be honest. He doesn’t even like Quentin that much. He brought Quentin back here because he thought Quentin had the hots for him. But in the end, Quentin is just one thing to Peter - a warm body. A warm body with a stiff cock, which Peter needs.

Because many things got “lost” at Saltburn, but…

… Peter’s virginity wasn’t going to get lost by itself.

#Starker #MrStarksBabyIsObviousProduction #ben's moodboards #thewitchway writes stuff #follow #MrStarksBabyIsObviousSeries #to see what other crazy things we have up our sleeve

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autistpride · 7 months ago

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How many of these famous autists do you recognize? And this isn't even a complete list!

So many amazing wonderful people are autistic. I will never understand why people hate us so much.

Actors/actresses/entertainment:

Chloe Hayden

Talia Grant

Rachel Barcellona

Sir Anthony Hopkins

Dan Akroyd

David Byrne

Darryl Hannah

Courtney Love

Jerry Seinfeld

Roseanne Barr

Jennifer Cook

Chuggaaconroy

Stephanie Davis

Rick Glassman

Paula Hamilton

Dan Harmon

Paige Layle

Matthew Labyorteaux

Wentworth Miller

Desi Napoles

Freddie Odom Jr

Kim Peek

Sue Ann Pien

Henry Rodriguez

Scott Steindorff

Ian Terry

Tara Palmer -Tomkinson

Albert Rutecki

Billy West

Alexis Wineman- Miss America contestant

Athletes:

Jessica- Jane Applegate

Michael Brannigan

David Campion

Brenna Clark

Ulysse Delsaux

Tommy Dis Brisay

Jim Eisenreich

Todd Hodgetts

John Howard

Anthony Ianni

Lisa Llorens

Clay Matzo

Frankie Macdonald

Jason McElwain

Chris Morgan

Max Park

Cody Ware

Amani Williams

Samuel Von Einem

Musicians:

Susan Boyle

Elizabeth Ibby Grace

David Byrne

Johnny Dean

Tony DeBlois

Christopher Dufley

Jody Dipiazza

Pertti Kurikka

James Jagow

Ladyhawke

Kodi Lee

Left at London

Red Lewis Clark

Abz Love

Thristan Mendoza

Heidi Mortenson

Hikari Oe

Matt Savage

Graham Sierota

SpaceGhostPurp

Mark Tinley

Donald Triplett

Aleksander Vinter

Comedians:

Hannah Gatsby

Robert White

Bethany Black

Scientists/inventors/mathematians/Researchers:

Damian Milton

Bram Cohen

Michelle Dawson

Carl Sagan

Writers:

Neil Gaimen

Mel Bags

Kage Baker

Amy Swequenza

M. Remi Yergeau

Sean Barron

Lydia X Z Brown

Matt Burning

Dani Bowman

Nicole Cliffe

Laura Kate Dale

Aoife Dooley

Corrine Duyvus

Marianne Eloise

Jory Flemming

Temple Grandin

John R Hall

Naomi Higashida

Helan Hoang

Liane Holliday Willey

Luke Jackson

Rosie King

Thomas A McKean

Johnathan Mitchell

Jack Monroe

Caiseal Mor

Morenike Giwa- Onaiwu

Jasmine O'Neill

Brant Page Hanson

Dawn Prince-Hughs

Sue Robin

Stephen Shore

Andreas Souvitos

Sarah Stup

Susanna Tamaro

Chuck Tingle

Donna Williams

Leaders:

Julia Bascom

Ari Ne'eman

Sarah Marie Acevedo

Sharon Davenport

Joshua Collins

Conner Cummings

Kevin Healy

Poom Jenson

Amy Knight

Jared O'Mara

David Nelson

Shaun Neumeier

Master Sgt. Shale Norwitz

Jim Sinclair

Judy Singer

Dr. Vernon Smith

Artists:

Miina Akkijjyrkka

Danny Beath

Deborah Berger

Larry John Bissonnette

Patrick Francis

Goby

Jorge Gutierrez

Lina Long

Johnathan Lerman

Julian Martin

Haley Moss

Morgan Harper Nichols

Tim Sharp

Gilles Tehin

Willem Van Genk

Richard Wawro

Poets:

David Eastham

Christopher Knowles

David Miedzianik

Henriette Seth F

#autism acceptance #autism acceptence month #autism #asd #autistic pride #autistic #actually audhd

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patart-illustrations-stuff · 7 days ago

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Sir Kingsley William Amis CBE (16 April 1922 – 22 October 1995),English novelist, poet, critic and teacher.Author of The James Bond Dossier and Colonel Sun, the first James Bond continuation novel.

Art from KEEPING 007 ALIVE - CONVERSATIONS WITH JAMES BOND CONTINUATION AUTHORS by Mark Edlitz, illustrations by Pat Carbajal, cover by Sean Longmore

Ian Fleming's fourteen book cycle was just the beginning for Commander Bond.

From the 1960s to 2025 and beyond, continuation authors have taken that literary Bond baton forwards and brought 007 to new readers, new timelines, new adventures and new bookshelves.

From author Mark Edlitz comes KEEPING 007 ALIVE - CONVERSATIONS WITH JAMES BOND CONTINUATION AUTHORS.

It is a unique collection of interviews with some of those Bond authors - offering new and detailed insight into the creative minds who have taken up the spy mantle.

Authors Anthony Horowitz, Raymond Benson, Sebastian Faulks, Wiliam Boyd, Jeffery Deaver, Samantha Weinberg, Steve Cole, Kim Sherwood, and Charlie Higson have all gathered to lend Edlitz their thoughts, processes and impulses.

They discuss how they were chosen for the esteemed appointment, what makes them uniquely qualified, what are the creative challenges and triumphs of inheriting such a beloved character, how they updated Bond alongside Fleming's particular legacy, and what ingredients they bought to the literary Bond canon.

#kingsley amis #colonel sun #keeping 007 alive #ian fleming #james bond #mark edlitz

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jo1027 · 18 days ago

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Epstein/Diddy client list

Here is a list of some of the Satanists endorsing/supporting Kamala Harris because they are on the Epstein/Diddy client list.

There’s a lot coming out…Beyoncé, Samual Jackson, Oprah, Barack and Mike Obama, Bill and Hillary Clinton, Sarah Jessica Parker, Eminem, Taylor Swift, Stevie Nicks, Willie Nelson, Brittney Spencer, Margo Price, Cher, Marc Anthony, Lizzo, Usher, Olivia Rodrigo, John Legend and Chrissy Teigen, Cardi B, Kesha, Billie Eilish her brother Finneas, Chappell Roan, Bruce Springsteen, Neil Young, Beyoncé’s mom Tina Knowles, Charli XCX, Whoopi Goldberg, George Clooney, Barbra Streisand, Rosie O’Donnell, Jamie Lee Curtis, Cynthia Nixon, Mindy Kaling, Tony Goldwyn, Kerry Washington, Nick Offerman, Jane Fonda, Kathy Griffin, John Stamos, Ed Helms, Tiffany Haddish, Ike Barinholtz, Matt Damon,Lin-Manuel Miranda, Aubrey Plaza, Jennifer Aniston, Mel Brooks, Lynda Carter, LeVar Burton, Anthony Rapp, Misha Collins, Mark Hamill, Robert De Niro, Jennifer Lawrence, Fran Drescher, Bryan Cranston, Anne Hathaway, Ken Burns, Spike Lee, Aaron Sorkin, Andy Cohen, Mark Cuban, Bill Gates, Martha Stewart, Geraldo Rivera, Sigourney Weaver, Reese Witherspoon, Tom Hanks and Rita Wilson, Uma Thurman, George Takei, Julia Roberts, Meryl Streep, Sharon Stone, Ben Stiller, Kristen Stewart, Martin Sheen, Mark Ruffalo, Tyler Perry, Jennifer Aniston, Demi Moore, Leonardo DiCaprio, George Clooney, Michelle Pfeiffer, Jeff Bridges, Mel Brooks, Bette Midler, Elizabeth Banks, Olivia Wilde, Portia de Rossi, Julianne Moore, Alyssa Milano, Blake Lively, Eva Longoria, Jennifer Lawrence, Ashley Judd, Katie Holmes, Ethan Hawke, Mark Hamill, Jennifer Garner, Sally Field, Morgan Fairchild, Hilary Duff, John Cusack, Jamie Lee Curtis, Lilly Colins, John Cleese, Glen Close, Mel Brooks, Ellen DeGeneres, Bill Maher, Patton Oswalt, Chris Rock, Amy Schumer, Foo Fighters, Green Day, lil Nas X, Fat Joe, Jon Bon Jovi, Lady Gaga, Ariana Grande, Selena Gomez, Joan Jett, Carole King, Jennifer Lopez, Demi Lovato, Moby, Katy Perry, Pink, Stevie Wonder (who can actually see and ain’t blind), Stephen King….

There are also designers, filmmakers, directors, writers, comedians, actors, actresses, producers, politicians, media personalities, TV presenters, loads of musicians, novelists, poets, authors, sports, football. The list is endless.

And that’s only some of them. That’s a sh*t load of blackmail they have on these people. The lists are being released in real time through the Kamala endorsements. Great way to expose these demons.

There’s so many big names being dropped, like we haven’t listed all of them. To be continued.

Subscribe to American Thinker (https://t.me/AmThinker_dailyblog)

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justforbooks · 1 year ago

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With his shrewd eyes and his forks of corn-yellow hair, Julian Sands was a natural choice to play the valiant, romantic George Emerson, who snatches a kiss from Lucy Honeychurch (Helena Bonham Carter) in a Tuscan poppy field in A Room With a View (1985). “I wanted him to be real, not a two-dimensional minor screen god,” he said. “I liked him in his lighter, sexier moments, less so when he was brooding.”

Sands, who has died aged 65 while hiking in mountains in California, was dashing in that film, but he could also project a dandyish, effete or sinister quality. He was blessed with a mellifluous voice and a lean, youthful, fine-boned face, even if, as a child, his brothers insisted he resembled a horse. (He agreed.) In James Ivory’s film of EM Forster’s novel, he was pure heart-throb material. His participation in the notorious nude bathing scene was no impediment to the picture’s success.

Prior to that, he had played the journalist Jon Swain in The Killing Fields (1984), Roland Joffé’s drama about the bloody rise of the Khmer Rouge in Cambodia. The picture marked the beginning of his friendship with his co-star John Malkovich. “I’d been cautioned by Roland to keep my distance from John because he was an unstable character,” Sands recalled. “And John had been told by Roland to stay away from me, because I was a refined, sensible person who didn’t want to be distracted. In fact, we bonded instantly.”

Malkovich directed Sands in a one-man show in which he read Harold Pinter’s poetry. First staged in 2011, the production had its origins in an occasion six years earlier when Pinter, suffering from oesophageal cancer, had asked Sands to read in his stead at a benefit event in St Stephen Walbrook church in the City of London. The writer “sat in the front row with his stone basilisk stare”, Sands recalled.

Not all his work was so highfalutin, and a good deal of it fell into the category of boisterous, campy fun. In Ken Russell’s Gothic (1986), he played the poet Shelley, who indulges in sex, drugs and séances with Lord Byron (Gabriel Byrne) and the future Mary Shelley (Natasha Richardson), and is prone to recite verse naked in thunderstorms.

In a similar vein but far less deranged was Impromptu (1991), which brought together other notable 19th-century figures including George Sand (Judy Davis) and Frederic Chopin (Hugh Grant). Sands, who played Franz Liszt, described it as “Carry On Composer��.

Born in Otley, West Yorkshire, he was raised in Leeds and Gargrave, near Skipton; he later described his childhood as “part conservative and part Huckleberry Finn”. His mother, Brenda, was a Tory councillor and leading light of the local amateur dramatic society, while his father, William, who left when Julian was three, was a soil analyst. Julian made his acting debut in a local pantomime at the age of eight.

At 13, he won a scholarship to Lord Wandsworth college, Hampshire. He moved to London to study at Central School of Speech and Drama, and while there became friends with Derek Jarman. He played the Devil in an extended promotional video that Jarman directed in 1979 for Marianne Faithfull’s album Broken English. The role had been intended for David Bowie, who dropped out at the eleventh hour. “You’re devilish,” Jarman told Sands. “You can play it.”

The actor’s first film appearance came in an adaptation of Peter Nichols’s stage comedy Privates on Parade (1983), starring John Cleese and Denis Quilley, from which his one line of dialogue was cut. There was more rotten luck when he won the lead in a new Tarzan movie, only for the financing to fall through. It was eventually filmed as Greystoke: The Legend of Tarzan, Lord of the Apes (1984), with Christopher Lambert donning the hallowed loin-cloth.

On television, he starred with Anthony Hopkins in the miniseries A Married Man (1983). In Oxford Blues (1984), he was a rower butting heads with a Las Vegas parking attendant (Rob Lowe) who has tricked his way into a place at Oriel College. He was in The Doctor and the Devils (1985), inspired by the Burke and Hare case. “I had a roll in the hay with Twiggy which took about 15 takes,” he said.

Following A Room With a View, he agreed to play the lead in Ivory’s next Forster adaptation, Maurice (1987), before abruptly dropping out and fleeing to the US. In the process, he left behind his wife, the journalist Sarah Sands (nee Harvey), who described him as “restless” and “dramatic”, and their son, Henry. “I’m not the first person to create stability and security and then dismantle it even more effectively than I created it,” the actor said.

Once in America he took on an array of film parts. In Warlock (1989), he played the son of Satan, wreaking havoc in modern-day Los Angeles. Investing this pantomime villain with lip-smacking brio, he was likened by the Washington Post to a “hell-bent Peter Pan” and nominated for best actor in the Fangoria Chainsaw awards. He reprised the role in Warlock: The Armageddon (1993).

As an entomologist in Arachnophobia (1990), he was called upon to have as many as a hundred spiders crawling all over his face. Alternating these mainstream projects with arthouse ones, he played a diplomat in pre-war Poland in Krzysztof Zanussi’s Wherever You Are … (1988) and a monk in Night Sun (1990), the Taviani brothers’ adaptation of Tolstoy’s short story Father Sergius.

For the Canadian horror director David Cronenberg, he starred in the warped and witty Naked Lunch (1991), which disproved those who had declared William S Burroughs’s original novel unfilmable. Just as outré but less accomplished was Boxing Helena (1993), directed by Jennifer Lynch, daughter of David. Sands played a surgeon who keeps a woman captive by making her a quadruple amputee.

After starring as a young classics teacher in his friend Mike Figgis’s film of Terence Rattigan’s The Browning Version (1994), Sands worked a further six times with that director, appearing in his movies even when he was an unorthodox choice for the job in hand. One example was the part of a menacing Latvian pimp in Leaving Las Vegas (1996).

Later roles include a mysteriously unblemished Phantom in Dario Argento’s version of The Phantom of the Opera (1998), Louis XIV (whom Sands described as “the first supermodel”) in Joffé’s Vatel (2000), a crime kingpin named Snakehead in the Jackie Chan vehicle The Medallion (2003), a computer security wizard in the comic caper Ocean’s Thirteen (2007), a younger version of the businessman played by Christopher Plummer in David Fincher’s take on The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo (2011) and a sadistic paedophile in the gruelling wartime odyssey The Painted Bird (2019).

On television, he was a Russian entrepreneur in the fifth season of 24 (2006) and the hero’s father, Jor-El, in two episodes of the Superman spin-off Smallville (2009). For the BBC, he played two very different actors in factually based one-off specials: first Laurence Olivier in Kenneth Tynan: In Praise of Hardcore (2005), then John Le Mesurier in We’re Doomed! The Dad’s Army Story (2015).

His recent work includes Benediction, Terence Davies’s haunting study of Siegfried Sassoon, and the thriller The Survivalist (both 2021), which found him back in the company of Malkovich. One of several titles still awaiting release is the drama Double Soul (2023) starring F Murray Abraham and Paz Vega.

Sands never stopped wandering, walking, running and climbing. “I am on a perpetual Grand Tour,” he said in 2000. Asked in 2018 about his eclectic career, he explained: “I was looking for something exotic, things that took me out of myself. I think I found myself a little boring.”

He was reported missing while out in the San Gabriel mountains, north of Los Angeles, in mid-January 2023. His remains were found in June.

In 1990 he married Evgenia Citkowitz. She survives him, along with their two daughters, Imogen and Natalya, and his son.

🔔 Julian Richard Morley Sands, actor, born 4 January 1958; died circa 13 January 2023

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

#JUST FOR BOOKS #Julian Sands #in memoriam

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