#alastair miles

[aschenblumen]

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Mass in C minor, K 427. John Eliot Gardiner, director Barbara Bonney, soprano Anne Sofie von Otter, mezzosoprano Anthony Rolfe Johnson, tenor Alastair Miles, bajo 

[gollancz]

April 2023 Audio and eBook Deals!

We have some DEALS! CHEAP BOOKS! Roll up, roll up!

🎧Audible UK🎧

Price Deals!

The Tombs of Atuan, Ursula K. Le Guin - £2.99 between 16th and 22nd April

20th Century Ghosts (containing 'The Black Phone'), Joe Hill - £2.99 between 16th and 22nd April

2-for-1 - 6th-15th April

Red Country, Joe Abercrombie

Altered Carbon, Richard Morgan

Revenger, Alastair Reynolds

2-for-1 - 23rd-30th April

The Tower of the Swallow, Andrzej Sapkowski & David French

📚Kindle UK📚

99p titles ALL MONTH

A Wizard of Earthsea (Earthsea 1), Ursula K. Le Guin

The Tombs of Atuan (Earthsea 2), Ursula K. Le Guin

The Left Hand of Darkness, Ursula K. Le Guin

The Dispossessed, Ursula K. Le Guin

Ubik, Philip K. Dick

The Fall of Hyperion, Dan Simmons

Elantris, Brandon Sanderson

Blood of Elves, Andrzej Sapkowski & Danusia Stok

Chronicles of the Black Company, Glen Cook

Permutation City, Greg Egan

The Blacktongue Thief, Christopher Buehlman

Lord Foul's Bane, Stephen Donaldson

Empire of Silence, Christopher Ruocchio

Halfway to the Grave, Jeaniene Frost

The Wise Man's Fear, Patrick Rothfuss

The Forever War, Joe Haldeman

99p titles between 17th-30th April

Against All Gods, Miles Cameron

The Last Unicorn, Peter S. Beagle

Blake's 7, Terry Nation

The This, Adam Roberts

Immortal Rising, Lynsay Sands

The Killing God, Stephen Donaldson

Seasparrow, Kristin Cashore

The Flight of the Aphrodite, S. J. Morden

🚨99p for JUST ONE DAY - 9th April!🚨

Ninth House, Leigh Bardugo

[twittercomfrnklin2001-blog]

Stage Fright

It's impossible to discuss Alfred Hitchcock’s STAGE FRIGHT (1950, TCM) without getting into the ending, so if you’ve never seen it or heard much about it and want to maintain your innocence on the subject STOP READING NOW.

And now the rest of you still reading can join me in laughing at the ones who stopped.

Just joking. But let’s get on with the discussion.

Acting student Eve Gill (Jane Wyman) has a crush on a man (Richard Todd) who tells her, in flashback, he’s been having an affair with an actress (Marlene Dietrich) who’s just murdered her husband. In attempting to cover up for her, Todd claims to have made himself the chief suspect, so Wyman hides him with her father’s (Alastair Sim) help and masquerades as Dietrich’s maid to try to get the goods on her.

Hitchcock always said his mistake in STAGE FRIGHT was opening the film with a flashback that lies. More recent critics (and those pesky French) have hailed the device as a witty subversion of genre expectations. I think it could indeed work that way in another movie. I think if one set up the characters properly, discovering the plucky young woman and her eccentric father had gone to a great deal of bother to protect a guilty man would make for a solid post-modern detective thriller. But here the characters aren’t set up at all before the flashback starts. The film opens on Wyman driving Todd to get away from the police as he tells her his story (which includes seeing Wyman in an acting class at RADA doing a scene from high comedy, and that may be a bigger crime than the story’s murder). It all feels too abrupt, and it seems to take forever to get to know the characters.

Of course, in Wyman’s case there isn’t much of a character to get to know. Hitchcock wanted a star, and he was working at Warner Bros., and she was their top female star at the time. But though she had done good work in lots of other films. she’s all wrong for the role. Eve has to be implusive and energetic and, above all, innocent. When she realizes she’s falling in love with the detective (Michael Wilding) on the case, she needs to be winsome and vulnerable.  The younger Wyman could have played that, but after years of fighting to get anywhere at Warner Bros. she’s about as winsome as a Mac truck. It’s like watching Norma Shearer trying vainly to become Elizabeth Barrett Browning or Juliet. The business has kicked all the necessary elements of those characters right out of her. The film drags whenever she’s on screen, which is a lot. Wilding is charming in their love scenes, but he might as well be playing to a brick wall. Fortunately, there are some wonderful British character actors on the periphery: Sim, Sybil Thorndike, Miles Malleson, Kay Walsh and Joyce Grenfell as the lady with the lovely duckies.

And, of course, there’s Dietrich. The woman is a holy wonder, one of the screen’s supreme technicians. When Wyman doesn’t move her face for fear of betraying her age, she projects almost nothing. Dietrich’s face may be even more frozen, but she knows how to move her head, her eyes — it’s almost cellular. Watch the way she holds her feet performing Cole Porter’s “The Laziest Girl in Town,” and you’ll realize what an amazing artist she was. She knows how to write the script with her voice and her body. In the midst of a poorly constructed screenplay, she creates a compelling character who draws you in. When the film has to cut from her final closeup (which is almost breathtaking) to get to the rather clumsy denouement, it’s hard to care what happens to anybody else.

[oceanusborealis]

Andor (Star Wars: Andor): Season 1 – TV Review

Andor (Star Wars: Andor): Season 1 – TV Review

TL;DR – Some of the best Star Wars I have seen since the original trilogy.   ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Rating: 4.5 out of 5. Disclosure – I paid for the Disney+ service that viewed this series.Post-Credit Scene – There is a Post-Credit scene at the end of Rix Road. Andor Review – When I heard that they would do a prequel to Rogue One, which was already a prequel to the Original Trilogy, I was concerned. Add to…

[automotiveamerican]

Reliving an epic 12000-mile adventure in a Ford Model A - Alastair Clements @Classic&SportsCar

It was 1962. My wife Jan and I had recently graduated in our respective vocations, her as a kindergarten teacher and me in architecture. When we met, Jan had a ticket booked on a liner bound for the UK, but those plans were put on ice and it was marriage for us instead. Before we got together I had done a fair bit of travelling, including a six-month stint in Japan, so seeing the world was high…

[gollancz]

Ohohohoh we do love a SPACE BOOK

There is a very specific type of science fiction book cover that never fails to make me go apeshitwild and it's as simple as this: A spaceship and/or a celestial body, set in high contrast against the dark backdrop of space, with the author's name in a large sometimes glowing font. Here are some fine examples:

[destieltropecollection]

Destiel Trope Collection 2024 | Day 20: Canon Compliant

hunger | @autisticandroids Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1,632 Main Tags/Warnings: Endverse Cas/Dean, Endverse, Bittersweet, Discussion of Lazarus Rising, Angel True Forms, Dirty Talk, Fade to Black Summary: Endverse Cas talks about what it was like to have Dean inside him.

There'll be peace when you are done - are you done? | @brainfuzz Rating: General Word Count: 3,216 Main Tags/Warnings: Post-Finale, Post-Episode: s15e20 Carry On,Post-Canon Fix-It,Fix-It Summary: Like most fans, I thought the final episode was terrible. I also thought were gaps that made no sense, and not just the missing people (who was Sam's wife, really), but gaps in the story. The biggest gaps for me were the “find anything? Yeah I got something” leading to a pie festival, which somehow abruptly turned into a vampire clown clownpires, clowpires? hunt, with no explanation of how that happened. So, I figured it out. And fixed the ending so it made sense all at the same time.

no proof one touch | @watchinghimrakeleaves Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 5,389 Main Tags/Warnings: Post-Finale, Love Confessions, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Dean Winchester in Heaven, Castiel and Dean Winchester Reunion in Heaven, Castiel is Jack Kline's Parent, Everyone Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester Summary: When Castiel learns that Dean has entered heaven, he's determined to avoid him to save them both the pain of dealing with his confession. Dean is equally as determined to find him, leading him to put up signs for Cas anywhere he thinks the angel might be.

Day after day, sorrow in his heart | @silver-stake-through-the-heart Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 20,058 Main Tags/Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Dean Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural), Alastair (Supernatural), Jack Kline, Mary Winchester, Sam Winchester, God | Chuck Shurley, POV Dean Winchester, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Angst, Emotional Hurt, Mental Breakdown, Self-Loathing, Suicidal Ideation, Suicide Attempt, Pining Dean Winchester, References to John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Brief Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester, Self-Blaming Dean Winchester, Nightmares, Castiel's Handprint (Supernatural), Episode: s04e01 Lazarus Rising (Supernatural), Temporarily Human Castiel (Supernatural), Demon Dean Winchester Arc, Godstiel Arc, Dean Winchester's Season 13 Widower Arc, Castiel and Dean Winchester's Season 15 Divorce Arc, Episode: s15e18 Despair - Castiel's Confession Scene (Supernatural), Post-Episode AU: s15e19 Inherit the Earth (Supernatural), Hopeful Ending Summary: Everything begins when he crawls out of a tomb with no name, where he's been buried alone. So alone, in fact, there isn't a single living soul miles and miles around. Everything begins earlier, but he can't remember it. Everything begins later, in a barn, and each second of it is engraved in his memory. There are so many beginnings for this story, and so many ends—each and every one breaking his heart.

An Abundance of Light (WIP) | @presentlydean & catidono (AO3) Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 56,340 Main Tags/Warnings: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Donna Hanscum & Jody Mills, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Castiel & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Castiel & Jack Kline, Slow Burn, Original Characters - Freeform, nephilim & cambion, Jack as God, hunter hub Sam Winchester, Eileen deserved better 2k22, Internalized Homophobia, Canon-Typical Internalized Homophobia, Suicidal Thoughts, Self-Isolation, self-destructive behaviors, Communication Issues, Canon-Typical Violence, Angst with a Happy Ending, kissing for comfort and also gay, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Past Child Abuse, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Panic Attacks, conflicting love languages, They're stupid your honor Summary: Jack’s new rules for heaven are simple: no intervening in human affairs. But when Dean is mortally wounded on a hunt, that simple directive becomes impossible for Castiel to follow, so he does what he does best and rebels, returning to earth to save Dean. But life on earth after Chuck is more complicated than any of them could have predicted. Dean retreats from the world, Castiel struggles to meet Jack’s expectations, and Castiel’s deathbed confession still hangs unresolved between them. They are free now, but having freedom and knowing what to do with it are two different things. After years of trauma and pain, learning to make a different kind of choice—a kind that will allow them to heal—is easier said than done.

Far From Heaven: Part One | @Taymarpigeon Rating: Explicit Word Count: 102,086 Main Tags/Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Heavy Angst, Gratuitous Smut, Fluff, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Top/Bottom Versatile Castiel/Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Dean Winchester Has Internalized Homophobia, Homophobic John Winchester, Extremely Dubious Consent, Wing Kink, Canon-Typical Violence, Angelic Grace as Lube (Supernatural)Angelic Grace-Powered Orgasms (Supernatural)Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Dom/sub, POV Alternating, BDSM, Risk Aware Consensual Kink Summary: For years people have joked about Dean and Cas being boyfriends, Dean shrugged it off 'cause, well, reasons. As for Cas? Well he's Cas! Probably didn't even know what his dick was for before Metatron stole his Grace. But Metatron did steal his Grace. Cas is human now. And Dean certainly knows what his dick is for. Sometimes a relationship doesn't start with flowers and a boombox held on your shoulder outside your crush's bedroom window. Sometimes it starts with a homicidal Angel, a failed date, and arguing in a storm.

[riottsrph]

hii angels !! i'm trying something a little bit different since i have a ENDLESS list of MUSE NAMES that i'll never use so, below the line you'll find an uncategorized list of FIRST NAMES incase you're stuck.

case.    cason.    amala.    jackman.    angel.    astara.     jailyn.    aliya.    aisha.    ruby.    elijah.    elias.    miley.    olivia.    starr.    paisley.    jackson.    oliver.    deven.    jupiter.    danielle.    austin.    kenzie.    urban.    demetria.    saraya.    sirah.    malcolm.    benito.    matteo.    nicole.    brianna.    caitlyn.    mason.    eden.    adelina.    addelyn.    bailey.    avery.    arlo.    daylon.    daisy.    abel.    adel.    derric.    carli.    brendan.    asher.    ash.    ashley.    chandler.    monica.    ford.    gavin.    matthew.    dorin.    daiton.    doran.    orion.    everly.    cody.    dakota.    kota.    ezra.    even.    astro.    amethyst.    carlton.    farren.    farley.    faith.    charlie.    henry.    eli.    dixie.    peyton.    greyson.    luci.    lucien.    damon.    aries.    ace.    yasmine.    jasmine.    nicola.    buddy.    miles.    malvin.    mal.    echo.    xanthe.    ambrose.    wyatt.    theo/theodore.    simon.    casper.    marcel.    cyrus.    alastair.    ivory.    ivy.    blaire.    adelaide.    phillipe.    ian.    rowan.    gage.    tyler.    russ.    frankie.    franko.    deja.    paige.    elliot.    emory.    emiliano.    ember.    atlas.    alta.    luna.    maria.    mckenzie.    beau.    hunter.    tana.    vinnie.    raye.    kaylum.    callum.    joshua.    dawson.    daz.    dax.    ghost.    coazy.    keiley.    isla.    amore.    chanel.    madison.    arianna.    korina.    tana.    selene.    jericho.    june.    leray.    halo.    esme.    renesme.    harlow.    devonne.    devon.    rain.    river.

[audreyhepburninblackandwhite]

Audrey Hepburn's cover story for Illustrated's 2 June 1951 issue.

Carefree, off and on duty.

Audrey — The Other Hepburn

Photography by Joseph McKeown Story by Charles Hammlett

After four years of theatres, cabarets, and films, a young dancer takes a day off from career building

The Sphinx of Hollywood, otherwise Katharine Hepburn, actress and movie performer, recently spent a few days in this country wrapped in rain and  mystery, and wearing an old pair of eye-catching, publicity-snatching slacks. As one of the country’s legends, Miss Hepburn has earned the right to flinch at the rustle of a reporter’s notebook, or to duck at the sound of a photographer’s footfall.

Even as pressmen determinedly pounded the Hepburn beat, a few miles away at Ealing Studios another Hepburn was quietly performing in front of the camera—as yet blissfully unaware of the hysterical mobs and frustrated fanatics who often make the lives of Hepburns, Stanwycks, Gables, or Turners unendurable.

This other Hepburn was Audrey—Britain’s answer to every filmgoer’s hungry dreams. Twenty-two, brainy, beautiful, tantalizing, and talented, she is a girl of simple tastes to travel to Ealing by Underground from Marble Arch, takes Sunday afternoon strolls in Hyde Park, and stops to listen to the geniuses of Orator’s Corner.

Restful spirit at Rottingdean . . .

Over a gate for home . . .

She rides on buses or browses in the Charing Cross Road bookshops. Visits to cinemas and theatres are still fun for her. Given a day off, she will rush to the coast and join countless other holidaymakers. Audrey Hepburn is also a hard and fast worker. Just over two years ago, Jack Hylton selected her from 2,000 other girls to dance in High Button Shoes. After this “break,” Audrey tripped into the chorus of Sauce Tartare. There she caugh the eye of producer Cecil Landeaus sufficiently to be given a solo part in his sequel Sauce Piquante. This, in turn, caught the attention of the theatre critics and the public.

Among the regulars who went to see Audrey’s performance was film producer Mario Zampi. He went fourteen times. Like many pretty showgirls, Audrey had frequently been told she ought to be in films. Zampi not only said it, he gave her a small part in Alastair Sim’s Laughter in Paradise. Other “meatier” parts followed in The Lavender Hill Mob and Young Wives’ Tale. She obtained a contract with Associated British Pictures and a leading part in Ealing’s The Secret People—before her first three pictures were released. During the next few months, filmgoers will be able to make up their own minds about Audrey. They will see a lithe, dark-hair, large-eyed girl who slightly resembles Jean Simmons. Unlike Jean, however, Audrey has a cosmopolitan and somber background.

Secret performances for members of Dutch Resistance were some of Audrey’s experiences during the war. Now, at twenty-two, she takes the part of a refugee dancer in the film The Secret People.

A mixture of Scots, Belgian, and Dutch, she was in Belgium at the outbreak of war. After the Belgian capitulation, the family moved to Arnhem. Their house there was shelled during the airborne landing.

It was at Arnhem that she made her first public appearance as an entertainer. Black, or secret, concerts were given in private houses by performers who had refused to join the German sponsored “Chamber of Culture.” Audrey, then fifteen, was invited to appear at one of these concerts. Her mother helped her to make costumes from old curtains and chair covers. Later, conditions became so bad that cothes and jewellery were sold to provide food for the family.

Looked at from the Mayfair flat where she now lives with her mother, these days seem unreal. Though she entered show business as a dancer, Audrey is rapidly developing as an actress. Unusually tall for films—she is 5'7"—she has passed the stage where producers can brush her off by telling her she is “too lofty for camera work.” A girl with her potential star value can be as tall as a giraffe and still get by.

Audrey Hepburn could gracefully occupy a star’s chair in Britain’s studios. She might even attract some of the international attention now lavished on “Katie” Hepburn, and enable that much harassed star to pursue her life far from the madding crowd.

[the-merry-thieves]

TLH Couples as Taylor Swift Songs

Because I wanted to connect two things I love :)

Cordelia & James: "You’re Losing Me" (throughout CoG and CoI) and "Lover" (end of CoT)

You're Losing Me: Cordelia had to pretend that she was fine and didn't love James for so long, and thought she needed to endure it alone. She gave James her "best mes", "endless empathy", until she couldn't anymore. Seeing James embrace Grace at the end of CoI was the final straw after years of slowly "losing" her because of Grace's spell

Then I threw in Lover because after all the emotional turmoil they've been through, they deserve a cute little love song now that they're finally happily married for real

Cordelia & Matthew: "Wonderland"

This song just captures the mood of their lil spontaneous Paris getaway - trying to escape reality by throwing themselves into the wonderland of Paris (also, Cheshire cat smile and green eyes; come on, this song was made for our favorite charming, tortured-soul green-eyed boy)

Thomas & Alastair: "Begin Again"

This song is Thomas giving Alastair everything that Charles could never, and helping Alastair see that he is worthy of love and deserves the world (someone please give me more Thomastair x Taylor Swift suggestions, I could definitely do better but I can't think of more rn)

Lucie & Jesse: "Enchanted"

Every time I hear this song I think of the scene where Jesse tells Lucie to command him to dance, and then they dance together, and "the night was hushed, enchanted". One of my favorite Ghostwriter (do people use this ship name) scenes. Truly only the very first page; Lucie was determined to see him (*alive*) again...

Grace & Christopher: "Mine"

Because Grace & Christopher deserved to live in happiness together and we can just pretend the last 200 pages of CoT never happened! I think of this song as their story that *could* have been. It represents how Kit brought out the best in Grace and forgave her past wrongs, and how Grace didn't think she could have true romantic feelings for anyone ("wondering why we bothered with love") until she met Kit

Anna & Ari: "Untouchable" and "I Can See You"

I imagine Untouchable as Ari talking about Anna and how she's this emotionally guarded, beautiful but unattainable figure; in CoI she describes Anna as "hard and bright as a diamond. Untouchable" & "like starlight... it seemed warm and radiant and near, but was in truth uncountable miles away". I think this song depicts how Ari sees Anna so perfectly

As for I Can See You, the sensual, clandestine romance in this song is so Anna & Ari. There's just something inherently sapphic about a secret love

(Bonus?) Tatiana & Rupert: "right where you left me"

No explanation needed for this one...

---------------------------------------------------

Give me all of your favorite Shadowhunters-inspired music suggestions!

The blue text is quotes from the songs and the purple text is quotes from the books, if anyone cares

[retromotherfuckers]

When the Sun Sets - Part 4

Adriadne

Characters:

adriadne/morgan winchester (OC), dean winchester, sam winchester

Summary:

adriadne finds out who she was before she went to hell. and the winchesters will not rest until they fix what their sister did all those years ago.

Warnings (for entire story):

SPN typical violence, so so much suppressing of emotions, vague mention of SA, depiction of torture, a very pro-torture main character, murder, vague mention of not eating for a while, parental abuse, slight suicidal ideation, SPN typical alcohol abuse, spoiler warning up to the end of season 10, following canon stops after the end of season 2 but things are sure to be mentioned

Word Total:

4k ~ roughly

A/N:

hi, so sorry its been so long, but i finally got the inspiration to continue writing this little mini series. i'm not convinced anyone is still interested in this story, but here's part 4. there's a little hatred towards blondes in this chapter - guys i actually love blonde hair i think its gorgeous - your girl is just a demon. my search history after writing this chapter, god help me.

this takes place loosely around season 10 and i kind of combined when sam tries to cure crowley with when he cures dean.

let me tell you, writing about a person who has no idea what's real is not easy to make good - its a 0/10 for me and i'm not convinced i even succeeded at that

italics = inner thoughts/memories

dean: 36, morgan: 35 (her body is 27), sam: 32

Adriadne vaguely remembered hating the moon coming up when she was human. For some reason, she detested nighttime and all that came with it. She had wanted to believe she wasn't as bad as the humans when she was one. But as she roamed the street of whatever bumblefuck town she was in, she remembered staring blankly at a street lamp once.

It was the only light she had seen for several miles. It illuminated a small bus stop with a bench and a pay phone attached to it. She was in some loud car, with even louder music playing, with her intolerably quiet family. The faces, names, and details of any of them had been long washed away. Somebody in her family needed to make a call, so they stopped, and she was left alone for a few minutes. The yellow beams that kept that area lit were the only thing keeping her from panicking. She had assumed she was only a child in the memory because, I mean, seriously? An adult scared of the dark?

If she had been an adult, Satan help her if she was, it would have been further proof of how weak humans are. Actually, regardless, it was proof. There was no light in Hell. Everything was dark, and only with the sight of a demon could anyone see. She bristled at the thought. Since being on Earth, she had no desire to go back downstairs. 

The darkness of the night did give her a little sense of reminiscence, though. Of home, Alastair, Crowley, her tools. Where she could roam freely without having to cling to that damn sack of flesh. But the daytime was a close second, in her opinion. The sun, as bright and almost blinding as it was, was warm. And it felt…kind of nice.

Turned out, she was a natural blonde, a type of blonde that got even lighter when she lay in the sun. And that rubbed her the wrong way. Like, who was actually blonde nowadays? Every blonde Alastair assigned to her was quickly scalped. And when they were healed, she would do it again. Then, she'd make them drink anti-freeze because many of them had blue eyes. It really had been a fun game.

Watching them die slowly and painfully was always an excellent way to waste an hour. And when they were brought back to life, it was back to her regularly scheduled programming.

It sucked even more that she had blue eyes too. They were so light. Like the human fucking sky or some shit. She liked her black eyes. They were who she was, a dark and malevolent visitor on this planet of fluffy little bunnies. 

At the sound of a whistle, a very loud one, she turned to find the source. "Damn, baby." The man said. He was some random guy on the corner of the street, watching her as she walked. "What's your name?"

She planted a demure little smile like she was so flattered by the attention. With a blush, she said, "Mary."

He smirked. "Are you a virgin, too?"

Imbecile, she groaned inside her head. She had heard that joke back home. It was usually the first thing a demon said when assigned someone with that name. After hearing it for the first time, she chuckled. The second time, she grinned. The fifty-seventh? She ignored it. 

Come up with something new, people, will you?

She flashed some doe eyes at him and pretended to blush even more. "How did you know?"

"I tend to sense these things."

"Oh, do you?" She asked with a grin, flashing her natural eyes at him. But before he could scream, she was slitting his throat.

When the jugular veins are severed, there is a relatively low spray of dark red blood, accompanied by the sound of escaping air, and the human coughs it up. So, to get a forceful spray of bright red, Adriadne's favorite, she cuts the carotid. And usually aims to sever the trachea so they gasp and wither at her feet. And with this guy? She hit the nail on the head.

It only takes a few minutes, but it's such a satisfying death. Being in the land of the living, slitting throats quickly became one of her favorite forms of sending them exactly where they belonged.

When Sam and Dean Winchester caught wind of a case; six hundred sixty-four bodies across the country with a slit throat and the Latin symbol for "hellhound" carved over their right eyebrow, they got on it. They didn't want to let it get to that magic number.

And when they got to the most recent crime scene, Lena Franklin, a thirty-one-year-old female - mother of three - with the same injuries, they found who they were looking for, taking another victim. Only they weren't expecting to find their sister standing over the body.

After knocking her out and locking her up, they summoned Crowley as soon as possible. It was like their lives depended on it, or really, it was their sister's life that they were worried about.

And when he explained the situation to them, they knew what they had to do.

With a whine, Adriadne awoke in a strange room. Filled with walls of file cabinets and Enochian or Latin symbols. She tried to rub at her head, where that damn vase had been thrown at her, but she noticed she was chained down. Usually, she wouldn't have an issue with chains; she could break through steel, and they were so satisfying when some human tried to escape them. But not only were these not steel chains, they were iron. And they had warding signs carved in them.

Fucking hunters.

Surprisingly, if there was any human she didn't entirely detest, it was hunters. They were more robust than the rest and really knew what the real world was like. But they were after her, so now, they had to die. Slowly, bloody, painfully.

"Welcome back, jackass," A voice she recognized said. The same voice threw the vase at her however many hours ago. It was the shorter of the two, but he had the more resounding voice. They were tall for humans, but the other was way bigger. Gigantor also seemed like he was friendlier, the dumbass.

She had heard of the Winchester brothers in Hell. Sam and Dean, she believed their names were. Two brooding brothers with mommy and daddy issues that jumpstarted the apocalypse. Then they fixed it and sent Lucifer back into his cage with Michael. They'd been in and out of hell themselves a few times. The only humans to ever accomplish such feats.

Clearly, they weren't stupid, but goddamn, were they annoying.

Sam was younger but a bit more book-smart, and Dean was the older but sarcastic one. She vaguely knew they had a thing for dying for each other, but that only made her roll her eyes like she so often did at these creatures.

"Dean," Sam scolded.

"And what a warm one at that. You ever have people over?" She groaned. The boys didn't respond, both just shaking their heads. They started pulling stuff out of a cooler, and she read what it said on it with a scoff. "Human blood? You're seriously gonna try and cure me?"

"Yep," Dean deadpanned.

"Oh, please," Adriadne drawled as her head fell back on her shoulders. "Spare me."

"You're a demon, Mo," The youngest said, like it was the worst thing in the world she could be. "We're not just gonna leave you like this."

"Mo? Who the hell is Mo?"

"Morgan," Dean explained, his voice monotone but somehow angry at the same time. "Our sister. The human that you used to be. So we're doing what we should'a done years ago. And saving you. Even if it is from yourself."

"Your sister?"

"Yeah," Sam quipped, annoyed. "Crowley said you wouldn't remember."

"Crowley's the one that-"

"We know," Dean said. "Just shut up."

I didn't even know the Winchesters had a sister, Adriadne thought. But to hell if she wanted to become a damn human. Why would she even consider it? "Ever think maybe your sister wouldn't wanna be saved?"

"Doesn't matter." The oldest Winchester remarked, his voice flat. "You don't get a choice."

With a huff, Adriadne chuckled darkly. "Just let me go do what I wanna do. I don't bother you; you don't bother me. So what the hell do you care?"

"What do we care?" Sam asked, almost dejectedly. He shook his head, not dignifying her with a response, and started pouring holy water around the devil's trap. Reciting the Latin to start the ritual, he grabbed a needle, loaded it up with human blood, and handed it to Dean.

Adriadne looked at her supposed brothers, she didn't even know their birth order. She knew Dean was the oldest and Sam was the youngest. But where did she fit in the lineup? "You got anything stronger in there? Some heroin? Meth? Maybe it'd really make me feel somethin'."

"Don't worry, honey, you're gonna feel a lot."

And before she could fight it, he put the syringe in her arm and pumped the blood directly into her arm. She could feel it coursing through her veins, traveling through her bones, her arteries, her cells. Weaving its way throughout her body like an itch you can't scratch. Involuntarily, she let out a loud roar, a demonic roar, of pain. This damn human blood did not agree with her.

"Look," Sam said as both brothers backed away from her. "We've got a whole bunch more of these to go. You could make this a lot easier on yourself."

"And just in case some part of you gives a crap, we got your blood type."

"You wanna know something?" Adriadne asked, but a new wave of pain from the human blood cut her off. She groaned but wouldn't let it cut her off too long. She was a demon, after all, and pain had never been something she feared. It was something she admired, longed for, craved. "The part of your sister that cared died a long time ago."

Five times, the Winchester brothers had streamlined her with human blood. They didn't say anything when they came in this time, silently injecting her with round six. Like it was the only thing keeping them from breaking.

Adriadne was a demon; she knew that. But now things were becoming a little muddled. There had been small things, small tidbits of images popping in and out of her brain.

They weren't like dreams or nightmares. They were more like poorly done movies of being beaten by someone she was supposed to call her father. Dreams of fighting with her siblings, where even they'd beaten her - but also when she fought back, and they took the beatings themselves. She won and lost over and over, losing the fight when Sam left them for school, winning when Dean tried to get her to stop seeing her high school boyfriend, losing when Dean took away the knife he gave her, and winning when she eventually stole it back. She remembered watching their so-called father yell and scream, practically torturing who she was told were her brothers. She remembered not being able to do anything about it.

She saw herself hunting other creatures - not humans, but monsters. Vampires, werewolves, ghosts, djinns, banshees, rugarus. She saw herself taking beatings from them, nearly dying from her injuries several times. She saw herself lose her virginity to a sweet guy from her high school at the time. She saw herself take that night and turn it into a string of drunken one-night stands.

She saw her father coming home drunk almost every night, beaten up. She saw herself patching him up, giving him stitches when necessary. She'd been the one to set her brother's bones when they were broken or dislocated. She'd have to be the one to reset her own because none of them were as good as she was at it. She saw the woman who was supposed to be her mother burn to death on a ceiling as her older brother - a toddler himself - pulled her and her little brother to safety.

And she remembered her father dying, making a deal with a demon to keep his oldest son alive and breathing. Then she remembered doing the same thing for her younger brother.

"You're the Winchesters," Adriadne drawled. "You're hunters. So am I an idiot to assume what you're gonna do once you realize this won't work? You think you got the stomach for that? Killing the girl you think is your sister?"

"We're not worried," Sam denied. "Because we've done this before."

It had been nine hours, nine injections of human blood in her veins, and she could name nine parts of her body she could barely move. She hadn't felt so useless since she was on the rack, and even then, she had a purpose. To postpone, to make it as long as she could. Alastair had given her a choice. Stay on, deal with the consequences, or get off, and then do it to someone else who deserved it too.

She had been at the end of her rope; her soul was already ripped to shreds. And then they healed her and broke it again.

The humans deserved it - that's what she was taught.

But then, why was I the one on the rack? I'm not human.

Yes, I am. Or...I was.

No. My name is Ad-Adria-

She had been having so many memories over the last several hours. But they had to be dreams; she didn't remember them belonging to her. Of the Winchesters, of growing up on Earth, of being a part of an admittedly screwed-up family.

My name is-

"How you doin', Mo?" That was Sam, her…younger brother, she had remembered. The memories were like a plague, keeping her sedentary in a time she had long forgotten. A time, she didn't know if she wanted to go back to or not. It was a time when she cared about them, about humans in general. A time when she had the ability to care.

Mo. Morgan.

She was confused when they called her that. She didn't know how to describe it. But something was weird about that name. These were people that she knew before she went to Hell. People she loved. People she would've sacrificed everything for. People she did sacrifice everything for.

"It doesn't feel right," She rasped, shaking her head as much as possible. Which, apparently, was not a lot.

"No, shit," And there's Dean.

"When you call me that," She explained, despondent, trying to blink away the new memory attempting to take hold of her reality. "It doesn't feel like my name."

"Well, what is your name?" 

She didn't know. Adriadne was supposed to be her name. Morgan was supposed to be her name. How could someone not know their own fucking name? It was the most basic form of identification. Even demons had names. A new wave of pain hits her, and she grips the chair with all her strength. It wasn't a lot; she was so weak. But then another memory took over, and she wasn't even in that room anymore.

"What is your name?" He had asked, his voice cold and unemotional. The girl only shook her head in response, knowing what was coming with her answer. "You will answer me when I speak to you, girl.

"Morgan," She choked out, tears already rolling. "Morgan Winchester."

"You don't deserve my last name." Before she could blink, her cheek was stinging, and she was on the motel room floor. More tears fell involuntarily at the searing pain, at the blood dripping down her face from his ring. She flinched at the hand he rose again, but no hit came. Instead, he laughed - a heartless and calculating laugh. Like it was amusing watching his thirteen-year-old daughter cower at his feet. "You are no Winchester."

He was ready to strike a second time when someone got in the way. 

"Get out of the way, Sam."

"No," his little voice announced. She could hear the emotion in his words as he continued. The little ten-year-old was scrawny, even smaller than she was. "She knows what she did. You don't have to hit her again."

Ignoring the boy, her father turned back to Morgan, practically looking through her little brother. "So this is what you've come to? Making little Sammy fight your damn battles for you?"

She looked him straight in the eyes; the green they usually held was almost black in the room's dim lighting. She had seen this so many times when he was angry, when a hunt didn't go his way, when his children disobeyed him. When she did something wrong. 

"Boys," Her father called, ordering them to shut up and listen. Dean took his hands away from his face with a wince. Sam winced, too, backing away from his father. Nearly crashing into her. "Take this as a learning opportunity. We fight our own battles in this family. And we don't rely on other people to do it for us." 

And with that, Sam was pushed out of the way, and he was on top of her.

"Dad," She gasped, finally back in the present but staring into space. Both brothers' heads shot up at the recall. "He was- he was mean."

"Yeah," Dean agreed, making her eyes lock on his. The whites of his eyes were red like the mention of his father had him holding things back. A storm was brewing behind his eyes, one he wouldn't let come to fruition. "He had his moments."

"He was so mad all the time," The girl croaked, her voice breaking even more. She was lost, not looking at them. Keeping her eyes down, they darted back and forth as she practically stared through the flesh and bone before her. "Watch out for Sammy. Make sure Sam's safe. Don't let anybody touch Sammy. If anything happens to him, I'll know whose fault it is." Her older brother only nodded, but Sam's eyes fluttered back and forth between his siblings. Like he was realizing something he hadn't before. "We were always watching out for Sammy. Who- who watched out for us?"

"Well, for one, Sammy watched out for us. And I watched for both of you, and you took care of us."

"I took care of you?"

"Yeah, Mo, you did," Sam said plainly.

"But I-I went to-" She denied, not entirely believing them. "I went to Hell, and now I don't know anything. You're my brothers? My family? My family tortured me. They-they're the ones that put me on the rack."

"Is that what they told you?" Sam asked, bewildered.

"I saw it!" She roared. Everything came back to her in waves, and not like a movie this time; these were memories. She knew it; she couldn't question it. "You hurt me- you- you touched me." She finally looked up at them, unable to hide the tears. She shook her head, trying to shake away the red, the blood, the screaming, the agony. "You- you- family isn't supposed to do that!"

Sam and Dean stared, their faces pale and drained. They didn't hide their emotions - like she remembered they did so often. They wore it plainly on their faces. Sam was a mixture of deep regret and sorrow. Dean wasn't just angry; he was simmering with rage.

"Now, you listen to me," Dean ordered, and she could almost hear a trace of their father in his voice. He leaned against the arms of her chair - her current prison - and gave her a stare that kept her captive in his gaze. "I went to Hell, too. They did the same thing to me. It. Wasn't. Us. And I know you don't believe that. But you will. Eventually."

When he finished, she nodded. He was wrong. Some part of her did believe him. The conviction in his words, the way he didn't bother to hide the angry tears in his eyes. Some part of her - a minuscule part - hoped he wasn't lying. That her family was still there for her. That maybe, even after everything that had happened, they would hold her when this was all over. 

At her slight confirmation, he nodded, too, and stepped back, giving his younger brother room for the next shot. Sam came forward and quickly, without hesitation, put the syringe in her arm and pressed down.

"I don't even know my own name."

Sam didn't balk at her words. He just shook his head and gave her a small, barely there smile.

"You will."

"I don't wanna be human," She cried. Eleven injections in, she could feel the human blood becoming her own. Integrating into her bones, her DNA changed with every second that passed. Her power was draining, and she didn't like it. She was returning to who she was before Hell, the young girl with daddy issues, with two brothers who loved her - but could never get along with.

"Humans are weak, they- their emotions, it's too much," She continued, shuddering. "They feel too much, they don't see how useless they are. How- how small they are. There are eight billion of you, and all of you think you're the most important one. You all think you have some fucked up purpose, that there's something more you can do with your pointless little lives."

"No one here is gonna tell you that being human is a walk in the park," Sam said, his voice calm and steady as if he was expecting her to say this. "But it is better than being a demon. Than killing for no reason. Because even if you don't believe it, I believe we do have a purpose. Maybe it's a tiny one, maybe you're just supposed to be here to make someone else happy. Maybe you're here to teach someone a lesson. Maybe you're here to save the world." His words got light at that, like it was an inside joke, and Dean let out a small laugh. But just because you don't know what it is or can't see it doesn't mean you don't have one." 

Before she could respond or give any words to the contrary, he put the needle in her arm and gave her the twelfth shot.

Morgan Winchester opened her eyes. And they were black. She could feel it, feel the remnants of Hell in her eyes. But as quickly as it came, it went. And as they cleared, she groaned. It was a strange feeling, but she felt lighter. Like there wasn't as much weight on her shoulders as before. Her eyes were blue again, like the sky people loved to stare at. Then she remembered she was human again. She was just a young girl again, not a demon, not a monster. 

And then the weight returned. Only this time, it was even heavier, as if someone had tied an anvil around her neck and thrown her into the ocean. She remembered everything. Her life, her father, her mother, her brothers, Sam dying, her dad dying, her deal with a demon, Hell, being tortured, then turning around and doing the same, becoming a demon, becoming Adriadne, taking a joyride upstairs, murdering so many innocents. Then, being in here, the crowded but well-protected safe room in some place she had no knowledge of. 

She could see her brothers a few feet away. Sam stood in front of Dean, holding a flask - their postures were identical. Tight and reserved, with their brows furrowed and their feet cemented into the floor.

Her face contorted into a question, and she greeted them with their names. She didn't know what else to say. But before she could speak again, Dean threw whatever was in the flask at her face.

Water. Water. Water.

And without needing a second to think about it, Morgan realized it was blessed. Holy water. They were putting her through one final test. To see if their work had paid off. When it didn't burn, sizzle, or boil her skin, her brothers let out a deep exhale of relief. Then, so did she.

"Welcome back, Morgan."

[scotianostra]

On 25th August, 1923 Scottish novelist Dorothy Dunnett, was born in Dunfermline.

Educated at James Gillespie’s High School for Girls in Edinburgh. She started her career as a press officer in the civil service, where she met her husband, Dorothy Dunnett was renowned for the historical accuracy of her fiction which was based on extensive research. She wrote two series in which Edinburgh features prominently. The House of Niccolò is set in the 15th century and The Lymond Chronicles in the 16th. The books feature historical as well as fictional characters and Nicky Cannon has brought the Edinburgh they inhabited to life in Edinburgh.

Much lauded Dunnet was a leading light in the Scottish arts world and a renaissance woman, she was a professional portrait painter and exhibited at the Royal Scottish Academy on many occasions. She had portraits commissioned by a number of prominent public figures in Scotland. She had a keen interest in opera, was a trustee of the National Library of Scotland, a board member of the Edinburgh International Book Festival, a trustee of the Scottish National War Memorial, and a non-executive director of Scottish Television.

Dorothy Dunnett was married in 1946 to Sir Alastair Dunnett, editor of The Scotsman newspaper, and appears in his autobiography, Among Friends, 1984. By virtue of his knighthood in 1995, she became Lady Dunnett. She died in Edinburgh, and was survived by her sons Ninian and Mungo Dunnett.

On 22nd April 2006, a much deserved memorial stone to Lady Dunnett was laid by her grandchildren, Hal and Bella Dunnett, alongside those for Robert Louis Stevenson, Robert Burns, Sir Walter Scott and many other famous writers, in the Makars’ Court in Lady Stair’s Close on the Royal Mile.

[vwritesaus]

The first thing Thomas notices is that he is standing in a well-lit room. Sunlight streams in through large arched windows, casting long rays along the floor and opposite walls from which framed paintings hang. He can’t make out any of the faces, most of them blurred or faded from age, but he can see every miniature groove in the elaborate frames carved with fleurs-de-lis, tiny leaves and rose petals.       The second thing he notices is Alastair Carstairs sitting sideways on one of the window seats of those arched windows, his back leaning against the edge of the arch and one foot planted firmly on the seat, the toes of the other grazing the wooden flooring. His attention is fixed on the world beyond the glass panes—a streaked mass of fluffy clouds and a blue sky stretching for miles—and his expression is contemplative, almost serious. That attention quickly turns to Thomas, possibly having sensed his presence, and something close to coyness blooms to life in his expression.       ‘Lightwood,’ he greets politely.       When Thomas blinks and doesn’t respond—too shocked to do so, because Alastair Carstairs is talking to him? To Tiny Tom, willingly?—Alastair rolls his eyes. He swings his whole body around to face him, both feet on the floor and his gaze fierce.       ‘Well?’ he prods. ‘Are you simply going to stand there like a cad, or are you going to come here and sit beside me?’

continue reading on ao3

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hello!! long time no see, haha...

but here i am, and i bring with me a little fic i wrote for my wonderful best girl @drunkonimagination for her birthday back in july ✨✨ it's based off this art of hers where thomas dreams of kissing alastair, only to get rather the rude awakening lol. hope you enjoy it!!

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tagging people who might be interested: @ibrushmyteeth-donttellanyone @ferrari-go-vroom-vroom @astriefer @luciehercndale @claritywithclary @bluewrite

let me know if you’d like to be added to or removed from the tag list!!

[edwinspaynes]

I'm haunted every day by how Thomas must have felt about Christopher's death for the rest of his life.

How, despite Alastair and Matthew and James and Cordelia's arguments to the contrary, a part of him will always wonder if he could have saved Kit if he had been there. How he will always remember that his best friend was dying while he was having one of the most bright and joyful experiences of his life. How, while he couldn't have known that anything had gone awry, he had spent his best friend's last minutes miles away and happy.

I. Am. Haunted.

[morbidology]

46-year-old Penny Bell lived a life that most would envy. She ran a catering business and her husband, Alastair, was a successful estate agent. The couple lived in a large detached home in the prestigious area of Bakers Wood, Denham, Buckinghamshire, United Kingdom, with Penny’s son from her previous marriage, Matthew, 11, and their daughter, Laura, 9.

It was a balmy British summer day on the 6th of June, 1991, when Penny left her home. She said goodbye to the builders who were working on a kitchen extension and told them that she was running late for an appointment. She climbed into her powder blue Jaguar XJS and set off on her way. 

Less than three hours later, at around 12:15PM, the mutilated body of Penny was discovered ten miles away, slumped over in the driver’s seat of her car in the car park of a leisure centre in Greenford, Middlesex. 

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞:

https://morbidology.com/who-killed-penny-bell/

[emcgoverns]

elizabeth mcgovern as june (with ben miles as harvey) in the national theatre production of “sunset at the villa thalia” (2016) | 📸: alastair muir