#catcher block edit

[ewanispunk]

I love him your honour

[midnightrineheardt]

-Do you realize that he's a narcissistic jerk and loves only himself, right? -Oh, shut up. He's hottie

[loycspotting]

21. Ewan McGregor Movie Review: Down with Love (2003)

Genre: Comedy/Romance

Rating: PG-13

Director: Peyton Reed

Starring: Renée Zellweger, Ewan McGregor, Sarah Paulson, and David Hyde Pierce

Synopsis: Aspiring author, Barbara Novak, trades her small-town life for the Big Apple in order to promote her new book, "Down with Love." The book stirs up controversy with its message to help women achieve equality by saying no to love and yes to sex. When Catcher Block, resident playboy and New York's #1 journalist, is personally affected by this shift of the sexes, he plots to expose Barbara Novak as a fraud by getting her to fall in love with him.

Ewan Review: Ewan plays the character Catcher Block. Catcher is famous for being THE socialite of New York City. Women want him, men want to be him, and he's highly respected in his field as a journalist. Yes, life is perfect for him...until Barbara Novak shows up out of the blue and turns society on its head! His pride and reliance on the status quo can't bear to see this happen. So, he does what any logical man would do: wage a battle of the sexes! Ewan surprisingly speaks in his Scottish accent for this role! He also speaks in a southern accent which isn't any good, but I'm going to give him a pass this time because of the context. He has two shirtless scenes and LOTS of kissing scenes. I'm talking straight up making out, y'all. There are sex jokes galore and he gets to make his fair share of them. He doesn't have any sex scenes but he does have an implied erection scene. Lastly, he has a stellar song and dance number. His acting performance is incredible. I also just want to add that he is outlandishly handsome in this movie. I don't know how to explain it, especially because he's handsome in practically all his roles. He's a naturally handsome guy, but the way his attractiveness was amplified ten-fold in this movie did not go unnoticed by me. Please tell me if you understand what I'm talking about.

Screentime Percentage: Ewan is on screen for a grand total of 47/102 minutes making his SP 46%.

To Ewan or not to Ewan: Is the movie worth watching for Ewan in general? 1000% YES! Is it worth watching in general? Yes!

Where to Watch: "Down with Love" is available for rent on Amazon Prime Video, YouTube, and Google Play Movies and TV. You can watch it for free on soap2day.

Closing Thoughts: This movie is an homage to the sex comedies of the 1960s and is played out like one. It takes place in 1962 and the way it transports the audience back to that time is nothing short of fantastic! The costumes, editing, set design, manner of speech, soundtrack, everything down to the last detail was dripping in nostalgia and it was a blast! I feel the need to stress though that this a SEX comedy. It's about sex. It's all the characters talk about, it's the driving force of the movie, and dirty jokes/sexual innuendos are the foundation of it. Just think it over before popping it in for family movie night.

[jukeboxjackal]

Headcanon- Dating Jock! Carol Danvers

Carol Danvers x fem! Reader

A/n: Hey guys, hey guys. Haven’t been here in a while. If i’m not here, it’s either because of writers block, i don’t feel like it, low motivation, or just general laziness. But enjoy my first actual piece in a while though! I just write sometimes now lmfao

Ok ok so first of all, just in general information I feel like she is the softball captain. Reason being is softball is stereotypically a gay sport LMFAO but I guess it’s kind of right (I say this as a softball player and a friend haha) and I think she’d be utility playing either pitcher, catcher, or 3rd base

Anyways to follow with the last bullet, I feel like she would definitely have an undercut and show it almost allll the time. She also has a varsity letterman jacket that may or may not on the tag on the inside say: ‘Property of: Carol Danvers ⁺⁽ʸ/ⁿ⁾ ⁽ˡ/ⁿ⁾♡) You definitelyyyy did not write the second part

More in the popular crowd, whether you are too is up to you

Her arch-nemesis has got to be the volleyball captain Valkyrie. For one, they don’t get along and two, she so obviously has a thing for you

She’s usually hanging out with her friends in the halls or the courtyard, but when she sees you walk by she immediately goes to catch-up with you

She’s superr protective of you. When she’s walking with you she’s always holding your hand or she has an arm around you at all times. If anyone says anything even slightly snarky to you she’ll look them dead in the eye and say ‘Wanna repeat that?’

She also loves when you wear her clothes and especially her sports jackets, helps to show people that you’re hers

Her nicknames for you are the cliches, such as: Babe, baby, sweetheart, (Y/N/N), princess, and my lady/ girl. Whereas you like to call her: Care-bear (she acts like she hates it but you know she doesn’t), bubs, captain or cap, and baby

She does get jealous, but only when you’re clearly interested in the other person. Like when you were hanging out with that one ballet girl Natasha Romanoff who was teaching you but was also way too close to you and she told the dancer to back off

As much as I might get some hate for this, I do feel like she might have been a bit of a bully. Not in the way that she’d go out of her way to be mean to others but just to uphold a reputation. Like if she’s with her popular friends she’d snicker and make some snarky rude comment about a less-popular kid, but if you ever saw her do it she’d apologize to you and to the other secretly

She’s super sweet to you, always going over to your house and bringing you something whether it’s food or flowers

She usually gives you rides to and from school

Don’t forget about y’all’s after-game dates!

#6 on the field but #1 in your heart that’s for sure

If you were to also be on the softball team as well, she’d still treat you the same as the other girls (but behind closed doors that’s different) Like the one time where the team had lost a game and she made you guys do laps for every base you could have stolen but after that she took you out to eat and she apologized profusely

Make-out sessions in the locker room and the bleachers

If you don’t play, you still make sure to be at all of her games. Home or away, you find a way (ooh that rhymed)

Let’s not talk about that one time she was pitching and behind the cage she saw you talking to the opposing team member who had to use the bathroom

She’s your #1 gym buddy and vice-versa

Oh and she definitely said I love you first

Overall, she is the sweetest and you would consider her damn-near perfect. She definitely has her flaws but that’s with everyone. Your love is unmatchable.

Hey guys! Sorry if this wasn’t as straight to the point as my last headcanon was, but I just had a lot to say I guess lol. Anyways, I’ll probably come back to edit this in a few hours I just wanted to put something out for now. Until next time!

Thanks for reading! Feedback, requests, and inquiries are always appreciated and welcome!

[cicerosfavouritelistener]

Silly Game Time: Do you often remember your dreams? What's a dream that you do particularly remember?

Myself, I almost never do. But I do remember one where I wandered around an empty, medieval city wearing a tailcoat tuxedo and carrying a yellow rose.

I don't usually remember dreams, I usually pass out rather than fall asleep so usually I close my eyes, go unconscious, see black, wake up.

However I have a dream I still remember from when I was like 4? I might have been a little older, I can't really remember.

So, basically me and my back then best friend were going to go play in the park across the street from my house and next to hers. The park had these HUGE hedges surrounding it like a fence up to like, 10 metres tall. There's just a hole in the front for like an entry.

Anyway so my best friend and I go to the playground, now the thing is it's almost like a whole block is taken up for a set of monkey bars, a single slide, and a pair of swings (one normal one for babies) and it's like, maybe 6x6 metres.

So we start playing on the playground for a bit, and I go down the slide which is when shit starts goin weird. Once I get to the bottom of the slide it turns into this man? Like the ladder and the slide itself remain but as now his legs and he's glowering down at me so I get up and look around for my friend who has gone missing as well as the rest of the playground becoming like, half-people things.

Following I hear my dog Tori barking, so I look to the edit/entrance and I see her getting nabbed my animal control or whatever, and so I start running n yellin that's my dog, but, yknow, DREAM, so nothing actually happened. By the time I got onto the road they were already drivin off, and then this person on a motor bike shows up and gives me a helmet to chase after 'em and get my dog back n that's where my dream ends.

In retrospect, if I was five the part about my dog being grabbed by the dog catcher was 100% because of me playing Dog's Life. I liked taunting the Dog Catcher.

[dreaminghour]

No specific ship (have fun choosing, I like all your ships!) but an overly specific whump scenario for you:

B staggers into A’s presence clutching a bleeding wound (in their side, their thigh, their upper arm?). B gasps an apology before collapsing and passing out. A then has to figure out what happened and how to take care of B before they lose too much blood.

Bonus points if they’re not in a war time scenario.

Double bonus points if B is delirious through any caretaking and A is losing their mind with worry while trying to hold it together.

Of course you should feel free to eschew any of these specifics and just go with a vibe. I’ll be happy either way. ❤️‍🩹🥰❤️‍🩹

oh... this one was so good 😭 thank you!

(from this ask game: whump me up - still open, cuz why not)

I decided on the crossover ship, put into my head by @sanerontheinside and @firondoiel, with Hannibal Smith from 2010's The A-Team and Catcher Block from Down With Love. Played by Liam Neeson and Ewan McGregor respectively... You see where this is going.

This is only PART ONE! I started part two but I'll post this plus the edited version of this on AO3 when it's complete.

Length: 1460~ words

Rating: Mature for gunshot wound care

🌙

Hannibal staggers through the door at quarter past eleven and Catcher thinks he's finally lost his mind. He's been working on a deadline and trying to sip the cognac rather than get buzzed too quickly. But seeing Hannibal — he wishes he were shit faced.

"You're showing your face again, hmm?" Catcher drawls.

"Sorry," the Colonel gasps and passes out before he's completely through the doorway.

Catcher is on his feet in an instant, rolling Hannibal onto his back and immediately sees the thick expanse of blood beneath Hannibal's shirt. His body seems cold, but it's winter and he's not really dressed for the weather. Hannibal still has a pulse but it's a fluttering thing. The longer Catcher looks at the blood, the queasier he feels. He glances up across his apartment to the phone.

He needs a doctor. He needs to call a doctor. He leaves Hannibal's side and picks up the phone and is told that he needs to get Hannibal to the hospital, but not only is the Colonel half a foot taller, he's much heavier too. As he is about to inquire about an ambulance coming to him, he hears a mumbling spluttering voice moan out, "No… no… no…"

So Catcher hangs up, locks the door, collects some tools and comes back to Hannibal's side. The big man has gotten paler and Catcher's field medic training in Panama seems a long time ago. Still, there must be a reason Hannibal came here instead of anywhere else. There must be a reason he doesn't want an ambulance. Maybe if he can get the man to talk to him, or at least examine the lug, he can figure out if Hannibal's wishes should be overruled. 

Then again, maybe Hannibal just wanted to bleed out on his carpet. With the way they left things, he wouldn't put it past the other man.

Carefully, unheeding of the blood on his trousers, Catcher props Hannibal up somewhat and gently pats his cheeks, getting nothing in reply. He slaps Hannibal harder, and the man gasps.

"Ow!" Then he grunts, a weak hand rising to try and press against the wound still hidden by the blood-sodden shirt. He lets out a long groan.

"What happened? What do you need me to do?" Catcher asks, long used to asking the right questions and being conservative when what he really wants to know is 'Where have you been?' and 'Why me?'

"Shot," Hannibal gasps out, his eyes already getting more heavy lidded again. "Too slow, these damn guns are no good… Need you to… stitch…" His voice gets considerably more slurred, his breath more labored.

"Right," Catcher said, suspecting as much, trying to grasp onto this direction firmly with both hands. "Right."

He yanks off his sweater — cashmere, but what does that matter now — and places it under Hannibal's head. He then uses scissors to cut open the shirt as close to the center of the blood as possible. He's wrong. He has to peel away inches and inches of damp, dark fabric, until he finds the oozing red center, the blood coagulating already.

"Why do I need to get the bullet out?" he asks, he can feel the tears in the back of his throat but is doing his best not to retch and that's a significant distraction.

"'S lead," Hannibal slurs. "Plastic would have been better… might have gone through… or killed me outright…"

Insanely, Hannibal chuckles breathlessly. He groans. His hand flops uselessly as he tries to raise it to his stomach once more.

"Please," Catcher says emphatically. "Please," he repeats in a whisper. "Don't move."

Catcher switches on the lamp he dragged over to the elevated foyer where Hannibal has landed, he picks up the forceps from the shallow bath of alcohol they've been sitting in, he blinks hard, sure that he's only a shade or two less pale than Hannibal. With the tools he has on hand, he does his best to open the small wound up and gently hunt for the bullet he's been told is in there. He wishes there was gunfire to distract him, other medics to assist him, or even just some casual promise from Hannibal he could cling to. But no, he has none of those things.

His forceps thud against something distinctly metal, a scraping sound juddering up his fingers — very different from bone, he remembers that much. He tries to grip the bullet right then, pulling the forceps open, and Hannibal hisses in pain.

"You sure you've done this before?" Hannibal asks, a smirk on his lips, apparently able to make salacious jokes at a time like this.

Catcher wants to scream.

"I need you to hold very still," he says instead.

"Just take it easy, baby," Hannibal slurs, his eyes dreamy, hands limp at his sides. "You shoulda told me it was your first time."

Catcher tries to ignore him, tries to ignore the anger and despair battling inside him. If Hannibal dies and this entire chapter of his life just ends, he doesn't know if he'll ever truly get over it. It's not really a choice, then.

He moves carefully and with precision, opening the forceps and angling them just so that he can grip the bullet. He moves slowly, aware that the Colonel is growing restless beneath his hands and growls, "Don't move." It doesn't seem to make a difference, all Hannibal is doing is breathing. Suddenly the bullet is out, the blood trapped behind it gushing out, but Catcher tosses the forceps aside, pressing gauze to the oozing wound and allowing himself only a second to breathe while he applies pressure to the wound. 

This is the less pretty part, but he knows it has to be done. The wound isn't very deep thankfully. If Hannibal had gone to a hospital, they probably would have already been done with him in the time it's taken Catcher to get this far. His needle is from the sewing kit he rarely uses, the thread is cotton, but Hannibal didn't really give him a choice. He swipes at the wound with alcohol and then presses the skin closed, Hannibal groaning as Catcher tries to just get through this.

"You didn't really give me a choice," Catcher says angrily as Hannibal grumbles about glue and grafts. "You should have gone to a hospital."

"Couldn't," Hannibal says grimacing. "Couldn't trust them."

"Worried they'd report you?" Catcher asks, journalist curiosity joining forces with his need for a distraction as he worked. He'd always been slow with a needle and thread, this is why he paid Paula and others to fix his clothes for him.

"Not exactly," Hannibal says, laughing dryly, just a rasp. He's clearly dehydrated with all the blood he's lost. He'll need juice and iron supplements. A blood transfusion would be ideal. "I wasn't sure about… bullets."

"What?" Catcher asks, focused solely on the movement of his needle before he ties it off and looks up. "I'm pretty sure they could handle a bullet."

"Well," Hannibal continues, voice somewhat garbled with how delirious he is. "Depends on the bullet… plastic on the x-ray… didn't think it was the nanites… but if there was a tracker…" He tried waving his hand but ended up just flopping it back and forth. "Couldn't risk it." 

"Who are the nanites— Nevermind," Catcher begins to ask, not making sense of any of it. "You sound like a science fiction program."

"Little robots," Hannibal says with a brief smile, his eyes dipping shut again.

"Little— hey! Stay with me!" Catcher reaches forward to pat a hand against Hannibal's cheek as his heartrate spiked. He needs Hannibal. "Tell me about the little robots or— or the tracker."

"Tracker's a device... that shows... where you are on a map, no matter where you go. Unless... you get deep enough... underground or if you're... in a dense... rain forest..."

Catcher resumes working, trying to make sense of what Hannibal was saying. The wound is no longer oozing blood as he finished, his fingers are stained pink, but he cuts the thread and sat back.

"So in a bunker," Catcher says.

Hannibal nods minutely.

"I need to wash you off and, preferably, get you to the bed."

Hannibal quirks a smile at that, but doesn't seem capable of his usual witty rejoinder.

"If I help you, think you can walk with me?"

While supporting his back, Catcher lifts Hannibal to sit upright, but the rush of blood from his head seems to be the final straw and the big man passes out.

Catcher scarcely gets a hand under his head before Hannibal is horizontal again.

"Fuck," Catcher says, slumping forward to hold his own head in his hands while the emotions he's been holding at bay finally sweep over him.

🌙

Thank you for reading!

So, this is just part one, I will be sharing part two as soon as it's done. If you want to check out the other stories with this pairing, they're on AO3 in the "Out of Time" series. Otherwise you can follow my fic log @dreaminghour-archive or subscribe on AO3 if you want to be notified.

If you liked this, leave a comment or reblog! That's the best way to let me know what you liked and that you want to see more. Emojis and likes are also great.

[thediaryofcrowmartin]

Tummy kisses

Pairing: Catcher Block x Fem(?)Reader

Warnings: Rot your teeth fluff, and probably OOC Catch. And Sad boy Catch hours

A/N: For my friend @mcgreggy, who requested this <3 (And yes, I did purposely use the towel scene gif for you) Anyways I just ran my shit through an editing software and called it good

Catcher Block was never one to admit he was having a bad week; he was too proud for that, but you always knew.

That’s how it all started, after all, with him having a bad week.

It was an accident; you were delivering papers to his office and happened to have the misfortune of walking in on him after he had gotten out of the shower. In that moment, you were rather thankful; he seemed too sad to be his usual flirty self.

It was an awkward exchange, with murmured explanations and apologies. And then he gave you the puppy eyes, which nearly caused you to fall over. You’d seen him give those eyes to countless women, but it was always different with you. They were sincere.

And that’s when the habit started, all because he asked. You never thought he’d have such a soft spot for being kissed on his stomach, yet here you were, every so often when you two spent your nights together, trailing your lips up his stomach, paying attention to each and every freckle, making sure to nip and suck at his sensitive spots until you reached his lips before you worked your way back down.

Tonight was no different; you were drinking at his place, the television playing some cheesy movie in the background. The lights were off because you two preferred each other's company in the dark. The light from the television gave Catch an angelic glow as he sipped his drink.

You sensed he was having a bad week; it was always easy to tell, so you gave him the glance you always used when you wanted to give him kisses.

He didn’t notice at first, so you nudged his leg with your stockinged foot, and then he turned to look at you. Before he could say anything, you gave him the little pout face you used.

“You want to kiss my stomach?” Catch asks, putting his free hand on your knee. “You seem stressed." You answer.

"Oh, come on, baby, I’m not stressed.” He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Please Catch, please!�� You plead with him, giving him the look again, emphasizing the pouty lip and puppy eyes.

You grin as he stands up with an exasperated sigh, and starts unbuttoning his shirt. “Yay!” you cheer as he shrugs his shirt onto the floor. “Well, stand up." He mumbles, and you immediately leap up so he can lie down.

Once he’s comfortable, you lift the skirt of your dress and straddle his lap, causing the both of you to blush.

You lean down and begin to plant soft kisses just below his belly button, and you work your way up.

You pay extra attention to the freckles adorning his stomach, knowing how much he loves that. Your lips find his sides, and you look up at him through heavy eyelids before you begin to nip and suck, eliciting breathy moans from him.

Slowly, you make your way to his neck, leaving marks in your wake. Finally, you reach his lips and give him a deep kiss, and Catcher wastes no time kissing you back. You cup his face, and he puts his hand on your cheek in return. Eventually,  you pull away for air. You’re both panting and smiling.

“I think I know what I want to do tonight." Catch whispers, “Yeah, and what's that?” You ask, knowing exactly what his answer will be.

“You, darling”

[tex-treasure-chamber]

Witch Au with Ozymandias

As a dream Magic user I can:

∆ Induce Sleep in others

∆ Divination/ dream visions, reading the future, the present and the past and/or provide help to a problem at hand by interpreting dreams (somethin' I kinda can do but work on and get better at)

∆ Converse with Dream Messengers (servants of Higher Powers and spirit escorts)

∆ Look into people's Dreams. I'd do it via a shiny, reflective surface like a Crystal ball, mirror, or even placid water.

∆ Dream walk via astral projection (so I'd need to be careful and keep my body protected while I'm Zzzz'ing)

∆ Implant Thoughts via inception (something I feel is extremely difficult just like the movie Inception so I'd learn to do that over time and it would be a big accomplishment)

∆ Manipulate the Dream environment at will in my own and other people's dreams which leads to:

-psychological damage via fear inducement/healing via good images etc.

- gather Intel on the real world via interrogation within the dream

- allow Spirits to communicate with the dreamer

-

∆ bring objects and beings from their dreams into the real world (Only after a couple years and even then doesn't happen much at all)

•Specializations:

°Dream Inducement

°Dream/Nightmare manipulation

°Dream Materialization

∆ Discernment

- able to see the Aura of people like a Sombra Negra around people who do Evil and light from people who do Good

- can get a feel of what kind of person I'm dealing with

What kind of familiar would you have? Describe them to me so I can edit them.

Three tailed Kitsune that splits into five tail a couple years into our contract. supernatural abilities commonly attributed to the kitsune include

∆ possession

∆mouths or tails that generate fire or lightning (known as kitsune-bi; literally, fox-fire)

∆willful manifestation in the dreams of others

∆Flight

∆Invisibility

∆The creation of illusions so elaborate as to be almost indistinguishable from reality.

Ozymandias is a Fæ

He's upbeat and very much a teacher figure. trickster and passionate, emotionally intuitive, lonely but in denial, optimistic and foolhardy at times, means well, old soul, bit of a snob, can be really bitchy, vain.

My outfits:

For the spring usually big jumpers with collared tucked in shirts, jeans rolled up, and Converse.

Summer brings in shorts, dresses, peasant blouses/normal t-shirts, open collared shirts with tank tops underneath, big witchy hat, lace cardigans, and sandals

I think definitely poncho sweaters with skinny jeans and ankle boots with the big witchy hat for the fall plus jumpers ofc if we live somewhere that experiences it

And if we experience winter I cry the whole time inside a trench coat and lots of layers and warming spells.

Business casual when working. Lots of fun star and eye motifs in Jewelry and after Ozy comes in, fox motifs too

Accent:

So thinking of Ozy being very conscious of how he sounds when he's in human form and in public. When in public and talking to very pretty girls or is doing Business with others he puts on a Received Pronunciation accent, v posh sounding, and when it's just us two he'll switch it up to a Cockney accent.

Basically how I am with my own Southern accent

Ozymandias' outfits:

For Ozymandias I'm going with more businessy bohoish look as a general in public look so nice dress shoes, slacks, dress shirt sleeves rolled up, vest but no tie or anything, instead like a scarf around his neck and shoulders.

When he's at the house he's prob wearing slacks, a polo, and a jumper. His build is lithe but not a green bean fkfjd

∆ merchandise I create/sell

- teabags for good night's sleep

- incense to promote good sleep

- dream catchers with runes inscribed and magic infused to block the mind of the sleeper from nightmare Creatures or dream demons/ sleep paralysis demons

[lucretiaslitthenetherland]

Gaming Log for May 24th 2024

Nintendo Switch Lite

1. Pokemon Brilliant Diamond- went underground, changed my zubats name, evolved my Zubat into Golbat, and added data for Golbat to the Pokedex

2. Pokemon Legends Arceus- got the Kleavoe mission and caught a Burmy for the first time

3. Pokemon Let's Go Pikachu- caught a Pidgey, evolved my Nidoran female into Nidorina, and added data for Nidorina to the Pokedex

4. Pokemon Violet- beat a student trainer, caught a Skwovet and added data for Skwovet to the Pokedex

4. Pokemon Shield- caught a lot and, added it to my party and added data for Lotad to the Pokedex

5. Super Mario 3D World Bowser's Fury- got the blast the fury blocks cat shine in bowsers fury and completed the double cherries level in the main game with 3 green stars and a stamp

6. Super Mario Odyssey- got the on the pal trees power moon in the sand kingdom

7. Harvest Moon Mad Dash- did level 13 with 3 gold stars

8. Harvest Moon Light of Hope- went down to the town for the first time, met the merchant, was asked to borrow an axe so I can chop wood and fix his shop, and met sally

9. Harvest Moon One World-gave grass to Brayden, went to Gabrielle, planted turnips, planted potatoes, and harvested some tomatoes

10. Story of Seasons A Wonderful Life- gave a gift to Gordy, took care of my crops and animals, and ordered some good fodder

11. Story of Seasons Friends of Mineral Town- gave gifts to the harvest goddess, cliff, grey, and Brandon, and sent my axe to be upgraded to copper

Game Ghoul Pocket

1. Pokemon Creepy Black- caught a Zubat and added data for Zubat to the Pokedex

Physical Games

1. Pokemom trainer guess Sinnoh edition- guessed Cherubi correctly

2. Pokemon catcher- got reset and caught Bulbasaur

New Nintendo 3dsxl

1. Pokemon Picross- did the training level and got seven picrites

2. Pokemon Alpha Sapphire- evolved my Zubat into Golbat and added data for Golbat to the Pokedex

[beninparis]

Hemingway Hunt

Stop 1:

I arrive to find Cafe des Amateurs gone in favor of Cafe Delma. There was no sadness or evilness to this place, at least none that I noticed. Although it might have been a place that charges for restroom use, and that’s pretty evil to me.

There is bustling chatter overlapped by the constant noise of the fountain. A child chases a brown pigeon only to be pulled out of the road by her mom. A man tries to ask for money and I tell him I don’t speak French. The air carries a very subtle scent of fried foods and alcohol.

Stop 2:

During their time in Paris, Ernest and his wife Hadley stayed at 74 rue du Cardinal Lemoine. It was a place Hemingway described as one of the poorest addresses in Paris. Of course Hemingway probably didn’t predict to be immortalized by a plaque at the building. I’m not sure, but the price has probably skyrocketed since his time and because of his time.

Stop 3:

Just close by, Hemingway rented an attic room at the once hotel 39 rue Descartes. 25 years earlier, poet Paul Verlaine had died in that room. Paul is immortalized here as well, not just through a plaque, but also with the restaurant La Maison de Verlaine. In fact, he’s immortalized a bit more than Hemingway at this particular spot

Stop 4:

I took the B route to get to the book stalls along the Quais. Due to poor timing however, I arrived when they were closed. Fortunately I managed to catch them midday the next day. I even purchased a volume of Asterix at the recommendation of a very helpful and nostalgic bookseller.

Stop 5:

After a line that feels like the Mona Lisa’s little sister, we only get a minute upstairs before we are told they are closing the floor. That was just lovely.

It was more like a village house converted into a bookstore than a traditional bookstore. Rustic boards support old stone and cradle new editions of not so new classics. They kept the more venerated works in the front, stuff like Catcher in the Rye, Moby Dick, and The Sun Also Rises. Meanwhile the modern works such as Circe or A Court of Thorns and Roses was kept more towards the back. The spiral staircase led up to a loft that overlooked the store and the street below. There was a very personal nook where one could theoretically block themselves off from everyone else and its cramped size would force them to do nothing but write. The instrument to do so being a typewriter that bears its age and takes up a good chunk of table space. Hopefully enough space is left for your whiteout. Behind the nook are 2 walls. One containing the portraits of minds who were most likely mocked then celebrated, the other holding a mirror which in turn holds millions upon millions of sticky notes. They were most likely from guests wanting to be immortalized with Shakespeare & Co. The tumbleweeds in question are simply aspiring minds, such as those in the portraits, who stay afloat through working in the bookshop. Although with the small size of the place and huge crowds filling in, I’m not sure how much time they have to sit up there.

Stop 6:

This was the longest stop and I hesitate to call it a stop. They were more like stops. There was a long walk from Musee du Luxembourg to the rest of the stops, one was actually pretty out of a way of my current route, so I had to revisit a different day. The grand jewel of this stop was the massive fountain in front of the church where the Saints stand forever.

Stop 7:

Hemingway’s order consisted of a distingue (A big glass mug of beer), pommes a l’huile (Potato salad with firm potatoes (Why? Soft potatoes are better.) that are marinated in olive oil) and cervelas (a wide, heavy sausage split in two and covered with a special mustard sauce). I went to the Brasserie Lipp myself because I wanted to try that order, but found something much different than what I imagined. Something more expensive, upper class, and not of the common folk. I feel like that order, if not attached to a famous writer, would be sacrilege in the kind of restaurant that it is today.

Stop 8:

Hemingway would often stop at Cafe de Flores and Des Magots to eat and write. He considered these places good for writing. I decided to try and follow in this tradition at Cafe de Flores and simply write about what I observed in the space. I even started drafting a second story, but I don’t know if I’m going to revisit it or not.

Stop 9:

My door-side seat is the perfect vantage point. A private dwelling to sit and spy over customers and imagine their stories. The Englishmen are to the right of me, one filling coffee with sugar. My guess is they’re on holiday, perhaps to Disneyland. Something about mice and princesses seems to unite people. A French family is to my right, 2 teenagers and parents younger than mine, or at least appear to be. They talk of Hemingway too. Maybe they are here for the same reason as me. The golden room is packed with waiters in a constant rush. If any of them get called “garcon” I expect rightful violence from them. I imagine myself as the most American in my sport shorts, yet no one cares. From my seat I exist in the world, but not entirely. A mere fly simply watching.

I feel something is missing from my story…

A dragon! Every story is better with a dragon! Let’s add one perched on the awning, watching cars go by. She is responsible for bringing “fresh beef” straight from the countryside with her massive claws and wings. There, now it feels like a short story I would write.

Stop 10:

Michaud’s presents a bit of a switch up. Instead of an average or poor place elevating after Hemingway stayed there, Michaud’s is now gone. It was already an expensive and uppity place in his time so maybe it got so uppity that it went uppity out of the atmosphere. Writer James Joyce would often visit this place with his wife and children. Whenever Hemingway got a bit of money, him and his wife would go here to live like the upper class, if for only one meal.

Stop 11:

When Ernest and Hadley Hemingway first arrived in Paris, they stayed at the Hotel d’Angleterre. While I was able to find the hotel, I did not get the chance to go inside and experience the courtyard. I can only imagine now, possibly a lavish jungle that’s a far cry from what Hemingway saw. That’s the effect he has on these kinds of places.

Stop 12:

22 Rue Jacob, where Miss Stein Lived.

In chapter 2, Hemingway expresses his prejudices against homosexuality to Miss Stein. He claims gay people are sick, cannot help themselves, and deserve no pity. He also describes a time when he lived among a milieu of criminals and states “When you were a boy and moved in the company of men, you had to be prepared to kill a man, know how to do it and really know that you would do it in order to not be interfered with.” This makes me wonder about Hemingway’s past and what led him to these prejudices. Could it have been an adverse sexual encounter when he was too young? Could it have just been that his parents were prejudiced and wanted him to protect himself from what they perceived as threats?

Conclusion:

One line that perplexes me is the one where Hemingway glorifies his hunger. “Hunger is good discipline and you will learn from it.” As a writer myself, hunger is a hindrance to writing. Once I get hungry, that’s all I can think about until it is satisfied. Is he trying to elevate himself above common needs?

An episode I found particularly funny was “Birth of a New School.” The story starts with Hemingway choosing violence. A patron comes up and simply says hi. Hemingway basically tells this guy to screw off, but with more language. The whole chapter is just this argument started by a stubborn and angry mule named Ernest Hemingway.

Hemingway describes Paris as a “moveable feast”. While he could have meant a number of things with this description, there’s one possible interpretation that I could apply to my trip. Paris is a feast you take with you, something you eat and draw from wherever you are in the world or whenever you are in your life. The experience stays with you to be feasted on forever.

[samismasawaysblog]

When u get this u have to put 5 songs u actually listen to, publish. then, send this ask to 10 of your favourite followers !!

SAM! SAMMY SAM SAM. GIVE ME SOME OF YOUR FAV TUNES BELOVED!

I hope you're alright and that you're having a nice day <3

Smooches and kisses

HII MANYYY LOVE YOUUY

Sorry this took me too long to answer 🙇‍♂️ Between exams and art block i didnt have any energy left but im alive and im back WOOHOO

I listen to A LOT of music (mostly alternative) so here is my 5 that i been on repeat for this past week

Gamesofluck -Parcels (summer vibes fr)

Air Catcher -Twenty One Pilots (I love tøp so much if i could id put all their songs here)

That Joke Isn't Funny Anymore -The Smiths (MASSIVE ART IDEAS FOR THIS SONG)

Trapdoor -Twenty One Pilots (this one is my all time fave relate to it so much...)

This Night Has Opened My Eyes -The Smiths (started liking this after i saw a miles morles and uncle aaron edit)

I hope you'll like my songs that ive had it on repeat so far I wish i also had their vinyls too like i have so many other vinyls but UGH I NEED THESE TOO

KISSES AND SMOOTHES TO YOU MY BELOVED @manyllines ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

[nicolos]

Ewan McGregor as Catcher Block in Down With Love (2003)

[rosalie-starfall]

“I don’t want to be a Down with Love Girl anymore.”

[apictureofspace]

alignment memes (3/?)

EWAN MCGREGOR edition

[firondoiel]

I made this for the lovely and talented @orientalld​, who has spent the last several days talking crossover headcanons for Liam and Ewan characters with me. 

See a (kinky and explicit) snippet under the cut. A longer fic is pending. 

Hannibal presses one thick finger into Catcher’s hole and *fuck* if it isn’t virgin tight. “You ever had anything up here, pretty boy?”

Catcher shakes his head and says something behind the gag, but it turns into a shocked moan when Hannibal slides his finger in all the way.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Hannibal chuckles. “All those toys and you never thought to use one on yourself.”

Catcher glares at him. This time, Hannibal understands the muffled words accusing him of having unnatural giant fingers. And Hannibal just laughs again.

“Poor baby. Claiming to be a Casanova, but you don’t know that much at all, do you?”

Catcher looks as indignant as someone naked in pink fluffy handcuffs with a finger up their ass can be. He’s cute when he’s pretending to be angry.

“You should be thanking me for completing your education pretty boy,” Hannibal crooks his finger, and Catcher jolts like he’s been touched with a live wire.  His perfect little body writhes on the bed.

Hannibal’s pants are uncomfortably snug, but it’s going to be a while before Catcher can take him. If he thinks a single finger is large, he has a lot to learn.

“Lesson one,” says Hannibal in a deep, gravelly voice. “That was your prostate.”