#everybody say thank you larry

[mashbrainrot]

Henry Blake in 'The Interview'

In 2006, Larry Gelbart wrote dialogue imagining Trapper, Henry Blake, and Colonel Flagg had featured in the M*A*S*H episode 'The Interview'. Here is Henry's, with the original available to read here via Google Groups.

REPORTER: How does it feel, having the responsibility for saving such a great number of lives? HENRY: We just take ’em one or two, sometimes maybe twenty at a time. The big trick is not to start thinking of ’em as numbers – as just so many stats that go into a report that winds up in somebody’s filing cabinet under “out of sight, out of mind.” You’ve gotta always remember that what you’re dealing with is hurt people, people that have been run over by a war. REPORTER: And not just – HENRY: You gotta remember to take a peek at the odd dog tag now and then and remind yourself that that dangling leg or busted gut you’re going to try and put back together again is somebody’s dad or son or boyfriend – that all that blood and guts soiling your linen belongs to somebody that’s got a name attached to him.

REPORTER: You can’t afford to lose your sense of humanity. HENRY: There’s just so many senses you can lose over here. REPORTER: Humor not being one of them, obviously. HENRY: Around here laughter’s just crying without the tears. REPORTER: You have a family back home, sir? HENRY: In Bloomington. The one in Illinois, not in Indiana – unless things have changed since I went away. REPORTER: You keep in touch with them, of course, your family. HENRY: We write, we phone. Far apart as we are, I don’t think we’ve ever been closer. REPORTER: Would you like to say hello to them on television? HENRY: Be better if this was kissovision, but, yeah, can I? REPORTER: Go right ahead. HENRY: Lorraine? Hi, honey. Hi, kids. I got your report cards this morning and I had Radar go out post ’em on the bulletin board here so everybody can see why I’m so darn proud of you. Especially how you’re doing in math. You must get those brains from your mom. Got to be. Old as I am, I still don’t know how many tens to give someone for a five-dollar bill. (TO REPORTER) Thanks. REPORTER: That it? HENRY: That’s it. (TO CAMERA) Except I’m counting the days till we’re back together again. REPORTER: You have any idea when that will be? HENRY: I try not to have too many ideas. There’s always someone who ranks you who’s sure you’ll agree he’s got a better one. REPORTER: When you do finally get home, what are you going to tell your children is the biggest lesson being over here has taught you? HENRY: To always try to work things out, I guess. Whatever those things might happen to be. You don’t make your point killing the other guy. Even if you do it’s kind of wasted if the other guys not around to get the message. REPORTER: You seem – if all may so, Colonel – you seem near exhaustion. HENRY: What I am mostly is tired of being tired. We’re supposed to be a hospital but it’s more like a chop shop around here. We’re up to our elbows in people that other people are doing their best to chop down. REPORTER: That doesn’t lead to a lot of sleep, I would imagine. HENRY: I used to think of sleeping in terms of hours. How many did I get last night, how many will I get to steal tonight. I’m down to minutes now. It’s like somebody broke one hand off the clock. REPORTER: Does that ever affect your performance? HENRY: I fell asleep a few weeks ago in the middle of resecting a patient’s bowel. How’s that for exhausted? REPORTER: Does that fishing hat mean there are those times when you do get to get away from it all? HENRY: What it means is that I have to fish for those times. And let me say, the biting’s pretty poor. REPORTER: Business is too good around here. HENRY: Let’s just say it takes a whole lot longer to take a bullet out of a belly than it does putting one into one. REPORTER: Thank you, sir. HENRY: Can I say one more thing? REPORTER: Of course. HENRY: I just want you to know we all here are grateful for this visit you’ve paid us, this attention you’re paying to the job we’re doing. You get the feeling sometimes, being over here that, aside from our families, we’ve kind of dropped off the planet, that we’ve been kind of disinvited to the party – like everyone back home is busy living their real lives and for us to give them a call when we get back to town. (TO REPORTER) That sound too preachy? REPORTER: It sounded just fine, Colonel. HENRY: Henry. I’m a lot more a Henry than I’ll ever be colonel. REPORTER: Thank you, Henry. HENRY: Tell me the truth: didn’t that feel better? REPORTER: You’re an excellent doctor. HENRY: Hey – that’s why I’m over here getting 300 hundred dollars a month.

[childofsardior]

What's everybody's (main) love language?

That's an interesting question!

I had to wonder about it and do some research before replying, and I am still not 100% sure abt my answer yet since this is the first time I actively think about it.

Since I saw some articles claiming that Love Language was the one you speak to others and other articles claming that it is he one you want others to speak to you (how you show affection vs how you like to receive it basically), I decided to cover both possibilities to be sure!

The Adults first!

King Bowser:

Love Language(s) he speaks: Gift-giving (mostly with his younger kids or when he tries to impress the Princess of Mushrooms in a kind way) and Words of Affirmation (mostly towards his older kids and, very rarely, to Kamek or even to his... "enemies-but-sort-of-friends" during truces)

Type(s) of affection he likes to receive most: Quality Time (not having so much free time for himself and to spend with his family, he treasure it quite a lot when he can spend a day with Junior playing together or with any of the others talking, chilling of even fight-training)

Kamek:

Love Language(s) he speaks: Act of Service (in a loyal servant of the Royal Family way, but also in a parenting way)

Type(s) of affection he likes to receive most: Acts of Service (being used to be the one doing doing chores and helping others, if you surprise him with some unexpected help he'll be extremely grateful) and Gift-Giving (especially from the kids; he collects every little drawing or silly thingamajic the dragon-turtle hatchlings gifted him during the years).

The Royal Kids

Bowser Jr:

Love Language(s) he speaks: Gift-giving (he will cover you with cool drawings if he really likes you) and Physical Touch (he likes to *hug* his siblings and his father, especially when he notices them being under the weather or when he is really happy or grateful for something).

Type(s) of affection he likes to receive most: Words of Affirmation (mostly from his father) and Quality Time (both with his dad or his favorite siblings). He also enjoys gifts and acts of services too, but he's so used to them that he barely notice them; he will only accept hugs when in the right mood.

Larry:

Love Language(s) he speaks: Quality Time (if he likes you, he will gladly show you all the cool things he can do and all the cool stuff and games he owns. He will also spend the day playing games with you, as he does mostly with Junior, Morton and Iggy.)

Type(s) of affection he likes to receive most: Words of Affirmation (he will crave them from his older siblings, especially if he just did something *cool* and is waiting for some compliments, and from Bowser after a mission) and Acts of Service (he hates doing chores, and if someone does them for him, Larry will be extremely thankful to the person for the whole day).

Morton:

Love Language(s) he speaks: Acts of Service (especially towards his younger brothers, generally packing stuff for them such as snacks or useful tools they could forget about, and watching over them when needed) and Quality Time (he will play with Junior and Larry, listen to Wendy or Ludwig complaining, training with Roy and letting Lemmy ride his shell to feel tall when traveling together. Most of all, he will spend a lot of time with Iggy when he's doing his researches)

Type(s) of affection he likes to receive most: Physical Touch (mostly friendly hugs; his siblings say Morton is very hug-shaped for this very reason) and Words of Affirmation (he doesn't care about insults and such, but he do likes compliments and encouragements a lot).

Wendy:

Love Language(s) she speaks: Acts of Service (she's the one that likes the most to plan trips, SPA days, shopping sessions for herself and others, too. She can spend hours choosing which city or monument or even big mall they are going to visit next during a vacantion, and she'll do it with pleasure) and Quality Time (often related to the shared time she planned in advance for her whole family or just for the siblings she likes to hang out more with. She can share her time with her occasional boyfriend(s), her friends or even with her favorite soldiers from her own division).

Type(s) of affection she likes to receive most: Gift-Giving (but she will only accept perfectly chosen gifts, from her favorite brands and collections) and Quality Time (you can be sure Wendy considers you a trusted person when she starts freely complaining about wathever minor inconvenience ruined her morning in your presence).

Iggy:

Love Language(s) he speaks: Gift-Giving and Acts of Servce (both often related to his habit of spending days with blueprints and projects working on various useful or cool gadgets thinking about someone he cares about; he will lately give them to the person, even if his inventions are not always... well received).

Type(s) of affection he likes to receive most: Quality Time (especially spending hours together talking about science, mechanic or even weird plants and animals, collecting and classyfing stuff from the wilderness and searching for the weirdest bug or funny-shaped flower to add to his collection; he also appreciates when Lemmy or Morton make him company while he's working on some new gear, even if nobody speaks during that time). On the other hand, Physical Touch is a big no-no for Iggy most of the times (except made for Lemmy, that can hug him at any time).

Roy:

Love Language(s) he speaks: Physical Touch (but not in the typical hug/cuddle way. Roy usually pats his siblings on the shoulders, shells, even heads; he likes to ruffle their hair when he's proud of them, and even grabbing them like cats if they are small enough. In Roy's POV, even a friendly wrestling match is a way to show affections to his family or his best soldiers).

Type(s) of affection he likes to receive most: He's not the most affectionate Koopa in the family and claims he doesn't need people being nice to him, but he secretely appreciate Gift-Giving (especially cool accessories from Wendy or some useful gadget from Morton or Iggy) and Quality Time (he will ask his siblings to fight him and train together just to have fun, but he also likes to spend time with his friends while roaming the Dark Lands, talking about sensitive or emotional stuff he is too embarassed to bring out at home).

Lemmy:

Love Language(s) he speaks: Lemmy is quite sensitive to other people's emotions and needs and always tries his best to give each person the type of affection they prefere or need. Physical Touch (mostly hugs, especially if he sees his sibling really upset or feeling blue) and Quality Time (from playing pranks and going to amusement parks together to just make you company while chilling) are is main ways to show affection.

Type(s) of affection he likes to receive most: He will likely accept and go on with any kind of love language you speak, if sincere. He especially loves receiving Words of Affirmation (most people just look at him as a weird funny clown little guy, but if any of his siblings or superiors actually compliments him or encourage him about his passions or something he did, Lemmy's heart will warm up a little).

Ludwig:

Love Language(s) he speaks: Within his family, Ludwig mostly show how much he cares with Acts of Service towards his superiors (coordinating at his best the Koopalings during missions or following the Kings orders at his best to make Bowser proud), while he mostly encourages his siblings with Words of Affirmation (being used to compliments himself so often, he is quite good complimenting other people too, if they deserve it. He also loves to cover his GF with pompous compliments when they are playing music together).

Type(s) of affection he likes to receive the most: He mostly enjoys when his loved ones want to spend some Quality Time with him (especially if they share a passion together, such as peforming music - like with Wendy or his GF - or spray painting with Iggy, Morton, Larry and Junior, but also spending a day visiting nice places and eating out is something he really likes). He recently discovered that Physical Touch is something he is able to enjoy, too, but only if we talk about cuddles with his girlfriend.

[eisforeidolon]

Question: [After an aside about how SPN is a comfort show for the asker in dealing with post-military service MH issues] What characteristics, or traits, do you have in common with your characters from the show?

Misha: I'll start -

Jensen: This'll be quick.

Misha: Jensen can go on for hours with this. When I started on the show, the Castiel character was written like a real, tough badass warrior. And the writers and producers saw what I did with that material, and my performance, and they modified it a little bit.

Jensen: [referring to previous answer] Well, it's much like Larry King going I think we got the wrong guy.

Misha: And so, ultimately the character was this sort of dorky, socially awkward individual who had a difficult time fitting in? I feel like I brought that to the table. I will say that there is something about Castiel that I - this is not really answering your question, but, um, that's one of my talents - I occasionally have taken inspiration from an aspect of Castiel's character, which is that no matter the circumstances, irrespective of whether he actually succeeded or failed at the endeavor, he always tried to do his best, and to do the right thing. He always tried to do the right thing. And I have taken - you know sometimes people tell me that they take inspiration from the characters on Supernatural and that is one characteristic of the character that I played that I sometimes try to take inspiration from.

Jensen: First off, thank you for your service, my man. What's your name? Evan? Thank you, thank you for that. And know that I look to guys like you for inspiration. The - like Misha said, at this I could go on quite a bit about the similarities between myself and Dean. Also, you know, the, uh, dis-similarities? Is that the right word? Un-similarities? The non-similarities? What's the word?

Misha: You could say difference.

Jensen: I don't wanna say difference. I wanna say [listens to audience] dis-similarities! Ha ha ha, suck it, Jared! We like the same music, we like old cars, but I think deeper than that? I have a deep-rooted need to take care of the people that I love. It's one of the reasons why that quote that I said a minute ago, taking care of yourself takes care of more than just yourself, so that reminds me that oh, by taking care of myself I can also take care of other people. Because that's how I had to kind of switch that in my mind, whereas I don't need to take care of myself, I need to take care of everybody else. But you have to take care of yourself. But by doing that, it gives you - makes you able to do the things that you want to do, which is take care of other people. So I think Dean fell victim to that same thing quite a bit, and wasn't too concerned with himself, but was always concerned about the people surrounding him, the brother to your left, the brother to your right. So that is certainly one thing that I always loved about that character because I felt the same way.

Misha: There's another thing that was similar between Dean and you, which is, it came up when we did that western episode, which is that you both like to dress up like cowboys. Remember? It was like, Creaser - our cameraman - and I made eye contact like, I think, I think it was a scene where Dean was getting excited about his cowboy hat, remember that? And Creaser and I were like, [whispers] I don't think it's Dean that's excited here.

Jensen: I don't think he's acting. Well, we both have bowlegs. So there you go.

[queenofbaws]

top 5 favourite until dawn characters to WRITE vs top 5 favourite until dawn characters in general (if it's different)

it is such an important distinction med, and i thank you endlessly for letting me get into it 😏

WRITING

1. flamethrower guy/the stranger/jack: this one likely shocks no one. there's just. a joy. that comes with writing an unhinged, monster-hunting hermit. he kicks doors open. he lives in a burnt out hospital full of Creatures. he's larry fessenden. he's alive in canon for roughly 5 minutes. he's the light of my life. 2. mike: probably slightly more of a surprise because i don't write him OFTEN, but i love writing mike. lovelovelove writing him. mostly because, of the ud kids, i think he's the character who talks...the most...like i do irl??? similar speech patterns, i mean - same tendency to just. say things. that do not make sense. or things that did not need to be said. 3. EMILY: again, probably a surprise because i don't write her much, but my GOD there is a freedom to writing in emily's voice asldkfjdskf she's smart. she's mean. she always has at least three insults locked and loaded in the chamber. she's also the only character in the franchise to say "understand the palm of my hand, bitch." she contains multitudes. 4. dr. hill: gotta be honest here. i went through. a lot. of schooling for psychology. okay. like. however much you think that means? it was like. twice that. and i spent a lot of time - a lot of time - listening to professionals in the field talk in circles and say absolutely batshit things while sagely nodding and giving everyone around them knowing looks, and if i didn't have alan j. hill to channel all that lingering angst into, i might've exploded by now 😫 hehehehehe. i'm only sort of joking. 5. beth: what did supermassive give her? nothing. what does that mean? she can be anything i want, and i don't have to worry over whether or not it sounds believable in canon 😎 lmfao. in much the same way i looove writing jack because we get like. 10 lines and A Vibe from him, beth's a hoot to write for because, like. we know who her siblings are. we have an IDEA of what her home life must've been like...and everything else is up for debate!!!

JUST, LIKE, TO LOOK AT

1. ashley ashley ashley: they could never make me hate you bb. did she handle some things poorly? yes. does she make some questionable decisions? sure. would i give her the world if the opportunity presented itself? of course. look, i just think. she should get to do...whatever she wants. always. as a treat. :)c 2. matt: i am so. intrigued. by matt's whole deal. every second of it. he's a huge part of the prank but he's also hugely sympathetic. he has that incredibly cute moment with ashley right as they get to the lodge but seems pretty chilly (if not downright disinterested in) chris and josh, her best friends. he helps jess through the mines. he holds his own with emily. unless you play him a v certain way, he seems the most interested in smoothing things over between everybody. HE LEAVES. THE FUCKING. HATCHET. AT THE BASE. OF THE FIRE TOWER. i would love to live in his brain for just like...ten minutes. just really figure him out. (i need to write more with him too 😭 he has bewitched me, body and soul) 3. flamethrower guy/the stranger/jack: look. look i'm not subtle. i just. love that weird old man. i just love him so much. if supermassive said 'hey here's a dlc where you go through one (1) calendar day as jack fiddler, it costs $60 and is roughly 1 hour of gameplay,' i'd fold immediately. idk why. 4. josh: there is no one - NO ONE - in this, or any other, game who's so willing to commit so fully to the bit. my man had BLUEPRINTS. my guy had DEAD PIGS. bro sourced knockout gas and fake newspapers and real blood and made voice recordings and an alter ego and rigGED HIS WHOLE FAMILY'S VACATION HOME WITH BOOBY TRAPS, THREW A PARTY ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF HIS SISTERS' SUPPOSED DEATHS, AND EVERYONE STILL FUCKING SHOWED UP. say whatever else you want about him, josh had SOMETHING figured out, man. 5. jess: again. did she make some questionable decisions? sure. do i agree with everything she did? no. but after everything she goes through, after all the tragedy and agony and terror she is put through, this girl still has the wherewithal to grab a shovel and beam a guy in the head with it, and you know what? i respect that 🙏🏻 plus she wore hiphuggers to a party on a mountain in alberta in the dead of winter, and i just want to study her under a microscope.

[doll-elvis]

Hey I was wondering what did Arlene Cogan say about the sleepovers with Elvis, that they were fairly innocent right?

I was actually gonna make a post about this but this is a perfect opportunity to talk about it so thank you so much for asking 💗!!

so I’m about 3/4s through her book (“Elvis: this one’s for you by Arlene Cogan”) and the only explicit thing that has happened so far was the panty check that I posted the excerpt of earlier this week

Absolutely nothing physical has been described besides a few kisses/general affection like hugging and cuddling (also the girls never actually slept over, they were always driven home)

I am really getting the vibe that their relationship with Elvis was more brotherly/sisterly, in fact Elvis even told them he always wished he had a little sister. He was extremely protective of them and didn’t want them paying any attention to other guys (he wanted them all to himself and basically kept them like nuns 🤧)

They even got into a few petty arguments like brothers and sisters do but I really think Elvis enjoyed having these girls around him because it gave him an opportunity to be completely unguarded and just have innocent/childish fun, like swimming, going to the roller rink, playing with firecrackers and other mischievous things

Anita Wood was dating him at this time and tbh I think whenever he needed a break from her, he would go hang out with these girls to get away and that’s why he wanted them around so often👀

here’s a little song that Frances, Heidi and Arlene sung/wrote for Elvis right before he left for army training💀:

“Oh, we’re the girls of Graceland, And we don’t give a damn, We’re out to have a helluva time, And get into a jam, The hell with Pat Boyd, Anita Wood, too, If you don’t like our little song, To hell, to hell with you”

“Elvis rolled over laughing and clapping his hands. He loved it. The laughing calmed down a little and I noticed there were tears in his eyes. “God knows how much I am going to miss y’all,” he said, “I don’t know what I’m going to do without you. I love you”

Though they were always with Elvis as a group I think they all had their own special relationship with him and it was all very sweet and innocent

also since this book is so hard to find and is so disgustingly expensive, I’m gonna be working on scanning the book and posting it as a pdf so everyone can read it !! (don’t worry it will be for free, I’m not charging people like that one girl did for the Kathy book smh👀)

sorry but I love these quotes 😩

“Honey, what you’ve got to realize is that I’m a human being just like everybody else. I want you to treat me like you would anyone else”

“Love me”, he said, “but don’t worship me. I’m not a God”

I think that is what Elvis wanted out of every woman he was with 😭 like how he told Larry Geller he could never know if a woman loved him for who he was or if they only loved Elvis, the performer/star

[enchantedlandcoffee]

Happy 28th everybody!! Here are some fics I've read this October and really enjoyed!! 🎃

⋆☆Series☆⋆

Panda's Kinktober 2023 Series by @red-pandaaa

Explicit | Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson | Niall Horan/Zayn Malik

I haven't managed to read all of these just yet but the ones I have were so so good and I definitely recommend reading them.

⋆☆Fics☆⋆

for you, darlin', for you by shiptattou / @wecantalktomorrow

General Audiences | Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson | Alpha Louis Tomlinson, Omega Harry Styles, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending

“Got another tomorrow before I leave,” Harry said quietly, nuzzling Louis’s blanket once more as he got comfortable in their nest. His body was still trembling with the aftermath of his sobs, but the tears had stopped for the moment. “Thank you, you know,” he rubbed his face once more, sinking farther into the comforting scent of his alpha, “you always seem to know what I need before I do.” That made Louis smile, eyes crinkling in the corners which, in turn, made Harry’s heart race with a fondness for the man before him. “Of course I do, you’re my baby, my mate, my omega. ‘S my job to take care of you. Kept seeing the pictures coming out, and you looked more and more worn out, my love. Could feel it,” Louis breathed out, his hand coming up to prod at his own bondmark absently. The touch to his bondmark makes Harry shiver, bringing his fingers up to rest them against his own mark.

This was such a cute fic and I loved it so much.

always you (i should have known) by 28goldensfics / @28goldens

Teen and Up Audiences | Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson | Enemies to fake dating to lovers, Fluff, Sharing a Bed, Abusive Relationships (not Larry)

“Oi, now we’re talking. Came running to ol’ Tomlinson for help, gotta say Harold,” He crossed his arms over his chest, and Harry watched as his eyes looked him over. “It's very out of character for you.” “Yeah, well, don’t feel too special, you're my last choice,” Harry subconsciously crossed his arms as well, giving Louis his own look over. “Oh, that's a lot of power, I’m your last resort!” He wagged his finger at him, letting out a cackle. “Alright, hit me with it.” Harry’s lips pursed as he slowly started to regret the words about to spill out of his mouth, “I want you to pretend to be my boyfriend.” or the one where harry and louis cant stand each other and fake date to make someone jealous.

I love this fic so, so much. I read this in one night and the lovely author Rae got my live commentary of it. I definitely recommend giving this a read and the sequel to it linked here (explicit).

Told You So by hazzahtomlinson / @itsnotreal

Explicit | Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson | Meet-Cute, Falling In Love, Strangers to Lovers

“Harry, come outside and say 'hello' to Loretta.” Louis rested his forearms against the fence. He wondered who Harry was? Maybe her son? He turned back briefly to check on his grandma. She had a sly smirk on her face, so he turned further to face her. “What? What’re you smiling like that for?” He chuckled. “Nothing. Just— thought of something funny. I’ll tell you about it later.” Louis squinted at her. Hm. Weird. “What’d you need, Gram?” A new voice said. Louis turned back towards Mary’s yard and nearly choked on his tongue. Holy fucking—. Harry was in fact not Mary’s son. Jesus fuck. He had brown hair that curled a bit at his ears, long legs on display in some mesh shorts, toned arms showing due to the tanktop he was sporting. Christ. He was hot as fuck. A thousand percent Louis’ type— and then he turned towards him and their eyes met. “Oh. Who’s this?” Harry questioned, a soft smile on his lips as his eyes danced over Louis. Or Louis' grandmother loved to meddle in his life no matter how much he told her to give it up.

This was such a cute read and is on my list of fics to read when I need cheering up. It's so so good!!

Swap me for your shadow by @lunarheslwt

Explicit | Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson | Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Harry Styles, Omega Louis Tomlinson, 5+1 Things

“…I’m just … so in love with him.” Louis blinked. What??? This hushed revelation from Harry came like a gunshot- loud - and made his heart plummet. He could hardly process it, as he stood there freezing in the wind, hidden behind the balcony door. Harry was … Harry was in love?? Since when?? The shock and confusion that had fallen over him like a bucket of ice was slowly washed over by a feeling that ran hot and acidic. Somehow, it gripped around his lungs tighter, more cruelly. Harry was in love with someone….and it wasn’t him. If Louis thought being in love with his best friend was a knife that continually twisted into his heart before, it was nothing compared to when Harry started to go around talking about having fallen for someone else. A 5+1 fic; 5 times Louis has to listen to Harry’s vague confessions of love for his ‘omega friend’ and the 1 time Louis snaps and confesses his love for Harry.

i absolutely love this fic and how the story was set up and portrayed <33

⋆☆WIPs☆⋆

blue moon by @aquietlarrie

Explicit | Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson | Alternative Universe - 1950s, Mutual Pining, Long-Distance Relationship, Alternative Universe - College/University, Coming of Age

it’s the late 50’s. times are ‘simple’. rock n roll is in full swing. vinyl, music and dancing are the primary ways of entertaining yourself, and in a time where loving someone of the same sex is illegal, two strangers catch each other’s eyes across a dancefloor and do just that. over the span of a year and in between two cities, harry and louis happen to find each other at just the right time. through a hot and heavy summer and a bitter winter, their journey is one of self; self discovery, self-acceptance and self love. this is a story of navigating sexuality in a time where man and woman are the only accepted forms of love by law, where learning to hide your love for someone becomes a matter of survival and safety. a story where above everything, they stick together and weather the storm. its hard, incredibly hard, but no matter the road, it's one worth taking or the self indulgent 50’s au where i wanted a safe space to explore the culture, history, and sexuality of being gay in a time when it was extremely difficult to do so. includes, lots of questionable dancing, healing your inner child, and one heck of an emotional ride.

I had the pleasure of beta-ing this fic just before posting and I love it so so much. There are 3 chapters posted already and it's so so good!

Into The Mist by @babyhoneyheslt

Mature | Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson | Alternate Universe - Historical, Pirates, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics

Sneaking on board the famous pirate ship Compass Arrow to get a story for his journalist father, Harry must do everything to keep a low profile. But when one of the crew discovers him, hiding from the ruthless Captain Tommo becomes almost impossible.

I love all fics by this author and this is one of my favourite WIPs at the moment.

[alarrytale]

Happy Sunday Marte! It’s the anon who wrote you my fear that H might dump Louis because he’s too ambitious. Thank you very much for your response not only to my ask/opinion but others who reacted on my ask! You described my “problem” very exactly, it’s the mixture of constant gaslighting, the blurred lines between who he really is and what’s his image, his image which most of the fandom (het harries) fully eats without any deeper thinking or skeptical view and his global success (that I think it’s bit overhyped because everyone’s in his a** right now) that makes me fear that H at one point will dump Louis. It’s really hard sometimes to believe who H is for you because I joined the fandom long after the hiatus and so I have no idea who H was before, how he interacted on sm because all I see is someone who barely says anything, he constantly looks like the whole world annoys him and he hates everybody - I even was shocked when saw him fully smiling on Friday because I got so used to his grumpy face for the last year I forgot he can smile. So thank you for giving us - fans who have doubts about him - a platform to share it and getting the reassurance from you and other anons. Being his fan and larrie in general is much easier when there are fans like you who very patiently answer others.

I love when once again they proved us that they are in fact one person because the way they both had to squeeze “it’s coming home” before they left the stage, it was hilarious. I mean, noone’s suprised that Louis done it as he attended one match, did the tv thing at Glasto and is very likely about to attend the final match today in Berlin, but no way I would expect it from H that he would use the only opportunity he has to say this.

And as I’m writing you again, I would like to ask, what is your opinion about the bird pin he has on Friday? Sure, it was a honour to Christine but as others said, he could have made it in so many different colour combination and yet he picked bluegreen once again. Plausible deniability 101 I guess. But since I knew the bird is bluegreen, my mind started larrying quite automatically and then I found out about the probably primar meaning of wearing that pin.

Happy Sunday to you too, anon 🌞

Not a problem, happy to be of help! I understand it can be difficult to see through the fog, but Harry and Louis are really two peas in a pod when you come to understand who they really are.

I share your opinion on the bird pin. I think it was for Christine, but there is no doubt in my mind that H asked for it to be mainly blue and green in colour. I find it very strange that some larries so easily dismiss it as nothing to do with larry. It absolutely was, and that doesn’t take away from the fact that it was to honour Christine either. It doesn’t diminish the honour. Harry knows how we'll take it when he's sporting the blue and green colour combo, and if he was concerned the bluegreen bird would overshadow the primary meaning of the bird, then he'd simply ask for it to be any other colour combination than blue and green. He didn’t. He wanted it to be blue and green. It was no coincidence.

[tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors]

Proud

May and June, through the years.

Pairing: platonic familial May & Everybody basically

Word count: 3108

Warnings: Hey Look At Me. Theres some pretty serious homophobia at the beginning of this, and references to homphobia throughout

Notes: part of my Love and Other Fairytales verse, spanning from Abby, Dot, and Larry being teenagers to a little less than a year after Linda’s birth.

for @creativity-no-renewal

thank you to @airiervessel for beta-reading!

---

There was a lot May could say about Lazarus Sanders.

None of it was kind.

She hadn’t been angry when she’d found Abigail hiding Laurence in her closet – she’d mostly just been confused. She wasn’t entirely sure she knew what the three of them had going on, and if Abigail was going to give up her disdain for dating for anyone (which May found entirely unlikely) she would have guessed Dorothy before Laurence, who was obviously infatuated with Dorothy himself.

When Larry tumbled out of the closet looking like he’d been crying for hours, she shuffled through the possibilities and came up empty.

“C’mon, up ya get,” she said gruffly, helping him to his feet, “Abigail, did you kidnap the poor boy? The hell is going on?”

Larry, in a rather uncharacteristic move, shrugged off her hands harshly, darted across the room, and- hid.

Hid, behind Abby, like he was- like he was afraid of May.

“Hey, baby,” she said, raising her hands non-threateningly, “What’s wrong? Are ya alright?”

Abby turned and whispered something to Larry, pressing her forehead almost to his temple. Larry looked on the verge of a fresh round of tears, and Drusilla climbed out of Abby’s shirt pocket to clamor up the fabric and onto Larry’s shoulder.

“Promise?” she made out Larry whispering.

“I swear,” said Abby fiercely, “And I can take ‘er if not.”

May recoiled a little. There was a very, very short list of things that Larry could do that she might get genuinely angry at him for, and fewer still that would make him this terrified to tell her. She flipped through them frantically, her heart rate picking up.

“Larry, baby, I need you to tell me straight right now,” she said cautiously, “Do I need to deal with a body?”

Larry actually barked a wet, startled laugh.

“Uh. No,” he choked, “You know, uh. Unless Poppop makes good on the threat to shoot me if he sees me again.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah, well, you might want to wait until I tell ya why, in case you agree with him.”

“Laurence Sanders,” she said, some part of her heart crumpling like wadded up trash, “There is not a goddamn thing on this earth you could do that would make me hurt you.”

Larry swallowed hard, and Abby squeezed his hand; he curled into her in spite of having a good six inches advantage, and May wanted to wrap him in knitted things.

“He… found some stuff,” he said, wincing, “You know, like… embarrassing teen boy stuff, please don’t make me say it.”

“He threatened to kill you over smut rags?” she said incredulously.

“No,” said Larry, laughing bitterly, “He threatened to kill me over gay smut rags.”

“… Oh.”

May was ashamed to admit it, but she did blank out a bit. She’d never met a gay – she didn’t really think they even existed this far out of the city. She had a better understanding of the mechanics than most – she was very thorough when giving sexual education to idiot teenagers who were liable to stick their bits damn near anywhere they’d fit – but that was about it. “How to Talk to a Gay Kid” had never been something she’d gone about making a script up for. She was also scrambling to figure out what exactly was going on with Larry and Dot if Larry was gay - she’d been pretty sure, but maybe not-?

“I’ll leave with him,” blurted Abby furiously, shoving Larry further behind her, “If you make him leave I’ll go with him and you’ll never see me again and I’ll make yer life hell from three states away, Momma, I swear I will-”

“Calm down, ya hot-headed little shit,” said May, back on surer footing in the face of Abby jumping the gun like a fool, “No one is leaving. I’m taking a minute to process but let’s make that damn clear.”

“I- No one-?” said Larry, and god, what an awful expression; hope buried under layer after layer of misery, a baby bird too afraid to break the rest of the shell and face the snake.

“No one,” she said, firmer, settling in herself, “I don’t really know what ya need from me right now, baby, I’ll be honest. But you can stay long as you need, and if your granddad comes around I’ll put a bullet in ‘im. Sound doable?”

May had an armful of teenage boy then, and that settled that.

---

Abby had set up this little… picnic. There was only the four of them (Larry, with Abigail and and Dorothy there for moral support and May there for security), the little picnic table covered in knick knacks (crocheted miniature flags, a tub of pins, stacks of hand-drawn pamphlets that they’d had to buy their own printer to copy because no copyshop would let them in) and Jax, circling above and behind. The pamphlets weren’t anything special; black and white, L-G-B-T and a page to explain each that May had had to surreptitiously swipe one of and read rather than put Larry through the misery of explaining what exactly his… situation was when he clearly found the topic very embarrassing. She was pretty sure he was the B, but she wouldn’t say anything until she at least overheard something to that effect.

May sat a bit away from the kids. They were excited – flush and adrenalined with the excitement of doing something they shouldn’t, high on their defiance. May could give them the space for that.

They were just kids. They were old enough to know they were rebelling, to know Lazarus had meant what he said about killing Larry, to know that they were in danger.

And yet still young enough that Abby’s Momma and a twelve-gauge were enough to set them dizzy with victory, make them feel untouchable even in broad daylight, in full view of a road that was gathering increasingly gawking traffic. Some folks drove past four or five times, gaping or glaring or flipping them off. Jax circled the treeline, looking out for anyone sneaking up from the back, and May kept a white-knuckled grip on the shotgun and her eyes glued to the road.

No one stopped. Nobody had the balls or the stupid to face May Gage at her worst, and May was just fine with that. If they could get through this with just the threat alone, she’d be well pleased.

When someone finally crossed that line, she knew it was definitely stupid and not balls.

She stood from her chair, hefting the shotgun, and turned to the kids.

“You hear a shot fire, you run,” she said, “No heroics. You follow Jax back to the house and you lock up and you do not open the door for even god himself, you understand me?”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Abby, steel in her eyes. Larry was looking over May’s shoulder, his face ashen.

“Larry,” she said, “If there’s one thing your granddad is, it's a grand ol’ coward. I can take him.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said tremulously.

May turned, stalking across the field toward the incoming column of fury that was Lazarus Sanders.

“What the hell is this?” he demanded, “May fucking Gage and her degeneracy again, your feminism turning my boy into a damn sissy-”

“Let me make this quick,” said May, “You’re gonna leave. You’re gonna let my babies have their picnic. You’re gonna never speak to any of ‘em, ever again. And if you don’t, I am gonna kill you, Laz, and I ain’t even gonna feel bad about it.”

“You threatening me, Gage?”

“I damn well am,” said May, “On my life, on God, on Eve and all her daughters, if you raise a single hand to my kids for the rest of your life, I will put you in the fuckin’ ground, Lazarus Sanders.”

Jax finished his third circuit around them, high over their heads, and even Laz wasn’t stupid enough to not notice the June warm climbing to August blood-hot. Jax swooped down to land behind her, wings spread wide, and Lazarus paled like the cowering dog he was.

“You,” he hissed, furious and terrified, “You did this. Possessed him with your- your devil worship!”

“Larry is the sweetest boy who ever lived in this town, no thanks to you,” said May, “If he’s possessed, may we all be so lucky.”

Lazarus’s eyes bugged out of his head, and apparently that was just too much for him. He turned tail and booked it for his car, and May waited until it was full out of sight before she turned to walk back to the kids.

Dorothy was looking at her with wide, astonished eyes, like May had summoned lightning or something, and Abby looked as smug as a Gage ought to.

May turned to Larry, only to find him already half in her arms, bullying under a damn shotgun like an idiot and hiding his face in her neck, shoulders shaking under her hands.

Well. She’d give him the gun safety lecture after the hug then.

---

Dot and Larry had been running the pride picnic long before their falling out, and May had to admit that she’d missed it. It hadn’t gotten much bigger by then, but it had fairly exploded in the past five or so years. Sure, there were still grousing folks, even a few protesters a handful of times, but even that had died down once May came back with the shotgun in tow once more.

She’d sat a bit further away this time, not without ulterior motive. She was glad she did – Roman, Patton, and Logan ran their own little mini-booths apiece, and Virgil would have been alone if not for the spot saved just for him next to her.

“Seems odd.” he muttered.

“How so?”

“To celebrate something like that,” said Virgil, “I mean... is it like the difference between Seelie and Unseelie, for humans? Or more like springs and summers?”

“Is what?” said May, furrowing her brow, “Sexuality?”

“Yes.”

He was looking up at her with those big, wide-set purple eyes. He was tall and gaunt, no baby fat left on him, but he still had the knobby-limbed gangliness of a teenager, looking a bit like he’d been stretched like taffy too quickly. She didn’t know if he’d fill out over the next few years, if he’d age with her boys. His head was tilted so like Logan’s, his fingertips gripping the hem of her skirt as if to ground himself. The Lord of the Forest, clinging to a grandma’s skirt, nervous around a bunch of strangers.

He was just a kid. And May ought to tell him the truth.

But it was a happy day. And something cold and miserable curled up in her belly at the thought of the way his face would crumple if she told him that some – a lot – of the world hated his boyfriends, for no good reason at all.

“Everybody loves a good party,” said May, shrugging.

Virgil nodded, accepting her explanation easily, and May swallowed the guilt like she did everything else.

“Mamaw!”

May looked up at Roman, who was out of breath and flushed pink, beaming and holding out a pamphlet.

“Okay, so- I know this is weird,” said Roman, “But- Dot said- Dot said she thought Mom would have used it if she'd heard it and I know it's not really cool to speculate on people's identities but I thought- I thought maybe it's a bit different? Because you knew her, and I was wondering, if- what you thought. Maybe.”

“Hm,” said May, nodding, “I have no goddamn idea what ya just asked me.”

Roman laughed nervously, and held out a little green, purple, and black pamphlet. May vaguely recognized the colors from a couple of the flags up, though she’d never bothered to keep track of them. She remembered that first little picnic with Dot and Larry and Abby arguing over which of the rainbows they ought to be using, eight or seven or six stripes, and she’d thought it was silly then and she thought it was silly now.

“Do you think Mom- do you think Mom would have identified as aroace, if she’d known the terms?” said Roman, his voice small, “Do you... do you think she would have been queer, too?”

May skimmed the pamphlet... and a lead ball dropped right into her belly.

Aromantic...asexual... lack of attraction... sex repulsion...

May was old. Old enough she’d thought she was just about unflappable – that she’d seen too much of the world to get caught off guard.

Her baby. Always managing to surprise her, even beyond the grave.

“Yeah, baby,” said May, handing it back to him and for once thanking the shake in her hands that never left, giving her an excuse if either of them noticed, “That sounds like my girl.”

Roman beamed, swooping in to kiss her cheek and pressing the pamphlet to his chest.

May decided she was gonna tell him more stories. It hurt, it hurt more than almost anything, to talk about Abigail, to talk about the baby she’d loved with every cell in her body and betrayed and lost without ever the chance to apologize. To make it right. Abigail died angry at her and she deserved it.

But Roman deserved this. To know her, as best he could. To know how alike they were, how much she saw pieces of Abby embedded in him like crystals on a fresco. May’s pain would have to take second fiddle to that.

Virgil set his head on May’s thigh, and she rested her hand on his head as Roman trotted back to his booth with a spring in his step.

Anything. Anything, for her kids.

---

“What’s that one?”

“That’s the demisexual flag,” said Roman, “Your Papa is demisexual. It means not feeling attracted to someone until you already love them.”

“And that one?”

“That’s the genderqueer flag! Avaun Ellie is genderqueer, and so is Vati, a little bit.”

“That doesn’t sound like Vati’s gender,” said Linda, wrinkling her nose at the flag.

“That’s why I said only a little bit,” said Roman, bouncing her a bit on his knee. May listened with half her attention, the other half on Brian in the bassinet next to her as she jingled his little teething keys.

“Vati’s gender doesn’t really fit any of the ones humans have named,” Roman continued, “Because he grew up among the fae, and not among humans.”

“That makes sense.”

“So he says that agender and genderqueer are closest to his gender, and he likes just ‘queer’ for his sexuality. They aren’t perfect words for him, but they don’t bother him, so he uses them for conversations with humans.”

“What about you?”

“I’m a queer gay man,” said Roman, “That means I’m a man who likes other men.”

“But Vati’s not a man?”

“Ah but that’s where the queer comes in!” said Roman, tickling her stomach and making her giggle, “We aren’t supposed to fit into the words; the words are supposed to fit us! I know Vati’s not a man, but the word ‘gay’ is important to me, and Vati doesn’t mind. I use it because it feels good to me and makes me happy, not because I fit the dictionary definition perfectly.”

“That makes sense,” said Linda, “Like how you’re not really a prince cuz you're a consort but Papa and Daddy and Vati call you Princey anyway cuz it makes you smiley.”

Roman laughed aloud, and May cracked a smile too.

“Yes, exactly.”

“What about the green and black and white one over there?”

“That’s aromantic,” said Roman, “Like... well, like my mom.”

“You have a mom?”

The pause lasted just a touch too long, and May ached.

“I did,” said Roman softly, “She passed away when I was very little.”

“And she was aro-mat-ic?”

“Aromantic, yes,” said Roman, “It means someone who doesn't experience romantic attraction.”

“How’d she have a baby if she didn’t have a husband?”

“Stubbornness,” muttered May, and Roman laughed.

“I wish I could tell you more,” said Roman, “But I don’t actually know much about aromanticism, it’s never come up. The only aromantic person I ever knew was my mom, and I don’t remember her.”

May was old. Older everyday. More forgetful too – there were some things even the fae couldn’t delay, the slow creeping away of her memory being one of them.

She might not have many more chances to say it.

“Roman,” she said, shifting in her wheelchair, “Gimme.”

Roman blinked, startled, and turned to Linda.

“Do you want to sit with Mamaw?”

“Yes!”

“Okay, be gentle.”

Linda was, ginger and feather-light as down as she crawled over the armrest to sit in May’s lap. May breathed her fruit-and-earth smell, and steeled herself.

“... Mamaw?” said Roman softly.

“Actually, baby,” she croaked, “I’m aromantic.”

Roman stiffened, but Linda perked up curiously.

“How’d you get a baby without a husband?”

“I did have a husband,” said May, “I got my baby the usual way.”

“Why’d you have a husband, if you didn’t love him?”

May breathed around the lump, in through the nose, out through the mouth.

“You see this festival, all around ya?” she said gently, gesturing around, “How it’s a big party, and most everyone in town comes, and we’re all happy?”

“Yeah?”

“It wasn’t always like this,” said May, “It used to be scary, to be different this way. People might hurt ya. And so nobody talked about it if they could help it. When I got married, it was because I was lonely, and I thought that if he loved me, and I had company, well, that would be enough. I didn’t know there was a word for what I was, I thought... I just thought there was something wrong with me.”

“Mamaw,” choked Roman, clutching her hand hard.

“But... that’s sad,” said Linda, furrowing her brow in confusion.

“It is a bit, ain’t it?” said May, “But now things are better, and we have a grand ol’ party, don’t we? And I’m happy. Happy enough that I can admit it and not feel like I’m doin’ somethin wrong. I’m so, so happy, baby.”

Roman jumped from his chair to kneel beside hers and wrap his arms around both of them. May slipped a gnarled hand into the peppered white at his temple. Her boy, all grown. Maybe grown enough that May could put a little bit down, and trust he’d help her out.

“I’m so proud of you,” said Roman wetly.

And there was no better feeling in the world.

---

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[so-idialed-9]

Yesterday! The moment, the feeling, the !!!

They were in the same game, they were in the same building, they were in the same room! What? Wow! WHAT?!!!

It's so hilarious and kind of absurdly ridicolous how excited one can get about just that. And so much fun! (And in a way sad too, but this is the world we live and that's enough about that.)

Hope you enjoyed and had so much fun! I did. Still do.

Hugs and happy thoughts and let's just enjoy and share the fun ❤️

Hi lovecake - It was amazing! I felt like part of a community - the jubilation, the memes, the sense of WHAT?!, the messages to friends saying WAKE UP and people reactivating, the realization that un-larrying is extremely rare and everybody is just waiting to rush back in and be happy together. I still feel incredibly gleeful and FaithInTheFuture about it.

I hope you had so much fun too! Thank you for this ask, it was so kind.

[spicycreativity]

Analogical- 13, 69 & 217

69 (nice): group project AU

Virgil was five minutes late and not sorry about it, padding through the library with a Red Bull soda sweating in his palm and his backpack hanging off one shoulder. He replayed the message over and over in his head as he passed tables full of students and high shelves laden with impossibly boring tomes.

Study room 4. 1:00 pm. Saturday.

Only one person occupied study room 4. Some guy who was always speaking up in lecture. Glasses, nice hair, scary smart. What was his name?

Virgil pushed the door open. "Come here often?" he said awkwardly, trying ans failing to be funny. Fuck.

The other guy— Larry or Landon or… Logan! Logan regarded him with a blank look. Not even a pity laugh. Tough crowd. "Yes."

Virgil sat down. Maybe his mechanical pencil was strong enough to penetrate his skull if he really jammed it in there. A lobotomy could only improve his social skills. "So where is everybody?" Three other people had been assigned to their little group in Philosophy of Religion, doomed to produce a slideshow on the Buddhist Eightfold Path.

"I don't know," Logan said. "I was hoping you might have heard something."

Virgil shook his head. "I'm Virgil, by the way." It was unlikely that someone as competent as Logan would have forgotten, but you never knew.

"I'm aware," Logan said, scanning him with an inscrutable gaze. "You sit in the back. You take the worst notes I've ever seen."

"Hey!"

To Virgil's surprise, Logan turned his face away in apparent shame. "I could help you, if you'd like— give you some pointers, I mean. If you want to take nicer notes."

What a roller coaster this conversation was becoming. Virgil hefted his textbook and let it flop onto the table. He really didn't care one way or the other what his stupid notes looked like, but Logan was cute and only annoying sometimes, which was more than Virgil could say for the other cute guys on campus. "That could be fun. Maybe you could come back to my dorm sometime." God, where was his pencil? Lobotomy time. Now.

"That…" Logan fidgeted with his own pencil, turning it over and over in his hand. "I would like that."

"Cool," said Virgil as his heart did a belly flop into his lower intestine. "But, uh, anyway. Buddha."

"Buddha," Logan agreed, cracking open his textbook.

Logan was incredibly adept at staying focused once his mind was set on something, so all Virgil had to do was cruise along on his momentum and chime in occasionally. None of their other group members showed up. Good. They could stay gone for all Virgil cared. He had a smart hottie (or a hot smarty?) all to himself and a failsafe topic to fall back on in case things got awkward. Thank God for Buddhism.

[rumor-weed]

have as much time as u need! cant wait for it! ill be happy with the result!

(Larry-Boy and Dark Crow drabble request, captured by the villain, Larry-Boy is being emo about it)

(sorry I humanized them again. I write with too much body language.)

The room was dark and damp and cool, and it smelled faintly of mold. In the corner, far from where he woke, tied to Larry-Boy with a coarse rope, Dark Crow could make out the faintest shape of boxes. They were in a basement. "I cannot believe this! Larry-Boy, what is wrong with you? If you had just let me -" He stopped himself, cutting off as he felt the superhero's body convulse against his back, and a soft hiccuping sob followed. "Larry-Boy... are you crying?" "No," Larry-Boy squeaked out. "Heroes don't cry." Dark Crow sighed. He relaxed his body as best he could, though the rope still held taught. "Heroes cry," he said quietly, "Everybody cries. Don't be silly." "You're right. If I didn't get us into this mess, I - I messed up, D.C. I shouldn't have... wasn't trying to sabotage your suit, you know? I was jealous, but I'd never -" "It's okay. I know." "And then I should've let you drive. I shouldn't have tried to be the only hero." "I was being a jerk. I knew you were feeling... inadequate, and... instead of building you up, I tore you down. You felt like you had to prove me wrong, right?" "I just wanted... to impress ya, ya know?" Larry-Boy said, sniffling. "But I... I just proved ya right." Dark Crow's cheeks burned with embarrassment, and he bit his lower lip, contemplating what to say. "You know, you never had to prove yourself to me. I already was impressed by you. I have been for a while." "Really, D.C.?" Larry-Boy's voice perked up hopefully. "Really," Dark Crow answered, and he sighed. "My name, by the way, is Raul. I... I wanted you to know that." "Your secret identity," Larry-Boy gasped softly. "You're not supposed to tell anyone that! Not even your closest friends!" "I would say we're very close right now," Raul teased, laughing slightly as he nudged his head back into Larry-Boy's. "Mine's Larry," "Hm?" "My... my name, it's Larry." "Oh, I... I figured," Raul said, "But thank you. That means a lot." "You... knew?" "Larry... Boy. Larry." "Oh." "Larry's a very common name, though! There's like six Larrys in Bumblyburg alone!" Raul assured him. "You could be any one of them." "Yeah... or like, maybe two." "What?" "Never mind. Uh, ya know, when we get out of this, maybe... Raul and Larry... should get a coffee sometime. I think they'd be really good friends." Raul snickered. "Yeah. what's your order, caramel mocha frappe with sprinkles?" Larry gasped. "How'd ya know?" The moment was warm despite the chill in the basement. Raul pressed himself into Larry's back, trying to take in some of his body heat. "You seem like the kinda guy who likes sweet things. Lucky guess." "Well, we ought to be gettin' out of here, right?" "Oh? You have a knife hidden in those boxers of yours?" Raul asked with a teasing smirk. "Don't need one. These knots are terrible!" Larry stood up, and Raul fell backward onto the box. He could see Larry smiling sheepishly down at him. It was too dark to make out much detail, but the smile stood out even in the dim lighting. "Oh, sorry, hah, guess the guy who did your knots was a little more careful." Raul stared up at him in surprise. "This whole time?" "I mean, not until after you told me your name, but... I didn't want to break the mood."

Raul tested the knots on the rope around his hands. Tight. Sturdy. It figured as much. Larry knelt down next to him and took the rope, testing if he could find where to untie it. "So, uh, we'll just go up those stairs," Larry said as he undid the knots, "And find out whose house we're in. Then we'll know who we're fighting!" "Actually, I think... if you don't mind my suggestion, we should go through that window up there. They'll expect us to try the door." Larry helped Raul to his feet, and Raul stiffened when Larry threw an arm over his shoulder in a hug. "Those dastardly villains won't know what hit them! They may be prepared for Dark Crow and Larry-Boy, but wait until they see what Raul and Larry have in store for them!"

[celestialholz]

BREAKS DOWN THE DOOR

So. Couple fairy type ones for you. Please consider: Ephemeral TM019, Vanilla TM127. You essentially pick up what I’m putting down, I am sure 💕

I do indeed pick it up, and then I shake it up. xD Two fics; two very different forms of connection, just for you my friend. ^_^ Cross-posted to AO3 here as chapters three and four respectively, welcome to the revenge of the Fairy types. (Vanilla under the read more!)

TM19: Disarming Voice

It’s a revelation, the first time his best friend sings.

Brassius is fresh from hospitalisation, a deep, fragile blue coating his heart, but as they sculpt and paint together in the studio they’ve begun to share, he hears soft words, sung sweetly almost under breath. It’s stilted, lacking flow – he pauses between lines, lungs still recuperating – but it’s unmistakeable nevertheless.

“When your day is long… and the night… the night is yours alone…”

It’s soulful, melodious, in tune, and sung through a quiet smile. It’s indicative of recovery physical and mental alike, and it sparks utter joy in Hassel’s gentle heart, despite the song’s inherent sadness. He listens silently, eyes falling closed behind his canvas, heat prickling behind his lids.

“Don’t let yourself go… ‘cause everybody cries…”

Oh stop it, he says within his own mind, not remotely meaning it. You’ll start me off crying, dear. I already love you far too much…

“Sometimes everything is wrong… now it’s time to sing along…”

He doesn’t need open eyes to know that’s an invitation rather than a simple lyric; he chokes a tender laugh, faces him tearfully, joins his beloved in voice. He matches him pause for pause. I will always wait for you, Brassie.

“When your day is night alone… if you feel like letting go…” he’s weeping now, inevitably, though there is no trace of judgement upon the smiling countenance that meets his. “If you think you’ve had too much of this life… well, hang on…”

Brassius meets him then, in the studio’s centre; they intwine hands automatically, equals, partners, the song perfectly relevant to both in its own unique way.

“’Cause everybody hurts,” they whisper-sing, gazes miles-deep. “Take comfort in your friends…”

Arms spontaneously embrace, pull each other tight to them, murmur traces of loving, relieving sobs.

“I hadn’t thanked you yet, for staying by my side once more,” a breathy voice rasps against him. “Not just now, but ever since we’ve been acquainted. Such permanent sunshine…”

“I am privileged to be able to shine upon you,” comes the tender murmur in response. “Thank y-you, for remaining in the light.”

Dual shadows chased away, they sigh together, foreheads meeting. They keep building, Hassel knows – keep getting nearer and nearer to admitting what lays beyond their friendship.

… Now is not the moment, he understands gently. Now is about healing, and singing, and quietly loving, and so he pulls back before he loses himself completely, eyes bright, and begins anew.

“If you feel like you’re alone… no, no, no, you’re not alone.”

“No, I’m not,” Brassius whispers, clinging tight to his hands, grey gaze sparkling in silvered joy. “And nor are you, dearest Hass.”

*-*-*-*-*-*

Years later, the song for their wedding’s first dance seems obvious, but they ponder individually all day nevertheless, pensive throughout their League matches.

When they present one another later with the exact same song in the exact same moment, both laugh until they’re almost breathless, lips joining in harmonic silliness.

They conduct one another’s light, after all. There could have been no other real choice.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

TM127: Play Rough

“I need training, dear.”

Larry glances up from the newspaper he is merely glazing over, brow raising.

“Is that a formal request, Kate?”

Her eyes glint, challenge clear.

“Yes. Yes it is.”

The newspaper is spontaneously dropped; steel meets the forest, gazes locked.

“Mm,” he murmurs, conclusive. “Five minutes.”

She grins, almost evil, and the spell is cast. “Game on.”

Their Pokemon collected, they meet on the battle court in their own yard, hands shaken, excitement barely concealed behind simple nods as they walk to their respective sides.

For a husband and wife who take battling far too seriously, training is akin to warfare. He doesn’t generally consider himself passionate, but this… this is different. He knows her, intimately – knows how she looks in the dead of morning, bathed in heat; knows how she wears joy, softly and with infinite kindness; knows how she brings light to his world, light he had never seen the merest wisp of before being at her side. She thrills him on every possible level, and the sheen of battle is no different.

And so, as he does every time, he will play the game. He will bring every moment of his Elite Four training to their own garden, to an unsanctioned bout.

He will give her the battle of her life, because she is worth every tiny little half-second of his devotion.

… And, well. He’d be lying if he claimed not to enjoy these things himself, too, even if it is mostly through osmosis.

He releases Oricorio to her Lokix, and grins claim them both.

“Begin,” he announces simply, and they glow.

*-*-*-*-*-*

It is left in the end to Ursaring and Flamigo; his bird preens proudly as they stare one another down, fire united, and Ursaring lets loose a low growl. They are no strangers to their mother and father’s duels, and play their roles as though the world will fall if they do.

“Play Rough!”

“Dodge.”

Flamigo does, deftly – he is faster, and holds the overall advantage. Both Pokemon wear their gleaming crowns, casting the fauna around them in glistening fractures of light, king and queen of the residence; it is blinding, but husband and wife both retain utmost focus.

“Brave Bird.”

“Intercept!”

He blinks, briefly, as Ursaring meets Flamigo head on. He sees a flash of a younger Katy behind his eyes – a memory, five years old, of her refusing to temper herself to his stubbornness.

She had never known when to quit, even against insurmountable odds.

“Just have dinner with me!”

“I… I can’t just have dinner with you.”

“And why not?”

“Because we’re both in the League -”

“So are Hassel and Brassius! Never stopped them, has it?”

“I… no, but -”

“But nothing, silly man. You’ll meet me in Treasure, seven sharp. Be terribly unprofessional of you to miss such an important meeting, dear…”

He flips back to reality, smile clinging to him. She shifts his horizons daily, cherishes him for exactly who he is… inspires him to become brighter.

His stare sets, and watches every minute detail; watches Ursaring as though she’s in slow-motion, the grasp and the throwback and the setting up for -

“Brave Bird!”

“Play Rough!”

It ends in carnage; both sparkle out, gleam receding, simultaneously knocked out by blows taken in unison. Recoil damage can be a cruel mistress.

They thank their friends as they meet once more in the middle, smiles identical.

“Very well-played, darling.”

“Very well-played indeed, dear.”

Technically, the game is a draw – but as he feels the burst of light against his heart, as he takes her hand and they head for the Pokemon Centre, he acknowledges silently that he much prefers to think that they both win.

Got a request for The Technical Festival, which celebrates Ephemeralart and Vanillacupcakes through the medium of TMs? Take a look here; my askbox is open!

[hana-loves-bumblebees]

💖🤎Post-Pammy kiss doodles💖🤎

I have been waiting for this moment for weeks!!! And it’s here!! We get a kiss! Two kisses! A palm kiss!! Pammy nation, we are fed! (Us🤝Octavius🤝Decimus)

Everybody say “thank you, @historical-kitten !”

Thomas has hands down best rizz out of literally anyone in the musem who’s not Larry. Like man’s not oblivious. Man knows Pavo wants him but is not ready and he waits for him. He threatens his abusive mother. He oozes rizz. I swear he knows the best pick up lines, too. And they come so naturally to him - Pavo will swoon. Troublerizzsome Tom fr.

Anyway I have a headcanon Pius and Thomas will get along amazingly well. Don’t ask how I know, I just know. They’ll vibe.

[nubianamy]

(An excerpt from a longer work, set during episode 1x14 He Kane Hewa'ole, during which Danny and Steve argue about ChIPs and who would be Eric Estrada. Ashley is Danny's trans bartender.)

“Look, Eric Estrada and Larry Wilcox were not buddies, okay?” Danny was saying as they entered the bar. “We really don’t want to attempt to model our friendship on theirs. They were terrible at doing their own stunts. Wilcox got nabbed for securities fraud, his replacement Tom Reilly got a DUI, and that was the end of ChIPs. Six seasons, boom.” 

Steve was unperturbed. “Six seasons is a pretty solid effort.”

“You’d think, if they weren’t hating one another the whole time. Trust me, six years can feel like a long time when you’re always arguing.” 

“We’re always arguing.”

“Yeah, and we’ve barely known each other six months. ” 

“You know, I heard The Village People modeled their cop character after Ponch.”

Danny fell into a sudden fit of choking. Steve paused to check on him, looking concerned, but Danny waved him away.

“Is that right,” he said hoarsely. “I suppose you think that makes Ponch extra cool.” 

“Depends on what you like.” 

“What I like? I like the motorcycle riding.”

“Well, that was all stunts. Estrada didn’t even have a motorcycle license when he started the show.” 

Danny shook his head in disbelief. “What, are you going to tell me you liked his arms next?”

“What if I did? The uniform, the smile… what’s not to like?”

Danny looked away in a hurry. Steve grinned at his beer. 

“Okay, I admit,” said Danny, “I had a massive crush on Ponch when I was a kid. The Village People, not so much.” 

“I think he was pretty universally awesome, even if he couldn’t actually ride a motorcycle.” Steve shook his head to Ashley, who was waiting expectantly for them to run out of steam. “No beer for me today, thanks. I’m driving.” 

“Juice? Coke?”

“Just water.” To Danny, he added, “I think it’s that whole hero complex people have about cops.” 

“I’ll tell you what, you’re deluded if you think everybody feels that way about cops.” Danny gestured at Ashley. “Come on, tell him.” 

Ashley paused, feeling their eyes suddenly land on her. “Tell him what? How cops aren’t exactly heroes to people like me? Is that a surprise?”

“I guess there are bad cops,” Steve began, but he paused when he saw Ashley glaring at him. “What?”

“That’s a very haole attitude. Who’s in power? White dudes who assume I’m the help. Or who go out of their way to inform me the gender marker on my driver’s license doesn’t match what they think I should look like.” 

Steve’s eyes shifted as he tried to make sense of this. “What do you mean? You don’t look like—”

Ashley watched Danny smirk. She guessed it felt good not to be the one making all the gaffes. “You know what happens when you assume, babe.” 

“I assume based on what people tell me.” Steve turned back to Ashley, looking penitent. “I apologize if I offended you.” 

“I love it when men admit they’re wrong.” 

Danny snorted. “Isn’t that sexist of you.”

“That’s not how sexism works. Also, women admit they’re wrong all the time, Danny, or weren’t you aware of that?” She grinned when he scowled. “Men just don’t think they did something that required an apology as often.”

“Except they do,” Danny countered. “They should. That’s what real heroes do. They apologize.” 

“I did!” Steve protested.

“You did just now. That doesn’t mean you always do.” He made two stacks with his hands, comparing the two situations, which clearly did not measure up.

Steve pointed at Danny, appealing to Ashley. “You see what I have to deal with?”

“You don’t have to tell me, brah,” she said matter-of-factly.

Danny looked wounded. “Now, wait a second… I’m just saying, sometimes you don’t always understand why the other person is upset, but you take it upon yourself to be the bigger man. You apologize anyway. That’s all I’m saying.” 

“You’re implying I don’t do that enough,” Steve said.

“Implying? I’m implying nothing. I’m telling you. But that’s you. You’re not going to let as trivial a thing as communication get in the way of you being right and me being wrong.” 

“You want me to apologize? What for?”

“See, that’s the thing. If I have to prompt you to do it, what does it mean? You’re just a parrot, saying what I tell you to say. I’m sorry.” He made a bird mouth with his hand. “What good is that if you don’t know what for?”

Steve’s eyes begged her to intervene. She sighed. 

“Is this about something in particular,” Ashley asked, “or is it in general?”

“It’s all the time,” Danny said. “All. The. Time. You think I’m kidding? He thinks I’m a mind reader. Leaps right in without even telling me what he’s planning. Sometimes I don’t even know what he’s done until he comes back to HQ and reports. What kind of a partner is that, huh?”

“Look, I was trained to act, okay?” Steve spoke to Ashley, but when she redirected him toward Danny, he swiveled to face him without a pause. “SEALs don’t ask, they do. It’s not because I don’t want your input, or because I think I can do it better than you, or anything like that.”

“I know that!” Danny’s arms were getting out of control. Ashley walked over and handed him a glass of water, just so he’d have something to hold instead of gesturing explosively in Steve’s face. “I’m not thinking about that. Not anymore.” 

“Well, that’s good?” When Steve looked confused, Danny made a frustrated noise. “What?”

“I think what Danny means,” Ashley said, trying to make her voice soothing without being obnoxious about it, “is he wants to know what you’re planning to do, not just because he wants to have a say, but because that’s the kind of collaborative work he’s used to doing in a relationship. He wants to be part of the solution because it makes him feel more connected to you.”

Steve looked over at Danny for confirmation. “Is that it? I don’t include you, you feel… disconnected from me?”

Danny glared at Ashley for a minute. At first she wondered if she’d overstepped, but then he said, somewhat begrudgingly, “Why do you think I’m always showing up at your house?”

“I’m telling you, the courtesy knock is a thing.” But Steve didn’t look confused anymore. “Don’t you know how much I depend on you? I mean, I know you’ve always got my back. Not in a sidekick sort of way, but—I know you’ve got me covered. No matter what stupid shit I pull.” He glanced at Ashley. “Sorry.” 

“Swearing is not actually something you have to apologize for,” Ashley informed him.

“All right, I think I get it. You’re saying…” Danny paused, then mimicked shooting a gun. “You like my arms.”

“Oh, ha, ha.” Steve gave Danny a little push as Danny snickered. “God, you really don’t know any good jokes, do you? You should have heard him today with the severed head jokes, Ashley; it was bad.”

“I will not apologize for those,” Danny announced. “Also, you can be glad I didn’t make any of the especially dirty head jokes I could have made.” 

Ashley inclined her head solemnly. “For that, we can all be grateful.” 

She gave them a little space to take a break from talking, or to change the subject, whichever was their default, but she really did not expect Steve to turn to Danny and say, “I’m sorry for leaving you out of my plans. It was thoughtless and I have no excuse for doing it.”

“It’s not like you can’t take care of yourself.” Danny ducked his head. That was definitely a blush. “Mr. Hero.” 

“Okay, I seriously don’t know what you mean by that.”

“Kind of typified by the SEAL motto, isn’t it? Perseverance, strength, thrives in adversity, right?”

“That’s the creed. The motto is the only easy day was yesterday.” Steve was clearly suppressing a grin.

Danny rolled his eyes. “Right. Because of course I’m always wrong. Doesn’t matter I memorized the SEAL creed. Guess what Seton’s motto is? Despite hazards, move forward. Hazards, I will add, like you.” He gave Steve a withering look. “You know, maybe you do get to hear some of those dirty head jokes after all. Tell you what, I’ll save them for when Ashley doesn’t have to hear them.” 

“You’re saying they’ll pop up when he leasts expects them,” Ashley said.

Steve cracked up. Ashley was pretty sure she’d never heard him laugh before, and it was kind of adorable, but she just maintained a straight face and kept polishing glassware as Danny looked outraged.

“For Pete’s sake,” he groaned, “you stole my best one.”

Chapter 17, "Arms," of Am I Not to Know By My Name

[caecaesclubhouse]

DEAR EVAN HANSEN AS VINES.

(But mostly Jared,,)

.

ZOE: Hey everybody today my brother pushed me, so benefits of killing him would be I would get pushed away less-

.

EVAN OR CONNOR: Oh hi, thanks for checking in I'm 🎶still a piece of garbage~!🎶

.

ZOE: Oh, good, you're not busy.

CONNOR: Actually, Zoe... I AM busy.

.

ALANA: -And they were roommates.

JARED: Oh my God they were roommates~ 😎

.

CONNOR: *🎶Completely giving up🎶*

.

JARED: (pointing at Evan and Zoe) WTF is that allowed??? IS THAT ALLOWED???

ZOE: ...Stop.

.

LARRY: WHY IS YOUR REPORT CARD ON THE CEILING?!??

CONNOR: You said to bring my grades up.

LARRY: ...I did say that.

.

HEIDI, JARED, AND ALANA DURING 'GOOD FOR YOU': When will you learn?! WHEN WILL YOU LEARN?!! THAT YOUR ACTIONS HAVE CONSEQUENCES?!!!???!

.

JARED: Yo whaddup I'm Jared I'm 17 and I never f***ing learned how to read. ✌

.

JARED: Hey how much money do you have?

ALANA: 69 cents?

JARED: Ayy you know what that means~!

ALANA: ...I don't have enough money for chicken nuggets. :(

.

EVAN, LYING ABOUT CONNOR: 🎶Two bros chillin' in the hot tub, 5 feet apart 'cause they're not gay!🎶

[beardedmrbean]

A Tampa, Florida, police chief has resigned after body camera footage caught her using her rank to get out of a police traffic stop for driving a golf cart without tags.

Mary O’Connor submitted her resignation on Monday following an internal affairs review which found she violated police department policy during the 12 November stop by a Pinellas County Sheriff’s deputy.

In video obtained by Creative Loafing Tampa Bay, Ms O’Connor is seen trying to brush off the deputy who pulled her and her husband over in the cart.

“Is your camera on?” Ms O’Connor asks the deputy, Larry Jacoby, while gritting her teeth. “I’m the police chief from Tampa... I’m hoping that you’ll just let us go tonight.”

As the officers chat, Deputy Jacoby acknowledges, “We have a lot of problems with the golf carting around here, everybody comes out,” before letting the couple go.

“If you ever need anything call me—I’m serious,” Ms O’Connor tells the officer, handing him her card before the two shake hands and thank each other for their service.

After being placed on administrative leave immediately after the video was made public, Ms O’Connor admitted in an email to the department she showed “poor judgment,” Creative Loafing reported.

“In hindsight, I realise that conversation could be viewed as inappropriate, but that was certainly not my intent,” she wrote. “I’ve personally called the Pinellas County Sheriff Office offering to pay for any potential citation.”

An internal review found that Ms O’Connor violated regulations on standards of conduct and “abuse of position or identification”.

Tampa Mayor Jane Castor subsequently asked the police chief to resign.

“The Tampa Police Department has a code of conduct that includes high standards for ethical and professional behavior that apply to every member of our police force,” Mayor Castor said in a statement.

“As the Chief of Police, you are not only to abide by and enforce those standards but to also lead by example. That clearly did not happen in this case.”

Ms O’Connor’s post - which she held for nearly a year - will be filled by Assistant Police Chief Lee Bercaw until a permanent replacement is found via nationwide search.

Ms O’Connor has gotten in trouble with traffic stops in the past.

In 1995, as a rookie cop, her husband, also a police officer, was pulled over on suspicion of a DUI by Hillsborough County sheriffs and charged with drink driving.

As Ms O’Connor was put in the back of a police car, she punched a deputy and kicked the windows, for which she was later charged with assault, obstruction and disorderly intoxication.

She and her husband were both kicked off then reinstated to the Tampa police force.