#helen thorpe

[hffghhf]

Schadenfreude (the metamorphosis of the sinners)

Since it could remember, “the end” always enjoyed handing out judgment to the sinners that selfishly tried to become like them while denying the satisfaction and release that was their birthright (death) that they selfishly feared causing it to be born and not have the right to die like those selfish ingrates. It began to reminisce on some of it’s favorite judgments.

It took a great enjoyment out of its judgments on the “Grim Reapers”. Selfish souls who tried to escape their salvation for the selfish want to continue to existing who were punished by becoming the very thing they sought to evade and becoming punishers themselves to other selfish souls. If they were to live forever, they would have to live forever in the same agony it was in because of them and help it bring salvation that they denied. As much as it hated them, it was also grateful for their work and service and gave some of them like that soldier the chance to return back to how things were, but of course punishment is still punishment and it made sure that the soldier or any of the freed souls would never forget what they had done.

It’s judgment of Oliver Banks was interesting. It and Oliver always had such a turbulent relationship. It held some resentment for him due to he rejecting his role as a fellow punisher and savior of his kind and trying to run from his destiny (even tried to deny what was inevitable in some cases) while Oliver held resentment towards it for “ruining” his life and for destroying his ability to rest (it was simply giving him a taste of his own medicine). So when they met again, it understandably lashed out against the selfish man. But luckily after it was done scolding and punishing Oliver, the selfish man seemed to have a change of heart (he finally realized he cannot outrun his destiny) and willingly allowed himself to become what he was always destined to be.

Another favorite judgment was one of Oliver‘s lover. It enjoyed scolding and helping punish him with its kin for selfishly trying to deny and prolong his death with the help of a watcher. For this crime, it decided to punish him in the most fitting way it could. When its kin was stealing himself, it had stolen parts of himself as well. What more fitting fate for a man who used a watcher to avoid the inevitable and who fear death to experience total death, erasing him with the image of another and then appearing to his lover as him to replace him in his mind. It was truly the perfect karma and it enjoyed taunting the foolish and selfish lover with his face saying that it would enjoy replacing him in his lover’s life and how it would take great care of him as it left him faceless and formless in eternal darkness.

it’s judgment of the yellow rose and the purple rose was certainly interesting. Primarily because they were both so different yet so similar in how they behave during their judgment. Both sinful roses fear the inevitable punishment of their actions and did not want to fuse with the embodiment of lies (funny, considering how they were both liars) and both of them to their last moments drowned themselves in the lies that would eventually consume them, believing themselves have a noble purpose in fusing with the embodiment of lies and pretending not to know the real reason (as liars always do). Whether that be to “save the world” or save a “friend” didn’t matter, after all they were just lies to comfort themselves of what was going to happen to them. A notable difference was how they suddenly behaved during their “deaths”, the yellow rose pretended to be a martyr while secretly trying to fight becoming one with the thing that embodied how he lived his life (pretended to be naïve about what was really going on behind the surface to maintain his selfish ignorance and love for the woman he loved like what humans like to call a “mother”) the purple rose on the other hand, didn’t pretend to be a martyr. She knew what she had done could never truly be forgiven but despite that she wanted selfish comfort from the one man that believed the lying purple rose. She hesitated, but mostly willingly accepted her role (once a liar, always a liar).

Another favorite judgments included the judgments of the organist and the man who “discovered” one of its kin that would feed off the fear of the doom of everything created by his own kind. It found these judgments to be interesting because of how both men tried to pretend to be martyrs and pretending not to fear the inevitable end that they avoided for so long. They both “died” thinking that what they had done would perhaps save their kind from it and its kin despite knowing the truth that what they have done to save their foolish and selfish kin would only last so long and would eventually fail. Their kind has a saying that in death it’s hard to distinguish between person and person. And that was true with the two men. How would one know which one was a villain or hero if they were to simply look at nothing but bones? It’s favorite part of the judgment was seeing the organist become just like his victims who were denied the salvation of death by him.

Speaking of the victims, another favorite judgment of it was that of the clown that would later become the dancer for the organist and his fellow’s “Utopia”. It always enjoyed watching selfish ingrates like him get their just punishment for denying what they took from it. It enjoyed watching the old clown terrified and scared of what was going to happen to him because of his own actions and it also enjoyed ripping out his lying tongue as well (it always had fun mutilating and ruining them the same way they had mutilated and ruined it with their selfish fear) and felt such joy knowing he would be trapped in a hell of his own making.

It stopped reminiscing on old judgments and began to focus on the new one that was about to begin when it felt him in itself. It knew that this particular judgment would be fun as the one to be judged was none other than the so-called “Archivist” who fed its kin that fed off of the fear of being known and being seen and the most foolish of the sinners, trying to make sense of things they could never truly understand and tried to place it and its kin into tiny little boxes they could put on their little checkboards in their brains. It began to prepare itself for perhaps the most interesting judgment it has ever done.

[anachilles]

[📚🏈]

one of the departing seniors making a “thorpe abbotts memorial high teacher struggles” TikTok that ends up going a little bit viral locally with covertly taken pics of each set to One Of Those TikTok sounds.

“coach egan = down monstrously bad for mr cleven”

“ms westgate = british”

“mr macon = obsessed with prime numbers”

“mr demarco = italian”

“coach egan (again) = italian (wannabe) (actually irish) (at least catholic, tho)”

“mr cleven = resting bitch face (chronic)”

“ms spencer = nothing. she’s perfect 💗🫶”

“mr biddick = sounds like an extra from the sopranos (also: 5”6 🤏)”

“ms spaatz = (proud) misandrist”

“mr cleven (again) = pretends to be annoyed when coach egan drops by unannounced (is a bad actor)”

“mr jefferson = wishes he’d done an art degree instead”

“mr rosenthal = unironic jazz music enjoyer 🧍”

“mr crosby = simp for his wife”

“ms helen connors = mistaken for a student at least once a day"

extra: picture of gale and marge together: "mr cleven and ms spencer = secretly related????"

[ the comments under the last one be like:

"related???? wasn't there a rumour they dated tho 💀"

and someone replies to it like "bestie i'm gonna hold your hand when i say this but that man is GA-[gunshot]" ]

[servants-hall]

"I feel like I say it every season but Mrs Hall just smashes it out the park this season with the story," Rachel Shenton, who plays Helen, told RadioTimes.com.

"I say it every season because she always just seems to, but I was a big fan of Mrs Hall and Gerald (Will Thorp, it was very hard for me to let go of that [romance]. And then this year, Mrs Hall faces something huge that really sort of tests her mental [health]."

Shenton went on to praise actor Anna Madeley for her performance, adding: "I’m really looking forward to everyone seeing that. It runs for a while, and it's good."

[mota-fanart-gallery]

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[moghraidhs]

aaaand, hm, dougie has a crush on diane:)

this was fun!

“Someone needs to tell a certain bombardier he can’t keep coming to the van. Five times in one morning, good grief.” Tatty flops onto the bunk with a huff, her cigarette trailing smoke in the air.

Diane looks up from repainting her nails, vaguely interested. “Who?”

“That James Douglass.”

“Well, you know why that is, don’t you?” Helen interjects. “He’s got a crush on Diane.”

Diane goes still. “What?”

“You didn’t notice? At the officers’ club last night he kept trying to come over. I think he wanted a dance.”

Diane blows carefully on her nails. “James Douglass.” She’s been here long enough to know most of the regular faces around Thorpe Abbotts. Problem is, knowing faces doesn’t tell you a lot about a person. And from what she’s heard, all bombardiers are crazy.

She’s had enough of crazy.

“He’s loud, but he’s a sweet guy really,” Helen says. She’s watching Diane carefully, as if waiting for some sort of a reaction.

Diane gives her a small smile and puts the nail polish away. “I guess I’ll find out tonight, won’t I?”

She’ll most likely regret this. But maybe a little crazy is exactly what she needs right now.

[gotxpenny]

Surviving Love || {ix/lvii}

Emilia McKenna was deemed to be a sweetheart in the eyes of others who met her, but in the eyes of John Brady she was an itch he couldn't scratch. The tension between them was palpable, yet, over time, as they saved each other's lives and saw past the tough exteriors, their respect for one another grew. And despite their initial hatred, an undeniable attraction simmered beneath the surface.

Paring: John Brady x Fem!Oc

Prompt: they hated how much they made the other felt

Word Count: ~3,800

Genre: Frienemies to lovers, SUPERRRR slow burn, mostly fluff but angsty towards the end

Setting: Thorpe Abbotts, UK

Warnings: mentions of blood, slight gore, language

gotxpenny’s masterlist masters of the air masterlist surviving love masterlist

"Falling in love consists merely in uncorking the imagination and bottling the common sense." — Helen Rowland

━━━━━━━━━━

|JULY 1943 |

THE early morning air at Thorpe Abbotts felt heavier than usual. The clouds hung low and grey, casting a sombre mood over the base as the crew prepared for the next mission. Trondheim, Norway—a dangerous target deep in the heart of enemy territory. Today was going to be one of the toughest missions yet.

John Brady stood near his B-17, the The Longshot inspecting the aircraft with his usual intensity. His crew, a mix of silent concentration and forced bravado, moved around the plane, checking and rechecking everything before they took to the skies. Trondheim was no joke, and the Arctic winds up north could be brutal, but the mission had to be carried out.

Emilia McKenna watched from the side of the hangar, arms crossed, biting the inside of her cheek. She wasn't going up on this mission. Instead, she'd be stuck on the ground, waiting like so many others. It wasn't her choice—Bowman had practically insisted she take a step back after the last mission in Bremen. It hadn't been a request, more like a command masked as concern. She'd been too close to the fray, too close to injury, and for now, she was grounded. But that didn't mean she liked it.

As Brady glanced over to where Emilia stood, their eyes met. A mixture of irritation and something else—something deeper—flickered in her gaze. Without breaking eye contact, Brady made his way over to her, stepping purposefully through the organised chaos of the flight line, "Not going up this time?" Brady quipped, folding his arms tightly.

Emilia tilted her head slightly, Brady wiped his hands on a rag and shoved it into his pocket, "Not like I'm missing much. Just a routine mission over Nazi-occupied Norway," her words were clipped, her irritation from the night before masking the tension.

Brady gave a slow shrug, tossing a casual glance back at the Longshot like the mission was just another day in the office, "Trondheim's nothing," he said, voice light, cocky even, "Just a hop, skip, and a few flak bursts. I've had worse hangovers."

Emilia crossed her arms tighter, not buying it for a second, "You're full of shit."

Brady grinned—wide, reckless, and too damn confident, "And yet, here I am. Picture of calm. Ice in the veins," he tapped his temple like he was trying to prove something, but the act cracked for just a second when his eyes dipped to the ground, then flicked back to her, "No one flies better scared than me."

"Good," Emilia replied, her tone sharp, "Because you should be scared."

He leaned in, just a fraction, his grin still in place but eyes far too serious, "Oh, I am. Don't get me wrong. Only an idiot isn't scared of Trondheim. But I can breathe a hell of a lot easier today knowing you're not up there," he tried to pass it off like it was nothing, a throwaway line tucked inside all his bravado—but Emilia saw it. The flash of honesty, quick and raw behind the show. She didn't say anything for a moment, and Brady rubbed the back of his neck like he'd revealed more than he meant to, "Look," he said, eyes darting to the ground crew loading the last of the gear, "We'll be back before you can light another smoke and complain about the coffee. Just another day in paradise," but his voice cracked ever so slightly at the end—barely noticeable unless you knew him like she did. 

Emilia's jaw worked, unsure if she should yell at him or hug him. Instead, she just nodded, slowly, eyes on his face, "You better be," she muttered, "Or I'll fly to Norway myself and drag your frozen ass back."

Brady smirked again, but this time it didn't quite reach his eyes, "Fair deal."

She opened her mouth to speak but stopped when Major Buck Cleven came over, slapping Brady on the back, "Ready to get your wings frosty, boys?" Buck's grin was wide, but even he couldn't mask the underlying tension. Trondheim was a long way from home, and they all knew the risks.

Brady turned, nodding, "Just about, Major," his demeanour shifted, locking back into that steel-like focus he carried on every mission.

After Buck walked off, the clatter and commotion of the tarmac seemed to dull into background noise. Emilia and Brady remained rooted in place, a few feet apart, just looking at each other.

They didn't speak. Didn't move.

But in the silence, everything rushed in—the fear, the frustration, the words unsaid and the ones they wished they could take back. It was all there, hanging thick in the space between them like smoke.

A million things passed between their eyes in that brief moment. His were asking if she was going to be okay without him. Hers were asking if he was going to come back in one piece. His said don't wait for me, and hers said I already am.

Neither of them dared to break the quiet, maybe because if they did, it would all come spilling out—too much, too fast, too late. So they just stared, two stubborn hearts beating in sync, caught in the space where everything that mattered stayed unspoken.

As the crew began to gather around the plane, Emilia spared Brady one last glance and said, softly but firmly, "Come back in one piece, Brady. No hero stunts," her voice was calm, but he could hear the weight beneath it.

Brady smirked, that infuriating, cocky smirk he wore like a shield, "You kidding? I'm the picture of caution," but there was a flicker in his eyes—something real and raw and entirely unguarded. He didn't wink this time, didn't crack a joke.

He just looked at her like he wanted to say more.

Emilia nodded once, slowly, "Good."

And then she turned before she could change her mind, before she let him see just how hard it was to walk away. Emilia moved toward Bosser, still sporting the remnants of his injury from Bremen, and gave him a small smile. The man was tough as nails, but she couldn't help but worry about him too. He returned the smile, though his eyes were distant.

"You'll get through this," she said softly, "Just focus."

Bosser chuckled, a low rumble, "Aye, McKenna. If you say so," before Emilia could say more, Brady called to his crew one last time, signalling it was time to board. The familiar routine of pre-flight checks began, but before Brady climbed into the cockpit, he hesitated, his eyes catching Emilia's one last time.

She took a step closer, her voice quieter now, "Don't do anything stupid up there with your fancy flying, I can't keep patching up you,"

He huffed, a small smirk tugging at his lips, "No promises Sugs. But I'll do what I can," as the engines of the B-17 roared to life, Emilia watched the crew settle into their positions. Her heart pounded in her chest, the sound of the engines vibrating through the ground and into her bones. Brady gave her a final glance, something unreadable passing between them, before turning to focus on the mission ahead.

The plane began to roll forward, joining the others as they taxied toward the runway. Emilia stood there, hands in her pockets, watching as the aircraft lumbered into the sky, slowly disappearing into the grey clouds. A knot twisted in her stomach as she turned and made her way back to the hangar. All she could do now was wait and hope the Arctic winds wouldn't claim the The Longshot and its crew.

Inside the officers' mess hall, she found Maggie nursing a cup of coffee, staring absently at the radio where mission reports would filter in, "They'll be alright, you know," Maggie said, though it sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than Emilia.

Emilia nodded, sitting down next to her friend, "Yeah," she replied quietly, "They always are...until they're not."

Maggie gave a sad smile, fingers tightening around her mug, "God, you sound like me last week."

Emilia didn't respond right away. Her eyes stayed fixed on the table, on a faint scratch in the wood she traced with her thumb. The silence between them stretched—not uncomfortable, but heavy with understanding.

"They're just so loud when they leave," Emilia said finally, her voice barely above a whisper, "All that laughter and bravado. And then the second they're gone..." her throat tightened, "It's too damn quiet."

Maggie reached over, resting her hand on Emilia's for just a second, "That quiet never gets easier."

"No," Emilia whispered, "But neither does the waiting."

Hours would pass before the first radio calls would come in. But for now, the only thing Emilia could do was wait and keep herself distracted. As the distant hum of planes faded into the distance, she couldn't shake the tension that settled deep into her bones, hoping against hope that this time, Brady and his crew would come back in one piece.

|JULY 1943 |

THE sun had dipped below the horizon by the time the planes returned to Thorpe Abbotts. Emilia stood by the runway, her eyes fixed on the darkening sky, waiting for any sign of the returning squadron. Her fingers were tightly wrapped around the edge of her jacket as the cold air bit at her skin. A nervous tension hung heavy in her chest, twisting tighter with every passing moment. She'd heard the radio reports of damage, and while it seemed most of the planes were limping back, there was no confirmation yet on who had made it.

Finally, the familiar outline of the The Longshot appeared against the dusky clouds. The bomber looked worse for wear, a jagged hole punched through the left wing and smoke trailing faintly from one of the engines. It wasn't pretty, but it was flying—and more importantly, it was landing.

The wheels screeched as they hit the runway, and the plane groaned under the strain, but it managed to come to a shaky stop. As soon as the engines sputtered and died, Brady and his crew began disembarking, looking worn and covered in grime but alive. Emilia's heart raced, a mixture of relief and frustration.

A few of Brady's crew were immediately rushed off the runway on stretchers, their uniforms soaked through with blood, their faces pale and eyes unfocused. Trigger had taken a piece of shrapnel to the thigh. Digs had burns running up the side of his neck and was barely conscious. Even Zim, the unshakable backbone of the crew, was leaning heavily on a medic, one arm hanging uselessly at his side, his knuckles raw from where he'd held the yoke too tight for too long.

But it was Brady who made Emilia's breath catch in her throat.

He was walking—barely. His flight jacket hung open, revealing a deep gash running from his collarbone down across his ribs, the blood soaking through his undershirt. But worse was his ear. Or what was left of it. A prop blast had caught him as they'd taxied in Trondheim, tearing through his headset and part of his ear with it. Blood ran down the side of his neck and into the collar of his shirt, streaking through grime and oil.

He looked—if Emilia had to describe it—like a man who had been chewed up and spit back out by hell. But he was standing. Barely.

His eyes met hers, glassy and too wide, and for a moment he just blinked like he didn't recognise her. Then something in him gave, and he swayed on his feet, "Brady," she breathed, rushing to him just as his knees threatened to give. She caught him around the waist, anchoring him, "Alright, alright, I've got you. Come on, sit down," he didn't argue, didn't crack a joke, didn't pretend to be fine like he normally would. He just let her guide him, limping toward the small infirmary at the edge of the tarmac.

Inside, the room smelled like antiseptic and iron. Emilia sat him down carefully on a cot and grabbed a clean towel, immediately pressing it to his ear as he winced, "You're lucky you didn't lose the whole damn thing," she muttered, voice tight.

Brady exhaled shakily, then looked at her with a dazed grin, "Still got the other one, Sugs," but the words were hollow, dragged from him by instinct. He was running on fumes, and she knew it. His eyes had lost their sharpness, his hands trembled slightly in his lap.

"You're done showing off for one day," Emilia said, quieter now, as she cleaned the wound on his temple next. Her hands moved gently, efficiently, but her throat was tight, "Jesus, Brady..."

He reached up and caught her wrist, his fingers sticky with blood, "We made it back."

"Barely," she whispered.

His grip loosened. His head dropped forward. And Emilia just stood there for a second, towel in one hand, his blood on her palms, and a lump rising in her throat that felt harder to swallow than anything she'd ever known.

Emilia watched him carefully as he sat slumped forward, elbows resting on his knees, the towel she'd pressed to his ear now soaked crimson. This wasn't the Brady she knew—the cocky grin, the infuriating charm, the swagger that somehow softened into sincerity only when he was looking at her.

No, this man was quiet. Still. Haunted. And she didn't like it. Not because he wasn't making jokes or teasing her, but because it meant something had been taken from him up there. Something she wasn't sure he could get back.

She moved in front of him with a bowl of warm water, gently kneeling to clean the blood from his side, "I'm gonna lift your shirt," she murmured. He gave a faint nod, eyes still trained on the floor. She peeled it up slowly, revealing the jagged tear across his ribs. She winced, but he didn't even flinch.

Still nothing.

The silence wrapped around them, heavy and unwelcome. Emilia didn't ask. She didn't press. She simply worked. Wiped. Cleaned. Wrapped. All the while watching the way his jaw clenched, the way his eyes stayed fixed on a crack in the tile like it was holding him together. But Brady knew. He knew she was dying to ask. Knew she was holding it back with every ounce of restraint she had.

So after a long beat, his voice finally broke through the quiet—low and cracked, "We lost one of ours. Flanagan," Emilia paused, her hand hovering mid air, "Tail section took a direct hit over the target," he went on slowly, voice hollow. "Didn't even have time to yell. One second he was there, next..." he exhaled sharply through his nose, like the memory alone knocked the breath from his lungs, "Gone."

She didn't speak. Just pressed a fresh bandage to his ribs.

Brady went on, softer now, "Zim nearly passed out trying to hold the bird steady. Trig bled all over the floor. I couldn't hear a goddamn thing by the end," he gave a bitter chuckle, touched the ragged edge of his ear, "Still can't. Everything's muffled. Like I'm underwater."

Emilia's hands stilled on his side, and her voice came barely above a whisper, "Why didn't you tell the medics?"

"'Cause they'll ground me. And I can't—" his eyes met hers for the first time since they'd sat down. "I can't leave them up there alone, McKenna."

Her throat burned at the rawness in his tone. She didn't argue. She just swallowed and said, "Then you're going to let me patch you up right. All the way. No half-assed hero routine."

He gave a tired nod, "Yes, ma'am," a flicker of something—relief, maybe—passed through her chest as she turned back to the bandages.

And though the silence returned, it felt different now. Like the words that needed saying had been said. Like in all the blood and grit, some part of him had found its way back.

And some part of her would keep holding on until he did.

|JULY 1943 |

LATER that night, the officers' mess was a hive of noise and energy. The pilots gathered around tables, their conversations interspersed with the clinking of glasses and the occasional burst of laughter. Buck Cleven sat alone, watching with a wry grin as the men tried to shake off the tension of another brutal mission. Across the room, Bucky Egan had just finished singing a song, his voice carrying over the clamour and drawing false applause from the men. Bucky soon took a seat and chuckled as he watched Buck then get up and dance with Meatball, in the middle of the floor. The sight was a welcome distraction from the war and their reality, at least for a moment.

"Try not to deafen everyone with your atrocious singing, next time," Buck muttered, patting Bucky on the back as he returned to the table.

"Your words are a stab to my heart Buck, my singing is amazing," Bucky smirked, grabbing his drink and taking a long swig. His eyes drifted over to Brady, who sat at the bar nursing his drink with a scowl and a bandage around his head. The tension that had followed him since the mission was still palpable, and it hadn't gone unnoticed, "They seriously are blind, aren't they?" Bucky muttered, watching Brady's brooding form.

Buck followed his gaze and nodded, a knowing look crossing his face, "Give them time."

"I'm impatient," Bucky grumbled, "They're probably going to realise they like each other by the time they're on their deathbeds," Buck laughed softly, "They're both stubborn as hell. They don't want to admit they like each other because they think the other hates them. It's pissing me off," Bucky said, tapping the edge of his glass, frustration evident.

Buck shrugged, leaning back in his chair with a grin, "Time, Bucky. Time," across the mess hall, Emilia sat with Maggie at a smaller table. Maggie could see the tension radiating off Emilia in waves and had decided it was better to let her fume before bringing up the obvious. 

Maggie took a slow sip of her tea, eyes flicking up over the rim of her cup to catch the furrow in Emilia's brow. The corner of her mouth twitched—not quite a smile. More like a knowing nudge, "You're still dwelling on Brady, aren't you?" Emilia didn't answer right away. Instead, her gaze drifted across the mess hall, past the half-empty tables and scattered clusters of airmen, until it landed on him.

Brady sat with Zim and a few of the other crewmen, a bandage still wrapped high around the side of his head. Zim was clearly in the middle of telling some ridiculous story—hands flying, voice animated—but Brady wasn't laughing. Not like he used to.

His grin didn't stretch the same way. His eyes didn't crinkle at the edges. He wasn't even really looking at Zim—he was staring somewhere just beyond him, as if caught in a memory he couldn't escape.

For a fleeting moment, Emilia wondered if maybe he couldn't hear the story. If the blast that tore into his ear had robbed him of more than just his balance. But then she looked closer and saw it in the way his shoulders tensed. The way his thumb tapped against the table, like he was trying to keep some part of himself grounded. No—he could hear just fine.

He was just dealing with something far heavier.

Emilia blinked, her jaw tightening, "I'm not dwelling," she muttered.

Maggie raised a brow, "You've stirred that coffee six times and haven't taken a single sip."

Emilia dropped the spoon into the cup with a clink and leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, "He's just... not himself. Not since Trondheim."

"Neither are a lot of them," Maggie said gently, "But John—he wears it different. Doesn't let anyone see when he's bleeding inside," Emilia didn't answer. She didn't need to. Her eyes were still on him.

And despite everything, despite how much she told herself not to care—there was that familiar ache again, sharp and silent.

Because even from across the room, she could feel it. He wasn't okay. And part of her wished she could carry some of it for him.

The noise in the mess hall was a distant hum in Brady's ears. Conversations bled into each other—laughter, shouting, the clink of cutlery—but it all felt muffled, like he was underwater, watching it happen through glass.

Zim was talking. Of course he was. Some exaggerated tale about the Norwegian flak nearly taking his arm clean off—throwing his hands around like they hadn't all nearly been ripped apart hours ago. Normally, Brady would've cut in, made a crack, maybe tossed a packet of sugar at him for dramatic flair. But now, he just sat there, nodding along like he was present. Like he could still find it in himself to laugh.

He couldn't.

The bandage at his ear itched like hell, and every throb of pain in his head reminded him of how close they'd come to not making it back. Again. Trigger was still in surgery. Digs had passed out from blood loss before they even touched down, Spades was still recovering in the hospital. And Brady had watched it all happen—helpless in the cockpit, trying to hold the plane steady as everything fell apart around him.

He rubbed a thumb against the edge of the table, jaw clenched so tight it ached.

And then he felt it—eyes on him.

He didn't have to look to know it was her.

Emilia.

It was like he could feel her worry from across the room, heavy and warm and pointed. She was sitting with Maggie, pretending to listen, probably pretending not to care—but she did. He knew she did. Just like he knew she hated seeing him like this. Quiet. Withdrawn. Not the Brady who swaggered through every mission like it was just another day in the sky.

But that guy didn't climb out of the plane today.

Brady risked a glance, his eyes flicking over to her for half a second. She looked tired. She always did when she was worried. Lips pressed together, arms folded, staring at him like she was trying to figure out what pieces had shifted and how to put them back.

He looked away.

What could he say, anyway? That he was scared? That the sound of metal tearing still rang in his head? That every time he blinked, he saw the blast—felt the heat—heard Digs scream?

No. That wasn't the kind of man he was supposed to be.

He could hear Zim's voice again, now a little clearer. Something about a pint and a nurse in the wrong tent. Brady forced a smile—tight, shallow, fake.

His hand went to his temple, rubbed the bandage as if that could somehow dull the weight pressing in around his skull. He hadn't said much since landing. And he wasn't sure when he would. But he knew one thing:

Emilia was watching. And for now, that was enough to keep him from sinking.

[operachristine]

Holiday Gifting Day 5

Day 5 of 5 features a few Wicked audios with Nessarose understudies!

Idina Menzel (Elphaba), Helen Dallimore (Glinda), Adam Garcia (Fiyero), Nigel Planer (The Wizard), Miriam Margolyes (Madame Morrible), Caroline Keiff (u/s Nessarose), James Gillan (Boq), Martin Ball (Doctor Dillamond) October 28, 2006; London Matinee

Link

Ashleigh Gray (s/b Elphaba), Dianne Pilkington (Glinda), Pharic Scott (u/s Fiyero), Sam Kelly (The Wizard), Harriet Thorpe (Madame Morrible), Emily Tierney (u/s Nessarose), Alex Jessop (Boq), David Stoller (Doctor Dillamond) February 6, 2010; London

Link

Idina Menzel (Elphaba), Kristin Chenoweth (Glinda), Kristoffer Cusick (u/s Fiyero), Joel Grey (The Wizard), Carole Shelley (Madame Morrible), Eden Espinosa (u/s Nessarose), Christopher Fitzgerald (Boq), William Youmans (Doctor Dillamond) December 21, 2003; Broadway || Notes: This is the only known recording of Eden as Nessarose! Missing No Good Deed and March of the Witch Hunters.

Link

Shoshana Bean (Elphaba), Megan Hilty (Glinda), David Ayers (Fiyero), Ben Vereen (The Wizard), Adinah Alexander (u/s Madame Morrible), Stacie Morgain Lewis (u/s Nessarose), Jeffrey Kuhn (Boq), Sean McCourt (Doctor Dillamond) September 24, 2005; Broadway

Link

Dee Roscioli (Elphaba), Erin Mackey (Glinda), Derrick Williams (Fiyero), Gene Weygandt (The Wizard), Rondi Reed (Madame Morrible), Kate Fahrner (u/s Nessarose), Adam Fleming (Boq), K. Todd Freeman (Doctor Dillamond) March 21, 2007; Chicago

Link

Jenna Leigh Green (u/s Elphaba), Kendra Kassebaum (Glinda), Derrick Williams (Fiyero), David Garrison (The Wizard), Carol Kane (Madame Morrible), Lori Holmes (u/s Nessarose), Logan Lipton (Boq), Timothy Britten Parker (Doctor Dillamond) April 9, 2005; First National Tour

Link

Willemijn Verkaik (Elphaba), Valerie Link (u/s Glinda), Jens Simon Petersen (u/s Fiyero), Carlo Lauber (The Wizard), Angelika Wedekind (Madame Morrible), Maike Switzer (u/s Nessarose), Stefan Stara (Boq), Michael Günther (Doctor Dillamond) December 22, 2007; Stuttgart Matinee || Notes: Valerie's first show as Glinda.

Link

Eden Espinosa (Elphaba), Kendra Kassebaum (Glinda), Nicolas Dromard (Fiyero), Tom McGowan (The Wizard), Jody Gelb (Madame Morrible), Neka Zang (u/s Nessarose), Etai BenShlomo (Boq), Paul Slade Smith (Doctor Dillamond), Gregory Haney (Chistery), Samantha Zack (u/s Witch's Mother), Tim Talman (Witch's Father / Ozian Official) April 6, 2010; San Francisco || Notes: Neka's first show as Nessarose.

Link

[twittercomfrnklin2001-blog]

Above Suspicion

Joan Crawford bought out her MGM contract after making Richard Thorpe’s ABOVE SUSPICION (1943, TCM). Was it the crazy plot? The misguided genre mash-up? The horrible disguise that makes her look ridiculous and her own age? Unlike the stinker she made before this, REUNION IN FRANCE (1942), it only occasionally rises to the heights of camp. Instead, you may be tempted to cringe at the comedy and laugh when it gets serious.

On his wedding day in 1939, an Oxford professor (Fred MacMurray) is approached by a friend in the British Foreign Office about using his honeymoon to do a little spying on the Third Reich. His bride (Crawford) thinks it will all be a lark, so they trade quips as they travel to Paris, Salzburg and the Tyrol. Along the way, there’s a brief appearance by an Austrian lesbian with no relation to the plot, musical clues, a floral password and an assassination during a performance of Liszt’s Piano Concerto No. 1 (everyone’s a critic). Then things get serious, and they have to don unflattering disguises to get to freedom.

I think the main reason this plate of hooey isn’t as much fun as REUNION IN FRANCE is that it’s directed by Thorpe, who could be a plodding company man, rather than Jules Dassin, who even that early in his career had a sense of style and understood pace. The film is based on a novel by Helen MacInnes, who was inspired by her own German honeymoon, which didn’t involve spying but did give her a sense of the atrocities committed by the Nazis. Though it was made during the war, when the Production Code was no longer toadying to the German consulate, there isn’t much sense of atrocity in this film. There’s a great deal of paranoia, but the worst we see the Nazis do is an attempt to torture Crawford, seemingly by mussing her hair and smearing dirt on her cheeks.

Crawford and MacMurray try to make this work, but the script defeats them. It doesn’t give them very good comic lines, so the screwball scenes fall flat. And the plot is ludicrous from the get-go. The thought of trusting a high-stakes intelligence issue to someone who thinks it will be fun makes one wonder if the foreign service was filled with Trump appointees. On the plus side, Basil Rathbone, Cecil Cunningham and, best of all, Conrad Veidt turn up. In his last film, Veidt is cast as a resistance member struggling to make a living as a tour guide and, in one scene, a gigolo. Watching him tango with a hefty blonde is a joy and demonstrates that he didn’t always have to play sneering villains. I’d rather have seen a film all about him. As a diversion, Crawford and MacMurray get to do their own singing. He’s quite good, and their duet on “She’s Only a Bird in a Gilded Cage” is charming. Pity they didn’t get to do an encore in a better picture.

[kwebtv]

Series Premiere

The Texan - Law of the Gun - CBS - September 29, 1958

Western

Running Time: 30 minutes

Teleplay by Frank Gruber and Frank Moss

Produced by Victor M. Orsatti and Rory Calhoun

Directed by Jerry Thorpe

Stars:

Rory Calhoun as Bill Longley

Neville Brand as Kyle Richards

John Larch as Les Torbit

Karl Swenson as Sheriff

Helen Wallace as Mrs. Richards

Chris Alcaide as Townsman

Edward Wright as Doctor

Jason Johnson as Hotel Clerk

Hank Patterson as Bartender

Dennis Cross as Townsman

Reg Parton as Pete Bray

Fred Krone as Fred Bray

[eemcintyre]

"Seawolf: The Pirate's Curse" (2005) review

Surprisingly, honestly... why did I enjoy this? I guess after a couple of major misses for me in the form of "The Kidnapping" and "Beyond Forgiveness", my expectations were appropriately low, but this one actually had some likable characters and humor, and that always manages to rope me in. I have a soft spot for fun, silly action fare like this bc of childhood shows like "The Greatest American Hero", I think.

So, the title never makes any sense... what was it supposed to mean? what curse?

First and foremost, I must say TIG is looking oh-so-very pretty and rugged here- the necklaces, the bandanas, the curly-q hair, the tank tops, the sweaty, the ARMMMSSSS 😩

Initially had absolutely no clue what was going on in the beginning; a bunch of people with weird ass outfits in the dark and I was just like please no don't let that be him in the damn fucking cape and eyepatch and o n e l e g; I was like he can't possibly have one leg the whole time, right?? 🤨

But yeah I was definitely experiencing the "dear God what did I get myself into, cheers to another awful mess" 🫡🥂

Why does half the audio sound dubbed (particularly everything that comes out of Rachel's mouth)? Also props to Rachel for being the most emotionally unaffected person ever bc her reactions were so disproportionately calm to what would happen if my bf was constantly disappearing overseas and totaled my gorgeous pink car

We're getting some very Max Parrish-type hooting and hollering up in here; a concise summary of Thorpe is that he's basically if Max had a boat and was an alcoholic instead of a drug addict

We get another hallmark of TIG's movies with a slew of incredibly cringe one-liners that elicit a physical reaction of pain from me, but for every few there was actually a genuinely funny one here and there, so I'll allow it this time...

The whole "I'm a pirate, my father was a pirate, etc." speech had me ROLLING and NOT IN THE WAY THE WRITERS INTENDED I THINK BC HUH??

When he met Helene in that random room full of paintings I was sure we were supposed to take it that the mission was smth art theft-related. but no she just has a passion for maximalist design ig.

Why does the camera get randomly shaky for no reason? Very avant-garde of them

Am I the only one who thinks that Carlos looks like a Walmart George Clooney? Someone else pls tell me I'm not insane

Always throws me off-guard but it's such fun to see TIG in an uncharacteristically light scene like the one where he's dancing in the parade and surrounded by the circle of dancers in the bar. At least he seemed like he was having a good time in this movie 🎉

Ramon and his lil book and the bar scene of Thorpe and Helene drunkenly arguing w each other and sitting on the side of the road was what really started to sell me

anD THEN HE FKIN DR A G S HER ASS 😂

Plus I cannot go without mentioning my appreciation for the way he was holding her knee 👀💕

Love how he spends the majority of this movie just dressed like someone's hot dad who works out, in his cargo shorts, tank top and goatee- oH WAIT IT'S BC HE IS A HOT DAD WHO WORKS OUT IN REAL LIFE

Love how Carlos and all the other villains are devoid of personality or motive except for ~money~, like "the Colonel" doesn't even have a name!!!

Was genuinely stressed that my boy was going to clock himself in the head when he was swinging that rope trying to scale that building

When Helene straight-up PUNCHED HER SISTER IN THE FACE like these ladies have some beef and I need to know where it stems from

This film is another great example of TIG's grossly underutilized comedic potential- a là the map reading scene

Hilarious how Carlos just shrugs like "I don't care, whatever I guess" when who he believes to be Marlena says she wants to say a dramatic goodbye to Thorpe

Ok but how did he not die?? Thank goodness but how??

Even more hilarious how the Colonel, who has had nothing but hatred and murderous intent for Thorpe throughout, is just so touched by Thorpe's being a ✨ big softie with morals ✨ that his vengeful compulsions are soothed and he's content with taking the gold like "hey bro, we're square now <3" and just fuckin walks away

Good on them for giving the treasure back to Mexico

Was legit concerned for too long there that they weren't actually going to end up together and I was screeching

DO THEY ACTUALLY USE THE SAME SHOT OF THE BOAT AT SUNSET IN THE MIDDLE OF THE MOVIE AND AT THE END?? lmaooo

Honestly, I think they could have leaned even more into the humorous aspect and the treasure hunt part of the film; made it a bit more of a National Treasure/Indiana Jones sort of thing, and I definitely would have liked some more character development, esp. for the sidekicks and villains, but overall, I award this film an unexpected 6/10. I had a good time 🙃🩷

[gayllamafromspace]

(Art by me, I put maybe too much effort into this damn fic)

Fandom: Wednesday (TV 2022)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Relationships: Larissa Weems/Original Female Character(s), Larissa Weems/Reader, Gomez Addams/Morticia Addams, Wednesday Addams/Enid Sinclair, Larissa Weems & Reader, Marilyn Thornhill | Laurel Gates & Reader, Marilyn Thornhill | Laurel Gates & Larissa Weems

Characters: Larissa Weems, Marilyn Thornhill | Laurel Gates, Wednesday Addams, Enid Sinclair, Xavier Thorpe, Rowan Laslow, Tyler Galpin, Francoise Sylvanne Galpin, Donovan Galpin, Noble Walker, Lucas Walker (Wednesday), Vlad (Wednesday), Morticia Addams, Gomez Addams, Pugsley Addams, Thing (Addams Family), Fester Addams, Bianca Barclay, Divina (Wednesday), Yoko Tanaka, Eugene Ottinger, Annita Bevington (OC/Reader), Gale Filander (OC), Helen Hillard (OC)

Additional Tags: Character Death, Minor Character Death, Blood and Gore, Mutilation, Nevermore Academy (Wednesday), Fluff and Angst, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Teacher Reader, History Jokes, Poisoning, Poison, Wolfsbane Poisoning, Banter, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Investigations, Murder, Attempted Murder, Grave Robbers, milf OC/reader, doesn't have kids, but in their forties, history professor, Botany, Fun Teacher, POV Third Person, chronically allergic to first person pov, had a friend beta read, Updating the tags as I go, TikTok, sorry but it had to happen, philomena cunk - Freeform, because she's fucking hilarious, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, pop culture references, there might be an occasional song cameo, Addams Family References, we bully historic figures here

Summary: Annita Bevington joined the Nevermore staff two years ago. It had been a peaceful and refreshing change of pace, working with outcasts. Every experienced teacher will tell you that the first year in a new school is the hardest. That rule clearly doesn't apply to Nevermore. Third time's the charm! If you could call chaos and a generous amount of bloodshed charming.

[palatablepain]

I was looking over my personal bibliography from the past ten months and feeling rather disappointed when I began to count and there were 64 books, 2 book chapters, and 26 articles. (Not counting the bibliographies, articles, and books I've read for specific projects I'm in the middle of doing!)

Here it is. The age recs are based on a homeschooler brought up the way I was, so no indignant mamas would come after me. (I've been keeping bibliographies since I was ten. Ahem. That's another story.)

Akbar, Kaveh.  Calling a Wolf a Wolf (18+)

Alexievich, Svetlana.  The Unwomanly Face of War (18+)

Andrews, Clarence A.  Michigan in Literature

Archer, Sarah.  The Plus One (18+)

Bartel, Timothy E. G.  The Heroines of Henry Longfellow: Domestic, Defiant, Divine

Barthes, Roland.  Writing Degree Zero

Bertman, Stephen, trans. and ed. Erotic Love Poems of Greece and Rome: A Collection of New Translations (16+)

Cain, Amina.  Indelicacy (18+, and a very boring book)

Carson, Anne.  Glass, Irony, and God (20+)

--.  Plainwater (20+)

Cather, Willa.  One of Ours

Cooper, James Fenimore.  The Last of the Mohicans

Dreiser, Theodore. An American Tragedy (18+)

--. Jennie Gerhardt (1911) and Jennie Gerhardt (1992, UPenn Press)

--. Twelve Men

Ernaux, Annie.  A Man’s Place (16+)

Esten, John. Sargent: Painting Out-Of-Doors

Fagan, Kate. What Made Maddy Run: The Secret Struggles and Tragic Death of an All-American Teen

Hemley, Robin.  The Last Studebaker (18+)

Hemingway, Ernest.  The Sun Also Rises

Hill, Archibald.  “Deconstruction and Analysis of Meaning in Literature,” in Trends in Linguistics: Studies and Monographs 36, Werner Winter ed. 1998.

Hotz, Jeffrey.  Longfellow’s Imaginative Engagement:  The Works of His Later Career

Jackson, Shirley.  We Have Always Lived in the Castle

Kafka, Franz.  The Castle

Kandel, Eric.  In Search of Memory: The Emergence of a New Science of Mind (16+)

Kant, Emmanuel.  Allen Wood, ed.  Religion and Rational Theology

Laite, Julia.  “A Global History of Prostitution: London,” in Selling Sex in the City: A Global History of Prostitution, 1600s-2000s, pp. 111-137.

Lee, Sung-Yoon.  The Sister: North Korea’s Kim You Jong, the Most Dangerous Woman in the World

Lessing, Doris.  The Golden Notebook (18+)

--. The Grass is Singing

Lockridge, Ross.  Raintree County (18+)

Loos, Anita.  Gentlemen Prefer Blondes

Lowell, Amy.  Men, Women, and Ghosts

McCullers, Carson.  The Heart is a Lonely Hunter

McKillip, Patricia.  The Forgotten Beasts of Eld

--. Od Magic

--.  Winter Rose

Menand, Louis.  The Metaphysical Club: A Story of Ideas in America

Nathan, Jesse. Eggtooth (18+)

Newman, Barbara.  The Permeable Self: Five Medieval Relationships (16+)

Nicholls, David.  Sweet Sorrow (20+)

O’Neill, Eugene.  Long Day’s Journey Into Night

Orford, Margie.  The Eye of the Beholder (18+)

--. Love and Fury (16+)

Oseman, Alice.  Radio Silence (18+ also YA, not for the impressionable)

Patchett, Ann.  Tom Lake (16+)

Plato.  Phaedrus

Public Health, Michigan.  Issued for the General Dispensation of Sanitary Knowledge. Published Quarterly by the State Department of Health, Lansing, Michigan.  Vol. I-IV. 1906.

Richardson, Dorothy.  Pointed Roofs

Richter, Gottfried.  The Isenheim Altar: Suffering and Salvation in the Art of Grunewald

Rooney, Sally.  Normal People (18+)

Roy, Arundhati.  The God of Small Things (18+)

Ruskin, John.  Unto this Last and Other Writings.  Penguin. 1985.

Smith, Ali.  Summer (16+)

Stoltzfus, Ben.  D.H. Lawrence’s Final Fictions: A Lacanian Perspective  (18+)

Stroud, Jonathan.  The Screaming Staircase (1)

--.  The Whispering Skull (2)

--.  The Hollow Boy (3)

--.  The Creeping Shadow (4)

--.  The Empty Grave (5)

Taylor, Samuel.  Sabrina

Thorpe, Helen. Soldier Girls: The Battles of Three Women at Home and at War (18+)

Todd, Pamela.  The Pre-Raphaelites at Home

Virgil, trans. H.R. Fairclough, rev. G.P. Goold.  Eclogues

--. Georgics.

Wharton, Edith.  Hudson River Bracketed

Online Reading

“George R. Martin Says ‘Game of Thrones’ Creators’ Decision to Have Daenerys Sexually Assaulted On Her Wedding Night Made the Pilot ‘Worse.’”  Kim Renfro.  Insider, Oct 6, 2020.

“The Doleful Max Richter.” Ross, Alex.  The New Yorker, April 10, 2023.

“Prisoner of Narnia: How C.S. Lewis Escaped.” Gopnik, Alan. The New Yorker, November 13, 2005. [Recommends A.N. Wilson’s biography.]

“In Southern India, Relatives Sometimes Quietly Kill Their Elders.” Magnier, Mark.   The Los Angeles Times, Jan. 5, 2013.

“A New Label Revives Forgotten Female Composers’ Music.” Hampton, Olivia. NPR. August 17, 2022.

“Quality of Life.” Patricia Hamilton.  Fare Forward.

“Retiring with a legacy: Patrick Coleman has built the largest collection of Minnesota-related books in the world.” Twincities.com.  July 25, 2021.

“The Riddle of Raintree County.” David Johnson.  Indiana Public Media.org.  October 26, 2007.

“Wittgenstein vs Wittgensten: Language is no map to reality.” Lee Braver. AIT News, Oct 2 2023.

 “A Yale Professor Suggested That Japan’s Old People Kill Themselves in a Mass Suicide, and It Made him a Celebrity.”  Zitser, Joshua.  Insider, Feb 13, 2003.

“How the Poet Christian Wiman Keeps His Faith.”  Casey Cep, The New Yorker, Dec 4, 2023.

“Leaving the Limelight, Entering the Mystery: Engaging Narrative Anagogically.”  Noah Karger. Fare Forward, May 2023. 

“Aristotle, Tocqueville, and ‘Populism Rightly Understood.’” Clifford Bates, Jr. Voegelin View, Aug 29, 2023.

“On the World of Space and Time.” Glenn Hughes.  Voegelin View, Nov 5, 2023.

“Sojourner Truth: Harmonia Cemetery, Battle Creek, Michigan.” Jeffrey Insko.  New Territory, 2023.

“Dozens of brothels housed in county in early 1900s.” Beth Dippel, USA TODAY NETWORK-Wisconsin (sheboyganpress.com), Feb 3, 2017.

“Sheboygan a haven for Indian mounds.” Beth Dippel, Sheboygan County Historical Research Center (sheboyganpress.com), Jun 17, 2016.

“Louisiana Spotlight: Booby Trap – The War on Prostitution in New Orleans.” Nationalww2museum.org, Jun 23, 2020.

“’The Soul of the Rose’ by John William Waterhouse,” Alicia du Plessis, artincontext.org, Apr 20, 2022.

“The roots of academic irrationality: how ideology came to dominate the intellect – and rigidity dominated skepticism.”  Ian Pace, thecritic.co.uk, 8 Jan 2024.

“A Translator’s Reckoning with the Women of the Odyssey.” Emma Wilson.  The New Yorker, Dec. 8, 2017.

“Cover Me With Words – Expressing Pain in Poetry,” Rafael Campo, JAMA, Dec 12, 2023.

“I saw my therapist weekly for two years. Then he let slip he’d been watching me.  Had he crossed a line?” The Guardian, 3 Mar 2024.

“Sororal Death and Sad, Sexy Icons: Emmeline Clein on Eating Disorder Memoirs and the Contagion of Identification.”  lithub.com, Feb 28 2024

[webtable]

AVATAR WRESTLER ROSTER

every entity has a set number of avatars that can operate underneath/fight for them at any given time. this number varies depending on the strength and dangers of the entity, along with demand.

the current roster is as follows under the cut:

THE BURIED:

Laura Popham -- Betrayed the Dark

Karolina Gorka

Vincent Yang -- Betrayed the Lonely

Dominic Swain -- Betrayed the Vast

THE CORRUPTION:

John Amherst

Jordan Kennedy -- Betrayed the Desolation

Jane Prentiss -- Previously in a tag team with Oliver Banks

Joshua Galen -- In the process of turning people away from their entities to worship them (has: Matthew Irving)

THE DARK:

Natalie Ennis

Manuela Dominguez -- in the Daedalus Crew

Matthew Irving -- Set rivalry with Augustin Choudhary | torn between Joshua Galen and the Dark

THE DESOLATION:

Agnes Montague

Jack Barnabas -- Recently proposed to Agnes in the ring

Jude Perry

Diego Molina

THE END:

Oliver Banks -- Previously in a tag team with Jane Prentiss

Nathaniel Thorp

THE EXTINCTION:

Gary Boylan -- Rarely fights as a result of the destruction

THE EYE:

Amy Patel

Augustin Choudhary -- Betrayed the Hunt | Set rivalry with Matthew Irving

Rosie Zampano

Jonah Magnus (as himself)

THE FLESH:

"Cook"

Toby Carlisle

Jared Hopworth

THE HUNT:

Julia Montauk

Robert Montauk -- Betrayed the Dark

Trevor Herbert

THE LONELY:

Evan Lucas -- Lucas family drama heavily referenced in promotions

Naomi Herne

Carter Chilcott -- in the Daedalus Crew

Carlita Sloane

THE SLAUGHTER:

Jennifer Ling

Lisa Carmel

Alfred Grifter

THE SPIRAL:

Michael Shelly -- Tag team: The Distortion

Helen Richardson -- Tag team: The Distortion

"Doctor" David Ramao

Lydia Halligan

THE STRANGER:

Daniel Rawlings

Lorell St John

Leanne Denikin -- Betrayed the Eye

The NotThems -- A cycle of wrestlers | Relies heavily on promotions

THE VAST:

Michael Crew -- Betrayed the Spiral

Jan Kilbride -- in the Daedelus Crew

Robert Kelly

THE WEB:

Annabelle Cane

Raymond Fielding -- Betrayed the Eye

Neil Lagorio -- Relies heavily on promotions

[servants-hall]

It's official! ACGAS 4x01 is "airing at 9pm on Thursday 5th October on Channel 5 and My 5."

All Creatures Great and Small announces season 4 release date

The Channel 5 drama's fourth season will see James and Helen thinking about starting a family. Get ready to head back up to the Yorkshire Dales, as All Creatures Great and Small is returning for its fourth season on Channel 5. It has now been confirmed that we are just around the corner from the season 4 release date, with the first episode airing at 9pm on Thursday 5th October on Channel 5 and My 5. The new season of the hit historical drama, based on the novels by Alf Wight writing under the pen name of James Herriot, will start off in Spring 1940, and will see James and Helen thinking about starting a family - however, they currently don't know whether or not James will be called up to serve in the RAF. Meanwhile, Tristan’s absence is felt by all, but particularly by Siegfried, who attempts to hold the growing household together. However, the arrival of trainee veterinary student Richard Carmody causes complications.

Richard will be played by James Anthony-Rose (Slow Horses), while another new cast member for this season is Neve McIntosh (Doctor Who), who plays Miss Harbottle. Her character has been described as a "highly efficient bookkeeper" that Siegfried and James bring in as one of the extra pairs of hands to help around the practice. Returning cast members include Nicholas Ralph as James Herriot, Rachel Shenton as Helen Herriot, Samuel West as Siegfried Farnon, Anna Madeley as Mrs Hall and Patricia Hodge as Mrs Pumphrey. Other new guest stars that have been announced for season 4 include Tony Pitts, Imogen Clawson, Paul Copley, Cleo Sylvestre, James Bolam, Will Thorp and Sam Retford.

[ladysweets]

Bi & Poly Relationship

Favorite books ⚧️😈❤️

Romance for all parties 🔥

💖💙💜

Bonded by Thorns (Beasts of the Briar Saga) - Elizabeth Helen

Deceived by the Gargoyles - Lillian Lark

Doves and Demons - Clio Evans

Four Ever - Sloane Kennedy

Anatomy Of Jane / Anatomy Of Us - Amelia Lefay

Double Time / Outsider - Olivia Cunning

Give me More - Sara Cate

Serpent in White - Nyla K

Wicked Things - Nyla K

Their property: Son of Odin MC - Crystal Ash

The virgin next Door - Stasia Black

Torn Apart / Bound Together - K.Webster, Nikki Ash

Nunca es suficiente - M. C. Andrews

The magic that binds - A. J. Sherwood

Second Sons Saga - Emily Rath

Jacksonville Ray Saga - Emily Rath

Saint View Sagas - Elle Thorpe

💙❤️🖤

(No Harems/ Omegaverse include)