#jim rome show

[kornwulf]

Okay, so, I have an answer to this. I'd time travel to Miami Beach.

That will make no sense unless you understand one of my formative memories of childhood. When I was young and hanging out with my dad, we listened to a lot of The Jim Rome Show, an AM sportstalk show. At one point they interviewed someone, I believe a football player, and they asked him the inevitable question: "If you had a time machine, where would you go". For some reason, this guy answered "Miami Beach, Florida". For a solid *Six Months* Jim Rome would drag this guy by making references to time travelling to "Miami Beach, Florida, Present Day", IIRC complete with B-movie style sound effects.

Ever since then, every time someone asks me "If you had a time machine where would you go" I instantly answer Miami Beach.

Time travel poll but all the options are things I personally want to do

[noneorother]

What do Shax and a 30-year-old Sandman comic have in common? Puns. The answer is always puns.

While I've recently revealed Shax does actually know how to spell, (she's just really old), the "angle" message Shax throws through the window to demand the "angel" one was a little trickier, because it's not Middle English, or even Old French, it's probably the oldest pun in Good Omens... it's latin.

Good Omens Season 2, Episode 5, 2023

Fortunately, a time travelling Neil Gaiman left answers for us in his 1995 Sandman special "Sandman midnight theatre." See for yourself.

Sandman Midnight Theatre, Neil Gaiman, Matt Wagner, Teddy Kristiansen, 1995

"Still, they have some illuminated manuscripts in their library which throw fascinating light on early church history. "Not angels, but angles" eh? I've been angling for permission to browse through their manuscript collection for yonks."

Appropriate for an English reverend to be curious about "Angels and not Angles". It's THE earliest christian pun, attributed to Pope Gregory the Great in the 6th century CE.

Oxford reference essential quotations

It comes from a historical account of the pope walking through a market in Rome, and seeing some exotic slave children (i.e. fair hair and blue eyes, and light skin) from what is now the England, and asking where they were from. The master replied that they were "Angles" (Angli in latin) and the pope declared them to be "Angels" (Angeli) instead, which, in latin at that time would have been a pun. This history from Bede actually influenced a lot of the christian world, so we could conceivably make the point that fair blonde and blue eyed angels comes from the idea that they looked liked the English (who were not christian, but pagan at the time of being newly conquered). Aziraphale's looks in the originsl Good Omens are probably a direct result of the lineage in art of this 1,500 year old pun.

Depictions of angels, 1100 years apart Which raises the question: if Shax is asking for the Angel Gabriel with her note, the pun doesn't make any fucking sense.

Jon Hamm plays Gabriel as an "American", specifically not English like the rest of the cast. He does have blue eyes, but as far as Shax is concerned, Gabriel's eyes are violet, not really a human colour. Shax could just actually be stupid (I guess?) and not realize that in modern English that constitutes a mistake (boring), or that Americans succeeded in 1776 (hilarious). But here's a quirkier theory: Shax knows what she's talking about, and she's gunning for Maggie. If you look really closely, demons show up and start hanging around the street earlier in the ball than you would guess. Once a fair number have amassed, they stay waiting for Shax to lead them. However, even though she hasn't shown up yet, they eagerly chase Maggie down the street from her shop. They're only stopped by Crowley, and Maggie gets safely into the ball.

Once inside, she has quite a stunning change of costume, highlighting her blonde hair and blue eyes:

There's so much more evidence to suggest that Maggie isn't really a normal human, but this post is long enough. What I will say is that it's subtle, but once the demon attack really gets going (no thanks to Maggie), Shax and the other demons never look for Jim once, even when he leaves the mezzanine. They concentrate all their efforts on Aziraphale, Maggie and Nina, and never mention Gabriel again.

While Maggie is a Scottish name, and she clearly has some links to Scotland if a random pub in Edinburgh is buying records from her in Soho, she does have a distinctly English accent, and lest we forget...

———————————————

thanks as always to @embracing-the-ineffable and @thebluestgreen for the tasty links and sounding board.

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

not really enjoying tumblrs trend of comparing Thomas Andrews to Stockton Rush 😒Could you share how the two differ despite the fact they died by their own creations?

ive been trying to figure out how to tackle this ask for a few days now because theres so much to disentangle, but disentangle i will.

see, this comparison relies on common misinformation and misconceptions about titanic. its a ship thats been romanticised and mythologised for decades, and every portrayal of it from william randolph hearts yellow newspaper coverage to robin gardiners conspiracy theory to jim camerons film.

what im gonna list to disentangle this whole thing is by no means an exhaustive list of titanic misconceptions, only those relevant to this topic

-titanic was a cruise ship - titanic was an ocean liner not a cruise ship (ive detailed the differences in a different ask here)

-titanic was a brand new unique ship never seen before - not true, ocean liners had existed for decades. theres debate about which was the first, but many agree that its the ss great western which launched in 1843. titanic wasnt even the first launched in her class; that honour goes to the rms olympic.

-it was built with substandard materials and cut corners - this is one of those where theres potentially some truth, but its been misrepresented. theres some evidence that the rivets werent the best made, but the board of trade cleared the ship and she was built with the same materials and basically the same design as her sister ship, rms olympic which sailed for 24 years under the nickname "old reliable" and literally rammed a u-boat during ww1 when she was requisitioned as a troop ship. ultimately, the builders were not blamed in the wreck inquiry and the materials used were not substandard.

-it was built as said above due to the choices of j bruce ismay - yeah so this one obviously ties into the above. theres a lot of unreliable sources who seem to believe ismay oversaw the entire design and every cut corner was due to money. this simply isnt true and isnt how this sort of thing worked. white star had a contract with harland and wolff wherein they would build the ship agreed upon and when it was finished, it would be presented to white star and undergo sea trials, and during that time, white star could reject the ship if they considered it substandard. this is what happened to the ss city of rome. unles. the design itself was to be changed a la britannic after titanic sank (improving safety measures), white star could not interfere. ismay could not force them to use different materials.

-it was all ismays fault - okay, i could go on about this for a long time, but this ask isnt about ismay. the gist of it is that history has blamed ismay due to the influence of william randolph hearst (yeah, the guy from newsies and supported hitler) who hated ismay and blamed him entirely. actual evidence shows ismay helped a lot of people during the sinking itself.

-titanic was badly designed - ive kinda gone over this a little already, but again, titanic was not badly built. she was practically identical to olympic which was a fantastic ship. in the design, no risks were taken. most of the designs were enlarged versions of parts of previous successful ships. she was considered the safest ship on the sea. four of her water-tight compartments could be breached without her sinking which was a big fucking deal.

-thomas andrews was the sole designer - there was actually a team of designers that included andrews. he didnt even draw up the original plans; that was alexander carlisle.

-titanic sinking was a unique situation - yeah nah, boats sank a lot around that time. literally two years after, there was a similar disaster with the rms empress of ireland which goes entirely forgotten nowadays. in the same decade, you also had the sinking of lusitania in 1915, principe de asturias in 1916, volturno in 1913 and even thrown in princess sophia in 1918.

-the sinking was actually caused by a coal bunker fire - this is simply horseshit and im sure im gonna end up having to explain and debunk that one too

-the crew were taking unnecessary risks to win the blue riband - this myth is widespread because of the movie, but titanic was not trying to beat the record of the fastest ship from southampton to new york (thats what the blue riband) is; she physically couldnt. it was held by mauretania at that point with a record of 26.06 knots/48.26 km/hr. titanics top speed was 23 knots. white star as a line never focussed on speed and ismay never told the captain to speed up.

-she was "unsinkable" - this is a little harder to disentangle. the claim itself was "practically unsinkable", but the context of that was to do with how safe titanic was as mentioned above. also, the idea of an unsinkable ship was not quite to white star or harland and wolff; most of the shipping industry believed it.

-almost everything youve heard about the life boats - okay so here you need to throw out your preconceptions of what a life boat is because our modern conception does not match that from the early 1900s. to not get into all the details of life boat philosophy at the time (if you do wanna know, just send me an ask lmao), the main purpose of life boats at this time was ferrying passengers to a rescue ship. that was it. this attitude was informed by both the wrecks of the ss valencia and ss clallam, as well as the miraculous rescue of the rms republic. titanic did not have enough life boats for everyone because it was never expected for the passengers to be alone in the life boats for hours; it was not a design flaw, it was a feature.

-that fucking stupid ship swap myth and the idea that the crew were trying to sink the ship - i dont even want to get into why this is bullshit, plus ive also debunked it in another ask

i highlight all of the above to emphasise the fact that titanic was not a badly built ship. she was designed well, built well and sailed well. many experts agree that the way that she hit the iceberg was the only way she could have sank.

this is not the case with titan and stockton rush. in a previous post, ive gone over the design of the titan, the flaws in it and what experts in the field believe, so im not gonna go over it again, but rest assured, the titan imploded because of rush's actions and decisions.

titanic did not sink because of thomas andrews. its due to his design that anyone survived the titanic because she stayed afloat for over two hours which allowed the crew to launch all the life boats. thomas andrews himself helped many survivors during the sinking and evacuation.

he also was not a rich man using a gravesite as tourism; nepotism was certainly involved in his career but he spent ten years working his way up in the company, helping with the design of countless ships. he was mostly regarded as a good man who worked hard and recognised the hard work of others.

its honestly ludicrous to compare them because the disasters themselves are simply not comparable. the titanic did not sink because of the folly of rich men cutting corners; titan did.

thomas andrews, for any faults he had, knew what he was doing and built a good ship that was unlucky. almost every other ship he helped design didnt sink or if they did, most of them were due to ww1.

its just such a ridiculous comparison, and thats all it is. without the misconceptions and misinformation about titanic, the comparison simply falls apart. its built on a foundation that fundamentally misunderstands the titanic disaster.

if you want to talk about shipwrecks caused by stupid decisions made by rich men, go look up the last incarnation of hms captain or the gunilda or the fucking vasa if you want, you can literally go see that one. but dont besmirch the memory of a guy who, by all acounts, died a hero helping other survive.

[zilabee]

Alf Bicknell, Beatles Chauffeur (and friend), 1964 to 1966:

“It's weird to explain. Even after I left them in 1966 and went back to working with captains of industry and on a cruise, I could never get those songs - all their tracks - out of my system. They'd become a part of me. To be there was the job of a lifetime.”

“It was exhausting. I remember waking some mornings and being filled with trepidation. Filled with the feeling that I couldn't do it, that I couldn't go on at this pace.”

“I ended up with George and this guy, who turned out to be an Italian prince. He offered to show us around Rome. So, together with this prince, his beautiful girlfriend, and George, I had one of the most wonderful of my times with the Beatles. He took us at dawn on this whirlwind tour of Rome. We ended up on some of the Seven Hills of Rome. We were in St Peters Square and all these wonderful places I'd only seen on picture postcards.”

All four had been fond of doodling in an effort to while away the boredom of touring. On this leg of the tour [in Japan] Alf noticed the sketches began to take on a darker tone. Perhaps a legacy of the touring treadmill, although the Beatles discovery of hallucinogenic substances may have coloured their doodles.

“I'm often asked what my favourite tracks are. I don't really know. I guess the two which I think are most poignant are Penny Lane and Strawberry Fields Forever. They make me really sad - I don't know why.”

After the Beatles visit with Elvis, he sent his own roadies round in a giant Cadillac limousine to take the Beatles' road crew out on the town:

“We were wined and dined and went round all these wonderful Hollywood clubs. One place was closing for the night but Elvis's people Sonny and Marty had them open up just for us. Vintage champagne and platters of delicious food duly arrived. Then the singer who had been performing that night came back on and did another set, singing just for the likes of yours truly. I've always thought what a wonderful gesture of Elvis to have remembered us, the humble roadies, this way.”

Re the airport in the Philippines:

“George Martin, in particular, has been documented as saying 'Stupidly Alf Bicknell raised his fists.' I always thought that was pretty rich coming from a guy hundreds of miles away, safely tucked away in a recording studio. Whereas here I was, surrounded by this baying mob, desperate to tear the Beatles to pieces. It was my job to protect them. And it was obvious that reasoned arguing wasn't the answer. You don't stand there and wait till one of the band is hit. It was a case of 'it's the first blow that counts'. ”

Alf decided to leave in 1966, at Candlestick Park when they announced they wouldn't be touring any more. He doesn't go into a lot of detail about why, he just says:

“It had been two years. A magical time, with me privy to one of the most exciting times in the last century. I'd been privileged to be along for the ride. But like the band, the repetition had sort of got to me.”

Ticket to Ride, by Alasdair Ferguson and Alf Bicknell

I'm going to stop now before I type out the entire book. But there are other nice bits in it still. At one point or another he drove each of them back to Liverpool and stayed with their families. He really likes Jim McCartney: "There was a great spiritual feeling about him." He seems to genuinely like everyone. There's a bit where he drives George and Pattie to the airport after their wedding, speeding to escape the press, but when he gets pulled over the officer just pretends to give him a ticket and then holds up the reporters for him. There are the standard bits where John is a bit of a dick, and other bits where he's soft and kind. There's a bit where Alf goes to a bullfight with Brian because no one else will. A bit where he talks about Paul putting on a terrible disguise and going out to look for grandfather clocks, and everyone in the shops pretending not to know who he is. There's a bit where he runs into George in the mid-seventies and they have a hug on the pavement.

(If you're wondering why the Beatles' chauffeur called his book Ticket To Ride, yes, I was also wondering. But he does have another book called 'Baby You Can Drive My Car', so that is why. From what I can work out it's a better version of this one - because honestly outside the quotes from Alf, which I'm assuming are true, this book is badly written to the extreme. It kind of tries to dramatise everything, like 'he sighed dramatically' etc, and is full of small careless mistakes like using passed where they mean past, not once but twice. Unfortunately the other book costs a little fortune, so this one is good enough for now.)

[feything-n-frothing]

Top 5 famous horses (in shows, movies, irl celebrity horses). Top 5 mikus. Top 5 shows. Top 5 songs.

Top 5 favorite famous horses let's GOOOO!!

1- Beautiful Jim Key Both horse and trainer (Dr. William P. Key) here are absolute legends! His trainer was formerly enslaved and actually fought during the American civil war. He developed medicines, taught himself veterinary skills, and became renowned for being outspoken and influential when it comes to the humane treatment of animals! The horse himself was born very sickly and was nursed to health by Dr. William Key, despite fears that he wouldn't live. He then trained Beautiful Jim Key with a unique focus on compassion and care. And it was found that he was incredibly intelligent! Fast forward, and he had trained Beautiful Jim Key in a variety of things; the alphabet, numbers, and even math- it's suspected that he could even decipher trigonometry problems!! To this day, people still have a hard time arguing that this was a hoax - in any case, it is clear that both the horse and his trainer were brilliant :)

2- Incitatus Another historical horse! This one could've been a Roman consul... Unlike Beautiful Jim Key, I have my doubts this horse is so well educated.. BUT it is said that he lived in marble stables, was attended by 18 designated servants, and was the favorite horse of Emperor Caligula! The horse is an indisputable icon ~

It's said that Emperor Caligula planned to make him a consul and, though this likely didn't happen, I absolutely love the vision... I have faith he could've created good changes for Rome, were he to have the chance ;)

3- Spirit I actually don't think I ever managed to finish this movie in my youth... watching animals in distress has never been my favorite pastime, to say the least... ;-; But I am not immune to a story highlighting animal abuse and, surprisingly to a degree, the horrifying abuse done to native peoples in the creation of the states of America. There's something hauntingly beautiful that spoke to me, even from an early age, about the freedom of a familiar landscape unmarred by modern damages. And the mistreatment of nature, animals, and native people at the hands of European invaders stuck with me.

Spirit himself is a fun character- I love the choice to have him be voiced only in internal dialogues, and still have his natural horse sounds aloud! It helps keep the story from falling into the 'human animals' pitfall that I am often frustrated with where animals are presented as humans in another shape, stripping them of their unique vocalizations and thoughts. Let animals be animals! His voiced monologues do a great job of attaching the audience to him and showing his thoughts while staying true to his equine nature! (I will admit the eyebrows are a bit goofy though, despite how handy they are for making his expressions easily readable hsajajsaj)

4- Shadowfax ("Lord of all horses") The legend, the myth!! Shadowfax is a horse that moves with impossible swiftness and actively aids in the efforts of LOTR's main story, particularly as a respected aide and peer to Gandalf the White. I love him, and all the supernatural abilities that he brings :) If I am to speak on him more, a little deeper, I would say that he is an example of the beauty of respected warhorses. There is a reason there aren't any other famous warhorses on here- I struggle to feel positively about horses (and other animals) sent into war. It's not a situation I want humans to get involved in (of course), but animals are separate from such conflicts! Seeing them be used as tools of war and violence displeases me (to say the least).

But, with Shadowfax, (and the rest of horses in LOTR), there is a focus and understanding of their sacrifices as living beings. Shadowfax is supernaturally capable and understands the tasks asked of him, willingly seeing them through. But in this he is special- horses, in general, are not known to do this in this world. They are put to task regardless, as people are without better modes of transportation and are in need of an edge during inescapable war. The deep respect the Rohirrim give to horses is well deserved, and Shadowfax is the 'Lord of all horses' for good reason. He is the ideal of the warhorse- strong, capable, willing. And, supernaturally, with a kind and brave heart that comprehends the importance of what he is asked to do.

5- Brego/Uraeus I couldn't help but do another LOTR horse- the horse that played Brego (actually named Uraeus)!! Here's another example of LOTR's narrative treating horses as more than just beasts of burden and mere symbols of nobility/strength!! Brego is the horse that Aragorn (played in the movies by Viggo Mortenson) frees after hearing of its trauma in previous battles. The horse finds him later, washed up alone and gravely injured, before helping to carry him safely to Helm's Deep. Viggo Mortenson ended up caring a lot for the horse and, after the filming of the movie, actually bought him! He also purchased a horse to give to Arwen's stunt double, as she had also bonded with the horse she had ridden :') They're genuinely so sweet!!!

I mean... just look at that behind the scenes image... ^ Precious! More so than even the ring, maybe...

[ellelans]

Rules: answer and tag people you want to get to know better and/or catch up with! 

Tagged by darling @primal--scream - thanks Lisa <3

favorite color: black.

last song: Go with the Flow-Queens of Stone Age.

last movie: The Bikeriders.I have to watch every movie Tom Hardy for reasons of course,but it was actually a good one and he had a fantastic chemistry with Austin Butler.

currently reading: tmouw fics.

currently watching: The Big Bang Theory.I had a few first seasons on my tablet so I started rewatching it on flight to Rome and forgot how silly and funny the show was.And I know these days this show is concidered ''problematic'',but tbh whats not and yeah I don't care.Also Jim Parsons is still one of the most brilliant comedians of our generation imo.

currently craving: sushi,but I will have to wait till tomorrow.

tea or coffee: absolutely both. i drink coffee only in the morning and only 2 cups max,the rest of the day its earl grey.

tagging: @littlerosetrove @queer-crusader @favouritealias

[boyblogging]

i'm a right wing MAGA conservative mullenpilled anti-SJW with a thousand island stare, top 1% poster in the gamergate #notyourshield campaign and key shitposter on ben kuchera's twitter page. originator of the "boxxy is the queen of /b/" threads and mastermind behind the andy sixx psyop

top host of internet bloodsports debates on my DLive frequently arguing with liberalist thinkers running 24 hour ops with tilly law before working my construction job collecting boulders with my kid and my joyous mascot poley the polar bear.

as part of my work for the CIA i was actually the one who operated on matt christman's skull in order to give him master race frankenstein radio implants and brain thoughts broadcasting and eyesight television news to prepare for the 2077 paradigm shift. he is currently hidden in a secret underground bunker drinking cheap lambrusco wine in the janiculum hills overlooking rome at sunset (a memory he loves) while we gather intel about random warehouse art shows across brooklyn.

sadydoyle? me. sarah lerner? me. you think jim watkins started Q? do you even KNOW who jim watkins is??? ME.

every time i send an employer someone's offensive tweets from 2009 i actually send the employee a lucrative job offer working as triple agent fake russian bots simultaneously praising the candidates in every election worldwide.

i have over 300 confirmed kills, am trained in gorilla warfare and im the top sniper in the entire US armed forces.

you know NOTHING

[tarantula-hawk-wasp]

I love reading music reviews try to describe Rome bc it’s like they’re trying to convey that his music is very good and shows exceptional talent and creativity but you will feel depressed and hopeless and like don’t listen to this alone in the middle of the night

Like “guitar-based dark folk” with sound collage elements and a guy whose voice is something between Nick Cave and Jim Morrison is the best descriptor

Anyways this review entertained me https://www.velvetthunder.co.uk/rome-hegemonikon-a-journey-to-the-end-of-light-trisol/

[esta-elavaris]

Dieu Et Mon Droit [4,106 words]

A more recent original short horror story! This one is from 2021 - the premise being "what if a zombie apocalypse happened in the Tudor period??"

“Dieu Et Mon Droit” = “God and My Right”, adopted as the royal motto of England by Henry V. The zombie apocalypse thing should be a hint that I’m not making any great claims of historical accuracy. Damnit Jim, I’m a writer, not a historian. Enjoy, don’t examine it too seriously. 

1533

The year was 1533, and King Henry VIII had just crowned his former mistress as Queen of England. It was no small scandal and, had the times been normal, the people would have been abuzz with outrage and fury. But as it was, they were more concerned with the dead that now roamed the earth. 

In the very beginning, before they’d had a chance to take a real measure of the stories that drifted from the areas fast falling to this new horror, they’d treated it like any other plague that was wont to befall them. Even if there were none still living who remembered the last outbreak of the black death, the sweating sickness was still fresh in the minds of most, and they readied themselves for another wave of something similar. They took their tonics, they prayed, and they gave a wide berth to anybody who showed even the slightest signs of illness. It would pass.

But it did not pass, and the tales became more widespread, and easier to believe. So they did what any godly person living would do in times of chaos - tried to find order in it - reason. Cause. And then the coronation seemed all the more relevant. To some, at least - the taverns packed with no shortage of voices seeking to weigh in and make sense of the senseless. 

“Joseph’s boy works in the palace kitchens - there’s talk there. He said the last word from Rome blamed the Boleyn woman for this. It’s God showing his displeasure.”

“And then Rome fell. So how did they displease God?” 

“I’m just sayin’ what I’ve heard, is all.”

“And I’m just sayin’ what you’ve heard is twaddle.” 

“The King will leave the city soon, mark my words. He’ll go to some fortress, somewhere less populated,” a third added.

“Who’s to say he hasn’t already? Cloaked and hooded - disguised, so nobody might know he has forsaken us, as he has the north.”

“He’d’ve taken the Boleyn woman with him. She’s still there, the future King is still in her belly, so King Henry will be, too. Staying perfectly visible, so as not to raise a panic. They know full well that if they leave, the city will succumb to panic faster than they do to this sickness...and then outrage towards him, when it passes.”

“Should it pass.” 

“...Should it pass.” 

“He’s King by divine right. Who gives half a shit about outrage when they have God on their side? He’ll run, and he’ll say it’s his duty to run. That God told him to. Just like he told him to forsake poor Queen Katherine.” 

“The King will not risk the roads, fool. Not even with all of his men. The Duke of Norfolk was overcome on them only this week past. Now he’s out there somewhere, dining on peasants.”

“Some things never change, eh?”

The laughter this comment garnered was sparse, and too troubled to be genuine. 

“Any of their lot further north than Cambridge has been told not to bother. More likely to fall on the roads than reach the safety of the palace. If the inflicted don’t get ‘em, the bandits will. Won’t be long before they’re driven from the roads entirely, they’ll be doing what they can to stock up before then. Those who do reach the gates are checked top to tail before they’re let near anybody other than a guard.” 

“I bet that’s a real hardship when the ladies of the court come calling.”

The chuckles this garnered were a bit more lively. Until another voice cut through them to speak.

“They killed one. Last week. Some jumped up, paranoid guard. Saw a scrape the lady took falling from her horse - decided it was best not to risk it.”

“...Did they punish him?”

“No. ‘Course not. They say the King commended him for his vigilance.” 

Any cheer that they’d managed to muster in the face of what they knew was well on the way, soon fizzled out. The laughter died.

“There’ll be more hoping to be commended in the same way. Get into the King’s good books for when it really comes down to it. It won’t get any better.”

“They’ve closed all of the roads leading in from the north. Maybe it’ll be contained,” the one who said this was younger, barely a boy of twelve.

Few had the heart to disabuse him of his hope. Except for the old man in the corner.

“They can close all the roads they like, they won’t be able to stop everybody. Not once this really takes root. Make no mistake, it’ll creep down from the north, and then it’ll hit London...and once it does, we’re in trouble.”

1534

Hampton Court Palace was not built to be a structure that could withstand a siege. The only truly useful feature was the moat, and even that failed to extend beyond the frontmost section of the palace. There were too many doors, too many windows, too many weak spots. It had been a minor concern before things started to turn southward, but it became a real problem once the death turned in that direction, too. They could board up the exterior windows and gates, place guards at every weak spot, but they could not turn a palace meant for fun and folly into a fortress built for long-term survival. Not truly. 

The peace of mind once offered by the fact that even the most raving of lunatics would be put off by the punishments in store for those threatening the safety of the king held no comfort now. These days, anybody seeking to enter the palace was faced with a choice - the tenuous chance of refuge, tempered only by the chance of being caught, weighed against the near certainty of being eaten alive if they remained outside of the walls. The nobles cooped up inside could feign horror and disgust towards those who decided they liked the odds of that particular gamble, and that outrage was the source of many a conversation to be sure, but in the safe confines of their own minds, even they knew the truth. The desperation tinged logic that would spur the desire to test any potential weaknesses of the palace’s exterior. To anybody on the outside, it was easy to imagine the inside was a paradise. 

What paradise consisted of had become a fairly short list, anyway. Food, safety, seeing the sun rise another day. And so new measures were brought in. Countless times each day, one of the King’s men would announce loudly, for all to hear, that sneaking into the palace - being in the palace without permission - was now treason. Helping somebody sneak into the palace was now treason. Being aware that somebody had snuck in and failing to report it, was now treason. And treason meant being hanged, drawn, and quartered. However thin their resources were now stretched, they would always find the ones required to dole out such punishment. After all, rope and a sharp blade were hardly in short supply. Not in the way that food, safety, and the guarantee of seeing the sun rise another day were. 

The fact that they’d managed to go this long without any major incidents, and (miraculously) no infections did nothing to bolster the King’s mood as it did for the people of his court. 

“The King grows restless, and the Queen despairs for it. Had she given birth to a son, things may have been different, but as it is…” Lady Alice paused as somebody passed just too closely, and only continued once they were out of earshot “She fears there may be some who align themselves with Rome’s way of thinking. That God sent this to show his disapproval for her. The lack of an heir is just driving the point home.”

“Nonsense,” Lady Edith shook her head “Princess Elizabeth is strong, and healthy, and boisterous, and, and-”

“And a girl.”

“A girl who is proof that she can have healthy children. A boy will follow. One who will inspire our King to look to the future, to lead us out of this mess.” 

Lady Alice watched her friend for a good few moments. Lady Edith was older than her by a decade at least - shouldn’t that have meant that she’d be less idealistic? Able to discern hope from folly when it came across her path? If her years alone didn’t do so, surely the fact that her husband had not made it to the palace, and had not been heard of since, would have. Or maybe that was why she clung to hope. To reason, to order. She was a good, Christian woman with not so much as a smudge against her name. Such a thing was rare in this court. It stood to reason that she thought she was due a good turn because of that. But reason had no place anywhere in these times. 

Alice sighed and twisted her hands in her dirty skirts. Most women only had two dresses now - one for the cold, one for the warm. The days of the latest fashions and changing for banquets, or indeed, banquets at all. Not only because of the situation with the food, but because of the noise. It drew the dead. It could not be risked. So did light, or any signs of life it seemed. Most discarded dresses had been put to use as window coverings at night, leaving the palace more suited to housing ghosts than people. 

“One of the Queen’s ladies traded her jewels for an apple yesterday,” she missed the day when gossip was a bit less grim. 

“The Queen’s jewels?” Lady Edith frowned.

They said the Queen’s quarters were like a tomb, nowadays. Silent and solemn.

“No, of course not, she’d be thrown from the palace. Her own jewels - including a necklace that had been in her family since the days of King Henry II.”

“Fool.”

“They’re worth nothing now.”

“Not her, whoever she traded with. What are they going to do, eat the diamonds?”

“Maybe they’ll trade them, when the King leads us out of this mess,” she said the words drily, and they were the most she dared say, lest anybody overhear them and name it slander. 

Lady Edith’s lips set into a thin line. 

“Since we’re no longer permitted into the gardens, they’ve turned them into crop fields,” because farming was so much quieter than walking “Things will be better after the first harvest. We’ll be back to two meals every day. Perhaps even three, some of the time.”

Leaning against the wall behind her, Alice bit down on the inside of her cheek. How many meals was the King skipping? It was a dangerous thing to think, and a perilous thing to voice, so she would not. She already knew the answer, anyway. And she knew the reasoning behind it that would be presented if anybody posed the question and kept their head long enough to hear the answer. The King was the one they must look to for hope. To lead them out of this. For that, he needed his strength. And if Queen Anne was to produce a little Prince, she would need to stay healthy too. There was logic behind it, logic she might even understand on the good days. Good days just happened to be in short supply. 

However they tried to entertain or distract themselves, however much they prayed, however much strength they poured into keeping their spirits up, it was always a trial. The days were growing hotter, and with noise being the risk that it was, the windows remained shut. Soon, with all of the bodies around them, every room became a stuffy, humid sort of hell that seemed to have the sole aim of driving them mad. It was like one long never-ending confinement, with no babe to look forward to at the end of it - the make it all worth it. There was a sick sort of humour to be found in the fact that in the winter they’d huddled around the fires and pined for these days. 

Taking a deep, steeling breath in (and finding only air that felt like it had already been used many times over), Lady Alice struggled against the urge to start driving her head into the wall. If only because then the gossip would cease to be about the controversial diamond trade, and about her waning sanity. Then they would petition for her to be the next one fed to the dead clamouring at the gates. 

One of the King’s guards thudded his staff dully against the floor, and spoke in a loud voice that even he seemed to be weary of.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the court, you are reminded that unauthorised entry into the palace gates is now high treason. Aiding another in treason, or indeed turning a blind eye to treason, is now punishable…”

The urge to drive her head into the stone behind her became all the more tempting.

1535

The Queen’s chambers were silent, save only for the crackle of the fire and the soft padding of her slippers as she paced back and forth over and over. Her ladies had long since stopped observing this habit of hers, for fear of getting dizzy. Round and round her chambers she would pace, occasionally muttering to herself, sometimes going so far as to scoff or sigh angrily in response to said mutterings, as if they hadn’t come from her own lips. Even the guard in the corner, ever-present given the state of the world outside, looked like he’d rather be anywhere but, and this posting was an easy one. It was better than defending the weak spots against the dead and the desperate. 

In the beginning, her efforts to keep everybody distracted had been valiant - although some might say deluded. It was the duty of the Queen, she’d explained loftily many a time to such people while rubbing her rounded belly, to keep the people distracted in trying times - the King looked after the people as a collective, and the Queen cared for their spirits. There had been parlour games, singing and dancing, recreations of dramatic scenes from the newest plays, anything to keep their minds off of the many loved ones too far away from London to reach refuge in time. If little changed inside the walls, they could all pretend that nothing had changed outside of them, either. But such a charade could only continue for so long. By the time the Princess Elizabeth was christened in the palace’s chapel, the games were already a thing of the past. Now they were barely even a memory. 

At the time they’d felt painful, even as they’d taken part in them. The very thing they were supposed to be forgetting at the very forefront of their minds as they made their silly costumes and danced their ridiculous dances. But the only thing worse than distraction, it seemed, was no distraction. And worse even still than the lack of any distraction, was the muttering.

The Lady Alice was the newest of the Queen’s ladies, replacing Lady Joan who had come down with a fever a week prior, and had not been seen since. Nobody asked what had become of her, but nobody needed to. The lack of any bite marks rarely served as a good defense anymore. Whatever measures were taken - banishment or blade - the end result was the same, anyway. Best not to dwell on it. All they could do was move on, and resolutely hide any symptoms of even the mildest of maladies. Even the Queen, when morning sickness struck, was prone to bouts of “casually” announcing to anybody that would hear that it was perfectly natural, in her condition, and that it was nothing sinister. But she was the one person in the room who needn’t make such assurances...so long as she remained with child, and therefore invaluable. 

“The failure of the crops...the death of Katherine’s bastard...they blame me, always me - only me,” the Queen shook her head, spinning on her heel and beginning her pacing anew in the opposite direction “How could any woman be expected to produce a prince under such conditions? Such vitriolic rumour? How?”

Nobody in the room dared meet her eye, lest they be pressed upon to supply an answer. Unfair as it may have been, the resentment was growing. Not just from the skeleton court that remained towards the Queen, but from everybody towards anybody. High pressure and close quarters did not breed love and contentment. Nor did lack of food. That particular problem was one all but the King and Queen had to contend with. 

The King’s rations never changed, as he needed his strength to lead the people as God intended, and the Queen’s did not lessen either, for she needed her own strength for the babe in her belly. But with each one she lost, that argument grew weaker and weaker. Soon there were plenty who wondered why everybody must suffer hunger pangs for the sake of so many children that never saw the light of day. Nobody voiced it, but everybody thought it. And the Queen knew it. So when she did eat, she ate in private, so that others mightn’t see her portions and be tempted to compare them to their own. But it was becoming more and more common for her appetite to forsake her entirely, and for whatever she was given to go to her ladies. As fate would have it, she was then resented for that, too - for being unable to eat for the sake of the future heir. 

Of course, had her previous pregnancies not ended in such tragedy, she would’ve then been blamed for the extra mouths to feed. There was no winning these days. For anybody. It took a prolonged moment of silence for those in the room to notice that the Queen had fallen silent, looking carefully around the room with a scrutinous gaze. 

“Where’s Jane?” 

If their gazes had all been fixed resolutely to their own laps before, now they were all but nailed there.

“Where is Jane Seymour?” The Queen demanded again.

They all knew the answer just as much as they knew Queen Anne knew it, too. And then they realised that perhaps there was one victor to be found in all of this, after all. 

1536

The gardens, turned crop fields, turned barren dirt patches, now held a structure for the first time in over a year. A scaffold. The scaffold was a tiny one, raised little more than two feet from the on which it was built. The world had fallen far, but not far enough for Queens to be executed in the dirt. Before nightfall, it would be dismantled again, the wood too valuable for the fires they would no doubt need come winter. If they were lucky, or perhaps unlucky, enough to see winter. Of course, they’d need to wait until the blood that soaked it ran dry. 

For now, the servants that remained were more concerned with the orders of the King - both in terms of seeing out those orders, and suppressing their horror at them. There wasn’t a soul still living in the palace who wasn’t keenly aware of the guard’s progress through the halls, the large ornate wooden box held as far away from his person as possible in outstretched hands. Judging by the reactions he garnered, he wasn’t the only one who was acutely aware of what the box held. Any and every soul he passed on his way to the King’s private chambers did a double take, gasped, and threw themselves back against the walls in an effort to get as far away from the guard’s cargo as possible, most crossing themselves and murmuring prayers as they did so.

The guard did his best to ignore it. What he held required his utmost attention, lest he drop it and see what a real horrified reaction consisted of. His journey was a balancing act - moving carefully enough that he wouldn’t drop his cargo, but not so slowly as to allow blood to start seeping out of the box. His superiors had assured him such a thing would not happen, but he didn’t want to risk it all the same. One of the King’s men stood outside the door waiting for him, and made an admirable effort not to even look at what he held as he rounded the corner. Instead he simply opened the door and led the way inside.

No silence fell over the King’s rooms the way it had over the hallways as he’d walked through them, but that was mainly because they were already silent before the door had even opened. The guard was almost surprised to see the King was not alone, so quiet were the rooms. The Lady Jane Seymour, soon to be Queen Jane, sat by one side, pale and drawn, and the Duke of Suffolk sat at the other, more grim even than the king himself nowadays. 

“It’s done?” 

“The executioner was not practised, your majesty, but it was done quickly and without incident,” any man able to swing an axe or sword had been moved to their defenses long ago “The Queen-”

The King’s eyes flashed. Lady Jane’s eyes flitted to the box, and then quickly back to her lap. 

“That is, er, Lady Anne - died well.”

“I hear there was some commotion in the rooms she was being held in this morning,” the King ignored the previous statement.

“One of her ladies, Lady Alice...she’d been bitten. We can’t say when, but sometime before she was taken to Lady Anne to keep her company in her final hours. Reports are now emerging of her habit of sneaking out to get fresh air. She disguised her symptoms as nerves and grief. We didn’t know until the guards arrived to take Lady Anne to the block, and found her fending off the, er...former Lady Alice.”

“But she survived?”

“Until we executed her, your Majesty.” 

“And the Lady Alice?”

“Dealt with.” 

“Find all those who knew of these secret walks, and interrogate them on why they saw fit to say nothing until now.”

After giving the order, the King approached the guard holding the box. At his gesture, a space was cleared at the large table in the centre of the room, and the box was laid atop it. Once he was unburdened of it, the guard took several steps back as though fearful of being asked to hold it once again. Nobody in the room paid him any mind. 

The King stood before the box, fingertips pausing at the latch. The Duke of Suffolk, Charles Brandon, stood and moved to join him, morbid curiosity written plain across the furrow in his brow. Such curiosity, though, was nowhere to be found in the Lady Jane, who pressed her lips together and looked towards one of the covered windows as though it still afforded some sort of view. Her knuckles were white where her hands were clasped tightly together in her lap, a bible wedged between them.

Hesitation leaving him, or perhaps just keenly aware that he’d been caught hesitating to begin with, the King unlatched the box and lifted its lid in one swift motion, an unbothered, haughty frown forcing its way onto his features. The mask fell for but a moment once the box was opened, his face paling and his eyes widening for a moment. For all of the gore and the horror that most had seen over the last three years, the King had probably seen the least. While none who attended the beheading even flinched at the stroke of the sword, it was still a big ask to expect the King to look upon the severed head of his former wife with not even a flinch. 

Brandon, whose insistant presence at the defences was legendary among the men,  sighed tiredly at the sight, and then gave a slight nod as though in approval that the matter was done. Unlike the King, his face did not pale. Jane closed her eyes and muttered a prayer.

“She was fair,” Brandon commented, when nobody else in the room spoke.

The King, who was shaken from his shock at the words, took another step forward and traced a few fingertips across the face of the former Queen as though checking it for dust.

“Jane is fairer,” the King replied.

And then the head opened its eyes, and sank its teeth into his hand.��

[cosleia]

His Creature

palpoke (aka snalps), 451 words, modern au, fake relationship, pining, T

Jim Snoke and Steve Palpatine's tumultuous affair was fodder for the gossip rags for decades, starting when they met as young “self-made” millionaires and continuing throughout their oft-contentious business rivalry. Wall Street considered their relationship a market indicator.

In 1965, Palpatine earned Snoke’s ire by taking a very handsome young man named Anakin Skywalker under his wing. (That Anakin became disfigured shortly thereafter did not ease Snoke's mind.) Snoke had his revenge in the 2000s when he took not one but two young men as wards.

“They’re my proteges,” Snoke told Palpatine coolly over cocktails at the Plaza, according to People magazine.

“Bullshit,” Palpatine reportedly replied.

What no one knew was that it was all an act. A show, put on to sway public opinion of things that went far beyond the two of them. With their performed on-again, off-again fire, they changed the course of world economies.

It was all pretend.

Well...not all of it.

Sure, the passionate kisses, the screaming in the streets, the walks of shame from each other’s luxury apartments, the indulgent trips to Rome, those were all fake. Going through the motions.

But the way Snoke gazed at Palpatine when he thought he wasn’t looking? The emptiness he felt whenever they had to pretend to hate each other? The longing when they were playing lovers, when he could touch Palpatine but knew it meant nothing to him?

That was real.

Jim Snoke was literally 85 years old, and his heart still skipped a beat when Steve Palpatine said his name.

Palpatine didn’t feel the same way. He couldn’t. All this time, all these years, he’d played his part perfectly. When he was supposed to be deeply in love, he appeared to be deeply in love. When he was supposed to be so angry at Snoke he couldn’t think straight—well.

If he didn’t know it was all a ruse, Snoke would believe Palpatine when he screamed that he never wanted to see him again. Their “reconciliations” were always a quiet relief. He dreaded the next blowup, even when it was his turn to instigate.

He wished they could stop pretending. But he knew if they did, it would all be over.

Oh, they’d meet at the club, they’d have drinks, they’d chat amicably. But they wouldn’t flirt. They wouldn’t kiss. They wouldn’t slide their hands over each other’s clothing or into each other’s trousers. They wouldn’t wake up in a tangle of bedsheets, naked and sore and bruised.

Snoke would never feel Palpatine’s heartbeat against his skin again.

All Snoke could do was live this life of longing, purposeless save for playing out the script Palpatine had written so long ago. All he could do was be the creature Palpatine had created.

And Palpatine would never know.

[littlequeenies]

Why do we Love...

Pam Courson

We always liked 60s bands and we discovered The Doors watching Forrest Gump when we were little, so when we had internet and we were in our teens, we wanted to know more about those great 60s bands, their members and their couples, and looking for Jim Morrison through Internet, we came across a photo showing him in Paris with a mysterious red-haired woman. Who was she?

[Jim and Pam pictured at Saint Leu d'Esseurent by their close friend Alain Ronay, 28th June 1971]

We found out that this mysterious girl was three years younger than Jim and sadly, she passed away when she was 27 in 1974, just three years later than him. Everybody called them cosmic couple and Ray Manzarek said they were two halves of the same coin. We decided to search for her over the internet... but there was a problem... there wasn't enought information about her and all the pics were the same and with really low quality...

[Pam close-up photo by Raneanne Rubenstein taken at her shop Themis, November 1969]

Then we saw there was a forum where people shared Pam pics and interesting information, and we found out that Pam was a very clever girl, very creative, she had a boutique that Jim gave to her, she encouraged him to write poetry, she loved travelling and she had the nerve to stand besides him. In this forum there were also very intersting quotes from her friends and we saw there was a book too, so when my sis and we went to London, we bought that book because we wanted to know more about Pam.

[March 1969, Pam pictured at the Bronson Caves by Edmund Teske]

Reading "Angels Dance and Angels Die" by Patricia Butler, we discovered the real Pam, she was quite shy but she had lots of friends, everybody know knew her said she was special, she had a great sense of humour adn she was really wild, she was petite but with a great personality and everybody felt very protective towards her.

[Pam pictured at a Doors backstage concert, 14th or 15th April 1967 by Bobby Klein]

As with the other 60s girls, we decided to make a site on her at piczo and later at webs, we found out she and Jim lived in Laurel Canyon in the 60s where a great communuty of musicians lived there, such as The Mamas and the Papas and Joni Mitchell. Surely living there was a pure dream!! We wanted to know more about her and in tumblr we met a couple of girls that knew a lot of Pam and in fact were writing a book about her not only to dignify her but also to let everybody know her true being.

[Pam pictured in Rome, September 1968]

We befriended these girls and we shared a common aim, to dignify Pam and to tell everybody how creative and unique she was. For years and years Pam was blamed for Jim's passing, when he was a full grown-up man, and lots of people just disliked her for that but people tend not toremember that Pam was just 24 when she lost the love of her life and she was alone in a big city with no one to help her. Pam had to endure a lot in a really short time, and although at the end she met the same fat as him, she had to be strong and she really tried to survive ...

On this day that marks what would have bee Pam's 77th birthday, we want to share why we find her really special.

Here we share:

OUR BIOGRAPHY OF HER WITH GREAT LINKS TO AMAZING SITES

HER POSTS FROM OUR BLOG

OUR FACEBOOK PAGE FOR HER

HAPPY HEAVENLY BIRTHDAY DEAR CREATIVE FAIRY - GONE BUT NEVER FORGOTTEN.

[colleenmurphy]

For the better part of her life she had seen the world through a very different lens. Much of her world consisted of traveling to far flung places all over the globe being carried by her mother or taken gently by the hand and led on some very grand adventure. Her mother wasn't just flashing photo bulbs and long dark hair with mysterious eyes. The voice that she was used to singing her to sleep was vastly different than the one that used to entertain concert goers. They didn't see the side of her that made the very best chocolate chip pancakes at midnight, or the side that made all the hobgoblins in her closet go away with just a stern 'Go to bed, wee beasties!'. Not everyone got to see their mother, godmother and grandmother perform an impromptu concert in the back garden after a few glasses of wine.

"Do you know just how much I love you?"

Her mother had asked her late one night as she tucked Libby deep under the covers of an impossibly soft bed deep in the heart of Rome. All Libby cared was that Mom was there and the tapestry shawl that smelled just like her was wrapped around Babbity Rabbit.

"No...how much?"

"Thiiiiss Muucchh."

Was all Colleen could say before she outstretched her arms much like a bat and enveloped Libby in the warmest of bear hugs. The jangle of her many bracelets and necklaces always made Libby smile.

"Love you, Mama. Even beyond infinity."

"Love you too, Libby baby. Sleep tight."

With a kiss and in a cloud of warm amber Libby fell into a drowsy dose. The nightlight aunt Helene and uncle Joey had sent all the way from Sweden flickered on merrily enveloping the five year old in a familiar homey glow. Unbeknownst to her the world she had once known was rapidly changing. The Colleen Sheehan being witnessed this evening was an unfamiliar one as the 'Mom' version was as familiar to little Libby as the back of her own hand.

"I just got off the phone with your mom...Colly he's in good spirits. He knows you and Lib are headed home."

Schooled features so fine they could almost be cut from marble swirled toward him almost pinning Jack to the spot.

"You're coming with us, right?"

Jack Donnelly was never one to lie, bend the truth, yes but never outright lie. Especially to his wife and mother of his only child.

"Y-yes. I just need to finish packing some things back at the house and setting up someone to watch Angus and Bon."

The mention of the Donnelly family's Weimaraner duo and Libby's dearest companions besides the ancient orange tabby named Cornelius at Libby's insistence as to "That's what he told me his name is, Mummy."

"She doesn't know he's sick...sick. I mean she knows Grandpa Jim's not feeling well and that there are some changes at his and Granny's house but that doesn't mean she has to be afraid. Maybe...maybe this is a mistake. It's too much."

The flutter of her hands and the tremble in her bottom lip were Col's tell. She was crumbling. Her world was falling apart and she had kept it together for so long and had kept spirits high all the way around that now the fatigue was setting in. Jack wasn't going to be the one to tell his wife of four years that her father's mental state was fading in and out like a candle flame. Mostly due to the use of morphine to keep the pain at bay and the masses pressing at odd angles. He didn't need to be the one to remind her when it hit her daily. When she wasn't trying to do small shows whenever her manager booked her she was home at the rambling Murphy compound nicknamed 'Shangri-La.' splitting time between her parents place and their own rambling place in the Canyon known as The Lodge.

"Colly he keeps saying he wants to go home."

Colleen bit her lip for a moment and sighed as she grabbed the last of her things and shoved it into the oversized duffel bag.

"I take it you know what that means?"

"Yes...he wants to go back to Gloucester. He was born in a tiny town just outside it called Sloughbridge. He and my mom still have the family house out there. My Great Grandfather built it. That's where he wants to be....I mean he was born there. So it makes sense."

"I've got to call Helene and Joey and...my mom...."

Passing her a hand rolled cigarette and a glass of red wine Jack met her eyes.

"You need to take a moment with these two things I'm offering you and take in the night sky on the balcony. Just for a minute."

[s-------i-------g]

I was not only recounting the story of Owen Hart to some coworkers at my actual job but then it shifted to an inquiry where all the wrestlers and production staff for WWE were at a bunch of picnic tables at a warehouse where we were all given cards stating if we thought Vince McMahon was responsible for Owen's death and I wrote that he was, and then I got singled out for it. I was asked to explain myself, I did and I have an impassioned speech at Vince.

"He was possibly one of greatest wrestler of all time and you should've known better but no, you had to make fun of Sting."

I was promptly fire and made my way out to the parking lot (which seemed to be situated in a large meeting area that you might rent from the Y in Estes Park) and told someone there I was fired.He assured me that at least Kirstie Allie got the chance to pork all day with some guy in a van. I then went to my car which was now somehow parked at a corner of a city somewhere and there was a street vendor selling styrofoam containers of "barbecue." My brother had already bought me one which seemed less like actual barbecue and just had a some weird fried ball things. They ran out when he went back in line to get himself some, so he asked if he could have my plate and I told him he could.

While I was driving some of my friends around, I told them we had to make a stop somewhere. It was a weird old building of some kind that, inside, featured a full set of what I guess was Gotham city. There I was met with a bunch of reincarnations of various Catholic saints and for some reason Thomas Aquinas was dressed like Robin and climbing on of Gotham's skyscrapers. I was supposed to, at some indeterminate point in time, reset all of reality.

"What are you wearing?" One of them asked, seemingly disgusted.

"Sorry, I but my stuff from my thrift store," I responded.

"We can tell," another one of them chimed in.

"Look, I don't make enough money at my fucking job to be keeping with fashion, that's why I have to wear last year's crocs," I told them. And then I took a pair of beige-swirl Crocs sandals out of one of those Halloween variety bags of candy. I then told them I was glad that my rome in all this meant that I wouldn't have to deal with them after it was done.

I then went to my job at Saturday Night Live doing production work at a weird warehouse they had set up for the show. I was then told I had to help get the guest. Somehow that meant that I had to go on a Segway and ride out onto the Techno highway to go meet him on an unspecified point on the highway. The techno highway was basically all neon pink everywhere outside. I met him and he had some weird contraption that was two bucket seats side by side with wheels on either side of that and some hidden tires underneath. The world then turned into entirely grey tones (it was kind of nice looking). He tried showing me what the vehicle could do, but it fell apart immediately and he chose to ride the rest of the way to what looked like a prototypical neon theater somewhere on a hoverboard. While on the highway we discussed how weird the segway was and how it was bullshit you weren't supposed to lean all the way forward until almost parallel with the ground while riding it. Then we made it just on time and the guest was Jim Carrey which I guess I just never noticed.

They didn't have time for a rehearsal so they put him in a matching dress and long blond wig that the entire cast was wearing while they all went up and down a staircase doing various dances signaling it was some kind of corporate retreat but there was no actual joke and the audience was completely silent. I mentioned something to the effect that I didn't understand what the joke was and it didn't seem funny to which a PA yelled at the cast that was, I guess, on break "Spencer doesn't think that sketch was funny!" To which a visibly annoyed Keenan Thompson came up to me and demanded to know why I didn't think it was funny.

I told him that it didn't seem to have a joke other and that it seemed like "Just a company of normal people having fun a little but not even in a weird way. What's the point that's just something that actually happens in real life?" He just waved his hand in dismissal and walked away but after that the entire caet hated me which I thought was unfair. I told one of my work friends that was also backstage that "I think I might've just lost my job."

I then went out into the stage where they filmed the last sketch and was immediately verbally assaulted by a woman writer/cast member that I feel like was representative of Kate McKinnon, but was not actually her. She kept berating me about how I don't have the right to judge and that I was a piece of trash that would never be good enough to actually have a job that mattered to the show. I got so pissed because she just kept going on that I smacked her in the face. Like three times. She ran off and I was like

"Oh shit, I shouldn't have done that." I went over to a small bench that was at the edge of the set where Lorne Michaels already was and I told him "I know what happened and I'm sorry. I understand I probably don't have a job now and that's fine, that's appropriate, but I am sorry that I did it." Lorne got up and patted me on the shoulder and told me it was okay and that he was looking into it. Then he went off and I sat down on the bench where he was while I clasped one of those soft plastic 3-ring hinders that zip up that was see-through, worrying about what might happen next. A different coworker who I was friendly with asked me if I was okay and I said "No. I probably just lost my job, which is fine, but it means I have to be ride out a lease in New York City and I don't know if I'll be able to pay my tent." There was no response and some word yension. Then I woke up.

[wearfinethingsalltoowell]

Tagged by @not-nervous-jester and @adickaboutspoons Thanks!

3 ships

- Ed/Stede of course

- Jim/Olu: Don’t get enough attention and it’s a shame. I’ve been in such a tealOranges hole lately and I want to talk about this forever.

-Cal/Juliette (First Kill): MY gay vampire show. Please everyone watch it and have your heart ripped out you won’t regret it I love them so muc

First ever ship

-Tablet Guardians from Night at the Museum. I’m not ashamed

Last Song

The Great War—Taylor Swift

Last Film

Glass Onion. Janelle Monae breaking things 😍😍

Currently Watching

I’ve been having a retrospective on my childhood tv shows lately. Lab Rats and Victorious did not have to go that hard but they did.

Currently Reading

A Fatal Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum: Murder in Ancient Rome

Currently Consuming

Coca Cola

Currently Craving

Lunch but I’d have to leave my room

Tagging @givefangapuppy @skysofrey @ella-doe @boytwentyten @peanutbutterex @knifewieldingenby and @enbiosaur

[httr4life]

Ron Rivera Talks Taylor Heinicke, 2022 Season on Jim Rome Show

Ron Rivera Talks Taylor Heinicke, 2022 Season on Jim Rome Show

Washington Commanders Head Coach Ron Rivera was a guest Wednesday on The Jim Rome Show. Rivera and Rome talked about several topics, including what it felt like when the team was 1-4 versus how he feels now at 7-5, Taylor Heinicke, and receiver Terry McLaurin. Washington has now won six of their last seven games and is in prime position to make a playoff push down the stretch. Rivera talks about…

[weirfq1]

🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️🪢❤️‍🔥😬

Francesca and Yam

(yes I'm very predictable always picking my two fave characters)

🏳️‍🌈 A sexuality headcanon

This is a pretty popular headcanon but they're both bisexuals in my eyes

🏳️‍⚧️ A gender headcanon

Cis Francesca while i feel like Yam is the equivalent of that tweet that is like "i'm probably nonbinary but i have a job so idrc about that rn" (same) as in she doesn't really think about her own gender like that (because gender and pronouns really aren't a big deal for her and she's alright with anything but also because with everything going on in her life right now this would just make her question herself even more and put her into a crisis) but she would probably fall under the non-binary umbrella (even if she doesn't use any kind of etiquette)

🪢 A headcanon about their family

Francesca has a big family and goes back to Italy so often because she knows that if she doesn't go visit her family members even at least once every few months/years (if possible), they might impulsively decide to come to Buenos Aires and spend a month or so at her family house, and even though she loves them to death, it would be such a mess.

Yam's family consists of her single mother, the son of one of her mother's high school girl friends (that grew up around them and took the habit of referring to her mother as his own mother/second mother and treating yam as a fraternal figure [thing that she won't ever admit enjoying so much]) + Ramiro and Jim <3

❤️‍🔥 A romantic headcanon

Before dating someone, Francesca has always made fun of the couples that matched clothes because she thought it was embarassing and a bit too much… Not even one full week after starting to date somebody she already bought her partner a matching jacket (nothing too crazy, just the same model of jacket in two different colors), and that is only the start...

Yam isn't really into physical touch unless she really knows and trusts someone but she's a good listener and if she wants to show you that she cares, she just brings stuff. You will never have to worry about bags, backpacks, books or similar things because there wouldn't be a single second of the day in which she'll let your arms be full. She also knows by heart your orders and will not only predict them but also anticipate your own needs before you even know it.

😬 A headcanon about the worst thing they’ve done

Francesca probably broke something that had a big sentimental value for her grandma but put the blame on her uncle (from her mother side) hoping that it would've never come out. After she came back to Rome, during a big family reunion, at one point her uncle calls her to the side because he has something to ask her and she doesn't think anything of it (from her point of view it's been ages since that happened). He brings up the whole thing, asking her if she knows why his mother accused him and was so sure that Francesca personally saw him doing that and she thinks of lying... of maybe saying that she's old and confused and doesn't know what she's talking about; but then she looks at her grandma's face and back to his uncle and just admits fucking up. He already knew that she was the one who did that but still covered her back and took the scolding at that time. Now that she isn't scared anymore, she wants to take full responsibility and maybe ever try to repay both of them for her actions and the hurt it caused, but her uncle puts his hand on her shoulder and tells her that it's okay and it's now passed... to just keep doing what she's doing without lying. (If you ask Francesca she would probably say that there are a lot of worst things she had done —objectively speaking— but this is the thing that made her feel the worst and that stuck with her.)

For Yam i'm not sure but she gets super paranoid and stressed out about any little thing, especially when she has to lie or hide something so whatever she did wasn't actually that bad, she just gets into her own head a lot lol