#wes johnson imagine

[forkaround]

I will always be amazed when writers manage to make a convincing love story between two characters in a short amount of time. Long live Daisy Sousa and VegasPete.

[alltaternotot]

Lucky Charm | E. Johnson

Erik Johnson X Fem!Reader

A/N: Inspired by Emily Kaplan’s interview with EJ after the Avs won the Cup. He’s so fine it’s not even funny.

CW: NSFW (blowjob, praise, exhibitionism if you squint REALLY hard), swearing, very limited knowledge of how horse racing/betting actually works, but I gave it a stab. Very VERY lightly proofread, pls excuse any mistakes, just doin this for funsies.

Word count: 2.4K

:)

<><><><>

The summers in Denver were always perfect. It was finally time to relax and enjoy the warm weather after months and months of cold ice rinks and rigorous schedules, for you and your boyfriend both. EJ could finally take a step back from his intense training and long road trips, just for a few weeks, before it was back to the grind again.

You worked as a senior consultant in a successful Denver design firm, which was also the reason you met the tall blond. He commissioned you to design his newly renovated kitchen and living space, and invited you to enjoy a glass of wine with him when all was said and done. He had given you a soul-sucking kiss on the way out the door that night, leading to the best years of your life so far.

You were high up enough in the company now, around four years down the line, that you could somewhat make your own schedule. You followed Erik’s schedule most of the time. You would work hard in the months he was on the ice, and take a few weeks in the summer to enjoy the sunshine and your boyfriend.

That’s how you found yourself here, sitting on the shaded patio, watching the water in the backyard pool ebb and flow in the breeze and reading a new book leisurely. There was nothing like enjoying the soft sound of the water and a good book to pass the time.

You shared a routine during these days. He would join you outside with a tray of food and special cocktails he liked to make, spending the day reading or playing cards with some music on. On race days, especially the ones his horses were entered in, he insisted on sitting outside with a cigar (because there was no way he was getting cigar ash on his indoor furniture) with the back door open, plus sitting on the part of the sectional that faced indoors so he could watch and still enjoy time with you.

Today was a race day, and like clockwork, you could hear Erik open the back door, the sound of the TV in the other room coming through, and his footfalls coming up behind you. He leaned against the back of the deck sectional you were seated in, squeezing the back of your neck and laying a gentle kiss on your head.

“How’s the read?” He asked, coming to sit down with a tray of sandwiches, fruit, and the drinks.

“S’good so far, I’m about halfway through.” You answered, popping a raspberry in your mouth and flipping the page, “any news on MacKinnon yet?”

Horse racing was something that seemed to escape you interest-wise. You thought the horses were absolutely stunning, but the pedigrees going back to the dawn of time and the betting Erik liked to partake in were a bit much for you. He loved it though, so you kept up with his horses at least. You had met them all on trips to California and listened to his explanations about why they were so elite, all while petting their velvety noses and giving them carrots, completely losing the conversation after their grandparents had been brought up.

“Nothing yet, the race starts in 20ish minutes. The announcers have high hopes for him though.” He said, picking up the cigar and his little silver guillotine strait cutter, “his money pool is up to 30k right now, could be a big day for us baby.”

He put the cigar into the guillotine and clipped the end off, pulling out his nice zippo and holding it up. You loved how he looked lighting up his cigars, holding the cigar between the teeth he still had and gently grasping it with his hand. You loved the way the little fire would reflect on his sunglasses and cast soft shadows on his face. Every time he blew a puff of smoke out, it made you want to melt into a puddle, but you would never tell him that.

“That one smells pretty good.” You remarked as he leaned back, pulling you up against his side, the scent of tobacco and spice wafting around you.

“I think so too. Naz gave me a few after the parade.” He said, looking up towards the tv for the stats of today’s race.

You admired his profile as he looked at the standings, watching his eyes dart across the screen behind his sunglasses and the tendril of blond hair sticking out of his backwards ball cap. You admired his nose and his cupid’s bow, watching as he blew out more smoke and let it billow around him. You quickly learned to love the way his lip fell flat where his teeth were missing too, despite your friends feigning concern for your future make-outs. You loved everything about Erik really, but moments like these really did something to you. You thought you might get caught looking for too long, so you turned back to your book and dove in once again.

Your books were to you like Erik’s horses were to him. You loved romance novels most of all, you could laugh at the worst of them and squeeze your thighs together when they got good. You learned new things about yourself because of them too, Erik more than willing to try new things when you brought them up, on the rare occasions that you did. You weren’t the most adventurous in the bedroom by any means, but you had a few things you particularly liked when Erik did or helped you do.

This particular book was on the thigh-squeezing end so far, the slow-burn where the main character falls in love with the handsome rugged cowboy (who also happened to have an affinity for cigars) after finding herself stuck in a podunk little town. It had gotten very hot very fast. Images of a tall dark and handsome man pushing the main character up against a barn door and finally kissing her after 15 chapters went flashing through your mind. You continued down the page, imagining the clothes coming off and the sloppy kisses leading up to a risky, almost-public blowjob. He topped it all off with blowing cigar smoke into her mouth while she trembled under him.

Suddenly, your skin was on fire, and you were hyper aware of Erik’s fingers gently stroking up and down your arm, and the way he looked smoking that damn cigar. You could feel your heartbeat quicken, and you breathing became more ragged and shallow.

You craned your head up and placed a kiss on his neck, then his jaw, then his cheek, then the corner of his mouth. Your hand found his chest as you tried to sit up a little more, but Erik lifted you up just enough for a proper kiss, letting his hand fall on your shoulders, the other holding onto the cigar so he wouldn’t burn you or get ash on you.

“What’s this for baby?” He said, reaching out for another kiss, “your heart’s beating a million miles a minute…” he continued.

“Cant I kiss my boyfriend? I just felt like it…” you said, albeit with a ragged intake of breath.

He smiled a knowing smile, “did your book get good baby?”

“I just wanna kiss you…” you repeated, and he obliged with a few more kisses, noting the way a blush crept up your neck and turned your ears red like it did when you asked him to try something.

After the kiss slowed down, you laid down on the sectional, your head resting on Erik’s thick thigh. His eyes shot back to the tv again, observing the standings again. You tried to focus on your book again, but your mind traveled back to the blowjob up against the cowboy’s barn, and him blowing smoke into the main character’s mouth, your thighs squeezed together again. Erik began running a hand through your hair, brushing your scalp with his fingertips.

You placed gentle kisses on his thigh and began to slowly slide off the sectional, not wanting to take too much of Erik’s attention off the tv. You brought a pillow down with you, putting it under your knees so they wouldn’t scrape against the concrete of the patio. You reached for the knot holding his shorts up, and he inhaled sharply, his hand flying down to caress your face.

“Baby…” he said, and you continued trying to take the knot out of the tie, “baby you wanna do this now? Here?” He said, gently holding your chin so you would look up into his gaze.

You never wanted to do anything outside before now, you had a lot of anxiety about the media seeing you and Erik doing NSFW things and ruining both of your careers. He had asked before on a couple of occasions, but you found a way to steer things inside with the blinds shut. You were almost completely secluded here, it was the off-season, and it would take a real scumbag of a media person to show up at the house for a juicy scoop.

“Yeah, I want you so bad…” you said quietly, “you look so fucking hot with that cigar…” you admitted without thinking.

“You like the cigar huh?” He said, pushing his hips up so you could pull his shorts and boxers down just enough for his dick, already half hard from a few kisses and touches.

“You have no idea what you do to me with that damn thing…” you said, pressing kisses to the cut of his hip and his happy trail.

He groaned in playful frustration, spreading a little more so you fit better between his thighs. You finally grabbed his dick, running your closed hand up and down. He moaned and reached for your hair, running his fingers through it again. You stroked him until he was fully hard, watching the muscles tense under your touch.

You ran your tongue along the underside in a fat stripe, letting your spit coat his dick. You took the head in your mouth and sunk down slowly, using your hand to stroke what you couldn’t take. He fisted your hair, pulling back strands so he could see your face.

He loved looking at you when you blew him, there was nothing better. He loved watching his dick disappear into your throat and how expertly you took him. You looked up through your eyelashes at him, and saw he was slack-jawed with his eyes rolled back, absorbing all of the sensations.

“Mmm baby, you look so pretty taking me like that…” he said breathily, “holy fuck your mouth feels so good.”

You hummed, sending vibrations through his dick and bringing him that much closer. He had to control himself from fucking your throat. Everything about this was hot, the sight of you on the ground for him, the wet sound of your spit, the way your mascara was starting to run in the corners of your eyes.

He watched and waited for you to look up through your eyelashes again, then took a deep inhale of the cigar and blew it out, still holding onto your hair. The smell of the cigar just heightened everything further.

Suddenly the sound of a bugle announcing the beginning of the race, and a shot accompanied by the gates holding in the horses swinging open drew your eyes to the tv. You looked up to Erik again, watching his eyebrows slightly raise as MacKinnon pulled forward by a few feet. You took him out of your mouth, spit dribbling down your chin and all over his dick, and you took a moment to breathe while you stroked.

Focusing back on Erik, you knew he was close, you could feel his hard muscles tensing. His moans were getting higher and a little louder, but not too loud, he knew that would make you nervous about people noticing. His hands ran through your hair and gently held the back of your head when you took him back into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head, eliciting a sharp whine from him. He took another puff of the cigar, sending you into a somewhat feral effort to get him there.

“I-I’m so close baby! God you feel amazing!” He said, watching you take his dick, “you’re so good for me, treating me so well…” he praised.

You sucked gently and bobbed your head a few more times before he finally shot his load down your throat, letting you swallow it. He moaned and writhed above you, tightening his grip on your hair before letting his fist loosen so your hair fell down around your face.

You leaned your head on his thigh and took a few breaths, trying to regain some composure. Seeing you like that always made his heart skip a beat, hair tousled from his hands and lips swollen and glossy. You even had a little speck of black soot from the cigar swiped across your cheek.

He hiked his shorts back up and offered his free hand. He pulled you up to straddle his lap, taking a deep inhale of the cigar again, watching your eyes and your swollen lips. He kissed you, letting the smoke fall out of your open mouths. You were both breathing heavy as you relaxed chest to chest, head falling into the crook of his neck. He rubbed soothing circles into your back as you tried to regain your breathing.

“Holy shit! Mackinnon’s about to break into first!” Erik said somewhat tiredly, and you turned around to see his beloved horse pulling forward in the final stretch of the race.

You both cheered as MacKinnon crossed the finish line, effectively winning Erik 30 thousand dollars and more bragging rights to his racing friends. You leaned down and kissed him again, not trusting yourself to get up and stand on your jelly knees quite yet.

“We should break open a vintage bottle tonight baby, we’re celebrating!” He said, standing up with you wrapped around his waist, “you’re my lucky charm baby, maybe we should do that for every race!” He joked.

“Trust me E, I can get on board with that… just keep that cigar around…” You teased, and he laid a deep kiss on your lips.

He walked you both inside and laid you down on the couch, tray of food and drinks (and the cigar) long forgotten. His hands already traveling down your body and in your hair.

“Let me show you now much I love you, my lucky charm.”

[danwhobrowses]

Well fellow Callowmoores, it's almost 2024 and that will potentially be the year we see endgame of Campaign 3 - given how we've returned to the Bloody Bridge and likely intend to throw down on Ruidus and fight Predathos (somehow). Nevertheless, we're about halfway through our three week wait for another episode and since we're on the verge of intense and emotionally-charged battles ahead there'll probably be little time for romantic activity - little does not mean none, mind you - during it. Last time we had a wait like this I did a post on some underrated Callowmoore moments from the Shard Incident episodes, but since others have already wonderfully dissected the recent Feywild episodes' romantic moments I'm afraid I don't have much else to add to that. I do, however, have a bunch of mental scenarios that didn't come to be, or have yet to come to be in different contexts to how I previously thought them up. So I thought; it's the new year, why not indulge the artists and fanfic writers who can do a better job than I can with it?

So if you like some of these things, treat it as a free prompt; draw, write, flourish however you see fit, and have a Happy New Year!

If you kept reading after that awesome, I was a little worried the main thing would be a tldr situation, and still could be I didn't expect the bullets to be as long...they were actually even longer at first so not sorry but also sorry? I guess. But anyway, we know what you're here for so let's go.

Note: The scenarios were devised to keep me from suffering crippling doubt and mental shutdown between episodes so mostly they'll be fluffy and comfort-oriented than angsty.

As mentioned before, Fearne pickpocketing the Ashton doll Laudna made to practice talking to Ashton, building up to it or luring Ashton over. Ashton's awareness of the pickpocketing can grow too or they could simply allow it from the get-go "I let her take whatever she wants."

Dancing, low-hanging fruit maybe but always good for chaos, awkwardness, wingman activity, and high energy, but I'm talking folk dancing like in Titanic not ballroom dancing, that's not their or the Feywild's style

"I'll be the judge of that." specifically for when Ashton feels they're unlovable or doesn't deserve to be loved. There's also "Then I guess I'm crazy." and "You've always deserved it."

Pickpocketing one another has been their game, but I can't deny that the thought of Ashton making something for Fearne was highly appealing too, I had them make a bracelet from melted down jewelry and gems they had on them (plus a compartment with an Oleander seed and some water from the Feywild in it), imperfectly made but sturdy and still pretty. Bonus for Ashton reverse pickpocketing it onto her.

"You've always been perfect to me" is another one I mentioned before, I usually have Ashton say it (and sometimes post-Fearne taking the shard reiterate that Fearne keeps becoming more perfect in their eyes) but it can go either way.

Sleeping beside each other's a common one. Not even sexually, often it's for comfort, soothing pain/nightmares or reassuring each other, and - if Fearne hasn't disappeared beforehand leaving Ashton waking up feeling a comforting presence missing - usually not wanting to get out of bed the following morning.

Similar to the above is short rests in close quarters, a specific one is Ashton using their primordial earth powers to pull up a discrete wall for the group to hide behind and rest a little, melding into the actual wall to offer a polymorphed Fearne (a small fire lizard usually, sticking on Orym and Ashton's heads) more space so she can rest too, albeit very snugly and pressed against them - easy opening for kisses under the jawline btw.

Metaphorical but Ashton's reassurance of "You could never hurt me" regarding Fearne's primordial fire was used a bit, plus it aligns with the recent "I'll take my fire damage now" when they hugged Fearne.

Fearne being open to Ashton about her fears of being the dark version of herself, bonus quote "I don't know that person, she's not you, never will be, you're better."

Fearne pulling the Uno Reverse "The shard hurt, but knowing you were there made it hurt much less." and/or "Thank you for saving me."

Also similar to the one above are conversations post-Fearne taking the shard exploring newfound empathy for each other's (albeit more extreme) positions at Whitestone; Fearne experiencing the intensity of the shard's fire, and Ashton experiencing the dread of seeing Fearne in pain from it and being afraid to lose her.

"Whatever happens, promise you'll come back to me" is a pertinent one for the current setting too.

What is that? 1, 2...12! One for each month, there's of course more, some are simple low-hanging fruit or more detailed (no seriously I trimmed a lot of these bullet points down in detail) but for the sake of length we'll stop here. Once again, Happy New Year my fellow Critters and Callowmoores!

[unbearable-lightness-of-ink]

so anyway I really did start compiling a kinyarwanda/english dictionary/grammar guide out of all the random resources i've been hoarding on my phone (it doesn't have to be great, it just has to be better than searching multiple different files every time I'm looking for some obscure vocab or grammar detail) and one of these resources is some PDF uploaded to the internet archive and it's... not great. from the writing and contents it's clearly

old (my guess is mid-1900s. I don't remember colonial and post-colonial Rwandan history specifically enough to guess well here, but based on some of the typos, it was done on a typewriter and then scanned with OCR)

intended for missionaries (some examples of actual sentences in the "translate this" exercises include "I praise God because He saved me and He gave me peace and joy" and, I shit u not, "The blind man cannot see the Word of God, but he can hear and he can know the love of Jesus." it's. well for one thing this is basically useless vocabulary for me, and also it's cringe af)

written by someone who was not a linguist (at one point instead of just saying "if T is preceded by an unvoiced consonant, it turns into D" they give you a list of every unvoiced consonant and then recommend that you invent a mnemonic phrase to memorise the list?! why?)

written by someone who was shit with pronunciation (legit so many places where they're like "there's no way to describe how this sounds, you just have to ask someone to make the sound for you" my good bitch the phoneme might not be in english but I could describe it just fine. skill issue.)

but the thing that's really killing me about all this is that every time they try to explain tonal vowels or phonemes that aren't in english, they tell you to "ask an African to say it for you."

an. an what now? an African? babe there are approximately 1.5 billion people in Africa. Africa accounts for about 20% of the land on earth, it's the second-biggest continent, and it has an estimated two thousand living languages spoken throughout the continent.

and kinyarwanda? it has maybe 15-25 million native speakers, depending on which source I trust. it's spoken (almost*) exclusively in rwanda, which is the 9th smallest country in Africa--and that roundup includes islands off the coast of the continent. It has the second densest population in Africa but it still only has like 13 million people in it. and it's a very unique language. its closest relatives do not have the same phonemes that kinyarwanda has, and its closest relatives are also spoken by relatively few people. I don't know enough about kirundi to say much but I do know that it doesn't have the same vowel tones in all instances and it doesn't have some of the same consonant clusters. and the more widely spoken related languages that you're more likely to stumble on someone who knows how to speak? they're even worse for a reference; ask someone who speaks kiswahili to pronounce kinyarwanda for you and they will not pronounce the difference between, say, umuceri (rice) and umucyeri (berry), or the tonal difference between words like umusambi (floor mat) and umusambi (crested crane).

so, like. it's just absolutely sending me, this random white lady who was obviously a colonialist missionary, bothering to make a whole language guide to teach me how to proselytise in kinyarwanda, but along the way she's like "just ask an african--any african--how to say this" lady less than 1% of them are going to know this language but go off i guess

*almost because there's the diaspora of rwandan expats and immigrants in other countries plus the banyamulenge which is a whole aspect of it that has so much fraught history on all sides that I won't even try to say something intelligent about it, it's totally not my place/something i'm educated enough about, but to my knowledge most of them speak dialects that are more or less dissimilar to kinyarwanda; kinyamulenge and kinyabwisha are not the same as kinyarwanda. take it from my munyamulenge coworker who could never pronounce the difference between c and cy

[killemwithkawaii]

Your Larry meat lovers pizza hc is so accurate, I can see this man absolutely demolishing one of those ginormous 20 oz steaks in about five minutes

[Insert 'obligatory pun about Larry stuffing his face with over a pound of meat and shamelessly loving every minute of it' here] 🥩💦✅

[mariocki]

Fat Man on a Beach (HTV, 1974)

"I'm going to read some more poems now. Erm. It may be that if you want to go and have a cup of tea, this would be a good time. I know that's what you masses are like. The mention of poetry and off you go."

[sirfrogsworth]

How do you take a photo of time?

I've been watching the track events at the Olympics since I was a wee lad. It was a tradition in our family. We'd gather around our ancient low-definition 19 inch CRT television and watch tiny blobs compete against other tiny blobs and root for our country.

It was a bit like watching YouTube on your phone in 144p.

Several heroes emerged.

Jackie Joyner-Kersee was amazing.

You can't forget about Flo-Jo.

And then the Olympics decided NBA players were allowed in the competition.

Which formed... The Dream Team.

Was this fair?

Well... they won each game by an average of 44 points.

So... no. It was not fair.

Though it became more fair as time went on.

But, umm... yeah. The other teams looked like the Washington Generals and the US looked like the Harlem Globetrotters if they stopped screwing around half of the game.

But my absolute favorite Olympian was a runner named Michael Johnson.

He was cool as heck.

For one thing... gold shoes.

But he also had this crazy, upright, Tom Cruise-ish sprinting style that just made him look like a running robot on the track.

And in the 1996 Atlanta games he just trounced EVERYONE. I mean, it wasn't even close.

Yikes. Those losing blobs are probably really embarrassed.

Last night I decided to invigorate my nostalgia and watch the track events again. And I got to see one of the wildest races in history.

It didn't even last 10 seconds but it was one of the most exciting sporting events I've ever witnessed. Almost every runner won the race.

After I saw that initially, I was like... who the heck won???

Even in slow motion I wasn't sure.

This was one of the closest finishes in history. There has never been a race where all 8 runners were within this margin.

The arena was silent as the winner was being confirmed. The runners just kind of paced around waiting for official word. My best guess was the Jamaican runner, Kishane Thompson. But then the loudspeaker announced Noah Lyles.

The last tiny morsel of American pride burst out of me with a big "Wooooo!"

I forgot what it was like to be proud of my country. I wish it happened more often. But this young man, despite being last place in the first 3rd of the race, turned on the afterburners and won in a photo finish.

And that's when my inner nerd took over.

Because when they showed the photo finish image, it looked super weird.

Why is the track white?

Why do all of the runners look all warpy like that QWOP game?

So I went down a research rabbit hole to figure this out.

Photo finishes are actually fascinating. The first photo finish captured the end of a horse race in 1890. But that was mostly luck and timing. The actual photo finish mechanisms weren't used until 1937.

Originally they would film the finish line through a physical slit.

And the first horsie head that appeared in that slit would be the winner. This technology ended a huge aspect of corruption in horse race fixing almost overnight.

But we have come a long way since then. And I'd like to introduce you to the Omega Scan 'O' Vision Ultimate.

This slow motion camera sits fixed on the finish line of every race. The concept of the photo finish has remained remarkably similar to the 1930s approach. The camera sensor is specially designed to only record a vertical slit.

Only the finish line itself is actually captured.

And because it limits what it records to only that slit, it can capture 40,000 frames per second to get amazing temporal resolution.

So why don't the photo finishes just look like, well... this?

That is because the camera takes a picture of time more-so than dimensional space. I guess it would be more accurate to say it *assembles* a picture of time.

As the runners cross the finish line, the camera combines all of the little strips of pictures into a single image.

It's almost like if you tried to reassemble a piece of paper after it had been shredded.

Imagine each strip of paper is a picture of ONLY the finish line, just at a slightly different point in time.

What if someone stopped on the finish line and didn't move... what would that look like?

Once they got there, the same part of their body would just be repeated.

So the right side of the photo finish picture represents earlier in time and it just assembles the image strip by strip as time passes and you literally get a picture of time itself.

NEAT!

Okay, but how do they determine the winner from the photo finish?

I mean, that shoe looks like it is ahead of Noah Lyles!

Clavicles!

The IAFF rules state the foremost part of the torso must cross the finish line first. And the endpoint of the torso is the outer end of the clavicle.

So if you get this bone across the finish line first, you win the race.

Two more fun facts!

The start of the race is actually just as carefully timed as the end of the race. There are sensors in the starting blocks of each runner.

The starting gun also has an electronic sensor.

They have determined the fastest a human can react to the sound of a gun is roughly 100 milliseconds. So if you start running before 100 milliseconds they know you didn't actually hear the gun, you just got antsy and started running too early.

And the final fun fact...

Did you notice the Omega logo at the top of the photo finish?

That isn't superimposed or added after the fact. That is captured by the camera.

But if this image is composed only of tiny little slivers, how did they get the Omega logo to show up?

That is a little display. And it is synchronized with the Scan 'O' Vision Ultimate to show a little sliver of the Omega logo for each frame captured.

So when the final image is stitched together, it looks like a cohesive logo at the top of the photo.

Pretty clever, Omega!

[beenasarwar]

Empowering voices: Tasveer Film Festival highlights gender diversity among Southasian filmmakers

[metamatar]

person who cannot imagine a better world: what if we kept using more and more of our taxes to pay pfizer and johnson&johnson instead of restricting their greed?

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

The Good Omens Musical Masterpost🎵❤

How it started :)

Some time before 2013: Vicki Larnach, the australian composer and lyricist, read the Good Omens book, imagined figures dancing on stage with brilliant music and thought, ‘Ah, I’m gonna ask Terry Pratchet and Neil Gaiman if I can turn it into a musical.’ and sent an email to the publishers. The next day she got an email saying, ‘We don’t want a musical but Terry’s coming to Australia, so come and say hello and tell us what you got.’

Rob Wilkins came down to meet Vicki and Jim Hare - Vicki's husband and writer - and took them to meet Terry. They spent an hour and a half with them where Terry asked ‘piercing questions’, had tea with them and they showed Terry a song that Vicki wrote (about the Chattering Nuns). Terry said to Rob, ‘Rob, write and email to Neil, “Dear Neil, this is Terry. I’m sitting in front of two hippies from Sydney and they want to make a musical out of Good Omens and I’m tempted to let them do it.”’ which was the best email they ever heard and then Terry said, ‘Okay, you have me curious.’ - it was because of the Nuns song which sounded like the book. ‘I’m gonna give you six months, come back with a first draft libretto and five songs.’

They then sent it to Terry who sent it to Gaiman. Terry said, ‘I really like it, you’re moving story, you’re doing all the right things, but where’s showstopper, where’s the toe-tapper, you know I need people to go to intermission just snapping their fingers with the song they just can’t get out of their head, and I haven’t heard that.’ - and they realized that they were so busy serving the story they forgot to do the wow-factor, but found it very encouraging from Terry that he wanted to make it better.

They went through the whole book again to find a centrepiece - and they found it  when Warlock is growing up and Aziraphale and Crowley are with him, and spent months working just on that one thing and called ‘All Living Things’ [the song at the start of this post :)] which is a line from the book.*’ Terry gave that song to a person he knew and asked him to play it to his wife with no context and when the next day the person said that his wife woke up still singing the song Terry said to Vicki and Jim: ‘Well, that’s what I asked you to do.’ 

* [“This here’s Brother Slug,” the gardener would tell him, “and this tiny little critter is Sister Potato Weevil. Remember, Warlock, as you walk your way through the highways and byways of life’s rich and fulsome path, to have love and reverence for all living things.” “Nanny says that wivving fings is fit onwy to be gwound under my heels, Mr. Fwancis,” said little Warlock, stroking Brother Slug, and then wiping his hand conscientiously on his Kermit the Frog overall.]

Vicki and Jim got the permission to being adapting it as a musical in 2013.

Vicki and Jim on it a couple of years ‘fumbling about’, took it as far as they could and decided to bring another person into it: Jay-James Moody

In 2015, Jay James-Moody joined the collaboration initially as a dramaturge and directorial eye, eventually evolving into co-book writer. Vicki, James and Jay have continued to evolve through countless more revisions and a number of private development readings with the support, time and talent of numerous wonderful Australian performers testing the material.

In November 2017, the musical was presented in its then-current form and entirety for the first time before an audience of over 500 eager attendees. The cast included Luke Joslin, Lachlan O��Brien, Nancye Hayes, Barry Quin, Brett O’Neill, Lauren McKenna, Nicholas Craddock, Paul Capsis, Rob Johnson, Amy Lehpamer, Debora Krizak, Blake Erickson, Nat Jobe, Ana Maria Belo, Jordan Hare, Bella Thomas, Anthony Abrakmanov and Samson Hyland.

Following a rapturous response to this reading it continued to be refined and developed.

In 2019, ten days before the show came out they did their last presentation, since then they’ve been to London and shown a videotape of that workshop to Gaiman and Rob Wilkins which was ‘a pretty heartstopping experience’.

Differences between the musical and the book

The ending of the musical is a bit different.

It opens with the burning of Agnes Nutter and Aziraphale and Crowley are introduced there. 

Act One ends with them ‘essentially breaking up’ because of a huge argument and they dissolve their friendship, Act Two starts with the first time they meet.

The Future?

What is the future for the musical: in 2021 they said that they need to work on some things and then they hope to do another run, initially in Australia.

There will be a CD of the soundtrack available when the show is produced in it’s full version.

In 2024 on insta they said that it is in "complicated process of rights to stage Good Omens" and "We appreciate your support and patience of the progress or seeming lack therof, of Good Omens the musical but we assure you, we will bring you the show in the next few years."

Videos

Vicki, Jim and Jay talking 46min about the musical (this video was shown at the Ineffable Con 3 in 2021 :))

Sizzle Reel 6min

Anathema singing The Perfect Place

Crowley calling Dagon to check on the hellhound

Shadwell and Newt

Aziraphale vanishing Hastur 👀

Links

Webpage

Instagram - a lot of more bts videos and pics :)

How to support?

Subsribe to the instagram page and like and comment that you want the musical on posts :)❤. If you want to be a sponsor or donor, there is contact on their webpage.

[v6quewrlds]

❝ sky full of stars, j. burrow. ❞  ‎ ‎ ┉  

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀summary: joe's a big space nerd. you're a big space nerd. it's a match made in space nerd heaven.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: literally laid awake last night thinking about this. decided to write it during my lecture. short and sweet but i love writing joe in love. suppressing the urge to cite my sources on this lol. ty to wikipedia's black holes article <3 also don't worry y'all will still get a game day fic on sunday 🙂‍↕️

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: science talk, general cheesiness.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: joe burrow x nasa engineer!reader.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 1k.

Your eyes scanned the living room, your gaze lingering on the framed LSU jersey hanging on the wall. A soft chuckle escaped your lips as you thought of Joe's insistence on displaying his pride so prominently in his Cincinnati home. Despite his celebrity status, he remained as down-to-earth as the day the two of you met eight months ago, a quality you cherished deeply.

The gentle hum of the air conditioner filled the quiet room as the documentary's narrator droned on about black holes. Joe's breathing grew even and steady, his head comfortably nestled in your lap. You felt his hand twitch in his half-sleep, his thumb brushing against your thigh through the fabric of your shorts. You gently stroked his hair, a soft smile playing on your lips.

Your thoughts drifted to the upcoming mission you were helping to prepare at the Johnson Space Center. The excitement of possibly making more discoveries on your Mars probe was palpable, and you couldn't wait to get back to Houston. Yet, here you were, feeling more content than ever, with a man you never thought you’d end up with. The rhythmic beat of Joe's heart against your palm was a reminder of the love the two of you had found amidst your two dramatically different lives.

You leaned back, your hand still cradling Joe's head, and refocused on the documentary. The TV screen flickered with images of stars, galaxies, and cosmic phenomena that you knew so well from your work, yet seeing them here, in Joe's home, made them feel so much more profound.

“So, how do black holes, like, eat stars?” Joe’s sleepy voice interrupted the silence. His eyes remained closed, but his mind was clearly still processing the information he had been hearing.

“It’s not so much that they eat stars, but rather they have such intense gravitational pull that nothing can escape them, not even light,” You explained, your voice a soothing murmur. You felt Joe’s head shift slightly, his curiosity piqued.

“So, it’s like a cosmic vacuum cleaner?” He mumbled, a hint of a smile in his voice.

You laughed, the sound echoing lightly in the room. “In a way, yes. But a vacuum cleaner you definitely don’t want to get too close to. Once something enters a black hole, it’s gone forever.”

Joe’s eyes fluttered open, and he looked up at you, the corners of his mouth tugging into a smile. “How can something be that powerful?” His gaze was earnest, the curiosity in his eyes warming your heart.

“It’s all about the mass and gravity. When a star dies and collapses, it can become so dense that its gravity is just too much for anything to resist. Not even light can escape, which is why we call them black holes. They’re like the universe’s trapdoor.” Your voice was soft, your eyes shining with the same enthusiasm that had captured Joe’s attention when you’d first described your job to him.

Joe nodded, his eyes drifting back to the TV screen. His fingers twined with yours, and you felt a gentle squeeze. “And what happens when something does fall in?” His question was genuine, his curiosity a bridge between your worlds.

“Well, we think that anything that gets too close gets stretched out like spaghetti. But before that, it passes the point of no return, gravity gets so intense that it bends time and space itself. It’s like nothing we can truly imagine.” Your words painted a vivid picture in the quiet room, your voice a mix of wonder and knowledge.

“You’re like nothing I could truly imagine. You’re like my own black hole, pulling me in with your brilliance every day.” Joe’s words were a gentle whisper, his blue eyes opening to find yours, a warmth that didn’t quite match the cosmic chaos on the screen.

Your heart fluttered. “You’re not so bad yourself, Mr. Heisman.” You leaned down to kiss his forehead, your smile tender. The room felt smaller, the universe’s mysteries forgotten as the two of your shared a moment of quiet intimacy.

The documentary played on, but your attention had shifted. Joe’s hand found yours again, fingers interlocking. He pulled himself up, dirty blonde hair messy from rest, eyes squinting in the light. “You know I’m going to keep asking questions until I understand everything you do, right?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Joey. You know I love talking about this stuff with you.” Your voice was filled with affection as you reached for the remote and paused the documentary. The room was bathed in the soft glow of the TV, the only light source in the otherwise darkened space.

Joe sat up, his hand still holding yours. He leaned in, your eyes locking for a brief moment before your lips met in a gentle kiss that grew in passion. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer as you shifted on the couch to face him. Your kisses grew deeper, a silent declaration of your love and appreciation for one another’s differences and shared moments of wonder.

As you pulled apart, Joe whispered, “You know, I still can’t believe you agreed to go out with me. A guy who throws a football for a living asking out a NASA engineer.” His self-deprecation made you laugh again, the sound music to his ears. “Still not sure why you’re with me.”

“Why not?” you said, your voice filled with warmth. “You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for, Joe. And you’re incredibly good at what you do. Maybe not launching rockets, but you have your own kind of rocket science going on out there on the field.”

Joe chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest and into yours. “You always know what to say to boost my ego.”

“I’ll say whatever it takes to get me ahead of Ja’Marr in your heart,” you teased with a laugh, leaning forward to steal another kiss from his pink lips. The warmth of his breath tickled your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

Joe’s arms tightened around you, his eyes lighting up with mischief. “I don’t know, he’s pretty good at catching my throws.”

“Well, I’m pretty good at catching your heart, so I think we’re even,” you quipped back, your eyes sparkling with love and amusement.

Joe’s chuckle grew louder, the sound rumbling through the room like thunder. He leaned back, pulling you with him until you were lying on top of him, your legs draped over his. “You definitely win that title, babe. No contest.”

Your smile never left your face as you looked down at him. His strong arms wrapped around your waist, holding you in place. You felt his heartbeat beneath you, a steady drum that matched the rhythm of your own. The air between the two of you was electric, the kind of charge that could spark a star into existence.

[pretty-little-mind33]

FEM!READER WITH AN ABUSIVE/TOXIC EX (ft. aaron taylor johnson characters)

warnings: mentions of being in a toxic/emotionally and physically abusive relationship with someone, mentions of violence, sexual themes

includes - in said order

~ James Potter - harry potter marauder's era (yes ik it's technically a fancast but 🥺 he's my baby)

~ Tangerine - bullet train

~ Dave Lizewski - kick-ass

~ Count Alexei Vronksy - anna karenina 2012

~ Tom Ryder - the fall guy

~ @trollsareadorable hope you like this lovie! 🫶 ~

• James is very intuitive. It doesn't seem like he is, but he is. He's just a really caring person so he notices things that others don't.

• If you were friends first, he would have definitely already known that your ex was toxic/abusive and would have hated his guts. "You deserve better than him," or "he doesn't treat you like a gentleman should," type of conversations.

• If you weren't friends first and you were flirting after your break-up, he wouldn't initially think your shyness or your nerves were because anything bad had happened. Instead, he'd find it cute and would be super patient with you and be down to take things at your pace.

• James is a gentleman. His mom raised him right (Euphemia is a queen!) and so the idea of hurting a woman, especially one you're supposed to love, is unthinkable.

• So when you tell him about your ex, about his emotional/physical abuse, he'd be livid.

• James is extra careful with you after that, to the point where you have to tell him you're fine so he'll stop treating you like you're made of glass.

• When you run into your ex one night at a party, James notices you're acting strangely. "Love, are you alright? You look like you're gonna be sick," he'll say as he rubs small circles on your back.

• When you don't answer, he'll ask again. If you snap at him, he'll be hurt but he'll know something is wrong instantly.

• "You can tell me, dove. What has happened?"

• At the first sight of your tears, James's heart breaks and he ends up ushering you into a bathroom and soothingly caresses your cheeks with his thumb. When you tell him you saw your ex, it takes everything in him not to leave you and beat his sorry ass. He could—he has the build for it (okay Quidditch Captain 😵‍💫)

• Instead, he stays by your side and hugs you as you cry into his shirt.

• You're embarrassed for making a mess and crying like a baby but James isn't having it. "Don't be sorry, lovely. It's okay to have feelings and to show them," he'll reassure you. Maybe your ex didn't like when you cried so you tried to hide it from him but James knows you better.

• "C'mon, let's continue having some fun so you can forget about that bloody wanker," he'd kiss your forehead and take your hand, making sure you're next to him all evening. You've never felt happier and safer and your ex is completely forgotten.

• Tangerine has a temper. We all know this—and we all know he also has a potty mouth.

• Maybe you were coworkers first and he noticed how sensitive you were when he would raise his voice, or use some curse-words, but he starts to notice something is really wrong when you're visibly afraid to talk to guys at bars, even if it's just for fun.

• So, he would talk to you about it in private when he has the chance. "Hey, darlin', are ya okay? 'Cause you don't seem okay, y'know that guy at the bar wasn't tryin' to hurt ya, he just wanted to flirt. Did he make ya uncofmrotable," Tangerine's voice would be softer than usual.

• You open up to him, touched he cared enough to ask, and the moment he hears about your ex, he sees red. Tangerine is many things but he would never emotionally hurt or lay a hand on someone he loved ever.

• He looks at you with wide eyes, imagining your fearful expression at the hands of your ex, and his blood boils even more.

• He makes it his mission to help you feel safer around men—around him—and eventually, he falls in love with you and you fall in love with him. It takes you some time to fully trust him, but Tangerine eventually earns your trust because he shows you genuine love.

• He refrains from yelling around you and he doesn't use curse words that would remind you of the disgusting things your ex would call you. He adjusts.

• He's adaptable 😏🍊

• If you see your ex at the bar while you're refilling your drink one evening, you come back to Tangerine and you're friends and you're really quiet. More quiet than usual.

• In the beginning Tangerine is oblivious because he's joking with his friends. However, when you grasp his arm, watching your ex move across the room, he knows something is wrong. He sees where you're looking and turns you towards him gentle, one hand cupped under your chin.

• "Where'ya lookin', luv?" he'd ask and frown when he sees your glossy eyes.

• Tangerine hates when you cry—not because he's mad at you but instead because he hates knowing you're sad enough to cry. It makes him feel helpless, like he'd failed you.

• When you lean into him for comfort and tell him you saw your ex, he frowns and his eyes snap up to find your ex in the crowd. You tell him you're okay and you just want to go home, but Tangerine isn't having it.

• "That bastard hurt you. He doesn't get to get away with it," Tangerine hisses and kisses your forehead, "I'm just gonna go have a little chat with him."

• By little chat he means punching your ex so hard he breaks his nose—which leads to you, Tangerine, and your friends being kicked out of the bar.

• You're secretly very pleased to see your ex in pain and you feel all warm and fuzzy inside knowing Tangerine is willing to protect you like that. You aren't mad at him, especially when he cuddles you back at your shared apartment.

• Dave is shy just like you, so in the beginning of your relationship he doesn't take your shyness as something bad. He likes that you're nervous, because he's also nervous.

• However, he also picks up on cues that something is really wrong—like when you over apologize, or do anything in your power to please him when he's being snappy/in a bad mood.

• Alarm bells ring in Dave's head and he asks you why you feel the need to constantly apologize or make yourself small when you think he wants it.

• Because he could never want that.

• When you tell him, he doesn't know how to react. His blue eyes go wide and his mouth opens. He feels angry and sad and confused all in one overwhelming ball of emotion.

• Who would dare hurt someone as kind and lovely as you? Dave simply doesn't understand.

• "Baby, I'm so sorry that happened to you," he whispers and holds your hand, squeezing, "I promise you I will never ever do anything like that to you. Ever, you hear me? You don't have to walk on eggshells around me."

• If you saw your ex at a party?! Dave would know immediately because you would find him and tell him. You trust him more than anyone and would need him comfort instantly.

• "Shh, you're okay, baby. We can leave if you want, yeah?" he'd say and kiss your cheek, holding your closer to him and ignoring his friends wanting him to stay.

• You see, Dave doesn't confront your ex. Dave isn't a confrontational person. Plus, he'd much rather make sure you're okay than go fight someone. He doesn't want you to see him be violent because it's such a contrast to his usual sweet self.

• But Kick-Ass? Kick-Ass can teach your ex a lesson without any questions or hesitation (he'll def ask Mindy for help bc she'd also be livid that someone hurt you).

• So that's what happens.

• Alexei is a very composed person. He's doesn't often show his anger and he never screams at you. Perhaps you were friend's first and then eventually he asked you to marry him—and that's when he began to see the signs that someone had been very ungentlemanly with you.

• You flinch when you accidentally break his crockery and it makes your cry—apologizing more than necessary which to Alexei isn't normal.

• He's wealthy after all! He can easily afford a new set and something like this shouldn't cause you any distress.

• Then, he sees how you cling to him during social events and always reassures him that when you speak to other men, you have no intention of being unfaithful and they're just friends. You would sound desperate, your eyes pleading with him to understand.

• Alexei never imagined you would and he frowns. "Whatever makes you think I'd assume you would play with another man? I trust you, sweetheart," he would whisper in your ear that evening, kissing your cheek.

• When you finally tell him the cause of your distress—an ex-husband (maybe he died)—and you tell him how he'd treat you extremely poorly and was extremely jealous and possessive.

• Alexei is shocked and disgusted but he is also offended that you would think so low of him and think he'd treat you the same way.

• However, he doesn't become angry and instead sees you need comfort and he whispers soothing words into your ear. "My darling dove, I would never lay a hand on you or make you feel dirty and less than me because you have friends. I am secure in this marriage. I know you only have eyes for me—as I only have eyes for you."

• Steamy, gentle, passionate sex to remind you that you deserve to be praised and worshiped and as your husband it's his duty to do just that. 😛

• Tom is an asshole. His ego is through the roof, he's immature, he mostly thinks of himself, he can be stupid, and he can be inconsiderate and crude. All these things are very very true.

• However, he also craves genuine intimacy and love. He's insecure like that (probably wasn't hugged enough as a child) so he's immediately drawn to your kindness.

• Say you're on the crew of his new movie (a camera girl? Makeup artist? Low ranking actress) and you're visibly nervous around him both because he's Tom Ryder and simply because of his reputation as a player.

• Players make you uncomfortable.

• He sees this and in the beginning, he likes teasing you. He thinks it's funny seeing you become flustered and hide from him.

• He thinks it's funny until one of his jokes goes too far and he makes you cry. Now, it's anything but funny and he feels like an asshole. He's not used to feeling like he's an asshole (he usually thinks too highly of himself).

• So, reluctantly he decides to apologize to you.

• He finds you outside the bathrooms, eyes teary and puffy. "Listen, babe, I didn't mean to make you cry so hard, kay? You look much prettier without all that snot on your face so gimme a smile, huh?" he say, still sounding like a bit of a jerk—he can't help himself—but he's trying.

• You're vulnerable so you end up spilling with a shaky voice that his joke reminded you of something your ex would say and you ramble on and on, unable to calm your mind.

• Tom's speechless (for once) as he listens.

• He may be an asshole, but he isn't abusive towards anyone he truly cares for so he doesn't understand your ex. He's now mad at himself and he's also secretly honored you opened up to him.

• He isn't use to sincerity or someone truly revealing themselves to him. He likes the feeling.

• Over the next weeks, he's kinder to you and he writes you little sticky notes and leaves them in your trailer/locker/wherever your stuff is with weirdly endearing messages.

• It's kinda sweet and eventually you crack.

• Tom Ryder is a surprisingly decent boyfriend. Sure, he still has an ego and he's still sometimes a jerk—but it's obvious he genuinely cares for you.

• He's by your side whenever you can be, reassures you when you're insecure and nervous around him and he's gentle with you.

• He knows you need that.

• "My sweet girl," he whispers in your ear between takes, making you feel like the only girl in the world, "So good for me, aren't you? I love you so much."

• And if he ever sees your ex and you end up crying or upset because of the jack-ass, he'll get his security team to hurt him. Badly.

• And then he'll buy you whatever you want to make you feel better! He likes spoiling you and he obviously has the money to do so.

[justalittlesolarpunk]

I’ve teased it. You’ve waited. I’ve procrastinated. You’ve probably forgotten all about it.

But now, finally, I’m here with my solarpunk resources masterpost!

YouTube Channels:

Andrewism

The Solarpunk Scene

Solarpunk Life

Solarpunk Station

Our Changing Climate

Podcasts:

The Joy Report

How To Save A Planet

Demand Utopia

Solarpunk Presents

Outrage and Optimisim

From What If To What Next

Solarpunk Now

Idealistically

The Extinction Rebellion Podcast

The Landworkers' Radio

Wilder

What Could Possibly Go Right?

Frontiers of Commoning

The War on Cars

The Rewild Podcast

Solacene

Imagining Tomorrow

Books (Fiction):

Ursula K. Le Guin: The Left Hand of Darkness The Dispossessed The Word for World is Forest

Becky Chambers: A Psalm for the Wild-Built A Prayer for the Crown-Shy

Phoebe Wagner: When We Hold Each Other Up

Phoebe Wagner, Bronte Christopher Wieland: Sunvault: Stories of Solarpunk and Eco-Speculation

Brenda J. Pierson: Wings of Renewal: A Solarpunk Dragon Anthology

Gerson Lodi-Ribeiro: Solarpunk: Ecological and Fantastical Stories in a Sustainable World

Justine Norton-Kertson: Bioluminescent: A Lunarpunk Anthology

Sim Kern: The Free People’s Village

Ruthanna Emrys: A Half-Built Garden

Sarina Ulibarri: Glass & Gardens

Books (Non-fiction):

Murray Bookchin: The Ecology of Freedom

George Monbiot: Feral

Miles Olson: Unlearn, Rewild

Mark Shepard: Restoration Agriculture

Kristin Ohlson: The Soil Will Save Us

Rowan Hooper: How To Spend A Trillion Dollars

Anna Lowenhaupt Tsing: The Mushroom At The End of The World

Kimberly Nicholas: Under The Sky We Make

Robin Wall Kimmerer: Braiding Sweetgrass

David Miller: Solved

Ayana Johnson, Katharine Wilkinson: All We Can Save

Jonathan Safran Foer: We Are The Weather

Colin Tudge: Six Steps Back To The Land

Edward Wilson: Half-Earth

Natalie Fee: How To Save The World For Free

Kaden Hogan: Humans of Climate Change

Rebecca Huntley: How To Talk About Climate Change In A Way That Makes A Difference

Christiana Figueres, Tom Rivett-Carnac: The Future We Choose

Jonathon Porritt: Hope In Hell

Paul Hawken: Regeneration

Mark Maslin: How To Save Our Planet

Katherine Hayhoe: Saving Us

Jimmy Dunson: Building Power While The Lights Are Out

Paul Raekstad, Sofa Saio Gradin: Prefigurative Politics

Andreas Malm: How To Blow Up A Pipeline

Phoebe Wagner, Bronte Christopher Wieland: Almanac For The Anthropocene

Chris Turner: How To Be A Climate Optimist

William MacAskill: What We Owe To The Future

Mikaela Loach: It's Not That Radical

Miles Richardson: Reconnection

David Harvey: Spaces of Hope Rebel Cities

Eric Holthaus: The Future Earth

Zahra Biabani: Climate Optimism

David Ehrenfeld: Becoming Good Ancestors

Stephen Gliessman: Agroecology

Chris Carlsson: Nowtopia

Jon Alexander: Citizens

Leah Thomas: The Intersectional Environmentalist

Greta Thunberg: The Climate Book

Jen Bendell, Rupert Read: Deep Adaptation

Seth Godin: The Carbon Almanac

Jane Goodall: The Book of Hope

Vandana Shiva: Agroecology and Regenerative Agriculture

Amitav Ghosh: The Great Derangement

Minouche Shafik: What We Owe To Each Other

Dieter Helm: Net Zero

Chris Goodall: What We Need To Do Now

Aldo Leopold: A Sand County Almanac

Jeffrey Jerome Cohen, Stephanie Foote: The Cambridge Companion To The Environmental Humanities

Bella Lack: The Children of The Anthropocene

Hannah Ritchie: Not The End of The World

Chris Turner: How To Be A Climate Optimist

Kim Stanley Robinson: Ministry For The Future

Fiona Mathews, Tim Kendall: Black Ops & Beaver Bombing

Jeff Goodell: The Water Will Come

Lynne Jones: Sorry For The Inconvenience But This Is An Emergency

Helen Crist: Abundant Earth

Sam Bentley: Good News, Planet Earth!

Timothy Beal: When Time Is Short

Andrew Boyd: I Want A Better Catastrophe

Kristen R. Ghodsee: Everyday Utopia

Elizabeth Cripps: What Climate Justice Means & Why We Should Care

Kylie Flanagan: Climate Resilience

Chris Johnstone, Joanna Macy: Active Hope

Mark Engler: This is an Uprising

Anne Therese Gennari: The Climate Optimist Handbook

Magazines:

Solarpunk Magazine

Positive News

Resurgence & Ecologist

Ethical Consumer

Films (Fiction):

How To Blow Up A Pipeline

The End We Start From

Woman At War

Black Panther

Star Trek

Tomorrowland

Films (Documentary):

2040: How We Can Save The Planet

The People vs Big Oil

Wild Isles

The Boy Who Harnessed The Wind

Generation Green New Deal

Planet Earth III

Video Games:

Terra Nil

Animal Crossing

Gilded Shadows

Anno 2070

Stardew Valley

RPGs:

Solarpunk Futures

Perfect Storm

Advocacy Groups:

A22 Network

Extinction Rebellion

Greenpeace

Friends of The Earth

Green New Deal Rising

Apps:

Ethy

Sojo

BackMarket

Depop

Vinted

Olio

Buy Nothing

Too Good To Go

Websites:

European Co-housing

UK Co-housing

US Co-housing

Brought By Bike (connects you with zero-carbon delivery goods)

ClimateBase (find a sustainable career)

Environmentjob (ditto)

Businesses (🤢):

Ethical Superstore

Hodmedods

Fairtransport/Sail Cargo Alliance

Let me know if you think there’s anything I’ve missed!

[januaryembrs]

FIGHT TALK | Eddie Munson x Sunshine!Reader

Request: Hi! Can I request a Drabble with the character Eddie Munson, with the prompt “I won’t let anyone hurt you, ever.”. Imagine that Eddie being protective and acting as a bodyguard to the reader who is being bullied a lot, he feels sorry and guard her.

description: Eddie is not very happy when he finds his darling girlfriend stashed in the AV room after her first fight

word count: 1.1k

trigger warnings: swears, blood, mention of the f slur, broken nose? very quick dirty thought from Eds (it’s Eddie what can I say)

main masterlist

authors note: eddie x sunshine reader is about to be a thing around this neck of the woods since my beloved @palacearcaderadiostation demands more 💗

“He’s gonna fucking kill us,” Dustin held his hat scrunched tightly in his hands, as if he were in church or in mourning. “I never even got to say goodbye to Tews, my mom’s gonna be crushed,”

“Are you shitting me, he’s gonna make us wish we were dead,” Mike rubbed a hand over his tired face, “Do you remember what he did to Tommy H when he shook her soda can and it exploded in her face? My mom said the Hagen’s had to take him to a specialist in Chicago to get his nose fixed.”

Dustin paled even more, as Lucas returned with a sweat on his brow, the older boy hot on his heels.

“Move! Move out of my way- Out of my way,” Eddie cursed, shoving the other students hard enough they shot him dirty looks over their shoulders. Not that he cared, he had a sneer of his own as he looked down at the three boys that seemed to quiver in their place under his sable gaze, “Where is she?”

“Eddie, please understand- We tried to tell her-” Dustin spluttered as Mike seemed to biting the inside of his cheeks to keep himself from doing the same. Eddie simply put his hand in the kids face, glaring at him hard enough to silence him immediately.

The three of them would rather face the Wyvern they’d fought in their last campaign head on than have to deal with their dungeon master like this.

“Where is she, Henderson?” He growled, and the boys could do nothing but point to the AV room they’d stashed her in to keep her from the other student’s nosy gaze. Eddie didn’t need any other instruction, he was at the door in seconds, bursting through into the small, darkened room, his eyes falling on the girl sat on the table, legs swinging back and forth happily as if she wasn’t sporting a black eye and a bloodied nose. His breath hitched, his chest constricting tightly as he watched her own gaze flick to his. “Oh, baby,”

“Eds! Did you see? Did they tell you what I did?” She asked, her lips pulling into a smile as her boyfriend came closer, his hands grabbing the sides of her face, thumbs stroking over her cheeks.

“Mother of Christ, what did those shits do to you?” He snapped angrily, though his eyes were wide, the sadness written clear over them. Waving him off, she held onto his wrists with split knuckles, another factor that had him nearly clutching his pearls in aghast.

“It wasn’t their fault Eds, David Johnson was picking on Dustin for his lisp and calling them all-” She stopped, her nose scrunching in disgust when she thought of the word they’d used.

“Gay?” Eddie asked, to which she shook her head, though his eyes were quick to notice how the movement tugged on her split nose, “The other one?”

“The F one,” She muttered, hating that she even had to say it, “I dunno, I can take it when they say it about me. I just couldn’t stand to hear that about them, they’re good kids,”

He felt his expression soften, watching as she fiddled with her sleeve, another thing that had fallen casualty to her heroics as a thin tear trailed up her arm.

“You are just the bravest maiden there is, huh?” He asked, his chest butterflying when she looked up at him with the same happy smile she always had when he spoke like they were in one of his games, “And oh, your teeth! Those beautiful teeth, are they okay? Did they survive the warfare? Let me see,” Within seconds he had puckered her cheeks with one hand effortlessly, his other thumb lifting her lips up and down as if giving her an oral exam.

Her giggles vibrated on his palm that rested on throat as she tried to pull away from his grip, only partially succeeding as he took his finger out but held her still.

“-ds” She mumbled through her pursed lips, feeling him loosen on her jaw for just a moment before he gave her a gentle peck, careful not to bump her nose. Trying to pull away to tend to her ailments, he was stopped when he felt her fingers loop through his belt, tugging him forward for another longer kiss, her pretty lilac nails brushing against his tummy.

Chuckling as he pulled away, his hand moving from her jaw to cup her cheek sweetly, his eyes seemed to zero in on the cut on the bridge of her nose, the skin around it mottling into a bruise. He couldn’t miss the way it seemed to welt with fresh blood, the sight of it worrying him despite it being no bigger than his nail.

“You are just in luck, brave maiden, your medic has arrived prepared,” She smiled wryly as he dug through his bag until his face lit up as he brushed against the packet, “Ah, ha!”

Pulling out two from his collection, he held the bandaids up to her face so she could see for herself.

“Dangermouse or Ducktales?” He asked, the two brightly coloured cartoons staring back at her as she pointed to the three little ducklings.

“Ducktales, please,” She said, watching him peel the paper from the back, gently sticking it over the bridge of her sore nose, “I bet you do this for all your patients,”

“Only the most valiant of warriors,” He murmured, pecking the tip of her nose with soft eyes, “That’s just because you’re my favourite,”

She giggled again, as he picked up her scraped hand delicately, scanning over the small cuts attentively. Putting his hand to his mouth, he fake retched, covering his eyes in horror.

“Oh God,” He gasped, turning away from the sight, “Oh, god. I think we’re gonna have to amputate,”

Shoving him on his chest, she snickered at his dramatics, her fingers already scabbing over from their minor wounds. “Quit playin’. I was very brave today,”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that, baby,” He said, giving her knuckles some tender kisses, not caring it seemed gross seeing as she was bleeding. “Did you get him good at least, honey?”

She perked up even more, eyes alight with a sick little delight he hadn’t seen in her before. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t have his boxers stirring.

“I split his lip, would have gotten his nose too if he hadn’t jumped on me,” She said, and Eddie couldn’t help the raucous laugh that left his throat.

Pressing more kisses to her hairline he smiled, down at her from her place still sat atop the table. “Don’t worry, you’re on the bench in round two, Balboa. I’ll give him something to cry about,” He smirked at her, his nose brushing against hers sweetly, “I won’t let anyone hurt you, ever.”

Taglists:

PERMANENT TAG LIST:

@greeneyedblondie44 @liadamerondjarin @pedrosgirlx @andy-rocks @musicartmayheminmyheart @howlerwolfmax @ciarra–mae @lou-la-lou

[yeoldenews]

I know we live in a very different world now, but I find it concerning how the newspapers printed all these kids' addresses. Did any harm ever come from that, to your knowledge?

I feel like the concept of your address being private information is a very modern one. Any news story until the mid-20th century (and much later in small towns/rural areas) would include the addresses of the individuals involved. Even the smallest towns printed yearly city directories that listed everyone's current address and occupation. So I can't imagine anyone would hesitate to publish a child's address, as why bother concealing what was already considered public information?

Furthermore, the concept of stranger kidnapping - and 'stranger danger' in general - was not something that really entered the public consciousness in the US until the 1920s, and even then the vast majority of kidnappings were for ransom. It was something that happened to rich people, usually in big cities.

It wasn't until several extremely high profile kidnappings of children in the late 20s/early 30s (namely Marion Parker, Walter Collins and Charles Lindbergh Jr.) that the concept of a stranger taking your child would probably have even crossed the mind of the average parent.

Additionally it's important to understand that the role of small town newspapers (where most of the Dear Santa letters are from) was something closer to Facebook or the Nextdoor app than a source of important news. Going on a trip? It's in the newspaper. Having a small dinner party? That's getting reported, along with the guest list, menu, party favors and any decorations you put up. Your child built a particularly nice snowman? There's a reporter here and entire town will know before dinner time.

So is it possible that some burglar used a Dear Santa letter to target the home of a wealthy child sometime in the 1890s? Sure? But I can't see why in an era where if you wanted to know where someone lived you could stop any random person on the street and say "Hey, where do the Johnsons live?" and no one would hesitate to tell you.

[monzabee]

chronically online (social media au) - dr3

masterlist || series masterlist ||

Summary: The one where everyone's favourite couple is chronically online during winter break.

Pairing: daniel ricciardo x actress!reader (model used: dakota johnson)

Warnings: none other than some cursing?

Request: "hi ! i loveee ur smaus !! i was wondering if u could write some more daniel x actress!reader? maybe like interacting with some of her friends/costars? thank youu have a nice dayy &lt;3"

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

ynverse

Liked by danielricciardo, rileykeough, sydneysweeney and 934,746 others.

ynverse: proof that we can go without checking our phones for like twenty minutes.

user: we love you mother, even if you are glued to your phone

user: if you told me we'd be seeing daniel on her profile a year ago i would've laughed but here we are

danielricciardo: fucking carolina

ynverse: i fucking hate social media detox

user: i love how they are not serious at all

sydneysweeney: need any cars fixed?

ynverse: will make sure to hit syd's garage!!

user: okay but why is daniel on a tractor

user: girl i don't think that is a tractor

view all 435,269 comments.

danielricciardo

Liked by ynverse, scottyjames31, redbullracing and 763,829 others.

danielricciardo: in nyc with the missus.

rileykeough: when did you guys get a fucking cat?

ynverse: do you want to know her name?

rileykeough: with that reaction? no

danielricciardo: but you have to know the name

ynverse: yes riley, you have to know the name

rileykeough: is it elvis

danielricciardo: of course not

ynverse: it's graceland

rileykeough: you named a cat graceland?

danielricciardo: happiest place on earth, baby

user: when did they change countries and how did we not notice??

view all 52,735 comments.

user: am i the only one who thinks they are in new york for something big??

ynverse: yeah

ynverse just posted a story!

ynverse

Liked by taylorswift, danielricciardo, f1wagss and 873,540 others.

ynverse: crazy night with a crazy bunch of people, thank you to everyone at snl and thank you to daniel who had to deal with at least 10 panic attacks and had to get me copious amounts of coffee.

user: okay but it's so cute that they support each other

user: girl they are in a relationship... that is like the bare minimum thing to do

user: i just know daniel was laughing his ass off during her monologue and i love that for him

taylorswift: i'm obsessed!!

user: i can imagine the chaos these two must have brought to the set... god

ynverse: okay but why hate outside of the club when you can't even get in

user: mom and dad taking over the entertainment industry step by step

landonorris: a shoutout might've been nice

danielricciardo: stop whining

ynverse: that was kinda hot

landonorris: ew

view all 73,928 comments.