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meowdymista · 3 years

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Van der Driscoll Pt 7

Part 6 - Masterlist

Part 8

This is a bit of a filler chapter, which is stupid for the ratio of original wording to in game script ratio. Next one will be more engaging, I promise. Also sorry for the long wait; I took time off from writing last week because it was my birthday, and then England swept into a second lockdown so it’s been poo trying to prepare especially in work because I process somms for small-medium businesses but whatever. No one is getting much for Christmas this year lol

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You find, much to your relief and Arthur’s annoyance, that Sean’s chaotic charm and energy swallows everyone’s attention over the next few weeks. He’s loud, boastful and brash: The Irish Terrier as Arthur and his adopted fathers call him.

You can’t help but find his totally unapologetic nature comforting. Whilst washing shirts, you overhear him get Molly to admit she considers him no better than a chimney sweep from the local bog - and immediately crucify her for it, calling her “snotty nosed” and a “right little madam”, much to her dismay. After the weeks of dirty looks (despite little to no actual confrontation), Sean brings a breath of fresh air. With him nearby, you know exactly where you stand and whether anyone in the vicinity is plotting against you.

“Please, Y/N,” groans Arthur into his hands one evening. “Please tell me you ain’t makin’ friends with that bastard.”

“Why?” you ask, genuinely surprised. “Isn’t he like a little brother to you?”

“Yeah, but not in a good way.” He moves his hands to give you a look of despair. “What’s wrong with Lenny? Or Tilly? Or Mary Beth?”

“Karen’s fun,” you muse, earning yourself another groan.

“Always with the loud drunkards,” he grumbles.

“Mmhm, and what was it Dutch said? When you go missing he checks the saloon, and if you’re not there he checks the jail?”

“Shurrup.” He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you onto his body, grinning as you protest, laughing.

“Don’t play innocent - Hosea’s been telling me stories!”

“Ahh, don’t go listening to him. He spins stories for a living, and anyway I was a kid in most of them.”

“And the stories I’ve heard from Lenny?” you smirk, still fighting despite it proving futile with you laughing so much. He growls, peppering your exposed skin with kisses as you wrestle playfully.

You cry out when a flailing limb makes contact with one of your swollen breasts. Arthur immediately releases you, watching you with concern as you try to rub out the punch without swearing.

“Y’alright?”

“Fine,” you huff. “Just sensitive is all.”

“I’m sorry - shouldn’t be playing so rough with you when you’re… in the way tha’ you are.”

“It’s fine, Arthur,” you repeat firmly, staring him down. “I’m fine. You didn’t knock my stomach, so we’re fine. Like I said, I’m just sensitive.”

He hums doubtfully.

Following a shootout with the Pinkertons and the law in the middle of Valentine, Dutch had ordered the camp out of Horseshoe Overlook and ushered you south east into the state of Lemoyne. On the other side of Dewberry Creek, Arthur and Charles had scouted a hideout chistened Clemens Point. Arthur hadn’t been the keenest to tell you that story, but you had weaseled it out of him.

Micah had recommended the dried out river bed, but when Charles and Arthur had arrived to scout it, there was an abandoned camp nearby, complete with a dead body. Whilst trying to assess the location’s risk to a group of outlaws should they move in, Arthur had moved some crates to find a woman with her two children.

“I guess I saw you,” he mumbled sadly, avoiding eye contact. “An’ the mess I might leave you in one day.”

You rubbed his shoulder patiently. “What happened?”

“I told ‘em to go ‘cause we needed the land.”

You were confused by the guilt still plaguing him and told him so. With a heavy sigh, he described how the girl translated her mother - that their father had been kidnapped and how it took Charles insisting otherwise to convince him to go look.

“So it’s really thanks to him we found this place,” he says gesturing at the open space bordered with woodland and lake.

If anything, you prefer this new destination to Horseshoe Overlook, and not just for the absence of bad memories. You love the sense of freedom swimming gives you: how it makes you weightless, how easy it is to tilt your head back and listen to the low rumble of the earth and water. You also enjoy that the road is more than a stone’s throw away here. A wanderer would have to purposely go out of their way to discover the camp, to hear the noise or see the light of the campfires. Clemen’s Point made you feel safe, even with the occasional canoe sailing by with a wave.

The new location lifted everyone’s spirits. So much so, Dutch dragged Arthur and Hosea out fishing. They returned hours later - singing and surprisingly sober - with deputy badges and a boat load of fish. Whilst the shiny badge continues to earn Arthur a lot of gib from you and everyone else in camp, Dutch insists the news is beyond fantastic.

“We are inaugurated in the local law!” he cries during one of his many speeches. “Hiding in plain sight!”

Still tired and snacking throughout your waking hours, you are relieved to find your morning sickness has passed its peak. Whilst you feel like your veins are popping out of your skin, Arthur insists your stomach is beginning to curve. You accuse him of an overzealous imagination until you try (and fail) to button the jeans from your past life as an O’Driscoll and your shirts that still fasten offer little to no breathing room.

“Think a trip to town is in order.” You jut out your bottom lip, demonstrating the distance between the buttons and their corresponding holes as your lover looks on laughing.

“I think you might be right.” You don’t resist as his fingertips tilt your chin up to plant a kiss on your lips. “Let me go see if Pearson’s got a list and we’ll head out. Think they’ll do another couple hours?”

“Don’t really have a choice,” you grumble, stealing Arthur’s worn blue shirt from under the cot. You can hear Sadie and Pearson bickering even from the edge of camp, so it doesn’t surprise you when Arthur’s tone cuts through the noise.

“-ain’t cooking work?”

Looking over, you see Arthur has taken the expostulating Mrs Adler aside. You look away quickly - there’s no reason to ruin an acceptable day by agitating her enough to start shouting at you too. Her and Pearson have been at each other’s necks since she’s pulled herself out of the worst of her depression, almost as though he has become the target of her grief.

You focus your attention on preparing the cart. A trip to town means a trip for supplies, and with so many mouths to feed, horseback wasn’t a viable option.

"How are you, Miss?"

You turn around, surprised at being addressed directly by someone other than Arthur. Seeing Kieran’s familiar pastiness relaxes you a little. As an ex-O’Driscoll himself, you trusted him the most not to stab you after Arthur and the little boy, Jack.

"Fine," you reply flatly, brushing out the tangles of the shire’s mane.

"We ain't really had much time to talk since we was in Tall Trees a few months back, have we?" You hum in response, trying not to flash any amount of flesh by moving too much. The poor boy was skittish enough. He immediately begins to help you, being the horse fan he is.

"I never even suspected a thing, Miss,” he gushes. “So I bet you anything Ol' Colm won't have neither."

"So you two were close, huh?" You barely contain the sarcasm.

He shrugs off the question awkwardly. "Which feller was you again?"

"Well I must’ve been good if you have to ask." You feed the shire a carrot, avoiding eye contact. "I was Thomas," you admit quietly. The following silence is prolonged. Doubtful.

“Thomas Donoghue?” You shrug your shoulders. “So you were friends with Paeder then?”

“Peter?” You respond coolly. “Never knew him.”

He opens his mouth as if to argue, but Arthur is marching across camp, shouting back over his shoulder to Mrs Adler. Spooked, Kieran bolts to a safe distance, doing nothing but look on as Arthur helps you up onto the back of the cart.

Acknowledging you with a sneer, the other woman takes her place on the bench up front. “So I’ve graduated from choppin’ vegetables to shopping?”

“Shut your goddamn mouth…” grumbles Arthur, reins in hand as the cart moves off. You give Kieran a small, apologetic wave farewell, but it’s difficult to contain the relief of your companions’ timing. Paeder was a private matter, and one which you had no desire to discuss out loud. You’re sure the shaky man meant no harm, but some things were better buried.

“You cooled down then, yet?” Arthur asks the widow, distracting you from your thoughts.

“I guess,” she grumbles. “And I ain’t no scullion! And I sure as hell ain’t takin’ orders from that sweating halfwit!”

You can almost hear his eyes roll. “Well I guess we all gotta do our share, princess.”

“Where’s that letter?”

“Oh, you reading his mail now?”

Sadie throws him a dirty look. “Robbing and killing’s ok, but letter reading’s where we draw the line?”

You stifle a smirk as Arthur pulls it from the inside of his coat, knowing he’s been had. “Here.”

“Dear Aunt Cathy-”

“You are somethin’ else…”

“I haven’t heard from you in some time, so I prayed to the Lord above that your health has not deteriorated further… bla bla bla… s’boring… Oo! Wait a sec, listen to this! Since we last corresponded, I have travelled widely, making no small name for myself.” You all laugh out loud. “Before you ask, I am still yet to take a wife, but I can assure you it is not for lack of suitors.” Arthur barks out laughing again as Sadie giggles. “He ever actually talked to a woman he ain’t paid for?” she asks in disbelief.

“Look, we’re all hiding behind something.” Whilst his tone advises the limit of fun has been reached, the smile is still audible.

“And what’s this? Return to Tacitus Kilgore?”

“Oh that? That’s Dutch’s idea. All mail to be sent to the same alias. Whenever we set up somewhere new, Strauss, he heads into town, tells them to start expecting mail from a Tacitus Kilgore or whatever they changed it to… Here, gimme that back. We got work to do.”

You all sit quietly as the cart rolls into Rhodes. The locals watch you, wary of the unfamiliar faces, but you keep your head high. Strangers smell weakness. It’s better to come off aloof and avoid trouble than to present as vulnerable and be beaten down at every turn.

“Ok, here we are.”

“So what’s the plan?” Mrs Adler points a pistol at the side of the building, squeezing one eye shut as she gauges the iron sights. “I shoot the shopkeeper, while you-?”

“No! You insane?”

“Well I thought we was outlaws…?”

“Outlaws! Not idiots!" he hisses, pushing down the gun as he looks around for any witnesses. "We rob fools that rob other people! These people- they’re just tryna get by! So you head on in there, and you buy us some food to eat. And no guns.”

“Are you sure?”

“This time.” The two of you share a look again as he helps you down. “There’ll be plenty o’ time for killin’ soon enough.”

“What are you doin’?”

“I’m gonna go check the mail, nothin’ exciting.”

Sadie shrugs and saunters off. Arthur sighs and shakes his head, touching your arm. "You gonna be alright?"

"Here's hopin'."

"Any trouble, holler. Stay outta her way best you can though, alright?"

Knowing that his concern lies with your companion's open hatred for anything remotely O'Driscoll rather than your ability to defend yourself, you nod. Blowing him a cheeky kiss, he waves back at you with a grin as you enter the general store.

"-flour, oats, salt, eggs, apples if you have them..."

"Sure, not a problem,” responds the shopkeeper as he begins to gather the goods. “Big family, have you?"

"Somethin' like that." Mrs Adler barely spares you a glance as the titter of the doorbell announces your presence. "And you sell clothes?"

So Arthur had explained to her your purpose for the journey. You're flattered, if a little bewildered at this kind gesture. From the looks she’s been giving you, you’re surprised she has buried the hatchet of your past so quickly.

"We do. Not the widest range of ladies fashion, I'm afraid."

"That's alright. I'll look at everything you got."

"Of course, Mrs…?"

"Kilgore," she smirks, turning to bat her eyelids at you. You realise then that her request is completely unrelated to you. Why wouldn’t it be? You’re not the only person that has been swept into the Van der Linde gang with little more than what you were wearing on your back. From Arthur’s story, she escaped with nothing more than her wedding ring and her nightclothes, so it’s only natural that she is also in need of a new wardrobe. "What? You don't even trust me to handle the shopping by myself?"

"You're not the only one in need of new clothes, Mrs Ad- Kilgore." You force a polite smile at the sales clerk whilst Mrs Adler browses the shelves dully. "What are the biggest sizes you have in stock? Any maternity wear by chance?"

"Ain't many women round here makin' babies," he sighs, pulling out a few options. You can feel Sadie's eyes burning past you at the pile. "You're best tryin' Saint Denis or ordering outta the catalogue. There's a tailor in Blackwater I heard is pretty good for that sorta thing, but it's quite the journey-"

"Too far for me, I fear." You flick through the pages as Mrs Adler leaves to try a few things on from the pile in front of you. Writing a quick list with estimated sizing, you purchase the largest button up shirt and skirt for sale. The trousers will have to wait for another day - you know investing twenty dollars in a pair that you'll breach the waistline of in a matter of weeks is a luxury you can't especially afford right now.

Mrs Adler on the other hand spares little expense with a sturdy pair of jeans. Finally out of the cumbersome skirts, her whole character changes and suddenly you feel the same pit of dread you did when faced with a full camp of spitting Van der Lindes all those weeks ago.

Intimidated, you step outside whilst she settles the bill. You take a short wander up the main road, taking in the familiar buildings with apathy. Who would have thought you would end up here again? Now you’re not so apprehensive about your life span, you can see how rundown this dusty crumbling town is. The few shops that are open have seen better days, and the best kept building is the bank. You feel your skin crawl as you spot the large parlour houses on the horizon. Of course this place is struggling to survive - anywhere that profited from slave labour deserved to rot. Part of you hopes it’s slow perilous march to abandonment continues: it would be disappointingly merciful to see a place be lost to one good shoot out.

“I’ve birthed foals with more strength than you!” Mrs Adler’s cursing sinks your stomach as you navigate your way back to the store where a man is helping her load the cart. “Hell, my sister’s newborn had more strength than you and he came out bright blue!”

“I’m trying.”

“Try harder!”

Spotting Arthur, who is strolling back himself, fills you with relief. The shopkeeper walks back to the porch, checking the list before walking back. “I think this is everything,” he says, swinging the sack of salt on the cart.

“Thanks… here, take that for yourself, okay.” She flicks a silver coin and he catches it out of the air, scowling.

“Thanks,” he spits.

“Well, give it back then! Jesus! I didn’t ask for his goddamn help..." She pushes the sack on more securely to stop it rolling off when the cart moves. “OK, get on. I’m about done here.”

“Why don’t you drive?” suggests Arthur coolly after making sure you’re sat safely amongst the supplies. “C’mon lady, get a move on.”

She scowls as she takes the reins. “I like Sadie, not lady.”

“I know. So you get everything?”

“I think so.”

“And some… new clothes, I see?”

“Don’t start,” she sighs, the heat returning to her voice. “I can wear what I damn well want. Like I told you, my husband and I shared all the work. I wasn’t some little wife with a flower in her hair baking cherry pies all day.”

“Yeah, I don’t doubt that. You sure look the part now. Won’t be long before you’re smoking cigars and playin’ the harmonica.”

“I’ll have you know I used to love playing the harmonica before… well… my house and everything I owned got burned to the ground.”

“I know... I’m real sorry. About what you… you know. Maybe I’ll keep my eye out for another one.”

“I don’t want no pity,” she snaps. “Just… treat me equal and know… nobody’s taking nothing from me ever again.”

Arthur hums in comradery. “Just don’t kill the camp cook…”

A horse gallops up alongside you. “Hey there! What are you folks up to?”

“Just heading home,” says Arthur casually, adding a quiet “keep it cool, Sadie”.

“You’re in Lemoyne Raider country. You need to pay a toll to pass through here.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?” The hairs on the back of your neck prickle at the anticipation of conflict. You realise with a sinking stomach that you’re completely unarmed. “How about you pull over right now?”

“Pull over?” he repeats incredulously. Your eyes scan the bags and boxes around you. There has to be something here that can double as a weapon of some kind.

“That’s what I said.”

“Hey!” calls Sadie coolly. “How’s about this?”

A pistol cracks and the Lemoyne Raider cries out in pain. She ushers the horses on with a Go, go, go! as Arthur stands up, drawing his revolvers and firing. You duck down as bullets fly over your head, your hands scrambling for anything that could be of use.

“What the hell was that?” cries Arthur furiously.

“They was gonna rob us!”

“A new pair of pants and you think you’re Landon Ricketts!” He curses loudly as more men run out in the road ahead.

“I’m gonna run this son of a bitch down!” she shouts, pulling the wagon over one raider and off the road.

“Well you wanted to see some action, lady, now you got your wish!” Arthur slings his longarm from his back and shoves it in your direction as he continues to fire. You can see more men coming out from between the trees and you take aim, knocking them down one by one as Arthur clips off any extras over your head.

“You alright there, Sadie?” you shout over the gunfire. Arthur is still firing behind you, but she’s out of your line of sight from where you’re crouched behind sacks of grain.

“Of course! You think I can’t handle these fools?” You don’t retaliate and you can almost hear her voice aim at Arthur. “Told you I could shoot a gun, didn’t I?”

“I don’t remember asking you to prove it,” he grunts, tossing you extra ammo just in case. The last bastard is fleeing south down the dirt track. You take aim, but he’s out of range.

“Yeah you run, you goddamn coward!” screams Sadie before taking a steadying breath. “I think we’re good here. Nice shooting. I’ll drive us back-”

“No! Pass those reins here!”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve caused enough trouble already.”

She doesn’t find grounds to argue, instead looking back at you, her face straight and unreadable. “We showed those bastards, huh?”

“Remind me not to get on your bad side,” Arthur scowls.

“They was clearly plannin’ to bushwhack us!” she argues, facing forward again.

“You did good, but that’s a lotta mess to make near camp. Hope it don’t bring anyone sniffin’ around.”

“Are you gonna tell Dutch?” she asks mockingly.

“Maybe… if he asks. But, maybe not.”

“So who did they say they were? Lemoyne Raiders?”

“Yeah, somethin’ like that. Who knows… Anyway, don’t you go ribbing Pearson about that letter.”

“How dare you? I wouldn’t dream of it!”

“Riiight, you wouldn’t…”

“I have travelled widely, making no small name of myself…”

Arthur laughs. “I won’t be giving you no mail to post any time soon, that’s for sure.”

She chuckles too. “I just wanna peak in that journal of yours. The mind boggles.”

“Not a chance…”

“You didn’t get yourself killed then, Miss Adler?” calls Pearson, strolling over smugly as Arthur pulls up near the horse station.

“Not quite,” she responds truthfully.

“Well, I’d like to say I missed your refined conversations, but I’d be lying.”

She accepts the box shoved into her chest without complaint. “I… I enjoyed myself out there.”

“Yes, we err… Mrs Adler did ok!” He holds up his arms and lifts you down gently by your waist.

“At shopping?”

“Yes, at shoppin’...”

The double meaning doesn’t go unrecognised by Sadie who thanks him with genuine gratitude.

“Don’t mention it. I would ride with you again, Mrs Adler, if you will ride with me.”

“Maybe,” she laughs. “If you prove you can handle yourself.”

“Well, they say I lack finesse, but I ain’t afraid of gun smoke.”

“We got this, Arthur. You’ve already done me a big favour today.” Turning to you with a smile, Arthur accepts the repeater you proffer. It’s best to remain unarmed for now - there’s no need to risk one of your lesser fans finding an excuse to regard you as a threat. “Okay, Miss High and Mighty. And… nice pants by the way.”

“You okay there, Y/N?” He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you in close to his side. “You manage to find something too?”

“Just about,” you admit. “Had to put in an order. How long do you think we’ll be around here for?”

“Until we can’t most likely. Everything alright? They didn’t catch you or nothin’, did they?”

“Of course not, Arthur.” Your weak smile is genuine and heartfelt at his concern. “I’m not above shouting when I’m shot.”

“‘Course not.” He rubs your back, leading you back to your shared tent. “You gonna try them on, or what?”

“Nah, I figure I might as well make the most of still being able to fit in this stuff, even if it’s only for a few more days.”

He laughs, pulling you into a big hug. “Fair enough.”

From under his arm, you spot the rousing attention of Herr Strauss nearby. You nudge him in warning, but it’s too late.

“Ah, Herr Morgan! How are you enjoying yourself out here?”

“Well enough, I guess,” he replies gruffly. “And you?”

“Well, it turns out the pursuit of freedom is not a cheap business. Not for us, and not for some of the locals.”

“Sharking, already?”

“I prefer to call it banking.”

“You ain’t the one handing out the beatings,” snarls Arthur.

“No, but I am the one feeding the women and children in the camp,” he retorts. “What choice do we have, Mr Morgan?”

Arthur sighs. “Ah, I don’t know. Well, come on then! Tell me who…”

You stop listening as Strauss reads off a list of names, and only tune back in to hear Arthur ask how many he expects to be able to pay.

“With enough encouragement, both of them!” he chuckles, his black eyes twinkling from behind the round spectacles.

Sighing, Arthur returns to where you’re sat on the camp bed. “I’m sorry, darlin’. I’d best be gettin’ on.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You stand up to kiss him. “The gang comes first.”

He grimaces at that, but doesn’t dispute it. You give him another kiss for good luck and wave him out camp before dropping the flaps, not missing the glare of bitterness from Sadie across camp.

#red dead fic #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 fic #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x o'driscoll #meowdymista

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official-impravidus · 4 years

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5 Times Peter Did Someone Else’s Makeup

By @official-impravidus for @littlemissagrafina

Rating: General

Relationships: Tony Stark & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & May Parker, Peter Parker & Happy Hogan, Happy Hogan/May Parker

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Happy Hogan, May Parker, Ned Leeds, Michelle Jones, Morgan Stark

Summary: and the 1 time he did his own

(written for the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange)

To put it simply, he had been in a rush. Competition season was just around the corner, and MJ was pushing the team to their limits with extra practice, which meant morning practice and after school practice. Peter had barely gotten out of the door once he remembered that he had to get to the school, being in the middle of a deep concentration as he perfected his winged eyeliner. Then, the after school practice ran a half an hour late because everyone was slacking on their ancient Greek philosophers.

So there he was, scurrying out of the metal doors of Midtown and nearly ripping the car door off its hinges as he rushed into his seat.

“Hey Happy! I’m so so so sorry I’m late. MJ made us stay late because Flash didn’t know difference between Hypatia and Aspasia even though they have over a century apart, and then she started quizzing us on which philosophers specialized in Pythagorean, Peripatetic, or Pyrrhonist, and everyone kept mixing them up and we had to go over it for like twenty minutes until we all had it down and…”

“Don’t need the whole run down, bud. It’s okay,” Happy stated. “Couldn’t understand it if I tried.”

“Right. Sorry,” Peter said sheepishly. “How was your day?”

“Same old, same old. Once I drop you off, I’m heading back to the apartment.”

Peter’s eyes lit up. “Oh, it’s date night! Where are you taking May?”

“Do you remember that new restaurant near that bike shop?”

Peter’s mouth went agape. “That super fancy one where they put chocolate in everything?!”

Happy nodded with a soft grin. “That’s the one.”

“She always looks through the window when we pass by there! She looked up the menu and I swear she was drooling when she read about the bacon mac and cheese.” Peter smiled. “She’s gonna love it, Happy.”

“I hope so.”

“She will,” Peter reassured. With a content sigh, he pulled out his laptop. “I should probably get started on my research paper.”

“You know Tony’s rule,” Happy said.

“No lab work until homework is done,” Peter recited with a nod. “I know, I know. Which is why I’m doing it now.”

“Is it a blackout kinda day or a white noise one?” Happy asked.

“I could go for some of that boring piano music you like.”

Happy shoved Peter’s arm. “It’s not boring.”

“It just strips all the tenseness from my tight, aching muscles. It lulls me to sleep.”

“If it lulls you to sleep, then you shouldn’t be listening to it while you’re doing homework,” Happy said.

“Then, what do you suggest?” Peter asked.

Happy pressed the radio screen and a string quartet of Panic! at the Disco’s “I Write Sins Not Tragedies” began to play.

“Oh, you know me so well.”

Peter fell into a deep focus and had barely realized the car ride was over until Happy had said a soft “we’re here.”

“Thanks, Happy. Have a good evening!” Peter said cheerfully.

“You’re staying here tonight, right?” Happy asked.

“Yeah, I am. It’s a Compound weekend. Why…” Peter’s faced morphed into a disgusted grimace. “Actually, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.” He shook his head. “See you later!” Happy gave a gentle wave before pulling out.

Peter let out a breath, shoving his hands in his pockets, as he headed into the Compound, fiddling with the watermelon gum wrappers crumpled deep in his jeans.

With a skip in his step, he entered the lab, plopping his backpack on the floor and hopping into his rollie chair with a little spin.

“Hello to you too,” Tony said with a laugh. “Bad traffic?”

“Late practice,” Peter corrected.

“She’s really drilling you guys, huh?” Tony asked. “Well, at least you’ll be prepared.” He looked up from his project, but stopped as he caught sight of Peter’s face. “New look?”

Peter furrowed his brows in confusion, but froze. He hadn’t used a makeup wipe on the drive there. “I… uhm… I… it’s not what it looks like.”

“Well it looks good. Would’ve barely noticed if it weren’t for the eyeliner it’s so natural. I mean really, you’re glowing. How do you get your skin looking so dewey and fresh?”

Peter’s brain could hardly catch up. “I mix highlighter with my foundation.”

“See, I’ve never thought about that. Mine always comes out so dull and flat. I’ll have to try that.”

“You, uh, you’ve worn makeup?” Peter stammered.

“When you’re on camera as much as me, you’ve gotta get at least a little pick me up. I mean, some of that shit is high definition. Do I really want people seeing my pores and pimples in high definition? No thank you.”

“Oh. Uh. Wow.”

“You can’t be new at this. I mean, it looks great. I’m jealous if you are.”

Peter shook his head. “I’ve been doing it for a couple months.”

“And why haven’t I seen it?” Tony questioned.

“I, uh, didn’t want you to think it was weird,” Peter admitted.

Tony softened. “Why would you think that?”

“I mean, I worry you think a lot of things are weird. I just, want to... impress you, I guess.”

“Well, wanna know what impresses me? That winged eyeliner. It takes Pepper ten minutes of fiddling with makeup remover on cue tips when she’s doing hers.”

Peter, nearly rendered speechless, nodded again. “It took a lot of practice.” He paused. “You’re really… you don’t think I’m weird?”

“I could never think you were weird, kid.” He pursed his lips. “Well, yes I can, because you put sour skittles in your chocolate ice cream, but that’s what makes me love you. Don’t be afraid to be weird. I’ve been weird all my life. Embrace the weird and conquer the world with your weirdness because one day, what used to be weird will be brilliant and people will want to be weird like you.”

Peter looked to his feet bashfully. “Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

“You know, Pepper has a big charity thing tonight. She could really use your help with her smokey eye.”

Peter perked up. “Really? I’ve… I’ve done makeup on May before, but I’ve never done it on someone with an eye shape like hers.” “Then this will be perfect practice!”

Peter got a little mascara on her eyelid, but he made up with the perfect blend of silver sparkle and charcoal shades.

“Stop squeezing your eyes, you’re gonna make the eyeliner bumpy.”

“Well, it’s a little hard to relax when you’ve got a pencil pressing against my eye.”

Peter sighed. “Ned, you just gotta breathe. I’m not gonna poke your eye.”

“It sure feels like you’re poking my eye,” Ned grumbled.

“I’ll do it even lighter,” Peter reassured.

It was 9AM, and Peter was trying to use as much precision in his rush to finish Ned and MJ’s makeup for the pride parade. He had finished his look, a blend of pinks, purples, and blues with silver glitter eyeliner, and was finishing Ned’s rainbow look, or at least, attempting to.

“You were doing so good, man,” Peter whined.

“Because it was all fluffy brushes before this!” Ned groaned. “Just get it over with.”

“I could if you would stop freaking squeezing your eyelids!”

MJ sighed. “Some of us are in the waiting dock, Ned.”

“I’m sorry! I’m not used to this!” Ned exclaimed.

Peter pulled gently at the skin on his browbone, making the skin pulled taunt enough to slide the eyeliner on with one smooth swipe. He followed suit with the other and slumped back into his chair. “Okay. You’re done.”

“Oh, thank God, because I had to go to the bathroom at like the contour.” He scampered out of the bathroom, legs held tight.

“What’s in store for me?” MJ asked.

“I was thinking a sharp edged blend of pink and to the dark pink to brown in the crease with a cut crease,” Peter thought out loud.

There was a knock at the door.

“You expecting someone?” MJ asked.

“No?” Peter said, confused. He went to the door, eyes widening in shock at the sight.

There was Tony Stark in a bright blue, pink, and yellow vertical striped suit.

“Mr. Stark! What are you doing here?”

“Today is pride, right?” Tony said with a cheeky grin on his lips.

“I-it is.”

“Great! Then, I’ll give you three a ride. I’m meeting the gang later.”

Peter’s nodded, mouth still wide open. “Because New York pride is endorsed by the Avengers. Right.”

“So, what do you say? I may or may not have pulled out my holographic chrome Ferrari.”

Peter rolled his eyes but let out a light chuckle. “Of course you did.” He stepped out of the way. “MJ’s look will be quick. If you want, I can do something for you?”

Tony grinned. “I’d love that.”

Behind his tinted shades, Tony rocked a pink crease, yellow lid, and blue lower lashline, a big smile adorned by a bright pink lipstick.

After the big robot invasion of 2025, the Avengers were beyond exhausted from the dealing with the repercussions and volunteering for the rebuilding.

For the first time in weeks after being preoccupied with volunteering, charity work, and clean up, they could finally relax for a group get together outside of work.

“You know what I could use?” Tony asked to no one in particular. “Really crappy, artificial, not at all traditional Chinese food. Who’s in?” The team all muttered words of agreement, melting into the cushions of the recreation room’s couches.

“Text me your orders. I sent the menu in the groupchat.”

More mutters of acknowledgement.

Peter settled on the floor, makeup scattered on the coffee table, mouth agape as he stared intently at his reflection, fake lash in hand.

“What are you doing?” Steve asked.

“Graduation is just around the corner and I need to perfect my look for commencements,” Peter explained. He blinked, checking for any warping. “How does it look?”

The team let out a low murmur of “oo”s and “ah”s and “nice.”

“That looks fantastic,” Natasha praised.

“The adornments to your face are absolutely astonishing!” Thor praised. “Would you be so kind to apply your pigments to my eyes?”

Peter’s eyes widened. “You want me to do your makeup?”

“I’d love if you did mine, too,” Natasha said.

“I bet you could do some great red, white, and blue for me,” Steve said.

Peter looked around. “That could be really cool. Avengers inspired makeup looks on the Avengers? I mean, that’d be an honor.”

So he got started. As they feasted on fried rice and General Tso’s spicy chicken, they jammed to ABBA and looked fabulous while dancing to Dancing Queen.

“So, I made you some of that green juice you like so you can sip on that while we get you ready. We also put together a playlist of all of your favorite dishwashing music which we both know is also your hype playlist and you need to get a little hype! Let loose! In addition, we also brought you some of your favorite hors d’oeuvres such as chocolate covered strawberries, that basil spread with the tomatoes on the crunchy bread, caprese salad, and just a big pile of prosciutto because I know you like to stress eat salty meats.”

May smiled softly. “Thank you, baby. This is amazing.”

“How are you feeling?” Peter asked.

“Nervous. Excited. Mostly excited. How are… are you okay? With this?”

Peter nodded. “Of course I am. You’re happy, Happy’s happy, and I… I’m happy. I’m happy that you could find something like this after Ben.”

She let out a shaky breath. “I’m getting married.”

Peter grinned. “You are.” He spun her chair. “Now sit there and be pretty while I do you even prettier.”

“You know, you were at my first wedding.”

Peter looked up. “I was?”

“You were just a baby, but Richard and Mary didn’t want to leave you at home after you had just gotten over your pneumonia. You were wearing a little onesie with a tuxedo printed on it, and you had your foofie.”

“I remember my foofie!” Peter smiled nostalgically as he envisioned the fluffy scarf that he snuggled with for years.

“You had just gotten it, and you would just run your fingers on the blue fluff, entranced by the texture on your little fingers.”

Peter chuckled. “Yeah. I loved that thing.”

“But, you caused a little bit of a scene.”

Peter furrowed his brows. “I did?”

“Well, your mom had just come back from feeding you and Ben wanted to make you giggle, so he was dancing with you, twirling and spinning you around, and I guess he jerked you around a bit too much and you vomited.”

“Oh no.”

“In his mouth and all over his tux.”

“Oh no.”

“So, really, there’s no reason to worry about messing anything up because at least you’re not doing that,” she said with a teasing grin.

“Well, I’ll try my best not to do that again,” Peter said. He softened, squeezing her hand gently. “You’re gonna make so many new memories and it’s gonna be awesome, May.”

“So are you,” May said.

“I’m really happy for you.” He shook his head. “Now don’t you start crying and streak this amazing foundation I just put on.”

She let out a wet laugh and held her arms out. “C’mere.”

Peter gave her a tight hug, snuggling next to her in her cushy chair.

She placed a soft kiss to his forehead. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” He pulled away. “Now, c’mon. Stop stalling. I have to get this done so I can do mine.”

“Tony. Stop crying.”

“This is an emotional time and I am an emotional man!”

“It’s just homecoming.”

Tony crossed his arms and scowled at Peter. “Well you’re not one to talk about just homecoming.”

Peter pouted. “You crash a plane and nearly get killed by your homecoming date’s dad one time…”

“Look at my beautiful girl.” He pet her hairsprayed locks gently.

Morgan rolled her eyes with a smile on her dark red lips. “You’re so embarrassing, Dad.”

“So, when are we meeting this boy? Because then I’ll really be embarrassing.”

“Dad!” Morgan whined.

“You still have told me nothing about this boy. What are you hiding? Is he an Anti-Avenger protestor? Oh, oh! Or is he a scheming supervillain turning you to the dark side?” He gasped. “Does he work for Oscorp?”

“His name is Miles, he’s an artist, and he’s really really nice so please don’t screw this up for me because I really really like him.”

Tony softened. “I’ll behave.”

“Please,” Morgan pleaded.

“I’ll behave!” Tony repeated.

“He won’t,” Peter stated. “And we both know that.”

“Hey! I take offense to that,” Tony said.

“Well, as much as I love this wonderful family chat, I really gotta finish Morgan’s makeup, and when you stress her out, it makes her eyes scrunch up and I can’t get the blending right so… shoo. Scooch your booch outta here.”

“No. I want to stay,” Tony stated.

“Are you not gonna distract her?” Peter asked with a raised brow.

“Maybe…?”

“Tony!”

“Okay! Fine. I won’t say a word. You won’t even know I’m here.” Peter turned back to Morgan, packing a shimmery white on her lid, but flipped around when he heard a choked sob from behind.

“Tony,” he said exasperatedly.

“She’s just growing up so fast!”

Peter’s gloved hands trembled as he filled in his eyebrows in a room that did nothing to block the shutters of cameras and excited murmur from the large crowd on the other side of the wall.

Tony took his hand in his and gave them a gentle squeeze. “Are you sure you wanna do this? Because you can back out any time you’d like.” Peter shook his head. “It’s time. The new generation of Avengers deserve to have a real face to lead them, and for the public to trust us, they need to know that I trust them too. The world knows Spider-Man and his good. And now, they’ll know Peter Parker too.”

“They already know Peter Parker,” Tony said softly. “Peter Parker conducted the widest reaching scientific climate change campaign. He promoted carbon storage, protected and expanded forests in every country on every continent on the planet, and invented a reliable and accessible long-term energy source cheaper and easier to manufacture than fossil fuels. God, Peter. Once they find out that Peter Parker is Spider-Man, they’re going to love him even more.”

Peter’s face flushed a warm red. “Thanks, Tony.” He looked to his reflection and smiled sadly. Looking at his brown eyes, red blended to his crease and blue lining his lashline, he realized that this was the end to a lifetime of secrets and a new beginning where he could finally share the whole person he was.

“You ready?” Tony asked.

“How do I look?” Peter asked meekly.

“You look amazing.” He pulled him into a tender hug. “They’re gonna love you, kid.” He placed his hands firmly on his shoulders and gave a little squeeze. “Do you know how proud I am of you? Because I am. You’re really proving yourself to be quite the hero, and I don’t just mean in your bright red and blue, which really, are you sure we can’t negotiate something a little less gaudy…”

“Says Mr. Hot Rod Red and Gold…”

“I mean, bright blue? Even I have enough class and taste to know that bright blue is a little much.”

“Tony,” Peter said.

“I’m so proud of you kid. You’ve grown into a fantastic young man, and you’re gonna keep growing into a visionary for this next century. You might even outshine me.” He shook his head. “No. I know you will. Because I know you, and I know that you’re an intelligent, selfless, innovating, tenacious, unbelievably incredible person, and you’re gonna change the world.” He smiled a tight, teary smile. “And the world’s not gonna know what hit it once you give it all you’ve got.”

Peter slipped his mask on and took one last shaky breath. “Let’s go do this.”

My name is Peter Benjamin Parker and I am Spider-Man.

#avengers #mcu #marvel #spiderman #peter parker #tony stark #iron man #irondad #fan fic #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fiction

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groovesnjams · 3 years

Video

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gr_OOves ‘n j A_ms S // O // T // Y 2o2o

nO. 8/50

“Between the Dirt and the Stars” by Mary Chapin Carpenter

MG:

A lot of kids, probably most kids, hopefully most kids, don’t have any real semblance of taste in music. As merely an adult and not a parent, I say they shouldn’t have taste -- who wants to be hardened into anything before the age of ten? By the time I got my first boombox I had taste in music, both in the sense that I had a defined list of likes and dislikes and in the sense that what I liked as an eight year old, I still like to this day. I got the boombox first and later I got the tapes. The first was Green Day’s Dookie and I had such a reverence for the act of playing that tape for myself that I’m pretty sure I had my first panic attack trying to work up the nerve to stick it in the deck. Along with the tape I requested, my dad gave me Mary Chapin Carpenter’s Stones in the Road. When I think of his advice to never waste time listening to adult music, I always think of that tape. I never listened to that tape! Not once. And now that it’s instantly available and essentially free to me, and now that my dad is dead and all I have is this memory of a tape he once gave me that he probably forgot about well before he died, I still haven’t listened.

I think when I gave The Dirt and the Stars a shot it was an act of penance. I owed Mary Chapin Carpenter some of my time. She is, now, firmly in my taste house and I can’t say I was surprised to find it’s a great album. I was surprised to find that DV liked “Between the Dirt and the Stars” as much as I do after he nixed it for my honorable mention, but more on that below. There’s a lot that is admirable about this song but the thing that keeps struggling to the surface of my brain is how hard it is to find a song like this that gathers a group of session ringers and lets them swan around, first, without ruining the song by cramming it with technical virtuoso that leaves no room for feeling, second, and is credited in its entirety to one woman, third. Yes, I love that guitar solo. It’s so rich and desperate, a proud bit of nostalgia in the dagwood of nostalgia songs. There is still room in our world for more guitar solos. There is certainly still room in our world for more guitar solos this good. Mary Chapin Carpenter’s words are beautiful and the images she recalls so honestly (this may be the first song I’ve ever heard that acknowledges how hard it is to make anything out when you’re driving with the windows down but of course, of course a favorite song is playing anyway) are as indelible as my own memories but, I admit, I’m taking them for granted because they felt promised to me from on high. In retrospect, it’s the guitar solo I should have seen coming. My steadfast love of pining guitar solos and those wrenched notes, somewhere between a crated puppy’s 4 AM whimper and my own jagged, grief filled sobs, came from the tapes my dad gave me.

DV:

As someone who doesn’t really care for the Rolling Stones, I obviously love “Wild Horses,” one of the great boomer classics. And the way Mary Chapin Carpenter layers “Between the Dirt and the Stars” over it is masterful. She takes this reference point about fate and doom and longing, this song I knew before I knew how I knew it, and uses it to build a story about reflection, about the way we recontextualize the past as we age and learn. Where the Stones made a song about staying, Carpenter’s is about growth. About what you know when you look back at where you once were, about how the good and the bad of who you were make you who you are now. And it’s magnificently evocative, from its lyric (a triumph that I’m trying to resist quoting because I wouldn’t be able to stop, but okay my favorite is probably the second verse’s “Whatever called you by your soul/ And piece by piece took you apart“) to the elegant, transporting guitar solo that closes out the song. Carpenter’s been making music longer than I’ve been alive, and “Between the Dirt and the Stars” both sounds like she has - this is a songwriter’s song if ever there was one, art about art in the best way - and has a freshness that belies it - from her subtle tweaks to each successive chorus to the lengthy running time to the structural dominance of that guitar solo itself. It’s graceful, and it’s glorious.

#gnjsoty2k20 #mary chapin carpenter #between the dirt and the stars

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trueloveisrarelyafairytale · 6 years

Text

Candy Coated Chaos: Cover/Excerpt Reveal

I have been dreaming about this cover for so long and it’s more than I ever imagined. I am so excited to share it with you and I hope you adore it as much as I do.

Title: Candy Coated Chaos (Sweet Treats #1)

Genre: Dark Romance

Release Date: 2/15/18

Cover Design: Murphy Rae

Alexander

Being with Tavin is like eating those candies that start out sweet and then turn so sour, your eyes water. When she’s happy, her radiance is stunning, but her glow is dimmed by her dark secrets. I knew from the moment I laid eyes on her, sucking on that lollipop, that there was something unique about her. I was right in more ways than one, and while I don’t know the extent of suffering that her life entails, I’ll do whatever I need to, to convince her she can trust me. I just need to hang on to her long enough to do that.

Tavin

When he wraps his arms around me, and his warmth makes me feel safe, it’s easy to pretend that this is real. I knew going out with him was a bad idea, I just never imagined it would go this far. It was only supposed to be one night. One night to feel like a normal girl. I didn’t plan for this and now, every day that passes puts us deeper in danger. All I can do is make the most of every moment with him, so when the time comes for this to end, then at least we’ll be left with beautiful memories.

***Trigger Warning: This novel contains drug use, explicit sexual content, violence, and sensitive subject matter which may be triggering to some readers.

Excerpt:1

“What do you say we hit another bar? There are a ton of them on this street.” I don’t know why I suggest it. All I really want to do is go home and hear that voice moaning my name.

She smiles and nods. “Let’s go.”

I hold her hand as we walk down the street and look for a promising bar. Flashing lights in my peripheral make me turn, and I see a street carnival. When I look down at her, she’s gawking. Her eyes are all lit up and it’s painfully obvious that she is dying to go.

“What do you say we go check that out?” I offer.

For the first time she smiles a genuine, full on smile. She clasps her hands together and I swear her eyes get bigger.

“Really?!”

Her comical enthusiasm forces me to chuckle. “Of course.”

After nearly getting my arm yanked from its socket, she pulls me to the ticket counter while her eyes scan feverishly.

I gesture to our many choices. “Where to?”

Even as I ask, I know she has no idea. You would think she’s never seen a carnival in her life. She’s about to burst. As she starts to head in one direction, something else will catch her eye, changing her trajectory.

“I- uh. Well, um…”

I take her hand to lace my fingers between hers. “We’ll get to all of it, I promise. How about we start with the tilt-a-whirl?” I point next to the fresh squeezed lemonade stand. “That was always my favorite as a kid.” She has the sweetest little dimple on her right cheek that appears with her grin and she nods. I don’t know her well enough to tease her when she walks past the ‘You must be this tall to ride this ride’ sign, but I chuckle at the fact she is passable by less than two inches.

She picks the pink cart and we climb inside. Bouncing with anticipation, she grips my hand while the technician locks the bar. Once the ride begins to really get going, our cart makes its first fast spin and she throws her head back and laughs. It is such a pretty sound, a true laugh filled with abandon. She giggles the entire time, squealing at every spin. Her excitement is contagious and after it’s over, I run right along with her, hand in hand to the big slide.

We race down a few times, although the word ‘race’ is a bit of a stretch. She is too light and can’t gain enough speed. She wants to beat me so bad, it’s just never going to happen.

“Will you ride with me?” I think she’s talking to me, until I see she is looking up at the idiot in line with her. My initial reaction is to get pissed and immediately I chastise myself because that’s absolutely ridiculous. She grins at me. “I want to win.”

Well of course I can’t deny her that, even if the asshole she asks is a bit too happy to oblige.

Once she finally gets her wish, I take her to the carousel. She’s been staring at it since we got here.

We choose a decorative carriage seat, slowly moving up and down next to intricately carved horses as the ride circles. I look down and her thighs are so sexy, barely parted, with the hems of her stockings peeking over her knees. “It’s been so long since I’ve been to one of these places,” I tell her as I take the initiative and place my hand on her thigh. She doesn’t flinch or acknowledge that I’m touching her at all.

“I’ve never been.” Her eyes are still absorbing the scene around us, apparently for the first time.

“Never?” She shakes her head and I move my hand a little higher. “So how do you know Eric?”

Her face pales before she blinks a few times and chews on her lip. “Oh… um, he’s just… an acquaintance.”

Another blanket response. I don’t want to push the subject because tonight is going so well, incredible, actually. Nevertheless, at some point I’m going to need to find out what she’s doing with him in my building. I tuck a curled piece of hair behind her ear to see her stunning profile. The ride begins to slow so I change the subject.

“Do you like cotton candy?”

She snaps her head up to look at me as her entire face brightens. “Cotton candy? I’ve never tried it.”

What a deprived life to have never had cotton candy. “Do you want to?” Not that I need to ask, she clearly does.

“Very much.”

We watch as the carnie turns the sugary strings into a fluffy pink ball. When it’s finished, he hands it to her and she tilts her head as she pokes at it.

“Take a bite,” I urge her.

She pulls off a piece and the moment the flavor hits her tongue, her face is hilarious. Her eyes go wide and she rips away another large piece and shoves it into her open mouth. I laugh at her enthusiasm as I order a lemonade from the carnie. When I turn around to offer her a drink, the paper handle is bare and she is licking the cotton candy remnants off her fingers.

Good thing I didn’t want any.

Excerpt: 2

He hovers over me, his blond hair soft beneath my fingers as I brush it away from his face. His strong and gorgeous face. I touch his cheeks so softly I wonder if he feels it.

“Can’t we just enjoy this? The right now? I don’t want to think about anything past tonight.” ��

His eyebrows narrow as his jaw ticks and it’s like he thinks if he looks into my eyes deep enough, he’ll get the answers he thinks he wants.

“That’s what I’m talking about. Whenever you say stuff like that it feels like every moment with you could be my last. You have this way about you, as if you see something the rest of the world can’t. Sometimes you feel almost… magical.” He presses his forehead against mine and laces our fingers together before pulling our hands above our heads. “Please don’t disappear,” he whispers against my lips.

$50 Amazon GC Giveaway:

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#cover reveal #candy coated chaos #newrelease #debutnovel #triggerwarning #newauthor #darkromance #comingsoon #charityb #sweettreats1 #sweettreatstrilogy #candycoated

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shooting-the-walls · 4 years

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The Empty Hearse: my inner monologue because I like writing these

I would just like to point out before we get going that I was rather a latecomer to this fandom. I got into it just as Season 4 was released, so early 2017. When this episode was released in 2014 I was only 10 years old!!! Still probably my favourite fandom though, the one I always find myself returning to.

Anyways, on with my crazy monologue!!

• We stan a quick rundown of the Depression of the Century

• #creepymaskmuch

• Molly be like "oh damn"

• Uno reverse bitches!!!

• Molly be like "YAAAAS"

• I'm sorry can we just acknowledge how hot the window jump is

• Bet John wished he could be Molly in that sitch XD

• DERREN BROWN MOTHERFUCKERS

• Still feel so sorry for John :(

• "BOLLOCKS"

• Greg is so fucking done with Anderson's theories XD

• "You're a guilty lil bitch Anderson, stfu": Lestrade 2k14

• "I BelIEVe iN sHErloCK HOLmeS"

• Eyyyyyyy Sherlock is not guilty!!!! (Obvs)

• When depression hits, get a (terrible) moustache bitches

• WE DON'T TRUST YOU MARY, DON'T ACT ALL NICEY NICE

• Ooooo helicopters and running, Mission Impossible style

• When you just..... give the fuck up

• When you can't stand that screaming so you just turn your music up

• I mean torture is pretty harsh man

• Of course Sherlock would deduce his way out XD

• When Mycroft just doesn't give a Single Shit

• WE STAN THE THEME TUNNNEEEEE

• John be like "nah imma just stare at this wall"

• Mycroft's got a fancy fucking office guys

• John stop tryna be Sherlock with your terrible imitation coat and scarf

• Mrs Hudson always cares for her adoptive sons, but she does with high sarcasm and sass

• Mycroft, why does your office look like a torture chamber??

• Benedict is HOT Jesus

• "Definitely. Enjoying it.": You! Don't! Appreciate! Your! Brother!

• 2 HOURS TO LEARN A BLOODY LANGUAGE!?!?! JESUS FUCK I DID 7 YEARS OF FRENCH AND I CAN BARELY HOLD A CONVERSATION

• Anthea prefers Sherlock to Mycroft, they have bitch sessions about him pass it on lol

• Mrs Hudson is so sassy and honest XD

• John you fucking liar you're not sorry

• Mycroft is so Done with his little brother XD

• Sherlock, stop personifying London dude

• "Yes, we meet up every Friday for fish and chips": Mycroft, the sarcasm is not needed

• MYCROFT TELL YOUR BROTHER WHAT HE FUCKING DID TO JOHN

• Mrs Hudson is such a fucking Queen

• "What's his name?"

• "Sherlock was not my boyfriend": YES HE FUCKING WAS SHUT UP

• "I AM NOT GAY": wow, denial is high there John

• Mrs Hudson ships Johnlock more than the rest of the fandom combined XD

• Mycroft: "oh yeah but the other wine is like so much better. Anyways, your bff hates you now byeeeee"

• I LOVE THE MUSIC IN THE RESTAURANT SCENE GEEEEZ

• Sherlock is such a fucking little twat when he wants to be lol

• "Would I suggest you look at this menus, it's... completely identical"

• THE ACCENT. THE FUCKING ACCENT. I'M WHEEZING

• The way he's just tryna be like "look at meeeeeeee" and John gives not a single fuck

• "Surprise me" "certainly endeavouring to, sir"

• Awwwwwww hey Mary

• John is such an awkward lil hedgehog

• Mary: I agree I'm the best thing that could have happened to you

John: bitch you're not Sherlock

• SHERLOCK FUCK OFF

• Oh damn. OH DAMN.

• John just having a mini mental breakdown here

• "Short version. Not dead."

• John looks like he's about to kill someone (preferably Sherlock)

• "Oh God" "Not quite"

• SHERLOCK STOP MAKING BAD JOKES ABOUT THE MOUSTACHE SITCH

• The look in Sherlock's eyes when he realises that John isn't happy to see him

• #deflectiontechniques

• HE LOOKS IN SO MUCH PAIN ON THE FLOOR BABBBBYYYYYY

• In the cafe, Sherlock just looks like a kid that's like 2 hours late home

• "You know for a genius you can be remarkably thick"

• "That's a little more difficult to explain" "I've got all night bitch"

• "Just your brother, Molly and a hundred tramps"

• I love that they end up in a chip shop XD

• John, your moustache is terrible. Accept it lol

• "One word to let me know that you were alive"

• Mary just laughing her head off in the corner XD

• Sherlock: BITCH STFU IT'S A SECRET (whilst entire chip shop is listening in)

• *headbutt*

• "I said sorry, isn't that what you're supposed to do?"

• Mary knows what's up BUT SHE A LIAR

• SHERLOCK LOOKS LIKE HE'S ABOUT TO CRY WHAT A SWEETIE

• Honestly don't know why Mollie looks so shocked, like she knew he was alive

• Greg is just like a proud Papa

• "Oo you bastard!"

• Sherlock being vaguely confused/irritated by a hug XD

• BBC, can we talk about the random shot of the back of Una Stubbs' throat?

• THEY EVEN GOT ONE IN FOR THE SHERIARTY SHIPPERS, HAVE THEY JUST COMPLETELY FORGOTTEN ABOUT JOHNLOCK :(:(:(

• Anderson just doesn't ship Sheriarty XD

• Think the Chip Shop Argument got spilled lol

• Mary is having the time of her life reading the blog XD

• Mary really ships the boys right from the start lol

• "I don't shave for Sherlock Holmes" "You should put that on a t-shirt"

• "SHERLOCK HOLMES GET DOWN FROM THAT SOFA OR SO HELP ME GOD--": Mrs Holmes 1983-present

• The terror alert is on critical and these bitches are just playing chess

• Ngl, missed the burgundy dressing gown

• "Oh bugger!"

• WE STAN THE BROTHERS PLAYING OPERATION

• SHERLOCK'S IMITATION THO

• Mycroft be so defensive

• "Both of us thought you were an idiot, Sherlock. We had nothing else to go on until we met other children" "Oh yes, that was a mistake" "ghastly. What were they thinking of?" "Probably something about making friends": I feel SO sorry for the Holmes parents XD

• Mycroft, I think your brother is trying to set you up with a lil someone (

• "Change the subject. Now"

• Mrs Hudson: :)

• "He's pleased to see you underneath all that--" "Which of us??" "Both of you"

• PLAY DEDUCTIONS WITH YOUR BROTHER MYC

• Sherlock straight in there with the gender equality

• Sherlock: Icelandic sheep wool bitch

Mrs Hudson: ah yes, because the world need a blog on that -_-

• THE CURLS ARE AT A PEAK GUYS

• "I'm not lonely": yes you are stfu

• I love the wink to Mrs Hudson :)

• Mrs Hudson really wants her boys back lol

• Loving the use of transitions to show how much of a dick John is being to Sherlock lol

• "Have dinner?" "Solve crimes?"

• Molly knows she's replacing John really

• "Weight loss, hair dye, botox, affair, lawyer. Next!"

• Sherlock is so gentle with the poor woman :)

• I LOVE THE OLD GUY SO MUCH LOL

• John is so fucking convinced he's right, but it's kinda sad that he doesn't think Sherlock will respect his personal space (because he never has before): JOHN SUBCONSCIOUSLY WANTS SHERLOCK THERE

• Can we just agree that Sherlock is such a sweetie and that it is heartbreaking that John is now his awful internal monologue because he's convinced he hates him after how he reacted once he returned?

• Lestrade just being a concerned dad in the background

• Molly and Lestrade are both just so spooked out

• *dramatically blows dust off book*

• HE WANTS JOHN BACK SO BAD awwwwwwwwwwwwww

• Quick aside, but I have a friend who is a train fanatic (he's coming to prom on a steam thingy) and the train dude reminds me of him lol

• WE LOVE A LIL BIT OF MIND PALACE WORK

• "Excuse you": JOHN YOU SASSY QUEEN

• John: Makin' my way downtown, walkin' fast, getting kidnapped and I fall down

• "Did you get him off a murder charge" "Nope helped him put up some shelves"

• "Do you fancy chips?": HANG ON A MOMENT. In S4E2 Sherlock states that "You're suicidal you're allowed chips. Trust me I should know". Does that mean..... oh Jesus, Sherlock, you little sweetie, you need to talk to someone

• ON PRINCIPLE I HATE SHERLOLLY BUT IT'S ALSO SO SWEEEEEEEEEEET

• *when you wake up after a night out and you don't know where the fuck you are*

• Sherlock is just immediately alert like: wtf is wrong with my John

• The chips just... don't matter, okay

• When you steal a motorbike to help your bff

• I'M SORRY BUT CAN YOU IMAGINE LIKE A 16 YEAR OLD SHERLOCK ROARING AROUND SUSSEX ON HIS LITTLE MOPED AND HIS MOTHER YELLING AT HIM FROM DOWN THE ROAD TELLING HIM SHE'S GOING TO KILL HIM IF HE DOESN'T GET HOME RIGHT NOW XD

• Ngl having the little kid right at the front is real creepy

• But like can you imagine Sherlock and John going to bonfire nights with Rosie when she's a bit older and both of them being dead tense as they watch the bonfire being lit?

• LISTEN TO YOUR DAUGHTER BITCH

• The fact Sherlock figures it out JUST as the bonfire lights up: PERFECT

• Sherlock, with a complete disregard for his own safety: *jumps into a fire and drags John out before tearfully begging him to be okay*

Hetero shippers: ah yes, what a good male friendship

• I LOVE THE HOLMES PARENTS SO MUCH

• I love Sherlock's face lol: he is SO done

• Sherlock totally resembles his mother in terms of personality

• I think the fact this is Benedict's parents makes that scene a million times better: do you think that's how he wants to act during the small talk sometimes XD

• Mr Holmes just looks so Done, and Mrs Holmes is just like "fuck it I'm used to this"

• "She worries!": well of course she bloody does, one son is the British Government, the other is a recovering drug addict who solves crimes as an alternative to getting high and her daughter is locked up in a secret facility

• "Promise?" "...promise": HE LOVES HIS MUM AND DAD REALLY

• Tbf John, you couldn't expect the poor guy to lead his parents on like that, really

• John stop making bad puns

• "Is it to get to you through me?": JOHN KNOWS WHAT'S UP

• Awwwwww he's got his John back and he's just so happy

• Aw c'mon, you've gotta admit that a bit of Sherlock's massive concern is for his brother being in parliament that night

• I'M SORRY BUT I CAN'T HELP THINKING OF THE PARENTLOCK EDIT OF THE FACETIME BIT

• "Illegal!" "A bit": yeah, like this is anything new tho John XD

• "I don't understand" "well that's a first": JOHN LIVES ARE AT STAKE STOP BEING A SASSY BITCH

• *sudden flashback to the great game and the painting*

• I actually love the scene in the train carriage so much, because even though it ends up with Sherlock being a little bastard to get John to admit his feelings, I like how it demonstrates that everyone expects Sherlock to know everything all the time, and that's a very unrealistic expectation: despite the fact he hates it, he is only human, and I think this scene nicely acknowledges that

• Two bros, chilling in a tube train, trying not to freak out cos they might die!

• Sherlock: ooooopppsss, John, might have just set off this fucking bomb :/

• "Mind palace!"

• "You think I've just got how to diffuse a bomb tucked away in there!?" "YES!" "...maybe"

• Sherlock may be a little bitch but you have to admit he's a bloody good actor

• John, the whole way through the tube scene: wtf wtf wtf wtf

• "I wanted you not to be dead!" "Well, be careful what you wish for": Sherlock, sweetie, it almost sounds like you wish you were dead.....

• AWWW HE FORGIVES HIM GUYS

• I wanna know what that information Mycroft gave Moriarty was

• "His death wish": yeah, let's be honest Moriarty was just like "I crave heckety heck death"

• How difficult do you thunk Sherlock found it up on that roof, having to tell John all of that??

• You've gotta admit that it was a pretty good plan

• You can bet that all the conspiracy theories were on Anderson's wall XD

• THE GIGGLING JESUS

• "You COCK"

• "You said such nice things, I never knew you cared :)"

• "I will kill you if you EVER-" "scouts honour" "BREATHE A WORD OF THIS ANYONE"

• "Terrorists can get into a lot of trouble if they don't have an off switch"

• "Oh please, killing me. That was so 2 years ago": WE STAN

• Mycroft is just so desperate to get out of Les Mis: "but the pain. The HORROR"

• Lestrade just seems a little disappointed

• John tryna act surprised at Tom XD

• SHERLOCK'S FACE (the memeeeessss lol)

• WE STAN OUR TWO FAVE BOYS TALKING ABOUT THEIR FEELINGS

• Sherlock is just so determined

• Sherlock: oh yeah heard your graveside speech btw, super sweet

• YES THE HAT BITCHES: OUR FAVOURITE DETECTIVE IS BACK

• OOOO CREEPY MAGNUSSEN NUGGET AT THE END THERE

#sherlocks3 #sherlock #s3ep1 the empty hearse #wtf brain #brain dump

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sundcwns-blog · 7 years

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heey, hello, it’s a meme. i’m maze ( she/her ) & hailing from one of the oh so lovely coughs gmt tzs aka gmt+2. besides being trash on the daily i’m literally always listening to music aka if u ever need something new in that department .. hello, or browsing through netflix without any intent on watching smth. living that wild life ik .. DKAMS. but you’re here for my two kids aka basil & saint so here we go ! if you’d like to plot like this and i’ll slide into ur ims or look under the read more for my disc*rd ! also as a warning i unintentionally was v vain and made both muses scorpios .....

☾ — ·˚ » BASIL CRATES is in saint tropez !! they often get mistaken as KIAN LAWLEY. apparently, HE/THEY is/are the JOCULAR of the group. they’re a TWENTY-ONE year old PANSEXUAL DEMIMALE. i hear they’re known as ALTRUISTIC and DOGMATIC. they also make their living as ART STUDENT / BARTENDER / COMIC BOOK ARTIST but you’d have to ask them a bit more.

BACKGROUND + PERSONALITY.

born and raised in berlin, germany until his mother decided to move to the us when basil was twelve.

despite growing up bilingual, he had difficulties adjusting to the new surroundings and rather spent his free time drawing, eventually building up universes without needing any context and instead having the designs speak for themselves.

after finishing high school at age sixteen basil took a gap year to travel through europe with money they earned from several jobs during school times. bas was v very introverted back then, so it served as a challenge which once again they had difficulties with at first. but ofc you can’t get around without trying, so bas did. he’s still more of an ambivalent than an extrovert, but this journey made him see the beauty of uncertainty and they loved it.

also ik i used he & they in that last paragraph instead of just one bc basil honestly truly doesn’t care which one others use as long as they acknowledge bas isn’t cis bc he’s v open about his gender along with being pan .. but that’s another thing.

basil has a very high iq, but always prevented others from knowing about it. he basically failed tests on purpose back in germany and in the us he always made sure others don’t feel bad about their results and said his were worse even though he probably always got an a+, thus resulting in bas being able to skip two grades.

his mother had to carry two jobs to make a living for the two of them, which was one of the reasons why bas sold his art from a young age. thankfully it was actually decent ( coughs and looks @ ryan reynolds’ twitter ) and ppl actually wanted to pay good money for it. this was also one of the key moments in which bas realized they wanted to have their profession somewhere in the art department.

married his high school sweetheart in las vegas as soon as they both turned eighteen, but divorced just three weeks later. this is just one of their impulsive decisions as bas isn’t much of a planner, they rather have a few good laughs when telling the story ( even for the 10th time ) instead of asking what if. the only thing bas ever truly planned was becoming a comic book artist. they’re still at the very beginning as basil’s v young, but they’re just as determined to make it in the industry.

basil’s mother was always into greek mythology and even gave her child the middle name cerberus, which literally is the most dangerous thing about him and while he’s into mythology himself, he doesn’t really tell anyone his middle name as he’d rather not be compared to a three-headed dog .. but if he ever ends up drunk u can bet he’d insist on being called cerberus and nothing else.

being a comic book artist basil’s an avid comic reader as well, but mostly prefers indie comics as they’re more his kind of humor. speaking of, basil’s more of a morbid humor kind of pal ? but he’ll also immediately apologize if he takes it too far bc he values comfort even more than getting a laugh out of others and himself.

huge fan of dogs, literally the person that points at a dog and says “aw.” and definitely wants to pet them.

the least scorpio-like scorpio you will ever meet, and trust me this is coming from a Real Scorpio™.

ends up in a lot of weird scenarios while just trying their best, but always tries to take it with humor especially if someone’s with them.

most of his friends wouldn’t expect it, but basil’s very romantic, like going all out even for a first date and is probably doing waay too much for his opposite.

not really into the whole sex, drugs n rock ‘n’ roll as he prefers to maybe drink a few beers with his closest friends due to seeing what alcohol can do to people on an almost daily basis as a bartender. however, all of kian’s tattoos are canon for bas except for the native american and butterfly ones.

WANTED PLOTS.

literally everything but to be basic .. a best friend ( who might even know about his high iq bc he truly doesn’t tell anyone ), bad influence ( basil’s not exactly innocent or good himself but there’s always worse am i right ), childhood friend ( someone he considered a friend after moving to a completely new country ), enemy ( maybe they’re of the opposite group or even in the same and they had some fight that led to it or just disliking each other for apparently no reason at all just .. pls give me smth negative ), ex on good/bad terms ( as basil’s pretty romantic it could’ve been too much for the other or literally any other reason k thanks ), someone who hates his jokes ( plain n simple .. kewl ), my brain is scattered bc it’s almost 2am rn so i Def missed 820397 plots i’d love but u know what .. i’m a plot pro so shrugs. also i nearly wrote pro plot so u get me now .. pls killme KMDSX.

☾ — ·˚ » SAINT DEVERAUX is in saint tropez !! they often get mistaken as ALISSA VIOLET. apparently, SHE arrived from THE USA. they’re a TWENTY-ONE year old UNLABELED CIS FEMALE. i hear they’re known as VIGOROUS and DETACHED. they also make their living as an ACTRESS but you’d have to ask them a bit more.

BACKGROUND + PERSONALITY.

just as a small disclaimer: if anyone read girls on fire by robin wasserman, saint’s personality is heavily inspired by one of the characters in it aka lacey. and if u haven’t read it .. pls do it if you’re even just remotely into ya literature.

born and raised in los angeles, us, saint was practially thrown into the lives of the rich and famous. her parents were big in hollywood back in the 80s & 90s and gave those legacies to her.

being practially raised by nannies, saint didn’t really have a connection to her parents till they retired when she was fourteen. from there it was basically always good which is .. v weird but they somehow made it work.

as soon as saint turned eighteen she decided to change her last name to her mother’s maiden name, as she’s never been a fan of women having to give up their names just for being married even if it’s voluntary. this also resulted in her imdb page ( she truly made it huh. ) being “divived” into saint bartowski ( also shoutout @ anyone who gets this ref ) and saint deveraux.

at age eighteen saint also let out her true self, at least towards her parents. she admitted to worshipping lucifer just to piss them off and see how they’d react, it was just a game for her. but to be as convincing as possible, she did the most, even though she would’ve already had them just with her words, but saint always wanted to know just how far she could take it.

to the public she’s seen as this socialite turned actress who never did anything wrong, but just due to her parents and herself keeping everything under a neat little rug.

saint’s a very passionate person and loves to be surrounded or admired by people, but at the same time she doesn’t really care about anyone, no matter how many i love yous she’s going to whisper into someone’s ear or no broken promises ever.

as a result of the press putting labels onto her 24/7 she resents them. the only one she’ll ever claim is being in the lgbtq+ com as it’s basically the only thing in her life she truly cares about besides acting and her cats. however saint also makes a lot of fun of men and highly prefers females and nb pals for .. u know what.

she can also be extra af as she literally bought an old vw t1 bus in st. tropez for the short amount of time she’s there and have it look exactly like the one she has back in la with the pride flag sprayed on its roof and every little sticker/detail on its doors, etc.

getting to her job .. she currently stars in a made up netflix show that’s somewhere between veronica mars, twin peaks and 21 jump street ( the movie version ). i actually made a whole filmography for her but i’m too lazy for graphics and i’m not even sure whether i can use real movies/shows so oo. but if u want a list i can tots send it via disc*rd ( btw mine is artcmis#4377 ). and just know that she admires amber heard and mostly chooses roles like her aka not the damsel in distress. tho she would def love to save that kind of character one day .. js.

this is getting soo messy already omg. but to put her in a nutshell, saint’s a callous, manipulative, control loving, determined scorpio who also happens to be an actress, cat lover and feminist putting up a facade daily. also she can’t handle relationships for shhhit.

and what would these bullet points be if i didn’t start and finish them with a disclaimer ? still a mess yeah ik .. MXKAJD. but even tho most probs don’t even know who alissa is i just wanted to say that saint will have green eyes bc .. #aesthetic.

WANTED PLOTS.

once again any plot goes except for romantic stylez kind of plots bc yk not her kind of thing. catfish ( either someone used to catfish someone else using her pics or even better someone got catfished with her photos n now they’re meeting and she’s .. acting v different. plS. ), fwb ( so yeah saint hates relationships but u know what she doesn’t hate wink wink ;) KMSLASK also probs won’t work with males bc she’s all like [ cher horowitz vc ] as if ! ), fan ( someone who likes her movies or show idk ?? let her be all chill with them pls ), smoke bud ( she loves to party & smoke soo .. maybe even in an all-in-one with the fan plot ), enemy ( probs one of the other sec charas bc maybe they’ve met before or even wanted the same role ?? ), once again my brain is a mess sooo .. good bi !

this got longer than my biography ever could so if u read it all .. u truly are the mvp and deserve an award.

#stropez:intro #≻ ᴍᴏᴠᴇ ɪ'ᴍ ɢᴀʏ ┊ ooc.#i feel like i'm the only one not in the gc yet sooo excuse me if i roll in there Very awkwardly later SKAKDJ #also i don't know a proofreading so .. smiles.

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travelling-trooper-blog · 6 years

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First up on the agenda in Melbourne: The Immigration Museum. Melbourne has loads of really cool museum, but this was the one I was most excited about. It tells the story of how Melbourne came to be the multicultural gem that it is today by sharing the personal stories and experiences of the immigrants themselves.

Like May Vale, for example, whose parents were English migrants. Vale was one of Australia’s first female professional artists. Over the years, she went back and forth between London and Melbourne, but ultimately, she said, “I know my London well. I have lived there in all over ten years. But, as you see, I always return to Melbourne.”

In Melbourne, she was a founder and councillor of the Yarra Scultpors’ Society, as well as the councillor of the Victorian Artists Society.

Then there’s the Azzola family from Italy. The husband and wife sailed to Melbourne and made a life for themselves here that they never could have afforded back home. Edda Azzola even went on to become a big name in the fashion industry here.

Youssef came over from Lebanon with his family and started a successful taxi company with his brother.

In 2009, Nickel and Gertrude had their refugee claim accepted. After a harrowing several years trying to escape the DRC, they finally made a safe and happy life for themselves in Melbourne.

John Christie came over from Scotland back in 1863 and went on to become a badass detective. He would go undercover using various disguises to nab the bad guys. However, like much of Australia back in the day, he had a big racist streak to him. Just as the “War on Drugs” today targets African Americans, Christie went on a conquest to target opium smugglers to ramp up anti-Chinese racism–this, even though opium was totally legal in Australia, was sold over the counter, and was an important part of government revenue thanks t customs taxes.

I love that this place is so proud of its immigrant history that it has dedicated an entire museum to immigration. Sure, not all of its history is pretty, but this museum acknowledges that there would be no Australia without immigrants, and that’s a pretty big deal. They are an integral part of the nation’s DNA. Those nationalist iditos at the White House and the fools behind Brexit could learn a thing or two from Australia.

Oh wait, the English are the ones who sent their hardened “criminals” here in the first place. (More often than not, their crimes were very minor, like stealing a loaf of bread.) The first batch was brought over to New South Wales in 1788. And the only reason they did so was because after losing the United States, they figured they should colonize Australia before Japan could sink their hands into it.

One legendary convict was William Buckley. He managed to escape, and was thought to be dead. Officers figured he couldn’t last out in the wild on his own. He ended up taking shelter among the Wathaurong people for just over 30 years. He found a walking stick that had belonged to one of their elders. When they found him in possession of the stick, they believed him to be the reincarnation of their elder. He ran with this for over thirty years. Good for him.

Another white man that duped the Aboriginals was John Batman. Batman signed a treaty with Aboriginals in the Port Phillip area and gained 250, 000 hectares of land for things like utensils and blankets. Government officials in Sydney declared this treaty invalid, since Batman didn’t have the legal rights to make such a deal. He ended up getting a pretty sweet land deal later on though. As usual, white man prevails.

In the end, Australia almost ended up being called Batmania. And while that is an AWESOME name, I’m glad they didn’t go with it. Batman seems like he was a dick.

Not only does the museum tell the personal story of migrants, though; it also tells the overall story of Australia’s growth as a country. For example, at the start of the 1850s, Victoria was declared a separate colony JUST before gold is discovered in Melbourne, leaving Sydney out in the cold. They also started charging a tax for Chinese immigrants AND they stopped bringing in immigrants from England. Victoria be ruthless.

Thankfully, they came to their senses the following decade. Anti-Chinese legislation was repealed, and Australia quit the “civilise and Christianise” game with Aborigines.

The origins of Chinese immigration to Australia is pretty tragic. They started coming over as cheap labour during the gold rush after England stopped sending over convicts in 1840.

Few were able to pay for their own voyage. Instead, village elders and families took out loans through shipping agents because they believed these young men would be raking in the dough once they got to Australia and that they’d be able to pay off their loans in no time. The men believed they’d be able to come back with enough money to build temples, homes, and schools for their villages. The truth was that they were getting exploited. The only way they could pay back the loan was through gold or labour. If they couldn’t pay back the loan, their families could be sold off as labourers as well.

The reaction by locals was pretty predictable. To quote South Park: “Dey tuk ar jarbs!” There were riots, and the government ended up limiting the number of Chinese migrants allowed into the country. And to avoid hefty head taxes at the Victorian ports, ships ended up dropping migrants off in southern Australia, leaving them to hike brutal 700 km to the gold fields. Those who couldn’t afford to pay the one pound tax were literally thrown into the water with their belongings.

Even among the Chinese immigrants themselves there was division, as there were conflicts between certain ethnic groups.

Those who fell ill during the voyage were treated by volunteers, since the Australian government didn’t want to spend money on the Chinese workers.

In the end these brave young men achieved varying level of success. Some returned home very prosperous; others never returned home because they couldn’t afford the return passage; some married European women and made a life for themselves in Australia.

But then China got put back on Australia’s bad books in the 80s, and Chinese immigration was put on lock down.

By the 90s, the gold rush has come and gone, and an economic depression hits. And where does the blame go? The immigrants, of course. One particular policy is passed that allows companies to be inspected to see if they employ Chinese workers. Any furniture made by Chinese hands must be stamped to indicate so.

Things became even worse after Federation in 1901. A national dictation test was introduced to make it difficult for non-British immigrants to migrate over. For example, a Greek person could be given the test in Gaelic. If they failed, they couldn’t enter the country.

Over the years, the racially-charged politics and policies have come and gone and come and gone again. I mean, fast forward, and there has been some level of anti-immigration rhetoric floating around since the mid-1980s. It’s gained momentum over the years, though. The One Nation party, which is proudly anti-Islam and anti-multiculturalism in general, won 4 Senate seats in 2016.

There is also some sort of offshore camp where unauthorized immigrants and refugees are indefinitely held in limbo on the islands of Nauru and Manus. Most of these asylum seekers are from the Middle East and Africa.

However, this is not how all Australians feel. Multiculturalism is embraced and welcomed here. Australia celebrates the food, heritage, and culture of all of its people.

Apparently in 2016, the US and Australia made a deal in which the US would take 1200 of Australia’s refugees, while Australia would take asylum seekers who were looking for a new home in the US. Most of these were from Central America. Not sure what the point is there. A refugee is a refugee no matter where they come from.

One of my favourite features in the museum was an interactive activity. You acted as an immigration officer and had to decide whether a family or applicant would have been approved or declined back in the day based on answers they gave in a video interview. The one I saw featured a jolly Greek man, his wife who spoke no English and kept rambling on and pleading with the officer, and their little daughter. It was really well done.

The last place I checked out before leaving this inspiring place was an exhibit that looked at the complexities of the immigrant identity–your name, your looks, the first impression you leave on others, etc.

There were some fantastic quotes from individuals that I could relate to on varying levels:

“As an adolescent growing up, my name caused me great embarrassment and I hated anything that was Asian. How I wished to be Mary Smith.”

Story of my life. As my friends and family know, I hated that bitch of a Disney mermaid growing up because of the similarity between our names. Kids can be so cruel…

It wasn’t until I got older and I learned that my name translates to Angel of Light that I came to appreciate my name. But even so, it’s a Biblical name, and I’m not really the biggest fan of the Bible and religion in general for reasons that I don’t feel like going into at this very moment. So there’s this uncomfortable connection between me and the very thing that makes me ME–my name.

I think that’s probably why I prefer to go by Uri. Well, that, and I eventually got tired of people butchering my name. But even Uri technically isn’t really accurate–at least, not the way most people pronounce it. In Spanish, my name is pronounced Oo-ree-el, meaning that the shortened version should be pronounced Oo-ree–but everybody outside of my family and our awesome neighbours calls me Yuri.

I’ll admit that this is my own fault. When I first decided to go by the shortened version, which is what my mother has always called me, Oo-ree sounded a bit goofy to me–at least, when it came out of anybody’s mouth except my family’s. I was embarrassed by how it sounded. So I gave it a Eurocentric twist and changed it to Yuri. It made sense because people always pronounced my full name Yuriel anyway. Now I’m 33 years old, and I feel like it’s a bit late to start asking everybody to call me Oo-ree.

Agh! It’s so complicated!

“I looked quite normal, I sounded like everyone else, but I had a surname which no one could ever pronounce.”

Nobody in school ever looked like me. I could name all of the Spanish speaking people I ever went to school with all the way back to Kindergarten. Grade 2: Monica and Javier. Grade 6: Isaac and Luis. Grade 9: Oscar. University: Betsabe. That’s the whole reason I decided to stop speaking Spanish once I started school–if I couldn’t look like everybody else, I at least wanted to sound like everybody else.

“I’m Joanita Da Silva or Joanita Barbosa Muniz Da Silva in full. My full name includes my god-father’s family name, my mother’s family name, and my father’s family name.”

I’m Uriel Eduardo Mendoza Ulloa. My full name includes my father’s first name and family name and my mother’s family name.

“When I look in the mirror I don’t see what other people see. I’m just Sherene. But when I meet people for the first time, they look at me differently–and the questions begin.”

This one I’m okay with. I like being asked where I’m from. I like sharing my family’s story. I’m proud of our journey and my own personal journey of acceptance of my cultural identity. I’m a proud Nicaraguan Canadian with Nicaraguan blood and a Canadian heart. In the future, as immigrant cultures mix more and more, these stories are going to become more and more complex and more and more beautiful. I think the questions are the spark to a powerful conversation.

“Even if I claim Australian citizenship people will insist on my being Chinese unless I can rip this face of its Chinese skin and replace it with something else, anything else but Chinese. Physically, though, I can’t.”

“‘But you don’t look like a Muslum’ would be the most common response. Do I look like a Christian then? Are we supposed to look our religion? I prefer to look like myself.”

These two are connected as far as I’m concerned. I was once asked by a guy in Korea where I was from. When I told him I was from Canada, he gave me a puzzled look and said, “But you don’t look Canadian.” So in his mind, a Canadian must be white. This one still irks me. Like I said, I’m proud of my Canadian-ness, so it hurts if somebody accuses me of not being “Canadian” enough. There’s no such thing as a typical Canadian.

Okay, tired of the Immigration Museum? Let’s move on to the Australian Centre for the Moving Image, otherwise known as the ACMI Museum. It tells the story of the moving image, from a slide projector in the 17th century to video games like Minecraft and Super Mario Brothers today.

In the mid-17th century, a Jesuit priest by the name of Athanasius Kircher was one of the first to use a slide projector called the Magic Lantern. He used it to project religious and supernatural scenes.

A century later, entertainers used it to project images of things like severed heads and spirits floating in smoke. These shows were called phantasmagoria.

Apparently France was quite fond of puppet shows like this one in the 19th century.

Remember when you were a kid and you’d make a little flipbook animation scene? That’s basically what this does. This one is from Belgium in the 19th century.

On December 28, 1895, 33 viewers were treated to the first moving image shown in a popular cafe in Paris. Imagine seeing a moving image onscreen for the first time. The closest I can think of to that experience would be the first time I saw the Matrix in theatres. My mind was still in shock the entire drive home, trying to make sense of what it had just seen. Talk about a game changer!

The Story of the Kelly Gang is arguably one of the first feature length films ever made. In 1906, most films ran about 12 minutes long. This film ran over an hour. It was obviously a huge gamble on the part of the movie studio, but it paid off. It cost them 1000 pounds, and earned them a whopping 25000 pounds. This marked the beginning of a huge film boom in Australia. The movie tells of the notorious Kelly Gang outlaws of Australia. Ned Kelly was Australia’s Robin Hood. They came under fire when they killed a few officers though.

I had no idea that Felix the Cat was Australian! He was invented by an Australian chap named Pat Sullivan in 1917.

The Golden Age of Hollywood ran until the late 1940s. This period was marked with big movie star names, huge productions, and lavish sets.

Religion had to come in and ruin all of the fun, though, by pressuring Hollywood to clean up its act in the early 30s. First, studios agreed to adopt a set of rules that stated:

The more intimate parts of the human body are the male and female organs and the breasts of a woman. – They should never be uncovered. – They should not be covered with transparent or translucent material. – They should not be clearly and unmistakably outlined by the garment.”

While these rules were not really adhered to at first, by 1934, the Catholic Legion of Decency (REALLY?) forced Hollywood to adopt what we now know as the MPAA rating system.

Two things brought about the end of this magical period. One was the Paramount Decree. In 1948, the Supreme Court ruled that the movie studios had too much control of the industry because they could produce and promote their own movies in their own cinema houses, so they had to sell off these cinemas.

The other development was the invention of the television. Television arrived in Australia in 1956, just in time for the Olympics. But it only arrived in Melbourne and Sydney, since only they had stations. Places further out didn’t get television until much later. For example, it didn’t arrive in Darwin until 1971. 1971! That’s only six years before the first Star Wars was released! And speaking of Star Wars…

This is art.

But back to cinema for a second.

Cinemas in Australia weren’t desegregated until 1967, thanks in large part to Indigenous activist groups like the Freedom Riders, who bought tickets to the whites-only section in protest. Their refusal into the cinema and subsequent arrests were broadcasted on news channels around the country.

The ladies in Australia have also been holding it down since the 70s. The Women’s Movement was a grassroots effort that addressed issues like harassment and unequal pay by making films to raise awareness and spark discussions. (How is it that almost half a decade on, these problems still persist?)

This led to the Sydney Women’s Film Group, which produced, distributed, and exhibited women’s films throughout the 70s and 80s. They also lobbied the government for funding and training for female filmmakers. This eventually all led to the establishment of the Women’s Film Fund.

Pretty awesome, Australia!

The rest of the exhibit talked about the introduction of things like colour TV, the VCR, video games, and the digital age.

Yes, that is Jackie Chan dressed as Chun Li. Why I have never seen this movie, I have no idea.

Sadly, we missed the Alice in Wonderland exhibit by a month. It’ll be opening next month.

We left the museum just in time to meet up with Josue, a guy I met in Egypt a couple years ago. He’s now living in Melbourne at the moment. We met up for lunch and walked around downtown Melbourne for a while, catching up on the last two years.

Our walk ended back at Federation Square where we had met. We asked a woman if she wouldn’t mind taking our picture. She seemed confused by this request. “Why?” she asked.

We were confused by HER question. “Because we want a picture together…?”

“Alright. Let me put my hoodie up first.”

“……….?”

She then posed really awkwardly and uncomfortably, waiting for the shot.

“No, no, no, no, no! We want YOU to take OUR picture!”

*Everybody laughs*

And this is the crappy picture that resulted.

Overall, though, not a bad first day of exploring Melbourne. Tomorrow’s adventure would include a free walking tour.

The Travelling Trooper Explores A Couple Of Melbourne’s Many Museums First up on the agenda in Melbourne: The Immigration Museum. Melbourne has loads of really cool museum, but this was the one I was most excited about.

#acmi museum #Around the world #australia #federation square #immigrants #immigration #immigration museum #melbourne #Travelblog

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