some stuff that I love/think is neat in The Wizard of Oz book, that was left out of the movie/almost every re-make

Don’t get me wrong, I really like the 1939 movie cause it’s colorful and pretty, the songs are awesome, and it’s a hollywood classic. However, these are just some things that I loved in the book, but everyone ignores since they weren’t in the 1939 version. 


In the book she’s a very little girl, around 8-10, and I always liked that, and I’ll always see her as a little girl. Judy Garland was a really good Dorothy, but she was still a teenager. I know it was made over 70 years ago but I still think they should have cast Shirley Temple like they were planning. 

The witches:

In the original book, The good witch of the north, and Glinda the good with of the south, are two different characters. The witch of the north is the one who gives Dorothy the silver slippers, and all she knows is that they’re magic. It’s Glinda who comes in at the end and tells Dorothy she can use them to get home. It makes a whole lot more sense than Glinda knowing what they can do the whole time.(Also I really like Wicked and want to see it live eventually, but in my mind it’s basically it’s own thing)

Nick Chopper: 

The tin woodsman has a backstory! A really good one that ties in with the rest of the story. He used to be a regular man named Nick Chopper and he was engaged to a munchkin girl, but the lady who the girl worked for didn’t want her to get married. So she made a deal with the witch of the east and she enchanted his axe. His axe ended up cutting off each of his limbs but he was helped out by Ku-Klip the tinsmith and he kept replacing his limbs. Eventually the axe cut off everything and he became the tin woodsman. He was so upset that he didn’t have a heart anymore that he felt like he couldn’t love his fiancee without one. 

His backstory is really cool and (won’t apologize for the pun) heartbreaking. It’s lame to me that it’s never really used, and it’s a shame because it gives him motivation to want a heart again. 

The Kalidahs:

These are super horrifying beasts that live in the Kalidah forest, and they litteraly kill and eat anything they can. I see people adding in a lot of beasts and characters into Oz to make it more scary and grown up, and I don’t see why you’d do that but leave these guys out. The run in with them is how we learn that The Cowardly Lion has courage, because he crosses a log bridge to get away from them even though he’s scared. 

The Emerald City isn’t made of Emerald:

Okay so this is way easier to do in a book or black and white comic than it is to do in a movie or tv show. But, in the book before anyone can see inside the city, they need to put on green glasses so the brightness of the emeralds won’t “hurt their eyes”. Then at the end when we find out about the Wizard, they take the glasses off and they(and the audience) learns that like the Wizard, the whole city is a sham. It’s not made of emerald, it’s all just white and plain. That part of the book had a really great lesson to /litteraly/ not look at the world through rose colored glasses. It’s probably one of my favorite things that get left out. 

Ozma and Dorothy are gay as hell:

Lookit these lesbians. Bein lesbian… Ozma(a cannon trans girl btw) doesn’t come into the picture until later books, and it takes a few years for Dorothy to come back to Oz but lookit these 1900s gays in these official illustrations. 

Oh, and Dorothy and the gang get rescued from the poppy field by a gang of field mice this is their queen:

Anyway, I do like the movie, and I love the Muppets version since they got a lot from the books. I just wish there was an adaptation that used the cannon stuff that’s neat instead of trying waaaayyyy hard to not be the 1939 movie. But it seems like the adaptations are just adaptations of the movie and don’t take anything from the books. Cause L Frank Baum wrote 14 of them with trolls, wheelers, frankenstein monsters, princesses, endless deserts where if any part of you touches it you turn to sand, more witches, sky fairies, and most importantly lesbian princess girlfriends! 

Full Bloom

There was a slam from behind him as Bucky kicked the door shut with all the might his ten-year-old body could muster, and then the sounds of distant yelling from inside the room he’d just stormed from.

He didn’t care. The people his mom had taken him around to visit were assholes. He just felt bad for leaving Stevie in there to fend for himself- although to be honest, he was probably just having to be held back by Mrs Rogers as he made a desperate attempt to smash their kneecaps in.

Bucky growled at nothing, kicking a nearby rock as he marched through the unknown village. The place they were in was foreign to him; the rich side of town where Bucky rarely even heard about, let alone visited. Only reason he’d been dragged along in the first place was because of the new job his and Steve’s mom had both been offered, and their potential new bosses had wanted to meet for dinner to discuss ‘arrangements’, whatever that meant.

They probably didn’t want to discuss anything now- not after the way Bucky had reacted. 

Which was great. Meant his mom had lost the job offer. Again.

And Bucky had tried, he really had- best behaviour and everything that his mom had asked him to- he knew that this was important to her. And Sarah. Probably more so to her; she and Stevie struggled to put food on the table as it was.

And he’d ruined everything.

Sniffing and adamantly refusing to cry, he kept marching, unsure of where he was going, but uncaring too. He just needed to… to find somewhere quiet. 

He’d be in so much trouble when his momma got hold of him.

It was only a few minutes later when he came back to himself, realising that he’d somehow managed to wander into a field, filled with pretty flowers and lovely green grass. It was surrounded by trees perfect for climbing, and the sun shone on it in a way that made it all glow.

Not that Bucky cared. Right now, he just needed a place to sit and be grumpy.

Throwing himself forward, he fell to his ass with an angry little growl and tucked his knees up against his chest, staring moodily ahead of him. There were little flowers dotted around the grass, and he picked at them absently, ripping their petals off and then letting them flutter to the ground or float away in the light breeze.

“Hey! Don’t do that, what did the flowers ever do to you?”

Bucky jerked and turned around immediately, eyes wide and searching for the owner of the voice. He definitely hadn’t expected to be found in a place like this- not so soon anyway.

Ahead of him, there was a skinny little boy, his warm brown eyes as big as saucers as he stared down at Bucky and the angry look that was still etched on his face. The boy was dressed in clothes that probably cost more than the contents of Bucky’s entire room, but there was grass stains and muddy patches all over them. His curly hair was falling into his eyes a little, but he quickly brushed it out when he saw Bucky looking; probably out of habit.

“Those… those flowers are pretty. Don’t ruin them,” the boy said weakly, apparently losing his confidence as he saw Bucky’s grumpy look.

He probably did look quite scary- a boy already tall for his age, in the wrong part of town and picking apart flowers in this fancy field whilst wearing a look of absolute thunder on his face. No wonder the newcomer was looking a little shifty.

He made an effort to smooth out his face a little, but he doubted it did much. “Sorry,” he said gruffly, shrugging his shoulders, “I’ll find somewhere else, I didn’t know you were here-“

“No, I didn’t mean you had to leave,” the boy said hurriedly, taking a brave step forward, “I just heard you storming in, and wanted to see who you were. That’s all. And there’s better ways to make use of the flowers than to rip them up, you know.”

Bucky looked at him quizzically, and then his eyes drifted down to the little chain of colourful flowers the other boy was gripping in his hand. Apparently losing all confidence again when he caught Bucky staring, his eyes widened and he hid the offending object behind his back, taking a little step back once again. It was like he was dancing, he moved that much.

“They’re just flowers, it’s not a crime, boys can like flowers too you know, I don’t- don’t beat me up,” he stumbled, holding his chin high in defiance but failing to hide the panic in his eyes as he took another step back.

Bucky furrowed his brow in confusion. Why the hell would he think he was gonna get beat up? Bucky didn’t hurt anyone- not unless they started it first, anyway.

“I’m not gonna beat you up,” he declared, shaking his head, “and I know it’s okay for boys to like flowers. I was just angry, and I wanted to fiddle with somethin’. Sorry if I hurt them,” he said, biting his lip.

He didn’t want this boy to think he was mean. Even if he probably looked pretty mean right now- Bucky didn’t want him to be scared. He looked as if he was scared quite a lot, actually.

There was silence, as the boy ran another hand through his hair and bounced on the balls of his feet. He was keeping his eyes fixed on his floor, and Bucky was just about to get up and say he was leaving when the boy suddenly spoke up again.

“I come out to this field when I get upset, like you. But… uh, I use the flowers too. I just mess with them in different ways,” he said, like that was supposed to explain something.

Bucky looked at him in confusion, and after a few seconds the boy’s hand was slowly removed from behind his back, revealing the pretty chain of flowers again. “Have you ever made a daisy chain before?” he asked tentatively.
Bucky shook his head, wondering where the boy was heading.

“Okay. Do you want to learn?”

He was being looked at almost fiercely, and the boy’s knees were crouched a little, like he was preparing to run at a moment’s notice. It made Bucky frown again, because why the heck did this person seem so convinced Bucky was going to try and hurt him?

“Yeah. Okay. I’d… I’d like that,” Bucky answered, trying to smile a little, despite his foul mood.

The boy’s eyes widened, like that had not been the answer he was expecting. Bucky noted that he had very nice eyes. And hair. In fact, he was even prettier than Dorothy- the girl who sat in front of him at school. Everyone loved her- but she didn’t share a patch on the boy stood in front of him right now.

“I’m Tony,” he stated, finally stepping forward and holding out his hand.

“Bucky- nice to meet you.”

“Come with me,” Tony said, pulling on Bucky’s hand and leading them to the left, where the trees met field, “I know a place full of so many flowers you won’t even know what to do with them all.”

“So why were you angry?” Tony asked, his knee knocking against Bucky’s as he carefully wove a tiny little stem through the gap in another.

Bucky paused, face clouding over. He put his chain down carefully, in case he ripped it in his frustration. “Mine and Steve’s momma met their new bosses, and they’re really stupid.”

“What did they do?” Tony asked, “did they not know how to count to ten?”

“No, not that kinda stupid,” Bucky waved him off, “they were just mean. And wrong. There was an advert on the TV and it had two boys in it and they said that it was disgusting but it isn’t disgusting. I like boys. I know I’m not disgusting. An’ I told ‘em that much myself, ‘cuz I ain’t afraid of no dumb adults,” Bucky said defiantly, hands fisting against his legs as he thought back to their gross faces.

Tony was staring at him, and Bucky realised that maybe Tony thought he was disgusting, too, so he jumped to his feet angrily. “If you don’t like it either, you can take your flower crown and scram, ‘cuz you’re just stupid too-“

“No!” Tony raised his hands, eyes wide as he looked up at Bucky, “No, I don’t think it’s disgusting. I just think you’re… you’re really brave. I could never do that to adults. I tried to do it once, when my dad called me an idiot, but then he just hit me and so I didn’t do it again,” he said, looking at the floor again like he was… like he was embarrassed or something.

Bucky frowned again, confused. Why would his dad have hit him? Weren’t parents supposed to keep you safe from being hit, not be the ones to do it in the first place? 

That being said, Bucky had noticed the angry red mark that was cutting through Tony’s cheek, and wondered if that was the reason he was in this field in the first place. And if it was his own dad that was doing that, it made everything even worse.

“I’ll beat him up if you want,” Bucky said, sitting down again so that his leg was pressed up against Tony’s. “Like I said- I’m not scared of no adults.”

Tony’s eyes were wide, and he was staring at Bucky like he was his guardian angel or something. Bucky liked Tony looking at him like that; it made him feel all fluttery inside. “You’d really do that? For me?”

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded his head adamantly, “definitely.”

Tony smiled, but then shook his head and sighed. “No. Dad’s strong, and even if you’re strong too, he’s big. I don’t want him to hurt you too. That’s why I come out here. I like flowers. They’re pretty. And dad can’t yell at me when I’m here.”
There was a short pause, and then Tony’s eyes widened as he turned to face Bucky. “You can’t tell anyone you saw me here, okay? If dad finds out I like flowers he’ll call me stuff and hit me and stop me coming, and I really like it here, so you can’t, okay, you can’t-“

“I ain’t telling your dad shit,” Bucky told him, liking how the curse word sounded on his tongue. He wasn’t sure what it meant, but he’d heard someone yell it on the street, and thought it would be a good thing to use here. “I like flowers too. And you. I wouldn’t tell him anything that might hurt either of ‘em.”

Tony relaxed a little, and nodded gratefully. “Thank you. And by the way, I definitely don’t think it’s disgusting. I like boys too- more than I like girls. But I just don’t tell anyone because I don’t want people at school or home to beat me up more,” he admitted, worrying at his lower lip and avoiding Bucky’s eyes again.

“But… why are you telling me then?” He asked.

Tony looked at him, and then shrugged, his cheeks beginning to turn pink. 

“’Cause you’re my friend. Right? And friends can tell each other secrets.”

Bucky thought about every secret of Steve’s he had kept, and then nodded his head. “Definitely.”

“Good,“ Tony broke off, finally finished with the little chain of daises he’d been making through the conversation. He raised it up and smiled at his work, before shuffling forward a little and carefully placing it around Bucky’s neck. “It suits you,” he said quietly, and Bucky thought the blush that was spreading through his cheeks again was very pretty.

Bucky nodded looking down at the chain around his neck and smiling. “You can wear mine when I’ve finished- it won’t be as good though, ‘cuz you’ve been doing it longer and I’m still learning-“

“I think it’s great anyway,” Tony assured him, picking up the half-finished masterpiece, which was a little uneven and splayed. But Tony was practically beaming at it, and it made Bucky feel lovely and special.

“BUCK! BUCKY! YOU HERE?” A loud voice interrupted, and both of them jerked, Tony’s eyes flashing with panic as he dropped the chain and turned. Bucky made note that he didn’t like loud voices.

Quickly grabbing his hand, he caught Tony’s attention. “Hey- don’t worry, that’s just my friend. He’s called Steve, and I’ve been gone a while, so everyone’s probably worried. And mad. But not at you,” Bucky explained hurriedly. “Do you wanna go, or do you wanna meet him?”

Tony paused, before looking across at the boy who was even tinier than him, shock of blonde hair falling over his face as he stumbled through the long grass and searched for his friend. “I’ll stay.”

“Good, because he’s great- you’ll love him,” Bucky grinned, before pulling them both up and waving. “STEVIE!”

Steve turned, eyes locking on to both of them immediately. He frowned a little at the sight of Tony, but it was gone in a second and replaced with a friendly smile. “WE’VE BEEN LOOKING ALL OVER FOR YOU, IDIOT,” he yelled across the field, beginning to jog across until he had caught up with them. “Your mom’s gonna give you an earful when you get back, you know?”

Bucky grimaced. “Yeah, I know I was stupid- I ruined their jobs-“

“No no, they don’t care about that. The people were assholes, they turned down the offer as soon as you slammed out of the door,” Steve explained, “your mom’s mad because you just wandered off for two and a half hours in a place you don’t know. Idiot.”

“I had Tony,” Bucky said defensively, “we made flower crowns. And now we’re friends and he’s gonna hang out with us, okay? He needs to teach you how to make flower chains- he’s awesome at them,” Bucky explained, squeezing Tony’s hand and smiling, gesturing proudly to the chain around his head.

Steve stared at it for a few seconds, and Tony was all jittery again, but then Steve just smiled in wonder and stepped forward, examining the work around Bucky’s neck. “That’s so cool! Can you make me one?” He asked, eyes wide.

Tony practically beamed, and nodded his head happily. 

“But I get to make Tony’s,” Bucky added quickly, shooting Steve a look. 

“Why can’t I make one for him too?” Steve asked, frowning.

“’Cuz I’ve known him longer and I asked first,” Bucky replied.

Tony giggled a little, and Bucky’s stomach went all fluttery again. “You can… if you want, you can both make me one?”

Steve opened his mouth to reply, but upon seeing the desperate looks Bucky was throwing his way, he slowly shut it again, comprehension dawning on his face. “Oh. I didn’t realise… uh, you know what, Tony, I think I’ll leave it to Bucky. He’s better at them than me, and he did ask first.”

Tony just shrugged, and then smiled at Bucky again. They were still holding hands. “Okay.”

“Uh, Buck- I hate to break this up, but if I don’t come back with you soon, I think your mom’s gonna call for a search party,” Steve said sheepishly, interrupting their moment and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. 

Bucky sighed grumpily, but nodded his head. “Yeah yeah, whatever. Tony, do… do you want to come ‘round to my house sometime? Steve will probably be there, and there’s a nice meadow behind our garden. You can teach us how to make even cooler chains than before, and… and I’ll be able to make you one all on my own?” Bucky asked it like a question, and looked stubbornly at his shuffling feet as Tony’s hand squeezed around his own.

“I’d like that, yeah,” Tony said softly, prompting another beam from Bucky.

“Cool! I’ll… I’ll meet you here at the same time tomorrow, and we’ll walk down, okay? Sound good?”

Tony nodded happily, a little stunned expression on his face as his gaze jolted from person to person, as if he expected the joke to be revealed.

Bucky squeezed his hand a little tighter and then let go, the great big grin still on his face. Bad moods seemed impossible now. “I’ll come find you tomorrow then, Tony,” he called out behind him, walking up to Steve and then making their way toward the roadside.

There was a pause, and then the sound of hurrying footsteps prompted Bucky to turn around again. He only had a chance to look at Tony in surprise for a second, before suddenly the smaller boy had leaned up and planted a kiss on his cheek. 

It lasted 0.3 seconds and the butterflies that Bucky had been feeling all afternoon suddenly exploded in his tummy, lighting up his face bright pink and turning his knees to jelly. He felt like his heart was doing somersaults as he watched Tony lean back down again, covered in a pretty blush of his own, and then turn tail and run back through the grass, waving behind him as he went.

Bucky stood there, stunned, until Steve suddenly burst out laughing and elbowed him in the ribs. “Bucky and Tony, sittin’ in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-“
“Shuddup,” Bucky said gruffly, unable to take the smile off his face as he shoved Steve gently.

Steve continued to giggle all the way home, but Bucky didn’t even care. He was going to look up how to make the best flower-crowns that night, so that he would be able to impress Tony when they next met tomorrow.

“I think he’s gonna be real good, Buck,” Steve said, suddenly solemn, as he nodded his head pensively.

“I know he is,” Bucky agreed, head still tilted in the direction the other boy had run.

He was gonna make the best flower crown for Tony. Just you watch.

Chicago Police open fire on striking steel workers and their families killing 10 and wounding around 100. Anarchist Dorothy Day, who was present at the March and massacre, is quoted “On Memorial Day, May 30, 1937, police opened fire on a parade of striking steel workers and their families at the gate of the Republic Steel Company, in South Chicago. Fifty people were shot, of whom 10 later died; 100 others were beaten with clubs.”


Women Who Kill

The “Master Sex Slave Cult”

When the naked and partially dismembered body of Brittany Killgore was found at Lake Skinner in California on the 17th of September 2012, investigators were about to uncover a sadomasochist trio who named themselves, “the master sex slave cult”.

Brittany had divorced from her Marine husband and asked acquaintance, Louis Perez, to help her move apartments. From that moment nothing was heard from Brittany until her body was discovered. The break came when a woman, Jessica Lopez, tried to commit suicide in a motel room and left a suicide note. The note stated how she “Shot Brittany with a stun gun, wrapped rope around her head, buried her face in a pillow and strangled her to death”. Along with friend Dorothy Maraglino, the trio practiced bondage, cutting and sadism during sex.

In their home where Brittany was tortured were sex toys, whips and a document called “slave rules”.

Jessica stated the motive was that she was fearful of Brittany taking away her “Master Perez”, she was also pregnant with his child.

The death penalty was not sought

All three were sentenced to life without parole
He's Lin-Manuel's right-hand man: the 'Hamilton' arranger who hasn't let hearing loss derail the dream
Alex Lacamoire, who won a Tony for arranging the music of "Hamilton," has emerged as a bonafide star not only among theater folk but also to another group: the hearing impaired.
By Tim Greiving

Be sure to read the full article! Baby Lac Pictures are provided. 

Here’s a snippet: 

Alex Lacamoire has hearing loss. But the Tony-winning music director of “Hamilton” wants you to know, he’s no Beethoven.

He’s heard that you can see teeth marks on the wood inside Beethoven’s piano “because he would bite it to try to be able to hear the vibrations,” Lacamoire said. “I mean, that’s passion. My hearing is not that bad.”

When he was 2, growing up near Los Angeles’ Koreatown, Lacamoire would sit in front of the stereo and stare into the speaker, drawn to music like a drug. When he was 3, his mother observed him sitting too close to the TV, following the characters on “Sesame Street” with his eyes.

“I noticed that when I called him, he’d run away like he wasn’t paying attention,” Maria Lacamoire said.

She took him for a hearing test, where it was discovered that he had mild hearing loss.

Childhood photo of Alex Lacamoire with his mother, Maria Lacamoire. (From Maria Lacamoire)

“I think I was a little bit too young for it to really understand,” Lacamoire said. “All I remember is, like, oh wow, they’re putting this weird goop in my ear to mold me [for hearing aids] and then I walked away and I had these little apparatuses behind my ears.”

When he was 6, the school district recommended that Lacamoire attend a special class that combined sign-language instruction along with spoken language.

“That was devastating for me,” his mother said, “because I didn’t notice any other problem with him, because he was very smart.”

She appealed the decision, and Lacamoire was given an IQ test. He scored 165. He not only joined a mainstream class at Commonwealth Avenue Elementary School but also skipped the first grade.

“Alex was the most outstanding student I ever had,” said his second-grade teacher, Dorothy Chapman, who taught at Commonwealth for 25 years and retired in 2002.

Children with hearing loss, especially when that loss is identified late, often lag behind their peers because they’ve absorbed less vocabulary and less information. Chapman said the charming little 6-year-old would finish his assignments in five minutes, whereas it took his classmates 20, so she would give him third-grade work.

A young Alex Lacamoire, in the striped shirt in the second row. His teacher Dorothy Chapman is on the far right. (From Dorothy Chapman)

“I’ve just always been drawn to design, whether it’s uniformity or harmony — and by harmony I mean symmetry and balance and those kinds of things,” Lacamoire said.

He found beauty and design in the piano, and starting lessons at age 4. After his family moved to Miami when he was 9, he attended an arts high school and then the New World School of the Arts.

For Lacamoire, music was “as fluid to me as writing down words. When I see music and you see a chord, I see design. I just, very early on, started to get some kind of translation between what is on the written page to what my fingers actually do and what my ear actually hears.”

In high school, Lacamoire stopped wearing his hearing aids out of embarrassment. He said he developed a bad habit of banging on the piano to produce the volume he wanted. The loneliness and angst most kids experience in adolescence was exacerbated by hearing loss.

“All my life I’ve missed punchlines — where people just say that one joke and then the whole room starts laughing, and I have no idea what they said,” Lacamoire added. “Sometimes I feel bold enough to ask the person next to me, ‘Hey, what’d he say?’ Other times I’m too embarrassed. And, somewhere in my soul, that just is another thing to add to the list of ways that I feel left out.”

Music, and particularly musical theater, became the bridge — “a salvation,” in his words. He found that entertaining his peers with pop songs or accompanying them in shows was a potent, almost magic connector.

Y’all, I need a Marvel/Emerald City Fusion asap!

Just imagine it, this being Darcy Lewis’ mother..

Originally posted by my-beautiful-wickedness

Yes :) Darcy being the daughter of the Witch of the West.

She’s born and raised in Oz, learning everything Mother West can teach her. But as she gets older, she realizes that Mother West and Aunt Glinda aren’t all they’re cracked up to be and seeks help from Dorothy who she comes to know because of Uncle Roan/Lucas. 

Since she knows that Dorothy travels between Oz and a place called Kansas, she asks to be taken away to a new life where she’s not feared because of her Mother and magic. So a plan is concocted where Darcy “dies” in Oz and Dorothy sneaks her out under the cover of night, and gives her a home with Aunt Em in Kansas.

Darcy of Oz then becomes Darcy Gale Lewis.

Darcy learns to adapt to this new world, is home schooled by Aunt Em and Dorothy (when Dorothy isn’t in Oz), and surprisingly is smart enough to earn a scholarship to college.

Darcy still chooses Political Science as her major, but she’s quite knowledgeable in medicine thanks to Aunt Dorothy. Jane takes her on as an intern and is outed when Thor lands and becomes a trusted ally. Jane, Eric and Thor are the only three to learn of Darcy’s Oz heritage, and the two humans are quite flabbergasted because everyone knows The Wizard of Oz is a children’s tale. 

Darcy then ends up skimming through the true story of Oz and how it’s not just a children’s tale. It’s home and there’s nothing cutesy about it.

Fast forward to after the Avengers are formed and Darcy makes connections with each of them when a tornado, of all things, pops down atop Stark Tower. Everyone thinks it’s the Bifrost, but Darcy knows better. 

It’s Dorthy in full Oz wardrobe: 

Originally posted by emeraldcityedits

Originally posted by nbcemeraldcity tell her that Oz needs her. Oz is under attack.

Darcy then has to tell the Avengers about her heritage and the Avengers all jump at the chance to visit the fairy tale land. And yeah, that’s as far as I got. 

What do you guys think could happen there?

No Place like Home

for @txf-fic-chicks  post-episode/missing scene fic challenge … cranked out after feeding the dog and cat and before leaving for church … proofed while my kid watched, at high volume, Shawn Mendes sing ‘Mercy’ … any and all errors are her fault :)


She needed to eat.

He needed to eat.

That’s not to say they wanted to eat but need took precedence over desire to curl up and die while the Peacock brothers headed to points unknown with their mother in the trunk and a straight family tree laid out in front of them, uncurving, unbranched and unthinkable.

Scully saw that he was guiding her towards the diner across the street and thinking about shaking his steadying hand from her elbow, she felt him lean in, “we need food before we drink liquor or else we’ll be drunk as soon as we open the magic bottle and passed out by the third sip.”

She couldn’t argue the sound logic and relented, her feet shuffling her across clean roadway and up unchipped curb to a diner that looked like it fell out of Maybury, much, she cringed, like Andy Taylor had. About to slip further into her depression from the last four days, she perked up at the smell of homemade food and ‘Chantily Lace’ playing passively through the speakers. Leading her to a corner booth, complete with red, shiny vinyl seats and chrome table edges, he gestured in a gentlemanly fashion, “ladies choice. Left or right?”

Choosing left so her back was to the wall, she slid in, involuntary smile floating up at the memory of 5-year old Dana and her family eating out on the rare occasion her father deemed them rich enough to afford a restaurant dinner for his family of six.

Mulder caught the memory skirting across her face and tapped her hand, “hey, dime for the thought behind the smile.”

Settling into the cool backrest, the material creaking slightly under her movement, “once in a blue moon, dad would be home and he’d look at the family checkbook and doing all kinds of math in his head and dramatically scribbling for effect on the corners of several old newspapers, he would decide that the bank account could handle taking six people out to the local diner in town for dinner. Now, today I understand that he would have taken us regardless but all his showy dramatics back then made us appreciate our night out more than probably most kids did. We didn’t see him as much as most families so a night out was special enough but then when we’d see just how special it was and we thought it was costing him a small fortune, we made sure not to fight, we were extra polite, we talked and tried to one up dad with stories of how tragically exciting our elementary school lives really were in comparison to his boring existence on a Navy carrier.” Thanking the waitress for the water she’d just set down, Scully pulled the glass towards her, spinning the ice with her straw before looking back at him, “there was a diner like this in town, blue and green instead of red but I swear to you, that waitress over there is the same and I desperately want to ask if she lived in San Diego in the 70’s.”

Mulder, glancing over his shoulder, returned to her gaze a moment later, smiling as well, “I double dog dare you.”

Scully felt some of the angst of the case draining away, “no, I’m good for now with the wondering and the suspecting, proving isn’t necessary to existence at the moment.”

“Fine. Take away my fun.” Opening the menu, “what are we eating? Want to share a shake? Pretend we’re 13 and on our first date?”

With an eye-roll, she poked his leg under the table with the rounded toe of her boot, “I don’t share ice cream well, Mulder. I’m greedy and terrible and need to selfishly have it all to myself. I will, however, give you the cherry from the top in compensation for the denied double-dog dare.”

Tapping the side of her calf back in response, “fair enough.”


Burger and meatloaf consumed, shakes slurped and cherry surrendered, Mulder sat back, “what’s next, G-woman. We don’t leave until tomorrow morning.”

“Well, you’d mentioned gallons of liquor and I’m still pretty okay with that idea.”

Figuring there had to be some kind of liquor store around the town that time forgot, he signaled the bill, stood to leave and held out his hand, “come on. Inebriation awaits.” Dropping a sizeable tip, he then charged the meal to the Bureau and led her out with his now standard hand on her back, guiding her forward simply because it always felt like the natural thing to do.

He chose to turn left randomly and before reaching three storefronts down, Mulder pulled her to a stop by the back of her shirt, halting their beeline to liquor and forgetting. Looking over her shoulder, “what?”

Mulder, eagle-eye that he could be, was pointing to a flyer in the window of the Post Office, “we should go see that.”

Following his finger, she read the sign, “you want to go to Home Elementary School’s production of,” squinting slightly to make sure she was reading it properly, “Wizard of OZ?”

“Yeah. We need some culture, Scully. We never do anything cultural, worldly, sophisticated.”

The eyebrow flew miles into the air, “elementary school plays are cultural, worldly and sophisticated?”

“We just lost, into the general population, an entire incestuous family who keep their mother in a trunk. We need this more than we need the entire contents of a liquor store, trust me.”

Realizing he was completely right, “let’s go.”


The folding chairs wiggling in haphazard rows across the cafeteria floor transported her back to an age where folding chairs were meant to wiggle in haphazard rows across the cafeteria floor. She grinned as she bought her $3 ticket and nearly giggled at the flying monkey who took it at the door, the small boy poking his friend and whispering, “go show them two seats and they’re tall so put them in the back.”

The friend whispered back, “shut up, Tim, I know what to do.”


In an 8-year old huff, the friend led them to two seats in the back row, handing them copy paper programs before walking away. Scully leaned up to Mulder, talking low into his shoulder, “they think I’m tall.”

“They’re delusional kids huffing glue. You’re the shortest thing in adult world and they’ll be bigger than you by sixth grade.” Dropping into a chair and patting the one beside it, “now, sit before they call the giant squad to come take you away.”

Smacking him hard on the upper arm, she settled in, “you are enjoying this too much already.”

“If I had popcorn, I’d be in heaven.”

While he lamented his missing snack, around them parents and kids, grandparents, friends, assorted other relatives filled the seats for the next 15 minutes, the room soon darkened and the play beginning.


An hour later, they had witnessed four stage-frightened kids, one tremendously loud and surprisingly on-key Dorothy, two fighting trees who threw their apples at each other instead of the main characters, several set mishaps including the curtain falling to reveal the wizard before the wizard was to be revealed, a crier, two trippers and a nervous nose-picking palace guard who then screamed when he realized his nose was bleeding from the aforementioned furious gold-digging.

Once Dorothy finally got back to Oz and all was set right with the world, the lights went down, another kid wailed at the sudden darkness, then, the stage lit up again, a straggling line of kids awaiting applause in the middle of the floor and visibly fearful it wouldn’t come.

They didn’t have to worry … because Mulder was there and he was so damn happy with what he’d just experienced that he jumped from his seat, clapping as loud as his cupped hands could achieve, his yelling praises and congratulations and hooting driving the rest of the hesitating audience up and standing, first looking at Mulder and each other to see if this was proper etiquette then realizing their kids needed hooting and yelling.

Scully buried four fingers in her mouth, letting out a wolf whistle that echoed throughout the cinderblock room. More whistled joined and it took nearly four minutes for the room to quiet again to a manageable level. Kids cheered, bowing and giggling, coming out to the audience to find their families while Mulder and Scully stood quietly alone, grinning at the best night they’d had in a very long time.

The ticket taking flying monkey turned from his parents in the row ahead of them, “hey, which kid do you belong to?”

Mulder gave him an appraising look, wondering fleetingly what it would be like to be owned by a kid, “none, actually. We were just passing through and decided to take in a show.”

The kid nodded, then looked up at Scully, “sorry I didn’t realize you were that short. I would’ve had Tim put you closer up.”

Scully smiled at him, “I saw the whole thing and it was wonderful. Thank you for doing such a good job.”

Something twinged in Mulder’s chest as he watched her speak to the younger boy. He wanted to see her with her kids, watch her raise them in Scully fashion, science quizzes at the dinner table and midnight slime concocting at the kitchen counter because she had to prove Mulder wrong about the consistency and use of Borax in solution.

He would revisit the fact that he was at these midnight sessions and dinner table tests another time but for now, he took her elbow as the kid turned back to his parents, “come on, shorty, time to go.”

Instead of moving, Scully put her hand on his shoulder and climbed onto the folding chair, making her taller than him by several inches. Standing in front of her now and grinning up like a love-struck fool, she grabbed his tie, fiddling with it for a moment, “not so short now, am I?”

“Nope. Not at all.”

Returning his grin, she wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly, crowds be damned, “thank you for the culture, Mulder.”

Arms around her waist, he held her steady and safe high up in the air, “thank you for the world, Scully.”

Meant To Be Yours [Tom Holland]

Part 1/?

IN WHICH Tom and Harrison visit their old local theatre and reconnect with a girl whose voice has stayed in Tom’s memory all this time.



A/N: This will be a chaptered fic! Links to parts will be updated under my masterlist

Tom tugged at the bottom of his suit jacket, anxiously trying to smooth out any creases in the fabric. The house entrance would be opening soon, and even though he knew he wouldn’t see her, he wanted to look his best. The handles on the large, wooden doors seemed to be taunting him as he stared at them, tapping his foot impatiently. Harrison stood at his side, admiring the walls he had left behind so many years ago, oblivious to his best friend’s anxiety.

“God, can you believe how much this place has changed?” He asked, head still tilted upwards towards the high ceiling that was rimmed with gold paint. Tom glanced upwards as well, unimpressed by the new chandelier hanging above him, his mind elsewhere. Harrison went on, recalling things about their childhood theatre that Tom had long forgotten about.

He had to admit, stepping into the old building had given him a sense of comfort, but he couldn’t enjoy it as much as he wanted to. His mind kept drifting to the wooden doors, as well as his eyes, glaring at the hanging letters that read ‘Orchestra Left’. She was right behind there, probably getting mic-ed or doing the vocal warm-ups he remembered hating when he was younger. He wondered what she looked like now. Was her hair still long, in the ballerina bun she always wore? Did she still hold herself like she was constantly in first position, feet pointed inwards, no matter the occasion? Did she still laugh when she forgot her line, her giggles being drowned out by their director’s scolding?

Most of all, he questioned how it took Harrison’s friendship with his long lost flame to jog his memory…

“Flight 246 to London is now boarding, flight 246 to London is now boarding.” The intercom bellowed above the bustling airport, the sound bringing Tom to his feet. He yawned before grabbing hold of his suitcase, the cold metal handle digging into his palm. He turned to Harrison who was still sat in his seat, eyes glued to his phone, typing busily. 

“Haz,” Tom kicked his friend’s shoe, catching the boy’s attention. “We’re boarding.” Harrison coughed and stood up, grabbing his own suitcase but keeping his eyes on his screen. Tom raised an eyebrow at Harrison’s distracted behavior, but kept walking towards the gate nonetheless. As they approached the doors, Tom handed the flight attendant his ticket, leaning onto his suitcase for support. The woman scanned the piece of paper and the device emitted a small beep, signaling that he could continue onto the plane. 

He was about to when he turned around, finding Harrison still typing like his life depended on it, completely oblivious to the flight attendant holding her hand out. “Dude!” Tom laughed, kicking his friend again. Harrison’s head snapped up, mumbling apologies before handing the woman his ticket as well. She scanned and returned it, the boys now walking onto the airplane. Harrison’s gaze was about to return to his phone when Tom snatched it out of his hand, making a face at his friend’s furrowed brow.

“Take a rest, man.” Tom chuckled when Harrison made an attempt to grab his phone back, but Tom shoved it into his jacket pocket. The two continued down the narrow aisle of the plane, stopping at their assigned seats. Harrison clambered in first, settling into the window seat, eyes shooting daggers at Tom. Once Tom had sat down, Harrison turned to him and held his hand out.

“Can I have my phone back now?” He asked, clearly annoyed. Tom shook his head, earning a groan from Harrison as he threw his head back in exasperation.

“Not until you tell me what the hell’s got you so distracted.” Tom raised an eyebrow, patiently waiting for an explanation from the blonde boy. Harrison shifted in his seat before speaking:

“Remember the old Kingston Theatre?” He asked expectantly. Tom smiled to himself at the mention of his childhood arts center, the very place he got his start.

“Of course I do, why?”

“Their spring show is opening this week. I thought we were going to miss it, but it turns out the first show is tomorrow night and I’m trying to get us tickets before they sell out.” Harrison rambled on, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“Uh, not to burst your bubble, Haz, but why do you care about Kingston’s spring show?” Tom chuckled, crossing one leg over the other in the cramped seat.

Harrison sighed again. “Do you remember Y/N Y/L/N?”

Tom racked his brain for a few seconds before shaking his head, “I can’t say I do, man.”

“From the ‘Wizard of Oz’? When I was the scarecrow?” Harrison’s words brought back more memories of Tom’s theatre days, the boy laughing when he remembered the antics that had occurred during that performance.

“Oh yeah, and you knocked over three bales of hay during the dance routine.” Tom accused his friend, laughing harder when he recalled a young Harrison tumbling over in the middle of the sold-out show. 

“Not the point, dude.” Harrison interrupted, unamused. “Y/N was Dorothy that year.” Tom suddenly stopped laughing, visions of the young girl in her blue plaid dress taking over his mind. Ever since their first show together, he had been infatuated with the girl who played Dorothy. He remembered admiring her from his place backstage, watching her feet move to the music as she danced gracefully across the stage. But more than anything, he remembered her voice; the sweet, soft melodies that put Tom into a trance whenever he heard them. He remembered how desperate he was to ask her out, but his chance was lost when he got cast in Billy Elliot. 

“Yeah, kinda.” Tom coughed, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “What about her?”

“She’s starring in the spring show. Apparently the theatre’s gotten way bigger and they’re running Heathers: The Musical for a few months before maybe touring with it.” 

“Holy shit.” Tom’s eyes widened, the boy taken aback by his friend’s words.

“Yeah. Anyway, she asked me to come to opening night and I was afraid we wouldn’t make it but now we can and I want to get tickets before they sell out so please, hand me my phone back.” Tom blinked a few times, still processing his friend’s words before reaching into his pocket. He was about to hand Harrison his phone back when he stopped short, his brow furrowing.

“Wait, you still talk to her?” Tom felt his heart skip slightly, recognizing hints of jealousy as they rose to the surface. Harrison cocked his head to the side, as if it was obvious.

“Yeah, we’ve kept in touch since I left. How did you not know that?”

“I don’t know, man.” Tom shook his head just as the pilot’s voice came over the intercom, telling everyone to buckle their seat belts and prepare for takeoff. Harrison grabbed his phone out of his friend’s grasp as Tom leaned back into his seat, sighing. Harrison began typing busily again, ignoring Tom as he crossed his arms, his mind still swimming with memories of his Dorothy.

Tom was snapped out of his thoughts when the two ushers that had been standing to either side of the entrance grabbed ahold of the handles. He took in a sharp breath as they pulled them open, revealing a dimly lit theatre. Harrison clapped his hand onto his friend’s shoulder, a wide grin on his face as he started down the rows of velvet seats. 

Here we go. 

anonymous asked:

I work at a nursing home and I feel so bad for the residents there. 80% of the staff don't care about their jobs and neglect the residents, which is elder abuse. One nurse bitched about having to walk across the facility (which is not that big) to take a resident back to her room. YOU left her there in the first place! Poor Dorothy (who is blind btw) was sitting in her wheelchair in the hallway for 10 minutes before a fucking JANITOR saw her and began to push her to her room.

Yeah I feel the same way about the residents and staff I work with. Yeah, there are some problem residents that it’s hard to feel sorry for, but there are some that are really sweet that get yelled at by my coworkers for minor shit. And often they’ll let one of the problem residents just have his way because he’s annoying and no one likes dealing with him(me included, but I don’t give him his way because it has become a vicious cycle). But 90% of the residents are pretty cool if you give them a chance. There are only the two residents I have to be firm with and, admittedly, have no patience for. I haven’t worked with most of the others yet but will be training in another house soon.

The other day one of my favorite residents who is old and has a learning disability was in the kitchen helping me with the dishes when my boss came in to drop off some medical gloves. She saw that his pants were falling down again(honestly only a couple of inches, so no big deal). Instead of asking him to pull them up she screamed at him to go put his belt on. This resident everyone claims is hard to win over but he loves me to death and it’s because I don’t yell at him over stupid shit and don’t treat him like a prisoner. I just ask him, politely, to pull up his pants and he does it.

Some of the residents that I adore I hear my coworkers bitching about all the time. Like this one guy has brain damage and is really old. Like most old people he loves to tell stories. But with his brain damage he has short term memory loss so you’ll often have to hear the same story over and over for a good hour before he realizes he needs to move on. He also tends to tell the same stories over and over regardless of the time between each conversation. Each shift I hear about his farming days, how he overcame alcoholism, his three legged dog, and so on. I don’t mind his stories. I think he’s adorable and if he was my family I wouldn’t have put him in one of these homes. He’d be home with me.

My company has a policy that we’re not allowed to be friends with our coworkers or the residents. I think some of my coworkers are taking that too literally. It’s not like I’m taking them out for drinks, I’m just showing a bit of humanity. A lot of them light up when they know I’ll be working at their house that night or look sad when I’m not. -Abby

Maybe it’s a bad idea. Maybe…


Castiel whirls around, hands quickly hiding the construction paper valentine behind his back. It’s large and kind of lopsided, but his Gabriel said it was just perfect: green like Dean’s eyes, big like his heart.

…It’s even got that one mistake that resembles the hole where his friend’s front teeth should be.

“Cas, here, I got something for you!”

Dean practically jumps up and down in his excitement, gap-toothed grin widening as he reveals, with a flourish, what is behind his back. “See?!” he exclaims. “It’s for today! For Valentime’s!”

In his little fingers, Dean holds a red rose.

Keep reading

The Angel and The Swan.

This beautiful bronze is the grave of Dorothy Burton, (Dolly) who died in 1908 aged 14.

A little research reveals her father, Arthur Burton, owned a foundry in Thames Ditton just opposite Ye Olde Swan which produced some very famous works of art, statues of public figures and war memorials. See more here -

Kingston Cemetery, Kingston-upon-Thames, Royal Borough of Kingston-upon-Thames.

The American writer Dorothy B. Hughes, who was born in 1904 and died in 1993, was one of the most successful crime novelists in mid-century America, with several of her books turned into Hollywood movies.  The best-known of these is In a Lonely Place, which became a film with Humphrey Bogart and Gloria Grahame.  A new edition of the novel has just come out from New York Review Books, and our critic at large John Powers says Hughes’s version of noir is excitingly radical.

If You Want Groundbreaking Noir, Try Looking ‘In A Lonely Place’

  • Glinda: Are you a good witch, or a sandwich?
  • Dorothy: Who, me? Well, I’m neither a witch nor a snack. You’re talking some crazy chiz.
  • Glinda: Well… you do have the ruby cellphone.
  • Dorothy: Oh my goodness. Well, this phone is beautiful! Were all my contacts transferred?
  • Elphaba: Who took my ruby cellphone? (to Dorothy) Was it you?
  • Dorothy: Well I didn’t mean to. Here, you can have it back.
  • Elphaba: Good. Give it. (tries to take it out of Dorothy's hands but gets zapped) Curses! I’ll never be able to get that ruby cellphone as long as it’s April Fools Day!
  • Glinda: You know, speaking of that, are we really not gonna do anything for April Fools Day?
  • Elphaba: Silence! I’ll get you, my pretty and your little fish, too!

anonymous asked:

What about a Wizard of Oz au? Alex is Dorothy, who dropped a house on Samuel Seaburry. He meets Washington the Good Witch, and befriends Mulligan the Lion (Cus he's a BEAST), Laurens the Tin Man (he gets his heart after meeting Alex), and Laf the Scarecrow (much strategy). He is sent to kill King George the Evil Witch, and has to put up with the false-genius of TJeffs (and they totally don't bang behind TJeffs magenta curtain)

‘They totally didnt bang behind Jefferson’s magenta curtain’