#George McAlpin

[denimbex1986]

'Tom Ripley used several different aliases in the new Netflix limited series Ripley. Tom, who also acquires many places of residence throughout Ripley, is a master of disguise and deceit. He is drawn to murder once his true identity of being an elaborate con man faces the threat of being exposed. Throughout the thrilling series, Tom has conned his way from a lowly life of scamming and thievery in New York City to becoming incredibly wealthy in Italy thanks to a supposed old friend, Dickie Greenleaf (Johnny Flynn). Ripley's cast is led by an exceptionally chilling Andrew Scott (Fleabag, Black Mirror, All of Us Strangers) as the titular treacherous protagonist.

Ripley has received rave reviews from critics upon its April 4, 2024 release exclusively on Netflix. The psychological thriller is based on the renowned 1955 novel The Talented Mr. Ripley by celebrated novelist Patricia Highsmith, the first of her 5-part "Ripley" series that also includes Ripley Under Ground and Ripley's Game. The Talented Mr. Ripley has been adapted several times for film and television, but none have been shot completely in monochrome until Steven Zallian's Ripley. Zallian, the Academy Award-winning screenwriter of Schindler's List, American Gangster, and The Irishman, wrote and directed the entire 8-episode miniseries.

By the end of Zallian's Ripley, Tom has orchestrated a way to frame his murder of Dickie Greenleaf as a suicide, successfully convincing Dickie's concerned girlfriend Marge Sherwood (Dakota Fanning) and a determined Inspector Ravini (Maurizio Lombardi). Ripley brings to light the lengths that monsters like Tom will go to in the name of self-preservation, using chilling methodology and calculation to be seen as significant by means of material wealth and social access. Even after Tom escapes to England and assumes a new identity in the final moments of Ripley, he does not seem satisfied, only aware of what it feels like to wear Dickie's clothes, flaunt his ring, and stare at his artwork while ultimately feeling nothing.

4. George McAlpin

Tom's fraudulent debt collector persona in New York

At the beginning of Ripley, Tom is shown in the thick of his life of petty scamming in 1960's New York City. Under the alias George McAlpin, Tom runs an elaborate scheme of fraud and theft under a fabricated organization he calls the McAlpin Collection Agency. Basically, Tom steals the mail from specific doctors, specifically a chiropractor in Ripley episode 1, that he detects has checks inside of them. These are payments from patients for services done by the chiropractor, which "George McAlpin" intercepts and opens illegally. He then contacts the patients claiming to be the sole employee of a debt collection agency that he has made up.

Tom is forced to destroy his George McAlpin identity once he faces suspicion at a bank when trying to cash the checks addressed to his fake agency. In Ripley episode 1, Tom is dressed in disguise as a serious, traditional-looking businessman of some sort, giving off a very plain and safe impression. He admits he doesn't have an account with the bank but is able to provide identification in the form of a chauffeur's license with George McAlpin's information on it. This is a precursor to Tom's ability to change his identity and acquire fabricated forms of identification throughout later episodes of Ripley.

Once Tom faces heat under his George McAlpin name, he has no choice but to burn all the checks and the fake stationary he had made as part of his scam. This turns out to work out perfectly fine for Tom, however, who is on his way to Italy to meet with Dickie right after destroying all evidence of the George McAlpin agency. Fortunately for Tom, the George McAplin business never came back around to haunt him, but if he had been stuck in New York, it's likely that the bank he failed to convince would have pursued legal action against him. Dickie becomes Tom's saving grace as he leaves George McAplin and his old life in New York behind for good.

3. Richard 'Dickie' Greenleaf

Tom assumes the identity of Dickie in Rome after killing him

Pretending to be Dickie in Rome allowed Tom to justify living so luxuriously and also provided a track record of evidence that Dickie was still alive.

Tom's next big scam and identity theft begins after he kills Dickie on the boat in San Remo. Dickie confronts Tom rather foolishly, on a small boat in the ocean far away from shore with no witnesses around, which reveals how unsuspecting Dickie was of Tom all along. Dickie politely tells Tom that it's time for him to move on with his life and leave Atrani. He also reveals that his father believes that Tom had been taking advantage of him and the generous access to his money while on a mission to bring Dickie back home. Tom immediately sees where this is going and saves Dickie the trouble of having to bluntly tell him to pack his things and leave.

Tom is unwilling to let go of this golden opportunity to live lavishly as Dickie did in Atrani and resorts to murder as the best option for him to keep his fantastical dream alive. The only reason why Tom kills Dickie is so that he can become him, eeiriy wearing his clothes and taking ownership of everything Dickie owns like an insidious parasite. Pretending to be Dickie in Rome allowed him to justify living so luxuriously and also provided a track record of evidence that Dickie was still alive. Checking into hotels, writing letters on his typewriter, and all the other intricate ways that Tom covered up Dickie's murder maintained suspicion for long enough so Tom could buy enough time to get away for good.

Tom murdering Dickie, covering it up, and assuming his identity is the narrative spine of Ripley. It alludes to the main drive within Tom's character that he wished to be someone bigger and better than what he is as well as his lust for material wealth and special treatment that comes with status. Tom is also innately motivated to validate his worth as evidenced by his deep resentment towards his Aunt Dottie, who berated him as a child. By assuming Dickie's identity, and eventually making it his own, Tom could basically shove his wealth and status in the face of his Aunt and anyone else who questioned his significance and ability.

2. Tom Ripley

A shape-shifting and relentless con artist

The true Tom Ripley is hardly seen in the series despite it being named after him. All the audience can gather about who Tom truly is on the inside is a cold, callous, dangerous monster that is out to take everything he wants from others by any means necessary. Tom is deeply hurt by his Aunt Dottie's mistreatment of him, and is, of course, affected by the sudden death of his parents when he was just five years old, which undoubtedly left a dark cloud over the young Tom's head throughout his life. Regardless of his traumatic childhood experiences, Tom is unquestionably a sociopath who views murder as a viable option to acquire what he likes.

Tom Ripley hides beneath the people he pretends to be, even his own personality. The Tom Ripley that he convinces Marge and Dickie to be is certainly not who he actually is. Tom comes off as naively agreeable, innocently forgetful, intentionally vague, and forcefully relaxed, which some people see as strange in the way that it is calculated, as if by design. Tom's own identity is a creation because he hides his the dark monster within him at all times. Tom Ripley is truly a shapeshifter with an unsettling ability to adapt, mirror, and transform himself to fit his objectives, which are typically seedy and dishonest.

What makes Tom Ripley so disturbing is seeing him in the quiet moments when he is alone. He has a reptilian-like coldness about him, as if he is functioning only at a base psychological level of survival. Human emotions are used as tools of manipulation to get what he wants and to make people like him. Rather than simply existing as a human being, Tom crafts attitudes, opinions, interests, and personality traits in order to gain advantage on the path to achieving his goals. Tom's one goal is clearly to be wealthy and to be respected because of his wealth, which perfectly exemplifies how immensely hollow he is at his core.

1. Timothy Fenshaw

Tom's new identity in England

After essentially getting away with the murders of Dickie Greenleaf and Freddie Miles, Tom is able to shake off Marge without killing her, although he was just seconds away from doing so. He also avoids the detection of Mr. Greenleaf, the American investigator, and Inspector Ravini, who have all collectively bought Tom's angle that Dickie must have taken his own life. He also reaffirms the notion that Dickie could have killed Freddie. Once Tom successfully gets all the suspicion off his back, he resigns from using the Dickie Greenleaf alias altogether and allows everyone to believe that Dickie died by suicide.

Tom Ripley, living in Venice, understands that his plan had only worked because of some very lucky circumstances. Remarkably, no one had caught him when he was living a double life in Rome, despite all of the attention from the press. Now out of the crosshairs, Tom was still determined to own everything that Dickie had to do whatever he wanted with it, including the Picasso. Tom leaves Venice and assumes a new fake identity of Timothy Fenshaw with the help of John Malkovich's "art dealer" character Reeves Minot. This new identity allows him to retain all the wealth he has stolen from the Greenleafs and hang Dickie's Picasso with ease under his new Fensahw name.

Tom's preemptive measures end up saving him in the end when Inspector Ravini discovers that Tom had completely fooled him throughout the Freddie Miles investigation. Marge had finished her novel about Atrani and got it published thanks to Tom's sincere notes and sends a copy to Ravini. In the final moments of Ripley, Ravini is stunned to see a printed photograph of Dickie in the first few pages of the book that looks nothing like him. In truth, Dickie looked nothing like Tom, and Ravini was left humiliated. Tom, however, has already assumed the new alias Timothy Fensahw in England and will be much harder for Ravini to find at the end of Ripley.'

[wellgoslowly]

I havent posted an edit in a while so here's one I made a while ago!!! this might be one of the best edits I've ever made tbh

[locklyle edit to all my ghosts by lizzie mcalpine]

@givemea-dam-break @oblivious-idiot @losticaruss @neewtmas @uku-lelevillain @donutcats @ikeasupremacy

[vangoghsmissingearr]

Every song by Lizzy McAlpine is locklyle coded.

[fideidefenswhore]

real dearth of fanvids about george and anne boleyn's relationship...not that i can blame, there's really only two adaptations worthy of being portrayed...

[cherrychapati]

here's a spotify playlist based on lockwood and co <3 comfort characters, comfort show

[sportsmodepigeon]

I'm a huge playlist person, like. I have one for every vibe, for different people, and critically, for every fic I write.

Which is great, but it does set me back when I start a new one haha

[chdarling-tle]

The Last Enemy: Dark Marks Soundtrack

Hello my loves! With TLE2 coming to a close, I thought I'd share the full TLE2 soundtrack. You can listen to it here, or I've included the track list below for those who don't use Spotify.

As before, this is a total mishmash of period appropriate and anachronistic music. The genres are all over the place. Some songs directly correlate to the plot, some songs are mentioned in the story, some are pure vibes. It's pretty long...but so is TLE2. 😌

Enjoy!!!

Track list under the cut:

The Times They Are A-Changin’ - Fort Nowhere

She Used To Love Me a Lot - Johnny Cash

Never Had No One Ever - The Smiths

Cherry Bomb - The Runaways

Father and Son - Cat Stevens

Water Under the Bridge - Tow’rs

She’s Not There - The Zombies

Break On Through (To The Other Side) - The Doors

Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea - George Harrison

Raining in My Heart - Buddy Holly

Family Line - Conan Gray

With a Little Help From My Friends - Joe Anderson (Across the Universe)

Love Hurts - Roy Orbison

It’s Alright - Mother Mother

Bad Reputation - Joan Jett & The Blackhearts

Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood - Nina Simone

Play With Fire - The Rolling Stones

Edge of Seventeen - Stevie Nicks

Blue Suede Shoes - Elvis Presley

The Princess Diaries Waltz (Score) - John Debney

Astronomy - Conan Gray

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas - Judy Garland

Dead Mom - Sophia Anne Caruso

Vincent - Don McLean

You’ve Got To Hide Your Love Away - The Beatles

Mis-Shapes - Pulp

Golden Years - David Bowie

It’s a Heartache - Bonnie Tyler

Stayin Alive - Bee Gees

Dancing Queen - ABBA

I’d Love to Change the World - Ten Years After

Be More Kind - Frank Turner

One Toke Over the Line - Brewer & Shipley

Flying - The Beatles

Baba O'Riley - The Who

Villain - Maisie Peters

Ever Fallen in Love (With Someone You Shouldn't've?) - Buzzcocks

Will the Circle Be Unbroken - The Carter Family, Johnny Cash

This Woman's Work - Kate Bush

April Come She Will - Simon & Garfunkel

evermore (feat. Bon Iver) - Taylor Swift

For What It's Worth - Buffalo Springfield

You Belong to Somebody Else - PJ Harding, Noah Cyrus

Know Your Rights - The Clash

Broken Crown - Mumford & Sons

Fire - Etta James

Knockin' On Heaven's Door - Bob Dylan

Lily - Benjamin Gibbard

Dancing Queen - stories, Lizzy McAlpine

God Only Knows (Acoustic Slowed + Reverb) - Jae Hall

Homeward Bound - Simon & Garfunkel

Back to the Old House - The Smiths

New World Coming - Cass Elliot

...and one more secret song that I'll add after chapter 71 ;)

[watchoutforthefanfics]

My John || Eleventh Doctor x gn!Reader

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Summary: At the news of an unknown distress call from the Tardis, the Doctor must go undercover. With the trust of thousands of years, he places himself (both watch and being) into your hands. Enter Dr. John Smith (not really a medical doctor just has his doctorate) your new roommate.

Inspired by: The Transmission by @fabulouspotatosister + 'ceilings' - Lizzy McAlpine

[[A/N: This was majorly based on the lyrics: 'But it's not real, and you don't exist'. So angst warning. But it has a happy ending, I swear. ]]

"It won't be long."

You could remember the creases of his face as he said it to you, the smooth of the worry in his brow -just because he didn't want you to see it. Well, you felt it now, the ache of days and nights and the heaviness of the watch in your pocket -you couldn't let go of it or put it out of your sight.

"When the time comes, you'll know."

You'd asked more about that then, about the how and the what and the why, but he waved it all off. 'You're clever,' he spoke, and you couldn't help the flutter in your stomach, '-you'll know.' So, you had prepared yourself to the life you found eerie compared to the previous one. Seeing John was... a domestic look on the Doctor and you weren't sure if it was good or bad for you.

"Honey, I'm home," he loudly announced, sing-songy with a cheer you couldn't quite match.

You exhaled, shook your hands, and stood to your feet, peeking out your bedroom door to where the Doctor... John stood.

He dressed differently now, more casual sometimes with the early morning pajamas. Today, however, he was dressed with a white button up and slacks, familiar, but matched with a long brown coat that had the same vibe as a trench coat but not the same material. And on the tip of his nose sat a pair of glasses, that you'd seen on the Doctor, yes, but rarely.

"Oh, so we have pet names now, dear?" You teased, watching as the tips of his ears began to burn a bright red.

It was natural, whatever banter you'd acquired. It was rather flirty, sure, but natural. You didn't want to think about what that meant too much.

"Dear?" He shriveled up his nose, "-What are we, an old married couple? I'd at least like to be dearest."

You snorted, walking towards the kitchen -which was right across the entry way, where he slipped off his shoes and placed his coat on the hanger. You were surprised by his organization in this light, especially since seeing some of the TARDIS's rooms.

"Okay, John dearest," you spoke, nose upturned as if you were pompous, "-may I ask how your day went? Were the kids okay today?"

He was a librarian at the local school, and sometimes on Saturdays he'd have extra readings for town square -he was quite the hit. With the voices he'd put on and the enthusiasm of the stories he told, the kids were enraptured. They weren't the only one.

"Of course," he grinned, "-haven't I told you, Thursday class kids are the best! Always desperate to learn that lot."

"Right," you carefully mixed the food upon the stove top, it wasn't on anymore but it was still warm enough to heat it up, "-that's the one with Charlotte in it, yeah?"

"Oh, yes, lovely Charlotte," he smiled, "-she'll go places I tell you. Today, she was negotiating an escape plan during recess, had a route down to the times."

You laughed, before siphoning off two servings and continuing, "And the meeting afterward?"

His demeanor dropped, as he pouted with a groan, "Boring, you know I hate to sit still for too long. Plus, George was just spewing nonsense statistics the whole time -didn't grasp onto much."

"Naturally," you hummed, taking a seat across from him as you placed his plate in front of you. You were usually the one to cook, not for... John's lack of trying, but more for the whole apartment's safety.

"What about you?" He countered, eyes attentive on you, it was unusual for you -the Doctor was usually everywhere all at once but John was often just an observer, "How was yours?"

The attention was odd, sometimes, but you'd grown to like it -despite how flustered it could make you. Depending on the day, and if his hair was messy and collar fussed. Luckily, he seemed well-composed today -a perfect picture of John, not the Doctor.

"Boring," you answered, not finding anything of note in your day. It was quiet mostly here, and you couldn't often chance going out without knowing where the Doctor was or if the threat was even still active.

"Oh, come off it," he dragged, his tone playful, "-you can do better than that. Go on, tell me. Anything new?"

You shook your head with a smile, "Not much, I'm just in the early stages now jotting ideas down in whatever form I can. There's not... It's all drafts."

You stayed home, under the illusion of being a writer -waiting for their big break. You did write though, detailing your adventures with well... him. It helped you sometimes when you missed him, and worst case scenario, it reminded you of what you were doing this all for. Because John's familiar soft smile and gleaming eyes were something you knew you could get yourself lost in.

You wished you could keep this version of him somewhere within you (locked away tight, yours), but you could never wish the lack of the Doctor in the world. Or even with you for that matter.

"I imagine it's lovely," he spoke, tone soft and the blush on his cheeks rising high, "-anything you make will be."

And there it was. The suspicious, fond gaze you'd caught from him now. It was happening more often, between the shared hours of the day you and John were domestic -connected personally, even. And you knew it felt that way, with him coming home, and sharing the space so intricately.

Just looking around the kitchen, you could see John just about in every crevice. An apron there (that said kiss the cook), some themed salt and pepper shakers (they were shaped like little animals), and the book he kept by the counter -he often sat there as you cooked, and you well enjoyed the company.

And everywhere else, you'd find him too. Little trinkets on bookshelves he just "couldn't live without", a few snowglobes from different cities (you found he was invested in traveling), and notepads just about everywhere. He always had something new to remember afterall.

"Well, thank you," you hummed, cursing yourself for the flush that went up your own cheeks. This isn't him, and he's not even himself.

How is that fair.

"But," you continued, playfully, "-I doubt you're an unbiased critic."

He made a big dramatic gesture with his hands to himself before speaking in a high-pitched tone, "Me? What? Never."

"John," you hummed, "-you're really not a good liar."

"Not to you," He smiled, his eyes carrying a whimsical shine that made your stomach swirl with familiarity, "You see right through me. I'll have you know, some of my classes think I'm a trainer of wild lions over the summer."

"You remember you teach children, right? They're fairly gullible."

"Pish-posh," he tsked, scooping some of the food into his mouth with a grace you found mostly unknown to the Doctor -other than tactful speeches and addressing an enemy, "-children are rather smart, just don't know how to use it yet."

"Yes, right," you countered, "-and this is an unbiased look, coming from a children's teacher, then?"

He rolled his eyes, a playfulness giving him away on his face, "Alright, you win. I'm shelving this argument for now."

"Just shelving it?"

"Yes," he confirmed, smiling up at you from his plate, and you felt your heart do a little twist in its place, "-anyway, I meant to ask you something."

You pursed your eyebrows at the sudden topic change, but pressed further on, "Yes?"

"Well, there's a-" he fidgetted with his fork, eyes now looking anywhere but you, "-a work thing Saturday. A big party, music and food. It's a celebration for getting halfway through the year, I suppose. Anyway, I just... well-"

"John?" You interrupted, clear, and concise but a touch concerned -had he seen something? Was it time?

"I'd like for you to come," he spit out, quicker than what was previously said but you still caught it (a symptom of the Doctor’s long-winded rants you supposed), "-with me. If you're not... busy."

"John," you hummed, with a grin, "-as if I'm ever too busy for you."

John smiled, the kind of smile the Doctor got when you were 'bloody brilliant' or so he'd put it. It made you feel special, all of your limbs felt like they were fizzing. The difference was now... you hadn't done anything. He looked at you like the stars were merely rocks, just because you'd said you'd go to a work party with him.

The Doctor wouldn't have done that. And that fact made your stomach twist in guilt, this wasn't really him. John wasn't really a person, just a shell of who he was meant to be and you were the only person so close to him.

And here you were, feeling things that you shouldn't with a man who only had you within this world.

Sure, he was giving you signals. Signals that made your head spin because you had always wanted them from that face, but it wasn't him. It's not fair.

"Brilliant," he grinned in response, before taking the two of your plates away with the same enthusiasm. He wouldn't wash them, he never did directly after dinner. Always said he didn't want to waste a moment.

And maybe you didn't want to either.

The next few days were busy for you, more than usual, you'd been trying to trace who had been after him for the past year. It had been a year. You were getting nowhere, mostly because he hadn't told you anything -'he' being the Doctor.

So, you weren't exactly ready when Saturday crawled up on you. John had practically been bouncing off the walls, fidgeting with his tie. He hadn't looked at you once as he navigated the space, grabbing things he'd strewn about -he looked so natural here. Fit here, with you.

It'd been familiar. You missed him.

Every day you did.

The Doctor jumping around the space, eager to tell you about the hills that stars grew on, or the alien race that communicated through smell.

"Isn't it brilliant?" He'd always be grinning so bright it could blind you, and he'd twirl around the controls for good measure. Eyes looking to you for your reaction, beautiful green twinkling with wonder you thought you'd lost when you were six. You had lost when you were six, but he... he brought it back.

"Y/N?" he spoke, well not him... but him, "Everything alright?"

John was in your space, a few steps away -maybe afraid to bridge the gap, he extended a hand. You'd realized then you were crying, the tears silent against your cheeks -you didn't even realize...

"If you're not-" he started, his fingers clenching in the air between the two of you like he'd wanted to touch you but wasn't sure, "If you don't want to go, we can stay."

We, he'd always said something like that -a package deal. Maybe you could live in your delusions for a bit, you could be selfish once.

With a breath, you closed the gap -connecting your hands and intertwining your fingers with his. His hand moved naturally... like it was meant for this... like his hand was meant to be in yours. It was intimate, something about you not being in direct danger and still holding him close.

You were safe, in your apartment; the two of you dressed dashingly, all for a party you were now bound to be late to.

"Wish I could," clearing your throat of the tears, you swung your hand and his between the two of you with the smallest of smiles, "-but my date is pretty handsome, couldn't bare to let him down."

John chuckled, you could still see the smear of concern in the pull of his brows but he could never really help it with you, "Handsome, really? This date seems very lucky then. From where I'm looking-"

You snorted, shaking your head and letting go of his hand -heading towards the apartment door, "We're going to be late, John."

"You started it," he pouted, before spinning around in a circle -eyes darting, "-wait, where's my coat?"

"John, darling," you hummed, pointing to the coat that was draped right across the back of the couch.

"Right, yes," he responded, grabbing it before freezing in place like your words had just now processed, "-did you say... darling?"

"Good observation."

"That's new, isn't it?" he asked, eyes intent on you for a moment -like you were a mystery he couldn't solve, "-I like it."

"Oh hush you," you snickered, not lingering on the slip any longer than you wanted to, "-we are so late."

John grinned bright and you saw him then -adventurous and wonderful, as he approached you -almost giddy, "I wouldn't have it any other way, darling."

The party was fuller than you'd expected, really. It wasn't just in some breakroom with dollar streamers and cupcakes with the kind of icing that stained your mouth. There were lights, music, and it was catered. With a mouthwatering buffet, mind you.

"John," you hush whispered, "-you didn't tell me it was fancy."

"How was I supposed to know?" he whispered back, defensive, "-This is my first one too!"

At that moment, two men walked up -each in a more dashing suit than the other, groomed to the nines. You truly doubted these guys were teachers, but based on the man that stood by your side... maybe it was true.

"Oh my," the taller one, who if you had to guess was the gym teacher spoke, eyes caught on you, "-John, is this the infamous Y/N?"

The other man straightened, eyes landing on yours, "No way!"

"Infamous?" You turned to John with a questioning brow, now this was interesting.

"It's not-"

"I'm Joseph," the taller one extended his hand to shake, before motioning to the man beside him, "-and this is my husband, Elliot."

"Not that I need to tell you," you smiled towards John, "-but I'm Y/N. It's wonderful to meet you."

"Gosh," Joseph began with a teasing smile toward John, who seemed like a branch in the wind, "-I feel like I know you already. John here's told me so much-"

"Alright," John erupted, the tips of his ears burning bright red -avoiding his eyes to yours, "-that's enough."

You added with a smile, playful, "Dearest, I'm not so sure. I'm quite interested in-"

He rolled his eyes, but you could see the quirk on his lips, "Yeah, yeah. You've had your fun. Now dance with me."

"What?"

"You promised me a dance, silly," he reiterated, pulling you away from the two to a space with less people -the music soft and echoing across the space, "-don't you remember?"

You narrowed your eyes, resisting the pull, "I certainly did not."

"Okay, well, then..." he paused, thinking and still holding your hand between the two of you -loosely, "-I'm asking you now. Will you dance with me?"

You stared at him, his face dancing in the lighting of the space and that strand of his hair falling in front of his eyes like it always did -god, you'd gotten used to him. There was an urge to brush it away, to hold his face -his precious, precious face.

Instead, you squeezed his hand, "Of course."

He smiled, and pulled you to the floor -eyes intent and focused, the music was slow, melodic. You assumed it was requested, based on the nature of the tones, didn't feel quite party to you.

"John," you confessed, "-I really don't know how to dance to this."

He laughed to himself, before gently guiding you the rest of the way to floor, "Don't worry, follow my lead."

John moved your hand to his shoulder, placed his hand on your back, and intertwined your free hands together without a second thought. It felt personal, really to be a breath away from him -for his hands to holding you close. Not in a hug, where you couldn't see his eyes.

But now you could.

"See, watch," he hummed, moving to step in a square -you knew this part, "-you're a natural!"

"You're just saying that," you echoed with a smile, unused to the flattery so close. So tantalizingly close that you could feel the breath of it on your lips. This had never happened.

"Y/N," he spoke, hushed, just for you to hear, "-did you ever think... you could... we could, really-"

"Yes?" you asked, eyes caught in his as you desperately tried to not step on his toes.

"Well, if you-" he began, before frowning, "-if you wanted we could maybe-"

A scream interrupted his sentence, loud and brash, and something within you snapped. You tried to get eyes on the obstruction, but the crowds running just dragged your eyes elsewhere. '... you'll know.'

"We know he's here," a voice slithered, yes slithered, through the crowd -the tone, unnatural, "-give him to us. NOW."

"When the time comes, you'll know."

Your eyes darted to John's who were frantically looking to you, almost checking you over, "John, we have to go."

He seemed speechless, "O-Okay."

You'd kept the watch on you, you could hardly leave it out of your sight -so the cold tingle against your side was quite comforting now. The clothes you were wearing didn't have much pocket space, but it had... something, after all.

Where to, you stared out at the intricate hallways, where to?

"WHERE IS HE?!"

There was a door down the way, space looked small, but it would have to work. You didn't have many options.

Pulling him into the space (a janitor's closet by the looks of it), you shut the door behind you two -making sure it wasn't an automatic lock. The darkness was all encompassing before you found the switch as you brushed your fingers along the wall.

"When you said out, I assumed you meant, well-" he spoke, tone shaky and it was moments like this where the difference was stark, "-out."

"John," you spoke, directly looking into his eyes, "-do you trust me?"

"What, yes-" he sputtered out, eyes lost and it would've been cute had you not been in the situation you were.

"Good," you spoke, before sticking your hand into his coat's pocket -the side he never used, and fished out what you were looking for. The sleek metal in your hand was unusual sure, but not... unwelcome, really.

John stared at it, eyes wide and breaths hollowing, "What... is that? I've never even seen that before! Was that in there the whole-"

"John, this is hard to explain," you exhaled, digging into your own pocket to pull out the watch -it was warm in your hands, "-but you are not John Smith."

"What?!"

"This," you pulled his hand over the watch in yours, you could almost feel it react, "-is you."

"Y/N," he echoed, "-I think you hit your head. You're acting-"

"Crazy," you finished, "-I know."

You could almost see the spandrels of gold connecting with his fingertips, twisting through the air to meet his skin. They were small though, delicate, easily cleared if he wanted them to be.

"Your name is the Doctor, you are an alien-"

"An alien?!"

"-the last one of your kind, Timelord," you continued, gently turning the watch to be in his hand, "-and the world needs you."

"This is-" he began, backing away -trying to push the watch back into your hands, "-ridiculous. My name is John Smith, I'm a librarian at Dexington Primary School. I have been for a year-"

"John-" you began -desperate.

"I got my degree, I met you on campus-" his tone was still fond somehow, "-you spilled your coffee on me, and wanted me to apologize-"

"John-" you interrupted, you couldn't hear this. Not now. Not when you were about to lose him.

"And I should've been mad. I should've been, but your smile was brilliant and I couldn't even think straight-"

"John, please." You echoed, tone gentle, soft.

"I thought you were the most beautiful person I'd ever seen," he looked up at you, eyes red and watery, "...How can that not be real?"

"Oh John," you hummed, tears of your own gathering -your hand coming to rest on his cheek, idly tracing the skin there, "-my darling John. It was."

John leaned into your palm, tears floating down his cheeks, and you wiped them away.

"This," you whispered, a bit breathless from the tears of your own and pointed between the two of you, "-was real. I know that."

"Then, why-" he began, eyes fluttering all over your face.

"You're-" you sighed, shakily and hesitant to let him go, "-you're not you, John. Not really."

"I want to be-" he started, reflecting his hand on your face -wiping at your tears, "-I just want to be your John. Why can't I?"

"Because you're the Doctor," you hummed, your heart breaking in your chest, "-and I can't take that away from the world."

He seemed to understand then, looking down at the watch with purpose -trying to see it for it was, you thought. His hands were shaking, and his eyes were heavy with a feeling you'd seen before in them, in the Doctor's eyes.

"I..." he whispered, looking back up into your eyes, "-I love you. Truly, I- I do. You have to know that, before I... Before I go."

"My John," you were crying now, the twist in your chest strong - an ache, a yearning, "-I love you too."

Without a second thought, you pushed forward, placing your other hand on his face -connecting your lips to his. You could be selfish twice, you decided, as you held his precious, precious face between your fingers.

It was bittersweet, the salt of your tears soiling your lips, but you really honestly couldn't change a thing. You wouldn't.

It was an ending you wouldn't forget.

With a breath, you pulled apart but let your fingers stay for a moment -eyes dancing around his face, to remember this. To remember John.

Because this... wasn't the Doctor, no matter how hard you wished it to be. It would be gone so very soon.

"You were lovely," you hummed, brushing his hair back and letting your fingers linger on his skin, "-I'll miss you."

With that, you stepped back.

"I'll miss you too."

He stared at you, green eyes so open, so vulnerable, he was hesitant -toying around with the watch in his fingers. You exhaled, shakily, and nodded.

John smiled, a brief one that you tried to commit to your brain, so fond... so loving. He didn't need to say anything else, so he flicked open the watch, and golden light burst into the room. It was so bright, you had to hide your eyes in the crook of your arm -the warmth biting up against your skin. It felt like a harsher version of the sun, searing across your skin, but it wasn't necessarily hurting.

And then, it stopped.

You looked up from behind your arm, and-

"Bloody hell," he spoke, gruff to himself, as he seemed to try to get something out of his ear, "-that was a rough one."

The joy you felt in your heart was immeasurable, but you still felt quite... broken open, splayed out like a puddle on the floor, and he was not.

He wiped at his eyes, noticing the tears -most likely, "What was I even-"

His eyes caught onto you, the eyes that you had missed -the extra heaviness, the extra wonder, and the infinite knowledge in that brain of his.

He lit up into a smile so bright that warmed you, "Y/N! Thank the stars, you look terrific."

The Doctor leaned forward, brushing a hand through your hair -it was longer now, "How long has it been?"

You paused, "About a year."

"Oh," he hummed, eyes everywhere but your face -thoughts quick and unraveling, "-that was a bit of miscalculation on my part... My bad. I didn’t think-"

His eyes finally landed on you, and he faltered. Moving quickly toward you, his hands unwittingly went to your face, wiping at the tears that had fled there. Your face was no doubt a wreck, sniffling nose and eyes scrubbed red.

"Have you been-" the Doctor paused, speaking softer, "Have you been crying?"

"I..." you began, but couldn't finish it.

"I was crying, too," he continued, "-well, not me but... me. What, so we were crying together that's-"

He fell silent, looking at you again -almost analyzing. There was a gleam, a shine of understanding, and you knew.

"You loved him," he concluded. The silence echoing loud after the words, bouncing around your head like a pinball machine, "-didn't you?"

You couldn't do this now, you really couldn't do this now, "Doctor, now is not the time."

Before he could say another word, you dug the screwdriver out of your pocket -it was shoved there when you... it didn't matter. Not now.

He narrowed his eyes at you, saying something you recognized to be 'we'll talk later', before accepting the tool with a grin, "Right then, duty calls, doesn't it?"

"As always," you quipped. He rewarded you with a grin that send your stomach into knots, one you'd missed so dearly.

The aliens who had come to him were fairly easy to handle, they were a bit too overconfident in their planning. The Doctor had simply slipped right in, and they hadn't been prepared for it. Hardly worth a year.

They underestimated him, you could tell. He was pouting about it. Had been for the last 10 minutes.

"What, they really thought I would fall for that?" He muttered to himself, as you both roamed the area -checking up on the masses, keeping an eye out for any injury that needed to be urgently dealt with.

And then you saw them, the men: Joseph and Elliot. They sat huddled together, comforting each other with what looked like some other teachers -their eyes widened in relief at the sight of the two of you, you assumed.

"Y/N, John!" Joseph exclaimed, the pull of his eyebrows lessening, "Thank god, you two are alright, are you hurt anywhere?"

He briefly scanned the two of you, seeming to come up with nothing, "-good."

"Joseph, right?" The Doctor asked, you knew he retained partial memories, so it made sense, "-Is everyone okay over here?"

"Yeah," Joseph answered, eyes flickering down the line, "-George sprained an ankle, but that seems to be the worst thing so far."

He was confused, you could tell by this new dynamic and the shift in... John. Your weren't sure how to even start in an explanation though, and the Doctor didn't seem too worried so you just waved it off.

"You're..." Elliot began, observing, "... different, John. You sure you okay?"

The Doctor chuckled, "I'm quite alright, never been better really. I'm just... not quite John."

"If I hadn't seen snake people about 10 minutes ago," Joseph responded, "-I'd say that's weird... but now? Do you just... You're not John?"

"No, well yes," the Doctor scrambled, "-John is like a piece of me. Just a part of my whole self, really. I... felt all the things John felt, saw what he saw. It just wasn't fully me."

They nodded, and he took it as means to continue.

"The rest of me was locked away, kind of," he spoke, face trying to track what he'd say, "-does that make sense?"

"The most I've heard today," Joseph quipped, "-which is not very much."

"Well," he grinned -wide and bright, the knowledge of worlds blooming behind his eyes, "-that's all I can ask, really."

"Are you two okay?" You asked, eyeing the two with a sensitive eye.

"Yes," they smiled at you, both of them had such kind eyes, "-we came up unscathed, luckily."

You sighed in relief, "Okay, good."

"Right then," he hummed, eyeing you with an eye you found familiar, questioning concern, "-off we pop, keep in touch, will you?"

"Don't you know it... uh-"

"The Doctor," you clarified, "-world-saving alien."

"Doctor, okay," he laughed -despite looking quite in shock, it was almost just adding to the pile rather than well... being a new type of weird, "-try and stay safe, will you? I may not... know you, but I know John. I rather cared for that bloke."

"We will," you answered, your smile a little bittersweet -you couldn't think about it too much now. Later.

The plan originally had been to go to the Tardis, but this outfit had been one of your best -you wouldn't let it be lost deep in the hallways. You'd already lost at least 3 hoodies in there -limited edition ones, too. And the Doctor was like a lost puppy, so he'd be sure to follow behind.

John had been the same in that sense, showing you things, gravitating towards the same room, and practically pouting for entertainment when you sat still for too long.

The trip up the stairwell was unusually silent, you'd felt odd in the presence of the Doctor and well... silence. It felt like he was always talking, and if by some chance he wasn't, he was everywhere. Big motions filling up a space, he'd almost always have a spotlight shining on him -attention on him anywhere he went.

It was the curse of the companion to fall in love with the wonder, one you knew well.

But this part of the Doctor was rarely there, this part was the kind where he'd stay silent for days -thinking about something in particular. An anniversary of an event, he wouldn't say what; the only way you could tell was he wouldn't be jumping to go elsewhere. He'd stay right there.

You felt that same part here, following you to the apartment that you... that you used to share. Kind of. You weren't quite sure where his memories were, what he remembered about the year (or even the past few hours for that matter).

The door swung open, and the silence only intensified. Large and unmoveable, you were sure how to even approach it. Or if he even wanted you too.

"It's... blurry," he spoke, dusting his fingers along a snowglobe (one of his, technically) -you held back the twinge in your heart. John was everywhere in here.

"What is?" You questioned, absentmindedly playing the ends of one of the coats that hung there -it wasn't yours, but you thought you might keep it.

"The line between me and him," he answered, eyes scattering to different things littering across the space.

Looking at it, it looked very domestic.

The pairs of shoes by the door, the mugs paired by the stove -ready for tea, the pair of pillows decorating the couch -you'd both chosen one. It felt so... stuck together, you could barely breathe.

"There's things I know I..."

"Doctor," you shook your head, swallowing down the lump of tears in your throat -you were grieving... over someone right in front of you, "-you don't have to do this..."

He pursed his lips at you, furrowing his brow, "Do what?"

"This," you motioned to him, holding the snowglobe -close to his chest, "-I know John isn't you. You don't have to... I know."

"Y/N," he began, now placing the trinket back on the shelf, "-what are you talking about?"

"Doctor, it's embarrassing enough as it is."

"What is-" He questioned, roaming closer, "Y/N, you're making no sense."

"Stop," you rolled your eyes, walking further into the room, and of course he only followed you. What were you going to do with all this?

"Look at me," he held your biceps, guiding your eyes to his, "-does it look like I'm lying to you?"

You squinted at his, trying to closely analyze his face -you knew it, his tells, his existence was painted in the skull of your brain. Both Timelord and human now, you supposed.

"No," you decided -still not quite over the lump of emotion in your throat, would you ever be?

"Right then," he cleared his throat awkwardly and let go of your arms, "-good."

This was something starkly different, the Doctor fluttering away from affection so easily -stepping out of the space and not being aware anymore. John... He felt like he was looking at you, always looking at you. Maybe because he had nothing else to look at, but you liked to think it was because he wanted to. You hoped he did.

"Stop-" the Doctor interjected, the silence of the room breaking like glass -harsh and loud, "Stop thinking so loud."

You rolled your eyes, not wishing to deal with this side of him now -not when you felt like you were digging a grave for someone standing right in front of you. It was odd, the twisted feeling of watching what you knew to be the Doctor around the room. (The only real difference being the godforsaken bowtie. He'd stolen it at the party, the janitor -an older man with a kind smile, had easily given it away.)

He belonged here, you knew that. Hell, even before the last year, the Doctor would pop in for visits -movie nights, just to try something human he'd heard about, or his impatience on waiting for you. He had a spot then, sat on one of your wider windowsills -staring down at the streets below, or the lit up city, you weren't sure. The man just couldn't sit in a regular chair.

John hadn't done that. Sure, he'd made himself cozy in every space possible that he could, including the kitchen cabinets once (hell of a day), but never... never the windowsill. He hadn't wondered about what was outside, his whole world was right...

"Here," you hummed to yourself, tracing the tips of books on the shelves.

You saw that now, John had no need for adventure, no spark to see something new. He'd been content. Happy with just you.

The Doctor couldn't be like that, you knew that. He never could.

You weren't sure you'd ask him to.

"I wish I could," the Doctor spoke, a chuckle lost in the whisper of his words.

"What?"

He seemed to pause, thinking about his next words -the Doctor thinking never really meant anything good. But, you still found you waited.

"Your John," he finished, "-I wish I could be him."

You froze in your place, your breath hitching in your lungs -so, he had remembered, "We really don't have to-"

He seemed to continue, as if your words hadn't even been spoke, "You have to understand, Y/N, John is a part of me. Sure, without the extra bits, but still me. Me in my most basic form, human."

You didn't know what to say.

"Well," the Doctor corrected, "-human...ish. Not really an exact science, just kind of takes the regeneration energy and-"

"Doctor," you exhaled, tired, "-what is this all about?"

"You don't," he began, face furrowed into one of curious concern, "-You don't know?"

"Know what?"

He seemed to falter to a pause, like he was planning his next move. Or thinking of his next words again. You wondered what he had to be so careful about -you misinterpreting?

In a blink, he was in front of you -digging around through his pocket before he found what he was looking for -the watch, "Did I ever tell you how this works? The Chameleon Arch?"

"You mean the watch?" you questioned.

"I'll take that as a no, then," he started, fingers mindlessly tracing the Gallifreyan on the front, "-the technical part of it is called a Chameleon Arch, Gallifreyan tech. Original duty is to change an individual's species. Technically, it changes your biology -a very painful process, really, I'd know."

"Right," you flinched, remembering the brief moment he'd experienced it before, "-I... remember."

He frowned at you, seeming to not remember that you had seen that, "It's connected to the Tardis, gives me the backstory, but... it's never been an exact science."

You paused, looking at the Doctor with eyes of curiousity -he seemed to have a point to this ramble. He never had a point to his rambles.

"It takes bits and pieces from me," he hummed, demostrating with the air in front of his hands, "-the person it creates isn't entirely from the Tardis, not really."

"What do you mean?"

"Like a motivation," he hummed, debating on whether or not finish it -eyes looking your direction but not at you, "-or a hobby, or a..."

The Doctor froze in his place, eyes focused on his hands in front of him -slowly, his eyes rose up to meet yours, "A... feeling."

You were confused for a moment, watching him. He'd frozen in place, yet his eyes stayed trained on yours. You couldn't quite grasp it, what he was trying to convey to you. Until...

Until you truly looked at him.

There was something erry about him, something on his face that felt off, but at the same time, ever so natural. So right, yet so wrong.

And then it hit you, there it was. The suspicious, fond gaze.

"Doctor," you spoke, disbelieving.

"Y/N, you have to know," he continued, despite your plea, "-you really truly have to-"

"Doctor, please," you hadn't wanted to go through this again -the hope of loving the Doctor could only hurt you, "-you aren't thinking straight. Th-That's John, not you-"

He was confused, twisting memories together, you couldn't... you couldn't chance it.

"Y/N," he was getting closer to you now, voice steady and distinct, "-it started with me."

You froze in place, blinking as if he'd vanish right in front of your eyes. It was almost like a hallucination for a second, because he (the Doctor, not John) could not mean what you thought he meant.

"It took the bit of me that was..." he corrected, watching you as if you could break with slightest of touches, "-is in love with you."

"You do?" you began, sputtering -you weren't sure what to say, "...N-Not John?"

"Well, technically both," he grinned and you felt your stomach twist into a pretzel. God, what were you going to do with him?

"Oh, shut it," you huffed out.

You could definitely be selfish a third time afterall.

In a blink, you pulled his face towards yours -the steps towards him quick and brash but the way you touched his face was different. Gentle, you trailed your finger along his cheekbone for a second.

Your breath mixed with his, he was just looking at you. Like there was nothing else to look at.

Like he was... happy with just you.

God had he been hiding that look the whole time? -peeking over books as you read them, staring at you as you walked around the Tardis fitting in just like a missing puzzle piece.

"It was all me," he whispered, distracted, sure, but still answering you. Stupid Timelord telepathy and stupid handsome aliens.

And maybe you were a little stupid too, but he didn't need the ego boost, truly.

"Hey-" he pouted out, and the jut of his lip almost made your heart flatline -sure you were almost there but you hadn't worked up to it yet.

The Doctor paused, noticing your stiffening in place, the way your eyes darted to his mouth for a second -a split second, and he grinned.

And for a second you thought he might pull back, and make up some excuse, but instead, his hand came up to the side of your face. Surprisingly smooth fingertips detailing the dips and pulls of your face, you could barely breathe at the closeness.

"Wonderful," he spoke, so quiet you could barely hear him -made you wonder if was even for you to hear. Or if it was just... for him, "-You're wonderful."

"Doctor," you almost cried, the movement so soft, so careful. Like he never wanted to forget the face. You held his face close, a breath away from you and this burst of fondness flooding your chest you just couldn't even describe really.

So, you held his face, trailing your fingers along his jaw -showing it the only truest way you knew how, "My Doctor, my darling Doctor."

And you kissed him.

[marchraindrops]

reckless driving - lizzy mcalpine

locklyle coded or am i tripping?? lockwood's self-destructiveness gets worse because he's literally willing to die for LUCY which also puts lucy and george in danger. as a result, lucy gets mad at lockwood for being so reckless so she LITERALLY lets go by leaving lockwood and co?!??!??!?!? because she thinks by doing this, it'll make him safer "and one day it'll kill us if I don't let go"

[f1version]

Congratulations on 3k 🎊🎊🎊, you deserve it 😘😘😘 , if you don't mind, may i request a symphony - George Russell + enemies to lover thanks in advance

3k special — thank you soooo much anon! here you go:

• Why'd You Only Call Me When You’re High by Arctic Monkeys

• Kiss With a Fist by Florence + the Machine

• BOYSHIT by Madison Beer

• Love It If We Made It by Rina Sawayama

• Daylight by David Kushner

• hate to be lame (feat. FINNEAS) by Lizzy McAlpine

• Dark Red by Steve Lacy

• i'm yours by Isabel LaRosa

• Skyfall by Adele

• PILLOWTALK by ZAYN

[oblivious-idiot]

music artists i think lockwood and co would listen to

lockwood - he gives me 80s alt vibes yk? mainly those songs full of feels but he'd 100% blast out abba or wham!

the cure, kate bush, the smiths, queen, david bowie, elton john, tears for fears, u2, the cranberries, the police, the front bottoms, abba, wham!

lucy - she's definitely 00s/10s indie i think but also 80s alt like lockwood (i'm blaming @wellgoslowly and @ikeasupremacy for the au they came up with)

arctic monkeys, regina spektor, coldplay (specifically the parachutes album), adam melchor, wallows, the cranberries, radiohead, the police, her's, the crane wives, sam fender

george - i feel like he'd be the kinda guy to listen to soft 60s/70s/80s music while cooking

the mamas and the papas, simon and garfunkel, fleetwood mac, lemon demon, oingo boingo (weird science - for those skull experiments), abba, prince

kipps (special mention) - all i can imagine him listening to is 10s/20s soft indie lmao

cavetown, billie eilish, phoebe bridgers, her's, lizzie mcalpine, sufjan stevens, dodie, peter mcpoland, hozier

[pub-lius]

Officer of the Day: Who Was He?

This is a brief post dedicated to @maip--macrothorax (who now has an amrev blog you should follow, @charlestownbound). I couldn't actually find much on this subject, so I just had a little fun reading through the general orders from 1775, and here's what I found.

From the beginning of his tenure as Commander-in-Chief, George Washington was tasked with bringing the unruly militiamen to order, though with little success it seems. In the second General Orders of the war, this passage is included:

"The General most earnestly requires, and expects, a due observance of those articles of war, established for the Government of the army, which forbid profane cursing, swearing & drunkeness; And in like manner requires & expects, of all Officers, and Soldiers, not engaged on actual duty, a punctual attendance on divine service, to implore the blessings of heaven upon the means used for our safety and defence." -G. Orders July 4, 1775

Later the next year, we see men being punished for the same persisting behavior, their punishments authorized by General Washington:

"John McAlpine & John Hopper of Capt: Smith’s Company,2 Col. Malcom’s Regiment convicted by the same Court Martial of “being drunk on their posts”—sentenced to receive thirty lashes each—The General approves the above sentences, and orders them to be put in execution at the usual times and places." -G. Orders August 16, 1776

During the Boston Campaign, where Washington started his service, he had around 14,000-15,000 mostly unorganized militiamen under his command, and he was only one man (he DID have Thomas Mifflin and Joseph Reed as his aides-de-camp, but... its Thomas Mifflin and Joseph Reed, thats more of a punishment than anything else). When we see references to an "Officer" or "Adjutant" of the day in September 1775, the most logical explanation for the role seems to be as a means of exerting order over the camp while Washington and his staff were occupied elsewhere.

On September 6, 1775, the first reference to an officer of the day appears at the bottom of the orders, inviting them to dine at headquarters, but what I find interesting is that there were multiple positions mentioned:

"As the remoteness of some of the regiments from Head Quarters renders it difficult to send invitations to the Officers; The Commander in Chief requests, that for the future, The Field Officer of the day, the Officer of his own guard, and the Adjutant of the day; consider themselves invited to dine at Head Quarters, and this general invitation, they are desired to accept accordingly." -G. Orders September 6, 1775

This line also includes an additional reason for the position, the distance between some officers and headquarters. This could also be why there was both a "Field Officer of the day" and an "Adjutant of the day", along with probably a distinction of rank and role.

Several days later, on September 11, 1775, the Officer of the Day, Major William Lee, gave his return report to headquarters, keeping it short and sweet:

Camp at Cambg. Sepr 11 1775 Return of the Officer of the Day. Parole LancasterCountersign Middleton. Went the Rounds, Visited Guards & Centries and found all Vigilent & Alert. William Lee Officer of the Day

We also get a little glimpse of what the Officer of the Day did in February of 1776:

"The Brigadier of the day, will give his orders to the Field Officers of the day, at what time he would have them to go the visiting, and grand rounds; and half an hour before day, order all the guards to be under arms, and properly posted—visit the out-posts—see that the guards are properly placed, and that every thing is in good order, for defence, in case of an attack." -G. Orders. February 27, 1776

Lafayette's bestie (heavy sarcasm), General John Sullivan, even served as Officer of the Day on March 1, 1776:

 “As General Officer of the Day Yesterday, I Visited the Guards in all Advanced Posts Between Cambridge and Mystick Rivers, and the Main Guards at Cambridge, Prospect & Winter Hill. I found the Guards Vigilant & the Sentries Alert.”

These basically summarize every other return report from the Officers of the Day, with some being very brief, and others being more detailed, such as that as Brigadier General William Heath, who is a repeat officer, probably due to his very good reports.

So, to summarize, when encamped, the Officers of the Day would make rounds around the encampment, ensuring that the rules were being abided and that everything was in order, including rationing and uniforms (when applicable). This seems to be their only role, and they would not act in the position of Officer of the Day during/surrounding a battle until things had calmed down. For example, we don't see orders given to the Officer of the Day after the Battle of Princeton (January 3, 1777) until February 8:

"The officers of the day, with an Orderly Serjeant, to attend Guard Mounting; see them properly divided, and march for their different stations." -G. Orders, February 8, 1777

Oh, and of course, the O.O.D. (my acronym) also got to dine with Washington and his military family, most likely for both dinner and supper. Dinner was a more elaborate affair, and would occur around 3-5 pm, while supper was more intimate, around 6-7 pm. You would be less likely to have supper with people, so the Officer of the Day would most likely attend dinner out of obligation, and supper only if invited, meaning he had to pass the vibe check of the aides-de-camp.

Disclaimer: that last paragraph is based entirely off my memory of George Washington's Indispensable Men by Arthur S. Lefkowitz, but, as Tracyn and I have discussed, half of my books are being guarded by a dragon (my mother)

Anyway, I hope this sheds some light on a relatively obscure role in the Continental Army. If you want to know what I searched on Founders Online, I did one for "general orders" and another for "officer of the day". There's a lot more to read through if that's your thing, especially later in the war and post-Steuben, where the army was shifted to be more organized and stable, but I don't have time to look through that today lol. Have a nice day!

[wellgoslowly]

since I'm getting so many locklyle edits to lizzie mcalpine songs I decided to take one for the team and make one to all my ghosts

[vante1920pm]

──;; 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 ★☆

★ 𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲:

◎ | harry potter masterlist

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

☆ 𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀: random songs that i associate with specific characters

☆ 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀: fred, george, percy, ginny, luna

☆ 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: /

☆ 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗱: no

── ‹✶ʾʾ FRED !

i. smooth operator - sade

ii. escapism. - 070 shake & raye

── ‹✶ʾʾ GEORGE !

i. heart to heart - mac demarco

ii. 505 - arctic monkeys

── ‹✶ʾʾ PERCY !

i. dead to me - kali uchis

ii. fall - chloe x halle

── ‹✶ʾʾ GINNY !

i. kill bill - sza

ii. jolene - dolly parton

── ‹✶ʾʾ LUNA !

i. ceilings - lizzy mcalpine

ii. con la brisa - foudeqush & ludwig göransson

© 2023, vante1920pm | do not copy or translate any of my works without my permission. likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated

[ikeasupremacy]

Hiii I love your blog! What music do you think Lockwood and Co listens to at Portland Row?

oh my days hello! thank you so much, this is such a good ask! i feel like, if spotify is around during the problem, they have a group spotify account for sure! but i definitely have a lot of thoughts about their personal music tastes :)

(everything mentioned has the spotify link attached!)

lucy is probably a fan of artists like lizzy mcalpine, phoebe bridgers, taylor swift, olivia rodrigo. sweet hibiscus tea (post by my mutual that i adore) is such a lucy song, as well as iris by the goo goo dolls! her favourite taylor swift album is speak now all the way, and maybe midnights too! when she first met holly she made an angry girl feminine rage playlist about her with all sorts of feral taylor/olivia rodrigo music. she's the kind to listen to pop rock music on full volume in her room screaming every word of it and i am so here for it :D

george would listen to conan gray for sure! he also listens to lizzy mcalpine but he's more of a mitski, arctic monkeys, rex orange county type of listener. kid krow is one of his most loved albums, and his favourite taylor swift album is red! i also feel like he would listen to classical music sometimes, especially george cubbins! piano hits the sweet spot, and he plays it in his earphones while he's at the archives on a case / reading comics while curled up with tea. (RAAHHHH i can imagine it so well somebody write a fic)

lockwood definitely bullies george for listening to classical music, but theres a hc floating around tumblr that he plays piano -> he probably plays a few of george's favourite pieces for him! but as for music taste? he listens to taylor swift (for sure). he claims his fav album is reputation but it's actually 1989. he listens to lana del rey and his favourite album is norman f*cking rockwell or ultraviolence, and he probably dabbles around with the weeknd and older drake music! i feel like he also listens to coldplay!! he probably has a subtly named playlist with songs that remind him of lucy (first song on there is lucy lucy by betcha)! during the famous grocery store incident lore, a shitpost involving a lot of locklyle, one of the many hcs is that he played his lucy playlist instead of the group one time and was just like 😳

the skull probably asks lucy to play peaches by jack black just to see lockwood dramatically leap to the piano and sing along "soulfully" to it, saying lucy instead of peach every time LOL (he is belting awfully and hitting all the wrong notes and it is pissing EVERYONE off)

but as for a group playlist, just a blend of all their music tastes really. a lot of taylor swift, and they would listen to the radio often! (english people will know) they listen to radio 1's morning podcast with greg james while doing up breakfast!

idk that image is so nice to me, quiet mornings at 35 portland row with the radio on, humming to a random song. music is literally integral to so many things imo, and i love the idea that l&co play a lot of it! thank you so much for the ask <3

[wayward-sherlock]

wayli what is your favorite genre of music and favorite song and why. and also what decade do you think produced the best music. what is your favorite song to sing if you like singing along to songs. also who is your favorite music artist or artists.

-fellow Music Person though you have much better taste than me

bee im in love with you. as promised: 😘😘😘😘

i don’t reallyyyy have a favorite genre of music. i love every single genre bc i think each one is super unique and special in it’s own way. SOME OF MY FAVORITES, however, are bedroom pop/indie, rock (classic and also indie) and country…also the same things applies to songs…i don’t have a single favorite song for a lot of the same reasons !!

as for my favorite musical decade, i think it’s hard to decide between the 60s and 70s, since they were so tumultuous historically, and this was reflected in the music. the 60s brought around psychedelic rock, a new wave of country music, folk music, and hippie music (which overlaps greatly with most of these). all of these were responses to the terrible unrest happening throughout the country (and the world, though im not as well versed in the global perspective - yet!) and i think it’s amazing that music can reflect stuff that’s going on historically!! especially w things like protest music, which came to a head at woodstock in august 1969!

this also happens during the 70s - with the emergence of hard rock, metal, and another wave of country music - but this mostly reflected distrust w the government and also a longing for individualism…also a response to the economic hardships of the decade and the vietnam war…which is SO COOL but also so sad.

some of my favorite karaoke songs are lately by jodeci, if i ever fall in love by shai and bill appleberry, white rabbit by jefferson airplane, turn the page by bob seger, careless whisper by george michael, total eclipse of the heart by bonnie tyler, whiskey river by willie nelson, good hearted woman by waylon jennings, lose yourself and/or without me by eminem, next episode by snoop dogg and dr dre, it’s all futile! it’s all pointless! and warsaw by lovejoy, it gets better and doing this again! by bears in trees, and- [gunshots]

my favorite music artists are phoebe bridgers, lovejoy, bears in trees, lizzy mcalpine, boygenius, wilbur soot, clairo, noah kahan, troye sivan, searows…i could go on. i’ll stop.