#Welcome to 1951

[historical-hollywood]

Cowpokes Ken Murray and Laurie Anders get a bit entangled in this promotional photo for The Ken Murray Show, August 21, 1951.

[letterboxd-loggd]

Rich, Young and Pretty (1951) Norman Taurog

March 17th 2024

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Book Report: Royal Audience

Welcome to another semi-recurring feature, where I read the royal books so you don’t have to.

A new royal book has recently been published. This one I found at my library in the “new books”/“this just in” section.

It’s about the Special Relationship between the US and the UK, focusing mainly on The Queen’s relationship with the POTUS.

There’s a lot of history and international politics discussed, but I found it an easy, enjoyable read. I do wish the photographs had been in color instead of black and white so it’d be easier to see the details, which are often discussed in the text. One thing that quickly became clear while reading is that of the men whom are considered The Queen’s favorites, the only thing they all have in common is that they gave attention to and supported the whole family at-large, like hosting Charles or Anne, being friendly with Margaret, giving opportunities for Philip to visit solo, etc. The POTUSes that just gave attention to The Queen and Philip weren’t as successful as nurturing the Special Relationship.

So without further ado, anecdotes about The Queen’s Presidents:

Hoover: The Queen never formally met him “in office,” but she sat next to him at dinner once in the ‘50s.

Wilson: The Queen never met him but he did visit George V at Windsor Castle (the first POTUS invited to Windsor) and that visit set the tone for many of the POTUSes’ visits to The Queen.

FDR: Another POTUS that The Queen never met, but her parents did. George VI and the Queen Mother were the first reigning monarchs to visit the US in 1939 and it was a smashing success. While the Americans have always had an affinity for the BRF, it was this tour (in which FDR and Eleanor served the royals their first hot dogs) that cemented how much Americans supported, or would show up for, the royals if/when they came to visit:

As the Washington Post once wrote, “She’s not our queen but before we’re through with her, she’ll probably think she is” and as Obama once quipped to Charles: “it’s fair to say that the American people are quite fond of the royal family…they like them much better than they like their own politicians.”

Truman was POTUS when Elizabeth and Philip had their first official tour of the US in October 1951 as Duchess and Duke of Edinburgh. The trip, conducted as part of a visit to Canada, was delayed due to King George’s lung surgery and resulted in Elizabeth and Philip taking the BRF’s first international flight. Apparently everyone was so nervous about the flight that the Royal Navy deployed battleships every 700 nautical miles across the Atlantic just in case. By taking the flight, the royals were only a week behind schedule and they sailed home with 97 pieces of luggage.

Eisenhower: the Eisenhower were considered family friends by the royals. He remains the only POTUS to be invited to Balmoral and Elizabeth sent him her personal recipe for drop scones which - yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus - is published in the book, for all you home bakers. The Queen made her first state visit to the US under Eisenhower coinciding with the 350th anniversary of the Jamestown Colony (a trip Her Majesty would repeat 50 years later for the 400th anniversary and made me late to school but that’s another story for later). This state visit is what finally knocked Sputnik off the American front pages.

Kennedy: If you watched the Kennedy episodes of The Crown’s Season 2, you can skip this chapter. Kennedy once met a young Princess Elizabeth though, when his father was the US ambassador.

Johnson: The Queen never met Johnson in person. LBJ didn’t like traveling and preferred to focus on domestic affairs and Vietnam. But Princess Margaret did meet LBJ while on a visit to the US, which is also chronicled on The Crown, which the author takes great pains to mention is fiction because Margaret and LBJ never actually did kiss 🙄. LBJ and The Queen were friendly in letters though.

Nixon: hosted The Queen’s very first Thanksgiving dinner when he visited London in November 1958 (while Eisenhower’s VP) to open the American Memorial Chapel at St. Paul’s Cathedral. The Queen’s acceptance of the invitation to Thanksgiving dinner caused such a consternation because Nixon hadn’t lacked a tuxedo that all the men in the American delegation who had traveled with him and worked at the embassy were measured to find someone from whom Nixon could borrow a tuxedo. Nixon’s visit to Buckingham Palace in February 1969 was the first time that color film was used at the palace.

Ford: hosted The Queen and Philip during the US’s bicentennial celebrations. It is considered to be one of The Queen’s most successful visits/tours. The tour was in July 1976 and if you know East Coast summer weather, you have an idea already what the weather was like. First there were rough seas that made even Philip seasick (they flew from London to Bermuda, then sailed on Britannia from Bermuda to Philly). Then there was humid muggy heat in Philly that The Queen was fanning herself often. And then in DC, it was even swampier with daytime temps of 100F in the shade. The bicentennial visit later became the theme of The Queen’s 1976 Christmas message - reconciliation.

Carter: Carter was the POTUS most considered to be The Queen’s peer since they were closest in age, and that’s about the only thing they had in common. He horribly offended The Queen Mother by kissing her at the G7, hosted Princess Anne on her first solo trip to the US (wherein she shocked the press by being more like Philip in her temperament than The Queen), and personally lobbied Westminster Abbey to include his favorite poet - Dylan Thomas - in Poets Corner. His wife, Rosalyn, is the only FLOTUS The Queen didn’t meet.

Reagan: After Eisenhower, probably the POTUS The Queen was closest to, over their shared love of horses. Their relationship reminds me of the classic “introvert adopted by extroverts” trope (albeit in its own unique way). The Reagans’ first trip to the UK was chaotic in its planning with offenses left and right that made Margaret Thatcher reel. Charles and Nancy had a wonderful relationship and were close for the rest of her life.

Bush 41: Bush (another peer who of similar demographics to The Queen; they were just a few years apart in age, he served in WW2 with a career that reminded her of Philip’s, each had four surviving children, their eldest sons were relatively the same age) was favorite POTUS #3 after Eisenhower and Reagan. The relationship started off rocky, but it was Pickles - a puppy from the Bushes’ dog given to a friend whom The Queen had visited - that smoothed everything over and the two couples got along well. The Queen’s official visit under Bush 41 began with the infamous ‘talking hat’ speech and saw her take in her first baseball game. It was proposed that Philip should throw the first pitch out but The Queen nixed it, though she did join Bush for a little walkabout on the field before the game started. (Boo. I would’ve rather liked to see Philip throw the first pitch. I bet he’d have thrown a strike without any practice.)

Clinton: Clinton prioritized the relationship with Blair more than with The Queen, which ended up salvaging the Special Relationship after Blair’s predecessor (John Major) practically blew it up by getting involved in the 1992 POTUS election when he/his government campaigned for Bush. But Clinton came around to The Queen in the end. Clinton is notably the first president who was younger than The Queen and I suspect his presidency marked a change in how The Queen approached the special relationship.

And also, there’s a very good chance that this chapter illustrates Meghan’s obsession with Hillary Clinton - Diana and Hillary had a good enough friendship, even if only a working relationship, that Diana co-chaired a White House breakfast with Hillary. The book also points out that much of Diana’s post-BRF work in the US took place in the Clinton administration, so now I’m wondering if perhaps Meghan sees the Clintons as a partial extension of Diana’s network and that’s why she tries so hard with Hillary. (And also there’s the obvious that Hillary knew/met Diana so maybe Meghan has been trying to court Hillary to be part of the “Meghan is just like Diana” fan club.)

Bush 43: had the first official full state visit of The Queen’s reign, which was also only the second state visit by a US President (Wilson in 1918). There were significant security concerns due to the War on Terror and this is also when the Daily Mail’s reporter was a footman for 2 months; the reporter broke his own cover to report on the state visit. The Queen had her final state visit to the US in May 2007 as part of the celebrations for the 400th anniversary of Jamestown. (Her visit was the unofficial kickoff to the official celebrations, which began the week after.)

I didn’t know this, but The Queen personally donated a significant sum to the 9/11 memorial funds. Also The Queen enjoys Mexican food. A lady after my own heart!

Obama: Obama’s relationship with Britain began cool, owing to family tragedy closely connected with British colonialism in Kenya. He and the PM at the time, Brown, didn’t seem to get on, but The Queen stepped in and it’s thought her gentleness with the Obamas is what softened Obama’s consideration of the British. I do believe that Obama was the first head of state to see The Queen as more a grandmotherly figure and that helped boost The Queen’s global reputation (Bush 43 and Clinton saw her as motherly, and everyone through Bush 41 saw her as a contemporary/peer).

In the epilogue, the author writes that he believes Obama was favorite POTUS #4. I think the Obamas had a special friendship with The Queen, but sometimes I feel like it was more of mentorship, with The Queen showing them a generous kindness they weren’t expecting that led to both of them learning from her what it means to be diplomatic without losing sense of themselves.

Trump: His working visit in 2018 and the state visit in 2019 both were preceded by chaos and politics. A lot of people looked to The Queen’s symbolism in her outfits for how she felt about him. Trump held The Queen in high esteem, which she seemed to reciprocate diplomatically, but he had waffling views on Britain itself and that seemed to affect how the Special Relationship was managed (ie one day they were allies, the next day, Trump was assailing the mayor of London on Twitter).

Biden: No one quite knew what to do with him. He had proud Irish heritage so everyone thought he wouldn’t regard Britain well, but at the same time, Biden was outspoken against Brexit and Boris Johnson, which aligned with mainstream feelings of the day, so they weren’t sure how the wind was going to blow. But the Special Relationship prevailed, with Biden in a unique position that saw him speaking more about the generosity and the humanity of The Queen given what was happening to her - first the COVID protocols, then Oprah interview, then Philip’s passing, then her own illness.

(Biden is in the “Queen as motherly” club with Clinton and Bush 43.)

[iloveelvisss]

Little Sister

AN: okay so this one's a little bit on the long side, sorry. I have given Y/N's sister and dad a name, so I hope you don't mind. Request things please!!

1948

You were ten years old when you got a new neighbor. A man, his wife and their son. Your momma went over to welcome them to Memphis right away. She told them how wonderful the city was and how if you listened just right, you could hear Beale Street come alive at night all the way from your run down apartment building.

The week after your momma invited them across the hallway to eat dinner at your place. Your older sister, age thirteen was beyond excited to finally meet the boy your mother had revealed was also thirteen.

"Well hi there! Aren't you both just beautiful?" The mother of the boy looked between your sister and you as she walked inside your apartment. "My name is Gladys, this here is Elvis." She pointed to the boy, Elvis, who was standing in a very awkward stance beside her. "And that guy back there is my husband Vernon." She gave you a smile that looked like the most genuine and loving smile ever, you knew you were already going to love this family.

After shaking hands with Elvis and Vernon, all three of you children were sent to play while Gladys and you mother cooked, your fathers talking about god knows what. "You got any friends yet Elvis?" Your obnoxious sister asked. "You two I guess." He grinned.

Two weeks later and your families got along like they had always known each other. Elvis had also grown a liking to calling you his 'little sister' or 'little' for short. Living in that stupid apartment building suddenly wasn't so bad.

•••

1951

When you were thirteen and Elvis and your sister were sixteen was the first time Elvis had asked your sister on a date. What they didn't know was that you had a crush on Elvis. But a crush was all it would ever be, a meaningless secret that would nag at the back of your mind forever. You made a vow that you would never tell Elvis or your sister.

You were still 'little' to Elvis, and boy did he rub it in. Every time he got the chance he got he would constantly remind you that you were his 'little' and that's how he liked it.

"Mary where are you going this time?" You asked your sister, poking your head through her door. She had on one of her best dresses, loads of makeup and the latest trending hairstyle. She was always so beautiful, getting every boy in town she ever wanted. You felt as if you were boring.. ugly.

That's why your crush on Elvis would only ever be a crush and nothing more, you were his boring 'little' while Mary was gorgeous. The only thing you were ever praised for was being the honest and nice sister.

In a tone indicating that she thought you were stupid, "Elvis is taking me out to the movies. Looks like I'm his new 'little'." She said, jutting out her bottom lip like a toddler. Your blood boiled at that.

"You shut up! All you ever do if ruin everyone's lives." And with that you slammed her door closed and made your way downstairs. Your braided pigtails and skirt bounced as you stomped down the staircase.

You grabbed your book and took your place on the corner of the sofa. The sweet sound of Frank Sinatra's voice coming from your momma's record player. *knock-knock*

Elvis.

Instead of answering the door yourself you waited for your father or mother to answer, remembering the scolding you got from her last time you answered. "Elvis, my boy! How wonderful to see you!" Your momma's voice came from the door of your little apartment. "Hi. It's great to see you too!" The voice that constantly invaded your brain rung through the house.

You quickly turned your gaze back to your book when she came leading him into the living room. "Oh Mary told me about y'all's little date. How sweet of you." She smiled while squeezing his shoulder. "I'm gonna go find Stuart, Y/N you keep Elvis good company you hear!" You didn't get a chance to answer before she disappeared.

You felt Elvis sit down on the sofa next to you. You forced yourself to meet his eyes, they were matching his small smile. "How are ya 'little'?" It rolled off his tongue so easily. You rolled your eyes, "Elvis I'm only three years younger than you. I am not little!"

"Ya didn't answer my question, 'little'." An amused smirk was smeared across his face now. "I'm fine." Was the only thing you could manage to get out, partially out of annoyance but mostly because that smirk gave you butterflies. You crossed your arms and avoided looking at him.

He pulled at the ends of your pigtails and took a breath. "You will always be my 'little' Y/N and that's-"

"How ya like it, yeah I get it E." You swat his hands away which caused his fingertips to graze the back of your neck, sending vibrations through your entire body. He pulled away in an instant.

You stood up turning towards him. "Mary's comin' down," you motioned to the stairs creaking, "it was nice to see ya. Good night Elvis." You forced a slight smile and turned for the stairs. "Good night Y/N." You barely heard it.

As you trudged up, you brushed shoulders with Mary. "Have a swell night sis, pretty soon he won't remember you're there." With a sickly sweet giggle she was gone. Oh how you wished Elvis or your parents had heard that, she'd be grounded before she could blink.

You went to sleep that night with the ghost of Elvis's fingers on your neck. You dreamed that one day he'd realize who Mary truly was.

•••

1953

It had been two years since Mary and Elvis started dating. For the first half of 52' you had to watch in misery, the other half was when you met Charles. He was in Elvis's grade.

Charles was very sweet and you fell in love with him within three months. You spent the summer of 52' loving him. A week before school started back up he and his family moved away.

"I love you Y/N, a lot. But I think it will hurt less if we break things off now." Charles held both your hands in his own.

You nodded, letting the tears stream down your face. "I understand Charlie, maybe one day we'll see each other again." You paused to wipe away the single tear that rolled down his cheek. "I love you."

That was the last time you saw Charles Johnson. You cried for a couple weeks until it turned into nothing more than a hard topic that you ignored. But with Charles gone your brain pushed back up feelings for Elvis that you avoided for the sake of Charles.

Now it was 1953, the year that changed your life. A little over a week ago Elvis took Mary to a movie, only for her to ditch him in the middle of it with another boy.

Needless to say they broke up, and not in a good way either. They pretty well hated each other it seemed like. During that week Elvis took to spending his time with you, which resulted in you two becoming more close than you had ever been. Best friends in a sense.

He had only gotten better looking. What you didn't know was that he took a notice to the way you had grown over the course of two years. Your body had matured quite a bit, and your face had only turned prettier if that was possible.

This particular day was very hot. The two of you had taken to the ice cream parlor down the street from the apartment complex. "I've been thinking a lot lately Y/N."

"Hmm. About?" You met his eyes as you licked your ice cream. He looked away quickly before continuing. "You 'member when you said I'd go far with my singin'?" He asked. You nodded with a smile.

He finally caught your gaze again, grinning from ear to ear. "Sam Phillips, well he's gonna let me record something! Down at Sun Records on Beale Street!" His grin only grew, causing you to join in.

"Well Lord have Mercy, E! You mean your gonna sign with him?!" Goodness you were so happy for him. "He's givin' me a chance to prove myself 'little'."

You had both finished your ice cream and were now standing outside. At that moment you didn't care about the heat, you got up on your tippy-toes and hugged him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

His arms rested around your waist as you breathed in the scent of him. As you pulled away you saw something swirl in his eyes. When you noticed how close you were to his face, you took a step back.

"Whew, well we best be getting back. Our mommas will kill us if we're late for supper." You gave a breathy chuckle, as he rubbed the back of his neck.

You walked home together and separated into your apartments. That single moment on both your minds. Though Elvis was bound and determined to make you his.

—

Two days later you were rushing down Beale Street. You desperately wanted to be there for Elvis. When you made it, you somehow convinced Sam to let you in.

You were hidden to where E couldn't see you, but you could definitely see him. Oh goodness was it a sight to see too. You were mesmerized by the way he moved, mixed with his magnificent voice, it was probably one of the most angelic things you had ever come across.

After Elvis was done and figured out you were there, you watched as he was signed to Sun Records. You just knew he was going to be big one day.

Now the two of you were stood outside. "My god, can you believe it Y/N?!" He was the definition of happy at that moment. "This is amazing E. You deserve it!" You grinned.

He took a step closer. "This is all thanks to you..."

Another step. "Jesus, you're the best Y/N."

And another. "Do you know that?"

His hands were making their way to your waist. "Elvis.." You whispered.

"Y/N." He whispered back. In one swift movement he had pulled you as close as you could get, his lips connecting with yours. Something ignited in your stomach, causing you to respond. You deepened the kiss.

He smiled against your lips then pulled away. "I've been wanting to do that, ya know?" He smirked, resting his forehead against yours.

"So have I."

Heyyy, so it seems as though my crazy little brain just wants to get all my past imagines onto Tumblr, so bear with me as I do so. (This is a 3 parter, btw). Much love😙

[dear-indies]

Hello! What are some of your favorite Pro-Palestine, Anti Zionist fc's you'd like to see used more? I want to make an OC and have zero ideas but I want to try to only use FC's that, like, aren't heartless pieces of shit, ya know?

Cherien Dabis (1976) Palestinian / Jordanian.

Michael Malarkey (1983) Palestinian, Italian-Maltese / Irish, German.

May Calamawy (1986) Jordanian, Palestinian / Egyptian.

Dina Shihabi (1989) Palestinian, Saudi Arabian / Norwegian, German and Haitian.

Nemahsis / Nemah Hasan (1994) Palestinian.

Angel Guardian (1998) Palestinian and Filipino.

Noor Taher (1999) Palestinian and Lebanese.

Saint Levant (2000) Palestinian, Serbian / Algerian, French.

Josie Totah (2001) Palestinian / Lebanese, Italian, Irish, German - is a trans woman.

+ an entire masterlist of Palestinian fcs!

Also, since lots of people are asking here's a masterlist but PLEASE NOTE THAT THIS IS NOT COMPREHENSIVE LIST OF PEOPLE WHO HAVE POSTED AND/OR SPOKEN ABOUT PALESTINE!

Why I'm not adding people who have only asked for a ceasefire.

HERE is @leepacey's list.

I also have a private list you're welcome to DM me for, both also have people who support Isr*el for people to avoid.

Vanessa Redgrave (1937)

Miriam Margolyes (1941) Jewish.

Charles Dance (1946)

Patti Smith (1946)

Duke Erikson / Garbage (1951)

Annie Lennox (1954)

Butch Vig / Garbage (1955)

Juliet Stevenson (1956)

Peter Capaldi (1958) - donated an auction to Cinema4Gaza.

Steve Marker / Garbage (1959)

Hugo Weaving (1960)

Michael Stipe (1960)

Liam Cunningham (1961)

Sabrina Ferilli (1964)

Paco Tous (1964)

Robert Del Naja / Massive Attack (1965)

Björk (1965)

John Cusack (1966)

Shirley Manson / Garbage (1966)

Aasif Mandvi (1966) Indian.

Serj Tankian (1967) Armenian.

Tricky / Massive Attack (1968) Afro Jamaican / Anglo-Guyanese.

Kathleen Hanna (1968)

Benedict Wong (1971) Hongkonger.

Boots Riley (1971) African-American, one quarter Ashkenazi Jewish (maternal grandmother), small amounts of German, English, Scots-Irish/Northern Irish, Scottish, Wampanoag.

Ava DuVernay (1972) Louisiana Creole.

Gabrielle Union (1972) African-American.

Poorna Jagannathan (1972) Indian.

Haifa Wehbe (1972) Egyptian / Lebanese.

Kimya Dawson (1972) African-American.

Ava DuVernay (1972) African-American.

Cat Power (1972)

Sarah Sophie Flicker (1973) Jewish.

Omar Metwally (1974) Egyptian / Dutch.

Maxine Peake (1974)

Itziar Ituño (1974)

Nelly Karim (1974) Egyptian / Russian.

Mahershala Ali (1974) African-American.

Sara Ramírez (1975) Mexican and some Irish - non-binary, queer and bisexual (they/them).

Carice van Houten (1976)

Karen Olivo (1976) Puerto Rican [Spanish, Indigenous, possibly other] / Dominican Republic, Chinese - is non-binary (they/them).

Haaz Sleiman (1976) Lebanese - is gay.

Antonio De Matteo (1978)

Joelle Mardinian (1977) Lebanese.

Alberto Ammann (1978) Argentinan.

Daniel Brühl (1978)

Max Collins / Eve 6 (1978)

Kayvan Novak (1978) Iranian.

Residente / René Pérez Joglar (1978) Puerto Rican.

Immortal Technique (1978) Amerindian, Spanish, French and African.

Hend Sabry (1979) Egyptian.

Luis Bordonada (1979) Mexican.

Kate Box (1979) - is gay.

Ser Anzoategui (1979) Argentinian and Paraguayan - is non-binary (they/them).

Dorra Zarrouk (1980) Tunisian.

Amerie (1980) African-American / Korean.

Angelica Ross (1980) African-American - is trans.

Dargen D'Amico (1980)

Gustaf Skarsgård (1980)

Madeleine Sami (1980) Fijian-Indian / White - is a lesbian.

Khalid Abdalla (1980) Egyptian.

Arian Moayed (1980) Iranian.

Massari (1980) Lebanese.

Tahar Rahim (1981) Algerian.

Kaan Urgancıoğlu (1981) Turkish.

Shawna Farmer / chubbycartwheels (1981)

Beth Ditto (1981) - is queer.

Morgan Spector (1981) Ashkenazi Jewish / Irish, German, some Scottish and English.

Jesse Williams (1981) African-American, Seminole / Swedish.

Amanda Seales (1981) African-American / Grenadian [African, at least one quarter European].

Riz Ahmed (1982) Pakistani.

Arthur Darvill (1982) - donated an auction to Cinema4Gaza.

Emel Mathlouthi (1982) Tunisian.

Rajshri Deshpande (1982) Indian.

Niamh McGrady (1982)

Yolanda Bonnell (1982) Ojibwe, White / Indian - is two-spirit and queer (she/they) - is open about having OCD and ADHD!

Macklemore (1983)

Luna Maya (1983) Indonesian.

Amir Eid (1983) Egyptian.

Aisling Bea (1984)

Mohamed Emam (1984) Egyptian.

Mahira Khan (1984) Pakistani.

Alex Meraz (1984) Mexican [Purepecha].

Sami Zayn (1984) Syrian.

Jena Malone (1984)

Zawe Ashton (1984) Ugandan / White - donated an auction to Cinema4Gaza.

Siobhan Thompson (1984)

Ravyn Ariah Wngz (1984) Mohawk, Tanzanian, Afro-Bermudian - is a Two-Spirit trans woman (she/her).

Kristin Chirico (1984) - is questioning their gender, “encompassing a lot of things” but is not yet sure if she’s nonbinary or a gender non-confirming woman and uses they/her - openly bisexual and demisexual and have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, ADHD, dyslexia, and asthma.

Tamanna Roashan (1984) Indian / Afghani.

Asia Kate Dillon (1984) Ashkenazi Jewish / Unspecified - non-binary and pansexual (they/them).

Burak Özçivit (1984) Turkish.

Enjy Kiwan (1984) Egyptian.

Kid Cudi (1984) African-American.

Sepideh Moafi (1985) Iranian.

Lilan Bowden (1985) Taiwanese / English, Welsh.

Alex Meraz (1985) Mexican [Purépecha].

Aabria Iyengar (1985) African-American.

Rahul Kohli (1985) Punjabi Indian.

Marina Diamandis (1985)

Troian Bellisario (1985) American, Louisiana Creole [African, French, English] / White.

Sonam Kapoor (1985) Indian.

Carmen V. Ortega Baljian (1985)

Carsie Blanton (1985) Jewish.

Haley Webb (1985)

Yani Gellman (1985) Ashkenazi Jewish, possibly other.

Giulia Michelini (1985)

Lewis Hamilton (1985) Afro Grenadian / White.

Eréndira Ibarra (1985) Mexican - is bisexual.

Karim Kassem (1986) Egyptian / Egyptian Jewish.

Mihaela Drăgan (1986) Romani - is queer.

Asim Chaudhry (1986) Pakistani.

Jenna Coleman (1986) - donated an auction to Cinema4Gaza.

Diane Guerrero (1986) Colombian.

Whitney Greyton (1986) Black South African / Namibian - is queer (she/they).

Fahriye Evcen (1986) Turkish.

Amber Riley (1986) African-American.

Ericka Hart (1986) African-American - is non-binary femme, queer, and polyamorous (she/they).

Lido Pimienta (1986) Colombian [Wayuu, Afro-Colombian] - is queer.

Mihaela Dragan (1986) Romani.

DJ Snake (1986) Algerian / French.

Alba Flores (1986) Romani, Spanish [including Andalusian] - is a lesbian.

Saagar Shaikh (1986) Pakistani.

Mustafa Ali (1986) Pakistani.

Lily Gladstone (1986) Kainai Blackfoot, Amskapi Pikuni Blackfoot, Nez Perce, Dutch, Cajun - she/they.

Pidgeon Pagonis (1986) Mexican and Greek - is intersex and non-binary (they/them).

Guz Khan (1986) Pakistani.

Eugene Lee Yang (1986) Korean - is gay.

Bob the Drag Queen (1986) African-American - is polyamorous, pansexual and non-binary (he/her).

Asim Chaudhry (1986/87) Pakistani.

Marwa Agrebi (1987) Tunisian.

Mercury Stardust (1987) - is non-binary trans femme (she/they).

Sasha Velour (1987) Russian Jewish / Ukrainian, other - is genderfluid (she/they when not in drag, she while in drag).

Susan Wokoma (1987) Nigerian.

Munroe Bergdorf (1987) Afro Jamaican / English - is trans.

Michael B. Jordan (1987) African-American.

Juliana Huxtable (1987) African-American - is trans.

Nicola Coughlan (1987)

Anjana Vasan (1987) Tamil Indian.

Pearl Mackie (1987) West Indian / English - is bisexual.

Erika Ishii (1987) Japanese - is genderfluid (she/they/any) - also posted on Brennan’s post: “Thank you for always being thoughtful with your advocacy and direct in your action. From the river to the sea.”

Michaela Coel (1987) Ghanaian - is aromantic, boycotted the Sydney Festival 2022 for Palestine.

Carina Shero (1988)

Joe Cole (1988)

Elsa Hosk (1988)

Kendrick Sampson (1988) African-American / English, Scottish, German, Cajun/French, Danish, Norwegian.

Kelly Piquet (1988) Brazilian.

Navild Acosta (1988) African-American - is non-binary queer (he/him).

Brennan Lee Mulligan (1988)

Swara Bhasker (1988) Indian.

Aiysha Hart (1988) Saudi Arabian and English.

John Early (1988) - is gay.

Sabrina Dhowre Elba (1988) Somali.

Joel Kim Booster (1988) Korean - is gay and has bipolar disorder.

Gratiela Brancusi (1989) Romani and Greek Romanian.

Frank Waln (1989) Sicangu Oyate Lakota Sioux.

Rakeen Saad (1989) Jordadian.

Morfydd Clark (1989)

Mary Lambert (1989) - is a lesbian.

Meyne Wyatt (1989) Wongutha and Yamatji.

Dina Torkia (1989) Egyptian / English.

Kiell Smith-Bynoe (1989) Afro Barbadian and Afro Jamaican - donated an auction to Cinema4Gaza.

Laith Ashley (1989) Afro Dominican - is a trans man and asexual.

Shea Couleé / Jaren Kyei Merrell (1989) African-American - non-binary (they but she/her while in drag).

Emma Watson (1990)

Mitski (1990) Japanese / White.

Arrows Fitz (1990) African-American - is non-binary (he/they/she/it).

Shirine Boutella (1990) Algerian.

Luke Baines (1990)

Julia Jacklin (1990)

Josh O’Connor (1990) - donated an auction to Cinema4Gaza.

Paapa Essiedu (1990) Ghanaian - and donated an auction to Cinema4Gaza.

Lolly Adefope (1990) Yoruba Nigerian.

Tabria Majors (1990) African-American.

Rosaline Elbay (1990) Egyptian.

Katie Findlay (1990) English, Hongkonger, Portuguese-Macanese, Scottish - is queer (they/them).

Poppy Liu (1990) Chinese - is non-binary (she/they).

Shareena Clanton (1990) Blackfoot, Cherokee, African-American, Wangkatha, Yamatji, Noongar, Gija.

Maren Morris (1990)

Kiowa Gordon (1990) Hualapai, White.

Leigh-Anne Pinnock (1991) Afro Barbadian and Jamaican.

Joe Alwyn (1991)

Emily Ratajkowski (1991)

Jari Jones (1991) African-American / Filipino - is trans.

Vico Ortiz (1991) Puerto Rican - non-binary (they/them).

Denée Benton (1991) African-American.

Dylan O'Brien (1991)

Bonnie Wright (1991)

Ramy Youssef (1991) Egyptian.

Sarah Kameela Impey (1991) Indo-Guyanese / British.

Ali Burak Ceylan (1991) Turkish.

Seychelle Gabriel (1991) French, Mexican / Italian, including Sicilian - also has Spoken up for Sudan.

Alexa Nikolas (1992)

Emma D’Arcy (1992) - is non-binary (they/them).

Jarvis Johnson (1992) Unspecified.

Tasha Cloud (1992) African-American - is a lesbian.

Jess Bush (1992)

Rosa Robson (1992) - donated an auction to Cinema4Gaza.

Jade Thirlwall (1992) English, three eights Arab [Egyptian, Yemeni], small amount of Scottish.

Faia Younan (1992) Syrian.

Merhan Keller (1992) Egyptian.

Julien Solomita (1992)

Pauline Chalamet (1992) Ashkenazi Jewish / English, Scottish, Irish, French.

Hari Nef (1992) Ashkenazi Jewish - is a trans woman.

Paloma Elsesser (1992) African-American / Chilean-Swiss.

Katie Gavin / MUNA (1992) - is queer.

Rupi Kaur (1992) Punjabi Indian.

Joana Ribeiro (1992)

Medalion Rahimi (1992) Iranian, Iranian Jewish - uses she/they.

Conor Mason / Nothing But Thieves (1992)

Rose Matafeo (1992) Samoan / Scottish and Croatian.

Zaqi Ismail (1992) Tanzanian.

Cailin Russo (1993)

Tara Emad (1993) Egyptian / Yugoslav Montenegrin.

Younes Bendjima (1993) Algerian.

Bobbi Salvör Menuez (1993) - is trans non-binary (they/them).

Stormzy (1993) Ghanaian.

Chance the Rapper (1993) African-American.

Raveena Aurora (1993) Punjabi Indian.

Naomi McPherson / MUNA (1993) West Indian and Irish - is queer and nonbinary (they/them).

Freddy Carter (1993)

Ghali (1993) Tunisian.

Jordan Alexander (1993) German, Irish, African-American.

Charlotte Day Wilson (1993)

Mia Khalifa (1993) Lebanese.

Maria Thattil (1993) Indian.

AJ Tracey (1994) Afro-Trinidadian / Welsh.

Ben Barlow (1994)

Asia Jackson (1994) Ibaloi Filipino and African American.

Isabella Roland (1994) Jewish.

Josette Maskin / MUNA (1994) Jewish - is queer and nonbinary (she/they).

Aimee Lou Wood (1994)

Rose Williams (1994)

Joseph Quinn (1994) - donated an auction to Cinema4Gaza.

Jasmin Savoy Brown (1994) African-American / English, German, one quarter Norwegian, some Scots-Irish/Northern Irish - is queer.

Theo Tiedemann (1994) Asian - is trans non-binary and gay (he/they).

Little Simz (1994) Yoruba Nigerian.

Huda Elmufti (1994) Egyptian.

Dylan Gelula (1994) Ashkenazi Jewish / Unspecified.

Arsema Thomas (1994) Nigerian / Ethiopian - is non-binary (she/they).

Earl Sweatshirt (1994) Black South African.

Kurtis Conner (1994)

Julien Baker (1995) - is a lesbian.

Kehlani (1995) African-American, French, Blackfoot, Cherokee, Spanish, Mexican, Filipino, Scottish, English, German, Scots-Irish/Northern Irish, Welsh, Cornish, Irish, Choctaw - non-binary womxn, lesbian and polyamorous - she/they.

Achraf Koutet (1995) Moroccan.

Lucy Dacus (1995) - is queer.

Jack Wolfe (1995) - is queer - donated an auction to Cinema4Gaza.

Daniel Caesar (1995) Afro Barbadian and Jamaican.

Archie Madekwe (1995) Igbo Nigerian (one quarter), White.

Jazzelle / Jazzeppi Zanaughtti (1995) Afircan-American.

Elvina Mohamad (1995) Malaysian.

Stanzi Potenza (1995) - is non-binary (she/they) - has epilepsy and ADHD.

Willow Pill (1995) - is trans femme, has cystinosis and is autistic.

Bree Kish (1996) ¼ Black.

Alessia Cara (1996)

CMAT / Ciara Mary-Alice Thompson (1996) - is bisexual.

Josefine Frida Pettersen (1996)

María Isabel (1996) Dominican.

Mustafa the Poet (1996) Sudanese.

Lorde (1996)

Florence Pugh (1996)

Lowkey (1986) Iraqi / English.

Denzel Curry (1995) Afro Bahamian and Unspecified Native American.

Brandon Soo Hoo (1995) Chinese.

Lily Gao (1995) Chinese.

Halema Hussain (1995) - Sylheti.

Jessie Mei Li (1995) Hongkonger / English - is a gender non-conforming woman who uses she/they.

Grace Van Dien (1996)

Diana Veras (1996) Dominican.

Abdelhamid Sabiri (1996) Moroccan.

Lauren Jauregui (1996) Cuban [Spanish, possibly other], likely some Basque - is bisexual.

Ally Beardsley (1996) - is non-binary (they/them).

Thea Sofie Loch Naess (1996)

AURORA (1996)

Leo Sheng (1996) Chinese - is a trans man.

Imaan Hammam (1996) Moroccan / Egyptian.

Tavi Gevinson (1996) Ashkenazi Jewish / Norwegian [converted to Judaism].

Quintessa Swindell (1997) African-American / White - is non-binary (they/he).

070 Shake (1997) Dominican - doesn't like to put labels on her sexuality.

Zara Larsson (1997)

Faye Webster (1997)

Alison Oliver (1997) - donated an auction to Cinema4Gaza.

Juliette Motamed (1997) Iranian.

Madeline Ford (1997)

Asa Butterfield (1997)

Scene Queen (1997)

Micheal Ward (1997) Afro Jamaican.

Xiran Jay Zhao (1997) Hui Chinese - is non-binary (they/them).

Lori Harvey (1997) African-American.

Mayan El Sayed (1997) Egyptian.

Hania Aamir (1997) Pakistani.

Sisi Stringer (1997) African Australian.

Omar Apollo (1997) Mexican - is gay.

Kaiit (1997) Papuan / Gunditjmara, Torres Strait Islander - is non-binary (she/he/they).

Piper Curda (1997) Korean / English, Scottish - is apsec.

Iman Meskini (1997) Tunisian / Norweigan - is pro Palestine!

Clara Nieblas (1997) Mexican.

Janella Salvador (1998) Bisaya Filipino.

Ethel Cain (1998) - is a trans bisexual woman.

Joanna Pincerato (1998) Mexican, Syrian. Swedish and Italian.

Joanna Arida (1998) Jordadian.

Chella Man (1998) Hongkonger and Jewish - is deaf, trans genderqueer and pansexual (he/they).

Benedetta Porcaroli (1998)

Em / Not Even Emily / Still Not Emily (1998) Taiwanese / Chinese.

Luna Carmoon (1998)

Gretta Ray (1998)

Clairo (1998) - is bisexual and has juvenile idiopathic arthritis.

SANTAN / Dave (1998) Edo Nigerian.

Salsabiela A. (1998) Unspecified.

Ariela Barer (1998) Mexican, Ashkenazi Jewish.

Celeste O'Connor (1998) Kenyan - is non-binary (they/them).

Wegz (1998) Egyptian.

Jessica Alexander (1999)

Rafaela Plastira (1999)

Minami Gessel (1999) Japanese / Ashkenazi Jewish.

Kenna Sharp (1999) - is queer.

Samara Joy (1999) African-American.

Sab Zada (1999) Chinese, Filipino, and Hispanic.

Zoe Terakes (2000) Greek Australian - trans masc non-binary guy (they/he).

Anthony Lexa (2000) - is a trans woman.

Marissa Bode (2000) African-American - is disabled.

Odessa A'zion (2000) Ashkenazi Jewish, English, some Irish, Northern Irish, Welsh, German.

Reneé Rapp (2000) - is a lesbian.

Celia Rose Gooding (2000) African-American - bisexual and gray asexual, uses she/they - also saw somewhere they don't like being called a woman.

Lucas Jade Zumann (2000) Ashkenazi Jewish / possibly German.

Cat Burns (2000) Liberian - is queer, autistic and has ADHD.

Maitreyi Ramakrishnan (2001) Tamil.

Andria Tayeh (2001) Jordanian and Lebanese.

Freya Allan (2001)

Ari Notartomaso (2001) - is non-binary (they/he).

Rachel Zegler (2001) Colombian / White.

Maria Guardiola (2001)

Hope Ikpoku Jnr (2001) Black British.

Morgan Davies (2001) - is a trans man.

Corey Maison (2001) - is a trans woman.

Ahmet Haktan Zavlak (2001) Turkish.

Kei Kurosawa (2001) Bisaya Filipino and Japanese.

Rhea Norwood (2001) - has type 1 diabetes.

Aaron Rose Philip (2001) Afro-Antiguan - is a trans woman who has cerebral palsy.

Denise Julia (2002) Filipino.

Nessa Barrett (2002) Puerto Rican.

Yara Mustafa (2002) Jordanian.

Iris Apatow / Iris Scot (2002) Ashkenazi Jewish / Irish, Scottish, Finnish, German.

Kosar Ali (2003) Somali.

Paris Paloma (?)

Madeleine Hyland (?)

Bobby Sanchez (?) Peruvian [Quechua] - is Two-Spirit and trans, uses she/her sometimes they/they).

Nick Hakim (?) Chilean / Peruvian.

Micaela López Bianchi (?) Argentinian.

Jas Lin (?) Taiwanese - is queer (they/them).

Georgia Maq (?)

Eddy Mack (?) Jordanian.

Ellie Kim / SuperKnova (?) Korean - genderfluid, transgender woman (she/her).

Alexia Roditis / Destory Boys (?) - uses they/them.

Violet Mayugba / Destory Boys (?)

Narsai Malik / Destory Boys (?)

David Orozco / Destory Boys (?)

Neil Turner / Los Campesinos! (?)

Tom Bromley / Los Campesinos! (?)

Kim Paisey / Los Campesinos! (?)

Rob Taylor / Los Campesinos! (?)

Jason Adelinia/ Los Campesinos! (?)

Matt Fidler / Los Campesinos! (?)

Raul Briones (?) Mexican.

Britton Smith (?) Black.

Farrah / farrahescapes (?) Emirati.

CJ / Cup of Jo / cupofjoemusic_ (early 20's) Pangasinense Filipino.

Gian / Cup of Jo / cupofjoemusic_ (early 20's) Pangasinense Filipino.

Rapha / Cup of Jo / cupofjoemusic_ (early 20's) Pangasinense Filipino.

Gab / Cup of Jo / cupofjoemusic_ (early 20's) Pangasinense Filipino.

Sevii / Cup of Jo / cupofjoemusic_ (early 20's) Ilocano Filipino.

Xen / Cup of Jo / cupofjoemusic_ (early 20's) Ilocano Filipino.

Grey Gritt (?) Ojibwe and Metis - is genderqueer (they/them).

Elaine Crombie (?) Pitjantjatjara, Yankunytjatjara, Warrigmay, South Sea Islander, and White.

Nori Reed (?) Korean / Unspecified - is non-binary (she/her).

Shahd Khidir (?) Sudanese.

Arewà Basit (?) Black - uses she/they.

Majid Al Maskati / Majid Jordan (?) Bahraii.

Jordan Ullman / Majid Jordan (?)

+ please let me know if you want more!

[theqtinkblot]

Helluva Wonderland AU: Hellborn/Fallen Angels

A/N: This took so long, but we’re almost close to finishing the character backstories for this au. As the title suggests, I hope this would make a little bit of sense with these choices. This will only talk about their short time on Earth/Heaven, what the Hellborns’ lives were like, and what they did in the Pride ring before joining the cult.

Same as before, some warnings (18+): mentions of harassment, racism, abuse, demonic practice, mention of illness, angst, violence, death, etc... You get it, onto the post!

Trey Clover:

Trey was born in London on October 25, 1927. He lived in a cake shop with his mom, dad, and two little siblings, living their best lives. Even during the Great Slump and WWII, Trey would still have fun with his two friends, Che’nya and Riddle. After the war, he tried to stay in contact with Riddle until he was 18 years old, when his parents sent him to a university in Boston to study Dentistry. Trey would pass away from heart disease at the age of 23 on September 14, 1951.

Everything was super bright, even though his eyes were closed until he finally opened them. Trey was surprised to find himself in front of the golden gates of Heaven where St. Peter popped up from behind his desk and welcomed him inside. Trey looked much like himself except for a white halo above his head, a pair of large celeste green and cream-colored wings on his back. Everything was going all right for a few years until he protected an angel from Adam harassing another Angel, ultimately pissing him off and banishing Trey to Hell, making him a fallen angel.

Once he woke up from the shock, he could only see a red sky and blurry figure standing above him. That is until he heard a familiar voice say, “Trey, is that really you?” Trey’s eyes widened as the figure placed his glasses back on, revealing a confused and crying Riddle. After their reunion and arrived at the Heartslabyul district, Trey became Riddle’s second in command, while still adjusting to his new appearance becoming a greenish skin tone, pointed ears, sharp teeth, his eyes having a black sclera, a clover mark now his left cheek, and his pastel green wings had become broken.

Cater Diamond:

Cater was born in the Envy ring on February 4. His family were the only succubus family that lived in a suburban neighborhood, so some of the Envy demons would often pick on his family, due to their racist views on other demons. But thankfully it wouldn’t last long, since his father’s job allowed their family to move all around each ring of Hell. Although he was annoyed by it, it wasn’t as or more annoying than dealing with his two sisters’ unreasonable bossy behavior.

Once he reached 18 years old, he became an avid social media user, mainly Sinstagram, and wanting to seek attention, he decided to move to Pride to “live his life to the fullest.” While he does seem to be doing well for himself on social media, being as outgoing as he does in social situations, he does seem to have a knack for gathering information, despite others would consider him as just a “succubitch.”

So, when he reached 23 years old, he was able to get a job as Riddle’s informant and advisor, gathering information about any rule breakers and scheduling important meetings. During his time in Heartslabyul, he met Kalim and Lilia during one of the Overlord meetings, and the three of them would hangout, sharing their love of new trends and parties. So, all in all, don’t assume he’s just a sexy face, because he’ll know everything and make your life more hellish.

Jack Howl:

Jack was born in a Hellhound family in the Gluttony ring on October 11. As a Hellhound, he and his family are considered the lowest class of demons in hell, aside from the imps, so Jack comes off as rather cold and distant, not wanting help from others, basically being a Tsundere to everyone around him. And because of the discrimination towards Hellhounds, this also gave him a strong sense of justice and drive to become stronger.

When Jack reached 16 years old, he began training to become a professional guard as a means of showing honor and strength. Though if you think about it, it’s better than the alternative positions Hellhounds are restricted to, such as just being a family pet. Soon enough when he reaches 21 years old, he begins to hear about a king of some sorts in the Pride ring, an overlord who strives to lead a group of Hellbeasts to glory.

Jack moves to the Pride ring and encounters Ruggie, asking if he can serve as a protector in the Savanaclaw district. Ruggie, although finding his request strange, did agree to teach him some of the ropes around the place. Hopefully, with everything he learns, he hopes that as he gets stronger within Leona’s pride of Hellbeasts, people will see him as something more than just a Hellhound.

Jade and Floyd Leech:

Jade and Floyd Leech were born in the Greed ring on November 5, their mother being a moray eel demon from Envy and their father being a loan shark from Greed. Their family’s business mostly consists of “dabbles in a bit of everything,” and seeing as they lived in Greed, that would apply to anything mafia related. And as such, Jade and Floyd were often tasked to gather information about rival gangs and “take them out” if anything goes wrong.

As they both reached 22 years old, the twins started to grow bored of being in Greed, that is until they noticed an imp trying to escape some thugs from the Pride Ring. The imp expected the twins to help him, but he was in for a surprise of his life when Jade and Floyd helped the gowns in exchange for meeting the man the imp owes. So, after dumping the imp in the river, Jade and Floyd traveled to Pride and entered the lustrous Monstro Lounge in the Octavinelle district.

During the meeting, Azul was impressed with their handy work, disposing of a client that failed to pay his debt, and was surprised that they had asked to work in his business. Skeptical due to their fearsome demeanor, Azul agreed to their offer, and since then, they have been very close friends. Although they both become his two best men in crime, he has no control over them as they were free to do things they enjoyed in Pride, so at least they're doing alright for themselves.

Rook Hunt:

Rook Hunt was born in a Griffin Goetia family on December 2, his family’s nobility is ranked very high in Hell, or at least that’s as much as he can tell. What can be said is that Rook, from a very early age, is one of the strangest members in the Ars Goetia. Exploring the art of hunting while he has access to the living world, sneaking around spying on others and avoiding getting caught, all while discovering anything that he deems as beautiful.

On one of his customary drives through the streets of Pride, he immediately shouts for the driver to stop when something catches his eye. He stepped out of the limo and entered the Vees studio where he was greeted by Vox and Valentino, who believed he was there to indulge in adult films. However they are shocked to see that Rook walked past them and greeted Vil, declaring that he was so captivated by how beautiful he is and asked him many questions.

Over time, Rook and Vil would often spend time together, Vil would produce and perform his movies while Rook would watch and be amazed by his art. Rook also helps Vil by traveling to the living world and giving him some insight about the movie industry, as well as using his hunting skills to eliminate any competition. It pays to have not only a royal Goetia, but a loyal hunter by your side.

Epel Felmier:

Epel was born in the Wrath Ring to a family of imps on May 6. Being the shortest of his family, working on the farm, he tries his best to help with growing and selling apples. Growing up, he struggles to be more "manly"; he tries to grow taller, make his voice deeper, and build more muscle. But no matter how many times he tried, everyone still considered him to be cute, based on how he looked as he grew.

When he turned 21 years old, he traveled to the Pride ring, to make a deal with the Overlord Kalim to help his family with transporting their apples throughout Hell. However, he unfortunately bumps into and gets into a fight with the Cold-hearted Overlord, who insults him with the way he speaks in his hometown's accent. In triumph over his defeat, Vil forces Epel to work for him in his studio and become his personal project in exchange for providing help to Epel’s family to sell their products.

And since then, Epel has been, under contract, working for Vil in the Vees studio; mostly being a model for Velvet’s fashion and makeup brands and Vil teaching him proper etiquette while they live in the Pomefiore district. Epel hated how he was forced into Vil's overbearing beauty standards and constantly fought with the Overlord a lot, only to end up defeated afterwards. At least he has some people he could talk to in the studio, but it does piss Vil off whenever he hangs out with Angel from time to time.

Ortho Shroud:

With the real Ortho not being alive or his soul not in Hell (A/N: sweet baby’s too adorable to be there,) Ortho was created by Idia to be an exact image of his late brother, including having all of Ortho’s memories and personality. Idia created him out of Angelic steel, ensuring that he wouldn’t get damaged by any weapons while ensuring he won’t be slain from any exorcists. Ortho even tries to imitate his brother by making his hair look like his brother’s flaming hair and making his eyes glow as well. He spends his time helping Idia with his inventions and setting up meetings with Carmila, although he wishes his brother would attend them with him and make more finds. He has hope though.

Lilia Vanrouge:

From the beginning, Lilia and Lucifer were very close friends, during a time when Lucifer wasn’t appreciated by his fellow angels because of his ideas. Lilia served as a former holy guard, appointed by the elders to guard the Garden of Eden and make sure the first humans wouldn’t be tempted to sin. However, he felt sympathetic to Lilith’s independence and Lucifer’s dreams for humanity, so he secretly allowed them inside the garden.

Who would have known that when evil was released to Earth and Lucifer and Lilith were banished to Hell, Lilia and six other angels would rebel against heaven and become the first sets of Fallen Angels. They would be caught in a battle that would last for years on earth, until they were overrun and fled back to Hell. Lilia would continue to stay in contact with the royal family, sometimes even going to Earth, to give Lucifer some updates about humanity.

Although he was thankful for doing so much during his eternity of living, he had never been close to anyone, say for Lucifer, Lilith, and the other deadly sins. But that seemed to change when: he oversees watching over Malleus and teaches him about the human soul, he is asked by Sebek to train him to become a knight, and he found and adopted a human baby he named Silver. Hopefully, Lilia will continue to live until his death with the memories of the people he loves.

Silver:

Not much is known about his past, mainly about what he was or where he came from. All he knows is that Lilia found him as a baby on May 15, 1936. He didn’t understand why his father decided to adopt him since he was only human, but Lilia took him in and raised him as best he could. You can also imagine his surprise when Lilia recounted a story about how Lucifer couldn’t stop gushing over him when he told him and Lilith about Silver.

Now, the death of a human while in Hell is a bit tricky, instead of the usual soul falling into Hell, the body must undergo a painful transformation before they can begin their afterlife. So, when Silver unexpectedly died from an incurable illness January 29, 1959, at the age of 22, his body only grew gray and didn’t develop any demonic traits. Silver was so confused, he fled the castle, even if his body was still under recovery, until Lilia found him and cared for him while he was bedridden.

Over time, Silver had asked Lilia to teach him how to fight and use magic, since he had always wanted to learn when Lilia told him stories during the war. So he, along with a new apprentice named Sebek, Lilia taught them everything, from hand to hand combat, holy weapons training and magic lessons. Silver then decides to honor his father and to serve as a loyal guard, protecting his father, Malleus and even the royal family, should the time come.

[raineynightswrld]

𖥻 Light my cigarette? 𖥨 🚬

greetings. welcome to my first blog ever :). im going to keep this short and simple, my name is raine and i haven’t seen much vito scaletta fanfics on here, so i decided to step up and share some silly imagine/one shot or whatever. not proofread, cliche trope and lazy ending !

overall warnings: reader is implied to be female, smoking, strangers to lovers, cliche moments, kissing, stealing, romantic tension, swearing, slight ooc, really really lazy ending 😭

setting and fandom: mafia 2, 1951.

It was a normal, rainy night in Empire Bay. The trees were rumbling, as droplets of water fell from the night sky at a slow rate while the moon shined its light on the streets of Small Italy. You’d be either insane in the head or in a rush if you were walking around with this weather going on, especially without an umbrella.

Speaking of people insane in the head, you unwillingly stepped in a big puddle, staining your brand new coat and shoes. You hissed in annoyance and took a step back, raising your arms and cursed under your breath: “Fucking hell… can’t even go somewhere without bad luck smudging my fucking asscheeks! Shit was expensive as fuck too.. goddammit.”

Not only did you stain some expensive clothing and pair of shoes, you also forgot your umbrella at home, making this situation even more worse. You just wanted the earth to split in two, gobble you up and never let go of you again. Your hair was wet, and mascara ran down your cheeks like a river. Your coat didn’t help in keeping your black button up blouse at least semi-dry semi-wet. I’m other words, you looked like shit and looked like you just jumped in a river. The rain wasn’t even heavy!

You were always known for having bad luck. Ever since you were a child, nothing went your way. Not even assignments you pulled all nighters on and knew the answers like the back of your hand. You couldn’t figure out how you didn’t die yet, guess something went right in your life at least once.

Grunting and eventually stomping your foot on the moist cemented floor beneath, you shook your head and began walking towards a nearby 24/7 store, not wanting to go back to whatever route you were taking to go to whatever place. You were late anyways.

Lightening up a cigarette, or, at least attempting to, you groan in annoyance and breathe in to not make a tantrum in the middle of the street at two in the morning. Eventually, you manage to light the thin and long cigarette up, the smell of chocolate and whipped cashmere smoke entered your nostrils, which seemed to have calmed you down a bit.

Opening the door to the medium sized convenience store, you inspected your surroundings, just to see no one was there. Might as well rob the store. Taking a big puff of the cigarette, you walk around the store, blowing the smoke out of your nose and mouth. You find yourself roaming the store endlessly.

Not like you had anything else to do. You were sure as hell you wouldn’t be stepping out until the rain outside stopped.

Eventually getting bored, you grab a new pack of cigarettes you wanted to try out for some time now. You squeeze the cigarette you had in your hand from outside with the tip of your boot, and decide to betray your initial thoughts, going outside through the back door of the store.

You thought you’d be alone - that no one would be there, but just you, your thoughts, and your soul. Startled by the man who was also smoking a cigarette, you take a step back and close your eyes for a bit, breathing in before quietly greeting him. He was a tad bit taller than you. If you weren’t wearing boots with heels, he’d probably be more taller.

Raising his eyebrow at the sudden change of somewhat quiet environment, the stranger eyed you, his brown eyes staring into yours. For a moment, none of you said anything, before the man in front of you broke eye contact and moved his head so he was facing the street, and not you. Were you that ugly? You internally cackled at the thought. Sure, he was attractive, with his gel slicked back hair and the mysterious clothing choice but hell — you weren’t THAT interested.

After a moment of awkward silence, the man takes a drag from his cigarette, exhaling a puff of smoke before finally breaking the quiet tension. "Nice night, huh? Or, at least for me.” he remarks, a faint smirk on his lips.

“Yeah.. I guess.” You didn’t even know you were holding your breath. Exhaling, you open the stolen pack of cigarettes and take one, before stuffing the pack into your coat’s pocket and grabbing your lighter.

You try to light it up, but to no avail, it fails. You try again, and again, and again. Nothing lights up. You sigh loudly, before rolling your eyes. You’re starting to get pissed off.

“Need some help?” The man asks.

“Mama told me to not ask help from strangers.” You smirked and raised an eyebrow, before huffing out a laugh from your somewhat dry throat, then nodding and getting closer to the stranger. He smelled really good. Cigarette and some perfume. “Light my cigarette?”

He first puts his cigarette in his mouth, holding it still as he takes his lighter from his coat’s pocket. Due to the poor lightning, you thought both of you had matching coats - except for the fact that yours was stained with wetness. You point your cigarette to his lighter’s tip, before it shined fire. After the cigarette finally got lit up, you pull back and take a puff.

“Vito.”

“Huh?”

“Name’s Vito. Thought you’d need my name to thank me, sweetheart.”

“Oh!” Your mascara stained cheeks flushed in embarrassment, before huffing out the smoke in another direction than Vito’s face. “Thank you, Vito, for the light.”

You genuinely smiled at him, before you two started to talk about life. Though you were the one who talked more about your job, your overall life.. your bad luck.

“Yeah.. that’s how I got my clothes all wet and dirty. I was actually thinking of going to meet my friends and all at a club but I was already running late and I obviously wouldn’t show up at a club looking like this. When I was walking to the club, I even forgot where I was walking to and just decided to ‘crash’ here.”

You sigh loudly as Vito nods. He already finished his cigarette and didn’t bother lighting up a new one. You, however, were on your second cigarette of the pack you stole. After a few moments of silence, you look at Vito, who was looking at you too.

Your hair was now pretty dry and styled way better. The mascara that ran itself down your cheeks was gone since Vito was kind enough to give you something to wipe the mascara off. The rain stopped a while ago and you just found yourself talking to him endlessly.

Taking one last blow of your cigarette, you flicked it away somewhere on the wet cement and sighed.

“I’m out of things to say.” You laugh and look away before gazing up at Vito, who was slightly smiling.

“That was a lot of stuff to take in.” He huffed out in a slightly raspy voice.

“So.”

“So?”

You blink, breaking the eye contact. There was silence followed, as you breathed in. Leaning in just a bit, you straightened your back a little, before Vito leaned in fully, breaking the tension. His rough lips met your soft ones, as you closed your eyes, placing your palms on his cheeks. Your thumb traced over the scar on his chin, as he held your waist just right. You pulled back for air and breathed in the satisfying post-rain smell. No words were needed. Just a look and another kiss. After another, which turned out sloppier than the other two. Obviously, you stopped at his place after.

Guess you didn’t always have bad luck.

[george-the-good]

May 8, 1951: King Frederik IX and Queen Ingrid of Denmark are welcomed by King George VI and Queen Elizabeth at Victoria station at the start of their 4-day state visit to Britain. // British Pathé

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

Vincent Price eating an orange. You're welcome.

Vincent Price - Son of Sinbad (1951)

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Be not inhospitable to strangers lest they be angels in disguise.

- W.B. Yeats

This is the quote from W.B. Yeats as a painted sign on the wall as you enter the famous bookstore Shakespeare and Company in Paris.

Strangers always found a welcome at Shakespeare and Company, where they could browse untroubled for hours, especially if they were aspiring writers themselves; and a few – well, a very few – of them may indeed have turned out to be angels, or at least angelic.

The original Shakespeare and Company shop was started in 1921 in the Rue de l’Odéon by Sylvia Beach, the daughter of a US Presbyterian minister. The first writer to patronise the shop was Gertrude Stein, but she fell out with Beach when she took up with James Joyce, whom Stein hated.

Beach published Joyce’s Ulysses when no established publisher would touch it, performing the arduous labour of love of proofreading it. Ernest Hemingway discovered the shop soon after his arrival in Paris, and wrote about it lovingly decades later in A Moveable Feast. When the Germans occupied Paris, Beach refused to sell a signed copy of Finnegans Wake to an invading officer. He said he would return for it the next day. So she moved all the books out and closed the shop. It was “liberated” by Hemingway himself in 1944. However, Beach didn’t have the heart to start again.

In 1948, after a wandering youth and war service, George Whitman came to Paris on the GI Bill, and in 1951 opened an English-language bookshop which he called Le Mistral. A few years later, he moved to the Rue de la Bûcherie, but didn’t rename the shop until after Beach’s death in 1961. He had been too shy to ask her if he could use the name, although they were friends and she used to come to readings at Le Mistral.

Whitman ran his shop as a species of anarchic democracy, even though in some respects he was a benevolent dictator. Anyone who called himself a writer could find a bed there, if there was one free, and stay as long as he liked or until Whitman got tired of him. The only rule for residents was that they must read a book a day and serve in the shop for an hour. One poet, or self-styled poet, who broke the second rule and lay in bed all day reading detective novels was ejected; but his chief offence was his choice of literature rather than his idleness.

The bookshop has its regulars, residents in Paris, not all of them English-speakers by any means, who use it as a sort of club and drop in for conversation and coffee.

Stock control has always been on the casual side. It’s not unknown for someone to lift a book from the shelves, slip it into his pocket, read it and return to sell it for the secondhand shelves the following day.

Inevitably, Shakespeare and Company has long been on the tourist trail, recommended in all the guides. This is just as well, because without their custom it’s hard to see how the shop could have survived. Many are in search of a copy of A Moveable Feast. This is not always on offer because, for some reason which I can’t remember, Whitman took a scunner to Hemingway. The tourists also toss coins into the well in the shop, and it’s not unusual to see an indigent young person lying on the floor and fishing for euros.

On occasion I drop in because the lure of its history is too much even if there are other good independent book stores nearby. Visitors to Paris always want me to take them there and I oblige them even if I feel its lost some of its past glory. Still, I always buy a few books because it’s the best way to support independent book stores in this age of Amazon, as every independent book store needs all the help it can get.

[prettyinlimegreenboots]

Taking Comfort (In Your Arms) - Epilogue

October 6, 1951, 1130 Hours, Southern Pines, NC

Pulling to a stop at the air base, he threw the car into park, relaxing in his seat. His eyes swept the area, watching the activity around the airfield, enjoying a moment of quiet after the busy morning. Several men moved around, caulking planes as they rolled to a stop. 

“Daddy, what are we doing here?” His daughter’s sweet, quiet voice pulled him from his thoughts as he looked over his shoulder. She was standing in the backseat, eyes watching the activity of the field. 

Adjusting in his seat, John threw his arm over the back of the seat. “Momma’s working for a bit longer then we’ll pick her up.” 

“Momma flyin’?” His son’s voice piped up, as he clambered to stand next to his older sister. 

Margaret ‘Maisie’ Egan was born January 1946, much to the surprise of her parents. She was the present they didn’t intend on bringing back from England.  About a month after they had gotten settled in Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, Addie was sick, tired, and wouldn’t get better. After a trip to the doctor’s, it was discovered she was pregnant, John being over the moon at the news.

From the moment she was born, Maisie had her parents wrapped around her tiny fingers, John especially. Addie had to be the stern parent from time to time, due to John not being able to say no to her. Maisie was inquisitive and wasn’t shy about asking questions or wondering why something worked the way it did. She loved to hear stories and be read to. She kept them on their toes, Addie admitting she was just like their younger daughter when she was her age. 

Addie’s flying career was put on pause with the announcement; yet she still taught the men on the ground while pregnant. It didn’t take long for the men to come to respect her, despite her being a female and pregnant.  She made sure the men knew she wouldn’t take any of their crap and it earned her their respect fairly quickly. 

The last few years have been great for the Egan family. Addie and John learned how to navigate their new lives with an infant. There were a lot of trials and errors as they figured out how to balance their work schedules with family time. Weekends were reserved for exploring their town and enjoying their time with Maisie. 

Six months after Maisie had made her appearance, the small family made the move from Kansas to Washington, DC so John could finish his degree. Addie had flourished in her career, continuing to train men at each base they had settled at. As Addie had said with each move, she was “just along for the ride.” 

While they were in Washington, they found out Addie was pregnant once more. Robert John Egan was born March 1948, just over two years after they had welcomed Maisie. Robbie, as he was known, was quieter than his sister. He was observant and loved his momma and Meatball over anyone else. As he had gotten older, he had broken out of his shell, taking more after his father, his enthusiasm and singing abilities shining through. Though the older he got, the more he was becoming thick as thieves with his older sister.  John and Addie joked they were in a world of trouble with those two. 

“No, momma’s teaching the boys today.” John grinned, reaching behind him to ruffle Robbie’s hair. “Should we go wait for her to finish up?” 

“Uh huh, let’s go daddy!” Maisie cheered, as he opened his door, stepping out. He slid his aviators on before opening the backseat, scooping Robbie into his arms, holding out his hand for Maisie to grab a hold of to hop out of the car. 

“We need to stay in this area so we’re out of the way while we wait, okay?” He looked at his two small children, both who grinned back at him. 

“Can I go pick the flowers?” Maisie asked, looking up at him with her wide eyes. Nodding, he motioned to the little patch of flowers to the left of them. 

He watched her attempt to skip over to the wildflowers that were randomly planted on the base, delicately touching their petals before pulling a few. He couldn’t believe she was 5 already, growing up so fast. 

“Daddy, planes!” Robbie’s eyes went wide when he saw a C-47 touchdown gracefully before pulling to a stop on a hardstand. 

“That’s a C-47, buddy. That’s a bigger plane than the ones momma and I flew.” John mentioned to him as Robbie watched the activity in front of him.

“Daddy, go up soon?��� Robbie’s arm tightened around John’s shoulder, the plea in his voice. John smiled at his question. 

Maisie nor her younger siblings weren’t unfamiliar with planes. Both John and Addie had taken the children up in various planes, getting them used to flying. The children had been up in planes since they were all very young, sometimes finding it was the only thing that soothed them when they were inconsolable.

“We’ll talk to mom about going up soon, alright?” John asked, watching another plane come to a stop on the hardstand, men moving around there caulking the tires. 

Nodding, Robbie laid his head on John’s shoulder, a yawn escaping his mouth. Smiling, John adjusted him in his arms, rubbing a hand on Robbie’s back. 

“John, surprised to see you here on your day off.” A voice called as John looked over his shoulder at the man making his way towards him. 

“Major Winters, you know I can’t stay away very long.” John reached over and shook his hand. “Besides, we’re here to meet Addie for lunch.” 

Major Adam Winters was the first person that made Addie and John feel welcomed on base. He personally showed them around the town and helped them get settled with their small children. He was there with any advice or questions the two had in their first few months. 

“Addie should be landing soon - her crew was radioing into the tower when I stepped out. You didn’t hear it from me but she had some trouble with the training.” Adam grinned, shaking his head. 

John’s eyes went wide; not from worry, Addie could hold her own with the students. But from what the boys did to piss his wife off. “Do I dare ask?” 

“Your wife will tell you. Well, if she doesn’t then someone on the base will. She was yelling through the radio - she’s got a colorful vocabulary and I’m sure you have your hands full.” Adam chuckled, shaking his head. 

John snorted. “You don’t know the half of it, sir.”

“You tell Addie that she has the rest of the week off. She shouldn’t have even been up in that plane, but she weaseled her way into flying today.” Adam gave him a look. “She doesn’t like hearing no, does she?” 

Shaking his head, John smirked. “No, no she doesn’t. I didn’t think she was supposed to go today anyway. Why did she go up?” 

“She was supposed to be teaching in the classroom but one of the men said something that pushed her over the edge, and she wanted to prove a point.” Adam scoffed. “Before we could stop her, she was saying something about barrel rolling a B-17 and that it could be done.” 

Throwing his head back, John laughed at his wife and her antics. “That’s from her ATA days and I’ve read the report after she did it. I’m sure whatever the man did, he had it coming for him. You know her, she doesn’t get angry too easily.” 

Adam chuckled, shaking his hand before heading to where he was originally going. Peeking at Robbie, he saw that he had fallen asleep during the exchange. Rubbing a hand on his back, John smiled, seeing Maisie with a fistful of wildflowers. “Mais, who are you picking flowers for?” 

“Momma needs flowers, daddy.” She came to stand beside him, as he carefully crouched down, admiring her flowers. 

“Those are pretty, Mais.” He commented, a protective hand on Robbie’s back, keeping him safe. “Momma’s going to love those.” 

Hearing the familiar rumble of a plane, he looked to the west, seeing a B-17 nearing the landing strip. “Maisie, look.” 

John watched her, watching the plane, her mouth dropping open as she watched it smoothly touch down. “Woah.”

Pressing a kiss to the top of her head, he gave her a look. “You think that’s momma’s plane?” 

Maisie’s eyes swept the area around the plane, looking for the very familiar woman. John’s eyes were training on the yolk, looking for Addie. “Mais, look.” 

Pointing towards the plane, the two watched Addie drop down from the plane and land steadily on her feet. Reaching up, she grabbed her bag before looking over her shoulder at the men congregating around her.  John grinned watching her speak to the men, giving them a stern look. He pushed to his full height, reaching down to grab Maisie’s hand in his. 

Before long, Addie dismissed the men, making her way towards where her family stood. Grinning, she bent down, greeting Maisie as she came running towards her. “Well, this is a nice surprise. Hi, my girl.” 

“Momma! You flew the plane in.” Maisie cheered, hugging Addie with a giggle. “Got you these.” 

Thrusting the flowers forward, Addie oo-ed at them, appreciatively, before smelling them, pressing a kiss to her daughter's head. “They’re so pretty and they smell really good, Maisie. Thank you so much.” 

Pushing herself up, she linked hands with Maisie before they made their way back to where John and Robbie were standing. “This was a nice surprise, seeing you all here.” 

John leaned down, pressing a kiss to her lips with a grin. “Always good to see you work. Heard you had a rough flight.”

“Who told you?” Addie grinned, chuckling, running her hand through Robbie’s curls as he slept on John’s shoulder. 

“Adam stopped by just before you landed and said that you were yelling on the radio at your student.” John laughed. “He also slipped that you weren’t supposed to be up in the air today.” 

Addie rolled her eyes with a giggle and a shrug of her shoulders. “He’s right about that - I wasn’t supposed to be up in the air but managed it anyway. I had a cocky jerk in my class today who had a mouth on him - he was challenging me every step of the way so I told him to put his skills where his mouth was and up we went.”

“So what was with the yelling?” John asked, pulling her into his free arm. 

Addie grinned. “I wanted him to do a steep dive, and he was refusing so I bullied him into it. I wanted to see how he’d react with mayhem around him. Let’s just say he’s got some work to do but he’s learned that a female can be a better pilot than a cocky man.” 

“Kicking ass and taking names, Addie.” John laughed, leaning over and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “All in a day’s work.” 

Shrugging, Addie stepped to the side before throwing her bag over her shoulder. “Damn right. Uh . . . John, aren’t you missing something?” 

“What do you mean?” John looked around, seeing Maisie skipping beside them as they walked back to the car. 

Raising an eyebrow, Addie threw her bag in the trunk of the car before crossing her arms. “Our third child - where is she?” 

“Back home - Mrs. Jones offered to watch her.” John shook his head. “I was trying to wrangle all three out the door when Cora decided to throw a temper tantrum.” 

Cordelia “Cora” Elizabeth was the youngest child, just 9 months old. She was born just two months after they moved to North Carolina. She was by far their busiest baby - always had to be in the thick of things and didn’t like to be left behind. John and Addie were already predicting she would be walking before her first birthday, simply needing to keep up with her older sister and brother. 

“You couldn’t handle all three?” Addie smirked, raising an eyebrow at her husband. 

A yawn escaped his mouth as he shook his head. “When they’re perfectly well behaved, yes but Cora decided she wanted to scream and didn’t want to be contained.” 

“The high pitch screaming or just whining?” Addie asked, opening the back seat for Maisie to climb into. 

Digging into his pocket, he handed over the keys before walking around the car to climb into the passenger’s seat, with a nod. “The high pitch scream - her specialty.” 

Addie chuckled climbing into the car, starting the engine with a roar. Looking in the backseat, she saw Maisie flipping through a book. Before backing up, she stole a glimpse of John with Robbie sleeping in his arms - nothing sexier in her mind than her husband cradling their babies while they slept. 

“What are you doing this afternoon?” John asked, looking over at her with a raised eyebrow. 

Sighing, Addie eased the car out onto the road, driving back towards the house. “Laundry and probably should re-read my lessons for tomorrow, just so I know what I’m going to be teaching. You?” 

“Should probably read my lessons for tomorrow too but all I want to do is take a nap.” John admitted, rubbing a hand across Robbie’s back. 

Taking a hand off the steering wheel, she reached over and patted his leg. “The kids will be down for a nap so you can take one too - maybe I’ll even join you.” 

Raising an eyebrow, John looked at her, eyes filled with want. His voice dropped so their daughter wouldn’t hear them in the backseat. “A sexy nap?” 

“Perhaps.” She grinned, turning onto their street. “We’ll see how the next little bit goes.” 

John chuckled, shaking his head. Six years of marriage and three kids didn’t slow them down. She was still the sexiest woman he ever laid eyes on and there was no one that could convince him otherwise.

His eyes scanned the street as Addie drove slowly down it. His eyes narrowed and widened when he saw two people sitting on their front porch. “Were you expecting anyone?” 

Easing the car into the driveway, Addie threw it to a stop as she squinted, trying to make out who was sitting on the porch. She felt Maisie twirl her fingers in her hair as she stood behind them. “Uncle Buck!” 

Addie chuckled hearing Maisie call out before pushing open the car door and running off to the porch. Addie giggled watching her daughter throw herself at her uncle, hugging him tightly. “Shall we go greet our guests?” 

John chuckled, opening his door as Addie opened her, pushing herself out of the car with a groan. John held out his hand as she slipped her into his, giving it a squeeze, as they made their way to their porch. “Look who it is, stone in my shoe!” Buck called, pushing to a stand with a big grin on his face. 

“Oh, you know it.” John called back, stepping up to the porch, hand already outstretched. “What brings you here?” 

“I told you we were heading this way.” Buck grinned, shaking his hand enthusiastically.  

John shook his head. “Yes, you mentioned you were coming this way but you failed to mention when. You know, details are important, Gale.” 

“We didn’t know when we were going to be able to come. Thought we’d just surprise you. Besides, apparently, we have a new niece that we’ve yet to meet.” Buck grinned as Addie nodded, pulling back from her hug with Marge. 

“Of course. Let me go grab her.” Addie smiled. “It’s good to see you both and we’re so happy you’re here.” 

Addie excused herself, walking into the carport before opening the garage door. Stepping inside, she frowned at the quiet house, not used to it. Meatball came up to her as she bent down to give him rubs. “Hi Meatball. Oh, you’re such a good boy, uh huh.” 

Walking deeper into the house, she sighed. “Mrs. Jones?” 

“In here, dear.” The older woman called back from the living room. Making her way that way, Addie smiled at the woman. 

“You didn’t have to keep her, but we appreciate it.” Addie smiled, digging into her pocket for the cash she tucked in there earlier in the day. Offering the cash to the woman, Mrs. Jones waved her way. 

“There’s no need for that. The Lieutenant Colonel looked like he was struggling a bit - just offered to help him out.” Mrs. Jones smiled, pushing Addie’s hand away. “Besides, Cora is just an angel.” 

In April, John was promoted to Lieutenant Colonel in a secret ceremony. Addie had gotten word just hours before the ceremony and with proud tears in her eyes, got to pin the silver oak leaf on him, in front of all their colleagues. 

Addie smiled, looking over at her daughter on the ground, surrounded by toys, grinning toothless. “Figures the man can navigate a B-17 but 3 children is what gives the man a hard time. I feel bad not paying you to watch her.” 

“I’ll take a loaf of your cinnamon raisin bread as a thank you.” Mrs. Jones grinned, as Addie quickly nodded. 

“I was planning on making some in the morning so I will have Maisie run it over to you as soon as it cools.” She grinned, walking over to where Cora was and picking her up. “Hi, my sweet girl. Your aunt and uncle are here to meet you.” 

Mrs. Jones smiled. “I will head home. Anytime you need me to watch her, happy to do so. She’s a sweetheart.”

“She has her moments, that’s for sure.” Addie kissed her daughter’s cheek. “Thank you again. We appreciate it, more than you’ll know.”

Following the woman out of the house, she said her goodbyes again before making her way to the front of the house where everyone was. Addie smiled seeing Robbie sound asleep on John’s shoulder as him, Marge, and Buck quietly talked. Maisie was riding her bike in the driveway, carefully avoiding the parked car. 

“There she is.” John smiled seeing her walk up. 

Smoothing Cora’s hair, Addie smiled, looking at Buck and Marge. “Buck, Marge, this is Cordelia or Cora as we affectionately call her. Cora, this is your Uncle Buck and Aunt Marge.” 

“Oh, she’s precious.” Marge smiled, looking at the baby in Addie’s arms. “And I love her name.” 

Addie and John both laughed at that. “We had the hardest time trying to figure out her name. Maisie and Robbie’s names were easy to come up with. We had our lists from before but couldn't figure out what name fit her. John threw out Cordelia and at first, I said it was a mouthful. Then I figured out Cora would be a cute nickname for it and that’s what we settled on. Though, I haven’t had to full name her yet so we’ll see when that happens.” 

Marge stepped forward, holding out her hands. “May I?” 

Addie transitioned the baby to her arms as Cora’s eyes went wide as she looked at her arms. Addie stepped up to Buck, pulling him into a hug. “It’s been too long since we’ve seen you both. How long are you staying?” 

“A few days. I have a meeting up in Washington on the 11th so we’ll take off that morning.” Buck squeezed her tight, stepping out of the hug. 

Addie’s eyes went wide. “Hobnobbing it with the brass, Buck?” 

“It’s just a meeting. You go where the Air Force wants you to go, Addie. You should know this by now.” He teased, knocking his shoulder into her with a laugh. 

Nodding, Addie tucked her hands into her coat. “It starts off as just a meeting and the next thing you know, you’re moving halfway across the country to set up a new home with a new job. Know it a bit too well, Buck. We’ve been here almost a year and I’m waiting for the announcement we’re moving out. Just hope they don’t send us to cold weather.” 

“They know you wouldn’t make it in cold weather, Addie.” Buck threw back. “They know they’d hear about it if they sent you back to Michigan. Speaking of, how’s your family?” 

Addie grinned thinking about her family. “They’re all doing well - coming to visit next week so it’s good you’re getting out of town before they all descend here.” 

Charlie and Anna got married six months after they returned back to the States. A year after their wedding, they welcomed their first child, Benjamin Charles, who was the absolute apple in their eyes. Two years after that, they welcomed their daughter, Mollie Adelaide, who was just as feisty as her aunt. They were still in Michigan, though they visited several times throughout the year, much to John and Addie’s delight. 

Elizabeth and Brady took their time and didn’t get married until 2 years after returning to the States. Brady was part of the mission that dropped the atomic bomb on Hiroshima. After that mission, he went back to Elizabeth, who was finishing up her own duty at the base. They were both sent back to the States in November of 1945, they settled in Philadelphia and started making themselves a home. They welcomed James Oliver in 1948 and Hazel Olivia in 1950. Elizabeth had retired from being a nurse, content to be a stay-at-home mom. 

Her father, Charles, settled back in Michigan, enjoying his time as a grandfather. After the war, he retired as a full Colonel, opting to live out the rest of his days in peace. He volunteered at the local nursing home, reading to elderly and assisting in any way he could. But he was happiest when he had his seven grandchildren and his six children around him. 

“There’s nothing like a Baker family reunion.” Marge chuckled, shaking her head. She would know as she had been invited to a few of them throughout the years. 

John laughed loudly, startling Robbie, who whined at the sudden noise. “Southern Pines won’t know what hit them after next week.” 

“I wish I could disagree but you’re speaking the truth.” Addie chuckled, excited to see her family again. 

Robbie picked his head up from John’s shoulder, looking around. Addie smiled, watching his eyes widened at the sight of his aunt and uncle. “Uncle Buck!” 

“Hey buddy. Good nap?” Buck asked, reaching over to ruffle his hair as Robbie nodded, stretching. 

Reaching for Buck, John easily handed him over before pulling Addie into his arms, rocking her back and forth gently. “Happy?” 

“Uh huh, the happiest.” She murmured back, stepping on her tiptoes to kiss him. “Sorry you’re not going to get your nap in today.” 

John scoffed, returning her kiss. “It’s alright - I get to catch up with my best friend. I’m sure you and Marge have some catching up to do.” 

9:30pm

Buck and Marge had stayed through dinner before making their way back to their hotel for the night. Promises of breakfast in the morning before plans were made of showing the two the quaint town of Southern Pines. Many hugs were given, John and Addie excited to have their best friends in town for a few short days. 

Taking the washrag to the counter, she wiped off the last crumbs from dessert before tossing it back into the sink. She could hear John down the hall, saying prayers with Maisie before wishing her goodnight. Leaning against the counter, she yawned, shaking her head trying to figure out what still needed to be done before she went to bed herself. 

Smiling, she watched John make his way towards the kitchen with a grin. Coming closer, his hand was already extended, pulling her into him. “All three kids are passed out and in sweet dream land.” 

“Daddy of the year right there.” She murmured, her hand snaked up to run her fingers through the baby curls on the nape of his neck. Her other arm was around his shoulders. 

His arms tugged her closer as he guided them around the kitchen. “John Egan, are you willingly dancing with me?”

“We haven’t gone out dancing in a while and I know I owe you a date night or three.” He murmured, arms tightening around her waist. 

She hummed, knowing he was right. They hadn’t had a date in a few months, busy with work and the kids. “We’ll plan one and get a babysitter, then you can take me out for dinner and a night of dancing.” 

He leaned down, stealing a kiss from her. “Sounds like a plan, Major Egan.” 

A groan passed her lips as she lightly tugged on his curls. “You know what that does to me.” 

“Might have been why I said it, Addie.” He whispered, stealing a few more kisses from her as a low moan escaped. “Love you, Addie.”

“Love you too, John.” She smiled up at him, moving her hand to cup his jaw, thumb rubbing the stubble on his cheeks. “We’ve made a pretty spectacular life together.” 

John’s mouth widened, taking in her lips. “And to think I only wanted to seek comfort in your arms and get to know you. Never imagined falling in love with you and you turning my entire world upside down, but here we are.” 

“Seriously?” She fought the laugh that threatened to escape. “Only wanted to take comfort in my arms?”

John held up a hand laughing. “That was just until I got to know your feisty spirit, Bluebird. I was in awe of how you commanded the respect of everyone around you, yet you were an absolute sweetheart. You did things and asked for forgiveness later. I honestly can’t believe I didn’t goof up around you more. You captured me under your spell and haven’t let go yet, thankfully.”

Giggling, she reached up to run her thumb across his jaw, sighing softly. “And here we are - eight years later, six years married, and three kids.” She grinned at him, standing on her tiptoes kissing him.  “Would you change anything?” 

Pausing their dance, John thought back on the last eight years. Though the time in the Stalag was difficult, especially not knowing how she was doing and worrying about her not knowing he was safe, John shook his head. “I don’t think I would. Yes, I wish I would’ve left things between us better when I went down, in the end, I got to come home to you, marry you and start our lives together. Would you change anything?” 

“Same as you - wish we would’ve left things differently when you went up to Munster but other than that, we’ve built a pretty fantastic life together and I wouldn’t change anything else.” She murmured, as he kissed her passionately. “Love you, John. You’re everything I wished for during those days you were in the Stalag. We’ve built a perfect life - you and our kids, that’s all I ever needed.”

Pressing a kiss to her forehead, John sighed. Through all the bad days, Addie had been there by his side. But they had made it through and only bright days ahead for the Egan family. 

That's it! My story has come to an end and "Taking Comfort (In Your Arms)" is a wrap! Now there's a few "extras" that I'm working on and should be posted in the next few weeks, but the main story is a wrap.

Thank you all for coming along the ride. All the comments and likes have been much appreciated. Not sure if I'll continue writing - outside of the extras, I don't have anything up my sleeve. But my tumblr is open if you want to come say hi!

Outtake 1 - Bike Races

[msfbgraves]

Terry's backstory confuses me.

He's in Vietnam, but with his brains, and the implication that he comes from a wealthy family with his dad's business, why isn't he in a fancy Ivy League college? Or why couldn't his dad buy his way out of the draft, if Terry was drafted in the first place? But then Terry himself subtly implies in the parlor scene that he and his dad might not have the best relationship, so maybe Terry "drafted himself" to prove something to his dad, or his dad didn't care about him potentially dying?

And the other thing: how did Terry get into to special forces in Vietnam, and go on that mission that got Ponytail killed? He seems out of his element in Vietnam, very young and a little dorky and much more naïve and innocent than (the presumably older) Ponytail or Kreese. And physically Terry is still growing, and comes off as very young, 17 or 18 at the very most. (I headcanon his birthday to be 1950/1951).

He doesn't seem to be on the same level as Kreese or Ponytail either physically or mentally. Maybe Terry was chosen for his intelligence?

Only after "the cage" does Terry seem to grow up a bit, but then he's shown to still be under the thumb of his dad in the parlor scene.

The whole thing is a mess to me. That's why I don't care for the scene where Terry tells Kreese about the Sekai Tekai. They both look way too young for the era, and they both still come off a way too nice and normal. It clashes with how we see Kreese just a few years later in KK1, and Terry in KK3. Those are enormous and negative personality changes!

Yes, it is inconsistent writing - UNLESS

All these flashbacks are only through Kreese's eyes. Indeed, the Sekai Taikai scene especially makes no internal sense, except when you consider that Kreese may be an unreliable narrator, even to himself.

He sees himself as a sweet guy to his protegees Da Eun and Johnny. We know from the film that he demonstrably insn't, but that doesn't change his perception of himself. So how he sees Terry, as a scrawny, scared sidekick, has as little to do with reality as anything else. Often, in flashbacks, characters imagine their younger selves or other people as shorter, to symbolise immaturity. Kreese remembers this scrawny boy Twig, the sidekick he saved. But was Terry ever that insecure Twig of a man? Granted, Terry confirms the nickname in Cobra Kai. But this boy in Special Forces, the way Kreese sees him? No way. Did he play a weakling? Certainly could have been a strategy. It worked in the cage, didn't it? Got Kreese to take the fall? If people think you're weak they think you're less of a threat. Why did they shoot Ponytail? He SEEMED the more threatening one. Which gives Terry the element of surprise to work with. He does it in the fight with Chozen too. He seemed beaten, which made Chozen lower his guard - big mistake. He teaches Kenny this. Feign weakness, win. Use the fact people underestimate you as a weapon.

Definitely worked on Kreese!

And yes, why is he even there at 18 (can't have been much older with how young he looked in 1985. I would have never given him 35 there, let alone more than that). Why would anyone let a boy like that join a war that was known to be going poorly, casualty wise? He wasn't drafted. No way. Not with his smarts. He joined.

His father was likely a WW II vet, and if he fought in the Pacific and got his status from there... Terry will fight in Asia too. He clearly knows about the heroes of WWII and he is very jealous of their status and heroes' welcome. None of that for him, and we see that's a big wound. He risked his very life in a war to be like his father, to no avail. And the man likely didn't stop him joining. Terry needed to prove himself worthy in his eyes too, and it didn't work. He still has something to prove to his father after the war. John disdains that, that's why he remembers Terry, again, as a weakling. "I'll go where you lead, Terry"? It's certainly what Kreese expects, but even Kreese becomes aware that this is not how Terry acts now. And John feels that he only needs to pull rank to restore that dynamic, except that it never existed. Terry has always used feigning weakness as a trick, but when Kenny asks him: "What should I do?" He says: "I want you to stop asking me, or anyone, that question." Kreese simply has a warped view of Terry and himself, and Terry has used it against him, likely more than once. And that talent might have well gotten him into those special forces. The talent for trickery. Using the more obvious super soldiers as a smokescreen, even for the enemy. For all we know Terry speaks fluent Vietnamese. It's like the scene in Men In Black: who is the most dangerous foe? Everyone goes for the scary looking aliens, only the smartest one goes for the little girl among all the monsters. Terry is likely there to make them all look like regular draftees, when they're in fact anything but. And if he can make his comrades think he needs protection, he's far more likely to survive.

Indeed, he's the most dangerous one. If he had been forced to fight in the snake pit, he would have tricked his officer, the same way their officer messed with Kreese's head. Indeed that's what command may have seen in "Twig". Kreese simply never saw through it.

Now, in business as a ceo looking a weakling is not an advantage, so Terry changed his image (he does that). But by that point the way Kreese saw him was too deeply entrenched already.

His mistake.

[theminotaursmanual]

Laerte Coutinho, born in São Paulo in 1951, is a Brazilian cartoonist considered one of the country's most important artists in the field.

Throughout the last fifty years, she has built an outstanding career, with her comic strips being published in several newspapers and later collected in books. She has also been involved in the production of TV series and movies, has founded a communication consultancy for unions, and so on. In 2008, she came out as trans woman at 57 years old.

This blog is a translation project of her works by @bigshoeswamp

You can read her comics in portuguese on her site and blog:

[justarandompjofan]

Welcome to Reyna makes shitty art and posts it :)

From left to right: Alice in Wonderland (Tim Burton), Alice by Heart, Alice in Wonderland (1951), Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (C.S. Lewis), Once Upon a Time in Wonderland

[eddie-redmayne-italian-blog]

The Untold History of Cabaret: Revived and Kicking

As Broadway welcomes the ever-evolving musical, its star, Eddie Redmayne—along with Liza Minnelli, Joel Grey, and Sam Mendes—assess its enduring power.

As director Rebecca Frecknall was rehearsing a new cast for her hit London revival of Cabaret, the actor playing Clifford Bradshaw, an American writer living in Berlin during the final days of the Weimar Republic, came onstage carrying that day’s newspaper as a prop. It happened to be Metro, the free London tabloid commuters read on their way to work. The date was February 25, 2022. When the actor said his line—“We’ve got to leave Berlin—as soon as possible. Tomorrow!”—Frecknall was caught short. She noticed the paper’s headline: “Russia Invades Ukraine.”

Cabaret, the groundbreaking 1966 Broadway musical that tackles fascism, antisemitism, abortion, World War II, and the events leading up to the Holocaust, had certainly captured the times once again.

Back in rehearsals four months later, Frecknall and the cast got word that the Supreme Court had overturned Roe v. Wade. Every time she checks up on Cabaret, “it feels like something else has happened in the world,” she told me over coffee in London in September.

A month later, as Frecknall was preparing her production of Cabaret for its Broadway premiere, something else did happen: On October 7, Hamas terrorists infiltrated Israel, killing at least 1,200 people and taking more than 240 hostages.

The revival of Cabaret—starring Eddie Redmayne as the creepy yet seductive Emcee; Gayle Rankin as the gin-swilling nightclub singer Sally Bowles; and Bebe Neuwirth as Fraulein Schneider, a landlady struggling to scrape by—opens April 21 at Manhattan’s August Wilson Theatre. It will do so in the shadow of a pogrom not seen since the Einsatzgruppen slaughtered thousands of Jews in Eastern Europe and in the shadow of a war between Israel and Hamas that continues into its fifth month, with the killing of thousands of civilians in Gaza.

Nearly 60 years after its debut, Cabaret still stings. That is its brilliance. And its tragedy.

Redmayne has been haunted by Cabaret ever since he played the Emcee in prep school. “I was staggered by the character,” he says. “The lack of definition of it, the enigma of it.” He played the part again during his first year at Cambridge at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, where nearly 3,500 shoestring productions jostle for attention each summer. Cabaret, performed in a tiny venue that “stank,” Redmayne recalls, did well enough that the producers added an extra show. He was leering at the Kit Kat Club girls from 8 p.m. till 10 p.m. and then from 11 p.m. till two in the morning. “You’d wake up at midday. You barely see sunshine. I just became this gaunt, skeletal figure.” His parents came to see him and said, “You need vitamin D!”

In 2021, Redmayne, by then an Oscar winner for The Theory of Everything and a Tony winner for Red, was playing the Emcee again, this time in Frecknall’s West End production. His dressing room on opening night was full of flowers. There was one bouquet with a card he did not have a chance to open until intermission. It was from Joel Grey, who originated the role on Broadway and won an Oscar for his performance alongside Liza Minnelli in the 1972 movie. He welcomed the young actor “to the family,” Redmayne says. “It was an extraordinary moment for me.”

Cabaret is based on Goodbye to Berlin, the British writer Christopher Isherwood’s collection of stories and character studies set in Weimar Germany as the Nazis are clawing their way to power. Isherwood, who went to Berlin for one reason—“boys,” he wrote in his memoir Christopher and His Kind—lived in a dingy boarding house amid an array of sleazy lodgers who inspired his characters. But aside from a fleeting mention of a host at a seedy nightclub, there is no emcee in his vignettes. Nor is there an emcee in I Am a Camera, John Van Druten’s hit 1951 Broadway play adapted from Isherwood’s story “Sally Bowles” from Goodbye to Berlin.

The character, one of the most famous in Broadway history, was created by Harold Prince​​, who produced and directed the original Cabaret. “People write about Cabaret all the time,” says John Kander, who composed the show’s music and is, at 96, the last living member of that creative team. “They write about Liza. They write about Joel, and sometimes about us [Kander and lyricist Fred Ebb]. None of that really matters. It’s all Hal. Everything about this piece, even the variations that happen in different versions of it, is all because of Hal.”

In 1964, Prince produced his biggest hit: Fiddler on the Roof. In the final scene, Tevye and his family, having survived a pogrom, leave for America. There is sadness but also hope. And what of the Jews who did not leave? Cabaret would provide the tragic answer.

But Prince was after something else. Without hitting the audience over the head, he wanted to create a musical that echoed what was happening in America: young men being sent to their deaths in Vietnam; racists such as Alabama politician “Bull” Connor siccing attack dogs on civil rights marchers. In rehearsals, Prince put up Will Counts’s iconic photograph of a white student screaming at a Black student during the Little Rock crisis of 1957. “That’s our show,” he told the cast.

A bold idea he had early on was to juxtapose the lives of Isherwood’s lodgers with one of the tawdry nightclubs Isherwood had frequented. In 1951, while stationed as a soldier in Stuttgart, Germany, Prince himself had hung around such a place. Presiding over the third-rate acts was a master of ceremonies in white makeup and of indeterminate sexuality. He “unnerved me,” Prince once told me. “But I never forgot him.”

Kander had seen the same kind of character at the opening of a Marlene Dietrich concert in Europe. “An overpainted little man waddled out and said, ‘Willkommen, bienvenue, welcome,’ ” Kander recalls.

The first song Kander and Ebb wrote for the show was called “Willkommen.” They wrote 60 more songs. “Some of them were outrageous,” Kander says. “We wrote some antisemitic songs”—of which there were many in Weimar cabarets—“ ‘Good neighbor Cohen, loaned you a loan.’ We didn’t get very far with that one.”

They did write one song about antisemitism: “If You Could See Her (The Gorilla Song),” in which the Emcee dances with his lover, a gorilla in a pink tutu. At the end of the number, he turns to the audience and whispers: “If you could see her through my eyes, she wouldn’t look Jewishhh at all.” It was, they thought, the most powerful song in the score.

The working title of their musical was Welcome to Berlin. But then a woman who sold blocks of tickets to theater parties told Prince that her Jewish clients would not buy a show with “Berlin” in the title. Strolling along the beach one day, Joe Masteroff, who was writing the musical’s book, thought of two recent hits, Carnival and Camelot. Both started with a C and had three syllables. Why not call the show Cabaret?

To play the Emcee, Prince tapped his friend Joel Grey. A nightclub headliner, Grey could not break into Broadway. “The theater was very high-minded,” he once said. When Prince called him, he was playing a pirate in a third-rate musical in New York’s Jones Beach. “Hal knew I was dying,” Grey recounts over lunch in the West Village, where he lives. “I wanted to quit the business.”

At first, he struggled to create the Emcee, who did not interact with the other characters. He had numbers but “no words, no lines, no role,” Grey wrote in his memoir, Master of Ceremonies. A polished performer, he had no trouble with the songs, the dances, the antics. “But something was missing,” he says. Then he remembered a cheap comedian he’d once seen in St. Louis. The comic had told lecherous jokes, gay jokes, sexist jokes—anything to get a laugh. One day in rehearsal, Grey did everything the comedian had done “to get the audience crazy. I was all over the girls, squeezing their breasts, touching their bottoms. They were furious. I was horrible. When it was over I thought, This is the end of my career.” He disappeared backstage and cried. “And then from out of the darkness came Mr. Prince,” Grey says. “He put his hand on my shoulder and said, ‘Joely, that’s it.’ ”

Cabaret played its first performance at the Shubert Theatre in Boston in the fall of 1966. Grey stopped the show with the opening number, “Willkommen.” “The audience wouldn’t stop applauding,” Grey recalls. “I turned to the stage manager and said, ‘Should I get changed for the next scene?’ ”

The musical ran long—it was in three acts—but it got a prolonged standing ovation. As the curtain came down, Richard Seff, an agent who represented Kander and Ebb, ran into Ebb in the aisle. “It’s wonderful,” Seff said. “You’ll fix the obvious flaws.” In the middle of the night, Seff’s phone rang. It was Ebb. “You hated it!” the songwriter screamed. “You are of no help at all!”

Ebb was reeling because he’d learned Prince was going to cut the show down to two acts. Ebb collapsed in his hotel bed, Kander holding one hand, Grey the other. “You’re not dying, Fred,” Kander told him. “Hal has not wrecked our show.”

Cabaret came roaring into New York, fueled by tremendous word of mouth. But there was a problem. Some Jewish groups were furious about “If You Could See Her.” How could you equate a gorilla with a Jew? they wanted to know, missing the point entirely. They threatened to boycott the show. Prince, his eye on ticket sales, told Ebb to change the line “She wouldn’t look Jewish at all” to something less offensive: “She isn’t a meeskite at all,” using the Yiddish word for a homely person.

It is difficult to imagine the impact Cabaret had on audiences in 1966. World War II had ended only 21 years before. Many New York theatergoers had fled Europe or fought the Nazis. There were Holocaust survivors in the audience; there were people whose relatives had died in the gas chambers. Grey knew the show’s power. Some nights, dancing with the gorilla, he’d whisper “Jewish” instead of “meeskite.” The audience gasped.

Cabaret won eight Tony Awards in 1967, catapulted Grey to Broadway stardom, and ran for three years. Seff sold the movie rights for $1.5 million, a record at the time. Prince, about to begin rehearsals for Stephen Sondheim’s Company, was unavailable to direct the movie, scheduled for a 1972 release. So the producers hired the director and choreographer Bob Fosse, who needed the job because his previous movie, Sweet Charity, had been a bust.

Fosse, who saw Prince as a rival, stamped out much of what Prince had done, including Joel Grey. He wanted Ruth Gordon to play the Emcee. But Grey was a sensation, and the studio wanted him. “It’s either me or Joel,” Fosse said. When the studio opted for Grey, Fosse backed down. But he resented Grey, and relations between them were icy.

A 26-year-old Liza Minnelli, on the way to stardom herself, was cast as Sally Bowles. The handsome Michael York would play the Cliff character, whose name in the movie was changed to Brian Roberts. And supermodel Marisa Berenson (who at the time seemed to be on the cover of Vogue every other month) got the role of a Jewish department store heiress, a character Fosse took from Isherwood’s short story “The Landauers.”

Cabaret was shot on location in Munich and Berlin. “The atmosphere was extremely heavy,” Berenson recalls. “There was the whole Nazi period, and I felt very much the Berlin Wall, that darkness, that fear, all that repression.” She adored Fosse, but he kept her off balance (she was playing a young woman traumatized by what was happening around her) by whispering “obscene things in my ear. He was shaking me up.”

Minnelli, costumed by Halston for the film, found Fosse “brilliant” and “incredibly intense,” she tells Vanity Fair in a rare interview. “He used every part of me, including my scoliosis. One of my great lessons in working with Fosse was never to think that whatever he was asking couldn’t be done. If he said do it, you had to figure out how to do it. You didn’t think about how much it hurt. You just made it happen.”

Back in New York, Fosse arranged a private screening of Cabaret for Kander and Ebb. When it was over, they said nothing. “We really hated it,” Kander admits. Then they went to the opening at the Ziegfeld Theatre in New York. The audience loved it. “We realized it was a masterpiece,” Kander says, laughing. “It just wasn’t our show.”

“PAPA WAS EVEN MORE EXCITED ABOUT THE OSCAR THAN I WAS,” SAYS LIZA MINNELLI. “AND, BABY, I WAS—NO, I AM STILL—EXCITED.”

The success of the movie—with its eight Academy Awards—soon overshadowed the musical. When people thought of Cabaret, they thought of finger snaps and bowler hats. They thought of Fosse and, of course, Minnelli, who would adopt the lyric “Life is a cabaret” as her signature. Her best-actress Oscar became part of a dynasty: Her mother, Judy Garland, and father, director Vincente Minnelli, each had one of their own. “Papa was even more excited about the Oscar than I was,” she says. “And, baby, I was—no, I am still—excited.”

By 1987—in part to burnish Cabaret’s theatrical legacy—Prince decided to recreate his original production on Broadway, with Grey once again serving as the Emcee. But it had the odor of mothballs. The New York Times drama critic Frank Rich wrote that it was not, as Sally Bowles sings, “perfectly marvelous,” but “it does approach the perfectly mediocre.” Much of the show, he added, was “old-fashioned and plodding.”

In the early 1990s, Sam Mendes, then a young director running a pocket-size theater in London called the Donmar Warehouse, heard the novelist Martin Amis give a talk. Amis was writing Time’s Arrow, about a German doctor who works in a concentration camp. “I’ve already written about the Nazis and people say to me, ‘Why are you doing it again?’ ” Amis said. “And I say, what else is there?”

At the end of the day,” Mendes tells me, “the biggest question of the 20th century is, ‘How could this have happened?’ ” Mendes decided to stage Cabaret at the Donmar in 1993. Another horror was unfolding at the time: Serb paramilitaries were slaughtering Bosnian Muslims, “ethnic cleansing” on an unimaginable scale.

Mendes hit on a terrific concept for his production: He transformed his theater into a nightclub. The audience sat at little tables with red lamps. And the performers were truly seedy. He told the actors playing the Kit Kat Club girls not to shave their armpits or their legs. “Unshaved armpits—it sent shock waves around the theater,” he recalls. Since there was no room—or money—for an orchestra, the actors played the instruments. Some of them could hit the right notes.

To play the Emcee, Mendes cast Alan Cumming, a young Scottish actor whose comedy act Mendes had enjoyed. “Can you sing?” Mendes asked him. “Yeah,” Cumming said. Mendes threw ideas at him and “he was open to everything.” Just before the first preview, Mendes suggested he come out during the intermission and chat up the audience, maybe dance with a woman. Mendes, frantic before the preview, never got around to giving Cumming any more direction than that. No matter. Cumming sauntered onstage as people were settling back at their tables, picked a man out of the crowd, and started dancing with him. “Watch your hands,” he said. “I lead.”

Cumming’s Emcee was impish, fun, gleefully licentious. The audience loved him. “I have never had less to do with a great performance in one of my shows than I had to do with Alan,” Mendes says.

When Joe Masteroff came to see the show in London, Mendes was nervous. He’d taken plenty of liberties with the script. Cliff, the narrator, was now openly gay. (One night, when Cliff kissed a male lover, a man in the audience shouted, “Rubbish!”) And he made the Emcee a victim of the Nazis. In the final scene, Cumming, in a concentration camp uniform affixed with a yellow Star of David and a pink triangle, is jolted, as if he’s thrown himself onto the electrified fence at Birkenau.

“I should be really pissed with you,” Masteroff told Mendes after the show. “But it works.” Kander liked it too, though he was not happy that the actors didn’t play his score all that well. Ebb hated it. “He wanted more professionalism,” Mendes says. “And he was not wrong. There was a dangerous edge of amateurishness about it.”

The Roundabout Theatre Company brought Cabaret to New York in 1998. Rob Marshall, who would go on to direct the movie Chicago, helped Mendes give the show some Broadway gloss while retaining its grittiness. The two young directors were “challenging each other, pushing each other,” Marshall remembers, “to create something unique.”

Cumming reprised his role as the Emcee. He was on fire. Natasha Richardson, the daughter of Vanessa Redgrave and director Tony Richardson, played Sally Bowles. She was not on fire. She’d never been in a musical before, and when she sang, “There was absolutely no sound coming out,” Kander says.

“She beat herself up about her singing all the time,” Mendes adds. “There was a deep, self-critical aspect of Tash that was instilled by her dad, a brilliant man but extremely cutting.” He once said to her out of nowhere: “We’re going to have to do something about your chin, dear.” As Mendes saw it, she always felt that she could never measure up to her parents.

Kander went to work with her, and slowly a voice emerged. It was not a “polished sound,” Marshall says, but it was haunting, vulnerable. Still, Cumming was walking away with the show. At the first preview, when he took his bow, the audience roared. When Richardson took hers, they were polite. Mendes remembers going backstage and finding her “in tears.” But she persevered and through sheer force of will created a Sally Bowles that “will break your heart,” Masteroff told me the day before I saw that production in the spring of 1998. She did indeed. (Eleven years later, while learning how to ski on a bunny hill on Mont Tremblant, she fell down. She died of a head injury two days later.)

The revival of Cabaret won four Tony Awards, including one for Richardson as best actress in a musical. It ran nearly 2,400 performances at the Roundabout’s Studio 54 and was revived again in 2014. And the money, money, money, as the song goes, poured in. Once Masteroff, having already filed his taxes at the end of a lucrative Cabaret year, went to the mailbox and opened a royalty check for $60,000. “What the hell am I supposed to do with this?” he snapped.

Rebecca Frecknall grew up on Mendes’s Donmar Warehouse production of Cabaret. The BBC filmed it, and when it aired, her father videotaped it. She watched it “religiously.” But when she came to direct her production, she had to put Mendes’s version out of her mind.

Mendes turned his little theater into a nightclub. Frecknall, working with the brilliant set and costume designer Tom Scutt, has upped the game. They have transformed the entire theater into a Weimar cabaret. You stand in line at the stage door, waiting, you hope, to be let in. Once inside, you’re served drinks while the Kit Kat Club girls dance and flirt with you. The show’s logo is a geometric eye. Scutt sprinkles the motif throughout his sets and costumes. “It’s all part of the voyeurism,” Scutt explains. “The sense of always being watched, always watching—responsibility, culpability, implication, blame.”

REDMAYNE’S EMCEE IS STILL SEXY AND SEDUCTIVE, BUT AS THE SHOW GOES ON HE BECOMES A PUPPET MASTER MANIPULATING THE OTHER CHARACTERS, SOMETIMES TO THEIR DOOM.

Mendes’s Cabaret, like Fosse’s, had a black-and-white aesthetic—black fishnet stockings, black leather coats, a white face for the Emcee. Frecknall and Scutt begin their show with bright colors, which slowly fade to gray as the walls close in on the characters. “Color and individuality—to grayness and homogeneity,” Frecknall says.

As the first woman to direct a major production of Cabaret, Frecknall has focused attention on the Kit Kat Club girls—Rosie, Fritzie, Frenchie, Lulu, and Texas. “Often what I’ve seen in other productions is this homogenized group of pretty, white, skinny girls in their underwear,” she insists. Her Kit Kat Club girls are multiethnic. Some are transgender. Through performances and costumes, they are no longer appendages of the Emcee but vivid characters in their own right.

Her boldest stroke has been to reinvent the Emcee. She and Redmayne have turned him into a force of malevolence. He is still sexy and seductive, but as the show goes on, he becomes a skeletal puppet master manipulating the other characters to, in many cases, their doom. If Cumming’s Emcee was, in the end, a Holocaust victim, Redmayne’s is, in Frecknall’s words, “a perpetrator.”

Unwrapping a grilled cheese sandwich in his enormous Upper West Side townhouse, Kander says that his husband had recently asked him a pointed question: “Did it ever occur to you that all of you guys who created Cabaret were Jewish?”

“Not really,” Kander replied. “We were just trying to put on a show.” Or, as Masteroff once said: “It was a job.”

It’s a “job” that has endured. The producers of the Broadway revival certainly have faith in the show’s staying power. They’ve spent $25 million on the production, a big chunk of it going to reconfigure the August Wilson Theatre into the Kit Kat Club. Audience members will enter through an alleyway, be given a glass of schnapps, and can then enjoy a preshow drink at a variety of lounges designed by Scutt: The Pineapple Room, Red Bar, Green Bar, and Vault Bar. The show will be performed in the round, tables and chairs ringing the stage. And they’ll be able to enjoy a bottle (or two) of top-flight Champagne throughout the performance.

This revival is certainly the most lavish Cabaret in a long time. But there have been hundreds of other, less heralded productions over the years, with more on the way. A few months before Russia invaded Ukraine, Cabaret was running in Moscow. Last December, Concord Theatricals, which licenses the show, authorized a production at the Molodyy Theatre in Kyiv. And a request is in for a production in Israel, the first since the show was produced in Tel Aviv in 2014.

“The interesting thing about the piece is that it seems to change with the times,” Kander says. “Nothing about it seems to be written in stone except its narrative and its implications.”

And whenever someone tells him the show is more relevant than ever, Kander shakes his head and says, “I know. And isn’t that awful?”′

You can also listen the entire article here !!

https://www.vanityfair.com/style/cabaret-revival

I know it's a very long article , but very interesting!!

[pet-shop-of-horror-fan]

Fearsome critters are joke animals that were made up by lumberjacks in the United States.

I have been researching fearsome critters for some time and as far as I am aware, the best place for this is the Lumberwoods website, which hosts many old books on them.

When I read about a critter, I look it up to see if there is anything else I can find, but many named critters do not have anything outside of these books.

So, I was reading Lenwood’s Lexicon of Lumberwoods Lore, where I came upon "Swamp Boogers." Which is said to be the taxidermy of deer buttocks being turned into a face.

What's weird is that it does not seem to be alive in any way, as you would expect from a fearsome critter. It is just taxidermy.

And it is a real thing that has been done to animals and you can read about it on Know Your Meme.

But when talking about the origin of swamp boogers, Know Your Meme says, "The term "Swamp Booger" has likely been used prior to its appearance online," and it lists a song from 2004 that uses the term.

But the book I read is from 1951.

I found some information and put it together to give us more context to something almost no one cares about.

You're welcome!