#and when they grow up and joe has money to spare he’s going all out

[pfctipper]

[ euphoric ] for a celebratory kiss - for LiebTip?

hello george ty so much for the lovely prompt (tip!) and for your patience! <3 also never has there been better evidence of this post than how i managed to interpret this

[ euphoric ] for a celebratory kiss

Is that you, he says, to the first blurred face, as gentle hands ease him down on to the French cobblestones and someone says his name over and over again in a voice that’s soft even over the machine-gun fire and the shattering glass, until it all fades to black.

The faces that hover over him to change his bandages and lower him on to stretchers to move him from sand to truck to ship to truck again, over and over until he loses track, grow cleaner and clearer; the accents shift, and for a little while they’re almost something he can almost place, brogues like his father’s but sharper, but the only thing that’s ever really familiar is the same carefully-schooled expression they all wear and how they all call him private.  

Three months after the redheaded nurse the Marine corporal in the next bed tells him is pretty hangs up colorful red-white-blue bunting and he watches the vague shapes of people dancing in the street through the window, a doctor stands at his bedside, close enough that Ed can make out his gray hair and the weariness in his shoulders but not the look in his eyes, and tells him you’re going home.

The house in Detroit is familiar, the same broken roof tiles and fence pales his father never seems to get around to repairing, at least until he sees the way his mother looks standing under the hand-painted banner hung over the porch and hears the way she says oh, Edward before she puts her hands over her mouth.

He doesn’t recognize any of the faces in the railcar going west, even though the ways they look at him are familiar: the wide-eyed young man who hurries out of his seat, the woman who averts her gaze and the little girl in her lap who stares, the shamefaced conductor who refuses his money and then lifts his bag when they pull into Union Station in the dark, saying, thank you for your service, sir, solemnly as he sets it down on the platform.

But outside, by one of the battered taxicabs, there’s the orange tip of a cigarette and just enough moonlight reflecting on the rain-soaked sidewalk for him to make out narrow shoulders hunched defensively, in just the same way Ed had pictured when he’d looked at the painstaking handwriting on the letter that had come through the door a month earlier, that had made his chest ache before he’d even read the words.

‘Hope you didn’t turn down any fares for me,’ Ed says, leaning heavily on one of his crutches in the warm light of the streetlamp. ‘A fellow can get pretty used to not paying his way.’

‘Tip,’ says Joe Liebgott, softly, and looks at Ed like he’s the fucking sun.

Joe opens the door of the cab for him, lifts his bag into the trunk and then out again all without asking, and at first Ed supposes maybe it’s without thinking, like he does for all his fares, but then he watches the way Joe stares down the girl at the door of the boarding house when she spares a startled glance over at Ed.

‘You look good, Joe,’ he says, in the cramped twin room, and Joe doesn’t, really, clothes hanging loose on his too-thin frame and hair cut unevenly, patchy stubble on his jaw and dark bruises under his eyes illuminated starkly by the flickering bare bulb, too-bright in a way that reminds Ed of the weeks where he’d blinked awake and not been able to make out anything but light.

He finds he likes looking at Joe anyway, the familiarity of it, only up close there’s a scar on his neck that Ed hasn’t seen before, doesn’t know about, not yet; he leans one crutch against the bed and lifts a hand to rest his fingertips against it, watching how the pink healed skin goes white when he presses down.

‘Fuck,’ Joe says, ragged, and there's a moment where it's as though neither of them breathe. ‘It’s just – it’s fucking strange, Tip. Fuck. Seeing you.’

Ed’s legs are aching and sore, stiffer from the journey; he shifts on his feet and sees the way Joe’s eyes flick down before he closes them. ‘Not – fuck, Tip, they told us –’

‘Joe,’ says Ed, starting out sharp but then softening in the same way Joe’s features had when he’d drifted asleep against Ed’s shoulder in the barns and hedgerows of Normandy, and then he lets the other crutch slip to the ground and presses his hand over the dog tags he knows he’ll still find under Joe’s faded shirt. It makes him unsteady, and he feels the way Joe’s hands come up to his waist to hold him even as he lets Ed fall into him anyway.

When Ed presses his open mouth to the scar on Joe’s neck he can hear the shallow breath Joe takes. ‘Joe, I’m here,’ Ed says, lips moving against the chain of Joe’s dog tags, tasting faintly metallic in his mouth, and then, ‘We’re here.’

And afterwards, when Joe has kissed him the same way he had that last morning in Normandy, mouth hot against his behind the barn as everyone else slept, eyes closed against the too-bright sunrise and hands on Ed’s waist over the webbing and ammo belt, Ed lies in the unfamiliar bed and blinks up at the too-bright light, filling his vision with nothing but white, and it feels somehow like home.

[15-lizards]

More southern ASOIAF headcanons for my mental health

Robb: star football player who gets drafted for a D1 college. He is absolutely the sweetheart of the SEC world. Definitely the next Joe Burrow. Has a million followers on insta and all of his posts are professionally edited. On the outside there’s nothing wrong with him but he actually has a dark secret (he’s just dating theon). Margaery is absolutely his sorority girl gf before they both realize they’re gay.

Arya: absolutely insane. Begs Ned to go along on hunting trips and can shoot a rifle like a grown man. She’s one of those kids that eats the heart of the first deer they kill. Runs around barefoot in the backwoods and the gravel roads. Sustains herself on bug juice from the gas station and honeysuckle plants that grow outside the house. Just true southern trash I love her.

Dany: Weird horse girl to the MAX turned highschool overachiever. Still rides horses but had a breakdown and a personality 180 after middle school and is now class president bc she wanted to make friends. Is in like three thousand clubs and is somehow the head of all of them. She has such a nice speaking voice but her accent only slips out when she’s angry. Ridiculously active in the local community. We all know that girl. We all know she needs Xanax and we love her.

Catelyn: Facebook mom. Keeps their suburban front lawn looking SPOTLESS. Always cheering Robb on at his games, makes the rest of the Starks dress in the school colors and take family pictures. Doesn’t like to gossip unless that person deserves it but when she does she absolutely tears them apart. Always hosts the neighborhood block parties. Ends up feeding half the neighborhood children when her kids bring them home after they were out playing when the streetlights come on.

Theon: Drug dealer who lives in the backwoods I’m sorry. He barely graduated highschool and likes to chew dip so thick you can’t understand what he’s saying. Actually kind of smart but didn’t care enough about school. Always showed up in his stupid lifted truck. Always smells like either cigarette smoke or weed. Just gives off dirty vibes but he was always pretty chill to hang around with surprisingly. Always had weird respect for the smart kids or the ones who didn’t want to do drugs. Somehow this is all appealing to Robb

Cersei: Evil Facebook mom. Passive aggressive to your face like she isn��t even going to be fake nice. Everyone’s always kissing her ass in her comments section as she humble brags about Myrcella being on the honor roll or Joffrey making the baseball team (the Lannisters have the stadium named after them). She knows if you don’t show up to church and makes sure all of her friends (who she hates) know about it too when they have brunch afterwards. But she is so fine. True southern milf. All of Joff’s classmates never shut up about his mean hot mom.

Davos: Your nicest old man neighbor ever. He’s Theon’s closest neighbor (two miles down the road) and is always trying to set him on the right path. Will def lend you money if you need it. No one’s really sure what he does for a living but he’s probably good at it. Always letting the nearby kids run around in his yard while he keeps an eye on them from the porch. He woodworks in his spare time. Everyone nearby has a swing set or a crib or a table he carved for them. Also gives the wisest, most sage advice ever uttered by anyone ever. He dropped out so he can’t read very well but Shireen always walks down the road after school to teach him :,)

Lysa: god she is just. Batshit crazy. Slightly normal until you walk into her ugly suburban mansion (that her old ass husband paid for) and she starts talking about Qanon. Such a conspiracy theorist and Robin is most definitely not vaxxed because those give you autism duh. Tries to return clothes she got like three years ago to Target and gets mad when they won’t refund her. Gives fast food workers a hard time. Or any service workers really.

Dolorous Edd: That man is a Waffle House employee. Trains Jon how to cook while taking an order while smoking a cigarette all at once. Cleans up questionable needles in the bathroom and needs to take a smoke break outside afterwards. You have never seen a man look so jaded yet make you the most fire fucking hashbrowns you have ever eaten in your life. No one knows what he does off the clock he’s a mystery. He just comes in, complains, makes waffles, leaves. Has thrown hands with a customer. Multiple times. Never loses.

[mdemn]

i think it’s not too much of a stretch to say joe goes over and above on christmas because vito, who having a not-so-great family life, never celebrated christmas beyond going to mass

[alldayangst]

lovebug (Tom Holland)

GIF is from gaybuckybarnes here on Tumblr. You can access my masterlist here. This was written for @worldoftom’s lolbrosgetsicktoochallenge. The prompt I had was: ‘Tom self diagnoses himself as sick. He’s got all the symptoms. He’s speechless, over the edge and just breathless. He never thought he’d get hit by the ‘love-bug’ again’. Inspired by the song Lovebug by Jonas Brothers!

A/N: Y/N is an assistant director on Cherry in this fic. This has a lot of Cherry (the movie) references but most are explained if you haven’t seen the film. Such as, it was filmed in Cleveland and Morocco, directed by Joe and Anthony Russo. Some scenes in this fic borrow from the movie & I’ve linked clips from the film if you’d like to listen/watch along. WC: 4K.

“Yeah, Mum, I’ve just got like the sorest throat at the moment.” Nikki’s picture cuts in and out on a scrambled screen on the South side of London, her husband’s hand periodically reaching out for her, rubbing her shoulder, then leaving the frame almost as quickly as it came in. Even through the low quality, the pixels dashing about his screen, Tom can make out his mother’s brows knitting together and can’t remove the feeling of utter guilt when he sees her grow redder and redder out of anger, concern and confusion for her son. “But I’ve got Harry here with me.” Harry waves from behind his brother, his trusty mug swapped for a Phoenix Coffee Cup in his spare hand, just to get a taste of the States.

Tom reckons that's why he’s sick. He barely drinks coffee on the other side of the pond, and would bet good money that an at home PG Tips would beat America’s swankiest coffee joint any day. But now, he’s betrayed his usual routine and his body’s all out of whack and his throat is hoarse, he’s breathless even at times.

Harry shoots his mum a half smile to comfort her, but he doesn’t know what it's like to be a mother, and his and Tom’s mouth both form an ‘O’ when Nikki begins to type so hard her screen jolts and Tom swears she’s put a dent in it. “You know what? I’m going to give them a piece of my mind, Tom! They’re overworking you!” Nikki looks intensely to find her baby boy in drug-addled eyes and his jungle of curls on his newly shaven head. She guesses it becomes easier when Tom pushes his face halfway into the screen and pleads like the child he’ll always be to her, “Please, please Mum! I can’t have any days off. Under any circumstances, I need to finish this film!”

Tom turns to his younger brother for help. “Tell her, Harry!”

And as little brothers do best, Harry spills the beans as soon as Tom’s phone is in clutch. “Tom’s fallen in love with the first A.D., Y/N.”

Nikki immediately loses her frown, knowing how love can knock Tom off his feet and blow all the wind out of him. Tom’s father, Dom, re-enters the frame to match Nikki’s grin. He never misses an opportunity to tease. “Oo, caught a case of the love bug, have you?”

Harry has to whip the phone around to dodge Tom’s protesting arms reaching for it again. “Don’t listen to Harry. I’m not in love. I just like Y/N.”

“A lot.” Harry mutters. Tom’s family doesn’t budge any further, knowing how bad Tom was hurt after his last relationship. They weren't sure when the love bug would come back to bite him again. So after they all shared a knowing look, Harry handed Tom his phone back. “I’ll keep you updated. Bye, Mum.”

It all started five weeks ago. Tom, at 24, was beginning to feel like love was trudging up a high hill he couldn’t come down from, where every beat of heart was feeling like an ache on an open wound.  Tom had yet to meet a lover to prove distance makes the heart grow fonder, finding himself in six month long entanglements and illusions of love before things inevitably went sour.

He’d say, perhaps, you were the closest thing to the real deal. The problem was, he didn’t know if you liked him back.

“When life was beginning, I saw -”

“When life was-”

“When life was be-fuck!”

“When life was beginning, I saw you.”

Tom could make a picture book out of the day he first met you. He remembers how your hair looked that day, the speckles of genuinity in your eyes, how your ear-to-ear smile seemed to be a mirror because every time he saw you from then on, he brandished the same beam. He recalls how his eyes went low as he dropped his script to his lap and stared at your lips, so soft and kissable, as you repeated his words back to him: “When life was beginning, I saw you.” Then you chuckled softly as Tom waited patiently for his head and his heart to return to him.

“I’m sorry. I’m dyslexic. I have a bit of trouble reading.”

“It’s cool, I'm the first A.D. That’s what I’m here for.”

You rubbed your hands on the back of your trousers, your mic jostling in your back pocket as you attempted to rid yourself of your nervous, sweaty palms.

“I’m Y/N.” You reached out for a shake only for Tom to cough loudly into his own hand. 

“Fuck! I’m so sorry! That wasn’t me trying to get out of your handshake. I- I-.” Tom looked at his hand for it had failed him for the first time in his life. His hand that had helped him up during handstands, being his crutch through cartwheels and backflips, but had decidedly run out of luck to be on the receiving end of Tom’s monstrous cough impending a handshake with someone his eyes just couldn’t look away from.

You laugh again. Your laugh sounds like melody, Tom muses. Awestruck, he wishes he could play it again, repeat it like a radio hit and never wash himself of the feeling he got when he heard your laugh for the first time.

“It’s all good. I’ll see you around.” You disappear from his trailer, likely on a venture to your own, when Joe and Anthony block his view of you walking away.

Anthony and Joe take on the ghost of you in Tom’s room, “Tom! The man, the myth and the legend!” Joe comes behind him to rub his newly hairless head. “We’re so glad you agreed to do this movie!” 

“Bummed that you’re not coming to the Browns game tonight, though.” Anthony remarks, throwing a football at Joe who sets it in his lap.

“Harry and I, we’re British, mate. We play football with our feet.”

Joe doesn’t know it then, but his next words are the beginning of the end for Tom. He rubs on his football and looks Tom in his eye when he poses, “It’s a shame ‘cause the whole crew’s going. First day of filming celebrations.”

“The whole crew?”

Anthony mumbles an ‘mhm’ as he picks up a framed photo of Tom and RDJ sitting pretty on Tom’s dresser, posing like father and son.

Tom’s usually self assured when he’s on set, but he’s hesitant to say this next improvised line. His voice trails off as he speaks. “Including Y/N?”

“Y/N?” Joe queries, with a smile that’s half scary and half comforting, and the butterflies in Tom’s stomach are begging him not to fuck this up and suddenly every second a word is not spoken feels like hours have passed and he might have ruined things before they’ve even started, gosh he just met you and-

Tom tries to play it cool. “I don’t- they’re cool.” Tom coughs again. “I mean, I don’t really know them but Y/N seems cool I guess.”

Anthony and Joe smile at each other, scrambling to exit. “Whole crew’s going, baby!” Joe beams.

“Please don’t tell Y/N I asked!” Tom shouts before they’re out of earshot.

“Yeah, yeah. Anthony, go long!”

A few hours later, Tom was sitting next to an unamused Harry, you on his left, foam fingers pointing every which way. 

“Are you a big football fan?” Tom asked, imposter syndrome creeping up on him. He had the best seats in the house, but knew not a thing about this sport he’d come down to watch. Meanwhile, crew and crowd alike sat themselves around you guys, cheering leaving throats raw for days to come and a tussle for a foam finger between Joe and Anthony leading to hundreds of sugary popcorn shells scattered on the stadium floor.

“I mean, I wouldn’t ever turn down the option to look at Odell Beckham Jr. Are you?” you replied.

Tom looked over to his brother who sat with his chin in his hand, lips pulled into a thin straight line as his rusty curls were blown about from the wind of brown and orange flags flown from fans behind him. “We could learn to love it.” Tom flashed you a toothy grin, unsure of where to guide the conversation next. He knew for sure that he wanted to keep talking to you, but his ego began putting up a fight, eager to show himself off if you’d have him in any way. Tom sighed. “Truth is, we have no fucking clue what’s going on.” Tom could hear the commentary about a player reaching the end zone, but they were all just words that went into one ear then came straight out of the other.

You giggled. “I have no idea either. We could make up our own rules if you want.”

Tom likes the way you think. He also likes the way you speak. He loves the way you laugh.

“You have a beautiful laugh.” 

You covered your mouth. “Oh, fuck, I hate my laugh!”

“I’d make you laugh a thousand times if I could.”

You pointed to the jumbo screen as Mayfield made a touchdown, unable to stop laughing from sheer nerves as you felt Tom’s hot, burning haze on you. An advert for Cleveland’s Own Phoenix Coffee flashed on the screen as you spoke. “We’ll make our own rules. Every time we see the quarterback pick up the ball, we’ll cheer.”

By the end of the night, Tom is speechless, breathless and over the edge of his chair in faux excitement and anticipation of the quarterback receiving the ball once again. 

“Another coffee?” The service worker asked.

“Yes please!” You and Tom both say in unison, pumped as the quarterback began circling around to collect the ball in open arms.

The footage of the game is cut abruptly as the camera points to a confused, solo Harry; Anthony and Joe are seen at the edge of the frame whispering suggestively and pointing towards Tom, the camera eventually capturing the superstar who looks back up at his own reflection. Poorly green screened hearts flood the screen and the camera pans to include you in the frame too. Tom looks on in horror when he realises what’s going on and how it could be too late, and turns to you.

“I promise I didn’t know this was going on. We don’t have to.” Tom panics. 

You hear him loud and clear, that you don’t have to, but your heart and eleven thousand people are telling you to kiss him otherwise. “Oh well. We should just do it.” you murmur, the bright pink ‘KISSCAM’ logo flashing in and out.

It doesn’t take more than a moment for the gap between you and Tom to close, for your face to get lost behind his, his lips pressing against yours, eyes closed, trusting each other to share your air. This was probably the first thing that night worth cheering for, howls and whistles erupting around you. 

Tom doesn’t understand American football, but he thinks that the best seats in the house could be anywhere next to you.

Harry’s on the phone to his twin brother, Sam, when you and the rest of the crew make it back to the hotel later on. “-Yeah, and Tom spent half the night with the first A.D. cheering and screaming at fuck all.”

The Cleveland Browns lost that night, but Tom remains none the wiser. He stood in the doorway as Harry continued to relay his day to Sam. “Oh, and Tom, Mum said to give her a call, eavesdropper.” He flicks Tom’s reddening nose before closing the door.

A week and a half later, Tom reckons that's why he’s sick. He never has the time anymore to attend ‘real’ football games back home, and he actually understands the game back in Britain. But now, he’s cheered at almost every given opportunity to impress you stupidly, and his chest and voice is suffering as a consequence.

You and Tom walked onto set with your pinkies intertwined, growing closer and closer by the minute, but Tom doesn’t miss how Ciara’s boyfriend visits set every day for her, doesn’t miss how they rub their nose together in this lovey-dovey affection he wishes he could bestow upon you.

The scene wasn’t working.

The crew was beginning to grow restless and Tom silently became more frustrated as the minutes went by and he was unable to get his lines right. He remembers how a week ago, it felt so easy. You were there to correct him when he stumbled upon his lines and you picked him up so effortlessly, a twinkling smile on your face. But then? Then you were different. Your eyes were scrunched up behind the lens of the camera and you were mumbling something to Anthony about how the sun was due to go down in Ohio soon so you needed to hurry along.

“Alright.” you announced. “Take five!”

And Tom was thankful, Ciara perched upon a swing for the scene they were filming, Tom dwindling the rope of the swing under his finger as her boyfriend approached her once again. “Hey dude, are you okay?”

Ciara looked at Tom with the same concern, hands finding home in her boyfriend’s nest of hair. “Yeah, Tom, are you okay?”

Tom coughed into his hand. “Yeah, guys, I’m good.”

“I think you’re coming down with a nasty cough.” Ciara muttered.

“Yeah. It’s you guys. You’re too cute. You make me sick.” Tom laughed humourlessly for a short while, wanting to be that adorable with someone, maybe not anyone, maybe just with you someday. Then Tom shook his head, a bitter feeling in his throat as he yawned. “It’s the Browns game. I was yelling and screaming every time a quarterback got the ball. Of course I’m a little unwell. I’ll be good as new in a few days though.”

Ciara already knew Tom wasn’t playing a man with the healthiest of habits, but she worried that Tom was getting this bad this early. “Maybe you should talk to the first A.D. about reducing shoot days from five to three?”

Tom didn’t like the prospect of seeing you less. “Yeah.” Harry had a clapperboard between his hands, leading Tom’s eyebrows to furrow as his brother yelled something about it being take 13. “Maybe.” 

Harry resumed to a new position in your chair, with you taking Harry’s place right across from Tom, a coffee waiting for him when the scene was over like Harry always did. Ciara’s boyfriend left the frame to watch supportively on the sidelines.

“Lights. Camera. Action!” Anthony called. “Time is money, you guys! Let’s try to get this one right this time.” 

They’d been over this already twelve times today.

“Hey, I’m really happy you’re here.”

Ciara read her line back. “Why’s that?” 

Tom could hear whispers of the crew, the sound guy glaring at them in case they were picked up in the scene, and he knew it had something to do with the fact that he couldn’t for some reason get the next line out all day. And that reason, unbeknownst to everyone, was because Tom couldn’t say something he didn’t mean - feeling like his heart was locked in a cage for which only you had the key. He looked past his co-star, Ciara, and up at you; feeling so close but you were far away, leaving him all day without anything to say. And overcoming his speechlessness and breathlessness, even in just that moment, he ran his hand over the rope to say, “Cause I like you. A lot.”

Ciara and the rest of the crew broke into a wide smile once Tom finally spoke his next line, but the only person Tom was focused on was you, who wasn’t smiling, but mouthing his words back to him.

Ciara breathed, “Shut up.”

And Tom’s sure to look you in the eye when he says, “I really do.”

When the filming for the day is said and done, Tom makes a beeline for you across the greenery. You hand over his coffee to him, “It’s a little cold now, but a warm hand is holding it.”

Tom quirks an eyebrow. “Are you inviting me to hold your hand?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

“You swapped jobs with Harry, I saw.”

“Yeah, well. It’s good he gets to grips with the job now. You know, in case anything changes.” You pulled your phone out of your pocket. “I should probably give you my number. In case anything changes.”

“Oh no, yeah. Your number is?”

“216-XXX-XXX. Speaking of changes, I heard you’re trying to get your days reduced.”

“You were eavesdropping?” Tom looks at your face that bears no trace of guilt. “You’re just like me!” He pulls you close.

“Tom, if what happened today is because you’re working too much, I’m happy to reduce your time.”

“Nah, nah.” Tom sniffles, rubbing his nose on a jacket probably worth more than your life. “I’m just a bit sick, s’all. I’ll be fine.”

Two weeks pass and Tom’s no better. With the Cleveland game nearly a month ago, Tom has nothing to blame and as first A.D., you’re obligated to reduce his hours. Tom’s on the phone with his mother when you approach his trailer. 

“Don’t listen to Harry. I’m not in love. I just like Y/N.”

“A lot. I’ll keep you updated. Bye, Mum.” 

You’re so quick to skip happily back to your trailer that you miss Harry calling out to his brother, he’s his protector now that his mother was countries apart. “Tom?” Harry starts.

Tom mumbles an ‘mhm’, hoping Harry would make it quick as he sees you FaceTiming him. If only his mother could see him like this. He’d get to call her tomorrow and tell her he’d called you for the first time yesterday, he could hardly wait to utter, 'I've finally found the missing part of me’. Harry sighs as the FaceTime ringing is relentless. Tom’s eyebrows threaten to meet in the middle of his face as he clutches onto his phone.

“Tom.” Harry begins. “Y/N is giving up assistant director.”

Tom’s really not sure where Harry gets the source of his information from, but he’s sure this isn’t true. He thinks you’d tell him before his brother if you were leaving the film behind, leaving him behind.

The film is due to move filming to Morocco soon, and Tom’s well aware that not all film crew joins them when production moves abroad, but to Tom, you’re an extension of this movie universe. And Tom refuses to leave the memories of you in this filming cycle. “How’d you know?”

“I’m taking over.” Tom’s screen lights up with the glow of your call, and as bright as it is, as bright as you are, as bright as your smile surely is on the other end of the phone call, Tom’s in his deepest darkest feelings wondering how he fooled himself into thinking romance could go right for him this time. 

He’s going to Morocco. You’re not. You’re funny, smart, promising, beautiful. You’ll find someone good for you, a better pair by the time he’s back.

“That doesn’t mean it won’t work out, man.” Tom sulks in his bed, the light from your constant calls bleeding through his bed sheets. “I just wanted to warn you.” Tom nods, screaming into his pillow. Harry decides that’s his cue to leave, a glimmer of light from outside seeping through the crack of the door as Harry escorts himself. Tom musters all his might and courage to reluctantly answer your phone, the ear-to-ear grin he knows so well greeting him once again.

Suddenly, he forgot how to speak. Hopeless, breathless, couldn’t you see that?

“Tom?” You call out his name a few times before cutting straight to the point. “Do you like me?”

Tom shifts slightly but not enough to show that he’s alarmed. “Huh? Yeah, I like you.”

He sits up, but doesn’t reciprocate the outrageous smile you wear like a heart on your sleeve. Tom’s eyes are sunken, dark circles forming under his eyes where he and his disturbed character become one. You suddenly remember why you shouldn’t have run away so fast, perhaps Tom was overworking himself. He continues, “But I’m an emotionally unavailable hopeless romantic. So I wouldn’t waste your time on me.”

Tom can’t help the hurt in his heart when he sees your smile drop so suddenly, knowing it was earnest. “Tom, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying, life is unfair. And I’m gonna quit while I’m ahead. We wouldn’t work out. And I like our friendship now. We should stay that way.”

You’re not convincing when you nod rapidly, not letting Tom see your face as you play with your fingers to avoid his gaze. “Yeah, I agree.” You’re much less convincing when the last frame Tom caught of you was a shot of tears dripping down your face, as three rings followed you. Tom’s screen went black in your absence, and Tom falls asleep with eyes even redder from crying, and he wonders when he’s gonna shake this sickness.

It’d been a few days since Tom had got his shots to allow him to go to Morocco. He sat opposite the doctor on set, a coffee cup placed on the desk between him.

Tom reckons that's why he’s sick. Shots always have their side effects, and he’d taken multiple shots in one day. And now, he specifically asked for you to hold his hand during the process, Harry branded in a glinting jaw-drop, only for you to leave directly after. 

“I’m speechless, constantly feeling over the edge, breathless.” Tom explains his symptoms to the doctor. “At first I thought it was because of that stupid football game, then all the coffee I’m drinking, now I don’t know if it’s the shots. I feel like shit, doc.”

“I know exactly what you’re dealing with.”

“What?”

“Lovebug.”

Tom stares at the doctor in utter bewilderment. “You figured that out based on my symptoms?”

“I figured that out based on the puppy dog eyes you gave for your first A.D. when they left without a word.” The doctor begins to laugh softly, but Tom is unamused. How is he supposed to shake this illness after completely ruining your relationship? How is he supposed to mend your bond after talking so recklessly, so emotionally? “Tom, I’m not here to be a fairy godmother, I’m being strictly medical. At a certain point, what you feel in your mind affects your body. So I prescribe that you talk to Y/N and say everything you need to say.”

And while that seemed easy enough, Tom’s ego was at work again, and Tom was feeling far too bruised and wounded to speak to you first. Surely if you cared enough, if you liked him back, if you were willing to be distanced, you would reach out first.

It seems Tom’s pride had forgotten that you already did.

“I heard that this is the exact shit that happened in Cleveland, and he couldn’t get the line out.” Tom hears the whisperings from behind the camera, the amount of familiar faces in the crew dwindling after the change in location. He doesn’t respond. He waits for someone to take five. And when no one throws him a bone, he asks Harry to.

“Alright, everyone take five.”

“Someone get this kid a fucking coffee, he’s always on edge.” Joe instructs.

“And you think giving a kid in twenties coffee is taking him off edge?” Anthony chuckles.

Tom doesn’t care whether or not he gets the coffee, rocking side to side. He’s got all the motion for this role, but he feels nothing. All he felt was for you.

“Here.” Harry sets a Moroccan mint tea down next to Tom, hoping it would calm him down. When Tom takes a few sips, the look in his eyes is less pleading, and everyone’s ready to rumble, this being the last scene of the day.

Harry feeds Tom the line. “Baby, are you seeing bad things?” Tom is seeing bad things. A life without love, a life without you. Unable to contain it all, Tom turns his frustration into laughter. “Why are you calling me baby for, man?” Tom has this ear-to-ear grin but even he feels it's not as innocent, as genuine as yours. He never knew a smile so wide could be so full of pain.

“I have an idea.” Harry saunters off to collect his phone. “Don’t stop rolling the cameras.”

When Harry comes back, there’s sounds of shifting erupting from his phone. “Hi, Tom.” 

Tom didn’t know it would be so bittersweet to hear your voice again. He wasn’t sure if he should put walls up again or if twice was the charm. Even if you worked out in the short term, whose to say Tom wouldn’t get hurt again? And Tom wouldn’t want to hurt you.

“Are they taking good care of you out there? I don’t think I took good care of you.” Tom doesn’t say anything on the other side of the line, so you continue. “I’m not a good A.D. if you’re always sick and tired, and I didn’t want to see you any less, which was selfish of me, so I didn’t change your schedule.” You sigh as you admit why you left. “When you asked, though, I swear I was gonna do it, but then I heard you liked me, and I got carried away. I had to remove myself from the situation to do what’s best for you. Do you understand me? I did it for you.”

“I, uh, I got a diagnosis.” Tom stumbles.

“Oh my gosh, are you seriously sick?”

“I’m speechless. Over the edge, breathless.” Tom laughed dryly, finally feeling like he can choose an ending.

“What did they say it was?”

“Lovebug.” Harry smiles softly at his brother.

Your laugh is like nectar entering Tom’s ear.

“I might just love you way too much, Y/N.”

“Are you sure you’re doin’ okay?” Tom tries his best not to sound dejected that you didn’t say it back, knowing he’s already felt the brunt of this heartache already.

“I just miss you, that’s all.”

“I miss you too. I love you.” Joe stops recording, and Harry lowly whispers ‘take.fucking.five.’ as he and the crew creep away from Tom’s new found love scene. 

“Anthony, can I borrow your phone?” Harry begins to type Nikki’s number as soon as Anthony gives over the phone. “Mum, Tom just told the first A.D. he’s in love with them so guess who’s out of a job?”

Tom knows why he’s sick. He used to feel like love was trudging up a high hill he couldn’t come down from, where every beat of heart was feeling like an ache on an open wound. Tom had yet to meet a lover to prove distance makes the heart grow fonder, finding himself in six month long entanglements and illusions of love before things inevitably went sour. But now, Tom has found you.

[georgeluzwarmhugs]

Hey, Sleepy Head

A/N: I’m so sorry this took a million years to write, I haven’t been motivated recently and have been dealing with some hard stuff. Butttttt I had a dream similar to this so I wrote it based on that, SUPER SOFT MALARKEY (lil bit of angst at the beginning) - also sorry if the monologue is hard to follow I tried to make it easy enough:)

requested by: @wexhappyxfew​

prompt 60: fuck, you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen in my whole life.

send requests my way! message me to be on the taglist<3

wc: 1,776 

summary: You and Malarkey stayed up late playing cards with Liebgott. He went to his bunk and left you two alone. Soon enough, you fall asleep and Don confesses something big. What he doesn’t know is that you may not be as asleep as you seem...

taglist: @liebegott @floydtab @band-of-bitches @speirs-sexy-ass

hope you all enjoy reading this💓

Haguenau, 1945

The game was Texas Hold ‘Em. The minimum bet was ten bucks. You, Malark and Joe had stayed up after the first patrol to keep your mind off the disaster of an attack that took place not even an hour ago. As Joe was contemplating his next play, your mind wandered back to the other side of the river... 

Your heart was racing as you carefully crouched into the boat. You grasped the rope with all your might and tried to steady the boat you were in with Grant, Alley and Sisk. You heard a splash behind but needed to keep your focus on getting live prisoners. Goosebumps crawled up and down your skin as you reached the other side. 

You were so glad Web convinced Jones to tell Malarkey to stay back. You were all too concerned about your boyfriend ever since Bastogne. Skip and Penk are your best friends as well, but it hit him the hardest. He spent his passes laying in his bunk or standing in the shower. You just wished he’d enjoy himself...

“Y/N, Y/N!!! Are you even paying attention? Maybe if you’d concentrate more on the game and less on Malarkey’s arms, you’d have some money left.” Liebgott winked at you as warmth and red crept into Don’s cheeks. 

“What about you checking out Web’s arms, hmmm Joe? I heard you earlier asking if he’s been working out.” Malarkey chuckled as he glanced over at Webster sleeping on the top bunk. 

“Just play your damn cards, you buffoon.” Joe’s brows furrowed as he stared confidently at his hand. You could tell he was bluffing, the way his eyes darted from you to his cards was obvious. But you decided to play in a little longer.

“Buffoon, that’s a new one.” He rolled his eyes in annoyance. “Alright, I’ll see you, raise you, and call you.“

“Full house, beat that Y/L/N.” He smirked boldly and assumed he had won. It was time you wiped that smile off his certain face.

“Four of a kind.” You watched his smile dip and fade as you pulled the cash towards you, a grin growing on your face as you realize how much you had actually won. 

“How’s it feel to be beaten by the only girl in the paratroopers there Joe?” Don couldn’t help but be proud of you. Liebgott’s eyebrows loosened and an embarrassed look came upon his face. 

“I’ve had a lot to drink, maybe if I sleep this off, I won’t remember this in the morning.” He stumbled to his cot and slumped over. He fell asleep almost instantly. 

“Yeah but we will.” Don was rambling on as your eyes began to feel heavy and they slowly closed. He noticed your head laying softly in your pile of money you had won and your hair flowing from your scalp, lightly grazing your skin. He reached over and caressed your face, rubbing his thumb against your pink cheek. 

A smile found his face as he pushed his hand through your hair, thinking how tangled it had become since your last shower. He wanted to be helpful and brush it for you, but decided against it because of how delicate your routine is. Your hairbrush had been wearing down since you arrived at Toccoa. 

He admired your soft skin and peaceful face for a few more moments before standing and walking to the other side of the small, round table that Leibgott had left his bottle on. “Hey, sleepy head, we’re going to bed now”. He wrapped his muscular arms around your back and legs, carrying you bridal style to the bed under McClung. He gently lay you down, but kept his hand under your head. 

He grabbed a chair, flipped it around and sat on it backwards. He leaned his arms on the top of the wooden chair and put his chin on his forearms. He stared at you with completely adoration in his brown eyes. He reached over and pulled the thin cotton sheet over you, not sure if you would be cold or not. 

“Shit Y/L/N, you’re the most beautiful girl, wait, person I’ve ever seen in my whole life. I just can’t believe my broken ass got someone like you.” He was speaking softly and let a slight laugh leave his lips. “I mean, you’re so supportive, you help me through everything. You make me the happiest I’ve ever been, and we’re in the middle of a war for Christ’s sake. Y’know, ever since training I’ve been thinking if paratroopers was the right choice for me. I like boats, I could have been in the navy or marines, but then I’d have to be in Japan right now. Anyway, what I’m saying is I know now that it was the right decision. I would have never met Toye or Joe or Skip or Penkala or Bill. I would have never had a leader as great as Winters, and I can guarantee our branch, regiment, company or platoon for that matter has the best jokes and laughs of the whole war. I mean, who has a Luz to do impressions, or a Wild Bill to be dangerous for you, or a Perconte to brush their teeth in the middle of a blizzard. But most importantly, I would never met you. 

He took a long breath to make sure his next words were exactly right. He smiled as he reminisced about the first time he saw you. “You came running up to Guarno and Luz, and I’m pretty sure Toye was there too, to tell them about what Sobel had given you as a punishment. He had said you had to work harder because you were a woman in the army. He gave you 30 minutes up and back Currahee. He thought he was giving you the impossible, considering it was the beginning of training. Boy you sure showed him wrong.” He paused, chuckled and lowered his voice to say “that’s my girl.” 

“You did it in 25 minutes, and I remember how excited you were to tell them, how you embarrassed the leader of Easy.”

~~~~~~

“Bill, Joe, Luz, you gotta hear this!”, you yelled across the bar trying to find your friends. “Oh, hello.”

“Malark, this is Y/N Y/L/N, Y/L/N this is Don Malarkey.” Bill introduced you two and told you to continue your story.

“Nice to meet you Don”, you extended your hand in politeness, figuring any friend of Bill is a friend of yours. Don grabbed your hand confidently, then loosened as he felt an instant connection. He wasn’t sure if you felt it, but it took him by surprise. You could feel the roughness of his hands, the dirt and calluses. 

“Anyways, the look on his face was PRICELESS, so I went up to him and said this: ‘5 minutes to spare, I think I’m going to grab a beer’ and walked away. Thank you thank you.” Your friends started to applaud quietly at the stunt you just pulled off. “I’ll probably have to pay for it tomorrow, but it was totally worth it.”

Don was staring at you with amazement. He hadn’t know you for more than two minutes, and already you were surprising him. He stared intently at you, to show you he was listening, although it was hard. He was getting lost in your eyes, which were bright and deep at the same time. He was mesmerized by the way your mouth moved when you talked, the way you pronounced your vowels, and the way you smiled. He could not get over the way you smiled. Your dimples, the way the corner of your eyes wrinkled ever so slightly, and the happiness it showed. He came back to reality with you finishing a sentence: “If he comes looking for me, you’ll hide me right?” Don nodded.

“Maybe.” Luz side eyed you and you playfully punched his shoulder. 

~~~~~~

His eyes flickered back to the face of the sleeping girl he wanted to spend all his free time with. “Yeah that day was amazing,” his cheeks reddened and he pulled his hand behind his neck. “That was the day I met the love of my life.” He instantly put his hand over his mouth. He realized you were asleep and couldn’t hear him. He had known he loved you but he never said it out loud. He had this whole big plan to take you out on the most amazing date he could and give you some sort of jewelry and say those three words. 

“I love you Y/N Y/L/N.” He almost started shouting those words at how happy he was. Tears formed in his eyes as he began to repeat those words over and over. His face hurt from how much he was smiling. As he went to sit back down he saw something out of the corner of his eye. A small smile was plastered on your face that wasn’t there before. “You must be having a pretty great dream.”

“You could say that”, you replied as you slowly opened your eyes. The innocent smile turned into a smirk as you saw the change of emotions on his face. “How much did you...” you cut him off by clutching his shirt and pulling him close. Your free hand went to his face and carefully wiped his tears and holding his face inches apart from yours. You could feel his warm breath hesitantly come out of his mouth, coming out in short spurts. 

You pulled him in slowly as your heads tilted in unison. You pressed your lips against his softly, which quickly became more intimate by the second. You pulled away and looked into his loving eyes. “I love you too stupid.”

He instantly grabbed into the tightest hug he could. He picked you up out of the bunk and pulled you close to him. You wrapped your legs around his waist and placed your hands behind his neck. You play with the little overgrown piece at the bottom of his hair line, and your other hand rolled through higher on his head and massaged his head, you know how much he loved that. 

His hands moved up and down your back, sometimes moving under your butt to reposition you. Tears were slowly rolling down his face, and he couldn’t keep himself from smiling. His head changed from having his chin on the top of your head to planting kisses in various places on your face and neck.

“You best be careful Malark, steal me from my bed one more time and I might just have to steal your last name.”

[rockhopsblog]

Kendrick Lamar’s DAMN-- A New Hip Hop Legend

Whether tall tale, truth, or somewhere in between, 13 time Grammy Award winning rapper/songwriter Kendrick Lamar Duckworth’s rise to immortality is nothing short of a cosmic wonder. To go back to the beginning, let’s first take a look at his most recent solo project, 2017’s Album of the Year nominee and Best Rap Album winner “Damn”. The very last track of the album, “Duckworth”, tells of a saga that took place during the rapper’s infancy. The mythic-like storytelling follows the journey of his father, mother, and what would one day become the owner of the record label that propelled Kendrick into stardom. Kendrick’s father, “Ducky” supposedly worked at a chicken fast food restaurant, which “Top Dawg” Anthony Tiffith, proprietor of Top Dawg Entertainment, frequented. Tiffith was a notorious gangster on the block who aspired to be the first one from his neighborhood to reach the life of luxury. Tiffith went on to plan and subsequently rob the chicken place Ducky worked at, but spared his life because he had always given him an extra biscuit with his meals. Because of this decision, Kendrick grew up with his father around, helping to keep him out of the L.A. gang wars and keeping Tiffith out of prison so he could go on to found a record label. Things obviously could have gone very differently, but they didn’t. As Kendrick himself puts it: “Whoever thought the greatest rapper would be from coincidence? Because if Anthony killed Ducky, Top Dawg could be serving life, While I grew up without a father and die in a gunfight”.

Growing up in Compton, CA and making it out to be a success is no small feat. Throughout the years, one of Kendrick’s closest collaborators has been a rapper/blood gang member, Jay Rock, who too came from the neighborhood that Kendrick grew up in. Also a close friend of theirs- Schoolboy Q, a crip. Kendrick Lamar has been on the forefront of using his voice to unify people involved in gang violence and deterring those who may later fall into it. In 2015, Kendrick designed and released his signature shoe with Nike, aimed at the unification of people divided by the lifestyle that many of his friends and family became victims of during the tribulations of his youth. In 2007, a friend of Lamar’s called “DT” was gunned down by police for reportedly posing a threat, an event which seemed to Kendrick was all too common in his life. The silver lining, however, seems to be that there’s no shortage of the tales in Kendrick Lamar’s rap repertoire to depict the dangers and deeper meanings about the reality of gang activity, giving those steeped in that side of life hope for betterment and success. 

In the early stages of Kendrick’s career, he was selected to be in one of the first XXL freshmen, an annual group of rappers recognized by the hip hop publication as up and coming artists. XXL’s freshman freestyles were new at the time, and Kendrick Lamar’s verse in the cypher was prominently featured online and the cypher itself is often looked back on as a classic among those available on YouTube. Those who initially viewed the freestyle session may have come looking for other, better known rappers, only to find themselves stumbling upon the discovery of a young Kendrick Lamar. Around this same time, he released his first official single, “HiiiPoWeR”, which was produced by the now prolific J. Cole. These two, in their own rights, have become widely regarded as today’s best hip hop lyricists for their hard hitting and meaningful bars. Rubbing elbows too with Kendrick was the now superstar pop sensation and rapper, Drake. Drake, a Toronto rapper, has helped launch several careers through featuring on their music because of his viral popularity. When Drake and Kendrick collaborated on Kendrick Lamar’s “Good Kid M.A.A.D. City”, Drake’s career was still in its early stages, but their song together certainly helped garner a mainstream appeal for the release at the time. All in all, it is clear to anyone doing some digging that not only did Kendrick work hard at refining his craft to become prolific, but that he was also met with great fortune in making the correct moves early on in his career to find the notoriety that he now enjoys. 

Fueled by artists such as Tupac Shakur, Ice Cube, Kurupt and Eminem, Lamar has carried the torch forward from the 90s into the modern age of rap. During the famed “California Love” music video shoot featuring Dr. Dre and Tupac, Kendrick has claimed a small piece of hip hop legend by saying he was present in Compton, on the scene for the shoot. As a child, seeing such an idol and icon propelled his drive to follow in the footsteps of the greats of yesterday. In 2015, Kendrick sat down for an interview with the group N.W.A. who’ve had such classics as “Straight Outta Compton” and “Express Yourself”. In the conversation, Lamar said: “anything that I do, it always comes from what y’all done, I wanna get y’all take on my generation today and what we have as far as music”. In response, DJ Ren retorted “I like a few, I like you”. The metaphorical hand-off is evident, from O.G. approval to the strong impact in waves that Lamar has been able to produce from just four major label solo albums. From Anderson .Paak to Roddy Ricch, Kendrick has set out and proved more than he’d ever dreamed of.

Currently, Lamar has two triple platinum records as well as one platinum record which was maybe the most adventurous and critically acclaimed album, not only of his career, but of that decade. Rolling Stone magazine journalist Greg Tate called “To Pimp a Butterfly” a “masterpiece of fiery outrage, deep jazz and ruthless self-critique”.With songs like “The Blacker the Berry” and “Hood Politics”, the fabric of TPAB was woven to reflect the attitudes of a movement of racial justice and equality in a time of great struggle and oppression. Aside from exposing the brutalities of life as a black man in the United States, Lamar also presented the album as a platform to uplift and celebrate the accomplishments and great artistic devotions of black people from around the world. Many consider this album to be Kendrick Lamar’s magnum opus. He has shown that his work has staying power, and that his albums stand out among the formulaic pop-trap that reigns supreme on the radio. Perhaps TPAB has gone the farthest out of any other thing to help cement him as the king of hip hop and the greatest rapper of the generation. 

With a back catalogue so insanely successful you’d expect Mr. Kendrick Lamar to be universally beloved, right? Well, not so fast. No inspection of Lamar’s career would be complete without the mention of his ground-breaking verse on the song “Control” by Big Sean. Kendrick decided to seize the moment coming off of his first platinum album by going after 11 of the biggest names in rap at the time, including: J. Cole, Meek Mill, Drake, Big KRIT, Wale, Pusha T, ASAP Rocky, Tyler The Creator, and Mac Miller. Many interpreted his lyrics in which he called out these artists to be a diss, but we now know that it was, in fact, Lamar’s intent to light a flame under these artists to create higher art. The people named on the verse were people Kendrick truly believed had the potential to create truly classic works, and his bar “I got love for you all but I'm tryin' to murder you” was aimed at them because of the intention to hype them up to work harder and realize that they weren’t inherently owed the popularity bestowed to them. The so-called “Control verse” made such a splash that even rappers who weren’t even named in the song made counter-disses to the single verse in the form of an entire song. Most notable out of these songs were Joe Budden’s “Lost Control”, Joey B4Da$$’s “Killuminati Pt. 2”, and Lupe Fiasco’s “SLR 2”. Despite the negativity spawned from this verse aimed to do good in the hip hop community, Kendrick Lamar’s twitter saw a 510% increase in followers just days after the dropping of the single. If there even was any “beef” to be had regarding this song, it is clear who the real winner was.

From the president of the United States claiming his favorite song was a Kendrick Lamar song at one point, to winning a Pulitzer Prize for 2017’s “DAMN”, the mile-high accolades of Kendrick seem almost too good to be true. However, of all accomplishments, perhaps his greatest is his influence on music. Not only has he single handedly put on several label-mates to the mainstream, but he has risen the bar of what it means to write a good rap song in this day and age. Not content with people who churn out 30 song albums as a money grab, Kendrick has shown that effort is important, that careful construction of art is important. Lamar has also been credited as reviving the importance of the hip-hop music video. It is clear during a listening session on Spotify or YouTube that so many troves of artists, young and old, are attempting to emanate the same X factor that Kendrick Lamar Duckworth has been so highly praised for, and rightfully so.

[poc-movie-supremacy]

Survivor

A.N.: This is my first Supergirl fic! It’s about Kara throughout her entire life. I hope you guys like it! Reblogs, comments, and likes are all appreciated. Enjoy!

--------

She’s survived a lot. It’s written in her blood, survival. When she was a kid, krypton exploded and she was one of the few left to tell it’s stories. No matter what happens to National City she’s still their, protecting it and helping its citizens. 

On Earth, she has superpowers. Kara can fly, breathe fire or ice, has super strength and impenetrable skin, and so much more. It’s overwhelming at first, to have so much power, but no control over it. She thrives though, she survives and lives on. 

The entire world ends.

It’s quiet. 

Kara lives. 

She wishes she didn’t.

For three months she keeps busy. Trains with Sara (going easy of course) telling Kate stories, meditates with J’onn. When Barry is still in the vanishing point, she curls up to him. He’s a speedster so he runs warm, and it’s comforting. He’s almost practically mute now, but occasionally he’ll tell her something nice or funny or observant. When he goes something of hers goes with him.

Oliver shows up and she feels pain. Unrelenting horrible all consuming pain. It should’ve been her. Why is it never her? He comes bearing good news, a way to save everyone. For once, surviving doesn’t feel like a curse. 

Kara feels guilty when she prefers new Earth to her old one. Life’s easier now, she can turn on the news to get a general idea of how her friends are doing, hell she can fly over. She’s on a group chat with the other reporters like the CC Citizen and she can visit Kate whenever she wants to. 

She relishes those moments with Kate. It’s funny to fly over and visit, scaring the daylights out of her. She’s a bit new to the whole superhero thing, so Kara sometimes gives her tips to avoid common pitfalls that happen to befal every other hero (besides the legends) she’s met. In the end it seems for naught.

Kate is reported dead.

All the heroes are scrambling for a solution, looking for a way to fix this. It’s not easy considering Kara has learned she also can’t change in front of a reflective surface lest she want Iris to watch her change, but she manages. Kara survives it’s what she’s always done. She’s starting to think it’s all she can do. 

They get Kate back and their happy for a while. She remembers something Kal told her, Kryptonians live longer than humans, but she brushes that thought away. How true can it be anyways?

When her and Kate get married, they live in Gotham. Kara can easily fly to National City when need be and Alex and Nia seem to have it under control anyways.

Growing older is fun. She and Kate only adopt Parker, but that’s enough for either of them. With the extra time, they can travel the world, be the fun aunt and drunk aunt, life is nice. On spare days she goes to Central City to visit, Team Flash and their kids. Her and Barry watch musicals while her and Iris gossip over celebrities and watch comedies together. Nora is nice, she’s just like her father. Over in Star City, Mia’s a firecracker. William’s a jaded teen. Drinks are shared between Dinah and Laurel and her, but she has tea with Felicity. Kara can’t wait to see what the next generation is like. 

The breaching devices Cisco made are never more handy than when all of them reach their 60′s. (Felicity and Constantine don’t make it to their 60′s. Felicity rejoins Oliver at 59 and lung cancer takes Constantine at 52) The funerals were nice. Then there’s a funeral for Joe then Ralph then Caitlyn. Cat Grant is the first one out of anyone on Team Supergirl to die, then Maggie, and Brainy. It’s unsettling how normal it’s seems. She mourns yes, but as Clark said, Kryptonians live longer than humans. This was to be expected.

Kara holds onto those she has left. When she’s seventy-five (relatively this is discounting the years she was in the phantom zone) all the original team arrow members have passed. Gary says they’re doing well, apparently he can  talk to ghosts. 

When she hits seventy-nine almost everyone she knows has died. 

It turns out liver poisoning is what finally buries Sara six feet under. Kara is surprised at the normalcy of it. 

She can count on her fingers those she has left (not counting her nieces and nephews) Barry, Iris, Alex, Kate, Clark, J’onn and Gary. Gary tells good stories and can do nice tricks. Apparently he accidently took a limber spell once when he meant to take a fire proof spell once in his late sixties which is how he got the scar on his right hip and is so well limber in his old age. 

Barry and Iris go next. In their sleep, Barry spooning Iris, protecting her. The coroner tells Kara that Iris died first then Barry’s heartbeat picked up before finally giving out. She likes to think that Barry realized he was done running after Iris passed, she likes to think that they went up to heaven hand in hand. Kara cries at their funeral. She thought she had more time with Barry. The tributes to pulitzer prize winner Iris West-Allen makes her smile. 

Kara becomes more attentive towards Kate and Alex. She fears the day when they leave too. (and they will because Kara survives, she always does.)

In her free time she and Clark train the newest generation of heroes. She may not understand technology, but she can still fight and her morals still hold true after all these years. 

Clark dies next. Sacrificing himself for the world. The world mourns superman. Kara mourns Kal-el. She makes sure he’s buried in the baby blanket he was wrapped in when he was sent to earth. His last words ring in her ear, thank you for protecting me. She wonders if she really did protect her baby cousin. 

Kara steps back from her duties with the new heroes. There’s no bad blood, it’s just, she has so little family left, she wants to hold onto them for as long as she can. 

Kate goes in her sleep. The minute the body next to her is cold, Kara wakes up. Life seems slightly more dull after that. While in mourning, she makes the statements and divides up Kate’s money. Night’s are cold. She remembers when Kate was gone, but she remembers that time she smushed ice cream in her face, took her flying, admired her in a pretty dress. Nightly, she goes onto her balcony and whispers, Patience my love. Kara has survived a lot, she knows she won’t be biting the bullet anytime soon. 

Kara thinks Alex’s death might hurt the most. She had hit her head, and there was no saving her. Kara held her as she slowly passed away, singing old kryptonian lullabies to her. Her and J’onn cry at the funeral. For once, she accepts Gary’s offer to speak to the dead. It’s healing. Gary dies exactly 6 months after Alex. She’s thankful for his friendship in their old age. Because of him she’s been able to get peace after her families passings. She is sad to see him go.

Her loved ones words ring in her ear. We are fine, take your time love. Keep an eye on the kids for us. We love you. 

She keeps her promise. Every morning she puts on her supergirl suit and helps the next generation. She think she looks silly in her old supergirl outfit with her silver hair and wrinkles, but the kids look at her like she’s a badass. Kara gives them tips on how to be a hero through stories she tells of her misadventures with her friends, their ancestors. It’s vague and if she were the one listening she’d be pissed, but this method is hilarious. Anyways, it cultivates patience, long attention spans, and critical thinking. Her method works. J’onn is impressed. He dies on a sunday. Three days before the new recruits’, her family’s first end of the world. 

All her life, Kara Zor-el has survived. Survived heartbreak, death,  the end of the freaking world. Now at her like fifteenth end of the world, she knows it’s time. She wishes her descendents (ish great-nieces and great-nephews potato potato) good luck and sacrifices herself for them. The heavens whisper to her, warrior you are finally done fighting and now she’s at peace. 

[thetradeway]

Session 48 14 Aug 2021: "Dhidth hwe huin?"

I’m late today. Ginger balls. Never admit you were wrong, and never apologise! Has anyone heard from Mina? She may or may not join us. Billy Corgan on a rollercoaster!

Matthew, wondering: “Does Billy Corgan have alopecia, or is that a choice?”

Duncan: “I don’t know, I’m not his mum.”

Matthew opens a 4% by volume Potion of Healing, and we get started. Everyone makes saving throws except Tarragon for their hangovers after the Midsummer festivities. Ahleqs is delicate but not too rough; he has however just discovered that he is no longer immune to alcohol. (He isn’t quite puking up pixies, so he’ll take it.) Gideon is bright as a button, as is Kessler, and Melaina. Ardvack complained that the sherry wasn’t up to snuff, so he didn’t drink much.

Gutpunch is snoring and emitting smells when the boys wake in their room. Tarragon returns as the sun rises. She returns to her chambers to find everyone else asleep; she joins them, and Mina joins us. The gnome bunked in with us is not emitting smells. There’s a bang on our door - it’s one of the Avowed, a runner.

“Your presence is requested in one of the Necessariums.” He’ll return for us in a few minutes.

Same thing happens for the boys; Ahleqs tries to wake Gutpunch, with no success. Ahleqs, blearily: “Necessari- what? What is this Hogwarts bullshit?”

Is Darkspire in with them? Yes. The Avowed asks if he behaved; yes, Ahleqs thinks so. Charity overhears this conversation, and butts in. He opens the door wide and tells Ahleqs to go back to bed; he does so. Charity peers at the Avowed’s face, the one who showed us to our rooms.

“Yes? What? Yes? I’m here. Everything’s fine, nothing occurred.” Assured that no crimes have been committed, the Avowed retreats.

Ahleqs asks Charity why there would be ‘incidents’. He says he has no idea.

We use our ten minutes to head to the Hearth for breakfast. Ahleqs has water. And a small pot of coffee. and one egg, and one bit of toast with some salt. “Is there any tabasco?”

Ardvack explains about the Necessariums. They are tall towers with lots of books; we can’t access them ourselves but the Avowed will get us anything we want. Kessler wants some books about tinkering and artificing.

The vegetarian menu is vast, and very good.

The runner returns as we are stuffing more food in our pockets to take with us.

Ahleqs is delighted to see Mr Pickles in the Necessarium; he’s talking to a green dragonborn. Ahleqs doesn’t want to interrupt so he hops from foot to foot until the Al Miraj spots him. He is bidden to go over so Mr Pickles can take a look at him.

Mr Pickles says Ahleqs looks a little green around the gills; did he not hear about the revels last night, Ahleqs asks? Mr. Pickles was in the library having discussions. Should he order some tea? Yes, Ahleqs will have a small bucket of tea. Mr Pickles summons an Avowed.

Mr Pickles says there are wards on this place to cut noise and prevent eavesdropping from outside; he has some news for us if we will gather around.

An Avowed brings Kessler the books she asked for. (Carl wants some books too; The Very Hungry Caterpillar, A Tiger Came to Tea, The Borrowers, that sort of thing.)

MP introduces us to Bookwyrm, the First Reader of Candlekeep - the dragonborn he was talking to. He is in charge of maintaining the collection and acquiring newbooks. We want access to books about the Shadow Weave?

The knowledge in there is dangerous, those books have been locked away. They don’t usually let people access them, but since Mr. Pickles is involved, he might be able to help - if we can do something for him in return.

Ardvack has a question; is this endeavour going to cut into our ten-day? No, since we will be out of the Candlekeep to do it. Bookwyrm can’t give us details until we agree to help, but Mr. Pickles believes it’s well within the limits of our skills to accomplish what he needs.

Tarragon agrees immediately, but mostly because Ardvack looks dubious. Ahleqs, assured by Mr. Pickles’s confidence that we can do whatever it is we’re being asked, also agrees.

Some time ago, Bookwyrm tells us, the keep was visited by a drow scholar who told them the location of a book the Keep have been seeking. Are we familiar with the caves below the Keep? No, but we’ve seen a picture.

They are beneath the catacombs, in the bedrock. They lead all the way to the Underdark. The book was supposed to be there. Someone went in search of it; a more than capable wizard, Olius Visk, but they were expecting him back a full ten-day ago and he has not been heard from. He is a young man, it is very out of character for him to miss the Midsummer Festival.

What was the title of the book he was after? Bookwyrm doesn’t know. When the wizard applied to go after it, he didn’t mention which one it was.

Where is the drow? He left, as you can only spend a tenday here. He did not book in another visit.

We just need to rescue the wizard, not necessarily complete his mission, Bookwyrm says. If we do locate the book then we could bring that too. It’s not the Underdark proper, it’s not that far down - it and the wizard will be in the Upper Dark.

The First Reader gives us a book about the Underdark. Tarragon gets excited about the fungus that could be down there, and the potions she could make with them.

Will we need any further resources? Healing potions, at the very least.

When we are ready we’ll be teleported to the caves. We can get past the myconids that way, the ones that moved in and live off the mushrooms they grow on the refuse from the keep; they keep the drow and duergar away.

He gives us an orb to follow; Ardvack suggests giving Gideon the ring the activate the thing. While following Olius’ tracks, it will glow brightly to show us we are going the right way. Gideon blusters about the ring; “A fine piece of brass work! That will fit on my finger nicely.”

How many potions will we need? Tarragon, immediately: “All of them.”

They can spare a GHP and two RHPs - each. Oooo! They will give us twenty days’ of rations as well.

Can Carl come? We need Carl, probably more than Ardvack. Ardvack consults his book of manners, then laughs; “Ahahah, very droll.”

We decide to leave Popcorn in the stables while we go; he doesn’t like dark and scary places.

Tarragon is excited to be going into danger again; Ahleqs less so.

Ardvack, resignedly: “To almost certain death?”

Tarragon, far too excited: “To almost certain death!”

Ahleqs does a very shaky sigh.

A runner approaches with our Healing Potions, and we spend ten minutes farting about with our inventories.

Ardvack, bored, pulls a book from his pocket and begins to read; Ahleqs wants to know what it is.

Matthew, OOC: “What languages do you speak?”

Duncan: “Common, Elvish, Infernal and Light Crossbow.”

Are we all ready? Various themes on ‘yeah’, some more excited than others. Ahleqs casts Mage Armour.

Carl is brought from the Hearth (holding a book called ‘Ye Olde Very Hungry Caterpillar’), and we are teleported.

It takes a moment for our eyes to adjust when we arrive in the dark, wet caves. We head deeper underground, and of course someone (Mina) starts singing Jamiroquai. Well, someone had to.

Tarragon looks out for mushrooms for use in her recipes. There are lots, of various sizes. Some have bits that look like they’ve been cut off; as if someone has been eating or harvesting them.

Tarragon takes a bit of mushroom and eats it; it’s tasty. Ahleqs will watch her for about 45 minutes before he eats any himself. Ardvack stands as far as physically possible from all of the fungus.

Joe waits for his computer before telling us what has befallen Ardvack, who has gone ahead; Tarragon starts cackling. (She doesn't do subtly devastating insults, she does this.)

Matthew rolls a d4; he gets a 3. Does 16 hit him? “I think the 8 might do it.” The 16 does hit as he backs away from one mushroom into a violet fungus, for 8 Necrotic damage.

We roll initiative!

Melaina kills the fungus, but we don’t feel as though we’re alone. Tarragon holds a Thorn Whip in case she sees something within 30 feet of her that she doesn’t like, and warns Ardvack that this includes him.

We hear something shuffling towards us. Ahleqs is trying to hide when it attacks him twice for ten necrotic damage, and Tarragon gets it with her Thorn Whip. Ahleqs does Burning Hands at it.

Joe, laughing: “Really? You’re going to make a mushroom do a Dex save??”

He misses the one he was aiming at but hits the one he didn’t know was there, so… a win?

More turn up; Gideon does an Acid Splash, complete with quavery wizard voice as he announces it.

Ahleqs and Ardvack are closest and get a horrible, acrid stench as the acid burns the violet fungi.

A fungus aims at Ahleqs but only manages to sort of caress his face with its tentacles, leaving a slimy residue; he sicks up all the water he drank.

Kessler gets one with her crossbow. “Remove your grubby bits from the Ahleqs!”

Tarragon, yelling “Danger and excitement!”, takes out her quarterstaff and runs at one; she hits, and is pleased when it doesn’t die just yet.

Does Ardvack want to chomp on a tentacle with someone else, do a sort of lady and the tramp manoeuvre?

Duncan, disgusted: “No tentacle sucking, this is not that kind of show!”

Mina, disconcertingly matter-of-fact about it: “Some people would pay good money for that.”

Ardvack chooses to hit the thing with his shillgjakjsgaklghjkghhhjbblhh instead. It crumbles into bits, but is also ‘a little bit on fire’.

Ahleqs spots some little orbs somewhere ahead up the path. He thinks they are probably magic, but has no idea what they are or what they do.

Carl does a ‘friendly yet violent pat’ on one of the violet fungi and does 5 splatting damage. It wraps its tentacles around him - and then lets go, shuddering. Carl goes in for a bonus action grapple-slash-fatal-hug. The fungus loses the grapple. “High point in Carl’s life.”

Sophie, OOC: “Are you going to give it a noogie?”

Ahleqs takes aim at the grappled fungus. Matthew, OOC, singing: “Now that’s fuckin’ teamwork!”

“If I move away they’ll get a tickle of opportunity won’t they?” Ahleqs stays where he is. “I do not consent to this.”

Gideon gets one with Magic Missile.

Joe: “How de do dis?”

Sophie, OOC: “With gusto!”

Carl maintains his grip on the fungus.

Melaina is feeling arrogant so she goes Sharpshooter. “Urgh, five, that’s not going to work is it?” But to her amazement, it does. 29 damage; a little bit overkill. It explodes into truffle oil, which showers Ardvack but completely avoids Tarragon.

Tarragon offers Carl her old quarterstaff, since he doesn’t have a weapon. He rolls an INT check to try and reply to thank her, but gets a 0. He accepts the staff with a nod of thanks; she smiles at him.

We have killed all the Violet Fungi! We have solved Joe’s Underdark puzzle, yay!

Yeah, nah.

The drift globe leads us around the next corner. Tarragon and Carl chase it, and see three little huts made of fungus and dried grass. Two look abandoned, but the third has light inside. The orbs Ahleqs saw seem to be drifting around it. Ahleqs rolls 19 Arcana; the orbs are warding or protection magic.

We decide to approach, because the inhabitants might know something about the missing wizard.

Kessler, approaching: “Helloooooo? Avon calling?” Tarragon casts Guidance on her as she goes by.

A bell sounds; Kessler recognises the Alarm spell. She calls out to say she doesn’t mean any harm. “Ignore the mech armour, and the idiots with me…”

Duncan OOC: “I want to know what happens if we find the ‘How not to be a goblin’ book and Kessler turns out to be a six foot five valkyrie warrior. Ardvack’s not going to know where to put himself, is he?”

An Unknown Woman appears from the hut:

“What on earth are you doing down here?”

Kessler explains about the wizard and the book. Are we from the Keep?

Yeah…

So is she, it turns out. Will we be going back? Yes, unless we’re killed horribly.

Do we have a way to get back in past the myconids and such? (uh oh.) She says she was a speaker for the keep and was looking for some books, and got lost down here and got stuck.

Kessler rolls Insight with Guidance - 13. She seems convinced. We can pick her up on the way back? That would be amazing, she says. She’s smiling especially at Ardvack.

She has some warding magic up here if we want to rest? Ardvack tenses up. He makes an Insight check as well. He rolls a 9, but uses his Inspiration to re-roll - a 12. He feels a kind of kinship with her, as though her magic might have a similar source. He eases a little bit, and ventures a half smile, even though she’s wearing a 'very low-born outfit'.

Ahleqs, scandalised: “She can’t even afford a middle bit on her top!”

We don’t need a rest, do we? Ahleqs got hit a bit. Melaina doesn’t trust her, and doesn’t want to stop.

Tarragon asks the woman’s name. It’s Ava.

We could take a short rest, roll some hit dice? Have a sandwich? Get to know the locals?

Melaina: “Alright, but I’m not going to sleep.”

Ava points out the orbs. Anything on this side of them is safe.

This seems a bit too good to be true. Does Ahleqs get a sense of magic, other than the protective field? A nine; “She seems legit.”

She was looking for a book that the Keep wouldn’t exactly approve of when she got stuck here. She’s been living off the mushrooms. She was fleeing undead when she was chased into the myconid hives? A ghost or wraith or something.

She brings us some tea, apologising that it’s not quite as fresh as she would like. Something is definitely fucky; Tarragon takes watch, on Ava as much as for other dangers. Tarragon rolls 24 Perception, so she can see the colonies of ants coming to get us.

She sees that no-one’s quite at ease. Suddenly Ava’s skin sloughs off, peeling in big chunks, and a blood hag reveals herself.

Me, horrified: “Blood hag?? JOE!” Tarragon Thorn Whips her.

A writhing mass of hair bursts from the hag, and reaches out toward Ahleqs. She reaches out with her claws to Ardvack and Kessler, and hits both. 23 slashing to Ardvack - and 35 slashing to Kessler.

We roll initiative!

Melaina gets in amongst the mushrooms and tries to hide. “And now I’m going to shoot her in the face. Shit. No I’m not, with a ten.” She cowers behind her mushroom.

Gideon Thunderwaves her and hits, and retreats.

Tarragon casts Greater Shillsdghksdfkhsdg, and crit-misses. The quarterstaff bounces off and hits her in the face - she takes half the weapon’s damage and has Disadvantage on her next attack.

Carl hits her with his new quarterstaff and hits!

Ahleqs casts Mage Armour on Ardvack and Carl, using Sorcery Points to twin the spell.

Kessler bonus action slams her Greater Healing Potion. She uses her Thunder Gauntlets and forces Disadvantage on attacks not against her.

The Blood Hag uses something called Call the Blood, to do a Blood Choke Curse on Ardvack - his mouth fills with blood, preventing speech and verbal spell casting components for one minute. She uses her bonus action to Misty Step to Melaina and do another blood drinking hair, and a claw attack on her.

Ardvack’s turn; he riffles through his spells but they all have a verbal component. Matthew OOC, cross: “I needed that to be effective.”

Joe, pleased: “She’s charming, isn’t she? I thought you’d like her. But at least all the blood vessels in your mouth and throat have burst and you’ll keep having to spit blood for the next minute, so that’s something.”

Ardvack clubs her instead, and hits. He somehow manages to do 0 damage.

Duncan, OOC: “If you say ‘good girl’ or something while you attack, you could do some psychic damage…?”

Matthew: “If only I could speak!”

Melaina gets sneak attack plus Sharpshooter with her rapier - 31 points of damage. All of us, fanning ourselves: “… Damn.”

Gideon will cast Scorching Ray - all three bolts hit, for 21 damage total. The blood hag is pissed off, now, we are told. Gideon bravely retreats.

Tarragon misses again, and begrudgingly heals Ardvack. “Come on, it’s not that bad. Get up.”

Carl was going to use his Raging Cadaver ability, but Tarragon is now in the square he was going to rage to. He can probably navigate through the mushrooms. He does that, and then a slam attack. He does a zombie grab as well. He rolls 17 to her 14, so she’s grappled!

Ahleqs casts Shatter right in the huddle of Carl, Charity, Tarragon and the blood hag. But he would hit Carl, so he doesn’t. He does Eldritch Blast with Tides of Chaos and hits both times for 7 total Force damage.

55: His hair falls out again. “Oh… this again. Okay. I mean I was growing that, but whatever.”

Kessler wants to know if the mushrooms are difficult terrain; she can push through them. “I haven’t finished with you yet!” 16 with the Thunder Gauntlets hits for 12 Thunder damage, then 19 to hit for 11 more. The hag has Disadvantage on attacks versus anyone but Kessler.

Carl is surprised when the hag Misty Steps out of his grip. “He is very perplexed.”

Does 26 hit Ardvack? Er… Yes. He takes 24 piercing damage, and is grappled; her hair worms dig into his flesh and start to suck his blood. He makes a Dex save - or he would, but he might be dead…? No, he’s at 1HP. His lucky hit point.

Matthew is fighting his computer. “Dex save… Any minute now… It’s coming… I’ve pressed the button… It’s asked me if I want to make it public… seven.”

Joe has devastating news for him. The hag has reached out and torn his face off.

…

Holy Fuck.

What the fuck???

“I wanted the pretty elf, but this will have to do!”

The hag makes good her escape as Ardvack goes down. Tarragon uses a free action to vomit.

Ardvack has an ability that brings him back with 8HP. “Dhidth hwe huin?”

Melaina shoots the hag in the back but misses; Gideon does a Scorching Ray.

There’s discussion about the face and the fact that it has Ardvack’s memories and personality; Mina, OOC: “Give it a few minutes, she’ll bring it back.”

Duncan, as the hag: “‘Can you take this back, it’s kinda bumming me out’.”

Tarragon does Cure Wounds at the highest slot available to her; Ardvack’s face is now a mass of scar tissue. She uses her bonus action to throw up again.

This is worse than when Wee Jock got Disintegrated. This is worse than the time we were all zombies, and we started off dead.

Joe, put out: “You’re so ungrateful. It took me ages to find this monster.”

Carl can reach the nasty lady. He can Dash, but he can’t do anything when he gets there. He holds out his hand for Ardvack’s face. She ignores him.

Ahleqs: “Okay… Okay… I cast Fireball. Oooh, it’s big!” He casts it at level 4, and places it so he’ll get the hag, but not Carl. The hag must make a Dex save. She gets a 22.

Duncan, OOC: “Well… Yes, she does and she doesn’t.” She takes half the damage, and is really pissed off.

Kessler: “Oi! Come back with that!” She pulls out her crossbow and shoots. First shot is a miss, and so is the second - a crit fail. Booh. Off target: You deal half damage for 1d4+1 rounds (3). She tries to intimidate the hag, who is unimpressed.

“Let me leave, or I’ll cast Cloudkill.” The bitch uses Invisibility.

Ardvack’s turn; he is now un-stunned, and remembers the sensation of having no face. He’s also still spitting blood. He takes out the mirror that Amelia gave him, and looks in it to see the horrible-ness that is his face, still drooling blood. He puts the mirror away. He gives Tarragon a pat of thanks on the shoulder as he turns away so no-one can see him and crawls toward the hut, “Because this is where I live now.” Even Tarragon feels a little sorry for him.

Before we go, Ardvack is crawling into one of the huts, yes? Yes. "I do not wish to take tea with guests." The most complete hut is the hag’s one; he sees some stones on the floor as if she’s been scrying. Next to them is a pebble with a purple ring on it.

He makes an Arcana check on it to make sure it’s not a bum-stealing stone. 21; he knows the mark as the symbol of Shar. He may remember Shar from such activities as fighting a giant scorpion and an assassin, or raising an army of scarecrows to harass a halfling village.

We decide to leave it on that cliffhanger...

[joealwyndaily]

 Joe Alwyn — Red Magazine (Jan 2020) interview 

You’d think that a back-to-back Hollywood movie career and a megastar girlfriend might have changed Joe Alwyn, but he’s quick to assure Nathalie Whittle that his feet remain firmly on the ground. 

“So you didn’t see the part where the aliens attack?” asks Joe Alwyn, a playful smirk on his face. He’s referring to his latest film, Harriet, which I had a sneak preview of the previous day, although the fire evacuation (false alarm) meant I missed the ending. The biographical drama tells the story of Harriet Tubman (played by Cynthia Erivo), the historic abolitionist who escaped slavery and led hundreds of others to freedom. Alwyn plays her insufferably cruel and capricious slave master Gideon Brodess. He is, of course, joking about the aliens. At least, I hope he is. Today, we’re tucked away in the corner of a dimly lit bar at London’s Covent Garden Hotel. It’s the sort of drizzly afternoon that might dampen the moods of most, but not Alwyn. He appears cheery and at ease, sporting country casuals: a grey mohair jumper, blue jeans, and brown boots along with an unkempt beard; perhaps an attempt to disguise the boyish good looks he’s become known for. He stops to interrupt me only once with a look of alarm: he’s forgotten to offer me something to eat or drink. I can have anything I want, he assures me.

At 28, Alwyn has had the sort of career trajectory that most aspiring actors wistfully dream about for years, even decades. His education included a degree in English literature and drama at the University of Bristol, followed by a BA in acting at London’s Royal Central School of Speech and Drama. But within two weeks of his graduate showcase, Alwyn received a life-changing phone call. He refers to it as the thing “I owe everything to.”

“I’d just signed with an agent and I was kind of pinching myself, you know, how surreal is that?” he says. “She sent me a portion of the script for a film, Billy Lynn’s Long Halftime Walk, that Ang Lee was directing. I’d grown up watching his films — Brokeback Mountain and Life of Pi — so I couldn’t believe I was even going to do a tape for someone like that. I got my dad to film me in a scene in my bedroom and some mates to film me during a lunch break. The next thing I know, Ang wants to meet me in New York.” Cue a series of auditions and screen tests that led to Alwyn bagging the title role in his first big-budget Hollywood film. He was just 24. “It was so much so fast that I didn’t really compute what was going on,” he concedes. “Before that I was just a poor student who barely understood how people got auditions, let alone landed jobs.” Did he have any jobs before that? I ask. “I did have this one job in London,” he says wryly. “Do you know that frozen yogurt place, Snog?” I’m struggling to picture Alwyn serving up frozen delights. He’s laughing now. Was it a good gig? “Exceptional!” More laughter follows. “I mean, I was paid some money! Then I worked in a menswear shop. I did what I could to make some extra cash.”

A far cry from a frozen-yogurt counter, doors started opening to bigger and better opportunities as soon as Billy Lynn hit cinemas. The next script Alwyn read was Yorgos Lanthimos’s The Favourite (released in 2019), in which he secured a small but riotous role as young baron Samuel Masham alongside acting greats Olivia Colman and Emma Stone. “Putting on giant wigs and running around in make-up and chasing Emma Stone through the forest — what more could you want?” he laughs. The film earned widespread critical acclaim, receiving seven BAFTAs and a record 10 British Independent Film awards. 

Having further honed his craft in subsequent films Mary Queen of Scots and gay-conversion therapy drama Boy Erased, Alwyn is about to enter into unknown territory. This Christmas, he’ll play Bob Cratchit in his first-ever TV drama, BBC One’s A Christmas Carol; a “darker, twisted, less glossy” version of the Charles Dickens classic. He’s “feeling good about it,” but I’m curious as to how he’s approached this change of scenery. Was he not nervous? “Oh, very. I tried to watch other people. It’s the second time I’ve worked with Guy Pearce [who plays Scrooge] and I asked him a lot of stuff, which probably annoyed him. I watched the way he works and the questions he asked on set when he was approaching a scene.”

Two people who will definitely be watching Alwyn’s TV debut are his mother, a psychotherapist, and his father, a documentary-maker. “They’d better be watching!” he laughs. Born in London’s Tufnell Park, Alwyn recalls being given stacks of videos every birthday and “watching them to death, until the tapes burned up.” One of his favourites was The Mask of Zorro. In fact, he was so obsessed with it that he and his best friend took up fencing lessons at a local community centre in Crouch End, where, by chance, he was spotted by a local casting agent for the hit British romcom Love Actually. She asked him to audition for the role of Sam; he breaks into a wide smile when I ask what he remembers of it. “I didn’t know much about what the film was; I was most excited about the fact I got the day off school! But I remember being in a room with Richard Curtis and Hugh Grant reading scenes, many of which didn’t make it into the film. And I left the audition thinking, ‘I really recognize that guy from somewhere’.”

Alwyn didn’t get the part. Instead, he forgot about acting for a while, with the exception of summer holidays, where his parents would send him and his older brother off to “some drama camp as a way of preoccupying us.” He explains that when he later realized he wanted to act on a serious level, he kept it a secret. Was it because he was worried how his parents would react to a somewhat precarious career choice? “Well, it meant putting myself out there in a performative way, and that wasn’t necessarily something I did or was used to doing. It felt like it should be quite a ‘look at me’ job, and that wasn’t really how I felt growing up. I wasn’t a painfully introverted kid, but I wasn’t a particularly extroverted one, either. So maybe I was self-conscious about the idea of saying to people, ‘Look, I can do this’.”

He credits drama school with giving him “permission” to go for it. “Plus my parents were great about it. They’re both freelance themselves, so while they recognize the perils, they also couldn’t say to me, ‘We can follow what we want, but you can’t’. There wasn’t a boundary, which helped a lot.”

I wonder if it’s been difficult acclimatizing to the level of fame that’s come as result of his roles. “There have definitely been changes that have taken some getting used to, whether it’s sitting down and doing an interview or someone recognizing you,” he says. “There are things that have changed in my life, but I still very much feel like the same person. It probably helps that I’ve been hanging out with the same friends literally every day since I was 12 years old. Maybe it’s when those things change that people change, I don’t know.”

It’s fair to say that the level of interest in Alwyn has, in part, been heightened by the fact that, in his spare time he plays the role of Mr. Taylor Swift. The pair reportedly met in late 2016 and became in item shortly afterwards. I’ve been warned ahead of our meeting that Alwyn “doesn’t talk about that”, and he’s keen to justify his stance in person. “I feel like my private life is private and everyone is entitled to that.” he says. “I’ve read stories recently about people like Ben Stokes and Gareth Thomas, which are a gross invasion of their privacy and of their lives. It’s disgusting. That’s not journalism, that’s just invasive.”

It must be tough, I suggest, being in a relationship that is surrounded by so much scrutiny. “I just don’t read the headlines,” he says. “I really don’t, because I can guarantee 99% of them are made up. So I ignore it.” Recent rumours suggest the pair are engaged, and are owed in part to one of Swift’s latest songs, Lover (’My hearts been borrowed and yours has been blue. All’s well that ends well to end up with you’), as well as a piece of string tied around Swift’s finger in a Vogue cover shoot. According to die-hard fans, this means something. But to Alwyn, it’s clear it means nothing at all. Is he never tempted to respond to the mistruths, to shut them down? “No, because it’s just pointless,” he sighs. “It won’t change anything. I just don’t pay any attention. I have my life and it’s kind of separate to all that stuff.”

I’m curious as to how much time he gets to simply enjoy the success he’s experiencing. “There’s lots of time not working, I wish there was less in a way!” he laughs. “I go to the pub, play football, go to gigs, watch TV (he’s just finished season three of True Detective), pretty normal things. There’s no ‘secret life’. But ultimately, I worry about finding the next job; that’s the truth. In the midst of everything, there’s always that feeling of ‘I’m never going to work again’. It’s a cliche, but you can’t just sit there waiting for the phone to ring. You have to try and take control. You’re at the mercy of the things you seek out — the directors and the connections — so I try to be on top of that as I can and read what I’m sent and be discerning. I try to pick wisely and follow up on people and leads that I’m interested in.”

Is there an end point he wants to get to, where he’ll feel like he’s made it? “Things have certainly shifted in my twenties,” he says. “Success to me now is doing things that make me happy and that make me feel fulfilled, doing what I want to do and being on the right track. Not in terms of being on a results-based track, but just doing something I love.” He pauses and smiles. “That sounds a bit sentimental, doesn’t it?” 

[medea10]

Medea’s Top 10 Worst Fathers in Anime

[mercury-filled-intp]

i made a wlw version of The Selection

For all of you touch starved gays out there, I came prepared!! If you are in teh market for:

a) wlw romances 

b) wlw romances 

c) wlw slightly cottagecore romances involving princesses and mild references to the l word

boy do i have the story for you. I’ve put it under the break so you can read here if you want. but it’s also on AO3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/23904733

so knock yourself out. this is what an intp does with too much spare time. i’m literally rewriting the whole book. so. yeah

Jen Carpenter was building an overly elaborate birdhouse in her basement woodshop when the telephone rang. Its high-pitched wobble echoed across the scuffed linoleum and wooden paneled staircase until her mother answered the line.

           “Carpenter and Son, how may I help you?” She said. Jen sang a showtune while she worked, cutting a hole into a thin plank of wood. She was in the middle of making a bright pink birdhouse for a Two’s spoiled daughter. Jen was instructed to bedazzle the front, but she figured she would take some creative liberty and make it look a little less disgusting, even though as a Five, she should have been answering to them. She was in the middle of nailing the cut and sanded pieces together when her mother came, practically rolling, down the stairs. “Jen, that was the royal court who just called…” Sandra said in an annoying voice. “They mentioned we have a daughter between the ages of seventeen and twenty in our household… you know what that means—” Jen cut her off quickly, knowing where the conversation was going.

           “I’m not going to audition for The Selection, Mom. Get over it. I’m perfectly happy with my work here!” Jen loved her woodshop, but there were other reasons why she didn’t want to test her luck with the Princess. One of them being her true love waiting for her every night in the treehouse in the woods, where she met up with Vivienne most nights. Vivienne was another Five, born to a family of well-respected maids. Their families were close enough that they knew each other growing up, and fell in love almost instantly. Since they were both thirteen, they’ve been sneaking up to the treehouse (built with care by Jen one year) to exchange snacks and gifts and hopes for the future when they will finally leave their parents for something new. They had to keep their relationship a secret, or else their parents would forbid them from seeing each other. They fantasized about going to New Asia, where Vivienne could finally meet her colonial ancestors—but they wouldn’t be able to follow through with their future plans if Jen was married away to Princess Shane! Vivienne wasn’t able to audition—her parents didn’t have enough money to pay the audition fee—but Sandra was determined to get her daughter into the competition. Jen was a beautiful singer, but wasn’t quite ready to share her talent with the world.

           “You know how much the money would help us, Jen. I can open the bakery I’ve always wanted, your father could expand the business with Joe, it could all be so amazing. Just audition for me. Please? You’re so talented…” Sandra cooed, already living vicariously through Jen even though she hadn’t even been Selected yet.

           She would decide what to do about it all later. Princess Shane was gorgeous. She wouldn’t hate being with her… realistically, every citizen under the age of thirty probably had a crush on the princess. But, she had already met her true love, and was not ready to give that up. And, either way, she wouldn’t even be selected anyway. Being able to carry a tune didn’t make her the most attractive in all of District 4. Jen sighed and resumed construction on the birdhouse, lost in a daydream thinking about tomorrow’s possibilities. Before she could get into the groove of her work, though, her sister Chloe came bounding down the staircase with stomps belonging to an ogre. Bright orange pigtails (violently contrasting the basic dark-brown hair of the rest of her family…) trailed behind her as she very nearly fell onto the basement floor.

           “Please audition, Jen! You and Shane would look so pretty together!” She practically screamed, looking at Sandra for approval. Jen couldn’t believe her mother had brought Chloe into this. Every ten-year-old in the People’s Republic was obsessed with Princess Shane, that was not fair. There were probably more Princess Shane figurines in circulation than dollar bills. Jen conceded, though, because she’d do anything to make her sister happy. Even if she happened to be the devil incarnate with that red hair.

           “Alright, I’ll think about it. Now move,” she guided them towards the staircase with her callused hands on their backs, “I won’t be able to finish this by Sunday with you hovering,” Jen said. Her mother and sister turned up the stairs, giddily discussing what dress to have Jen wear to the auditions. The People’s Republic had strict laws on what is wearable in public, so she didn’t have many options either way. Too much glitter is seen as a public nuisance, and short skirts are seen as too tempting for the guards that patrol the streets every day. If only they were still America, Jen thought to herself, recalling history lessons from her mother as a child. Two centuries before, after the Great Eurasian War, The United States was absorbed by China and turned into the People’s Republic. But, because there was a literal ocean between the two land masses, the United States had an easy time overthrowing Chairman Mao V6, Eurasian Emperor. Now, nearly 170 years later, Jen can now call herself a People’s Republican. All thanks to Marsia Washington, the woman who led the revolution against Eurasia. At least, that’s what she learned in history classes at school. Her dad didn’t seem to like the curriculum, but Jen assumed that was because he was taught differently fifty years before. Once Chloe and Sandra’s gossip faded away into distant squealing overhead, Jen was finally able to start lacquering the birdhouse, omitting those godawful rhinestones.

#

           By nightfall, dinner was already on the table. Not much construction work was requested in the winter, so the meal was meager: stale turkey leftover from Thanksgiving with rice, and toaster strudels for dessert. Jen’s stomach groaned at the table, as forks and knifes clashed together. Through a full mouth, her little brother Max talked about his day at the junkyard with their father. Chloe and Jen’s mother discussed the latest plans for the business, and Jen stared out the window into the city lights visible just across the pier. She lost herself in the dazzling billboards and buildings, before the television set knocked her back into reality.

           “Selection auditions are tomorrow! How exciting! Hello, girls!” The news was on, and the most obnoxious reporter was covering the night’s program from District 2. She dragged some unsuspecting teenagers from the streets into the limelight by the forearms, “Are any of you planning on trying your luck at Princess Shane’s hand?” Most girls out of the group said they would, gushing about how exciting it was to get a chance to be with the Princess. Sandra glanced towards Jen expectantly, gently nudging her with a pointy elbow. Promptly ignoring her mother, Jen turned back to face the table.

           “We found a lovely dress for you. It’s pink tulle, and Vivienne’s mother said she’ll tailor it so it’s not dragging behind you. It was my dress back in the day,” Sandra said, staring wistfully into nothing, reliving her glory days. Jen nodded along passively, eyes focused on finishing the last few bites of toaster strudel on her plate.

           “Don’t do too much, Mom. I don’t even know if I’ll get picked! Let alone if I’ll even audition…” Sandra and Chole both whined at the same time, Max chatting with their father, ignoring the Selection talk. Jen thought of Vivienne, seeing her mother work on the dress she would wear for Princess Shane. She couldn’t do that to Vivienne. “You know, I’m feeling really full,” Jen said, slyly brushing some turkey and rice from her plate into a bowl under the table. “May I excuse myself?”

           “Alright, but get to sleep early. You want to be fresh-faced for your audition!” Jen nodded quickly, and headed to her room. Her family had lived here her whole life, so nothing changed except a new bed and desk over the years. There was a dirty mirror in the corner, a permanently unmade bed by the window, and a tragically stained once-white carpet covering the floor. Shutting the door, she uncovered the food she was able to sneak away from the table. It was not a full meal, but would be enough to keep Vivienne going for a while. She shoved the leftovers in a bag and then that bag into a backpack, slinging the familiar, worn fabric over her toned shoulders. Vivienne was always looking out for her siblings, even if it meant skipping meals so they could eat. Bringing her extras was the least Jen could do, considering all the kind things Vivienne has done for her.

           She turned to the mirror, trying in vain to look semi-presentable. Her shoulder-length curly hair was limp and dry, and her face looked dull and sunken. She was wearing a dark grey tunic and maxi skirt—optimal for mobilization and constant airflow but reminiscent of a potato sack. After doing her best to smooth out the wrinkles with her hands, she hiked up her skirt and bounded out the window.

[ducktracy]

138. porky the rain-maker (1936)

release date: august 1st, 1936

series: looney tunes

director: tex avery

starring: joe dougherty (porky, porky’s father), tedd pierce (narrator), earle hodgins (salesman)

the first cartoon to have a narrator! tex in particular would play around with narrators, whether it be in his travelogues or to serve as important plot devices like in the village smithy. this is also the first cartoon where porky is considerably slimmed down—he’d fluctuate weight, especially contrasted with tashlin’s large interpretation for him, but especially with the addition of ub iwerks and eventually bob clampett in 1937, porky shifted onto a diet, tashlin the last one to slim him down after porky’s double trouble. here, porky and his farmer father are in the midst of a treacherous drought. porky spends their remaining money on a selection of pills rumored to bring on any weather event at will. however, trouble strikes when the farm animals accidentally eat the miracle pills instead.

tedd pierce fills us in as we open to a long, beautiful pan of a farm. an overlay of visible heatwaves paired with his commentary indicates that we’re in the midst of a severe drought. “valuable crops scorched by blistering heatwave! shortage of feed threatens farmers with ruin—their only hope is rain!” zoom in on an apple tree that wilts in an instant. “uh-oh, looks like there’ll be no shade—“ a chorus of hilariously dissonant voices join in, singing the classic “—under the old apple tree.” all of the crops suffer from the heat: apples shrivel up in seconds, corn stalks are stripped of their contents... we even hone in on some more predictable yet slightly rewarding puns, such as water boiling inside watermelons or eggplants cracking open and frying eggs on the ground.

porky and his father observe the drought solemnly, porky’s father (dougherty once more, only speaking in his natural voice, stutter and all) lamenting “worry, worry, worry.” a clamor from various farm animals calls over their attention, and they approach the barn to see what all the fuss is about.

as the narrator implied, there’s been a lack of feed thanks to the drought. no crops to sell, no money to make, no feed to buy. the animals are none too pleased, forming their own union and going on strike. haughty hens strut along, one carrying a sign reading “NO FEED — NO EGGS!”, the hen behind her matching with a simple “DITTO!”. a disgruntled horse is next, “NO FEED NO WORK” plastered on his side. a cow marches along with her nose in the air, her udders protected by a barrel that reads “CLOSED SHOP”—a very amusing gag that works both ways. of course, closed shop implies that she isn’t giving out any milk, but it’s also a labor union term. essentially, only those in the union can work at the shop/place of business. and, of course, only the cow can give the milk. how can you have milk if you don’t have any udders to milk? if you didn’t know tex liked gags, you do now.

despairingly, porky’s father reaches into his pocket and pulls out a sock, complete with a clasp at the top. he opens it, stuttering “here, my son. take our last dollar—“ he fishes in the sock for a dollar coin, “—and buy them animals some feed.” porky accepts the coin and heads on into town.

just as he’s about to stroll into the general store for some feed, a sharp voice catches his ear. in the middle of town proudly stands a merchant on his stage, selling a product to the congregation around him. the sign behind him tellingly reads DR. QUACK’S FAMOUS RAIN PILLS — $1.00. sure enough, dr. quack is ranting and raving: “now friends, i’m here today to advertise my famous rain pills!” earle hodgins does a wonderful job of the salesman, his lines full of energy and greedy passion. he lures his audience in, asking if they’re fed up with their dying crops thanks to this treacherous drought. he holds up his box of pills, assuring that they can bring instant rain. “each and every one of these capsules is guaranteed to make it rain where and when you want it!”

the cost? as the sign behind him advertises: a dollar. clever execution and timing as little porky pops his head up in the front row of the crowd at mere mention of the cost. to make the deal even sweeter, anyone who purchases a rain pill gets a free box of assorted pills with all the weather events you can think of. rain! snow! ice! lightning! thunder! tornadoes! earthquakes! fog! wind! you name it, it’s there in that measly little box! porky is absolutely enraptured, hoisting himself up to lean on the platform so he doesn’t miss a single beat. wonderful comedic timing as the salesman seamlessly pauses his long-winded rant just to shoo porky away, nudging him with his cane and instructing “don’t lean on the platform, son, you bother me.”

porky obeys, still taking in every word as the salesman blabbers “i’m going to pass out... these umbrellas!” (more fantastic timing and a great gag), distributing umbrellas to the crowd to showcase a demonstration. once everyone is armed with their umbrellas, dr. quack stuffs a rain pill in a little tube and spits it into the air. the pill is propelled into the air and explodes.

sure enough, the clouds grow heavy and dark, real rain showering upon every citizen in the square. porky is just beside himself as he sticks his hand out to feel the raindrops—“oh boy! real rain!” dr. quack eyes his audience, asking “now who’s gonna be first to buy one of these rain pills?” zero hesitation or remorse as porky fishes in his pocket and thrusts his father’s last earnings into the greedy hands of dr. quack, who hands him the fated pandora’s box. porky heads back to the farm, ready to knock the socks off his father.

porky’s father paces along, still muttering “worry, worry, worry” all the way. his face brightens up as he sees his loyal little boy marching towards him with the feed he so diligently went to the store to buy. feed in the shape of a box. with pills inside the box. rightfully so, porky’s father is furious. “PILLS!? i told ya to get FEED, not PILLS!” porky, unable to decipher why his father is so angry, ducks as his father tosses the useless box away.

the contents of the box scatter all across the farm. one of the picketing hens stumbles upon a spare pill, a lightning pill. mistaking it as feed, the hen happily gobbles down her food and grins contentedly at the audience. however, her delight is quickly put to a stop as volts of incomprehensible electricity jolt through her body and electrocute her. she flops to the ground, winded, and attempts to run for her life, squawking along the way. it’s too late—she turns into a literal lightning bolt as she tries to outrun from herself. the entire gag, from the contented grin to initial jolting reaction to turning into a lightning bolt in the midst of a frenzy would be reused in porky’s duck hunt, with daffy and an electric eel substituting the chicken and her lightning pill.

elsewhere, the picketing horse stumbles upon a fog pill and wastes no time ingesting it, too. a cloud of fog grows around his stomach, and in no time his surroundings are shrouded in mist. a horsefly (literally a horse with fly wings, which would serve as a minor plot point in a similar tex porky cartoon milk and money) comments into a microphone “altitude 10,000 feet. no visibility. ceiling: 0.” the gag is amusing, but slightly incomprehensible and lacks a smooth transition. enough to get the gist, though. meanwhile, a curious goose gobbles down both a thunder and wind pill, its body shuddering and shaking around as it regurgitates artificial wind from its body, blowing around aimlessly.

porky and his father observe in steely silence, his father glowering and sulking. helpful is porky, who finally pipes up with “there’s a pill there that’ll make real rain, pa.” porky’s father freezes. he whips his head around: “well why didn’t ya say so? where is it?” he crawls through the wooden fence and gets down on all fours, searching on his hands and knees for the fated miracle pill.

spotting a cyclone pill, porky reaches out to grab it. unfortunately for him, a chicken swoops in and swallows it before he can retrieve it. porky’s predictably peeved, glowering at the chicken, but his anger turns into awe as the chicken is whisked away into her own personal tornado. things finally settle down, and all that’s left is a nude chicken with a single tail feather. she glares at her feather, but it too turns into a mini cyclone and flies away. hilariously deadpan, she turns to the camera and gasps “well, imagine that.” not at all unlike an oswald short tex worked on in 1933, the zoo, a bear’s fur reduced to shreds thanks to a swarm of hungry moths. instead of screaming or overreacting, the bear also mildly states “well, imagine that.”

never mind the cyclone pill—porky spots another pill scattered on the ground, an earthquake pill. he reaches for it, and yet again another hungry chicken swallows the pill. this time an earthquake erupts in her body. amusing incongruity as the hen stalks away with her beak held high in the air, interrupted by frantic bursts of spasms and shakes. she clings to a tree for support, the entire landscape around her shaking. when the earthquake has finally paused, she ogles at the camera in disbelief.

porky and his father continue to search for the remaining pills, crawling on their hands and knees. porky finds something in the distance and trots over to it. sure enough, the fated rain pill is right in his reach! surely nothing can go wrong now, right?

wrong! the goose who had swallowed the thunder and wind pills is still aimlessly blowing around the farm uncontrollably. it knocks right into porky, tossing both of them to the ground. nevertheless, the goose is unscathed, seldom hesitating as it gobbles up the rain pill. porky ever so calmly and politely wrings the goose’s neck, calling it a varmint. he opens the goose’s beak and peers inside. no sign of the pill. frustrated, porky grabs the head of the goose and slams it on the ground, the goose settling back to normal as its head bounces back up. sweet, mild mannered porky!

his animal abuse may bring about some good after all. the goose, now shaken up, regurgitates the rain pill, sending it flying into the air. with a familiar snap, the pill explodes. could it be? yes! it could! the clouds darken and dump buckets of real, genuine, miraculous rain. all of the farm animals (and porky’s dad) crowd together, all sticking out their extremities just to feel the rain, reveling in it and soaking up every single last drop. apple trees grow back to size, corn stalks are nice and hearty again, all of the crops spouting 5x the amount of goods than what they used to. a gag that would be reused in many cartoons (especially and situationally in swooner crooner), a hen eagerly runs inside of her coop and lays an astounding mound of eggs, poking her head out of the coop and sighing in relief.

the joyous celebration continues, and everyone breathes a collective sigh of relief. good times are here at last! nary a problem in sight, only one little caveat. just one teensy little issue that needs taking care of... the animals still have the pills inside them. the celebration is cut short as all the animals jolt, jitter, shudder, fly, you name it. even porky and his father feel the effects. the false sense of security is pulled off strongly and coyly. everyone poses defiantly at the camera, a happy cartoon close sting... and then silence except for an array of sound effects as the pills take their course. tex plays around with the iris out as the goose blows itself out of the iris and into the black void, where rain is still pouring down. the goose frantically pounds against the black wall, squawking frantically. the iris opens one last time as porky yanks the goose inside for good.

a very amusing and creative cartoon for sure. milk and money would follow a similar route—porky needs to help his father earn money for the farm, and hilarity ensues (and there’s also a horsefly involved.) i like that one a bit more, as i feel it’s a stronger cartoon. this one came off more as a showcase of gags than anything, not having too much plot, but it was still definitely there. some gags were certainly funnier than others, but this still remains as a relatively funny short. the ending is particularly amusing, with the coy “all’s well that ends well” poses of the gang and the orchestral swell, interrupted by the natural elements inside each animal. the first appearance of porky’s father, too, who would make a handful of appearances, even during the mel blanc era with porky’s poppa in 1938. not tex’s best cartoon, but certainly watchable and amusing. worth a potential watch!

link!

[raywritesthings]

What Have They Lost? 3/?

My Writing Fandom: Arrow, The Flash Characters: Laurel Lance, Oliver Queen, Connor Hawke, Ted Grant, Barry Allen, Iris West, Barbara Gordon, Wally West, Cisco Ramon, Caitlin Snow, Joe West Pairings: Barry Allen/Iris West, Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen, Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel Summary: “I can definitely tell you that there’s a way we’re going to bring [Laurel] back and she’s going to be alive and well. And Flashpoint might have a little bit to do with that.“ -Wendy Mericle AKA: The AU where that wasn’t a blatant lie, and Flashpoint has bigger repercussions for Barry’s friends and allies than he first realized. Notes: Much thanks to @colorofmymindposts for beta-ing as well as to the Lauriver discord server for helping with world-building and character histories. Anyone interested in joining the server should follow this link: https://discord.gg/gp9ANVr  *Also can be read on my AO3*

He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. Damn age getting to him.

As it was, Ted woke on his couch to the sound of a key trying to find the lock and muttered curses. He got to his feet just as Dinah pushed through the door and slammed it behind her, glancing back through the window.

“Alright, we expecting company?”

She looked at him. “Ted, it happened again.”

He sighed. “Okay.”

“I don’t know what it is,” she burst out. “I mean I do, but — I mean, why me, right? Babs is fine, Helena’s fine, and Pam—” she drew up short. “Well, nobody’s really sure what’s wrong with her. But at least it’s consistent.”

“Not getting worse?”

Dinah chewed her lip. “Harley says they’ve had to up her dosage again, or that rash keeps coming back. If that stupid explosion hadn’t knocked her back into that ivy…”

“Or hit you when you were holding the mic?”

“Yeah.” Dinah looked down and sighed. “I just need to, I don’t know, take a breather or something.”

“Stuff’s in your room.”

“Thanks, Ted.” She touched his shoulder distractedly as she made her way down the hall into the spare room she used whenever they stopped here. A few minutes later, he could hear sounds of a familiar melody on the guitar. Ted shook his head.

It wasn’t any wonder she’d gotten worked up and that this whatever-it-was had activated again. Dealing with that washed up excuse for a father, being back here…

He found his phone on the coffee table and went through the recent contacts. His call was picked up after a single ring.

“Hey, Ted.”

“Barbara. You got any time?”

“Yeah. Dad’s got another night shift. He won’t be back for hours.” He could hear fingers clacking away at a computer’s keys rather than a keyboard’s. “What’s up?”

“Dinah’s had another accident. She’s a bit shaken up.”

“Put her on. I’m switching over to video.”

Ted went down the hall and knocked on the door. It wasn’t completely shut, so it swung in a few inches.

“I tried to look for you in the dark water, but I got lost along the way,” Dinah was half-singing, half-saying under her breath. She really wasn’t giving that one up, was she?

“Hey, it’s Barbara.”

Dinah smiled up at him and set the guitar aside. “Thanks, Ted.”

She took the phone and set it up so she and Barbara could each see each other’s faces.

“So what happened?” Barbara never was one to mince words. Probably got it from the old commissioner.

“There were some creeps trying to force a woman into having their sick idea of fun. I didn’t like the look of it, so I said something.”

“And then screamed something, huh?”

“He was running at me. It was, I don’t know, instinct. Something like that.” Dinah dragged a hand back through her hair. “I thought for a second somebody else saw — but nobody was there. I must be getting paranoid.”

“Well, we do need to talk about what to do going forward, Dinah. This clearly isn’t something you can ignore or force to stop happening.”

“I know. But what do you want me to do, announce to the world I’m a metahuman? The Flash would just zip up onto the stage and have me in handcuffs,” Dinah remarked, the humor in her tone only barely masking contempt.

“Who says you have to tell people you’re the metahuman?” Ted asked. Dinah turned towards him and it was clear that Barbara was listening as well. “Nobody knows who the Flash is. That’s why he isn’t in prison.”

Dinah looked back at the phone screen. “What do you think, Babs? You’re the masked crusader expert.”

“Don’t remind me,” Barbara replied with a grimace. “But I do think you need to find a way to separate your identity from the woman who can knock down walls with her voice. If only so the latter can do some good.”

Dinah stood, her arms crossing over her chest. “You sound like dad. He was just reminding me tonight how I used to want to do something for the world with my life.”

“Well, don’t you?”

Ted held his breath, watching and waiting.

“I can barely do enough for myself,” Dinah said. “I’m not some hero, Babs, or even a guy in a bat suit with an ax to grind. I just got dealt a bad hand.”

“And why let that stop you?” Ted asked. “You climbed out of poverty with your music, Dinah. You got yourself out of the foster care system. You’d be free of the abuse if you’d cut the old man off.”

She scoffed.

“I know you feel you haven’t done what you set out to do,” he continued, placing his hands on her shoulders. “But don’t you think you might find out more about yourself if you look to the future instead of the past?”

“I can’t stop looking, Ted,” Dinah said, her eyes wide and pleading.

“And you won’t. But tell me, where did that little girl who snuck into my gym ‘cause she kept getting into scrapes go? Where’d that young lady who kicked guys in the head for harassing women in the crowd go?”

“You know I’d be out there if the answer had come back different,” Barbara offered.

Dinah scowled. “Who cares if Batman said no? You could still do it.”

“Maybe now that I have some money behind me,” Barbara allowed. “But I don’t have the kind of power that accelerator gave you, Dinah.”

“I could hurt someone,” Dinah stated. It was the fear first and foremost in her mind ever since they’d learned what she could do, after all the months of worrying that the accident had stolen her voice. Maybe it had in a way; it was making her hold herself back.

“With the right kind of training, I don’t think so,” Barbara countered. “But that’s gonna take practice, the same as all our other lessons.”

“So where am I supposed to practice? I don’t exactly have my own city lying around somewhere unless you two are surprising me this Christmas.”

“Well, you are home,” Barbara said.

Dinah raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t Star already have a guy?”

Babs shrugged. “Just Green Arrow. Batman never took him that seriously. Thought he liked to make speeches more than get anything done.”

“Forgive me if I don’t hold Batman’s opinion that highly,” Dinah said with a cool tone, “considering he clearly doesn’t know talent when it knocks on his door.”

“Things might have been different,” Barbara said not for the first or probably the last time. “Just my dad being the GCPD liaison with him...it complicates things.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say that involved of a discussion with Batman would necessitate you knowing who you were talking to,” Ted remarked.

“Nope, not falling for it, Ted.”

He grinned. “Worth a shot. I really am starting to wonder if I should make the rounds and get these new boys into shape.”

“Yeah right,” Dinah said, some of her old bite back in her voice. “You like us too much to go over to that boys’ club.”

“All the more reason to get you out there, Dinah.”

She sighed, looking down at her guitar. “Just...let me think it over, okay?”

“Sure thing.” He retrieved his phone and headed for the door.

“It’s not that I don’t want to help,” Dinah said before he had quite left. “It just feels like every time I try...someone gets hurt.”

“That’s just the growing pains. But I think you’re ready to fly now, Dinah.”

She nodded once, and Ted shut the door behind him as he left.

“You think I might have pushed too hard?” He asked Barbara, who had stayed on the line.

“She doesn’t think she’s the right person to be a hero,” Barbara said. “But that’s exactly why she is.”

“Right you are, Babs. Think I’ll go air out the old gym here. We might be needing it soon. You feel like joining in?”

“Give me two weeks. I promised my father we’d spend some time together.” Barbara gestured around the empty apartment she currently sat in. “You can see how that’s going.”

“Well, you hang in there. We’re gonna get you your chance, too.”

“Thanks, Ted.”

He hung up and smiled to himself. Much as he liked his role with the band, he was looking forward to being a teacher again.

—-

Combing through the old family papers was easier said than done. Back when he’d first returned from the island, he had found out that they’d all been boxed up and stored in a warehouse. Walter had been meticulous about the organization of it all, but Oliver had just gotten out what was necessary to declare himself alive again and then looked for a new place to live. Even if the old Manor hadn’t been sold, he couldn’t have gone back there. Too many empty rooms.

Now, he was looking for something entirely unrelated to him, something among his mother’s things. He had to stop every now and then, smiling with watery eyes at her handwriting or an old photo. She’d kept every one of his school pictures, notating them on the back: Oliver, 6th grade.

God, why’d she let him have that hair?

Eventually, he came across an old lock box. Walter must not have touched it beyond moving it here, though he clearly hadn’t found the key.

Oliver looked up at the ceiling. “Sorry, mom.” He broke the lock.

Inside were a number of yellowing papers, some looked to be about financial matters while others were of a more personal nature.

There was also a checkbook tied to an account number Oliver didn’t recognize, nor was it from their family bank. It recorded monthly payments to one of the local orphanages, up until the last month before they all got on the Gambit.

Heart thumping in his ears, Oliver reached a birth certificate at the bottom of the stack of papers. Mia Dearden, was the name given to the child, born January 21st, 1995. She was ten years younger than him. He had a kid sister?

There was a photo paper-clipped to the back of a tiny baby sleeping in a nursery. It was irrational, maybe, but he felt a fierce longing for this tiny life he’d never known.

But he should have. How had his parents kept this from him?

The birth certificate was from a hospital whose name he didn’t recognize. A quick search on his phone showed that it was out of state. He tried to remember that year. Had his mother been away on a trip? Had she hidden the pregnancy that way? His father’s name wasn’t on the certificate. Did that mean…?

There was nothing to indicate if his father had known, or what he had thought if he had. But there had to be some reason Mia Dearden hadn’t been raised alongside him in their home. Never mind that his mother must have purposefully brought her back to the city and kept up payments that must have seen the orphanage well outfitted. At least until 2007.

She would have been twelve, or around that age, Oliver realized. What had happened to her after? Would the orphanage know? Had she found another family, someone to provide the love and care his parents had either been unwilling or unable to give?

“Dad?”

Oliver looked up from his desk, spotting Connor in the shadows by the door. It had gotten late, and the single lamp he had on was the only source of light in the room.

“Hey. Sorry. I got, uh, caught up with all this. You eat yet?”

“Did you?”

Fair enough question. Oliver set the birth certificate and the photo of his baby sister aside, standing up. “Okay, what do we want? Chicken? Chicken tacos? Think we still have some wraps.”

“We could order a pizza,” Connor suggested. “You look tired.”

Oliver looked down. His son was probably right; he’d been at this for three days now, only stopping for meals or to go out on patrol.

“Okay. You pick the toppings.”

They settled out in the main room to wait after Oliver called the order in. He looked Connor over during the silence. He had failed to be the father this boy should have had for the first several years of his life, and now he was finding that was an all too common mistake of his when it came to family. Even if he really had been a kid in the case of Mia Dearden.

“So,” Connor began, “what did you find out?”

Oliver grimaced. “Uncle Barry was right. Sort of, anyway.”

Connor’s eyes were wide, in excitement or worry he couldn’t tell. “So there is a Thea Queen?”

“I don’t know about her, but my mother had a daughter she never told me about. Her name’s Mia,” Oliver said, his voice cracking slightly on the name. He cleared his throat. “Mia Dearden. She has mom’s maiden name.”

“How come your mom never told you?”

“Well, if I had to guess...my parents were partners in the business sense. They built the old company together, as equals. But in their relationship, it wasn’t exactly like that.”

Connor nodded sagely. “She had an affair.”

“Seems that way. Not exactly the best example us Queens are setting for you. Don’t get any ideas,” Oliver quipped when Connor made a face. He was definitely glad that his son still seemed uninterested in the dating scene, and prayed it would last at least a little longer.

“What are you gonna do about Mia?”

That was a question he hadn’t let himself contemplate yet. “She’s a young woman now. Probably out on her own. I don’t know how happy she’d be to learn the truth now.”

“But you wanna meet her.”

It was remarkable how well the kid could read him.

“It’s hard not to wonder. How different would things have been, you know? The way Barry was talking...it sounded like he thought she’d be here.”

What would it have been like to return after those five years to family, to someone he knew had missed him and cared about him? Someone who could’ve been the listening ear he’d needed when Connor had first arrived, who could’ve helped him.

“You know, she’s not the only one Uncle Barry thought should be around.” Connor’s voice pulled him out of that wondering, and when he looked up his son was grinning. “How are you supposed to know the lead singer of one of the hottest bands in the country?”

Oliver shook his head. “That’s maybe the one thing hardest to buy.”

He’d been vaguely aware of his parents’ infidelity. The idea that one of them had had a child in that context was not unthinkable. But where would his path have met up with someone like Dinah?

Barry had said something about the team. “Laurel’s still — I mean, Dinah. Dinah’s still…”

Still what? Singing? Way out of Oliver’s league? Barry had been worried about Thea’s — or Mia’s — existence. Had something about Dinah not been right? And who was Laurel?

A knock at the door interrupted them, and Oliver got up to get their food and tip the delivery man. When he came back over to the couch, Connor held up his phone. It was displaying a social media page of some sort. He could never keep the sites straight.

“Think this could be our Mia Dearden?”

The profile picture was of a young woman with short brown hair and delicate features, almost like a pixie if he had to put a word to it. But her eyes...those were his mother’s eyes.

“Says she’s a bartender on 4th and Wells in the Glades,” Connor continued. “We could go check it out?”

A part of Oliver wanted to throw his coat on and take the elevator down to the lobby right now. But he looked down at Connor.

“Are you sure? I still feel like you and I are figuring out how we work together now, and this would be a lot. I don’t want you to feel like you’re being pushed aside in favor of the next surprise relative I have.”

Connor put his phone away. “I came to Starling to get to know my family. All of it. If this lady is your sister, then that makes her my aunt. I’ve never had one of those.”

Oliver felt himself smile. Trust his kid to look on the bright side.

“And anyway, it’s not like you’d just forget about me,” Connor joked half-heartedly. There was only the slightest hint of vulnerability there, but it was enough for Oliver to read.

He dropped a knee onto the couch and wrapped his son in a hug. “No. Never.”

They settled back in to enjoy their pizza, another night as father and son. Maybe in a week or so, they might have more company. Oliver eyed the armchair across from the couch, trying to imagine the small girl in the photo sitting there. Would she be happy to join them?

Barry had been right about his sister. Could he really be right again about Dinah? Oliver sent Connor to bed and went back to his office, shifting his mother’s old things aside to unearth his computer keyboard. He scrolled through articles and photos alike.

No one knew the woman’s full name. It was likely she came from Gotham, as the rest of her bandmates had. And Gotham was hardly his territory.

But the more he stared at her photo, he thought he should know her. Was it the old paranoia, the placebo effect resulting from Barry’s words, or was there something more than wishful thinking to his wondering if those lips had smiled up at him once before?

—-

Barry sat on the information he had about Dinah for a few days, nervously turning it over in his head. The trouble was, he didn’t really know who to go to.

If he alerted the police, they wouldn’t really be prepared for the kind of power that sonic scream held. If he went to Oliver and his team, he wasn’t sure what they would think. He’d already probably said way too much to Oliver in his distress.

Truthfully, Barry wasn’t sure what to make of this new version of his friend. Oliver wasn’t as different as some of the others had been in the Flashpoint timeline, but there seemed to be a subtle sort of change to him hard to pin down. And Barry just didn’t know if he should trust this Oliver to handle something like a Black Siren. If that was even what they were dealing with.

It was up to his team, as Iris kept nudging him into realizing over the week. They knew how to manage a metahuman, even if the weapon they’d used against Siren wouldn’t work against a Laurel of this Earth. But he needed Cisco and Caitlin’s help if he was going to brainstorm a backup.

With some trepidation, Barry entered the lab that afternoon to the now-familiar sounds of Laurel’s voice on the speakers. Since learning Barry had next to no knowledge of Birds of Prey, Cisco had taken it upon himself to play the band’s entire discography, along with anything and everything he could find with Dinah’s vocals attached. This particular song didn’t even sound like rock at all, come to think of it.

“Uh, dude?”

Cisco swiveled around in his chair and seemed to understand Barry’s confused point up towards the ceiling at the music.

“Oh, hey. Yeah, this was released a year or so after the accident, all studio-recorded. She did an album of the Great American songbook sort of stuff, sort of for the slower crowd, you know? People still went nuts over it.” Cisco’s sigh had a dreamy quality to it as he added, “She could sing the phone book.”

“Is everything alright, Barry?” Caitlin asked, watching him carefully. He must not have hidden his nerves as well as he hoped.

Joe came through into the cortex, followed by Wally, and he knew it was now or never. He was going to need his team behind him for this, however willing they were to be.

“Okay. Guys, um, I really hate to bring this up again, but we’ve got to talk about Flashpoint.”

Immediately Cisco’s shoulders hunched, and Caitlin grimaced. Joe shifted a bit on his feet. Wally alone seemed ready to talk.

“Alright, what about it?”

“It’s not really to do with anything here,” Barry was quick to reassure. “Not exactly. It’s...it’s the Arrow Team.”

The others looked at each other. “They’ve been affected? How?” Caitlin asked.

“Well,” Barry hesitated, looking to Iris for support. She gave him an encouraging nod. “It’s about Dinah from Birds of Prey,” he admitted.

“Oh no, what did you do to her?” Cisco immediately said.

“I — nothing! I mean, it’s confusing, but she is different because of the timeline changing, yeah,” Barry admitted. “I tracked her down the other night and saw her knock a guy down with sonic waves. From her mouth.”

There was a long beat of silence as the others digested that bit of news. As before, Cisco was first to react.

“Dinah from Birds of Prey is a meta? Barry, this is the best news you’ve given us in forever!”

“No, not great news. Because we’ve already met a Laurel — I mean Dinah — who was a meta, and she was evil. Does nobody remember Black Siren from Earth-2?” Barry looked around but received mostly quizzical looks from the group. He should’ve expected it; Cisco would’ve said something if the rockstar he idolized had a double he’d met.

“So, you’re worried that this timeline’s Dinah is also evil,” Joe surmised.

“I don’t know,” Barry admitted. “I mean, when I saw her use her powers, it was to help this other woman. But then what’s her goal long-term? I’ve seen her powers in action when Siren used them. They’re powerful.”

“Tell them about Laurel,” Iris spoke up unexpectedly. “The one you knew, Barry.”

“Who’s Laurel?” Caitlin asked. “And why do you keep correcting yourself by calling her Dinah?”

“Because that’s how I knew her before. How we all knew her. As Laurel.” Barry looked around the room, watching their intrigued but otherwise blank faces. Not for the first time, he wished somehow he had the power to show them what they had once lived along with him rather than just tell them. But he couldn’t.

“Dinah Laurel Lance was the ADA of Star City, and at night she was part of the Arrow Team as a vigilante called the Black Canary.”

“That’s her real name? Dinah Lance?” Wally asked.

“Uh, yeah.” Barry blinked, though it occurred to him a moment later that in this timeline he’d had yet to hear anyone else use her full name. Thea — or Mia — had even been surprised to learn who Laurel’s father was. What was Dinah’s story, really? What could’ve had such an effect on her past?

“She- she died last spring. Before Flashpoint. There was a sorcerer they were fighting, and he killed her. But now none of that ever happened.” Barry was aware he was pacing, but he couldn’t really stop himself. “She’s a singer instead of a lawyer, Oliver and the others don’t know her, Oliver’s son showed up a whole year early and is Connor—”

“Whoa, what’s wrong with my man Connor?” Cisco demanded.

“Nothing, just, you know, he’s different! Oliver had a whole different kid named William who apparently doesn’t exist anymore!”

“Oh, Barry,” Caitlin sighed, disapproval inlaid in every syllable.

“I know,” he ground out. “This is not good. I just don’t know how to fix it.”

“Don’t.”

The single word came from Cisco, and Barry blinked in surprise. “Don’t?”

“Yeah. Trying to ‘fix’ things was what caused you to mess everything up in the first place. So just live with it like the rest of us.” His friend stood and walked out of the cortex, likely heading for his workroom.

“Cisco’s right, Barry,” Caitlin added. “Your time travel never seems to put anything back fully the way it was. It’s better for you to just leave it alone.” She, too, turned away. He could tell by the look on Joe’s face that he was thinking something similar, even if he’d probably say it in a gentler way.

Barry looked to Iris. “We still need to be prepared to deal with- with Dinah if she’s more like her Earth-2 counterpart was.”

“Give the others some time, Bear,” was her advice. “You’ve just dumped a lot of information on them. It’s going to take some time to process.”

“We’ll be ready when it counts,” Wally added with a confidence Barry wished he felt. “And hey, maybe she is on our side.”

“Maybe.” Barry sunk down into Cisco’s abandoned chair and felt Iris walk up behind him, her hands massaging at his shoulders.

“We could start with some recon,” Wally was suggesting, using Joe as a sounding board just as much as he was using Barry and Iris. “Most of the band’s from Gotham.” Wally snapped his fingers. “Maybe Batman knows her!”

Barry’s head lifted sharply in bewilderment. “Bat-who?”

At the same time, Joe gave a sharp shake of the head. “Oh, hell no. Not that nut job.”

For someone extremely used to the feeling of deja vu, Barry seemed destined to find himself unaccountably lost.

[marcjampole]

The history of presidential misconduct puts a whole new light on the Trump impeachment hearings

When viewed through the lens of today, the defense of Trump by Republicans seems reprehensible to a growing number of Americans. Despite the daily piling up of more evidence of his illegal attempt to force a foreign government to interfere with our elections, most Republicans continue to vociferously support the president. Those who are inching away, such as Senators Linda Murkowski and Mitt Romney, do so with extreme care. Trump’s betrayal of the Syrian Kurds has influenced almost no Republicans to look at Trump in a new light, just as most Republicans ignored Nixon’s illegal bombing of Cambodia—at least at first.

But in the context of American history, the Republican reaction is pretty standard. As you can learn by reading Presidential Misconduct, virtually everything about the current situation resembles most presidential scandals throughout American history.

Presidential Misconduct is a compendium essays about investigations into the misdeeds of presidents and their immediate coterie edited by the distinguished historian James M. Banner, Jr. Originally commissioned by the House Judiciary Committee during the 1974 Watergate Hearings, Presidential Misconduct presents the historical record of the misdeeds of past presidents and their cronies reaching back to the Washington administration and compiled by leading presidential scholars of the day. The Committee originally conceived of the book as a benchmark against which Nixon’s misdeeds could be measured. A recently published update includes all the presidential administrations through Obama’s. What is stunning is the degree to which every controversy surrounding virtually every potential presidential misdeed—whether an impeachment hearing or a Congressional investigation—follows a set pattern that only three people break: Andrew Johnson, Richard Nixon and now, Donald Trump.

In depicting this pattern, I will leave out consideration of one investigation—the impeachment of Bill Clinton related to the Monica Lewinsky scandal. In every other of the literally hundreds of cases of investigating a president or his administration for wrongdoing (including other accusations against Clinton), the issue was either corrupt practices in which money exchanged hands for favorable treatment or unlawful attempts to influence elections. Only in the case of Slick Willie’s oval office affair was the issue a personal indiscretion—in this case, a sexual relationship between consenting adults. Despite the fact that there are many instances of fooling around by presidents or their advisers, Congress has only once decided to open an investigation related to a sexual dalliance, which lead to Clinton stupidly do what most people do when confronted by their infidelity—they lie. Again, there are numerous documented cases of presidents lying or stretching the truth—Tyler, Lincoln, LBJ, Reagan, Bush II—to name just a few before our current liar-in-chief. You know, the one who manufactures new lies almost on a daily basis. Yet very few have been taken to task for lying and no president other than Clinton suffered punishment for lying about a personal matter. The Trump impeachment hearings have so far completely ignored the more than 20 outstanding accusations of sexual assault against the Donald. A strongly partisan element infects all investigations of presidential malfeasance, to be sure. But the Clinton case is so out of the ordinary that we can learn nothing from it that we can apply to the current situation.

With that caveat out of the way, what we learn from Presidential Misconduct is that the unfolding of the Trump impeachment hearings proves the validity of the old French expression, “The more things change, the more they stay the same.” 1) In virtually all cases, someone found malfeasance by a member of cabinet, a high ranking advisor, an entire department or a close relative or friend of the president. 2) Opinions have always split down party lines, with the party of the president and friendly media aggressively proclaiming the innocence of the accused party and the opposing party and media hotly and noisily proclaiming and pursuing guilt. 3) A common defense was to admit the suspect events took place but insist they were not illegal. 4) Presidents have varied in the speed of their responsiveness to requests for information and the testimony of subordinates. Yet while executive privilege was sometimes invoked at an early point, at the end of the day presidents almost always have provided the information requested without lawsuit and virtually all witnesses called ended up testifying or giving a deposition. 5) The president always loyally supports those accused, often after their guilt has been well established. In most cases, the president runs into the most trouble for his continued backing of a crony or subordinate under investigation. 6) Often, as with the case of Grant, Harding and Truman, the dastardly deeds turned out to be legal, but didn’t pass the common sense “smell test.” In these cases, Congress passed new laws and /or the department in question changed its standard practices.

Most important, every president except Madison, Polk and Ford has faced a number of major scandals in his administration, and at the end of the day, virtually none were blamed for it. Either the officer, department or crony was exonerated, or the president was found completely innocent of knowing anything about the crimes. Besides Nixon’s administration, among the most corrupt were those of Tyler, Buchanan, Grant Harding, Truman, Reagan and Bush II. The Reagan administration provides an interesting case: The administration involved itself in as much law-breaking as Nixon’s did, but Reagan never personally benefited from any of the corruption and no one could find evidence that he knew about the political scandals like Iran-Contra. In a sense, he was a modern Ulysses Grant, personally incorruptible and idealistic, but surrounded by a den of thieves. With investigations exonerating presidents for everything except bad judgment and rigid loyalty, impeachment was hardly ever mentioned and almost never attempted.

Kevin M. Kruse said it best in summarizing the Carter administrations on page 402: “In the end, the three main scandals of the Carter Administration followed the general pattern, in which sloppy financial practices and suspect business dealings invited close inspection but ultimately proved to have fallen short of outright criminal misdeeds.”

The first exception to this pattern of presidential exoneration was Andrew Johnson, whose “high crimes and misdemeanors” involved orders he gave and did not give, specifically concerning the Secretary of War and the treatment of the renegade southern states returned to the union only after a long, bloody war. In a sense, Johnson’s impeachment and near conviction was the last skirmish of the Civil War.

The second exception was Nixon, who unlike all other presidents, knew all about all the corruption in his administration, serving as the source and center for most of it. The Watergate break-in and other dirty tricks. The illegal pay-offs to silence the guilty and protect the administration. The enemies list. The illegal campaign contributions. It was Nixon who authorized the illegal bombing of Cambodia and directed his representatives to convince the South Vietnamese to refuse to come to the negotiating table until after the 1968 election. Nixon was as dirty as dirty can be.

And that’s why I think Trump is going down.

Trumpty-Dumpty, like Tricky Dicky, is at the center of every controversy as instigator, motivator and bad actor. His already debunked fantasies of the Bidens corruptly profiting from Papa Joe’s influence as vice president and of Ukraine interfering in the 2016 election served as the motivating factor in the illegal and unethical actions of Trump, Rudy Giuliani, Pompeo and others in Ukraine. Trump is leading the cover-up by refusing to hand over documents or let officials testify. Like Nixon and Cambodia, Trump is solely responsible for the scandals that are not part of the impeachment proceedings but are causes for additional disgruntlement, such as the betrayal of the Kurds, the separation of children at the border, the exit from the Iranian nuclear deal and the Paris Accord, and Trump’s record of sexual assault and harassment.

Like Nixon, all the evidence points to Trump being dirty.

Those despairing that like Andrew Johnson and Clinton, Trump will be impeached by the House but not convicted by the Senate should consider that we’re still early in the process, still at the point at which all opinion has a highly partisan tinge to it.

What the Republican Senators are waiting for is a smoking gun. And if Nixon serves as a precedent, the court will supply the requisite still-hot firearm by forcing Trump to turn over material including his taxes. I’m guessing that the requirement to turn over the taxes will compel Trump to resign from office rather than let it out that he is owned by Russian interests and that he is worth far less than a billion smackers. But whatever it is, something in what we find in the taxes or in the records that the administration wants to keep hidden will hang Trump with his own party. He will most likely resign in a deal that spares him indictment on any federal or state charges rather than face conviction. If in his crazy grandiosity, the Donald refuses to follow the Nixon model, he will not have a big enough Praetorian guard, loyal only to him, to attempt to stay in office by force after his conviction. While we can spin apocalyptic fantasies about the end of our democracy, I think we can realistically depend on the loyalty to the United States and our Constitution by the military, the Secret Service, the FBI and local police.

History suggests that because the investigation centers on Trump and not his subordinates, the likely result will be that he leaves office before his term is up. That is, assuming the smoking gun produces enough smoke.

Meanwhile, although we may consider the Republicans sticking to Trump like white to rice to be despicable, they are in fact engaged in nothing more than business as usual, the same business that has surrounded presidential misconduct since the time of George Washington.

[thoughtsarechanging]

2020 Democratic Presidential Debate

The 2020 Democratic Presidential Debate has just happened and in the same way as “Too Many Cooks” there were too many candidates. Of course, the majority of elections end up being forms of a popularity contest, and these debates had many nobodies that started maybe their actual campaign by being on that stage these two nights.

Going from candidate to candidate, here is my review:

JOE BIDEN-

Joe Biden, to me, was a mess on this stage. I believe he banked too much on being Former President Obama’s Vice-President for many of the questions, showing he knows he hasn't been that popular with many of the marginalized groups in America. Due to the segregationalist comments he made and the accusations of sexual assault, that did not help Biden's cause either, and at the end of the day, he was just really messy.

BERNIE SANDERS-

I definitely felt some Bern that night as he came talking about taxing the middle class and helping with Medicare. Many of his proposals were very outlandish and I have noticed that Bernie more often than not will repeat one phrase instead of elaborating on the fact, such as when his answer to “If there was no Roe v. Wade, how will people get access to birth control?” His answer was to repeat “Medicare for all.” but maybe I was missing something.

ELIZABETH WARREN-

She was amazing and prepared the entire debate. She had a plan for everything and it was beautiful to watch her explain what she was going to do in the time given without rarely going over time. I found it important that she addressed big corporations and how they only care about making a profit, not about the well being of their workers. Her plan to tax the ultra-rich also seems less dangerous than Bernies plan to tax the middle class and up, as the ultra-rich have more money to spare it feels like. She also believes in giving up her private insurance, which felt like a way of connecting to the lower class, which is always important

PETE BUTTIGIEG-

Personally, I believe the man is adorable and was expecting him to speak one of his seven languages on the stage, but it instead ended with a short response in Spanish prompted by the mediator. Mayor Pete had some many key points that also gave me insight into my own beliefs. I felt that he was qualified to answer many of these questions, coming from a military background as well as facing flooding and police brutality in his own city. He talked about gun control and how average Americans have access to military grade weapons as well as how to combat climate change, as his city was hit by two records breaking flooding. The true issue came when he was questioned about the shooting of Eric Logan in his city under his control. I felt the answer of “too much accountability,” and “ I wasn't able to pick a side yet,” weren't good enough questions. Many of the other candidates also gave him ideas of what he SHOULD HAVE done, such as firing the sheriff. Police brutality is a giant issue that we are facing in America today and for the Mayor to say that she just didn't have the time to fix it or that he couldn't do anything made me feel as if e was detached from the issue and that he will never really understand the severity of his actions of the issue black Americans are truly facing.

KAMALA HARRIS-

She absolutely killed it at the debates, no cap. She talked about getting rid of the tax bill, which I completely support, as well as calling the issue of climate change a “climate crisis.” She said she wants to end the detention camps, fight for DACA, reenter the Paris Agreement, and to tackle gun control, as well as giving congress ultimatums, or else facing an executive order. When arguing with Biden over his separationist comments, she mentioned how she one of the black girls that came into segregated schools after Brown v. Board, which was heartfelt and it was amazing learning about that experience and how close Biden's words came to the American heart. All of these points she made were incredible and well throughout, and I agreed with each and every one of them. However, as prompted by Joe Biden, Kamala is in the fact “police,” and has had a difficult relationship with black Americans in California during her time as a prosecutor. She has been known for being internally racist and has put more black people in jail or have threatened them with jail time during her reign, which is something we don't need in the White House. The times where she threatened to send parents to jail if their child missed extended periods of school is extrememly daunting and something that disgusted me.

BETO O’ROURKE-

Named “bby” in my notes, I hate to say he made a fool of himself on the stage. I have been following him on his heel since the Senate race in 2018, and I felt as if he just want ready for the enormous task of running for president, or at least debating with 9 other people. He spoke Spanish in his first question, which I felt, along with staffers from Politico, was very gimmicky and pandering. Many of his answers were very vague and hard to follow, which has been a trend so far his entire campaign. He mentioned, however, that jail systems were the single largest healthcare provider for Americans, which, either true or not, is damning and I felt is a large issue we should be looking at and thanked him for that insight. He also mentioned the issue of trafficking, which many candidates did not discuss, which is also a large issue that has been overlooked, so I felt it was good for him to discuss these issues even if the other candidates are not discussing them, because those two are very real issues that have been growing in the recent years that many Americans don't realize and has also being a growing concern for many Americans and humans around the world.

CORY BOOKER-

Along with creating a great meem that night, Senator Booker made some very great points on that stage. For most of the night, Booker talked about either gun reform or reforms in the criminal justice system. He had the right to answer many of these questions, being a black America and often (to my annoyance) talking about how he lived in the poorest of communities growing up and have seen how modern Americans have struggled in today's economy. He was an amazing candidate, who also spoke Spanish. I enjoyed listening to him talk and made many good points.

AMY KLOBUCHAR-

She felt very down to earth the entire debate and gave me much of a Midwestern vibe, which I am from which made me feel very connected with her. Heading into the debate, I knew much about her past of often being extremely violent to her staffers, and I felt she knew that as well and came onto the scene very relaxed the entire time. She made jokes and quips the entire night that genuinely made me laugh and even made the remark of how there were three females on the stage that were running for president, which is an extreme milestone in American politics. I went as far as writing in my notes that remark by paraphrasing it as her saying “ Women are super cool.” Without completely getting rid of student tuition, she believed in just making it easier for students to pay for college, which sounds like an amazing idea, as well as creating better childcare and governing WITH the PEOPLE, not the elite. She also mentions the facts that immigrants make America, which I couldn't agree with 

JULIÁN CASTRO-

He was incredible the entire night and stood his ground. My friend and I found it every “strange” how the moderator asked him first about issues of immigration first. He mentioned often how Congress must repeal Section 125, which makes crossing the border between ports of entry illegal. I agree with that plan as I often have a very open borders belief in policies(sue me). He ended his remarks Speaking Spanish, the third one to do that night. He was level heading the entire night which was honestly very cool to me. He mentions developing more solar powers if President, as he was able to do that same job and create 800 more jobs in San Antonio, as well as signing an executive order and reentering the Paris Accord,d, which I couldn't agree with more. Shocked that Republicans haven't made any remarks about him and the infamous Fidel Castro, or maybe they have and I haven't noticed.

------------------

There were many more other candidates but those were maybe the most predominant ones to me those two nights. An honorable mention will also go to Bill De Blasio, nicknamed “NYC” in my notes, in a very New Yorker type way, he stood his ground the entire night and never let himself become silenced, which was amazing to see. All of the candidates had great ideas onto how they govern the nation, some I didn't agree with that often *cough*Hickenlooper*cough*, but it was an amazing two-part series.

These nights, I was primarily focusing on the candidates' position on climate change, as it is a growing issue today and the world doesn't have much time in figuring out how to solve the issue effective immediately. It disappointed me that many of the candidates felt as if the solution to climate change was to either create more solar energy or support greener incentives instead of focusing on the true problem, major industries. None of the candidates mentioned the issue of corporations and industries pollution our air in bigger amounts than an individual can do in a year or the issue of diets and how it has caused a decrease in animal life both on land and in our seas. But we can only go forward.

[zendayaxcoleman]

TASK FOUR

Name someone in your family who you feel closest to: A sister? A Brother? A dad? Etc. 

Her mom! Claire and Zendaya are more like best friends, and her mom is always the one to puppy sit Noon when she’s away for work. Zendaya also loves hanging out with her mom so she can help make jewelry for her mom’s shop. 

What is your celeb’s relationship like with their family?: Do they see them often? Talk to them every now and then?

Zendaya believes family is everything. She and her siblings hangout all the time and she makes sure to call her mom and dad usually every two days or so unless she’s super busy then at least once a week but they all text constantly. They come and visit or Zendaya goes to visit them as much as possible! 

Does your family live in South Haven? Or do they live somewhere else?: 

Most of her family still lives in Oakland where she was born, but a few of her siblings have moved, but not too terribly far away. 

How often do you talk to your family?: 

All the time. Zendaya is always sending dumb stuff in her sibling groupchat. She calls her parents as much as possible and tries to make as much time as possible to see them, though life gets in the way pretty often.

With what you do for a living, how is your family with your fame life? Are they supportive?: 

Her parents are extremely supportive of her! When Zendaya started on Disney, her dad moved with her to Los Angeles and her mom stayed back since she was a teacher and they’ve never stopped supporting her. Her family keeps her down to earth and reminds her of who she really is. 

What family member is a per se role model in your celebrities life?:

Zendaya’s parents, even though it’s more than one we’ll roll with it! She looks up to her parents, much like every kid does, and admires them for how hard they work and how much they love her. (The three of them are so cute ugh) 

How does your celebrity look at life now from when they were younger? Because of their family?: 

Because of her family, Zendaya hasn’t really changed the way she looks at life. Unlike some celebrities, Zendaya stayed pretty much the same and didn’t let fame go to her head. Her family reminds her to stay humble since she started out just like any other kid in Oakland and to stay true to herself. 

How was it for you growing up? What kind of life did you have?: 

`Prior to being on Disney at age thirteen, Zendaya was the typical kid in Oakland, California. They didn’t have a lot of money to spare, especially with two parents working as teachers but there was never a lack of love in the Stoermer-Coleman house. 

TASK FIVE

Tell us about someone who your celebrity trusts the most?: They can live in town or outside of town

Either Zac or her assistant/brother/grandma/best friend, Darnell, but trying to pick one would be impossible. 

Who is someone your celebrity has met once but will never forget?:

Robert Downey Jr. The king of all things Marvel, who could forget meeting him? 

Describe a fangirl/boy moment when your celebrity met RDJ: 

Zendaya met Robert when Tom brought her along on set of Infinity War because they happened to both be in the same city for once and it was the only chance they had to hangout, Zendaya was the epitome of an awkward fangirl when she met him and took a few pictures. 

Name a celebrity in town who your own celeb is jealous of, and tell us why?: 

Zac Efron, hands down. Not for a bad reason, just because he got to meet the Rock. 

Name a celebrity who has changed your South Haven experience?:

So many people! Camila comes to mind pretty quickly, Zendaya absolutely adores her and really loves their friendship. 

Name a couple in South Haven who you adore? And why?:

Joe and Ben, but also Camila and KJ, another impossible decision. Both couples have done nothing but shown love to Zendaya and both of them remind her that love is a real possibility! 

Name a celebrity who you never thought you would be close with until you came to South Haven?:

Tons come to mind but Armie and Ben for sure. Zendaya values her friendships with both of them a lot, but never in a million years would she have guessed that she would get so close with the two of them! 

TASK SIX 

Is your celebrity single, taken, married, etc. If not would they like to be?:

Zendaya is very happily in a relationship with Zac Efron!

Is your celebrity the type to have a lot or friends or a few close friends?:

A few close friends for sure, though she’s willing to make friends with just about anyone, Zendaya relies very heavily on a small circle of people. 

Relationships Wise, is your celebrity the type to be in a relationship or just hookup with a bunch of people?:

Definitely the type to be in a relationship, she tried the whole hookup with a bunch of different people thing and surprise surprise, it ended horribly, but she’d glad to now just have one man to throw all of her love at. 

Has your celebrity ever been heartbroken? If so, tell us about it!:

Sadly, yes. After dating a guy for four years, Zendaya found out that for the last year and a half, the guy she’d been dating had been cheating on her with various girls. To make matters worse, he ended up releasing a rap song about her. 

If it has, how has South Haven changed your view on love life?: 

Before coming to South Haven, Zendaya didn’t even really believe in love. Her parents split up when she was a kid, and though they still get along really well, she just never grew up around that romantic type of love. Then her ex happened and then she lost touch with the next guy she fell for. But now, Zendaya is happily with the guy she lost touch with. Zac reminds her every day that love is a real possibility and she definitely gives South Haven credit for bringing them together. 

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