#do americans know what a joke their country became the last time he was in?

[dsabian]

I do not understand how this can happen once. But now it's happened twice.

Just an fyi, it's not just america that's going to suffer for the next four years. I'm Australian and I never felt closer to WWIII than when trump was in last time.

Is it sexism? Is that what got him over the line?

Whatever.

Right now, this minute (unless it's bed time in america idk) I want those of you with morals to start working toward the presidency. Every one of you. I don't care about your age, gender, sexuality, ethnicity. If you think ppl should have bodily autonomy, if you think grabbing women Anywhere without their permission is bad, if you think every one of your citizens should be treated equally, if you think war is very bad and there's always a better solution, then start working toward the white house. Flood the options with good ppl. If the only politicians available in four years are those with ethics, then your incredibly weird way of voting won't matter anymore.

Basically, the next four years are what they are. Focus on what comes next.

[thegreenmeridian]

I turn up last night at the Chabad rabbi’s house. There’s security cameras everywhere, Securitas stickers in the window. I wonder if they’ve ever had to press their panic button.

As I’m waiting for someone to come to the door, another guest arrives. He’s about my age, upsettingly handsome, and Israeli. I tell him it’s my first ever Shabbat, and he says he’ll talk me through everything as we go along.

The rabbi’s wife has me braiding challah alongside her 10 year old daughter and the Israeli. I think about how many generations back it was that someone from my family did this.

More people arrive. A tourist couple, a middle aged husband and wife from America. We chat about where they’ve been so far and joke about how bad Olafsvík smells because of the dried fish factory there.

Next is some young Haredi guys. I wonder how walking around Iceland dressed as they dress has been for them, if anyone has harassed them. We chat about where we’ve been in the world and why they came to Iceland (they’re in yeshiva in New York, they saw cheap flights on an Icelandic budget airline and thought why the hell not).

More people trickle in. Some American students, freshly graduated (did they get screamed at by their peers? Were they allowed to move freely around campus?).

A Ukrainian refugee, her family’s from the same area as the American guy’s family. His grandma was the only survivor of a pogrom, hers one of the only survivors of the holocaust.

Then the rabbi comes, and the Israeli guy hands me a siddur and in a low voice explains to me what to do, what to read. Says it’s no pressure, Chabad prayers can be quite a lot. I’m standing to one side because I feel like I’m not allowed to be fully involved, new to this as I am, but one of rabbi’s kids is running around so we move into the group that’s gathered around the little alter (it bothers me that I don’t know the name of this, or the words everyone else is singing and chanting and mumbling). I feel something land on the back of my head - as he’s rocking and praying, the rabbi has grabbed a kippah from the pile on the table and plopped it on my head.

Prayers end, I still have no idea what was going on but I felt something all the same. We sit to eat, and I’m next to the Israeli, who’s next to the rabbi. As the rabbi says prayers in Hebrew, his wife opposite me explains quietly what’s going on. When it comes time to wash our hands, she teaches me how to say the blessing.

The food is amazing. Hummus and tagine and soup and all sorts of other bits and pieces. The challah I braided is soft and fluffy, and even tastier when it’s soaked up a little of the baba ganoush and olive oil on my plate. I think about how if I tell my friends what sort of dishes were served here, the words “cultural appropriation” might come up.

I talk to everyone at some point or another. The Israeli guy is here working in the tourist industry, the rabbi’s wife has British family and grew up in a Nordic country. The American guy is a doctor at a teaching hospital near a campus, he’s had people picket his hospital.

The graduate women are laughing at Iceland having a TGI Fridays in between casually talking about other students throwing things at them.

At one point, some asks me what my first Shabbat has been like for me, and I say it feels like coming home. The Israeli puts his arm around me and says “welcome back, brother”. The Haredi guys tell me that a Jewish life is a joyous life.

I take off my new kippah and put it in my pocket when I leave.

And then today. I arrive for morning prayers, I meet new people, the rabbi’s toddler son clings to my leg as his wife makes me a coffee while explaining how that’s done on Shabbat. Her grandma converted at 18, her grandfather was a secular son of survivors who became religious again after meeting her. She told a story last night about her grandfather, an elderly and highly esteemed professor of history who refuses to retire, having someone get up in his face while he was getting the bus home and pointing their phone camera at his face.

The Israeli guy had to head back to where he lives (also out in the country, not far from me by Icelandic standards) so he’s not here today, but there’s my Haredi friends from last night, as well as some new people. An American who’s been here since the 80s, a European guy (Spanish, I think I heard him say, and I wonder if my possibly Sephardic family and his may have known each other half a millennia ago), and all of the rabbi’s kids are awake. They’d flown in from Sweden yesterday morning so most of them were asleep.

There’s prayers again, I don’t know what’s being said, I am only vaguely following along in the Siddur. Most of the men rock and sway as they pray, I’m aware of this being a thing Jews do but not why. I add it to my ever growing mental list of things to look up later. I feel my body want to join in, but I feel like I’m not allowed.

The Torah portion this week is from Leviticus, and I have a moment of being uncomfortably aware of who I am as the rabbi, albeit briefly, touches on the bit about unnatural relationships. He shook my hand, I’m included in the prayers, so they see me as a man. I’m certain they don’t know what sort of man I am. That’s a conflict with myself and this culture and religion that I’m gonna have to deal with eventually, but not now. Now, I push it aside and listen to the discussion on our obligations to each other as people, and how Torah law is similar to and differs from general Western law. I listen to the doctor talk about performing CPR on someone who he saw collapse. I wasn’t raised Christian but I still expect the words “Good Samaritan” to come up. I’m not sure how that makes me feel.

And then, more food. More food, more discussions, more people coming in. Another American who lives local, a couple I don’t get the chance to speak to, but I think at least one of them has an Icelandic accent. The rabbi’s wife points me out to people and tells them where I live. My kippah slides from my shaved head as I turn to talk to someone else, it would be embarrassing if I hadn’t seen someone else’s fall off not that long ago.

People filter out, and a group of tourists arrive. IDF guys on leave, they’ve just finished the ring road tour. We drink a toast with them. One of the Haredi guys has a young cousin who just got called up, one of the Americans has a nephew who was serving on the border when the pogrom happened. One of the Israeli guys asks me what bars I recommend in Reykjavik.

I leave when the Haredi guys do. The one I spoke to the most promised to come visit when he next comes to Iceland (it was a short trip, he wants to see more) and I wonder if he remembers me saying how there’s a guy in my town with from-the-river-to-the-sea painted on his van. The other Haredi guy says he’ll look me up on Facebook, and says he’s glad I got to see how good being Jewish can be.

I get halfway back to the bus stop before I remember to put my kippah in my pocket.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

DON'T YOU QUIT!

TCINLA

JUL 13, 2024

If the Cretin News Network Baby-Kissing Competition two weeks ago was the bottom of the campaign to date, President Biden conclusively demonstrated with his speech last night in Detroit that the Baby-Kissing Competition was a one-off “bad night.” This speech was the top, the definition of a “barn burner.”

The speech was give at a rally at a high school gymnasium in Detroit. Biden walked on stage to audience chants of “Don’t you quit!”

In the speech, President Biden pitched his plan for the first 100 days of a second term with a Democratic Congress:

Restore Roe v. Wade.

Eliminate medical debt by having the government buy up such debt and cancel it.

Raise the minimum wage.

Protect workers’ right to organize.

Ban assault weapons.

Continue to “keep leading the world” on clean energy and addressing climate change.

Sign into law the John Lewis Voting Rights Act, which would end voter suppression, and the Freedom to Vote Act, which would protect voter rights and election systems, as well as end partisan gerrymandering.

Biden reminded the audience that he was the first president to walk a picket line, because “when labor does well, everybody does well.”

“When Trump comes here to tell you how great he is for the auto industry, remember this: when Trump was president we lost 86,000 jobs in unions. I created 275,000 auto jobs in America. In fact, what’s been true in the auto industry is true all over America: since I became president, we created nearly 16 million new jobs nationwide, 390,000 of those jobs right here in Michigan. We’ve created 800,000 manufacturing jobs nationwide, including 24,000 in Michigan.”

Forcefully contrasting his own record with Trump, who he called “a loser,” Biden said, “Donald Trump is the only president in American history, other than Herbert Hoover, who lost more jobs than he had when he came in. That’s why I call him Donald ‘Herbert Hoover’ Trump.”

Biden also brought up Project 2025, the policy plan written by the Heritage Foundation on how to install a right wing dictatorship in the first 180 days Trump is in office.

Pointing out the calls in the document to criminalize the shipment of abortion medication, deny contraceptive coverage, make cuts to Medicare, and eliminate the Department of Education, he went on to say, “Project 2025 is the biggest attack on our system of government and our personal freedom that has ever been proposed to this country. We’ve never seen anything like this. It’s not a joke. It’s time for us to stop treating politics like entertainment and reality TV. Another four years of Donald Trump is deadly serious. Deadly serious.”

He ended with a joke about his age, saying “I know I look 40”, telling the crowd that “with age comes wisdom. I know how to tell the truth, I know right from wrong, and I know I have demonstrated how to do this job.”

MSNBC’s Chris Hayes called the speech “the best performance Biden’s given since the State of the Union”.

What was the response of the “Democratic elites” to the speech?

The New York Times reported that so long as Biden remains the nominee, major donors will put on hold “roughly $90 million in pledged donations”.

Let’s remember that among the Masters of the Universe, aka the “Major Donors” of the Democratic Party are the financial geniuses who keep funding the artistic antics written by, directed by, and starring George Clooney (“The Monuments Men” anyone? How about “Leatherheads”?), master of all those “Nespresso” ads.

Despite the Press Corpse, there was good news for Biden yesterday: polls show him improving since the Atlanta Baby Kissing Competition, and that there was no great loss in support after that - other than among the collection of clucks in Washington who remind us that Mark Twain’s 1873 observation: “Consider a congressman, then consider an idiot. Bah! I repeat myself!” is still true.

The NPR/PBS/Marist poll released Friday shows Biden leads Trump 50%-48% in a head-to-head matchup.

Jim Clyburn of South Carolina, the dean of the Congressional Black caucus, told NBC that Biden “sometimes mangles words and phrases but all of that is almost natural for people who grew up stuttering. He has one of the best minds that I have ever been around … and so I would hope that we would focus on the substance of this man … and how he has run this country.

Asked by the reporter “Is this the same Joe Biden that we saw four years ago?”, Clyburn said: “No! I’m not the same Jim Clyburn that I was four years ago and in ten days I’ll be 84. But I’m a bit wiser than I was before … It’s biblical. When I became a man I put away childish things. Joe Biden has put away childish things because he has become a man. His opponent is still a child.”

Charlie Pierce said of Biden’s press conference on Thursday: “I was wavering. I admit it. But I’m not anymore. That was a president onstage on Thursday. But I’ve watched the dynamic of the past two weeks play out time and again. It chased Bill Clinton for eight years and it chased Al Gore for eight months. Clinton survived, barely, and Gore lost an election to trivia and some really horseshit reporting from the campaign press, which, in combination with the Florida Hijack, gave us the previous Republican Worst President Ever.”

According to The Clinton Rules, which the D.C. Press Corpse has followed ever since the Lewinsky “scandal,” once The Story is birthed, no matter which set of ratfuckers or bad reporters are its midwives, The Story must be kept alive. There will always be another document, another “issue,” another set of questions leading to Clouds and Shadows over the politician in question.

What continues to piss me off is that this time there are dozens of Democratic political geniuses (looking at you, Axelrod and Plouffe) and Masters of the Universe who continue to push their bullshit regardless of what President Biden does, none of whom seem to have any idea what they want beyond forcing the incumbent president off the ticket.

And this morning the 538.com forecast has Biden winning 51 to Trump’s 48.

President Biden's full speech in Detroit

[im-tempted]

The Black Parade is a rock opera concept album written by American rock band My Chemical Romance. It follows the story of a young, ex military, terminal cancer patient  as he reckons with his life, death, and the impact his life really had. Many people like to rearrange the song order of the album to tell the story, however I think the order of all of the tracks in Black Parade are where they’re meant to be. MyChem’s other albums tell a cohesive story within their designated track orders and never need to be swapped around so I personally follow that rule as well when it comes to Black Parade.

Of course we start with The End narrating, rather sarcastically, the current situation of our protagonist. The End and Dead! are two tracks in this album that are the definition of DO NOT SEPARATE.

Generally I see The End and Dead! as the big opener,This Is How I Disappear as anger The Sharpest Lives as reckless self indulgence/destruction, Welcome to the Black Parade as a reflection in a moment of clarity almost like a broken promise the patient never wanted to break, I Don’t Love You is the patient speaking to his partner possibly trying to convince them to give up loving him because he's a dead man already.

House of Wolves is the religious guilt/anger of realizing that all the actions he took serving his country and how he lived his life were damning and not saving, while Welcome to the Black Parade is a hopeful look on the afterlife, House of Wolves is a negative. “Heaven” vs “Hell” maybe.

Cancer is pretty self explanatory, patient speaking to his loved ones nearing his end. Mama is A Lot. It’s a confession of sin from the war (this and blood and dead are where the military context comes from as well as the social political climate of when the album was released) it's a confession of sin in the personal life as well. “You should have raised a baby girl I could have been a better son” can take on a few meanings all of which are up for interpretation. Sleep is a sobering realization. It’s devoid of anger or passion or anything, like a quiet defeat.The opening tape recording is of Gerard describing to their therapist the nightmares they had while staying in a haunted house to write this album with his bandmates.

Teenagers I have not enough to say regarding the overall story but a banger. Disenchanted is in the title, it's the final result and reflection of the patient’s life. No matter what he did it was always going to end up this way. Nothing he could have done would have changed it.

 Famous Last Words is an interesting one. Gerard originally wrote it for their brother Mikey, who was taking a short break from the band during the writing process to deal with various mental health going ons at the moment. When he returned and heard the song he asked for it (AND DISENCHANTED!) to be on the album. It fits thematically, and adds a hopeful note to the end of a tragedy.

THESE ARE MY INTERPRETATIONS I WOULD LOVE TO HEAR YOUR OWN IF YOU'VE GOT ANY. ABSOLUTELY AMAZING ALBUM

this became so much longer than i thought it would i am so sorry

ok finally have the time to sit down and respond to this idk how long this will get i have thoughts(tm) if theirs one thing I'm always thinking about it's death and SPECIFICALLY terminal illness which as someone who's actually had that will probably wildly influence my reading of the album (I know shock to everyone I've never been to war) as well as my big feelings about medical things in general (this album was made in a lab about me actually)

overarching it's always interesting to see stories where death is not only expected but something actively being waited for I feel like everyone and their mother knows they're going to die to the point it's joked about but I don't think many people actually understand that as someone who had to metaphorically stare down the barrel of a gun from birth it's always interesting to see others express that feeling of not quite apathy that I've always felt but the moment you stop trying to claw your way away from death and when you start just living with it always over you shoulder

anyways back to the actual album

there's something so visceral about giving your body to your country and having it not be able to save you back of sacrificing your safety for you to come back home just to die of something no one can save you from there is no atonement in death of chance you went somewhere and you hurt a lot of people and you come back and don't even have the chance to die of it you die of chance like all the others like people who weren't broken for a cause who didn't shape themselves into a weapon to serve

they say that they don't feel bad for the blood on their hands and should they? for getting sucked into the largest propaganda campaign for trying their best for being in the wrong place at the wrong time a dying man can feel no guilt at some point it's just to late there is no point in feeling bad for what brought you somewhere when you simply don't have time

I think this album is also particularly interesting when the singer is explicitly talking to others (like in mama) 'cuz even though the POV person seems to have come to terms with what they've done it's interesting to one of the hardest parts of dying is trying to explain to anyone else you are because no one will actually believe you I don't have to many thoughts on that right now but I just think that's a part of dying people don't talk about is when you've come to terms with it and no one else has

OVERALL I will be thinking about this album probably for a while and this isn't even close to all of my thoughts but I have so many posts I can make in the future so there's always that This one got a tad away from me I can talk about each song on it's own later if you want but for right now I think all the time about what it's like for someone to come to terms with the fact they are dying and what they had to make themselves to get there (< is so normal about this and hasn't based their whole life around it for almost two decades)

GREAT SONGS

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Last night I went to a comedy pub night, my brother didn’t perform but he was there to watch, so afterwards I hung around the bar talking to him, and he knows all the comedians so sometimes they were talking to us too. My brother said he sometimes enjoys British comedy but doesn’t like it as much as what we have here, and I asked him what British comedy he’s seen/heard to base that on.

He said Michael McIntyre, and I said you can’t decide you dislike British comedy based on Michael McIntyre, that’s like deciding you dislike American comedy based on Dane Cook. Also, if you hate Michael McIntrye then you already have lots in common with British comedians, from watching enough Britcom TV from a certain time period (2009-ish to 2015-ish), I actually started feeling bad for him, even though he is a shit comedian, because he became everyone’s target when they wanted to make a joke about shit comedians.

Then my brother mentioned Jimmy Carr, and I said fuck that guy, you can’t base your opinion on him either. He said Jimmy Carr is probably the most popular British comedian in Canada, which is true, he performs here quite a lot. He’s at the Montreal Just For Laughs festival every year and tours here often; he’s just finished a big tour of our country in which he sold out arenas in multiple cities. Actually, last month I was coaching a tournament in an arena, and the big boards with rotating advertisements occasionally showed Jimmy Carr’s giant face because he was performing there soon, and it was very weird. Extremely weird cognitive dissonance to be coaching my sport and seeing Jimmy Carr at the same time, I had to stop looking at them. Incidentally, I’ve always assumed Jimmy Carr’s frequent touring of Canada is because his wife’s Canadian, but I don’t know that for sure. I just know he’s the British comedian who comes here the most often.

Anyway, I told my brother that I know Jimmy Carr is very famous, but he can’t be the representative for all British comedy, especially not among comedians who should know more. My brother then asked his friend, who was standing nearby, is also a comedian, and runs the comedy night we’d just attended, who’s the “face” of British comedy at the moment. The guy said, “Carr or Gervais”, and my heart sunk into my feet over how shitty that fact is. Then he said, “But also that guy, James Acaster.” He pronounced the A at the beginning of “Acaster” the way you’d pronounce it in “apple”, so he clearly didn’t know a lot about that guy. But still.

I’ve said before that I think James Acaster is very, very good, but maybe slightly overrated just because he’s so incredibly highly rated that it would be hard not to be. I’ve said that before at times, but then any time I actually listen to his stand-up, especially anything recent, I think, “Oh, right, I forgot that he really is that fucking good.” Anyway, I have noticed his increasing popularity in North America lately – not because I live in North America and hear people talk about him (until last night, that is), but just because he’s been visiting the States and doing projects there, and I see Americans talk about him on the internet, even Americans who don’t seem to be very into Britcom generally. I’ve wondered before if he’s setting up a track to “break America” so hard that he ends up living there at some point.

As sad as it would be to think of British comedy without James Acaster in it, I’ve decided that needs to happen. He needs to fully break America, move there like Gervais if necessary, just to make “Carr or Gervais” no longer people’s first answer when asked who’s the face of British comedy to a North American audience.

Anyway, I’ve sent my brother the Rhod Gilbert DVDs, and if he doesn’t like that then I guess there’s no selling him on Britcom, but also no respecting his tastes in anything ever again.

[bllsbailey]

Too Funny: Kamala Harris Book of Achievements Consists of… Empty Pages

There are many serious issues facing the country – and the world—right now, including a possible Israeli retaliatory strike against Iran, the heartbreaking havoc wrought by Hurricane Helene and the danger of the oncoming Hurricane Milton, and a presidential election that may be one of the most consequential in American history.

Sometimes, however, you come across a moment that is just so darn funny that, for a moment at least, you forget all that and just laugh out loud. Such was the case for me Sunday evening when I came across this tweet showing a book that listed all of Kamala Harris’ accomplishments.

What’s so funny? The book is full of blank pages. That's a double knee-slapper, as we used to call awesome jokes back in my youth:

Now that is good stuff. It reminds me of books that used to appear in Barnes and Noble and such around holiday time: “The Book of Irish Erotica” and “The Nuanced Thoughts of Joe Biden.” (OK, I just made up that last title, but I do remember similar such fare in the past.)

In fact, a search of the interwebs turns up blank tomes available right now: “All the Great Things About Turning 50” and “The Presidency of Hillary Clinton.” Or here’s my personal favorite: “What Men Know About Women.”

Come on, try not to laugh.

One of our favorite internet personalities, Il Donaldo Trumpo, said, “SO GOOD!!!”

Humor is the best weapon:

'Mr Reagan' Has Competition As 'Il Donaldo Trumpo' Posts Hysterical Kamala 'Border Czar' Parody Video

'Mr Reagan' Strikes Again—Destroys Gavin Newsom and His Lies in Parody Video

Karma Is a Female Dog: Trump Hater Gets His Just Rewards in Hysterical Video

Turns out that it really is a published (blank) book, though, and readers added some funny, tongue-in-cheek reviews: "Had such a hard time putting this one down as it really inspired me. Such a riveting and awe inspiring masterpiece that really gives you a lens into this woman’s psyche and overall person as a whole."

Or, "A brutally honest read on our V.P. Highly recommended no matter what your political affiliation is."

We could perhaps help out the “Kamala Achievements” author and supply an entire quarter to half page of Harris’ “accomplishments”:

Was the tie-breaking vote on the “Inflation Reduction Act,” which helped send inflation through the roof

Failed miserably in her duties as “border czar,” overseeing a floodgate at our southern boundary as millions of illegal aliens poured in

Was promoted to Democrat presidential candidate without winning a single primary vote

Covered up the stunning mental decline of her ostensible boss, Joe Biden, even as the rest of the world became fully aware that he was utterly compromised

Has refused to hold a single press conference since she became the Dem nominee 77 days ago

I’m sure there are other achievements, but I can’t think of a single one that has improved the life of the average American. Like her mind, the pages of this book are almost entirely blank.

Vote accordingly. 

[annjensenbooks-blog]

Never forget what you post may be your last words.

I've restarted this post several times and now am at the F-it stage so forgive my strange rambling.

Several months ago, my ex-husband and father of my two teenage children died of a heart attack at the age of 49. My son, who is on the autism spectrum, was staying with him at the time and called me in a panic. My daughter and I drove as quickly as possible and the three of us were present while EMTs tried unsuccessfully to save his life. To say I have large feelings on the event would be an epic understatement.

I'll save talking about the impacts from that day for other posts. What is relevant to what I want to say today is what was on his computer screen at the moment of his death:

"The pain in my jaw and chest is so bad I barely slept last night. I've done some research and am sure that I have TMJ. This is a nightmare. The f-ing medical system is an expensive joke designed to suck our money out. "

There were several friends sympathizing with his pain and agreeing that medical care was too inconvenient and expensive. Which he responded to with...

"I'm glad I took those EMT classes or I would right now be wasting thousands of dollars on going to the hospital thinking I was having a heart attack or stroke."

That was three hours before his death and as far as I can tell the last thing he said to anyone. From the autopsy he'd been having a heart attack for an extended period of time. From what I've read he might have survived if he'd gotten treatment right away. Those are the facts as I know them. Now here is what I have to say after months of grief, anger, and frustration.

What the F*C%!

If you even think you are having a medical emergency, don't stall or let money concerns stop you from calling 911. Our country has laws for emergency rooms that mean they can't turn you away. Your continued life is worth risking having a debt you might not be able to pay. This is especially important if you have family or children who will be devastated by your death.

Ok I'll admit, I became his ex-wife for many, many reasons so take what I'm going to say with a grain of salt. His last post was frustrating but that was just the tip of the iceberg. He was extremely active on social media advocating for trans/gay rights, socialism, and homeless rights. On the surface all of those seem like positive things but what I'm really struggling with the fact that a man I once loved left behind a legacy of online hate and vitriol.

He was a troll. He would find people who opposed his views and go after them with personal and vicious attacks. Instead of posting the informed and well thought out arguments I know he was capable of he would stoop to name calling and petty insults. He saw it as his mission to go after anyone not on the extreme left with the same tactics as people on the extreme right use only in reverse.

If you haven't guessed yet I don't agree that hate speech or attacks in any direction is productive. Differing opinions and values are an important part of our freedom as Americans. I do hate that in the sound bite society we live in basic human respect is often ignored in favor of shock value. My favorite quote from one of the smartest women I've ever heard speak is "When they go low, we go high."

In the online world it seems like everyone feels that they need to not only share their opinions but defend them with a vigor that can only be compared to ancient gladiators. The shelter that being behind a computer has brought out the worst in people and I really wish that before hitting 'send' that people might stop for a minute and ask, "What if these were my last words to the world?"

My children in their grief scoured social media to preserve anything they could of their father. Unfortunately, they were shocked by a lot of what they found. Because he didn't set his privacy settings on his posts or keep his more extreme activities off the public forums instead of being remembered as the intelligent educated man he was, his children looked back on his words and only saw the anger.

As an author my books will live on and while some of the characters may share my morals and views what I write is fiction. I don't want this to be all that is known about me. This blog is going to be about the woman behind the words, not the perfect image that most people put on social media but the gritty truth. I'm going to write about my struggles and thoughts from the past, present and eventual future. One day I hope my kids will read this and understand who I am and be proud.

Disclaimer:

If you found this by searching specifically for me your internet-fu is strong or the AI searching gods are scary

Yes, this is the blog of the author Ann Jensen

No, this will not be curated content about releases or what I'm working on (www.annjensenwrites.com has that stuff)

This Blog is my therapy and a journal of my rants/raves/realizations about life.

Read/enjoy/hate at your own risk because it's not for you it's for me.

If you go back and read my old posts, you will be very confused by this content because I haven't posted in years (I forgot I had an account).

Why not start a new blog you ask?

Because I'm Lazy

I don't want to lose the old content (It makes me nostalgic)

This post is a new beginning for me on this platform. I plan to tell stories from my life, share some lessons I've learned and hopefully work out some pent-up anger and grief.

[castle-dominion]

4x9 kill shot OOH A PLOT HEAVY ONE DJFHKJSDHFKJASD HEE HEE HEE

Or you should only get married once- or that! Ok! Girl YOU help, you're the one there!

This scene made my mom do her resistance band physiotherapy while we were watching lol Oof poor beckett. trauma or smth. Like hamantha except it doesn't actually work that way, right? Mythbusters did that

Oh that's so tragic Is that pattern or blood on him? Pattern. it is the weave of his shirt.

not a good joke XD Beckett looks nice today but also like that shirt is pyjamas. Castle looks normal, good as always, ryan is wearing that suit style he does, love the vest as always. & let's check my laundry to make sure it doesn't flood. Wait I had a dream about chicken stock last night. It was intense. At least, for me, a chef.

When I first watched this I didn't get it but now that it's the second time I can hear the "It’s a common ammunition favored by… ...........long range shooters." LMAO INTERNET EXPLORER do adults actually say "I'm a big girl" in a serious way? I thought it was lighthearted, like it seems here. "haha I'm a big girl now, you don't need to avoid the word, silly you silly me" See after this point it became seamless, shooter sniper whatever. Bro what's so special about "my unit" of special forces. (tho yeah it really is skill to be able to do that) Oof she asked if she felt it Why would you say that castle?

Ok so exit wounds are so so much worse than entrance wounds, but we only get a glimpse of her back so yk maybe we can't see it. But as someone else pointed out, She Had Surgery. She should have not only a Bullet Scar, but also the Surgical Scar.

Ooh now that's a sexy gun. & I'm an anti-gun person. (doesn't mean I can't find guns intriguing.)

The way the shooter was looking made it seem random. I also did not see a flag.

Poor beckett & the car door. Someone needs to write that fanfic at the diner under the table & I think it is going to have to be me. The captions wrote nada THIS time. The what now? I'm not american idk any dc shooter Ooh good scenes, the overwhelm overstim sounds doppler shiny it tickles my neurodivergence (adhd) as it prods at hers (ptsd) yo I LOVE hearing him talk smart like that. Lanie looks soo so cute when she's concerned Nobody's going to offer her a hand up? why was the /siren/ the trigger tho? btw nice jean jacket

wait I was looking on the wrong side of the sign! I went back & I did see the corner of the flag I think.

Ryan has a nice jacket, light grey with a faint square pattern on it, plus a lapel pin as always, blue dhirt, tie, & looks like the pants match the jacket. Esposito has a collared t-shirt, grey/black, only three buttons or so, badge around his neck. Yeah castle shut it Uh gates, you should have identified that you were asking about links first. close to a thousand qualified shooters just from this country tho. You have more than that. Ryan asks if she is ok when she just doesn't respond & like bro of effing course she is not ok but he is expressing concern & I love it

KB: I don’t have PTSD. me: you literally do??? You know, paranoia sucks but sometimes it can be useful. I always try to sit facing so I can see the room or the door but that's mostly paranoia. I NEVER go through a door I don't know I can open again but this one is actually useful & important. Yeah it is a bit paranoid to check the door every time I take a break at work but at school I went to take a break & check the door & I was right that it didn't open. In fact: right after I checked, someone came through a door on the other side & I had to let them in. Mum used to work in an airport. I grew up post 9/11, there are school/mass shooting crises, so the airport would host active shooter training. Heck, I was at a religious event & we got a bomb threat! So yeah, I care about this stuff. Always know the exits & muster points in case of fire or shooter. Always know where the fire extinguishers are. Yeah maybe some anti anxieties would help take the edge off until you deal with the trauma, then you can go off the meds once you've dealt with it. But lots of anti anxieties & SSRIs take a couple weeks to work hun "you don't have to" ugh so so good She's got to be able to do something to take the edge off while she refuses to deal with it for real...

RC: How worried should I be about Beckett? She’s never snapped at me like that before. JE: ... ??/ . RC: And meant it. JE: Hell, it was bad for me when I came back and I never took a bullet. Except then in s5 they retcon that, espt says to his bud that he took a bullet for him & the bud owes him info on this burner laptop. RC: Well, at least she doesn’t remember it. JE: Or she doesn’t want to remember. RC: JE: A thing like that? It’s easier to just keep in a box. [& yk what? Good for her if that was the case.] This case might bust that box open. RC: So, what can we do? KR: Catch the shooter. ["I will be once jerry tyson is in cuffs"] JE: He’s right. Best thing for everyone, Beckett included. In the meantime, just give her space and don’t take it personally. They all love her sm lmao freaking windows media player he is either taunting you, or he is asking for help, same with the little things he leaves at every scene dna? really? ig it is just a figure of speech

cool ass telescope wow I hate the imperial system sm why would a worker's kid be up here with a paper doll? on top of the sandbag/cement bag, castle. That's how you shoot babe. Adjusting for wind is so technical, it's so smart & difficult. Ooh! Another shooting victim? At the same time that espt is explaining it? So cool! hats off to the writer/director/editor/everyone. Or wait, it is not a NEW shooting, it is the one we already saw. Regardless, I love the audio too.

People are GOING Love how castle makes it sound like it's his idea Loud clap of the elevator doors

HOLY CRAP 92 IS A HECK OF A LOT. Seriously, if you want to get into a fight, get two lines of people, & make em hash it out in a good old fashioned brawl, no weapons, & see who wins. woah kate maybe it is time you step off the case. Ask gates to force her off the case. Beckett would hate you even more, gates, but the rest of the team would thank you.

Hun becks is not the one to ask for his help after accusing him like that. kinda wish we got to see more of espt's interview with the fellow

castle coffee is not a good idea, it makes you shakey & anxious. Wait it's decaf. Decaf is just the grossness of the coffee without the caffeine... I think that castle gave her that magnifying glass oh nvm little point viewing espt's interview with marcus

KB: >:( KR, softly: Hey. We’ll figure it out, okay? ugh so soft & caring wait u can get dna from sweat? Also how do you get the sweat dna without the moleskin dna? wow I just noticed beckett has small ears KB: You know he saw her face when he killed her? People always think that snipers are so removed from their targets. But he wasn’t. He was as close as we are right now, looking through that scope. Wow that's something.

mum didn't even recognize becks here bc she looked so out-of-it tbh I thought this was a dream. esp with where her gun was. fun story (with sui tw): mum got into a car accident on the way to school. The car flipped upside down & she had to push herself against the roof of the car to be able to unbuckle herself & get out. When she was ou ttho, she realized she had to go back in & remove the heavy metal music from the CD player so the media couldn't blame it for the accident. As she was going back in, she cut her hands by crawling on the glass. There was blood dripping down her hands onto her wrists. Mum looked at the car & said "my parents are going to kill me." So rumour got around. Nowtransparent had blood on her wrists! Ntp was bleeding from her wrists, she got cut on her wrists! She said her parents would kill her! Ntp cut her wrists! Ntp cut her wrists on purpose! Ntp killed herself because her parents were going to kill her! Ntp's parents were so mad that she killed herself! & then mum showed up to school & everyone was like "I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD" (reminds me, she apparently cut herself when she was younger maybe 13, to see how much it would hurt if she killed herself, because she was an undiagnosed ADHD girl in the 80s.)

You know what, some ppl complain that alexis should not have been the one to figure it out bc there is a team of cops but seriously? I think it doesn't matter & is better for the story & possibly more accurate in some ways too. Tho it just so happens that alexis knows this painter? that part is far fetched. along with the pronunciation. But heck yeah let her live her life it's fine!

Yeah ppl are going to think it is self inflicted. She should really be wearing a more skintight type of sweater, I know she has them, & she should not have bled thru at least not that far. as a SHer I say she could do so much better ryan's so pretty! I'm not a fan of striped shirts but he wears them so often & this one is so pretty. & he has a tie & vest of course. lmao love how beckett is "new york city street name" but ryan is like "church" it warms my folk-catholic heart why are So Many phones ringing & why is nobody answering...? this is the entire homicide department

Well that was scary she was just there on the stretcher... When she took off her jacket I thought for sure she'd have a vest on. she takes off all the stuff to get out of cop mode! that's it! Like how you are only allowed to play with your service dog after you take of their jacket & they clock out. Where is castle tho? He surely would have followed her

This episode is way more esposito involving than I thought it would be. [21:59, INT. PRECINCT, BULLPEN - DAY] RC: She’s spinning out of control. She’s losing her ability to cope. [Esposito blinks at Castle solemnly. The elevator dings & Castle nods to it. The door opens and Beckett hesitates & then steps out, her hands are deep in her pockets.] RC, lowering his voice & stepping closer to Esposito: She should not be on this case. JE: Well, she’s not just going to walk away. [is this man wearing eyeliner btw? bc if he is I love it] RC: No, she’s going to drive herself into the ground. And you’re the only one [Esposito breaks eyecontact] who has any clue as to what she’s going through. So, what helped you? [Esposito looks over to Beckett. Castle follows. Beckett walks to her desk, seemingly shaken. Esposito looks back at Castle & nods.] I'm sure more of them have been shot at some point or another but ig beckett's experience was probs more intense since she almost died. I mean remember when esposito said that ryan was waiting for the other shoe to drop in 4x4 in reference to 3x6?

[22:28, INT. PRECINCT, EVIDENCE ROOM - DAY] KB, hands still deep in her pockets: Espo, what are we doing back here? [I like the nickname espo just fine but the emphasis is on the sito half of it & most nicknames are the emphasized part.] JE: I want to show you something. [Esposito takes out a sniper rifle from under the table.] KB: What is that? JE: The rifle…that shot you. KB, soft & strained: You are way out of line. JE, lifting his fingers to gesture while he holds it: Just look at it. KB: [backs away a bit] No, what the hell are you doing? JE: I’ve been where you are. I know what you’re going through. KB, looking a bit mad now even tho she's on the verge of tears: Javi, I’m fine. [ooh first names] JE, walking slowly closer to her around the table: You’re not fine. You’re just trying to act like you are. [fake it until you make it?] This is just a tool. [Beckett stands with her arms down & out, most fingers are holding her jacket sleeves down but one on each hand is sort of pointing to her.] It’s a hunk of steel. It has no magical powers and the person that fired it is not some all-powerful god. He’s just a guy with a gun. [Beckett either nods or kind of sobs/shakes I can't tell.] Just like the guy we’re hunting now. And like every other bad guy, ["bad guy"] he’s damaged goods. KB: [Blinks, then swallows.] So am I. JE: [eyes flick down to where she was shot for a split second.] That’s right. [Beckett watches him with hurt in her face.] And that’s okay. You think it’s a weakness? [with a firm, almost angry face] Make it a strength. [some things you can do that with but idk abt this... I do like how he does not argue that she is not damaged tho. he says yes you are, we are, & it is not going to break us, it is not going to hold us back. He also says that somehow one can make it into a strength but yk I'm sure he knows what he's talking about.] It’s a part of you. [Beckett cries a single tear. Esposito holds the rifle out for Beckett to take it.] JE: So use it. [The music is solemn. Beckett slowly approaches Esposito who has the rifle extended & she takes the rifle slowly, hands shaking. She sniffs & is crying. Esposito watches her. Beckett makes eye contact & nods. Esposito nods back. He glances down, probably to make sure she has it, then walks away.] Ok so wtf just happened? is THAT what helped u espt? You're just going to leave her now? I'm kind of confused. It was a great great scene tho. Maybe I'll record it for the internet

The nods between castito Man is definitely flashing the camera that coffee cup on purpose

Oh I thought esposito was covering for her, she's actually out here running down a lead. Or not a lead but she's out here with that gun. She just has it & is walking around with it She pulled something? She has a cell phone...

Man just counting money at the table The faces that caspocketto share when becks comes back in <3 Hey mom said she thought the guy had a limp!

Was there some sort of identity switch? He's still my brother

Yeah people are very good at not noticing homeless people

Oh dang that's not an it. Those are many.

Different lighting. The bullets sound like a pack of pencil crayons. Ryan has not changed, is it the same day?

Castle CARES. He is not just in it for the story, he is more useful helping ryan figure out the victims.

I know I'm anti gun with pronouns but dang that is a nice gun. hold on where did they find his car? Was it near where he is rn, getting into position?

lmao high schoolers. I like how the bus driver just smiles back at them too.

I like how the one pedestrian starts running when they see the cops. Esposito goes the other way... Also he gets the big gun lol. Ryan whispering "Come on, come on." & then yelling "Answer your phone, damn it!"

he is NOT going to be there. Or he is & is going to target beckett on purpose. wait this was ONE open suite? It's huge! he isn't going to be in this room either or nvm there's just a random photo of a schoolbus there or wait no he's not here or ok he is then! Wow that was a lot ooh, you see how he kicked her gun off to the side but he has a prosthetic leg? Love it when they have characters with speech impediments & it is not the butt of a joke Just like Mike Royce said, flash your tits! See? He was leaving those dolls there for a reason u r still the enemy kate... Frame rate. They sell highspeed cameras you know. Tho idk how much one would cost for movies. It might have a better frame rate but it might be more pixelated or the colours might be off idk. THAT'S why esposito went to the other roof. He looks stressed af there, see the way he's breathing out?

RC: Just waiting for my partner. Maybe you’ve seen her. Pretty girl, thinks she can leap tall buildings in a single bound, carries the weight of the world on her shoulders, yet still manages to laugh at some of my jokes. [xd some of my jokes] well castle did push, but he pushed esposito. always <3

girl back in s1 maybe s2 you said it took a year of therapy to get over the fact that your mom was killed & you spent your life then being normal so why can't you go back to that? CB & me: she's dead, u can't let her down I hope he doesn't turn out to be evil.

[reinabeestudio]

Gonna add some of my basic hcs for my top 3 mercs (engineer + soldier + scout). Not claiming these are super original, but I wanna show what I'm working with on my selfship stuff 👍

Extra notes: 1) I haven't read the comics but I have some vague knowledge about them. I'm not gonna follow them much tho. 2) game and comic take place in different times (game: 1968 / comics 1972). I'm sticking to 1972. 3) I don't really treat RED and BLU mercs as different people, so these apply to both sides

Engineer

Dell Conagher, in his 40s and 5'7"

Very nice, very polite. But don't be fooled by the southern charm, this man is more stubborn than a mule

One of the best cooks at base, only beaten by Heavy and Demo (he won't admit this)

Yes he's short. Ye's he's aware. Yes he has a complex. No he won't admit this either

Don't be fooled, this man has very good aim. Sentries are just a very effective way of keeping motherfuckers away

I like to think he can sing, might sing a ditty when he's playing guitar/banjo by himself. He's 100% fine with playing in front of others but he's actually shy about the singing!

Sore loser and sore winner, one of the few times where he's rather annoying no matter the outcome lol

He... fucking sucks at making jokes. Or puns. He's a lost cause

Hard-worker to the bone, not even 11 PhDs can hide the underlying insecurity of needing to prove the worth behind the Conagher family name

Related the last: he's very reticent to ask or accept help even when he really needs it. He's the fix-it guy, he solves problems

Because of that, he's not used to compliments. He'll brush them off ('Ah, weren't no thing'). But if you keep insisting, you'll see the rare sight of embarassed Engie

Don't ever try to sneak up on him, his first reaction will be to punch you or hit you with whatever he's holding (and you don't wanna be hit with a wrench on the face do you). Spies messing with his machines has made him rather paranoid in that sense

Speaking of Spy, these two absolutely don't get along at all. All southern charm is gone when he interacts with him

Soldier

Jane Doe, 49 years old and 6'

Official bio says he's from the midwest, so (after consulting my American Friends(tm)) I ma Soldier is from somewhere rural Nebraska with a vet father, where his big patriotism comes from

If you don't think he won't argue with scout or engie that nebraska is in fact midwest, you don't know soldier. He WILL literally brawl for this

Jane Doe isn't his actual name. It's an undercover alias.

Belligerent and idiotic, yet not as stupid as people tend to assume. He's smart, just in different ways

Destructive, but surprisingly friendly if he assumes you're on his side

He often carries a rocket launcher and shoots that thing near his face, so his hearing isn't as good as it used to

That helmet he always wears? Same one he's been wearing he 'became' a soldier

You'd be surprised what a good memory he has!

Insanely good poker face, don't play cards with him

Too thickheaded to be scared. Sees a ghost and he'll just be like 🗿

Not really a hc but reminder than besides a 'soldier', this man is also: a mercenary (duh), a lawyer, a park ranger, a tour guide and a priest (in Guam)

You'll never catch this man drinking tap water. What about the FLUORIDE!!!!

Don't trust this man with a stove EVER

Rarely you'll see him doing nothing. Tends to keep himself busy, as good soldiers do (his logic says so, at least)

Despite his mentioned patriotism he's shit at geography, including his own country. He knows states EXIST but he doesn't exactly know WHERE or HOW MANY (last time he checked there were 48)

Scout

Jeremy Mortenson, 27 years old and 5'11"

Youngest of 7 brothers, all of them have names that start with J—even his mother's name starts with a J! (June Mortenson)

Youngest at home and now youngest at the base. He gotta prove he's tough and to not be messed with—he's teased enough at home! He's a merc dammit

That said, being surrounded by lotta guys that are older than him that don't really pay attention to him most of the time... aah, just like home

He genuinely loves his family and his teammates, and admittedly he misses his famiy in Boston. But HEY don't tell anyone

All talk no walk, he's gotten himself in problems more than once because of his dumbass claims

Being half-french (he doesn't know sshh), he's more similar to Spy than both care to admit. Scout just doesn't have the charming, lady-killer façade Spy has

He does know a few French words tho, but not many. And his accent bleeds so much into them, it's hard to make out what he's saying (even for Spy, who just looks at him like 🗿)

Not a big fan of tiny spaces. This dislike came with his job, a tiny space makes escaping harder

Besides Tom Jones, reckon another big love of his is baseball. I like to think in different circumstances he'd have tried to become a pro. But when there are so many mouths to feed, you take what you can to help your single mom

Fast learner when it comes to arts. Drawing, playing an instrument, etc—he picks it up fast. Did you know he can sing? Oddly enough he doesn't gloat about it (Only his ma knows this fact)

Like Soldier, he's smart but in a different way. He might have difficulty reading, but guy is a speed demon when it comes to killing. He gets the job done, and FAST

If I see someone else calling him a twink, I'll start exploding people. Yeah he's not exactly muscular and rather scrawny compared to the other mercs. But he ain't weak! The thing about Scout is that he isn't built for strength, he's built for speed.

I'm late, but using my (recent) birthday as an excuse to ramble about Cee and the other mercs—mostly Cee, with hints of ship stuff :]

This is kinda long btw

The arrival of Ms. Doremi was not something unexpected, since the team had been notified a few days prior of a new hire from Spain. However, she wasn't what they imagined.

The answer depends on who you ask, but all of them more or less were expecting a tough mercenary, someone that has clearly fought and killed before. Someone that gets the job done no matter what. But before them was the damndest fanciest lady they've ever seen. Scout was the one tasked to showing her around due to being the fastest, and it was clear some doubts about this new teammate quickly started to appear after each one met her personally.

Not only that, but there was something particular about Ms. Doremi: she had a room for herself like the others, but she didn't always sleep on it. In fact, many nights she'd leave the base and come back in the morning. Spy even identified her car as an ivory Seat 600 D. Not exactly a model seen in the US.

Now, as I mentioned in past posts, I ship her with almost all of them (except Pyro)—not at the same time. So how things develop depends on the merc! Although the ones I think about the most are Engineer, Soldier, and Scout.

I'll focus only on Engineer/Cee for now. Maybe I'll explore different reactions in the future (please ask me about any of the other ships gimme an excuse to gush please please please pl--).

Surprise, he fell in love at first sight 💥

I imagine they found him on his workshop, arguing with one of the others for touching his tools or something else (probably Spy? I like to think they don't get along at all lol). So there he was, cursing up a Texan Storm(tm) until he hears stifled laughter behind him and he turns around like ???. And when he sees her, he completely freezes.

“Apologies, I didn't mean to laugh. You just have such a way with words, I coulnd't help”

And aren't you a vision of loveliness.

She would offer her hand for a handshake, while introducing herself. How proper, ain't she cute. “I'm Cee Doremi. I'm the new RED member. And what might your name be?”

“I'm mighty sorry 'bout earlier, promise I'm nicer than that!” He took her hand then, a bit too tightly. “Dell Conagher, or the Engineer. At your service.”

“It's alright, Mr. Conagher. As my mother used to say, when we argue it's because we care. Don't you think?”

“Please, call me Dell. And I can't say I fully agree with ya, Ms. Doremi, but I can see yer point!"

“Call me Cee." God, that smile of hers could resurrect an angel. The guy is practically leaking toony hearts while Spy and Scout look at them like 👁 (nosy father & nosy son lol). “It was nice meeting you. But I still have to finish my little tour, and I'd kindly like to have my hand back, yes?”

Engie's face scrunched up in confusion before he looked down at his hand and noticing that he's, in fact, still shaking her hand.

So she waved him bye and he waved back with a face warmer than an oven. Meanwhile Spy just looked at him with the most insufferable knowing smile ever.

“What a gracefully embarassing display of those 11 PhDs, pardner.”

“Shut it, you snake.”

⊱ ��───── {.⋅ ⟐ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

Time passes, and Cee's presence is just one more on base. She even got her own nickname: the Lady (very original). It started as a joke, but it ended up just becoming a thing lol.

She gets along with her teammates! Some more than others, but she has a minimum level of property that she doesn't seem to like breaking, no matter how rude some people might be. Old habits, she calls it (makes you curious how she was raised).

And everyday as usual, when night comes, she drives off... somewhere. And everyday she comes back in the morning. She's been asked about this by the others many times; she has her own room here, what's the need of leaving every night? Where does she even go? But as polite as she is, that's a question she doesn't answer.

Until one day the answer comes to them.

Cee called for a meeting, which was odd. She was the only one standing up, the rest of the mercs sitting down and no doubt confused what was going on.

“As all of you know, I spend most of my nights outside of the base. First I want to clarify, I have no problem with my room. I'm thankful I was given my own space.” she started, her hands clasped in front of her. “But I did for a good reason. Something very important.”

She explains how she was told by the higher-ups it'd be best if she stopped the car trips, mostly because the enemy could follow her and learn the location of the base. How she explained her situation, and a solution would be searched.

But until then, she'd have to compromise.

“I'm only doing this because I have no other choice. Apologies in advance,” she finished explaining.

They see Cee turn around to the doorframe behind her and says something in Spanish (“Ya podéis salir”). And the 9 mercs watch with wide eyes how a young girl and a young boy come out and quickly go to Cee, the kids looking at the men while hiding behind her. They looked similar to Cee.

“Gentlemen, these are my twins: Lance and Renée.”

She looked down at them, gently patting their heads. “They will be staying on my bedroom, until a safer place for them is found. I've already told them to behave and not bother any of you unless it's a dire situation and I'm not around. Please, be patient with them while they are here.”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ⟐ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

Yes I know, I didn't really talk about actual ships AJSDNGDS. But I thought that it'd be best to first establish some facts about Cee for better understanding ☝ If you wanna learn more, ask about it (/j /lh)

[evita-shelby]

Between the Shadow and the Soul

chapter 5

Gif by @twvstedsouls

When the police men raided the homes in Birmingham last November, Eva could do nothing except try to soothe her grandmother while two coppers turned everything inside out.  

It had been when she heard of Inspector Campbell, a man she’d already seen die by in a phone booth the moment he showed up in Small Heath. He had assumed she had stolen the guns because México was still at war and that must have been the reason her uncle took her to that meeting.  

Later that day when the Peaky Blinders asked her to take her grandmother’s photograph of the King to burn at the bonfire, she went. There she met Polly Gray, who then introduced her to the reporter, so the newspaper could have the words of a veteran of the great war and foreign woman who had left her country seeking safety printed side by side to shame the King.  

Eva had then told her about her family dying in the Revolution and in turn Polly told her of losing her children. One thing led to another and before they knew it Eva was telling Polly how she can’t read tea leaves and Polly was telling her how having her children taken away took her second sight. Polly Gray then became her first friend in Small Heath.  

Polly has always been kind to Eva and she’s glad to see nothing has changed. Part of Eva feared their friendship would change for the worse, but Polly remained mostly unchanged.  

“The universe has been sending me the strangest signals lately. Must be my brother Gabriel who’s watching over me.” Eva said as she quietly set the tea out. She preferred coffee, especially café con leche, but people in Europe drink tea, so she must adapt to it.  

She had told Polly at some point how Gabriel was her favorite brother. Felicidad was too old to really be a playmate unless they played dress up, Alan was always busy, if he wasn’t practicing for the next charreada he was helping papa at the docks or the office with Uncle Sebastian, so Gabriel and Eva naturally fell together.  

“What makes you think so?” Polly asked interested. Eva hardly talked about her family, it always hurt and half the time she ended up in tears. The first time she went to Polly’s house, she ended up crying so much Polly gave her a handkerchief. Eva had returned that handkerchief and embroidered little flowers on it as a thank you.  

“This morning as I was bringing in the milk an orange butterfly landed on my hand and in the next moment a dead rat fell from the roof next to me.” Eva smiled. Gabriel had accidentally kicked a dead rat from a roof nearly six years ago which ended with Eva dropping a basket full of eggs.

Eva had been just about to turn eighteen and Gabriel was a week away from turning twenty, first time they had laughed since their eldest sister, Felicidad, died in childbirth and their parents had died at the hands of the Americans in the Battle of Veracruz the year before. “I looked up, to see where the rat had fallen from, and instead I saw Gabriel leaning out the window laughing telling me to be happy. When I got back inside, I found my cards on the floor with the Two of Cups at the very top.”  

Two of cups meant a soulmate, or a perfect romantic partner when it’s a reading about love, and while Eva didn’t truly believe in the idea of soulmates anymore, part of her liked the idea of the infamous Thomas Shelby being hers. Like they were just meant to find each other.  

“You know when I first met you, I thought you would be perfect for him.” This was news to Eva, she was no stranger to matchmaking, but she had not seen Polly wanting to set her up with her nephews, least of all Thomas.  

“Had you told me that months ago, I would have said you were insane, Pol.” Eva jokes. Black Star Day would have ended so differently had Tommy never grown curious about her. “To think it just a month ago he asked my uncle for his blessing to take me to the Derby.”

“I was afraid that whatever you saw at the Derby had scared you off, I’m glad to see it didn’t.” Polly thanks her for the tea making sure they kept their noise to a minimum.  

Eva and Tommy had agreed to keep it between them, after all they were the ones defying fate, but Polly is the exception. “Sometimes my second sight will show me things that aren’t true just to fuck with my emotions.”  

“You felt the pain of heartbreak just as you realized you are in love with him.” Polly says with a knowing smile and Eva blushes. Even if the nuns at her school had practically beat her shyness out of her, nothing could really stop her from turning as red as a strawberry when talking about love. “I might not have the sight anymore, but I can read people, Eva.”  

Elizabeth Gray nee Shelby had been born with the second sight like Eva, something she inherited from her mother. Unlike Eva, Polly didn’t practice witchcraft ---although many witches would argue that the minor things Eva does doesn’t count--- and unlike Polly, Eva hasn’t lost her second sight to her own grief. The only way to bring it back is to have a near death experience, but Eva isn’t going to tell her that anytime soon.  

“A skill that hasn’t led you wrong. Tommy says he is over her, and I have decided that I will believe him.”  for now. Eva doesn’t need to say her name. Grace Burgess is a curse in Small Heath. Some said she was killed at the train station by the Inspector, but Eva had seen her shoot the man in the knee.  

“Tommy wouldn’t hurt you like that.” Polly assures her, as if she knew that unsaid ‘for now’. “Thomas Shelby is very stupid when it comes to love, but he is not the type to betray someone that way.”  

“I know, I told him love was making him stupid the day I warned him about Grace.” She admits. All people were made stupid by love, nothing blinds you to reality more than love.  

Which was why Tommy hadn’t believed her thus leading to the chain of events that culminated with Eva asking the universe for a sign that she and Tommy were meant to be and it responded in the most Gabriel-esque way it could. “And now many months later the Universe has told me I won’t find a better man than Thomas Shelby, whole thing would have sent me straight to Bedlam had I seen it coming.”  

The postman knocks on the door, loudly because he is new and still hasn’t figured out there is an elderly woman who panics at loud noises. “Speaking of Bedlam,” Eva mutters under her breath.  

She had already seen her rejection for her approval to become a British Subject ---because this pretentious country used the word subjects and not citizens--- thanks to the efforts of one Grace Burgess. Had Grace not said anything to the police about her father being wanted for murder, perhaps one Eva Smith Riley would not be facing possible deportation, a deportation that leads her to be executed for treason she did not commit.  

Unfortunately, there is only one other way to get a British citizenship.  

[therealvinelle]

I've always wondered this, but what do you think the Cullen's political viewpoints would be, given their individual backgrounds? if vampires don't change after they turn, then surely they would all be extremely racist (especially Jasper). would this not come up at some point? they aren't like the Volturi because the Volturi are too old to care, but the Cullens are young enough that they have been brought up with opinions on stuff like sexism, racism, homophobia and the like.

Oh fuck.

You get an early answer because otherwise I'll just chicken out and delete this one, pretend I never saw it.

UMMM.

Since I'm guessing you meant American political viewpoints, we need a disclaimer. I am not American, and not too knowledgeable about your politics. Not just in the sense that I don't follow the day-to-day drama, but as I am not an American citizen there are several things I don't know, can't know because I've never lived in your country and therefore can't know what the effects of living in a country ruled by American policies is like. What I do know is based off of the news in the foreign section, social media (by which I mean tumblr posts), and Trevor Noah's Daily Show.

I am an outsider looking in.

Which is really rather appropriate, since the Cullens are too.

The Cullens go to high school and college, Carlisle works, they pay taxes, they own real estate, and submerge themselves in American culture. Esme, Edward, Rosalie, Emmett, and Bella are young enough that this is in many ways their world, and apart from timeouts they've more or less spent their entire lives, human and vampire, integrated into American society.

Not fully integrated, mind you, they do what they need to to fit in and get to school or, in Carlisle’s case, to work. They go no further. No extra-curriculars for the kids, no book clubs for Esme, no game nights for Carlisle. They walk parallel to humans, not among us.

In addition to this they're obscenely rich, which puts them another thousand miles from the experiences of your average American. They won't deal with the health system, which means healthcare is a non-issue, they're not going to need welfare or other social programs, unemployment is another non-issue. Name your issue, and the Cullens don't have personal stake in it. Even the climate crisis won't be a problem for them the way it will for us.

What I'm trying to say is, American political issues are a concept to them, not a lived reality. Just like they are for me. So hey, you made a great choice of blog to ask.

I'll also add here that you say the Volturi are too old to care, and I agree- from an ancient's point of view, racism is a matter of "which ethnicity are we hating today?", and it all looks rather arbitrary after a while. Same with every other issue - after a while it all just blends together into "what are the humans fighting over today? Which Christian denomination is the correct one? Huh. Good for them, I guess."

I can't put it any better than this post did, really. The Volturi are real people, humans are nerds and tumblr having Loki discourse. Aro thinks it's delightful and knows entirely too much about Watergate (and let's be real, Loki discourse as well), but the point I wanted to get at is that politics really don't matter to vampires.

And I don't think they matter to the Cullens either.

So, moving on to the next point while regretting I didn't put headlines in this post, I'll just state that I don't think vampires' minds are frozen. Their brains are unable to develop further, and they can never forget anything, but... well, this isn't the post for that, but in order for this to be true of vampires they would barely be sentient. They would not be able to process new impressions, to learn new things, nor to have an independent thought process. Yes, we see vampires in-universe (namely, Edward, who romanticizes himself and vampires) believe they're frozen and can never change, but there is no indication that this is a widespread belief, or even true. Quite the contrary - Carlisle went from a preacher's son who wanted to burn all the demons to living in Demon Capital for decades and then becoming a doctor and making a whole family of demons. Clearly, the guy has had a change in attitude over the years. Jasper, in his years as a newborn army general, slowly grew disenchanted with his life and developed depression. James initially meant to kill Victoria and hunted her across the earth, then became fascinated and changed his mind about it.

Had these people been incapable of change, Carlisle would still be hating demons, Jasper would be in Maria's army, and James would still be hunting Victoria.

It goes to follow, then, that they are able to adapt to new things.

The question is, would they?

Here I finally answer your question.

So, we have these people who don't really have any kind of stake in politics, who keep up to date all the same (or are forcibly kept up to date because high school) and are generally opinionated people.

Where do they then fall, politically?

(And this is where you might want to stop reading, anon, because I'm about to eviscerate these people.)

Alice votes for whoever's gonna win. She also makes a fortune off of betting each election. Trump's 1 to 10 victory in 2016 was a great day to be Alice. MAGA!

The actual policies involved are completely irrelevant, she does this because it's fun. Election means she gets to throw parties. Color coded parties for the Republican and Democratic primaries, and US-themed parties for Election Night! (Foreigner moment right here: I at first wrote "Election wake" before realizing that's not what y'all murricans call it.)

Alice loves politics. Doesn't know the issues, but she sure loves politics.

Bella votes Democrat. She actually knows about the issues, and cares about them. This girl is a Democrat through and through.

Carlisle doesn't vote. I can't imagine it feels right. Outside of faked papers he's not a US citizen, this is meddling in human affairs that he knows don't concern him.

More, this guy has never lived in a democracy.

In life, Carlisle lived under an absolute monarchy that, upon civil war, became an absolute theocracy. From there he learned that vampires live under a total dictatorship.

For the first 150 years of his life, democracy was that funky thing the Athenians did in history books thousands of years ago, no more relevant to him than the Ancient Egyptian monarchy is to me. Then the Americans, and later other European countries started doing this.

Good for them.

There's this mistake often made by those who view history from a... for lack of a better term, a solipsistic standpoint. A belief that the present day is the culmination of all of history. “My society is the best society, the most reasonable society; all the others had it backwards. Thank god we’re living in this enlightened age!”

The faith in our current system of government is one such belief. We (pardon me if this doesn’t apply to everybody reading this post) have grown up in democracies, being told this is the ultimate form of rule, and perhaps that is true - but remember the kings who have told their subjects they had were divine and the best possible ruler based on that. Remember also that most modern democracies haven’t actually been democracies for very long at all, America is the longest standing at some 230 years (not long at all in the grand scope of things) and they have a fracturing two-party system to show for it.

Every society, ever, has been told they’re the greatest, and their system of government the most just. Democracy is only the latest hit.

This is relevant to Carlisle because he’s immortal and decidedly not modern. Democracy has not been installed in him the way it was the rest of the Cullens, Jasper included. To him- well, it’s just not his world. He has no stakes in our human politics, and as he is older than every current democracy and has seen quite a few of them fall, he’s not going to internalize the democratic form of rule the way a modern human has.

I think the concept of voting is foreign to him.

It requires a level of participation in human society that he’s simply not at. He does the bare minimum to appear human so he do the work he loves, but nothing more, and I find that telling.

As it is I think he'd be iffy about his family doing it. He won’t stop them, but in voting they’re... well it’s kind of cheating. They’re not really citizens, none of this will affect them, and by voting they’re drowning out the votes of real human voters. He does not approve.

Edward votes Democrat. He's... well he’s the kind of guy who will oil a girl’s bedroom window so he can more easily watch her sleep without being discovered, justifying it to himself as being okay because if she were to tell him to get lost he’d stop immediately. Same guy is so sure that he’d leave and never return again if she wanted him to, except this is the man who returned to Forks to hang around his singer, knowing there was a significant chance he might kill her. To say nothing of his Madonna/Whore complex, or of the fact that he tried to pimp out his wife twice, and was willing to forcibly abort her child.

This guy is very much in love with chivalry, with being an enlightened and feminist man who supports and respects women, while not understanding the entire point of feminism, which is female liberation.

He votes Democrat because he’s such an enlightened feminist who cares about women’s rights.

Emmett doesn’t care to vote, but if he has to he votes Republican. The guy is from the 1930′s, and has major would-be-the-uncle-who-cracks-racist-jokes-if-he-was-older vibes.

Esme doesn’t vote, that would require getting out of the house.

More, I just... can’t see it. I can’t see her being one to read up on politics and The Issues, period, but if she has to then I doubt she’d be able to decide.

Jasper doesn’t vote. Alice can have her fun, he does not care.

There’s also the whole can of worms regarding the last time he went to bat for American politics.

I imagine he stays out of this.

Renesmée doesn't vote. She has no stock in the human affairs. Who would she vote for, on what grounds? When Bella tries to pull her to the urns, she points out that she's three years old.

Rosalie, guys, I’m sorry, but that girl is definitely gonna vote Republican. Perhaps not right now as it’s become the Trump party of insanity, but the Mitt Romney type of Republicans? Oh yes.

And for the record, yes I imagine she does vote. To step back from politics would be another way she was relinquishing her humanity, and that’s not allowed to happen. So, yes, she goes to the urns, less for the sake of the politics involved and more because like this, she’s still a part of society in some way.

Now, onto why I think she’s Republican, I think it’s both fiscal and social.

This girl was the daughter of a banker who somehow profited off of the Depression, and who then became part of a family with no material needs that would soon become billionaires thanks to Alice. Poverty to Rosalie is a non-issue, as it is I imagine she views it as a much lesser issue than what she’s had to deal with. The humans can pull themselves up by their bootstraps, Rosalie’s infertility is forever.

Rosalie’s empathy is strongest when she’s able to project onto others, and she won’t be able to project onto the less fortunate at all.

Then there’s the fact that the Republican party is all about traditional family values, and pro-life.

Rosalie, a woman from the 1930′s who idolizes her human life and who‘d love nothing more than to get to live out this fantasy, is down for that. And as of Breaking Dawn she’s vocally pro-life, so there’s that.

This all being said I don’t think Rosalie cares to sit down and fully understand these politics she’s voting for, the possible impact they’ll have- that’s not important. What’s important is what voting does for her.

TL;DR: I bet anon regrets asking.

[cookinupculture]

Traditions my family has held onto from Poland and What we have since lost..

I am a mixture of nationalities, and that has always felt kind of disappointing for me growing up, especially when a holiday or special occasion would come around and my family I felt would be really lacking what I saw many of my friends families having, traditions, and connections to their nationality and home country. I grew up knowing I was at least a mixture of polish, Irish, German do by, French, French Canadian, and native American. I traced back my genealogy and also found some Scottish and English. My father’s father’s side of the family can be traced back to the first colonies in the United States, no joke. But on my father’s mother’s side, we are close to entirely polish. And this made Easter dinner very special to me. Yes it was a very watered down, Americanized version of Polish Easter, but it was something! Of course there is more to the festivities than the food, but I would like to stay on topic, and for this post, keep the discussion to the traditions surrounding food.

Chronologically, the first food-centric Polish Easter traditions occur prior to Easter Sunday. On Saturday, the night before Easter Sunday, Święconka, meaning "the blessing of the Easter baskets is traditionally celebrated. Where many Polish immigrants and the generations that followed proudly continued this tradition, my family did not. This tradition consists of attending Saturday night mass the night before Easter, and taking a basket containing the food that is to be served for Easter to be blessed by the priest.. Typical contents of the basket include butter, Easter bread, horseradish, eggs, sausage ham, salt, cheese, candles, and colorful ribbons. Each food represents a different blessing. Example: eggs for new life, and candles for light in the world.

The tradition of coloring Easter eggs is similar to the practice we know today, but the Polish tradition is far more intricate. Known as “pisanki”, the tradition is conducted by coloring eggs in natural dyes and adding intricately detailed designs are using paint, wax, etching with needles, or even paper or flowers petals. These eggs are traditionally given tto friends and family for Easter, so at times the eggs are made out of Wood for longer lasting gifts. In my family, we opted to practice a modified version of pisanki. Instead of the premade kits sold commercially, we stuck to the methods used by our grandmother’s grandmother using natural dyes including beets, and drawing on the eggs with wax before dipping the eggs into the dye, so the design would be visible after taking them out of the coloring.

The centerpiece of our Easter Sunday feast is the traditional Easter lamb. In Poland these are made from Sugar, but somewhere in time this became a lamb made out of butter by the Polish immigrants in the U.S. This was a staple of Easter Sunday growing up.

Our Easter feast itself was sort of a modified version of the traditional Polish Easter feast. I believe that this is largely because in Poland years ago, this was a feast for the entire day. Serves following Sunday morning mass, this feast lasted through all three meals of the day. Many Polish descendants in the US today, including mine, serve one meal, Easter dinner.

Traditional Polish Easter food includes ham, classic kiełbasa, white kiełbasa (made of unsmoked pork meat), pate, horseradish and Zurek (Polish soup made of fermented rye flour, coming with hard boiled eggs and sausage), Śledź ( herring), and eggs with salmon roe or caviar. Desserts were plentiful, and features the likes of Mazurek cake, babka, and cheesecake. To name a few. On our table every Easter I could look forward to the ham, rye bread, eggs sauerkraut, and kielbasa as was tradition, as well as other Polish classics like pierogi and golmbki. The dessert was a new tradition added by my great uncle Paul. This was also my favorite part of the meal. He taught the kids and had us assist in the dessert making. Every year we made honey baklava. I hope this tradition is carried as far as the traditions carries from Poland to our table every Easter!

Works Cited Alberti, K. (2017, April 10). The curious transformation of Polish easter in the US & UK. Culture.pl. Retrieved September 22, 2022, from https://culture.pl/en/article/the-curious-transformation-of-polish-easter-in-the-us-uk

Jones , M. (2014, April 7). 10 traditional dishes of Polish Easter. Culture.pl. Retrieved September 22, 2022, from https://culture.pl/en/article/10-traditional-dishes-of-polish-easter

No Last name provided , Elizabeth. 9 Polish Easter Traditions. Key to Poland. Retrieved September 22, 2022, from https://keytopoland.com/post/9-polish-easter-traditions

[toriwakes]

Chrysanthemums [Draco Malfoy x Potter!Reader]

summary: you’ve lived in america for the past 15 years of your life. then, everything changed with one letter.

content warnings: very light cursing. some angst (?)

a/n: omg hi!! officially my second request, im so excited to share!! i know it’s SUUUUPER long but bars with me? i’m so proud of it and i’d actually love to do a mini series w this so lmk what u all think! ty for the request @peneflop !

everyone in america knew about harry potter. even though voldemort was a criminal in another country, americans felt just as worried. when the news got out, everyone was all over you. ‘(y/n) potter! are you related to him?’ you didn’t know the answer. but it was most likely not, right?

you sat next to your best friends, wishing them a good morning. “want to go pick up the mail?” lena asked. you nodded. the three of you walked down the halls, giggling and gossiping. “what’re you doing for halloween, (y/n)?” gina asked. you shrugged. “dunno. probably nothing. why?” she let out a dramatic gasp. “you’ve gotta come to this party! please don’t miss it, it’s gonna be amazing!” you laughed at her and turned the corner, entering the mail room. “i’ll think about it.” she made a face and you all separated to open your mail boxes. you flipped through your letters- nothing special. then something caught your eye. a parchment envelope with a burgundy wax seal. “guys?” your two friends rushed over. “what?” the said in unison. with a shaky hand, you lifted up the letter. “holy.” “shit.”

it was settled. you were moving to london and going to hogwarts. you were not keen on the idea at all, but the albus dumbledore demanded you be there. no witch could just say no. right now you were at the station, watching as hundreds of witches and wizards staggered around. “why’d you have to go before halloween?” gina sighed. you pouted. “i’ll write to you both once a week. i’ll tell you everything.” “yeah, you better!” lena teased. then you were met with anna. anna was your care taker. she wasn’t related to you but she cared for you since you didn’t have any connections to your family. you were told that your parents died in a car crash and they were both only children, so you had no aunts or uncles. poor circumstances, but that was your life. “i’m gonna miss you.” you said it quickly, afraid you may cry if you spoke too slow. “i’ll miss you too.” she was already crying. “now go, everyones already on.” you hugged them and waved goodbye before boarding the train.

you didn’t know anyone here. you shuffled to the back of the train and tried not to make yourself stand out too much. you walked back as far as you could and found yourself in a dark section of the train with empty booths. you smiled and sat down, pulling out your book that you brought along. you were daydreaming of lena and gina when you heard footsteps. when you shifted your gaze to the doorway, you jaw almost dropped. a tall (yet skinny) pale boy stood there. he along with two beefy men didn’t pay any mind to you. you hoped they wouldn’t notice you, but you were the only one there, it was unlikely they wouldn’t. they actually all got situated and you thought you were in the clear- until someone else came in. “i saw the saint on the way in. almost puked.” a brunette girl in all black clothes joked. they all laughed. “how was everyone’s- oh?” she saw you. the three boys looked at you, eyebrows furrowed. “hello, i’ve never seen you.” she spoke softly and say in front of you. “yeah. i’m new, it’s nice to meet you.” you stuck out your hand for a handshake. “american? that’s cute. i’m pansy.” she took your hand and you smiled. “pansy, that’s a pretty name. like the flower?” she didn’t say anything. you cleared your throat awkwardly. “i’m (y/n).” she smiled as a response. “would you three stop being so rude? introduce yourselves!” she was referring to the three boys. the blonde one stood up first. “malfoy.” he said curtly. you gave him a friendly smile. he didn’t return it. “goyle. that’s crabbe. he doesn’t talk much.” crabbe gave you a smile that you gladly returned. “come sit with us.”

for the next hour or so you bonded with your three new friends. pansy did most of the talking, goyle occasionally dropping in. draco didn’t speak too much but you could tell he was listening. every time he did, however, your ears got hot and you felt warm. he was very cute, but you didn’t know him like that. “the trolly is passing. (y/n), if i gave you some galleons would you get us some snacks? anything is fine.” you nodded, but were mildly confused. what the fuck are galleons? “pansy, she’s american. she doesn’t know what galleons are.” draco said. “oh- that’s right. go with her then.” pansy suggested. you took the gold coins from pansy and stood, draco following you. “hello! anything from the trolly?” the kind old woman asked. you picked out the thinks that look the nicest, draco talking the coins from your hand and giving them to the woman. you ignored the race in your heart when his hand touched yours. “did you get that?” he asked. you nodded. “you don’t speak too much, do you.” it wasn’t really a question. as you were about to answer, you made eye contact with a boy with very round glasses. could it be harry? draco noticed this and ushered you forward. “don’t talk to him.” just wait till they found out about your last name...

the students piled into the great hall, which was huge and rather beautiful. gather headmaster, who you recognized as professor dumbledore rose and spoke a few words. then, he made eye contact with you. “let the sorting ceremony begin!” you shuffled in with all the first years feeling awkward. the upper class man gave you strange looks- they must’ve thought you were daft. finally, you heard your name. “(y/n) potter?” you heard gasps in every direction. you stepped forward and sat on the stool. then, you felt the hat on your head. your hands were sweating.“another potter, eh? same qualities as the first yes... but where to put you?” everyone seemed to be on the edge of their seats. the 7 minutes that had passed felt like 10 hours. then, you heard a small voice in your head. this voice wasn’t yours. “what’ll it be then? gryffinor or slytherin?’ you blinked. ‘just put me where you think i’ll exceed.’ you don’t know how, but you felt the sorting hat smirk. “SLYTHERIN!” the hat boomed. a mixture of gasps and cheers erupted. the witch who sorted you pointed to the direction of the house decorated in green and silver- you beamed when you saw pansy. you sat next to her and she embraced you into a hug. “bloody hell, you didn’t tell me you were a potter! you don’t remember anything from that night, do you?” draco didn’t say anything. “what do you mean?” you asked. now they all just looked at you weird. “do you actually not know what happened?” draco asked. you shook your head. “(y/n)...almost a decade ago, voldemort killed your parents. you and harry survived, you’re the only two that have ever lived after getting hit with the killing curse.” hearing all of this was almost too much to handle. so you did have a family? it wasn’t a car crash? your brother is the chosen one? “how? how did no one know?” pansy looked at you with pity. “you two were separated as infants. no one knew what you looked like. besides, for some reason you don’t have the scar like he does.” pansy said while moving your hair out of your face. scar? like the one on your chest? you didn’t mention it, but you wondered if that was what she meant. “we’ll treat you all the same. don’t you fret.” pansy smiled. “thank merlin she’s not a gryffindor though.” goyle commented. everyone laughed. “what’s wrong with the gryffindors?” draco eyed the table behind you. “they’re a bunch of snobs. think they’re so much better than everyone because they’ve got potter on their side, well guess what? now so do we.” you hummed and turned around. harry was gazing at you already.

that night you found a tie, a sweater, some slytherin robes and a little slytherin flag in your dorm. if harry was a gryffinor, shouldn’t you also be? you shook your head from the thought- you’re done second guessing yourself. to take your mind off it, you pulled out your stationary and began to write to your best friends back in america. boy did you have some things to share...

officially 3 weeeks till halloween. your friends were sending you letter about how excited they were, but you were bummed. you didn’t tell them that your parents died on halloween, you knew it would kill the fun for them. you smiled at the letter and the cute picture of them attached. you pinned it to the cork board- right next to the slytherin flag. you smiled to yourself and grabbed your school bag, existing the dorms and heading into the common rooms. your friends seemed to be waiting for you. “finally! i’m starved, let’s go.” pansy linked arms with you and led you out, hiding you to the great hall. the stares you used to revive everywhere faded. it was like you were always there. “what classes do you all have today?” you questioned, biting into your bagel. “astronomy, potions, transfiguration and defense. you?” draco asked. you and draco finally became formal friends. you owed it all to the many classes you shared together and pansy’s constant pestering. “the same. i just gave potions first.” everyone dove into conversation about their school schedule, followed by how much they hated it. you laughed every now and then but your mind was somewhere else. you had harry in a few classes today. you and him haven’t talked at hall, surprisingly. you were simply too intimidated to do so. “(y/n)!” goyle was calling you. “yeah?” “i said we better get going. if your first class is potions, you don’t want to be late.” you simply nodded and headed with your group to your classes. everyone broke off to their classes as you walked around the castle, but you noticed that draco stuck with you. “i thought you had astronomy?” you only asked once he was outside your classroom. “i do.” “then why are you here?” you never really noticed how much taller draco was than you. “i just wanted to make sure you got here safe. if that not what friends do?” you cocked a brow. “you never walk me to my classes. “bloody hell, im sorry i won’t do it again!” he said quickly. you chuckled. “that’s more like it.” at that, you entered class and he walked away. there was something about him...

“pay attention mrs.granger.” you felt like rolling your eyes at your professor. he was always finding a reason to kick on the gryffindors. however when snape saw nearly everyone was struggling, he huffed and raised his hands to gain the class’s attention. “alright. split into groups of two and finish the potion. do not pair with someone from your house.” everyone shuffled around- harry was looking at you. you acted first, picking up your books and moving to harry’s desk. “hi.” you said. “hello.” he responded. you two worked silently but used teamwork. you ready him instructions while he acted out. “wow, we’re doing way better than i thought we would’ve.” you gave him a curious look. “not that i didn’t think you’d do good, i meant-“ you cut him off by laughing. “you really are my brother aren’t you?” he went quiet. “about that.” you moved your head up to look at him. “i guess we should talk about it.” he nodded in agreement. snape approached your table. “since you two like to do a lot of chatting, we’ll test your potion. snape stuck a dropper in the potion and poured it onto a round item covered in warts. slowly but surely, the warts popped away. “perhaps you’re not as incompetent as i thought.” was all he said before leaving the cauldron and dismissing you both.

you and harry spent the rest of potions and a bit of lunch sitting outside, talking about life and everything you missed out on. “so when you were thirteen- you blew up our aunt?” harry laughed harder at the memory. “harry! there you are.” hermione and ron showed up behind him. “oh- hey guys. wanna sit?” hermione gave you an uncomfortable look. “i’d love to, but i need to speak to you alone harry.” just in cue, you heard your best friends voice. “(y/n)!” you turned around and saw pansy as well as draco. “it’s fine, i have to go anyway. see you later.” you hugged your brother and you both split off. “finally talked to him?” pansy questioned. “yeah. it felt good.” she smiled as a response and the three of you settled on hanging out near the lank for the remainder of lunch. you didn’t catch it, but draco smiled at your happiness.

one week till halloween. you were more upset than happy, but harry wasn’t too effected, but he’s known the truth for 4 years. you found out last month. since it was a weekend, the hogwarts students were roaming about, chatting about their plans for the big night. your friends apologized to you, explaining that they all had detention early morning with mcgonagall. well- all but one. draco walked up to you in the common room and sat beside you. over the past month you and draco became even closer than before. you found yourself having a lot of alone time with him, learning new things about the boy every time. the more you learned a the more interested you became, and before you knew it; you were slowly falling for draco malfoy.

“hey.” you chimed. “do you want to go for a walk?” he said after a minute of silence. you noticed he wasn’t making eye contact with you. you set down your book slowly. finally he looked at you, curious why you were taking so long to answer. “are you bloody deaf? i asked if you wanted to go for a walk.” you giggled while nodding. “yes-yes, i just love hearing how sassy you get. cmon.” you left first and you could hear draco mumbling something along the lines of ‘i’m not sassy...’ under his breath. you thought he was adorable.

the two of you ended up at the lake. it became a usual hangout spot for you and your friends. you did things like talk the day away, finish homework and especially practice magic here. there was a small patch of flowers in the grass- that’s how you identified your spot. as you and draco relaxed you flicked your wand, a flower now blooming in your hand. “..you love that spell.” he said, interrupting his last sentence. you looked at him, moving your body so that you were facing him. “guess i do.” you hummed softly, leaning forward to tuck the chrysanthemum behind his ear. he looked at you like you had three heads- was he not used to kind gestures? “that looks nice next to your hair.” you commented. his confused gaze stuck. you ignored it and continued swishing your wand, anxious that you may have done something wrong. just then, draco let out a sigh. “goddamnit.” he sounded defeated. “what’s wrong?” you asked. he finally looked at you normally, but this time he looked sad. “you. this is all your fault, you know that? i’m supposed to be this cold hearted, asshole type of guy. i wasn’t going to let myself get soft for some girl, especially an american.” you had no idea where he was going with this. the more he spoke, the more nervous you got. is he saying he doesn’t want to be friends? “but you’re so kind, and smart. you care so much about your friends and those you love. how could i not like you? and you being gorgeous is just a bonus...” you could not believe what you were hearing. was he admitting to having feelings for you? the silence scared him, so you spoke up. “are you saying what i think you’re saying?” he winced. “bloody hell, i’m saying i like you, you dimwit!” so you were right. “well..i like you too, draco?” he widened his eyes and tilted his head as if to say, ‘really?’ “yes, you dimwit.” you mocked. he chuckled and pulled out his wand. “hold out your hands and close your eyes.” you did as he asked, feeling something sprout in your palms. “open.” when you did, what appeared to be a flower crown (made up from chrysanthemums) rested in your hands. you gasped from joy, lifting it up so you could get a better look at it. “i love it.” you spoke. “(y/n)...would you ever consider being my girlfriend?” you felt time stop. draco really wanted you to be his girlfriend. “yes!” you said happily. he beamed back at you, looked at the flower-clad ground and smiling even brighter. “cool.” he chuckled. “cool.” you responded.

a few days later when you finally got the chance, you ran to your dorm to write to lena and gina. they were gonna flip! just as you planted the wax seal, you heard screaming coming from outside your door. there was pansy, bursting in and hugging you. “you’re dating draco?! oh my god!” she squealed. you laughed at the excitement. “yes! it’s amazing isn’t it?” you said. “yes! oh i’m so excited, my two best friends- dating!!!” pansy smiled greatly. “i’m going to the owlery, would you-“ “DRACO! take your girlfriend to the owlery!” you shook your head at pansy, bidding her goodbye and leaving with draco.

“who are you sending this to?” draco questioned as you attached the letter to the owls leg. “my friends back in america.” you stared as the owl flew away, farther and father, until it was out of sight. suddenly you felt a hand wrap around your waist- draco was looking at you with heart eyes. “what?” you laughed. “you’re just...really gorgeous.” you blushed hard. you didn’t even notice that you were staring at draco’s lips- and he was staring back. you both leaned in closer and one of his plate hands cupped your cheek. “can i kiss you?” he whispered so quietly you weren’t even sure you heard it. still, you nodded and he closed the gap. his lips were as soft as clouds, fitting like a missing puzzle piece with yours. you could’ve stayed like that forever; just you and him. but all good things must come to an end, right? “(y/n)?” the voice of your brother alarmed you, making you break away from draco. “potter.” draco spat. “get away from her!” harry ran to pull you away from him, standing in front of you as if draco was going to hurt you. “harry what are you doing?” you whined, moving him out of the way so now you were in between the boys. the way the two boys looked at each other- you knew there was some history you haven’t discovered. “protecting you? you don’t know what he could’ve brought you up here for!” draco looked at you; he was extremely annoyed. “harry, draco’s my boyfriend. i’m fine..” harry’s mouth hung open, eyes flickering from you to draco and back again. “potter, is there a problem?” draco asked in his usual sassy voice. “let’s see; you’re dating my sister, why would we have a problem malfoy?” shit.

harry stormed away out of rage. the walk back to the common rooms was silent. your head was too full to talk. you had just reconnected with harry, were you going to ruin it all just by being with draco? you really likes the blonde, but was he worth ruining your new founded family? “what are you thinking about?” he spoke finally. you snapped out of your gaze, shaking your head. “nothing.” “no, i know you’re thinking. you get all quiet when you think.” he knew you well, which made you feel a little better. “i think harry’s mad at me. i just met him and he already hates me.” draco cupped your cheeks, making you look at him. “listen to me- he does not hate you. you’re his sister, his only family. he couldn’t hate you.” you smiled in his hands. you told him you’d meet him back in the common room later. you had to find harry.

you walked around the castle for what felt like an hour, finally finding him in an empty classroom on the third floor. you entered silently. he was sitting on a desk with his back facing you. “hi.” you choked out. harry turned around and said nothing when he saw you. you took it upon yourself to sit next to him. “harry-“ “do you like him? like, actually like him?” you thought about it for a moment. you considered lying, maybe that’ll make him hate you less. but you knew he’d eventually find out and it’s only make things worse. “yeah. i do.” harry put his face in his hands. “not only are you a slytherin but you’re dating my sworn enemy.” he shook his head and laughed while saying it. “hey!” you said while playfully shoving him. the laughter died and you sat in sad silence again. “i don’t me being with draco to mess up our relationship.” harry but his lip in thought. “is there anything i could do to make it up to you?” you pleaded. an idea popped into your head. you pulled out your wand and swished it- a flower wreath following. “chrysanthemums?” harry asked, taking the wreath into his hands. you smiled. “yeah.” he put the wreath on his head as a joke, but it brushed some of his hair out of his forehead on the way. “i meant to ask you about the scar.” “what about it?” he said. you moves your shirt down, exposing the lightning bolt scar on your chest. “blimey.” he looked very shocked. “i don’t really know what this means.” you whispered. harry shook his head, implying he didn’t either. “are we alright then?” harry fidgeted with the wreath. it dawned upon him that no- he couldn’t stay mad at you. you’re the only family he has left. “i guess.”

over the next week you magras to patch things up with harry and draco well enough to celebrate halloween in peace. the feast was ravishing. you ate so many sweets that you couldn’t imagine having back in america. as per usual you sat with the slytherins- but something was telling you u that you should be with harry. so without a second though you turned to draco, “what do you think of eating with harry?” he almost spit out his pumpkin juice. “you brother hates me (y/n), you know that.” he knew you were going to get your way, but he was trying to convince you not to. your mind was made up. “he’ll have to deal with it.” let’s just say gryffindor wasn’t too fond of having slytherins at their table.

being draco’s girlfriend was a blessing. he showered you with gifts, affection, appreciation. you couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend. there was never a time where you doubted his feelings for you. now was one of them. you two were in his dorm, listening to the soft, low music coming from his record player. you were both just gazing at the ceiling while wrapped in each other’s arms. it’s not that you didn’t love lazy days with draco- you certainly did. you just really wanted to do something right now. “draco?” you finally said. “hmm?” you loved when he responded with a hum. you couldn’t explain why, but it made you go all fuzzy inside. “i wanna do something fun,” you flipped over so you were hovering above him now. he scrunched his brows. “like what?” you thought about it. what could two, 15 year olds do at one in the morning? “wanna sneak into the kitchens?” he burst out in laughter. you wanted to ask him what was so funny, but with a smile like that? you had to laugh with him. “alright- alright. let’s go.” so that’s how you two ended up there, pajamas and all. everything would’ve gone fine if draco would’ve just worn shoes. “bloody hell!” he screamed, dropping all the snacks. draco stubbed his toe on a nearby cart, and of course he had to be dramatic about it. “draco hush!-“ but it was too late. the lights turned on and the house elves caught you, immediately reporting to filch.

you never wished draco wasn’t such a diva more than right now. your saturday was being stolen by detention. even though you were with him, the detention was being watched by snape and you weren’t risking it again. you checked the clock; still two hours? god, you were gonna be here forever if something didn’t happen- “professor!” it was dolores umbridge, dressed in all pink, stumbling through the door. “yes, professor?” snape sneered. she straightened herself up and spoke in her high voice, “there are difficulties with some gryffindor student i could use some assistance with.” she said. “is there anyone else you can ask? i’m preoccupied at the moment..” she giggled. “yes, but i’m sure these students will listen to you.” umbridge looked at you and draco, obviously noticing the green color on your robes. “besides. i’m sure they’ve learned their lesson- haven’t you, children?” you both nodded frantically. “you’re dismissed.” you and draco shot up, not asking any questions and only daring to speak once they were both out of ear shot. “you’re an idiot, you know that?” you told him, playfully (but not really) shoving him to the side. he took your hand and put it in his, smirking to himself more than at you. “‘m your idiot.” rolled your eyes at the blonde. he really was.

before you knew it, the school year was passing by. you and harry were going to america along with some other friends to visit your home. ron was a nervous reck on the plane, not understanding why muggles put themselves through this torture. finally the four of you landed, slowly but surely making it through security and such. that’s when you spotted your two best friends- from miles away, at that. you ran towards them at full speed, almost toppling then over when you embraced them. “i missed you so much!” lena shouted. “i missed you too! god i have so many stories- oh! i need to introduce you to some people!” you face palmed, completely forgetting about your guests. “this-“ you grabbed harry’s arm and shoved him in front of you. “-is harry.” your friends gave you the exact same look; ‘is he..?’ you nodded. “erm- pleasure to meet you. i’m her brother.” both their eyes went wide, and they both hopped on him. “anna is going to go crazy! two potters- wow! she’s already had enough with toria let me tell you-“ “gina!” you scolded. she just laughed. “ah yes, this is ron, he hated me when i first met him.” ron threw his arms up. “you’re a slytherin, what’d you expect?” you hit him in the head as a response. you also ignored how lena ogled ron. then, you felt your boyfriends long arm snake around your waste and press a chaste kiss to your head. “it’s not as bad as i thought it’d be here.” he commented. “and this my dear friends; is draco. my boyfriend.” draco smiled kindly and held out his hand. they both shook it. harry rolled his eyes in annoyance. then you saw her. “anna!” you’ve done a lot of screaming today, you noticed. harry showed up behind you, tapping you on the shoulder. “who’s that?”

harry almost cried when he found out he had a guardian. he had told you about sirius, but he sadly passed away. it’s like he was getting a second chance. anna took you all home in her van (ron getting even more nervous now). right now, all of you sat in anna’s back yard. “did you learn anything cool over there? new spells?” gina inquired. you smirked, pulling out your wand and preforming the spell you’ve mastered this school year.

“chrysanthemums?”

[path-of-my-childhood]

Taylor Swift: Pop Star of the Year

By: Jonathan Dean for The Sunday Times Date: December 27th 2020

Rather than hunker down, the singer put out two albums in 2020 and won over new audiences. She’s the pop star of the year.

Taylor Swift met Paul McCartney in the autumn for a big interview in Rolling Stone. The two would have headlined Glastonbury this summer. Who knows if they will do that next year. Anyway, both recorded albums in lockdown, working from home like the rest of us. When they spoke, though, Swift had a secret. As well as Folklore, released in July, she had a follow-up record in the pipeline — Evermore, which was released this month.

Swift noted that the former Beatle was still so full of joy. “Well, we’re just so lucky, aren’t we?” he said. “We’re really lucky,” Swift replied. “I can’t believe it’s my job.” And she is right. Being a pop star is an extraordinary way to earn the living she does. But rather than accepting luxury and letting this tough year tumble on, Swift is also keenly aware what music means. Sad songs soothe, happy songs make us dance, but as fans of most artists waited for something — anything — this year, this 31-year-old released two albums that broke chart records, were critically adored and introduced her to people who once thought that she wasn’t for them.

“I’m so exhausted!” she said to the American chat show host Jimmy Kimmel, laughing, a few weeks ago, when asked if she had a third new album planned. “I have nothing left.” In addition to Folklore and Evermore, she filmed a TV special and even started rerecording her back catalogue, after a volatile dispute over who owns her work. By October I’d just about cobbled together my first sourdough loaf.

A decade ago Swift moved firmly into the limelight thanks to a squabble with Kanye West entirely of the rapper’s own making. In 2009, when Swift — then a nascent country music star — won the best female video award at the VMAs, West stormed on stage, grabbed her microphone and said that Beyoncé should have won. Swift was 19 — West was 32 — and she looked scared. This wasn’t just about her biggest moment yet being stolen, but also about her position in the pop hierarchy being questioned, very publicly, from the off. She stood there as that man bullied her. Apparently she left the stage in tears.

Years later West released Famous, with its infamous lyric “I feel like me and Taylor might still have sex/ Why? I made that bitch famous.” The alt-folk singer Father John Misty also wrote about sleeping with her. Every time that sort of thing happened, a powerful man in Swift’s industry was reducing a successful, talented, younger female to the level of a sex object. It was back-in-your-box belittling — as it was when a TV host groped her. (She successfully sued him.) While Swift herself would retort to West, as her music became less country, more slick pop, such retorts felt forced and gave the rapper too much of her oxygen. A nod to him on Folklore comes with the “Clowns to the West” line, but it is a sideshow now, not a headline.

Not that Swift’s life is entirely her own. She’s been one of the world’s bestselling female artists for a decade, coupled with curiosities such as a well-orchestrated relationship with Tom Hiddleston that kept her in the spotlight. Like many twentysomethings, Swift spent her youth apolitically, only to receive flak for staying silent during the 2016 US election. This year she endorsed Joe Biden, but what if she had wanted to stay quiet? Would the media have let her? She is under so much scrutiny that, after she made an innocuous hand gesture in a recent TV interview, similar to one women make to draw attention to domestic abuse, this headline ran: “Some people think Taylor Swift is secretly asking for help in her latest interview.”

Like many at the start of the pandemic she felt listless. The world we were used to was a wasteland, and we could only find the energy to watch Normal People. Swift’s ennui, though, was, well, swift. Stuck in LA, she emailed Aaron Dessner of the beloved beardy indie band the National to see if he fancied writing with her. No fool, Dessner said yes and, mere weeks later, the duo — with help from Swift’s regular collaborator Jack Antonoff as well as Justin Vernon, from the beloved beardy indie band Bon Iver — released Folklore. The gang just carried on working and, five months later, gave us Evermore.

Creativity is not on tap. Indeed, this year is not one for judging what others may or not have achieved. However, the silence of many big pop stars is striking because they know that even a single would make someone’s day; distract for a while.

Everyone needed to adjust to working from home, but Swift was one of the only musicians who did and, by eschewing the arena pop of recent albums for something more subdued, organic and folky, she gave the sense that she was letting fans in more than ever. She was at home, like us. This is who she is, and the first single from these sessions was so cosy, it was even called Cardigan.

“I just thought, ‘There are no rules any more,’” she told McCartney. “Because I used to put all these parameters on myself, like, ‘How will this song sound in a stadium?’ If you take away the parameters, what do you make? I guess Folklore.”

Maybe it is tedious, for a deft writer with a career of varied, brilliant songs — Love Story, I Knew You Were Trouble, Blank Space — to find respect from some people only when artists who appeal to middle-aged men start to work with her. On the other hand, pop has never been particularly welcoming to many until it sounds like something you are used to and, with delicate acoustics and gossamer-like piano, Swift’s two new albums recall, sonically, Nick Drake or Kate Bush. Thematically, lyrics seem to come from anywhere. Daphne du Maurier, for one. Even the Lake District and its poets.

Some songs are personal. She is dating British actor Joe Alwyn, and on one track she sings, “I want to give you a child.” Make of that what you will. But these records’ highlights are not about herself, but others. “There was a point,” she told Zane Lowe on Apple Music, “that I had got to as a writer, [where I was only writing] diaristic songs. That felt unsustainable.” Instead, she does what the best writers do and mixes subjective with objective. The Last American Dynasty is a terrific piece of writing about the socialite Rebekah Harkness, who lived in a Rhode Island house that Swift bought and was, by all accounts, a bit scandalous. Swift tells her story almost with envy. Imagine, she seems to say, that freedom.

“In my anxieties,” she said in Rolling Stone, “I can often control how I am as a person and how normal I act. But I cannot control if there are 20 photographers outside in the bushes and if they follow our car and interrupt our lives.”

Then there is Epiphany. The first verse is about her grandfather, who fought in the Second World War; the second about frontline workers in hospitals now. Sung in a high register, it is suitably choral. Marjorie, on Evermore, is even better. It is about her grandmother, an opera singer who died in 2003. “What died didn’t stay dead” is the repeated line, and it is eerie, gorgeous. Swift sings how she thinks Marjorie is singing to her, at which point some vocals from the latter’s recordings waft in. Touching, but the real power is in Swift writing about vague memories of a relative who died when she was young. “I complained the whole way there,” she sings. “I should’ve asked you questions.”

In person she is warm like this, and funny. When Kimmel told her there were far more swearwords on Folklore and Evermore than previous records, she replied: “It’s just been that kind of year.” She is also odder than people realise. In the way pop stars should be. Obsessed by numerology, she wrote, on the eve of her birthday when announcing Evermore: “Ever since I was 13, I’ve been excited about turning 31 because it’s my lucky number backwards.” When I turned 31 I just wished to be 13 again, with all that youth, but then, maybe, she is just joking. “Yes, so until I turn 113 or 131, this will be the highlight of my life,” she said. “The numerology thing? I sort of force it to happen.”

Swift, of course, is far from the first pop star to become public property, or have a close bond with fans. This year, however, she was one of the few to show that such adoration is not one-way. She is, simply, a fan of her fans — from planting secrets in her artwork and lyrics, to recording two albums of new music as a balm for them when real life became too deafening.

“One good thing about music,” sang Bob Marley. “When it hits you, you feel no pain.” The 80.6 million who streamed Folklore on its first day will attest to that idea. So will the four million who bought it. Swift is pop star of the year, no doubt — leaving her peers in her wake, on their sofas, rewatching The Sopranos.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Okay, the tenth anniversary episode of The Last Leg was truly sweet. Alex Brooker talking about how that show gave him his first opportunity to talk publicly and openly about his disability, to work with other people like him, and made him more comfortable with it. Normally when he starts talking that way it’s to make fun of the way people think disabled people just existing in public is inspirational, and rightly so because society is rife with that incredibly patronizing attitude. But every once in a while they’ll talk about actually being inspired by the disability positivity and representation, and it’s a reminder that this is actually a big deal. In this case, Alex managed to get through several genuinely nice points in a row before undercutting it with a joke about Josh’s status as a disability-adjacent comedian. But it was a half-hearted undercutting, like “I know I have to make some joke here so I don’t just let that wave of sincerity hang in the room, but I’m only going to do a little joke so some of the sincerity can remain.”

They joke about the Paralympic legacy, and they’re right to do so because there’s so much bullshit that needs undercutting, but it is actually fucking cool. Ten years ago Channel 4 tried something no one has done, as far as I know pretty much anywhere, which is to give the Paralympics coverage on par with the Olympics. And I think it has changed the game. It’s probably changed the whole landscape of disability sport over time, as disabled people could see sports that they did or that they could do get mainstream attention, and would be more likely to join them or stick with them to higher levels. If they caused a rise in that starting ten years ago, that creates a snowball effect, where across ten years, more disabled athletes starting or getting serious about sports leads to more athletes achieving great things, which inspires more to start. And it means more disabled athletes who stick with it enough to become disabled coaches, disabled commentators, people who create and maintain more infrastructure for disability sports. You end up with ripple effects that of course can’t all be attributed to one comedy show, but I think The Last Leg was one of the catalysts. And as The Last Leg became much more than just Paralympic coverage, it had a hand increasing disabled representation in more than just sports.

I realize I’m not in a position to say how the game has changed for disabled people in Britain, given that I’m neither physically disabled nor British (and, you know, representation is just one tiny piece of the game and especially these days many of those disabled people are more worried about things like benefit cuts), but I’m not the one coming up with the idea. I’m just watching what’s happening there and believing people like Jonnie Peacock when they talk about how different things are than they were ten years ago. Great Britain’s very successful results at the Tokyo Paralympics bear out the idea that they are doing something much better than most countries to foster disability sport there. I can name multiple British celebrities with a range of physical disabilities, and I can’t say the same about disabled Canadian or American celebrities, even though I live in Canada and my media, like most people’s, is saturated with American content. The Last Leg obviously isn’t the sole reason for any of those things, but I do think it’s helped.

I realized recently that I don’t struggle at all to understand Rosie Jones anymore. I was never completely unable to understand her, but I used to have to work at it. I had tricks like looking at her lips when she spoke, speeding up the video if that’s an option, and just listening extra hard. But now I don’t have to do any of that. I thought at first that maybe, in recent years, she’s gotten better at speaking in a way that’s easier for most people to understand. To check that, I went back and listened to some earlier stuff she’s done, and I was able to understand her just as easily there. So it’s not that she’s changed, it’s that I’ve changed. I’ve heard her talk enough so I’ve gotten used to it. Rosie Jones’ career taking off may lead to a whole lot of people who hear her talk often enough that they get better at understanding the speech of people with cerebral palsy, and that will lead to people with cerebral palsy being slightly more likely to run into people who can understand them without asking them to repeat words all the time. That’s a fantastic thing.

I already had some practice with understanding slow or slurred speech because I spent several years working as a PSW for clients with a bunch of different disabilities, and a few had cerebral palsy and spoke like Rosie. I tried hard to catch every word they said and I got better at understanding them over time, but I wish I’d been watching shows with Rosie Jones back when I worked there. Hearing her talk continuously, while I’m at home and can focus on understanding instead of being at work and running from one job to the next, is what it took for me to get used to how it sounds and start understanding it really easily. I think I’d have been a better PSW if I’d practised back then by watching Rosie Jones.

I also realized I’ve gotten used to Alex, and I feel a bit guilty that that ever took getting used to for me. When I was a PSW, my clients had various levels of mobility but they were all in wheelchairs, so I got used to being around people whose disabilities are immediately visible. But I’ve realized that getting used to seeing them at work does not necessarily translate to getting used to it in other contexts. Before I watched The Last Leg, when I saw Alex Brooker on other panel shows, my attention was immediately drawn to his hands. When he joined Josh on that one Catsdown episode, my first thought was to wonder how he’d play the game that required holding a pen. I like to think that in real life I don’t go around staring at disabled people like they’re a novelty, but the truth is that when I saw Alex on TV I did immediately think of him as the guy with those hands.

Now, I don’t think twice about it. When he has to hold something on The Last Leg and he makes a joke about how it’s not fair that they make the disabled guy do that, it takes me a minute to even remember what he’s talking about, because it’s been made quite clear that he’s capable of holding and manipulating objects. And even when they bring in people who have disabilities that do stop them from doing those things unassisted, I don’t find myself immediately thinking much about that. They integrate whatever accommodations those people need – devices, support person, just having them do some things differently or not at all – into the show, and that seems natural. It’s not that I don’t notice it happening at all, it’s just that now that I’ve seen this with so many disabled people on The Last Leg, it’s just one little aspect of what those people are doing, instead of the focus of my attention.

Alex Brooker talked about how this show makes him less self-conscious about his disability, and as much as I’d love to say he should never be self-conscious, I know that sometimes people are distracted by his hands, because I was at first. But I’m not distracted by his hands anymore, now that I’ve watched all 600,000 episodes of this show. I imagine it’s had the same effect on a lot of other people, and that is good for Alex Brooker and for a lot of other people who have visible disabilities and would like to go through life without those always being the main thing people pay attention to.

I sort of feel bad now about how when I started The Last Leg I made a joke about how Alex Brooker could do Taskmaster without accommodation, because that joke was based on me seeing his hands and assuming it would be a surprise for him to be able to do that. I now realize he absolutely could do Taskmaster without accommodation, and the only reason Alex isn’t my first choice for what Last Leg host should try to equal Josh’s record of being a two-time Taskmaster champion is that I’ve gotten to know more about Adam Hills, and he’s the one with the competitive personality that makes him perfect for that show. He’d spend the entire time reminding us that Jonnie Peacock did not attend the studio portion of the New Year’s Treat special so technically he’s the first disabled person to do all of Taskmaster, and it would be fantastic.

In the last few weeks I’ve gotten into finding videos of old comedy shows at festivals – I’ve been posting a few things on here from the Late ‘n Live Edinburgh show, but I’ve been watching a bunch of things like that, from Edinburgh and Melbourne and a few other places. Those Mark Watson marathon gigs. The very very few tiny clips I’ve scraped together of that Honourable Men of Art thing, though to my annoyance that show seems to have drawn a crowd of people who are decent and polite enough to not record it while they’re there. One thing I’ve noticed is that Adam Hills is fucking everywhere (not actually at that Men of Art thing, I just mentioned that one to complain about how there’s no video of it, but he’s everywhere else). It’s a reminder of how much longer he’s been doing this than Josh or Alex, and how many different people he’d performed with across different years and different generations of comedians, before The Last Leg even started.

Adam has talked before about how Alex Brooker is the first person he’s ever worked with to also have a disability like his, and how nice it was to have that in common with someone. I always thought that was cool, but I see what he means a little more now that I’ve gotten a better idea of how much he did before that. And I don’t think Adam Hills was miserable for all those years of only working with only able-bodied comedians – he always looks like he’s having enormous fun out there. But after all that time getting used to being the only one, I can see why he considered it so special to not be that anymore.

Adam spent all that time as the one disabled guy on other people’s comedy shows, and in 2012, he got to host a mainstream TV show where being disabled is integrated into the show itself. Once he was in there, he opened things up for everyone else. Brought in disabled comedians as writers and as people who appear on the show. Gave coverage and platforms to disabled athletes even when the Paralympics aren’t on. Not that Adam Hills did every bit of that personally, but The Last Leg did it, and it’s clearly important to Adam that this is part of it. Because of that, other disabled comedians can come up in that industry and be slightly less in a position of the only one. Alex Brooker spent far fewer years of his career as the only one than Adam Hills did.

Anyway, those are some thoughts I have after watching the ten-year anniversary episode of The Last Leg. People being on TV more leads to people like them being seen as normal, and that’s a good thing. Before I end this post, I would like to give credit to the funniest moment of the episode, because it did get a laugh but I thought it deserved a bigger one:

Adam Hills: Voting [in the leadership election] ended today at 5 PM for Tory members.

Josh Widdicome: Shit. [looks around like he’s supposed to be somewhere else]

[bbrandy2002]

Fool’s Rush In

Part 10

I’m participating in @wackydrabbles​ prompt 71 “Dont be stubborn. Try it.”

Word Count: 1890

Pairing: Liam and Riley

Thanks @burnsoslow​ for beta reading and pretty much having to drag me across the finish line, as well as all the weeks and weeks of listening to me whine and pity myself.  And @emkay512​ for pre-reading and your encouraging words late Monday that made my whole night.

a/n: this is crack, plain and simple. I haven’t written since mid-october; just been paralyzed with fear over my own writing and this is my practice run and basically the best I could come up with. I’m going to try so so hard to finish this series

The new royal couple, fresh off their Vegas flight, stepped up to a makeshift podium the press had created on the tarmac. It was packed tightly with news station microphones crammed in every nook and cranny, one on top of the other. Voice recorders were spread across its surface, and the crown's private jet served as the backdrop. A bevy of frenzied reporters -- domestic and international -- pushed and elbowed their way into one another in hopes of getting the closest shot of the newlyweds and a chance to have their questions answered first.

“King Liam! Is the marriage binding?”

“How long have you known, Miss Brooks?”

“Were you trying to make a political statement by having a hooker at the ceremony?”

“Your Majesty! Will the monkey be joining your court soon?”

So many questions, most followed by laughter and snickers directed at the King and his bride.

Liam frowned as his eyes dashed side to side in a diligent effort to understand the literally thousands of questions that were lobbed at him all at once. He blinked rapidly as one flash of a camera after the next blinded and bleached his vision. Just as it would return to normal, another successive set of flashes would set him back again.

He had been a part of news conferences since he was a child, when he would watch his late father speak from different parts of the world, near and far, about this policy or that deal. Yet this was different. This was not only the biggest breaking story in Cordonia -- or even Europe -- but one that had swept the world. 

His drunken actions two nights ago, no doubt, would have created a stir; however, it was Maxwell's post on Instagram of the ceremony that now made him tabloid fodder. Everyone knew about the king who was married by his own brother and an Elvis impersonator, the leg-humping monkey that served as a ring bearer, and the chain-smoking, tube-top-wearing prostitute who was the maid of honor. As confident as Liam had been that he could handle this, as he'd dealt with so many other stories of intrigue regarding the monarchy, he couldn't dispel the twisting feeling that burrowed deep into the pit of his stomach.

Maybe Madeleine was right: he had become a laughingstock. A failure. Just one big fuck up.

As much as he hated to hear the things said about him, he could deal with it. In the morning, he would call Prince Harry to swap stories, survival tips, and perhaps share a good laugh about it.

It was just ...

Liam felt Riley's tiny hand grip his a little tighter. He wouldn't blame her one bit if his little pussycat turned around and headed back up the steps to the jet and returned to Las Vegas. The only thing Liam wanted to do was keep her shielded from the hurtful comments and insensitive questions. But to his astonishment, she stood there with all the feigned confidence in the world, flashing a big, beaming smile that lit his heart on fire, while staring back at him affectionately. She was handling the situation better than she was before they stepped off the plane. He knew she was doing it for him. God, she just makes everything better. 

Feeling a little more grounded and in control, Liam returned her smile. A touch of radiance sparkled between his eyes and hers, as if it were some sort of unspoken conversation only they understood. Riley knew exactly what he needed at that moment to rise above this scandal they were both being raked over the coals for: He needed her to be okay.

Raising his free hand to calm the crowd so that he might address their concerns, he noticed the press' attention and cameras suddenly shift away from him and into the distance. Murmurs and chatter soon erupted. Naturally, Liam's gaze followed suit -- towards a group of heavily-armed soldiers heading their way. They wore white hazmat uniforms and had self-contained breathing apparatus and personal protective equipment. Leading the charge was a well-dressed gentleman in a three-piece suit with a shiny bald head that glistened with heavy perspiration. 

He walked like he hadn't shit in weeks.

Liam squinted and lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the bright sunlight. “The hell is that?”

Riley inched closer to Liam and clasped his suit jacket. "What's happening right now? Who are all those people, Liam?"

Liam's forehead creased in puzzlement; he didn't know. Wrapping his arms protectively around Riley, he pulled her even closer but never answered the question. It wasn't until the uniformed men stopped briefly and pointed to Drake, who was standing with his arms crossed at the bottom of the stairs, that it suddenly became clear who they were looking for.

Reporters and onlookers had been so focused on Liam’s return with the American woman, they hadn’t noticed that the brooding Walker had exited the jet last among their posse. Just as everyone had watched replays and snippets of Maxwell’s Instagram video, they were also fully aware the King’s best friend wasn’t exactly returning to Cordonia … healthy … thanks to Maxwell’s Tik Tok sing-along. 

A video Drake Walker had no clue existed. 

 The crowd began to disperse in fear and panic. If men in hazmat suits were needed, they could only assume this went well beyond your casual, run-of-the-mill STD.

Still in no mood to play around, Drake started yelling obscenities and gradually backing away from the hazmat brigade that was closing in on him like a cheetah at a water buffalo hole. 

"Mr. Walker," a heavily echoed voice called out, sounding oddly reminiscent of Darth Vader through their breathing contraption, "we need you to come with us."

"The fuck I do." Drake shook his head emphatically while continuing to slide away from them. "I'll beat the shit out of all of ya if you so much as touch me."

"Now, Mr. Walker, don't be stubborn. Try it, and you'll find yourself with a nice little tranquilizer to the ass. Are you going to come with us willingly, or do we have to make this more difficult than it needs to be?"

Drake stood motionless in disbelief. "I don't even know what you guys want or what you think I did," he squawked with a hint of desperation in his tone.

"Tough titties. SEIZE HIM!"

With that order, Drake twisted on the heels of his boots and took off, dodging and weaving away from a bunch of men he had no clue why were even after him. 

He had a pretty good hunch, though, who set this chain of events in motion.

The bald guy in a three-piece suit walked up to Liam and flipped his badge open. "Your Majesty?"

Liam nodded, not bothering to acknowledge the man's credentials. "I am. What is the meaning of all this? What the hell are you doing with Drake?"

"Sir, if you will, it has come to our attention that Mr. Walker is a public health risk and highly contagious. We will have to secure him into our custody at once."

Liam scrunched up his face in utter confusion and stared back at the official before responding, “He just has case of crabs, syphilis, herpes, genital warts, gonorrhea, and chlamydia. You’re treating him like he’s about to start some damn worldwide pandemic. Without sexual contact and with heavy doses of medications and creams, Drake should be able to live a normal life like anyone else. So, as the ruler of this country, I am ordering your men to stand down at once.”

“My apologies, King Liam, but my orders come from the World Health Organization and the United Nations. You'll need to take this up with them. Dr. Wolfschitz was clear on the protocol."

"Dr. Wolfschitz?" Liam questioned as realization quickly set in. He twisted around to face Leo, who had this enormous shit-eating grin, the likes he'd never seen on him before. "You? You did this?"

“Walker messed with the wrong bull, little bro.” Leo stuck up his pointer fingers on both sides of his head with a menacing scowl and smugness in his tone. “Now he gets the horns.”

Liam swatted away one of Leo's finger horns. “This is serious, Leo. Not everything is a joke! You're going to fix this, NOW!"

Leo placed a comforting hand on his younger brother’s shoulder, patting it a few times before speaking softly to him. “Look, I know you’re upset right now. You two were very close. But the Drakester is going to a far better place. There’s a big open field and everything where he can run and play all day with others just like him. And all the meaty bones he can eat too … lucky bastard.”

Riley had to bury her face in Liam’s chest to prevent the laugh that threatened to escape, but the bobbing of her shoulders was something she couldn’t hide. 

“NOW, Leo!” 

Leo tried to hold his ground but was too weak to resist the impatient glare Liam was burning into his soul. After a brief moment, he rolled his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. "Why ya gotta be such a dillhole, Liam? Do you realize you get rattled faster than a two-tit turtle on a tightrope? It's really not your best quality, little brother, but we can work on that." Annoyed, Liam rubbed a hand over his eyes and groaned as his brother continued, "Either way, Father always said, ‘if you can't help your fellow man out, you might as well become one of the Walkers.’ Truer words were never spoken so eloquently.”  Leo raised his eyes to the heavens thoughtfully before thinking better of it and lowered them toward the ground. "May you rest in peace, Father," he shouted.

As Leo trotted off to speak with Bald Dude to confess his false claim, Bastien helped guide Liam and Riley through the rambunctious swarm of reporters and spectators. Once they reached the limo, Liam helped Riley inside as Maxwell rounded the vehicle and climbed in on the other side. Pausing for a moment before sliding in, the King placed his hands on top of the open door of the limo and turned one last time to check on his friend. He swallowed hard over the guilt of leaving him behind. As His Majesty watched in horror, Drake took a tranquilizer dart to the back of the thigh and Bastien insisted the area was a security threat, shoving him inside. They would send another car to transport Drake and Leo back to the palace. 

Bastien stomped on the gas pedal and sped off, kicking up dirt and smoke as the tires peeled and squealed against the fiery Cordonian asphalt.

When they passed through the airport's security gate, a small motorcade following closely behind, Liam finally lifted his head, his eyes growing wide when he realized what just happened: Bastien's shove had sent Liam flying across the seat to land face-first into a lap — her lap. 

He stayed frozen in place, unable to look anywhere but the two slender, bronzed legs peeking out below the hem of his new wife's dress. 

Riley lifted an eyebrow, a slight grin dangling from her plush pink lips. "Something you wanna say, Your Majesty?"

Everything that had just happened in the 15 minutes since they landed was long forgotten. Drake who? Liam glanced up with a devilish smirk. "Welcome to Cordonia, Pussycat."

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