#letter from houston

[butterlymusic]

Rod Wave - Letter From Houston (Lyrics)

[writtenbycas]

Who knew a person who once meant the world to me, would cause the kind of hurt that I would still feel today-years later. It is the kind of hurt I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.

Unsent letters to AC/ circa. 2012-2016..// C.A.T

[vitalsignsolutions]

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[ham1lton]

mysterious girl.

pairing: lewis hamilton x chemist!reader.

faceclaim: jasmine tookes.

summary: lewis has just released that he’s just gotten married and the whole world is scrambling to find out who his secret wife is.

warnings: no warnings! just lewis’ personal life being speculated by random internet peeps.

author’s note: i did a bit of research on nobel prizes but if i got anything wrong. i apologise. i hope you enjoy !! 😘💕. also requests are currently still open.

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liked by yourusername, lewishamilton and 20,303 others.

yourbffuser: from sleepless nights in the college library to being next to each other for the wedding and watching you being nominated for a nobel prize?! i’ve never been prouder of my best friend. go best friend !!! 😘

view all 5,873 comments

user1: i love seeing black women in stem!!

user2: i did a powerpoint on y/n for class and introduced her to my entire class!!

-> yourbffuser: omg i’m gonna show her this!!

-> yourusername: thank you so much! this is so incredibly sweet. your powerpoint was so informative and highlighted all the accomplishments of mine. i didn’t even know i had that many. i hope you got an a and if you didn’t, i’ll write a letter of complaint to your teacher!!

user3: lewis in the likes??

-> user4: omg… is yourbffsname lewis’ wife?

-> user6: they have been spotted together at the same restaurants and holidaying at the same place….

-> user5: did we crack the code??

-> lewishamilton: no you didn’t 🌱🫶🏾 try again!

-> user7: TRY AGAIN IS CRAZY 😭😭😭😭

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liked by vogue, yourusername and 2,727,829 others.

lewishamilton: the cat’s out of the bag. cheeky selfie w/ mum before the ceremony, my wife serenading me with whitney houston and photos from the honeymoon where we laughed at the trending tweets. happy with the missus ♡.

(and yes, roscoe was the flower dog)

view all 287,928 comments

georgerussell63: the ceremony was beautiful! thanks for letting me be there.

user1: help. he said he was laughing at the tl being in shambles he’s sick. he threw a bone into a pack of hungry dogs and didn’t expect us to fight.

user2: she looks so beautiful!! gorgeous, kind and smart. she’s the whole package 😍💕

user3: now why did i hear from the streets that he invited nico?? and he turned up??

-> user4: don’t disappoint me.

zendaya: it was a gorgeous ceremony with gorgeous people!! glad to have been there :)

user6: need pictures asap of flower dog roscoe.

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bonus:

[were--ralph]

Had a weird dream again. Gonna keep it for dream recording purposes but it also makes a cool story

The government trapped a god and it spoke to me, it was the last of a race of thingies and every time someone called on god for something it released energy they could harness so they promoted Christianity to make it constantly release energy since people call on god for everything

It explained history was a lie up until a certain point (like year 0 was the start of recorded history or something) and the government spread tiny little fake events to explain things and make it seem more realistic

There's a blank period of history that was littered with mundane fake events

The blank period was where they killed the other god things?

Before we were humans we were letters? And music was our primary language?

Different races had different songs to communicate with and evoke moods and changes in the environment?

By combining music we evolved from letters to......something, to eventually humans but the government were the first people to evolve and trapped the god thing?

They changed its name to violence and bloodshed and caused wars to fortify and ground it so by making wars and violent content it would increase its power but since it's trapped it couldn't do anything of its own will

Its still alive but trapped but also angry from the name change? Note: names seemed to hold some power it didn't go into

Other weird details

There was something about 90's commercials? And Whitney Houston?

Something about a new neighborhood where I was poor and like. Beyblade things were in it?

I woke up feeling ill

Don't take dramamine before sleep regardless of how drowsy it makes you

[marzipanandminutiae]

today's Historical WTF of the Morning:

in 1840, a group of Comanche rode into San Antonio for a peace meeting with white colonists. they had brought back 14-year-old Matilda Lockhart, previously kidnapped in a raid, to be ransomed back to her family. the girl's ransom was paid, Colonel Hugh McLeod interviewed her and remarked on her intelligence, her aunt Catherine attested to her release in a letter to a relative, having earlier written that she heard the captives were being "kindly treated" and writing nothing in her later account to contradict this, and that was the end of her part in the story

(which ended in a "fight" with 35 of the 65 Comanche in the party being killed including 2 children, and 29 being taken prisoner. seven Texians died as well, and while later claims held that the attack on the Comanche was justified because they seemed insufficiently trustworthy in their promise to return more prisoners, the actual situation in the Council House that day remains unclear)

in 1895, Mary Maverick- who, by the account of her own diary on that day, had been at home when fighting broke out at the meeting -claimed she had been the one to tend Lockhart, and that the girl had been gang-raped showed extensive signs of torture including her nose being burned off

something that. um.

I think would have come up in contemporary reports? maybe? that's pretty conspicuous and people would have noticed? especially her aunt, since that is decidedly not being Kindly Treated?

there was a news article from 1840 in Houston claiming that Lockhart had been burned and beaten, and that her hair had been torn out, but no mention of facial disfigurement is made. and again, contemporary sources from people who definitely 100% saw her when she was released don't mention ANY outward signs of abuse AT ALL. I found a description of her release from 1884 that doesn't mention the nose-burning, either- it seems like that was only introduced to the narrative in the 1890s "memoir"

like, look. I'm not saying no white person taken captive by Native Americans was ever mistreated. they're human beings, and human beings can do terrible things to other people regardless of demographic group, or macro-level oppression. some Native people did terrible things to other Native people long before Europeans got here, and it's dehumanizing to treat them like magical perfect fantasy elves or whatever. and it's possible Matilda Lockhart had injuries covered by her clothing, or later revealed abuse she suffered that didn't show marks, and that got dramatized into her missing nose or hair

but. I don't know. it's just galling that not only was this girl who went through, at minimum, the trauma of being taken prisoner as a child was reduced to a symbol in a much larger conflict, but also we once again have the employment of Someone Abused A White Woman/Girl So Whatever We Do To This Entire Demographic Group Is Justified narrative

(which is, as always, employed by people who don't give an actual shit about the lives of the women they use to justify racism. unless Lockhart had lived to be like 80, she'd still never have had franchise or- and even then, STILL not full human rights in her own country. and the people who wanted to use her as a symbol to justify racism probably would have fought tooth and nail to keep her from getting them)

[nycolewrites]

houston, we have a problem

When he first met Sokka, he wanted to smack him for the arrogance that seemed to emanate from him. Zuko won’t say his confidence wasn’t earned; Sokka and a second-year tech, Teo, are responsible for the development of NASA’s anti-gravity technology (accomplished while still in graduate school). He’d been streamlined through the interview process, aced his space tests with flying colors, and had the added bonus of impressing Piandao enough within a week of working there that the man had hand-written him a recommendation letter when it came time to choose candidates for TUI-84’s mission to explore plant sustainability in different atmospheric conditions. According to Aunt Wu, Director Jeong Jeong had been so shocked at Piandao’s interference that he hadn’t even bothered considering other technicians. He was one of the youngest first-year candidates NASA had ever considered for a space mission to actually get the job. - Sokka is the youngest space engineer to be sent to outer space. Zuko is the ground control member assigned to track him. Falling in love wasn't part of the mission, but it happened anyway.

my contribution for this years @zukkanovels !

read here | full novel | ko-fi (commissions open)

[mydaddywiki]

Buddy Ryan

Physique: Husky Build Height: 5"10"

James David "Buddy" Ryan (February 17, 1931 – June 28, 2016; aged 85) was an American football coach in the NFL and AFL. During his 35-season coaching career, Ryan served as the head coach of the Philadelphia Eagles from 1986 to 1990, and of the Arizona Cardinals from 1994 to 1995. Ryan also served as the defensive coordinator of the Chicago Bears from 1978 to 1985, and of the Houston Oilers in 1993. Coaching multiple Hall of Fame defensive players throughout his career, Ryan is considered by many to be one of the greatest defensive minds in the history of American football.

Authentic and ornery, Ryan had that rugged, tough look that always get me going. Even his sons, Rex Ryan and Rob Ryan have it to some degree, but not the way Buddy did.

Born in Frederick, Oklahoma, Ryan played college football for Oklahoma A&M University (now Oklahoma State) where he earned four letters as a guard between 1952 and 1955. He served as a sergeant in the United States Army during the Korean War. Following his service in the military, Ryan's a career as a defensive troubadour began, winding its way through New York, Minnesota, Chicago, Philadelphia, Houston and Arizona.

Twice married, Ryan had had three sons, including fraternal twins, Rex and Rob with his first wife, Doris Ryan. Ryan married his second wife, Joanie Ryan in 1970. Ryan died on June 28, 2016, on his ranch in Shelbyville, Kentucky, at the age of 85, after a lengthy illness. Ryan's passion for the game often made him a divisive figure. As a coordinator, he warred with his head coach and fellow assistants. Most memorably, Ryan throwing a punch at Kevin Gilbride on the sideline of a nationally televised game. And he stay in the back of my mind ever since.

Career Highlights and Awards 2× Super Bowl champion as assistant coach (III, XX)

Head Coaching Record Regular season: 55–55–1 (.500) Postseason: 0–3 (.000) Career: 55–58–1 (.487)

[palestinegenocide]

Below is a letter signed by ten Holocaust survivors condemning the genocide in Gaza and the misuse of antisemitism accusations by politicians.

Signatories

Jacques Bude (Brussels Belgium), survived in hiding in Belgium, parents killed in Auschwitz.

Marione Ingram (Washington DC), survived in hiding in Nazi Germany. 

Stephen Kapos (London UK), survived the Budapest ghetto.

H. Richard Leuchtag (Houston TX), escaped Germany in 1938.

Rene Lichtman (Southfield MI), survived in hiding in France.

Adam Policzer (Vancouver BC), survived in hiding in Hungary.

Lillian Rosengarten (Cold Spring NY), escaped Germany in 1936.

Suzanne Ross (New York), escaped Nazi-occupied Belgium

Suzanne Berliner Weiss (Toronto Ont.), survived in hiding in France, mother killed in Auschwitz.

Ervin Somogyi (Oakland, CA), survivor from Hungary.

[ddagent]

A random collection of Margo/Sergei thoughts and fic ideas:

Sergei's face when he sees Irina has his old position.

Sergei regularly keeps up correspondence with an old colleague - only its to Margo, and the letters never get sent.

Both Margo and Sergei, in Moscow and Iowa respectively, tell people that they are widowed.

Sergei is tired of people (including Margo) calling his girlfriend an ice queen so he uses an ice cube to make her melt.

The KGB are held up by the CIA in '92 so Sergei has to deal with the aftermath of Margo's anger (but thankfully not the strangling).

Margo is fired but not charged at the end of S3; she tries to keep it from Sergei as he settles into Houston.

Margo and Sergei go on a bunch of secret dates, including one to a drive in movie theatre.

In 4.08, Margo and Sergei go to 11:59, still open, and talk everything through. The owner, grizzled and not caring about Moscow Margo, gives her the keys to lock up. They continue to meet there in secret.

Irina does not attempt to kill Sergei; she, in fact, hopes Margo will try and recruit him back to Roscosmos.

Margo & Sergei have to attend the ten-year anniversary of Apollo-Soyuz (and most likely end up fucking in the museum capsule)

Apollo-Soyuz never happens and Margo spends twenty years hating Sergei Nikulov - until a hotel room in Leningrad enables them to get out all their feelings.

[guess-my-next-obsession]

joel begins the habit of picking up a book here and there, so during the reader’s birthday, he gifts her a book he read and annotated because that fucking shit is so cute

The Gift

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader (Elementary-verse)

rating: F (no warnings besides elementary!joel being impossibly perfect, also didn’t proofread or edit!)

wc: <1k

series masterlist | joel masterlist

He was never much of a reader, not as a kid, definitely not as a teenager, and even in college he only read what he had to. When Sarah was born, he read to her every night, no doubt forming her love of books from an early age. As she grew up and the material grew with her, he attempted to read along but quickly found he much preferred non-fiction over the young adult novels she liked so much. But when he met you and consequently became roped into your weekly book club—starting with Sense & Sensibility—everything changed.

Now, he wanted to read, wanted to enjoy what you enjoyed, constantly searching the bookstore he’ take Sarah to every month for books he’d think you’d like so that he could gift you with something you hadn’t read before, not realizing just how much of a challenge that would prove to be.

Eventually, he stopped looking for books he thought you’d like and started simply shopping for himself. He was surprised at the collection he’d accumulated in the three years of being with you—of becoming a bookworm just like you and his daughter. He’d go through a book a week, often staying up past his bedtime when the material was gripping enough to warrant it. He’d even make little annotations in the margins, jotting down quick thought or connections to the earlier plot, but more often he wrote of how the text reminded him of you.

He found it near impossible to read fiction and not find glimpses of you in the sea of black print, detailed descriptions of a new spring day or pretty dialogue spoken between two lovers always pulling his mind to you. In the blank margins he’d write to you as if he planned for you to read them, as if it were a letter, “You’d roll your eyes at me if I said that.” and “You’re going to laugh, but I cried at this part while you were sleeping.” in messy cursive along the pages.

One night, a few weeks before your birthday, a lightbulb went off in his brain as he began to worry about what he was going to get you. You didn’t like much unnecessary shit, preferring he gifted you an outing, something that would make a memory for the two of you to share. You didn’t want jewelry, he knew that for certain after making the mistake of buying you a pricey necklace for your first anniversary only for you to order him to take it back and use the money to take you and his daughter to San Antonio for the weekend instead. But one physical luxury you never turned down was a new book. He’d already planned a trip to Houston for just the two of you as a surprise, but what if he also compiled a stack of his three favorite books to gift to you? It would satiate his desire to give you something physical, something from him, and you couldn’t complain because, “Baby I bought these for myself, and now they’re all written on so I can take ‘em back.”

The day approached, Joel waiting until right before you hopped in his truck before offering you a wrapped pyramid of books tied together with a ribbon, an expectant smile on his face as you eyed the gift with a look of delighted surprise.

“What’s all this?” you asked, accepting the books into your hand as you leaned back into he open frame of the passenger side door.

“A gift,” he shrugged. “Sarah wrapped it up all fancy.”

“I guessed,” you smirked, turning to set the books down on the passenger seat, your fingers slipping to loosen the bow holding them together before carefully tearing off the pastel blue floral print of the wrapping paper.

“S’just some books I liked,” he continued, a hint of nervousness and God, I hope you like this in his voice. “You probably already have copies.”

It was true, you already owned The Great Gatsby, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, and Brave New World—Joel liked the classics best, it seemed—but yours didn’t feel as nice in your hands as Joel’s did. You liked the worn edges, the broken in spine, the rabbit ears that he made before you gifted him a bookmark from the school library. But most of all, you loved the scribbles of thoughts written over every plank space he could find, Joel’s words far more interesting and compelling than the book itself.

You studied all of them with awe, your eyes scanning the annotations quickly, seeing lots and lots of you in it. You were sure if you lingered to long on any single sentence you’d end up sobbing right there in the driveway, so you closed the book in your hand and set it down on top of the others before pulling Joel in tight.

“That was the best gift ever,” you mumbled as you held his face in your hands and pecked his lips. Joel grinned and backed you up against the side of the seat, pinning your body there while he gave you a real kiss, deep and slow, leaving you chasing after him when he pulled away.

“I love you,” he whispered through a smile.

“I love you.”

[brighter-by-the-daly]

Rachel Daly x Reader

White Tape Kisses

Sitting patiently in the stands waiting for the game to start and hoping you will see your girlfriend score tonight, the lights dimmed as the light show was about to start. This was your first ever England game and if your friends from America saw you now you knew what they’d be saying. You could hear their chants ringing in your ears at seeing you wearing an England shirt but you swore the only one you’d ever wear would be one with Daly on your back. You and Rachel have been together for almost a decade; meeting at college then both being drafted to Houston Dash together. When she made the decision to move back to the UK, there was no question that you would join her.

Watching the light show as the flags were rolled out you thought you heard your name being called from a distance, shrugging it off as hearing things among all the noise. That’s when you noticed the calls getting louder and if you weren’t mistaken, it was Rachel.. but she’d be in the tunnel by now with the team? Looking around to where the voice was coming from you were surprised to see her running along the side line towards you. Appearing in front of you with tears welling in her eyes and her hands shaking. “They’ve done it wrong, it’s too tight, get it off me, get it off!” she spluttered while waving her wrist at you in visible panic. Clasping your hands onto her cheeks to quickly analyse her facial expression and behaviour to realise she was in the midst of a panic attack caused by the tape on her wrist being too tight. Looking down at her hands that were shaking, she was desperately clawing at it with her fingernails trying to get it off. Instinctively bringing her hand up to your mouth and ripping it off quickly with your teeth letting the tape fall to the floor. You threw your arms around your girlfriend with the barrier wedged between your bodies to hold her until you felt her breathing had returned to normal, a few tears were shed in relief as the lights flashed around you.

“Can you put it back on for me please, Millie’s not here” Rach croaked with sadness tinged in her words. You knew how she liked the band from Dash and Villa game days - not too tight, wrapped around twice, on her left arm, the letters in large capitals in black pen, written over multiple times to make the letters bold and noticeable.

You were part of the Daly family and was treated like a daughter by her mum and dad so knew how much Rachel adored her father. You’ve been there every difficult step of the way, it was you who suggested the tape bracelet when he first passed and now in this moment of panic you were putting it on her for the first time for an England game.

It was a whole process, but one you and Millie had down to a tee and with her bestie injured, she had to enlist another teammate to help her with it - someone that hadn’t been as knowledgable when it came to your girlfriend’s match day quirks. Rachel passed you the roll of tape that she had in her pocket as you unravelled enough and used your teeth again to tear it. “Be careful, don’t break them” her hand softly stroked along your jaw line. “Someone didn’t bring any scissors did they” you joked which raised a small smile from your beauty. Gently wrapping the tape around her wrist as she watched you seal it intently. You then asked a fan nearby if they had a sharpie and carefully wrote DAD on the inside of her wrist, bending down to kiss it then raising her arm up to her lips for her to kiss it too. Rachel’s eyes never left yours as you emotionally anchored each other, your connection so strong you could read each other like a book. “Is that better?” Rachel nodded gently “I love you so much”, “I love you more, now go score for him” holding her wrist towards your lips for one last kiss before running back to her team who were starting to lead out onto the pitch. Swiftly joining the line up with minimal distraction to the others as she proudly sang the national anthem.

[averagewriter-inthedark]

The Romantics 🎸 | Pete Mitchell Imagine

Part of my 'Y/n & The Romantics' TGM AU verse

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | TGM Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Captain Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell x 80s Rockstar!reader (romantic), Bradley Bradshaw x reader (mother/son-type relationship), Dagger Squad (platonic)

content warnings: Fluff, slight profanity, flirtatious banter, light suggestive content, mentions of past drug use. pop culture references | Female!reader (she/her) | wc: 5k

Requested 📨 yes/no (for @fangirlvibez) 🩶

Premise: After two years since getting the band back together, Y/n and The Romantics have got the opportunity most artists dream of getting when they've achieved legendary status in their career: a documentary film. Recalling the days of discovery, early stardom and the love she found along the way, frontwoman & daughter of Rock n' Roll Y/n L/n-Mitchell writes a love letter to not only her fans, but the pilot who captured her heart...and the little girl with a voice of an angel who broke away from God to become a rockstar.

Note: I've said it and I'll say it again, writing dagger squad x famous!reader is in my top 3 pairings I've written for, and it makes me so happy that after two plus years of doing them, you guys love them and continue to request them--even when I've been slacking on getting through requests. This request was the spark I needed and once I started typing, it never stopped. Again (like every note in my works the past several months) I'm sorry for the wait and I hope this gives you everything you hoped for. 🩶

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3….2….1…

“Are we rolling?” Y/n laughed, apologizing to the producers and crew in front of her when she realized they had already begun filming when she was off in la la land singing ‘How Will I Know,’ by Whitney Houston under her breath while an assistant made sure the mic was secured on her t-shirt.

“Yes, Ms. Y/n,” the lady in an all red pantsuit chuckled, adjusting her headset and motioning for the cameraman to not stop the camera. “But don’t worry we’ll edit it out.”

They were not going to edit it out. In fact it was going to be the opening sequence to Y/n’s personal bits. 

“I’m so embarrassed,” the rockstar hid her face with a hand, but then remembered she valued her life and would not ruin the masterpiece her makeup artist had created. “I’m sorry--I’m ready when you are, darling.” 

To celebrate the 45th anniversary of the release of their first song, Y/n & The Romantics were approached by HBO to film a documentary recounting their early days of their group, the height of their career, the twenty-year hiatus, and finally their reunion with a crew following them during the American leg of their 2024 world tour. It was an exciting opportunity. One the band--and especially their lifelong fans--were delighted. 

It’d been two years since their return to music. Together as a group that is. And not once had it lost its thrill. Releasing two albums, going on back-to-back World Tours, winning two Grammy’s and three Moonman. Performing at the Billboard Music Awards where they received the Icon Award. A song from their early albums featured on the Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 soundtrack. 

Things were looking great. Perfect.

Now Y/n sat in the comfort of her home, dogs taking claim to areas not occupied by the many crew members, recording her personal interviews for the documentary while Pete and Rooster worked in the garage to pass time until Y/n and Pete were to do their piece. 

The producer adjusted herself in the chair, clipboard in her lap, “So, Y/n, I’m going to ask some relatively basic questions, but just speak what your heart desires. Sounds good?”

She gives a thumbs up, “sounds great.”

“I guess we’ll start by having you introduce yourself,” a few chuckles rang out. Y/n letting out a giggle as the producer shrugged with a smile. “I know, I know. We know you but for this part we’ll be showing flashbacks of your early childhood.” 

“Okay, okay. No pressure.” Y/n got comfortable. Looking straight at the camera, Y/n gave a dazzling smile. “Hi, I’m Y/n L/n, songwriter and frontwoman of Y/n and The Romantics. I was born and raised in Atlanta, Georgia and I will not disclose my age,” she winked, chuckling with the crew. She recently celebrated her 60th birthday. “You can google that information.” 

“Can you tell us about what your childhood was like? For those who may not know, how did you and the others meet?”

Y/n inhaled deeply, the memories of growing up in the late 60s and early 70s surfacing. Replying in her mind like an old film. Beaming as she recalled, “we all lived on the same block--went to the same elementary school and junior high before we got signed. Maya and I were neighbors, Evan lived across the street. Danny and Ronnie were up the road, closest to a convenient store we’d go to on the weekends to grab a coke or smoke a cigarette. We rode the same bus, had the same teachers. If I wasn’t at Maya’s, we were down at Ronnie’s or one of the guys. Chilling in the garage listening to the Beatles and B.B. King or taking the city bus to our favorite record store.”

A distant look in her eyes appeared when she began talking about her family. Both sets of grandparents died before she reached 21. Luckily they were able to witness Y/n’s career take off but missed out on major milestones. A few cousins passed on over the years, as did many friends. Unfortunately, her father greeted the other side when she was 45. And while it’s been fifteen years since, not a day goes by where she didn’t think of him. As for her mother, she just turned 90 and was still kicking. 

“My parents were working class citizens, who worked their tail off to provide for us. My father actually worked at the same company with Evan’s dad. Then mine, Ronnie’s, and Maya’s mom were part of the same social circle.” Exhaling, Y/n tilted her head with a small smile, “I had a good childhood. One many kids would wish for---a loving family living in a nice house. Yeah there were times where my parents had to forgo a home cooked meal in favor of keeping the lights on one more night. Occasionally birthday presents were postponed until a month after our birth date. But, we were happy. We had each other, and that’s all that mattered.”

Taking a sip of water, Y/n cleared her throat while adjusting her position on the couch, the producer asking, “When did you first fall in love with music? You mentioned you guys would go to the record store and in earlier interviews how you guys' covered musicians on the streets of Atlanta--which evidently is how you were discovered. Did you always want to pursue the industry as a rock band or did it come as a surprise.”

“A little bit of both,” she answered honestly. Y/n thought back to years leading up to their discovery. Their small, humble setup with secondhand instruments they got from yard sales with saved up allowance money. Claiming a corner near the busy intersection of downtown Atlanta which was now known as Olympic Centennial Park following the 1996 Atlanta Olympic Games. Keeping their guitar cases open for when passer byers dropped coins or loose bills. 

Was it the safest idea? Not really. But it was 1978 and things were different. People left their cars unlocked. One could ask a stranger for a cigarette or a ride down the street without a second thought. 1978 was a memorable year as the year the Women’s Army Corps came to an end, the discovery of Pluto’s first moon, the first IVF baby conceived, and Harriet Tubman became the first African American woman on a postage stamp. Georgia opened the first ever Home Depot, and native Jimmy Carter was president of the United States. 

“Music was always there growing up,” she explained. “My parents collected records--my mother always had one playing when cleaning or cooking. Either that or the radio was on. For my seventh birthday I received a wooden harmonica and boy was it the best gift ever,” she hummed with a smile. 

She still had that harmonic. It was on a shelf in her bedroom, right next to the picture frame holding the tickets and signed program from the Elvis Presley concert she attended in 1976. 

“Any allowance or birthday money I got was put in my piggybank--which was then cashed in on a used 1940s Fender Esquire I got from a yard sale for all of $40. And before you say anything--,” she pointed a finger, “$40 was a lot back in the day even if it was used. Especially for a twelve-year-old.” 

Like the harmonica, the first guitar Y/n ever owned was on display on the wall where the rest of them were. Beside her legendary hot pink ‘Dirty Shirley’ Fender Stratocaster and Elvis’s 1960 Gibson J-200 famously used in his 1968 comeback special.

“Of course the dream was to be discovered, signed, make music and be able to say we got to live the dream. Even if it was for a short amount of time,” Y/n talked with her hands, “but it was a shock. Never did we expect it would’ve happened the way it did. I mean c’mon,” a playful left her lips, leaning forward to emphasize her words, “we were fourteen! High school was about to start for us and there was no way in hell my parents would accept me dropping out to go live life as a rockstar.” 

“Can you tell us about that day? How exactly did it play out?” 

Of all the questions the producer asked throughout the duration of filming the documentary with the Romantics, hearing them recount the day they were discovered was in their top 3. The crew saw how each member brightened, turning back into their 14-year-old self with the excitement painting their face. 

“It was my idea to cover ‘Cry Baby’,” Danny stated. “Y/n and Maya were set on ‘California Dreamin’,’ Evan wanted to fit in, ‘Superstition,’, and Ronnie didn’t give a shit as long as we made the most out of the day. But it was yours truly who pushed for Y/n to cover Janis. You’re welcome.” 

Ronnie would go on to say, “Danny and Evan did what they always did when a pretty girl stopped to listen; fought for her attention. Maya kept telling them to shut up and focus because it was the one day of the week during the school year where we got to go into the city to play. My keyboard had probably another month before I needed to replace it. Transporting it back and forth every week kept scratching it up.”

“I don’t want to say it was superstition,” Evan winked, a nice call back to the song he originally wanted them to cover in their set list, “But when I woke up that morning, I felt something--like it wasn’t going to be a normal set we’d had. There was a shift in the air the moment I put the guitar on and Y/n started belting ‘Fortunate Son.’ Maybe it was just me…I don’t know. But to this day, I believe the stars happened to align at the right moment for us.”

Maya beamed with each word, “Halfway through our set, a butterfly landed on my bass, and it was only ten minutes later that Mr. Mayhew found us. To me it was a sign--and why my bass always has butterflies on it. Afterwards we begged my brother to take us to Burger Chef to celebrate. Which ugh--!” She made a sound of longing, “Doesn’t even exist anymore! God the days where I could get a burger, fries and a shake for less than a dollar.”

“It was like any other weekend,” scratching her jaw, Y/n remembered every detail of the moment she and the band were approached by the music producer. “It was Saturday, middle of May and already scorching hot by mid-afternoon. We were a week away from the last day of junior high. Maya’s older brother would take us to our usual spot on his way to work and pick us up at the end of his shift.” Y/n bit back a smile, thinking about the big juvenile crush she had on him. Probably because he had a car and job, which back then was an attractive thing for any guy. It never went anywhere of course, and the two stayed friends--attending each other's wedding years later. 

“Every week we’d plan a set list of songs, both covers and ones I wrote. If we ran out of songs before Maya’s brother got off, we’d either call one of our parents to pick us up or continue playing whatever song we felt like. I was intimidated, to say the least, when it came time to cover ‘Cry Baby.’ So I mentally went, ‘fuck it, just do it,’ and poured my entire soul into singing. When I finished the adrenaline kept pumping, and I barely registered the suited man walking up with a business card and telling me to, ‘have your parents call this number. You kids have talent that only comes once in a lifetime. I wanna help you share it with the world.’”

For the next hour the producer relayed the questions and Y/n recalled the years between 1979 and 1989. Their first decade as a band was filled with success and hardships. The launch of their debut single and album. Appearing on Johnny Carson and SNL, being the third music video to ever play on MTV and winning their first Grammy. We Are the World with Michael Jackson, collaborating with Duran Duran, Eurythmics, and Diana Ross. The international tours, the rumors of Danny and Y/n’s addiction--which were false, tense moments where someone nearly quit. The lawsuit against a producer who was cheating them out of money.  

It was tough. But they pulled through. 

“1989 was a memorable year,” the producer began, a knowing smile on her lips. “Not only for the band….but for you, Y/n. 1989 was the year you met Pete Mitchell.”

To say the heat in her veins rivaled that of a volcano on the verge of exploding, was an understatement. The confident, playful, rockstar reduced to that of a shy schoolgirl falling in love for the first time. 

“Yessss,” she bit her lip, glancing away from the camera to hide the grin, but it was to no avail. It stayed on as she returned her attention forward, “That’s right.” 

“We’re gonna bring Pete in soon, but like your bandmates we want to have you talk about your relationship before sitting you both down for the next portion of this interview.” 

“Of course. What would you like to know?”

“Well, to begin, can you tell us how you and Pete met? It was after you performed at the Staples Center, correct?”

“Yup. August 15, 1989, at what was once called Club Electric Idol, known today as Melvin’s Planet Enterprise in Los Angeles. We finished our gig at the Staples Center and decided to hit up a club to end the night. Electric Idol was not far from our hotel.” The blue strobe lights flashed in her mind, followed by the image of a young Pete, Ice, and Slider walking up. His hair perfectly styled, bomber jacket and aviators on. Y/n chuckled, “I don’t know how long we’d been there, but next thing I know this guy is tapping my shoulder to ask if he could take a moment of my time. At first I expected another drunken pick-up line, but Pete shocked my core when he and his friends started belting, ‘You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feeling,’ in the middle of the bar. Maya looked at him like he had two heads,” the giggles were now loose. Y/n unable to contain them. 

“I think Evan joined in,” a cough escaped, the woman shaking her head, “Pete was unlike any man I’d ever met. And considering I married the guy,” flashing her left hand, the diamond ring sparkled. “It’s safe to say he successfully wooed me with his beautiful rendition.”

The producer laughed with the rest of the crew, “Shall we bring him in then?”

“Ready when you are, baby.” 

Signaling the assistant, the young man raced out before returning a short moment later with Pete in tow. The pilot shyly waved to the guest, but instantly lit up when his eyes landed on Y/n. Nerves disappear with the relaxation of his features.

“Hey, hot shot.” 

“Hey there, songbird.” He took his place beside her on the couch, leaning back when the PA attached the mic to his shirt. “How’s it been going?”

“Perfect,” she replied with a smile, moving closer which then prompted their dog Ice to join them on the couch. Goose changed his napping spot to in front of Pete’s feet. Bella stayed on her bed. “Will Bradley manage the car on his own, or is he taking a break?” 

Pete reached down to give Goose a pat on the head, brushing his hand down his back to get rid of the shedding hair, “He’s heading to go shoot hoops with Jake and Payback. Said he’ll be back for dinner.”

Shuffling through her papers, the producer spoke into her headset before facing the couple. “Okay for this segment we’re gonna ease our way into the topic of relationships and maintaining them in this industry. Say whatever you’re comfortable with--we’ll edit out anything you might want cut in the final production.” 

Pete lifted a thumb, “Cool.” 

“Pete, before you came in Y/n was telling us about the night you met,” Red coating his cheeks in a flash, the pilot making a sound of embarrassment. 

“Oh God.”

Y/n giggled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Oh stop it, you were the star of the night, Pete Mitchell.”

“Can you explain what prompted you to approach Y/n? You were with your friends, having just attended their show hours prior, on vacation. What outcome were you hoping to come out of it?”

“To be honest with you I wasn’t exactly thinking of the outcome,” Pete, still red as a tomato, stared into the camera with a pleading look as if begging the eventual audience to believe him. “My buddies and I had this thing where when we saw a pretty lady we’d say, ‘She’s lost that lovin’ feeling,’ which was code for, ‘Please help me impress her.’ I’d only done it a few times before Y/n,” Briefly glancing at her, Pete chuckled as he recalled the words he told her, repeating them to the camera, “The first time crashed and burned. The second one got me a date, and the third….third time's a charm.” 

The next few minutes the couple went back in time. Remembering it all like it was yesterday. Afterwards Pete spoke of their first date, how he asked Y/n to be his girlfriend and the reality of going public with their relationship.

“I knew what I was signing up for when I fell in love with Y/n,” with his hand placed on top of her knee, Pete started to caress the area. The leather of her pants smooth against his thumb. “We had high demand jobs. Sometimes I couldn’t get in touch with her per my missions' orders. Her schedule was constant. But when you love someone, you make the time. You show up when it matters. I made sure to be at every major performance. Called every week--I once drove around Reno for hours trying to find a working payphone so I could wish her luck before she took to the stage. Sent flowers to her dressing room--which in the beginning was damn hard because the security thought I was a crazed fan.” 

Y/n continued, but not before laughing at her husband. “Whenever we were on break from recording or tour, I’d go to whatever base Pete was stationed at. He’d take me to the hangar and show me all there was to Naval aviation. I would say more of what we’d do, but I don’t want him getting in anymore now that he’s retired,” a sly wink was sent to the camera, both adults giggling as Mav brought a finger to his mouth, ‘shhhh.’

“Now, Y/n, during the final show of the band’s reunion tour you revealed that the rumored break up between you two before you got married never happened. How did you manage to keep such a big secret like that all these years?”

“A great publicist, not going out as much when we had time off and learning the art of deception.” Of course that last one was a little lie. In reality, they were lucky it all worked out the way it did. That people, specifically reporters and paparazzi, started to leave Pete alone. Toning down their stalking of the poor guy. Plus the band’s and Y/n’s personal publicist, with the consent of everyone involved, planted seeds of her romantically linking to other high-profile individuals. Like Paul Rudd during his early years of fame, and Ethan Hawk.

“Things at my job were becoming unstable with the amount of attention I got being Y/n’s partner,” Pete explained. “My superiors were concerned with sending me out after an incident where a fan tried following me to the hangar. Now at the time, this was before September 11th, you could drive onto military installations, but there were still certain areas restricted to only personnel. This fan attempted to breach the restricted area, then there were times the paparazzi photographed me in places that were confidential.”

“So we staged a break-up,” Y/n threw her hands up, letting out an irritated sigh. 25 years later and it still bothered her how invasive people could be. Especially with Pete, her man. Compromising his job, and potentially his life.

She’d raise hell. 

Shaking her head, the rockstar went on to say, “It worked, thankfully. Got the paps and weirdos---yes I am the type to call obsessive, stalking fans weirdos,” her eyes were fierce, staring into the soul of the camera. 

Well, the soul of the audience watching.

“There are lines, people. Boundaries. Ones that should be respected. Yes, I’m aware what it means to be a public figure and therefore my life is an open book half the damn time. But seriously, that doesn’t give permission to stalk the lives of my loved ones. Hell!” she slapped a hand on her thigh, “Even when we first started out….we were kids. We should not have had to constantly watch our backs for people who might want to harm us. Or scare us for that matter.” 

They continued discussing the subject for a brief period. Followed by the events leading to their engagement and marriage. The wedding had been the talk of the year when it was announced. Y/n wore custom Chanel, Pete in his Dress Whites. An intimate ceremony with their friends, family, Pete’s superiors, and few members of the music industry Y/n grew close to. Dolly Parton, Diana Ross, Stevie Nicks, Michael Jackson, and fellow Atlanta natives TLC among the guest list. 

“You two have been together 34 years--married for 22. Maya and Evan recently celebrated 37 years as a couple--tying the knot in 1994. Danny and his wife have been married since 2000 and Ronnie recently celebrated 20 years with her wife. Pun intended, but it appears all members of Y/n and The Romantics found the key to life-lasting romance.”

“We did, didn’t we?!” Y/n clapped her hands in glee, lightly bouncing on the couch from the excitement. “I had never thought of that before, oh my gosh, that’s amazing!” Mav laughed with her but then had to calm down Goose who got up from the sudden noise and started barking. Making Ice, who’d been laying on the couch, get off to leave the living room. “I should write a song about that,” the idea came to mind, Y/n straightening up with an expression indicating a light bulb went off. “Oh yeah,” humming, she fell back against the couch with a content exhale, “I know what our next album is going to be. And I promise to put you on the credits,” she ends with a point to the producer, who appreciated the gesture with a grin and thumbs up.

“Looking forward to it.” 

November 10th, 2024 -- The Chinese Theater in Hollywood, Los Angeles, California. 

A block away from their Star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, Y/n and The Romantics stood in front of the iconic Chinese Theater to the flashing cameras and screams of fans for the premiere of their documentary film, “Rock to Romance: The Story of Five Kids from Atlanta with A Dream of Rock n’ Roll.’ 

Already a success with the critics praising the direction, production, and the intimate, raw interviews of the band members, the documentary was a hit. The Atlanta premiere the week prior reserved for special guests and critics shot Y/n back in time to 1978. They were at Olympic Centennial Park, down the street from the intersection where it all started. Overcome with emotion, the frontwoman had to excuse herself from the red carpet early. Escaping to a bathroom where Ronnie and Maya found her, the trio embraced in a hug with no words needed to understand the message. 

They lived their dreams. They were icons of Rock and Roll.

Now at the Hollywood premiere, Y/n was more relaxed. At ease with the environment. Reporters of major news stations and entertainment media waited patiently for their turn at interviewing the band. Celebrities from every industry one could think of attended. Many of which were fans themselves and had the honor of calling Y/n and The Romantics their friend. Directors Baz Luhrmann and Greta Gerwig--both secretly competing to direct the group's biopic. Georgia natives that couldn’t make the Atlanta premiere: Walton Goggins, Dakota and Elle Fanning and Gladys Knight. Actors including Robert Downey Jr., Jack Black, Chris Tucker, Meryl Streep, and Michele Yeoh. Professional dancer Derek Hough, who’d been Ronnie’s partner on Dancing With The Stars. Supermodels of the 80s and 90s Cindy Crawford, Tyra Banks, and Iman. Then there were some athletes like Rafael Nadal, Carl Lewis, Michael Jordan, Venus and Serena Williams, and Mary Lou Retton. 

And of course, you can’t forget the rockstars. Members of Duran Duran, Cheap Trick, U2, Guns N’ Roses, Journey, Blondie and Def Leppard. Cyndi Lauper, Janet Jackson, Pat Benatar, Annie Lennox, Stevie Nicks, Joan Jett, and Pattie LaBelle. 

Fans lined the streets, screaming each time a car rolled up and finally exploded the moment all five members were together. 

Y/n stood in the middle, Maya and Ronnie on either side, Evan next to Maya and Danny beside Ronnie. The ladies appeared as walking Goddesses in custom Dior and the fellas stunning in Louis Vuitton. They posed for the array of paparazzi and fans. Doing their best not to squint as the ongoing flashing lights blinded them. Ronnie cracked jokes; Evan flirted with Maya to get her blushing. Danny, like always, gave his blue steel.

 And Y/n? She was just happy to be there. 

Searching the crowd for her husband and invited guests, the rockstar was relieved when they finished the red carpet portion of the event. Beelining to Maverick, accompanied by the group of dagger ducklings she loved dearly. “I’m so happy you guys made it!!” Embracing each one of them, Y/n moved to Pete’s side once placing a motherly kiss to Rooster’s cheek. 

“We wouldn’t have missed this for the world, Y/n,” Natasha told her, the guys echoing with approval. She was wearing vintage Oscar De La Renta. A gift from Y/n when she made Commander. “This is insane,” she awed, motioning to the scene around them. The carpet was still underway with stars, the countdown to the film minutes away. “And here I thought nothing would compete with the Hall of Fame induction.”

“Speak for yourself, Trace,” Jake, handsome as ever in his Tom Ford suit, spoke from behind. “I for one knew this premiere would have a larger turn out. I mean c’mon, it’s all everyone’s been talking about since March.” Rolling her eyes, Natasha turned back to Y/n, who was biting back a laugh at the two. 

Rooster, out of his typical Hawaiian shirt and instead nicely dressed in a custom Ralph Lauren tuxedo, stepped forward. “I guess I’ll be the first of these clowns to say, congratulations to you and the band, Y/n on this amazing film. It’s been an honor watching it unfold, and we’re excited for what comes next.”

“Aw, Bradley,” she holds back the tears this time to not mess up her makeup, but pulls him into another hug nonetheless. “Thank you. It means so much to us--and I’m so grateful to have you all here. To be part of this journey. Supporting me and Pete, the band and just everything.” 

“No tears,” Reuben, also wearing Ralph Lauren, playfully scolds. “Can't be messing up that pretty face when you have a speech to give in front of a theater full of Hollywood hot shots. Save that for the party.”

“Please,” she scoffs, returning the manner, “I’ll be too drunk to cry. I might be 60, but I can still hold my liquor.”

“Planet Enterprise, right?” A Gucci wearing Javy raises a brow, making finger guns. 

The rockstar winked, “You know it.”

Ten minutes after passing time with small talk, the group were ushered inside where Y/n quickly returned to her bandmates for the speeches and introductions of the doc. Managing to keep it together, Y/n thanked her family, friends, Pete, the crew and production company for dedicating the time and energy to making the documentary, and of course her best friends on stage. 

The four individuals who were the only ones on the planet to relate to everything Y/n experienced in the world of rock n roll. 50+ years of friendship. Seeing each other at their best and worst. Accomplishing milestones together. 

They were more than a band. They were a family.

Finally the lights turned off, the screen went white, and the reel began rolling. Opening with the image of Y/n on her living room couch. The image of a woman, who was once a young girl with dreams of playing her Fender Esquire on the stages of Madison Square Garden and the Staples Center. Possessing the voice of an angel who broke away from God to become a rockstar. 

“If you could travel back to 1978 and give your fourteen-year-old self advice for the road ahead, what would you tell her?”

“I’d tell her……don’t lose that dream, little one. You’ve got the journey of a lifetime waiting for you.” 

...............................................

TGM Tag List: @avaleineandafryingpan, @caitsymichelle13, @poppyalice2001, @cutelittlepotatofry, @luckyladycreator2, @americaarse , @elenavampire21, @back-tooo-black, @wildellaa , @artemissunn , @pinkpantheris , @kmc1989

[the-californicationist]

Why do I hold onto clothes that I won’t wear? If I have them hanging in my closet, does it mean that I am still connected to the time and place I wore them last? They’re washed. Surely the dirt and sweat and tears and cake and ash from the birthday candles have all gone out of them. Surely only my memory remains. And yet, the shirt is still here. The one I stole from the bottom drawer in my friend’s dresser, the girl who isn’t my friend anymore. The shirt I got from the 5k that kicked my ass; the one that taught me that even after a year of personal training, I should return to my mantra — temet nosce. Know thyself. But not knowing as in funfetti is my favorite, even though I’ve never had it on my own birthday. Not knowing as in when I go to target for a pack of tampons, I’ll leave with a cart full of bags. Don’t worry it was a sale. Full to the top of that red basket of snuts and trinkets and oh so important necessities that I’ll find at the bottom of my bathroom vanity by Christmas. A closet full of singleton socks and novelty headbands that I’m not manic pixie enough to wear. The coat from when my father was in Korea. Not for the war. For something else. Who knows what? It’s a memory that isn’t mine. And yet still it takes up space here on the rung, forcing me to confront it every time I open the door. Knowing it’s there. Being able to feel the cheap chocolate brown silk and the quick embroidery. But the thought of a sudden fire, bright flames melting it away to nothing, literally makes my eyes burn with tears. The unbearable loss of a memory that isn’t mine. And all of the sweaters that I hoped would get their mileage, forgetting somehow that I live in east Houston, the land of concrete and strip centers, flattening anything that could even pretend to be a tree, an easy bake oven of a place, garish and scorching even in November. Is nostalgia the Marlboro of my generation? Did we get a peek at that exploitive heaven of the nineties only to discover that we do indeed reap what we sow. The reaping is a nasty business. The loss of houses. Hurricane Katrina. Temperature spikes. Snow in March. The sweater I bought from a beach front shack because I had nothing else to wear. How do you tell a fourteen year old that she should pack clothes when she has pictures and burned CDs and video games that she can’t live without? And if they were washed away, somehow their loss would be her fault. I should throw out these dresses. The one I wore to my grandmother’s funeral is too black. Too specific. The nylon body con hugged me as I read my trite eulogy, a love letter she will never read. A woman full of memories. Of finer clothes than mine. All of her socks had pairs. Where did she find them? Or did she banish the lonely ones? Did she have a heart to say goodbye to something when it served her well, it’s time on earth fleeting and yet eternal. Nothing leaves this blue speck, does it? And yet I cling to this screen-printed Gildan like it’s my own skin. If I put it on, will any part of me come rushing back?

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Clay Jones, Claytoonz: The new GOP mantra

* * * *

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

July 25, 2024 (Thursday)

Momentum continues to build behind Vice President Kamala Harris to become the Democratic Party’s presidential nominee, and the national narrative as a whole has shifted.

Democrats appear to be generating significant enthusiasm among younger Americans. Yesterday, for the first time in their history, the March for Our Lives organization endorsed a presidential candidate: Kamala Harris. Students from the Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida, organized March for Our Lives after the shooting there in 2018. Executive director Natalie Fall said that the organization “will work to mobilize young people across the country to support Vice President Harris and other down-ballot candidates, with a particular focus on the states and races where we can make up the margin of victory—in Arizona, New York, Michigan, and Florida.”

Andrea Hailey of Vote.org announced that in the 48 hours after President Biden said he would not accept the Democratic nomination, nearly 40,000 people registered to vote. That meant a daily increase in new registrations of almost 700%.

People are turning out for Harris in impressive numbers. In the hours after she launched her campaign, Win With Black Women rallied 44,000 Black women on Zoom and raised $1.6 million. On Monday, around 20,000 Black men rallied to raise $1.2 million. Tonight, challenged to “answer the call,” 164,000 white women joined an event that “broke Zoom” and raised more than $2 million and tens of thousands of new volunteers.

Another significant endorsement for Harris came yesterday from Geoff Duncan, the Republican former lieutenant governor of Georgia, who wrote on social media: “I’m committed to beating Donald Trump. The only vehicle left for me to do that with is the Democratic Party. If that requires me to vote for, speak for, or endorse [Kamala Harris] then count me in!” Duncan’s public announcement offers permission for other Georgia Republicans to make a similar shift. In 1964, South Carolina senator Strom Thurmond similarly paved the way for southern Democrats to vote for Republican presidential candidate Barry Goldwater.

Harris’s appearances are generating such enthusiasm from audiences that when she delivered the keynote address this morning at the convention of the American Federation of Teachers in Houston, Texas, the applause delayed her ability to begin. After a speech defending education and calling out the cuts to it in Project 2025, Harris ended by demonstrating that after decades of Democrats being accused of being anti-American, Trump’s denigration of the country has enabled the party to claim the position of being America’s defenders.

“When we vote, we make our voices heard,” Harris said. “So today, I ask you, AFT, are you ready to make your voices heard? Do we believe in freedom? Do we believe in opportunity? Do we believe in the promise of America? And are we ready to fight for it? And when we fight, we win! God bless you and God bless the United States of America.”

Today the Commerce Department reported that economic growth in the second quarter was higher than expected, coming in at 2.8%, thanks to higher spending driven by higher wages. The country’s changing momentum is showing in media stories hyping the booming economy Biden’s team tried for years to get traction on. “Full Employment is Joe Biden’s True Legacy” was the title of a story by Zachary Carter that appeared yesterday in Slate; CNN responded to today’s good economic news with an article by Bryan Mena titled: “The US economy is pulling off something historic.”

With Harris appearing to have sewn up the nomination, the question has turned to her vice presidential pick. That question is fueling the sense of excitement as potential choices are in front of cameras and on social media advocating Democratic positions and defending the United States from Trump’s denigration. Pennsylvania governor Josh Shapiro listed the economic gains of the past years, and said: “Trump, you’ve got to stop sh*t talking America. We’ve got to start standing tall and being patriotic and showing how much we love this amazing nation.”

The vice presidential hopefuls appear to be having some fun with showcasing their personalities, as Minnesota governor Tim Walz did in his video from the Minnesota State Fair where he and his daughter went on an extreme ride. So are social media users who have dug up old videos of, for example, Transportation Secretary Pete Buttigieg explaining how he would pilot a small starfighter that had lost its auxiliary shields, or Arizona senator Mark Kelly’s identical twin brother Scott pranking a fellow astronaut on the Space Station with a gorilla suit Mark smuggled on board.

That sense of fun is an enormous relief after years of political weight, and it has spilled over into making fun of the Republican ticket, most notably with a false story that vice presidential candidate J.D. Vance wrote about—and I cannot believe I am typing this—having sex with a couch. The story is stupid, but worse are the denials of it, which have spread the story into populations that otherwise would likely not have seen it.

Just two weeks ago, Vance appeared to be the leader of the next generation of extremist MAGA Republicans, but now that calculation seems to have been hasty. Vance is a staunch opponent of abortion—the key issue in 2024—and he has been vocal in his disdain of women who have not given birth, saying in 2021, for example, that the U.S. was being run by “a bunch of childless cat ladies who are miserable at their own lives and the choices that they’ve made and so they want to make the rest of the country miserable, too.” He went on to say that people who don’t have children “don’t really have a direct stake” in the country.

Republican commentator Meghan McCain noted that Vance’s “comments are activating women across all sides, including my most conservative Trump supporting friends. These comments have caused real pain and are just innately unchristian.” Actor Jennifer Aniston, who tends to stay out of politics, posted: “I truly can’t believe this is coming from a potential VP of The United States.” Vance had called out Harris by name in those 2021 comments, and Second Gentleman Doug Emhoff’s ex-wife Kerstin Emhoff took to social media to defend Harris from Vance’s attacks on her as “childless,” calling her “a co-parent with Doug and I. She is loving, nurturing, fiercely protective and always present. I love our blended family and am grateful to have her in it.” Harris’s stepdaughter chimed in: “I love my three parents.”

Vance also ties the Republican ticket firmly to Project 2025. The Trump camp has worked to distance itself from Project 2025—not convincingly, since the two are obviously closely tied, but it turns out that Vance wrote the introduction for a forthcoming book by Heritage Foundation president Kevin Roberts, who was the lead author of Project 2025. The book appears to popularize that plan, right down to its endorsement of a “Second American Revolution,” and according to the book deal report, proceeds from the book will go to the Heritage Foundation “and aligned nonprofits.”

Now Vance’s words praising Project 2025 will be in print, just in time for the election. Yesterday, Trump posted: “I have nothing to do with, and know nothing about, Project 25 [sic]. The fact that I do is merely disinformation put out by the Radical Left Democrat Thugs. Do not believe them!”

Trump is clearly aware of, and concerned about, the changing narrative. This morning, he called in to Fox & Friends, saying, “We don’t need the votes. I have so many votes. I’m in Florida now…and every house has a Trump-Vance sign on it. Every single house…. It’s amazing the spirit…. This election has more spirit than I’ve ever seen ever before.” Tonight the Trump campaign proved their worry by backing out of debates with Harris, saying debates can’t be scheduled until she is the official nominee, although Biden was not the official nominee when they met in June.

The larger narrative shift has affected the media approach to Trump, who is accustomed to shaping perceptions as he wishes. Now, 12 days after the mass shooting at his rally in Butler, Pennsylvania, there is increasing media attention to the fact that there has still been no medical report on Trump’s injuries, although he wore a large bandage on his ear at the Republican National Convention and said at a rally in Grand Rapids, Michigan, on Saturday that he “took a bullet for democracy.”

Yesterday, FBI director Christopher Wray told Congress that it is not clear whether Trump was “grazed” by a bullet or by shrapnel, words that former federal prosecutor Joyce Vance called “FBI speak for, ‘it’s unlikely it was a bullet.’”

CNN chief medical consultant Dr. Sanjay Gupta noted last week that the people need a real medical evaluation of Trump’s injuries, explaining that “gunshot blasts near the head can cause injuries that aren’t immediately noticeable, such as bleeding in or on the brain, damage to the inner ear or even psychological trauma.” But, as Josh Marshall at Talking Points Memo has noted, much of the press has kept mum about the story.

Media outlets have reported Wray’s testimony, though, and in a social media post today, Trump called on Wray, whom he appointed to head the FBI, to resign from his post for “LYING TO CONGRESS.” Tonight, he reiterated that “it was…a bullet that hit my ear, and hit it hard.”

Perhaps eager to get back to their districts, House Republicans canceled their expected votes on appropriations bills scheduled for next week and left town today for their August recess. The House will not reconvene until early September. The government’s fiscal year 2025 begins on October 1.

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

[drewsbuzzcut]

Conversations To Be Had

college baseball player! drew starkey x fem!reader

part of the college baseball au (the breakup part 4) pt 1 , pt 2 , pt 3

warnings: angst, slight panic attack, pregnancy and miscarriage!!! please do not read if these subjects are hard for you to read. your mental health always comes first!

Drew had just opened the envelope that held his future in tiny letters.

He was nervous and hesitant, but he had to open it, and when he did, he felt his shoulders lose all their tension. He was being drafted by his dream team. This was actually happening. He would come to agreements with the foundation and sign a contract, and officially make the move to Houston. It’s only the thing he’s wanted all his life.

He picked up his phone and immediately dialed your number. The ongoing ringing reminded him that you weren’t speaking to each other anymore. Not just not speaking, but you were broken up. He berated himself for calling you, ready to tell you his good news. It was innate. He was about to hang up when he heard you pick up. He was honestly surprised. He never thought you would answer and talk to him.

“Hello?” Drew says when there’s only silence from your end, thinking maybe you accidentally answered his call.

“Yes?” You answer back, voice rough.

“You answered!”

You just hum, not having the strength to make full, coherent sentences.

“You will never believe what just happened! I came home and checked my mail and there was an envelope waiting for me. An envelope from Houston! Basically, they want me to fly out to Texas, tour the baseball park and some living options, and then we’ll make agreements. Hopefully I’ll be able to even sign a contract while I’m there. It’s all happening, y/n! I can’t believe it’s all finally happening,” Drew blurts out. He waits for some kind of response from you. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was expecting you to say, but he was taken aback when he heard you sniffle.

Thank god it was only a sniffle because you were trying so hard to hold back sobs.

“Y/n, are you crying? What’s wrong?” You didn’t want him to know that you were crying. He didn’t deserve to have his good news overshadowed.

“Nothing’s wrong. Just trying to hold back a sneeze,” you lie.

“A sneeze? You can tell me if something’s wrong,” Drew tries to get you to tell him what’s wrong. He knows you weren’t holding back a sneeze.

“Drew, nothing’s wrong!” You snap a little.

“Okay. Sorry for asking,” Drew says solemnly.

“I’m happy for you, Drew. Everything is working the way you wanted it to,” you say, trying to minimize the amount of times your voice cracks.

“Thank you. It means a lot coming from you.”

The tears can’t be held back any longer. You don’t verbally respond to him, only nodding your head while the tears keep rolling.

“I got to go, congrats again,” you say suddenly and then hang up, not wanting anymore questions or concerns from him.

He was having his dream come true, meanwhile you’re breaking down and you can’t even get yourself to talk to him about it.

If only he knew what just happened.

You wanted to scream. You were angry at yourself and at Drew. Part of you wanted him to just leave you alone, but a bigger part of you wanted him to beg you to tell him what was wrong. You wanted to tell him that about the agony you were going through. You wanted to tell him the heartbreaking events that you just endured moments before his phone call came in.

If only he knew that you just had a miscarriage. A miscarriage of the baby he didn’t even know you were carrying.

You had only found out you were pregnant a couple days after the flowers with Drew’s note were delivered to you- it was from a doctor’s appointment, checking up on all your vitals and it was the blood sample that revealed the unknown. When you found out, your doctor had informed you that you were already heading into your second trimester. You had many opportunities to tell him, but you really didn’t want him to force a reconciliation because of the baby you both had made.

Today would have been a routine check up, but the ultrasound didn’t play the strong heartbeat that you were becoming familiar with. At the silence from both the machine and the sonographer, you knew you were no longer going to have a baby.

You kept having to look up into the iridescent light above you, trying to blink back the tears and trying to stop the sobs from taking over your body. You were completely overwhelmed with the fact that you had just lost your baby after losing Drew, and that you didn’t know where to go from that moment on.

You were advised to see your obgyn immediately. You were by yourself the whole time. It all felt unreal. Everything was in a blur and everyone who talked to you, trying to explain everything, was just like static buzzing in your ears.

After your doctor confirmed that you were experiencing a miscarriage, they let you leave with a prescription of pain medicine, and an empty heart.

You wanted Drew’s comfort the whole time. You needed his skin to be pressed to yours. You needed his hand to soothe your cramps. You needed his words of love and courage. You needed him.

Your fingers itched to dial his number, but you held yourself back.

Next thing you knew, your phone was ringing and it was Drew who was calling. You couldn’t not answer it.

Hearing his good news made you even more bitter. You wanted to be happy, but you couldn’t because his dream was coming true- without you in his life. You wanted to be mad at him for calling, but you couldn’t, not when you wanted him to call you to talk about anything. You were so confused with what you were feeling which was why you barely said anything, but a forced congratulations to him.

You hated that you couldn’t even force yourself to explain everything to him, and you hated that he didn’t try to pry you open even more. It was a long battle going on in your head every second of the day. You could only hope that one day you can talk with Drew like how you used to.

a/n: This is part 4 of the breakup! I hope you all enjoy this part. As always, there’s more to come!