#our neighbors found her and brought her to us early december! we had her for about 2 weeks and then my brothers family adopted her c:

[melnathea]

Sobbing crying please look at the kitten and her new bestie 😭 my brother adopted her and shes so happy waah

[misfitwashere]

The way Ukrainians live around missile attacks. I decided to translate it for you.

by Tatusia Bo

"My first fear after the start of the full-scale invasion is quite trivial. Like, in fact, everyone's. I fear a missile would strike while I am taking a shower. And I could see these pictures in my head — they would clear the rubble and take out my plumpy, naked, and wet body. So, I learned to wash within 3 minutes between alerts. I would jump out of the shower and be like, "Whew, not this time".

My second fear is the missile-and-the-toilet thing. I have had it since a missile attack on the neighborhood in the early morning. In fact, I was woken up by a loud bang. For I had solemnly slept through the air raid alert. The explosion, I open my eyes, and I'm already standing in the common corridor with my baby in my arms. Then there was a series of bangs, everything was shaking. And suddenly a pause... And I needed to use the toilet so badly that I was crying. I thought "Well, whatever. I'll go for it".

I went to the toilet, and as soon as I sat on it, there was a looooud bang. I was tossed up in the air along with the toilet. After that, I fear a missile attack while being in the toilet. Handsome and strong firefighters would clear it all up and find me riding a white... horse. And journalists would write: "A Woman with No Panties Found on the Toilet". And all of Kyiv would zoom in on the picture, looking at the scars and birthmarks, trying to figure out who had pissed away, well, I mean, missed the alarm.

As for panties... We were brought up mostly in post-Soviet times. Teenagers of our generation were not interested in looking under skirts. Because everyone's underpants were the same. Serhii's mom's, Olya's, and Serhii's classmate's - all the same. They were so ugly. Mothers of that time always kept new underpants in the closet for holidays and when they went to see a doctor. No matter what happened to a person, the first thing to take care of was underwear. And then the war... Once I felt a little better, the first thing I did was buying a pair of nice new panties. 'Cause, you know, what if all that happened — a missile, rubble, firefighters, the media... And maybe they would eventually write "A Woman's Body Found Under Rubble in Lovely Panties". They would write that, won't they?

One of my friends, Lena, upon returning home after de-occupation, was most offended by the Russians because they neglected even household appliances in the house, but beige, seamless, very comfortable and therefore well-worn underpants were stolen by the bastards.

My mother also had her own fear. What if a missile hit her house, everything was smashed, chickens running around, ducks were not fed, and the vegetable garden was overgrown with weeds? That's what she would tell me: "I am weeding the vegetable garden, my dear, in case a missile hits, so I have no weeds all over my potatoes."

On December 31, the Russians "greeted" us all day long with "congratulations" either by Shaheds or missiles. Neighbors from the upper floors gathered near my door in the common hallway. They would gather and grumble that the damned Russians were not letting them finish preparing the holiday meal. Someone brought out sparkling wine, and I brought out glasses: "Well, cheers to air defense."

"If they shell our house and I burn down the duck I've been cooking for three days, I won't take responsibility for my actions," said a neighbor from the 9th floor. And for some reason, I believe her.

On the morning of January 2, the Russians launched their most massive missile attack on Ukraine. When tons of explosives were flying over Kyiv, my friend Katia politely went to the subway, where we hide from missiles. And so people were shuddering from the explosions in the subway, and Katia would text us in a common chat:

"Oh, f@ck, there was such an explosion I almost dropped my croissant."

We would write back, dumbfounded:

"Katia, what croissant? Where are you?"

And Katya replied with such calmness:

"I went out for coffee, what's wrong? I am a Ukrainian woman. I want coffee and a croissant, and no f@cking Russian Kalibr (missile - ed.) is going to stop me".

Let's skip the fact that, despite the explosions all over the city, there was an open croissant shop, which is a topic for another conversation. But Katia, it turns out, is afraid of dying from a missile without drinking coffee and having a crispy croissant.

We are afraid. Oh, how scared we are. Personally, during the loudest explosion, I was pressing myself to the floor thinking, "F@ck, am I going to die in the old robe?" and anyway I donated money for drones. We are scared, scared when missiles are flying at another city, scared when the news reports on an air attack on the defense line near the city of M. We seem to be afraid every second of our lives.

Author: Tatusia Bo

[fckinwild-kiwi]

Dec. 13th: Comfort in His Voice

Day 13: Laundry Day/Just Can’t Sleep

Guys, I’ve made it to Day THIRTEEN!! of @comp-lady’s Domestic December writing challenge!

Warnings: Maybe Swearing, *Slight* Allusions to Smut (This is an 18+ blog, minors dni)  Word Counts: 0.8k+ Words Pairings: Steve Harrington x Reader

The relationship with Steve, though new, felt natural in a way that brought us both comfort. So much so that sleeping over felt like second nature. It was not often that we found ourselves in separate beds. And even though I still lived at my parent’s house, we ended up splitting the nights pretty equally between our houses. Even though Steve was concerted at first he began to realize that my parents understood that we were both adults and we stayed respectful of their boundaries. Physical intimacy was always something I thought you found within sex. I realized though, the physical intimacy that I craved the most was feeling the weight of his body pressed against mine, no sex on the horizon, just comfort from each other’s touch.

There was something so beautiful in recognizing that, while the sex was extraordinary, it was not the most important part of the relationship. It didn’t compare to knowing that your emotional needs were being met and that you were an equal in the relationship. 

I struggled with falling asleep on nights when we found ourselves at separate houses. I craved the comfort and feeling only Steve could provide when we shared a bed. Tonight, Steve was taking Robin and Eddie to a dive bar in the neighboring town, I decided to stay home because I had to work early the next day. But here it was, 1:30 in the morning with no sleep in my future. The bar had to have been closed or close to closing so I took my chances in calling Steve, hoping his voice would help me find comfort.

After six rings, I heard a voice on the other end, “Hello?”

“Stevie?”

“Baby,” He sighed out. “What’s wrong?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” I whispered in the receiver. “Missed you too much. How was your night?”

“I missed you too, baby,” He echoed. “Robin went crazy, the alcohol she drank tonight must have given her a personality change because she suddenly had the most confidence known to woman-kind.”

“Really?” I questioned, giggling at his excitement. “What happened?”

“She had three shots and decided that she found the love of her life, she walked right up to this woman, and within a few minutes they were making out, in front of everyone!”

“No way that was Robin,” I argued. She was a comically shy person in public but with our group of friends she was exceptionally outgoing, I was so happy to hear about her willingness to believe in herself. 

“Oh yeah, so she left with her about an hour later and Eddie decided that he was going to sing karaoke but he was also three shots deep and it didn’t take long for them to kick him off the stage because he was hogging the mic,” Steve said, beginning to laugh at the memory he was sharing. “He took a few more sad shots and then I gathered him up and took him home.”

“Wow, that’s a quick night for you guys,” I continued whispering. “Did you have fun at least?”

“Oh yeah, I did,” Steve reassured me. “I would have had more fun with you there to make fun of Eddie with me.”

“You need to be nicer to him, be a better wingman,” I reprimanded. 

“I know,” Steve sighed into the receiver. “I’ll be better. How was your day today and night?”

“It was fine,” I started. “My boss was on my ass about the new product and its layout for the holidays. I have to finish the setup tomorrow. Dad grilled some hamburgers for dinner and we watched ‘Wheel of Fortune’ after dinner. Some real party animal shit.”

“I hope your day at work goes better today, honey,” Steve said. “If it makes you feel any better, I work the late shift today so I’ll have to do all the restocking and cold calls to remind people to pay their late fees.”

My face fell, I had completely forgotten that Steve was working late today. “It doesn’t make me feel better.”

“Will you do me a favor,” Steve whispered back to you even though he had no reason to be quiet. “Tomorrow, when you leave work, will you come to my place? Stay with me?”

“Yes, please,” I said, releasing a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

“I just sleep better when we are together,” Steve said, rambling. “You’ll be here for a few hours before I get here but all of your favorite snacks are in the pantry. If you’d rather stay at home, I get it and I could come to you. But if you’d rather have another night apart, I get that-.”

“Stevie,” I interrupted him. “I don’t want another night apart, I sleep better next to you too. In case you forgot, I couldn’t sleep tonight and I called you at almost two in the morning because I missed you so much. After work, I’ll head home to yours, I’ll even make you dinner for when you get home.”

“I love you,” Steve mumbled into the receiver. I could tell that sleep was starting to creep up on him. “I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.”

“I love you too, handsome,” I echoed. “Get some sleep, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Tonight though sleep came slowly, I found comfort in his words and that would be enough.

[prettyinlimegreenboots]

Twelve Days of Holly, Jolly Tidings - Day 9

Disclaimers: I watched “Dash & Lily” the other day on Netflix. This story is LOOSELY based on that book and Netflix series.  I do not own “Dash and Lily” or Newsies or anything recognizable within the series.  There are occasional curse words throughout the series, nothing too horrible but there’s some.

Catch Up Here

Saturday, December 21

Kat woke suddenly, disoriented as a siren wailed outside her window. Sitting up in her bed, she soon heard the fire alarms wailing as someone pounded on her door. Sighing, she shook her head, getting out of bed, shoving her feet into her winter boots, throwing on her thick winter coat. Heading to the door, she grabbed her bag, making sure her keys were inside, before unlocking the door, pulling it open. 

Her neighbor, Mrs. Potter was standing outside her door wide eyed. “Morning Kat. They want us to go outside.” 

The fire alarms weren’t uncommon in the old apartment building but the fact that there was 6 inches of snow outside the Saturday before Christmas was a little unique. With a sigh, she shut her door behind her, trudging down the stairs before walking outside to see the police, firemen, and paramedics moving swiftly outside the apartment building. 

She ran a hand through her hair, sighing that she didn’t at least run a brush through her hair as she looked up and down the street at all of her neighbors. She smiled briefly at them before reaching into her pocket for her cell phone . . . only to realize she left it in the apartment. 

Groaning, she shoved her hands into her coat, grinning triumphantly when she found her gloves. Quickly putting them on, she watched a couple of the paramedics check on her neighbors. She bounced on her toes, trying to keep warm. 

“Party in the street? It’s only 6:45 in the morning.” An amused voice came from her left as she looked over her shoulder. 

She grinned, seeing her boyfriend walk up with two insulated cups in her hand. “You know the old people can’t help but throw a rager every now and then, especially in the early hours of the morning. What are you doing here?” 

“Was going to sneak in and bring you hot chocolate.” He grinned, leaning over and giving her a kiss, handing her one of the cups. “Nice look you’ve got going on here.” 

Accepting the cup, she inhaled the rich smell of chocolate before sighing happily. “Thanks. Also, woke up when the fire alarms went off. Mrs. Potter was giving me a look so I didn’t have time to get gussied up.” 

“I don’t know . . . I’m kinda digging the Christmas PJs and Ravenclaw sweatshirt you’re rocking.” Jack stepped back, looking her over in appreciation. 

Hip checking him, she shook her head. “Behave. Besides, what are you doing here so early? It’s Saturday . . . usually you like to sleep in.” 

“Couldn’t sleep.” He shrugged. 

Giving him a look, Kat slowly nodded. “So you figured if you couldn’t sleep then neither could I, huh?” 

“Actually, the plan was to drop the cup of hot cocoa and the notebook by your bedside before sneaking back out. In and out before you ever woke up.” A smirk slid across Jack’s face. “But that quickly went out the window when I saw you standing here.”

Kat laughed. “I’m sure it did.  I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

“What’s that?” Jack moved closer to her, just as the firemen came out of the apartment building giving them the “All Clear”. 

She laced her fingers with Jack’s, tugging him with her as she made her way back into the apartment. Walking up the stairs, she listened to the chatter of her neighbors, before she came to her floor, walking to her door. Tugging her hand away from Jack’s, she quickly unlocked the door, allowing him to go in first before following him in. 

Kat quickly made her way to her room, throwing on a pair of jeans and a sweater before running a brush through her hair. Once she deemed herself presentable, she joined Jack back in the living room, where he took the opportunity to plug in her tree.  “You mentioned earlier that you had something you wanted to ask me.” 

“I did.” She grinned, taking a seat beside him, laying her head on his shoulder. “Do you read everything that I write in the notebook?” 

Jack chuckled. “I do. I especially loved the entry about your memories from being a kid. Is my grand plan working?”

“I would say so.” She sighed. “It is going to be an odd year - siblings scattered across the country, my parents won’t even be in the city on Christmas. I’m thankful I’ll be with you and your family.” 

Jack kissed the top of her head. “Mom’s excited that you’re joining us.” 

“Me too.” She took a sip of her coffee, giving her boyfriend a look. “So what are you up to today?” 

Shrugging, he grinned. “I really don’t have any plans. What about you?” 

“Whatever the notebook tells me to do.” Her eyebrows rose in a challenge as she grinned. 

His eyes darted towards the tree as she looked over at it. A wrapped box was under the tree as she scrambled to pick it up. Unwrapping it, she opened the box, pulling out the green notebook. Her eyes flew up to meet Jack’s as he motioned for her to open it. 

Happy 9th Day of Christmas, Kat! 

This may be my favorite of your adventures yet - there will be some surprises throughout the day but to start it, you need to get bundled up. This is an outdoor adventure and your first surprise awaits. 

She stopped reading, looking up at Jack curiously. “What do you mean my first surprise awaits?” 

“Go get bundled up and I’ll tell you.” Jack grinned. 

She walked to her bedroom, grabbing her warmest hoodie and scarf before shoving her feet into her warm winter boots. She stopped in the living room, giving Jack a look before throwing her coat on. “Alright, what’s my surprise?” 

Standing up, he walked over to her, leaning over and giving her a kiss. “Me.” 

“You?” Her eyes went wide, a smirk sliding across her lips. “But I already have you.” 

He threw his head back and laughed. “True but you asked if I was going to ever join you on an adventure and today is that day!” 

“Seriously?” She threw her arms around him as she excitedly bounced up and down. “That’s awesome. I’ve been wanting you to join me on these.” 

Jack laughed, watching her excitedly bounce. “Do you have everything? We’ve got places to go and people to see.” 

Grabbing her bag, she held her hand out for him to lace his fingers with hers before they walked out of the apartment. As they walked, she watched him out of the corner of her eye. Coming to a stop at the corner, she gasped loudly. “So it wasn’t coincidentally that you brought me coffee this morning, huh?” 

“Nothing gets by you, Plumber, huh?” He chuckled, nodding his head. “Bringing you hot cocoa was the plan all along . . . however, I didn’t expect you to be standing in the street in your pajamas.” 

Laughing, she bit her lip. “I won’t be living that one down for a while, huh?” 

“It’s in the top ten favorite looks you’ve pulled off.” He laughed, squeezing her hand as they walked across the street. 

Giving him a look, her eyes went wide at his words. “Wait, you have a top ten favorite looks of mine?” 

“Uhhh . . . yeah I do.” He hesitated, smirking. 

Waiting for him to continue with his train of thought, she stopped, their conjoined hands tugging. “And?” 

“And what . . . I’m not going to tell you my favorite looks.” Jack shook his head, not wanting to get into that debate with her. 

Continuing their walk, Jack tucked her arm in the crook of his elbow.  He avoided her eye, as she continued to prod him, giving her a look. “Kat, maybe later but we’re late.” 

“Late for what?” She stopped talking about his favorite looks. “What do you have up your sleeve, Kelly?” 

Smirked, Jack led her into the park. “All will be explained shortly, patience dear Plumber, patience.” 

“Real funny, Kelly.” Tilting her head, she tried to figure out where he was leading her.  “You’re taking me to Central Park.” 

With a nod of his head, Jack chuckled. “Well done, Sherlock.” 

Smacking his shoulder, she giggled at his disheartened yelp. “Smart aleck.” 

“You love me.” He retorted, as she happily nodded.

“I do.”  

He stole a quick kiss from her before maneuvering her so her back was facing the park. He stood in front of her, grabbing her hands. “So this is the second of your surprises, but you need to read the next part of the notebook first.” 

Grabbing the book from her bag, she opened it to the marked page. 

Surprise! I’m one of your surprises today . . . so you got one of your wishes. Now another one of your wishes. 

Last Christmas, you put together a holiday version of a bucket list. Despite our best efforts, there was one thing that we didn’t check off the list . . . do you remember what it was?

Looking up from the notebook, Kat looked at Jack, tilting her head. She left herself slip back to the previous Christmas, remembering writing down all the things she wanted to do in the holiday season.  She remembered there was one thing that they didn’t check off but she couldn’t remember what. 

If you don’t remember, I’ll remind you in a minute. But this is something that you said you and your dad would do the Saturday before Christmas, as the rest of the city hustle and bustle trying to get the last minute Christmas shopping done.  

She gasped, a smile tugged on her lips as she thought back on the carriage rides her father would take her around Central Park while her mother finished the Christmas shopping. She looked at Jack with a smile. “You’re taking me on a carriage ride?” 

Without a word, he spun her around. Her eyes widened as she saw a horse drawn carriage sitting directly in front of her. “Surprise!” 

Kat quickly threw her arms around his shoulders before pulling back, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him. “I love you . . . this is perfect.” 

“Well, let’s go.” He grabbed her hand, pulling her forward. A few words were exchanged with the driver of the carriage before they got into it. A blanket was draped over her legs as Jack threw an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close. 

They were quiet as the carriage took them around the park. Jack would occasionally press kisses to her forehead as she just enjoyed the time with him.  She smiled, seeing it start to lightly snow. “If I haven’t said it yet, thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” He sighed, smiling at her. “Honestly, all I wanted to do is see you smile after you got the news that you’d be essentially alone for Christmas.  And I’ve seen you smile and relax more the last few days - it’s the best thanks I could’ve asked for.” 

She leaned over, laying her hand on his cheek, feeling the coarse whiskers there, kissing him. “I love you, Jack Kelly.” 

“Love you too Katherine Plumber.” He stole another kiss before looking over at her bag. “There’s a bit more in the notebook for you to read.” 

Leaning forward, she grabbed the notebook, settling back against Jack before opening it. 

You were so disappointed that we weren’t able to cross off a carriage ride on your bucket list . . . but I hope this makes up for it a bit. And it doesn’t hurt that I get to cuddle with you on the ride. 

She giggled, reading his words. Anytime I get to spend with you is a win in my book. By the way,  the driver’s name is Nathan and the horses names’ are Pretzel and Jingle, just in case you wanted to know. 

So, I want you to write down everything that has made you smile in the last 9 days. Make sure you include how brilliant and amazing your boyfriend is :-) 

She scoffed, rolling her eyes, looking up at Jack, who merely grinned at her. He had a pen in his hand, as she took it from him. “In your dreams lover boy.” 

“Wanna know something before you start writing?” Jack asked, raising an eyebrow in a challenge. 

She nodded, snuggling deeper into his embrace. He pressed a kiss to her forehead before speaking. “There’s a reason the notebook is emerald green . . . know why?” 

Looking over her shoulder at him, she bit her lip as she thought back on their relationship, coming up with nothing. “Other than green being your favorite color, you wore an emerald green dress for your cousin’s wedding. That’s one of my ten favorite looks.” 

She thought back to the third wedding they had attended as a couple. It was two years into their relationship, after they had met each other’s families. Kat was really nervous to ask Jack to attend her cousin, Sam’s wedding but he instantly agreed.  They had danced the night away, Jack whispering in her ear how much he loved the emerald green dress she had chosen for the occasion.

“Really?” She whispered, eyes widened at him. “Why that dress? It wasn’t the first dress you saw me in.” 

He shook his head, leaning forward slightly, grabbing his wallet from the back pocket. Flipping it open, he showed her the photo of them from the night of the wedding, dressed up.  She was leaning into him, both of them laughing at something. “No, it wasn’t the first dress I saw you in. I love that look because despite you hating heels and dresses, you look so drop dead gorgeous in them. And that dress in particular, goes really well with your red hair. Also, I was so proud to have you on my arm that night . . . . meeting your crazy family. Also, you were so carefree that night, dancing with me and laughing . . . the confidence you have in a dress is one of my favorite pieces, despite you not wearing them often enough.” 

“Jack.” His name fell from her lips as she looked at the photo. 

He chuckled, eyes widened. “You clean up well, Plums. You really should wear a dress for Christmas Eve.” 

“I’ll consider it.”  She didn’t miss the fist pump he did out of the corner of her eye as she laughed. “If I wear a dress, I expect more explanations of your favorite looks.” 

He bit his lip. “I’ll consider it.”

She laughed, nodding. Clicking the pen, she reread Jack’s scrawl before putting the pen to paper. Jack watched as her tongue poked out between her lips in pure concentration. He watched her as they continued their journey around the park.  Jack smiled, noticing the little things that he normally wouldn’t; her pen’s quick strokes against the paper, the little pause as she gathered her thoughts, and the little smirk on her face as she thought back on a happy memory.  He continued to watch her write in the notebook, lost in her thoughts of happiness of the last 9 days. 

With a click of the pen, she shut the notebook, grinning at Jack.  “Done!” 

“Good! Good memories?” He asked, giving her a look.

She nodded, handing him the notebook. “Have fun reading that later on - hopefully it’ll make you smile.” 

Taking the notebook from her hands, he tucked it  into his coat pocket, pulling something out.  “Now for the third, and final surprise.” 

Holding out a plain white box, he motioned for her to take it. She smiled softly, taking the box before popping it open. She gasped softly, looking at the horse and carriage charm that was nestled into cotton. “This is perfect, Jack. Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome. I think it’ll go nicely with the rest of the charms.” He watched her snap the box shut, tucking it safely into her bag. 

She raised an eyebrow. “What am I doing with all of these charms, by the way?” 

“Oh, time will reveal all soon, Kat. Just keep them in their boxes for now.” He grinned, leaning over, capturing her lips in a sweet kiss. “Love you, Katherine.” 

“Love you too Jack.” She sighed, pulling the blanket around her waist, burying herself deeper into Jack’s embrace. “A perfect Saturday spent with you.” 

He couldn’t agree more, putting his arm back around her back, pulling her closer to his side. Sighing, he pressed a kiss to her forehead as they enjoyed the rest of the carriage ride. 

[lydiadarlingtonxo]

( victoria pedretti, female, she/her )╰ ✧ ˔ ⭒ magic is in the air !oh wait - that’s just our newest neighbor, lydia “lady” darlington, the 25 year old FLORIST. they’ve been relocated from pastoral city, and so far the locals claim that they’re EMPATHETIC and JEALOUS, just like LADY from LADY & THE TRAMP. if you ask me, they seem like the type to enjoy SILVER “RETURN TO TIFFANY & CO.” LOCKETS AND CANDLELIT ITALIAN DINNER DATES. apparently, they are CAUTIOUSLY OPTIMISTIC about entering rome pines, and i don’t think their power of EMPATHIC PERCEPTION VIA TOUCH will help them this time. let’s just hope they can adjust to the new neighborhood…⭒˔ ╮{ ooc: kate, 26, PST, she/her }

summary 

(tw: parent death) lydia renee darlington is a simple girl born on december 25th, 1994 to two simple people, renee and michael darlington, in the beautiful affluent town of pastoral city. growing up, she was surrounded by love and flowers. her father gave her a beautiful heart shaped pendant from tiffany & co for her 13th birthday, joking that the “if lost, please return to tiffany & co” would be better suited to her than being brought back home should she ever go missing. her thoughts were all spun sugar and glitter. whatever she wanted, she got and then some more. lydia--affectionately dubbed “lady” by her parents--was born into a dream world that she was lucky enough to call her reality. 

then, her mom got pregnant with the future christopher darlington. things changed, but renee and michael included lady in all the planning. she helped pick out the nursery furniture, the clothes, and even which walker would sit in their former 3-person living room. while she’d previously expected neglect, the impending arrival of her little brother brought the family even closer together and lady found herself excited to meet the 4th member of the darlingtons. 

on july 7th--7/7, what should’ve been the luckiest day of the year--ended in tragedy when her mother passed away due to complications during child birth. they left the hospital the same way they’d arrived: a family of three. 

from then on, life was different. her father, while still the loving and thoughtful man she’d always had the privilege of knowing, retreated and hid behind his job and lady did her best to surround her little brother with a sense of normalcy. she told him stories of their mother when rocking him to sleep and put her picture up in his nursery where they’d planned to put pictures of baby animals only months prior. michael continued to provide a cushy lifestyle for their family and always came home for dinner and though lady thought losing her mother would mean the end of her life, days came and went one at a time and a new normal blanketed the darlington household. 

when lady turned 16 and held her little brother’s hand in the park, she felt an overwhelming sense of fear and panic. her heart beat in her ears, her body trembling like a car with its bass set to maximum. she looked down at chris, whose face had fallen and whose grip had tightened on hers like a boa constrictor. and then: a dog ran up, face level with chris and the fear in her stomach boiled, unbearable and steaming. after a few moments, the dog licked chris and his shoulders sagged with relief. all at once, the fear pulsating through lady’s body evaporated almost as quickly as it had come. she didn’t know what happened, but it was only the first day she experienced what she would soon come to know as empathic perception. 

now, as a 25 year old florist newly relocated to rome pines, lady is trying her best to converge where she’s been and where she’s going. the love she has for her brother and father are never-ending and the darlingtons have dinner together every week. in a new, semi-terrifying place, lady tries to remain hopeful for what lies ahead. 

bullet points 

because her empathic perception happens via touch, lady always wears a thin pair of lace gloves. she’s tried learning how to control when she feels an emotion from someone else, but she’s not yet able to turn it off/choose when it happens. for now, the gloves are helping her preserve her sanity and stay close to those she loves. 

her passion for flowers came from her mother who used to wake her up early to go to the plant nursery down the street, pick out a new bundle of flowers, and plant them in their yard at least twice a month. when chris was old enough, lady started taking him to do this. 

lady would throw herself off a cliff if it meant saving her loved ones, namely her little brother. while lady wishes her mother could still be alive, she’s thankful for the extra chance to bond with chris so heavily. 

if she had the choice, lady would eat spaghetti with fresh grated parmesan for every single meal. 

lady has serious jealousy issues and is very possessive of the people she loves. she doesn’t like to feel threatened or have her relationships encroached upon. her jealousy manifests in a very petty, passive aggressive way and she will often blow up seemingly without warning because you didn’t “recognize the signs” she’d been putting up. 

she has not taken off the silver tiffany’s necklace her father bought her for her 13th birthday since he first put it on her and does not plan to do so. 

when lady feels she needs to share something difficult with someone, she will drink too much and spill her guts. she finds it very hard to open up, even to people she’s close with, because the person she was the most vulnerable with left her so early on in her life. 

unbeknownst to her father, lady has taken up smoking cigarettes. 

painting is lady’s favorite creative outlet and she will often set up an easel by her favorite window in her apartment and paint while eating her breakfast on the weekends. 

to better her health, lady tried to start drinking tea instead of coffee. it only took about a week before she went out and bought her own espresso machine and began making a minimum of 4 lattes a day at home and donated all of the tea she’d gotten to the coffeeshop under her apartment. 

lady one day hopes to open up a flower shop/cafe called darlingtons so she can combine two of her favorite things--flowers and coffee--into a passionate business. 

ooc intro

hello my sweetest friends! i apologize for this intro being so long overdue. the u.s. do be affecting my mento health these days. anyways, i’m kate, recently 26 (as of october 24th), she/her, living in the pst timezone! this is my lovely lady girl, whom i’ve played in a few disney rps before and am now completely in love with her as a character. we share a love of lattes and carbs. if you love lady as much as i do and ALSO love angsty/dramatic plots...please message me bc i would love to wreak havoc w you ♥︎

[papermoonloveslucy]

DINNER FOR TWELVE

October 14, 1950

“Dinner for Twelve” (aka “Liz Cooks Dinner for Twelve”) is episode #101 [some sources say #100] of the radio series MY FAVORITE HUSBAND broadcast on October 14, 1950.

This was the sixth episode of the third season of MY FAVORITE HUSBAND. There were 31 new episodes, with the season ending on March 31, 1951.  

This episode was fully animated and can be found on Vimeo. It was created by Wayne Wilson in 2012. 

Synopsis ~ George has invited ten dinner guests on the maid’s day off and Liz is determined to prove to George's mother that she can prepare a dinner for twelve without any help.

“My Favorite Husband” was based on the novels Mr. and Mrs. Cugat, the Record of a Happy Marriage (1940) and Outside Eden (1945) by Isabel Scott Rorick, which had previously been adapted into the film Are Husbands Necessary? (1942). “My Favorite Husband” was first broadcast as a one-time special on July 5, 1948. Lucille Ball and Lee Bowman played the characters of Liz and George Cugat, and a positive response to this broadcast convinced CBS to launch “My Favorite Husband” as a series. Bowman was not available Richard Denning was cast as George. On January 7, 1949, confusion with bandleader Xavier Cugat prompted a name change to Cooper. On this same episode Jell-O became its sponsor. A total of 124 episodes of the program aired from July 23, 1948 through March 31, 1951. After about ten episodes had been written, writers Fox and Davenport departed and three new writers took over – Bob Carroll, Jr., Madelyn Pugh, and head writer/producer Jess Oppenheimer. In March 1949 Gale Gordon took over the existing role of George’s boss, Rudolph Atterbury, and Bea Benaderet was added as his wife, Iris. CBS brought “My Favorite Husband” to television in 1953, starring Joan Caulfield and Barry Nelson as Liz and George Cooper. The television version ran two-and-a-half seasons, from September 1953 through December 1955, running concurrently with “I Love Lucy.” It was produced live at CBS Television City for most of its run, until switching to film for a truncated third season filmed (ironically) at Desilu and recasting Liz Cooper with Vanessa Brown.

MAIN CAST

Lucille Ball (Liz Cooper) was born on August 6, 1911 in Jamestown, New York. She began her screen career in 1933 and was known in Hollywood as ‘Queen of the B’s’ due to her many appearances in ‘B’ movies. With Richard Denning, she starred in a radio program titled “My Favorite Husband” which eventually led to the creation of “I Love Lucy,” a television situation comedy in which she co-starred with her real-life husband, Latin bandleader Desi Arnaz. The program was phenomenally successful, allowing the couple to purchase what was once RKO Studios, re-naming it Desilu. When the show ended in 1960 (in an hour-long format known as “The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour”) so did Lucy and Desi’s marriage. In 1962, hoping to keep Desilu financially solvent, Lucy returned to the sitcom format with “The Lucy Show,” which lasted six seasons. She followed that with a similar sitcom “Here’s Lucy” co-starring with her real-life children, Lucie and Desi Jr., as well as Gale Gordon, who had joined the cast of “The Lucy Show” during season two. Before her death in 1989, Lucy made one more attempt at a sitcom with “Life With Lucy,” also with Gordon.

Richard Denning (George Cooper) was born Louis Albert Heindrich Denninger Jr., in Poughkeepsie, New York. When he was 18 months old, his family moved to Los Angeles. Plans called for him to take over his father’s garment manufacturing business, but he developed an interest in acting. Denning enlisted in the US Navy during World War II. He is best known for his  roles in various science fiction and horror films of the 1950s. Although he teamed with Lucille Ball on radio in “My Favorite Husband,” the two never acted together on screen. While “I Love Lucy” was on the air, he was seen on another CBS TV series, “Mr. & Mrs. North.” From 1968 to 1980 he played the Governor on “Hawaii 5-0″, his final role. He died in 1998 at age 84.

Bea Benadaret (Iris Atterbury) was considered the front-runner to be cast as Ethel Mertz but when “I Love Lucy” was ready to start production she was already playing a similar role on TV’s “The George Burns and Gracie Allen Show” so Vivian Vance was cast instead. On “I Love Lucy” she was cast as Lucy Ricardo’s spinster neighbor, Miss Lewis, in “Lucy Plays Cupid” (ILL S1;E15) in early 1952. Later, she was a success in her own show, “Petticoat Junction” as Shady Rest Hotel proprietress Kate Bradley. She starred in the series until her death in 1968.

Ruth Perrott (Katie, the Maid) was also later seen on “I Love Lucy.” She first played Mrs. Pomerantz, a member of the surprise investigating committee for the Society Matrons League in “Pioneer Women” (ILL S1;E25), as one of the member of the Wednesday Afternoon Fine Arts League in “Lucy and Ethel Buy the Same Dress” (ILL S3;E3), and also played a nurse when “Lucy Goes to the Hospital” (ILL S2;E16). She died in 1996 at the age of 96.

Bob LeMond (Announcer) also served as the announcer for the pilot episode of “I Love Lucy”. When the long-lost pilot was finally discovered in 1990, a few moments of the opening narration were damaged and lost, so LeMond – fifty years later – recreated the narration for the CBS special and subsequent DVD release.

Gale Gordon (Rudolph Atterbury, George’s boss and Iris’s husband) does not appear in this episode, although the character is mentioned. 

GUEST CAST

Eleanor Audley (Leaticia Cooper, George’s Mother) previously played this character in “George is Messy” on June 14, 1950. She would later play Eleanor Spalding, owner of the Westport home the Ricardos buy in “Lucy Wants To Move to the Country” (ILL S6;E15) in 1957, as well as one of the Garden Club judges in “Lucy Raises Tulips” (ILL S6;E26).

Richard Crenna (Delivery Boy) would make his television debut with Lucille Ball as Arthur Morton in “The Young Fans” (ILL S1;E20). The character is virtually a carbon copy of Walter Denton, the role he played for four years on radio’s “Our Miss Brooks” starring Eve Arden. In 1952, Desilu brought the show to television where Crenna recreated his role. He later starred in Desilu’s “The Real McCoys.” He would become one of Hollywood’s busiest actors, starring in "Vega$” and Sylvester Stallone’s Rambo films. He died in 2003.

THE EPISODE

ANNOUNCER: “In a little white two-story house located at 321 Bundy Drive in the bustling little suburb of Sheridan Falls, George Cooper is just leaving for the bank.” 

Before leaving for work, George breaks the news to Liz that his mother is coming to dinner that night. 

At the dinner table that evening, Mother Cooper (Eleanor Audley) is reminding her son to eat his spinach, thinking Liz is not feeding him properly.  George suddenly remembers that he’s invited the Atterbury’s and some out-of-town clients to dinner on Monday night - dinner for twelve. The only problem is, Katie is going away on vacation on Sunday, so Mother Cooper suggest Liz cook the dinner herself. 

Liz brags that she made the soufflé herself.  Mother Cooper insists that Liz give her the recipe - right now!  

LIZ: “Well, you just put all the cheese and things in a bowl. They you take a piece of ‘souff’ and put it on the top.”

Liz vows to cook dinner Monday night - all on her own. Monday morning, Liz cooks breakfast for George. The eggs are stone cold. Liz says she cooked them the night before and froze them to save time. 

In “Lucy’s Schedule” (ILL S1;E31), to save time, Lucy prepares Ricky’s breakfast the night before and freezes it. She serves him frozen fried egg, exactly what Liz served George two years earlier! 

Liz has invited Iris Atterbury over to help her cook the dinner for twelve. George leaves for work and the women repair to the kitchen to get a start on dinner. When Liz says she’s decided on chicken as the main course, Iris wonders assumes it will be broiled chicken. 

LIZ (indignant): “Please! Does Oscar of the Waldorf serve broiled chicken? We are having poulet almondine.” 

Oscar Tschirky (1866-1950) was a Swiss-American restaurateur who was maître d'hôtel of Delmonico's Restaurant and subsequently the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel in Manhattan, New York, United States. He was widely known as "Oscar of the Waldorf" and published a large cookbook. He is credited with having created the Waldorf salad, and for aiding in the popularization of the Thousand Island dressing. He died three weeks after this episode aired.

Liz realizes that she needs mushrooms but that she doesn’t have any in the house. She wonders whether she can use the mushrooms growing in the backyard. Iris points out that they may be toadstools, which are poisonous. Liz decides to use walnuts instead. 

The girls peel onions for the dressing. They begin to tear-up from cutting the onions.  

LIZ (tearfully): “This is the best time I’ve had in ages!” IRIS (crying): “Me too!”

In “The Million Dollar Idea” (ILL S3;E13) in 1954, Lucy and Ethel were awash in tears when they peeled onions to make Aunt Martha’s Old Fashioned Salad Dressing. 

ANNOUNCER: “As we return to the Cooper’s it’s several hours later and we find the kitchen knee deep in dirty saucepans, greasy skillets, broken eggshells, and well-thumbed cookbooks. Surveying the wreckage are Liz and Iris Atterbury.” 

Iris wonders whether the chickens are ready to come out of the oven. Liz says she put them on at 9am at 600 degrees!  Iris points out that they were only supposed to cook at 300 degrees. 

LIZ: “I know but we have two chickens so I doubled it!” IRIS: “I never would have thought of that.”

They open the over and find their two chickens have burned to a crisp and resemble “two little lumps of charcoal with legs and wings”!  Just then, Mother Cooper arrives. 

Lucy burned two chickens in “The Matchmaker” (ILL S4;E4) when preparing dinner for Sam (the spider) and Dorothy (the fly) a dating couple Lucy hopes to lure into matrimonial bliss. 

Liz and Iris don’t tell Mother Cooper about the burned chickens. Chicken almandine is her favorite dish. She advises Liz on her cooking technique: 

MOTHER: “You just keep your eye on them until they’re a nice crinkly brown.” IRIS: “How about a nice crusty black?”

Mother Cooper discovers that Liz has burned the dinner. They trade insults and Mother storms out in a huff. Iris promises to help Liz cook a new dinner, but first she has to go to the beauty parlor to have her hair done. 

When Iris gets home from the beauty parlor she phones Liz to see how the dinner is going. Liz is dazed and confused. 

LIZ: “Iris, you are talking to a woman who’s gone through eight chickens today.”

Liz reports that the pressure cooker exploded and the chickens are still on the ceiling. 

When Lucy and Ethel are working at the chocolate factory in “Job Switching” (ILL S2;E1), Ricky and Fred are cooking dinner at home. Ricky puts two chickens in the pressure cooker, which explodes and strands the birds on the ceiling! 

Liz’s fifth and sixth birds were accidentally thrown in the garbage disposal. The seventh and eighth birds arrived from the butcher still alive!  Iris asks Liz if she has cooked them yet.

LIZ: “Cook ‘em? I can’t even catch ‘em! When last seen, seven and eight were going east on Bundy Drive.” IRIS: “You poor thing! Eight chickens and nothing to show for it!” LIZ: “Oh, yes I have. Before she left seven laid an egg on the kitchen table.”

Iris tells Liz everything will be alright. Just then, a delivery boy from Johnson’s Catering Service (Dick Crenna) arrives at the Cooper’s back door with a meal for twelve: Roast prime ribs of beef, green beans, potatoes, and Yorkshire pudding.  The meal was sent by Katie!   

Just as she is about to call Katie to thank her, the Delivery Boy returns with another catered dinner: Lobster Thermidor with French fries and asparagus. This meal was sent over by Iris! 

The Delivery Boy returns yet a third time!  This time with Pheasant under Glass sent by Mr. Atterbury!  Liz tips the boy with a bowl of Yorkshire pudding. 

Oops!  Yorkshire pudding is not served in a bowl. It is not a pudding in the American sense, but similar to pop-overs, designed to sop up the drippings and gravy when served with a roast beef. 

The phone rings and it is Mother Cooper telling Liz that she has made a dinner for twelve and will bring it over. Liz says thanks but no thanks, and invites her to make the dinner party 13. 

The phone rings once again - it is George. He has called to tell Liz that he has made a mistake. The dinner isn’t until next Monday night!  

LIZ: “Oh, no!”

Announcer Bob LeMond reminds listeners that Lucille Ball can currently be seen in The Fuller Brush Girl and that they can read about her in the current issue of Pageant Magazine. 

[matrixaffiliate]

Seasonal

New Story! FFN and AO3

Christmas always comes early to the Potter home, but will Lily be able to love it as much as James does? ~~~Marauders One-shot. Christmas Jily Fluff.~~~

More stories from my life. ;) My mom puts up six trees, not ten, and I have two. Yes, I'm in the process of setting up right now, I should be done by Sunday. Then my kids and husband and I, along with the rest of the family, are helping my parents set up all next week. You don't have to like it, but there is something so very magical about turning a home into a Christmas wonderland and I love it!

Seasonal

James had never thought much about it. As a child, he figured it was just a part of what his family did. As a teenager, he never thought of it until Sirius moved in, but when Sirius came home with him for Christmas he loved it and James didn't think on it again.

Until today.

You see, Mia Potter loved Christmas. She loved Christmas more than any other holiday in the calendar year. And she loved Christmas decorations, Christmas trees most of all.

Mia Potter put up ten Christmas trees - every year.

And as she explained to the neighbors, when you put up and decorate ten trees along with dozens of individual decor pieces around the big house, you start early, November 1st early.

Every year prior to this, James didn't worry about it. As a kid, he loved helping clean up the few items of cutesy Halloween decor and then his mum always had some amazing story to tell him as they cleaned together or a fun reward for helping her deep clean the house over the first few days of November. Once the house was clean, all the boxes of Christmas decorations could be brought down from the attic and the trees could be purchased. James used to live for picking their trees with his parents, finding all the right sizes for each area, and he knew the spells to keep the trees fresh for more than two months at the ripe age of seven.

The excitement of preparing for Christmas was one of the biggest things he missed while at Hogwarts.

But this year, James was done with Hogwarts, and this year, Lily was practically living with them. And well, Lily had opinions.

As James understood it, Muggle stores put up Christmas decor to sell "far too soon," and Lily was not a fan of the Christmas decorations being ready for purchase before the Halloween decorations had even been marked down.

So this year, rather than the excitement he normally felt on November 1st, James found himself incredibly nervous.

"Good morning dear," his mum came swooping into the kitchen, her working clothes on and her long hair tied back in a kerchief. "Are you ready? I've missed having you around to help."

James felt that childhood excitement fighting with his anxiety over what Lily may think of the transformation that was about to take place in the Potter home.

"I am," he finally smiled, "It'll go faster this year since I can use magic."

"Is Lily coming over today?"

James swallowed and nodded, "She should be here in about thirty minutes."

"I'm so excited to bring her into our traditions!" His mum pulled him into a hug.

"Mum," James felt his face grow hot, and he moved to the bread box, cutting a thick slice, "We haven't made any decisions like that."

His mum raised her eyebrows at him, "Your father told me how you lingered at the jewelry store windows while the two of you were out last week."

"Er, well, I, we haven't, I mean…"

"Don't worry dear," his mum laughed at him, "I won't say a word."

James didn't believe that for one second but chose to eat his breakfast rather than comment on it.

Mia put him to work in the sitting room, mostly so he could be at the front door when Lily arrived, and James was quite pleased with how quickly cleaning went with magic. He had completely finished the sitting room and the kitchen when Lily arrived.

"Did you do something to be punished for?" Lily giggled as James sent the cleaning cloths back into their bucket.

James chuckled, "No, just helping Mum with some late Autumn cleaning. Would you be inclined to lend your wand?"

Lily grinned and James tried to make himself feel better by telling himself again and again that every word he said had been completely true.

With Sirius and Marlene on assignment, it left just Mia, Monty, Lily, and James to clean the whole house, but with four wands to help, they had the big house sparkling by lunchtime.

"Do you always clean in late Autumn?" Lily asked as the four sat down to lunch.

"Of course dear, it makes no sense to put everything out for Christmas if I'm not putting it up in a clean house."

Lily paused, "For Christmas?"

James held his breath.

"Oh yes," Mia pulled her drink to her lips, "Ten trees and the rest of this house take a couple of weeks to decorate."

"So," Lily spoke slowly, still looking at James, "you'll have all of your decorations up by the second week of November?"

"Probably sooner this year," Monty smiled. "You two made the cleaning go much faster than it normally does. I don't think we've ever been able to go pick up the trees on the first day of November before."

"We're buying ten trees today?" Lily's wide eyes were still looking right at James and he swallowed before straining for a smile.

"I meant it to be a surprise."

"James loves all this," Mia grinned, "He wrote me every week his first year of Hogwarts asking for updates about what we'd managed to get done."

James almost groaned but he caught Lily's eye and saw her fight a smile.

That smile gave him a bit of hope.

"Hal's tree farm only opens early for Mum," he gave Lily a grin, "Everyone else has to wait till mid-November to get their trees."

"Hal badgers me about it every year too," Mia laughed as she began clearing the table, "Tells me he's going to add twenty percent to the price. Hasn't yet, but I think he's just doing it for show, make it look like I'm forcing his hand."

Mia winked at Lily before speaking in a faux whisper, "I really am, but I'm too short and too sweet looking for him to realize it."

Lily laughed and James felt the anxiety easing away. He'd probably just caught Lily on a bad day when she went on a tirade about Christmas decorations before December.

"Alright kids," Monty stood and summoned his coat, "let's head up to Hal's farm and get these trees here. I'd like to at least get lights on them all before bed tonight."

James had the momentary thought of tracking down a horse-drawn sleigh and a horse and a warm blanket and taking Lily up to Hal's in wintery splendor, but then he remembered that it was November 1st and to simply be grateful it wasn't raining.

James side-long Apparated Lily to the tree farm and smiled as she took a deep breath in before sighing happily.

"This is lovely!"

"Yes," James kissed the back of her hand, "you are."

Lily blushed but his mum laughed.

"Monty he's your spitting image."

His dad chuckled before grabbing Mia's hand and pulling her into him. "It's a requirement to teach our posterity how to surround themselves with the best people."

Mia beamed.

"You've got to be kidding me!"

James looked up to see old Hal walking down from his porch.

"There's no way, Euphemia! There's absolutely no way you're ready for your trees today!"

"Oh, Hal," Mia laughed and gestured to James and Lily, "Of course there is. I had extra help this year. James and his girlfriend, Lily, have been at it with Monty and I all morning and I'm here for my trees."

Hal groaned, "I'm not open yet."

"Don't be like that Hal," Mia patted Hal's arm and James bit his cheek to keep from reciting this exchange from memory.

"I'm going to add twenty percent to the price," Hal objected again.

Mia smiled and nodded, "You always say that Hal, but even if you do, I'll still bring you your box of my homemade caramels." Her smile went sly, "But I can't start on those until the house is done."

"Fine," Hal grumbled, "pick your ten hundred trees."

Mia patted his cheek, "See, this is why you get a big box."

Lily stifled her laugh behind her coat collar and grinned up at James.

It took the better part of two hours for Mia to find exactly what she wanted and as James helped his dad translocate them all home, he couldn't help but feel excited.

"The one thing I wish I could figure out is how to get the lights on the trees without so much fuss." Monty chuckled.

"It's easier with magic," James furrowed his brow, "right?"

"Oh heavens yes," Monty nodded, "but it's still a hassle. I'll teach you how to do it this year."

Once home, James was feeling confident that everything was fine. Lily was laughing with his mum as they levitated boxes from the attic and Mia told stories while Christmas carols played on the phonograph.

"Always make the men work on the lights," Mia directed the boxes of decorations to their different locations around the house.

"I do the lights because you don't have the patience for it," Monty called back from behind the tree he was stringing lights around.

"That tree spontaneously combusted!" Mia glared, "I did not set it on fire!"

James smirked. His mum definitely set it on fire.

"James, why don't you take the big tree to the sitting room and start stringing it." Monty winked at James. "Take Lily with you and get her started on the Christmas village."

James nodded, his emotions swinging between being grossed out by the way his dad was looking at his mum, and being very glad to have an excuse to be alone with Lily. Especially now that she seemed quite pleased to be in the swing of Christmas decorating.

"I'm so glad you're having fun," James kissed Lily's cheek as they got settled into their decorating assignments.

"It's definitely something," Lily chuckled as she pulled another building out of the box.

"I think I'll only do two trees for the first bit when I move out." James commented absently as he worked to get the lights perfectly arranged on the twelve-foot tall tree, "A regular size one and then a small one.

"You want to do this sort of thing?" Lily's voice was cautious, and James looked up to see her very carefully turning the little Santa's Workshop around and around in her hands.

"Is everything alright?" James frowned.

"I, I guess, I thought, James it's November 1st…" She sighed and went back to setting up the Christmas village.

"I thought you were enjoying this," he fisted a hand in his hair as he berated himself for misreading the situation.

"I am, it's just, do you really want to do this?" She gestured around them at the boxes and boxes of Christmas decorations.

James moved to her, gently pulling the Christmas village piece from her hands and setting it down.

"Tell me you don't feel the magic," he moved his hands to her waist. "Set aside your cynicism and your misgivings about what the date is and tell me truly you don't feel it, and if you don't feel it I'll drop it and we don't have to do anything like this."

Lily stared up at him and her eyes went wide.

"We?"

James felt his heart drop to his shoes, "Er…"

"Honey, I'm home!" Sirius called out as he and Marlene walked in the front door. "Has Dad started on the outside lights, James?"

James blinked before shaking his head at his brother. "He's still stringing trees."

"Good," Marlene grinned, "because we want to set up the house lights. Sirius and I came up with something we think your mum is going to love."

"How was the assignment?" Lily asked as she stepped back from James.

"Boring," Sirius grinned, "good and boring."

"Those are the best," Lily smiled and picked up another piece of the ceramic village.

Sirius and Marlene went to retrieve the exterior lights and James was left to stare dumbly at Lily's back.

He'd meant it, what he said. He meant "we" even if it scared him to say it out loud. But it occurred to James that if he didn't clarify that now, it would most definitely come back to haunt him.

"We."

That was what he managed to blurt out, but his voice was sure, calm even.

Lily stopped setting up the Christmas village but didn't turn towards him. So James pushed his hand into his hair and pressed on.

"When we have our own place, I think I'd like two trees. I don't really care for the Christmas village. I love the exterior lights, though, so I'd like to have some sort of display."

He moved closer, placing a tentative hand on the small of her back. "What do you want, Lil's, when it's our place?"

"When, when we have our own place?" Her voice shook with the question.

"We," James said again.

"I want mistletoe in our home," she was quiet, "Petunia always complained about having mistletoe up so my parents have stopped using it."

James felt relief wash over him like floodwaters. He slipped his wand from his pocket and transfigured one of the pieces of crumpled newspaper from the Christmas village packing into a ball of mistletoe with a red ribbon. Then he levitated it above their heads.

"How's that?"

Finally, Lily turned towards him, her smile bright and there were unshed tears standing in her eyes.

"It's perfect."

And she kissed him.

James pulled her close, pressing her against him, deepening the kiss and grinning when he heard Lily's breath catch.

"You have work to do!" Sirius yelled as Marlene laughed and they moved to the front door, boxes of exterior lights trailing along behind them.

James shook his head as Lily pulled back to laugh.

"I hate you, Sirius," he flipped off his brother.

"You love me and you know it!" Sirius' shout drifted back in mixed with Marlene's laughter.

Lily let her fingers start to play with the hair at the nape of his neck as she looked up at him.

"James, how attached are you to decorating on the day after Halloween?"

"I rather like the idea of having everything ready mid-November." James smiled down at her. "We don't need to start on November 1st to make that happen. I don't want ten trees."

"I can live with that," Lily smiled, "I rather like the idea of being able to pull you under the mistletoe for half of November and all of December."

"Let's not waste time then," James chuckled before bringing this lips back to hers.

It was at the end of the day when James walked Lily outside to Apparate home and Lily paused to look at the exterior lights Sirius and Marlene spent the better part of the day and evening putting up.

"You're right," she smiled up at him, "there is something magical about all this."

James pulled her close as he looked at the home he'd grown up in. The lights seemed to pull every good memory forward, not just the Christmas ones, but all the good memories, including the ones with Lily.

"A lot of that magic comes from surrounding yourself with the best people." He brushed her hair behind her ear.

Lily pushed up and kissed him.

"I am the best," she whispered against him with a smirk.

"Cocky much?" James chuckled as he moved to kiss her neck.

"I learned for the best."

Lily's voice was full of teasing and James responded by moving his lips to kiss just behind her ear, smirking at the moan he pulled from her lips.

She did call him the best, after all, he might as well live up to the title.

[cewfreeland]

Life in the COVID-19 epicenter

We’re on day 14 of staying at home to do our part to prevent the spread of the coronavirus, COVID-19. Everything considered we are doing so well. We’re a family with two teenagers who are finding joy in spending time with each other again. Brian and I alternate between depression and gratitude. Fortunately, we never seem to be in the depression part at the same time. That comes from being so different and also knowing when the other one is starting to spiral into the dark place. The other one rallies - reaches out through the unknown and finds a spark of joy to bring the other one out of the blue fog. 

One of my closest NY friends is recovering from a diagnosed case of COVID-19. He proactively reached out to me this morning to tell me he made it through the night since I have been bugging him every day to see if he was still in his apartment or had needed to get the urgent care that we hear our neighbors needing from the sirens wailing. Another close friend in NY lost her sense of smell and taste but seems to have come out unscathed other than those two symptoms.  I keep wondering if my short bout with fever/chills/cough/fatigue/shortness of breath/diarrhea in early March was COVID-19, followed by the kids having raging headaches several days after my illness.  Brian was in DC for most of my illness so I don’t think he got it. An antibody test cannot come soon enough.

Brian and I both have a remarkable amount of guilt. I think his guilt is centered on the fact that he is still employed while so many other artists and art workers are not. He also sees his industry hemorrhaging and with no end in sight. We watched the depression inspired film Cradle Will Rock about the Workers Progress Administration and the Federal Theater Project last night. He is optimistic that something that transformative will come out of this crisis. I have faith that he can be a part of this recovery.

As for me, the bright side is that people understand what public health is now!  The downside is that I feel like I can’t help. My grad school group chat has a really stark view of what healthcare workers are facing.  One classmate has had his surgical residency all but halted and transitioned to emergency surgery. Two pregnant classmates are still caring for patients - one in pediatric ICU (where she’s not seeing many kids, thankfully) and the other a radiologist (who is volunteering in other ways to relieve the pressure on her colleagues). Another classmate also lost a sense of taste and smell and was back at work 5 days later. She is an OB/GYN and is only delivering COVID-19 positive patients out of fear that she may still be contagious. Still another classmate is a pulmonary critical care physician who has not said much for a while, no doubt because he’s working non-stop. An anesthesiologist at Emory has become a media darling and we all cheer her on when we catch an op-ed in the NYT featuring her or catch her on CNN or MSNBC. I so wish we were celebrating Michelle’s sudden rise to fame for different reasons - her victory as a candidate for the Georgia State Senate, fighting for women’s rights, achieving better healthcare for her constituents. Unfortunately, she’s telling a sadder story right now - the reality of intubating COVID-19 patients as they struggle to breathe - giving them a shot to recover. That every breath the patient makes while she’s doing her work could be exposing her to the virus, and therefore her family, as well as the other healthcare workers. 

One classmate is part of the leadership team for the emergency department for one of the big NYC/Long Island hospital systems and she has been working to set up alternative entrances for urgent cases across their 19 hospitals. A physical therapist is transitioning her entire team from out-patient settings into in-patient settings. She and her colleagues are all being exposed every single day. One day, she’s with a patient with suspected COVID-19 status but not confirmed, the next she hears what she already knew about the status. And this happens each and every day.  They sound weary and calm. The reality of what we hear on the news made even more terrifying by their accounts. They are not dramatic, they are not overstating. They don’t have the time or the energy to add to the fury.  They are simply doing their jobs and the daunting incline on the graph of predicted patients forming ahead of them is simply something for them to climb - one day and one patient at a time. 

And I am working from home - not doing anything glamorous like I might have done if my life had not taken the detour it did 2 1/2 years ago. I am conflicted about how I feel about that. Since grad school ended, I have felt aimless - working full-time has felt very “lame.” I’ve dabbled with consulting, exploring getting my PhD, starting my own business. Being “still” is hard for me. And not being part of the central communications team at this time is hard as well. I am grateful to have moved on from that life and role - I feel like my work is more meaningful now - but there is an element of wanting to be in the drama. But I also think this is a lesson for me - to become comfortable with the long game rather than filling up space with busywork and crises. 

What I am doing is managing my team who has been thrown into unfamiliar territory. We hired these smart, courageous, and caring people to talk with people all day, every day.  And now, they’re at home, having to rely on the phone to connect with our 10,000 participants in the hopes that we didn’t catch them at a bad time. The worry is that maybe someone in their home is unwell and calling about research is not exactly on their minds. Or, perhaps they’ve lost their job and are worried about paying rent on April 1st, and May 1st, and June 1st. The good news is our team is brave and smart and empathetic and they may be just the ear that person needs at that moment. And medical research is something that more people understand now. They get how important it is to contribute to the cause. I started sending out little prompts each day to encourage communication, maybe a little humor, and at least some sense of community. Ironically, I worry more during my sleep about what “prompt” to send them than other things.  On Thursday, my prompt was “share your favorite coronavirus meme.” I sent out one about the Breakfast Club but quickly realized that I was only one of a handful of Gen Xers in the chat and many had not grown up in the U.S. and didn’t appreciate the humor. Epic fail.  

There has been discussion of doing testing on the blood samples given by participants collected in December, January, February and March (until we suspended enrollments) to see if we can see a true understanding of the incidence of the virus in populations across the country. That is VERY exciting to be a part of that possibility - to understand the DENOMINATOR in a more scientific and controlled way.  Additionally, there is some talk of running antibody testing on participants going forward. We have the infrastructure to do that and it would undoubtedly help the individual and the scientific community in ways we can’t even imagine.

- - - 

Brian has brought remarkable order to our unusual new existence. He has all of us up and doing our morning things as well as adding a few new rituals that are starting to feel normal. In addition to getting dressed, making beds, eating breakfast, he also has us taking our temperatures and taking an allergy pill Having allergy symptoms while we’re all very aware that any cough or headache could be a sign of infection is not an option. His parents sent us an extra stash of Zyrtec since we couldn’t get it at our local pharmacy. Amazon is running slow - for which I have no anger about - but it does mean that we are tied to what our local shops have on hand. 

Last week, we heard this woman from the Upper West Side comment on the local news that people were acting like it’s Little House on the Prarie. “People are making soup. They’re eating leftovers.” Lillian’s response was “That is what normal people do.” But our lives are different.  I have found my gatherer urge go into hyperdrive. Maybe it’s because Lillian is so picky or maybe because having what everyone wants at the exact time they want it is a way that I am feeling a sense of control over this insane time. We were almost out of flour, and I became obsessed with getting some. Our regular mail shipment of toilet paper is running low (as in we have about 10 rolls left) and our provider is saying it will be another few weeks before they’re back in stock. I feel this chronic fear that we’re going to run out of Lillian’s macaroni and cheese, the one thing she will consistently eat, and feel this pull to out and get her more. I became obsessed with getting hotdog buns - and we don’t even eat hotdogs normally - but when I found them in stock, I bought two bags.  I understand that hoarding is a bad thing, but I cannot deny the anxiety this situation has brought out in me and manifesting in wanting too many hot dog buns.  

Probably the best personal thing that I’ve done during the past two weeks is that I’m on a quest to achieve my long-term dream of being a runner. I’ve started “Couch to 5K” too many times over the past several years to count. I just started week 2 - I did week 1 two weeks in a row - so I’m finally moving forward further than I’ve ever gone. It feels like my lungs are getting stronger and my sense of accomplishment is getting satisfied. I find great joy in being in the gorgeous Fort Tryon Park, staying away from my neighbors, knowing that I’m investing in myself and my community even if it’s one lonely step at a time.  

[blazehedgehog]

You mentioned May May was sort of a saviour after your previous pet's passing. Will your mother and you manage alright going forward? P.S. Really sorry to read about your special cat moving on :'(

There’s nothing that I can do about it. She was sick, and it was her time.

Would I like another cat? That’s not something I can easily answer right now. I am of two minds.

I’ve never been alone. For as long as I can remember, we’ve always had pets. Always always. When I was born (mid 1980′s), my Mom already had a dog, a miniature poodle named Sugar, and a Peekapoo named Frosty.

Sugar died before I was much older than 4 years old, so I don’t remember much about her. My brother moved in with us (1989, maybe 1990) while we were still living in California, and brought one of his cats, Nocona. He sort of became our cat after my brother moved out. He was a solid black tomcat with bright emerald green eyes. Absolutely beautiful.

When we moved from Cali to Colorado (1991), we brought Nocona and Frosty with us, and while we were staying at our Uncle’s house, one of their cats had a litter of kittens, so we ended up with two we named Babs and Furball. Babs was considered my Mom’s cat, and she was a tiny little orange and black calico, and Furball was mine, and her opposite – a big, slate gray cat with a white tummy and white boots that grew to the size of a Maine Coon.

Nocona, being a former stray, was not a lap cat and not super affectionate, though that gradually started to change over the years. Babs and Furball, given we raised them from newborn kittens, adored us. Nocona would often get jealous and try to establish dominance, until we eventually had him neutered, then he really mellowed out.

Frosty hung on for ages. She was two weeks from her 20th birthday when she died (1997-ish?). She was deaf and blind and eventually senile, but she kept going.

Once she was gone, it was down to just the three cats, which became four cats once our Grandma moved from Nevada to Colorado (1999-ish). She brought with her a tortoise shell calico that my brother had gotten for her named Barbie. Us having Barbie was only meant to be a temporary situation, but she ended up becoming our cat, even though she did NOT get along with the other three.

Most of our cats lived to be a good 10+ years, but eventually all died, and from what we mostly believe to be either stomach cancer or feline AIDS (both very common in cats). I want to say Babs was first, then Nocona, then Furball, over the span of 3-4 years in the early 2000′s. Eventually it was just Barbie.

In 2005 or 2006, a friend of my Aunt’s was moving and needed to get rid of their two dogs and their cat. The plan was that we’d take one dog, but then it became both dogs, and it almost became both dogs and the cat, but we thankfully backed out of that.

We were assured the dogs got along well with cats, for obvious reasons, but that did not end up being the case. We had to keep Barbie quarantined to one half of the house (basement) and the dogs got the run of the other half (up stairs).

The first dog was Bandit, a Shitzu, and we were told he was maybe two years old. Once we had him, he seemed much older, at least 3 or 4, maybe more. The other dog was a black little Pomeranian they named “Shaky Bear” because when he would get excited, he’d shiver. We didn’t like that name, so we started calling him Fozzie. We were told he was a year old, but he also seemed much older than we were lead to believe. We figure they fudged the dog’s ages to get us to take them.

Within a couple years of getting the dogs, Barbie started developing health problems, same as the other cats. That one was actually pretty shocking – with all the other cats, you could tell they were slowing down and that it was their time to go. Barbie was acting totally fine, but suddenly had trouble using the litter box, so we took her in for what I thought was a routine check up and my Mom came out wiping tears, with an empty cat carrier. I still don’t really understand what happened to her, other than my Mom telling me that “she was just old.” And to be fair, we’d had her almost ten years, and my Grandma had her at least two before that, so that was true.

I quickly learned that while I liked dogs, I was definitely a cat person. Cats are chill and easy to take care of. They do their own thing and you do yours. Dogs, especially small dogs like shitzus and pomeranians, are hyperactive, noisy, and require way more maintenance. Dogs are loud frat boys that are always ready to party. Cats are the quiet roommate that sometimes watches a movie with you. Both can be good, but in different ways, and the entire time we had the dogs, I found myself living vicariously by watching videos of Maru.

We didn’t know exactly how old the dogs were, so there was no way to measure their life expectancy. Bandit died in 2011. We’re pretty sure he had a seizure, or a series of seizures, and he went blind and senile within the span of a few months. He’d often have trouble finding his food dish and eventually had trouble standing on his own. He became so senile he’d start have panic attacks, and eventually just stopped wanting to eat. It’s possible he developed canine alzheimers (CCD).

Fozzie died a little over a year later in December of 2012. It was possibly liver failure, but we don’t know. All of our other pets were put down as to not prolong their suffering, but Fozzie actually died in my arms on the way to the vet. Though I was a cat person, Fozzie was such a strong personality that it broke my heart to see him go. We both cried a lot, and speaking personally, it was the first time a pet’s death had ever made me cry. That was a hard year for a lot of other reasons, and emotionally speaking, I have never been the same person since his death.

The house was empty for all of two or three days until our next door neighbor asked if we could take care of her cat for a few months while she found a place to live in California. Instead, she moved to Arizona, got a new Chihuahua, and lived with friends and family (who had pets of their own) for almost a year. It didn’t seem like a good idea for her to take her cat in to an environment like that, so it was decided the cat was ours now.

That cat was May May. I was instantly in love with her, but my Mom tried to keep her distance after what happened to Fozzie. Obviously, that didn’t last forever.

After Fozzie’s death we said no more pets, but we ended up with the cat, sort of against our will. Now that she’s broken our hearts, too, we’ve said that she was it.

I try to think about it logically. When we moved to Nevada a couple years ago, part of the reason it was so difficult to find a place to live is because out of the 100+ places we applied to, a good 80-90% of them were not pet-friendly. Where we’re living right now was essentially the first place that had room for us and said yes to pets, and it took almost 5 months for it to become available.

Not having an animal with us opens up a lot of doors for better places for us to live. Cheaper rent, lower move-in deposits, bigger general availability. We’ll also be saving at least $50 a month on pet supplies. No more special digestive food, no more lugging 20lbs of cat litter up and down a flight of stairs every month. 

But at the same time… May May was the only friend I got to bring with me from Colorado. There will be days now where I will really be truly alone in this apartment for the first time… ever. For literally my entire lifetime, I’ve always had pets by my side, and now I won’t.

And I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t a distressing, lonely thing to consider.

Our lease is up next month and we’d hoped to move somewhere better after the holidays rush is over. And once we’re locked in to a place that doesn’t accept pets, that’ll be it.

And there’s a part of me that’s okay with that, and a part of me that really, really isn’t. It’s kind of paralyzing to think about.

I guess we’ll just have to find out what happens by living through it.

[antoine-roquentin]

ON DECEMBER 11, 1981 in El Salvador, a Salvadoran military unit created and trained by the U.S. Army began slaughtering everyone they could find in a remote village called El Mozote. Before murdering the women and girls, the soldiers raped them repeatedly, including some as young as 10 years old, and joked that their favorites were the 12-year-olds. One witness described a soldier tossing a 3-year-old child into the air and impaling him with his bayonet. The final death toll was over 800 people.

The next day, December 12, was the first day on the job for Elliott Abrams as assistant secretary of state for human rights and humanitarian affairs in the Reagan administration. Abrams snapped into action, helping to lead a cover-up of the massacre. News reports of what had happened, Abrams told the Senate, were “not credible,” and the whole thing was being “significantly misused” as propaganda by anti-government guerillas.

This past Friday, Secretary of State Mike Pompeo named Abrams as America’s special envoy for Venezuela. According to Pompeo, Abrams “will have responsibility for all things related to our efforts to restore democracy” in the oil-rich nation.

The choice of Abrams sends a clear message to Venezuela and the world: The Trump administration intends to brutalize Venezuela, while producing a stream of unctuous rhetoric about America’s love for democracy and human rights. Combining these two factors — the brutality and the unctuousness — is Abrams’s core competency.

Abrams previously served in a multitude of positions in the Ronald Reagan and George W. Bush administrations, often with titles declaring their focus on morality. First, he was assistant secretary of state for international organization affairs (in 1981); then the State Department “human rights” position mentioned above (1981-85); assistant secretary of state for inter-American affairs (1985-89); senior director for democracy, human rights, and international operations for the National Security Council (2001-05); and finally, Bush’s deputy national security adviser for global democracy strategy (2005-09).

In these positions, Abrams participated in many of the most ghastly acts of U.S. foreign policy from the past 40 years, all the while proclaiming how deeply he cared about the foreigners he and his friends were murdering. Looking back, it’s uncanny to see how Abrams has almost always been there when U.S. actions were at their most sordid.

ABRAMS, A GRADUATE of both Harvard College and Harvard Law School, joined the Reagan administration in 1981, at age 33. He soon received a promotion due to a stroke of luck: Reagan wanted to name Ernest Lefever as assistant secretary of state for human rights and humanitarian affairs, but Lefever’s nomination ran aground when two of his own brothers revealed that he believed African-Americans were “inferior, intellectually speaking.” A disappointed Reagan was forced to turn to Abrams as a second choice.

A key Reagan administration concern at the time was Central America — in particular, the four adjoining nations of Guatemala, El Salvador, Honduras, and Nicaragua. All had been dominated by tiny, cruel, white elites since their founding, with a century’s worth of help from U.S. interventions. In each country, the ruling families saw their society’s other inhabitants as human-shaped animals, who could be harnessed or killed as needed.

But shortly before Reagan took office, Anastasio Somoza, the dictator of Nicaragua and a U.S. ally, had been overthrown by a socialist revolution. The Reaganites rationally saw this as a threat to the governments of Nicaragua’s neighbors. Each country had large populations who similarly did not enjoy being worked to death on coffee plantations or watching their children die of easily treated diseases. Some would take up arms, and some would simply try to keep their heads down, but all, from the perspective of the cold warriors in the White House, were likely “communists” taking orders from Moscow. They needed to be taught a lesson.

The extermination of El Mozote was just a drop in the river of what happened in El Salvador during the 1980s. About 75,000 Salvadorans died during what’s called a “civil war,” although almost all the killing was done by the government and its associated death squads.

The numbers alone don’t tell the whole story. El Salvador is a small country, about the size of New Jersey. The equivalent number of deaths in the U.S. would be almost 5 million. Moreover, the Salvadoran regime continually engaged in acts of barbarism so heinous that there is no contemporary equivalent, except perhaps ISIS. In one instance, a Catholic priest reported that a peasant woman briefly left her three small children in the care of her mother and sister. When she returned, she found that all five had been decapitated by the Salvadoran National Guard. Their bodies were sitting around a table, with their hands placed on their heads in front of them, “as though each body was stroking its own head.” The hand of one, a toddler, apparently kept slipping off her small head, so it had been nailed onto it. At the center of the table was a large bowl full of blood.

Criticism of U.S. policy at the time was not confined to the left. During this period, Charles Maechling Jr., who had led State Department planning for counterinsurgencies during the 1960s, wrote in the Los Angeles Times that the U.S. was supporting “Mafia-like oligarchies” in El Salvador and elsewhere and was directly complicit in “the methods of Heinrich Himmler’s extermination squads.”

Abrams was one of the architects of the Reagan administration’s policy of full-throated support for the Salvadoran government. He had no qualms about any of it and no mercy for anyone who escaped the Salvadoran abattoir. In 1984, sounding exactly like Trump officials today, he explained that Salvadorans who were in the U.S. illegally should not receive any kind of special status. “Some groups argue that illegal aliens who are sent back to El Salvador meet persecution and often death,” he told the House of Representatives. “Obviously, we do not believe these claims or we would not deport these people.”

Even when out of office, 10 years after the El Mozote massacre, Abrams expressed doubt that anything untoward had occurred there. In 1993, when a United Nations truth commission found that 95 percent of the acts of violence that had taken place in El Salvador since 1980 had been committed by Abrams’s friends in the Salvadoran government, he called what he and his colleagues in the Reagan administration had done a “fabulous achievement.”

The situation in Guatemala during the 1980s was much the same, as were Abrams’s actions. After the U.S. engineered the overthrow of Guatemala’s democratically elected president in 1954, the country had descended into a nightmare of revolving military dictatorships. Between 1960 and 1996, in another “civil war,” 200,000 Guatemalans were killed — the equivalent of maybe 8 million people in America. A U.N. commission later found that the Guatemalan state was responsible for 93 percent of the human rights violations.

Efraín Ríos Montt, who served as Guatemala’s president in the early 1980s, was found guilty in 2013, by Guatemala’s own justice system, of committing genocide against the country’s indigenous Mayans. During Ríos Montt’s administration, Abrams called for the lifting of an embargo on U.S. arms shipments to Guatemala, claiming that Ríos Montt had “brought considerable progress.” The U.S. had to support the Guatemalan government, Abrams argued, because “if we take the attitude ‘don’t come to us until you’re perfect, we’re going to walk away from this problem until Guatemala has a perfect human rights record,’ then we’re going to be leaving in the lurch people there who are trying to make progress.” One example of the people making an honest effort, according to Abrams, was Ríos Montt. Thanks to Ríos Montt, “there has been a tremendous change, especially in the attitude of the government toward the Indian population.” (Ríos Montt’s conviction was later set aside by Guatemala’s highest civilian court, and he died before a new trial could finish.)

Abrams would become best known for his enthusiastic involvement with the Reagan administration’s push to overthrow Nicaragua’s revolutionary Sandinista government. He advocated for a full invasion of Nicaragua in 1983, immediately after the successful U.S. attack on the teeny island nation of Grenada. When Congress cut off funds to the Contras, an anti-Sandinista guerrilla force created by the U.S., Abrams successfully persuaded the Sultan of Brunei to cough up $10 million for the cause. Unfortunately, Abrams, acting under the code name “Kenilworth,” provided the Sultan with the wrong Swiss bank account number, so the money was wired instead to a random lucky recipient.

Abrams was questioned by Congress about his Contra-related activities and lied voluminously. He later pleaded guilty to two counts of withholding information. One was about the Sultan and his money, and another was about Abrams’s knowledge of a Contra resupply C-123 plane that had been shot down in 1986. In a nice historical rhyme with his new job in the Trump administration, Abrams had previously attempted to obtain two C-123s for the Contras from the military of Venezuela.

Abrams received a sentence of 100 hours of community service and perceived the whole affair as an injustice of cosmic proportions. He soon wrote a book in which he described his inner monologue about his prosecutors, which went: “You miserable, filthy bastards, you bloodsuckers!” He was later pardoned by President George H.W. Bush on the latter’s way out the door after he lost the 1992 election.

While it’s been forgotten now, before America invaded Panama to oust Manuel Noriega in 1989, he was a close ally of the U.S. — despite the fact the Reagan administration knew he was a large-scale drug trafficker.

In 1985, Hugo Spadafora, a popular figure in Panama and its one-time vice minister for health, believed he had obtained proof of Noriega’s involvement in cocaine smuggling. He was on a bus on his way to Panama City to release it publicly when he was seized by Noriega’s thugs.

According to the book “Overthrow” by former New York Times correspondent Stephen Kinzer, U.S. intelligence picked up Noriega giving his underlings the go-ahead to put Spadafora down like “a rabid dog.” They tortured Spadafora for a long night and then sawed off his head while he was still alive. When Spadafora’s body was found, his stomach was full of blood he’d swallowed.

This was so horrific that it got people’s attention. But Abrams leapt to Noriega’s defense, blocking the U.S. ambassador to Panama from increasing pressure on the Panamanian leader. When Spadafora’s brother persuaded North Carolina’s hyper-conservative GOP Sen. Jesse Helms to hold hearings on Panama, Abrams told Helms that Noriega was “being really helpful to us” and was “really not that big a problem. … The Panamanians have promised they are going to help us with the Contras. If you have the hearings, it’ll alienate them.”

Abrams also engaged in malfeasance for no discernible reason, perhaps just to stay in shape. In 1986 a Colombian journalist named Patricia Lara was invited to the U.S. to attend a dinner honoring writers who’d advanced “inter-American understanding and freedom of information.” When Lara arrived at New York’s Kennedy airport, she was taken into custody, then put on a plane back home. Soon afterward, Abrams went on “60 Minutes” to claim that Lara was a member of the “ruling committees” of M-19, a Colombian guerrilla movement. She also, according to Abrams, was ”an active liaison” between M-19 ”and the Cuban secret police.”

Given the frequent right-wing paramilitary violence against Colombian reporters, this painted a target on Lara’s back. There was no evidence then that Abrams’s assertions were true — Colombia’s own conservative government denied it — and none has appeared since.

Abrams’s never-ending, shameless deceptions wore downAmerican reporters. “They said that black was white,” Joanne Omang at the Washington Post later explained about Abrams and his White House colleague Robert McFarlane. “Although I had used all my professional resources I had misled my readers.” Omang was so exhausted by the experience that she quit her job trying to describe the real world to try to write fiction.

Post-conviction Abrams was seen as damaged goods who couldn’t return to government. This underestimated him. Adm. William J. Crowe Jr., the one-time chair of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, tangled fiercely with Abrams in 1989 over the proper U.S. policy toward Noriega once it become clear he was more trouble than he was worth. Crowe strongly opposed a bright idea that Abrams had come up with: that the U.S. should establish a government-in-exile on Panamanian soil, which would require thousands of U.S. troops to guard. This was deeply boneheaded, Crowe said, but it didn’t matter. Crowe presciently issued a warning about Abrams: “This snake’s hard to kill.”

To the surprise of Washington’s more naive insiders, Abrams was back in business soon after George W. Bush entered the White House. It might have been difficult to get Senate approval for someone who had deceived Congress, so Bush put him in a slot at the National Security Council — where no legislative branch approval was needed. Just like 20 years before, Abrams was handed a portfolio involving “democracy” and “human rights.”

By the beginning of 2002, Venezuela’s president, Hugo Chavez, had become deeply irritating to the Bush White House, which was filled with veterans of the battles of the 1980s. That April, all of a sudden, out of nowhere, Chavez was pushed out of power in a coup. Whether and how the U.S. was involved is not yet known, and probably won’t be for decades until the relevant documents are declassified. But based on the previous 100 years, it would be surprising indeed if America didn’t play any behind-the-scenes role. For what it’s worth, the London Observer reported at the time that “the crucial figure around the coup was Abrams” and he “gave a nod” to the plotters. In any case, Chavez had enough popular support that he was able to regroup and return to office within days.

Abrams apparently did play a key role in squelching a peace proposal from Iran in 2003, just after the U.S. invasion of Iraq. The plan arrived by fax, and should have gone to Abrams, and then to Condoleezza Rice, at the time Bush’s national security adviser. Instead it somehow never made it to Rice’s desk. When later asked about this, Abrams’s spokesperson replied that he “had no memory of any such fax.” (Abrams, like so many people who thrive at the highest level of politics, has a terrible memory for anything political. In 1984, he told Ted Koppel that he couldn’t recall for sure whether the U.S. had investigated reports of massacres in El Salvador. In 1986, when asked by the Senate Intelligence Committee if he’d discussed fundraising for the contras with anyone on the NSC’s staff, he likewise couldn’t remember.)

Abrams was also at the center of another attempt to thwart the outcome of a democratic election, in 2006. Bush had pushed for legislative elections in the West Bank and Gaza in order to give Fatah, the highly corrupt Palestinian organization headed by Yasser Arafat’s successor, Mahmoud Abbas, some badly needed legitimacy. To everyone’s surprise, Fatah’s rival Hamas won, giving it the right to form a government.

This unpleasant outburst of democracy was not acceptable to the Bush administration, in particular Rice and Abrams. They hatched a plan to form a Fatah militia to take over the Gaza Strip, and crush Hamas in its home territory. As reported by Vanity Fair, this involved a great deal of torture and executions. But Hamas stole a march on Fatah with their own ultra-violence. David Wurmser, a neoconservative who worked for Dick Cheney at the time, told Vanity Fair, “It looks to me that what happened wasn’t so much a coup by Hamas but an attempted coup by Fatah that was pre-empted before it could happen.” Yet ever since, these events have been turned upside down in the U.S. media, with Hamas being presented as the aggressors.

While the U.S. plan was not a total success, it also was not a total failure from the perspective of America and Israel. The Palestinian civil war split the West Bank and Gaza into two entities, with rival governments in both. For the past 13 years, there’s been little sign of the political unity necessary for Palestinians to get a decent life for themselves.

Abrams then left office with Bush’s exit. But now he’s back for a third rotation through the corridors of power – with the same kinds of schemes he’s executed the first two times.

Looking back at Abrams’s lifetime of lies and savagery, it’s hard to imagine what he could say to justify it. But he does have a defense for everything he’s done — and it’s a good one.

In 1995, Abrams appeared on “The Charlie Rose Show” with Allan Nairn, one of the most knowledgable American reporters about U.S. foreign policy. Nairn noted that George H.W. Bush had once discussed putting Saddam Hussein on trial for crimes against humanity. This was a good idea, said Nairn, but “if you’re serious, you have to be even-handed” — which would mean also prosecuting officials like Abrams.

Abrams chuckled at the ludicrousness of such a concept. That would require, he said, “putting all the American officials who won the Cold War in the dock.”

[fandom-collective-writers]

Just Us - Kozume Kenma/Reiai

Fluff!!! Non-otome

Fandom: Haikyuu!! Characters: OC/Kenma Written for: @narekashi  Written by: @lokiiwood

A/N: Happy holidays, Reiai! When I saw you write you liked Haikyuu!! I couldn’t help myself. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it ^^ <333

The bus tires finally slowed to a screeching halt and the people's loud murmurs of frustration grew in its place. In her list of top twenty nightmare scenarios, this was one of them. She was living it - experiencing it - and didn't know what to do. Not only had she left her book at home for what was supposed to be a short trip, but she was also trapped on a bus with a bunch of strangers. Reiai stopped considering the things that would make the ordeal worse - the lack of escape route, the blizzard outside… Well, she tried to stop considering it, anyway. She dug herself further in her jacket.

The crying of a microphone denoted the bus driver’s third announcement. The first one was a warning for a possible tire failure and not to panic, the second was its confirmation, and this one was the unfortunate notice that yes, the bus was stopped and no, he had no idea when they would get help. She buried her head in her hands, enjoying the warmth while it lasted. Would she perish here of boredom or of cold? Perhaps a car accident despite being on the side of the road? The possibilities were endless, really!

Sensing movement, Reiai peeked out of her hands to glance at the boy who’d taken the aisle seat beside her. He’d been buried the entire ride in his video game, not looking up even once to at least pretend he was concerned about the situation. He slowly raised his head, the blonde hair covering his face finally parting as he glanced around. Wait...did he really not know what was going on? She’d laugh if she wasn’t so disturbed. After a few seconds of watching and listening to the other passengers, he turned towards her. Reiai quickly glanced out her window.

But there was no way he didn’t catch her staring.

Another top ten nightmare scenario. She squeezed her eyes shut, praying to anyone who would listen for him not to say anything, for the nightmare to end.

His voice was quiet, barely a whisper. If Reiai hadn’t been listening intently, she wouldn’t have even heard him.

“Excuse me sir...do you know where we are?”

Crisis averted.

She gulped and turned to face him, clasping her fidgeting hands together in her lap.

“Bus?”

Wait, why did she say that?

She gazed into the boy’s cat-like golden eyes and felt her breath hitch. She had expected them to be red and dry, not for their depth to be a pool of crystal honey ready to suck her in. The boy’s eyebrows furrowed for just a moment at her response before he glanced down at his game and turned it off.

“...Sorry,” he muttered.

“No - I’m - uh, we’re at…” She opened up her phone as she peered out the window, double checking the GPS was even functioning in the storm. “...Highway 32.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

She stared at him as he continued to look at his black screen. Was he okay?

“Um, do you have somewhere to be? Will you be alright?”

Reiai didn’t know why she was prying into this stranger’s life so suddenly. Maybe it was because he looked her age and had no idea what was going on? She’d hate for him to be as miserable as her, even if she didn’t know him at all. She attempted a smile for him.

The boy raised his head again and regarded her with patient eyes. She shifted in her seat, uncomfortable with the silence that accompanied his gaze. But he finally spoke, his words careful and sure.

"Yes. Based on the speed and direction of the snow outside and the road visibility, I think this is only a ground blizzard. If this region has already been like this for two hours, then at a minimum we'll only have an hour left to deal with it and two hours at maximum. The tank was three-quarters when I came onboard, so the fuel should last us if we just use heating."

Reiai blinked at him, her eyes and smile becoming genuine as it widened. That’s what he’d paid attention to? The fuel tank when he got on the bus? The other guests’ passing details of the longevity of this area’s blizzard? Was he some sort of genius?

“Wow…”

He quickly looked back down, as if ashamed at her surprise.

“Thank you,” she whispered, giving him her best, reassuring nod even though he wasn’t looking.

“Yeah.”

Sensing that their limited interaction was done, she sighed and returned her gaze to the window, watching the snow swirl around the black pavement and slow cars pass by. Reiai wondered what it would be like to be a handsome genius with pretty eyes, not noticing that the boy beside her was staring at the back of her head, wondering what it’d be like to be a pretty girl with a disarming smile.

        °。°。°。°。°。°。°。゜。°。°。°。

        。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°

The boy had been right. The blizzard cleared after an hour and mechanics came not even twenty minutes later to replace the faulty tire. Reiai had gone home and enjoyed her following December days without further incident other than the occasional sight of a honey-eyed stray cat that reminded her of a stranger.

“We’ll be having another neighboring school’s sports teams joining us this year for our Winter Sports Festival. That makes six, which means I expect everyone to help.”

The classroom faux groaned in unison but set off to complete their individual tasks with enthusiasm. Reiai volunteered for something new this year, too exhausted from a late night of writing and watching shows to goof off with her classmates - much to their dismay. She made her way to the infrequently used gym closet that was hidden away behind large mats. Grimacing, she pushed past the rusty hinges and crude marker drawings to the equally dusty interior to begin. It was a single-person task away from the loud hubbub of excited students, only requiring her to check inventory on the old volleyballs, bats, and cricket balls.

She finished it early but didn't leave. Reiai set a timer on her phone for when she needed to be back in class and sat in the closet, sipping on her water as she read the novel she brought with her. So engrossed was she, that she didn't notice the door opening and quickly closing back.

His hand rested on the knob. No way. Was he seeing things now? There was no way that girl from the bus ride was in this very closet. This was the worst good karma he could’ve asked for. Strange, either way. Well, not too strange, the probability of seeing her again wasn’t low if he considered that they both were in high school in the same region that enjoyed exchange-like events.

Kenma made up his mind, turning around to return to his friends who were scouting the volleyball court before he heard them shouting amongst each other.

“Anybody found the volleyballs yet?”

He sighed. Right. These people would destroy the place even though they weren’t supposed to be using the court at all. He wanted nothing to do with it. It didn’t occur to him that he might be using it as an excuse until he opened the door again, cold feet making him pause in the doorway as wide, brown eyes stared up at him.

There was still time to go back.

“Oh! You’re...um…!”

She stuttered, quickly closing her book and relocating it behind her back. Was she scared of being caught reading? There had to be a reason she was hiding out in this strange closet. She glanced behind him and worried her lip. He should probably let her be. “I just came to find a volleyball,” he decided on.

She nodded vigorously but kept checking the door.

“Sorry,” he muttered. Kenma quickly jerked it close and she gasped behind him.

“Ah, wait, don’t-!”

A sinking feeling set in as he heard her quickly stand and rush to his side to touch the door. Her hand carefully twisted the knob - and twisted it was, completely off its mantle. Oh no. Kenma glanced at the hinges, rusted and useless, then to the doorknob sitting ominously in the girl’s hand.

“Oh, no..”

Kenma opened his mouth to apologize once more, but sighed instead. Great. She probably thought he was an idiot for not noticing such obvious details like broken door hinges and loose doorknobs.

But she just started to laugh and he blinked over at her, taken back. There was that alarming smile again - it sounded like holiday bells and felt like snowflakes sprinkling on his head. Maybe he was delusional, finally driven mad by his obnoxious volley teammates who demanded so much of his attention.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve stopped you,” she sighed. “Do you have your cell phone?”

Kenma sighed again. “No...I left everything in my bag in the bleachers…”

“Oh…”

They both stood there, staring at the door until he cleared his throat. “What’s - um - your name?”

“Reiai.”

Reiai. A nice name. He felt better now that he knew - a sense of relief that was surely misplaced.

“I’m Kenma.”

She hummed in response, and he tilted his head to look at her just as she did the same. Reiai’s expression changed to something he didn’t recognize, and he watched her curiously as she returned to sit beside her book on the floor.

“Well, we’re going to have to wait until someone finds us then.”

Kenma surveyed the room. It was dusty and unorganized. Being found might take a while, he may as well get comfortable. He sat down against the door, staring at the ground and hoping she didn’t pay him much more attention. He was nervous - beyond nervous - even though it was just one, friendly person in the room with him. He couldn’t accurately describe the feeling of feathers tickling his insides, only that he didn’t like it.

“Kenma, do you play volleyball?”

His head shot up to heed her as she rubbed a volleyball off with a towel.

“I’m...Nekoma’s setter.”

“Oh, that’s so cool! You must be pretty good.”

“It’s nothing...my teammates came to scout your school’s court for the upcoming festival…”

Why was he telling her things she didn't ask? It was just like on the bus when he ran his mouth off about the blizzard. He'd been so shocked at himself then that he couldn't find words to continue the conversation.

“Maybe they’ll come find us, then.”

Doubtful. But he didn’t want to damper the mood even more.

“Do you want to pass the ball?” she asked.

Kenma stared at the dustless ball in her hands as she smiled over at him. Maybe she was trying to uplift the mood in her own way. He didn’t mind playing along.

“Sure…”

She tossed it to him - sloppy with no technique but an earnest attempt all the same. He watched its trajectory and waited for it to bounce off the wall before opening his left palm and catching it without much effort.

“Oh wow, you are good!”

She laughed and sat up straighter, her brown eyes glistening like dark caramel as she focused on the ball in his hand. Kenma felt his cheeks growing hot. This kind of attention, he realized, was the precise type he didn’t want. Expectations brought the ability to disappoint. If she could just keep smiling at him, if they could just enjoy their silence together, that would be better. Well, she didn’t have to smile if she didn’t want to, but…

It would be nice if she did.

And she smiled every time he successfully taught her something new about volleyball. So he kept talking - explaining basic techniques and praising her perfect attempts. It was peaceful. Reiai was admittedly fun to be around. Her jokes weren’t obnoxious, and she wasn’t overbearing. In a way, she reminded him of himself when she was honest about also being nervous on that bus and how she liked being comfortable. She even reassured him that when he called her ‘sir’ on the bus, she didn’t even register it. Kenma had been anxious over nothing at all.

“Kenma?”

“Hm?”

“You’re finally smiling.”

“What?”

He touched a finger to his lips. Sure enough, he was.

“I…” He paused for only a moment, unsure what he was even saying, “...guess I’m glad it’s you I’m stuck here with.”

Reiai's eyes widened and Kenma immediately regretted admitting such an embarrassing thing. Hopefully, she didn't think he was weird?

“I thought the same thing,” she whispered, rolling the volleyball between her hands.

Relief made his shoulders relax again. This wasn’t so bad. Talking and being honest with Reiai wasn’t so bad, anyway.

“Kenma?”

“Reiai?” He said her name only because he hadn’t before. He wondered what it would feel like to speak it, and now it rolled pleasantly off his tongue.

“I-I was wondering...um...the festival - it’s really nice. There’s lots to do and see, so…”

“Yes.”

He lost his mind indeed - agreeing to do something he didn’t even know the details of.

“Oh,” she giggled, holding the ball to her chest. He drank in her sweet laughs, letting the snowfall cool his heated face.

The door opened before she could clarify what she meant.

Lev stood behind him, his tall frame akin to a giant compared to his sitting one as he cheered. “Ah! Kenma, there you are! Were you stuck in he-oh? Handsome!”

Kenma sighed, knowing his ears were probably turning red but too annoyed to care.

“Don’t yell,” he muttered. Lev grinned wide and he frowned as Reiai shrunk away. Kenma slowly stood and glared at him before turning back to her. As he took in those confused eyes, his body acted on its own. Kenma walked over and gently took her hand, the volleyball falling to the floor as he helped Reiai to her feet.

And Kenma didn’t let go, clasping her hand tighter and leading her out the closet past Lev.

“Where are you going now?” he whined. “Aren’t you coming back with us?”

Kenma walked to the bleachers and threw his bag over his shoulder, glancing at Lev before locking his eyes with Reiai. His heart skipped a beat as she watched him, wide-eyed and giving him all of her focus - attention - expectations - the ability to disappoint.

“D-do you want to go back to class now?”

Reiai hesitated before that beautiful smile graced her lips again and her fingers entwined with his.

“No.”

He inadvertently smiled back, not needing to touch his lips to know he was.

“Then let’s go.”

“W-what about - don’t we need the volleyball?”

Kenma hadn’t even considered it. He shrugged the suggestion off with renewed confidence, the feathers in his stomach feeling less alien and increasingly fun as he stayed by her side.

“No, just us.”

[wheeliebat]

I apologize in advance for this post, as it kind of cheers away from the types of subjects I generally prefer to flood my blog with. I just happen to be one of those people who feels infinitely better after they have typed out whatever is bothering them.

I am a disabled person, and due to earning less than 1k per month I have to rent. I know that one day I will be able to buy a house, but it just isn’t in the immediate future for me. The house I live in (the lease is up on June 26 and it is currently April 21) is owned by a property management. This means there is no sole landlord. Rather, it is overseen by a couple of office managers and the owner of the establishment. I have lived here since July of 2017 (it is 2019 now) and have yet to meet the actual owner of the property management, and at first this did not seem like an issue. During the initial viewing there did not appear to be an issue with the woman in charge of our property, we will call her Mila, and the property seemed to be in satisfactory condition.

Something you should know before progressing further in this story is that I was not a part of the initial viewing and I did not move in until weeks after my roommates did. They were both vulnerable a naive people, seeing as they were from overprotective families and had never lived away from home. However, their parents viewed the property and assured me all was well.

So I move in after they are already settled in and I start immediately noticing some issues. One of the windows had no screen, one of the glass panes on a window had a huge crack in it, and the front door did not appear to shut all the way, leaving a huge gap where you could easily break in. I brought this to Mia’s attention and she apologized and said she would sent maintenance right away. Well, a couple of months go by and nobody comes. The door issue had gotten worse, and on top of that half the electricity in the kitchen kept blinking off. It happened to be the half with the oven and the microwave, of course. Plus, when I tried to clean the stove the burners literally disintegrated in my hand. I called Mia again and asked for maintenance. They finally came, but were essentially useless. They would stay for about ten minutes while talking on their phones loudly, and leave when they felt like it, sometimes without even bothering to be sure their solution to our problems had worked.

By the end of our first six months of living here I had been forced to call for maintenance about ten times. It was at this point that a mass email to all tenants was sent, stating that the maintenance system was being “abused.” Well, I wouldn’t have had to “abuse” it if my house had been liveable.

This kind of nonsense became our normal and in February we were suddenly greeted by a document that stated we had to decide whether we would continue our lease or not. Our lease was not over until the end of June and they were going to increase our rent by quite a lot. We were essentially trapped there. Nothing was available nearby and all other landlords around us told us that nothing would open until the end of April or early May. So we had no way of knowing for sure whether we could find something or not. I have specific needs that need to be met in the house I live in, and my roommates could only live a certain distance from work or their benefits would be cut off.

We all decided that we were pretty stuck for another year, but that we would start searching for a new place the following spring. This is around the time everyone started voicing their upset about Mia.

I explained to them that I had been accused of abusing the maintenance system and that at another time I had brought it to her attention that the lease agreement clearly stated that if we wanted a dishwasher we could ask for one at the office and it would be delivered to us. We chose this house over another one because of this option. When I told Mia I was in need of one because my disability was making it too difficult to stand at the sink long enough, she told me it had been a “typo” and to just “go buy one” myself. I said I did not understand how an entire, clearly worded sentence, could be a typo and she never responded.

My roommates then informed me that she often used the same nasty tones in emails to them. Apparently she had also forced them to pay for bars to be put in the shower before I moved. Legally, she was not supposed to do this since it violated the ADA laws. She had also failed to ever conduct an inspection on the property. My roommates told me that she simply handed them a paper and told them to make a checklist of what was damaged before moving in. My roommates are not home owners and they were not aware of what kind of things they should be looking for. They said that in the photos of the property online the house looked nearly perfect, but when they actually moved there were dark urine stains on the wood floors and damaged windows. I told them that they should always complete a checklist before moving in and that they needed to bring this issue to the property management’s attention before they even put one piece of furniture inside. They told me they thought taking date stamped photos would be enough. I told them they share the blame for this one, but that Mia also took full advantage of their naivety.

The last straw that caused me to want to run out of here was in December. The hot water heater basically stopped working. I had maintenance come and one man came. Let’s call him Bill. Bill told me that he had a feeling something had been wrong with it because the downstairs neighbor had experienced multiple leaks through her ceiling. I asked why it was not looked into and Bill said Mia had said it must have been because I wasn’t paying enough attention to my washing machine. He had explained to her that the washing machine wasn’t even in the same room as the leak downstairs, but she brushed him off.

When Bill called Mia to ask where the hot water heater was he put her on speaker phone so he could hear while while he worked. Mia has a very nasty tone to her voice and repeatedly told him that I should know where it is and that she had no clue. She already sounded annoyed. It was not my responsibility to know where it was since I don’t own the house. He argued with her that she should have paperwork on the house as well as a layout to consult. In the end we had to find it ourselves. Once the hot water heater was located, Bill was horrified. He said that it was so incredibly rusted through and damaged that he didn’t know how it hadn’t bursted and hurt us yet. He immediately got back on the phone with Mia and the conversation went as follows.

Bill: Hey, I’m at the *bleep* residence and the hot water heater is in really bad shape. I need to go get a new one.

Mia: Well, go get one next week because those aren’t cheap.

Bill: I can’t wait, I have to go today, like right now. It’s a danger to the person here.

Mia: She must have done something to it then because I have no record of it being damaged.

Bill: She can’t have damaged it. This is at least ten year’s worth of damage and it’s going to burst. I need to get a new one now.

I didn’t catch the rest but Mia basically kept insisting that I must have damaged the hot water heater, even though the damage had obviously been caused by rust. Bill stormed off to buy a new one and installed it for me within an house. Bill informed me that this was not the first time Mia had spoken badly about me and that he thought it might be because I cost her a lot of money. I said I wouldn’t have cost her any money had she actually made sure the house was ready for new tenants, and Bill agreed.

Fast forward to recent days. We informed Mia that we all planned to leave the property as soon as our lease was over this year. As soon as she found out she started causing more problems than ever. She sent us a document that stated in large letters that we must only send the document back if one or more tenants planned to remain at the residence. She even sent all of us an email repeating this. About three weeks ago she planned a showing of our unit for a potential new tenant. I called and informed her that I had cats and that they were runners so I needed to know whether she wanted me to take them to my new house or lock them in one of the bedrooms. She told me in an email and again over the phone that it was perfectly acceptable to keep them in the spare room.

Long story short, she never showed up for that showing. I asked what happened and she tried to claim that no showing had been scheduled because she had no idea whether or not we planned to stay. I said that we did not and she told me that we needed to send back the document that stated we no longer planned to stay. I informed her that we never received such a document, and at that point she stopped responding.

About two days later she schedule another showing for 10:00am. I spent the whole night making sure the apartment was in satisfactory condition and at about 9:45 I locked the cats in the spare room. Well, 10:00 came and went and there was no sign of Mia. Then it got to 10:20, still no Mia, and by this point the potential tenant had been standing around in the yard for about fifteen minutes. It got all the way to almost 11:00 and my roommate said he had to get ready to go to work and to let him know if Mia showed up. Of course, as soon as he started getting dressed she arrived.

Mia knocked and before allowing her in I had a small conversation with her.

Me: Hi! I have the cats in the small bedroom. If you want I can show you photos I have of the room with or without furniture, and if they want to see it in person just let me go in first so I can hold the cats back.

Mia: Oh, that is no problem, don’t worry about it. We won’t need that.

Me: My roommate is also getting ready for work, but if you wait about two minutes you can see his room, too.

Mia: No, it’s fine.

She then rushed the potential tenant through the house in about two minutes before returning to me.

Me: Are you sure you don’t want to see those two rooms? I can really let you see the room the cats are in and my roommate is almost done.

Mia: No, it’s really fine. So when is your lease up?

Me: End of June.

Potential Tenant: *looking at Mia in surprise*

Mia: Oh.

She then left the house while announcing that there would likely be another showing later that week.

My roommate came out of his room and we had a conversation about how weird the showing had been. He suspected that she was rushing because she knew the house was not in good condition since she didn’t want to repair anything, and because she had likely told the potential tenant the wrong move in date.

Friday arrived and there was no word of another showing so I figured she was just off fixing her mistakes.

Nope.

We are suddenly bombarded by an aggressively worded email by the owner of the property management. He stated that Mia had informed him that the residence had a foul odor, that there were dirty dishes piled up all over the kitchen, and that we REFUSED to allow Mia entry into two of the bedrooms.

I subsequently had a panic attack before hitting the roof. I had cleaned the entire house from floor to ceiling myself, and every room had at least two Glade plugins. Sorry you hate the scent of clean so much. There were not piles of dishes in the kitchen. I had run out of dish soap unexpectedly (this type of thing happens when you live with other people) and I can’t drive since I have seizures. So the dishes from only the previous day were soaking in the sink. There were three plates, a couple of pans, and two cups all soaking in soapy water. And don’t even get me started on us not allowing her access to two of the rooms. My roommate even backed me up and said he heard me offer to allow them to see the rooms multiple times and that Mia had shot all of them down. Her lies have caused the owner to threaten us with early eviction. He is coming to view the property next Monday and if he does not think it is perfect he is kicking us out. Our greater fear is that she will have shown him the same years old photos that she showed my roommates before we moved in and that she will blame us for all the stains on the floors and busted stove top.

My roommates were at a loss, but I have a plan. I refuse to be bullied like this. I will allow the owner to view the property. If he has an issue with it, I plan to give him the list (with evidence) of everything Mia has done to us since we moved in. I will then explain that if they wish to continue to harass us we have no problem with taking them to court for repeatedly breaking their end of the lease.

Please learn from us and be kind with whatever you say. We are human being who make mistakes and are constantly learning new things every day. What May be common sense to one person may be brand new information to another. Just learn from everything we have been through and be safe out there.

[thingsandtrichotillomania]

December in Review

Last bits of updating for this year since I really didn't post since early September.

Still working on school and anxious my period was late on the 1st. My nose is still running quite often.

The co2 monitor went off about 9:30 pm on the 2nd. We were fine but it was coming from our new neighbors apartment. By 10:30 they figured out the source and fanned it out again. We didn't leave for TJ's (I didn't feel safe sleeping at home) till 11 pm. Started my period during all that and didn't sleep till about 1 am. What sucked was I was literally laying down right before our co2 alarm went off. I called off work for the next day and asked for an emergency therapy appointment. Then I took most of the stuff back home after therapy. We brought Neo and his big ass litter box because I couldn't stand the thought of leaving him here.

December 3rd allergies are killing me. I was sick at the time but didn't wanna say so.

December 6th I was supposed to meet grandma and grandpa with my sister at LJ but I was still feeling sick so I went to get a covid test to make sure it wasn't covid. I didn't want to get them sick either so I just canceled. It wasn't covid thankfully. The wait though was like an hour and a half.

The next day I went to the mall with mom and my sister. I bought them a few presents and we stopped at my mom's friend's house before going home. I went to work that night and hated working night shift production.

December 8th I took babe to work bc his friend was sick. At this point we were all a bit sick. Went to work. Then at 6:30 my mom called (I was home and so was babe) tell me to sit down with him. She said our grandma had passed in a truck accident. I sobbed for a while before having his mom take me and him to get my sister near by and then to our mom's. We talked for a while before mom took us home. Booked another emergency appointment for therapy the next day.

Still dealing with being sick in some variety on top of being a bit sad randomly about grandma. December 10th was babe's friend's Christmas thing. I forgot about it till he reminded me like 2 hours before I got off work. Stressed and ran around after work getting changed and a present. It was fine and I had fun.

Later that night we had a huge storm. The tornado sirens went off 2 times that night. I didn't sleep well at all. It carried into 5 am on the 11th. Went into work regardless of shit sleep.

December 12th we went to a diner and met up with our 2 cousins and uncle and his girlfriend. We talked and caught up. Didn't know if there would be a funeral yet or not.

Was also trying to get mom to come to dad's for Christmas because at the time I wanted as much family as possible together.

December 15th I found out our grandma was already cremated. There is a big urn and then 7 small ones for the family. The next day I found out the official wreck report and now knew exactly what happened (for the most part). Also I had been trying to get a week straight off work because now that school was done I wanted a break. But Eric found out his week off didn't start till Christmas eve so I had to push it back once more. I was upset.

December 18th was the 'funeral'. It was just 4 hours of us in a Church conference room talking to each other. Not as a group. Just whatever we wanted. It was weird. Grandpa told us the story and her last words "oh honey" which made us cry a bit.

December 19th started the random rashes under my neck and on my face. I still have no idea what causes it other than showers that are too warm.

December 24th we had dinner with my boyfriend's boss and his friend that he works with. Eric forgot about it till last minute (a common theme this month it seems). So I was stressed but it also worked out.

December 25th we opened our gifts from each other. I got a ring and headphones. As well as a onesie. I got him a knife, some pants, and a gaming mouse. Then we went to dad's at 3 and got more gifts. Then we went to moms around 5 or 6 to get gifts and some of grandma's stuff. Mom didn't go to dad's Christmas because her and her boyfriend left for Arkansas on Thursday and didn't get back till Saturday (Christmas) afternoon and were tired.

Also my week off finally started on Christmas Eve. It's been so fucking nice not having school or work to do. I honestly don't want it to end but it'll be nice to have work again for money lol. I spent a lot this month.

December 26th our neighbors finally came over! They were here from 4:30 ish till 7 something. Was upset that they were here during dinner and so I didn't get to eat. But it went well. They're okay. Andrew is cooler than Trevor.

December 28th I took my brother and his friend to a place with bounce houses and lazer tag. Overall it was fun.

I've played a lot of minecraft this month and even more so during my week off. I've loved it. Might play some now because I have therapy at 11 am and its only 8:40. I can play till 10 and then let it cool off for an hour.

December 30th, 2021

[stephenmccull]

Without a Pandemic Safety Net, Immigrants Living in US Illegally Fall Through the Cracks

Ana’s 9-year-old son was the first in the family to come down with symptoms that looked like covid-19 last March. Soon after, the 37-year-old unauthorized immigrant and three of her other children, including a daughter with asthma, struggled to breathe.

This story also ran on Time. It can be republished for free.

For the next three weeks, the family fought the illness in isolation — Ana clutching the top of door frames to catch her breath — while friends and neighbors left food on the porch of their home in Colorado Springs, Colorado. Ana and her children never took tests to confirm they caught the coronavirus, but the pressure in her lungs, the fever, the headache and the loss of smell and taste convinced her it couldn’t be anything else.

“It was horrible,” said Ana, a Colorado resident for more than two decades who requested her last name not be used because of her immigration status. “We had to lay on the floor to breathe.”

Nearly a year later, the effects of the virus go far beyond nagging shortness of breath for Ana. She lost her job cleaning houses when she got sick last March, so she couldn’t pay rent. A local nonprofit’s cash assistance funded by some federal covid relief helped her catch up in the fall, but she still had no work and fell behind on rent again. Her landlord finally threw the family out of their home at the beginning of January with 30 hours’ notice, she said.

Ana is one the nearly 11 million undocumented immigrants living in the U.S. without legal permission, who are particularly vulnerable to the economic fallout wrought by the pandemic and have no direct access to the billions of dollars in federal pandemic relief over the past year. An estimated 4 in 5 of them work essential jobs that put them at high risk to catch the covid virus. They are also more likely to suffer the economic consequences, even with protections in place — such as the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s eviction moratorium, extended through March — because they fear that reaching out for help or reporting landlords could lead to deportation or detention.

President Joe Biden’s inauguration brought some encouraging news, as he’s said he wants to create a path for citizenship for many of the nation’s undocumented immigrants. He also said they should be able to be vaccinated against covid without worrying that they will be arrested and deported.

Even though the covid vaccines are available to everyone no matter their citizenship, a distrust of government and law enforcement in the immigrant community and a lack of culturally competent vaccination information and even misinformation have made some undocumented immigrants reluctant to come forward early in the vaccination rollout.

Even if Biden makes good on his pledge of equitable access to a vaccine, unauthorized U.S. residents continue to have no direct access to billions of dollars in federal pandemic relief. The issue was brought up again on March 6 when Republican Sen. Ted Cruz claimed Biden’s new $1.9 trillion aid package would send stimulus checks to every illegal alien in America. Democratic Sen. Dick Durbin clarified that undocumented immigrants don’t qualify for checks in the measure that passed the Senate. The House was set to take up the Senate’s changes on Tuesday.

Advocacy groups have argued for “inclusive” aid packages that provide direct aid to as many immigrants as possible no matter citizenship status, and while a few states set up aid for the undocumented, it’s not nearly enough, according to Marielena Hincapié, executive director of the National Immigration Law Center.

“Immigration status shouldn’t be the gatekeeper to any of these programs. It really ultimately is about need and ensuring that families have the economic stability, to not only survive, but to get through this pandemic that all of us are impacted by,” Hincapié says. “Eighty percent of undocumented immigrants are working as essential workers. We are relying on them, and yet are denying their families this basic support that everyone else is getting.”

Couples with mixed immigration status — in which only one partner is a U.S. citizen — were also blocked from aid until December. They can now apply for stimulus payments retroactively but will still receive less than couples who are U.S. citizens. Though the change made millions more families eligible for some aid, couples in which both partners are undocumented immigrants also have not received stimulus payments for their children even if their children were born in the U.S. and are citizens. A group of families sued the Trump administration in May 2020 after it excluded children in the first COVID-19 aid package known as the CARES Act. The Department of Justice under the Biden administration has continued to defend the policy and has asked a federal judge to dismiss the lawsuit. A decision is pending.

Meanwhile, in February, eight Senate Democrats, including John Hickenlooper of Colorado, voted in favor of a budget amendment that continues to block both documented and undocumented immigrants who pay taxes using ITINs (individual taxpayer identification numbers) from receiving direct relief. (A Social Security number is a requirement for federal pandemic aid, which means immigrants who pay taxes with ITINs can’t qualify.) After getting blowback for his vote from Colorado’s immigration rights community and a letter from the Colorado ACLU accused the senator of breaking campaign promises to stand with immigrants, Hickenlooper met with community members and released a statement to a local news station: “I recognize how this vote has distorted that important fact and fed dangerous and damaging narratives about the undocumented community. … I remain committed to working together to finally achieve a comprehensive fix for our broken immigration system, including a pathway to citizenship.”

Hincapié calls the vote “morally unconscionable.” “The pandemic has shown how interdependent we are and that this is a time in our nation to make sure we’re taking care of everyone. It’s the only way we’re going to get out of this,” she said. “There is no recovery without including immigrants.”

Nearly half of the nearly 11 million immigrants living illegally in the United States (including some 190,000 in Colorado) pay taxes, according to the American Immigration Council, a Washington, D.C.-based advocacy organization. In Colorado, they paid an estimated $272.8 million in federal taxes and $156.5 million in state and local taxes in 2018. According to the IRS, ITIN filers nationwide pay over $9 billion in annual payroll taxes.

The Migration Policy Institute, a nonprofit think tank in Washington, D.C., reported in January that 9.3 million unauthorized immigrants whose income meets the threshold for covid aid are blocked from accessing it, and also can’t apply for federal programs that provide cash and food assistance. It reported that undocumented people represent more than half of the workers in the hardest-hit industries, such as meatpacking, the restaurant business, health care and child care.

The Colorado nonprofit that provided Ana with rental assistance, Servicios de la Raza, received applications from 300 families for rental help. The group could assist only 51 of them, said Julissa Soto, the group’s director of statewide programs. Soto, who used to be undocumented herself, said she knows of at least 30 undocumented families that are homeless because of the pandemic in El Paso County, which includes Colorado Springs. She said she is frustrated by a lack of action by Colorado’s political leaders to address the problem.

“My community is starving and getting evicted, and this is because we are undocumented and we don’t exist,” she said. “No one wants to talk about the undocumented community.”

It’s unclear how many people living illegally across the nation have been evicted during the pandemic. One reason for the uncertainty is because they often leave the moment a landlord threatens to kick them out to avoid going to eviction court and risking deportation, immigration advocates say. As a result, landlords can often evict undocumented people without ever officially filing in civil court and without following the state and federal rules, so there is no paper trail to track.

“Rather than go to court and assert their rights, they just move out,” said Zach Neumann, founder of the Colorado COVID-19 Eviction Defense Project. “They often do so in a way that’s really disruptive to their families and their lives.”

Ana’s landlord evicted her at the end of her lease exploiting a loophole in the federal eviction moratorium that allows evictions when leases expire. She said her landlord threatened to call the police, so she left as quickly as possible. The short time frame her landlord set does not follow Colorado law, which allows tenants 10 days to appeal an eviction in court or leave the property after official notice is given.

A phone number listed for the landlord, AB Property Management, was disconnected, and multiple attempts to contact the owners of Ana’s past rental property were unsuccessful.

Though President Joe Biden’s proposed emergency pandemic aid package mentions ensuring vaccine access to Americans “regardless of their immigration status,” there is no similar statement included for the $30 billion proposed in rental and critical energy and water assistance, or extended unemployment benefits or individual stimulus checks..

California and New York City developed payment programs for undocumented residents. But despite having an undocumented population of almost 200,000 — accounting for about 3% of the state’s population in 2016 — Colorado has no financial aid program to address that community.

Ana and her children are now sleeping on the floor in a friend’s unfurnished spare room. She recently found a cleaning job that pays $300 a week. It’s not much, but she’s thankful to have it after nine months of looking for work. She’s still terrified of losing her kids if social-service workers find out the family is homeless.

“This is not living. This is just surviving. Let’s be clear. This is just surviving, and I want to live. I want a house for my kids,” she said.

KHN (Kaiser Health News) is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues. Together with Policy Analysis and Polling, KHN is one of the three major operating programs at KFF (Kaiser Family Foundation). KFF is an endowed nonprofit organization providing information on health issues to the nation.

USE OUR CONTENT

This story can be republished for free (details).

Without a Pandemic Safety Net, Immigrants Living in US Illegally Fall Through the Cracks published first on https://smartdrinkingweb.weebly.com/

[johnboothus]

Beverly Malbranche Caribbrew Founder and CEO Is Reviving Haitis Coffee Industry

Beverly Malbranche is the founder and CEO of Caribbrew, a coffee company that specializes in Arabica beans sourced from farmers in Haiti. The Newark, N.J., business aims to bridge the gap between the Caribbean’s centuries-old coffee traditions and its consumers in the United States.

As a Black business owner, Malbranche is working to close the racial representation gap in the coffee industry.

Malbranche grew up in Haiti and came to the U.S. in 2009 to study business administration. She knew early on she wanted to start a business selling a product of Haiti to U.S. consumers. While pondering this, she fell in love with the flavors and aromas of Haitian coffee, courtesy of her uncle, who, also based in the U.S., visited Haiti each summer and brought back coffee to share with friends and family. He “kept on asking where to buy this coffee,” Malbranche says. “I realized there was a demand and no one was meeting it well. That’s when I decided that coffee was it!”

Seeing a market for Haitian coffee here in the States, Malbranche co-founded Caribbrew in 2016, and officially launched the brand in 2018. She says she realized that starting a coffee business could also create sustainable jobs for coffee farmers, roasters, and packagers in Haiti.

Caribbrew sells whole-bean and ground coffee, coffee filter bags (perfect for making cold brew), as well as other coffee products and gifts, including skincare products. Malbranche says she included skincare with the goal of creating more demand for Haitian coffee, so that she could in turn buy more from farmers. “It’s been a great way to diversify and reach even non-coffee drinkers,” she says.

Despite the disruption to business during the pandemic, Malbranche says that Caribbrew doubled its revenue last year (in the period May to December, compared to the same period in 2019). She says the main spike was in June. “We are thankful for the support shown to Black-owned small businesses last year,” she says.

In the following interview, Malbranche discusses her motivations for launching Caribbrew, the challenges she has faced building the brand, and what makes running the business so rewarding.

1. What makes coffee from Haiti special?

Haiti’s mountainous landscape makes it perfect to grow Arabica coffee beans. We grow coffee at high elevation, under shade, and without pesticides.

Haiti used to be a major coffee-producing nation in the 1900s. Declining social and political conditions, such as dictatorial regimes and trade embargo, and competition from neighboring Latin American countries, caused [Haitian] coffee exports to drop considerably. By selling our crops, especially our coffee, we were able to pay France their unjust indemnity, for them to recognize us diplomatically as an independent nation back in 1825, 21 years after our independence in 1804. Coffee is definitely rooted in our history. I want people to know Haiti’s coffee as impeccable, sustainable, and empowering.

2. What is the goal of Caribbrew, and how are you achieving it?

Caribbrew’s goal is to create opportunities for everyone in our supply chain and share Haiti’s coffee with the world. In doing so, we will make a difference and reclaim our position in the world as a major coffee exporter. We create opportunities for Haitian coffee farmers and young people in Haiti who roast and package our coffee. Here in the United States, we hire locals from Newark, N.J., where we ship every order. Last year we imported about 17,000 pounds of coffee. We’re still a small company, but with growing demand. Our goal is to get Haitian coffee back on the world map.

3. What does your role as founder and CEO entail day to day?

My role includes going over our daily goals with the leadership team before I [go] to our warehouse. I make sure that they align with our weekly, monthly, and even yearly goals. Then around 10 a.m. when I get to our warehouse, I oversee the fulfillment of our orders. I follow up with wholesale clients, trying to close more accounts for the business. I coordinate our marketing efforts, such as social media posts, discounts, and promotions, and implement and oversee our workforce when it comes to inventory management, vendor relations, etc. … As a small business owner, I do wear many hats, but the most important job to me is to continuously grow the company.

4. How do you work with farmers to source your coffee beans?

We work with an association of coffee farmers called cooperatives. The cooperatives stabilize the coffee price on the market, support individual farmers in securing funds to take care of their farms, lend equipment, and even help with transporting coffee from farm to processing centers. By buying from the cooperatives, we contribute to the establishment of a fair market price for Haitian coffee, where the premium is used to benefit the farmers as a whole. We also create more demand, giving the farmers incentives to continue planting coffee trees and grow quality beans. We pay over the market price per pound.

The vast majority of Haiti’s coffee beans are produced by small farmers, not large-scale farms. Each farmer usually has a few hectares and works with local cooperatives and a few coffee mills.

5. What kind of challenges has Caribbrew faced in the last 6 to 9 months due to Covid-19?

[Before Covid-19], our brand awareness strategies relied heavily on participating at fairs, events, and trade shows. For example, in 2019, we participated at the New York Coffee Festival with over 10,000 attendees. All fairs, trade shows where we meet potential buyers, were canceled in 2020. Moreover, many of our wholesale partners, such as restaurants and coffee shops, had to close or operate on a limited basis. As a result, some of them [stopped] ordering from us and others order in much smaller quantities.

Our wholesale side of the business reduced, but thankfully we relied on our e-commerce strategies to grow our business. Our retail customer base grew rapidly as customers were consuming coffee from home. We were able to double our revenue despite the pandemic.

6. What is the future of the coffee industry, and how can business owners and coffee drinkers make it a more inclusive industry?

The coffee industry is growing, and the customer is becoming more knowledgeable and wants more transparency. Making [the coffee industry] more inclusive means buying from small-scale farmers who usually do not have access to the global market; working with cooperatives to ensure that the premiums are invested in the local coffee ecosystem. Moreover, it means supporting smaller roasters, although sometimes their prices might not be as competitive as larger companies. Overall, it means supporting underrepresented groups at all levels in the sector. When the coffee sector is more inclusive, customers benefit from a large variety of coffee from all over the world, and of course better quality.

7. What is next for Caribbrew in 2021 and beyond?

Our goal this year, besides focusing on our direct-to-consumer strategies, is to gain at least one retail partner with nationwide distribution.

8. How does it feel to be helping to revive Haiti’s coffee industry?

I feel very fortunate to be able to contribute to such a cause. Although there is so much more to be done, every step matters.

The article Beverly Malbranche, Caribbrew Founder and CEO, Is Reviving Haiti’s Coffee Industry appeared first on VinePair.

Via https://vinepair.com/articles/beverly-malbranche-caribbrew-coffee/

source https://vinology1.weebly.com/blog/beverly-malbranche-caribbrew-founder-and-ceo-is-reviving-haitis-coffee-industry

[the-master-cylinder]

SUMMARY EVE VIII is a military android created to look and sound exactly like her creator, Dr. Eve Simmons. When the robot is damaged during a bank robbery, it accesses memories it was programmed with by her creator. The memories used though are dark and tragic ones.

The robot is also programmed as a killing machine if anyone tries to stop her mission. Colonel Jim McQuade is tasked with eliminating the unstoppable machine. With the help of Dr. Simmons, he tries to outthink the intelligent and emotional robotic doppelgänger.

DEVELOPMENT/PRE-PRODUCTION EVE OF DESTRUCTION is Gibbins’ second feature. His first in 1986, was Paramount’s FIRE WITH FIRE (“a movie that didn’t make any particular commercial impression, “according to Madden, who produced that one as well), the story of boys from a reformatory invited to a dance at a Catholic girls’ school. The director built his name in the music video field, creating concepts for videos by such artists as George Michael and Glenn Frey. Gibbins takes little responsibility for FIRE WITH FIRE (“I was a hired hand,” he said), which , unlike EVE OF DESTRUCTION, he didn’t write.

Principal photography on EVE OF DESTRUCTION began early last December inside an abandoned Budweiser glass factory in Valencia, California, converted to a movie soundstage, housing war room sets and futuristic corridors. Essentially a vast tin box sitting atop a cement floor, the building provided little protection for the cast and crew from the icy winds outside. The production filmed exteriors in San Francisco and New York, and wrapped shooting in Los Angeles on February 12. The supporting cast is led by Kevin McCarthy, who plays the father confronted by his daughter’s android look-a-like.

“We determined that we were going to hire the best people behind the scenes that we could find,” said Madden. “We wanted to make this look like a $35 million movie even if we didn’t have that kind of money to spend. So we set out, to use a widely overused phrase, to put every penny we had up there, on the screen. We are fortunate because, unlike many other movies, we aren’t spending $12 million or $24 million on our actors. Given that Renee and Gregory are a bargain, we could still make the movie at a reasonable price.”

Sources on the production put the movie’s budget at between $7 and $11 million, with a significant portion going to set design and construction. Alan Hume is the director of photography, a British native who has worked on RETURN OF THE JEDI as well as three installments of the James Bond series. Production designer Peter Lamont has worked on every James Bond film since 1963’s GOLDFINGER. Costume designer Deborah L. Scott worked on E.T., and supervising producer Madden, has done such films as FATAL ATTRACTION and THE FLY.

Producer David Madden freely admits that Eve of Destruction does have some similarities to other killer-robot films, including Terminator. But, he says, “It’s as if Michael Biehn or Arnold Schwarzenegger were playing both characters in Terminator. The Terminator is a killing machine, and that’s all he is. Eve VIII is more similar to Frankenstein’s Monster we try to give her a psychology, in some sense. We want to work on the same action-adventure level Terminator worked on, but we’re also trying to do a more complex, human-interest story at the same time.”

The story does indeed sound like it adds another dimension to the now-familiar tale of an android run amok. Eve VIII was designed for use in hostage situations, to be undetectable as a robot, at least under cursory examination. The idea is that she will walk into a hostage situation, and take over. Just in case she’s not persuasive enough, she does have a small nuclear device tucked away inside, one that can devastate 20 city blocks.

While writing the script, Gibbins knew he and Udoff were on to something a bit different when they came up with the idea of the robot’s journey through Dr. Simmons’ past and repressed desires. “You start with the hardware, the robot, and then you start with the scientist. When we injected the emotional content into the piece, when the robot started going back through the scientist’s life to sort things out, that’s really when we spun it into a new orbit, and away from comparisons to other films.

“If the audience identifies with the characters, you have a chance of having a very successful movie. If you just have pyrotechnics, you’re not going to have that successful a movie. There are certain directors around, who shall remain nameless, who have great eyes but no ears. They do big movies, and they’re relatively successful, but once you go for the visuals without emotional content, you end up with people watching the movie but not being involved in the movie.”

As with some other directors who are nervous about being too identified with science fiction, Gibbins is pretty cautious in describing the movie that way. “I think there’s a little confusion about what kind of film this is. As soon as I say ‘robot,’ they think it is science fiction, but I would say ‘science faction.’ I have always seen the movie as a psychological thriller with the hardware as a gimmick, rather than the other way around.”

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

His co-writer, Yale Udoff, previously wrote Nicolas Roeg’s Bad Timing, and ended up co-writing Eve of Destruction because Gibbins’ enthusiasm for the idea finally roped him in. “I don’t really consider this picture science fiction,” says Udoff, as if there is something wrong with a movie being science fiction. “There are so many movies in which the central dramatic thrust is what happens when an executive on the way up gives up everything for his work. In essence, that’s what the scientist has done, so that led us down many interesting paths. The robot goes back into the scientist’s past-her past, because they have the same emotional background. If you don’t buy that, we’ve got a problem, but I think the audience will go with that.”

Udoff points out that the robot is “like a woman who has been drinking, and is set off by the wrong thing. This woman is really powerful, she’ll destroy you and the city in which you live, if you piss her off. We realized that there were certain other movies [like this), but we didn’t consciously model it on anything. I never really thought of Terminator, but when this script was going around the studiosthey see so many scripts, so we gave this a catch phrase: “The Female Terminator.’ It was never that for me; it’s much more of a psychological thriller.”

Madden previously produced Gibbins’ first movie, Fire with Fire, but even Madden admits “it didn’t make a dime.” He reunited with Gibbins because “I believed he was good the first time, and I believed he was good this time, and I think this time, we’ll be vindicated.” Time and the box office will tell if David Madden is right, whether Eve of Destruction will explode or, well, self-destruct.

Set designer Ricker worked hand in hand with production designer Peter (Aliens) Lamont to overcome the obstacles of making the mechanics of the subway work. “Peter had a wealth of experience with varied rail vehicles from his work on the James Bond series,” Ricker recalls. “He had the confidence to say. ‘Well, we’ll just put something on the track and push it from behind, and it’ll look like the front of a subway.'”

Which is exactly how the finished product ended up: a lifelike, fronton facade with a blow-up photograph of the interior, complete with passengers, visible through the front windows and illuminated from behind. But the question of what to push it with remained unanswered until the film crew came across a railroad company in neighboring Newhall which caters to moviemaking. There they found all the track they needed, as well as a diesel-powered “speeder,” a kind of railroad service cart ideal for pushing the subway car. But, even though it was just a mock-up, the car still weighed well over a ton. and proper body clearance beneath the vehicle was a major consideration in preparation for the stunt involving Hines.

Seems the only thing the designers neglected to install in Eve VIII is an “off” switch. That’s where McQuade comes in. He’s instructed. now that Eve VIII is locked in “battle mode.” that the only way to neutralize the android is to put a bullet through her eyes. “I guess the eyes have it.” McQuade quips.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Actor Daniel Aryk Christian, an 18-year veteran of the U.S. Army Green Berets, was brought in as a technical consultant to assist Hines in preparing for his part. and was later cast in the role of Captain Griffin. In addition, Christian helped select the weaponry used in the film. “For Greg. we decided on a 357-45 Winchester Magnum,” he says with a proud gleam in his eyes. “It’s the world’s largest handgun, the biggest ever used in a motion picture, 6 1/2 pounds of chrome steel with a laser sight mounted on the top. It’s probably going to turn out to be the star of the film.”

But before McQuade can use the awesome firearm to stop Eve VIII, he has to find her. That requires him to play the part not only of android assassin, but also of amateur psychiatrist. “Everybody’s got a dark side,” reflects Hines, “and I’ve got to get that out of Eve Simmons in order to find Eve VIII.“

With this sort of storyline. you might expect a romance to blossom between McQuade and Eve Simmons. but that idea was rejected after the script’s first draft. “In this film. the clock is ticking.” explains Gibbins. “and if you suddenly stop on the road to get it on, the audience will be thrown out of the plot and might lose interest. The development in the McQuade and Eve Simmons characters is much more subtle than that. They go from being antagonistic to being a real team, and in a sense that’s much more universal.

“We’ve worked very hard with Renee and Greg to make their characters believable,” the director continues. “If an audience is emotionally involved with the characters, and the technology being dealt with works for them, then you have a picture that can play very well.”

Following Eve Simmons’ transplanted life history, the Uzi-toting android travels to New York City in search of the 6-year-old son whom the scientist relinquished custody of years earlier during a divorce battle. With McQuade and Eve Simmons hot on Eve VIII’s spiked heels, the action moves underground, culminating in a tense subway confrontation. The sequence ends up being one of the most complex and planned-out in the film.

Still, the casting of the relatively unknown Soutendijk for the leading role(s) seems a risky move on the part of the filmmakers. Soutendijk has starred in many Dutch films, including THE FOURTH MAN directed by Paul Verhoeven. “Renee wasn’t the first person to pop into our minds,” Madden explained. “But we realized that (we needed] someone who had the craft and the discipline to go back and forth between the two roles, someone who was attractive enough to deliver the kind of sexual element the movie needs, and someone smart enough to play a scientist and deliver the dialogue in a way that was credible. Many days [Renee] comes in and does a very emotional scene as the scientist, and then we throw her in the makeup and hair trailer for the look of the android. To have that level of technique was beyond a lot of better known actresses that we talked about.”

Except for Tap, Hines has rarely played the solo lead in a film; he’s generally the white lead guy’s best pal, the wisecracking back-up, the co-hero. Here, he is the hero of the piece,” claims Madden. “As he said at our first meeting. ‘If this works, the audience will be cheering me at the end.’ Being charming comes easy to him; he’s very personable in real life, and he has played that type of character. We worked very hard to toughen the McQuade character up, to get him to react in short, sharp bursts. Gregory found it very tough at the beginning to do that, but now it’s second nature to him. He turns in a really good performance, very charismatic-a movie star performance.

Duncan Gibbins

Hines stands on the subway platform, a 400-footlong, 50-foot-wide behemoth of a set, chatting between takes with the director. The mood between Hines and Gibbins is light, amiable, full of laughter, a good indication that the shoot has gone well.

The role of McQuade, the maverick military marksman brought in by the government to track down and kill Eve VIII, represents something of a departure for Hines, who comes to the film from a musical background. He was eager for the challenge, however, and insisted on performing many of the stunts himself, one of which involved diving in front of a speeding subway car.

“Moviegoers are so sophisticated now that if you put an actor in front of a big screen that has a train coming at them, it’s not going to work,” Hines explains. “It’s always better if the actor can do it instead of a stunt double. Stunts are also choreographed, and that comes easy to me because of my dance background.”

Madden said he is pleased with Hines’ off-beat casting. “We wanted somebody that was very warm and sympathetic, with a persona for the audience,” noted the producer. “We wanted to get away from the ordinary stereotype, like Rambo. We wanted somebody more humane, with more of a sense of his own kind of intelligence. What we liked about Gregory was that he had the physical abilities to be convincing as a military tactician, but he also had real likability and warmth and a humaneness that other actors don’t have.”

Gibbins echoed his producer. “With both (Soutendijk and Hines), I wanted to go against type,” said the director. “The obvious thing to go for is some six-foot strapping actress who is very physical, and to cast an actor who is a kind of rugged marine. I wanted to play against that. Gregory was a name that was mentioned to me. I thought, ‘Yeah, what a great idea!’ He’s not a colonel type. But colonels aren’t colonel types! Movies make them colonel types. Movies are the cliche and the reality is something different.

“Renee is diminutive and she’s very tough,” said Gibbins. “What I always wanted for the part was someone with great emotional range; someone who could play all the colors and go from naught to sixty in about three seconds, in an emotional sense. She’s a kind of Porsche … You put her in gear– Boom! She’s there, she’s angry. Boom! She’s sad. Boom! She’s happy. And the way the script is written, she’s got very strong gear shifts. Eve Vill goes from being very sad to very happy in a matter of seconds. With all the actresses, Renee was just about the only one who could cut it.”

Dutch actress Renee Soutendijk, has the dual challenge of portraying both the android. Eve VIII, and the android’s creator, Dr. Eve Simmons. “It was less difficult than I thought it would be,” Soutendijk reflects as she stands in the midst of the flashy “war room” set, directly adjacent to the subway platform. “They’re different beings. The robot is very unpredictable and lives from one moment to the next.

Soutendijk is not widely known in the United States, but those who have seen her in her European films, or the mini-series she has starred in know she’s an impressive talent. She has an edgy, intelligent quality to her playing that’s quite distinctive. If you can,’seek out the videos of the two films she made with Paul Verhoeven, Spetters and, particularly. The Fourth Man. Her American accent is very nearly perfect, betraying her non-U.S. origins more in occasional odd word choices than by any kind of inflection. She says, for example, “I would not so much like to be a star in America.” What she wants Eve of Destruction to do for her is show that she is an actress capable of playing many things. I don’t want to be typecast; I hope I won’t be offered films like Terminator and-a-Half after this. It was great to also have the scientist to play, the more human and natural side.”

In fact, she admits that I would have thought longer about playing this if the part of the scientist had not been there. If I had only done the robot, I would have doubted more that it was a good choice to do it.”

Playing both roles was an interesting challenge for Soutendijk. “At first, when I started preparing for this part, I wanted to have a lot of difference between one and the second, but in fact, there shouldn’t be, because the scientist has programmed this robot with all of her own information. So, it was more interesting to start off closer together, and then make them more and more different toward the end. Both characters go through different stages in the film, which for me made it very interesting to play.

She’s very focused, very alert, mechanical in behavior. In the beginning, the robot is much more human than the scientist. During the story, the robot changes, becoming more obsessed, more confused, more crazy. I didn’t want to portray her as the second Terminator. I wanted to keep her human. Although she’s doing a lot of violent things, somehow as an audience you have to understand why and feel some sort of compassion for her.”

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

LOCATIONS Location shooting for Eve began on the streets of New York City, then shifted cross-country to San Francisco before the filmmakers settled into a makeshift soundstage at the old Thatcher Glass Company in Valencia, California. When it was operational, the place turned out thousands of beer bottles every day. But lately, the gigantic tin sheds have played host to a steady stream of film crews migrating out of Hollywood.

PRINCIPAL PHOTOGRAPHY Veteran cinematographer Alan Hume was pleased with the set. “It’s so well-designed, this set, that they put all the lighting in as per the real station, and our film stock is so bloody marvelous these days that I put the minimum amount of light over the top of this. If you look over there, you’ll see some lights hung up in the beams, and that’s really all one needs to do.”

“It has been a hard shoot for me,” the British DP (director of photography) admits. “We did three weeks of night work, 12 hours minimum, but sometimes 14 to 16 hour days, a lot of rain, gunfire, police activity, helicopters landing, vehicles coming and going, so it really has been hard going. A little bit like a James Bond film in that regard, two or three cameras going most of the time.”

SPECIAL EFFECTS Some of the visual FX involving the android required the use of prosthetic devices by Christopher Biggs, a process Soutendijk found somewhat disturbing. “It’s a terrifying experience to begin with because you’re encased in plaster. Then it’s very tiring because when it’s time to do the scenes, it takes four or five hours to put the piece on, then another two or three hours to take it off again. The scene in which the robot is lying on the operating table was the worst. It was my head but matched with an artificial body. My body was directly beneath it, crammed in some kind of box. It felt like a coffin.”

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Producer Madden becomes particularly excited when describing the inner workings of the android. “If you open up Eve VIII’s skin. which we do, you don’t see nuts or bolts like something on Lost in Space. You see synthetic tissue that’s been colored to match muscles, and instead of nerves you see very fine electronic circuitry. If she’s shot she’ll bleed, but she won’t die because the blood has no medical function. She might not pass a hospital examination, but if she were to walk through an airport X-ray machine she’d look human.”

Eve of Destruction (End Title) Philippe Sarde

CAST/CREW Directed Duncan Gibbins Produced David Madden Written Duncan Gibbins Yale Udoff

Starring Gregory Hines Renée Soutendijk

Music Philippe Sarde

CREDITS/REFERENCES/SOURCES/BIBLIOGRAPHY Cinefantastique v21n02 Fangoria#097 Starlog#160

Eve of Destruction (1991) Retrospective SUMMARY EVE VIII is a military android created to look and sound exactly like her creator, Dr.