#same time next year 1978

[bisexualcell]

The Exorcist (1973)

real screencaps from The Exorcist 1973 i promise

[marvelsmostwanted]

There are people – some in my own Party – who think that if you just give Donald Trump everything he wants, he’ll make an exception and spare you some of the harm. I’ll ignore the moral abdication of that position for just a second to say — almost none of those people have the experience with this President that I do. I once swallowed my pride to offer him what he values most — public praise on the Sunday news shows — in return for ventilators and N95 masks during the worst of the pandemic. We made a deal. And it turns out his promises were as broken as the BIPAP machines he sent us instead of ventilators. Going along to get along does not work – just ask the Trump-fearing red state Governors who are dealing with the same cuts that we are. I won’t be fooled twice.

I’ve been reflecting, these past four weeks, on two important parts of my life: my work helping to build the Illinois Holocaust Museum and the two times I’ve had the privilege of reciting the oath of office for Illinois Governor.

As some of you know, Skokie, Illinois once had one of the largest populations of Holocaust survivors anywhere in the world. In 1978, Nazis decided they wanted to march there.

The leaders of that march knew that the images of Swastika clad young men goose stepping down a peaceful suburban street would terrorize the local Jewish population – so many of whom had never recovered from their time in German concentration camps.

The prospect of that march sparked a legal fight that went all the way to the Supreme Court. It was a Jewish lawyer from the ACLU who argued the case for the Nazis – contending that even the most hateful of speech was protected under the first amendment.

As an American and a Jew, I find it difficult to resolve my feelings around that Supreme Court case – but I am grateful that the prospect of Nazis marching in their streets spurred the survivors and other Skokie residents to act. They joined together to form the Holocaust Memorial Foundation and built the first Illinois Holocaust Museum in a storefront in 1981 – a small but important forerunner to the one I helped build thirty years later.

I do not invoke the specter of Nazis lightly. But I know the history intimately — and have spent more time than probably anyone in this room with people who survived the Holocaust. Here’s what I’ve learned – the root that tears apart your house’s foundation begins as a seed – a seed of distrust and hate and blame.

The seed that grew into a dictatorship in Europe a lifetime ago didn’t arrive overnight. It started with everyday Germans mad about inflation and looking for someone to blame.

I’m watching with a foreboding dread what is happening in our country right now. A president who watches a plane go down in the Potomac – and suggests — without facts or findings — that a diversity hire is responsible for the crash. Or the Missouri Attorney General who just sued Starbucks – arguing that consumers pay higher prices for their coffee because the baristas are too “female” and “nonwhite.” The authoritarian playbook is laid bare here: They point to a group of people who don’t look like you and tell you to blame them for your problems.

I just have one question: What comes next? After we’ve discriminated against, deported or disparaged all the immigrants and the gay and lesbian and transgender people, the developmentally disabled, the women and the minorities – once we’ve ostracized our neighbors and betrayed our friends – After that, when the problems we started with are still there staring us in the face – what comes next.

All the atrocities of human history lurk in the answer to that question. And if we don’t want to repeat history – then for God’s sake in this moment we better be strong enough to learn from it.

I swore the following oath on Abraham Lincoln’s Bible: “I do solemnly swear that I will support the constitution of the United States, and the constitution of the state of Illinois, and that I will faithfully discharge the duties of the office of Governor .... according to the best of my ability.

My oath is to the Constitution of our state and of our country. We don’t have kings in America – and I don’t intend to bend the knee to one. I am not speaking up in service to my ambitions — but in deference to my obligations.

If you think I’m overreacting and sounding the alarm too soon, consider this:

It took the Nazis one month, three weeks, two days, eight hours and 40 minutes to dismantle a constitutional republic. All I’m saying is when the five-alarm fire starts to burn, every good person better be ready to man a post with a bucket of water if you want to stop it from raging out of control.

Those Illinois Nazis did end up holding their march in 1978 – just not in Skokie. After all the blowback from the case, they decided to march in Chicago instead. Only twenty of them showed up. But 2000 people came to counter protest. The Chicago Tribune reported that day that the “rally sputtered to an unspectacular end after ten minutes.” It was Illinoisans who smothered those embers before they could burn into a flame.

Tyranny requires your fear and your silence and your compliance. Democracy requires your courage. So gather your justice and humanity, Illinois, and do not let the “tragic spirit of despair” overcome us when our country needs us the most.

Sources:

• NBC Chicago & J.B. Pritzker, Democratic governor of Illinois, State of the State address 2025: Watch speech here | Full text

• Betches News on Instagram (screencaps)

[romanoffsbish]

Insatiable

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!R

As you prepare for your college reunion, and life evolves around you, your wife realizes she’s ready for more. | WC: 1978

18+ | Minors DNI

Smut: Natasha has a penis | Oral / Fingering (R) | Overstimulation | 🤏 Penetration (R) | Breeding

You weren't exactly sure how you got here, or so you feigned—because one second you are on the phone, telling your bestie about your plans for the reunion today with Wanda, the other piece of your trio. Then the next you're pressed up against a door until things eventually escalated to the bed. Certainly, you weren't complaining but you did hear Darcy's muffled disgust followed by the earned dial tone, shortly after a moan.

———

Now though, after an hour, you were starting to feel an aching where pleasure once reigned. "Tasha please," you mewled but she just couldn't stop, "shh," her tone was hushed yet intensely raspy as she begged, "just one more for me detka, please." You moaned, discomfort quieted down for now, your spent body melting into the mattress as it succumbed to the pleasure; again.

Natasha couldn't help it, her eyes were transfixed on your cunt as she just continued to plow her fingers into you, the finest rings of white continued to form on her skin, passing her knuckles and thickening every time she pulled out to slam back in and curl up. Each time without fail you'd gasp, then whine rather incoherently—your pussy took over speaking for you as it gushed and her tongue communicated right back, all you could vaguely hear now was your juices splashing about since her lips had left the curve of your jaw to devour you.

It amazed Natasha just how much you always gave, she looked forward to making love to you every few days just so she could bury herself in your warm core. It wasn't scheduled or anything, just a perfect routine that always led to communal pleasure and comfort. It'd be daily but she liked to give you a break from time to time, even though she still spent it wrapped up in you because she couldn't imagine anywhere better to be.

Ever since retirement you'd become her only focus, she read novels from time to time—like whenever you were out with Wanda and Darcy, which in turn inspired many long nights as you usually walked in wearing a new outfit meant to catch her attention, with a sway to your hips that left her pants tight and her mind wild.

Outside of that though, she had no hobbies, her hero training replaced with nights of endless passion. You were astonished that your vagina still worked; it wept for her the same way your heart yearned for her care.

Natasha was a perfect lover, in all ways, but it wasn't always the case. It took years of patience to receive her unwavering love like this. You fought so hard for her too, making it through hell and back in this life just to find her, then it took forever to break down her walls. Because, up until you she had never regarded anyone romantically; everything was carnal for the redhead.

Now, there was a much deeper connection—a roaring fire lit within you by being her one and only lover. It never wavered; the passion, even on the calm nights where you two were just cuddling, the unique, for you intimacy, it just always got you to a point of neediness..

Like last night, when Natasha stretched behind you and you'd felt the soft outline of her bulge against your backside, it made you wet but then she curled around you so sweetly you'd fall for it, she yawned against your cheek before teasingly questioning your disengaged focus, "how are you liking the movie, moya 'lyubov?"

Knowing full and damn well you were more than likely desperate for her touch, she kept her grip on you firm but it was begrudgingly innocent enough. Which was distracting beyond words as you tried to remember any stupid scene you could critique before huffing, "I hate the Bond series, Tasha." Your wife snuggled closer and kissed you tenderly before changing the film, softening you into the perfect, pliable mess you now were.

Natasha was already clued in when you woke up today, you exited the room in a plush grey robe which usually insinuated you were working on your hygiene routine, shaving away your unwanted hair, leaving behind a soft mound for both of your comfort. You had grabbed a banana then winked at your wife as you walked by and she knew that was an invitation to come ruin you.

Whenever she heard the water being turned off is when she knew you would be close to ready for her, so she set her dishes in the sink and briefly waited for the sign. Soon enough the pipes in the wall swooshed and the redhead ran up the stairs, in a grey sports bra and boxers that had an embarrassing wet patch at the top.

Just as you exited you found yourself between strong arms, with warm lips repeatedly being pressed into the crook of your jaw and neck as her hands gripped your hips roughly. A sweet whimper left your lips as she nipped and sucked on your pulse and the redhead chuckled softly, endeared by your usual neediness.

Then a phone fell from your nervous hands right by her feet and she momentarily froze, then you moaned and she was back, the phone loudly disconnected. It was a blur of sinful pleasure; you were desperate.

Natasha pulled away rather abruptly, biting back a laugh with her smirk as you glared at her. "You've already RSVP'd detka, shouldn't we be leaving now?" It took you a long moment to understand what she was even referring to seeing as how the only thing really thinking for you was your dripping, needy pussy.

You were supposed to go to a reunion luncheon today, that's what you were telling Darcy, who was already with the redhead, because Wanda knew better than to expect you there. To greet the class that brought you into both of their lives when you could stay in solitude with your lover. Plus, she is only even going because she is spearheading a scholarship for young women in stem with her boat loads of Tony Stark's guilt money.

If not for her required presence to pass the first check on in a show, she'd be back at home with her wife, Monica, and their kids—Toby, a blue eyed siamese kitten, and Evelyn, their three month old daughter.

It was crazy to think about, how different life is after a decade of being in one another's lives. Natasha never imagined her circumstances would be this sweet and she thanks the witches ambition for it. She'd went to the college campus one day to visit the Sokovian, who decided to get an education alongside her hero gig. It was an end of the world situation, you were with your part time dorm mate at the time and so the Russian brought you too—muttering crap about your safety.

Four months on the lam later, and you were her girl. Tony apologized and got your education fees paid off for all your prior years and the rest to come for being the reason you nearly lost your future, but now you know you were just being rerouted to the right spot.

"Come back to me sweetheart," she cooed, her heart melting as she somehow caught your love drunk gaze. It was like she was lost in the memories with you. The chance to fall in love all over again was enticing but then she remembered her stubbornness and settled into the moment with you. "What's your color?"

"Yellow." It was an instant answer, but you shrugged because you were unsure if you were truly done yet. Natasha knew that what you needed here was a break, so she made the choice to ignore her throbbing cock.

The redhead hummed softly, then kissed your lips just the same, a smile instantly disrupting the gesture as she felt your delicate hands cup her cheeks to firmly hold her in place. There was no rush to the moment though, you two simply kissed, as if you weren't the same women who just missed a college reunion to fuck.

Natasha had plans for tonight though, while everyone there reminisced on their past few years she had you pinned to the mattress with the future on her mind. For years she turned your pleas down for a variety of reasons, but now, after seeing you with Wanda's baby she realized that there's no more time for her fears. You looked so at peace, with the infant you soothed in your arms and she could see your life to be so clearly.

The kiss that spoke your love for one another came to an end when she felt your grip on her face going limp. Natasha chose then to gently slip her fingers out of you. A soft whimper left you at the loss, soothed only into silence as the redhead lovingly kissed your neck.

Once she pulled back from your body, to kneel above you, her eyes were enamored by the way your essence coated her fingers and slowly trailed down the grooves of her palm. She licked her skin clean, sinful noises leaving her as she shamelessly slurped and moaned. She peered down to see your eyes shut, so she left the room. You were much too tired to protest the loss of your wife's comforting embrace, because the delicious void of sleep began to creep into your once clear vision.

Natasha returned to the room a while later, boxers tight with need but heart full as she found you snoring softly. You looked so pretty, curled around her pillow as if it had actually pained you to be apart from her. A singular tear trailed down her cheek at the feeling of your love that surrounded her in this quiet moment.

A sudden urge to fill you, to give you what you wanted, took over her body as she rushed forward. Still, her approach to you was tender, a thumb traced over the apple of your cheek before descending to your lips, where she gently tapped until you naturally pouted. Your eyes fluttered open slowly, met with the smile of your beautiful wife, you instantly smiled back at her.

"Welcome back," she teased, bringing a bottle of water to your lips before you could sass her right back. Then you were being fed various fruits from the tip of a fork, there was no conversation flowing, the both of you enjoying the comfort of the silence. You were oblivious to your lovers giddy look as you enjoyed a watermelon chunk, unaware she was ready to break it. Then you heard the sound of the fork scraping against ceramic, you flinched back to reality in time to hear her loud and clear, "I am finally ready to fuck a baby into you."

"Natasha no," you warned without the bark, she could see you were asking her not to joke, and her face lit up with resolute amusement. "Fuck," you gulped, her body now hovered yours once again, and you knew you were a goner when she wolfishly grinned down at you. "Detka," her hands wrapped around your ankles and you propped your body up on your elbows to watch.

"Color?" There was no hesitation from you, her eyes told you that she meant it, she was ready, "green."

"Oh fuck," you cried when the tip of her thick cock slid through your glistening slit, unrestricted for the first time, her thumbs dug into the dimples in your thighs as she felt your warmth envelop her. "Dermo." You knew once her mouth met yours—moans leaving her in carnal waves as her hips repeatedly met yours with brutal force, that you were screwed beyond a prayer.

Or, to be more on the nose, you were about to be...

[yandere-daydreams]

Screening: Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1978).

Pairing: Yandere!Carlisle Cullen x Reader (Twilight).

Word Count: 2.1k.

TW: Wildly Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Medical Malpractice, Blood, Controlling Behavior, Deliberate Social Isolation, Misuse of Prescription Drugs, and Generalized Twilight. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

It might’ve just been the isolation getting to you, but you were starting to think that your doctor wasn’t completely human.

Not that you’d ever say so out loud. At best, it was awful thing to think about a man who’d only ever been kind to you and, at worst, it proved yet another symptom to your ever-developing, ever-worsening illness had cropped up and would need further treatment to correct. You knew better than to say things that would make you seem more sick than you already were, but it was hard to stop yourself from lingering on the idea – especially considering you only had books, sleep, and his company to pass the endless time. Admittedly, it’d been a while since you’d seen another person, but you could’ve sworn he was paler than he should’ve been, to the point of bloodlessness. He never ate or drank around you, but sometimes when he spoke, the light would catch on his teeth in a way that made them look too sharp, too prominent. You might’ve been dreaming, but once, after you took your medicine but just before you fell asleep, you swore you saw him taking the cap off of the blood sample he’d taken a few minutes prior, like he planned to do something aside from—

You heard a door open and instantly, your paranoia was dismissed in favor of more interesting stimuli. In this case, that came in the form of your doctor, Carlisle Cullen, stepping into your bedroom, an inhumanly perfect smile already painted across his inhumanly perfect lips.

…maybe you should tell somebody about your little conspiracy. If only to be absolutely sure that you were really losing your mind.

“Good morning,” he said, and it occurred to you that you hadn’t thought to check the time, yet. Your life existed in three states: alone, asleep, and with Carlisle. Only that last one really mattered – the other two could easily be lumped into the same category helpfully labeled ‘waiting for Carlisle’s next visit’. “Have you been keeping yourself busy?”

“I’ve only been awake for a couple hours,” you explained, shrugging as he took his usual seat in the chair left next to your bed. He was always polite enough to ask about the boring details of your day, and you were always embarrassed enough to skirt around just how little you had the energy for. Most of the time, it was all you could do to pull yourself out of bed and yourself to eat before retreating back into your little safe haven. On a good day, you’d be able to go for a walk, maybe respond to a few of the calls you were constantly missing, but most days weren’t very good. “Reading, mostly. Thanks again for the recommendation.”

The book he’d lent you – a dry historical drama with characters as bland as water and a plot as boring as sin – sat open on your lap, but you’d only gotten through half a chapter before giving up. It was hard to believe Carlisle was only a few years older than you, sometimes. You couldn’t imagine how someone who seemed so young could have such awful taste.

Still, he looked pleased, his pleasantly aloof expression taking on a defined note of satisfaction. “It’s important to keep your mind occupied while your body’s recovering. You wouldn’t want to waste all of my hard work by letting yourself die of boredom, now, would you?”

“No, doctor.” It was stupid to try, but he’d set himself up for it. You couldn’t seem to stop yourself, your heart beating just a little faster as you grasped blindly for the impossible. “You know, there’s this friend of mine who keeps asking when she’ll be able to visit, and I thought it might help pass the time if—”  

“You’ll have to find a way to let her down.” Carlisle’s voice was smooth, calm. You did your best not to sulk, but still, he let out a labored sigh, only a touch too professional to roll his eyes. “It’s for the best. It’s good that you stay active, but you know what’ll happen if you overexert yourself, don’t you?”

Vaguely. It was hard to remember the details of your condition, and you weren’t in the mood for another lecture. “I do, doctor.”

“And you’re going to behave your check-up, aren’t you?”

“I am, doctor.”

“And that’s why you’re my favorite patient.” Your compliance was rewarded with a beaming smile, an appeased nod as he pulled his old-fashioned leather doctor’s bag into his lap. “We better make good on that promise before you change your mind, then.”

You didn’t protest. Honestly, you didn’t say much of anything. You never talked during your exam, preferring to let Carlisle go through the necessary motions with as little interference as possible. Instead, he filled the silence with mindless chatter about his children and how they were doing at the local public school, the hospital’s ongoings since you were unofficially discharged, and your favorite – Forks’ particularly colorful smalltown gossip, from the sheriff’s wayward daughter moving back into town to the spike in bear sightings on the local hiking paths. “It’ll be a busy week,” he mentioned, as he finished taking your blood pressure. “You might have some unexpected company, after all.”

At that, you perked up. You met nearly all of Carlisle’s assistants (medical students, you guessed, judging by their ages) by now, and even if you didn’t care for all of them, it was still nice to see someone other than him. Your least favorites were the dark haired twins – the wiry boy who always seemed to be biting back a smirk and the pixie-like girl who always acted like she knew something you didn’t – and you were particularly fond of the blonde girl… Rosemary, or maybe Rosaline. She was nice, compassionate, kind enough to keep you company even when Carlisle wasn’t in the room. More importantly, she brought interesting books – romance and horror, novels like Dracula and Carmilla and Interview with a Vampire, always handing over with a sweet smile and a hushed reminder not to let Carlisle know she was breaking his rules. Looking back on it, you probably shouldn’t have accepted anything she tried to give you. You would’ve hated for her to get in trouble just because she was trying to be nice.

Rather than voicing your overwhelming bias, you watched intently as he slipped the loose cuff off of your arm, tucking it back into his bag and removing something else, something long and silver and sharp. Immediately, your gaze shot back to your lap, your throat going dry in an instant. The next time you managed to spit something out, it was nearly too quiet to be audible. “…is there any chance we could, uh, I don’t know,” You paused, shrunk into yourself. “…skip the phlebotomy, this time?”

Carlisle’s answer was as swift as it was ruthless. An airy laugh, a jagged twist to this smile as he took up the needle properly and turned it over in his hand, looking for defects. It was already attached the glass syringe and, even worse, an empty vial; just a touch bigger than you remembered it being, the day before. “And take that kind of risk? How little do you think of me, (Y/n)?”

“It’s not you, it’s just—I already feel a little faint, and you take one every day, and—” You cut yourself off, inhaling sharply. “I just don’t know if it’s really necessary. Considering how careful you are and everything.”

“You’re right, I am careful. Which is exactly why I have to do this each and every time I come to see you.” He sighed, shook his head – suddenly more of a patronizing, paternal figure than any kind of medical professional, let alone peer. “You understand, don’t you? Without regular testing, your condition may worsen, and if you get any sicker than you are now…” You stiffened as he trailed off, bracing yourself. You knew what came next, what always came next.

“You’ll have to go back to the hospital, angel.”

It was strange, how a voice as smooth and as beautiful as his could be so difficult to listen to.

You didn’t like Carlisle. You hated his condescending smile, his repetitive rambling, his terrible taste in books and his creepy little students. You hated how little he let you do, how he talked about your illness – always skirting around the details, never giving you enough information to know whether you were on the verge of dying or a few days away from making a full recovery. No, when you were honest with yourself, you didn’t like him. Hated him, even.

But you couldn’t go back to the hospital, with its blank white walls and sobbing patients and strange, mind-altering drugs that put your sleep and made you feel like someone was biting into your throat. It’d been a miracle when Carlisle first told you about his domestic services, when he offered to have you discharged in exchange for only the promise that you wouldn’t seek care that didn’t come from him. Arrangements were made, your rent and bills taken over by some nameless, faceless local charity, and for the first time in months, you got to go home. You could live with Carlisle and his once weekly, now daily check-ups. You could live with the fact that you didn’t remember the last time you’d gotten to make a decision for yourself.

And, if you had to, you could live with paying for your freedom in blood, too. As long as it meant you didn’t have to go back to that terrible place.

Once again, you didn’t say anything, but you didn’t resist as he sighed and ran a sterilizing pad over your forearm, the antibiotic strong enough to burn. You clenched your eyes shut, but that did nothing to block out the feeling of a thin elastic band being wrapped around the crook of your elbow, of his needle pushing through your skin and burrowing into the vein underneath it. There was a second of pressure, of knotted soreness, and then, the syringe was gone and you were left feeling just a little colder, just a little more empty than you had before.

Even after opening your eyes, you kept them trained on your lap. You easily could’ve spent the rest of his visit in silence, but metal clinked against glass as he rushed to cap his vial and suddenly, you needed to hear the sound of your own voice. “I think I might be getting paranoid,” you managed, with a breath of a laugh. “For a few minutes this morning, I was able to convince myself that you were… I don’t know, an alien studying humanity, or something.”

“If I was, I’m sure that I would still pick you as the best possible specimen for my examination.” It was hollow comfort, but you smiled anyway, nodding along. Your medication came next, in the form of a small, chalky white pill that you still struggled to swallow under Carlisle’s vigilant gaze. You managed to choke it down, though, and as always, the effects were instant; a sudden clearness, blankness, followed shortly by an exhaustion so thick and so heavy, you couldn’t remember what it’d ever felt like not to be tired. You tried to hold yourself up, but faltered – buckling under your own weight. Carlisle chuckled as he caught you, helping you lay down with a soft squeeze to your shoulder, a feather-light kiss to the top of your head. “Sleep, angel. It’s good for you.” And then, his grin still pressing into your scalp. “And try not to dream about vampires, this time.”

So he did know about Rosalie’s books. Pouting, you shrunk into yourself, letting him drag the comforter over your abruptly immobile body as your eyes eased shut, as he pulled away – a vial of your blood still warm in his hand. It would’ve been impossible to stop yourself from falling asleep, but you managed to stave off unconscious long enough to watch him remove the vial’s carefully applied seal, to unscrew the air-tight cap with the kind of tenderness you’d only seen him use while taking your temperature or petting his fingers through your hair after he thought you were already too far gone to remember. He did a lot of things when he thought you weren’t looking, didn’t he? You’d never really noticed that, before.

Through your eyelashes, you watched him bring the vial to his lips before everything went dark.

[professorsnape394]

DAY 11 - Unrequited Love

Pairing: Severus Snape x Reader

Rating: 😡

Prompt: Buried

Summary: Long Buried feelings finally come to light and Severus does not know how to react.

A/N: For this one I took inspiration from the last Snapetober I participated in (2021). I found an half-finished unpublished story in my drafts, so here is it finished and fully fleshed out. Enjoy :-)

Warnings:  Angst. Rejection. Spoilers: Unhappy Ending.

Word Count: 2307

Credits to Gif Creator.

Hogwarts Christmas Ball, 1978.

Y/N stared across the dance floor longingly, her gaze captivated by the slender boy on the other side of the room. Despite his tattered dress robes, and slightly greasy hair, Y/N always found herself drawn to him. In fact, her attention was rarely on anything but him. Severus Snape had stolen Y/N’s heart long ago; it was just a shame he knew nothing about it.

Her stomach lurched at the sight of Severus approaching a familiar red-head. While Y/N spent her days watching the boy, Snape spent his trailing around after Lily Evans.

It did not come as a shock to see them at the ball together since it was rumoured her infatuation, James Potter, was absent due to a bad batch of pumpkin pasties. What was surprising, however, was the fact that Severus was supposed to be attending the ball with her. A fact that seems to have slipped his mind.

Fighting back a second bout of tears that week, Y/N turned her gaze elsewhere. While she was under no illusions that Severus would return her feelings, she had hoped that the two of them might enjoy one dance together, even if they remained only friends. She watched on from afar, as her date laughed with another girl. Her face burned with a mixture of jealously and embarrassment.

It wasn’t the first time Severus’ feelings for Lily Evans made her feel small. But it was the first time her best friend had betrayed her so blatantly.  

Hours passed and without a single offer to dance, her classmate’s uninterested in anyone else besides their own dates. Severus remained on the opposite side of the Great Hall, oblivious to the girl whose heart was breaking over him.

Finding the night to be a lost cause, Y/N resided to return to her dorm. With one last glance over her shoulder, she caught a glimpse of Severus and Lily dancing arm in arm to a slow song; her head positioned intimately on his chest, his lips brushing against her auburn hair.   When he turned in time with the music, Y/N recognised the unrequited look on his face as the same one she often wore around him. It was in that moment she lost all hope of ever ensnaring the man she so longed to love.

That night forever haunted Y/N’s memory even years after she had graduated from Hogwarts. It was the night she had lost all hope on love, and despite trying to overcome her teenage infatuation, the remnants of her feelings still remained. It was this that prevented her from finding love elsewhere, thus leaving her just as alone in her twenties as she had been as a teen.

Diagon Alley, 1985.

Y/N’s usual weekend ritual consisted of a trip to Flourish and Blotts to purchase a brand-new novel, then visit a local café to begin her next literary adventure. It seemed the only way to escape the bitter thoughts of reality that often creeped up on her whenever she was alone.

The familiar chime of the doorbell welcomed her into the shop, the wall of heat easing the sting of the cold winter air outside. She took her time browsing the bookshelves, roaming up and down the aisles multiple different times before settling upon her final pick.

Y/N finally reached for the hardback, tugging only to find it would not budge. The witch crouched to inspect the issue, finding a second hand tightly gripped the spine from one aisle over, seemingly as reluctant to let go as she was.

An irritated grunt echoed through the silence of the shop, and the book was ripped from her grasp.

“Excuse me, what exactly do you think you are doing?” Y/N exclaimed, marching her way around the shelves. “I had that book firs-“

Her voice trailed away, the sight of her competitor stealing all the breath in her lungs.

“Severus.” She gasped.

“Y/N?” He turned to the woman in surprise.

“It’s… good to see you.” She bit back the tone of shock in her voice. A sickly feeling forming in the pit of her stomach.

“How long as it been? I can’t remember the last we spoke.”

“I can.” She blurted without thought.

After that night at the Christmas Ball, Y/N swore to never speak a word to the man again. Though it pained her, it was ultimately the right decision to try and lessen the hold he had on her. What hurt more was that he never once tried to reach out after that night; it hadn’t occurred to Y/N that their friendship had meant so very little to him.

Snape raised an eyebrow questioningly, waiting for the woman to elaborate.

“I should get going. It was nice to see you again, Severus.” She made a dash for the door.

“Wait. Your book.” He called after her, feeling nothing but utter confusion.

“Keep it, it’s yours.” She disappeared from his sight.

Struggling for breath, Y/N planted herself in the far corner of the café, peeling off her layers of scarfs and her winter coat. Her encounter with Severus had sent her blood boiling, flushing her face with colour and breaking a sweat out on her forehead. He was both the first and the last man she wanted to run into on any given day, she just never expected it to actually happen.

He looked so different now; no longer the lanky teenager she first developed feelings for. Yes, his face had aged, but his slight wrinkles only added to his appeal. At least when she thought back on him, she was picturing the scrawny boy with clothes that barely fit him. Now, however, she would forever see him as the man he had grown to become; tall, broad shoulders, and not completely lacking in the muscle department. And it didn’t escape her notice how strong his grip was when he forced the book from her hands.

Burying her head in her palms, Y/N wanted to scream, cry and throw up all at once. What had once been a distant memory of a childhood crush was now back in full force and she couldn’t get the image of the man out her head.

There was no way of telling how long she sat like that, except for the fact her tea had long since turned cold and the busy streets of Diagon Alley had almost emptied.

Had her hands not been pried away from her face, she may very well have sat like that all night. Her eyes first landed on the leather-bound novel that had been placed gently in front of her, not daring to look at where it had come from.

“Y/N.” Severus spoke softly, announcing his presence.

“How did you know I was here.” She croaked, burning a hole into the cover of the book.

“I remembered how much you liked tea. There was only so many places you could run to.” He took the seat opposite hers. “Why did you run?”

Y/N fought the urge to bury her head in her hands again. How was she going to explain the bizarre reaction she had to seeing him again after all these years.

“What can I get you, Sir?” A waitress interrupted, buying her time.

“Coffee. Black.”

“That’ll be with you in just a moment.” She smiled, returning behind the counter, leaving the two of them to sit in silence once more.

The loaded silence between the two threatened to swallow Y/N whole. Her need to see the look on Severus’ face, outweighed the need to hide the embarrassment on her own. She appreciated he did not push her for an answer, but his intense stare had a similar effect. There was no escaping his question.

“Seeing you again, after all these years… it’s too painful.” She stuttered.

Severus swallowed; it was clear he did not expect such an answer from her.

“Care to enlighten me as to why an encounter with me is … painful for you?”

Y/N searched his face for a semblance of understanding, surely he was not entirely oblivious to her feelings for him.

“Do you remember the last time we spoke?”

Severus didn’t bat an eyelid at her swift change of subject.

“I didn’t think I did.” He started. “But upon seeing you again, I think I remember when it was.”

“It was the day before the Christmas Ball in our Seventh year. We were sat in the common room by the fire. I was telling you about my dress, I was so excited to wear it for the ball.” The memory of the moment had her blinking back tears, it hurt to recount the events. “We were complaining that we both had to attend the ball alone, almost everyone in our year had dates and frankly it was a bit embarrassing that no one had even thought to ask me. You on the other hand made your own choice by refusing to ask anyone at all, considering the one person you wanted to ask was already taken.”

“I recall.” Severus clenched his jaw at the mention of the late Lily Potter.  

“Do you remember what happened later that night? You came to me in my dorm; slightly dishevelled I admit, maybe you had been drinking? I don’t know. But you came to me and asked me to accompany you to the ball.”

Severus froze, the memory slowly coming back to him.

“I don’t think you ever knew how happy that made me. I was completely over-joyed at the thought of having a date to the ball. Not just any date; you. You were the only one I truly wanted to go with and I felt like my dreams were finally coming true. I could barely sleep I was so happy. I spent the whole next day prepping and primping, making myself look the best I possibly could, in the hopes I could somehow manage to impress you.”

“You did not need to impress me.”

“Didn’t I?” Y/N couldn’t help but laugh as a tear fell from her eyes. “Because if my memory is correct; despite my efforts to prepare for a magical evening with you, I spend all of it alone. I arrived in the Great Hall to find my date had apparently been double booked.”

Suddenly it all dawned on Severus at once. He had completely fucked up. Not only by forgetting his arrangement with you, but for leaving his friend on the lurch when she had no one else to go with. He had been so blind by Lily’s request to replace James; he had forgotten everything the two of them had spoken about the night before.

“Y/N.” Severus sighed, massaging his forehead.

“I discovered through my own humiliating research that Lily Evans had become short of a date at the last moment and came to you for help. Which you so graciously offered.” She swiped at the stream of tears pouring down her cheeks.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry.” Snape reached across the table to take her hand in his.

“It’s done now.” She sniffled. “But you never even spoke to me after that. All those years of friendship forgotten about in an instant.”

“You were avoiding me like the plague, Y/N. I had no idea what I had done to piss you off, all I knew was that you were mad at me. I thought it would be better if I left you alone.”

“I wasn’t mad at you Severus. I was in love with you.” She looked teary-eyed into his pitying gaze.

Her confession left Severus speechless. Had he really been so blind, that he hadn’t noticed his best friend was in love with him?

He swallowed, clearing the ever-growing lump in his throat.

“I had no idea.” His words were nothing more than a whisper.

“Well, you wouldn’t, would you? While I was staring at you, you were too busy looking at her.”

Severus closed his eyes, taking a second to think back. She was right, his entire youth was memories of pining after. He hadn’t even taken a second to appreciate the one girl who stuck by him through it all.

“That still doesn’t explain why you ran away from me just now? Did I hurt you so bad that you’re still annoyed with me?”

It was Y/N’s turn to fall silent now.

“I think I should go.” She said after an uncomfortably long pause.

Y/N rushed to stand from the small wooden table, Severus stood just as quickly, blocking her exit path.

“Tell me.” He stared intensely into her eyes, his cold hands wrapping around her dainty wrist. “Please.”

The length between his words and hers seemed to go on for days. Finally, she gathered the courage to say the words she had been holding in for so many years.

“I think… I think I might still be in love with you.” His hand fell from hers, retracting as if he had been burned.

While it was her instinct to run away as far as she could, Y/N suspected this would be the one time she would regret fleeing. She needed to hear what he had to say.

“I… I don’t know what to say.”

Her heart sunk.

“Nothing.” She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “If the obvious doesn’t occur to you, then the best thing to say would be nothing.”

“I’m sorry.” He repeated sincerely.

“It really is time I should get going.” This time Severus stepped out of her way, allowing her access to the door.

“Your book.” He lifted it from the table.

“Keep it. If you ever have a change of heart, I might borrow it from you someday.”

Severus nodded, understanding her words.

Y/N took one last glimpse of him before leaving, flashing him a sad smile that might haunt his memory forever.

[spidermans-l-o-v-e-r]

9-1-1 Masterlist

Oh gee finally a place I can keep these! Thank you to my bestest most amazing friend in the whole world for making these headers for me i literally actually literally could not do it without you

Two of a kind

Buck can’t stop thinking about his coworker, so he does what every guy at 3am does on a 24 hour shift!! He sneaks out to his car to get off. But it turns out, certain coworkers (that might possibly be the love of his life) have the exact same idea!

Fairest of Them All:

The party downstairs rages on as Buck decides to do something about the pretty little thing he’s been staring at all night

Clothing Optional:

I can’t. I can’t keep writing summaries. I’ve done 2

After a stupid work shift, in the stupid heat, Buck just wants to enjoy a sweet little sundae, fortunately it comes with a side of dat ass (I’m not sorry)

That Should Be Me:

Buck has never ever been jealous ever a single damn day in his life

Gamer Girl

Buck thinks you’re so, so pretty. You’d looked even prettier with your thighs around his head

Now You See Me:

✨Mirror sex✨

Sleepy Hollow, 1999

Scream, 1996

The Exorcist, 1973

The Shining, 1990

Grease Lightning

The Polar Express, 2004

All The Rage

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

Cootie Catcher

Growing Pains:

Everything is all wonderful and cool and dandy until you nearly die from your appendix!!

(I KNOW. THERE IS. AN AMBULANCE.)

Cry To Me:

Eddie loves when you’re crying during sex, nothing turns him on more… except when those tears are very very real and he’s very very worried

10 Things I Hate About You:

You guys freaking h a t e each other… or do you? Wink wink wink wink enemies to lovers wink

I Spy:

Eddie is the sweetest neighbor in the entire world… who knows where you work

Better Than Revenge:

You and Eddie get locked into a closet at your job after an accident, it also turns out your now EX boyfriend is a cheating asshole! Eddie has absolutely no problem filling in for the revenge role

Front Row:

Why do firehouses have to work f o r e v e r. Eddie needs a freaking shower and to pass out for the next six years on an overnight shift. It turns out someone has the same idea, and possibly another idea on how to left off some steam

Yeti Point:

Eddie finally takes you on that skiing vacation you’ve been begging him for and it’s going great! Until you get snowed in. But that’s okay, Eddie has a secret plan to keep you both warm

Slow and Steady:

Buck helps Eddie into the house, holding him up as you frantically get the bed ready for your injured boyfriend. Turns out, pain killers make Eddie horny!

(Hahahahahaha)

Encanto:

Dad!Eddie x Daughter!reader

Nightmares never get easier no matter how old you get. Especially ones where your father dies

Smoke Dector:

Eddie always has to be the hero, okay not really but it’s hard when you see your boyfriend running into a burning building for the first time

One Puff Or Two:

Take your freaking inhaler Eddie 🔪🔪🔪

Into The Fire:

(PTSD WARNING, PANIC ATTACK WARNING)

You’ve been on edge lately, and Eddie knows there’s something up. One night things come to a head when you have a nightmare about what happened and Eddie wakes up to a very bad situation

Night Changes:

Eddie comforts you after a bad nightmare about him dying over and over in different ways (based off of 5.14)

Busy Bees:

Two words ✨Sex Pollen✨

Soup or Salad?

✨I’ll freaking summarize this later✨

Sink or Swim

I Was Made For Lovin’ You

Halloween, 1978

It, 1990

Die Hard, 1988

The Easter Bunny

For All The Marbles

Adventures In Babysitting

P.S I Love You, 2007

Hitch, 2005

A Rose by any Other Name

This is one of the funniest titles I've ever made up. Buck finds your simple collection of toys and shows them to Eddie... and now they want you to put on a little show for them

Finish Line:

A little game of "whoever cums first loses"

Twice Bitten:

Double Penetration from my kinktober list!

Alexander Hamilton:

Buck can't stop having feelings for Eddie's girlfriend... but what if that's okay?

Captured, With Love

[deadpresidents]

Can you recommend any books on conclaves to elect popes?

Yes, I can!

•The Triple Crown: An Account of the Papal Conclaves from the Fifteenth Century to Modern Times (BOOK) by Valerie Pirie Even though this book was originally published in 1935 (the edition I have is the updated 1965 version), it is a great look at each of the conclaves from the election of Pope Callixtus III in 1455 to Pope Leo XIII in 1878. Unlike a lot of older books, the Triple Crown is a really easy read and one that you can breeze through while learning a lot about 400+ years of papal elections. And while I'm old-fashioned and need to actually have a physical copy of a book in order to read it, Pirie's entire book is actually available online to read for free at this website.

•Passing the Keys: Modern Cardinals, Conclaves, and the Election of the Next Pope (BOOK) by Francis A. Burkle-Young Originally published in 1999, Passing the Keys takes a look at more modern conclaves than The Triple Crown. In fact, Burkle-Young's book picks up where Pirie's book ends -- with short histories of the conclaves of 1878 (Pope Leo XIII), 1903 (Pope Pius X), 1914 (Pope Benedict XV), and 1922 (Pope Pius XI). Then the book takes an in-depth look at the conclaves of 1939 (Pope Pius XII), 1958 (Pope John XXIII), 1963 (Pope Paul VI), August 1978 (Pope John Paul I), and October 1978 (Pope John Paul II).

•The Popes of Avignon: A Century in Exile (BOOK) by Edwin Mullins, and Avignon and Its Papacy, 1309-1417: Popes, Institutions, and Society (BOOK | KINDLE) by Joëlle Rollo-Koster While not solely about conclaves, these two books are solid histories on the Avignon Papacy, a period during the Fourteenth Century when over a half-dozen Popes (all French) were elected in and ruled from France due to pressure and influence from various French monarchs.

•The Year of Three Popes (BOOK) by Peter Hebblethwaite A fascinating look at the two conclaves and three popes of 1978 by one of the great papal historians. Hebblethwaite covers the death of Pope Paul VI and conclave of August 1978, which resulted in the election of Albino Luciani as Pope John Paul I. And then, after just 33 days, the world was stunned by the sudden death of John Paul I, so the College of Cardinals had to return to Rome and hold yet another conclave, leading to the election in October 1978 of Karol Wojtyla of Poland as Pope John Paul II, the first non-Italian Pope in 455 years.

•The Making of the Popes 1978: The Politics of Intrigue in the Vatican (BOOK) and The Making of the Pope 2005 (BOOK) by Father Andrew M. Greeley In the same vein as Theodore White's classic Making of the President series, Catholic priest and historian Father Andrew M. Greeley wrote two richly-detailed accounts of modern conclaves. The Making of the Popes 1978 tells the story of the two conclaves in August and October 1978 following the deaths of Pope Paul VI and Pope John Paul I respectively. The Making of the Pope 2005 looks at the death of Pope John Paul II and the conclaves which elected Joseph Ratzinger as Pope Benedict XVI.

[asnowperson]

#2 Yoshida Akimi's 1982 Fusion Product interview

Please check the interviews masterpost here.

“California Monogatari" is A Shoujo Manga

1982.

This interview was taken when California Monogatari had ended, and before Kisshou Tennyou was about to start in 1983. Yoshida-sensei is asked about the next work she wants to draw, and talks passionately about sailor uniforms and sportive fighting spirit. Her passion for sailor uniforms manifested itself in Kisshou Tennyou, and sportive fighting spirit in “Saigo no Natsu” (The Last Summer) (high school baseball) and “Kaihou no Jumon” (Releasing Spell) (tennis).

First published: 1982, Fusion Product, February issue (Report)

“California Monogatari” is a Shoujo Manga

— You seem to have seen the movie “Midnight Cowboy” (1) a lot. Is that correct?

Yoshida: Right. When I was in high school, I was going to see it the moment school was over. I must have seen it 7 or 8 times. I watched it while it was in theaters in high school, and watched it again during re-screenings. 

— Dustin Hoffman dying on the Miami bus in a state of incontinence resembles the way Eve dies. 

Yoshida: You could say that it was my principal inspiration. 

— You also said that you noticed it was similar to East of Eden (2) after people told you about it, right?

Yoshida: Yes, I did. It’s troubling to notice things after being told. I was like “now that you mention it, yes... They are similar!”. But I like it. I like the rivalry and the conflict between brothers. Also I don’t like brothers who are close in age, because they belong to the same generation in the first place. If they are about 10 years apart, then there would be a generation gap between them and I believe then they would be falling out. I think that is more interesting. One would still be a child, and the other one would be an adult. They wouldn’t be able to understand each other at all. And when one of them is in their 20s, the other one would be an uncle in his 30s who has seen his fair share of the world (laughs). Their conflict would last forever, right? I really love stuff like that. Maybe I have some sort of family complex.  

— Huh, do you have siblings, Yoshida-san?

Yoshida: I don’t have any siblings, but when I lived in Kamakura, I had a frail cousin who came to our place to recuperate. It was a boy a year younger than me. As expected, my parents doted on him. I hated it, hated it so much. I hated it so much that I thought maybe I should do something about it, but that would have come to bite me later, wouldn’t it?

— Oh, I see.

Yoshida: You can say that it’s rooted that deep down (laughs), but be it brothers or sisters, I thought I didn’t like all that complicated stuff. That’s why it’s better to be apart in years. 

— Hmm, that’s why you were talking about older brothers. 

Yoshida: That’s why I’ll be drawing them in the future, I’m sure. I love them. 

The story is based on old wounds…

— You’ve started [California Monogatarai] in 1978, right?

Yoshida: I was young back then. Or I should say, reckless. Or maybe I could do it precisely because I was young. It was a completely different story when I first started it. The protagonist was much older too. But since this was a shoujo manga, I made him younger, and it has become a completely different story. 

— Ah, is that why part of the story was taking place in high school?

Yoshida: Right. I had to fix the very basis of the story. 

— What do you mean by that?

Yoshida: It turned out completely different from what I first envisioned it to be. In the original story I had in mind, all the characters were old men. The protagonist was around 25. But they told me no matter how you look at it, 25 would be no good. And I asked, how about if I make him 18? Not putting up a fight against the big shots is one of my principles.

— That must have been tough. But the editors finally gave you the okay, right?

Yoshida: At first, they told me to make it a comedy. I also drew it with that in mind too. But as things progressed, it got darker and darker (laughs). And then they said that it was becoming a problem. They were set on turning it back into a comedy. So rather than saying that California Monogatari was a dark story at its core, I’d say that as more serious parts came up, I made it get on the right track. My editor was thinking about that too. I was supposed to draw something for the preview, and they asked me to draw the characters with 1:2 proportions to add a lighter touch (laughs).

— 1:2 proportions?! (laughs)

Yoshida: They told me to draw with brighter colors to add a comedic touch. I said that my preview cuts would turn out totally unrelated to the contents of the story, but my editor was telling that to me out desperation. It was something that would make the most serious stuff fall apart. And they said that this was something with which we could play around. When I told them they might have a point, they said “all right then, draw it like I told you” (laughs).

— How so? (laughs)

Yoshida: The other party was having their own difficulties too. But I was suffering more. I have this kind of memories form that time. That was no laughing matter. 

— So, those are your old wounds?

Yoshida: You could say I put a lid on all stinky things, but I did have quite a hard time. I can't say I have nice memories from back then. 

— Maybe that’s precisely why you could create such a masterpiece. 

Yoshida: Oh no, that’s not true. 

— For being a story about a boy, things get pretty hard in the second half.

Yoshida: A horror manga (laughs). 

— A horror manga (laughs)?! What?

Yoshida: It was called “California Horror”. It was notorious. 

— Did it have a bad reputation with your editor?

Yoshida: It had a bad reputation in the editing department, and it seemed to have a bad reputation with the readers too. They said the faces were scary. That they preferred how they looked before. But I did try things out a lot before proceeding, you know. My editor said “I can see and appreciate that you tried, but this isn’t progressing” (laughs) with a regretful expression on their face.

— And that’s how you didn’t know how the other readers perceived it. I liked the second half better. Isn’t Heath’s hellish battle face too beautiful?

Yoshida: Yeah. As the person drawing him, I can’t really think he was making such a scary face. But I had an inkling that it was scary. Well, now that the serialization is over, I will be drawing cuter things next time (laughs). I want to be Yoshida-san, the creator of cute drawings. But I have to practice for that first (laughs).

Heath is unfaithful to women

— But after everything is said and done, Heath’s story continued for quite some time. 

Yoshida: Yes it did, that’s true. It wouldn’t be good if I didn’t see it through the end, right? I should give it an outline to a certain degree. He might have disappeared somewhere, I had to make a reason for it. Because otherwise, I wouldn’t hear the end of it (laughs). I mean, saying that Heath just hated everything and everyone in this world, and just disappeared somewhere wouldn’t have cut it, would it now (laughs)?

— There was the Heath-Eve-Butch trio at first, right? But then Heath and Eve’s relation got the center stage. Well, even Elaine disappeared from the story…

Yoshida: That’s true. Was something wrong with it (laughs)?

— Of course not (laughs)! There were three women around Heath. Sueanna, Elaine and Suzie. 

Yoshida: That MC is just fine with anyone, honestly! I can’t tell if he’s a lecher, or if he just likes women. I drew him as a character who doesn’t have a shred of fidelity in him. So accordingly, he can do it with anyone. He wouldn’t refuse anyone if he feels like it.  

— He doesn’t look that kind of guy. On the contrary, he rather looked stoic. Like, how he handled the situation with Eve too. 

Yoshida: Because Eve was a man (laughs). When he’s dealing with a woman, he just doesn’t care and goes at it at full force. The bed scenes are deleted with ink, you know. It was fun, so I drew it (laughs). 

— So, were they taken out? 

Yoshida: Yes. The black panels you see are mostly the deleted scenes. 

— Oh, so that was it. And I thought we had too many black panels. 

Yoshida: I properly drew in them.

— I want to see the drafts.

Yoshida: I can show them when the volumes come out.

— At first, Heath was drawn in a shoujo manga style, but later on, he became closer to a gekiga style. 

Yoshida: But I thought that girls would be reading this manga, and gave it my all drawing him like a boy who would appeal to girls.  

— I see, I see. 

Yoshida: I really gave it my all. I was thinking “I’m not really into this, but it can’t be helped.” (laughs) 

— Then what are you into, Yoshida-san?

Yoshida: It’s hard to explain what I like. I’d say the ideal man cannot be drawn in a manga. I’ve never tried it. 

— Did your drawings become more realistic because you continued serialization for a long time? 

Yoshida: You say it’s changed, but I don’t really know. If I compare it to the beginning, I can see how the style has changed. But drawing the same things over and over again would have gotten boring. It’s a long serialization, so if I don’t play around like drawing slimmer faces and the like, I’m sure I'll end up getting bored. When I was told that their legs were too short, I was like, okay, let’s make them longer then (laughs). I did all sorts of things. 

— You made sure to draw the lines of the guys’s muscles. 

Yoshida: That too. This was a work that was going to be read by girls, so I had to tone it down. There were many people who didn’t like it if it was too realistic. It’s hard to draw while trying to match others’ tastes. I thought I could make money if I did (laugh). I endured it. 

I want to apologize to the guys

— Towards the end of California Monogatari, it didn’t really feel like a shoujo manga anymore. 

Yoshida: But I worked hard to draw a proper shoujo manga. That was my intention. 

— Did you? That was an impressive story. Did you plan to have Eve die in that way?

Yoshida: I didn’t think that much about it. Really. If I must confess, I got a letter asking me if he would die. Then I was like, “Oh, I see... Now that’s another way to go about it.” (laughs).  

— Excuse me?

Yoshida: I had never thought about it until that point. And I thought, well, maybe it’d be better if I did that. 

— You lived up to the expectations (laughs). I see, so that’s why Eve died. 

Yoshida: It wouldn’t have sat well with me if I didn’t meet the expectations. When I think that way, well, you end up like that (laughs). I also like being mean. My editor asked me the same thing. Asked if he would die. They also took it back and said that it would be much more interesting if he didn’t die (laughs). 

— Heath was furious when Eve died. Can you explain his psyche a bit? 

Yoshida: Anyone would be furious if they feel like they have been tricked. At first you go “Huh? No way! For real?”, and then anger takes over. That is how he felt. 

— I thought the characters that got introduced midway, like Alex and Leroy, played really interesting parts. 

Yoshida: Hehe, I didn’t want to go there.

— Oh, why?

Yoshida: I really want to apologize to the guys, I went and drew lies like that. 

— Lies?

Yoshida: Like I said, those were all lies. 

— Why?

Yoshida: Women need to be convinced. But when it comes to men, before being convinced, something else comes first.   

— No questions asked; they just find themselves in the situation they’re in. 

Yoshida: Right. That’s such a shame. To be honest, letting you desires be seen from the outside is pretty pathetic. I’m glad to be born as a woman on that point. There’s that, so it’s like, “okay, male readers, this is a shoujo manga, so cut me some slack”. But I also think that’s fine because I’m drawing under the assumption that men don’t read this. 

— Oh, I see. 

Yoshida: If I were to draw for men, it would never turn out that way. 

— And how would it turn out?

Yoshida: There would be no logic behind it (laughs). It would end, just like that. 

— If you were to draw erotic gekiga, I feel like you would have drawn something awesome.

Yoshida: Erotic gekiga, huh (laughs). 

Jan-Michael Vincent

— Your favorite movies?

Yoshida: There’s a lot. Like Big Wednesday. Jan-Michael Vincent is such a fine man. When he smiles, his smile line goes ding! (laughs) I like when it appears like that. I think, why Japanese men have to have such thin chests? 

— What do you think about old Japanese movies?

Yoshida: I love them. The black and white ones. I like Kobayashi Akira and Ishihara Yuujirou. 

— I see. You must also like “The Game of Death.” (3)

Yoshida: Ehehe.

— What about shoujo manga?

Yoshida: When I was in junior high, I read works of Ichijou Yukari and Morita Jun. 

— Did you decide to become a manga artist then?

Yoshida: No, I had no intention of becoming one. I wanted to become an assistant to a manga artist. I heard from my friends that it was a good part time job that pays well. I thought, “even I can draw some manga!” (laughs) So practiced a lot. I applied to be Hagio-sensei’s assistant, and I lied about my age. You had to be at least 20 to be her assistant, and I was about 18 back then. My friends and I thought that no one would be able to tell. I thought I would fail anyway, so I didn’t take it that seriously. I just mimicked Hagio-sensei’s drawings. I was brave. And when I did, my submission was returned to my address. It had Hagio-sensei’s comments. Being praised in that way made me want to become a manga artist. (laughs) I am a simple woman. I didn’t get to become a manga artist’s assistant though. 

“Do you know what sex is?”

— You said you wanted to draw a tennis manga next.

Yoshida: I do want to draw it, a sports manga about tennis. I want to skip all the ordeals, and only draw that one moment of glory (laughs). 

— What makes it strangely interesting must be that light-heartedness. In “Natsu no Owari ni,” when Mansaku-kun’s friend Hirai-kun pays a visit to Mansaku’s club room, there is a girl there. He gets angry and says “How dare you, when you already have me?!” (laughs) I think stuff like that is really fun. 

Yoshida: But I’d say that’s pretty realistic. Boys are really fun. Two of my male friends back in school told me that they wanted to experience homosexuality once, and tried doing it in their small student room. But they were so embarrassed that in the end, they couldn’t do anything. When they said “But isn’t that strange?”, I asked them what was strange. And they said that although they can’t do it when they were all alone, they could really get serious about it when they had spectators around (laughs). During the year-end party, they did kiss for real. Boys are really weird (laughs). They can do anything as long as people are watching. Maybe that’s what separates boys from girls. 

— I see. 

Yoshida: All of my male friends came from the countryside, so maybe that was in their nature? That’s how things were there. They were driving a car, calling out to high school girls walking among the rice fields. Saying “Hey, do you know what sex is? It feels great you know!” (laughs) And then the girls were getting embarrassed, and they were having fun watching that. After hearing stories like that, I would never run out of plot ideas. I can’t tell if my friends are a blessing or a curse for me. 

It’s shoujo manga anyway

— How long has it been since you became a manga artist?

Yoshida: It’ll soon be 5 years. I might be the only one who didn’t get to draw a color cover page despite being in this business for 5 years. 

— But you’ve been drawing for 5 years, and California Monogatari is over too. You must be feeling confident that you can make it as a manga artist by now. 

Yoshida: Well, I guess I know the ropes of it now. Yeah… I feel like if I do it once, I don’t care about the rest. If I say any more, I’m afraid people will be throwing stones at me (laughs). But being a shoujo manga artist is great. There’s this social stigma around it, right? “Hmph, it’s shoujo manga!” It almost gives me a masochistic pleasure (laughs). I feel like well, it’s me, of course I have to be looked upon. It’s not fun if the general public accepts shoujo manga. It’s nice to be a shoujo manga artist in secret (laughs). In a corner of society, while feeling anxious from the prying eyes, I’m doing something outrageous (laughs). That just feels great (laughs)!

From now on, I’ll draw sports manga and sailor uniforms

— What kind of manga do you want to draw next?

Yoshida: A manga with sailor uniforms. Because I never got to wear a sailor uniform. And a sports manga about tennis. 

— Was your student uniform different?

Yoshida: Mine was suit-type. I have always admired the white ribbon of sailor uniforms. That’s why I want to draw it. My reasons are different from men’s. 

— Well, you said it. 

Yoshida: I told my editor once that I wanted to draw a manga with sailor uniforms. When I did, they said “Okay, I love them too.” But our reasons were completely different. 

— I see. Then we’ll be able to see Yoshida-san’s manga with sailor uniforms. 

Yoshida: My sports manga and my sailor uniform manga. They are next. 

— You said you liked Ikegami Ryoichi. (4) 

Yoshida: Yes. I liked him. There were so many fine men in his stories. You wouldn’t call them high school students (laughs). They are basically perverts, you know. 

— What other manga do you read?

Yoshida: I recently got Sabu to Ichi Torimono Hikae (Sabu and Ichi's Detective Memoirs).

— What did you think about it?

Yoshida: It was amazing. I could feel that it was peak Ishinomori Shotaro-sensei (5). Is this what you’d call the greatness of “stillness”? Right, against that pitch black background, Ichi-san whooshes out his thin cane. It glints, and that’s it. But it has an amazing power. I thought, this must be how you show things through drawings. There are no speed lines whatsoever, it’s all in stop motion. I was overwhelmed. 

— What do you think about recent anime?

Yoshida: I haven’t been watching much. 

— Have you seen “Akuma to Himegimi” (The Devil and the Princess)?

Yoshida: I haven’t seen that either.  

— You haven’t (laughs)?

Yoshida: How cold of me! I haven’t seen it. For me, animation is in black and white, but that’s in the past. Maybe people who watched older anime cannot watch modern anime. 

— So, will we see a sports manga about tennis as your next work? 

Yoshida: Maybe next year. 

— How about a fantasy like “Kaze no Utautai” (Wind Singer)?

Yoshida: Let’s see… I will draw something. One of these days. 

A novel by James Leo Herlihy. An American movie directed by John Schlesinger. Released in 1969. A story about two men living in the loneliness of the big city, a work representing American New Cinema. Won the Best Picture award at the 42nd Academy Awards.↩︎

A John Steinbeck novel based on the story of Abel and Cain from the Old Testament. Adapted into a movie by director Elia Kazan. First movie James Dean starred in. Released in 1955.↩︎

“Battles Without Honor and Humanity” is a movie befitting o its name (1973. Starring Sugawara Bunta). Taking that movie as base, numerous parodies that are impossible to explain each, such as “The Game of Death” (1978 Hong Kong movie starring Bruce Lee), are made.↩︎

A manga artist born in Fukui Prefecture in 1944. His most famous works include “Otoko Gumi” (written by Kariya Tetsu), “Crying Freeman” (written by Koike Kazuo), and “Lord” (written by Buronson).↩︎

(Formerly spelled as Ishi-no-Mori Shotaro) 1938-1998. Manga artist. His real name is Onodera Shotaro. He holds the Guinness World Record for having the most published works. His most famous works include “Cyborg 009”, “Sabu to Ichi Torimono Hikae”, “Hotel”, and “Kamen Rider”.↩︎

[bisexualcell]

this movie would be unbearable if I wasn’t insanely attracted to ellen burstyn and alan alda and it wasn’t referenced so much that i needed to know what the fuss was about

[whysodelirious08]

Dealing Out Agony Within - E.M Short

Hurt/No Comfort - Any gender (I think)

Please reblog with hastags! It helps a bunch! 💗

You held the aged envelope in your hands. Every year you looked at it with the intent to finally gather up the courage to open it. But you never did. Try as you might, the pain, like a lake, would whirlpool beneath you and drag you under. Until you put the letter back in the box. Back under your bed. Waiting for the same time next year. But this year it remained in your hold, your glossy eyes looking at the haphazardly scribbled letters of your name, slightly smudged, mostly worn.

The rain, the thunder, it seemed to claw and howl at your window just like it did back then. Perhaps a sign. Now was the time to summon up all that courage. That strength. See what Eddie had left you.

The letter had come after you heard of his death. It was bittersweet. A final gift. The last of a long collection of letters between you both. You were both so young. You were just nineteen then. 39 years later and you still sat there just as fragile as you had then.

You took a breath. You gently turned the envelope around and carefully, so carefully opened it. Taking your time. Bracing yourself. Once you had opened it, there was no going back, there was no undoing the last bit of Eddie you had been holding onto. As if he were still here. Unable to accept the truth.

As you pulled out the letter, you saw something else tucked within, but you turned your attention to the letter first. The bad handwriting, the scribbled doodles, the change in pen when clearly one had run out.

"OK. First off you're wrong about Critters. It was a cool movie and you don't give it enough credit. And I don't want to hear how I'm wrong and how it was, by your words, "an unconvincing comedy horror that could barely keep a kid entertained". - again. And I didn't just enjoy it because I have the humour of a child. I know that's what you would say and you're wrong."

You scoffed at his words but enjoyed them nevertheless. Seeing at the end of that section there was a drawing of a face with his tongue out. It wasn't a bad movie, you had just loved to wind him up and annoy him.

"Fun fact from Professor Munson-! The Longest length of sword able to be "swallowed" by a practiced exponent, after a heavy meal, is 27 inches". Or at least according to the Guinness book of world records from 1978. I found it at a yard sale. Now I have way more facts to give than you.

...and I could swallow more than 27 inches, I'm sure. wink wink."

He was always so immature but you found yourself cringing and laughing at the comment. You unfolded the last bit and noticed how he had changed his pen for a red ink.

"I know you probably thought I forgot but unfortunately, for you, I am still holding you to your promise. So pack your bags! Metallica Damage, Inc Tour; here we come! And only the legend himself. OZZY OSBOURNE is also playing. Keep hold of the tickets for me. Wayne doesn't know. Our secret!

Catch you next month for movie night

- your humble servant, the awesome, the one and only, Eddie Munson of the no.1 touring band in the world- Corroded Coffin!"

And in the envelope sat tickets. Two. For a show played 39 years ago. You didn't get to see it with Eddie. But you sure as hell know he was watching from above. And rocking out.

You had long left Hawkins behind but every year you felt a tug to go back. Perhaps you owed Eddie a trip. At least, one last time. Make amends for wasting those tickets.

[citizenscreen]

Love them and this.

Alan Alda and Ellen Burstyn in Robert Mulligan‘s SAME TIME, NEXT YEAR (1978)

[one-divides-into-two]

"If we treat the Stonewall Uprising as initiating the modern gay mass movement in 1969, the left-adventurist line was initially dominant, and fell by the wayside in the late 70s. Those who led the first wave of the LGBT movement of the 60s understood themselves (however incompletely) as participating in a revolutionary movement and process: In broad strokes, the early “left” line groups of gay liberation located the center of gay oppression in the family form itself and were explicitly in solidarity with the women’s movement as in many ways the same as their own (ideologically if not always practically). The British Gay Liberation Front’s Manifesto reads

The oppression of gay people starts in the most basic unit of society, the family...At some point nearly all gay people have found it difficult to cope with having the restricting images of man or woman pushed on them by their parents...we are expected to prove ourselves socially to our parents as members of the right sex (to bring home a boy/girl friend) and to start being a 'real' (oppressive) young man or a 'real' (oppressed) young woman

The Boston Gay Men’s Liberation group argued in their manifesto for the collectivization of childcare and housework, saying

Rearing children should be the common responsibility of the whole community. Any legal rights parents have over ‘their’ children should be dissolved and each child should be free to choose its own destiny. Free twenty-four hour child care centers should be established where faggots and lesbians can share the responsibility of child rearing

Others explicitly aligned themselves with the national liberation and anti-imperialist struggles of the time –Third World Gay Revolution went so far as to explicitly call for armed struggle towards establishing socialism. The gay struggle, to these organizations, was necessarily part of the struggle for the end of capitalism and the liberation of all oppressed and exploited peoples.

Nevertheless, these groups primarily took the left-adventurist line, and the failure of these organizations to place politics in command and take up Marxism fully (despite its influence within the movement), and the failure of the leading Marxist organizations of the time to cast aside their chauvinism, place politics in command, and embrace the LGBT movement (most notably RU/RCP, which maintained that homosexuality was “perpetuated and fostered by the decay of capitalism” and to be eliminated under socialism until 2001 and engaged in conversion therapy-style practices on their gay cadre), allowed the bourgeoisie to co-opt the movement and suppress its revolutionary strains. By the end of the 1970s the main left-adventurist groups that emerged from the movement's popular initiation via the Stonewall Uprising (GLF, STAR, TWGR, etc) had collapsed, and were replaced by the newly dominant right-opportunist trend, represented in groups like Lambda Legal (founded 1971), GLAD (1978), and the Human Rights Campaign (1980). Occasional left-adventurist ruptures emerged over the succeeding years, with ACT UP's break (rooted in part in gay and lesbian anti-imperialist solidarity work in the preceding years) from Gay Men's Health Crisis representing the most significant of these, but over the next three decades the bourgeois "marriage equality" became the central demand of the movement, with the implication that once these various reforms proposed by the right-opportunist trend were enacted, the gay movement would cease to be necessary.

In the first two decades of the 21st century these reforms were realized, and the idealist fantasies of the leading bourgeois gay organizations were not. These reforms were granted because they reaffirmed the bourgeois family form, successfully assimilating the leading upper strata of LGBT people as a method of defusing the movement as a whole. While in some ways the broad social acceptability of homosexuality, transness and gender nonconformity have increased, the reaction to these reforms has produced a vicious effort to oppress the lower strata, typically trans people.

Indeed, all empirical evidence points to the continuing existence of anti-gay and anti-trans oppression. In our younger years, parents, teachers, and other authority figures will attempt to suppress any expression of homosexuality, transness, or gender non-conformity. The passive and active social enforcement of your sex/gender role is a universal experience, but is felt particularly acutely by those most directly in contradiction with those roles. When this fails, authority figures sometimes resort to violence and sexual abuse – gay and trans children suffer higher rates of psychological, physical, and sexual abuse across the board as compared to their cis and straight peers. LGBT people as a whole make 10% less than the average worker. This is felt more acutely among trans people, particularly trans women (in line with their cis counterparts), who make just 60% of the average. What bourgeois sociological evidence does exist points to significant discrimination in housing, jobs, medical care, etc. Accessing medical care is a struggle of its own for trans people – getting the treatment needed for basic day-to-day existence is often humiliating and expensive.

For younger LGBT people, particularly trans people, this political sequence has produced significant "whiplash." We grew up in a period of a real increase in broad social "acceptance," and being told that these reforms would guarantee an end to our oppression. But the utter abdication of leadership by the rightists following the reforms (after all, "we won") and the reactionary backlash has left the movement with a vacuum of political and organizational leadership at a crucial conjuncture. In the absence of this leadership, small groups have begun to emerge, largely taking up the left-adventurist anarchist line, sometimes explicitly. In some ways, this is a positive situation for communists. The broad masses of LGBT people are crying out for leadership in their struggle against the reactionary offensive, and the failure of the bourgeois rightist line to provide its promised victory has revealed to many gay and trans people, particularly those of the lower strata, the bankruptcy of reformism.

The current assault on our self-determination by the reactionary wing of first-world politics presents us with an opportunity to smash that trend, to effect a final rupture. Gay and trans people, particularly trans people, are increasingly forced into direct confrontation with the bourgeois state (through its repressive laws) and its extra-legal shock troops (with trans events becoming one of the primary targets for street fascist attacks). Not since the AIDS crisis have we seen such direct confrontation – and with it, openness to revolutionary communist political projects.

The task before communists in the gay movement is therefore to rectify the line of the movement through theoretical and practical struggle, to offer leadership to the gay and trans masses, and transform this movement into a detachment of the world proletarian struggle for communism."

Half the Sky: Preliminary Materials for a Proletarian Feminist Politics

[therandomhalfrussian]

Ronnie Petersons chronicles #9

Ronnie Peterson at the 1000 km race of Brands Hatch.

Right, about a postings schedule… Not gonna be able to post as usual next week either. So much unplanned stuff happening right now. For compensation you guys will get this chronicle a day earlier than usual. But unfortunately it is a bit shorter than usual too.

I love when I actually find a picture of Ronnie I’ve never seen before that’s is not just him in his cars. Look how adorable he is!!! That racing suit and his yellow 1978 one is probably my favorites. He fits well in light and/or bright colors.

Do excuse any grammatical errors, English is not my first language. “(italics)” is my explanation of things.

Chronicle 9 below:

“Carrousel at 200 knots”

(Late April, Madrid, Spain)

“Sometimes you get to go on a carrousel-ride. Involuntarily. When I drove out on the track to drive the first practice session before the 1000-kilometer race for sports cars at Brands Hatch I hit a bump. The entire rear end was lifted. And there Peterson sat and went for a carrousel-ride at 200 knots (≈370 km/h).

I spun all along the straight like a piece of butter in a hot pan. The turn in front of me approached rapidly, but I managed to get the nose in the right direction and stabilized myself. Then it was just for me to pit. All four of the wheels were completely ruined, I had spun that hard.

We had some problems getting the Ferrari ready before the world championship race at Brands. When it was time for start we had adjusted everything backwards and forwards and yet we did not get the pieces functioning properly. Much of that because the track was so bumpy.

…the track felt like a slingshot

When we drove here last time there was a bunch of small bumps on the track that in themselves were not so pleasant. But not the organizers had tried to fill them in but instead there were now just a bunch of large bumps. It felt like being on a slingshot all the way.

Well, me and Tim got second place, and that is not much to be ashamed for. Ickx and Andretti who won drove really fast, and the main thing is that the world championship points still go to Ferrari. The fact is that I led the race for a while and never got below third place.

Before Brands Hatch me and Tim went down to Modena where we inaugurated Ferrari's new testing track, and it is something fantastic. I do not think any other team has the opportunity to develop like Ferrari has right now. The new track that is just for testing racing cars has a complete equipment for that purpose.

For example it has a top modern timing system made by Heuer. There are timing places every fifty meters around the whole track and that means you can study how a car drives along the whole track in detail. You can for example see if the acceleration on a certain turn has gotten better after an adjustment or if the braking range has shortened after a brake adjustment.

The new car is not finished yet. But it is coming along…

There were a lot of people there for the inauguration, around 300 journalists were there from the entirety of Europe to watch. Right now I am in Spain to prepare for the Spanish Grand Prix which will start on the 1’st of May.

So the point is for Niki Lauda to get the March 721x that I drove with at Brands Hatch during the Race of Champions, while I am getting a new one of the same model. My car will be lighter thanks to Robin Herd using new metal alloys that are both super light and super expensive.

As soon as my car is finished we will have to start transferring all the minor adjustments made on the old car to the new one. But I do not think there will be a problem getting it done before the race.

It is quite important that everything goes well down here in Spain, especially since all of you can see me on TV. I have heard that there will be a live broadcast in color even on Swedish TV and that is quite fun.

Not a lot of driving in Sweden this year

Something that is less fun about Sweden is that the race organizers cannot decide about anything. Now I have heard that neither Kinnekulle nor Karlskoga will have their planned Formula 2-races this summer.

That means that I might not get a chance to drive in front of my home crowd and I think that is really sad. Furthermore I have worked hard all spring trying to convince my friends to line up for the race so the starting field would appear really strong.

It is kinda weird that the Swedish organizers seem so confused by organizing a simple Formula 2-race when so much is already laid out for them. I think the crowds would come if they invested in getting a few Formula 2-racers home with how popular the motorsport seems to be in Sweden.

Spain then next time. See you later!”

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

You can find the original chronicle (in Swedish) here.

I feel kind of bad for Ronnie. He was so excited to drive a Formula 2 race in Sweden. Then nothing. Damn you un-organized organizers! At least Anderstorp got added to the F1 calendar in 1973.

Also what is this guys luck. It’s practically non-existent. Why was his car either falling in pieces (ahem March 721x you beautiful piece of scrap) or some outward conditions ruining every race yet he managed to finish in respectable positions. I can only imagine the back-pain from a bumpy track like that too.

Thank you for reading, if you notice anything wrong or have anything I can improve on please tell me!

[misfitwashere]

ROBERT REICH

MAR 14

Friends,

My old friend Senator Alan Simpson died this morning. He was 93. 

Our friendship began at one of those interminable Washington receptions I had grown to hate. They were always stand-up events where I was expected to engage in small talk with dozens if not hundreds of people I didn’t know, moving among groups while trying to balance a drink with a napkin containing cheese puffs or tiny cucumber sandwiches, and shaking hands as if enjoying myself. 

The hardest part was deciphering what people were saying to me because their voices emanated a foot or more above my ears and the ballrooms were invariably noisy. When encircled by the taller-than-normal men who tended to be senators and members of Congress, I felt as if I’d fallen into a well.

At this particular reception, a senior senator on the Judiciary Committee began telling me something with apparent glee, but he was so very tall and the crowd so noisy that I couldn’t hear a word. So I grabbed a nearby chair and stood on it, which put our heads at about the same level.

“I’m Alan Simpson,” he said, with great amusement.

“Well, Senator, I’m Robert Reich, and I’m glad to be up here in the stratosphere with you.” We shook hands.

“A bit dizzying up here, isn’t it?” He laughed.

“Better than down there, where I can’t hear a damn thing and get spit on.”

“I’d never spit on a cabinet member, not even a Democrat,” he said, with mock seriousness.

“Not intentionally, but you’d be surprised how much saliva rains down there. I almost need an umbrella.”

By this time several attendees had gathered around us, amused that the extremely tall Republican senator and unusually short Democratic secretary had found common ground.

Everything I had learned about Simpson suggested we occupied the opposite extremes of Washington. He was a conservative Republican from Wyoming, a fiscal hawk, close friend of George H. W. Bush, chum of Dick Cheney and George W. Bush, and six-foot-seven. He had served in the Wyoming legislature for thirteen years after being elected in 1964, then been a three-term U.S. senator starting with his election in 1978. 

Yet within minutes of standing next to him on top of a chair in the middle of that reception, I discovered we had something in common: our senses of humor. He told me that his mother was over a hundred and fit as a fiddle because she walked five miles a day. “The only problem is we have no idea where she is,” he deadpanned. I almost fell off my chair.

I asked him if he knew the difference between congressional politics and university politics. “No, tell me!” he asked with a broad grin. “In Congress, it’s dog-eat-dog,” I explained. “In university politics, it’s exactly the opposite.” He cracked up.

“We have two political parties in this country,” he said. “One is the Stupid Party, the other is the Evil Party. I belong to the Stupid Party,” he laughed. 

“You’re very funny,” I said. 

“You’re very funny, too.” he said. “You always seem very serious when I see you on the news.”

“CNN doesn’t appreciate shtick.”

“What’s shtick?”

“You seriously don’t know?”

“No.”

“Cow dung on a stick.”

He exploded in laughter.

I told him that I took my job very seriously but tried not to take myself too seriously. He said he did the same, but most of his colleagues did the reverse. He then told me about his family, and I told him about mine. We both missed our kids, another point of connection.

We resolved to meet for lunch. 

When I returned to the Labor Department and asked my assistant to arrange it, she demurred. “You haven’t had lunch with most Democratic senators. If you have lunch with Simpson they’ll be insulted,” she warned. She informed my chief of staff, who was even more determined that I not lunch with Simpson. “You haven’t even had lunch with Ted Kennedy!” she said. “Besides, it would be wrong. Republicans hate us. What would people think?” 

Simpson’s staff was against our lunch, too (he later told me). They said it was inappropriate for a senior Republican senator from one of the most conservative states in the nation to have lunch with the most liberal member of Clinton’s cabinet. “Your constituents in Wyoming will have a fit,” they told him.

We snuck out for lunch. Neither of our staffs knew where we’d gone. Alan suggested a bistro at some distance from the Capitol and the Labor Department where we wouldn’t be found. We spent hours sharing personal stories, laughing, talking about our families. It was the start of a beautiful friendship. When I think of the poisoned politics of our time, when Republicans and Democrats often loathe one another, I’m grateful for Alan.

In subsequent months and years we saw quite a lot of each other. It was an illicit relationship by the emerging norms of Washington, but we didn’t care. After I left the administration and Alan retired from the Senate and accepted a temporary position at the Kennedy School’s Institute of Politics, we grew even closer. We did a public television show together on Boston’s WGBH where we discussed the issues of the week for thirty minutes, mixing humor and politics. We called it “The Long and the Short of It.” We began each episode by walking toward each other from opposite sides of the stage set, in silhouette—Alan’s long, lanky frame almost entirely filling one side of it and my stubby one filling barely two-thirds—and shaking hands before sitting down, when the stage lights would go on and we’d go at it. We often disagreed on the issues but did it with so much warmth and evident enjoyment of each other’s company that many people wrote in to say they loved watching us because we were such a relief from the usual political fare. The show lasted only one season, but we had a wonderful time doing it.

We also appeared in various forums, such as the institute run by Leon and Sylvia Panetta in Carmel, California. On these occasions, Alan and I often shared regrets about what was happening to American politics. “They hate each other,” he said, of the crop of Democrats and Gingrich Republicans who followed us into Washington.

When Trump first ran for president in 2016, I asked Alan why he thought more Republicans weren’t speaking out against Trump. “They’re scared,” he said.

“Scared of Trump?”

“No,” he said, lowering his voice. “They’re scared of the kind of people Trump is attracting and what he’s bringing out in them.”

“You mean, they’re scared of being physically harmed?”

“Friend, it only takes one nutcase.”

Alan had become a controversial figure among Trump Republicans for his liberal views on women’s rights and gay rights. He had long been controversial among liberals and Democrats for other positions he took. He served on the Senate Judiciary Committee that skewered Anita Hill and confirmed Clarence Thomas. 

As the Republican co-chair of Obama’s commission on the federal deficit, he called Social Security recipients “greedy geezers.” When California’s Alliance for Retired Americans protested one of his appearances in the state, he called their view “a nefarious bunch of crap.” In an email to an official of the Older Women’s League who complained that he wanted to cut Social Security, he compared the program to “a milk cow with 310 million tits,” and ended with “call when you get honest work.”

He made some errors, but I admired his sincerity and passion for democracy. Alan wasn’t in anyone’s pocket, and he bemoaned the role of big money in politics. “If this crap continues,” he told me one day when we were doing “The Long and the Short of It,” “in a few years, some wealthy bozo is gonna buy the whole damn presidency. It’s ludicrous.”

The last time we spoke was when I phoned to congratulate him on being awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom by President Biden.

“I saw it was you calling,” he said. “I wouldn’t have answered if it was anyone else.”

“Congratulations, Alan,” I said. “You could be the last Republican in the United States with any sense of civic responsibility.”

“No,” he said. “Just up the road from where we live is a Republican cow. Very responsible. Doesn’t shit anywhere outside her pasture.”

Alan Simpson, my dear friend, may you rest in peace.

[imnotcorin]

An unnececcarily long explanation of the fear street movies plot hole/ why on earth did they do that bro?! –Parts, because why not:

TW FOR SPOILERS AND LOTS OF BAD STUFF LIKE SERIOUSLY. CANON IS A (SLASHER) HORROR. of course slasher typical violence happens in it.

The ending of Fear Street 1978 haunts me because the paramedics/police were so negligent (almost abusive what they do)

1. Nick: (this isn't about him as a villain. This is about him as a person. This isn't about morality right now, that is a completely different conversation for another time.)

At the end of 1978: Dude is still in shock, his leg is messed up, it's barely dawn and raining and he's wearing a t-shirt (his clothes are covered in blood). He just ran on his injured leg, fell on his wound just to try and save a girl who was brutally murdered.

He just went through a significant amount of trauma, while still grieving his dad.

His leg wound is so severe that he still limps 16 years later. He became permanently disabled.

They literally had him stand on his injured leg (without even receiving a bandage), in the cold rain, covered in blood. They should have taken him and Ziggy to the hospital ASAP but no. They interrogated them. And yes, they took Ziggy. But they left Nick.

And they didn't even spare a blanket for him. No, he's just left there to be interrogated by the police— which could be worse, the man who asks him to recall the trauma is his late fathers friend, but Kapinsky doesn't realise that Nick is still a teenager. He sees Nick's father not him. He just asks him about the massacre causually, like Nick is working on the case and not living it.

And then he leaves too. And Nick Goode is left alone. After a brutal massacre. After getting axed in the leg, running on said leg, falling on his wounds, made to stand on that leg (for hours?). After seeing so many horrible things in one night. They just leave him there with the corpses.

No, really. They leave him with the bodies of his dead friends. No wonder he's never the same again after that.

2. Ziggy. She was brutally murdered next to her sister. Nick doing cpr to save her was less unrealistic than the ONE paramedic that arrived taking notes calmly while she's barely conscious. They take her statement before they bandage her wounds and that's just so... evil.

They wouldn't bother to check on her if Nick wasn't answering the questions for her. Ziggy got one blanket and they put her on that stretcher? Thingy. But that's the extent of their carefulness with her. She just died.

And they talk to her. Instead of taking her to the hospital.

Yes, i know, keeping her awake with simple questions about her name could be useful. BUT THEY NEED TO GO TO THE HOSPITAL. They can ask her name on the way there. They can ask her name while putting bandages on her wounds so she doesn't bleed out AGAIN while talking to them.

But they don't. They just stand there and ask questions. Almost like they're stalling.. to make the ambulance take more time to reach the hospital.

Maybe the curse really did want Ziggy dead— but Nick being there, begging her to live, sacrificing something or someone so that she gets home safe changed the story.

3. In 1994 par 1, Adult Nick didn't ask Sam what happened after the car crash. He let the paramedics take her to the hospital immadietly. The others in the car? They weren't as injured, but they still got a bandaid and were later sent to the hospital for a check in.

He could have easily just interrogated the group after the Grocery Store murders. But he waited until they recovered enough to do so.

He did the bare minimum, but it's so horrifying because when he was a child no one bothered to do the same.

Sam already got cleared from the hospital, her shoulder was already stitched by a Doctor, Josh and Deena and Sam all had changed their clothes, had a little time to calm down before answering his questions.

Yes, he is still a bad person. But he could be worse. He met worse.

He still interrogated them, but in a completely different way: he let them see professional help first, change out of their dirty clothes, sit down in a building, far away from the place of their trauma, recording the interaction properly.

And when he was done, he let them wait for each other at his desk, in a chair, let them go home/call their families.

4. He still blamed the deaths on Kate and Simon, but if he doesn't, he either has to betray his family (his horrible, wicked family, but that's still his family. That's still his people) and own up to his mistakes or...?

Or make it seem like what exactly? Multiple accidents on the same day? Frame someone else? Blame Deena and her friends???

The last option could have been tempting but it wasn't even a possible outcome. He could have framed Deena and the others but didn't.

Kate and Simon were already dead— and he didn't bring the killers back, the curse shielding people from knowing the truth is different than him sacrificing Ryan (which wasn't okay at all btw). He didn't choose this, their death was completely unplanned from his point of view.

They were the only logical suspects by Shadyside Police standards. It would be harder to prove their innocence than let them take the blame.

He wanted to hear their side of their story but they lied— I love Deena and her friends, i think they were right, but still. He tried.

At the end of the day, he was still trying to do better than the people who let him down.

He made horrible choices, and he sacrificed so many people to maintain his ancestors wishes. But that doesn't make every single thing he does or goes through any less complex and interesting for me. This is not someone you should want to be. This person should scare you.

He is the representation of evil with a beating heart and flesh. But at the end of the day, he is still just human.

No one tried to help him escape so he didn't even bother to ask.

[atlasdoe]

THE HOGWARTS CLASS OF 1978 - pt 20

JAMES POTTER

Name - James Potter

Blood status - Purebloood

Date of birth - 27th March 1960

House - Gryffindor

Academic achievements - Chaser for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, Quidditch captain, Headboy

He was killed by Voldemort trying to protect his wife and son after they were betrayed by their secret keeper

Cannon

Both of his parents were elderly even by wizarding standards

Having been conceived so late in his parents lives, he was raised in a doting household with little material limits and pampered a great deal. Hence, it was no surprise that he's grew to be proud. arrogant and boastful but deep down still a good person

At some point during his school years, James took a photo of Hogwarts Castle at sunset and gave it to Remus

At the age of sixteen James' parents allowed Sirius to move in with them so he could escape his family

Both of James' parents attended his and Lilys wedding

In around 1977 he and Sirius were involved in a motorbike chase with two Muggle policemen. Although the chase started off as a bit of fun, it turned more serious when the pair were attacked by three men on broomsticks

He and Lily defied Voldemort three time

At some point between 1979 and 1980 James' parents died of Dragon Pox and he inherited the cast Potter family fortune from them which enabled him to comfortably support his family without the need for a paying job

James also used his wealth to support a Remus who was en employed due to his status as a werewolf

Headcanons

Pansexual

Growing up, whenever his parents had to go to work or out with their friends they would drop them off at the ice cream shop where Florean Fortescue would watch him for the day as he also took care of Alice. Barty Crouch Jrs parents also did the same

Usually, when they were really young theyd only just sit in a booth together and colour and play hide and seek in the shop (which theyd always get in trouble for) and as they got older theyd be allowed to go around Diagon Alley but only if they stuck together and would stick to the village only. (And theyd have like everyone there keeping an eye on them because Alices father is well known and liked so nobody would let anything bad happen to them anyways.)

* Alice goes to Hogwarts first and when she comes back she is telling stories upon stories about school to the point where James and Barty would tease her about always talking about Hogwarts and nothing else.

* James goes next and gets sorted into Gryffindor along with Alice. While at Hogwarts Alice watched James like a hawk for his first few weeks, she really was the older sister he never had and she was so excited to share Hogwarts with him. She gave him a tour and told him everything about everyone and wanted to know all of his thoughts

* When Barty joined he was sorted into Slytherin and made it his mission to get James and Alice to leave him alone. He wanted to fit in and he had no trouble in doing so. He made sure that he acted his worse around James and Alice and no matter how hard they tried they weren't getting him to change

* Alice gave up on Barty before James did

* James became friends with Dorcas Meadows when they were in their fourth year during a game of seven minuets in heaven

* James had wanted to befriend Dorcas for a while, mostly because she was Remus’ step sister and James thought they would get on most

* Dorcas was hesitant to be his friend at first because of not only the history and common knowledge f James hating all Slytherins but just because she didnt think they would be good friends, but she did accepted his hand of friendship

* That night they came up with three ruled for their friendship also 1) No house slander off of the Quidditch pitch 2) No telling on each other to Remus and 3) Only say "I love you" if its for a dramatic goodbye

* Since that day James and Dorcas began to build a bond. One that went further than house colours and rivalry. From the friendly nods that they gave each other in the corridor to the countless times that Slughorn now had to call them out for talking too much. Something had sparked between the two that only grew into a friendship that neither of them could ever deny

While Lily and James were in hiding James got a letter from Dorcas which she sighed off with "I love you" James knew what it meant but couldn't do anything since he was in hiding

He was a little bit pissed off that he didn't make Prefect in his year since he thought he had it in the bag. He started working more in his academics after that and improved so much that he became Head Boy

While Quidditch captain he chose who was on the team based on his friends. He told everyone that every position was up for grabs but there was no universe where he wasn't having Sirius, Alice, Frank and Mary on the team

Everyone was his friend but he was not everyone's friend. There was only a few people who James truly cared about

Those people were Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, Lily Evans, Mary MacDonald, Alice Fortescue, and Frank Longbottom

His first crush was Patricia Rakepick who was in her fifth year when his was in his first

He secretly dated Regulus Black during his fifth year and Regulus' fourth. The only people who knew was Sirius, Alice and Pandora Ollivander. James and Regulus had an agreement that James could tell Sirius if Regulus could tell Pandora. Alice found out about them after walking in on them kissing

Regulus started ignoring James after Sirius ran away because he was mad at James for letting Sirius stay with him. James attempted to get Regulus to talk to him but gave up completely when rumors that Regulus had joined the Death Eaters started going around the school

He and Lily got together during the summer before their seventh year

When James and Lily got married they went all out. They had a wedding weekend in the country side and has a massive reception that everyone they knew was invited to