#Charlene Brown

[buddiebeginz]

A Different World Cast Jet Magazine 1993

[d-criss-news]

Darren Criss’ 37th Birthday Celebration | Via Kyle Brown, Alexandra Socha, Riza Takahashi, Miles G. Jackson, Noel MacNeal, Joel Bauer, Bobby Conte, Abby Dodes, Martyna Majok, Tanya Gelman and Clyde Lawrence's Instagram Story (February 5th, 2024)

[dweemeister]

El Dorado (1966)

Pulp science fiction writer Leigh Brackett was an anomaly in the genre. Not only was she a woman, but she also crossed over into Hollywood sporadically. Alongside her novellas and serialized stories, her film credits are enviable: The Big Sleep (1946; okay, this film’s story never made sense, but its romantic dialogue is legendary), Rio Bravo (1959), and, posthumously, The Empire Strikes Back (1980). To Brackett, she deemed her script to 1966’s El Dorado, a loose adaptation of Harry Brown’s novel The Stars in Their Courses, as “the best script [she] had done in [her] life.” High praise for oneself, especially as one could easily interpret El Dorado as a lighter, slightly more comic version of Rio Bravo. El Dorado was Brackett’s fourth of five collaborations with director Howard Hawks (1938’s Bringing Up Baby; the four other Brackett-Hawks collaborations include The Big Sleep, 1948’s Red River, Rio Bravo, and 1970’s Rio Lobo). Brackett’s inventiveness and spiky dialogue makes even the more clichéd elements of the story more entertaining than they should be. Other than Hawks and the ensemble cast, it is Brackett who is most responsible for the film’s success.

Somewhere in the American West, cowboy Cole Thornton (John Wayne) rides into the town of El Dorado for a job offer from local landowner Bart Jason (Ed Asner). His longtime friend, Sheriff J.P. Harrah (Robert Mitchum) meets with him, quickly deduces the reason for Cole’s presence in town, and effortlessly persuades his friend to turn down the job (the mutual respect for each other – between the characters and between Mitchum and Wayne – is apparent from the moment they meet). Jason’s job for to Thornton included coercing, gently or otherwise, the MacDonald family to abandon their land and water rights. The MacDonalds are an honest family, Harrah says, and they have been the target of regular harassment from Bart Jason and his men. Over the rest of the film, Harrah, Thornton, elderly deputy Bull Harris (Arthur Hunnicutt), a youthful gunslinger named Mississippi (James Caan), and Dr. Miller (Paul Fix) find themselves further embroiled in Jason’s repeated attempts to violently force the MacDonalds out.

El Dorado’s large supporting cast also includes saloon owner Maudie (Charlene Holt, whose character has a hankering for Thornton); R.G. Armstrong, Christopher George, Johnny Crawford, and Adam Roarke as the MacDonald boys; and Michele Carey as the hot-tempered Josephine “Joey” MacDonald (Carey and Holt play two of the final examples of the “Hawksian woman”).

Comparisons to Rio Bravo are all but inevitable to cinephiles and fans of American Westerns. Where Rio Bravo is more of a movie where friends revel in each other’s’ vibes, El Dorado is squarely a story of aging cowboys whose foibles – Harrah’s alcoholism to drown his self-pity, Thornton’s first act spinal injury and free-roaming ways – may spell the difference between local tragedy and justice. Despite what she might say, Brackett’s script to Rio Bravo (co-written by Jules Furthman) is far tighter than El Dorado’s, which employs a momentum-killing six-month time skip just as its dramatic interest begins to pique (editor John Woodcock does not provide any assistance here). It takes just a tad too much time for El Dorado, which uses the time skip to introduce Mississippi and sideline Harrah due to his heavy drinking, to regain the dramatic interest it established in the opening third of the movie.

Both casts of Rio Bravo and El Dorado have advantages over the other. Rio Bravo boasts Walter Brennan and Ward Bond in supporting roles (yet I’ve never been too fond of Dean Martin’s performance). El Dorado has Mitchum (whose dynamic with Wayne is fantastic), Caan (miles better than a Ricky Nelson sticking out like a rock 'n' roll kid from the 1950s), and not enough Asner. The two films, to me, are similar in quality, and I vacillate between which is “better” (but, on a rewatch, I think I might prefer El Dorado)*.

The interplay between John Wayne and Robert Mitchum lies at the heart of El Dorado. In 2024, it remains fashionable to lambaste Wayne for not being able to act and “playing himself” – an accusation that has been around for decades. With more lightly comedic material than usual (I would not consider El Dorado a comedy, but there are good-hearted ribbings and wry situational observances that prevent this from being a pure dramatic Western), Wayne revives some of the comic timing from The Quiet Man (1952) to decent effect here, especially around Mitchum and Caan. But most compellingly, Howard Hawks directs Wayne in a way that acknowledges and plays against his on-screen persona as the accomplished Western hero. Thornton’s spinal injury in the film’s opening act sees him reckon with his mortality – in jest and in seriousness. Wayne’s delivery and his physical acting is striking to longtime viewers such as yours truly, as it is one of the first films in which Wayne must come to terms with aging and his growing fallibility, as well as his reputation for outgunning and outthinking his opponents. The seeds of what would be Wayne’s late career signature performances in The Cowboys (1972) and The Shootist (1976) begin to show themselves here.

Mitchum, perpetually sleepy-eyed and always my first choice to play a slovenly protagonist good with a revolver, is wonderful here as a sheriff with the romantic maturity of a teenager who unaccustomed to rejection. The duality of Mitchum’s Sheriff Harrah here – the fastest gun for miles around determined to uphold the law and the inebriated slob who retains a sense of humor that makes self-pitying and self-deprecation indistinguishable – is difficult to pull off, but Mitchum does exactly that. Mitchum and Wayne’s historical on-screen personas are not polar opposites, but there is nevertheless little overlap between the two aside for their marksmanship. In their only screen appearance together (the two both co-starred on 1962’s The Longest Day, but their scenes were filmed separately), it seems the two have known each other for ages. The subtle glances, the knowing facial expressions, and gentlemanly warmth in conversation bely the fact that this is their first film together. But for El Dorado, their rapport benefits the film magnificently.

Like his good friend Ernest Hemingway, Howard Hawks admired masculine competence, professionalism, and self-reliance. El Dorado rambles a little bit about duty, honor, and loyalty, but all of this surrounds the central tenants of male friendship found here and in Rio Bravo. It is the development of that friendship and simultaneous professional excellence, rather than any plot details, that concerns Hawks – and this is the frame through which he wants viewers to see this film. By his own self admission, Hawks stated that he was, “much more interested in the story of a friendship between two men” than anything else in El Dorado (including fidelity to the original novel). The range war between Jason and the MacDonald family lacks as much exposition as some might expect. Hawks and Brackett refuse to fully explain how the dispute started, as well as what the conflict has wrought during the film’s time skip.

Those who are not as competent or professional – in this film’s case, James Caan’s character of Mississippi – are simply comic relief until they can prove otherwise. For those aware of Hawks’ aversion to Fred Zinnemann’s High Noon (1952) – in which Gary Cooper’s Sheriff Will Kane spends almost ninety minutes going around town asking for help when he learns a few recently-released convicts are coming to murder him (Hawks, to my consternation, considered this cowardly and a disgrace to the Western genre) – El Dorado is yet another reaction against it.

Unlike Hemingway, Hawks (who was by no means a feminist) rejects Hemingway’s reductionist portrayals of women as “Dark” (submissive lovers) or “Light” (castrating man-killers). The female protagonists in Hawks’ films, too, demonstrate tremendous ability. The saloon keeper, Maudie, is perhaps the most keenly observant individual in the entire picture, and can pick out the psychology of a person whether she has known them for ages (such as our leads) or if they have just stumbled in for a drink. She may be the smartest person in town. Her fellow Hawksian Woman is the wild-haired Joey MacDonald (her hair feels at times like an anachronism airlifted from the 1960s, rather than a likelihood of the Old West), quick on a gun and with a quicker temper. There is not nearly enough attention on either character as previous Hawksian Women (nevertheless, we need to recall what Hawks wanted to concentrate on most here, and that’s male friendship), but what there is still improves El Dorado’s watchability aside from our two leads.

A worthy score from composer Nelson Riddle (1960’s Ocean’s 11, 1962’s Lolita) dials back the main theme more than one might expect from a midcentury Western, but it is still effective music for this film. Riddle is best known as an arranger and orchestrator for the likes of Frank Sinatra, Nat King Cole, and Linda Ronstadt, not a composer. Nevertheless, arrangers and orchestrators can learn composition through osmosis if they have not already been trained in music composition. Riddle’s liberal use of harmonica perfectly captures the setting, although his use of electric guitar/bass and discernible lack of harmonic identity (especially in the strings) feels too much like television scoring from this era – Riddle was the principal composer for the 1960s Batman television series starring Adam West. Instead, the score highlights revolve around uses of the main title song and its variations.

And what about that title song? Sung by George Alexander and the Mellomen, with lyrics by John Gabriel (Dr. Seneca Beaulac on ABC’s soap opera Ryan’s Hope), “El Dorado” fits the film perfectly, and Alexander’s rich baritone musically exemplifies the masculine themes of El Dorado. Strings double underneath the vocals, with the occasional woodwind and brass section and peaking out from the melodic doubling (again, one wishes for more harmonic interest here aside from doubling the melody). A snippet of the song’s lyrics reference to Edgar Allan Poe’s poem “Eldorado”; the poem itself is recited by Mississippi. “El Dorado” is nothing but an earworm, and I just wish it (and its variations) made more appearances in the film itself.

Though Rio Bravo had elements of a changing of the guard, El Dorado cannot help but feel, by its conclusion, as a generational marker, a near-last hurrah – intentionally or otherwise. This is not, like The Wild Bunch (1969) or Unforgiven (1992), a eulogy of the Old American West. In 1966, El Dorado came at a time when the great figures of Old Hollywood and the height of the American Western’s popularity (Wayne and Mitchum) were no longer the dominant forces in American cinema. The film’s title song even opens with oil paintings from Western artist Olaf Weighorst, of evocatively overcast vistas of the West, as if in reflection.

El Dorado would be Leigh Brackett and Howard Hawks’ penultimate collaboration and penultimate Western, with Rio Lobo a few years away. Their professional partnership, so unlikely given Hawks’ status in Hollywood and Brackett’s supposedly disreputable day job as a pulp science fiction writer, is maybe one of the most underrated and undermentioned in Old Hollywood history – one that spanned the height of Golden Age Hollywood to its final years. For El Dorado, Brackett, despite a few structural missteps, once again shows her gifts for dialogue and a keen understanding of Hawks’ directorial intentions. Hawks arguably improves upon his depiction of male camaraderie from Rio Bravo, allowing our protagonists to intuit their aging (some might say obsolescence). This is a sterling Western, if slightly out of time.

My rating: 8.5/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found in the “Ratings system” page on my blog. Half-points are always rounded down.

* As of this write-up’s publication, I have not seen Rio Lobo (1970), which forms an unofficial trilogy of Westerns with Rio Bravo and El Dorado.

For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, check out the tag of the same name on my blog.

[moon-soo-ah]

ISU World Championships 2024 World Championships Montreal / CAN

18.03.2024-24.03.2024

Mar. 20:

Pairs’ SP 12:00

Women’s SP 17:00

Mar. 21:

Men’s SP 11:10

Pairs’ FS 18:10

Mar. 22:

Rhythm Dance 11:20

Women’s FS 18:00

Mar. 23:

Free Dance 13:30

Men’s FS 18:00

Mar. 24:

Gala 14:00

Livestream:

主播花花

Skating ISU

[pulchritudinous-plants]

ridley pearson and his inability to have his female characters actually like their appearance and instead constantly put themselves down by comparing themselves to their friends needs to be studied

[anxious-black-hottie]

[goodbooksandgoodwine]

Audiobook Mini Reviews Part Two

Audiobook Mini Reviews Part Two

Hello! Onto the second half of my audiobook mini reviews. As I said, I have been listening to so many lately and feel no shame in my game. These books are varied with how much I enjoyed them — but I am very much loving the different genres I’ve been consuming. Seton Girls by Charlene Thomas Seton Girls by Charlene Thomas is an absolute must read/must listen. This book takes on tough themes —…

[goodstuffhappenedtoday]

‘Bigger than the Oscars’: Blackfeet Nation honors Lily Gladstone with stand-up headdress

BROWNING — Wearing a white sequin shawl and matching ribbon skirt, esteemed actress Lily Gladstone kneeled on the floor of the new arbor on the Blackfeet Reservation as tribal elders placed a stand-up headdress atop her head. 

Thousands of people who traveled across the country — and from Canada — to honor Gladstone watched in silence. 

Gladstone stood and embraced tribal leaders. Then, with one hand over her heart and the other holding onto Charlene Plume, the elder who made her headdress, Gladstone danced in a circle around the arbor. Members of the Women’s Stand-Up Headdress Society, tribal leaders, dignitaries, students, teachers and children followed behind.

The sound of drums boomed, and the crowd erupted. 

Gladstone, who grew up in Browning and East Glacier, recently rose to worldwide fame after starring in Martin Scorsese’s “Killers of the Flower Moon” alongside Robert De Niro and Leonardo DiCaprio. 

She made history, becoming the first Indigenous person to win a Golden Globe award for best actress and the first to be nominated for best actress at the Oscars. 

At Tuesday’s event — which included a grand entry, flag song, prayer, speeches from dignitaries, honor song and round dance — leaders thanked Gladstone for representing the Blackfeet Nation on the world stage and for being a role model for young people.

“Because of you, rez kids on every reservation here and in Canada can chase their dreams,” Councilman Everett Armstrong said at the event. “Students, take a look at this accomplishment — it’s possible.”

Councilman Robert DesRosier delighted in the fact that Gladstone “is just like us.”

“She’s us,” he told the crowd before turning to Gladstone. “Lily, welcome home.”

More than 50 members of the Women’s Stand-Up Headdress Society — a group of contemporary Blackfoot women in the U.S. and Canada who own such headdresses — traveled to Browning to celebrate Gladstone. Theda New Breast, a member of the society, said Tuesday marked the largest gathering of stand-up headdress members to date. (BEN ALLAN SMITH, Missoulian)

more at the link

[blackwoolncrown]

Reading list for Afro-Herbalism:

A Healing Grove: African Tree Remedies and Rituals for the Body and Spirit by Stephanie Rose Bird

Affrilachia: Poems by Frank X Walker

African American Medicine in Washington, D.C.: Healing the Capital During the Civil War Era by Heather Butts

African American Midwifery in the South: Dialogues of Birth, Race, and Memory by Gertrude Jacinta Fraser

African American Slave Medicine: Herbal and Non-Herbal Treatments by Herbert Covey

African Ethnobotany in the Americas edited by Robert Voeks and John Rashford

Africanisms in the Gullah Dialect by Lorenzo Dow Turner

Africans and Native Americans: The Language of Race and the Evolution of Red-Black Peoples by Jack Forbes

African Medicine: A Complete Guide to Yoruba Healing Science and African Herbal Remedies by Dr. Tariq M. Sawandi, PhD

Afro-Vegan: Farm-Fresh, African, Caribbean, and Southern Flavors Remixed by Bryant Terry

Barracoon: The Story of the Last “Black Cargo” by Zora Neale Hurston

Big Mama’s Back in the Kitchen by Charlene Johnson

Big Mama’s Old Black Pot by Ethel Dixon

Black Belief: Folk Beliefs of Blacks in America and West Africa by Henry H. Mitchell

Black Diamonds, Vol. 1 No. 1 and Vol. 1 Nos. 2–3 edited by Edward J. Cabbell

Black Faces, White Spaces: Reimagining the Relationship of African Americans to the Great Outdoors by Carolyn Finney

Black Food Geographies: Race, Self-Reliance, and Food Access in Washington, D.C. by Ashanté M. Reese

Black Indian Slave Narratives edited by Patrick Minges

Black Magic: Religion and the African American Conjuring Tradition by Yvonne P. Chireau

Black Nature: Four Centuries of African American Nature Poetry edited by Camille T. Dungy

Blacks in Appalachia edited by William Turner and Edward J. Cabbell

Caribbean Vegan: Meat-Free, Egg-Free, Dairy-Free Authentic Island Cuisine for Every Occasion by Taymer Mason

Dreams of Africa in Alabama: The Slave Ship Clotilda and the Story of the Last Africans Brought to America by Sylviane Diouf

Faith, Health, and Healing in African American Life by Emilie Townes and Stephanie Y. Mitchem

Farming While Black: Soul Fire Farm’s Practical Guide to Liberation on the Land by Leah Penniman

Folk Wisdom and Mother Wit: John Lee – An African American Herbal Healer by John Lee and Arvilla Payne-Jackson

Four Seasons of Mojo: An Herbal Guide to Natural Living by Stephanie Rose Bird

Freedom Farmers: Agricultural Resistance and the Black Freedom Movement by Monica White

Fruits of the Harvest: Recipes to Celebrate Kwanzaa and Other Holidays by Eric Copage

George Washington Carver by Tonya Bolden

George Washington Carver: In His Own Words edited by Gary Kremer

God, Dr. Buzzard, and the Bolito Man: A Saltwater Geechee Talks About Life on Sapelo Island, Georgia by Cornelia Bailey

Gone Home: Race and Roots through Appalachia by Karida Brown

Ethno-Botany of the Black Americans by William Ed Grime

Gullah Cuisine: By Land and by Sea by Charlotte Jenkins and William Baldwin

Gullah Culture in America by Emory Shaw Campbell and Wilbur Cross

Gullah/Geechee: Africa’s Seeds in the Winds of the Diaspora-St. Helena’s Serenity by Queen Quet Marquetta Goodwine

High on the Hog: A Culinary Journey from Africa to America by Jessica Harris and Maya Angelou

Homecoming: The Story of African-American Farmers by Charlene Gilbert

Hoodoo Medicine: Gullah Herbal Remedies by Faith Mitchell

Jambalaya: The Natural Woman’s Book of Personal Charms and Practical Rituals by Luisah Teish

Just Medicine: A Cure for Racial Inequality in American Health Care by Dayna Bowen Matthew

Leaves of Green: A Handbook of Herbal Remedies by Maude E. Scott

Like a Weaving: References and Resources on Black Appalachians by Edward J. Cabbell

Listen to Me Good: The Story of an Alabama Midwife by Margaret Charles Smith and Linda Janet Holmes

Making Gullah: A History of Sapelo Islanders, Race, and the American Imagination by Melissa Cooper

Mandy’s Favorite Louisiana Recipes by Natalie V. Scott

Medical Apartheid: The Dark History of Medical Experimentation on Black Americans from Colonial Times to the Present by Harriet Washington

Mojo Workin’: The Old African American Hoodoo System by Katrina Hazzard-Donald

Motherwit: An Alabama Midwife’s Story by Onnie Lee Logan as told to Katherine Clark

My Bag Was Always Packed: The Life and Times of a Virginia Midwife by Claudine Curry Smith and Mildred Hopkins Baker Roberson

My Face Is Black Is True: Callie House and the Struggle for Ex-Slave Reparations by Mary Frances Berry

My Grandmother's Hands: Racialized Trauma and the Pathway to Mending Our Hearts and Bodies by Resmaa Menakem

On Her Own Ground: The Life and Times of Madam C.J. Walker by A'Lelia Bundles

Papa Jim’s Herbal Magic Workbook by Papa Jim

Places for the Spirit: Traditional African American Gardens by Vaughn Sills (Photographer), Hilton Als (Foreword), Lowry Pei (Introduction)

Post Traumatic Slave Syndrome by Dr. Joy DeGruy

Rooted in the Earth: Reclaiming the African American Environmental Heritage by Diane Glave

Rufus Estes’ Good Things to Eat: The First Cookbook by an African-American Chef by Rufus Estes

Secret Doctors: Ethnomedicine of African Americans by Wonda Fontenot

Sex, Sickness, and Slavery: Illness in the Antebellum South by Marli Weiner with Mayzie Hough

Slavery’s Exiles: The Story of the American Maroons by Sylviane Diouf

Soul Food: The Surprising Story of an American Cuisine, One Plate at a Time by Adrian Miller

Spirituality and the Black Helping Tradition in Social Work by Elmer P. Martin Jr. and Joanne Mitchell Martin

Sticks, Stones, Roots & Bones: Hoodoo, Mojo & Conjuring with Herbs by Stephanie Rose Bird

The African-American Heritage Cookbook: Traditional Recipes and Fond Remembrances from Alabama’s Renowned Tuskegee Institute by Carolyn Quick Tillery

The Black Family Reunion Cookbook (Recipes and Food Memories from the National Council of Negro Women) edited by Libby Clark

The Conjure Woman and Other Conjure Tales by Charles Chesnutt

The Home Place: Memoirs of a Colored Man’s Love Affair with Nature by J. Drew Lanham

The Jemima Code: Two Centuries of African American Cookbooks by Toni Tipton-Martin

The President’s Kitchen Cabinet: The Story of the African Americans Who Have Fed Our First Families, from the Washingtons to the Obamas by Adrian Miller

The Taste of Country Cooking: The 30th Anniversary Edition of a Great Classic Southern Cookbook by Edna Lewis

The Tuskegee Syphilis Study: An Insiders’ Account of the Shocking Medical Experiment Conducted by Government Doctors Against African American Men by Fred D. Gray

Trace: Memory, History, Race, and the American Landscape by Lauret E. Savoy

Vegan Soul Kitchen: Fresh, Healthy, and Creative African-American Cuisine by Bryant Terry

Vibration Cooking: Or, The Travel Notes of a Geechee Girl by Vertamae Smart-Grosvenor

Voodoo and Hoodoo: The Craft as Revealed by Traditional Practitioners by Jim Haskins

When Roots Die: Endangered Traditions on the Sea Islands by Patricia Jones-Jackson

Working Conjure: A Guide to Hoodoo Folk Magic by Hoodoo Sen Moise

Working the Roots: Over 400 Years of Traditional African American Healing by Michelle Lee

Wurkn Dem Rootz: Ancestral Hoodoo by Medicine Man

Zora Neale Hurston: Folklore, Memoirs, and Other Writings: Mules and Men, Tell My Horse, Dust Tracks on a Road, Selected Articles by Zora Neale Hurston

The Ways of Herbalism in the African World with Olatokunboh Obasi MSc, RH (webinar via The American Herbalists Guild)

[a-aexotic]

𝐛𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐦 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡, chapter 5

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ! 4.6k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ! typical gossip girl things, mention of drinking, FIGHTING!!!! (so much of it), making up ;)

➜ missing out on updates? ❪ navigation. series masterlist. taglist. ❫

You sat next to Charlene at the dining table, listening to Josie talk about the nursery for the new baby. You nodded along mindlessly, playing with your cereal as your mind raced.

Thoughts of Serena, Blair, Nate, and the tangled web of relationships swirled in your mind, each thread pulling you in a different direction. You felt torn between loyalty to your friends, the desire to maintain peace, and the need to address the underlying issues that had driven a wedge between you all. Lost in your thoughts, you absently stirred your cereal, the clinking of the spoon against the bowl serving as a distant echo in the sea of your racing thoughts.

"Y/N, did you hear me?" Your father spoke as you startled, snapping back to the present moment. You looked up, meeting your father's expectant gaze as he repeated his question.

"Sorry, Dad, what were you saying?" you asked, attempting to mask your distraction with a faint smile.

"I was asking you when the Ivy mixer is. I wanted to come by and help everyone out, I know Lily is in charge of it but I can't get a hold of her." Your father explained as he bit into his toast.

You nodded, recalling the details of the upcoming Ivy mixer. "Oh, right. I think we're finding out today at the assembly. I can double-check with Lily to make sure everything's on track, and I'll let you know if she needs any help."

"Thanks, Y/N. I appreciate it. It's always chaotic trying to organize these events." Your dad chuckled as he chewed, moving his gaze back to Charlene. "And uh... for the mixer, Josie was hoping that you'd stick with Charlene and help her get some networking done with the reps. She wants to go to Harvard, like you."

You glanced at Charlene with a faint smile but she ignored you, nodding along to what your father was saying. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes and nodded. "Yeah, sure."

"My two daughters at Harvard would be a dream." Your father grinned proudly and again, you resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

She's not your daughter, you wanted to shout but you bit your tongue and took a bite of your now, soggy cereal.

──౨ৎ──

"And then he was all like, having my two daughters at Harvard would be a dream." You mocked your father as you walked out of the assembly, Blair walking next to you as she scoffed, Kati and Isabel walking close behind you two. "And I wanted to say that she isn't his actual daughter but I didn't."

"You should've. I would pay to see his reaction." Blair smirked as you laughed, nodding along before Blair's expression dropped. She rolled her eyes and you turned to see where she was facing, finding Serena walking toward you. She was late, she wasn't at the assembly.

"Oh, too bad you missed the assembly." Blair feigned sympathy as she looked up at the blonde. "Brown doesn't offer degrees in slut," she continued with an amused expression as Serena offered her a sarcastic smile.

Blair walked away with a proud grin, leaving you and Serena alone. You and Serena both exchanged glances before bursting out laughing. It was supposed to be an insult but you both couldn't help but laugh.

As the laughter subsided, Serena shook her head, a smile still playing on her lips. "Leave it to Blair to come up with the most creative insults."

"Yeah, she definitely has a way with words," you replied, still chuckling as you glanced back at Blair, who was now chatting with Kati and Isabel.

Serena's smile faded slightly as she looked back at you, her expression turning more serious. "Hey, I wanted to talk to you about something about yesterday."

You waved it off, giving her a smile. "I'm sorry I blew up on everyone, I was just stressed out. And don't worry about it, okay? I'm sure Dan will come around."

Serena gave you a sad smile before shrugging. "I... I don't think so but maybe it's for the best. Dan doesn't wanna get involved in all this Upper-East Side bullshit and I don't blame him."

You gave her a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry, S."

Serena nodded, her gaze dropping slightly as she played with the edge of her sleeve. "Thanks, Y/N. It's just been a lot to deal with lately."

You reached out and gently squeezed her shoulder in a comforting gesture. "I understand. But hey, you've always been resilient. You'll get through this too."

Serena offered you a small, appreciative smile before straightening up, determination shining in her eyes. "Yeah, you're right. Thanks, Y/N."

But before you could reply, you heard Blair's voice ringing in your ear. "Y/N, hurry up we need to get to class." You couldn't help but roll your eyes as you quickly said bye to Serena, catching up with Blair and beginning to walk to class together.

The group was split up into two as you played field hockey. It was all fine up until Blair decided to keep targeting Serena and fouling her. Blair's aggressive targeting of Serena didn't go unnoticed, and it soon became clear that her fouls were deliberate attempts to hurt her.

"Blair, ease up!" you called out, frustration evident in your voice as you gestured for her to back off.

Blair shot you a defiant glare but made no move to change her tactics. Serena, on the other hand, remained composed despite the mounting pressure, refusing to let Blair's antics get to her.

"Enough, Blair!" Serena's voice cut through the tension, her tone firm as she finally stood up to Blair's relentless targeting.

"It's enough when I say it's enough." Blair snapped as she walked away, making sure to hit Serena's shoulder as she did. You and Serena exchanged looks before you sighed, continuing to focus on the game.

And finally, Serena had enough. She ran up to Blair, tackling her to the ground. Serena got on top of her and began pulling her arms as you ran up behind them, irritation on your face as you tried to break them up.

"Get off of me!" Blair shouted as Serena kept pulling on her arms. You tried to get her off of Blair to no use.

"Serena, stop!" you shouted, your voice strained as you attempted to pry her off Blair. But Serena was relentless, her anger driving her actions as she continued to grapple with Blair.

"Is that enough yet?!" Serena shouted back before she accidentally pulled you down with them, earning a grunt from you. She scoffed and got up, but not before Blair could get up. "So it's actually come to physical blows, huh?"

"Guys, what the hell?!" you exclaimed, your voice tinged with anger as you pushed yourself up from the ground, feeling the ache from the fall. "This isn't helping anyone!"

But Serena seemed oblivious to your words, her attention solely focused on Blair as she stood there, seething with rage. "You think you can just keep targeting me like this and get away with it? Well, not anymore!"

"Serena, Blair, this needs to stop," you said firmly, your voice cutting through the tension. "Jesus Christ, I mean we're friends, or at least we used to be."

Serena turned to face you, her expression still flushed with anger. "She started it, Y/N. She's been targeting me ever since-"

"I don't care who started it!" you interjected, your voice tinged with exasperation.

Serena looked back at Blair with a little bit of hesitation, sighing before speaking up. "Fine. Truce?"

Blair glared back at you and Serena before her expression turned to pained, a slight smirk on her face as she does so. "Ow! My leg!"

You couldn't believe it. Blair was faking an injury to deflect from the tension of the moment. It was a classic Blair move, but it only served to frustrate you further. You exchanged a bewildered glance with Serena, both of you realizing that Blair was resorting to her usual tactics to cause more issues.

"Blair, come on," you said, your voice tinged with irritation.

Blair winced dramatically, clutching her leg as she looked up at you with wide, innocent eyes. "I'm not faking it, Y/N! It really hurts!" Kati and Isbell ran to her side, helping her stand up as you glared back at her.

"Serena, you're outta here." The coach shouted as Serena walked off, throwing her hockey stick to the ground.

"I hope it's broken." Serena spat as she walked off the field.

You rolled your eyes as you watched Kati and Isbell help walk Blair to the nurse's office. You hated being in between them but they were your best friends, it's just what you have to do. It's part of the job but you were beginning to wonder if all of this was really worth it.

──౨ৎ──

You walked into the Ivy Mixer behind your father and Charlene, who was wearing a Harvard sweater; the same one that your father had also gotten you when you were younger. Your father seemed proud, chatting animatedly with Charlene about the opportunities awaiting her at Harvard.

You glanced around the room, taking in the prestigious Ivy League representatives mingling with students. Despite the elegance of the occasion, you couldn't shake off the tension that had been building within you since the recent conflicts with Blair and Serena.

Your father guided you and Charlene through the crowd, introducing her to some of the representatives and encouraging her to network and make connections. You watched as Charlene navigated the room with ease, her confidence shining through as she conversed with the representatives.

Meanwhile, you couldn't shake the feeling of being out of place. While you had once dreamed of attending Harvard, recent events had left you questioning everything. Did you even want to go to Harvard now apparently, Charlene had to attend too?

"And my daughter, Y/N is the Student Council president of the school. She is also second in her class." Her father spoke as you nodded along, shaking the hand of one of the Harvard reps.

You had worked hard to earn your position as Student Council president and to maintain a high academic standing, but now it all felt hollow. The pressure to live up to your father's expectations, to uphold the family reputation, felt suffocating. And now, with Charlene also vying for a spot at Harvard, it only added to the weight on your shoulders.

"I see you're running low on champagne, would you like me to find you another glass, sir?" You asked politely, offering to assist the Harvard representative in replenishing his drink.

The representative nodded appreciatively, offering you a grateful smile. "Yes, thank you. That would be lovely."

You excused yourself from the conversation with a polite nod and made your way to the refreshments table, your mind still consumed with conflicting thoughts.

You looked up to meet the eyes of Dan, a polite smile on your lips. You didn't know him well but you still felt gulity about the whole Serena and brunch thing, oh and the whole thing with Chuck and Jenny. The poor guy can't catch a break.

"Hey, Dan," you greeted him, setting down the champagne bottle. "I thought you were the Dartmouth usher?"

Dan returned your smile, though there was a hint of hesitation in his expression. "No, Nate is. I thought... actually never mind."

"I know. You deserved to get that position." You whispered as he nodded sheepishly.

Dan's expression softened at your words, a grateful smile tugging at his lips. "Thanks, Y/N. I appreciate that."

You saw his gaze wander to behind you, you turned around to meet Serena's blue eyes. She walked toward the table, irritation on her face.

"Let me guess, Blair?" You asked and pretended to be shocked when she nodded, Dan letting out a soft chuckle. "Would've never guessed. What did she do?"

"Well, you know how I wanted to go to Brown. And she wanted to go Yale? Well now, somehow, we switched. She's talking to the stupid Brown reps and I'm stuck with the Yale reps." Serena explained as you and Dan exchanged looks.

"Oh, yeah. I get it. I mean since you don't actually have to worry about getting into college, why not make the whole evening about screwing over Blair?" Dan spoke sarcastically as he tried to hand her a drink.

You looked in between them, concern etching your features. Dan seems pretty bitter about the whole thing but you couldn't even blame. And as if things couldn't get even more awkward, Nate walked up to the table, looking at the refreshments.

"Hey." Serena turned to greet Nate, only to be completely ignored. You couldn't help but stifle a laugh as you took a sip of your drink, watching the whole thing.

"Wait, you're seriously not gonna talk to me? Like literally not speak?" Serena's voice held a mixture of disbelief and frustration as she looked at Nate, who remained silent, his gaze fixed on the refreshments.

Nate finally looked up, his expression unreadable as he met Serena's gaze. "Hey."

"Oh, much better. Thanks guys." She sighed, looking in between the boys before looking back at you. You gave her a sympathetic smile before she gives you a thumbs up, walking away.

"That was cold, Nate." You spoke, slightly amusement in your voice as you finally began refilling the champagne.

He glared back at you and you put your hands up in mock surrender as you exchanged a glance with Dan, who looked like he was enjoying the scene. Silence settled in between them before Dan spoke up.

"So, um... what's he like?" Dan asked, referring to the Dartmouth rep.

"Like a Dartmouth English lit professor I have nothing in common with. Guess I could tell him how I got everything because I'm an Archibald." Nate rambled slightly as Dan's expression turned from amused to sympathetic. You took that as your cue to leave, nodding your head to Dan as you walked away.

You put all the drama in the back-burner for the night, deciding to just engage with the Harvard rep. You were slightly glad to see that Charlene began talking more to the Princeton rep, allowing you to focus on your conversation without distractions.

You couldn't help but keep looking through the glass door, watching Nate as he talked with Dan. You noticed when he walked away and when his father tried to pull him back, but he pushed him away. It looked tense but you couldn't afford to get distracted, you just focused on talking with the Harvard rep.

You thought the rest of the evening would go smoothly up until you and Blair got up to announce this year's local institution they were going to sponsor.

"Can I have everyone's attention please?" Blair spoke as she walked up toward the podium, a polite smile plastered on her lips as you followed close behind. "Welcome again to the Constance Billard St Judas Ivy Week Mixer. I'm Blair Waldorf, chair of the the community outreach committee."

You plastered on a polite smile as well. "And I'm Y/N Winfrey, Student Council President."

The crowd began to clap before you continued. "Every year, our schools choose to support one local institution that we feel benefits our community."

"This year, our schools have chosen to honor the Osteroff Center." Blair continued as the crowd applauds. "This semester our choice is a very personal one because the center has helped one of our own."

Your expression suddenly turns to a confused one as you turned to face Blair. This was what she was not what we planned to say. Your eyes scanned the crowd and they fell on Serena and her family and it suddenly dawned on you.

"It's because of their excellent program which aids so many young addicts and alcoholics that a student here with us today is clean and sober." Blair spoke, feigning concern. "At least for now. Can I please have Serena van der Woodsen join us on stage?"

Your jaw dropped but you tried to keep your composure. You couldn't believe Blair. Serena slowly walked up to the stage and glared at Blair, not even acknowledging you.

"Don't try to deny it, Chuck saw you." Blair whispered as you tried to keep a smile on your face, trying to hide the inner panic you feel at the moment. Blair pulls you aside, making sure that Serena is the main focus as the crowd begins to clap.

"Hi, I'm Serena van der Woodsen. I just want to thank my friend Blair Waldorf for recognizing the Osteroff center and all the good things they do. Thanks Blair. Oh, and of course our president, Y/N." Serena puts on a fake smile as she begins to clap, the crowd clapping along.

"At the center, one of the main things that we learn is forgiveness. About how in order to move forward with our future we must forgive those who have wronged us in the past. And we must ourselves ask for forgiveness from those whom we've wronged. Without this forgiveness, innocent people-"

"Alright, thank you Serena. Thank you." She cut her off with a smile as the crowd claps again, Serena walking off the stage. You gave her a sympathetic smile as she walks away, making sure to push Blair slightly so that the crowd could focus on you again.

With a forced smile plastered on your face, you stepped forward to address the crowd once again, trying to regain control of the situation. "Thank you, Serena, for sharing your story with us. And thank you, Blair, for your efforts in organizing this event."

You took a deep breath, pushing down the rising frustration within you. "As Serena mentioned, forgiveness is indeed a very important aspect of moving forward. And tonight, let's remember the importance of supporting each other, even in times of adversity."

The crowd responded with polite applause, but you could sense the tension lingering in the air. But before you could even address Blair, she walked off the stage.

You ran after her, pulling on her arm. "Blair, that was a low blow, even for you."

As you pulled on Blair's arm, she turned to face you, her expression unapologetic. "Oh, please. It's not like I said anything that wasn't true."

But you held on, your frustration bubbling to the surface. "No, Blair, I won't let you brush this off. What you did to Serena was cruel and unnecessary. You publicly humiliated her in front of everyone. And not just anyone, college reps! That is insane."

Before Blair could respond, Serena came up to her with a tired expression. "What the hell was that? So we good now? We square?"

"No because nothing I do will ever be as bad as what you did to me." Blair spat as she glared up at Serena.

"Look, I'm asking you, please. I'll stop if you will." Serena's voice was hurt as she looked down at the brunette.

"You're just saying that because today, you lost. And you're gonna keep losing." Blair's voice was sharp with bitterness as she glared up at Serena.

Before Serena could respond, you let out a groan as you looked in between your best friends. "I'm done with both of you. Are you serious right now? You are acting like a child, Blair. You have no idea what you did up there, it wasn't even Serena-"

"Y/N, stop. No." Serena stopped you before you could continue.

"Why do I even bother, I'm done. I am done with the petty drama and catfights," you exclaimed, frustration evident in your voice as you turned away from Blair and Serena.

Serena reached out, grabbing your arm gently to stop you from walking away. "Y/N, wait."

You pulled your arm out of her grip and walked away and out of the mixer, you were calling it a night.

"Even Y/N's done with your bullshit, Serena." You heard Blair scoff as you walked off. You didn't even know where you running off to until you were there.

You were in the back of building and you saw Nate sitting on the bench, a blunt placed perfectly on his lips as he took a drag. You knew exactly where to find him. He looked up and noticed you, taking him by surprise.

You didn't say anything, all you did was sit next to Nate on the bench as you put your face in yours hands. You looked up at Nate and he gave you a faint smile before handing you the blunt.

You took a deep drag and you felt your lungs burn up. It had been a while since you'd swore off smoking but you needed, especially after the day you had. And apparently, so does Nate.

As you sat there next to Nate, passing the blunt between you, a heavy silence settled over the both of you. It was a strange comfort, finding solace in each other's company amidst the chaos of your lives.

Eventually, Nate broke the silence, his voice soft. "You okay?"

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head as the smoke swirled around the two of you. "Not really."

Nate nodded in understanding, his gaze fixed on you. "Yeah, me neither."

"What's got you all stressed out?" You spoke, leaning back on the bench as you looked back at him.

"My dad." He replied and you weren't surprised. "He wants me to go to Dartmouth and I keep telling him I wanna keep my options open. But he just ignores it. And now he's making me stay with Blair because of-" He paused as his eyes widen, realizing he's revealed too much.

You shake your head, urging him to continue. "I won't tell."

"He said I can't break up with Blair yet because he needs the Waldorfs on his good side because of business." Nate's voice trailed off, his frustration evident in his expression. "It's just... everything feels so out of my control, you know? Like I'm being pulled in all these different directions, and I don't know which way to go."

You listened quietly, understanding all too well the weight of family expectations and the pressure to please others. "That's... messed up," you muttered, unable to hide the concern in your voice. "Your dad shouldn't be pulling strings like that, especially when it comes to your personal life."

Nate let out a sigh, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "Yeah, tell me about it. But what can I do? He's not gonna listen to me."

You nodded in understanding, knowing all too well the weight of familial expectations. "It's tough, but you'll figure it out. I know you will."

He returned your smile, a glimmer of gratitude in his eyes. "So what's going on with you? I thought you gave up smoking."

"I could say the same for you, Archibald." You teased as he let out a little chuckle, his falling back but his gaze still fixed on you. "It's a long... long story. I wouldn't even know where to begin."

"Let me take a guess," Nate sat up and turned to face you fully. "You feel like you're constantly being pushed and pulled between Serena and Blair. And the whole daddy issues thing hasn't fixed itself either."

Your eyebrows furrowed at Nate's very true statements. Could he really read you that well or was it really that obvious? You were speechless for a second as Nate let out another laugh.

"I've known you since we were kids, Y/N. I can read you better than anyone else. And plus, it isn't anything new. Serena and Blair have always fought and you've always been in the middle." Nate's words hit home, and you couldn't deny the truth in them. He had always been perceptive, able to see through the facade you sometimes put up for others.

"Yeah, you're right," you admitted with a sigh, running a hand through your hair. "It's just exhausting, you know? Trying to keep the peace between them while dealing with my own issues. Trying to keep everyone happy while feeling like I'm constantly being torn apart. And now with my dad pressuring me about college while also replacing me with Charlene."

Nate listened attentively, his expression sympathetic. "I get it, Y/N. It's a lot to handle. But just know that you're not alone in this. I'm here for you, always."

You looked back at him, a sudden surge of gratefulness hitting you. And suddenly, gulit hit you like a ton of bricks. The whole thing with Serena and Nate, you completely shut him out. You let out an exhale, not really knowing what to even say.

"I'm sorry, Nate."

"Why are you sorry?" He muttered as he looked back at you, concern evident in his features. "I should be the one apologizing. I've been an asshole."

"And I've been a bitch." You replied as you both smiled. You both laughed softly as Nate shook his head.

"It doesn't have to be complicated, you know?" Nate started, his voice soft as he looked at you with sincerity in his eyes. "We've been through a lot together, and I don't want things to be so hard between us."

You sighed, not really knowing what to say.

"Look I meant what I said at the Kiss on the Lips party, I'll forget about my feelings if it means we get to stay friends." Nate whispered as he looked back you, his voice gentle.

"But what if-"

"There's a million what if's, Y/N. And they don't matter." Nate spoke, coming off harsher than expected. "The whole honest truth is the last six months you've been gone have been hell. I have no one who I can be honest with and-and no one I can call at 3 in the morning because I can't sleep. No one I can genuinely depend on to listen to me."

You felt a pang of guilt at Nate's words, realizing the impact your absence had on him. "I'm sorry, Nate. I didn't realize..."

"It doesn't matter, I just want you in my life." Nate's gaze softened as he reached out to squeeze your hand reassuringly. "And we'll stay completely platonic because that's what you wanted, right?"

No. You wanted to shout no but as you thought about Blair and the million other things keep you guys apart, all you do was nod. "Right."

A smile began curving on his lips as he let out a relieved sigh. "Then it's settled."

You smiled back at your best friend. "It's settled."

You guys both gazed at one another for a few more seconds before he spoke up. "We should shake on it. You know, our handshake."

You let out a laugh as you suddenly remember your guys' secret handshake. It had been a while but how could you forget it?

With practiced ease, you and Nate stuck out your hands and intertwined your fingers, executing the series of moves that made up your secret handshake. As you finished, you both laughed again, feeling a sense of normalcy wash over you.

As you finished the handshake, Nate gave you a playful nudge. "See? Nothing's changed between us."

"Nothing at all," you agreed, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders.

You both sat there in silence for a while longer, the weight of the evening fading slowly. In that moment, sitting there with Nate, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. Maybe things would be okay, eventually.

Or maybe they wouldn't. But for now, you had each other, and that was enough.

[nonagesimus]

big invisible spark | a stephanie brown fanmix

brutal - olivia rodrigo | did it to myself - orla gartland | runaway - yeah yeah yeahs | paris (ooh la la) - grace potter & the nocturnals | until the morning - charlene kaye | interlude: i'm not angry anymore - paramore | alaska - maggie rogers | caught in the middle - paramore | get lucky - halestorm | garden song - phoebe bridgers | watch me while i bloom - hayley williams | boom swagger boom - the murder city devils

cover from the Hicham Habchi variant cover for Batgirls #2

[diddyrivera]

additional resources to marxist feminism:

living a feminist life by sara ahmed

the rise and decline of patriarchal systems by nancy folbre

this bridge called my back: writings by radical women of color by cherrie moraga and gloria anzaldua

delusions of gender: how our minds, society, and neurosexism create difference by cordelia fine

close to home: a materialist analysis to women's oppression by christine delphy

(pdf) the feminist standpoint: developing the ground for a specifically feminist historical materialism

(medium) on women as a class: materialist feminism and mass struggle by aly e

(sagejournals) capital and class: the unhappy moments of marxism and feminism: towards a more progressive union

(substack) the marxfem pulpit by abigail von maure (earth2abbs on tiktok)

if anything else related to marxist feminism, just let me know :)

additional resources to eco feminism:

gossips, gorgons, and crones: the fates of the earth by jane caputi

parable of the sower by octavia e butler

neither man nor beast: feminism and the defense of animals by carol j. adams

bitch: on the female of species by lucy cooke

fresh banana leaves: healing indigenous landscapes through indigenous science by jessica hernandez

the intersectional environmentalist by leah thomas

right here, right now by natalie isaacs

feminism or death by francoise d'ealibonne

violent inheritance: sexuality, land, and energy in making the north american west by e cram

animal crisis: a new critical theory by alice grary

unsettling: surviving extinction together by elizabeth weinberg

land of women by maria sanchez

sexus animalis: there is nothing unnatural in nature by emmanuelle pouydebat

windswept: walking the paths of trailblazing women by annabel abbs

andrea smith - rape of the land

andy smith - ecofeminism through an anticolonial framework

carolyn marchant - nature as female

charlene spretnak - critical and constructive contributions of ecofeminism

heather eaton - ecological feminist theology

heather Eaton - The Edge of the Seat

janet abromovitz - biodiversity and gender Issues

joni Seager - creating a culture of destruction

karen warren - ecofeminism

karen warren - taking empirical data seriously

karen warren - the power and promise of ecological feminism

l. gruen - dismantling oppression

martha e. gimenez - does ecology need marx?

n. sturgeon - the nature of race

petra kelly - women and power

quinby - ecofeminism and the politics of resistance

rosemary radford ruether - ecofeminism: symbolic and social connections

sherry ortner - is female to male as nature is to culture?

sturgeon - the nature of race

val plumwood - feminism and ecofeminism

winona laduke - a society based on conquest cannot be sustained

if anyone has any other recommendations related to eco feminism, plz let me know :)

additional resources related to trans feminism:

the empire strikes back: a posttransexual manifesto by sandy stone

(chicago journals) trapped in the wrong theory: rethinking trans oppression and resistance by talia mae bettcher

(philpapers.org) trans women and the meaning of woman by talia mae bettcher

the transgender studies reader by susan stryker and stephen whittle

if anyone has other recommendations related to trans feminism, plz let me know :)

additional resources related to anarcha feminism:

the anarchist turn by jacob blumenfeld

we will not cancel us and other dreams of transformative justice by adrienne maree brown

burn it down: feminist manifestos for the revolution by breanne fahs

reinventing anarchy, again by howard ehrlich

anarcho-blackness by marquis bey

a little philosophical lexicon of anarchism from proudhon to deleuze by daniel colson and jesse cohn

joyful militancy by nick montgomery and carla bergman

wayward lives, beautiful experiments by saidiya v. hartman

we won't be here tomorrow and other stories by margaret killjoy

writing revolution by christopher j. castaneda

paradoxes of utopia by juan suriano

twelve fingers by jo soares

for a just and better world by sonia hernandez

if anyone has other recommendations related to anarcha feminism, plz let me know :)

[iprefertheterminsane]

Take me Home (Where I Belong)

I'm almost finished with my domestic perryshmirtz 5+1, which I'm gonna upload to ao3 soon so here's a tease in the form of the first chapter!

Rating: G

Relationship: Perry the Platypus/Heinz Doofenshmirtz

Tags: Human Perry the Platypus, pre-slash, domesticity, Perry's moved in before they even stopped calling themselves enemies, it's normal to want to kiss the homies sometimes, right?, long suffering Charlene, Perry's got 4 kids actually and that fourth one is Vanessa, haha Perry the Platypus you are dating my father.

Even after having his plans foiled for the day, Heinz doesn’t let him drive home.

“Look at yourself, Perry the Platypus, you’re barely standing on your own two feet.” The scientist points out. He’s right, of course, not that Perry will let him the satisfaction of agreeing with him. It seems to mean less than little; Heinz had already buckled him back into the passenger seat of his truck with the tenacity of a father, and Perry is just barely conscious enough to comply- a bit dumbly, but the taller man does not seem to mind-without much of a fuss. He’s still talking, naturally. Perry has gotten so used to the chatter the droning had begun to take on an ambient sort of feeling, like brown noise. “-practically an accident waiting to happen. Honestly, you’d think Francis would want to try keeping his best agent alive-that agency is gonna do you in better than I would, one day.”

Perry considers giving up a token protest-he had gotten here with the hoverjet on auto-pilot; the routes between the lair and Doofenshmirtz Evil Inc. has long been keyed in as his defaults-but decides otherwise. He really was quite exhausted, surely it would be no bother to let Heinz drive him back to Evil Inc. where he’s parked. Why waste fuel when a cheaper of transport was on offer? The Major has particularly been going on and on lately about turning the office more green and saving energy, no doubt one of their latest efforts to cut costs-so he was doing the agency a favor, really. He trusted that Heinz was a reliable enough driver when they’re neither forced to undergo the serial killing obstacle course that was the Drusselsteinian Driving Test Route.

He would sleep in just until Heinz gets them back home. Decision made, he lets himself rest his eyes.

00..00

“Up, up, up, Perry the Platypus you don’t really expect me to carry you up the stairs do you-,”

“-Ok, here we go, sit here-no, no, don’t lay down just yet you need to take your shoes off Perry the Heathenpuss-,”

“-I am not letting you sleep in the corset of a waistcoat Perry the Platypus, wow is this Kevlar? No wonder you can stand my Titanium punches-Ok uppies, I should probably help you take this tie off too, huh? They could strangle you in your sleep, y’know, nuff said, if nuff was-y’know, me-it’s so weird to see you so biddable, Perry the Platypus-,”

“-ok, last thing Perry the Platypus, yes I promise, just need to help you get under the covers, alright? Now, isn’t that better? Aw, look at how cute you look, Perry the Platypus, like a little angel-,”

“Good night, Perry the Platypus.”

00..00

Perry snorts awake in the penthouse guest room with the covers pulled up to his chin, blinking against the light of the setting sun from behind the half-shaded curtains facing east of Danville.

He isn’t sure what’s woken him, but finds himself unable to go back to sleep. This was probably a good thing-he’s never stayed behind in Doofenshmirtz Evil Inc. for so long without making his excuses before, and the clock shows that he’s nearly late for dinner back at the Flynn-Fletcher’s household. He’ll have no trouble flying home now, he feels perfectly well-rested.

Rising to his feet, he finds himself underdressed. His hat rests on the right-hand nightstand, right next to his sleeping head, and the rest of his clothes-vest, tie and shoes-draped carefully over the chair that looks like it’s been dragged over from the kitchen, positioned right next to the room’s entryway, deliberately left ajar. He shoves the hat back over his head and toes his shoes back on, but blinks deliberately at the rest of his attire. They are, of course, crucial parts of his armour, but what was to fear for stepping out without them? Heinz’s scheme was thwarted for the day, and lest the man was suddenly overcome with another plan while Perry was out, which he sincerely doubts, Heinz would not have reason to attack him out of the blue, and certainly not out of armour. He was obsessed with playing fair, and acting by the book. As far as they are both concerned, they were now both off the clock.

Perry decides to take the clothes and fold them over his arm, but he steps out without putting them on- the vest tends to cinch, which he tolerates, but not without reason-and goes to search for his host to make his goodbyes.

It’s easy enough to find him; Heinz is in the kitchen, naturally, making dinner for himself, with Norm at the dining table carefully slicing vegetables and making prep; something doughy, it seems. Perry wonders if it’s pie-Heinz makes wonderful doonkleberry pie. He rests his hips against the doorjamb, and chatters his teeth to make his presence known, a noise Heinz is well familiar with. It cuts off the man’s mindless chatter, and he beams. Perry can’t help his own answering smile.

"Ah, Perry the Platypus!” He crows. “Just in time for dinner! I don’t suppose you mind setting the table, just need to give me another couple of minutes-,” he cuts himself off as he sees Perry shaking his head, and Perry signs, regretfully, that he has to make himself scarce.

“YOU AREN’T STAYING FOR DINNER?” Norm asks, as despairingly as his cheerful-sounding robotic voice could make it sound. His mouth is down turned.

“Yes, it’s already so late, Perry the Platypus, surely your report could wait a couple of more hours.” Heinz adds, cajoling. “I worry you know, a man has to eat homemade meals every couple of days, else you tend to get sick to the stomach. I don’t know if you cook. I’ve made lemon pie for dessert.” Heinz sing-songs enticingly at the end, and Perry has to admit it’s persuasive. The man really does have a knack for baking.

But he’s already missed out on family dinner yesterday, due to making up for Agent G’s maternity leave, and the Flynn-Fletchers would worry if he missed out on another. He knows for a fact Linda’s made her award-winning meatloaf tonight, and hedgehog cake for supper. He’d hate on missing out on the treat for the world.

He’s halfway through realizing he’s said it out loud, ‘I have homemade meals at home,’ before he freezes, taking in Norm’s and Heinz’s curious blinks, and his hands pause abruptly, letting the sentence trail off awkwardly. He could see from the look on Heinz’s face that he was curious, mouth opening as if to pose a question, but seems to ultimately decide against it. They’ve both scrambled enough of the expected norms of their Villain-to-Spy nemesis-ship today, and crossing the line to figuring out Perry’s home life seems a midge too far, even for them.

Heinz hums, and changes the subject. “Are you really driving home fully dressed like that?”

Perry looks down at himself. ‘What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?’

“Nothing, which is my point. You could just leave them here, you know, they’re all dirty, Norm can run them through with the rest of the day’s laundry, and you can pick them up tomorrow. It’s weird to see you all dressed down, you know, but not bad weird, a good weird, makes me feel like a good host. That’s how you know you’re an adult sometimes, ugh, just listen to me talk about good hosting etiquette, Vanessa never has to worry about that sort of thing you know, even though she should. I hope Charlene’s teaching her.”

Perry’s wandered over to the coffee machine at this point, using context clues to figure out how it works and avoiding the large red button in a transparent case on the right-hand side of it’s case. He taps it, and churrs again.

“Oh, coffee! That’s a good idea, Perry the Platypus, some strong caffeine to help drive you through that traffic, I bought this travel mug for you!” Heinz hands him a short and stout chrome and teal travel mug with a silicone top and an anti-slip base. “I saw that color while scrolling through Etsy while I was looking at bento-boxes for this scheme I’m cooking up next week-oop, forget I said that Perry the Platypus, no spoilers! It reminded me of you! But the travel mugs aren’t related, it was just in the same shop, I love travel mugs, especially these newer novelty ones, you know there were never any novelty items back in Drusselstein, on account of the state largely frowning on any sort of color or patterns-,”

Perry churrs again, twisting the top of his cup back on and pointing out the door. Heinz visibly deflates.

“Oh, right, yes, leaving, of course, Perry the Platypus, let me just let this simmer and walk you to the door-and leave the clothes with Norm, Perry the Platypus, I’ve told you, you can come to fetch them tomorrow.”

Heinz helps hold the mug for him while he gets himself settled back in the hoverjet, and the clock on his dash informs him he should reach the house just in time to reach the Flynn Fletchers begin dinner if he rushed. Heinz leans forward to hand him the travel mug, leaving them close, just close enough that Perry feels the ridiculous urge to-maybe-leave a soft kiss on the other man’s cheek, the way Lawrence does when Linda was about to leave the house for the errand of the day.

Heinz doesn’t seem to notice, mumbling about setting the mug just right into the cupholder behind the handlebar, because it was hot, Perry the Platypus, we wouldn’t want a repeat of the driving test incident, do we? When Perry switches the jet on, Heinz waves. Perry, inexplicably, tips his hat back in return.

It isn’t until he’s 15 minutes away from the house that he realizes he really had left his vest and tie behind at Doofenshmirtz Evil Inc. He hopes Heinz doesn’t plan to do anything inadvisable with them.

For some reason, Perry doesn’t believe that he will.

[asymm3]

okay so resident evil au where wesker goes "haha whoopsies" at some point and stops being a bioterrorist with plans for world domination (don't ask me how or why, i know nothing) he moves to a small town in the middle of nowhere, USA (probably the midwest) and buys up an old house to refurbish/renovate

cue the nosy neighbors (aka gertrude and her book club) who are very interested in this "nice young man" who has moved in across the street at first gertrude keeps an eye on him because she will. not. stand. for anyone to "flip" the perfectly nice house from 1920s into some minimalist monstrosity

wesker passes her expectations for the house with flying colors. she brings him a peach cobbler as a present after the house is all fixed up. he is perplexed. gertrude wants to know why he's wearing sunglasses indoors but is too polite to question. everyone has their quirks

bookclub because less bookclub and more gossiping-about-wesker club. he's such a nice, "young" man who is always nice to the cashier at the one and only grocery store (charlene's great nephew), and sticks to a meticulous routine. he gets up, goes for a run (gertrude respectfully ogles, because dear heavens that is a fine looking man and her husband, marvin god rest his soul, has been gone for 20 years), drinks his coffee on his porch, and tends to a few scraggly flower bushes.

after a couple of months and nobody else moving in, or even visiting for that matter, they assume there is no mrs. wesker in the picture. matlida wants to set him up with her daughter. gertrude kindly tells her to knock it the fuck off. mildred wants to see if she has a chance. kathy wants him to prune her like his roses bushes. gertrude threatens to withhold all her wesker-related gossip until they calm down and leave the poor man alone. the flock of vultures.

after bringing wesker some leftover chocolate chip cookies one day, gertrude kindly suggests that he might look into getting a companion of sorts. the shelter she volunteers at has lots of puppies and kittens this time of year, and he looks like he could use a friend. wesker just kinda stares blankly at her.

however, the next week he comes back with a fluffball from the shelter. it has to be the most ill-mannered, scrungliest little senior rat-dog that gertrude has ever seen. wesker pleasantly informs her that his name is titan. it's the closest to smiling that gertrude has ever seen him

life goes back to plain, boring normal until wesker is knocking at gertrude's door at 2 in the morning. she nearly has a heart attack. wesker explains that there is a personal emergency he needs to take care of out of town for a week or so and asks if she could feed/take titan out while he's gone. gertrude shushes him as he tries to pay her and tells him to go take care of whatever it is and that titan is in good hands.

wesker is gone for nearly 2 weeks. by day 3 gertrude can't wait for him to come home because titan only likes wesker. eventually they come to an understanding over some deli meat turkey. wesker returns one day but he isn't alone.

gertrude calls cletus and tells him to put mildred on the phone while she watches as a well-built, brown-haired man painfully limps from wesker's black SUV, up the sidewalk, and into the house, supported by wesker all the while.

a couple hours later she brings over some chicken noodle soup (for wesker's guest) and some of her chocolate chip cookes (for wesker). a harried wesker answers the door, his normally perfectly-gelled hair a mess, as if he'd been running his fingers through it, and his sunglasses nowhere to be seen. gertrude notices his lack of shades and says nothing, because it seems the poor dear is going through a lot at the moment, but she does note his beautiful gray eyes.

throughout the next few weeks, she continues to drop off meals every couple of days. whoever wesker's friend is, they'll need their strength to recover from their ordeal. gertrude doesn't ever see the other man, but wesker's house is uncharacteristically messy, strewn about with various medical supplies when he invites her in as he retrieves her casserole dish

after a month or so, wesker's routine finally returns to normal. one morning, the other man is seated on the porch with wesker, sipping coffee with titan curled up in his lap. gertrude whips up a quick apple crisp and casually wanders over, deli meat in hand to bribe titan

she greets the two men and tuts over the other man's injuries, who introduces himself as chris. despite his recovery thus far, chris is still visibly battered and bruised, splinted fingers stroking titan's fluffy back. titan eyes gertrude warily, but seems content to stay snuggled in chris' lap

as she converses genially with chris about the area and a bit of its history. gertrude can't help but notice the soft look on wesker's face and how his eyes never leave chris. she excuses herself after a while, giggling like a schoolgirl as she phones her bookclub later with all the details. chris and wesker find themselves inundated with homecooked meals and baked goods for the next month

gertrude stumbles upon them one night at the grocery store as she makes a late-night run for more butter. chris is doing far better, just some scars and a light limp, and she notices how close the two men are standing as they shop. she turns away to go pretend to look at fruit, but doesn't miss how wesker's hand comes up to rest in the small of chris' back. the smile doesn't leave her face as she drives home

[theladyofshalott1989]

Ch. 1: "Journeys End in Lovers' Meeting" // Hogwarts: Legacy AU OC x OC

So, I may or may not have written this at 5 AM... LMAO. Thank you to @heyitszev (unreliablenarrator on AO3) for letting me borrow his OC, Charlie Cagney, from his series To be Loved is to be Changed (which you should check out right now!).

Note: Charlie is pre-transition in this chapter.

Damien is my OC from the Like Moths to a Flame series.

Without further ado... ENJOY!

Chapter 1: "Journeys End in Lovers' Meeting"

Early December 1889

London

Damien never expected that by the end of an unusually warm winter day in December, he’d be engaged to be wed. And to a young lady, at that. Brilliant.

Well, to be fair, who else would he be engaged to? A young gentleman? No, that would never do. Not now, not ever. But it was one thing to know that he’d one day have to get married to a woman, and another thing entirely to be shackled to an actual one. It certainly wasn’t ideal. 

Speaking of the aforementioned girl…

“I’d rather not be in this scenario either, you know,” she said. Charlene said. Damien should probably start getting used to referring to her by her name.

“Hmmm?” Damien replied, still deep in thought. He fiddled with his wristwatch. Charlene… something felt off about that name, but Damien couldn’t quite place his finger on it. He supposed the young woman standing before him didn’t look like a Charlene. On second thought, who did she look like?

“This engagement,” she spat out the last word like it made a particularly bad taste in her mouth, then flushed. “I’m sorry, that was rude of me.”

“No, no need to apologize,” Damien said with a smirk. “We’re on the same page.” He could appreciate Charlene’s bluntness, at the very least.

She breathed a sigh of relief. After an awkward pause in which a maid alighted at their table carrying a tea tray and setting all the various accouterments before them, Charlene changed the subject: “When did your father tell you about me?”

Damien took a sip of tea before replying. “Mere moments before we stepped out of the carriage.”

“Really?” Charlene asked, her eyes wide. Damien noticed for the first time that they were a rich brown, nearly his shade too, if not for the gold specks in his own eyes. She was also ignoring her tea entirely, which struck Damien as odd.

He nodded in response to her question. 

“That is… deeply unfortunate.” 

Damien held back a laugh. “How long have you known about me?”

“A few weeks. It seems as if our engagement is all my aunt can talk about.” Charlene tugged at her long, dark braid nervously. Damien could hear her feet shuffling under the table, even through the voluminous folds of her dress. She seemed uncomfortable. That made two of them.

“Oh?” He took another sip of his tea.

She coughed. “The size of your estate speaks for itself.” 

Damien couldn’t help himself; he released a hearty laugh. “At least I can bring something to our eventual union.” Oh, he really shouldn’t have said that. Damien just barely managed to hold back a grimace.

“Whatever do you mean?” 

“Nothing, nothing,” Damien responded, setting down his tea cup. He squinted out the window to his immediate left. The rays of sunlight coming through the partially open curtains were blinding. “Nice day we’re having, hmmm?”

Charlene narrowed her eyes. “You can’t just change the subject like that.” Oh, she was a perceptive one…

“I can and I will,” he said with as straight of a face as he could muster. 

“Charming,” was all Charlene said in reply. She seemed decidedly unimpressed, but at least she didn’t pry further.

Their conversation stayed light and superficial for the remainder of tea. As the conversation plodded along in the dullest of manners, Damien stole a surreptitious glance at his father at the table across the room. He seemed to be enjoying his conversation with Charlene’s aunt. Lucky him.

“Am I boring you?” Charlene broke through his rumination. 

Damien glanced up, caught off guard by the interruption. "Oh, no, not at all," he replied quickly, trying to regain his composure. "Just lost in thought, I suppose."

Charlene's expression softened slightly. She hummed, presumably in contemplation. Who knew though? Damien found her very difficult to read, which was unusual for him. 

He offered her a sheepish smile. "My sincerest apologies. It’s been… a day.” He snuck a glance at his watch. “And it’s barely past two o’ clock.”

Charlene shook her head in mock dismay. "The trials and tribulations of the aristocracy."

Despite his better judgment, Damien found himself laughing. Again. Something about Charlene amused him. It was… pleasantly surprising?

Did he find her attractive? It seemed impossible - he had never found a girl pretty before - but there was something in her manner, the way she held herself, that he found captivating. He shook his head and was about to resume the conversation when his father cleared his throat from across the room. 

“It is quite refreshing to see you two getting along so well,” Mr. Evans said as he stood up. “And so quickly too,” he added, amidst the sound of his chair scraping against the wood floor. 

Charlene’s aunt followed his father’s lead, clapping her hands in an annoyingly gleeful manner. Out of the corner of his eye, Damien observed Charlene tilting her head ever so slightly to hide a grimace. 

He tried to lock eyes with her in an unspoken moment of solidarity, but her gaze remained fixed on her lap. Her composure was, frankly, admirable. Not that Damien would ever say it to her face. 

As the adults, presumably, prepared to say their farewells, Damien seized the opportunity to have one final conversation with Charlene, alone. "Speaking of getting along," he interjected, "I believe Charlene and I have some details to discuss regarding future arrangements. Privately,” he made sure to tack on at the end.

Charlene’s head shot back up, a curious glint in her eye. 

Mr. Evans nodded in approval, completely oblivious to Damien’s deception. Nothing new there. "Excellent, excellent," he exclaimed. "It's wonderful to see such enthusiasm for the wedding."

Damien offered a tight smile. If only everyone in the room knew the truth behind the facade he had built around himself. As intrigued as he was by Charlene, as confused by what entranced him so, he knew that he could never love her. Not in the way that a normal man loved a woman. Would she mind? Would he ever deign to tell her? 

Charlene’s eyes were still fixed on his face, searching. Something about the way she was looking at him was worrisome. Damien gulped. This girl was going to be a proverbial thorn in his side, wasn’t she?

[cannondisabledcharacters]

Today's disabled characters of the day are Charlene Elizabeth Baltimore (Charly)/Samantha Caine from The Long Kiss Goodnight, who have amnesia, dissociative identity disorder, alcoholism, and a substance use disorder. They also suffered a traumatic injury

Requested by Anon

[Image Description: Photo of Geena Davis portraying Charly/Samantha. In the photo Samantha is fronting. She has long brown hair and brown eyes. She is wearing a red coat, brown scarf, black undershirt, and silver berry pin on her chest. She has a light skin tone.]