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screenviolense · 2 years

Text

current relation/ship tags (alphabetized kinda)

✦ ALBERT & AMELIA * me and mrs. jones we got a thing going on

✦ ANAIS & MAHANON * you and i are not the polite people who live in poems

✦ ANN & RYUJI * and why mess up a good thing baby?

✦ ANN & REN * change me at all cost; starlight and star crossed

✦ ANYA & ANDI * i walked with you once upon a dream

✦ ANYA & CLAUDE * are you thinking of me when you’re with somebody else?

✦ ANYA & LASLOW * i walked with you once upon a dream

✦ ARRI & CULLEN * you put your hand in mine and pulled me back from things divine

✦ AUSTIN & SPENCER * i never did believe in the ways of magic but i'm beginning to wonder why

✦ BARBARA & DICK * does it ever drive you crazy just how fast the night changes?

✦ BECKETT & CASTLE * stop and stare: i think i'm moving but i go nowhere

✦ BENEDICT & SOPHIE * in her heart she longed for this man; dreamed of a life that could never be

✦ BILLY & TRAVIS * i dream most every night that i never left you

✦ THE BOSS & JOHNNY * it's always been just him and me together

✦ CAMILA & JOSE * i'd suffer hell if you'd tell me what you'd do to me tonight

✦ CAROLINE & RICK * we’re gonna die and maybe it’s gonna be alone

✦ CASSIE & NATHAN * treasure hunting runs in the family

✦ CAT & VINCENT * do you know what loneliness does to a man?

✦ CHERCHE & GAIUS * every lover’s got a little dagger in their hand

✦ CHERCHE & GEROME * i pray you'll be my eyes and watch him where he goes

✦ CHERCHE & LON’QU * where does one touch a deadly swordsman who does not want to be touched?

✦ CINDY & ZIGGY * i won’t let anything pull us apart again

✦ ELENA & NATHAN * we were strangers starting out on a journey

✦ GARCIA & HOTCHNER * be still my bespectacled heart

✦ GARCIA & LUKE * maybe there was a slight chink in your fluffy armor

✦ GUSTAV & JACQUELYN * i’m sorry i had nothing to say that night

✦ IMPERATOR & NIHIL * you'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you

✦ IVY & DIAMANT * he told me that i’d never fight another battle alone

✦ IVY & ALEAR * if i was born as a blackthorn tree i'd wanna be felled by you; held by you

✦ JEAN & DILUC * is this the place we used to love? is this the place that i've been dreaming of?

✦ JEAN & KAEYA * meet me at our spot. they can't find us there

✦ JOYCE & HOPPER * watchin' in slow motion as you turn my way and say take my breath away

✦ JULIET & LASSIE * i’ll be going to get my partner now

✦ JULIET & SHAWN * since i met you i've been thinking about getting a car

✦ JULES & SILAS * do you really see no ghosts in me at all?

✦ KATE & ANTHONY * you are the bane of my existence and the object of all my desires

✦ KINSEY & AARON * everything's growing in our garden. you don't have to know that it's haunted

✦ KINSEY & DC * i never did believe in miracles but i've a feeling it's time to try

✦ KINSEY & FLOYD * you left a note in your perfect script: stay as long as you want. and i haven't left your bed since

✦ KINSEY & JOEL * you can close your eyes; it’s alright

✦ KINSEY & KEITH * trouble’s always gonna find you baby; but so will i

✦ KINSEY & LUKE * damn i wish i was your lover

✦ KINSEY & TERZO * don't look too deep into those angel eyes

✦ LAURA & MAX * can we go home now?

✦ LAURA & TRAVIS * you think this is over? this isn’t over

✦ LEIA & FLOYD * i read the graffiti in the bathroom stall

✦ LEIA & HAN * captain; being held by you isn’t quite enough to get me excited

✦ LIZA & JASON * i hope you die. i hope we both die

✦ LOIS & CLARK * here i am like a kid out of school. holding hands with a god

✦ MARIAN & ANDERS * everything is more beautiful because we’re doomed

✦ MILLIE & JOHN * our whole lives have been wasted just staring across the church

✦ MILLIE & ROSAL * she lit a fire and now she’s in my every thought

✦ MORTIE & KEATS * you don't hear me saying anything crazy about their weird little relationship!

✦ MOXXI & JACK * but i'm already someone else's baby

✦ NANA & HAURCHEFANT * i would rather break the world than lose you

✦ PENNY & ALEX * woke up in a safe house singing let’s get married

✦ PENNY & HALEY * go ahead let your hair down

✦ RACHEL & CHRISSY * is that your ghost or are you really there?

✦ REBECCA & JEROME * for if i am not their shepherd then i must be the wolf

✦ ROBIN & CHROM * you are the wind at my back and the sword at my side

✦ ROSEMARY & JACK * and at least in this lifetime we're sticking together

✦ RUTHERFORD FAMILY * to be cut off from one’s family is its own very special sort of loneliness

✦ SARAH & DEACON * but i’ll walk beside you love. anywhere the wind blows

✦ SASHA & TIM * as if i am alive only because i remember you

✦ SASHA & JON * did you fall for the same empty answers again?

✦ SNOW & BIGBY * you are the moon that breaks the night for which i have to howl

✦ SOPHIE & HOWL * i know how to help you now. find me in the future

✦ TAYLOR & LESLIE * i knew you were the one

✦ UME & JACKIE * NC ain’t a city that lets you get by without buddies

✦ VELVET & TERZO * you're free to leave me but just don't deceive me

✦ VERONICA & TRAVIS * but i never lost this feeling or this pounding in my chest

✦ ZATANNA & JOHN * no grave can hold my body down; i’ll come home to her

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777elizabet · 2 years

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'Coffee' he said to his sister.

Monday, April 30, 2018

2:08 PM

'Coffee' he said to his sister.

'What the hell is coffee?!'

'She wants to get to know you.' She replied.

'You mean biblically?'

Christine rolled her eyes.

'No , she's invited you for coffee , because she likes you. I 'm not sure what 's wrong with her but she seems to like you.' He was eighteen , tow haired, bespectacled, and hadn't ever been out with a girl , before. He'd gone clubbing with friends, he got hung over , with friends .But one on one , with a female person was not that common an occurrence. 'Coffee'.

'I don’t even drink coffee'

'So you drink something else, she likes you Trevor . Do I pay or does she ?' These were the things he worried about , it was hard to figure out why she thought she could ask him out. She was funny , pretty and intelligent , she would have been asked out by anyone ,but she asked him out.

'See how it plays out, if she asked you , likely she wants to pay for it .Do you want me to come with you?' He wanted to say yes but , his sister was in her late twenties, and if she went . People would ask what does this adult person have in common with these kids, or think he couldn't handle himself on a date.

'Maybe , if it becomes a disaster I 'll take your number just in case.' Christine laughed , not unkindly . Trevor was her favourite brother , she was the oldest of six .Trevor was good at appearing confident but when someone wants to really get to know him ,he makes it hard for himself because he is so unsure of himself . 'It's just coffee , Trevor , you will be fine.

The day comes , she tells him to meet her in the park after school. He wasn't expecting that , he's nervous , he thinks maybe he could pass on it. But as he leaves the school , she walks to meet him , She's kind of pretty , there's roses in her cheeks and the wind has blown some stray curls across her face. She's wearing a denim jumper and a white peasant blouse. Her name is Alex , as in Alexis Katherine . He remembers her last boyfriend called her Sunshine. They broke up he heard because he was going overseas to join the navy. She wore red glasses , she edited the school newspaper and help put out a poetry anthology for the passed three years. They met in the creative writing club , and he had talked with her often . They laughed at similar things and with their friend ,Will. They wrote a revue for the Drama club.Trevor began to realise he might have fun this afternoon.

'Hi Alex.'

'Hey Trevor' she replied ' Did you want to go some place imparticular.'

'Did you?'

'I kind of like getting a table on a patio café.'

'Wow!' he exclaimed inadvertently. She smiled.

'Don't worry it's not a restaurant , my uncle owns a food truck . He parks it down at Rotary Park. You might have seen it outside the Sheridan when you go clubbing.( For the record , Mont Blanc was a college town , Trevor and Alex shared a birthday, December 15th. The teacher who ran the creative writing club ordered pizza for them just before they broke for Christmas break. Clubbing meant getting blitzed at this place called Billy Bob's in the Sheridan , then staggering out to a few food trucks parked outside the Sheridan in the parkade. Then finding room for food before you were poured in a cab to be taken home.)

'Bus alright ?'

'Fine ' . They meandered across the baseball diamond and caught the bus , they got off in front a skater store then walked to an area where four food trucks were parked . She lead him to what was a double decker 'London Bus'.

'Hey Lexi' her uncle called to her , she smiled .

'Uncle Rob .'

'Who's this?'

'My friend Trevor ,I asked him to join me today .'

'Nice to meet you. ' Her uncle , offerred his hand . Trevor shook

his hand shyly. ' You can do better than this .'

Before he knew it, the wee man encased him in a bear hug that

Cracked a few of his ribs , or so it seemed. He was fine , but flushed like a virgin from head to feet . He didn't question his sexuality until that moment . He loved girls , but for moment after Uncle rob hugged him he was surprised at the man's affectionate nature. Where he grew up , men didn't hug other men unless it was on a wrestling mat. Truth was Uncle Rob was just an affectionate human being and he hugged everyone. Alex took his hand and lead him out to the patio.

' Don't mind Uncle Rob he greets all of my friends that way. Some have a shock like you did , others hug him back because they like his warmth.Should you call me Lexi in the next 45 minutes , I might leave you with him .' Trevor smiled.

'What's wrong with Lexi?' He felt his confidence returning.

'I'm not fond of Lexi , makes me sound like some kind of computer software or a lemon of a car like a Hugo.'

'Do you drink coffee?' She added .

'Not really , I' ve never had it , my family drinks a lot of tea.'

'Sounds good , Uncle Rob , two teas , one black and… Trevor'

'With milk please.'

Rob brought out two small stoneware pots , cups , and a creamer.

Then a selection of various teas, Trevor laughed.

'My family drinks both …' She said .

She took one of the pots , and pop in one of the Earl Grey teas.

Trevor nearly burned his hand , picking up the pot ,he had a cup of 'yorkshire gold'. Her uncle decided to give them the tea on the house.

He charged them for the cinnamon bun and the cheese scone. Alex dug out six dollars and placed it on the table . Then she invited Trevor to join her at the skater's shop..

How could this be a date, they had a snack at a

food truck.(Trevor wasn't about to admit he drank tea,his friends would laugh him out of the ball park.It was Nan's drink, he was 18 and had a reputation to protect.) But they were in the skate shop, they were laughing.She was cute and funny, it wasn't as stressful as he thought. They took a pair of scooters and rode

to the skate store, across from them, he caught his sister's eye, she was just heading into her record store cafe.( The Comic Store was beside it, had it been an awkward experience he would have made his excuses and headed over there.To his surprise he was enjoying himself, Alex was cool.)

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jasonblaze72 · 2 years

Text

American Horror Story Season 11 Episode 7 & 8: Release Date, Preview & Streaming Guide

The American Horror Story S11 Episodes 7 & 8 release date has been released, and fans are waiting to learn more about it. Here is a quick look at American Horror Story's plot before getting to the American Horror Story Season 11 Episodes 7 and 8 release date and American Horror Story Season 11's streaming details. The popular and successful anthology series "American Horror Story" by Ryan Murphy and Brad Falchuk has a spinoff called "American Horror Stories." A new horror story will be featured in each episode of the weekly anthology series "American Horror Stories." With numerous episodes involving a spooky asylum, a freak show, and the apocalypse itself since 2011, the "A.H.S." creators have revolutionized the horror genre. Numerous devoted television series viewers have emerged, eagerly awaiting the horrors of the upcoming episodes. Also read Love In Contract Episode 15: Release Date, Preview & Streaming Guide. What Happened In American Horror Story Season 11 Episodes 5 & 6? In Episode 5, a tarot card reading did feature an unnamed character who was strongly hinted to be the Death Angel. Even Kathy, who gave Gino's reading, referred to the woman kissing him, and that's how the Angel led the dead's souls in Season 2. Unfortunately, the Conroy appearance that many were waiting for didn't happen. Rebecca Dayan, who had made appearances this season as Alana, took on the role this time. Hannah and Adam receive two doses of unsettling information. First, a fake psychic named Fran delivers an endless stream of Death Cards during an especially grim reading. The next piece of bad news is provided by Hannah's OB/GYN, who affirms that she has a low red blood cell count, similar to the specimens she took from the club fire victims. Adam included. Theo forces Adam to return to Fran's nonsensical parlor for a second reading, which is even worse because it predicts Adam's Death and includes an earthquake-like sound and a demonic voice. After reluctantly divorcing Patrick, Barbara faints, but that's nothing compared to what occurs next. When Barb is in the shower after Big Daddy kills Patrick in his former apartment, the killer reappears, and Barb is killed. Whitely says he's still torturing the two victims he picked up last week and plans to display his Frankenstein creation at N.Y.C. Pride. "I've decided that the parade will have signed this year," he declares. "It will be honest for the first time," she said. It only lacks a heart or genitalia, but you know where Whitely wants to find them. In the sixth episode, a dead body thought to be Big Daddy's victim washes up on Fire Island. Patrick receives the call because he is "the only cop homosexual enough to care." Strangely, when he makes his next phone call, Sam answers and offers to drive him to the island in his convertible. They talk about the body they allegedly buried in a little dune there, suggesting that they have a longer history than we know. In the end, we discover that Patrick and Sam initially met in 1979, during Patrick's first visit to Fire Island. At one of Sam's infamous "no fatties, no la femme" parties, when things went a touch out of hand, he also met a man by the name of Billy. In other words, Sam and Patrick interred Billy in the sand after he passed away after a disastrous trio fueled by coke. They received assistance from Henry, who had now been shown to be a "fixer for the mafia," and his companion, whom he described as "a whiz at chopping up bodies." You mustn't say! Henry and Gino plan to entice Whitely outside to end his murderous rampage in the present. Whitely offers Henry a Mai Tai when he meets his friend at their favorite restaurant. Henry politely declines the drink and, brandishing a gun, pursues Whitely into the restroom. The bespectacled butcher, however, is no simpleton; he outwits Henry, knocks him unconscious, and drags him into the shadows while Gino pursues him. When Is The American Horror Story Season 11 Episodes 7 & 8 Release Date? American Horror Story Season 11 Episodes 7 & 8 release date is Wednesday, November 9, 2022. American Horror Story Season 11 Episodes 7 & 8 will air on F.X. at 10:00 pm in the U.S. International fans can stream American Horror Story Season 11 Episodes 7 & 8 at the following times: 3:00 am BST (November 10), 8:30 am I.S.T. (November 10), 7:00 pm PST, and 2:00 am AEDT (November 10). Where To Watch American Horror Story Season 11 Episodes 7 & 8? American Horror Story Season 11 Episodes 7 & 8 will be streaming on HULU, F.X. Now, Amazon prime video, and Fubo TV. Also read: Cherish The Day Season 2 Episode 6: Release Date, Preview & Streaming Guide. Read the full article

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fablesofkitkat · 3 years

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pov: Tenya Iida is a moron but the situation is salvageable. [repost]

Alt title: wingman and courtship part 2

part 1 link here

Genre: Fluff

Synopsis: you and Deku broke up and you attend the reunion with Iida.

I've been watching you for some time

can't stop staring at those ocean eyes

- Billie Eilish

Deku couldn't look away from you the moment you entered the room. You were wearing that dress. The one you were saving for a special occasion, funny, how he still remembers that memory: you excitedly twirling for him but he vaguely said something about having to go.

You looked beautiful—

"Deku."

Mineta looked at him with a knowing glint in his eyes. Minoru just patted him on the shoulders.

"Why are you looking at me like that, Mineta?" He chuckled without cheer. "You're being weird."

"Why don't we go say hi to her? It's been 2 years." His friend suggested, not oblivious to the fact he's still staring at you.

-------

You scan the crowd trying to find a certain bespectacled hero; he stepped out a bit for a phonecall or something, you didn't quite catch his words as you were suddenly surrounded by the girls. It's been 2 years and so much has changed and yet, everyone still exhibits the same characters. Like Bakugou and Kirishima for example, doing their loud antics, that made you smile, everyone feels so familiar and it feels good. You took a breather inside the comfort room, letting your hair down for a moment before deciding to hell with it; coiffed hair no more. Someone enters the comfort room.

Ochako.

She sends you a shy smile. You returned it wholeheartedly, beaming at her and waved her over for a hug.

She says your name breathlessly and you let her go. "How are you?" She asks.

"I'm good! How about you?"

"I'm good!"

You couldn't stop grinning; you missed Ochako, you've been good friends with her before ...

Awkward.

"I'm sorry about... before." Ochako says.

"Why? I mean, it is what it is. Besides, I'm alright now!" You reassured her, patting her shoulders.

"If it wasn't for me.. you didn't have to stay away."

"Nah, staying away has been good for me. I'm a senior pro hero at my agency and well, it worked you know. I'm better now actually."

She stays silent for a few moments.

"We're not together anymore you know..."

You give her a confused look.

"Me and Deku... we broke up months ago."

That was a surprise.

"I'm sorry." Because you didn't have anything else to say.

"It was great at the start but... sometimes, he would compare me to you. So offhandedly, like the way I'd dress, saying you'd go to him first for his opinion. It was... strange. He loved that I was different from you but when we got together, he was searching for your traces." She cleared her throat. "So yeah, we broke up. I didn't know what he wanted from me and that made me feel unwanted."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I just needed to get that out." Ochako smiled sadly. "And if you got back together with him-"

"I'm not." You say firmly and then added softly. "Don't get me wrong, Deku is very admirable, especially when he chases his dreams..."

"The way his eyes lit up with determination." Ochako says, mulling over memories.

The two of you smiled at each other. Girls who happened to love an individual greater than themselves. An inspiration. A hero.

"When I met his eyes earlier, guess what I felt?"

Ochako shrugged.

"Just awkwardness. Underneath that, there was nothing."

"Really?"

"Yeah." You shrugged. "No nostalgic romance whatsoever." Someday, if she really didn't love Deku anymore, she'd feel the same.

The unspoken implication shed hope to Ochako. That someday she'd be alright too.

"Let's go back to the girls?"

"Sure."

----------

"Iida." Todoroki greeted his friend. "It's been awhile. Good job at successfully getting everyone get together like this."

The Rapid hero beamed at the compliment we. "Thank you, I did place my utmost effort in our annual gatherings."

"You even brought her too." Todoroki side-glanced his friend, watching his reaction.

The grin on Iida's face puts the twinkle of Aoyama's laser to shame, the hand doing a chopping motion. Iida's habit of doing that curbed as they grew older but that doesn't mean it was gone. Just that Iida would only do it if he couldn't contain his excitement.

Interesting.

"I didn't want her to miss out more than she already did. She's part of class A too."

"This year's gathering is a little more extravagant than before..." Todoroki trailed off, wondering if his friend would catch what he meant.

The rapid hero didn't. He sighed, "It's for her, isn't it?"

"She did miss two gatherings and so having this a little more extravagant than usual seems reasonable."

Todoroki observed Iida carefully; he kept quiet about these things, but to put it bluntly. He shipped you and Iida since the academy days. Things changed; Iida has a chance and he'd rather shoot flames down his throat than let his friend pass this by.

"But still, you did this all for her."

Iida frowned. "If you're implying I have favoritism-"

"What do you think of her, Iida?"

"A friend, of course."

"How would you describe her?"

"She has this... bounce in her step. And wiser than me that I sometimes wonder if she really tried at the academy. Brave. Admirable. I enjoy her company."

Iida didn't notice how his eyes softened upon describing you. Todoroki hummed under his breath.

"Iida, I've never thought of you as a moron."

"Thank you." The Rapid Hero tried to make sense of what Todoroki said or where the conversation is going.

"Except when it comes to relationships. To save you from yourself, I'm asking you: Are you certain that there is no chance, not one for all the good reasons you've listed, that she would ever, ever be someone you’re interested in?”

Iida's first response was to deny and laugh it off afterwards but the two of them stayed silent. Was he giving false impressions? It was mortifying. But Iida wondered.

The way your eyes sparkled as you challenged him to a race.You with your wind quirk. Him with his engine legs. You, laughing above him. His heart following after you.

In all those time, his mind whispered, did he really act upon nothing but platonic feelings? Trying to find you? This more than usual extravagant gathering? Going out of his way to take you out for coffee in the guise of friends catching up? The times he'd rush through hiss patrols so he could invite you to a midnight meal?

If there was one thing anyone should know about Iida is that he's a morally upright individual and being dishonest to oneself is not included in his morals.

He was undoubtedly interested with you.

That came as a shock to Iida.

Todoroki sees the shift in Iida's expressions. “Good. My advice: be straightforward. Just tell her you want to be around her as well. Straight-off, before someone steals her away—be direct so you both know where you stand.”

----------

Deku and Mineta hovered around you, glancing at your way and a few time you caught their eyes, you nodded in acknowledgement. Good thing Ochako was there, that seemed to stop Deku from approaching you.

A voice calls your name. You look up and smiled happily, not noticing how the girls exchanged looks with waggling eyebrows.

"Tenya."

"Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Yes." You nodded. "Are we leaving now?"

Iida tugged at his tie. Was it hot in here? His heart was pounding like madly. Out of the corner of his eyes, Todoroki was looking at him with an encouraging look. Momo comes up to Todoroki asking what he was doing.

"Just watching my ship sail." Todoroki murmured.

"No." Iida nervously had his hands in a chopping motion. "I need to tell you something!"

You laughed. Goofball. You take his hand to calm him down, his nervous tick and excited tell: the hand chopping. It halts. He looks at your intertwined hands.

Be straightforward.

"I wish... to be around you."

Some of them gasped. The girls squealed. Todoroki's eyes lit up, smirking with his arms crossed. Deku looked shocked and Mineta had a worried look on his face glancing in your direction and then at Deku and then back at you. You blushed, but Iida wasn't done. He meets your gaze.

Be direct.

“In fact, I would go as far to say that I, personally, admire your character and abilities.”

Todoroki's jaw dropped. No, no. Iida, are you seriously doing a confession infront of everyone? He began to move, speak, to stop the horrible train wreck of a confession but he was too late.

Iida kissed the back of your hand and formally sank to one knee as everyone who weren't looking at you, now turned and stared. He stared up at you who was frozen.

Be direct so both of you know where you stand.

“It is my…admiration of you, that forces me to profess my interest in you in more than a platonic sense. I know you aren't of a traditional household but I would like to ask your permission if I could formally ask your parents or guardian to court your hand. ”

Because Tenya Iida chooses to be brave with the truth. To make up for his earlier denials regarding his feelings towards you.

It was also one of the most horrifying thing Todoroki had ever seen in his entire life. Shoto stood there, horror-stricken as you.

Everyone was silent except for Tsuyu's single "Kero." Iida just held your eyes. You stared at him.

You could say this about Tenya Iida, you would never misinterpret his intentions.

"Um- I-"

Todoroki foresaw the future. Hell, even Bakugou could see it. That in two seconds you would let out a burst of wind and fly out of there and migrate to the moon. So, the dual quirk user moved, reached out to Iida and- hauled him to his feet.

Todoroki clapped your shoulder. Iida turned to look at him confusedly. It was an unusual day, a miracle, for Shoto to sport a smile albeit a weird smile that looked like he was about to shout, or cry, or freeze Iida's glasses.

On his left was Iida while you were on his right.

"Why don't we go somewhere private, we three have alot of catching up to do!"

"Umm- Uhh-"

Todoroki had never felt so desperate to keep smiling before. He'd never even smile that much but he's reaching more than quota tonight.

He survived Endeavor's hard upbringing, managed the Todoroki household and even fought highly dangerous villains. He needed to be more than that. As Iida's wingman was to not let you, the wind quirk user from escaping. He had to save Iida from himself.

So Todoroki, uncharacteristically, bared his teeth in a false smile, wretchedly trying to captain and save his sinking ship.

---

AN:

The reason why I'm reposting this is because I want to explore more of Iida's formal courtship with reader. It's gonna be really eye-catching. HAHAHAHA Oh gosh Todoroki be really having a ball as a wingman.

#tenya x y/n #tenya x you #tenya x reader #tenya iida x y/n #tenya iida x you #tenya iida x reader #iida x y/n #iida x you #iida x reader #tenya iida #mha tenya #bnha tenya #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #tenya fluff #iida fluff

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queenlua · 2 years

Photo

this image forcibly punched me back into some mid-90s church basement with the godawful LED lighting and the gray vinyl flooring and some bespectacled fortysomething Sunday School teacher dude dutifully reciting the Billy Graham line on How 2 Be Saved 4 Dummies

#lua reads 17776 #this image is like. visual equivalent of hearing your ex's fave song on the radio out of nowhere #i had totally forgotten this handout but there's probably like six stashed somewhere under my childhood bed???#lmao. evangelicals amirite

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augustmoon259 · 3 years

Text

"The Once and Future Nerd" SI!OC

A self indulgent SI!OC (self insert original character) oneshot fanfiction for @onceandfuturenerd podcast. I made a cover as well. I edited the original logo and added a blue bird for the OC.

I wake up to the sound of someone making an obnoxious racket, slamming their hands on what is probably a keyboard.

"Who the fuck keeps making all that noise...?"

Groaning, I lift my head from the table.

Wait...table? The last thing I remember is falling asleep in my bed. Definitely not a table.

"Oh! You're awake! Sorry for, um, waking you up!"

"You’re a nerd, can’t you just reroute the encryptions or some shit like that and shut up about it?!"

"...Oh, I see. You must have been taken in by the popular misconception that everyone smart knows how to hack a computer. Or that computer hacking is magic...or that encryptions are a thing that can be rerouted."

My head is still spinning in confusion as I try to make sense of my surroundings. I look around me, and I seem to be in some kind of library. After my examination, I turned my attention to the voices I heard. There was a blond haired girl in a cheerleading outfit, a boy in football armor, and another bespectacled boy who was sitting in front of a computer.

The blonde haired girl looked apologetically at me, while the two boys were still arguing with each other.

"And who are you people?"

Still none too happy about being abruptly awoken, my question came out more biting than I intended.

"I'm Jen, and that's Billy and Nelson over there. And you're Anne, right? Um, the new girl?"

"New girl?"

"Yeah! It's your first day here, right? It must suck to have detention on your first day of school, huh?"

"Detention?"

Suddenly, I felt a splitting pain in my head as I cried out. I clutched my head tightly, closing my eyes, as memories of someone else's life flashed by: "Anne", the teenager. She's sixteen years old this year. She's an orphan, but was adopted by a family when she was younger. They recently moved to Pennsylvania.

When I opened my eyes again, Jen was by my side, worried. In her hands, she was holding lipstick and a compact mirror.

"Hey, are you alright? Do you need some aspirin or something?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, thanks. There is something I need though. Can I borrow your mirror?"

"Huh? Oh, sure I guess?"

Jen handed me her mirror, and as I examined myself in it, the reality sunk in for me. Anne was a Thai girl, with light brown skin, auburn hair, and dark brown eyes. Nothing like my old appearance.

How did this happen?! I went from being an adult to a teenager?!

Wordlessly, I handed the mirror back to Jen.

"Thanks again. And what'd you say your names were? Jen, Billy, and Nelson?"

"Yeah?"

Oh god. As if my previous realization that I had just possessed the body of a random teenager wasn't bad enough, I knew those names. I knew three teenagers with those exact names from Pennsylvania.

They were in a podcast I listened to before falling asleep.

Shit. I was in The Once and Future Nerd.

As if right on cue, thunder flashed outside the library's window, and the next moment, the power went out. I heard everyone around me panicking and searching for their lipstick (Jen), a flashlight (Nelson), and whatever the hell Billy was doing.

Meanwhile, I found a backpack next to my side on the floor. Knowing what would happen next, I hurriedly strapped the backpack to myself, just in case.

The lights came back on, and I watched as everything played out the way it did in the podcast. Nelson found himself looking at Jen's butt, Billy gets mad at Nelson, Jen gets between the two's ensuing argument. I expected all of this, but what I did not expect was the lightning bolt that burst through the window and immolated Jen, Billy, Nelson...and me.

Annoyingly, once again, I was the last to wake up. At least this time, I wasn't the only one who was unconscious.

I imagined the other three were not in better shape than me as we all stood up, battered and bruised.

"Don’t worry, Jen, I used to go hunting with my uncle. Now the sun’s setting that way...And the moss is growing that way...Which means...wait..."

"I don’t know if you can go by that. I think we read in bio class about lots of things determining moss growth. Didn’t we?"

"Actually, while it's true mosses will grow on any hard surface, including the sides of trees, they prefer to grow on North-facing surfaces because they like the darker, more humid environment. If you don't see any moss growing on trees, also check on rocks."

I blinked, stunned by my sudden outburst. Judging from the reactions of Billy, Jen, and Nelson, they were similarly shocked.

"What the fuck? I thought Nelson was the only nerd around here! And you're a girl too! Don't you have better things to do, like makeup and shopping and shit? Then again, you're Asian. Are Asian girls nerds too? Thought that was just the guys."

"Hey, babe, that was kind of uncalled for."

"As a fellow marginalized member of society, that was, in fact, 'uncalled for'."

"If I had better things to do, would I be standing here listening to your misogynistic ass?", I snapped.

My day just keeps getting worse and worse. Possessing the body of a 2013 Pennsylvania teenager, being transported to another world with three other teenagers, and one of them is literally a dumb jock?!

Who doesn't get character development until he's slapped in the face with a fever dream of his abusive dad?!

Crap.

Reminding myself of Billy, Jen, and Nelson's sad backstories made me feel guilty, and when I feel guilty, I can't also stay mad at Billy...ugh, fine. I'm the adult here, even if I no longer look like it, so I need to act like it instead.

Because I had momentarily been lost in my thoughts, I was brought back to the current circumstances by Jen's startled gasp.

"Did you guys feel anything? I coulda sworn this log just moved..."

Fucking hell. Even though I knew we would be fine, I still couldn't let Jen get hurt.

"Everyone, get away from that log!"

I grabbed Jen and pulled us away from the log as fast as I could.

"Anne, what - "

The "log" uncurled itself and lifted up its head. A massive serpent with tree bark-like skin now looked down on us, poised and ready to strike. I knew what was going to happen beforehand, but even I couldn't stop myself from trembling. It's not everyday you come face to face with a giant snake that could easily devour three or four people in one go.

Finally, to my utter relief, the arrow from a certain elf embedded itself in the eye of the serpent, which dropped dead after.

"What are you doing out here? And what in Selbirin are you wearing?"

I was relieved that Anne wore practical clothing, unlike what the other teenagers were wearing (aside from Nelson). She was wearing a blue hoodie, jeans, and sneakers.

While Nelson moved to get closer to Yllowyn, Jen, Billy, and I observed from afar as he started cutting away at the serpent's neck with his knife. I knew the resulting conversation with him would be awkward, if nearly choking Billy to death was "awkward", so I was ready to step in when I was needed again.

Billy and Jen stayed where they were, and I could hear them whispering.

"I can hear you perfectly well."

"Okay, lemme guess. You’re in some kind of a militia or something."

"My clan has a proud military tradition, if that’s what you’re asking."

"...Nelson, honey, you wanna take a few steps back from the heavily armed klansman?"

"And I bet you and all your kin can trace your lineage - "

I elbowed Billy in the gut, and watched with some Schadenfreude as he bent over and coughed.

"What the hell was that for - "

"Ahem, what my friend here meant to say is, could you tell us where we are right now?"

"You’re in lands claimed by His Majesty, Gunther Guernatal, High King of the human realms of Iorden."

Yllowyn looked perplexed, whether at what had just transpired, or, more likely, the fact that four human children were dressed strangely and had no idea as to where they currently were.

"You think you could point us to the nearest town without going schizo on me?"

Billy had recovered, and I found myself disappointed that he was already back to spewing dumb remarks - like that one.

"I’m heading that way myself. I suppose I could escort you, since you’re obviously in no place to defend yourselves."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means you were very nearly a serpent’s supper, human. Speaking of which, as long as you’re heading back to town with me, would you mind helping me with that?"

So that's how four teenagers, an elf, and a dead serpent made their way to the nearest human village. Billy and Nelson dragged the body of the serpent with leather straps, Yllowyn had its head under his arm, and Jen was walking ahead of us.

And where was I?

...Also dragging the body of the serpent. It was surprisingly doable. Maybe it was because it was easier with three people than two, but Billy wasn't even complaining about the weight. Speaking of Billy, this jerk, he had no objections when I offered to help drag the snake. So when it's Jen, he acts all macho, but with me, another girl, he doesn't bother?

Well, to be fair, I also elbowed him in the gut, so...

Again, I was lost in my thoughts, so I didn't pay much attention to anything until we came across the boulder in a crater, with dried blood.

"The hell is that?"

"A very easy way to kill a bear, if you’re a dragoness looking to feed her young."

Oh. OH. Oh my god, that's right. There were fucking DRAGONS in this world too. Fucccckkkk.....

Another hour later, and another hour of hyperventilating about how I'm in a fantasy world with evil cults, necromancers, magic, and terrifying creatures, we made it to Guernatal City.

"Listen, Mr..."

"My name is Yllowyyn."

"Yellow ween? Your name’s Yellow Ween?"

"Yllowyyn."

"Okay, well, pleased to meet you. I’m Jennifer. Thank you for walking us back to town."

"Yes, yes. Merely doing my civic duty as an officer of the King’s court."

"I can’t believe this asshole’s name is Yellow Ween. How many ass-kickings did you get in school?

"Mr. Yllowyyn, if you could point us in the direction of Lackawanna, Pennsylvania, we’d sure appreciate it."

"I’ve never heard of it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I find the three of you very odd, and I don’t care much for your company."

Okay, rude. But, can't blame the guy for thinking we're odd. We are pretty odd, and he doesn't even know we're from another world yet, or that one of us is the Anointed One, and another is the Stormbringer...

Yllowyn handed Jen a coin purse, and left just like that.

"Hey Jen, do you mind if I hold on to that coin purse?"

"Oh! Sure!"

"Thanks."

No way am I letting Billy lose all of our money just because he's too stupid to recognize when he's being scammed.

"Let's go look for some food. There must be a market around here selling fruits and stuff."

"What, fruit? Are you kidding me? Why can't we go to a tavern or something?"

"Shut the fuck up, Billy. In case you've forgotten, we still need to go home, and we can't do that drunk."

And, not that these three knew it yet, but we would be arrested by the king's men on account of being "suspicious". I don't want to waste money on beer when we wouldn't even be able to drink it.

Eventually, after stopping a passing villager for directions, we did find a market, where they were selling fruits and vegetables, among other things. I bought a few apples for the four of us to eat. They were smaller and not as sweet as apples back on Earth, but they were apples. And they only cost a five coins. I still had 70 coins left in the purse.

I waited, while the other three were still looking around the market, for the guards to appear and apprehend us. Sure enough, I heard a commotion, and armored men with pikes came marching at us. By the time they herded us back to the castle, I had finished eating my apple.

I'll admit, being held captive in the dungeon is probably the low point of what I've experienced today, but it's nothing compared to what we'll have to go through later in the story.

Eventually, the jailer came to take us out of the dungeon. After leaving our belongings behind, we were led up several flights of stairs and out into a small, walled-off courtyard in between the dungeon and the castle proper.

"Wait here until someone comes for you."

The jailer headed back towards the dungeon.

"I can get us out of here."

"Nelson, I know what you're thinking, but playing all of the Legend of Zelda games doesn't mean you're an escape artist."

"Wha - how'd you know I've beaten every single Legend of Zelda?!"

I smirked, "I didn't, but I assumed you did, what with how video games seem to be your life blood. But back to my point, Nelson, you see that? That is a guard tower." I pointed above us to the tower that overlooked the courtyard.

"Oh shit, it is -"

"Nelson, this is a castle. The King's castle. There's no way they would miss something that obvious."

"Thanks Anne, you really saved us from being shot at with arrows or something."

"No problem."

The jailer returned, and took us to King Gunther's throne room.

I've been able to identify the characters so far either because they told me their names, or they're literally non-human, like Yllowyn. And for Gunther, he's obviously the old guy sitting on the throne, and the similarly aged man on his right must be Brennen. But as I look around me at the unfamiliar faces of the nobles staring at us - with hostility, curiosity, fear, etc., I had a hard time trying to spot that asshole Ardel Redmoor, or even his sister Arlene.

Well, I guess he'll reveal himself eventually, considering how arrogant he is.

"Oh great, it’s Weenie."

"Thank you for the floor, your Grace. As you can see, their attire is completely unfamiliar. And you can take my word that their manners are equally alien. Furthermore, if you’ll look at the puny one, you’ll see he wears tokens of Garedian around his neck."

Gasps broke out throughout the court. Crap, I forgot to tell Nelson to take off his d20 and put it in his pocket or something.

"I swear to God, Nerd..."

"Silence!"

"Your Grace, I would have brought them to the court’s attention sooner, but I had been out hunting and did not hear of Her late Majesty’s tragic demise until I returned."

"I understand, Kalth’yr."

King Gunther turned towards us.

"Where are the four of you from?"

I interrupted before Billy could say something unintelligent and get us all in trouble, again. The king was still waiting for an answer. I stepped forward from my position in line with Jen, Billy, and Nelson.

"Your Grace...I think there's a more important question than where we're from. It's who we are. You all seem to think that we're enemy spies, but I think the man sitting next to you has a different opinion."

I switched my gaze to Brennen, who had not taken his eyes off of us since our entrance.

"Is this true, General?"

The King turned inquiringly to Brennen.

"It’s probably nothing, your Grace. But I may have had a dream about these four."

Hold on, four? Why four? I'm not the Anointed One, not the Stormbringer, not even the Stormbringer's boyfriend! Yeah, I'm from Earth like Billy, Jen, and Nelson (albeit a different Earth), but why am I in this dream with them?

A very, very old priest in purple robes, with a golden disk on a silver chain around his neck, spoke up.

"What sort of dream?"

"I was in danger, and was rescued by birds. Of the same colors that these four wear."

There it is again! Four! Why does Brennen keep mentioning four? And the same colors? I'm not wearing red or gold!

"General, had you seen these strangers at any point before these things were dreamt?"

"I had not, your Eminence."

"And have you ever heard of the scrolls of Baradir?"

"Time is of the essence, Bishop."

"They are writings, your Majesty. Their veracity has been refuted by the Elders, but they have not been declared outwardly heretical. The writer speaks of a time of Garedian’s reign. An Anointed One will save us from the dark times. The prophet of the Anointed One’s coming will be a great warrior, and the sigil of the Anointed One will be a bird."

The Head Priest actually got straight to the point. I thought this was when a younger priest was supposed to interject, but my presence must have changed things. Having one extra person makes the situation more urgent, maybe?

"You can’t expect us to give weight to this prophecy, Bishop. You said yourself that the Elders refuted it."

Ugh, there's the slimy bastard. And he looks every bit the petulant man child the story made him out to be.

Alright, after some ridiculous back and forth, with me trying to keep myself in check before I go and deck this fucker in the face for trying to have me, Jen, Billy, and Nelson executed, Arlene finally speaks up.

"With respect, your Grace, what harm can they possibly do from within the dungeon?"

And then there's more back and forth conversation. I'm trying to keep a poker face on while all of this is happening, but I really just want to skip ahead to the part where Jen, Billy, and Nelson travel with Brennen and Yllowyn. And I guess me now too. I'm not staying here with Ardel running the kingdom and there's nowhere safer then by the main characters' sides.

Sure, Jen burns herself trying to cast lightning, Brennen gets wounded and sick until he gets healed by the elves, and that's not counting all of the emotional and mental turmoil we'll have to go through, but...

Shit. I'm gonna have to become a murderer, aren't I? God damn it, god damn it, GOD DAMN IT.

My train of thought is derailed by one of the King’s soldiers bursting into the hall at a full sprint, struggling for breath.

"Pardon, Lords...Traft’s army crosses the Black Mountains. Fifty thousand strong. Foot, horse, bows, and siege engines."

After King Gunther orders the nobles present to leave, and our group of four follow Yllowyn out the door, we wait for Gunther to finish conversing with Brennen. Once they're done, we head back inside.

"For your own protection, you will accompany General Brennen on his journey. Now, have the four of you any supplies that might be of use?"

"The tall one was carrying armor of some sort when I found them. And the blue one had some sort of bag."

I roll my eyes at hearing Yllowyn call me "the blue one". Wow. The puny one, the tall one, now the blue one? Truly, Yllowyn is a master of nicknames. He could give Billy a run for his money, that's for sure.

Nelson, Billy, Jen, and I left the throne room with Yllowyn, while I glanced back briefly at Brennen and King Gunther.

One last conversation later, and I knew that the next time Brennen would see Gunther would be under very unfavorable circumstances, Brennen rejoined our party of five. We stopped by the dungeon to reclaim our belongings, and then Brennen led us to the secret door, located near the sewage site.

Ugh, this stinks, literally!

"We are headed 30 miles north."

"We’re walking?"

"Even if we had horses, do any of you know how to ride?"

I found myself answering before I could think better of it.

"Well, I do."

Everyone looked at me with confusion written on their faces, an expression which I had come to get used to lately. I don't even know where this knowledge comes from, so how am I supposed to answer anyone else's questions? Anne, just what life exactly have you lived prior to me possessing your body?

I shut my mouth up pretty quick after that. Yllowyn and Brennen were still observing me warily, but the topic soon shifted towards our destination: the College of Armstrungard and the wizard Ba’a lo-Ky’yr.

We walked until late morning. Billy, Jen, and Nelson complained profusely about walking (no, it was pretty much just Billy...), but strangely enough, I still didn't feel tired. Oh yes, I certainly felt fatigue, but not nearly as much as a 16 year old should.

It was all coming together: dragging the serpent, horseback riding, hiking for long intervals.

Clearly, Anne was a very athletic teenager. Billy and Jen are a football player and cheerleader, respectively, but they're not as strong as Anne. Why? Is this an effect of me being a traveler to two worlds and not just one? Not to mention I haven't eaten anything in ages! Billy, Jen, and Nelson are exhausted from lack of sleep and food, but I didn't even feel the pang of hunger.

We made it to a frozen lake, where Brennen decided it way safe enough to set up camp for the afternoon. Yllowyn went to hunt for food, and Billy decided to go...take a dump.

"Billy, I fucking swear, if you do not bury your shit after taking a dump, I'll do a lot worse to you than elbow you in the gut."

Billy looked suitably afraid of my glare, and I was satisfied when no giant cockroaches besieged our camp.

I took the time to finally examine the backpack I had brought along with me during my impromptu trip to Iorden.

The brown cotton backpack blended in perfectly with a medieval setting. It had small slots on the side and additional loops on the bottom. Inside the backpack, there was a leather-bound notebook, various pens and pencils, a calculator, a water bottle, a granola bar, sunscreen, hand sanitizer, a box of band-aids, earphones, a portable battery charger and a Samsung phone.

I opened the notebook and found various sketches and doodles of animals...wow. Anne is actually not a bad artist.

Yllowyn came back with a plump goose for us to eat, and we picked it clean.

I stayed silent during Billy, Jen, and Nelson's conversation with Yllowyn and Brennen, waiting until the general dismissed everyone to go to sleep.

"Um, General Brennen?"

"Aye?"

"Can you tell me more about the dream you had? About the birds?"

"Aye, alright. There were four grey birds, one wearing a crown on its head. There was a red bird, a gold bird, and a red and golden bird. But the eighth and final bird...it was special. A small white and blue bird. Unlike the others, it stayed by my side and was the only bird to approach me."

"I see. Thank you for telling me, General."

"You should rest too. We'll be up again in a few hours."

"I will."

I found a place a little ways off from where the others were resting. I chose a spot where the ground was relatively soft. Sighing, I rummaged through Anne's backpack and found her smartphone and her earphones. Then, I arranged her backpack as a makeshift pillow to lay my head on, while lamenting the loss of modern day conveniences like sleeping bags.

To be honest, I didn't think much about it earlier, but there were lots of useful apps on a phone, even without a data connection. A voice recorder, a camera, a flashlight, photos, videos, and music...

Turning on the phone, I was glad to see that Anne still had a good amount of her battery. She must not have been one of those kids who used their phones during class. God only knows what she got into detention for then.

The first thing I checked was the media app for photos and videos. I scrolled through them, and I saw Anne doing various activities: camping, hiking, riding horses, boxing. Geez, Anne's family must have been loaded if they could afford to pay for horseback riding lessons, outdoor trips, and sports. Why the hell did they move to Pennsylvania of all places?

Anyway, my guess was correct. Anne was already an athletic teenager before I was teleported to Iorden with Jen, Billy, and Nelson. Did her body...mutate? Uh, magic perhaps? Jen became a mage after coming here, so it could be possible.

My body wasn't tired, but I couldn't say the same for my mind. I saw Anne with her family in those photos, and the crushing guilt came back full force. Just why did I come here? What is my purpose? Is Anne back in my old body?

I needed a break from it all, so I navigated to Anne's downloaded music library. She had good taste in music. One of the bands she listened to was...Young the Giant. I liked Young the Giant, too.

It was 2013, so Young the Giant had yet to release their albums other than their first one.

That's fine.

There was one song in their album I could play until I fell asleep.

I placed Anne's earphones into my ears, as I listened to the emotional lyrics.

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ducktracy · 4 years

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184. the woods are full of cuckoos (1937)

release date: december 4th, 1937

series: merrie melodies

director: frank tashlin

starring: mel blanc (owlcott, walter finchell, milton squirrel, wendell howl, fox, raven mcquandry), tedd pierce (ben birdie, tizzie fish, andy bovine), sara berner (polly gillette, canary livingstone)

this cartoon gets the honorable award of possibly being the most dated warner bros. shorts in its vast repertoire of cartoons. not to worry! this will be a fun cartoon to unpack—i love delving into the shorts that involve extensive research. learning something new is something that‘s very rewarding to me, and i hope it is to you, too!

a giant ode to the short lived radio program community sing (lasting from 1936-1937), the short chronicles a woodland radio show hosted by a variety of caricatured animals putting on various acts.

iris in to the ringing of a bell. a pudgy, bespectacled owl rings it as he stands illuminated by the moonlight, preaching to all of the woodland critters, ready to start the show. he introduces himself as “owlcott”, a take on commentator alexander woollcott. he “blandly announces” (his words, not mine) the introduction of the master of ceremonies, ben birdie--a bird caricature of radio personality ben bernie, “the old maestro”.

birdie’s caricature is not new to audience’s eyes. the caricature, along with a handful of others, is reused from friz freleng’s the coocoo nut grove from 1936, a short that is very similar in vein to this one. tedd pierce provides birdie’s suave, velvety vocals as he introduces the program, only to be interrupted by the nasally cries of mel blanc. out pops walter finchell, a caricature of bernie’s faux-enemy walter winchell, both of whom carrying a notorious (and fake) feud in the radio-verse. it was common for winchell to interrupt the smooth-talking bernie, either throwing pranks or remarks his way, to which bernie dismissed every time. indeed, a signature tashlin upshot angle reveals finchell dropping an egg on top of birdie, who blocks it nonchalantly with a handy umbrella.

art loomer’s backgrounds for the cartoon are absolutely gorgeous. they’re vibrant in color, very lush and painterly, but remain playful and sophisticated at the same time. they certainly serve as a highlight to the short. and, as always, carl stalling’s scores are a blast to hear--his sardonic, wah-wah rendition of “cause my baby says it’s so” is a jolly juxtaposition to the prior score of “love is on the air tonight”, the latter being the song’s cartoon debut. it would be reused in cartoons such as the daffy doc, whereas “cause my baby says its so” was heard previously in rover’s rival.

birdie introduces a clever squirrel caricature of milton berle, whose routine gets interrupted by a little parrot named polly. polly is a take on eileen barton’s character, little jolly gillette, who was portrayed as the daughter of the show’s sponsor. polly and milton go through their act together, polly bluntly (yet innocently) announcing “my daddy says ya gotta let me sing ‘cause he’s a sponsor!” you can listen to real recordings of their banter here!

volney white’s animation of milton and polly is lively and jovial, constantly moving. milton energetically introduces us to our next star, pointing in the wrong direction and fixing it last second as he gestures towards a bird caricature of country singer wendell hall.

even if viewers don’t recognize the bird’s counterpart, they will most certainly recognize his voice--mel uses his foghorn leghorn voice for wendell “howl”. of course, foghorn wouldn’t debut for another 9 years, but that’s another story. the animation of the raucous bird is fun to watch as he extends his neck and wraps it around in coils around the microphone stand. random? yes, but fun nevertheless.

perhaps even more commendable is the staggering crowd shot that succeeds wendell’s scenes. the crowd is mirrored horizontally, but that doesn’t lessen the blow from how claustrophobic it is. wendell asks the audience to get out their songbooks and turn to page “22... no, page 44. uh, no, uh, page 28. uh, 42, uh, 36, uh, 45...”

wendell is transformed from an entertainer to an auctioneer, spitting out numbers at rapid pace as his crowd frantically tears through their songbooks. finally, he concedes. “oh, never mind. we won’t use the books.” off screen, the crowd roars in unison: “OH YES WE WILL!” with that, wendell is generously showered with a barrage of books, buried in the pile of rejected papers. the timing of the scene is comedically sharp and energetic, one of the more entertaining acts of the cartoon.

now, for the real song number, lead by goat and bear caricatures of billy jones and ernie hare (would a rabbit caricature be too on the nose?) respectively, animated by volney white. they march out onto the stage--er, tree trunk--and open the curtains to reveal a sing-along to the eponymous song. thus, the camera pans into the lyrics as everybody bursts into the all-too-earworm-causing song number.

as the crowd, ben birdie and walter finchell all lend their voices to the song, a fox caricature of fred allen sings “swanee river”, clashing with the unity of everybody else. in a nod to friz freleng’s toy town hall where the same routine was executed, a little bunny excitedly coos “ohhhh, mr. allen! you’re singing the wrong sooooong!” the fox bursts into everybody’s favorite Mel Blanc Yell as he repeats a frequent ‘30s catchphrase: “WHY DON’T SOMEBODY TELL ME THESE THINGS!?”

featured in the song is a seemingly interminable cast of celebrity caricatures, all introduced as the camera pans across the screen, each lending their voice to part of the song. some puns require more effort than others (dick powell as “dick fowl” rolls off the tongue better than al jolson as “al goatson”). caricatures include:

eddie cantor as eddie gander, sophie tucker as sophie turkey, w.c. fields as w.c. fieldmouse, dick powell as dick fowl, fats waller as fats swallow, deanna durbin as deanna terrapin, irvin s. cobb as irvin s. frog, fred macmurray as fred mcfurry, bing crosby as bing crowsby, al jolson as al goatson, ruby keeler as ruby squealer, lanny ross as lanny hoss, grace moore as grace moose, and finally lily pons as lily swans.

speaking of grace and lily, they’re both highlighted as they fight to out-perform each other, seeing who can sing the highest note. tashlin pulls of a rather intriguing camera move: as the pan settles on the two of them, the background changes. it’s a subtle maneuver, but smart thinking nonetheless--especially since the camera extends into a vertical pan. as both women fight to sing the highest note, their necks extend, both of them scaling high into the night sky, harmonizing on one final shrill note. they both crumple back into the stands, exhausted by their efforts. some fun exaggerated animation for sure--one wonders how much further this would have been pushed had this been tashlin’s second stint at WB rather than his first. his speed often rivaled, if not out-performed, tex avery’s.

birdie and finchell have a brief interstitial together before making way for a raven caricature of haven macquarrie (raven mcquandry). his sequence is almost jarringly short, but full of fun drawings and poses--the pose of him standing curtly with his arms crossed is awfully reminiscent of izzy ellis’ work under tashlin and later bob clampett in the mid ‘40s. mcquandry asks “do YOU wanna be an actor?”, parotting the name of his real life counterpart’s show so do you want to be an actor? the audience shouts “NO!” in unison, causing mcquandry to do a take and shrug dubiously. though the scene is only a few short seconds, the animation brings forth some much needed vitality.

next is a penguin caricature of joe penner, singing a hilariously out-of-tune rendition of “my green fedora”. the animation is reused from the cartoon of the same name (notice how he doesn’t have penguin feet!), which was also used in toy town hall. not a complaint, but more an observation--this is by far the most humorous performance of the song yet, sung by blanc rather than tommy bond.

another fun scene with some vivacious animation is a sequence featuring a mule caricature of martha raye (dubbed moutha bray), singing a cover of “how could you?”, which has been featured as an underscore in cartoons such as porky’s badtime story and its later remake, tick tock tuckered. raye’s large mouth served as prime material for caricatures, as we see here. the animation is snappy, fun, and vivid--she finishes her song by “swallowing” the camera, an old trick that beckons memories of the harman and ising cartoons of animation past.

an interesting trend in the ‘30s WB cartoons is the trend of playing with the iris, whether it was the closing iris out or an iris in between transitions. tex avery would consistently play with the final iris out on his cartoons, whereas directors such as friz freleng and bob clampett would use one as a transition between scenes. here, tashlin uses the “swallow the camera” technique as a segue for an iris in, tedd pierce’s falsetto squeaking “hello folksies!” as we’re introduced to a fish caricature of tizzie lish, a character played by bill comstock on al pearce and his gang.

though tizzie has long faded into obscurity (as has the entire community sing radio show), it’s still quite easy to appreciate pierce’s vocals and mannerisms as he portrays the character. it’s always a joy to hear him doing voices for cartoons--he’s never been my favorite writer on the crew, but he was an excellent talent as a voice actor. his squeaky deliveries, matter of fact deliveries “mix them up... are you mixing? my friends say i’m a good mixer. are you? or aren’t you?” as tizzie haphazardly dumps food items and their respective utensils into a bowl and prepares the meal are nothing short of hilarious. the timing is very well executed and can be appreciated regardless of background knowledge.

after humming a pitchy rendition of “the lady in red” while waiting for her concoction to bake in the waffle iron, tizzie removes the homemade waffle and discards it, instructing the audience “now take the ‘wiffle’ out and eat the iron. you must have iron in your system. or should you?” thus concludes tizzie’s act, certainly heightened in hilarity by pierce’s vocals and timing.

for the final act, ben birdie introduces a possum caricature of louella parsons, the host of the radio program hollywood hotel, which served as a way to advertise upcoming movies by featuring guest stars enacting some of the scenes. here, we have caricatures of jack benny (as jack bunny, the first of his many reoccurrences), mary livingstone (canary livingstone), and andy devine (andy bovine).

tedd pierce voices andy bovine, whose voice burlusqued not only in this cartoon, but to a greater extent in friz freleng’s my little buckeroo not even a year later. devine, a western star, was notorious for his scratchy, shrill voice which was rife for comedic opportunity. indeed, this scene here with pierce’s vocals is nothing short of hilarious:

the trio chronicle the prodigal’s return, in which bunny and canary coo over their baby son. out of the bassinet pops incongruously large bovine, who shrieks “HOWDY MAAAA! HI PAAAA!”, the sheer volume of his voice enough to blow both of his parents away and out of the scene. and, with that, the scene ends, red curtains colorized from porky’s romance marking the sequence’s end. short, sweet, to the point, and hilarious.

ending right where the cartoon began, the owl caricature of alexander woollcott bids us farewell, the iris closing in on the bell he rings as he exclaims that all is well.

like so many other cartoons i’ve reviewed, this is one that i slowly warmed up to upon rewatching it and typing out the review for myself. i didn’t entirely dislike the cartoon upon my first watch, but it’s undeniably dated and deserves its title as possibly the most dated cartoon. without further research, some of the jokes and caricatures (if not all of them) are difficult to appreciate. the animation has bursts of energy throughout the short, the highlights being the scenes featuring raven mcquarry and moutha bray, but otherwise remains relatively simple and conservative. tashlin does incorporate a few intriguing camera angles throughout the cartoon, but many other entries of his are far more cinematic.

however, despite all of that, this cartoon is not without its bonuses: art loomer’s backgrounds are stunningly gorgeous and rich, and as someone who loves the lush, painterly backgrounds of the 1930s, this is heaven to me. and, as i mentioned previously, tedd pierce’s scenes are great--the tizzie fish and andy bovine sequences are undeniable comedic highlights.

so, if you’re willing to dedicate time to put in the research for this cartoon, you’ll find it’s quite fascinating! i’m certain this was a much bigger gut-buster in 1937 than it is in 2020, but even then, this is a good cartoon for people such as myself who love to learn more information and seek out facts. as a result, i’d recommend it to people who fall into that category. if you’re just someone who wants a good laugh and a leisurely watch, there are more interesting cartoons that lie ahead. you won’t miss much by skipping it.

with that said, here’s the link!

#lt #the woods are full of cuckoos #looney tunes #tashlin #reviews #long post

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toyboy-molloy · 4 years

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reddie but little georgie has a crush on eddie

The Losers Club had a system for their group sleepovers at the weekends, rotating who gets to host. Eddie and Beverly were ruled out due to their mom and dad respectively. The Toziers were always happy to host their son’s friends. The Denbroughs were less keen but always relented, if just to shut Bill up. Mike’s grandfather wasn’t much bothered what he got up as long as he stayed out of trouble. The Uris’ were particulary strict with their rules which was why Stan’s turn was the least anticipated. And Mrs. Hanscom was just happy her son had made friends. The Denbrough household was easily the group’s favourite place for their sleepover; they had a huge basement that the seven of them were allowed to use.

Bill busied himself organising the snacks and drinks, scattering some pillows onto the floor and arranging the rest on the appropriately named loveseat; Richie and Eddie fought for the damn thing every time they were over, the two elbowing and shoving each other until the other gave in. And when neither did, they just curled up together. Bill wasn't really sure for whose benefit the play fighting thing was for but he’d learned not to question it. He’d just finished his preparations when his friends turned up. As expected, Richie and Eddie were already mid-argument, pushing each other as they scrambled for the seat.

“Get your filthy fucking hands off of me, Richie!”

"That’s not what your mom said last night.”

“No she didn’t, fuck you.”

Ben and Beverly took their usual place in front of the sofa, whilst Mike and Stan sat at either end of the large sofa waiting for Bill to join them in the middle; he switched on the movie and settled between his friends. As the movie was starting, the door to the basement opened and Bill’s little brother, Georgie, trudged in, clutching his blanket.

“Billy? Where’s my bunny rabbit?” Bill shrugged, not even taking his eyes from the TV set as he mumbled something about asking their mother. It appeared Georgie wasn’t at all bothered as he laid eyes on Bill’s friend, hiding behind his blanket shyly, “hello, Eddie.”

Eddie turned to look at the six-year-old, smiling politely, “hi, Georgie.”

Georgie shuffled over to Bill, batting his eyelashes, “can I stay and watch the movie, Billy? Please?”

“Fine bu-but don’t talk th-through it.”

Georgie beamed happily and made a beeline for the loveseat currently occupied by Richie and Eddie, tripping over his trailing blanket several times. He reached the seat and clambered gracelessly into Eddie’s lap, resting his head on his chest. Eddie chuckled, shrugging Richie’s arm off of his shoulder to make room. The bespectacled boy scowled at the back of Georgie’s head, folding his arms in a sulk.

Deep down, Richie knew it was pathetic to be jealous of a six-year-old with a silly little crush on his big brother’s best friend. But he was. It had all started three months ago when Georgie had fallen outside when playing football with Bill, Eddie, Stan and himself. Eddie had patched him up and made Richie entertain him with voices of his favourite cartoon characters. It had worked and the two of them had little Georgie laughing, drying his tears and forgetting about the pain. And Georgie had instantly developed a crush on Eddie, following him around whenever he was over.

The Losers thought it was cute which just annoyed Richie further. They teased with comments like ‘oh, Georgie, you and Eddie look so cute today’, or ‘I gotta take a picture of you two, you’re so precious’. Richie had half a mind to tell him to back off. He decided against it, not wanting to be labelled a psycho. He didn’t know what the problem was. It wasn’t like he was an actual threat to the relationship he can only dream of having with Eddie.

Richie spent most of the movie glaring at Georgie who hadn’t moved from Eddie’s lap. He wasn’t even watching the movie, just looking up at Eddie all doe-eyed and smitten. After the movie was over, Richie was a little too overjoyed to see Mrs. Denbrough come to collect Georgie, insisting he go to bed. The boy protested as best as he could, rubbing his tired eyes as he insisted he was old enough to stay up with Bill. Thankfully, Mrs. D was a bro and on Richie’s side, scooping up her son and carrying him off to bed. Richie seized his opportunity to wrap an arm around Eddie’s neck, rubbing his hair with his other hand.

“What do you say, Spaghetti? You, me and the bed, yeah?”

Eddie rolled his eyes but made no attempt to free himself, “we always share the bed, you idiot.”

“Thought you’d ditched me for your new little boyfriend,” Richie managed to keep the bitterness from his tone. Eddie shook his head, gathering up the pillows and making his way to the inflatable double mattress.

“Shut up, Richie. Georgie’s a fucking kid. He’ll get over it.”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t be jealous now, would you, Richie?” Stan barely looked up from his phone, waving away the cigarette Bev was holding out for him. Richie flipped him off and left with Ben and Mike to change into his pyjamas.

A few moments later, Georgie was back, in a pair of Spiderman pyjamas and clutching his stuffed rabbit toy. He rubbed his eyes with his fists, his lip wobbling, “Billy, I had a bad dweam. Can I sleep in here?”

Bill paused his unfolding of the sofa bed, frowning, “can’t you go to m-mom and dad?”

“Please?” Georgie begged, pulling out the big guns: the puppy dog eyes. Bill relented with a sigh.

“Yeah, o-okay but you’ll h-have to-”

But Georgie was already striding towards Eddie and the blow up mattress. The two high-fived and Georgie began a detailed description of his rabbit to his crush, suddenly no longer tired. Eddie didn’t quite know what to do. Several times, he caught Beverly and Stan smiling at him. When Richie returned, he was less than pleased to see Georgie in his spot.

“What the fuck? I thought he was in bed.”

Bill shrugged, crawling under the duvet on the sofa bed, “he’s got i-it bad for Eddie. You know wh-what that’s like, Richie.”

Before Richie could do so much as flip him off, Georgie was laughing and snuggling Eddie which was the final straw for Richie. He marched right up to them and pointed at Bill’s kid brother, “right, scram, you little squirt. You’ve been hogging him all night.”

Eddie glared at Richie but turned his sweet, understanding gaze down to Georgie, choosing his words carefully, “what Richie means, Georgie, is that you’re a big, brave boy and you don’t want to hang out with us. You’re so brave and you’ve got you rabbit to protect you,” Eddie tickled both Georgie and his stuffed animal, “can you be brave? We’ll all be here in the morning.”

Georgie nodded, hugging Eddie goodnight, “okay, Eddie. Nighty-night.”

To Richie’s astonishment, Georgie left the basement and went back to his room. He stared open mouthed at Eddie who was still glaring at him disapprovingly. Richie grinned toothily, leaping onto the bed beside Eddie; he winked, attempting to be seductive.

“Can we have kids one day?”

Eddie just chuckled, rolling his eyes. And, as Eddie’s fingers brushed his beneath the duvet and Richie wriggled so close he could smell Eddie’s shampoo, the trashmouth didn’t know what he was so worried about.

#inspired by the frasier episode where niles is jealous of frederick and daphne #reddie fanfic #my writing

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toshladuk · 4 years

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Wandavision

...or is it WandaVision?!

I like the most of the world it seems loooove this show! As I write this there’s still just under 12hrs before the series finale is released which is 8am where I am. Annoyingly due to work I’m gonna have to wait to see it and as the internet is “the internet” I’m going to have to completely avoid any and all forms of social media if nothing else because someone somewhere will post about it and algorithms dictate that content will turn up on one of my feeds somewhere.

As for the show itself I could not have been more blindsided by how fantastic this series is. Of the 4 Disney+ Marvel shows we already have trailers for this was the one I was least excited by. I now find that bizarre because it was when the MCU decided to get more fantastical with its storytelling that’s what drew me in, using directors like Taika Waititi, James Gunn and Edgar Wright (even though he departed Ant-Man and you can still see his fingerprints all over that movie). I feel confident even though the tale is not quite finished that this will be my favourite MCU property going forward.

Just the care and the craft of taking these old American sitcom tropes and using them to pay homage without resorting to cheap parody. Weaving a genuinely moving story about Wanda Maximoff’s grief and what her character has had to endure while still producing some genuinely very funny sitcom moments. Also lets not forget they’ve been able to introduce at least 2 new major characters for the MCU going forward in the newly superpowered Monica Rambeau aka Photon or Spectrum and the deliciously naughty Agatha Harkness. They also managed to breathe new life into a couple of side characters with the now Dr Darcy Lewis and Agent Jimmy Woo. That’s a lot of heavy lifting for the show to do in such a short amount of time and it’s a testament to the writing that it has all seemed seamless. For the record I am well and truly aboard the Darcy Lewis & Jimmy Woo X-Files style show train!!!

What has really made the show so memorable though is the amazing central performances of Elizabeth Olsen, Paul Bettany and Katherine Hahn. In a show with such a unique concept, so silly sounding from the outside for the actors to keep the material grounded and truthful, even if they are a cosmic witch and a synthezoid, just goes to show what talent is on display here. I loved finding out that as well as being a brilliant “serious” actor Paul Bettany is also a gifted physical comedian and that Katherine Hahn has far more range and subtlety than many give her credit for. The MVP though is Elizabeth Olsen, great comedic acting in the sitcom chapters of the show especially in the nuances of portraying the different eras as well as showing us some gut wrenching emotion as her ideal world starts to crumble around her. Every time I see her face crack or that bottom lip start to quiver I’m welling up.

The one thing I am wary of though is the possible backlash, because even though it’s been fun joining in all the theorising online some people seem to get so enamoured with their predictions that inevitably when the showrunners go in a different direction they get butthurt and start dropping crappy videos all over the internet about how the show was riddled with bad writing and plotholes etc etc. You know the type I mean, the bespectacled bearded men of YouTube who appoint themselves as gatekeepers for whatever fandom they believe themselves to be the king of! I call it Last Jedi-itus!

Despite the last paragraph I may as well throw a couple of my theories and wishes for how the show will end, but if all or none come to fruition I was glad I was along for the ride

- Wanda is NOT set up to be the antagonist of Dr Strange 2 because I think the MCU is becoming far more nuanced and subtle in it’s storytelling and I doubt Marvel and the shows writers want to fall into “emotional woman becomes baddie” trope.

- Hayward, though a dick, turns out not to be simply a baddie but someone acting out of fear and mistrust of superheroes due to the blip. Possibly a continuation of the anti-superpowered story arc started in Civil War?

- Tommy and Billy are real because even though conceived in the Hex through chaos magic Wanda still physically gave birth to them.

- Agatha Harkness will remain a bad guy for the time being (she did kill Sparky after all!), I think she’ll kidnap and escape with the twins at the end, but I can see her long term MCU future becoming more Loki-like, sometimes mischievous, sometimes malevolent but always selfishly motivated.

- Vision will (hopefully) live on using White Vision’s body but I think this happens in another MCU project down the line. This is because I think Wanda is left all but broken by the end of the show.

- Monica will kick ass in the final battle but they are saving her spectacular stuff and full power set reveal for Captain Marvel 2

- The cameo is.... I have no feckin idea! I used to think it was Ian McKellen but I’m not sure now.

- This is a one and done show, there’s no second season of Wandavision per-see though there may be spin offs. I hope thats how they do it anyway.

Anyway that’s my two cents worth. Whatever happens I’ve really enjoyed the ride and even if the ending is not what I expect or even want I have absolute trust in Kevin Feige, Jac Schaeffer and Matt Shakman and besides this is only the beginning of the so called Multiverse Saga, so I’m not expecting a neat ending with all loose ends tied up. There’s plenty of story left to tell.

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 4 years

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I wanna know more about Zeke (Core Drive) and whether or not he makes another appearance.

I’d also love to know where you got the idea to write a blind reader character! Brilliant.

Zeke will ABSOLUTELY be back. (How else do you think Logan gets a plant for his desk?) He and Miguel will both continue to contribute positively to Logan’s recovery. In fact, Reader even gets to meet Zeke at one point! So I think it’s safe to say we haven’t seen the last of this long haired, bespectacled, green thumbed guru. 🌱

The entire idea for I See You came from a dream I had about Billy Russo dating a woman who was blind. In the dream he was really happy and I woke up wanting to make it happen... actually I tried to get other pepeople to write it for me but that failed so I made it happen. Sort of. It’s still happening.

But basically, Billy focuses a lot on his looks and what they say about him- both before and after he receives his scars. And I just thought well what if he was worried about his appearance but it didn’t matter because she couldn’t see? And then she’d just be focusing on him and not what he looks like which for him always seemed like a pipe dream.

I try extremely hard to make sure that I’m not misrepresenting the visually impaired community with this one, and I’ve learned a lot of really interesting things while writing it. It’s been a long challenging road but it’s almost over now so Y A Y!!

#thanks for playing!!#suchatinyinfinity #wip game #wip asks #wip wednesday #wips on wips on wips #core drive #logan delos #i see you #billy russo

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imsafiyacharles · 3 years

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ALABAMA’S AGING BLACK FARMERS UNCERTAIN ABOUT FUTURE AS THEY STRUGGLE TO CREATE LINES OF SUCCESSION

Billy Gibbons intends to die on this land.

At 70, the bespectacled Black farmer may very well be the last heir to work the family plot; 80 acres of black soil in Browntown, Alabama, an unincorporated community less than 20 miles north of Prattville.

Gibbons’ parents pinched and scraped to purchase the acreage for $850 in 1940. They intended to pass it down to him and his brother; but he died in 1976 after contracting meningitis while away at military training in Fort Polk, Louisiana.

“I can remember all of this was woods,” Gibbons said, waving his arm over the crop land that extended before him. It was a brooding morning that had already spilled rain and left his feet besieged by shallow pools of muddy water.

The old farmer wore a faded army jacket and dark cap with worn blue jeans; occasionally pulling his face mask to the side to expel a portion of the chewing tobacco occupying his right cheek, before apologizing for the habit.

“As far as you can see to woods was woods,” he spat.

The forest was so dense, and the family’s resources so limited, they worked only five acres of farmland to start.

“My Daddy, he done all the cleaning with a mule, a ax and a shovel,” said Gibbons.

They farmed row crops — collards, turnips, mustard greens — and bought a couple head of cattle. Gibbons had trees pushed off with bulldozers through the years. He now owns about 50 head, which he spreads across the family land and some 170 acres he rents just a mile up the road.

With the help of his wife, he hauls most of his vegetables weekly at the Curb Market downtown where in 1999, he became its first African American vendor. He would serve as president for nine years.

“This is a tradition here, and it’s still standing,” he said.

But for how long?

Like so many of the nation’s Black farmers, mostly clustered in the South, the future remains uncertain.

In 1920, African Americans accounted for 14% of all U.S. farm operators. That number has since dwindled to a staggering 1.4% percent. Alabama, the third most populous state for Black producers, sits at 6%, according to 2017’s agriculture census.

At the turn of the 20th century, Black landowners held 15 million acres. Today, they own 3.4 million, about half a percent of American farmland.

Black farmers have faced discrimination at every level, struggling against social and financial barriers to achieve land ownership and the right to operate their farms independently within an agricultural economy that has long profited from the exploitation of their labor through slavery, sharecropping and legal loopholes.

Over decades, many southern Black families lost land due violent intimidation, deceit and financial hardship. Farmers who sought loans from government agencies to keep their properties running in lean times or make needed improvements were denied, shortchanged or failed to receive timely assistance. (The United States Department of Agriculture settled in 1999 the class action lawsuit Pigford v. Glickman brought by Black farmers alleging more than two decades of lending discrimination.)

While the latest agriculture census reported a 5% increase in Black producers between 2012 and 2017 after revisions to its data collection, there was also a 3% decline in Black operated farms.

“What I hope we don't see is the eventual extinction of the Black farmer,” said Brennan Washington. He works with limited resource farmers across the South as a Sustainable Agriculture Research and Education (SARE) liaison at Fort Valley State, a historically Black land grant college in Georgia.

In the past, Washington said, a Black farmer with a large acreage may have applied for a USDA loan to purchase seed, among other necessities, and would find their application lagging.

“[USDA] would process the paperwork too late for them to get their seed on time. So, they get their seed in the ground too late, they don’t get a crop, meanwhile they’ve got a lien on that property that USDA will seize if they can’t get it paid,” he said.

Further complicating matters is the fact that farmers are aging, and many are finding it increasingly difficult to get young people to replace them. Nationally, the average age of a farm owner is 57½ years old; 43% of Black farmers are 65 and older.

'Farming has shrunk from a mile to 300 feet'

Browntown is a Black community founded on farming. According to local history, twin brothers with the surname Brown bought the land that encompasses about a 20-mile radius; it was parceled among their heirs when they died. Gibbons’ grandmother was a Brown.

But the promise of higher-wage work, and the perceived freedom from Jim Crow segregation and racism lured many young Black people north during the Great Migration between 1916 and 1970, away from rural farm towns like these.

“Most of the farmers had large families and they kids was brought up on the farm. But as years got by and all these kids grow up, they was rushing to get away from the farm, because the farm was a struggle — still is a struggle,” said Gibbons.

The figures are dramatic. Between 1940 and 1950, more than 42% of the nonwhite Southern population vanished. That number rose to 65% for nonwhite youth between the ages of 15 and 19, according to a 2007 SARE report.

With four biological children and four stepchildren, Gibbons has no shortage of heirs. But their desire to enter a business they've watched their father struggle to maintain over the years is lacking, which means the family is currently without a contingency plan.

Marshall, 58, and Lorenzo Davis, 66, co-own Davis Farms about a mile west of Gibbons’ property and face a similar consequence. The brothers farm row crops, rotating varieties of watermelon, field peas, snap beans and other seasonal crops they sell daily at the Finley Avenue Farmer’s Market in Birmingham.

As farm operators, the two have found themselves in a position they never intended. Fond memories of time spent working alongside their father on the farm throughout their youth persuaded them to keep the business alive after he passed in 2004.

The brothers farm about 300 acres, half which belongs to the family, and 40 acres the late Davis bought in 1960. That land is legally split between Lorenzo, Marshall and a third brother, Andrew, who farms independently.

Like many operators, the Davis’ maintained full-time jobs to keep their farm going. Lorenzo retired in 2014 after 33 years as a correctional officer, and Marshall is still currently employed at a facility in Elmore County. He wakes early most days to put in work at the farm before heading to the prison for the second shift from 2 to 10 p.m.

“Twenty years ago, when our father was in operation, we had cows and hogs. At one time, we were up to 200 acres of field corn,” said Lorenzo.

By the late-90s they had quit farming cattle. The cost of feed was expensive, and profits were slim. Bills on a farm add up quickly — seed, fertilizer, fuel, equipment maintenance. Lorenzo pointed out a 20-year-old tractor they owned that cost them $60,000 to buy brand new; an equivalent today, he said, would be well over a $100,000.

“We might eventually have to get back into growing grain because we’re aging now and you can gather all that with machinery,” Marshall said. “Help is harder to come by now than it was 20 years ago.”

Like Gibbons, the Davis brothers remain passionate about farming but are struggling to devise a transition plan. Marshall’s 36-year-old daughter sometimes assists him at the farmer’s market., and Lorenzo has a 35-year-old son that has indicated an interest in the operation, but he doesn’t have much experience and works a good-paying job that his farm income would likely never match.

Without a probated will, farms are vulnerable to becoming heirs’ property

Most farm operators are generational, acquiring land as it is handed down through family members.

While 65% of white Americans with a high school education report having a will, only 23% of Black Americans possess one, according to a study reviewed by Texas A&M law scholar Thomas Mitchell who studies heirs’ property; land owned by multiple people who typically share a common relative that’s died without leaving a probated will.

Kara Woods has studied heirs’ property in Macon County as a postdoctoral researcher at Tuskegee University (TU). The historically Black 1890 land grant school’s research and extension programs provide agricultural education and support to Black producers; often subject to the same imposed financial limitations the farmers they serve face (Congress mandated 1890s because southern land grants they created 28 years prior barred Black students).

“It really goes down to generations ago when everything was in the family bible,” Woods said. “You might have the lineage in the family bible, [unofficial] wills in the family bible. People who were able to get land after becoming free didn’t trust white lawyers because they didn’t have means to read and write. So, at that point it was safer to keep the land without a will because you knew the family could always stay on it,” said Woods.

One of the problems with heir’s property is that it isn’t divided by parcels or acres; it’s split by percentage. That means that if a family has 50 acres and five heirs, each would be entitled to 10% of the land, not 10 acres. So, the more heirs a property has, the less value each person holds.

Because heir’s property is an informal form of ownership that involves multiple people, most banks refuse to allow the land to be used as collateral in financial lending, and it’s generally appraised at a lower value than clear title land.

These properties also rarely qualify for state and federal grant programs that cover everything from community development, to disaster relief and housing. Without individual ownership, heir’s property isn’t an effective tool for building generational wealth.

Before Alabama approved the Uniform Partition of Heirs Property Act, co-drafted by Mitchell, in 2014, a single heir could force the sale of an entire property through a legal partition action. Usually the sale would net far less than market value for the land. (The 2018 Farm Bill includes a provision sponsored by former Sen. Doug Jones that would authorize $10 million a year through 2023 to help farmers resolve ownership and address succession issues to avoid this and other snags.)

Lack of generational leads put Black farmers on the back foot

Though fourth-generation Black Belt farmer Demetrius Hooks, 47, knows the value of a will, he’s had a hard time convincing his father, Al Hooks, 72, of the urgency in getting an official document drawn up.

Like the Davis’, Demetrius never imagined he'd assume farming as an occupation. He 'd always helped around on weekends at the Shorter farm, but when he lost his graphic design job at this newspaper around 2010, he spent more time there.

The father and son talked it over and decided Demetrius should assume a more official role. A few years later, he ended up at TU working as a farm internship liaison.

Demetrius handles sales and marketing for Al Hooks Produce, and his father does most of the farm work, though the younger Hooks does get his hands dirty every now and again. He has two siblings who have families of their own, but none work the farm.

The Hooks grow fruits and vegetables that they sell each weekend at the Macon County Farmer’s Market and through direct sales via text message to customers who pick up their “veggie crates” weekly at Demetrius’ home. They hold farm stands at Auburn and Birmingham’s summer markets, too.

Through a cooperative partnership facilitated by TU, the Hooks previously sold some produce items to Walmart. That created a need for an onsite processing plant to wash, refrigerate and package the vegetables. They were able to secure a $75,000 grant to build the $125,000 site and increase their capability.

Beyond the need to expand capacity, large retail contracts like these often require special certifications like GAP (good agricultural practices) that can be time consuming and expensive. And it can take months to receive payment.

Demetrius said the business had previously maintained a contract with Whole Foods, supplying them squash, zucchini, peppers and collard greens for a few years. When Amazon acquired the company in 2017 subsequent changes were made to their vendor specifications, which coincided with a cancer diagnosis. They could barely keep up with the requirements.

For many small Black farms that lack capital to pay certification costs or labor to meet greater demand, these large contracts remain out of reach.

The Hooks no longer sell to either large chain and are currently working with smaller regional retailers like Filet and Vine in Old Cloverdale; though they will again attempt to meet Whole Foods’ certification requirements now that Demetrius’ cancer is one-year in remission.

There’s a “gap in business development. It would be nice if everybody started their business at the same time and you didn’t have years of being locked out of certain opportunities because you’re Black. Once those blockages and implements of discrimination have been removed it’s not as if the next day I can easily walk into Whole Foods and be ready to deliver to them,” said Demetrius.

“You still have those generational leads. Other businesses that didn’t have those problems have that benefit of being able to maneuver through those obstacles once they come up.”

Although nothing has yet been written in ink, Demetrius has expressed to his father his interest in taking over the farm when he retires. But the matter of a probated will still hangs in the balance.

“I don't really think I should have a say of how it's done; it's how he wants to do it. But I need him to come out and tell me,” he said.

Certifications allow access to wider markets, but can be costly and limiting

In recent years, a burgeoning cultural movement has emerged seeking a return to African American agricultural traditions. Urban farmers, many of them women, have cleared blighted plots and cleaned up city blocks in an effort to nourish and beautify Black communities that too often lack access to fresh produce and healthy food options. The trend of “reverse migration,” first observed in the 1970s, continues as more Black people return to ancestral land in rural communities across the South.

“There’s a new awakening that's happening where people who left during the Great Migration and went to work a job in Detroit or Ohio, they're coming back to Alabama and Georgia and Mississippi,” said Natilee McGruder, a community land, food and farming systems advocate, who's currently working to connect local Black farmers with a national seasonal food chain.

“There are young Black people who are in New York and California who are landless, who want to farm, who are ‘woofing.’ There are elders connecting with young folks. And there are the 1890s that have always been here to support Black culture, Black community and Black farmers. There's a complete renaissance that's happening,” said McGruder.

At 77, Josie Gbadamosi-El Amin, may well be a part of this Black agrarian rebirth. When she began farming 10 years ago, she had no experience.

With bright eyes and a wide smile, the retired substance abuse counselor described how she fell in love with Shady Grove Blueberry Patch after a friend clued her in on a “secret” spot where locals picked berries on a conveniently absent farmer’s Tuskegee property.

“I had to lock my eyes on the line of trees because it was so overgrown that I was afraid I might get disoriented, and I better find my way out,” she said. “But I was just enamored by the blueberry bushes. It was just so wonderful. I had never seen anything like it. There was something about the spirit of this place.”

She inquired after the land and found a few leads, purchasing the 46-acre farm in 2010. The move was so left field that her four daughters were concerned she may have hit her head and corrupted her judgement in a recent slip and fall accident, she recounted; then burst into peals of laughter.

For the Watts, California native, owning a farm has been an all-consuming experience. So much to learn and so much to do.

Gbadamosi-El Amin moved to Tuskegee in 1969 to study sociology at TU. That connection paid itself forward for the new farm operator. From the agricultural school, she learned that the acreage she purchased was the former site of a working farm project led by Booker T. Whatley, the “small farm guru” who popularized the pick-your-own harvest method and subscription buyer’s club model (commonly known today as CSA) before it was widely adopted.

What looked like a mess of trees, tangled weeds, and overgrown bushes was in fact a model for sustainable agriculture cultivated by one of the country’s foremost experts on regenerative farming.

In exchange for seedlings, Gbadamosi-El Amin got a farmer to bring his tractor and a couple workers in to help clean up, as well as some Tuskegee students who joined in. The operation still runs as a “u-pick” service, inviting visitors to gather their own blueberries from the shrubs in late May through mid-August. The retired counselor also sells jams, dried fruit and blueberry tizanes — a fragrant, nutrient rich tonic that’s made from the leaves and fruit.

Education has been at the forefront of her approach. She and her husband work on the farm full time. With the help of extension agents at Tuskegee, Gbadamosi-El Amin has attended agriculture workshops and is learning how to write grants to apply for farm subsidies and improvements.

She regularly invites people interested in learning about agriculture to Shady Grove and even has allowed some to experiment with growing plants and herbs like turmeric, moringa and hibiscus on site. Although she uses organic methods, she is hesitant to seek certification, not solely because of the associated costs and paperwork but because it would likely prevent her from facilitating the sort of collaborative environment the farm’s ethos is grounded in.

“Once you get certified then you have to put all kinds of limits on your property. You can’t have people just wandering in the field to you-pick. You have to really control things. It really begins to limit the kind of interaction people can have,” she said. “What I wanted for the farm was to be a place where people could relax and enjoy themselves. That was part of what motivated me.”

Gbadamosi-El Amin said her daughters have since warmed to the idea of owning a family farm and have pushed her to create a formal long-term business proposal before they agree to get on board with any succession plans.

New federal legislation can help, but advocates face an uphill battle

In November, Senators Cory Booker (D-NJ), Elizabeth Warren (D-MA) and Kirsten Gillibrand (D-NY) introduced the Justice for Black Farmers Act, an attempt to address systemic barriers to success that operators have long faced; and encourage a new generation of young Black farmers who have the will but lack the capital to get established.

Among its aims are to reform USDA policies that facilitate discrimination, protect remaining Black-owned land, financially empower HBCUs to assist socially disadvantaged farmers and ranchers, and establish a land grant program to support young, landless Black farmers. The bill would also create an agency mandated to return land to Black farmers previously seized by the government and create a federal bank to allow easier access to credit for farmers of color.

On Feb. 15, Democratic senators took that action a step further when they introduced the Emergency Relief for Farmers of Color Act, a bill that would provide $4B in direct payments to these farmers to cover losses incurred during the COVID-19 pandemic, as well as systemic discrimination. The bill, which has been lauded as historic by the National Black Farmer’s Association, would also lay out an additional $1 billion to address discriminatory practices at the USDA.

It will be an uphill battle to get these measures passed, but either bill would throw a much needed lifeline to farmers. Without them, the future remains as clouded as ever.

Gibbons, the 70-year-old Browntown man, for his part, is like most farmers, steadfast in his love and commitment to the livelihood. He was also frank about the farm’s future: there isn't one. Why counsel his children to leave good-paying jobs for such a risky profession?

He was brought up on farm life, the children lack his passion, he said; and would likely be unwilling to make the necessary sacrifices demanded.

“They couldn’t survive, I don’t think," Gibbons said. "Aggravation. That’s what farming is all about. I don’t know whether I love it or I’m crazy. It’s in my heart and I have no intention to quit. I’m just going have to die at it."

Read the story as it ran on montgomeryadvertiser.com here.

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3000 Beatniks Riot

Half a century before Occupy Wall Street, young protesters occupied Greenwich Village's Washington Square Park. Like OWS, they ended up clashing with the police. Unlike OWS so far, their protest produced a small but practical and lasting change.

In the spring of 1961, the Washington Square Association, a community group of homeowners around the square, appealed to New York City's Department of Parks and Recreation to do something about the hundreds of "roving troubadours and their followers" playing music around the square's turned-off fountain on Sunday afternoons. They were mostly college kids, playing guitars and banjos and singing folk songs. The practice had started in the post-war years, when Woody Guthrie and Pete Seeger planted the seeds of the folk musical revival in the Village. By 1961 it had grown enough that both the police and the neighbors found the "troubadours" and the tourists they attracted a nuisance. In his posthumously-published memoir, Dave Van Ronk recalls that there were various cliques in the park: a Zionist group singing and dancing "Hava Nagila," Stalinists, bluegrass fans, folk traditionalists. Black journalist John A. Williams reported that the locals' complaints were not really musical but social: "In the ensuing meetings with city officials, it became apparent that what was opposed was not so much folk singing as the increasing presence of mixed couples in the area, mostly Negro men and white women." In the late 1950s the parks commission began issuing permits to limit the number of musicians, allowing them to "sing and play from two until five as long as they had no drums," Van Ronk writes. This "kept out the bongo players. The Village had bongo players up the wazoo... and we hated them. So that was some consolation." He doesn't mention that those bongo-players were very often black. This racial aspect had an old historical precedent in Greenwich Village. In 1819, white residents of the area complained "of being much annoyed by certain persons of color practising as Musician with Drums and other instruments through the Village."

In 1961 the parks commissioner responded to the complaints by refusing to issue any permits at all. Izzy Young of the Folklore Center and others organized a peaceful protest demonstration. On Sunday, April 9, 1961, a few hundred young people gathered, attracting a few hundred more spectators. Among the latter was eighteen-year-old Dan Drasin, a mild-mannered kid who liked to hang out in the park. He brought one of the big, boxy film cameras of the era and documented the afternoon in a short black-and-white film, Sunday. The film shows clean-cut college and high school kids, many of the girls in Jackie O hairdos and heels, many of the boys looking like the young Allen Ginsbergs with serious, sensitive, owlish faces behind heavy black-framed glasses. They carry hand-written placards and cardboard guitars and argue with the dozens of beefy, florid-faced cops who've shown up. Izzy Young, also bespectacled and in jacket and tie, lectures the cops about the constitutional right to make music as the kids sit in a circle in the dry fountain and sing "This Land Is Your Land" and "The Star-Spangled Banner." As protests go it all looks low-key and polite. Then paddy wagons arrive and the cops haul off one nebbishy young man cradling an autoharp, pushing him into a prowl car. According to Drasin, most of the singers and musicians had left the park, leaving the few hundred spectators loitering around the fountain, when the cops' tempers finally boiled over. They wade into the crowd, shoving boys and girls to the ground, mauling them, dragging a handful into the paddy wagons. Reportedly they knocked some heads with their clubs, although it's not shown in the film. The whole event, Drasin says, lasted maybe two hours.

The next day, the New York Daily Mirror, the conservative Hearst tabloid, ran a giant war-is-over front page headline, "3000 BEATNIKS RIOT IN VILLAGE." Other local papers followed suit. That week's Voice scoffed at the Mirror's "hysterical" coverage, wondering if there were three thousand beatniks in the entire country that Sunday, let alone in Washington Square Park. By May, the outrage caused by the cops' overreaction forced the city to back down and issue permits, a practice that continues to this day.

Among the protesters hauled off that day was the Village character H. L. "Doc" Humes, identified in the Mirror as a "scofflaw" and the "mob leader." Humes was a gregarious polymath, a novelist and raconteur, co-founder of The Paris Review, designer of cheap housing made from old newspapers, director of a lost film updating the Don Quixote story as Don Peyote, LSD pioneer with Timothy Leary, later helper to Norman Mailer when he ran for mayor in 1969, later still a paranoid drug casualty who believed UFOs, CIA and the Pope in Rome were out to get him. He would not have been a stranger to the cops in the park that day. Just a few months earlier, he'd had a very public spat with Police Commissioner Stephen Kennedy.

It started in October 1960, when cops shut down a performance by Lord Buckley at the Jazz Gallery in the East Village. Lord Buckley was a stately man with sleek gray hair and a pointy Daliesque mustache, who often performed in a tux and orated in a plummy, faux-British voice, seeming every bit the vaudeville and burlesque master of ceremonies he once was. But what came out of his mouth was pure hepcat jive he'd learned from the jazz musicians and pot-smokers with whom he'd associated since the 1930s. In the 1950s he started to recast biblical stories, historical texts like the Gettysburg Address, and Shakespeare in White Negro proto-rap: "Hipsters, flipsters and finger-poppin' daddies, knock me your lobes. I came here to lay Caesar out, not to hip you to him." It sounds like novelty schtick today, but in Eisenhower's America there was something inherently subversive about a man who looked like the maitre d' at a fancy restaurant jiving like a viper. "His Royal Hipness" had a lot of fans and friends downtown, where he performed and hung out whenever he was in New York.

The cops halted Buckley's gig because of a problem with his cabaret card. Since 1941, anyone who worked in a New York City nightclub, from performers to the hat check girl and the busboys, had to get fingerprinted and carry a picture ID card. If you had any police record, you couldn't have a card, which meant you couldn't work. It was intended to weed the Mob out of the nightclub business, but it could be disastrous for performers. Billie Holiday, Thelonious Monk and Charlie Parker all had their cards yanked for drug violations; Lenny Bruce lost his because of an obscenity conviction; exotic dancer Sally Rand, refused a card in 1947 because the cops thought her fan dance too risqué, took the NYPD to court over it and won. Buckley lost his because he'd failed to report a pot bust that went back to the 1940s. Without the card, he couldn't perform in New York City, including a scheduled appearance on his old friend Ed Sullivan's tv show (they'd toured together with the USO during the war).

Despondent, Buckley called his pal Humes. Humes talked his Paris Review friend George Plimpton into letting Buckley give a little performance at a party in his Upper East Side apartment, with the idea that Plimpton's influential crowd might help him get Buckley's card reinstated. With Village jazzman David Amram at the piano, Buckley went into his schtick. The response was cool. Plimpton's literary swells had come to sip cocktails and talk about themselves, not listen to Village-y jazzbo jive. Buckley the old vaudevillian worked hard to win them over, pulling out bit after bit, overstaying his unwelcome. As the crowd grew increasingly bored and angry, Norman Mailer started heckling. Amram remembers that Buckley finally gave up, then "came over to the piano and whispered in my ear, 'Let's split and get out of here, man.'"

It turned out to be Lord Buckley's farewell performance. He died of a stroke shortly afterwards, at the age of fifty-four. Art D'Lugoff offered the use of the Village Gate for a memorial service, at which Ornette Coleman and Dizzy Gillespie played for a large crowd of Buckley's friends and admirers. He was laid to out at the Frank E. Campbell Funeral Chapel on the Upper East Side, New York's funeral home to the stars. (Rudolph Valentino, John Lennon, Jackie Onassis, Nikola Tesla, James Cagney, Igor Stravinsky, Norman Mailer, Heath Ledger, Judy Garland and Candy Darling were all laid out there.)

Humes, Mailer, Amram and others then started a public campaign to end the cabaret card system. Humes charged that police harassment had killed Buckley, and claimed that if Buckley had only slipped the right cop a hundred bucks the whole thing would have been settled under the table. That enraged Commissioner Kennedy, who retaliated by tossing Humes in jail for unpaid parking tickets and ordering up the biggest crackdown on cabarets and nightclubs in years, sending cops to more than 1200 venues looking for non-card-carrying workers. But this protest worked as well. Kennedy was sacked for his overreaction, and though it took another seven years, the cabaret card system was eventually abolished.

by John Strausbaugh

#John Strausbaugh #Beatnicks #The Chiseler

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