#it went through. four drafts. because it took me a million years to figure out how to get to the core of the conversation

[ghoul-haunted]

why. am I so fucking sleepy

[poge-life]

The Cut } Finn Shelby chap. 1

introduction  prologue chapter 2

Never in a million years did anyone think Tommy Shelby, notorious gang leader, would be getting married. But here Penelope was, getting ready with Willow, Lizzie Stark, Ada Thorne, Polly Grey, and her mother.

"Willow, I swear if you pull my hair one more time, I'll cut you." Penelope threatened as her best friend was doing her hair.

The four older women let out a laugh at the two girls, used to their threats. Penelope and Willow had met after the boys came home from the war and had been best friends' sense; along with Finn and Isaiah. You never saw one without the other these days.

"I wouldn't have to pull so hard if you actually brushed your hair everyday." Willow defended, tugging on the blonde's hair again.

"Willow!" Penelope groaned, moving her head away from the girl. Audrey let out a chuckle, moving to stand behind her daughter, "Alright, Willow finish getting dressed. I'll do her hair."

Willow gave a final tug on Penelope's hair, quickly moving out of the way to avoid getting hit by her best friend. Audrey had gently brushed through Penelope's hair before pinning the front pieces back and bringing them together with a braid in the back. Audrey added a few hair pieces that Grace had loaned them and placed a kiss on top of her daughter's head.

Penelope looked at her mom in the mirror as Audrey wrapped her arms around her shoulders, "Had Finn seen your dress yet?"

Penelope let a smile make its way across her face at the mention of the red-haired boy. Her and the youngest Shelby were 6 months apart, the latter being older. They were thick as thieves growing up; as John and James went to school together and Tommy and Camden being the same age. Finn took pride in the fact Penelope chose him. Out of all the boys in Birmingham, she chose him.

"Not yet," She replied, "I've managed to hide it from him."

"I know he'll be speechless when he sees you." Audrey smiled at her daughter.

Audrey absolutely loved her daughter and Finn being together. Everyone often joked that Audrey preferred Finn over Penelope and Audrey has yet to deny it.

It was no secret to anyone that Penelope was Audrey and David's pride and joy. But that didn't mean they loved James and Camden any less. They knew it was because she was their little girl. Penelope got her mothers looks and her fathers brains. A dangerous combination. Penelope was often used as bait to get men to pay the money they owed her father and the Shelby's. She knew her father nor Tommy would let any guy touch her. And if they did, the would have to deal with not only her father, but her brothers and the Peaky Blinders as well.

A knock sounded throughout the room and Lizzie moved to answer the door, "Audrey. It's David and your sons."

Audrey motioned for them to be let in and Lizzie moved off to the side as they entered. David was followed by James and Camden as they greeted each lady with a kiss on the cheek before making their way to Audrey and Penelope.

"I do believe I am the luckiest man in the world." David smiled, wrapping his arms around his wife as Penelope turned to face her parents.

The Longfield siblings idolized their parents and the love they had for each other. Audrey and David met when Audrey's family moved from London to Small Heath and David had been the one to show her around the little town. Most women were expected to leave their jobs when they fell pregnant but not hers. David respected his wife. Treated her as an equal and higher. With him having many flourishing businesses, he stayed home for a while after Audrey went back to work after every child was born and he would stay home for as long as Audrey needed.

"We had to pay Isaiah and Michael to keep Finn away from here." James laughed, taking a seat next to Polly on the couch, sending her a cheeky smile as he wrapped his arm around her, "Boy is nearly going mental without you."

"They're in love," Polly smiled, nudging the blonde, "Leave them be."

"Besides, this is the longest they've been away from each other since they were born." Ada added as Polly and Audrey agreed.

"Oh come off it." Penelope groaned, walking over to the divider where her dress was. She signaled for Willow to come help her, as she wouldn't be able to do the buttons on her dress.

"I think it's adorable how much you two love each other." Willow smiled, nudging her best friend as she helped Penelope into her dress. The dress she would be wearing was from her mothers collection that wasn't out yet and Penelope was in love with it.

It was a velvet green dress that fell to just under her knees. It had a pink flower sheer lace over the entire dress and had slits filled in with green lace all around the dress and she paired it with white heels.

Willow and all the ladies were wearing something made by Audrey. Grace had even come to Audrey about making her wedding dress and Penelope was excited to see what her mother had come up with.

Despite everything that Grace had done to the Shelby family a few years back, they had all learned that Grace was pregnant and it was Tommy's. And two years later, Charles Michael Shelby was born and he was a beautiful little boy.

Willow helped Penelope fix her hair and her jewelry before they stepped out from behind the divider. The room had gone quiet, causing Penelope to look down at the ground.

"You look absolutely gorgeous, Penny." Lizzie smiled causing Penelope to lift her head. The other ladies agreed as David made his way over to the blonde, "Absolutely stunning, my shiny Penny."

David pulled Penelope into him as she wrapped her arms around her father. David Longfield was an exceptional man and an amazing father. He always gave to those who weren't as fortunate, offered hot meals and a place to stay for anyone who needed it. He played the father figure to the Shelby's after their father took off and David considered them his honorary kids. He was there when the three eldest Shelby boys and his boys were drafted for war and he was there to help them all find their way out of the dark.

"Alright," Audrey clapped, "the wedding starts in 15 minutes so we need to leave."

David placed a kiss on Penelope's head, pulling away from her as Penelope linked arms with Willow and Ada, making their way out of the room.

"I can tell you're nervous and there's nothing to be nervous about," Ada spoke, "Finn absolutely loves you. You could be wearing a sack and he'd still think you look stunning."

Penelope felt her face heat up at the older girls words. It was no secret to anyone on how much the two teenagers cared for each other. Even at a young age, the two were head over heels for each other. Penelope had made the first move, considering Finn was shy, but he was slowly breaking out of his shell.

They made quick small talk as they made their way to the front of Tommy's house, where the rest of the family was. Willow sent Penelope a wink and a smile before making her way over to her brother and father. Ada gave her arm a squeeze before making her way towards her brothers, turning Finn around to face his girlfriend.

Penelope took small steps as Finn did the same. He moved some hair out of her face, placing his hand on the side of her face, rubbing his thumb over her cheek, "You look...wow. You are so gorgeous."

Penelope let her eyes trail over his figure; he was wearing a dark brown suit under his coat with his peaky cap in his pocket. He had a red flower pinned to his lapel and she noticed he left his hair natural, his wild red curls were styled up with some gel, "You clean up well, Mr Shelby."

Finn smiled before leaning down to place a kiss on her lips. They pulled away with a smile and Penelope noticed the nervous look on his face, "What's wrong?"

Finn looked over her shoulder before looking back at her, "Your dad 'nd brothers have been watchin' me since I walked over 'ere."

Penelope groaned before turning around to throw a glare at her brothers, causing them and her father to walk over to the couple, "Any reason why you lot are terrifying my boyfriend?"

Camden shrugged, throwing his arm around Finn's shoulders, "Just making sure Finny Boy is being a gentleman."

Everyone knew Finn was terrified of Penelope's dad and brothers. Hell, so were the Shelby boys, well, they were scared of her father. Tommy looked up to David, as did his brothers. He had a beautiful wife, three wonderful children, and many successful businesses.

"Please," Penelope scoffed, glaring at her oldest brother, "You know Finn's a gentlemen."

Finn was the favorite Shelby, besides Ada, to the Longfield's. He was innocent compared to his brothers. He hadn't seen the troubles of war and he hadn't killed anyone. He always, well most of the time, used his manners and treated Audrey and Penelope with respect. But, there was a part of Finn that wished he could be like his brothers. Yes, he got respect only because of his last name but his brothers got respect because of the type of men they were.

"He better," James smirked, "because he knows what'll happen if he isn't."

Finn paled at his words and looked at Penelope, who elbowed her brother in the stomach, causing him to double-over, before looking over at her father, who was looking quite amused at his children. David chuckled before grabbing both of his sons, "Alright. Leave your sister alone. She can handle it."

Penelope stepped forward to straighten Finn's coat before pulling him down so she could kiss him. She pulled away when she realized he was stiff and shook her head, "At least act like you like me, Finn."

He placed a kiss on her forehead before offering her his arm. He led them over to the rest of the group before they all made their way to the church. Tommy and Arthur were already at the end of the aisle and Penelope smiled at the content look on Tommy's face. The same couldn't be said about Arthur's.

Penelope noticed the many red coats on Grace's side of the church and she quickly looked for her brother's and John. John, James, Camden, Arthur, and Tommy all held the same distaste for the red coats. When they went off to war, they were to dig tunnels to get into the enemies camp. The tunnels had collapsed and they waited for three days for the Calvary. For three days, they suffered in the dark, only with each other, waiting for the bloody red coats to help them.

Penelope made eye contact with her mother and motioned to the left side of the church, causing Audrey to look over before whispering to her husband. David looked around for his two kids before quickly grabbing them before they could leave the church.

Finn and Penelope made their way through the pew and Penelope stopped in her tracks when she noticed she would be sitting next to Linda. Arthur's very religious wife. She turned to look at Finn, who just sent her a cheeky smile. She quickly elbowed him before sitting next to her. Her parents were behind them with Isaiah, Willow, and her brothers sitting next to them.

Penelope put a little bit of space between her and Linda, sending her a smile. It's not that Penelope didn't like Linda, it's just that Linda had a very...strong opinion about the Shelby and     Longfield's lifestyle. Yes, David's businesses were 100% legal but he did start sending some of his whiskey out with Tommy's when they did business with Alfie Soloman's. And Linda had a very strong opinion about all of it.

John and Esme were sat with one of their kids next to Finn with Ada, Karl, and Michael at the end. John was staring at the red coats and Finn was mouthing off to them. Penelope rolled her eyes and turned to look at her brothers who were in the same state as John.

She turned her attention back to Grace's side of the church and narrowed her eyes at the blonde who was making heart eyes at Finn. Penelope put her hand on his jaw, turning him to look at her before she pulled him into a deep kiss.

They pulled away after a bit and Penelope wiped her lipstick off his lips as Finn stared at her. She heard her mother and Polly chuckle at her action as Isaiah and Willow let out loud laughs, no doubt noticing the blonde staring at Finn.

"What was that about," Finn asked, "Not that I'm upset about it."

Penelope pecked his lips before smiling, "Just letting them know neither of us are available."

Finn smirked at his girlfriend before setting his hand on her thigh. Jeremiah, Isaiah and Willow's father, made his way up to where Tommy and Arthur were and she noticed how appalled Grace's family looked.

Her and Finn turned to look at their best friends, knowing that was something that they dealt with more than they liked. The twins sent the couple a reassuring look, letting them know they were okay.

Penelope met Isaiah and Willow after her brothers came home from the war. Audrey, Polly, and David had thrown a dinner for the return of their families. Finn had dragged Penelope with him to introduce her to his new friends; the four being inseparable since.

The Wedding March played throughout the church as all the guests stood up. Grace was wearing a beautiful purple silk dress with a dark purple veil that went over her head. She looked absolutely stunning. Audrey really out did herself.

"Here comes the fucking calvary. Late as usual." John mumbled, causing Penelope to bury her mouth on Finn's shoulder to hide her laughs. Penelope had smiled at the sight of Tommy and Grace and she wondered if that's how her and Finn looked at each other.

The ceremony was beautiful and none of them cared at the looks they received from Grace's family at the loud cheers they let out as Tommy and Grace kissed.

They all made their way outside for the pictures and Penelope let out a loud laugh as Finn twirled her around before setting her down. She noticed that all the boys, including James and Camden, had their peaky caps on and she rolled her eyes at the sight.

A few of the girls from Grace's family were fighting over the bouquet and Penelope and Willow shared a look before laughing. Arthur ushered the girls away so that they could take the picture. Finn wrapped his arm around her waist as she placed one of hers on his chest as she looked up at him.

Finn had grown up in the last two years. His freckles had darkened and he had grown considerably taller than her. He filled out in muscle and was close to catching up with Arthur and her father in height. Penelope realized how handsome he was and how she was lucky to have him.

"What?" Finn asked, pulling her from her thoughts as she smiled, "You're just so handsome."

Finn smiled at her before placing a kiss on her forehead before turning to face the photographer. She blinked a few times as the flash went off twice, causing her to blink rapidly.

"Sorry Finn," Willow called, tugging the blonde away from said boy, "I'm stealing your girlfriend."

Willow and Penelope quickly made their way through the crowd as Finn chased after them. The girls let out giggles as they ran through the grass, hand in hand, holding up their dresses with their free hand. They slowed to a stop as they neared Tommy's drive way, waiting for everyone to catch up.

"What was that?" Penelope panted, looking at her best friend. Willow looked at the group of people before looking back at the blonde," Michael was walking towards me and I don't want to talk to him."

"I thought you two were together?" Penelope furrowed her eyebrows at Willow who just shook her head, "We are. I think. We argued the other day and we haven't talked since."

"What did you guys fight about?"

"I told him I loved him but he didn't say it back." Willow whispered. Penelope pulled her into a hug. Ever since Michael came to Birmingham, he was infatuated with Willow. She happened to be the only girl besides Penelope that didn't fall for him. But once Isaiah took Michael under his wing to show him the ropes, Willow started feeling something for the boy.

"I'm sorry, Will."

Willow let out a few sniffles before pulling away, " 'Saiah's been trying to get me to talk to him but I don't think I'm ready."

"You can be my date for the rest of the night. Finn can put his big boy pants on and deal with it."

Willow giggled at the blonde's word and intertwined their hands, leaning her head on her shoulder. The two were often seen holding hands and touching in someway but no one ever dared to say anything about it due to their connections to the Peaky Blinders and because of Penelope's family.

Tommy and Grace were the first to arrive and Penelope and Willow pulled the two newly weds into a hug. The two girls were the only people that Tommy would hug besides his family but he rarely did it in public. The newly married couple made their way onto their house as the rest of the guests arrived.

Finn was walking with Isaiah and John before he spotted his girlfriend and his best friends sister. Penelope and Willow gave him a big smile before they made their way into the house, ignoring the looks from Grace's family at the sight of the two holding hands.

Penelope was halfway through her first glass of champagne when arms wrapped around her waist, "You're hiding from me."

She placed her glass on a tray before turning to wrap her arms around Finn's neck, looking up at him, "And you found me."

"This mean I get a reward." Finn smirked, giving her waist a squeeze. Penelope lightly ran her nails over the back of Finn's head, causing him to close his eyes, "Mm, come find me at the end of the night and we'll see."

Before Finn could respond, the two were pulled away from each other by Willow and James, "Tommy's called a meeting in the kitchen."

The four made their way to the kitchens, taking a few wrong turns but eventually finding it. Finn and her brother made a beeline for the food while the two girls made their way over to Tommy.

"Where are they?" Tommy asked as Johnny Dogs came through the side door, "Where's John and Arthur?"

Finn made his way over to Penelope with Arthur, Michael, and her brothers in tow as John and her father came through the servants entrance. Finn moved to stand by Penelope but Camden put him in a headlock, pulling him in between him and Johnny Dogs as James stood next to Camden. Penelope shot her oldest brother a glare as she moved to stand between Isaiah and Willow, Arthur and her father sitting on the end of the table as Tom stood in the middle of the room.

"Alright, boys, Penny, Willow, you're all here," Tommy started, "Today is my fucking wedding day."

"Yeah," John spoke, "And you said there'd be no bloody uniforms."

David sent his two sons a look as they went to agree but quickly shut their mouths.

"Nevertheless," Tommy said, "Nevertheless, John, James, Camden. Despite the bad blood, I'll 'ave none of it on my carpet. Now, for Grace's sake, nothing will go wrong."

"Those bastards, out there, are her family," he continued, "and if you fuckers, do anything to embarrass 'er, your kin, your cousins, your horses, you fucking do anything-"

"Tom." Isaiah spoke, causing Penelope to groan

"What?!?!"

"What about snow?" Isaiah asked

"Oh bloody hell." Willow groaned as John grabbed Isaiah by the back of the head, "yeah, their women are sport, I'll give them that."

"No, no," Tommy spoke, "No cocaine."

"No sport. No telling fortunes." He pointed to John

"No racing." Next was Arthur. Tommy moved to grab Finn's face, "No fucking sucking petrol out of their fucking cars."

With a smack, he turned to face the two girls, "No gambling with them to get their money." The two girls shared a smirk before agreeing. The two girls were often sent into David's casino's to try and get money out of potential dealers for David and Tommy.

Penelope noticed the dazed look on Willow's face and followed her line of vision to see her staring at Michael, who was staring back at her with a smirk. Penelope just raised her eyebrows at him before nudging Willow, snapping her back into reality.

"And you, Charlie," Tommy had turned to face his uncle, "quit telling yearns about me, eh?"

"I'm just trying to sell you to them, Tom."

Tommy rubbed his eyes in frustration and Penelope leaned forward to look at her dad, signaling for him to say something. David moved next to Tommy and patted him on the back, "If Tommy or myself hear that any of you bastards did anything to make Grace or her family upset, I'll personally see to that you are dealt with."

Now everyone didn't even think about fucking the night up for Tommy and Grace. David Longfield wasn't someone you wanted to cross.

"Thank you, David." Tommy nodded his head in appreciation at the older man before looking around the room again, "But, the main thing is, that the bunch of you fuckers, despite the provocation from the calvary, no fighting."

Tommy immediately looked towards the eldest Jesus sibling and Willow snorted in amusement as their father covered his mouth.

"No fighting." He pointed to Isaiah, "No fucking fighting." John was next, "No fighting." Arthur raised his hands in surrender as Tommy just pointed at Michael as he always kept his clean since he dealt with the legal side of the business. Tommy then turned to look at Finn and Penelope's brother, "No. Fucking. Fighting!"

They all let out sounds of agreement as Tommy nodded. David handed Tommy his as jacket as a waiter made the mistake of bumped into him, "Get the fuck off me!"

With that, the waiter was on the ground, the wine bottle shattered and Arthur threw his half eaten carrot at him. David placed his hands on Tommy's shoulders and led him out of the room before he actually killed one of them.

Finn threw his arm around Penelope's shoulder as they made their way up to the dining room, "is that what you and Isaiah do when you two go out?"

"Don't know what you're talking about, Penny." Finn answered, giving her a smile.

Penelope was sat between Lizzie and Finn with Michael on the other side of him. Tommy and Grace were at one end of the table with Penelope's parents at the other.

Finn had one hand on her thigh and the other was holding his whiskey while Penelope had one hand around Finn's neck, lightly dragging her nails over the short hairs. Penelope often cursed Tommy for their ridiculous haircut as she loved Finn's wild curls. Up until this year, he used to try and tame his curls by gelling them down but ever since he, Isaiah, and Michael were no longer 'junior peakey's' he opted cutting his hair shorter, losing almost all his curls. Most days he just styled his curls up and on days he attended events with his brothers, he would gel them down.

"There's a blonde girl who keeps undressing Finn with her eyes sitting across from you." Lizzie mumbled, bringing her glass up to her lips. Penelope turned to see the same blonde from the church doing exactly what Lizzie said she was doing.

She threw the rest of her drink back, turning to face the women, "She was doing the same thing in the church and I practically made out with Finn to prove he wasn't available."

"Girls like her are used to getting what they want," Lizzie spoke, "And since she knows Finn is with you, she'll try everything to get him."

"Not if I have something to do about it. She can try but she won't get very far." Penelope mumbled causing Lizzie to laugh. Penelope turned her attention back to Finn as he seemed bored and would rather be anywhere else. She grabbed his hand in hers and intertwined their fingers, "What's on your mind, love?"

"Just thinking about my reward later." He smirked, giving her hand a squeeze as she rolled her eyes. She leaned her head on his shoulder, looking at the blonde sitting across from them, "That girl is making it really hard for me to listen to my dad 'nd Tommy."

Finn looked up to see what girl she was talking about and the girl winked at him and Finn felt Penelope's grip tighten on his hand, causing him to look back at her.

After the most weird toast given by Arthur, the guests made their way into the ballroom.

Penelope had her arm linked with Finn's as they made their way through the crowd; trying to find someone their own age. Willow pushed people out of her way as she stepped in front of the couple, "Who's the whore with Michael?"

Penelope and Finn both looked over to see a girl with short brown hair in a white flapper dress standing very close to the boy.

"She tried getting snow off Isaiah when we got 'ere," Finn explained, turning to face the girl, "she's very eager to get it off someone."

"She's never done it," Penelope smirked, looking between the two, "If she had, she wouldn't be so obvious about getting some. Let alone being obvious about it at Tommy Shelby's wedding."

The two just looked at her in wonder, causing her to roll her eyes, "My dad owns casino's and pubs. I know snow and peoples behavior."

Finn and Willow both nodded in realization. Penelope knew when people were using snow; considering her and Finn had done it a few times. But being at her father's establishments, she knew when people had never done it and when they had. And this girl had definitely never done it before; being so obvious about it.

John and James had walked up to the trio, John whispering in Finn's ear as the boy nodded. Finn pulled Penelope with him as she grabbed Willow, following the two older boys.

"What's going on?" Penelope asked as they walked through the house

"There's something going on and Tommy wants us to make noise. So, Arthur and meself rallied together the fucking calvary to some racing and Finn boy will be riding."

Penelope perked up at the sound of Finn getting to race. She knew how much he loved horses and he took care of Tommy's and her father's any chance he got. Finn was an excellent rider and almost never lost a race. She loved watching him race and everyone knew it.

"What's that got to do with me?" Penelope questioned

Finn, who somehow ended up with his peaky cap, shrugged off his coat, putting it around his girlfriend's shoulders. He pulled off his jacket and handed it to her, quickly followed by his waist coat and his button up. Leaving him in his suspenders and undershirt. He pulled Penelope to him by her waist and tilted her head up to look at him, "Yer dad doesn't want you near the house when it's happening, so, you're going to stand there and cheer for me, while I show the fucking calvary, you don't fuck with the peaky blinders."

He placed a deep kiss on her lips and pulled away, following after his brothers.

Penelope blinked a few times, trying to process the last 30 seconds as she turned to face Willow walked up to her, "What?

Penelope pulled Finn's coat tighter against her, looking over at Willow, "I think Finn turned me on without touching me."

[achliegh]

Grounded

Okay SO I really like Leo, I resonate with him as a character and his personality is like mine yet he is actually a good person. I don’t really know how to write happy, lovey-Dovey shit it makes me very uncomfortable and I just can’t. SO imma make this boy suffer but its just me projecting okay. Sorry Leo I Love you. Please read at your own risk, this is not an easy angst and can trigger people. Most of this is me venting through my own struggles in life and how I have handled them.

CW/TW: Food, Past Abusive relationship, Anxiety, Depression, Panic Attack, past age difference relationship (Illegal)

Characters belong to @lumosinlove

Besides Luka, I made him up, don’t care for him tho

Coming off the ice with everyone was unusual to say the least, every normal day Leo would stay and practice with Kasey and their goalie coach. The Goalie Coach was sick and so was all their family. So today Leo and Kasey got off early and were able to shower and mess around with the other guys. Leo was so excited to drive home with his boys, he couldn’t stop smiling.

After a cool down, a shower and a few towel snaps to his ass from a rambuncis Kuny and James, they were walking out of the locker room to the players lounge. A “ding” came from Leo's phone and he went to look but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw coach Arthur talking to someone who looked very familiar. They were laughing at something Coach said, his boys looked back to him and Logan raised an eyebrow as Finn followed Leo's gaze.

“Shit” Leo went to move his hands to grab his hair but forgot his phone was in his hand and dropped it. His phone landed loudly on the floor making everyone look at him, but the only person he saw was Luka. Luka was Leo’s Ex-Boyfriend, they started dating when Leo was only 15 and Luka was 19, he used Leo as a toy! He made him do things he didn’t want to and act in a way that was cruel and he hurt him, in more ways than one. And… Leo thought he loved him. Looking back on everything he realized that this wasn’t a healthy relationship but it was his first real relationship.

“Leo?” Luka was staring at him surprised for a moment then an evil smirk started to slowly spread across his face. He was stupidly gorgeous and that was how he tricked people into relationships. His sharp brown eyes, his light hair practically white from bleach with his dark eyebrows, his giant muscular arms covered in tattoos and one of those just happen to be a Leo constellation. Leo was gonna be sick.

He could feel himself holding his breath practically waiting for something to cause him to crash. He knew his eyes were panicked so he decided to go complete goalie, no emotion, just nothing. He picked up his phone dusting it off and looked at his boys. Logan was concerned and Finn was just outright confused.

“You two know each other?” Finn asked when Leo finally met his eye, he had never mentioned anything about this guy or shown them pictures like he did with all his other friends back home. Yeah there were very few friends back home but maybe he only had a few friends! Finn never thought that Leo would have hid a whole person from them. Finn looked back at this man and saw this smirk, it was almost seductive and he was looking Leo up and down as if he was this guy's next meal. Then it clicked, this had to be an ex or maybe a one night stand, they knew Leo had the most sexual experience so it was plausible. But why Hide him?

Logan stepped towards Leo not having noticed Luka at all and put a hand on his forearm. Leo full on flinched away and so did Logan. Logan had seen Leo have panic attacks and knew when he needed contact and when he needed to be alone based on his mental state. Looking into his boyfriend's eyes, he needed to be alone. He turned and looked at Finn who was analysing the new guy so he grabbed Leo's hand slowly and started leading him out the door and towards the car. This caught Finn's attention and he followed them as they all silently got into the car.

Leo had completely shut down; he couldn’t think, speak, breath, or really do anything without feeling like he was 15 again. He shut everything out and put in his airpods turning his music up as loud as he could so no one could ask him questions. He gripped his sweatpants through his pockets where he stuffed his hands to keep from fidgeting and closed his eyes.

Finn reached for Logan's hand and squeezed it looking back at their boyfriend and then back at him. “I think that guy and Leo have a past.”

“From Leo's reaction I can guess that it wasn’t a good past.”

“Should we try to talk to him about this or should we wait until he talks to us?” Finn started the car and started driving back to the apartment but the only thing on his mind were the millions of questions slamming around. “What did you think about that guy?” he pulled into the parking garage and was looking for a spot.

“I wasn’t really paying attention to him. I was trying to figure out how I should approach Leo in a way that wouldn’t send him spiraling.” he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose as Finn pulls into a parking spot. Leo was out the door so fast and he took the stairs up to the apartment instead of the elevator. The two left in the vehicle looked at each other for a second then both got out and ran after their boy. When they finally got to the apartment the door was still open and they could hear reaching sounds from the hallway bathroom.

Panicked Finn closed the door after them and grabbed a water bottle from the kitchen as Logan ran into the bathroom. Logan knelt next to Leo who had his arms crossed over the seat of the toilet with his forehead resting on his forearms. He was shaking in small tremors as everything, all the memories all the hurt came flooding back to him at once. Logan tried to set a comforting hand on his back.

Leo scrambled away wiping his mouth fitting his giant body into the small space between the toilet and the bathtub, curling in on himself raising his hands to block his face. “Don’t touch me! Don’t hurt me!” he started sobbing covering his face with his hands as Logan and Finn watched with their hearts hurting.

Both of them were wondering what happened to Leo to cause this. This level of fear wasn’t caused by a bad break up or a terrible one night stand. This was intense and made both of them sick with sadness. After about an hour Leo finally started calming down and the boys never left his side but also gave him space.

“Leo, baby it's Finn.” He came further into the bathroom from where he was standing in the doorway. He took the cap off the water bottle and was holding it out to Leo not wanting to trigger Leo again. Leo looked out from behind his hands at him and his heart broke with Leo's wide scared eyes being the brightest blue he’d ever seen, even with a puffy face and red rimmed eyes Leo still tugged at Finn's heart in a good way. It almost made him feel guilty because Leo was struggling right now. “ Can you drink some of this for me please?” He held the water a little closer to him and Leo took it, shakily, he took a chug big enough to empty half the bottle.

Just from that one drink Leo started to feel queasy all over again, still breathing hard but slowly coming back to himself, he needed to hear and feel his boys to ground him. He reached for Finn, dropping the water bottle and having it spill on the ground as he pulled himself out of his small space and into Finn's arms, gripping him like a lifesaver in the middle of the ocean. “Please say something, anything, I don’t care” He looked up to logan from over finns shoulder and reached for him as well.

“Why don’t we go get changed and get into bed mon coeur?” Logan grabbed his hand and was looking right into Leo’s soul, he felt himself nod because he was going to start crying again because of how much love he was slowly remembering he had. They stood him up slowly, he didn’t realize it but they must have flushed the toilet during his panic because he only saw clean now. They took him out of his clothes and laid him in bed in just his underwear, as requested, Skin on skin was needed right now. They crawled into bed, Leo rested his head on Finn's shoulder intertwining their hands as Logan laid his head on his chest. “We love you mon soleil” Logan would whisper to him over and over.

“We love you forever” Finn would run his thumb over Leo's hand and whisper into his hair.

Leo decided that these two lovely boys needed to know what happened and Leo needed to let them know for their own safety. He had been talking to Heather about this stuff for the year he was with the lions but it never felt like enough. He knew the boys had noticed his odd behavior, jumping when the phone rang or a door slammed too hard, anyone raising their voice around him (especially those two), and always apologizing as soon as one of them looked slightly annoyed.

“His name was Luka, the guy Arthur was talking to. He’s my Ex and…” he trailed off his hand that was tracing patterns on Logans back stilling as he swallowed the lump in his throat. “He has done a lot of bad things to me, I mean we started dating when he was 19, he is four years older than me. So, I felt like I needed to do everything he said I mean I was just a kid! I lost my virginity to him! I would do anything he told me to, whether it was something I was comfortable with or not. He.. he would threaten or hit me if I didn’t do what he said. I learned to do everything he said and momma was so scared for me but I was an idiot and believed I could handle myself. She never saw the bruises but she knew something was happening. I-I couldn’t take it anymore and I ran away from him one night and he said he would always know where I am and whose in my life and I never wanted anyone to feel trapped with me so that was the other reason why I never watched to get attached to anyone at all when I got drafted even though it was a year after I left him. Seeing him today-” everything came spilling out like he couldn’t stop and he was crying again with sobs wracking his body as his boys clung to him in a desperate plea to prove he was safe.

“Leo, we will always be there for you no matter what. We will protect you.” Logan was talking in a slow soothing voice as he wiped away his tears and kissed his forehead. “Nothing changes the way we love you” Finn was squeezing his hand and had tears pricking his own eyes as everything Leo spilled to them was just setting into his mind. HIS Leo was treated that way by a man the same age as he is. Finn couldn’t imagine treating anyone like that.

“We don’t make you feel trapped, do we? I mean we are the same age as him, but I want you to know that I could never hurt you like that Leo, I can’t even think about something like that happening to you.” A few tears fall as he wraps his free arm around both his boys holding tightly.

"I'm so happy you told us Peanut" Logan saw the tiniest smile at the pet name. "I won't ever let him touch you again! If we ever make you feel like that in any way please tell us"

“You could never make me feel that, I feel the safest I have in a long time with you two. You keep me grounded.”

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Cosmic {1}

Lewis Tan x OFC Jupiter Azari

Warning: Plot, Cursing, Flirting, POV Changes, Fake Social Media Inserts

Words: 4k

Summary: Lewis has been single for three years after a stifling relationship that ended because of his reluctance to make a strong enough commitment. In that time, he’s focused on his career and living his life to the fullest. His goal was to have worthwhile experiences and make lasting connections. He’s got the experiences part down, but he’s never felt any sort of lasting connection until he’d seen your posts. After months of stalking your Instagram, he can’t stop thinking about you and decides to take a chance. Maybe it was time for him to take a chance on something new. 

Note: *Sigh* Another one, I know. *Deeper Sigh*. I apologize for the blurriness in some of the FAKE IG DMs. I’ve been working on this for so long, and finally, I can post a little something for it. Please tell me what you think. I am so excited to hear your thoughts.

Thank you guys so much for reading!!!! If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. 😊❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/ Proofread***

***Interactive***

***Fake IG Post Creations***

-Lewis-

 He’d been single for a long time now. Three years. He’d been in a serious relationship for twice as long, so the math was right to him. There was no lying that he missed some of the advantages of relationships and having someone to journey through life’s ups and downs with. He missed things such as intimate dinner dates, entwining his fingers with someone else’s and relishing the feel of skin against skin, getting to know someone almost as well as he knew himself, and deep, fulfilling conversations. One of the most significant things he missed was companionship.

He knew he was not an unattractive guy. He also knew that being who he was, he could meet people effortlessly have a series of no strings attached romances where his physical needs were minimally satisfied for a short time. That was not a problem, but he’d long realized that was never enough for him. He needed more—a lot more. His busy schedule didn’t help matters at all, either. He was either on a flight every week or going between fight practice, meetings, filming, and a lot more. It took time to nourish a relationship and mold it so it could blossom into something strong and beautiful, time he just didn’t have. It was a simple fact—or so he thought.

 More and more, he’d been feeling as if maybe he could make that time; maybe he could find a way to have the highly sought after satisfying professional life but also that deeply fulfilling personal life. Maybe it was possible without having something or someone fall to the side. He began to think maybe he was ready to address his other needs.

 Groaning, he looked at the clock beside him. Two o’clock. Rolling out of bed, he walked into his bathroom. The day before was a long one; he hadn’t gotten in until nearly three in the morning. This was the first day in several that he’d been able to get more than seven hours of sleep. His body was telling him something. After tackling his hygiene routine, he pulled on a pair of his athletic quick-dry leggings and shorts then made his way to the back of his beach house.

It was another beautiful day in Spain, and he was ready to carpe diem the hell out of it—after he got his jog in. As he ran his standard four miles, his mind wandered to a variety of topics. He ran down his schedule for the next few days, went over his goals for the month, and made mental notes of things he needed to get done for the week. He believed in discipline, and the utmost show of discipline was having some over one’s life. Perhaps it was something he learned from his father as he trained in martial arts, or maybe it was a life lesson he’d picked up after so many years in the industry, both working and associating.

 By the time he plopped down onto the cool sand, almost two hours had passed, and he was sweaty and out of breath. He panted while gaping at the softy rolling waves and the faint sounds of the seagulls. It was a sight to be seen, one he was appreciative of. As he was getting lost in the view, a reminder popped up on his phone.

 *Social Media update*

 Sighing, he opened up his Instagram account and scrolled through his feed. If he didn’t set reminders for himself about social media, he would forget it entirely. He was one of those people who preferred to live life unfiltered and didn’t see a need to blog or vlog every little thing. He liked to share meaningful things. On the other hand, his team made it a priority for him to do more than share meaningful things. Their motto is if you’re not being seen or talked about, your brand and existence are inconsequential.

 So, four times a day, he had reminders set up. The plan was to engage with his fans while showing his personality. His agent’s exact words were; “Show the world what a swoon-worthy guy Lewis Tan is.”

 Just as he clicked over to his drafts, he registered her face. Quickly he tapped back onto his feed and on her recent post. It was an incredibly artistic photo of what could have been the universe, or even the mind’s third eye, or possibly a woman giving birth. It was just that subjective, but it was done in a way that made it seem as if you were looking through a kaleidoscope. He sat there marveling at the first photo, not even realizing there were three more that accompanied it.

 As he swiped through them, his mind was further blown. Each one gave off a psychedelic vibe. When he got to the last one, he found himself sighing out at the sight of her. The caption was,  “Art is subjective; who do you see?” Her face was one that easily held someone captive. Her eyes were impossibly deep and inviting. They drew him in, in a haunting and mysterious way. Even her username was creative as fuck. JupiterFallingToEarth.

 He’d spent weeks following her activity. She posted every day about once a day, sometimes two, and her posts ranged from artistic shots of landscapes, items, herself, and then she also posted products and fashion. It was clear she was a lifestyle blogger, and according to some of her posts, she was probably an influencer of some sort. There was something about her that drew him in from the first post he accidentally came across. That was four months ago.

 Since then, he’d practically stalked her page. The second he got a notification that she’d posted something, he was looking at it soon after. When he saw her stories, they always put a smile on his face. She was effortlessly adorable and sexy at the same time. It was a contradiction but one that you wore well. He didn’t know if he’d turned into one of those guys he’d seen countless times on Instagram. The ones who stalked a woman’s page and liked every single one of her posts and left vague comments under her pictures that could come off as creepy. He feared he had turned into that man.

 His interactions with her hadn’t gone to creepy lengths. He’d liked most of your posts, never commented because gossip was a real thing in his world, but liked other people’s comments under your posts. Sometimes he’d even tune in if you were on lives, and every time he watched, he was always filled with an urge to know you—really. He wondered if you’d even noticed he’d liked your pictures or if you’d gone to his page from curiosity to get lost in his content. One thing was sure; you’d never liked any of his posts. He’d noticed.

 “Get a fucking grip, man.”

 To help him on his way, he dropped his phone in the sand and ran to the waves hoping the water would do the trick. The coldness of the water shocked him, but it was a welcomed shock. Swimming further out to sea, he fought against the tide. Though he was exhausted, and his limbs were damn near numb, he pushed himself for just a little longer.  

 Ten minutes later, he dropped back onto the sand by his belongings while trying to catch his breath. That swim had his adrenaline surging competing with his exhaustion. Grabbing his phone, he went back to his drafts. Rather than posting one of them, he took a few shots of himself as he was dripping wet and all. Deciding on a relaxed-looking one, he prepped it to post. Before he did, though, he added a caption.

With it posted, he hopped to it. After a quick shower, he was off to tackle the day. On the agenda were three meetings for some brands that wanted him to work with them. The first up was a local Spanish sunglass brand, Vosotros. Throughout the meeting, he could tell that the campaign that they wanted to do was centered around bodies. Since the brand translated to the word “you,” their pitch was why not focus on everyone’s best selling feature—their body. It was a bit shallow for him, but the product was nice, and the pay was equally as appealing.

 After signing the contract, he moved to the second meeting. This one was for a couture men’s wear brand, Alma. This one he was familiar with. He’d worn many of their suits. They were comfortable but stylish and made from the best fabrics. He always felt like a million bucks when he wore them. This one was a no-brainer for him, and the compensation was the icing on the cake.

 Right before the third meeting began, he found he was running a little bit empty. The last time he’d had a meal was the night before. Before the meeting started, he pulled out his phone with the intent to figure out what was nearby so he could refuel once the meeting was finished. Once he saw the notifications, he opened up Instagram just to glance at them, but after scrolling through the eight thousand, among them, he found her name. Thinking he’d seen things, he scrolled all the way back to the top to refresh it, then scrolled back down, and sure enough, there it was.

 She’d liked six of his posts back to back. He couldn’t stop the wide grin that spread across his face. It was so broad that anyone would have thought he’d never gotten a like in his life. He spent the next few minutes going through which posts she’d liked. Each one made him smile wider and wider. By the time the prospective employers walked in, he was refueled enough to carry him through the rest of the day.

 ~~~~~~~~~~ 

-Y/N-

You’d finally bit the bullet. After four months of seeing the notifications on every one of your posts that he’d liked it or liked a comment under; it was about time. Right? The truth was you noticed each of them. The first time you got the notification, you almost fell out of your seat. You knew who he was because you’d seen one or two things that he’d been in and always thought he was hot, but of course, it was in passing. After the second notification of his like, you rushed to his page to go through each of his posts and found yourself salivating over every picture.

 After about half an hour, you got snapped back to your senses. The odds of it being him were slim to none. While you knew many celebrities liked to troll social media for their next piece of ass or entertainment, you never got that vibe from him. You deduced it must have been either a fan page or catfish at its best. So what did you do? Ignored it.

 You ignored every notification and did your best to shrug off the basal instinct that had your belly fluttering. In total, you had nearly two hundred posts, and he’d liked each and every one of them. It was a lot of ignoring. Today though, something came over you, and that something had you going to his page to see his new post. You couldn’t do anything else but stare. The truth was your finger slipped to tap the heart, and once you did, you tapped it again to unlike, but you knew once a like went through, you couldn’t take it back. Your only option was to deal with it. You dealt with it by liking five more of his pictures. Go big or go home, right.

 After ten minutes, you were still lamenting over if you should have or shouldn’t have. The internal conflict in you was high, especially when you began to kick yourself for overthinking it. There was no way it was really him. It was impossible. With that in mind, you calmed yourself enough to meet up with your friends. After pressing mute on your notifications, you proceeded to get yourself ready. It had been a good week since you and your friends had gotten the opportunity to hang out due to your busy schedules.

 When you were more than halfway there, your excitement began bubbling. When the four of you got together, it was always a good time. As soon as the Lyft dropped you off at the restaurant, a new construction that all four of you were dying to try, you were more than ready to eat, drink, and laugh. You stood outside for a few moments to admire the chosen exterior décor. It was an intricate mix of modern and seaside charm. It definitely was something different for the neighborhood.

 Walking inside past a line of about twelve or so people, you marveled at the entrance of the restaurant. Whoever designed it truly did a fabulous job. It was featured in the papers as one of the best new restaurants to try out in the downtown area. The way they’d incorporated indoor plants seriously captivated your attention.

“Welcome to Creator, my name is Kenji,” began the host who towered over you by like eight inches and bore green-hazel eyes. He was cute. “Do you have a reservation?” His smile was wide, and it showed off that his two front teeth were bigger than all the others. He made it work, though.

 “Yes. I believe my party is already here. I’m not sure who it’s under, though.”

 Kenji scanned the list of names on the iPad before her. As he did that, you scrolled through your texts to find the details that Zoë sent you. After a few short moments, he glanced back at you. After you found the reservation name, you rolled your eyes. Your friends thought they were funny.

 “Found it?”

 “Yes, and I apologize in advance,” you began. Kenji, the host, wrinkled his brow, not getting it. He would, though.

 Clearing your throat, held your head high, then spoke. “Punani Dasani.”

 Kenji’s eyes widened, then he pinched his lips tightly before he nodded and tapped a few keys on the iPad.

 “Wow. Eh-em. Yep, they’re here.”

 Nodding, you dropped your phone back into your clutch. When you looked back up, you caught Kenji’s eyes glued to your cleavage. When his eyes met yours, the embarrassment in them was obvious. Dipping his head, he signaled for you to follow him.

 The two of you walked through the restaurant under low hung plants, vines, and flowers. It was like walking through the garden of Adam and Eve. That must be what the owner had in mind when naming it Creation. It was clever, you thought. Just then, Kenji approached the table with your three friends. Once they saw you, they made a loud “Skeee” sound bringing the attention to those nearby. You couldn’t take them anywhere.

 “You guys think you’re funny with the reservation name?”

 They all laughed at you as you dipped down and greeted each of them with cheek kisses.

 “How did he look at you? From the way he keeps looking back, I can bet he wanted to sample that punani Dasani,” Tati joked to each of their delight.

 They were a trip, always had been. You, Tati, Monaè, and Zoë had been friends since high school and somehow managed to remain tight even though you each went your separate ways to different colleges. You each had spent two years apart until you came back together to finish your final two years of university together.

 “Don’t be mad. He wasn’t that cute anyway,” Monaè said, opening the menu before her.

 Cold-hearted, you thought as you did the same. Dinner progressed with laughs and stories of your days and recent happenings in your lives. As you ate, you decided to forget everything else and just enjoy yourself. You were in desperate need of a girl’s night, so you vowed to enjoy it fully.

 The food was delicious. Somehow they’d managed to make it taste healthy but also savory and completely indulgent. You felt as if every bite you took added thirty pounds, but you knew it wasn’t possible. The flavors all melded together so well that you wanted to send a message to the chef, letting them know they’d done well.

After a deeply fulfilling meal, the four of you piled into a Lyft and made it to your favorite club, Surge.  The music in the club was so loud that you could feel it bouncing inside of you. After getting your first round of drinks, the dancing began, and when the four of you got together with drinks and music, it was always an event.  You jumped into the middle of your circle and busted out your wine. Tati grabbed your phone from your hands and began recording you. Ignoring the camera and the gathering crowd, you allowed the alcohol to do its job and take you away.

 When you heard your friends cheering you on, you decided to really bust out your moves. Dropping to the floor, you did your best twerk. Holding your drink in the air, you began to wine your hips as you stood. It was one of your favorite moves. When you turned around, you saw Tati up close and personal. Slapping your hand in front of the lens, you giggled as you took your phone back to end the recording.

 “Jesus girl, those hips definitely don’t lie,” Monaè teased, making all your friends laugh.

 From behind, you felt someone approach you and place their hand on your waist. Turning, you gave him the rays of death with your stare telling him to back off. As quickly as he’d had the audacity to put his hand on you, he took it off just as quickly and backed away.

 “And don’t come back,” Zoë shouted.

 By the time you made it back home, it was three in the morning, and your feet hurt almost as much as your ass did. After leaving the club, the four of you had an impromptu photo shoot that lasted almost forty-five minutes and ended with you on your ass at the bottom of the pile once you’d tried some ridiculous cheerleading pose trying to relive your high school days. Big mistake.

 After a quick shower that had you almost falling asleep a few times, you dove into your bed, ready for some well-deserved rest. Just as you’d gotten comfortable, your phone’s alarm went off. Groaning, you reached over the edge of the bed, grabbing your bag to rifle through it. With your phone in hand, you blearily stared at the harsh light making your eyes feel as if they hadn’t closed in days rather than hours. You went to your alarm to turn it off, deciding that your routine dawn photo expedition would have to be rescheduled. You were too exhausted.

 Just as you were going to toss it away, you saw the notification of messages on Instagram. Your curiosity got the better of you, and you slid it down to get a preview. Through the blur in your eyes, you saw an icon that looked familiar. Tapping it, you nearly swallowed your tongue when you saw Lewis Tan’s image. Bolting upright, you coughed and slid to brace your back on your headboard.

 “What the--!”

The minute you saw it, you couldn’t believe your eyes. He’d send you a message. Chewing your bottom lip, you studied the time he’d sent it—over four hours ago. You then realized he’d see that you saw it, and you debated in your head if you should reply.

 “Jesus, get it together. Just say something simple,” you coached.

It was weak, but it was the best you had. You wondered if he would think it was weak too. As you obsessed about that, you also realized just how late it was. You’d responded to a DM at booty call hours. Rolling your eyes, you slouched back on your headboard. Your eyelids were heavy, and they drooped, trying to tell you something. Once they closed, your phone chimed that elaborate tone for your notifications.

Why had you responded? It was clear this was some fan page who either was using his image to catfish or gain followers. You never responded to questionable DMs, and this was as questionable as they got.

Even though you were still fighting your sleep, part of you was intrigued.

Flipping your smart TV on, and you turned to the Netflix app and found something for background noise.

Nibbling your bottom lip, you thought for a few moments. You didn’t know if it was the alcohol that had you thinking this deeply or if it was something else.

You snorted and shook your head. “He’s really going down with the ship, huh.”

This was always the reaction when anyone found out your name. They were always shocked and speechless. Usually, you got a few corny jokes or mentions about your favorite planet must be Jupiter or bring up some astronomy fact that was always wrong. It was annoying. You braced yourself for some equally corny mention from him.

The corny mention never came.

Your heart fluttered, and you couldn’t help but cheese from his compliment. You hadn’t expected it. Though you tried to stop smiling, you couldn’t. There was something about his words. It wasn’t like you’d never heard sweet words before. You had. This shouldn’t have been any different.

The exhaustion began to take a more significant hold, and you slid lower, tucking your comforter underneath your chin.

Filming? What the heck was he talking about, you wondered. He was really taking this shit a little too far.

You bolted upright again. Was he seriously going to take this that far?

He was insane, absolutely mental. You were so damn ready to end this. One thing you hated was dishonesty. You especially hated being toyed with.

There was no way that he could prove it. What was he going to do?

He thought you were an idiot. He must have. Your anger was rising.

Rolling your eyes, you tossed your phone beside you. You knew the chances of him passing this test were slim to none. You couldn’t believe that you’d given up the last thirty minutes of sleep for this. Groaning, you dropped back down, determined to drift away to sleep. Almost two minutes passed before you heard your chime again. Fighting the urge, you turned to your side, trying your best to ignore the fact that you knew he’d sent something.

After two minutes of curiosity killing you, you flung your hand back, grabbed your phone while flipping onto your back. You held your phone above your face, opened the app, and there he was.

Your jaw dropped, and your eyes drank in every inch and rippling ab. Jesus, you thought. As you were bringing your phone closer, you didn’t register that a video call was coming in. without even realizing it, you answered, and the same image you’d been looking at moments ago was now live. The only difference was the frame wasn’t as low to show his incredible abs. It cut right at his chest, giving you a peek at his dark, dusty rose nipples. You were utterly frozen. He smiled and raked his hand through his hair before he bit onto his bottom lip. It was Lewis fucking Tan.

 “Enough proof for you?” He smiled, and that was when your phone slipped and fell right in your face.

 “Fuck, owww!”

 The pain was so strong you were tearing up. Rolling to the side, you rubbed your face, then searched for your phone. When you got to it, the video call had ended, showing you your home screen.

 You began to freak out. “Oh my god, oh my god! What the fuck! What the fuck! What the fuck!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[gayenerd]

I just realized I didn’t post that 2007 Rolling Stone article I posted about here. 

Billie Joe Armstrong

The Green Day leader talks Bush, Britney and being a middle-aged punk for our 40th anniversary.

DAVID FRICKE

Posted Nov 01, 2007 8:19 AM

You have two young sons. What kind of America will they inherit?

This war has to finish before something new blossoms. There's no draft — that's why none of the kids give a shit. They'd rather watch videos on YouTube. It's hard to tell what's next — there is so much information out there with no power to it. Everything is in transition, including our government. Next year, it's someone else in the White House. There's no way to define anything. It's Generation Zero. But you gotta start at zero to get to something.

Is there anyone now running for president who gives you hope for the future?

Barack Obama, but it's a bit early to tell if this is the guy I like. I get sick of the religious-figure thing. People don't question their rulers, these political figures, just as they don't question their ministers and priests. They're not going to question George Bush, especially if he goes around talking about God — "I'm going to let God decide this for me. He's going to give me the answer." The fear of God keeps people silent.

When did you first vote in a presidential election?

In 1992. I was twenty. I voted for Clinton.

Did you feel like you made a difference?

Yeah. The Eighties sucked. There was so much bullshit that went along with that decade. I felt like Clinton was a fresh face with fresh ideas. There were times when he was dropping bombs, and I'm thinking, "What the fuck are you doing?" But he became a target. We have this puritanical vision of what a leader is supposed to be, and that's what makes us the biggest hypocrites in the world. We got so inside this guy's sexual habits. Now we have a president going around, killing in the name of what? In the name of nothing.

What did you accomplish with your 2004 anti-Bush album, "American Idiot"? He was re-elected anyway, and the war in Iraq is still going on.

I found a voice. There may have been people disenfranchised by it. People have a hard time with that kind of writing: "Why are you preaching to me?" It does sound preachy, a bit. I'm a musician, and I want to say positive things. If it's about self-indulgent depression or overthrowing the government, it's gotta come from my heart. And when you say "Fuck George W. Bush" in a packed arena in Texas, that's an accomplishment, because you're saying it to the unconverted.

Do you think selling nearly 6 million copies of that album might have an effect on the 2008 election? A kid who bought it at fifteen will be voting age next year.

I hope so. I made it to give people a reason to think for themselves. It was supposed to be a catalyst. Maybe that's one reason why it's difficult for me to write about politics now. A lot of things on that record are still relevant. It's like we have this monarchy in politics — the passing of the baton between the Clintons and the Bushes. That's frightening. What needs to happen is a complete change, a person coming from the outside with a new perspective on all the fucked-up problems we have.

How would you describe the state of pop culture?

People want blood. They want to see other people thrown to the lions. Do audiences want rock stars? I can't tell. You have information coming at you from so many areas — YouTube, the Internet, tabloids. Watching Britney Spears the other night [on the MTV Video Music Awards] was like watching a public execution. How could the people at MTV, the people around her, not know this girl was fucked up? People came in expecting a train wreck, and they got more than they bargained for.

She was a willing conspirator. She didn't say no.

She is a manufactured child. She has come up through this Disney perspective, thinking that all life is about is to be the most ridiculous star you could be. But it's also about what we look at as entertainment — watching somebody go through that.

How do you decide what your children can see on TV or the Internet? As a dad, even a punk-rock dad, that can make you conservative in your choices.

I want to protect them from garbage. It's not necessarily the sex and drugs. It's bad drugs and bad sex, the violence you see on television and in the news. I want to protect them from being desensitized. I want them to realize this is real life, not a video game.

The main thing I want them to have is a good education, because that's something I never had. Get smart. Educate yourself as much as you can, and get as much out of it, even if the teacher is an asshole.

Do you regret dropping out of high school?

Life in high school sucks. I bucked the system. I also got lucky. My wife has a degree in sociology, and there are conversations she has — I don't have a fucking clue what they're talking about. College — I could have learned from that.

But I was the last of six kids. At that point, my mother was fifty-eight, and she threw up her hands — "I'm through with this parenting thing." Also, I could not handle authority figures. But I wouldn't say I'm an authority figure for my kids. I provide guidelines, not rules.

What is it like being a middle-aged punk? Isn't that a contradiction in terms?

It's about the energy you bring with you, the pulse inside your head. I want to get older. I don't want to be twenty-one again. Screw that. My twenties were a difficult time — where my band was at, getting married, having a child. I remember walking out of a gig in Chicago, past these screaming kids. There were these punks, real ones, sitting outside our tour bus. One girl had a forty-ouncer, and she goes, "Billie Joe, come drink with us." I said, "I can't, I've got my family on the bus." She goes, "Well, fuck you then." I get on the bus, and my wife says, "Did that bitch just tell you to fuck off? I'm gonna kick her ass right now." I'm holding her back, while my child is naked, jumping on the couch: "Hi, Daddy!" That was my whole life right there — screaming kids, punks telling me to fuck off, my wife getting pissed, my naked son waiting to get into his pajamas.

There's nothing wrong with being twenty-one. It's the lessons you learn. At thirty, you think, "Why did I worry so much about this shit?" When I hit forty, I'll say the same thing: "Why did I worry about this shit in my thirties?"

What have you learned about yourself?

There is more to life than trying to find your way through self-destruction or throwing yourself into the fire all the time. Nihilism in punk rock can be a cliché. I need to give myself more room to breathe, to allow my thoughts to catch up with the rest of me.

Before Dookie, I wasn't married and I didn't have kids. I had a guitar, a bag of clothes and a four-track recorder. There are ways you don't want to change. You don't want to lose your spark. But I need silence more than I did before. I need to get away from the static and noise, whereas before, I thrived on it.

Are you ready for the end of the music business? The technology and its effect on sales have changed dramatically since Green Days' debut EP — on vinyl — in 1989.

Technology now and the way people put out records — everything comes at you so fast, you don't know what you're investigating. You can't identify with it — at least I can't. With American Idiot, we made a conscious effort to give people an experience they could remember for the rest of their lives. It wasn't just the content. It was the artwork, the three acts — the way you could read it all like someone's story.

Is music simply not important to young people now the way it was to you as a kid?

People get addicted to garbage they don't need. At shows, they gotta talk on their phones to their friend who's in the next aisle. I was watching this documentary on Jeff Tweedy of Wilco [Sunken Treasure]. He was playing acoustic, and he ends up screaming at the audience: "Your fucking conversation can wait. I'm up here singing a song — get involved." He wasn't being an asshole. He was like, "Leave your bullshit behind. Let's celebrate what's happening now."

We need music, and we need it good. I took it very seriously. There's a side of me where music will always send chills up my spine, make me cry, make me want to get up and do Pete Townshend windmills. In a lot of ways, I was in a minority when I was young. There are people who go, "Oh, that's a snappy tune." I listen to it and go, "That's the greatest fucking song ever. That is the song I want played at my funeral."

Now that you've brought it up, what song do you want played at your funeral?

It keeps changing. "Life on Mars?" by David Bowie. "In My Life," by the Beatles. "Love," by John Lennon.

Those are all reflective ballads, not punk.

I disagree. They are all honest in their reflection. The punk bands I liked were the ones who didn't fall into clichés — the Clash, the Ramones. The Ramones wrote beautiful love songs. They also invented punk rock. I'd have to add "Blitzkrieg Bop" to the list.

What is the future of punk rock? Will it still be a voice of rebellion in twenty years?

It's categorized in so many different ways. You've got the MySpace punks. But there is always the subculture of it — the rats in the walls, pounding the pavement and booking their own live shows. It comes down to the people who are willing to do something different from everybody else.

You are in a different, platinum-album world now. What makes you so sure that spirit survives?

I'm going on faith — because I was there. Gilman Street [the Berkeley, California, club where Green Day played early shows] is still around. And that's a hard task, because there is no bar — it's a nonprofit cooperative. It's like a commune — this feeling of bucking the system together, surviving and thriving on art. Punk, as an underground, pushes for the generation gap. As soon as you're twenty-five years old, there's a group of sixteen-year-olds coming to kick your ass. And you have to pass the torch on. It's a trip to have seen it happen so many times. It gives me goose bumps — punk is something that survives on its own.

[im-da-bronx]

Executive dysfunction life hacks, loopholes, and shortcuts

By me, your local adhd disaster

Some of these I am currently not doing but that’s more of a funds and location situation b/c I’m living with my parents

Get one of those roomba vacuums that plugs into a station. That way you only need to empty it once a month, and you don’t have to worry about remembering to vacuum.

Get one of those air filtering systems. I’ve heard that they suck the dust out of the air (less cleaning, yay!!) and it’s supposed to be really good for people with allergies and asthma. These, too, only need to be emptied once a month or so.

PAPER PLATES. PAPER PLATES EVERYWHERE. You WILL thank me, when you don’t have a pile of dirty dishes piled up in the sink. Yes, have regular dishes, but save those for special occasions, and use paper plates and disposable cutlery for everyday.

If you can, set up your bills to be paid automatically, top priority, every month. That way you don’t have to worry about forgetting to pay them, and you don’t have to worry about not having enough money, because you pay them FIRST, and then use the rest for other expenses. (Is it obvious I have no clue how banking works?)

Keep a wastebasket in your room. That way you can throw out all of the food wrappers without having to trek all the way to the kitchen/bathroom/wherever, and having a trash free bedroom is a must.

Try to do your laundry once a week, because if you’re anything like me, you’ll have only gone through three or four outfits, and it’s way easier and less time consuming/stressful/requires less spoons to fold three shirts, two pants, and six pairs of socks than folding a months worth of clothes.

NO DUMPING LOCATIONS. Try to not have a beanbag chair/steamer trunk/desk/whatever in your bedroom, because you WILL want to dump your laundry and assorted things there to deal with later. DO NOT. I do not have one, but I want to get a desk for my bedroom, and I will be getting a slanted drafting desk, because if it’s flat, I WILL dump things there.

Avoid over-complicated neurotypical organizers. If you’re not going to hang up your shoes every time, then just get a big bucket to dump them in. You will not be tempted to dump not-shoes into your shoe bucket, because shoes are gross and dirty and you don’t want your things dirty. **This comes with the caveat that you might wear the same two pairs of shoes over and over again, simply because you can’t see your other shoes.**

If you take medication every morning, put your Flintstones vitamins (or equivalent) right next to your medication so that you don’t forget to take it. I know that I forget to take my vitamins, and it’s really not good because I’m borderline anemic, and I’m not getting enough iron.

On that note, DRINK WATER. I will forget to drink water, so I try to make it fun. I’ll drink out of a dollar tree chalice, or a pirate’s rum bottle, or I’ll take shots or smth. If you can’t make yourself drink water b/c of the taste or smth (which happens), try to drink Gatorade or other flavored electrolyte juices (my go-to is fruit punch Gatorade, which is great until you brush your teeth and think you’re bleeding)

If you rely on packaged snacks to eat, try to buy healthier snacks, such as granola bars, trail mix, fruit cups, etc., b/c they’ll have nutrients that you need, and b/c sometimes the flavor mix up from ‘sugary junk food’ to ‘salty trail mix’ or whatever can be satisfying to those of us who get bored with repeating things. You don’t need to completely cut out junk food, b/c any food is better than none, but it will make you feel better if you’re in the mindset of, “I’m gross, I don’t eat healthy, I don’t work out,” b/c then you’ll be like, “wait, I ate a fruit cup today! Fruit is healthy!” And fruit is tasty and has water and vitamins.

Facial wipes. Sometimes (most of the time) I’m in a rush to leave or I just don’t have the energy to pull out the face scrub and completely wash my face, so facial wipes are a must. The ones I get act as a cleanser and makeup remover, and they don’t require rinsing afterwards (though I prefer to rinse my face if I can). These are great, because if you’re self concious of acne or oily skin, but can’t bring yourself to completely wash your face, these will make you feel fresh and clean.

Wide toothed combs for my friends with crazy curly hair. When I had mono (AVOID AT ALL COSTS) I would roll out of bed (often already partially in my uniform) brush my teeth, and use one of these on my hair. It was a huge change from before, when I would take a shower every single morning, and spend at least ten minutes on my hair and appearance every day. The trick with these (to not brush your curls out completely, but also avoid tangles and rats nests) is to start from the bottom with DRY hair, then wet your hands and run your fingers through, dampening the curls enough to re-clump and re-curl them, without making your hair dripping wet.

If you have to/like to wear makeup, but don’t like that it costs so many spoons, try to figure out why. My makeup routine used to take 30 minutes for just the basics, but recently I bought a kabuki brush (so soft!!) and it took 10 minutes to do my makeup. I then realized that my routine before consisted of 50% makeup application, and 50% washing my hands a million times b/c I had a super small sponge applicator and I’d use my fingers a lot.

If you have hobbies that require a bunch of supplies, but organizing them is a pain, get a giant plastic tub and dump everything in there. That way you don’t have to worry about “my paints are over here, but my canvases are over there” because giant tubs can fit a lot. I recently did this with my knitting and crocheting stuff, and it’s great, because while, yes, I really liked the baskets I had them in before (pretty woven reed ones), they weren’t conducive to stacking, and I had so much yarn that it would fall out and roll everywhere.

If you have trouble getting out of bed, try sleeping with a pet. When my dog would sleep with me, I’d have to get up to let her out in the morning, which was a mental “hey, be aware, you have to get up soon” when I went back to bed. DO NOT RELY ON THIS METHOD, use it as more of a guide/reminder, unless you have a specially trained service pet.

Try feeding your pets treats at the same time every day, coinciding with your ideal mealtimes. That way, they know it’s time for them to eat, and they’ll remind you, and you’ll remember to eat. **this also works with children, in that they’ll make you make them food, and you’ll be reminded to eat**

Slippers are great for of your feet get cold easily/you don’t like dirty feet/you don’t have the energy to put on shoes. Be aware, though, that if you don’t like dirty feet, or if your feet get really cold, you should wear socks with your slippers, because if you don’t, your feet will get really sweaty (gross) and then, b/c your feet are damp (ew) they’ll get EVEN COLDER (no)

Lists are good. If you’re like me, though, and you need about five separate lists (one for your daily routine, one for chores, one for your daily goals, one for your weekly goals, one for things you’d like to do eventually, one for ideas you want to look up, etc) get a day+week+month planner. If you’re like me, you won’t want to use a 2020 planner if you’re beginning it in July (b/c my brain is weird and doing that is just Not A Good Idea, though it isn’t Banned) so if you’re weird like me get one without any dates in it (or ambiguous dates, like the month and day, but not the year or specific week day) so you can start anytime, or plan ahead and get the yearly one in December.

Reward yourself!! If you know you did everything you’re supposed to in a week, buy a Frappuccino or an ice cream, something you don’t get very often. If you’ve been putting off watching that show, but you went for a walk two days this week, watch that episode! *try not to make the rewards too vague/far off or too close, because you either won’t do it because “I’m never gonna get one” or “why should I, it’s RIGHT THERE”

Put music on while you’re working/cleaning/etc. upbeat music will get you dancing, and hey you’re standing up, so you might as well take these shirts those three feet to the hamper.

Use the “fuck it” method (I’ll try it, and if it works, nice, if it doesn’t, fuck it, I gave it a shot.)

If all else fails, throw your phone away (social media is a huge distraction, I spent an hour writing this instead of doing other things)

Please feel free to add on to this!! I am always in need of finding new ways to do things, as I either forget, or realize there are too many steps to doing a thing, and my brain doesn’t like it.

[drink-the-midnight-oil]

a serpent in the water

Bughead AU:  Loner Betty and popular Jughead are South Side Serpents. On the day of Serpent initiation, Betty goes to cool off at Sweetwater River, only to encounter an unwelcome surprise.   

Ao3

Serpent initiation. The rite of passage for every girl or boy who wanted to join the infamous Riverdale gang, the South Side Serpents. Betty Cooper eagerly awaited it. All she had ever wanted was the chance to prove herself worthy of the South Side Serpents. Her mom, her aunt, even her grandparents were Serpents. It was a title to be worn with the utmost pride, and Betty craved it. However, the stakes this year were far higher. The Serpents’ leader, FP Jones had decided that only the top participant would be accepted into the Serpents. This was to avoid betrayal after what had happened last time. 

Betty parked her motorcycle on the banks of Sweetwater River. Approaching the water, she pulled off her helmet and shook her blonde curls loose. It was a beautiful day, warm and sunny. She dipped her fingertips in the water, pleased to find it cold. Dropping her helmet on the shore, she stripped down to her black bra and panties and waded into the river. 

Sweetwater River was Betty’s favorite place to go to relax. The spot she always visited was secluded and it was the best part of the river. The water was always the perfect temperature, and bushes grew nearby, ripe with berries. 

She dove down and came back up, pushing her wet hair out of her eyes. The light glittered on the surface of the water like a million twinkling diamonds. Floating on her back, Betty closed her eyes and let the sun warm her face. 

The first round of Serpent initiation was later that evening. The law recitation. Betty had known all the laws by heart ever since she was seven years old. Alice Cooper had made sure of it. Initiation would be harder for Betty than the others. Her father was a North Sider, at least that’s what Alice had told her. He had seduced her mother and impregnated her, running off, never to be seen again. And because of that, for the rest of the South Side, Betty was a stigma. A person with dirty blood.

Betty went through the laws once again in her head.

One, a Serpent never betrays her own. Two, if a Serpent is killed or imprisoned, their family will be taken care of. Three, no Serpent is left for dead. Four, a Serpent never - 

Two large arms wrapped around Betty’s waist and dragged her underwater. Betty tried to scream but quickly shut her mouth, realizing that was stupid. She tried to break free but the arms around her were strong and gripped her tighter. Her back was pressed against a hard chest. Remembering her training, Betty pushed her captor’s hands downward and twisted sideways in his grip, effectively breaking his hold on her. She swam upward as fast she could, her heart hammering in her chest.

She broke the surface of the water, gasping. Turning around just in time, Betty watched as another person came up, laughing and panting. His ebony hair fell in wet strands across his forehead and he pushed it out of his face, still grinning, perfect white teeth on display. His eyes were an impossibly blue color and were complemented by long, dark lashes. A chiseled face with high cheekbones and a strong jawline made him the very image of an Adonis. Realizing who it was, Betty’s eyes narrowed.

Jughead Jones. The Serpent Prince. He was FP’s son, the rightful heir to the Serpent throne. He was known throughout Riverdale for his intimidating demeanor and devilish good looks. Men cowered and women swooned when he walked past. His fame wasn’t because he was the Serpent King’s son, although that played a minute role. Jughead had built his own reputation in town over the years. Brought up a Serpent royal, he had received the best training one could get. Not to mention, he had a way with words that could make anyone believe whatever he said. He could switch from suave to deadly in a matter of seconds, and everybody feared and respected his power. But to Betty, he was the cocky, arrogant asshole she’d known since they were five.

“Jughead, what are you doing here?” Betty asked, annoyed. 

“What? I can’t swim in Sweetwater River? Am I not too a citizen of this fair town?” He smirked at her. 

Betty crossed her arms, unconvinced.

“Okay, fine. I was riding by and I saw your motorcycle parked uphill. I saw you in the water and figured, why not play a little prank? Lighten up the mood a bit, before tonight’s mission. Which, by the way, is in an hour.”

“An hour?!” Betty looked at the sun and saw that it was dipping lower on the horizon. “Shit. FP’s gonna kill me.”

“Ah, don’t worry. It won’t be the first time you were late for something. Besides, that Serpent jacket is going to be on my back by the time this ends.”

“We’ll see about that.” Betty swam for the river bank, Jughead close behind.

“I’m serious, Betty. I don’t want you to cry after you lose terribly.” 

“Says the boy who threw a fit when Sweet Pea won the wrestling tournament.”

“We were TEN. And besides, I could kick Sweet Pea’s ass now.”

Ignoring him, Betty reached the shore and walked to where her clothes lay in the sand. Jughead’s jeans and shirt lay nearby, along with his jacket. Picking up her jeans, she turned around and saw him still in the water, staring at her, an undecipherable look in his eyes. Her wet bra was clinging to her and it was just enough to see the shape and suggestion of her breasts. Also, she was half-naked. Smiling mischievously, Betty jut out a hip.

“Like what you see, Jones?”

Jughead blinked and seemed to see Betty’s cocked eyebrow. He grinned at her.

“Cooper, after all the women’s bodies I’ve seen, yours doesn’t faze me at all.” He walked out of the water, and Betty rolled her eyes.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t good looking. He was gorgeous. Like so many of the other Serpent men, he was built for a fight. Strong shoulders and well-defined arms, a toned stomach. He was tan from working out in the sun. But while the other men were beefy and muscular, Jughead had a more athletic and well-built physique. His boxers were riding dangerously low on his hips, his sharp V-lines, glistening in the sunset. It took some effort to look away from him, and that’s what pissed Betty off. 

“When are you going to realize that your dashing looks aren’t going to affect me?” she said, trying to hide her flushed cheeks.

“Oh, Betty. Don’t try to deny it,” he winked at her as he pulled on his own jeans. 

“As if I would care how you look,” she scoffed, even more flustered. She hate that he did that to her. She didn’t even like him. He was a narcissistic tool, a product of nepotism, albeit his natural talent. It made her burn with both jealousy and awe. And the fact that he was, not that she’d ever openly admit, handsome, just rubbed salt into the wound.

Jughead just chuckled and shook his head slightly as he buttoned up his jeans.

They finished getting dressed and Betty grabbed her helmet. Walking to the place where she’d parked her motorcycle, she saw a similar bike parked next to hers, but with an Ouroboros drawn on its side. The insignia of the Jones family as the head of the Serpents. It served as a reminder of who the boss was, and to respect and obey them. 

“What are you staring at?” Jughead asked as he walked up to the bike, taking his helmet from where it rested on the seat.

“Oh, nothing,” Betty put on her helmet and got on her bike. The only good thing about Jughead, if she had to pick something, was that he never used his position to impose himself on others. In fact, he acted as if he didn’t care for the title of Serpent prince at all.

“Race you to the Wyrm?” Jughead asked her, as he started his bike.

Betty grinned. “You’re on.”

~~~

I’d written this just for fun a few years ago because I liked the scenario. I’d originally planned to turn it into a series because I liked the story concept but I never got around to it. I was going through my drafts and found this, and it put a smile on my face. While I don’t plan on continuing it, I thought I’d post it as a drabble. Hope you liked it!

rhea

[tainted-sentimientos]

Barack Obama’s DNC Speech

“Good evening, everybody. As you've seen by now, this isn't a normal convention. It's not a normal time. So tonight, I want to talk as plainly as I can about the stakes in this election. Because what we do these next 76 days will echo through generations to come.

I'm in Philadelphia, where our Constitution was drafted and signed. It wasn't a perfect document. It allowed for the inhumanity of slavery and failed to guarantee women -- and even men who didn't own property -- the right to participate in the political process. But embedded in this document was a North Star that would guide future generations; a system of representative government -- a democracy -- through which we could better realize our highest ideals. Through civil war and bitter struggles, we improved this Constitution to include the voices of those who'd once been left out. And gradually, we made this country more just, more equal, and more free.

The one Constitutional office elected by all of the people is the presidency. So at minimum, we should expect a president to feel a sense of responsibility for the safety and welfare of all 330 million of us -- regardless of what we look like, how we worship, who we love, how much money we have -- or who we voted for.

But we should also expect a president to be the custodian of this democracy. We should expect that regardless of ego, ambition, or political beliefs, the president will preserve, protect, and defend the freedoms and ideals that so many Americans marched for and went to jail for; fought for and died for.

I have sat in the Oval Office with both of the men who are running for president. I never expected that my successor would embrace my vision or continue my policies. I did hope, for the sake of our country, that Donald Trump might show some interest in taking the job seriously; that he might come to feel the weight of the office and discover some reverence for the democracy that had been placed in his care.

But he never did. For close to four years now, he's shown no interest in putting in the work; no interest in finding common ground; no interest in using the awesome power of his office to help anyone but himself and his friends; no interest in treating the presidency as anything but one more reality show that he can use to get the attention he craves.

Donald Trump hasn't grown into the job because he can't. And the consequences of that failure are severe. 170,000 Americans dead. Millions of jobs gone while those at the top take in more than ever. Our worst impulses unleashed, our proud reputation around the world badly diminished, and our democratic institutions threatened like never before.

Now, I know that in times as polarized as these, most of you have already made up your mind. But maybe you're still not sure which candidate you'll vote for -- or whether you'll vote at all. Maybe you're tired of the direction we're headed, but you can't see a better path yet, or you just don't know enough about the person who wants to lead us there.

So let me tell you about my friend Joe Biden.

Twelve years ago, when I began my search for a vice president, I didn't know I'd end up finding a brother. Joe and I came from different places and different generations. But what I quickly came to admire about him is his resilience, born of too much struggle; his empathy, born of too much grief. Joe's a man who learned -- early on -- to treat every person he meets with respect and dignity, living by the words his parents taught him: "No one's better than you, Joe, but you're better than nobody."

That empathy, that decency, the belief that everybody counts -- that's who Joe is.

When he talks with someone who's lost her job, Joe remembers the night his father sat him down to say that he'd lost his.

When Joe listens to a parent who's trying to hold it all together right now, he does it as the single dad who took the train back to Wilmington each and every night so he could tuck his kids into bed.

When he meets with military families who've lost their hero, he does it as a kindred spirit; the parent of an American soldier; somebody whose faith has endured the hardest loss there is.

For eight years, Joe was the last one in the room whenever I faced a big decision. He made me a better president -- and he's got the character and the experience to make us a better country.

And in my friend Kamala Harris, he's chosen an ideal partner who's more than prepared for the job; someone who knows what it's like to overcome barriers and who's made a career fighting to help others live out their own American dream.

Along with the experience needed to get things done, Joe and Kamala have concrete policies that will turn their vision of a better, fairer, stronger country into reality.

They'll get this pandemic under control, like Joe did when he helped me manage H1N1 and prevent an Ebola outbreak from reaching our shores.

They'll expand health care to more Americans, like Joe and I did ten years ago when he helped craft the Affordable Care Act and nail down the votes to make it the law.

They'll rescue the economy, like Joe helped me do after the Great Recession. I asked him to manage the Recovery Act, which jumpstarted the longest stretch of job growth in history. And he sees this moment now not as a chance to get back to where we were, but to make long-overdue changes so that our economy actually makes life a little easier for everybody -- whether it's the waitress trying to raise a kid on her own, or the shift worker always on the edge of getting laid off, or the student figuring out how to pay for next semester's classes.

Joe and Kamala will restore our standing in the world -- and as we've learned from this pandemic, that matters. Joe knows the world, and the world knows him. He knows that our true strength comes from setting an example the world wants to follow. A nation that stands with democracy, not dictators. A nation that can inspire and mobilize others to overcome threats like climate change, terrorism, poverty, and disease.

But more than anything, what I know about Joe and Kamala is that they actually care about every American. And they care deeply about this democracy.

They believe that in a democracy, the right to vote is sacred, and we should be making it easier for people to cast their ballot, not harder.

They believe that no one -- including the president -- is above the law, and that no public official -- including the president -- should use their office to enrich themselves or their supporters.

They understand that in this democracy, the Commander-in-Chief doesn't use the men and women of our military, who are willing to risk everything to protect our nation, as political props to deploy against peaceful protesters on our own soil. They understand that political opponents aren't "un-American" just because they disagree with you; that a free press isn't the "enemy" but the way we hold officials accountable; that our ability to work together to solve big problems like a pandemic depends on a fidelity to facts and science and logic and not just making stuff up.

None of this should be controversial. These shouldn't be Republican principles or Democratic principles. They're American principles. But at this moment, this president and those who enable him, have shown they don't believe in these things.

Tonight, I am asking you to believe in Joe and Kamala's ability to lead this country out of these dark times and build it back better. But here's the thing: no single American can fix this country alone. Not even a president. Democracy was never meant to be transactional -- you give me your vote; I make everything better. It requires an active and informed citizenry. So I am also asking you to believe in your own ability -- to embrace your own responsibility as citizens -- to make sure that the basic tenets of our democracy endure.

Because that's what at stake right now. Our democracy.

Look, I understand why many Americans are down on government. The way the rules have been set up and abused in Congress make it easy for special interests to stop progress. Believe me, I know. I understand why a white factory worker who's seen his wages cut or his job shipped overseas might feel like the government no longer looks out for him, and why a Black mother might feel like it never looked out for her at all. I understand why a new immigrant might look around this country and wonder whether there's still a place for him here; why a young person might look at politics right now, the circus of it all, the meanness and the lies and crazy conspiracy theories and think, what's the point?

Well, here's the point: this president and those in power -- those who benefit from keeping things the way they are -- they are counting on your cynicism. They know they can't win you over with their policies. So they're hoping to make it as hard as possible for you to vote, and to convince you that your vote doesn't matter. That's how they win. That's how they get to keep making decisions that affect your life, and the lives of the people you love. That's how the economy will keep getting skewed to the wealthy and well-connected, how our health systems will let more people fall through the cracks. That's how a democracy withers, until it's no democracy at all.

We can't let that happen. Do not let them take away your power. Don't let them take away your democracy. Make a plan right now for how you're going to get involved and vote. Do it as early as you can and tell your family and friends how they can vote too. Do what Americans have done for over two centuries when faced with even tougher times than this -- all those quiet heroes who found the courage to keep marching, keep pushing in the face of hardship and injustice.

Last month, we lost a giant of American democracy in John Lewis. Some years ago, I sat down with John and the few remaining leaders of the early Civil Rights Movement. One of them told me he never imagined he'd walk into the White House and see a president who looked like his grandson. Then he told me that he'd looked it up, and it turned out that on the very day that I was born, he was marching into a jail cell, trying to end Jim Crow segregation in the South.

What we do echoes through the generations.

Whatever our backgrounds, we're all the children of Americans who fought the good fight. Great grandparents working in firetraps and sweatshops without rights or representation. Farmers losing their dreams to dust. Irish and Italians and Asians and Latinos told to go back where they came from. Jews and Catholics, Muslims and Sikhs, made to feel suspect for the way they worshipped. Black Americans chained and whipped and hanged. Spit on for trying to sit at lunch counters. Beaten for trying to vote.

If anyone had a right to believe that this democracy did not work, and could not work, it was those Americans. Our ancestors. They were on the receiving end of a democracy that had fallen short all their lives. They knew how far the daily reality of America strayed from the myth. And yet, instead of giving up, they joined together and said somehow, some way, we are going to make this work. We are going to bring those words, in our founding documents, to life.

I've seen that same spirit rising these past few years. Folks of every age and background who packed city centers and airports and rural roads so that families wouldn't be separated. So that another classroom wouldn't get shot up. So that our kids won't grow up on an uninhabitable planet. Americans of all races joining together to declare, in the face of injustice and brutality at the hands of the state, that Black Lives Matter, no more, but no less, so that no child in this country feels the continuing sting of racism.

To the young people who led us this summer, telling us we need to be better -- in so many ways, you are this country's dreams fulfilled. Earlier generations had to be persuaded that everyone has equal worth. For you, it's a given -- a conviction. And what I want you to know is that for all its messiness and frustrations, your system of self-government can be harnessed to help you realize those convictions.

You can give our democracy new meaning. You can take it to a better place. You're the missing ingredient -- the ones who will decide whether or not America becomes the country that fully lives up to its creed.

That work will continue long after this election. But any chance of success depends entirely on the outcome of this election. This administration has shown it will tear our democracy down if that's what it takes to win. So we have to get busy building it up -- by pouring all our effort into these 76 days, and by voting like never before -- for Joe and Kamala, and candidates up and down the ticket, so that we leave no doubt about what this country we love stands for -- today and for all our days to come.

Stay safe. God bless.”

- Former President Barack Obama

To the decided:

To the undecided:

To the opposed:

[lindoig4]

Across Canada

I will try to post a little more text today, but the internet service here is pretty poor so I will leave posting of any more photos until we get home.  We leave the US this evening and arrive back in Melbourne before dawn on Wednesday, having missed an entire day along the way.

We took a cab to Union Station to catch the VIA Rail across the country.  We have usually paid cab fares by card, but Heather used cash this time.  The cabbie gave her a few coins as change and when Heather said that there should have been some notes, he said he was keeping that as his tip - about 50% of the fare.  Heather argued, but he bullied her and insisted that he was keeping it.  Had I been closer instead of getting our bags out of the boot, he may not have been so demanding, but it left a sour taste in our mouths as it was.

The train is by no means luxurious, obviously oldish, but it is quite functional and we are comfy enough in our little cabin.  One good thing is that the bunks are bigger and much more comfortable than on the ship or the other trains we have used.  We have both slept well.

On the other hand, there is no WiFi at all, only an occasional phone signal and although there are 110-volt power outlets, they won’t charge my PC - so once again, the technology has failed us.  Maybe I am naive, but we are now in the 21st century and I reckon basic power and signal issues should have been sorted out years ago.  As it is, the battery in my PC is flat and there is no way I can use it until we reach Vancouver at best.  That means I can’t look at my photos or do much with my blog other than draft bits on my iPad.

Canada is exquisitely beautiful.  It is an absolute picture postcard, full to bursting with trees and lakes.  The overwhelming colour is green, with literally billions of tall skinny pointy trees.  Actually, they are not that tall. We have seen very few trees more than 8-10 metres tall, but there are zillions of them, mostly densely packed with both understory and overstory.  In some places, it is a bit more open, but still usually gloomy and mysterious, inviting us to explore - if only we were out there in the bush.  Aspen, larch, spruce, alder, birch, pines and firs, conifers of every description, millions of stark white trunks, black trunks, all sorts, drowning in a thousand shades of green, leaves shimmering in the breeze, gleaming in the sun, with just a smattering of autumn tones starting to appear here and there.

Then there are the thousands of lakes.  We must have traversed 1000 kilometres of marshy land with water shimmering through the low vegetation as far as we could see.  But there are thousands of open lakes as well, from just a hectare or two to those speeding past the train for kilometre after kilometre.  Did I say picture postcard?  We have seen them all. The little ones that look like they came out of a cutesy 50s or 60s movie, with the summer camp atmosphere - a few canoes tied up to a little landing, a pontoon and shallow diving board, a short rowing course, maybe a pathetic little waterski-jump and a collection of quaint little huts that are probably family holiday shacks.  Then there are the more remote ones, some with a tiny island or two with just 2 or 3 perfectly conical fir trees on them and a kayak tied up to a partly-submerged drowning landing that defies imagination about how one might access it - not even a hiking track, much less a road, in sight.  Then we have the larger ones with a couple of small tinnies out there, each with a fisherman or two, sound asleep with their rods dangling limp over the side, or perhaps the ten deserted sheds, some literally falling down, and only a tiny Cessna anchored to the shore to suggest that anyone might occasionally visit them.  We are not talking upscale Hillbilly country.  This is magically picturesque country that should warrant criminal charges if anyone but us invades it.  Add your own superlatives, but for me, I have run out.  Simply stupendously glorious!

Later.  We have just crossed the border from massive Ontario into Manitoba - after more than 20 hours heading west.  Slowly, the trees and lakes seem to be getting slightly larger, the terrain is a little more open, the trees a little lighter green and the wildflowers more profuse and colourful - mainly white, yellow and mauve/purple.

For the entire trip, there has been a line of telegraph posts and cables beside the train: around 20 cables, but obviously long defunct.  Thousands of the posts have simply sunk into the boggy earth or fallen over or submerged into the lakes, and many of the cables are broken or hanging limp and tangled.  I am amazed that nobody has attempted to salvage the hundreds of thousands of dollars of copper out there.

As we went west, it became a little hillier and we even went through a couple of short tunnels.  We also went through many cuttings where the rock had been blasted away for the track.  There was a lot of red in the rocks and it is likely that some sort of algae was growing on it to make it that colour.

It was getting dark when we rolled into Winnipeg, but we had an hour and a bit stopover, so we went into the station and used the WiFi to download our email - alas, mostly more bills to pay!  I had prepared a few emails to send, but they were all on my PC and inaccessible due to the flat battery!

It was a very rocky night, but we were up early for showers.  I raised the blind just a centimetre or two in our cabin and could see everything there was to see.  The landscape was entirely in landscape.  Flat, flat, flat - all the way to the horizon. Everything looked manicured as if the farmers had risen early and swept or ironed their paddocks to welcome us.  A bit later, we saw patches of forest and lots of neat (or sometimes sprawling) farmhouses, often with 2 or 3 little cottages and a barn or two, and mostly at least a field-bin or ten (or 30) and a tractor parked nearby.  Many farms also have a machinery graveyard, usually at a distance from the house, with rows of rusty tractors, trucks, cars, pick-ups, ploughs, harvesters, caravans, campers and who knows what, all lined up in their final resting places, slowly sinking into the landscape.  The houses all have pitched rooves, presumably to avoid too much snow collecting on them in the winter.

The paddocks are mainly cropped with wheat, barley, oats and canola, but there is also a lot of uncropped land, mostly looking too boggy to crop.  Quite a bit of the uncropped land is still productive though, with miles of road and rail verges being harvested and baled for silage.  It is obviously harvest time over here with quite a lot of crop already cut, but with plenty more still to go.  We haven’t seen much actually being harvested, but plenty of hay bales in neatly shorn paddocks.  There are a few cattle but no big herds.  Also a few horses, half a dozen goats, a donkey, a young deer standing beside the track staring at me - and at least one fox scampering across the prairie with four magpies harassing it.  It was nearly two days later before we saw any sheep: about 20 near one house and 3 at another – then none through to Vancouver.

There have been a few shallow lakes, mainly fairly small and at last, a few birds.  We crossed one wide river, very shallow with flat mud islands and hundreds of birds: all gulls and Canada Geese as far as I could see.  It is very frustrating not having any internet because I can’t identify the birds conclusively without my favourite Merlin app, but I am taking photos and making notes and hope I will be able to tie some of them down later.  It is even more frustrating that Heather can sit there posting to Facebook and her blog almost any time when the SIM we purchased for me doesn’t work in either my phone or my iPad!

There were a few places along the rivers and nearby lakes where I suspect beavers were at work.  A couple of creeks appeared to be dammed and there was an area near one suspected lodge where a whole lot of smallish trees had been felled – all with pencil-sharpener bases.  And I saw a few flat conical structures a metre or so above the water level – again with a collection of pick-up-sticks pencil-ended logs embedded in the structure.  I could be just imagining it, but the indications seemed to be there that beavers could have created the dams and underwater pyramids.

It is strange that we rocketed through the night, speeding along much faster than anywhere to date, making for a very bumpy ride - then arriving in Saskatoon where they said we were way ahead of our timetable so there would be a two hour stopover to get back on schedule.  Go figure!  The track we are on is apparently owned by a freight company and freight trains always have priority.  This means that we frequently need to stop at sidings or on branch lines, often for half an hour or more until a freight train passes.  The freight trains are massive, up to about 3 kilometres long and mostly double-deckers that roar along carrying hundreds of thousands of tonnes of cargo across the country day and night.  They are not as bad as in Russia where a few kilometres of freight barrelled past us every time I raised my camera for a shot, but there must still be at least several dozen here each day.

Next time we woke up, we were in Saskatchewan and the terrain slowly became more varied, with lumpy low hills, uneven ground, more diverse vegetation, taller trees and in due course, we had an hour or so stopover in Edmonton and next morning we rolled into Jasper in the Canadian Rockies.  Our Edmonton stop was marked by the start of a dramatic electrical storm. It was really ferocious with lightning flashing brilliantly around us every few seconds.  We went to dinner as it was getting dark and the lightning outside the dining car was tremendous.  We were soon locked up, cosy in bed, but several other passengers said the electrical storm was amazing and followed us for hours.

[theolddarkmachine]

Four Years- Freshman Year

It would figure that he would also be a pledge.

In fact, it made sense.

Guys like Shiro didn’t just go through college without leaving their mark on something with at least one greek letter.

But fate was just all too cruel to land him in this one fraternity in particular.

Beta Theta and Alpha Chi had a long history of overzealous competition between them from the very start. As the story went, the Alphas crossed paths with the Betas, welcoming them into Greek Row with a trick that turned the water to their house blue for a month. The founding members at the time didn’t take too kindly to their aqua tinged skin and consequential smurf jokes, and retaliated by duct taping every moveable object in their house to the ceiling.

The rest, as they say, was history. A history that marked each and every member of Alpha Chi Lambda with a big, fat red no symbol over each one of their faces, no matter how stupidly attractive.

Part 1 of 5

AO3

Warnings: None for now aside from underage drinking. Will earn an E rating though.

A/N: Did any of y’all watch Greek? God. I fucking loved Greek and if you look close enough you’ll catch throwbacks to that. also each part has a song tied to it sorry not sorry

******************************

I remember when we Swapped names and I thought maybe You’d stay and try to out drink me Your friends all hate it

-Cocoon, Catfish and the Bottlemen

***

There were a great many things that Keith Kogane hadn’t taken into account when he’d foolishly allowed himself to be talked into pledging a fraternity by his best friend and roommate. He hadn’t considered the fact that it would add to the already hefty workload he had as a dean’s scholarship winner.

Hadn’t considered the chance of actual hazing that would be involved.

But mostly, he hadn’t considered how much worse it would make his 8am calculus class.

It will be good for us, Hunk had said as he’d steered Keith head first into the main mall that was lined with an obscene amount of plastic tables decorated to look appealing. As if foldable tables could be appealing.

This will make it easier to branch out and make friends, he’d continued as he began picking up fliers detailing the many upsides to becoming a member of Beta Theta Omega for life.

And don’t forget how good it looks on resumes, he’d said, landing his death blow as he’d taken the recruiter’s hand in what became the handshake that changed both of their lives.

Sighing loudly, Keith sunk lower into his seat as he nursed the darkest roast of coffee that the campus coffeeshop offered.

I need something that will match the dark circles, he’d said monotonously as he gestured to his own face, barely computing the worried look it had earned him as the barista quickly turned to the coffee maker in the farthest corner.

It tasted a lot like molten mud, but he really didn’t have much of a choice when faced with two hours of sleep thanks to an unfortunate incident with a goldfish, and a morning with the squeeze theorem.

As it turned out, he really should have considered that Hell Week and calculus wouldn’t be a very good combination.

“God dammit, Hunk,” he growled under his breath as his professor sauntered into the room, his excitement over limits and functions oozing from his very pores as he twisted the edge of his bright orange mustache between his fingers. Coran was known for his over enthusiasm in just about everything he did, and it was something Keith would be able to respect if it didn’t happen at unholy hours.

If he was being fair, he’d never actually stood a chance with the class. Faced with what he considered a Perfect Storm of Circumstance, Keith knew he should have dropped it while he’d still had the chance. Any sane student would have chosen to wait until the next semester and try for a later time.

No one would have blamed him for it, after all, it was his very first semester.

Hunk had already sat down with him and drafted a list of pros and cons after a particularly harrowing morning that had led to him peeling Keith out of bed and pushing him out the door with a barely toasted piece of bread, two different shoes on, and a quiet godspeed.

Mainly comprised of cons, his friend couldn’t quite understand why Keith wouldn’t just leave the class for dead.

If he was being honest, he knew he should. In any other circumstance, he would have marched himself into his counselor’s office that very first day to pull the plug on the course, citing his pre-freshman aspirations that had clearly led him astray.

Only, as it turned out, this wasn’t any other circumstance. Because what Hunk didn’t know, and what Keith refused to admit, was that there was a single lonely solitary pro that he hadn’t added to the list.

A very big, very hot one with a square jaw hand crafted by an unnamed god that clearly wanted to apologize for all their wrongs. One with molten silver eyes and a permanent quirk in the rightmost corner of its full lips that left it with an ever present smirk.

A pro that made his very tired heart kickstart within his chest until it left its imprint in the back of his ribs each time he stepped through the lecture hall’s doors.

That pro, was Takashi Shirogane.

Or, as he’d introduced himself on that first day, Shiro.

Dragging another sip of scolding liquid through his teeth and over his tongue, Keith let his gaze wander across the room to the student in question as Coran asked him to recap a problem on the homework. He didn’t seem to notice the attention as his mouth formed around an explanation of how the limit of the problem did not exist that droned into a dull hum as Keith traced the line of scar that marked the bridge of his nose.

It stood out as a bright pink against his tanned skin, adding a layer of mystery to his hard lined features that looked as if they belonged to an action star and not a college freshman. Keith often found himself wondering where the mark came from, and if it was correlated to the metallic prosthetic that caught the light of the lecture hall, reflecting it with a bright glint that matched Shiro’s eyes.

He also found himself wondering how it would feel like to have that metallic hand around his throat, but that was neither here nor there.

It’s 8am, he thought to himself as he took another sip. I’m allowed to dream.

“Do you have anything to add Keith?” Coran’s voice was chipper as it shattered his thoughts into a million little pieces as he prematurely swallowed. Spluttering around his mouthful of coffee, Keith straightened his back as he dropped the cup filled with traitorous liquid on his all too small desktop.

“No,” he choked out lowly as he knocked his fist against his sternum to dislodge the coffee caught in his throat. It earned him a curious look from his professor as he finally swallowed the lump down.

“No, that sums it up,” he tried again, his voice carrying louder as Coran smiled with glee. Turning his back towards him, he started manically writing out the steps that Shiro had stated to explain it further for the other students but it was all lost to him as he felt the static prickle of a gaze licking his skin.

Cutting his glance beneath his bangs, he caught sight of Shiro openly staring at him, a quizzical light brightening his gaze. It was the kind of look that dug itself deep beneath his bones and worked its way through him, exposing the truth of his thoughts as that damned smirk seemed to deepen.

Heat colored Keith’s cheeks a bright shade as he held the stare, not wanting to look away first in a show of momentary alpha dominance. The air around him started to grow thick as it pressed against his lungs, making it hard to breathe as one of Shiro’s inky black brows arched upwards toward his hairline in challenge.

“Yes?” Shiro mouthed as his grin widened to expose his teeth, sending a thrill down Keith’s spine. Before he could answer in kind, he felt the sharp buzz of a text alert from his phone in his pocket. The sudden shock of it broke the moment as he looked down, thrusting his hand into his pocket to dig it out and look at the screen.

Stretched across it was a reminder from one “Pledge Dad Reg” about the final Hell Week activity. It was a party, which sounded suspiciously easy for a finale to the hardest week of his life, but he wasn’t going to question it. A party, he knew, would mean little to no pain and suffering, and after the night before, he needed that.

He probably wouldn’t ever be able to look at a goldfish the same way again, living or cracker.

Exhaling a breath he hadn’t been aware he’d been holding, he looked back up, only to see that Shiro’s attention was already back on the board.

Grabbing for his cup, he tried to swallow his disappointment with another drag of equally bitter coffee.

***

He hates Takashi Shirogane.

In the very same way he hated getting his favorite song stuck in his head. Which is to say, Keith didn’t hate him at all. But he had never experienced the strange squeeze that had constricted the cage around his chest at the exact moment he’d walked across the threshold of Alpha Chi Lambda and seen him there, smile reflecting the cheap party lights their rival fraternity had strung up in their living area, so he was going to call it hate.

And if it was a much heavier emotion that had stalled the beating hunk of flesh he called a heart, well no one really needed to know about it, because Shiro was now officially off limits.

It would figure that he would also be a pledge.

In fact, it made sense.

Guys like Shiro didn’t just go through college without leaving their mark on something with at least one greek letter.

But fate was just all too cruel to land him in this one fraternity in particular.

Beta Theta and Alpha Chi had a long history of overzealous competition between them from the very start. As the story went, the Alphas crossed paths with the Betas, welcoming them into Greek Row with a trick that turned the water to their house blue for a month. The founding members at the time didn’t take too kindly to their aqua tinged skin and consequential smurf jokes, and retaliated by duct taping every moveable object in their house to the ceiling.

The rest, as they say, was history. A history that marked each and every member of Alpha Chi Lambda with a big, fat red no symbol over each one of their faces, no matter how stupidly attractive.

“It’s like Romeo and Juliet, only more tragic,” Hunk mused as Keith drank down his third mystery punch. It tasted like gasoline with cherry flavor added, but it left his fingertips buzzing pleasantly and his brain slightly watery as he finished explaining the situation.

“Would it be my luck if it wasn’t?” Keith asked, voice slightly muffled by his cup as his eyes flashed over its rim.

“Touché,” his friend laughed as he disappeared behind his own cup of punch. The momentary pause between them stretched long as Keith scanned the crowd of mingling pledges, stalling over where Shiro stood.

“So what now?” Hunk asked after coming up for air, politely ignoring the lingering gaze.

“Now, I wonder why I ever agreed to join a fraternity in the first place,” Keith said drily as he watched Shiro throw his head back, his shoulders shaking with laughter at something one of his pledge brothers said.

“Because you love me, remember?” Hunk replied easily, elbowing his friend gently in the ribs as he cut his warm brown eyes between Keith and the far off object of his affections.

“Do I?” Keith’s voice was low with teasing, not bothering to turn his attentions back to Hunk as he traced the long line of Shiro’s throat.

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” Hunk snapped his fingers as if with a revelation. “It’s because you owed me still for the glue incident.”

Rolling his eyes toward the ceiling, Keith bit on the edge of a smile as he finally turned to his roommate.

“You have to admit it had been a good idea at the time,” he laughed. The glue incident, as they’d affectionately called it, had been what had started their entire friendship in the first place. A then stubborn five-year-old, Keith didn’t quite like giving up on things he liked.

As kids do, he had come up with the brilliant plan of gluing himself to his favorite chair to avoid sharing it.

To this day he still maintained that it would have been a great idea if he just could have figured out how to get out of the glued shorts without being cut out of them.

“A good idea would have been to just move to a different seat, Keith.”

With a quick shrug, he returned his gaze in time to see Shiro throw an arm around one of his pledge brothers. Something hot and bright lit in the bottom of his gut as they rocked together in shared mirth.

“What can I say, I liked that one in particular,” he breathed as Shiro flicked his gaze up to him.

“You never change do you?” Hunk asked as Keith tore his own away, catching the last vestiges of his friend’s curious look. Opening his mouth to retort, he was cut off by the sharp sound of a thick, accented voice.

“All pledges outside!”

“Guess that’s our cue, huh?” Hunk said around a smile as Keith swallowed his quip. Following the throng of pledges towards the backyard, they stopped in front of a makeshift platform that raised a long table and covered board above them all.  

On either side of the board stood the pledge dads for both fraternities, each sporting shirts with their letters proudly stitched over the right side of their chests.

“Look alive, sunshines,” the Alpha Chi member said, his voice smooth as velvet and smile filled with ice. He cut an impressive figure with his tall, lithe frame topped by his bright blonde hair that he wore pulled into a messy pile on top of his head.

“As many of you know, we are not friends,” he continued as he gestured broadly across the pledges gathered before him. “If you don’t know that, don’t expect to make it much further in either house.”

Uneasy laughter rolled across the group at the sudden turn of his voice as it darkened with what sounded a lot like a threat.

“Of course, if you don’t survive this night, you shouldn’t expect to make it further anyway.”

“How serious do you think this guy is?” Hunk stage whispered as he leant in towards Keith, not taking his eyes off the blonde.

“I would guess, not really,” Keith replied as he nodded toward their own as he rolled his eyes dramatically. He was his own imposing force, nothing but long strong limbs and hair cut short to expose the severe lines of his face. If they hadn’t spent so much time with him, Keith would have actually thought he was meant to be scary.

Good thing he knew better, though, by the looks of it, not many of the Alpha Chi pledges did.

“What Lotor means to say is that every year we celebrate our rivalry with a friendly competition of the pledges,” Regris explained as he cut a sharp look towards Lotor, who just shrugged as he smile widened.

“It will not affect your standing as a pledge should you lose.”

Tension bled out of the group as there was an audible sigh of relief.

“But be warned,” Regris interjected quickly, his smile turning wicked and rivaling that of his companion as he looked over the crowd. “If you do lose, this is not the end of your Hell Week.”

Laughing loudly, the blonde grabbed at the edge of the sheet over the board, pulling it off with a deft flick of his wrist and revealing a list of names.

“We have randomly paired each pledge,” he said matter-of-factly as he stepped away from the board to further expose the list. Keith felt Hunk tense beside him, his arm going taut against his as he scanned the names.

“Lance,” he breathed as he read his opponent’s name out loud. It stirred a memory of a loud voice as Keith searched for his own name, a drop of worry running a cool line over his spine as he got closer to the bottom without seeing it.

It wasn’t until he reached the end that he saw the five letters that made up his name, standing proud as the final matchup for the night.

And beside it, was Shiro’s.

Turning his head away from the damning list, he let his eyes roam over the crowd, finding Shiro just to see the other pledge was already returning the look. A sudden thrill sent his heart cascading up against his tonsils as he attempted to swallow it down.

“That’s rough, buddy,” he barely heard Hunk say over the sound of his racing pulse.

Shiro’s expression was something bright and almost blinding as he nodded toward him, unaware of the way the single motion smashed Keith’s lungs beneath the heavy weight of unabashed want.

For just a moment, Keith wondered if that was why it was called a crush as he forced his gaze away.

Wide eyed, he looked at Hunk as he appraised Shiro and then Keith, shaking his head solemnly as he spoke once more.

“Really rough.”

***

The game, was flip cup.

And currently, they were tied, which left the final round as the deciding factor for which house would take the win.

No pressure or anything, Keith thought to himself as he slowly took the handful of steps up the raised platform to the table that would be his battleground.

Admittedly, he hadn’t played much flip cup. Hadn’t played many drinking games at all, to be frank.

He’d honestly never really understood the point when he could just drink and get the same result with far less work.

It was this very fact that had kept his attention settled fully on the competition as he’d picked up techniques from both sides in hopes to utilize them to his advantage.

Well, that, and it also helped him avoid the stare he had felt flaying his skin during the duration of the other matches.

He’s staring again, Hunk had said after returning from his round where he’d barely pulled away as victor thanks to a last minute flub by his opponent.

Is he? Keith had feigned ignorance without looking away from the table. Even to his own ears it had sounded false and forced.

Still, it had worked well enough as Keith had managed to only catch the metallic look a few times. A feat, really, given how badly he had wanted to look.

Now, though, without the excuse of someone else to watch he had no choice but to look up at Shiro as he settled into the Beta side of the table. He looked every bit of handsome beneath the string lights that stretched above them as his lips turned upwards into a liquid mercury smile.

“A Beta, huh?” He asked easily, unabashedly dragging his stare down Keith’s body as the crowd around them grew steadily louder with cheers for their respective sides. It was a fiery thing that slicked his palms with cool sweat as he closed his hands into tight fists.

“Yeah, what of it?” He shot back, voice edging toward hostile. It earned him a timid look as Shiro raised his hands in front of him in a sign of surrender.

“Nothing of it, just didn’t figure you to be the frat type is all,” he said earnestly. The soft burr of it left the inside of Keith’s skin feeling prickly as Shiro waited for his reply, hands still poised as if to calm.

Now, maybe it was the alcohol he’d already consumed that night finally making his blood burn.

Maybe it was the way he was wearing the silver of Shiro’s gaze.

Or maybe it was the fact that under other circumstances, he would have already been across the table, but Keith could feel the roiling pit of something dark as it twisted and turned in his stomach and pulled him closer toward the table that separated them.

“And what type did you figure me to be?” He asked, placing his palms against the alcohol dampened surface. A jolt kickstarted his heart as he watched Shiro wipe a hand along his jaw, carefully eyeing him before he licked a quick line along his bottom lip.

“Would it be too forward to say my type?” The other pledge finally asked, the barely there curve of his permanent smirk deepening as he caught the way Keith’s mouth opened around a silent ‘o.’

“I’d say it’s forward of you to try and use flirting to throw me off my game,” he managed breathlessly after several seconds of white noise that was punctuated by a sharp bark of laughter as Shiro crossed his arms over his chest.

“Presumptuous of you to think that’s what I’m doing.”

Beside them, Lotor started to give the final round introductions, pulling the attention of the crowd away from them.

“Isn’t it?” Keith asked, ignoring the chant of his name that threatened to drown out his question.

“What if I say no?” Shiro fired back as the Alphas started their own chant. Off in the distance, he was barely aware of Lotor asking them both if they were ready. He watched carefully as Shiro gave a barely there nod in affirmation, not once looking away as he shot Keith a wink.

Heat lightning fizzled and crackled over his skin, turning it into a minefield of sizzling want as he carved his gaze along the strong lines of Shiro’s arms, up along his squared shoulders, over the vein that stood out along his neck and up towards his burning silver gaze. It exploded into a web of electricity that sent the buzz of white noise up through his limbs as he watched that infernal smirk pull into a full blown crescent smile.

Keith’s mind tripped over itself as it fell into the deep pit that marked the corner of Shiro’s perfectly curved mouth, because of course the other pledge would have a dimple.

That single solitary fact pushed him head first into the cool liquid of reality as he suddenly found himself angry.

Angry, because no one should be able to have a face like that, let alone dimples. And they definitely shouldn’t be allowed to use it to their advantage like that.

“Does that smile usually get you what you want?” He growled, pushing the question between his clenched teeth as he tore his stare away from Shiro’s pleased expression and down to his line of red solo cups. They stood like guards in a line along the edge of the table, their amber insides reflecting the white lights above like fireflies on a lake.

Their calm surfaces were disrupted by the slight jostling of the table as Shiro leant against it, his grin widening into what could only be classified as shit-eating as he painted Keith’s outline in tempered silver.

“Usually,” he said lowly, his voice a smooth roll of thunder as his gaze snapped back up to catch Keith’s. “Is it working?”

The short answer, was yes. With heated honey slicking his insides with sticky sweetness that had him almost curling in on himself, Keith had already lost. But he couldn’t let his future brothers know that, and he certainly couldn’t let Shiro know that.

If there was anything Keith was, it was filled with enough pride to know that he couldn’t let the other pledge win.

Couldn’t, and wouldn’t.

Throwing his shoulders back in haughty defiance, Keith tempered his gemstone stare with the heat that roiled through his veins. Bracing himself in an evened stance, he poised a hand over his first target as he replied.

“Not a chance.”

Whatever retort Shiro had was drowned out by the sound of a bullhorn signaling the start of the final matchup. Everything else fell away as Keith’s fingers closed around the cool plastic. Tugging his first victim from the lineup, he barely noticed the explosion of sound around him as he tossed his head back, relishing the the bitter tang of the subpar beer as it fizzed its way down his throat.

Without pause, he dropped the cup back down to the table, its thin plastic making a soft tap as it landed precariously on the edge. Lips pulling up over his teeth and exposing a blade edged smile, Keith imagined how he would need to catch the edge of the cup like he’d seen the others do before him.

Using just the tips of his index and middle fingers, he knocked the cup into the air.

Crimson flipped before him, obscuring his vision with its bright color as he watched it turn once, then twice for added flair, before it landed deftly on its top.

Pulling his smile wider, Keith cut his gaze back up to Shiro who stood staring at him, all confidence wiped away by a look of wide eyed amazement. The other pledge’s fingers twitched around his own cup that was frozen on its journey towards his mouth as he stared at Keith.

Another peal of burning lightning ricocheted through his bones as he snatched up another cup. Leveling his amethyst gaze over its rim, he barely hid his smug look behind the plastic as he spoke.

“Try to keep up.”

*****************

[daffronc-blog]

Final Project Part One: Attack of the Killer Fan Fiction

Reflective Essay:

When I was starting the assignment, I decided the best thing to write a fan fiction of would be Harry Potter because of the sheer amount of directions I could take the story and characters. I decided I wanted my story to take place after the series had initially ended, that way I would have more freedom to write my story without fucking up any sort of series canon. Once I had decided that I had no idea what I should write. So, I was pacing my room thinking and listening to The Lawrence Arms when their song “Are You There, Margaret? It’s Me, God” came on and it gave me an idea.

Over the weekend, I had just re-watched Stranger Than Fiction, so I thought, “What if I wrote a story like that?” But who would be in it? What would I do?

Then, I remembered the plot line in the sixth Dark Tower book where Roland and Eddie enter “the real world” to talk to find Stephen King after Father Callahan found a copy ‘Salem’s Lot (this is what Hermione references in the story in case you were wondering). And that’s when it really started to come together.

I’ve never read The Cursed Child, but even before we talked about it in class I had heard that it was kind of shitty.

Lightbulb.

What if, in a very Stranger Than Fiction-esque way, Harry hears J.K. Rowling narrating the beginning of The Cursed Child in his head and decides to find her and stop her before she fucks up his life/story? And that’s when it all came together. I cranked out the initial draft in one sitting and it was about 3000 words, which seemed like a little much for the assignment, so I edited it down to a much more manageable length for anyone who doesn’t want to spend a million years reading a poorly written Harry Potter story.

So, several cups of coffee and several Dillinger Four records later, I present you Harry Potter and the Ill-Advised Author.

Enjoy,

Charlie

Harry Potter and the Ill-Advised Author

Harry burst awake, his scar burning. He gasped and reached up to touch his forehead. It had been many years since his scar had hurt and he wasn’t sure what to make of it. He carefully got out of bed, trying not to wake Ginny, who was still sleeping peacefully.

He stumbled out of his bedroom and into the kitchen, the pain from his scar beginning to subside a little bit. He looked out the kitchen window to see the first rays of sunlight had just begun to appear on the horizon.

“Maybe my scar is hurting because I’m nervous about sending Albus off to his first year at Hogwarts today,” Harry thought. Yes, that must have been it. After all, it had been 19 years since Voldemort had been defeated, so there was no other explanation.

As the Harry sat in the kitchen watching the sunrise and waiting for the rest of his family to wake up so they could make their way to Kings Cross station to drop off Albus and James at platform 9 ¾ he slowly began to forget about his scar hurting. He didn’t even think to mention it to Ginny when she woke up.

***

The Potter family quickly piled out of the family car once they had arrived at King’s Cross. Albus and James pulled their trunks behind them, chattering excitedly. Harry and Ginny followed behind them with Lily.

“Dad, my legs are tired,” Lily complained, tugging on Harry’s pant leg.

“Honey, we just started walking,” Harry said, smiling down at her.

“I know, but I’m tired,” she said.

“Ok,” Harry said, “I think I’ve got just the solution.”

He scooped her up and put her on his shoulders, so she wouldn’t have to walk anymore. Ginny smiled at them as they opened the door to King’s Cross.

As soon as they entered the station Harry was hit with a burst of pain from his scar so intense that his legs almost buckled underneath him. Lily giggled, thinking her father was going to pretend to drop her. As soon as Harry had recovered his balance he heard the voice.

“A busy and crowded station,” a woman’s voice said, “Full of people trying to go somewhere. Amongst the hustle and bustle, two large cages rattle on top of two laden trolleys. They’re being pushed by two boys, James Potter and Albus Potter, Their mother, Ginny, follows after. A thirty-seven-year-old-man, Harry, has his daughter, Lily, on his shoulders.”

“What the hell?” Harry said, looking around in bewilderment.

“What is it, Harry?” Ginny asked, watching Harry with a concerned look on her face.

“Do you hear that voice?” Harry asked.

“What voice?” Ginny responded.

“That woman’s voice,” Harry answered, putting Lily down and continuing to look around.

“What are you talking about?” Ginny asked, stepping closer to Harry.

Just then Ron and Hermione approached. Lily squealed in excitement and ran toward them. Meanwhile, James and Albus looked at their parents, confused as to why they had stopped.

“Ron turns towards them as Lily goes barreling up to him. He picks her up into his arms.” the voice narrated as Ron greeted Lily by lifting her up into the air just like it had said a moment before.

Hermione, noticing the confused look on Harry’s face approached them, followed by Ron.

“What’s wrong, Harry?” Hermione asked.

Harry explained how his scar hurt and he had heard the woman’s voice narrating exactly what was happening as it happened and that only he seemed to be hearing it.

“Are you sure you’re not just schizophrenic, mate?” Ron asked jokingly.

Hermione elbowed him in the ribs angrily.

“Sorry,” he said, looking down.

“Harry, if you are hearing this voice saying things that only you could know, and your scar is hurting again, this could be something serious,” Hermione said, “We need to find out where this voice is coming from as quickly as possible before it can say more things.”

Harry looked at Ginny.

“Go figure this out,” She said, “I’ll make sure the kids make it to school.”

Harry nodded. He kissed her goodbye and said goodbye to each of his three kids and left King’s Cross with Ron and Hermione.

***

As soon as they had arrived back at Ron and Hermione’s house Hermione went straight to the living room, where a long bookshelf stuffed full of books of all shapes and sizes took up one wall. She searched the bookshelf until she found the book she was looking for.

“I’ve heard of this happening to someone else before,” Hermione said, quickly flipping through the book, “It turned out a muggle writer was writing a story about a priest, not realizing that the story influenced the events in that person’s life. The author wrote an unpleasant ending and it came true. We need to find whoever is doing this to Harry before they finish the story.”

Ron and Harry nodded, watching her continue to flip through the book.

“Aha, here it is!” Hermione exclaimed, pointing at one of the pages.

She showed it to Harry and Ron. There were two words written on the page: Narritoris Aepearious.

“Harry, since only you can hear the voice you need to cast the spell,” Hermione said, “Once you’ve cast it, a portal should open and lead us to whoever is responsible for this.”

Harry read the words on the page and just like Hermione said, a portal opened on the wall, leading to a large house in the countryside. The three wizards stepped through the wall and the portal quickly closed behind them.

They approached the house cautiously, watching for anyone who may have been guarding the premises. When the reached the door, Harry tried the doorknob to see if it was open. The handle wouldn’t budge, so Harry produced his wand from his robes and pressed it against the lock.

“Aberto,” he said quietly.

With a click, the door slowly began to open. Harry pushed it all the way open and they entered the house.

After a few minutes of wandering through the seemingly empty house, the three wizards arrived at a set of double doors. Harry pushed them open and they entered the room.

The walls were decorated with posters of teenagers in cheap looking wizard robes, holding what looked like imitation wands. As Harry looked closer, he realized these teenagers vaguely resembled him, Ron, and Hermione when they were younger. The one that looked like Harry even had something on his forehead that looked similar to Harry’s scar. Harry looked at the caption below the poster. It read Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

“What the hell?” Harry thought.

“Harry,” Ron said nervously from behind Harry.

Harry turned to see Ron holding a large leather-bound book. He held it up to Harry to see.

“It’s about us finding the Horcruxes and battling the Death Eaters on the night you killed Voldemort,” Ron said.

Harry took the book from Ron and examined it. Ron was right, it seemed to be a spot-on account. Harry looked at the cover. It said Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. It also said it was written by a “J.K. Rowling”.

“Harry, come here,” Hermione said.

Harry turned to see her standing in front of a desk on the other side of the room looking at a typewriter. She pulled the piece of paper from the typewriter and handed it to Harry.

“Is this what you heard the voice say?” Hermione asked.

Harry read the page and nodded. Hermione showed him another page that said, “Harry Potter and the Cursed Child written by J.K. Rowling”.

“This J.K. Rowling must be the woman I keep hearing in my head,” Harry said.

Suddenly from behind them, there was a gasp and the sound of glass shattering. All three wizards whipped around to see a woman standing in the doorway of the room pointing at them.

“Y-y-you can’t be real,” she stammered, stepping backward.

“Are you J.K. Rowling?” Harry asked.

The woman gulped and nodded slowly.

“You’re the one writing these stories?” Harry asked, holding up the page from The Cursed Child.

She nodded again.

“I’m Harry Potter,” Harry said, “You need to stop writing these stories about me, they’re affecting my life. I’ve already defeated Voldemort, there’s no need for you to write these stories and drag me into more conflicts, especially if they might endanger my family or friends.”

“B-But how can this be happening?” J.K. Rowling asked.

Hermione explained the magic to her and she slowly seemed to understand.

After talking to her for several hours and answering all her excited questions, Harry, Ron, and Hermione left, apparating back to their homes, satisfied that J.K. Rowling wouldn’t write about them again.

***

After the three wizards had left, J.K. Rowling immediately burned all her notes and the page she had written for The Cursed Child. Her mind was still reeling from her encounter with the three people, who until an hour ago, she considered her fictional characters.

With every trace of the manuscript destroyed, She called Jack Thorne, the manuscript’s co-author and the person who was going to adapt it into a script for the stage and told him that she was canceling the project.

When he asked her why, she just said, “Harry’s story is done, it’s time to leave him alone.”

She hung up the phone, still shaking. “What am I going to do now?” she thought.

She decided she would finally start writing those Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them films that Warner Brothers was so eager to produce. After all, they would be prequels set many years before The Philosopher’s Stone takes place, so there was no way Newt Scamander could show up on her doorstep, right?  

 Cited Sources:

Thorne, Jack, et al. Harry Potter and the Cursed Child. Playscript. Scholastic, 2017.

“List of Spells.” Harry Potter Wiki, harrypotter.wikia.com/wiki/List_of_spells.

[warlordess]

Pokeshipping Week 2017 : day five : “pain from non-existing memories (movie 20 AU)”

So I drew something really ugly and simple for this because I remember receiving an ask - as well as DMing with someone who’d asked me to write for this before it became a theme in an official PW event. I figure this was my opportunity to fulfill that request though lord only knows if that person/those people will be around to read what I wrote. Please consider that I didn’t see the movie for myself so I took what I felt were appropriate liberties with this project.

I hope everyone enjoys and that they’re inclined to reblog!

Also, yeah, there’s sort of a reason for not having any dialogue appear before the very end. ^^ ;;

Lightning streaks across the earth, blasting an initial crevice before weakening into a sparking line and dissipating into nothing as it bounces up into the air.

Her Corsola had barely escaped the titanous elemental wrath of the electric mouse, wrenching out of the way and into a nearby pool of water, leaping once more out of it and back onto a smooth patch of grassy land some odd ten meters away almost instantaneously.

Elite Four member Misty, twenty years old, shouts another directive to her Pokémon partner, who immediately obeys, backside glowing as white hot pins unleash by the dozen, shooting at the Pikachu and striking him down mid-jump as he attempts to lash out at the dual-rock and water-type.

A tremor, not the first she’s felt today, ricochets upwards from the base of her spine, rippling its own course of electricity against her millions of nerves.

Her heartbeat quickens and she thinks…

The Pikachu’s raven-haired master, some hotshot from Pallet Town (or so he seems to think), demands that the electric mouse wriggle himself free. Or maybe it’s less a demand and more an empathetic plea from someone who understands the effort their Pokémon is putting themselves through to help them achieve their dreams.

It’s a rare sight for her to behold. So rare, in fact, that she can’t remember the last time she’d seen it for herself. Imagine, a trainer that understands and loves their Pokémon that much…

[read more]

The internal spasm jumps from her ribcage to her throat once more and she wonders if she’s having a panic attack. She’s never had one before, generally more instinctively accepting of whatever the situation she has to face (despite any bouts of anger or stubbornness), so she wouldn’t know for certain, she supposes, without an official diagnosis.

She knows there’s something wrong here, what with the way the hair on the back of her neck stands on end, the way that young man’s voice effects her to the point of her hands shaking (though she hides it well), what with the oh-so familiar and yet not way that he wrenches his official Pokémon League cap backwards around his head and his eyes light up and his lips tighten in a smirk as he makes claims about he and his Pokémon deciding to get serious.

She knows nothing of this Elite Four challenger minus his generic stats and the miniscule amount of personal information he’d offered to her as they shook hands before the battle began and… and yet, somehow, she knows him all too well.

The Pikachu’s tail glimmers a steely white, his pace quickening to something beyond what her human eyes can keep up with so easily, the agility and iron tail combination making its disastrous way towards her poor Pokémon, and she must counter or lose this round.

Corsola shrieks her own name, grounding her stubby coral hooves into the ground beneath her and there’s a shift in gravity that drags Pikachu down mere seconds before his attack can hit home.

Then Corsola flings small chunks of compact earth at her opponent at such speeds that Pikachu can’t avoid them, once… twice… five times altogether, leaving the electric mouse wounded and choking after the onslaught. But of course the water-type specialist trainer is far from done. This is an official battle for the Championship title, after all, so she can’t let up for anything.

The gravity shift only increases, so much so that Misty herself grinds her teeth against its weight, shouting her last command, knowing the battle is won.

Corsola’s earth power drains any fighting energy from Pikachu before he or his trainer can plan against it, the electric mouse collapsing after almost two minutes of immense pressure and fainting on the spot.

The battle is over and Misty is at the least pleased that the dreadful feeling of something missing or something wrong has eased over the final few minutes of their match… only to have it return tenfold when the egoistic raven-haired trainer dives into the water shouting his Pokémon’s name desperately, wading all the way through the water until he’s able to pick the Pikachu up into his arms and inspect him for himself.

Now it’s more than a foreboding twinge circulating up and down her limbs, more than a constricting sensation scorching at the back of her throat and jerking at her vocal chords, more than a thunderous and furious fire accosting her nerves and breath.

Her heart is outright breaking over this young man she’s never met before today and she can’t for the life of her figure out why.

She can’t assume to know why every egoistic remark he’s made both exasperates and amuses her, can’t assume to know how his heart-wrenching screams to protect and heartfelt battle cries to influence his Pikachu seem so drastically familiar, can’t assume to understand how she actually saw him leaping recklessly into the water in an effort to reach his Pokémon somewhere in the back of her mind before he’d so much as taken one step forward.

It was like she’d known what to expect before he’d even had the chance to think of it himself.

She recalls Corsola to her Ball and dives much more fluidly into the water than the other trainer had, swiftly and skillfully stroking her way in his direction, easing herself casually up onto the flat round of land, one of many dotting her mostly water-oriented arena turf.

The young man looks her in the eyes, his own watering in frustration - though she’s unsure if that frustration is due to losing the match, worrying over his Pokémon, or both - and she blinks away the shaky breath that escapes through her lips, removing a small yellow stone from the belt at her own waist, tenderly coaxing the electric mouse from his arms and into her own and patting him along his head and neck, brushing damp fur to and fro as comfortingly as possible.

“This is a revive. I always keep one on hand just in case so… here,” she tells him, resting the stone against Pikachu’s body and watching it slowly fade away, taking the injured Pokémon’s aches and bruises with it.

Ash Ketchum watches his beloved electric mouse stir but not wake, perfectly content now to get a nap in, knowing the fighting is over. And the raven-haired trainer eagerly takes his Pokémon back into one arm, haphazardly throwing the other one around the unsuspecting Elite Four member in gratitude.

“Thanks a lot! I can’t believe I didn’t think to have any of those on me myself!” he exclaims to her in what she presumes is frustration, and an unbidden response escapes her before she can bottle it up and internally contemplate it.

“Yeah, I didn’t expect much less of you, Mr. Pokémon Master.”

It’s ringing in her ears now.

He releases her, stiff shock obvious in every joint, every second of confusion at her strange comment. It’s like she knows him, and she definitely, absolutely shouldn’t, should she?

But there’s something there, she knows, when they’re looking each other dead in the face again. He stares at her ginger hair and pale complexion, at her freckly cheeks and shoulders, at her much too lanky figure and at her honest, bright teal eyes. He stares down at her hand, which somehow had carried along with Pikachu when he went to embrace his Pokémon once more, so that her fingers were still unconsciously ruffling the Pokémon’s fur in an overly familiar way.

And he knows her too. Well, he knows her heart, knows she’s as fierce in battle as she is soothing outside of it, both indeterminately harsh and empathetic, at times rebellious and stubborn and at others mature and reasonable.

He knows her heart. But he’s only known the rest of her for the past hour or so and doesn’t know how to say what he’s thinking.

Her heartbeat quickens and she’s sure…

Her skin is crawling, her blood is coursing, her pulse erratic, her soul aching, her muscles tensing, heart breaking. And she knows it for certain, staring into his eyes and watching his jaw pulse in confusion, eyes flickering in the briefest grimace of fear.

They know each other and they don’t. They’re meant for each other and they’re not. They’ve met long before now and yet never once seen each other before today. They’re everything and nothing to one another. They’ve been best friends most of their lives and yet they’re complete strangers.

It’s so damningly painful to consider that she can’t form the words to ask him who he is to her, damningly painful because she knows what his answer will be.

You’re nothing much. You’re almost everything. I don’t know.

Something has gone terribly, awfully wrong here and she doesn’t know what to do but scream and cry on the inside, masking it all with a brave face on the outside.

They’re missing more than their memory.

They’re missing more than a friend.

They’re missing a distinct part of themselves.

So that’s it for this theme. I forgot that I’d started a headcanon for tomorrow and saved it as a draft because I’d decided to save it for Pokeshipping Week (since it’s about Pikachu/Pokeshipping, but I came up with it right before the themes were announced). So, yeah, anyway, that’ll be posted tomorrow morning!

Reblogs are hugs and smiles!

[clexa--warrior]

SEOUL - In late January, South Korean health officials summoned representatives from more than 20 medical companies from their lunar New Year celebrations to a conference room tucked inside Seoul’s busy train station. 

One of the country’s top infectious disease officials delivered an urgent message: South Korea needed an effective test immediately to detect the novel coronavirus, then running rampant in China. He promised the companies swift regulatory approval.

Though there were only four known cases in South Korea at that point, “we were very nervous. We believed that it could develop into a pandemic,” one attendee, Lee Sang-won, an infectious diseases expert at the Korea Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, told Reuters.

“We acted like an army,” he said.

A week after the Jan. 27 meeting, South Korea’s CDC  approved one company’s diagnostic test. Another company soon followed. By the end of February, South Korea was making headlines around the world for its drive-through screening centers and ability to test thousands of people daily.

South Korea’s swift action stands in stark contrast to what has transpired in the United States. Seven weeks after the train station meeting, the Koreans have tested well over 290,000  people and identified over 8,000 infections. New cases are falling off: Ninety-three were reported Wednesday, down from a daily peak of 909 two weeks earlier.

The United States, whose first case was detected the same day as South Korea’s, is not even close to meeting demand for testing. About 60,000 tests have been run by public and private labs in a country of 330 million, federal officials said Tuesday.

As a result, U.S. officials don’t fully grasp how many Americans have been infected and where they are concentrated - crucial to containment efforts. While more than 7,000 U.S. cases had been identified as of Wednesday, as many as 96 million people could be infected in coming months, and 480,000 could die, according to a projection prepared for the American Hospital Association by Dr. James Lawler, an infectious disease expert at the University of Nebraska Medical Center.

“You cannot fight what you cannot see,” said Roger Klein, a former laboratory medical director at the Cleveland Clinic and previously an adviser to the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services on clinical laboratory issues.

How the United States fell so far behind South Korea, according to infectious disease experts, clinicians and state and local officials, is a tale of many contrasts in the two nations’ public health systems: a streamlined bureaucracy versus a congested one, bold versus cautious leadership, and a sense of urgency versus a reliance on protocol.

The delayed and chaotic testing in the United States will cost lives, potentially including those of doctors and nurses, many medical experts predict. Already more than 100 people have died overall, and fears of rampant spread have led to extraordinary restrictions on social interaction, upending the U.S. economy, schools, hospitals and everyday life.

“It makes me feel like I’m living in a farce,” said Dr. Ritu Thamman, a cardiologist and clinical assistant professor at the University of Pittsburgh School of Medicine. Even hospital staff who may have been exposed can’t get a test, she said. “We are a rich country but we don’t have these kinds of things?”

The administration of President Donald Trump was tripped up by government rules and conventions, former officials and public health experts say. Instead of drafting the private sector early on to develop tests, as South Korea did, U.S. health officials relied, as is customary, on test kits prepared by the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, some of which proved faulty. Then, sticking to its time-consuming vetting procedures,  the U.S. Food and Drug Administration didn’t approve tests other than the CDC’s until Feb. 29, more than five weeks after discussions with outside labs had begun.

Meanwhile, in the absence of enough kits, the CDC insisted for weeks on narrow criteria for testing, recommending it only when a person had recently been to China or other hot spots or had contact with someone known to be infected. As a result, the federal government failed to screen an untold number of Americans and missed opportunities to contain the spread, clinicians and public health experts say.

South Korea took a risk, releasing briskly vetted tests, then circling back later to spot check their effectiveness. By contrast, the United States’ FDA said it wanted to ensure, upfront, that the tests were accurate before they went out to millions of Americans.

“There are always opportunities to learn from situations like this one,” FDA Commissioner Stephen Hahn, who has been on the job only three months, told Reuters. “But one thing I will stand firm on: We cannot compromise on the quality of the tests because what would be worse than no tests at all is wildly inaccurate test results.”

In a statement, CDC spokesman Benjamin Haynes said, “This process has not gone as smoothly as we would have liked.” But he said “more and more state labs have come online, increasing our public health system’s ability to detect and respond to cases.”

Bombarded by criticism amid a re-election campaign, Trump vowed on Friday to ramp up production of test kits in partnership with private companies and to make the diagnostic tests more widely available at hospitals and in-store parking lots. This week, the FDA said more than 35 universities, hospitals and lab companies had begun running their own tests, under the agency’s revised policy.

But it may be weeks before enough tests are on hand to fill the need.

“The idea of anybody getting (tested) easily the way people in other countries are doing it, we’re not set up for that,” Anthony Fauci, director of the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases told a House committee last week. “That is a failing. Let’s admit it.”

It’s a problem many Americans, accustomed to hearing they have the most advanced medical care in the world, find hard to fathom.

“I don’t know how we messed this up so badly,” said Ruth Blodgett, 65, whose husband of the same age couldn’t get a coronavirus test on Saturday in an urgent care clinic outside Rochester, New York, even though he was coughing and the doctor ordered one for him.  “We got caught flat-footed. For America, that’s unacceptable.”

‘HURRY UP AND DEVELOP THE KITS’

At the pivotal Jan. 27 meeting at the Seoul train station, South Korean government leaders told companies they were cleared for takeoff.

“They were told that the ‘emergency use authorization’ would be coming, so hurry up and develop the kits,” said Lee Hyukmin, head of the coronavirus task force at the Korean Society for Laboratory Medicine, who was at the meeting.

One of the companies was Kogene Biotech Co Ltd, whose test kit was the only one to work initially. The government announced its approval on Feb. 4.

“The government acted quickly,” said Myoah Baek, an executive director at Kogene. The Korean CDC  “disclosed information on test methods so test kit makers were able to speed up development.”

Lee Hyukmin of the Korean laboratory society said the government was swift - but not reckless.

“Of course, a kit that’s approved in one week isn’t as good as one that goes through a year of clinical trials,” he said. So in the early days, Lee said, the government cross-checked cases to ensure the tests were working properly.

Cross-checking involved verifying that labs got the same result the government did on an initial pool of patient samples.    As of last week, nearly 100 labs were available to perform tests nationwide, according to government figures.

South Korea’s rapid response to the new coronavirus resulted from scars of the past.

In the aftermath of the 2015 outbreak of MERS, short for the   Middle East Respiratory Syndrome, critics slammed then-President Park Geun-hye and her administration for a slow response and a lack of transparency. Public confidence waned in Park, who was impeached in 2017 following an unrelated corruption scandal.

FILE PHOTO: Medical staff in protective gear work at a 'drive-thru' testing center for the novel coronavirus disease of COVID-19 in Yeungnam University Medical Center in Daegu, South Korea, March 3, 2020. REUTERS/Kim Kyung-Hoon

The country had 186 MERS cases, more than anywhere outside the Middle East, including 38 deaths.

“We can’t ever forget the incident. It is engraved in our mind,” the Korean CDC’s Lee Sang-won said. “We were hurt so much, and we felt remorseful.”

‘A REAL FOUL UP’

On Jan. 31, only days after the Seoul train station meeting, the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services (HHS) declared the novel coronavirus a public health emergency, citing a similar pronouncement from the World Health Organization.

HHS oversees the separate operations of the FDA and CDC, key agencies involved in responding to the pandemic. The CDC was responsible for developing the initial test kits for the virus. Then, under longstanding protocols, the FDA needed to approve the test before it could be sent to state and local labs around the country. Private labs and large hospitals could develop their own tests or work off the CDC version.

On Feb. 3, amid the preparations to address the emergency,  the FDA hosted an all-day conference at its headquarters in Silver Spring, Maryland, which had been scheduled well before the outbreak. Regulators, researchers and industry representatives gathered to discuss the general process for putting diagnostic tests cleared under emergencies on the path to permanent approval by the FDA.

Though coronavirus was now the hottest topic in global medicine, a broadcast of the meeting conveyed little sense of urgency about the epidemic sweeping the globe. It was mentioned in passing but regulators mostly stuck to their Powerpoint presentations.

In his remarks, Dr. Timothy Stenzel, who oversees the FDA’s review of diagnostic tests, spoke broadly about the agency’s mission to protect public health: “It’s our goal to be first in the world wherever possible to authorize new tests.”

Carolyn Hiller, a program director at the Medical Device Innovation Consortium, which hosted the event alongside FDA, said there were discussions with the agency about postponing the meeting because of the coronavirus outbreak, but both sides opted to go ahead.

“The whole coronavirus thing blew up in real time while this was happening,” she said.

Stenzel did not respond to a request for comment. In a statement, the FDA acknowledged that the coronavirus was not a “specific topic on the agenda.” But it said the agency already was talking to test developers and “the conference was timely and addressed issues important” to firms and institutions looking to produce a test.

The following day, Feb. 4, the FDA greenlighted a CDC test kit for the virus.  

Weeks of chaos would follow.

By Feb. 8, some states and other public labs were complaining  that the CDC’s test wasn’t working because of a flawed component that gave inconclusive results. Three days later, the CDC told the labs that it was manufacturing a new component.

As of mid-February, the federal government remained stuck in first gear. The CDC was the primary supplier of tests across much of the country, and other labs couldn’t immediately deploy their own without the FDA’s blessing.

HHS said it has assigned a team of outside scientists to examine what went wrong with the CDC’s initial batch of tests, such as whether there was a manufacturing defect, flawed design or contamination in the agency’s lab.  The precise problem has not been identified.

The CDC didn’t send out new test kits until late February.  Meanwhile, public health experts say, a crucial window was closing on containing the virus, which by then was known to have infected more than 60 people.

The U.S. emergency declaration issued in late January created additional hurdles that hindered a wider expansion in testing, according to former federal officials and lab professionals.

The declaration eased the way for drugmakers to pursue vaccines and antiviral treatments for COVID-19. But public health experts said that the same declaration made it harder to expand diagnostic testing outside the CDC.

That’s because the declaration required diagnostic tests developed by individual labs, such as those at hospitals or universities, to undergo greater scrutiny than in non-emergencies - presumably because the stakes are higher.

“Paradoxically, it increased regulations on diagnostics while it created an easier pathway for vaccines and antivirals,” said Dr. Amesh Adalja, a senior scholar at the Johns Hopkins University Center for Health Security. “There was a real foul-up with diagnostic tests that has exposed a flaw in the United States’ pandemic response plan.”

Dr. William Schaffner, a professor of preventive medicine and infectious diseases at the Vanderbilt University School of Medicine, said the CDC and FDA stuck to their conventional playbook for too long.

“Traditional public health thinking is,’Don’t create widespread panic and don’t go over the top. Keep the testing narrow in a precision rifle approach rather than a mass, shotgun approach,’” Schaffner said. “That failed in this instance. This virus acted differently and it overwhelmed the U.S. system. South Korea had a much better sense of what was happening.”

In a statement Tuesday, the CDC said: “After finding out that some labs could not fully verify the test, CDC began working on a solution and identifying the source of the problem …. CDC, in conjunction with FDA, determined how to move forward and shared this information immediately with public health labs.”

The CDC statement also suggested that the agency was not exclusively responsible for testing delays.

The CDC was “not an impediment” to getting large-scale commercial testing started, according to the statement. That was the role of the FDA, and as the initial U.S. cases were being detected in late January and early February, CDC director Dr. Robert Redfield highlighted the need for that agency to act, according to the CDC statement.

Alberto Gutierrez, who led the FDA’s office overseeing  diagnostic testing from 2009 to 2017, said the agency proceeded with caution because it saw itself as the last line of defense against opportunistic companies looking to cash in on threats to public health. “There is money to be made in an emergency, and a lot of people try to take advantage of that,” Gutierrez said. “The problem the FDA faces is, do you let it become the Wild West?”

“The FDA had good intentions,” he said.

RAMPING UP

As U.S. efforts faltered, South Korean officials cleared a test from a second company, Seegene Inc, on Feb. 12.

With many more tests in hand, health officials were well armed to attack a fast-moving virus and aggressively track down people who may have been exposed. This testing-backed offensive helped South Korea reduce the number of new cases over a matter of weeks, serving as a model for other countries grappling with the pandemic.

In mid-February, cases spiked at a secretive church in the southeastern city of Daegu. On Feb. 26, Daegu city officials said they would test every single member of the church, including those without symptoms.

As of March 10, Daegu said that it had tested almost all of the 10,000 members of the church in that area, and about 40% came back  positive. The city, which now accounts for about three-quarters of total infections in South Korea, has seen new cases sharply drop. On Wednesday, officials announced 46 new cases compared to a peak of 741 cases on Feb. 29.

The country went from two approved test makers on Feb. 18 to five as of last week, according to the Korean CDC.

Slideshow (3 Images)

“To my surprise, test kit makers were able to boost production quickly,” Korean CDC’s Lee Sang-won said.  

PLEADING WITH WASHINGTON

By Feb. 24, state and local labs in the United States were pleading with the FDA to relax its rules so the nation no longer had to rely so heavily on the CDC for testing. They asked Hahn, the FDA commissioner, for “enforcement discretion” so they could use their own lab-developed tests.

“We are now many weeks into the response with still no diagnostic or surveillance test available outside of CDC for the vast majority of our member laboratories,” Scott Becker, chief executive of the Association of Public Health Laboratories, and Grace Kubin, lab services director at the Texas Department of State Health Services, wrote to Hahn on Feb. 24 in a letter reviewed by Reuters.

In an interview, Becker, whose group represents more than 100 state and local health laboratories, called the letter a “Hail Mary” pass, an act of desperation.

“The entire lab community was really coming unglued. We knew we could develop tests and were very capable of doing that, but we felt hamstrung” Becker told Reuters.

He said labs wanted FDA to make more tests available so they could run more patient samples at a faster pace.

Two days after receiving Becker’s letter, the FDA commissioner said his agency was ready to approve new outside tests quickly - if its requirements for accuracy were satisfied.

“False diagnostic test results can lead to significant adverse public health consequences,” Hahn wrote to the Association of Public Health Laboratories in a Feb. 26 letter, “not only serious implications for individual patient care but also serious implications for the analyses of disease progression and for public health decision-making.”

Under increasing pressure, the FDA relented and removed many of the bureaucratic obstacles. On Feb. 29, the agency said public and private labs, including academic medical centers, could start using their own tests before the FDA had completed its full review. Laboratories had 15 business days to submit a completed application, which could be approved retroactively.

That same day, the Trump administration confirmed the first death in the United States from the coronavirus, a man in his 50s in Washington state.

On March 2, Stenzel at the FDA’s diagnostic testing office hosted a webinar for lab test developers, highlighting additional challenges, including a shortage of viral samples needed for validation of test results. Some labs also have reported shortages of other key supplies and ingredients, as well as the need for more trained personnel.

As U.S. regulators rewrote their policies, South Korean municipalities were opening roadside testing facilities across the country, collecting samples in minutes while people sat in their cars.

At a closed-door meeting last week in Congress, U.S. Representative Raul Ruiz, a Democrat from California and an emergency-room physician who treated patients during the 2009 H1N1 influenza outbreak, pressed the FDA commissioner and other members of the Trump administration on why South Korea was lapping the United States in its response.

“Why don’t we have drive-through testing like South Korea?” Ruiz asked leaders of the president’s coronavirus task force.

Ruiz told Reuters the officials said they were working on it. On their own, some hospitals and communities have begun offering drive-through testing in Colorado, New York, Texas and elsewhere.

In recent days, as the public criticism grew louder, Trump  appointed a testing czar to improve coordination across agencies. The FDA launched a 24-hour hotline for laboratories needing help to accelerate testing, approved two company applications for higher-volume testing and granted states the flexibility to authorize new tests so labs can bypass the FDA.

Despite the new moves, Ruiz said he fears America is still weeks away from approaching what South Korea has accomplished.  “I think months have been lost here,” Ruiz said. “Maybe we should look into purchasing South Korea’s tests.”

That may happen. Both Kogene and SolGent Co, two of the COVID-19 test-makers approved in South Korea, said their companies have an eye on the U.S. market.

“The FDA asked us to proceed with applications quickly,”  Kogene executive Myoah Baek said.

Chad Terhune reported from Los Angeles; Dan Levine and Jane Lee reported from San Francisco and Hyunjoo Jin from South Korea. Contributing were Julie Steenhuysen, Josh Smith, Sangmi Cha and Aram Roston; Editing by Michele Gershberg and Julie Marquis

Our Standards:

The Thomson Reuters Trust Principles.

[junker-town]

MLB’s Astros punishment was extraordinary, and still not harsh enough

Photo by Bob Levey/Getty Images

Let’s make sense of the fallout from the Astros cheating scandal.

Major League Baseball levied one of the most significant punishments in the history of the sport on the Houston Astros for cheating during their championship season in 2017. Executive Jeff Luhnow and manager A.J. Hinch were suspended for the 2020 season, while the team was stripped of four draft picks and fined $5 million.

This Astros discipline somehow achieved the opposing feats of being unprecedented in scope yet also not punitive enough.

What hurts

The loss of draft picks is huge, and will probably do the most long-term damage of any of the penalties laid out by Major League Baseball. Given where the Astros will likely pick in the 2020 and 2021 drafts (late in the first round; this is still a very talented team coming off three consecutive 100-win years), using FanGraphs’ valuation tool has those picks — first- and second-rounders in the next two drafts — worth roughly $25-30 million in net present value.

Houston’s roster is filled with homegrown talent, including Alex Bregman, Carlos Correa, and George Springer, who were drafted very early in the first round back when the Astros were tanking on purpose. But later first-round picks, closer to where the Astros will probably pick in the next two drafts, were used to get Justin Verlander (Daz Cameron) and Zack Greinke (J.B. Bukauskas, Seth Beer) in trades. Losing those four picks not only removes four potential prospects, but also limits the total pool of bonus money the team is allowed to spend. This is a significant developmental loss.

Managers and general managers don’t grow on trees

Luhnow and Hinch took the biggest hits, as they were not only suspended without pay for a season by MLB on Monday but subsequently fired by Astros owner Jim Crane as well. Both signed contract extensions during the 2018 season, a year after the team won the World Series in seven games. Luhnow was signed through 2023, and Hinch through 2022. Now, they need to be replaced, after every other team has filled its vacancies in those two spots this offseason.

Hinch is only the third manager in the last 100 years to be suspended for at least one season, joining Leo Durocher (1947) and Pete Rose (1989), per Jayson Stark.

For the Braves’ international and amateur scouting transgressions in 2017, general manager John Coppolella was banned for life and the team lost one first-round draft pick and saw their spending limited in two international signing periods. The combination and volume of draft pick loss plus the suspension of not only the Astros GM and manager make Houston’s punishment the most severe in baseball since the Black Sox scandal in 1919.

Hinch was found by MLB to not have participated in the trash-can-banging scheme in 2017 nor the Astros’ usage of the video replay room to relay signals to the dugout in 2018. Hinch, per MLB, even went so far as to “signal his disapproval of the scheme by physically damaging the monitor on two occasions, necessitating its replacement.” But his culpability came in knowing about both plans and doing nothing to stop it.

In addition to the integrity-damaging proof through this investigation that the Astros cheated during the postseason that ended with their championship, the timing of this is key. During the 2017 season, the Yankees complained to the commissioner’s office that the Red Sox were illegally using electronic equipment to relay signs from their video replay room to the dugout. The league released a memo on Sept. 15 that year confirming the Red Sox violation, which came with an undisclosed fine, and the warning that “all 30 Clubs have been notified that future violations of this type will be subject to more serious sanctions, including the possible loss of draft picks.”

The Astros, who by this point already implemented their own sign-stealing scheme against baseball’s rules, continued to use the system in the playoffs. It was a direct violation after MLB already warned that they would turn this car around right now if any of you kids keep this up.

Luhnow was not implicated in the sign-stealing scheme, but was found through MLB’s investigation to have knowledge of it, and his failure to try to stop it was his undoing. Commissioner Rob Manfred also made note of Luhnow’s “problematic” baseball operations department:

But while no one can dispute that Luhnow’s baseball operations department is an industry leader in its analytics, it is very clear to me that the culture of the baseball operations department, manifesting itself in the way its employees are treated, its relations with other Clubs, and its relations with the media and external stakeholders, has been very problematic. At least in my view, the baseball operations department’s insular culture – one that valued and rewarded results over other considerations, combined with a staff of individuals who often lacked direction or sufficient oversight, led, at least in part, to the Brandon Taubman incident, the Club’s admittedly inappropriate and inaccurate response to that incident, and finally, to an environment that allowed the conduct described in this report to have occurred.

Taubman, an assistant general manager under Luhnow, aggressively taunted a group of female reporters in the Astros clubhouse regarding closer Roberto Osuna — who was acquired as a distressed asset by Houston in 2018 while he served a 75-game suspension for violating the league’s domestic violence policy — all while celebrating the club’s ALCS win over the Yankees in October 2019.

The Astros bungled the response to the incident, including accusing Sports Illustrated reporter Stephanie Apstein of fabricating the story. An apology from Luhnow didn’t come until five days later, and on Monday he continued that trend with a statement bereft of remorse.

Here is Jeff Luhnow's full statement, his first response to today's news. pic.twitter.com/9AbDFEtkbP

— Jared Diamond (@jareddiamond) January 13, 2020

Luhnow’s statement began with “I accept responsibility,” then proceeded to list the ways in which he was not responsible. He was sure to note the video decoding of signs “was executed by lower-level employees working with the bench coach,” which brings us to who could perhaps face the biggest penalty of all.

Alex Cora was the bench coach for the Astros in 2017, and was found through MLB’s investigation to have arranged a video monitor just outside the Astros dugout, showing the center field camera feed. The explanation further notes the Astros’ sign-stealing scheme was player-driven, with Cora the only member of the coaching staff involved in the plan (along with some team employees in the video room).

“Cora participated in both schemes, and through his active participation, implicitly condoned the players’ conduct,” Manfred wrote.

As if the direct culpability in the Astros’ schemes weren’t enough, Cora is also the subject of MLB’s current investigation into whether the 2018 Red Sox engaged in impermissible electronic sign stealing. Cora won the World Series as Boston’s manager that year.

MLB hasn’t yet determined Cora’s penalty, with an investigation ongoing, but he figures to get punished at least as much as Hinch and Luhnow just for his Astros’ involvement alone. Cora is signed with the Red Sox through 2021, with a club option for 2022.

What about the players?

You might be wondering if what the Astros did was against baseball rules, and if their sign-stealing scheme was player driven, why weren’t any players suspended or even fined for their transgressions?

Manfred for one correctly noted that it’s the responsibility of the general manager and field manager to make sure players know and follow the rules, and that’s why Luhnow and Hinch took the fall. Also, though unsaid, suspending players would be met with pushback from the players union, and with a looming labor battle and a collective bargaining agreement that expires after the 2021 season that’s probably an extra fight MLB wants little part of.

It’s also a logistical nightmare.

“It is difficult because virtually all of the Astros’ players had some involvement or knowledge of the scheme, and I am not in a position based on the investigative record to determine with any degree of certainty every player who should be held accountable, or their relative degree of culpability,” Manfred wrote. “It is impractical given the large number of players involved, and the fact that many of those players now play for other Clubs.”

Keep in mind that this was a thorough investigation, in which 68 people were interviewed and “tens of thousands of emails, Slack communications, text messages, video clips, and photographs” were reviewed. 23 of those interviewed were current or former Astros players. It’s unclear if any sort of immunity was promised by MLB to get these players to talk, but that so many cooperated certainly helped the investigation.

Everything is fine

The final Astros punishment was a fine of $5 million, which is the largest allowed by the Major League constitution. It’s also a drop in the bucket for a franchise valued (by Forbes) at $1.775 billion in 2019, a 161-percent increase from Crane’s $680 million purchase price in 2011.

Even if the fine was $50 million, the Astros made much more than that by virtue of their three extended postseason runs the last three years (they also made the World Series in 2019, but won none of their four home games).

There is no going back in time and stripping the Astros of their World Series title. The games happened, the memories exist, and changing the past doesn’t really do anything. The best MLB can hope for is to prevent this type of scandal from happening again, and the way to do that is to make an owner piss their pants when they see a cost that is actually prohibitive.

Because if the cost for electronically stealing signs is $5 million, four draft picks, and one-year suspensions of the manager and general manager, I’m not sure that’s steep enough to outweigh all the benefits that come with winning a World Series.

[gywair]

Hey! I got the honor of being on Historical Hotties. It’s a podcast about researching hot historical figures and ranking them. I was on the episode about crime fighters. Below are my notes and references about Mabel Walker Willebrandt.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mabel_Walker_Willebrandt

http://www.pbs.org/kenburns/prohibition/media_detail/2082505810-willebrandt/

https://themobmuseum.org/notable_names/mabel-willebrandt/

https://www.encyclopedia.com/women/encyclopedias-almanacs-transcripts-and-maps/willebrandt-mabel-walker-1889-1963

https://www.loc.gov/item/mm82059618/

https://www.latimes.com/archives/la-xpm-2000-jul-02-me-47028-story.html

http://www.anb.org/view/10.1093/anb/9780198606697.001.0001/anb-9780198606697-e-0600712

https://books.google.com/books?id=CfGHM9KU7aEC&pg=PA736&lpg=PA736&dq=dorothy+rae+willebrandt&source=bl&ots=Ot1Hr5r5jy&sig=ACfU3U1zTmlS6XVkw1QFXoWtYaMSk5dOWA&hl=en&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwia_-fX5KLhAhUELa0KHdrfC3gQ6AEwDXoECAkQAQ#v=onepage&q=dorothy%20rae%20willebrandt&f=false

https://themobmuseum.org/blog/mabel-willebrandt-prolific-prosecutor-of-prohibition-laws/

http://articles.latimes.com/2000/jul/02/local/me-47028

https://sallyjling.org/2011/07/16/mabel-walker-willebrant-fascinating-women-of-prohibition/

https://www.britannica.com/biography/Mabel-Walker-Willebrandt

  https://books.google.com/books?id=55ctM_Uy6KgC&printsec=frontcover#v=onepage&q&f=false

    Mabel Walker Willebrandt

Born May 23rd, 1889

Died April 6th, 1963 at age 73

  She was born in Woodsdale, Kansas as Mabel Elizabeth Walker.

Her family were farmers

She spent her early years traveling between prairie towns from Oklahoma to Missouri

Her father David was a local newspaper editor

She used to help him set the type for print

She was expelled from Park College in Parksville (a Presbyterian college), Missouri for being outspoken

She questioned the validity of a “virgin birth”

Reportedly she won the debate

In 1906 she began teaching in Buckley, Michigan

During this time she

Was almost lost in a blizzard

Trapped by a forest fire

Was threatened by a student with a knife

In 1910 she married Arthur Willebrandt, the principal

Together they moved to Phoenix, Arizona while Arthur recovered from tuberculosis

Mabel graduated from Arizona State University in 1911

Around this time she became severely hearing impaired and wore a hearing aid in each ear

She supposedly fixed her hair to hide them.

In 1912, they moved to Los Angeles where Mabel taught school during the day and took law classes at night

In 1916, she graduated from the University of Southern California with a masters in law

While completing her degree, Mabel began pro bono work in local police courts for mostly prostitution cases

She argued 2,000 cases as the city’s first female public defender

Her efforts led to courts permitting testimony from both women and men in these cases

This meant the male clients had to appear in court (in front of the press) as well as the female defenders

She successfully campaigned for the enactment of a revised community property statue at the state level (which involves property rights in marriages)

She was instrumental in getting the police to stop nickelodeon owners from preying on young girls during the “Rosebud Baby Case”

Apparently, the men were taking advantage of young girls during the movies

After graduation, she opened her own practice in downtown Los Angeles with Fred Horowitz (he built the famous hotel Chateau Marmont)

During World War I, she served as head of the Legal Advisory Board for draft cases

John Shepherd, perhaps the only man she really loved, who was killed in World War I.

In 1920, she moved her folks out west to be closer to her

In 1921, at 32, she was recommended by Frank Doherty (her old law professor), Senator Hiram Johnson, and all the judges in Southern California for the position of Assistant Attorney General under President Harding

Making her the highest-ranking women in the US federal government at the time and the first woman to head the Tax Division.

However, part of the issue is that no one wanted the job

It had no political advantage

It was a position that had to enforce unpopular laws

Her duties included overseeing federal taxation, federal prisons, and matters relating to the Volstead Act (the Prohibition Act)

She established the first female federal prison, Alderson federal prison in West Virginia

At the time, female prisons were too full to hold all inmates

If there was not enough space they would be housed with male inmates or otherwise alternatively punished

Sexual exploitation of women in the prison system was very high at the time

The prison was modeled as a boarding school offering classes for work-oriented fields

It had no armed guards or fences

Weirdly, still segregated

Things weren’t all great, however

In her 1929 book, The Inside of Prohibition, she described her problems

The law was too weak to do the job

The man in charge was not up to the task

She was only given volunteers to help make arrests

Things were so bad, one of her early arrests was a group that actually fielded a baseball team called the BOOTLEGGERS

She helped convinced the state department to give her boats and crews to apprehend alcohol coming into the country by boat

Reportedly, she met with the Treasury’s Prohibition unit, the US Coast Guard, and the Customs Service once and weeks later Congress okayed $11 million dollars for speed boats and equipment

She might have been the only person working to enforce prohibition

She said, “At one time it was quite apparent that no real effort was being made to put an end to such open defiance of our laws. Liquor runners operated off Florida practically in the open, in broad daylight, with little or no interference. There for years the prosecuting office and the prohibition agents engaged equally in the game of evasion of responsibility.”

In 1923, she successfully brought down the ‘Big Four of Savannah’

Reportedly the largest bootlegging ring in the US

She brought in George Remus, nicknamed ‘King of the Bootleggers’ and supposedly the inspiration for Jay Gatsby

Mabel came under a lot of trouble at one point for arresting Helen Morgan, a popular singer who had been reportedly duped into running a speakeasy

She regularly made the society magazines as a bit of a villain

She also argued to reform prisons for young offenders

She is credited with starting the prison work programs for male prisons

She started the first record keeping system for federal inmate populations

In 1924, Mabel and her husband Arthur got divorced

They were separated in 1916

Her mother-in-law moved in with Mabel and Arthur but Mabel financially supported the whole family

Reportedly because after putting Arthur through law school, he was unwilling to pay his share of expenses

In 1925, she adopted a two-year-old daughter named Dorothy Rae

Whom she raised with her friends

Feminism, Sexuality, and Politics by Estella B. Freedman

The book mentions that this was a more common practice at the time for career women that wanted a family.

Her parents took over when she was in Washington

Back in Prohibition, however, Mabel prosecuted 48,734 cases between 1924 and 1925, of which resulted in 39,072 convictions

278 cases went to the Supreme Court

She argued 40 of those cases

In 1927, she devised the plan to catch gangsters with tax evasion and in 1931 successfully prosecuted Al Capone

She recommended J. Edgar Hoover to head the FBI

In 1928, she campaigned for Republican candidate Herbert Hoover

To do this, she would address Methodist ministers and slam Hoover’s Democrat opponent, Al Smith as a ‘wet’ candidate

She began timing speakeasy raids to coincide with the Democratic convention

She was recognized as a major force behind getting Hoover elected

She took political help anywhere she could get it including the Woman’s Christian Temperance Union and the Ku Klux Klan saying, “I have no objection to people dressing up in sheets if they enjoy that sort of thing.”

For her service, she expected to be appointed Attorney General but was snubbed

In 1928, she resigned her post and returned to private practice

Mabel’s first case outside of the government was for California Fruit Industries that made wine and went on to serve as a lobbyist for the industry

CFI’s first big product push with her was Vine-Glo

Which was a concentrate that if added to water and sugar and left alone for two months made wine at home

Her casework set the foundation for the basic interpretations of the 16th and 18th amendments

In 1930, Mabel successfully argued for Frederick Albert Cook’s release from prison

He had been falsely imprisoned when several of his business partners committed fraud

Because his lawyer, Joseph Weldon Bailey, had a personal problem with the judge, he lost the case

Mabel managed to get him off his 14-year sentence in 7

Cook claimed to be the first explorer to reach the North Pole

In 1950, she served as counsel to the Screen Directors Guild

She defended the studios during the “Red Scare” and Joe McCarthy

She represented Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer and Aviation Corp. of America

Her famous clients include

Louis B. Mayer

Jean Harlow

Clark Gable

Jeanette MacDonald

She also began defending bootleggers she had helped put away

She went on to pioneer the fields of aviation and radio law

She was the first woman to chair a committee for the American Bar Association for aeronautical law

She got her pilot’s license and promoted air travel with Amelia Earhart and Jacqueline Cochoran (created the Women’s Auxillary Army Corps and Women Airforce Service Pilot organizations and was the first woman to break the sound barrier)

She received an Honorary Doctorate from the Aeronautical Chamber of Commerce

Due to intense criticism of her role in Al Smith losing the presidency, as her rhetoric was seen as anti-Catholic, she converted to Catholicism

Later in life, she worked to destroy many of her personal records (especially from when she was Attorney General)

She, in fact, was overlooked by several early women’s history studies as she purposely erased many of her personal histories

Which is why much of what we know comes from her legal work

Mabel Walker Willebrandt died of lung cancer in Riverside, California

She was survived by her adopted daughter, Dorothy Rae (Van Dyke)

Her lifelong friend, Judge John J. Sirica, was quoted as saying, “If Mabel had worn trousers, she could have been president.”

Nicknames

“First Legal Lady of the Land”

“Prohibition Portia” (which is a joke from Julius Caesar–it’s Brutus’s wife)

“Deborah of the Drys”

“Mrs. Firebrand.”

Fun facts

She owned a farm in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania

Once advised a prostitute she worked for on “going straight”

Mabel looked over her books and said to keep working six more months

Then ended up footing the rest of the bill herself to get the woman and her sons into a nice home

Quotes

“Give me the authority and let me have my pick of 300 men and I’ll make this country as dry as it is humanly possible. There’s one way it can be done – get at the source of supply. I know them and I know how they could be cut off. I have no patience with this policy of going after the hip-pocket and speakeasy cases. That’s like trying to dry up the Atlantic Ocean with a blotter.”

In reference to herself “an instrument of God”

  Physical Hawtness: 2/5

Described as Comely

Sort of an Elisabeth Moss

More of the way she carries herself than her looks (substance over style)

Mental Hawtness: 5/5

She started school at age 13

was teaching at age 17

a principal at 22

Assistant Attorney General at 32

Social Impact: 3/5

For her time, she made a huge splash

Lots of firsts

Set a tone for the whole decade of the ‘20s

Je Ne Sais Quoi: 2/5

Problematic

Reformed?

Sounds too unbelievable for a movie

Historical Hotties – Mabel Walker Willebrandt Hey! I got the honor of being on Historical Hotties. It's a podcast about researching hot historical figures and ranking them.

[sarkarimirror]

Modi Cut India’s Red Tape. Now He Hopes to Win Votes for His Work.

Modi Cut India’s Red Tape. Now He Hopes to Win Votes for His Work.

MUMBAI, India — A jeans maker saw his delivery costs cut by half when the highway police stopped asking for bribes. An aluminum wire factory faced only three inspectors rather than 12 to keep its licenses. Big companies like Corning, the American fiber-optic cable business, found they could wield a new bankruptcy law to demand that customers pay overdue bills. Prime Minister Narendra Modi promised nearly five years ago to open India for business. Fitfully and sometimes painfully, his government has streamlined regulations, winnowed a famously antiquated bureaucracy and tackled corruption and tax evasion. But cutting red tape has yet to translate into broad growth for this emerging economy, or spark much outside investment. Small and medium-size businesses have struggled to keep up with the pace of the overhaul. Some, which seldom paid taxes before, went bankrupt. Civil servants stumbled repeatedly in efforts to turn Mr. Modi’s abruptly issued policies into simple-to-follow standards. Now, as 900 million Indians go to the polls, Mr. Modi has to persuade voters to stay the course and convince them that his reforms — unconventional to many — are taking root. As the campaign between his Bharatiya Janata Party and the opposition Congress Party heats up, Mr. Modi faces an opponent, Rahul Gandhi, who contends that the prime minister has disrupted a functioning economy and caused job losses. “The economy is actually in tatters,” a Congress Party spokesman, Randeep Singh Surjewala, said. Mr. Modi’s team argues that if his party wins the national vote, which ends Sunday, growth will follow. “The first two years after key reforms, growth tends to slow,” said Amitabh Kant, who heads Mr. Modi’s economic policy commission. “Then the acceleration happens.” Key statistics on growth and unemployment have been delayed or disputed in recent months, leading to a torrent of economic bickering. Yet India has actually done more over the past four years to make it easy to do business than any country except tiny Djibouti and even tinier Brunei, a review of World Bank data shows. Researchers assessed the ease of obtaining construction permits, connecting electricity, drafting contracts and other variables. Business leaders, interviewed last month, consistently explained that they had seen corruption pared and bureaucracy reined in. Tax demands have been simplified, and many businesses now can go online to file for government permits and licenses. Mr. Modi is counting on India’s business class, a key constituency, and he has led in the polls. Detractors say that advantage has come at a cost. Mr. Modi has retained the political support to keep economic reforms moving in part by fanning sectarian tensions between the country’s Hindu majority and its Muslim minority. A factory district in Mumbai, a metropolis that is India’s most populous, shows how his program of change has started to crack a patronage system where everyone took a little but the national economy lost a lot. Mr. Modi’s idea to minimize graft has been worthwhile, business owners said, even if the execution at times was bungled. Mehta Creation, a jeans maker in a dilapidated concrete building in the northern outskirts, paid a welter of taxes until two years ago. That included the dreaded octroi, a British import from medieval times that allowed states and some cities to collect taxes whenever goods crossed a boundary. Mehta Creation’s budget was contorted by corruption. To avoid the octroi, which could triple the cost of a delivery and add delays, Mehta paid drivers about $5 for each parcel of jeans and then reimbursed them up to $6 per parcel to bribe the local police at every border, said Dhiren Sharma, the company’s chief operating officer. Mehta’s costs dropped after the government abolished 17 taxes, including the octroi, two years ago and established instead a national value-added tax on most business activity. Then Mehta had a zipper problem. The single tax was fine for companies, like Mehta, that had been reporting income. But smaller businesses — like the zipper company it depended on — largely worked on cash payments and had seldom paid taxes. Under the new law, Mehta had to pay a tax of 5 to 12 percent on each pair of jeans sold to retailers. Its suppliers too were obligated to pay a similar tax, and, in this supply chain, Mehta was supposed to earn a credit for the taxes its suppliers paid. But the zipper supplier and half of Mehta’s fabric vendors initially ignored the tax, Mr. Sharma said. Mehta was forced to pay the missing money. Mehta wrangled with its vendors to pay. So the Modi program energized a sort of accountability, from vendor to vendor, that was effective, if chaotic, in generating tax revenue. “In the last two years, everything has changed,” Mr. Sharma said. The national sales tax “is very good, but it could have been implemented in a better way.” Next door to Mehta, seven employees of Shakti Industries work beneath a large hook holding a huge roll of aluminum cord. Daily, they thin the cord into wire and flex it around spools to sell to jewelry makers. Before Mr. Modi was elected, the tiny shop was visited by regulators from a dozen government agencies, with many demanding bribes, said Vipul S. Kamani, the owner. Now, just three agencies are involved, he said. Licenses can be issued mostly online. A government computer generates a random inspection cycle, making it harder for inspectors to demand regular bribes. Mr. Kamani said he was saving money and “saving a lot of time, too.” Changes seem to have touched most businesses no matter the industry or service. A restaurateur described how, six years ago, he needed 32 regulators to sign off on a new eatery. Even a signboard had to be licensed. Each approval required a bribe, the restaurant owner said. He calculated that he would need to pay $1,200 per seat in bribes, a fortune in a neighborhood where meals usually cost $6. The restaurateur waited until last year to open and paid far lower bribes — about $450 per seat — because the number of regulators had dropped to 14. Next year, he expects the number of regulators, and bribes, to fall sharply again. He asked for anonymity to avoid retaliation by the authorities. Foreign companies have long complained about red tape. Foreign direct investment jumped sharply in Mr. Modi’s first two years in office, but has slipped since 2016. Investors say red tape has plunged; the problem now is demand within India. Many economists and businesspeople blame the dip in investment on the unexpected national campaign in November 2016 to recall large-denomination rupee notes. The so-called demonetization program was meant to curb the black market and shift the economy from cash. Digital payments, the government figured, could better track revenue and lead to efficient tax collection for money to pay for roads, subways and ports. But the program was rolled out so quickly that businesses and households scrambled for paper money. People tried to rely on credit cards and electronic banking, but many businesses were not equipped to accept them. The cash crunch hit small businesses hardest, said Pronab Sen, the country’s recently retired top statistician. Through 2018, Mr. Modi shifted toward populist measures. He introduced restrictions that crimped Walmart and Amazon expansions and foreign internet services, and he demanded that Visa, MasterCard and American Express move more operations to India. He made all politics — and economics — local. He kept steep tariffs on imports despite Trump administration complaints and after India lost zero-tariff access to the American market for many goods. He has won grass-roots support from many Hindus while pushing economic changes advocated by business leaders. He has been mostly silent on sectarian violence, including the lynching of Muslims and lower-caste Hindus. The political swing states of India lie mainly in the north, where Hindu nationalism runs deep, and Mr. Modi seems to have retained support there. Corning has a factory north of Pune, an industrial hub, and it has witnessed visible improvements — although some began under the Congress Party, before Mr. Modi took office. The road outside the factory once had huge potholes. It has been paved. Electricity blackouts occurred weekly; now electricity fails once a month. Importantly for cash flow, Corning can better force errant clients, because of a new law, to pay their bills. When it comes to red tape, India “certainly seems to be heading in the right direction,” said Amit Bansal, Corning’s managing director for India. Gaurav Dalmia, the chairman of a family-controlled conglomerate that makes cement as well as heat-resistant tiles for steel furnaces, said big business was making a calculation in these last days of voting. “If the Modi government is re-elected, as it is likely to be, you will get economic reform as well as social challenges,” he said. “It’s a package deal, whether you like it or not.” “On a net basis,” Mr. Dalmia said, “many like me would buy that package.” Ayesha Venkataraman contributed reporting. Read the full article