#but with Mrs hughes they can both just be normal human beings and it’s actually so important

[mrburnsnuclearpussy]

I think part of the reason the Hughes/Carson dynamic is so great is that Mrs Hughes possesses about 99% of their collective brain cells 😭

#no offence to him but..oh my god <3 #he is not the sharpest tool in the shed #and it balances them out since he does have more power ranking higher and all (also being a man in that society) #together they just fit because (as friends more although their romance was cute but I prefer them as platonic) but like #they fit because if u think about it Mrs hughes is the only person he has a relationship with that is both close and healthy/equal #he’s either not close with ppl (the staff below him) or not balanced in a healthy way (the upper class) #but with Mrs hughes they can both just be normal human beings and it’s actually so important #and I love that it’s not necessarily the same for them both because Mrs Hughes has Mrs Patmore too #and probably others as well since she is down to earth enough to form more normal helathy relationships with ppl #anyway #i love them both DEARLY #so she really has a healthy balanced attitude abo it things and it’s like exactly what he needs - both putting in his place and reminding hi #-him of his humanity #Downton abbey

[sunnyskiesscareme]

Jack Hughes x fem!reader

summary: Jack and Y/n meet in French class, and Y/n quickly finds out how fond she is of her annoying classmate

Warnings: a bit of angst, mostly fluff

Notes: this is my first fic! Please be nice lol. This was poorly and quickly proofread

“You are asking to leave, again? You got back to class 2 minutes ago!” Her teacher scolded.

Usually, Y/n’d roll her eyes at one of Jack’s many interruptions. She didn’t want to be in French class any longer than the rest of their classmates, and Mrs. David had started to keep the class in during break for one minute each time she was interrupted. At least this time she’d have a few extra seconds to scribble down the rest of her notes.

“But Mrs. D!” Jack started, a sudden urgency in his eyes, “Water is a basic human need! I’ll be back in 3 minutes, tops.”

“And somehow, Mr. Hughes, I don’t believe you.”

“Why? You can trust me, Mrs. D.” He wrapped his arm around his friend Trevor, who sat beside him, clearly amused. “You can have Trevor escort me!”

The teacher hummed, tapping her index pointer against her lip, as if she were considering it. “Y’know, that isn’t such a bad idea!”

Both Jack and Trevor’s eyes widened in surprise.

“But I won’t send Trevor.” Jacks smile fell just as fast as it rose. “I think… Y/n would be good for that job.”

Y/n’s eyes snapped up and away from her paper at her name, glancing behind her at the boy who stared right back. She sent her teacher a pleading look, her eyes wide and head slightly shaking.

“Uh, are you sure? She seems to like this class. She should stay.” Jack said, and Y/n shot him an annoyed glare.

“Just the reason to rush you right back! Go on.” Mrs. David ordered, and Y/n stood from her seat with a sigh. She stood at the door, watching as Jack smacked Trevor across the back of his head for something he’d whispered in his ear. Y/n didnt know they knew how to whisper.

She let Jack lead her, not believing that he’d actually left to get water from the fountain, but not a snitch. She was almost surprised when he did end up walking to the fountain, and she leaned against the wall and checked the time. She furrowed her eyes when he immediately started to walk back to class.

“Where are you going?”

He stared at her. “Narnia.”

She hummed, scrunching her nose at him in annoyance. “You said three minutes. We still have two.”

Jack looked at the clock she pointed at, and then back to her. “You don’t wanna get back to class and finish the love note your writing to Mrs. D?” He mocked.

“What?” She scoffed. “You really think I want to spend my lunch hour in French class because two idiots think they’re funny? I want to be there less than you do, I bet. At least you have your friend.”

“Please! You are Mrs. D’s friend. You’re probably the only one in that class who actually does the work.”

“Oh, I’m very sorry that the teacher likes me more than you.” She crossed her arms. “Plus, won’t you get kicked off of your hockey team if you don’t do the work?”

He paused, squinting his eyes at her. “How do you know I play hockey?”

Y/n stared at him, checking his pupils in case he were concussed. Who didn’t know Jack Hughes played hockey? “Look at yourself.” She said, and almost apologized for it sounding so mean.

Jack actually did look at himself, looking down at his clothes and his hands. He immediately whipped his head back up, as if he hadn’t meant to actually look in the first place. “What?”

“I mean,” she waved her hand up and down at him, “look, listen.”

“Are you trying to be mean right now?”

“No!” She insisted, genuinely. “Really! Put your hat on your head. Talk like a normal person!”

“You are being mean!” He stressed. “What’s wrong with my hat?”

She sighed. “Nothings wrong with your hat. I’m sorry. Just… actually wear it. All you hockey boys just, just put it on your hair. Put it on your head.” She reached out and tapped the top of his hat so it hugged his head comfortably, wiping away a stray lock of brown hair that poked out of it. “Now it won’t fall off every time you move, and you don’t look like a douchebag.”

Y/n finally began to walk back to class as Jack looked at his reflection in the window of an empty classroom. He caught up to her, quickly. “What’s wrong with how I talk?”

“Listen, stop calling girls ‘smoke-shows’ and ‘puck bunnies’ and I promise you’ll get more of them.”

“Hey! I get plenty.”

“Okay.” She put her hands up. “None of my business anyways. Be a douchebag whenever you want, just not in this class. I don’t really want walking you to the water fountain to become a daily thing.” She sighed.

—

Jack was quieter for the rest of class, even hissing a ‘shut up!’ to Trevor sometime during it. All he could think about was the girl who put his hat on his head properly and pushed the hair out of his face. He hoped she didn’t see the blush that burned on his cheeks. He hoped she didn’t really hate him, either.

Jack wouldn’t have been able to count every time his older brother, Quinn, made fun of the way he wore his baseball cap even if he tried. Still, he never listened until now.

Jack had bragged to Quinn that despite being younger, he was the stud of the family. He’d relish in the attention he got and in the pretty giggles he’d receive if he smiled at a girl in the hall. He told a girl once that he preferred it when she wore her hair down, and to this day, he hadn’t seen her put it back up.

Y/n was different. Some days he wished she sat the other way, so he could see her much-too-pretty face during class instead of just the back of her head. Still, he assumed it was for the best, for if he could see her, his ego would probably be blown by the many eye rolls and head shakes she preformed because of him.

He had never called Y/n a ‘smoke-show’, even though he probably would have if she didn’t seem so unimpressed with his very existence. Why would she mention that? He had never called her a puck-bunny. In fact, he had never once seen her at a hockey game. Why?

Jack tried to fool himself into thinking she had just been jealous that he never called her any of those names, but he was kidding himself. He took out his phone and texted a girl who had asked for his number a while ago. Maybe she’d pet his ego. That’s what girls usually did.

It was proven true. Pretty compliments filled his screen and to each one he sent a heart emoji back. He went to bed feeling worse than he did before.

—

Her knee was starting to hurt from holding it up so it wouldn’t touch his. The table was too small for two people to sit at, yet here they were, half of the tables empty as Mrs. David put each student into a pair. Y/n had gotten a warning that she’d be with Jack beforehand, and a peppermint candy as a thank you, for Jack had been far less disruptive since their walk. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t listen to the instructions her teacher was spouting when Jack was beside her, looking at her. Why was he looking at her?

He fiddled with his chain necklace as he did so, completely oblivious to the fact that she could see him out of the corner of her eye. How could she act so normal around him? How could she look so pretty? How could she be so smart and do so well in a class she hated?

God, she hated French class.

She fiddled with the corner of her paper, pinching and curling the corner and immediately scolding herself afterwards for ruining what was once so pristine. She tapped her fingers on the table, distracting thuds coming from underneath them. Quickly, she ripped that corner off, and put her pencil to work.

She didn’t need to pass him the note, for she knew he was peeking over her shoulder anyways.

Sorry for being mean. I like your hat better this way but coulda been nicer

Jack grinned.

-

Jack didn’t need to invite her to his house. He knew that. All that was required from the pair was a performance of them talking to each other in French, pretending to meet each other for the first time. He invited her over anyway, and she accepted.

If he asked, she’d tell him that she’d only accepted because he said she could stay over for dinner, or so she could see his hot older brother. She’d never tell him she accepted because she wanted to spend time with him. See where the jack Hughes slept, where he got dressed, where he ate breakfast.

That would be embarrassing.

#jack hughes x reader #nhl players #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #jack hughes #quinn hughes #quin hughes x reader #quinn hughes x reader #sunnyspouts

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Real Life Tasks With Ransom Drysdale

An Advent Calendar of 24 Normal Human Tasks As Performed By A Huge Man Baby.  Day 13: Ironing Out The Kinks

Warnings: Bad Language words, some minor smut (18+, NSFW)

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N:  Instalment 13 of mine, @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​ and @jennmurawski13​ ‘s telling of Ransom’s quest to become a normal human being. This time Ransom has a hot iron in his hands. What could possibly go wrong?

Series Masterlist. 

“Are you Ironing?” You stopped dead in the doorway of the laundry room, not quite sure you believed your eyes. In front of you stood Hugh Ransom Drysdale at the other side of an ironing board. A basket of clothes sat behind him on the side and a selection of freshly pressed ones were hanging up over the door frame.

“No, I’m playing Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony.” He drawled, not looking up as he lifted the iron off the blue polo shirt, grabbing a clothes hangar.

“Doesn’t look like a piano.” You looked at him and he took a deep breath, shooting you a glare. You chuckled “Sorry, I…what brought this on?”

“Well…” he paused, turning to hang the item up next to a few others “…you fell asleep, and I know this pile was bugging you so thought I’d make a start. I’m not as fast as you, though.” He mused, gesturing to the items hanging up. “It’s taken me an hour so far and I’ve not done much. How the fuck do you do it so quickly?”

“You just need more practice.” You smiled.

“Huh, maybe it is like playing the piano.” He looked at you and you laughed as you crossed the room towards him whilst he reached for the next item out of the basket which was one of his shirts.

“Be careful.” You smiled, your arms wrapping around him from behind as you pressed your cheek to his back, his t-shirt soft against your skin. “I’m fond of that one.”

And you were. You’d actually worn to work a few times given your ever expanding bump. It was comfy and baggy enough to simply shrug on over a camisole top and a pair of simple black trousers and make you feel like you could still wear professional looking clothes without them feeling like they were going to burst at the seams.

Maternity office wear just wasn’t doing it for you.

“Well stop distracting me and we won’t have a problem.” Ransom moved and you simply hugged him tighter, feeling the muscles of his back ripple as he arranged the item on the board. You stayed still, pressed against him, simply enjoying the feel of his back pressed to your chest and you let out a deep breath.

“Y/N.” his voice took on a warning tone.

“What?” you asked innocently, as your hands began to toy with the hem of his t-shirt.

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?” you protested again, your nails gently scraping over his abdomen. He gave a grunt and jolted a little.

“This iron is hot. I could do some damage to myself.” He grit out after a moment, his voice a little strained and you could tell he was fighting to keep control.

“Well we haven’t been to the ER in a few weeks.” You mumbled, your fingers skating across the waist band of his jeans.

Ransom took a deep breath and you grinned to yourself, those damned pregnancy hormones were wreaking havoc on your libido but you were fucked if you cared. You had your own, ready-made outlet right in front of you. And true to form, the minute your fingers reached for the buckle of his belt he gave a growl, set the iron down and spun to face you.

“You’re a pain in my ass.” He looked down at you, and you looked up at him coyly, biting your lip.

“Wanna be a pain in mine?” you shot back and his eyes narrowed, that familiar predatory look crossing his face as he shook his head.

“Oh, Princess, you’re gonna regret that.”

“I doubt it.” You muttered as his lips crashed to yours, hands on your hips to pull you as flush to him as he could with the basketball that was your belly in between you both. His tongue invaded your mouth as one large hand slid up your spine and gripped the back of your head, fingers gently tangling in your hair. He backed you up to the unit at the side of the room, as roughly as he dared given your ‘condition’, the base of your back pressing into the edge. You let out a soft moan, your fingers reaching down to undo his belt and with an easy movement he reached down, gripping your thighs. With a half jump from you and half a lift from him he had you perched on the sideboard, your legs wrapped round his waist, his lips still eagerly pressed to yours.

“Such a needy little bitch.” He growled as you finally popped the button on the top of his jeans and slid the zip down.

“Only for you.” You smirked against his mouth as your hand slid into his trousers, wrapping around his hardening cock. “And you love it, Ransom.”

“Fuck, yeah I do.” He groaned, his hips pushing forward as he thrust into your palm, releasing his hold on you as he shoved his jeans and boxers down. As he continued to rut into your hand, he reached for the hem of your soft woollen jersey dress, guiding it over your head before his lips traipsed a path down your neck to your collar bone, nipping and sucking at exactly the right places which he could find with his eyes closed. He placed hot, open mouthed kisses down your sternum, over the swell of each engorged breast, taking his time knowing that you were particularly sensitive. With soft, gentle fingers he pulled one of the cups of your bra down and began lavishing his affections on your pert nipple teasing a strangled moan from the back of your throat, your head falling backwards as the heat between your legs intensified, your panties now nothing but a sodden mess.

And then a smell broke through your lust addled senses making you still, and you grabbed his shoulder.

“What’s that smell?”

“Dior Sauvage.” his voice was muffled as his mouth still worked at your breast.

“No that’s not…fuck!” Your eyes rolled as he slipped his fingers into your leggings. “Stop a moment, I’m being…Oh, God…” you swallowed, head tilting backwards as he shifted your panties to the side, fingers gathering your slick as he began to tease at your clit.

“No, just me.” You felt his mouth curl into a smile against your skin and you shifted a little, allowing his hand more access, desperate for relief.

And then you caught another whiff, and it suddenly registered through the haze in your mind exactly what it was.

“Ransom!” your eyes flew open and over his shoulder you spotted the smoke rising from behind his broad back “Get the iron!”

“I’m open to most things, sweetheart, but I draw the line at…”

“No, you asshole, you left it on the fucking shirt!” you pushed him away and he spun round as you jumped down from the side. He gave a yell and started towards it, but in his haste he forgot his pants were round his ankles and he crashed to the floor in a heap of limbs uttering a string of expletives as he went.

“Son of a mother fucking bitch!” his elbow collided with the tiled floor with a loud thud. “Ow, fuck!”

You pulled the iron up, yanking the shirt off the board and dropping it into the metal sink where it continued to smoulder and you turned to look at the iron shaped burn mark in the board cover. Ransom pushed himself to his feet, taking a deep breath as he raked his hair back off his forehead, before he rubbed his elbow. Neither of you spoke for a second, before you looked at one another.

“That one is NOT on me.” Ransom pointed at you. “I told you to quit distracting me.”

“You have all the willpower of a toddler at Christmas.” You scoffed and he arched an eyebrow.

“Sweetheart, you practically raped me.” He drawled and you let out a huge snort, shaking your head.

“God you talk some crap.”

“Eat shit”

“That’s the best you can do? Eat shit?” you laughed, hands falling to your hips as you stood there clad in your bra and leggings, his eyes scanning you up and down before they locked onto yours. “Your insults are wearing a little thin, Tiger.”

At the use of the ridiculous nickname you had for him, one that was normally reserved for the bedroom he gave a little growl and in a flash he was back on you, his hands cupping your ass and you gave a squeak of surprise as he lifted you off your feet despite the extra eighteen pound of baby bump and pregnancy fat you were sporting.

“Now,” he spoke, before giving you a deep kiss, pulling back to look you in the eye and the familiar lustful twinkle in those deep baby blues made you groan wantonly. He cocked an eyebrow up, as he smirked arrogantly at you. “I believe we were in the middle of something Mrs Drysdale.”

“You know…” you muttered, as he perched you back in your previous position on the sideboard, his mouth soon back on that spot on your neck. “Of all your recent domestic disasters, I think this one is my favourite.”

“Careful, Doll…” he growled, nipping at your skin, coaxing a squeak from your lips as your hand tangled in his hair “You’re in a very precarious position. I’d think twice about making fun of me.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” you gave a yank, tugging on the longer strands at the top of his head, causing him to hiss slightly as his head tilted back, his face inches from yours.

“Both.” he quipped, before his mouth claimed yours once more.

#real life tasks with ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale

[wiypt-writes]

Real Life Tasks With Ransom Drysdale

An Advent Calendar of 24 Normal Human Tasks As Performed By A Huge Man Baby.  Day 13: Ironing Out The Kinks

Warnings: Bad Language words, some minor smut (18+, NSFW)

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N:  Instalment 13 of mine, @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​ and @ohthankevans13​ ‘s telling of Ransom’s quest to become a normal human being. This time Ransom has a hot iron in his hands. What could possibly go wrong?

Series Masterlist

“Are you Ironing?” You stopped dead in the doorway of the laundry room, not quite sure you believed your eyes. In front of you stood Hugh Ransom Drysdale at the other side of an ironing board. A basket of clothes sat behind him on the side and a selection of freshly pressed ones were hanging up over the door frame.

“No, I’m playing Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony.” He drawled, not looking up as he lifted the iron off the blue polo shirt, grabbing a clothes hangar.

“Doesn’t look like a piano.” You looked at him and he took a deep breath, shooting you a glare. You chuckled “Sorry, I…what brought this on?”

“Well…” he paused, turning to hang the item up next to a few others “…you fell asleep, and I know this pile was bugging you so thought I’d make a start. I’m not as fast as you, though.” He mused, gesturing to the items hanging up. “It’s taken me an hour so far and I’ve not done much. How the fuck do you do it so quickly?”

“You just need more practice.” You smiled.

“Huh, maybe it is like playing the piano.” He looked at you and you laughed as you crossed the room towards him whilst he reached for the next item out of the basket which was one of his shirts.

“Be careful.” You smiled, your arms wrapping around him from behind as you pressed your cheek to his back, his t-shirt soft against your skin. “I’m fond of that one.”

And you were. You’d actually worn to work a few times given your ever expanding bump. It was comfy and baggy enough to simply shrug on over a camisole top and a pair of simple black trousers and make you feel like you could still wear professional looking clothes without them feeling like they were going to burst at the seams.

Maternity office wear just wasn’t doing it for you.

“Well stop distracting me and we won’t have a problem.” Ransom moved and you simply hugged him tighter, feeling the muscles of his back ripple as he arranged the item on the board. You stayed still, pressed against him, simply enjoying the feel of his back pressed to your chest and you let out a deep breath.

“Y/N.” his voice took on a warning tone.

“What?” you asked innocently, as your hands began to toy with the hem of his t-shirt.

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?” you protested again, your nails gently scraping over his abdomen. He gave a grunt and jolted a little.

“This iron is hot. I could do some damage to myself.” He grit out after a moment, his voice a little strained and you could tell he was fighting to keep control.

“Well we haven’t been to the ER in a few weeks.” You mumbled, your fingers skating across the waist band of his jeans.

Ransom took a deep breath and you grinned to yourself, those damned pregnancy hormones were wreaking havoc on your libido but you were fucked if you cared. You had your own, ready-made outlet right in front of you. And true to form, the minute your fingers reached for the buckle of his belt he gave a growl, set the iron down and spun to face you.

“You’re a pain in my ass.” He looked down at you, and you looked up at him coyly, biting your lip.

“Wanna be a pain in mine?” you shot back and his eyes narrowed, that familiar predatory look crossing his face as he shook his head.

“Oh, Princess, you’re gonna regret that.”

“I doubt it.” You muttered as his lips crashed to yours, hands on your hips to pull you as flush to him as he could with the basketball that was your belly in between you both. His tongue invaded your mouth as one large hand slid up your spine and gripped the back of your head, fingers gently tangling in your hair. He backed you up to the unit at the side of the room, as roughly as he dared given your ‘condition’, the base of your back pressing into the edge. You let out a soft moan, your fingers reaching down to undo his belt and with an easy movement he reached down, gripping your thighs. With a half jump from you and half a lift from him he had you perched on the sideboard, your legs wrapped round his waist, his lips still eagerly pressed to yours.

“Such a needy little bitch.” He growled as you finally popped the button on the top of his jeans and slid the zip down.

“Only for you.” You smirked against his mouth as your hand slid into his trousers, wrapping around his hardening cock. “And you love it, Ransom.”

“Fuck, yeah I do.” He groaned, his hips pushing forward as he thrust into your palm, releasing his hold on you as he shoved his jeans and boxers down. As he continued to rut into your hand, he reached for the hem of your soft woollen jersey dress, guiding it over your head before his lips traipsed a path down your neck to your collar bone, nipping and sucking at exactly the right places which he could find with his eyes closed. He placed hot, open mouthed kisses down your sternum, over the swell of each engorged breast, taking his time knowing that you were particularly sensitive. With soft, gentle fingers he pulled one of the cups of your bra down and began lavishing his affections on your pert nipple teasing a strangled moan from the back of your throat, your head falling backwards as the heat between your legs intensified, your panties now nothing but a sodden mess.

And then a smell broke through your lust addled senses making you still, and you grabbed his shoulder.

“What’s that smell?”

“Dior Sauvage.” his voice was muffled as his mouth still worked at your breast.

“No that’s not…fuck!” Your eyes rolled as he slipped his fingers into your leggings. “Stop a moment, I’m being…Oh, God…” you swallowed, head tilting backwards as he shifted your panties to the side, fingers gathering your slick as he began to tease at your clit.

“No, just me.” You felt his mouth curl into a smile against your skin and you shifted a little, allowing his hand more access, desperate for relief.

And then you caught another whiff, and it suddenly registered through the haze in your mind exactly what it was.

“Ransom!” your eyes flew open and over his shoulder you spotted the smoke rising from behind his broad back “Get the iron!”

“I’m open to most things, sweetheart, but I draw the line at…”

“No, you asshole, you left it on the fucking shirt!” you pushed him away and he spun round as you jumped down from the side. He gave a yell and started towards it, but in his haste he forgot his pants were round his ankles and he crashed to the floor in a heap of limbs uttering a string of expletives as he went.

“Son of a mother fucking bitch!” his elbow collided with the tiled floor with a loud thud. “Ow, fuck!”

You pulled the iron up, yanking the shirt off the board and dropping it into the metal sink where it continued to smoulder and you turned to look at the iron shaped burn mark in the board cover. Ransom pushed himself to his feet, taking a deep breath as he raked his hair back off his forehead, before he rubbed his elbow. Neither of you spoke for a second, before you looked at one another.

“That one is NOT on me.” Ransom pointed at you. “I told you to quit distracting me.”

“You have all the willpower of a toddler at Christmas.” You scoffed and he arched an eyebrow.

“Sweetheart, you practically raped me.” He drawled and you let out a huge snort, shaking your head.

“God you talk some crap.”

“Eat shit”

“That’s the best you can do? Eat shit?” you laughed, hands falling to your hips as you stood there clad in your bra and leggings, his eyes scanning you up and down before they locked onto yours. “Your insults are wearing a little thin, Tiger.”

At the use of the ridiculous nickname you had for him, one that was normally reserved for the bedroom he gave a little growl and in a flash he was back on you, his hands cupping your ass and you gave a squeak of surprise as he lifted you off your feet despite the extra eighteen pound of baby bump and pregnancy fat you were sporting.

“Now,” he spoke, before giving you a deep kiss, pulling back to look you in the eye and the familiar lustful twinkle in those deep baby blues made you groan wantonly. He cocked an eyebrow up, as he smirked arrogantly at you. “I believe we were in the middle of something Mrs Drysdale.”

“You know…” you muttered, as he perched you back in your previous position on the sideboard, his mouth soon back on that spot on your neck. “Of all your recent domestic disasters, I think this one is my favourite.”

“Careful, Doll…” he growled, nipping at your skin, coaxing a squeak from your lips as your hand tangled in his hair “You’re in a very precarious position. I’d think twice about making fun of me.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” you gave a yank, tugging on the longer strands at the top of his head, causing him to hiss slightly as his head tilted back, his face inches from yours.

“Both.” he quipped, before his mouth claimed yours once more.

#real life tasks with ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale

[honey-harper-official]

Evander Wade Hate AU - Chapter 13

MasterList for Evander Wade Hate AU

Word Count: 2633

This is an AU where Evander Wade is secretly a third party villain purely because I hate him and also I’m fixing some issues with canon because it’s fanfiction so I can.

---------

The next morning after Nova got up and dressed, eating one of the leftover bagels she had that Adrian brought over, she headed out to Headquarters. She had to go and change her address on her forms.

On her way out of the building, as she checked her mail, though it wasn't like there was ever anything, she spotted Cleo and Estelle and went over to them.

"Thank you so much for the supplies," Nova said. "You didn't have to do all that."

"Nonsense," Estelle insisted.

"Besides it wasn't a huge deal with our powers," Cleo said. "Don't fret over it at all."

"Well it means a lot to me," Nova said. She insisted on at least making it known how appreciative she was of all they had done for her.

"So where are you heading to sweetheart?" Estelle asked. "Are you going to go meet up with Adrian?"

"Oh no I just have to go down to Headquarters to change my address," Nova stuttered, heat spreading through her neck and cheeks.

"Do you need to change your emergency contact as well? We can give you our numbers if you need a new contact?" Cleo offered, grabbing a sticky note from the desk along with a pen.

"Are- are you sure?" Nova asked. Becoming someone's emergency contact was a large responsibility over a person, especially one they had just met.

"Of course. We wouldn't want you getting injured and have no one to help you," Estelle said, grinning happily, handing over the paper that Cleo had written on to her.

"I- thank you," Nova said as she took it.

On the paper was their individual numbers, the number of their apartment, and the number of each of their workplaces.

"Well have fun. Hope changing it isn't too much of a hassle," Cleo said, waving goodbye as Nova left the apartment and went down to Headquarters.

It wasn't a difficult thing to change. She just went up to the desk for the section on where her contact information was and they let her go in and change it and add in the new numbers. She also removed that she lived with her paternal uncle and got rid of his information.

It didn't take long either and the most surprising or worst part of being at HQ again was running into Simon in the elevators on her way out. He seemed surprised to see her.

"What are you doing here Nova?" Simon asked as he got in the elevator. "You don't have patrol today."

"I just came in to I could change my address and update my emergency contact information because I moved," she explained.

"Oh you moved? That must be fun," Simon said brightly. Nova forced herself to smile back. He had no idea how it was the exact opposite of that.

"Yeah the new place is cool," Nova said. It wasn't a lie but she wanted to end the conversation as quickly as possible.

She wasn't even sure how she should address Simon and Hugh. Was she on a first name basis with them because she was dating Adrian? Or should she call them by their superhero names? Did she have to call them Mr. Westwood and Mr. Everhart because she wasn't on a first name basis but was casual enough with them that she didn't have to use their aliases for Renegades?

Nova wasn't sure and she wasn't even sure how she should ask or even approach that subject without embarrassing herself.

"Thank you for finding the Vitality Charm for us," Simon said.

"Oh of course. It was no problem," Nova fibbed. It was actually a lot of work and she was mostly glad that she took it or else she might not be able to use her right arm anymore.

"I know you just accidentally found it but we really do appreciate it. I'm going to go see Max right now actually," he told her.

Nova smiled honestly at that. She was glad that Max was getting to spend time with his dads and she knew that since he was in the hospital, Simon probably wanted to see him now more then ever.

The elevator door opened and both of them got off though Nova was heading in the different direction.

"Oh and Nova," he said, before she could go to far. "You're always welcome over and allowed to stay the night."

"Thanks," Nova said as she turned and left, heat spreading through her cheeks. It wasn't like he said it loudly or anyone heard but it was still made her feel awkward for her boyfriend's dad telling her that she could always stay the night at their place in their place of work.

At least to her.

Especially after what she did with Adrian last night. If they found out she'd probably never be allowed to spend the night and if she ever came over she'd die on spot from embarrassment.

Nova then made her way home and it was around the time that she had told Narcissa she could meet up at her place and talk with her.

She wanted to work things out with Narcissa but she was also bracing herself. Their relationship was no doubt strained and it was wrong for Nova to have kissed and made out with Narcissa only to never speak to her again until necessary.

But that was the Anarchist's fault, not hers. At least that's what she was telling herself to help calm her nerves.

Nova went back to her apartment and Narcissa was already there in her room on the couch, waiting.

Awkwardly, she waved as Nova took a seat at the desk chair, nails digging into her legs out of her anxiety.

Nova took a deep breath.

"I'm really sorry about what happened," she said. "I know it probably hurt you. I just- the Anarchists wouldn't allow it."

Narcissa sighed. "I figured and I don't blame you. It was just, I wasn't sure if that was the truth and we haven't spoken in so long until the library. We didn't exactly have a proper break up."

"Yeah I'm sorry about that. I wasn't sure what to do to tell you I couldn't see you anymore," Nova admitted.

The Anarchists had told her that she had to stop seeing Narcissa. They said it was a distraction that they were friends, unaware that the two of them were anything more. Because of that Nova wasn't sure if she should go and break up so instead she shoved down her feelings and stopped coming to the meetings that Ingrid had with Gene at the library.

"Well we had both just turned 15 so I don't think I would have been able to really break up with you properly either," Narcissa admitted.

"I'm sorry about your grandpa," Nova said. "Ingrid wasn't listening and-"

"And killed him?" Narcissa asked, brow raised. "I know. At first I was mad about it but then Danna told me what happened and that you got rid of the Detonator and I know that couldn't have been easy to do since she helped raise you."

"It wasn't hard for the reasons you think," Nova said. It had been a hard task to kill her and there was still a weight on Nova for it, but it hadn't been hard to kill her because she had raised her. At least not completely.

The gunshots still echoed in her mind and all she could think about when she had the gun in her hand and had it aimed at the Detonator was when she had the gun aimed at the hitman as he was knocked out on the floor.

It was like history was repeating itself.

Someone had caused massive damage towards her and tried to kill her and now she had to hold her ground, especially if she wanted Adrian or anyone else to live. And both times no one was coming to save her.

However, it wasn't like Nova didn't get upset about losing Ingrid and being the one to have to kill her. She had done terrible things to Nova and drove her insane but Nova couldn't help but care about her.

She felt the same way now about Leroy and Honey. They had committed horrors and atrocities to her or at least had let them happen. But still she cared for them and still she felt guilty even though she knew it wasn't her fault for wanting safety and security and happiness.

"Well thanks anyways," Narcissa said.

There was a moment of silence, Nova swinging her legs and Narcissa curling up on the couch.

"Did you leave the Anarchists?" Narcissa asked quietly.

"Yeah," Nova said. "Yeah I left last night."

The thought of it brought tears to her eyes and she quickly wiped them away. She didn't want to talk much about anything that happened last night.

"I'm glad you got out," Narcissa said. "And I know you might not believe it but I still think of you as my friend and I still care about you."

Nova smiled. "I still care about you too and I wish we could be friends in a normal way. I mean we are but just one day, once all of this is over and we fix the Renegades system, then we can be friends and do things that friends do. No more concocting plots against big headed adults. Instead we can do something like bowling or roller skating."

Narcissa laughed. "That sounds like it would be fun and I do hope we can do stuff like that one day."

"So why are you helping us?" Nova asked. "What do you really gain from this?"

"I'm doing this partially because you're my friend and partially because I think Danna is cute but mostly because I think that if we can figure this out we'd have enough leverage and traction to fix all the major problems in the Renegades. They've made great strides in prodigy rights but most of what it's done has turned prodigies into either superheroes or people that have to help in a situation even if they aren't a Renegade or they're still villains and bad people. Either we're some superhero forced on a pedestal of a supervillain to discard. I don't want to be either I just wanted to be viewed as a normal human," Narcissa explained.

Nova knew the feeling. People had become far too reliant on prodigies to fix all their problems and if they didn't then they made a mockery of them one way or another or hated them for it as if anyone was entitled to someone else's powers.

Nova would admit, if someone is in a situation where they could help one another then they should. But the problem was that prodigies were expected to just turn into superheroes at the drop of the hat if they could help someone purely because they had powers. However just because someone had powers didn't mean they could help and even if they did they were allowed to be scared and frightened and not do anything due to safety reasons.

Prodigies were still disposable. It was as simple as that.

They were expected to risk their life and serious injury or else they were villainized or mocked, cast aside. If they didn't have a direct purpose then they still weren't worth anything even though they were a human life.

Nova hated it and even if the Renegades had good intentions and it was terrific to see a whole government run by prodigies, but that didn't mean they were a good government or were really making things better for prodigies. They could like being idolized all they want but not everyone did and not all prodigies had the ability to be idolized.

It only helped a select few and pushed all the other prodigies aside. It made them seem like they were better then those prodigies.

"I understand that many Renegades actually want to do good but once you put people on a pedestal and give them so much power bad things are bound to happen and already are happening. A lot of problems have been fixed but prodigy acceptance and rights still are a problem that has yet to be solved."

"I think we can get there. I hope we can get there."

"Let's just hope we can accomplish that task without people knowing my actual identity," Nova said. She meant as Nightmare but also as Ace's niece. Both could not be told to anyone.

"Well that's where I come in. I just slip in and out of places using the mirrors so you don't have to and no one will suspect a thing," Narcissa said, grinning.

"Speaking of that, you can hide things in the mirror realm right?" Nova asked.

"I can bring in objects but not other people."

"That's good because we're probably going to give you anything incriminating so you can hide it there."

"I figured."

"By the way, I know we probably can't put back Ace's actually helmet but, on the south side of Gatlon in the abandoned subway tunnels there's a mirror in one of the cars with all my Nightmare gear and I know Leroy will just disintegrate it in acid but there's also the helmet in the tote bag by the mirror. Do you think you could store it in the mirror realm if it's still there?" Nova asked.

She couldn't exactly take it from the Anarchists on her own but she could hide it away from them. She didn't want to take any chances.

"Sure. I should probably go tell Danna that we're on good terms now too," Narcissa said as she stood up. She then went back through the mirror and Nova relaxed. It was another problem she no longer had to deal with.

However, one problem that Nova did need to take care of was cleaning up the apartment. It wasn't like it was dirty she just hadn't been able to deep clean it when she first got there because she didn't have any cleaning supplies yet.

She trusted that Cleo and Estelle made sure it was clean but Nova didn't want to take any more chances. She had lived her whole life in terrible living conditions and didn't want a single shred of that in her new life.

Nova found all the cleaning supplies and changed into some clothes she didn't really care about before wiping everything down and sweeping and mopping and making sure everything was at least sanitized. She also threw the sheets in the wash just because she figured they were new and it was always good to wash something like sheets or clothes when they were new.

After that, Nova had a trash bag full of paper towels and other garbage and for good measure she tossed the condoms that were in the nightstand out too. She did not need them nor did she plan on needing them at all anytime in the recent future and she certainly didn't need Adrian or anyone finding them.

Nova took the trash out to the shoot and then went back into her apartment and showered off so she didn't feel all grimy. Directly after she sent Cleo and email and took up her offer on therapy. It would probably help even if Nova would never be able to tell anyone the full truth.

It was a lot of work and Nova constantly was swinging back and forth from being happy to exhausted in every aspect but it was alright. She was getting to where she needed to be and was at least in a much safer circumstance now.

For once in her life she was hopeful for the future and wasn't fearing of the worst.

------

Tag List:

@thepurpledragon4444​ @nova-artino​ @novas-tunnel-of-anxiety​ @princessselene126​ @my-littlenightmare​ @anarchists-87​  @plain-jane-mclain​​ @emybain​​ @renegadesnet​​ @itsalittlebitchilly​​ @justsomerandomficsforrenegades​​ @jacihayle​​  @creampuffqueen​​ @alecjamesartino​​ @tegans-hell-deactivated20201020 @imnotfluffy​ @furryevanderwade @blackracheldare​ @bisexualnovaartino​​ @lumtiy​​ @cosmicnovaflare​ @amiity-blight​

#nevada fanfiction #nova artino #adrian everhart #danna bell #narcissa cronin #oscar silva #ruby tucker #nodrian #danissa #osby #tuckva #renegays #renegades trilogy #renegades #archenemies #supernova #cleo and estelle: we'd like to adopt this lost child please

[overobsessivewhumper]

Mutt’s hospital visit

Ahhhh... Finally i got to writing! This took too long! Not one of my best works, but hey... This is extra bad, because my knowledge of hospitals and medicine are very limited

Next

Content warning: hospital, broken ribs, mention of other injuries, modern slavery, past abuse

Tag list: @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @burtlederp @im-not-rare-im-rarr @comfortforthepain @18-toe-beans @haro-whumps @deluxewhump @kungpao-giffy @draganies @spiffythespook @whump-chains @projectstripe

Gavin should have noticed sooner. It was so obvious. Any other person would have noticed. Everything was pointing to it. The coughing, Caleb’s shallow and careful breathing, the way he occasionally clutched his side in pain when he thought Gavin wasn’t paying attention to him. But Gavin didn’t notice, did he? Not until he finally came around to asking Caleb to show him what’s wrong and saw the very unnatural shift of rib bones along his right side.

And Gavin’s ignorance is precisely the reason he’s currently driving as fast as he dares, heart rate going a whole lot faster then it probably should in a healthy human, whilst Caleb sits on the passenger seat, looking equal parts absolutely terrified and confused. Gavin should have noticed sooner. Caleb could have died of internal bleeding! Hell, he could be dying right now!

“Just… Just hang in there Caleb. It’s fine. You’re… You’re going to be fine! This is all fine! You are not dying!” Gavin wondered who he was actually trying to reassure; Caleb, or himself. Gavin glances over at Caleb. Caleb does not look reassured.

“D… Dying?! I’m… I’m dying?” Gavin curses himself for being this shit at handling stress situations.

“No. No. It’s fine Caleb. I… You’re going to be fine! It’s just… just broken ribs. It’s fine.” Turning his attention back to the road, Gavin tries to get his breathing in check, attempting a few slow and deep breaths in a row. Gavin can feel Caleb’s eyes on him, getting the feeling that the man next to him is burning to ask him something, but doesn’t dare to say anything.

“You want to say something, right? Go on. You always have my permission to speak.” Gavin’s words come out a bit choked between his shitty attempts at calm breathing. He can see Caleb fidgeting with his hands in the corner of his eye.

“I… Mas… I… I mean Gavin I…” He closes his eyes, swallowing hard. He clenches his fists before speaking louder, faster and clearer than Gavin heard him ever before. “If you’re bringing me to a… a Pet pound because of a… a few br… broken ribs, I… I beg you not to! I can st… still work! I can be… be useful a… and good, eve… even if I am damaged goods!” For a moment, Gavin can’t say anything. But he jumps back into action when he can see Caleb curling in on himself again, looking horrified at how he just spoke back to his Master. Gavin can sense him going into apologising and begging for forgiveness mode.

“No! I’m not taking you to a Pet pound!” Gavin stops. He’s being too loud. He can’t get loud with Caleb. He tries again, keeping his voice at a moderate level. “I would never Caleb. “ Caleb is staring at his wrists. “Caleb… Please look at me.” Caleb obeys, as he always does. “I can’t look at you right now. Don’t want to get us caught up in a car accident as well… But please. Trust me when I say, I’m not going to give you away. Not now, not ever.” Gavin feels Caleb itching to ask something again.

“It’s okay if you want to ask something Caleb. I won’t see it as rude.” Caleb resumes his fidgeting again.

“I… Ga… Gavin, whe… where are we go… going then?” Good question. Where are they going to? Caleb needs medical care. And fast. Gavin is not risking a man’s death over said man’s assurance that he can work on with broken ribs. Pet medical facilities have the biggest array of different treatments, but Gavin doesn’t trust them, nor does he like the rumours he’s heard about the places. And it could very well scare Caleb, seeing one of those places, and he might assume Gavin might still want to give him away.

No. no way in hell is Gavin taking Caleb to one of those places.

Normal hospitals offer limited treatment for Pets, but only in emergency situations. Well if this wouldn’t be counted as a emergency situation, Gavin didn’t know what would. Gavin shuddered. His dislike of hospitals is big, but he wouldn’t risk a humans life because of one of his silly dislikes.

Caught deep in thought, Gavin almost misses a turn, and ends up having to do it a little too fast and sharp. Caleb gets caught unready for the sudden change of direction, and hits the car door with his shoulder. He grunts in pain, wrapping his arm around his right side as the movement must have jostled his ribs. Guilt pools in Gavin’s stomach, hot and sharp.

“Shit, Caleb, I am so sorry! Crap… Sorry! I’ll try to drive more careful!” Gavin is aware that he’s being too loud, but he can’t help it. Caleb just has a confused and pained expression plastered on his face. Well, at least he probably didn’t mistake me raising my voice as signs of anger, Gavin thinks.

Gavin decides against saying anything else, knowing that he keeps saying thing that just make Caleb worry more. Shutting up is his best option here. And that he does for the rest of the drive. There are no more issues with Gavin’s terrible driving leading to more pain for Caleb, but the way he takes every breath with extreme caution worries Gavin a lot.

Getting Caleb out of the car needs a little bit of patience and gentle coaxing, fear evident on the smaller man’s still bruised face. It’s obvious Caleb wants to obey, but the fear is keeping him from doing that, causing him even more distress. Eventually, Gavin manages to get him out, promising him that he won’t leave his side, and telling him that he can hold on to him if that makes him feel better.

Cautiously, pale, frail fingers wrap around Gavin’s left arm gently, as Caleb’s worried eyes skim across the parking lot. Gavin smiles reassuringly, lightly placing his bigger hand over the smaller, scarred one clutching to his upper arm.

“You’re doing great Caleb.” Caleb doesn’t look like he’s sure he should be allowed to believe that.

Keeping his pace slow as to accommodate for Caleb’s limp, Gavin starts walking towards the entrance of the hospital. Gavin’s concern spikes at how small and breakable Caleb looks clinging to his arm. It’s only been approximately two days since Gavin first saw Caleb kneeling on the floor before him in Mr. Hughes house, but Gavin already knows that if it came to it, he’d be ready to take bullets for this guy. Caleb deserves more love and care and positive attention then Gavin could ever give him and it burns him up inside that people like his boss would find pleasure and amusement in abusing people like him.

Caleb has a poorly concealed expression of pain spread to every corner of his face, worrying Gavin further.

As they step into the hospital, Caleb moves a little closer to Gavin, so close that he’s pressed right against his side. Gavin takes his hand in his.

“Hey… It’s okay. I won’t leave your side.”

Caleb mumbles a quiet “Thank you Master.” in response.

Once at the reception desk, Gavin contemplates just not mentioning that Caleb is a Pet, but eventually decides against it. The chip would get noticed, and he’d only prologue Caleb’s wait for treatment and get them both into trouble.

So he has to explain to the man at the desk, probably in his early forties with black hair and reading glasses, that he’s actually Caleb’s owner. The man’s smile fades to a frown.

“Oh. You’re one of those people. Well you just need to go right down that hall, and at the far left, you’ll find a door leading to the Pet ward. Good luck finding it.” He does nothing to conceal the disgust in his voice or expression. Gavin nods and smiles, before going in the direction the receptionist pointed him. Guilt blooms in Gavin’s chest once again.

It doesn’t take them too long to get there, even with Caleb’s limp. He’s obviously pushing himself hard to walk fast.

Once in the ward, Gavin is greeted with another reception desk, this time maned by a young blond girl, currently typing something on the computer in front of her. She looks up at Gavin, and then over at Caleb. She frowns at Caleb, probably because of the terrified way he clings to Gavin’s side, and the bruises littering his face and neck.

“Yes?” Her voice has a hint of sadness to it.

“I well… Um…” He points at Caleb. “He’s got like… seriously bad looking broken ribs all along his right side and I don’t know how long he’s had them and he could be dying of internal bleeding and he’s in a lot of pain, like… a lot! And I don’t know if some of the bones pierced some of his internal organs or something! It looks really bad!” Gavin couldn’t stop the spew of words from coming from his mouth, barely remembering that he still has to breath.

“Woah there Mister, calm down! Can you show me how bad it looks?” Quietly apologising to Caleb, he tugs his t-shirt up and shows her his right side. “Yeah… That doesn’t look good… I’ll make sure to get a doctor to see you as soon as possible.” She grabs a piece of bright yellow paper and a pen from the side and hands both to Gavin. “In the meantime, fill this out. Waiting room’s over there.”

She points to a door to the side. Gavin nods and steps into the waiting room, Caleb still clutching to his arm.

There aren’t many other people in the waiting room. There’s an elder lady with a tired expression on her face sitting on a chair with a female Pet sitting at her feet. She looks like a rather high class pet, dressed rather fancily. She has her knees drawn up to her chest an her eyes closed. There is a second woman siting in a chair further away. She looks younger and seriously pissed. She has a male Pet kneeling at her feet, a less high class pet then the other woman. The Pet has his arm cradled to his chest, it looks bent in an odd angle. There is a third Pet kneeling in the corner. It seems his Owner has left him here, probably to impatient or busy to wait with his Pet. The Pet has burns running up and down his arms. They don’t look all too bad, but cover a big enough area to need to have someone have a look at them.

Gavin sits down, making sure that Caleb sits in the chair right next to him. The elder lady seems put off by this. Gavin ignores her displease expression and starts filling out the formalities on the paper. It doesn’t ask much. Just basics, like the owners name, address, phone number and year of birth. It asks even less of the Pet. Merely their number and why they where brought here. Gavin has forgotten Caleb’s number by now. He leans closer to Caleb.

“What’s your number again?” He keeps his voice gentle and quiet.

“43002612” Caleb sounds a bit scared. Gavin can feel him trembling beside him. Gavin puts the paper to the side and turns to Caleb.

“Hey… You’re doing so great. And I really mean it. I know how stressful and scary hospitals can be.” He gently takes his Pet’s hand in his, rubbing his thumb across the back of it. “Is the pain bad? Please be honest.”

Caleb stares at Gavin, hesitating, before very cautiously nodding. Gavin frowns.

“But you’re doing really good.” Gavin smiles. For a moment, Caleb’s eyes seem to brighten up slightly.

It seems to Gavin that it takes ages until they get called out of the waiting room, the elderly lady complaining about them getting called out first in the background as they leave the waiting room.

In the doctor’s office Caleb gets asked to sit up on the examination table and take of his t-shirt. He does so with a bit of aid from Gavin’s part.

The doctor is a smallish man with greying brown hair that looks like he’s done with everything. He moves his chair closer to where Caleb is sitting, and scans his chip.

“Oh, only been his owner for a few days then, huh?” He eyes the bruises covering Caleb. Gavin nods, but says nothing. “Okay then. Lets get on with this then. I don’t have much time. Lay down please.”

Caleb looks at his Master questioningly, and when Gavin nods, he does what is asked of him.

The doctor examines the area by pressing at Caleb’s ribs gently and listening to his lungs.

“Well he has four broken ribs on his right side, that’s for sure, but his lungs are fine. But you’re not getting out of running him through an x-ray.”

“What about internal bleeding?”

“Well. I can’t really determine that from outside. We will run an MRI too to determine that.” Gavin nods.

The doctor runs through some technical things with Gavin whilst Caleb sits next to him silently. Gavin soon notices that there is no way he will be able to join Calen during the tests he’ll have to go through, and begins to worry about him. He promised he’d stay at Caleb’s side. When Caleb catches on to this he clings to Gavin even tighter.

“I know I promised I wouldn’t leave your side. I’m sorry, but I can’t come with you for this. I’m so sorry. But I’ll be right back at your side as soon as I can. And that’s a promise I plan to keep.” Caleb looks scared and unconvinced, but, obedient as ever, lets himself get led away.

This is when Gavin really starts to worry. It’s taking way too long. What if Caleb feels uncomfortable or scared? What if he passed out from internal blood loss? Gavin can feel himself hyperventilating again as he paces the halls of the Pet ward. He tries to get his breathing under control by breathing slowly into his cupped hands and holding his breath for ten seconds. It works moderately, but he still needs to lean against the wall for a moment.

It’s just all so much! A few days ago, he had nothing to do with Pet’s at all, nor did he think he ever would, and now, he owns one, and even might be responsible for his death. Yes, he wasn’t the one to inflict the wounds, but he should have noticed. He should have noticed. He should have took Caleb to the hospital straight away. Gavin rubs the palm of his hands across his face. There are so many things he should or could have done. So many. He just hopes he didn’t do the ones he did too late.

When he spots Caleb limping in his direction alongside a nurse, he feels like he can breath just a little bit freer. He starts bombarding her with questions and she tells him to calm down and that she’ll explain in a moment, sending Gavin’s heart racing with worry again.

Once Caleb is back on the examination table, she explains to Gavin that he hasn’t gotten any internal damage aside from the bruising around his broken ribs, and that the fractures are rather basic, so it will heal on its own.

“They won’t need any further medical treatment, but the rest of him sure does.” She glares at Gavin.

Gavin silently holds Caleb’s hand through out the treatment of the rest of his injuries, caressing the back of his hand with his thumb again. At one point the nurse leans in closer and asks something of Caleb. He shakes his head and says something quietly. The nurse looks up at Gavin.

“He says you didn’t do all this to him.” She gestures at the burn on Caleb’s ribs she’s currently tending to. Gavin shakes his head.

“No. I’ve only…” Gavin sighs. “Only been his… his owner for a short while.” She nods, becoming slightly less hostile towards Gavin.

Once she’s done, Caleb  is bandaged up much neater then the low quality of bandaging Gavin had achieved. The nurse briefly explains some basics about how to care for the different wounds and how all he could do for the broken ribs is let Caleb rest and ice the area.

“What about some stronger pain killers? He’s in a lot of pain… I’ve been giving him Advil, but it isn’t nearly strong enough.”

She almost laughs out loud.

“Oh dear, no. I’m afraid that’s frightfully illegal.” Gavin blinks in confusion.

“What?”

“Prescribing Pet’s strong pain meds is illegal, dear. Have you been living under a rock?” What the hell?! Gavin runs his hands through his hair.

“Yeah. Apparently I have.”

From then on, Gavin tries to get out of there as fast as possible, wanting to get Caleb into an environment with less people, and himself out of the sterile halls of the hospital which seem much narrow for his liking.

When they are finally back in the car, he feels a little bit more relaxed. But he doesn’t trust himself to drive just yet.

“You did really good in there Caleb! You stayed so calm…” Caleb’s eyes brighten ever so slightly again.

“Tha… Thank you Gavin!” Gavin smiles a bit.

“Are you okay? Please answer truthfully.” Caleb stares at Gavin, trembling slightly. He seems to have no idea how to react.

“I guess what I’m asking is, do you need a hug?” Caleb hesitates and Gavin wonders if Caleb even likes such close physical proximity.

“I… I don’t think I… I deserve a… a reward Ma… Master Gavin…” Oh, so that’s what this is about.

“Well. I think you handled yourself really well in there. I think you deserve it.” Caleb looks unsure.

“I… Really?”

“Yes.” Gavin smiles reassuringly.

“Then… I… I’d be happy to a… accept a hug, Master Ga… Gavin”

Gavin manoeuvres himself closer to the passenger seat awkwardly, and gently wraps his arms around Caleb, careful as not to hurt him further. The position is rather uncomfortable for Gavin, the car’s gear stick sticking painfully into his thy, but by the way Caleb leans into Gavin, he really needed the hug, and then Gavin is more than happy to suffer through some minor discomfort for that.

To be honest, Caleb wasn’t the only one that really needed a hug.

#long post #sorry... #my writing #my OC's #hospital #broken bones #broken ribs #mention of other injuries #past abuse #modern slavery #pet whumpee #pet whump #whump #this did not come out that good... #sorry #my stuff #gavin and mutt

[wheremytwinwatches]

[Where My Twin Watches]: Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood Episode 15

Blargage. Sorry about the pause guys, work got crazy there for a while. For the record, I understand that there is a second season to Brotherhood (for some reason broken up into multiple parts on iTunes), I was just expecting that there would be an intro change at the season halfway point cause I’ve gotten used to that from other anime. Granted, the ones that come to mind are one-season or currently-only-one-season shows like KlK or AoT, so that perspective’s probably a little skewed. Onwards with Brotherhood!

Episode 15 - Envoy from the East We open in a city at ni- wait, what’s with the electricity? I thought the Terminator died last episode? Ah, an Alchemist duel, got it. In the alleyway the smoke clears to show what. What is this. Why am I looking at an Evil Mister Monopoly?

Mr. Monopoly is chuckling as he fights oh hai Scar, how’s it going? No sunglasses? Heeey, this episode doesn’t have any subtitles. How am I supposed to spell this guy’s name then? (currently boasting that he’s the Silver Alchemist, name sounds vaguely Italian) Whatever, I’ll just stick with Mr. Monopoly. Not like he’ll be around much longer, facing Scar. Mr. Monopoly is certainly living up to his name, Transmuting numerous presumably silver weapons to fling at Scar. Doing fairly well too, dodging the Ishvalan’s attacks when he has a peg leg. Captain Monopoly, then? But it doesn’t last, one scratch is exchanged for a broken peg leg, the Silver Alchemist takes a bath and gets a Face Death Grab. Bye, Captain Monopoly! Ooh, new intro! Seems we’ve got a guy singing the intro this time, pale-shaded Al and Ed before we get normal-colored Ed on a hill reaching towards the sun/title. Hey, the captions are back! Wait no, it’s the gossiping at Central from last episode, Roy walking through the hallway. Guess the captions are broken this episode, turning them off. Odd. Intro continues with clouded skies, Ed and Al sitting under a tree- suddenly panda? Yeah there’s a little girl with a little panda on her head, striking martial arts poses. The titular “Envoy from the East”? Now another new character, older black-haired guy with a ponytail and sword standing on some ruins, what looks like a pair of ninjas drop into the scene before we transition. Quick shots of Roy’s Crew (Havoc, Furey, two others I don’t remember but one appears to be a Big Eater, and Riza) and Roy himself. Now we’re back to Ed glaring at the camera, a clear shot of Hohenheim/Papa Elric glancing back? Ooooh, they’re looking at each other in a graveyard, no doubt over whose grave is between them. Shot of metal-armed Ed getting pulled into the Gate, while a human right hand reaches for him? Dunno if symbolic or if he frak’d up again. Winry is sitting at a desk next to a picture board, we see the Elric Family with Papa Elric’s face still covered. Quick scenes of Scar surrounded by flames (“dang it, I did leave the stove on”), Lust and Gluttony on a rooftop at night (what the heck is up with Gluttony’s face?!), a dark red-eyed face surrounded by screaming masks (charming), an Uroborus left eye that I recognize as Bradley/Wrath, and Father/clearly Papa Elric sitting in his Pipe Chair holding a cup of “wine”. What is his deal, even? More fight scenes, Ed earthbending at Envy and Gluttony, Bradley firebending at Lust, werewolves charging at Panda Girl? Who’s got some neat Alchemy moves, cool! Then we get Bradley swordfighting Sword Man and the ninjas, who are actually getting in some hits? Seeing as we know that Bradley is a Goth now, this makes me very happy! Then Screaming!Scar fighting Screaming!Ed, screen whites out from their attack before we get Ed closing his watch (Don’t Forget Oct. 11), and the Elric Brothers walk along a traintrack into a desert. Episode proper continues with Scar, who does not seem happy and is asking “Who is this?” Inside the dilapidated house is that weasly guy from last episode who led the bounty hunters to Scar, is Scar crashing at his place? There’s also Intro!Girl, who politely introduces herself (going without captions here, apologies for misspelling) as Mei-Chang. And that is a little panda she has with her. Cute! Mei-Chang’s saying that “Master Yoki” (Scar shoots Yoki a look at this) found her collapsed by the side of the road and brought her to the house. Scar tries to shoo her out as she’s feeling better now, but Mei sees that Scar’s leg is cut, and says that she’ll close the wound. She sets up a standard circle-star TC, but puts shuriken at the corners? Oooh, we get to see foreign Alchemy styles now, neat! Scar and Yoki are shocked to see the injury healed so quickly, Mei says that’s it a skill called (please forgive the spelling, not having captions is really annoying) “Alcahestiry from the land of Shing”. Yoki scoffs at Mei’s claim that she crossed the desert from the east, Mei insists that she did it along with Shao-Mei (Assuming the tiny panda here). Scar is shocked when said panda looks back at Scar while Mei’s saying all this, he reaches out to either Hand O’ Doom it or pet it, I can’t tell which. Mei looks back though, and Scar freezes. Which means Mei sees his tattooed arm and identifies it as Alcahestiry? Ooh, Scar family backstory! Scar says that his brother researched both Alchemy and Alcahestiry (so there’s a distinction between the practices, then). Mei is very complimentary of his brother’s skill. Methinks that Scar doesn’t like to think about how he got the tattoo, though. Yoki notes that with Scar healed they can continue on to Central, Mei invites herself along. Saying something about immortality? Yoki dismisses her, and gets a bite from the panda for his rudeness. Ha! We get a mental monologue from Mei that she knows immortality doesn’t work with Alcahestiry, but it is possible through alchemy (Yoki’s behind her still screaming about the panda eating his hand, Scar’s sitting clearly already Done With This). That’s why Mei’s here, to meet the man she’s heard so much about. Wait, what’s with the roses and music… uh oh. Oh dear Leto no. Mei’s got a crush on Edward Elric. As cute as that is, I think Ed’s a little old for you, dear. Also, Winry. Central at night now, a blond woman (looks kinda like Riza) is walking her dog through an alleyway when the dog spins around and starts growling. Creepy laughing? Aw crap I know that hollow-voice, that’s Barry the Chopper! Run! Wait… ha! Ok, sorry for not recognizing you properly Riza, haven’t seen you out of uniform before. When faced with a Soul Armor serial killer, Riza just pulls a pistol from her groceries and starts blasting at the panicking Barry. Who tries to freak her out by removing his helmet? Pfft, sorry dude. That might work for some civilians, but Hawkeye knows Al. She just blasts his helmet away. Which makes Barry start crushing on Riza? Ew, no. Also, props to the dog who’s gnawing at Barry’s cloak. We’re at a warehouse now, puppy standing guard as it seems that Barry’s being questioned by Roy and his Totally Non-Military Civilian Friends. With Barry the crew’s got the lead on the secret lab that Bradley ordered Armstrong not to discuss. Now that Roy’s clued into the military producing Philosopher Stones, he wants to investigate the researchers- but it seems that when their research was done they got used to make Stones as well. Roy also asks if Barry was the one who killed Hughes, but that’s a dead end. Hey, it’s Rush Valley! Finally, we get to see Winry again. How’s her apprenticeship going? The mechanist is walking out of a story when she hears a familiar voice: Edward! Who’s reeeealy hoping that she’s in a generous mood today. Because yeah, Ed’s arm took a bit of a beating in the last episodes. Winry is not happy about this. Later, Winry is patching up Ed’s arm (who is slumped on a table, blood-stained wrench by his side), chiding him for getting into trouble even when their pickpocket acquaintance has an honest job as an odd-job woman. As for the brothers, they’ve made some progress but can’t give any details. Winry’s dones with the patch-job, but still needs a few parts to finish it, so until then she shoo’s the two out to kill some time. Ed’s complaining about there being nothing to do as a non-engineer in a town of nothing but automail shops. But Al’s found something in an alleyway. Aw, do we get a cute “caring for a stray cat” episode? Actually, wasn’t there a white cat in the credits scene? Oh! Not a cat then, rather an unconscious Intro-Sequence character in the form of Sword Guy. And rather than an extended healing sequence, we cut right to the guy (who sounds an awful lot like Vic from Red vs Blue) chattering away at a table piled with dishes, saying that they shouldn’t quibble about who’s paying (not him). Sword Guy says that he’s from Shing (sorry, actual map shows up saying that it’s Xing), and he crossed the desert to visit the ruins of Xerxes. *notes namedrop for future episodes, there’s no way that mention won’t pay off later* Sword Guy (when are we getting his actual name?) is info-dumping about Alcahestiry, saying that it’s actually Alchemy, or probably closer to Bio-Alchemy given the emphasis in Xing for healing. Ed remarks that for Amestris it’s more for military, what with border skirmishes to the south (Aerugo) and west (Creta), with a huge country Drachma to the north, with a sort of Russian Agreement: tentative non-aggression treaty and there’s a wintery mountain range between them, but relations are dicey. Finally there are introductions, Sword Guy says he’s Ling-Yao. Buuuut he’s not actually an Alcahestrist, he’s just in town looking for something: *dramatic eye opening* The Philosopher’s Stone. Aw come on, I was just starting to like this guy. Don’t tell me he’s another “Immortality at the expense of other lives” jerk. Ed claims that he doesn’t know anything, Ling wonders if they’re lying, snaps his fingers and SUDDENLY NINJAS!

*Sigh* Yep, Ling smirks and says he want’s to achieve immortality. Well we did kill off Greed last episode, I guess we needed someone to take his place. Mid-episode pause here, we get character portraits for May Chang (w/ Shao May) and Ling Yao. Ok, so got Sword Man’s name right, I blame Avatar for mistyping May’s name. Back to the show, Ling’s telling Ed to spill the beans, Ed bluffs that it’s a bunch of nonsense. Then he breaks free nope boot to the head. Al gets tossed too, these guys are no joke. But if they can survive Teacher, they can survive these ninjas! Across the city pickpocket-girl (sorry I can’t remember your name) notices the sparks and smoke from the fight, and Ling just laughs as he sees the fight move away and orders some dessert. Sliding along some awfully large pipes now Ed transmutes a metal staff (and of course damaging the infrastructure like that causes no immediate problems), but Silent Ninja is easily beating Ed in this close-quarters combat. Experience fighting other Alchemists? Ed rants about getting attacked just because he didn’t give them information, “you and your boss with the freaky closed eyes”- wow ok Silent Ninja really didn’t like that, tried to poke out Ed’s eyes. Yeesh. Aw, poor baby Ed. He was so proud to finally land a hit on Silent Ninja, but nope another boot to the head. But now that Ed’s seen that Silent Ninja’s weakness is insulting Ling (hmmm, sudden suspicions about Silent Ninja from that), he has a plan. Begin the trolling! On Al’s side of the fight, he’s running down the street when pickpocket girl starts calmly jogging along side him. Al’s happy to see Paninya (thank you!) again, asks her for a favor. Mustache Ninja is thinking about how “every living person emits a flow of ki”, but he doesn’t sense any from Al. So he doesn’t know that Al’s a Soul Armor, then? Quick Al, pull a Barry and remove your helmet! Suddenly Al and Paninya turn around, Mustache scoffs at the aid of one person- and we’re back to Ed vs Silent. Ed is doing what he does best and annoying the crap out of his opponent, a dodge and gutpunch later he’s got Silent by the mask and yup no surprises here that Silent is a lady. Ed is shocked (shocked I say) that he’s been fighting a girl. Buddy, you of all people should be aware that the ladies are some of the biggest badasses in this show. Riza, Winry, Teacher, a quick flash of Paninya aiming her cannon-knee… and Silent’s now neutralized Ed’s arm and dropped a grenade in his face. Ouch. The townfolk panic at the dual explosions (really? You lot live in a town revolving around Automail, I’d think you’d be used to events like this), Mustache is thinking that this county is a force to be reckoned with, when Al swoops in and binds him to the town’s sign and demasks him. Mustache is surprised to see “Alkahistry without an array”, reminder at how special the brothers are to Transmute without TCs. On brother’s end… things could be going a little better. We see Ed’s mechanical arm reaching up through rubble as Silent walks up, and now I need a new name for her as she complains that she overdid it and that Master Ling will be furious- aha, the arm’s detached! A snare is sprung and the ninja’s hoisted into the air, Ed reclaims his arm and chides her for using a weapon that would have killed anyone else. Callback to the island, setting traps for rabbits. Nice continuity! Al and Paninya arrive with Mustache in hand- And then Sword Man shows up all chipper, complimenting their skills and offering them jobs to take over the country. Ed’s giving this the proper response, when… uh oh. The townfolk aren’t very happy right now, somebody’s gonna have to cover all these damages. Ed points to Ling, who suddenly can’t speak Amestrisian good and skedadles. And of course in the few seconds we looked away from the ninjas there’s nothing but cut ropes now.

Welp, now to fix everything back up- oh right, Ed’s armless. Wait, why is it surprising that Al can Transmute without a TC now? This is a recent thing? I honestly thought he could do it from the beginning, my bad. Aw, chin up Ed. Just because your younger brother is taller than you and now he’s got your super special no-TC style as well, it doesn’t mean you aren’t important. Just… less so. Poor, poor Ed, collapsing in despair and writing something in blood. No subtitles here, can someone translate for me? Later that day, the Elric Brothers return to the AutoMail shop where Winry is apprenticing, and guess who they find? [Ling]: “Hello, we meet again!”

Ed immediately bashes Ling over the head with his detached arm, who just tries acting all friendly. Still hoping to hire the brothers? Ah, info on the ninjas! I’m approximating the girl’s name as Lahn-Fahn, and the old man is Fu. Their family (so they’re related? Father/daughter?) has served his for generations, and are quite good as we’ve seen. So what about Sword Man, what’s Ling’s deal that he has ninjas working for his family? (Also, this guy in a purple shirt and suspenders drinking tea with Ling, another employee?) Oh, Ling’s “the Emperor’s son”! The Elrics… burst out laughing? Ling’s a little nonplussed about this reaction, but the Elrics explain that they just didn’t see it coming, that the guy who they found collapsed in an alley and mooched food off of them is a prince. Lahn-Fahn does not approve of this disrespect, yikes. Oh, a lesson in Xing politics, the country’s broken up into 50 clans, and the Emperor gets married to a daughter of each of the clan leaders (yikes). Currently Ling shares the prestigious title of Prince with 23 other sons, with him at #12. Obviously this family setup makes succession complicated, and with the current Emperor’s health iffy all the clans are working to gain favor. Ling’s attempt is to discover immortality, I’m assuming for himself to increase his own survival rather than give it to dear old pops and never get the job. So he asks again for info, Ed refuses to say anything, and the noble Prince immediately latches onto Ed and declares that he’s sticking around until Ed cracks. Ed beings wailing on Ling with his arm, Lahn-Fahn prepares to respond to this aggression- Uh oh. Winry’s just arrived, talking about how there was some sort of fight on Main Street. Just in time to see Ed waving around the broken arm she’d fixed earlier that day. Ling watches with a vapid grin as tools go flying and Ed pleads for nonexistent mercy, until Fu pokes his head through the window for his young lord. On the rooftop, Fu asks why Ling is acting subservient to a commoner, Ling just says that with the fate of 500,000 clansmen on the line a little bowing is a small price to pay. Huh. So is his clan at risk if he doesn’t become Emperor? Inside the shop Winry’s asking where Ed plans to go and break his automail this time, working away at the arm as Purple-Shirt looks on (I’m assuming that he’s the mechanic Winry’s working for right now). Al mentions that they’re planning on continuing their investigations in Central, Winry asks to go along to- uuuuuuuuuuuuugh. [Winry]: “I’d like to go see the Hughes’ family again.” Whyyyyy. Why must these poor kids be heading towards such bad news? Ugh, the scene where they’re told what happened is going to be excruciating. Al asks about Winry’s work in Rush Valley, Purple-Shirt (who Winry calls Mr. Garfield and who I now headcanon as having tea and discussing prototypes with Leeron) encourages her to take a break. [Ed]: “Okay, we’ll all go!” [Al]: “Central, here we come!” [Winry]: *Cheerful giggle* [Ling]: “Oh, we’re going to Central? How exciting!” Snrk. Cut to a wagon, with a sleeping May and Shao in the back (based on tropes I can guess that May’s a half-sister Xing Princess who’s off to try and find the secret of immortality like Ling, although I’d be impressed if the writer subverted expectations by having them be unrelated). Yoki’s chattering about how he doesn’t know Scar’s name, the Ishvalan says that names among his people are considered sacred gifts from God. But he’s renounced his name, and snaps at Yoki to keep moving. [Scar]: “I am walking down a path with no return. So I will leave behind me every gift I have received from God.” New credits sequence! Singing is a mix of English and Japanese, a view of the countryside behind a short white-stone wall. Winry’s standing against a blue cloudy sky with hair blowing, Ed’s looking away from the camera in his red cloak, same with Al, shot of their burnt-down house. The new characters of Ling and his Ninjas get dramatic determined poses, May and Shao get their own against a sunset background. Flashback of Baby!Ed and Baby!Al shopping for groceries, then walking along a path back home as the sun sets. Return to the wall of pictures (with Papa!Elric’s face still covered, come on show we know what he looks like), and then Papa!Elric looking away from the camera towards Central. And back to present Ed and Al walking towards the horizon, sequence ends with a night-time shot of the Rockbell’s home. Alright! New characters from Xing promise some new shenanigans, with everyone going back to Central I’d say things are coming to a head but we’re only a little over halfway through the first season. Bleh, our poor babies learning about Hughes is going to be awful, can we get that out of the way soon so it’s not hanging over our heads anymore? Assuming that they manage to get back home next episode and aren’t delayed by filler, we’ll see how things shake out in Central.

#wmtw #where my twin watches #ranubis #full metal alchemist #full metal alchemist brotherhood #fmab #fmab 15

[moonwest]

Full Ben Whishaw Interview in Sunday Times Magazine

Ben Whishaw, the voice of Paddington, the millennial Q in the Bond films, the next generation of Mr Banks in Disney’s epic Mary Poppins reboot, is fresh off the plane from LA. He is wearing a navy shirt, dark wool trousers and a fluffy knitted hat over his lush curls. It’s a strange combination of quirkiness and elegance. At the start of the year he won a Golden Globe and a Critics’ Choice award for his captivating portrayal of Norman Scott opposite Hugh Grant’s Jeremy Thorpe in A Very English Scandal. Of course he says he didn’t expect to win, and of course he says it feels great, but when I ask if this recognition from Hollywood means he’ll spend more time out there, he says: “No idea. I don’t feel it’s my world. I just sort of dropped in and it was a lovely thing. I would like to drop in more often. Maybe it opens doors. I guess we’ll see.”

For now, it’s back to the day job. Whishaw, 38, is rehearsing a play called Norma Jeane Baker of Troy, in which he plays a man who likes to dress up as Marilyn Monroe. “We just got the costumes,” he says. “I wear a dress that’s a replica of the one she wore in The Seven Year Itch — the white one where the wind comes up. They’ve also given me the bum, hips and breasts. I don’t think they’re as big as Marilyn’s, but they’re proportionate to my body. It’s a strange thing. I’m not playing Marilyn, I’m playing a man who’s infatuated with her. The play is set in the year she died and he’s in mourning for her. Apparently there was a spate of copycat suicides that year.”

To research the role, Whishaw has been reading a book called Fragments. “It’s bits of Marilyn’s diary, notes on hotel paper, poetry,” he says. “She writes beautifully. Arthur Miller was here with her when they were doing the film The Prince and the Showgirl, and she opened his diary and read about how disappointed he was with her, how embarrassed he was being around his intellectual friends with her. Apparently this was devastating to Marilyn. All these men say how difficult she was. It makes you want to strangle them. But she really was amazing. She had a lot going on, a lot of sadness on her plate, poor darling. To be a star in that star system and those men.”

If she had been born 50 years later, does he think she would have been part of the #MeToo movement? “I’m sure she would have. I’ve been listening to interviews with her. She doesn’t seem afraid of anything.”

Fearless and vulnerable. It’s a contradiction that could possibly describe both of them. “Yes,” he smiles.

Almost 15 years have passed since Whishaw, fresh out of Rada, was acclaimed as one of the best ever Hamlets in the Trevor Nunn production at the Old Vic. His portrayal earned him an Olivier nomination and opened the door to film and television roles. He voiced Michael Bond’s Peruvian stowaway bear in the two recent Paddington films and is lined up for a third, as well as an animated TV series for Nickelodeon. Perhaps his best known role is Q in the Bond films Skyfall (2012) and Spectre (2015). As soon as he’s finished his Marilyn, he will begin shooting the next one, though no one in a Bond movie can tell you in advance what it’s going to be like. “I think they’re probably trying to figure out what to do with the storyline,” he says. “At least I know that my character is the same. Someone did tell me there might be a scene with Q’s cats.”

I immediately want to sort out an audition for my cat Roger Moore.

“Does Roger travel?” he asks. “Could he go to Pinewood? And can he cock an eyebrow?”

Yes, he can. That’s why he’s called Roger Moore.

“I’ll get onto Barbara Broccoli about it,” he says.

Whishaw has created an ever-widening niche for himself — he has made room in film, theatre and television for malleable, sensitive male characters that are sometimes described as androgynous, but what they really are is sexually ambiguous.

“Do you think I’m androgynous? I think I’m quite male-looking. Androgyny is different to non-binary, but I hate all these labels. I get mixed up.”

It’s true, there are many labels; nonetheless Whishaw is a 21st-century man. When you think of those macho actors of the last century, men like Rock Hudson, who revealed he was gay only when he was dying of Aids, it seems so different now.

Whishaw entered a civil partnership with the Australian composer Mark Bradshaw in 2012, but for a long time he did not discuss his private life. He would say things like, “An actor shouldn’t reveal their sexuality because it pigeonholes them.” Once he had come to terms with it himself, however, hiding it became difficult in a different way. “People assume there’s some juicy secret,” he says. “But I don’t agree any more with that statement [about being pigeonholed]. I don’t think it’s the be-all and end-all, and since revealing my sexuality I haven’t had any negative effects.”

Perhaps that’s because he is such a skilful actor, perhaps the pigeonholes aren’t as rigid as they used to be, or perhaps the revelation has actually helped him. He shrugs. He doesn’t mind talking about it now, it’s just he can’t be conclusive.

At one point, Whishaw was lined up to play Freddie Mercury in Bohemian Rhapsody, although he was never given a contract or confirmed officially. Various versions of the biopic had been on the cards for about 10 years. Sacha Baron Cohen was in the frame first of all, then Whishaw, and ultimately Rami Malek. The film has been accused of not being “gay enough”, but, for all the criticism, Malek’s career-defining role won him an Oscar.

We talk about how hard it was for Mercury to admit that he was gay and how he would refer to himself as bisexual. But then perhaps he was. He certainly had sexual relationships with women. “I think it’s very unfair when people say they’re bisexual and they’re accused of being gay really,” Whishaw says. “If we’re honest about these things, perhaps most people are on a spectrum.”

Whatever the risks he took in revealing his sexuality to the public, Whishaw found it much harder coming out to his family. “I’ve gone through a few difficult things,” he says. “There was a moment in my early twenties when I did not feel very good about myself. It was to do with my sexuality and not knowing how to be myself and hating myself. I did know [my sexuality], I just couldn’t tell anyone.”

When he eventually told his parents, they weren’t surprised, but he still struggled. He sought therapy. “It really did help,” he says.

He carries himself with such a sense of otherness that I am surprised to learn he is a twin. “We were born on the same day and we came out of the same place at the same time, but we are totally unalike,” he says. “Perhaps you can see we are related, but we don’t look alike. He’s blond. He came out first and was very pink and chubby. And I was this squashed, dark thing that popped out a few moments after. We were so different, but we were always dressed the same and taken everywhere together, even to things I was not interested in, like football. So I’ve always defined myself by him, but in opposition to him. I like everything different to him. There’s not a single thing we have in common, except we both liked the scary rides if we were taken to a park.”

Don’t twins normally have a kind of supernatural understanding? “No. No understanding, no telepathy. When I told him [about being gay], he wasn’t surprised, of course, but still.”

He notices a black crystal around my neck and I explain that it was given to me by my hypnotherapist.

“I’d like to try hypnotherapy,” he says. For what? “Smoking,” he says. “It’s so frowned upon. You feel ostracised from the world if you smoke. And there’s the hair twiddling thing.” He starts twiddling his hair. “I’ve probably been doing this for the whole interview.” He hasn’t, but apparently it’s been a lifelong habit. “I’ve done it since I was a baby. I don’t know why I do it.”

I recall the title of a Peter Cook anthology: Tragically, I Was an Only Twin. That’s what Whishaw seems like. I can’t imagine him with a brother. “My dad says if my brother and I were one person we would be an amazing, perfect human,” he replies.

It’s often reported that his father works in IT, but that’s not true. “He lives in the countryside and raises chickens behind a farm. He used to be a footballer and he now works in sports with young people. He’s not an IT person at all,” Whishaw laughs. His mother works in cosmetics. They split up when he was a young boy, but he has good relationships with both of them. He talks about them with love.

The last time we met, Whishaw told me he was afraid of meeting people. “I haven’t got over that,” he says. “I love people, but I’m just shy of meeting new people, especially when they’re famous.”

In particular, he was bashful around Meryl Streep, whom he starred alongside in Mary Poppins. “I’m so completely left speechless when I’m in the same room as her. Do you never feel that speechlessness come on you?” he asks sweetly. “Even though she seemed to be the nicest person, I was very timid and shy around her.”

It’s odd how someone so shy can look so confident — smouldering even — on screen.

He walks off in the furry hat that makes him look part man, part mole. It’s certainly a statement. But perhaps the most curious thing about Whishaw is we’ll never entirely know what that statement is.

Norma Jeane Baker of Troy is showing at the Shed’s Bloomberg Building, New York, April 6-May 19; theshed.org

#ben whishaw #norma jeane baker of troy #sunday times magazine

[doomonfilm]

Thoughts : The Killing of a Chinese Bookie (1976)

After a trio of very personal, critically acclaimed independent films, John Cassavettes attempted to acquiesce to the popular sway with a deceptive passion project in the form of The Killing of a Chinese Bookie.  While being a memorable and entertaining film, it was also one that became the bane of Cassavettes' personal and creative experience, resulting in a pair of releases years apart from one another that reflect the independent vision versus the influence of the money men.  The film has always fascinated me as much as it has entertained me, and after a recent revisit, I felt the need to share my thoughts on it, as Cassavettes inspires me heavily.   

Cosmo Vittelli (Ben Gazzara) is the owner of Crazy Horse West, a strip club located on the famous Sunset Strip in Los Angeles.  Cosmo not only runs the business aspects of the club, but he is hands on in nearly all aspects of the operation, including designing and choreography of the dancers’ performances.  As a self-proclaimed man of ‘style’, Cosmo longs for a chance to run a clean business where his art is appreciated at something more than a carnal level.  After paying off a gambling debt to local loan shark Marty (Al Ruban), Cosmo meets Mort (Seymour Cassel), a gangster who runs a gambling hall with is associates.  Cosmo talks himself into an invite, and after picking up three of his dancers, he visits Mort’s establishment, where he promptly racks up another sizeable debt to the gangsters.  The following night, Mort brings his associates to Crazy Horse West and make a power move : hand over the Crazy Horse West, or kill a heavily-guarded bookie named Harold Ling (Soto Joe Hugh), who turns out to be Benny Wu, a formidable leader in the Chinese gambling world.  With the biggest decision of his life in front of him, and pressure coming from Mort and his associates, Cosmo must put his integrity and morals to the test, once and for all.

Having a character like Cosmo (who longs in the deepest recesses of his heart to be an accomplished artist respected for his ‘style’) wishboned between the worlds of cabaret workers and gangsters makes for an interesting perspective on standard elements of vice and danger.  Cosmo is very human in the sense that, although his intentions are lofty and dignified, his actions are often ham-handed, ill-thought out and poorly executed, save for when his life is on the line.  It’s actually these moments when Cosmo’s back is against the wall that he actually lives up to the character qualities he aspires for, as if normal life or standard level inspiration gives him an excuse to phone in his actions.  Ultimately, Cosmo is the true antagonist to his role as protagonist, as the majority of his issues have a straight line of responsibility connected to them that one can trace right back to Cosmo himself.

Outside of its neo-noir narrative, the film plays as a metaphor for John Cassavettes’ views on, and experiences in, Hollywood and the film industry.  Crazy Horse West symbolizes Cassavettes and his company of actors, with each of their performances representing the work they release independently and outside of the system.  Mort and the gangsters represent outside monetary and production influences, dead set on exerting their power and will come hell or high water.  All of the narrative tension and conflict in the film are allegories for the endless problems and stress that come with the labor of love that is filmmaking.  The lengths that Cosmo goes through to protect Crazy Horse West and those connected, even at a detriment to himself, represent the insane amounts (and levels) of choices and hurdles often placed at the feet of a director during a production, be it independent or otherwise.  Even Cosmo’s brief trist that betrays the trust of Rachel directly after his gambling pitfall symbolizes the unhealthy way that creatives sometimes attempt to use work as a way to avoid their real stress, pain and problems.

The Killing of a Chinese Bookie, in my opinion, serves as the first major jump in the Cassavettes independent canon in terms of production level... as much as I love Shadows, Faces and A Woman Under the Influence, this film is the first one to resemble its peers.  This aesthetic, however, does not take away from the Cassavettes technique, as the lighting still has an edge to it, and the camera is much more introspective in its observation as opposed to the standard Hollywood style of framing.  The patience that Cassavettes allows his tension-filled moments, be it the original or the truncated cut, holds well on the screen, and gives the audience a true interpretation of what Cosmo is going through mentally.  For such a simple narrative, it’s impressive how much of a character study that Cassavettes was able to shape out of the project.

Ben Gazzara holds the weight of the film surprisingly well, managing to look both oafish and classy with an almost effortless manner of swinging between the two states.  This plays well against Seymour Cassel’s sharp, slick manner, as if he is always angling, and Cosmo just happens to be the sucker born at that particular minute.  Meade Roberts and his wonderfully dismissive attitude pop as Mr. Sophistication, with his closing moments between a wonderfully punctuating button to end the ride that is The Killing of a Chinese Bookie.  Timothy Carey, Robert Phillips and Morgan Woodard are wonderfully intimidating, tiptoeing the line between caricature and tough guy.  Azizi Johari, Virginia Carrington, Alice Friedland, Donna Marie Gordon and Carol Warden bring charm and personality to their roles as staff of Crazy Horse West, especially when a few of them are given a chance to double-down on the personality aspect once allowed into the bigger world by the Cosmo character.  Appearances by Haji, Derna Wong Davis, Kathalania Veniero, Val Avery, John Finnegan and a very sobering moment by Soto Joe Hugh round out the cast. 

Plain and simple, this film is chock-full of actors that I love, and its off-beat approach to a genre I love makes it a refreshing view despite how often its watched or how recent the last viewing is.  While not my favorite of the independent Cassavettes canon, I find it the one that I rewatch the most, and the one that impresses me the most in terms of production value balanced against narrative value.

#ChiefDoomsday #DOOMonFILM #JohnCassavettes #TheKillingOfAChineseBookie #BenGazzara #TimothyCarey #SeymourCassel #MorganWoodard #AziziJohari #RobertPhilips #MeadeRoberts #JohnRedKullers #AlRuban #VirginiaCarrington #AliceFriedland #DonnaMarieGordon #Haji #CarolWarren #DernaWongDavis #KathalinaVeniero #ValAvery #SotoJoeHugh #JohnFinnegan #JamesLew

[bedbellyandbeyond]

Meeting with Korsgaard

(Story Post)

Nathan arrived a little late for his meeting. Since wolf nights went so much better now that he was at APID, he started to take the convenience of location for granted and found himself getting a little lazy about getting there on time on off nights. Technically, he was allowed to use the room regardless of wolf nights, but he did want some of the comforts of his own home. Having access to his full wardrobe was especially handy and APID charged to use their washing machines. Coming from all the way home required such a commute though that the paid laundry was almost worth it. When he got to Korsgaard's office, he was a little surprised Camilo wasn't there yet. He had made a habit of being late recently but if Nathan was late, he was usually there ahead of him.

“Is Camilo held up with something? School maybe?” Nathan asked, taking a seat. Korsgaard shook his head. “No, he's not coming.” “Oh.” Nathan blinked. This was the first time Camilo hadn't been there for one of their meetings and frankly Nathan was a little nervous. Korsgaard didn't really have the best communication skills and Reid had seemed to emphasise that he had made the meeting so Nathan could talk to Camilo specifically for whatever reason. Korsgaard took a moment to look over Nathan's file on his tablet. “So… Pregnancy timeline changed, yeah? Due in December…” “Yeah.” Nathan rubbed his neck. “I updated the principal. She understands but I think she's a little ticked…” “She's working hard.” Korsgaard commented. “How's work?” “Works fine… I want to say it's the only steady constant in my life right now, but that'll be over soon…” Nathan said. “God, I'm scared like… You have kids. What was it like when they were first born?” “I took some time off…” Korsgaard glanced at his picture frame. “The boy was needy. He'd wake us up at night more than my daughter I think…” He scratched his head. “But I didn't mind… It was my job as a Dad. I love my job.” “I see…” Nathan could tell Korsgaard was trying his best to be relatable but he wasn't one to explain his feelings and his experience would obviously be different considering how he didn’t carry his own children. “Any, um… Updates on my lycanthropy?” “Let me see…” Korsgaard looked at his file again. “…Working with a specialist to—” Korsgaard was cut off when the door opened and Camilo stepped in. Nathan did a double take to make sure it was him; every encounter with Camilo before, the man was always clad in a coloured dress shirt and a bowtie, but today he slunk in with an oversized sweater and ripped skinny jeans. He looked very tired but he smiled to Nathan apologetically and sat down beside Korsgaard. “Sorry for being so late…” Camilo said. “I got caught up in traffic.” “Korsgaard said you weren’t coming,” Nathan commented. “Yes,” Korsgaard confirmed. “You called in sick.” “I feel better,” Camilo said. “Besides, we have work to do today… So I'm here.” “Hm…” Korsgaard sighed, waving it off. “Fine.” “What, uh, topic were we on?” Camilo asked. “…Are you sure you're well enough?” Nathan asked, trying not to be too intrusive. “You're just not yourself.” “I'm fine. Please, these meetings are for you,” Camilo insisted. “I want to be here so I can support you in anyway I can.” Nathan nodded. “Well… We went over the change in my due date and I asked about progress in my lycanthropy.” Camilo nodded. “Yes, right. We know a specialist who has knowledge on werewolf history, so we're speaking with them to learn more about where and how to find the pack that we believe may be looking for you.” “You mean hunting me,” Nathan stated. “And is this ‘specialist' Nari Song?” “Um…” Camilo looked at his notes. “Yes. He did give us permission to discuss with you…” “I know he's a vampire if that's what you're worried about,” Nathan said. “We're friends now.” “Oh. Well that's good,” Camilo said. “Client confidentiality is very important here but it gets rough when cases overlap. Nari though has allowed the use of such information to aide in your case.” “He came over and talked to me about the history between vampires and werewolves,” Nathan explained. “He also mentioned he hates vampires for some reason…” “Yes, like you, he’s not fond of his affliction,” Camilo said. “But it has allowed him to gain many years of knowledge and so his input is very helpful. He’s identified the fact that werewolves often find a second home with their pack in discreet locations but also keep human homes to blend in. It’s very likely there’s a pack living in the woods behind your house. On the night you were bit, you told us you and your ex strayed from the normal path so it’s possible you stumbled into their territory.” “Yeah, Hugh found a pup,” Nathan explained. “We were attacked right after that…” He blinked thinking about how that pup would be what his own children would look like, or at least one of them. “…Is there any records of werewolf children?” “Oh. We'll look into it for sure,” Camilo said, adding the note into Nathan's file. “We'll also consult Mr. Song but if you're close you may also want to pose the question to him. We're looking to find a cure for the both of you. Unfortunately, there aren't any cases in history that he's found where a vampire was able to become human again.” “But are there for werewolves?” Nathan asked. “Rumours,” Camilo said. “You see, supernatural beings were often used to explain odd behaviour in people so there are some records of people having been, say, ‘possessed by the spirit of the werewolf' but then returning to their normal state afterwards, but they don't describe actually transformation. But it's worth looking into.” “Okay…” Nathan rubbed his neck. “Is there anything else you've found out?” “As of yet, no,” Camilo admitted frowning. “But at the moment, we think it's best to keep managing the situation. I really think your nights at APID are helping you a lot. You’re healthier, safer, and well fed. Since Reid works overnight a lot, he's able to examine your condition regularly. You're progressing well in your pregnancy too. And the twins are very healthy.” Nathan sighed. “Yeah, they're doing fine… But I'm worried about bringing werewolf children into this world… They're so innocent. They don't deserve to be afflicted like me.” “It might be different for them since they'll be born into it,” Camilo said. “But we'll make it a part of our research.” “Thanks…” Nathan checked the time. “Is there anything else?” Camilo looked to Korsgaard, who shook his head. “No, that's all for our meeting today.” “Okay. Then I'm going to head to class early. I have a craft to prepare.” “Alright.” Camilo stood up. “Thank you for coming in today, Nathan.” “Yeah. Thanks guys.” Nathan pulled himself up to his feet. “See you.” He turned and walked out the door. Camilo started going over Nathan's file again but then remembered something. He stood up and went to the door. “Nathan! Hold on.” Nathan was just outside and he stopped to turn back. “Yeah?” “I just remembered… Um, we're trying to set up a group.” “A group?” Nathan inquired. “For who?” “A pregnancy group,” Camilo said. “For employees and clients of APID. I feel like you could benefit from it.” “Mmm… I don't really know if I'll really feel comfortable in a crowd of hormonal people with babies on the brain,” Nathan said. “Also, I think most pregnant people aren't single, so…” “Well, so far the group is just me and one other guy,” Camilo said. “But I'm looking for more to join.” Nathan paused and pointed to Camilo. “…You?” Camilo pulled a sheepish smile and pulled his sweater back tight to reveal the shape of his bump. “Five months.” “Wow. I didn't figure… Congrats,” Nathan said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Thanks,” Camilo said. Nathan blushed in embarrassment. “I just realised I've been a real bitch about my pregnancy and complaining all the time…” “It's okay.” Camilo waved it off. “Honestly, I share a lot of the same feelings you have around this pregnancy business. That's why I feel like a group could help us. I don't want anyone to feel like they're alone in all this. So will you consider it at least?” “Yeah, I'll consider it.” Nathan swayed. “It's just guys right now?” “Yeah, at the moment,” Camilo said. “It's kinda my target since, you know pregnancy groups have been around, but it's usually just women, so I wanted to make a groups where pregnant men can feel comfortable and welcome, as well as anyone else.” “That's pretty cool of you,” Nathan said. “You're organising it yourself?” “Yeah, for the most part,” Camilo confirmed. “Korsgaard supports me, but it's my idea.” “When would they meet?” Nathan asked. “I want to say Friday nights?” Camilo offered. “It'll depend on schedules.” “Okay. Um, I'll let you know,” Nathan said. “Thanks Camilo.” “No problem,” Camilo insisted. “I want to help in any way I can.” Nathan paused and tilted his head looking at Camilo. “You say that… But…are you okay? Like, is someone helping you?” Camilo blinked and looked to the side, but before he could say anything, Nathan withdrew. “Ah, I didn’t mean to sound so blunt… Never mind,” Nathan said. “And we’ll have that group. I’ll see you around.” Nathan waved and continued on his way. Camilo crossed his arms and looked down for a moment before he went back into Korsgaard’s office and closed the door.

#lore #mpreg #Nathan #Korsgaard #Camilo #werewolf

[radioleary-blog]

Donald Trump vs. Herbert Hoover vs. Back to The Future Part III

Okay, he’s the worst ever. President Trump is the worst President we’ve ever had, in my lifetime at least. To find a President that could even compete with Trump for the title of worst President ever, you’d have to get in a time-traveling Delorean and go back about a century. But I wouldn’t recommend you do that, some say that time-traveling in a car powered by a flux capacitor can possibly lead to Parkinson’s disease, especially if you do it for three movies. But the evidence for that is...shaky. Hey, why did those ‘Back To The Future’ films successively get so much worse? Couldn’t producer Robert Zemeckis just get in the Delorean and go forward in time to read the godawful reviews? If only Biff Tannen had stolen a movie guide instead of a sports almanac, he could have saved Universal Studios the 40 million dollars it spent making ‘Back To The Future Part III’. Wow, what a disaster! You know, I recently saw an ad for some network TV show where a team of intrepid multi-culti adventurers go back in time to save the Hindenburg from exploding, but I think ‘Back To The Future III’ may have been the bigger disaster. Yes, the Hindenburg was terrible, sure, but it all happened pretty quick. Whereas ‘Back To The Future III’ has a running time of two hours! Two hours of watching Teen Wolf and the stoner from Taxi yuk it up in the old West. “Oh, the inanity!”

You probably don’t even remember the movie. That's understandable, it’s a normal human response to block out cinematic traumas like that. To access those repressed bad-movie memories you’d need years of psychotherapy and hypnotic regression. Or basic cable. First of all, who would take a time machine and go back to the Old West? Nobody in their right mind, that’s who. Not even Dr. Who. It was about as bad a place and time as there was. All you could get in the Old West was syphilis or a gunshot wound. The Old West was even worse than Kanye West, he’d probably only give you one of those things.

If you could time travel to the far off future, why would you go back and watch a prospector fall down an abandoned mineshaft? You can watch Leonardo da Vinci paint the Mona Lisa, or you could go watch two drunk cowboys shoot each other for cheating at cards. Actually, that still happens quite often. No time travel necessary, just a bus ticket to Reno.

That’s why I don’t get this Westworld. That’s the place you want to re-create and populate with robots? I could think of dozens of better robot theme parks. Here’s one, how about Hugh Hefner’s Playboy Mansion circa 1974? Hanging out with James Caan, a metric ton of cocaine, and every aspiring centerfold on the west coast sounds like a lot more fun than sitting in the middle of a train robbery shoot-out. Where am I, Chicago? But that’s just me, I guess.  Want another great robot idea? How about a robot theme park of the cast of Seinfeld. That would be awesome! I would so go, we’d all go! And they’d all be there, not just Jerry, George, Kramer, and Elaine, but everybody. Mr. Pitt. Tim Watley. Jackie Chiles, Lloyd Braun, Kenny Bania, and of course, Uncle Leo. The bubble boy and Izzy Mandelbaum. “Mandelbaum! Mandelbaum!” Let me know when they build it and I will date the robot Sue Ellen Mischke, the bra-less woman who caused a car accident. She may not be real, but they’re spectacular! Serenity now!

But I digress.

As I was saying, no one would time travel to the Old West.

If somebody actually had a time machine, the conversation would go something like this: “Hey, I have this time machine, and it’s all gassed up with bananas peels and deadly radiation or whatever the hell it runs on, where do you think we should go?”

“We can go anywhere in time? How about we check out a Jimi Hendrix concert! Let’s go see Jimi’s legendary set at Woodstock! Or the Fillmore East, 1970, that’s maybe his best concert ever! C’mon! Hendrix!! Either that or maybe we go back in time and check out Jesus! I’d be cool with that, too, either Jesus or Jimi Hendrix! Which one do you want to go see?”

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I’m worthy to be in the presence of God. So let’s go see Jesus.”

The amazing things you could see with a time machine would blow your mind. You could go see the Great Pyramids of Giza when they were brand new, and still under warrantee. Back when they still had that new Pyramid smell. The Pyramids don’t smell so good today, now the place really Sphynx. That joke never gets old, right? Don’t Tut-Tut me. It’s like they say, mo’ mummy mo’ problems.

You could go back and see who built Stonehenge...the Druids? The Picts? Or was Stonehenge a natural formation, like the face on Mars, and Mount Rushmore.

You could go back in time to see the dinosaurs just before the comet hit, and watch them climb into their dinosaur space-ships and fly off to populate other worlds. The dinosaurs that stayed behind were either wiped out or forced to live underground, until they were discovered by Marshall, Will, and Holly on Saturday mornings in the Land of The Lost.

The spacefaring dinosaurs, over millions of years, eventually became the Gorn, a very tough race of outer-space reptilians. But they got their lizard asses kicked in about 40 minutes by Captain James Tiberius Kirk, and single-handedly. You can say what you want about William Shatner being a complete diva and an asshole to work with, but the man kicked ass and saved the galaxy about a hundred times, and he did it all without a raccoon. As far as I’m concerned, Captain Kirk earned the right to cut scenes from the other cast members just to pad his own lines. Live long and fuck ‘em.

But I digress. I really, really digressed.

What was I talking about? Oh yeah, this damn Back to The Future III, it’s kind of haunting me, how bad this movie is. It’s a shame the time-travelers from that TV show couldn’t go back in time and save the time-traveler’s movie franchise. And what is it with time-travel being so popular on television all of a sudden? When did that happen? On TV right now, there is the time-travel show I was talking about, NBC’s Travelers. Also, Fox has Making History, Hulu has 11.22.63, The CW has Legends of Tomorrow, Syfy has 12 Monkeys, and Comedy Central has Time Traveling Bong. And I already mentioned BBC’s Dr. Who. That’s a whole lot of time travel goin’ on! There’s no way there’s enough time in the day for a person to watch all these time-travel shows, you’d actually need to use a time machine to see them all. Or a DVR, I guess.

But I digress. Stop me before I digress again. I think this blog is about politics.

Oh yeah, Donald Trump is the worst President ever.

To find another President as bad as Trump, you’d have to go back at least as far Hoover. Herbert Hoover, that is, not J. Edgar Hoover. It’s easy to confuse the two of them, the Hoovers. But where Herbert Hoover liked to address the public, J. Edgar liked to wear a dress in public. And where Herbert Hoover’s dam looked good, J. Edgar looked damn good. But much like the Hoover vacuum cleaner of that era, both of these guys completely sucked.

Was Herbert Hoover worse than Trump? Let’s compare the two men:

Herbert Hoover was orphaned at an early age. He worked hard to found his own business and became a multi-millionaire. Donald Trump? He was born with a silver spoon up his ass and inherited his multi-millionaire dad’s real estate business. He then went on to bankrupt casinos, screw over independent contractors, and force people to humiliate themselves for jobs on national TV. Oh, and he’s good at firing beauty pageant winners if they gain a few pounds, then ridiculing them in the press. Hmm. it’s close, but I think I gotta give round 1 to Hoover.

Herbert Hoover was Stanford-educated, he was an engineer. But Trump must be smarter, after all, he had his own Trump University! And if it was a phony university like the fake news says, tell me how come all those students went on to earn millions of dollars? Oh, that’s right, it was a 25 million dollar class-action lawsuit settlement he paid out to avoid having his orange ass dragged into court. Round 2, Hoover.

Herbert Hoover built Hoover Dam, one of the greatest structural engineering feats in human history. But then again, Donald Trump built a huge pyramid scheme. So, I’d call this round a draw.

Before Herbert Hoover was President,  he was in charge of enormous, complex relief operations in Europe during and after World War I. He served two Presidents as Secretary of Commerce, under both Warren G. Harding and Calvin Coolidge. Before Donald Trump was President? He was in charge of enormous, complex challenges like making Lou Ferrigno and LaToya Jackson make bagels and peddle them on the streets of Manhattan. Trump’s biggest executive decisions were made sitting in a boardroom with Dee Snider, Meatloaf, Joan Rivers, Sinbad, and Dennis Rodman. Who, sadly enough, would make far better cabinet secretaries than the ones he actually chose. Seriously, who do you think has more experience dealing with North Korean ‘weebles-wobble-but-they-don’t-fall-down’ dictator Kim Jong Un: Rex Tillerson or Dennis Rodman? Think about that one. Here’s a hint: it’s the guy with 11,954 rebounds. Dennis Rodman is the only person Trump knows who has actually sat down with ‘Lil Kim’ Jong Un, and he fired him. Now I don’t think I would trust the Worm to handle the North Korea situation by himself, but if he had Jordan, Pippen, and the rest of the 1995 Chicago Bulls with him, we’d have an NBA franchise in Pyongyang by now. And war would have to wait at least through the playoffs. Round 4, Herbert Hoover.

I think we can stop right there. It’s a K.O. at the O.K. corral. Move over, Herbert Hoover, there’s a new worst President in town.