hi jill!

Biden facts:

  • First marriage had to overcome fiancees parent’s unhappiness with their daughter marrying a Roman Catholic (which they did)
  • His wife and baby daughter died, and both sons were injured in a crash just weeks after he was elected senator - an election in which he was the underdog, and his campaign was mostly managed by his family with little funding (1972)
  • Wanted to resign in order to care for his sons
  • For his boys’ sake he commuted an hour and a half each morning and evening to Washington DC  so he could see them everyday
  • Hosted barbecues and christmas dinner annually for Amtrak crews
  • Amtrak crews would sometimes hold the last train for a few minutes so he could catch it
  • Never works on December 18th, the day his wife and daughter died
  • after his first election as U.S. senator for Delaware he was re-elected 6 times - usually with around 60% of the vote
  • May 1999 he set the mark for the youngest senator to cast 10,000 votes
  • Ranked as one of the least wealthy members of the senate
  • Was banned in 2008 from receiving Holy Communion by the bishop of his original hometown, Scranton, because of his support for abortion rights
  • Was caught on microphone telling Obama that signing the ACA was “a big fucking deal” during live broadcasts
  • Obama’s daughter Sasha and Biden’s granddaughter Maisy attended the same school together, which helped form the obama-biden friendship
  • Biden’s friendships on the senate floor were often instrumental in passing major legislation
  • In 2015 he reduced his schedule to spend more time with his son Beau, who was fighting and later died from brain cancer  
  • One of only 4 recipients from the last 4 presidents to receive the presidential medal of freedom with distinction 
  • Dr Jill Biden, his wife, is one of only 2 second ladies to continue her day job - teaching at Northern Virginia Community College - and is founder of the Biden Breast Health Initiative (an effort to raise awareness of breast cancer with young women in Delaware) 
  • just a fucking decent dude

I always kind of laugh when people get into the “Susan’s treatment is proof that C.S. Lewis was a misogynist” thing, because:

Polly and Digory. Peter and Susan. Edmund and Lucy. Eustace and Jill. 

Out of the eight “Friends of Narnia” who enter from our world, the male-to-female character ratio is exactly 1/1. Not one of these female characters serves as a love interest at any time. 

The Horse and His Boy, the only book set entirely in Narnia, maintains this ratio with Shasta and Aravis, who, we are told in a postscript, eventually marry. Yet even here, the story itself is concerned only with the friendship between them. Lewis focuses on Aravis’ value as a brave friend and a worthy ally rather than as a potential girlfriend–and ultimately, we realize that it’s these qualities that make her a good companion for Shasta. They are worthy of each other, equals. 

In the 1950s, there was no particularly loud cry for female representation in children’s literature. As far as pure plot goes, there’s no pressing need for all these girls. A little boy could have opened the wardrobe (and in the fragmentary initial draft, did). Given that we already know Eustace well by The Silver Chair, it would not seem strictly necessary for a patently ordinary schoolgirl to follow him on his return trip to Narnia, yet follow she does–and her role in the story is pivotal. Why does the humble cab-driver whom Aslan crowns the first King of Narnia immediately ask for his equally humble wife, who is promptly spirited over, her hands full of washing, and crowned queen by his side? Well, because nothing could be more natural than to have her there. 

None of these women are here to fill a quota. They’re here because Lewis wanted them there. 

Show me the contemporary fantasy series with this level of equality. It doesn’t exist. 

I’ve been drawing some ghost ‘mons recently so here is one of my many children. His name is Lloyd and he has a Bashful nature. 

7

The Chronicles Of Narnia  [x]

“One day, you will be old enough to start reading fairytales again.”

anonymous asked:

Maybe some time you could talk about Susan and what it would be like if she didn't desert Narnia

How about we talk about what might have happened if Narnia hadn’t deserted Susan?

What if, instead of sending a stag to lead them astray, the Pevensies had been given time to end their first rule– to have finished their reports, their negotiations and treaties, that letter in the bureau Lucy was half-done penning to Mrs. Beaver to thank her for the fruitcake and to ask about her grandchildren. 

They had lived there more than a decade then, grown from children to kings and queens, to brave young adults with responsibility heavy on their shoulders. They had lived through storms and wars, peace and joy, lost friends to battle and old age and distance. They had made a home. What if they had been given time to say good-bye? 

What if we didn’t tell Susan she had to go grow up in her own world and then shame and punish her for doing just that? She was told to walk away and she went. She did not try to stay a child all her life, wishing for something she had been told she couldn’t have again. 

There is nothing wrong with Lucy loving Narnia all her life, refusing an adulthood she didn’t want for a braver, brighter one she built herself. But there is also nothing wrong with Susan trying to find something new to fall in love with, something that might love her back. 

You can build things in lipsticks and nylons, if you don’t mind getting a few runs in them. There is nothing wrong with wanting to be pretty, especially when pretty is the only power left to you. 

Let’s talk about being the last one left. No, really, think about it. You get a call in the middle of the night, in the little flat you can just barely afford, and you are told there has been an accident. 

Think about it, that moment– you scramble over everyone you know, everyone you love, and try to figure out where they all are that night. There are things rushing in your gut, your fingertips, your lungs, your ears– there are words in your ears as the tinny, sympathetic voice starts to tell you: it is everyone. 

They were on a train. Something went wrong. They probably died instantly. A rushing sound. A bright light. (You try to imagine it, for years. You try not to think about it. You imagine it, for years–a rushing sound, a bright light.)

Your little sister, who you always felt the most responsible for, who you never understood, really– Your big brother, who disapproved of your choices but loved you with a steadiness you could never regret leaning into– Your little brother, a smug and arrogant ass except for the days when he drowned in self doubt– Ed was going to go far and you knew it, were waiting for it, were shoring up your defenses and your eye rolls for the days when he’d think he ruled the world–

Your mother is gone. Your father, with his stuffy cigar smell and big hands and the way he got distracted telling stories– he is gone. Your cousin Eustace, who suddenly lost that stick in his ass one summer. That friend of his, Jill, who you’d never actually quite met. Gone. A rushing sound. A bright light. 

Go on. Walk through this with me. You can’t sleep all night long, because you still can’t understand it, still can’t quite breathe in a world where you are the last Pevensie. You finally fade sometime between midnight and dawn and when you wake up you don’t remember for half a second. You think ugh and you think sunshine why and then you remember that you are an orphan, an only child. You remember there probably isn’t anyone else to handle the funeral arrangements. 

Get up. Make tea. Forget to eat breakfast and feel nauseous and empty all day. Call the people who need to be called. Your work, to ask for the time off. The mortuary, to ask about closed caskets. Distant relations. Friends. Edmund’s girlfriend and Peter’s boss. You listen to Lucy’s friends weep hysterics into the phone while you stare out the kitchen window and drink your fourth cup of tea. You call Professor Diggory, out at the old house with the wardrobe that started it all, and it rings and rings. You don’t find out for three days that he died in the train crash too. When you do, you stare at the newspaper article. You think of course

You are twenty one years old. You have ruled a kingdom, fought and won and prevented wars, survived exile and school and your first day as a working woman. Nothing has ever felt worse than this. You have a necklace in your dresser you meant to give your mother, because she loves rubies and this glass is painted a nice ruby red and it is all you can afford on your tiny wages. 

Excuse me, a correction: she loved rubies. She is dead. You never wear the necklace. You cry yourself to sleep for weeks. The first night you don’t cry, the first morning you wake up rested, you feel guilty. You wonder if that will live in the pit of your stomach all your life and you don’t know. The years reach out in front of you, miles and eons of loss. You are on the very shore of this grief and you do not know how you will survive feeling like this for the rest of your life. But you will survive it. 

Get up. Make tea. Make yourself eat breakfast. Make plans with a school friend to do lunch. Go to work and try to bury yourself in the busyness of it. Remember that you’d promised to lend Peter a hand with some task or other, but you don’t even remember what it was– Collapse. Hide in the bathroom until you’re breathing again. Redo your makeup and leave work the moment your shift is over. Drop your nylons and your sweater and your heels in the apartment hallway. Fall into bed and pull the covers over your head. 

Get up. Make tea. Eat. Don’t think about them for weeks. Don’t feel guilty when you remember. Feel proud. Spend an indulgent weekend in your pajamas, reading Lucy’s favorite novel and making Ed’s favorite cookies and remembering the way your mother smelled and how it always made you feel safe. Love them and miss them and mourn them. Keep breathing. Cry, but wash your face after in cool water. Wake in the morning to birdsong and spend three hours making breakfast just the way you like it. 

Imagine the next birthday, the next Christmas, the next time you hit one of those days that herald the passage of time, that tell you how much you’ve grown and how much they haven’t. 

Lucy, Peter, and Edmund will be at the same height for the rest of your life. Lucy will always be seventeen for the second time. You see, you think you know, when you lose them, what the dagger in you feels like. But it grows with you, that ache. You grow with it, too, learn how to live with that at your side but it grows, that ache, finds new ways to twist– 

At the first friend’s wedding you go to, you cry because it’s lovely, those two smiling and promising and holding hands– but you also cry because you wonder what Lucy would have looked like in white, joyous and smiling and promising the rest of her life to a boy who deserved her. 

Go on. You tell me if Susan deserted a world or if a whole life deserted her. You tell me who was left behind. 

So yes, let’s talk about it– what if Narnia hadn’t deserted Susan? What if lipstick and nylons were things worn and not markers of worth? 

What if we had a story that told little girls they could grow up to be anything they wanted– all of Lucy’s glory and light, Susan’s pretty face and parties, the way Jill could move so quiet and quick through the trees? 

Because you know, some of those little girls? They were the little mothers, too old for their age, who worried and wondered, who couldn’t believe like Lucy or charge like Jill. Susan was reasonable, was hesitant and beautiful and gentle, was pretty and silly and growing up, and for it she was lost. She was left. And when Susan was left, so were they. 

The little girls who worried louder than they loved, who were nervous about climbing trees and who would never run after the mirage of a lion, who looked at the pretty women in the grocery store and wondered if they would grow up pretty too– some of them looked at their little clever doubting hands, after they read Peter and Eustace and Jill scoffing at Susan’s vanities, and they wondered what they were worth. 

Imagine a Narnia that believed in all of them. Imagine a Narnia that believed in adult women, lipsticked or not. Imagine Susan teaching Jill how to string a bow, arms straining. Imagine her brushing blush on Lucy’s cheeks, the first time Lu went out walking with a boy she was considering falling in love with. Imagine that when the last door to Narnia was shut, there was not a sister left behind. 

Gil’s Story Is My Nightmare

You know, it normally takes weeks if not months for my feelings to settle on a subject relating to fiction. Like, my first time through, it’ll wash over me, I’ll consider it a while, and then, eventually, I’ll come to a conclusion.

But Gil’s story rubbed me wrong on first run, and I easily figured out why.

Gil’s story is my nightmare as a gay man.

I know I’m not the first to sum it up, but I am SO frustrated and pissed off by this (and Mass Effect Andromeda’s handling of M/M relationships in general), I need to work it out of my system.

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5

Democrats escalates pressure on GOP to conduct investigation on Trump-Russia collusion.

Plot Twist:

At the beginning of 3x15, Ed turns around to leave the docks, but then with a regretful look across his face, turns around and jumps in the lake.

OOC;

Buckle up kids it’s rant time.
Today’s topic; People who say his relationship with Chris is toxic and try to bash him for the way he treats Chris.

[If people will request, or if it’ll get too long, I’ll just put it under read more. But I intend for it to be short and to the point.
Also excuse me, English is not my first language and I also have speech problems.
]


*Clasping hands together, inhaling*

I know that Piers is being very harsh on Chris, trying to force memories on him, basically kidnapping him on a mission, scolding him when he has the chance and going as far as saying “It’s good that Finn isn’t around to see you like this”.
Chris is suffering from PTSD and survivor’s guilt, then picked up drinking. He lost his team which he counted as family, and at Chapter 3, beginning to lose his men one by one with “Ada” just waving with her presence. He doesn’t need Piers to yell and remind him that he is fucking up. Right.

But they don’t have time for that. They don’t have time to sit down and collect their thoughts, Chris can’t afford to have a breakdown in the middle of the mission, they need to act, they need to work, and Piers put his relationship with Chris at risk to make sure they do it.
You can’t always comfort a person. Sometimes a person doesn’t need comforting. Sometimes a person needs a good slap in the face with reality. It’s not a new concept. Hell, Chris ADMITTED that Piers was right after he cooled down for like half a chapter.
Piers didn’t play a “I told you” card or “I’m always right”. He moved on like an adult should do.

After Marco’s death, when Piers was “bashing” Chris for his behavior, no matter how angry Chris got, going as far as to almost raising his hand on the other, Piers didn’t show any fear and you know what?
It was easy to see how Chris realizes that Piers was right.
He couldn’t beat him, not only because he has [Some] self-control, but also because he was right. It’s also shown further when after each stare-down with Chris, Piers only allows himself to express his shock only after the point has been taken, and Chris isn’t watching.

Piers’ role in the game was to put Chris back on track after what happaned in Edonia. He’s supposed to be his moral compass, his sense of duty. As soon as they reached Chapter 5, where Chris begins acting more and more like his old self and their conflict is over, Piers realizes he’s not needed anymore and allows himself to stay behind after he did everything he could.

Piers would do anything for Chris, and that’s exactly what he did. People act like he wasn’t affected by any of the shit happened in Edonia, that he wasn’t affected by losing Alpha Team again, but the man was on a mission. He wasn’t as emotionally invested, but he did have to drag his unconcious Captain from B.O.Ws which were his F R I E N D S and T E A M, while Chris couldn’t even do that. He HAD to. He couldn’t hesitate because Chris would die. He dragged him out and likely put his friends out of their misery, and then he had another team for six months. A team that HE was their Captain, HE leaded them, for SIX MONTHS, until Chris came back and killed them on his first night.
After all that he still believed in Chris and put his own life in his hands, trying to set him back on the right path and going as far as to sacrifice his own life 

Also don’t say that Piers was flat out shit to him. He tried to approach him gently more than once but he saw that it isn’t working, that Chris is stubborn and that vengence is eating at him and that’s when you’ve gotta take the big guns.

Screencaps of this below the cut because it’s too long already and I’m sorry everyone for having this block on your dash. It just bothered me.

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We Can Never Go Back To Before

(I am sad and write of sad things.  Everyone will be all right in the end, I’m sure, but, Harris, you can’t run from your past forever.)

“Let’s eat peanut butter cups for dinner.”

Harris shifted the bag of groceries in his arms. “Was that your plan all along?”

Darcy nodded. “Yes.”

“Then why did we go grocery shopping?”

“I was luring you into a false sense of security, nutritionally speaking.” She did a little spin, enjoying the way her skirt flared around her knees. The bags in her hands bumped against her legs as she stopped, facing him. “It was my devious plan.”

He grinned at her, his cheeks pink from the spring breeze. “With chicken breasts and frozen vegetables?”

“You didn’t suspect a thing,” Darcy pointed out. She threw her hands in the air. Harris ducked under her bags without missing a step. “My plan was a success!”

“We’re not eating peanut butter cups for dinner,” Harris said. But he was smiling when he said it.

“Maybe you’re not, but you’re not the boss of me, soooooooo…” She tipped her head in his direction. “Make me a better offer.”

“I don’t know,” he mused. “I mean, we could try eating real food and not spending the rest of the night curled up in the fetal position, praying for death as the sugar rush wears off.”

He had a pronounced cowlick right now. It was adorable. Darcy shifted both of her bags to one hand and reached out with the other. “You make it sound like a bad plan.”

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wow is this going to be another funny alvin and the chipmunks/yogi bear/smurfs movie with a funny single white guy and the funny cartoon ruin his chance with his love interest, jessica, jill, sarah, whatever?? i can’t wait.

Obi-wan, who cares too deeply for Padme’s happiness to deny her the comfort of being held in Anakin’s arms, who loves Anakin too dearly to forbid him from the pleasure of Padme’s lips on his; who is overwhelmed with joy when, somehow, Padme and Anakin decide that he too is worthy of their love.