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“Tina Goldstein, resident goddess.” You mutter as you storm through the front door and down the long staircase rife with splinters and creaky spots. Not to mention the unkind tenants that live on the third and fourth floors. Their shouts follow you down as your boots crash against the steps.
Tina this, Tina that, Tina the infallible. You skip three steps when you jump down onto the landing and yank open the front door. Tina can do no wrong, even when she’s unemployed and obsessive.
The wind slams into your side, trying to knock you off-balance. You shiver but stride forward, no real destination in mind other than to be far away from her. No one had even looked up when you shoved your chair back from the kitchen table, too busy hanging on every word of some story about capturing some man that used a spell in front of some muggle to care about you. They love Tina’s stories about her adventures.
It’s not like you’re exactly employed. You’d met Newt on a research trip years before. The chemistry between the two of you had been obvious to everyone and it hadn’t taken long for the two of you to pair up for the study. Soon enough, Newt asked you to help him observe some mooncalves under the starry sky and, after some laughing and held hands, a new relationship began. The two of you agreed to work together and alternate research trips. This trip to release Frank was one of Newt’s ideas, meaning that you’re really nothing more than a magizoologist’s assistant.
Still, it’s more fascinating than just running after people and bringing them into MACUSA, right? You meet some of the rarest beasts on your journeys. Tina does nothing but arrest people and memorize the ridiculous laws on magic that Americans put into place. Every auror has stories just as mesmerizing as Tina’s, though the others disagree. Even Newt seems to think they’re interesting enough to warrant ignoring you.
You scowl and wrap your arms around yourself as you continue forward. If Newt wants to spend all of his time with some other girl with perfect hair let him.
I think I’m having a stroke. I can’t believe I have the chance to see Lana (MOMMY!!!!), Brian (BAE!!!), Toby (BOI!!!), Max (FUCK!!!ME!!!UP!!!), Tina (GODDESS!!!), and Alfonso (BABE!!!)tomorrow at the Vancouver Pride Parade’s Davie Street Party. This isn’t a dream. I feel so blessed.
Any fellow sensie Vancouverites up in this cluster who want to cry and scream together?! HMU ❤️
I think my level of fame will drop back down. I think it’ll recede. In fact, I know it will. That’s life on planet earth. And I’m okay with that. Besides getting tables at restaurants and special treatment at the airport, what else is there?
Tina towers over them like an Amazonian, a warrior-goddess of dark hair and flashing eyes and alabaster skin.
Percival feels small and insignificant beside her. Newt does too if the slightly awed, slightly fearful way he looks at her is any indication. She smiles down at them benevolently before taking their hands, confidently tossing back her shoulders.
“I need both of you to help steady me on these goddamn heels,” she grumbles darkly, causing Newt to smother a laugh in his shoulder.
“We’ll make it up to you later,” Percival promises, slanting a playful leer in her direction while enjoying a leisurely eyeful of her long, shapely legs.
Tina stops abruptly, wobbling on her unfamiliar shoes before hunching down to his height. He has to roll onto his tiptoes to meet her lips, muttering when she pulls away before turning to Newt for more of the same.
Newt looks gobsmacked when she straightens, the slightest trace of her red lipstick staining his mouth. Percival reaches over to tenderly wipe it away with his pocket square before squeezing Tina’s hand.
“I owe you both for being here,” Tina purrs, “and I promise I’ll make it up to you later. Now c’mon, my adoring public is waiting for me.”
Her scathing New York-bred sarcasm effectively breaks the tension, causing both men to laugh as they stroll into the New York City Police Foundation banquet, ornamental decoration on the arm of the most beautiful woman in the room.
30 Rock is the zenith of comedy that is the brainchild of the Goddess of the Universe, Tina Fey and Her Holy Collaborator, Robert Carlock.
Besides top-notch writing, 30 Rock also has some of the best characters in the history of TV:
Liz Lemon is a successful lady boss who kicks serious ass,
and whose true love has always been a good sandwich.
Jack is a ruthless Executive,
with a soft, gooey, center.
Jenna is the most self-absorbed bitch in the entire world,
but loves her drag queen husband (almost) unconditionally
Tracy is Thomas Jefferson’s descendent and he says things like
and does things like
and Kenneth the Page peacocks Peacock so much, he strip dances wearing only an NBC tie
BTW, spoiler, he’s also an immortal.
Besides these wonderful, eccentric, sui generis, crazy-bananas, absurd, characters you’ll grow to love over 7 seasons, 30 Rock also boasts some of the best guest/ recurring stars other shows will die for:
BUT, most importantly, it is a show with SO MUCH HEART, and people often overlook that
This is a damn long post but I don’t think a simple “yeah it’s good” would suffice to express what this show represents and how much it means to me.