#// i didn’t see them flying to toronto to catch a second show either .. . .

[please-buckme]

The Assistant

Hayden Christensen x reader

Chapter 4

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

After leaving Hayden at the park, you couldn’t help the conflicting feelings swirling around in your stomach. Your thoughts being just as out of hand, was he flirting? He was definitely flirting. Should I dress nice or should I be more casual? Is he going to dress nice? Does he seriously even want me there or was he being nice?

With all these thoughts zooming through your mind by the time you got home a headache had started to arise, not wanting that to ruin the night you take some medicine to relieve the pressure.

It doesn’t take you long to shower and put on something that wasn’t too nice but also wasn’t sweatpants, which is a step up for you. The outfit was a casual sleeveless dress that you threw a cropped, jean jacket over, not wanting to show too much arm, and some black, high top converse. After applying your favorite color of lipstick, you gave yourself a once over in the mirror.

‘Okay I can do this. Just need to breathe. It’s no big deal just drinks with your boss.’ Talking to yourself in the mirror is something you do often when trying to calm yourself down, ‘Just. Your. Boss.’ You stare intently at yourself, clicking the lipstick cap in your hand before nodding, ‘Yup, I can do this.’

Once your mirrored pep talk concluded, you grabbed your purse and headed out the door.

—

When you got to Louis’, Hayden wasn’t hard to find. He was the only one wearing a Toronto Maple Leaf's hockey jersey. A small laugh paused your lips at your dorky boss before heading over to him.

You cleared your throat, “Is- ah is this seat taken?” You point to the empty bar stool next to him as he turns to meet your presents.

“Oh no! I didn’t think you’d actually show up.” His excitement surprised you and also him.

“Um you kind of guilted me into it.” You say, awkwardly looking down at the bar, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I so did not.” Hayden scoffed, “I just thought you might need a drink after the busy week we just had.” You see him lean on the bar trying to catch your eye, which he did. Looking up at him now you notice the 5 o’clock shadow he had been starting. Usually Hayden was completely clean shaven, always professional but today he didn’t seem to care. “You look nice.” He said looking you up and down once before meeting your eyes again.

“And you look.. comfortable.” He smiled his beautiful smile in your direction before pinching the jersey on either side, puffing it out and signaling ‘this’, you nod.

“Gotta support the team. I’m actually from Canada you know.” He smiles at himself before meeting your expressionless face. “What?” He asks.

“Hayden.. how many times do I have to tell you that I know everything about you?” You laugh as you role your eyes.

“You don’t know every-“

“I do.”

“You don’t.”

“I do.”

“Prove it.” He tests.

A look of shock rests on your face, “okay, first of all, it’s very rude of you to question me and second of all, I will.” He gives you a by-all-means look waiting for you to wow him. Your eyes squint at the mocking gesture before signaling to the waiter that you were ready to order.

“Yes, are you ready for another beer, sir?” The bartender asks in Hayden’s direction.

“No he won’t, I'm trying to prove a point to him, so I need to order his preferred drink.” Hayden’s in shock before you even say the order, his mouth falling open not believing that you know it.

“Okay and what will that be?”

“He will have..” pause for dramatic affect, “A Jameson with two ice cubes, a tiny stirring straw and… a pickle on the side.”

“Shut up.” Hayden says in disbelief, “How could you possibly know that?”

“I have my ways.”

“She’s good.” The bartender says, “Anything for you, miss?”

“Whatever you recommend out tap, thank you.” The bartender gives you a nod before heading off to start your drinks.

“That’s kind of scary.” Hayden says jokingly.

“Well if we ever dated I’d know everything about you already.”

The words fly out of your mouth before you even had time to process them. Okay think, say something so he doesn’t feel love you’re in love with him and are just a fucking stalker.

“Ah- What I meant was,” you flail your head in the arm as if that’s where your thoughts protrude, “I meant was, that um-, because we’re-, you see life-“

“Here’s your drinks.”

“Oh thank god.” You say before downing the drink in front of you.

“Wow, take it easy,” Hayden says, patting at your forearm, “so you’re in love with me?” He says smirking.

“Um no, far from it actually. I just say things before the thinking process is down, I don’t want to date you.” You lift the beer back up to your lips and chug the rest of it down.

“Am I making you nervous?” He asks, a beautiful smirk spread across his face.

“Why cause I just-‘ you say punting at the empty glass in front of you, “No, I’m just a better person when I’m drunk.” Hayden laughs at your honesty, that beautiful laugh you’ve come to know and love, the one that doesn’t happen very often. He signals to the waiter that you need another drink.

Since you chugged the drink in two seconds, you felt your buzz hitting you, which you were thankful for.

For the rest of the night you were much more laid back. Even knowing everything about Hayden, you still found yourself grasping on to every word he said. He told you of stories from his childhood, about growing up with his siblings and how he got the scare that hid in his right eyebrow.

—

After having way too much to drink, Hayden walked you home. It was a little chilly outside so Hayden gave you his long, wool coat.

“This is me.” You say pointing up to your front door, thanks for walking me home, here’s your jacket back.” You slide the jacket from your shoulders.

It all happened in a split second, your arm stretched out to give him the jacket when your thoughts started to cloud your brain again. Should I kiss him? I should kiss him. But shouldn’t he kiss me? Yes, I’ll wait till he kisses me…. but I really wanna kiss him. I’m drunk, I’m gonna kiss him.

When Hayden extends his arm for his jacket, you don’t let go, letting him pull you in and connect your lips. Almost as soon as they did he pulled away. “Wow..” was all he said.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry and stupid. Oh my god.” You shake your head, looking down at your feet. Why doesn’t he want to kiss me?

“No no, we all make mistakes.”

This response enraged you, possibly because of the alcohol but mostly from the embarrassment of the entire situation, “We all make mistakes?” You repeat back to him.

“It’s just.. you know. I thought things were.. cool with us, you know? Like I’m your boss but we’re friends. You’re really great it’s just I-“

“Okay, um, you were right this was a huge mistake and I’ll see you Monday.” Your hand let’s go of the coat now, the embarrassment warming you up just fine. You head or the stairs of your apartment and to no avail, your drunk ass slips on the first step. Hayden catches you of course, even in the darkness you can still see his beautiful blue eyes.

“Let me help you, it’s the least I can do.” He says, you nod in response. Hayden lifts the rest of your body from the ground and carries you up the stairs. Your eyes never leave his face as you watch him concentrate on the door in front of him. His denial of a kiss was heartbreaking but you still found yourself pining over him. He had a hold on you that he wasn’t even aware of until tonight.

Once he set you down he brushed his hands over your shoulders, “Despite these last few minutes, I had a really great time with you tonight.”

Wanting to be an adult and not show the pouting 5 year that dwelled inside you, you responded, “I enjoyed your company as well.”

Hayden then reached for one of your hands, kissing it lightly, all the while smirking. “Goodnight, (Y/N).” Then he headed down the stairs.

By the time you were able to speak he was already gone, leaving your goodnight to him open ended. When you got inside your apartment, you leaned your body weight against the door, not quite sure what to think. You wondered if he were playing a twisted game with you or simply did just want to be friends.

You were his assistant though, why was he so desperate to be your friend?

You didn’t know, all you knew was work would be very interesting the next day.

Chapter 5

Taglist: @princessxkenobi @alideetoo @missgirlnoname @25carolvalkyrie @dinos-lavapit @basicanti-socialb-tch @haydens-moles @valkyrieofthehighfae @shads121 @alyssa-skywalker @shylittlecupcake @anakinseyelashes @peresphoncs @fungusbabey @cocassedoodles @luminarahan

[feedmecookiesnow]

love the one you’re with

For the anon who requested: “Can you write something for winterhawk where one of them gets nervous about PDA or being together publicly because lgtbq community wasn’t accepted for a while? (I have issues myself 😅)”

I’m sorry this has taken me so long to get to! As a fairly straight person, this isn’t something I’ve ever experienced personally, so I was asking around for some details to help me get this right. Thank you for your patience, and I hope this is what you were looking for.

***

“Can I ask you something?”

Bucky looks over at Clint. He’s hanging upside down on the couch, lazily throwing darts at the opposite wall. They’re forming some kind of pattern, although it’s too early to tell what yet.

“Yes, your abs look good like that,” Bucky tells him.

Clint snorts. “I know that. That’s not the question.” He throws another dart.

“What’s the question?”

“Why won’t you hold my hand when we’re in public?”

Bucky freezes in the middle of flipping a waffle onto a plate. “What?”

“Whenever we’re out.” Clint rolls onto his stomach and pushes upright. Bucky eyes the muscles in his back appreciatively. “You’ll touch me here, or in front of the team, but whenever we go out it’s like you shut down. Even when we’re on dates.”

“I don’t...” Bucky thinks about it. “Do I?”

“Yeah. Even if I initiate it, you pull away after a bit.”

Bucky clears off the griddle and snaps it off. “I don’t mean to.”

“So why do you?”

He sounds defensive about it, almost. Or something like that. They haven’t been officially dating long, and Bucky still finds it hard to read his tones sometimes. “I don’t know. Come eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You were hungry ten minutes ago.”

“I---” Clint stops, looks at the waffles. “Will you just answer the question, please?”

Bucky studies him for a moment. He’s rolling a dart between his fingers, and his whole body is tense. Keyed up, almost. Like he’s ready to bolt out the door.

“You think I’m ashamed of us,” Bucky guesses. “Of being with you.”

“It’s crossed my mind,” Clint says, trying and failing to look like this thought doesn’t bother him. “I mean, I know you and Steve used to be a thing, and I’m not anything compared to him. I’m irritating and hard to deal with and I mess shit up a lot. We don’t look like we go together at all. I get it if you don’t want to be seen with me.”

Bucky bursts out laughing.

It’s probably the wrong move, judging by his face, but Clint is just so far off the mark that it’s almost absurd.

“It’s not you,” he finally gets out. “Were you really thinking that? That’s not even close to being true. I love everything about you, irritating parts and all. You are not the problem here. Not even a little bit.”

Clint looks relieved. “So what is it, then?”

“It’s everyone else.” Bucky rubs a hand through his hair. “I mean---it’s just---when Steve and I were together, we had to hide it. If people knew we were queer like that...” He shakes his head. “Steve got beat up enough as it was, you know? They woulda killed him if we weren’t careful. So we had to hide it.”

“You don’t have to hide it now,” Clint says. “It’s the modern age, Buck. It’s okay to be gay. Or queer, or bi, or ace, or whatever the hell you want to be. No one cares.”

Bucky sets the waffles down. “Sure they do. Didn’t you hear those guys the other day? And then last week, you kissed me in the store and that one guy got in your face about it. You almost got your nose broken.”

“So what?” Clint pushes up onto his hands, walks a couple steps, then tucks and rolls up onto his feet. “You just gotta ignore them. That’s what I do. Or punch them, if they deserve it. I mean, anyone who gets in a fight with us is gonna regret it. That guy did.”

“It’s not that easy, Clint.”

“Sure it is.”

“It’s not.”

Clint looks at him. “It really bothers you, huh?”

Bucky shrugs helplessly.

“Why haven’t you said something?”

“I don’t know. I guess I was hoping it would go away.”

Clint snorts and sits down, pulling a waffle over. “Because ignoring your problems is the best way to deal with them?”

“Okay, you are so not one to talk about ignoring problems.”

“Fair.” He takes the syrup out of Bucky’s hand and starts prying at the cap. “I wish you would’ve told me, though. You can talk to me about this stuff.”

“I know. I just...” Bucky takes the syrup back and pops the cap off, then hands it to him. “It’s really ingrained. I don’t even know I’m doing it half the time.” He sighs. “It’s just different. I spent my whole relationship with Steve trying not to talk about it, or show anything that would make people think that about us. And then there was Hydra and the whole Winter Soldier thing, you know.”

“That minor incident, yeah,” Clint says. He turns the bottle over and somehow manages to miss the plate entirely. “Aw, syrup, no.”

Bucky reaches over to the sink and tosses him a washcloth. “Anyway. I guess I’ve never really had a chance to work past it. I like you, and I want to be with you, But every time we’re out there---” he gestures to the window “---it’s like it all comes back to me. Even something as easy as holding hands just screams danger in my head. I don’t want you to get hurt because some asshole’s got an opinion about a couple of guys being together.”

“You’re worth getting hurt over,” Clint says, getting up to rinse off the cloth. He kisses Bucky’s forehead as he goes by, and Bucky has to take a moment to breathe past the sudden lump in his throat. “But I understand. I’m glad you told me.” He thinks for a moment, then brightens up. “I have an idea.”

“No,” Bucky protests, because Clint’s ideas inevitably end up with something going terribly wrong. He adores the hell out of Clint, but he also has absolutely no idea how one person manages to get into so much trouble. “Steve will kill us if he has to bail us out of jail again.”

“No one’s going to jail this time,” Clint says. “I promise.”

“We’d better not, because Tony still brings that up, and I’m really tired of hearing about it.”

“No jail. You’ll like this, I promise.”

Bucky doesn’t ask further. Clint would probably tell him if he pushed, but he also knows that it makes Clint happy to surprise him with things, so he just swallows down his questions and reaches for the syrup.

------

Two nights later, Clint knocks on the bathroom door. “You in here?”

“No, it’s a ghost,” Bucky says. “Of course it’s me, who the hell else would it be?”

Clint chuckles. “Okay, good point. Are you almost ready?”

“Yeah, yeah, give me a sec. Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

“Canada. Specifically, Toronto.”

Bucky blinks in surprise. “Canada?”

“Yep.”

“Toronto?”

“Yep.”

“Why?”

“You’ll see when we get there.” He knocks again. “Come on. Nat has graciously agreed to fly us.”

“Really?”

“Okay, so I bribed her. Same thing.” He knocks for the third time. “Come on, I’ve already got a bag packed for you.”

Bucky looks in the mirror one more time. He’s slightly nervous for this, although he’s not sure why. “Yeah, okay.”

He steps out into the hallway, and nearly starts laughing at the look on Clint’s face. Bucky doesn’t think he’s wearing anything particularly special---it’s just nicer jeans and a dark grey shirt, but Clint looks like he’s been sucker-punched at the sight.

“Gonna catch flies like that,” Bucky informs him, but Clint doesn’t appear to be listening. He’s too busy dragging his eyes all over Bucky, from his legs to his chest to his arms and finally back up to his face.

“Ah,” he manages after a moment, a strangled sort of noise that Bucky wants to hear again in a slightly different context. “You, uh. You look good.”

“Not too bad yourself, doll,” Bucky says, kissing his cheek. “I like the jacket.”

Clint looks down at it. “Yeah, Nat picked it out. She picked out all of this, actually. Something about not trusting me to dress myself.”

“Figures. You said you packed a bag? I thought this was a one night thing.”

“Nope. We’re going on a weekend vacation.” He grins at Bucky. “We deserve it.”

“I’m in,” Bucky says immediately. “Can’t remember the last vacation we had.”

“Florida.”

Bucky thinks for a moment. “That was less of a vacation and more of us going off-grid for three days.”

“We take what we can get.” Clint thumbs towards the door. “Let’s go.”

------

They drop their things in their hotel, and then Clint leads him downtown Toronto, navigating through the streets with ease. “Memorized the map,” he says, when Bucky asks how he knows where they’re going. “I wanted to look confident. Is it working?”

“Definitely.”

“Great,” Clint says, two seconds before he trips over his own feet.

Bucky catches him automatically. “Careful,” he murmurs, smirking a little.

“Just testing gravity.” He straightens his jacket and grins at Bucky. “We’re here, anyway.”

“And here is...”

“Have a look.” Clint gestures behind him, and Bucky turns around.

It doesn’t look any different to the other streets they’ve been walking on, and at first he doesn’t get it. “Why...” he starts, and then he sees the crosswalk. It’s painted in rainbow colors, something that he’s come to recognize as having a different meaning beyond just pretty aesthetics. And it’s not just the road either---it’s on the buildings, and in the windows, and painted onto bricks.

Clint gently pulls him out of the way as a tall woman walks past, one arm wrapped around another woman. As Bucky watches, they kiss each other good-bye, then separate at the street corner. Another group of people hustles past, all done up in fancy dresses, and Bucky realizes with slight shock that four out of the five are guys. And it’s not that he’s never seen guys in dresses, but not out in public, and it takes him a moment to wrap his mind around it.

Bucky looks to Clint, who is watching him with an intent expression. “This is the Village,” he says, throwing his arms out. “What do you think?”

“I, uh...”

He turns, looking around at the multitude of pride flags, and the different people walking past, and he feels---

He feels at ease, for once. Relaxed in a way that he normally can’t get while out on dates. He’s always evaluating the crowd when they’re out at home, hyperaware of the fact that someone might see and react poorly to them being together. It’s never quite the violent scene of his youth---he once knew a guy who was beaten near to death for it---but it still happens. There’s still dirty looks, and whispered words, and other things that set his teeth on edge, making him paranoid to even stand too close to Clint sometimes

But this is different. There’s no looks, here. No muttered slurs. He’s pretty sure that he could display his metal arm and kiss Clint in the middle of the street, and nobody would even look twice at them.  

“I love it,” he says honestly, and Clint beams at him.  

“Awesome. I knew you would.” He points across the street. “I made us reservations there. Come on.” He holds out his hand, and after a moment, Bucky puts his own in it. It’s worth the brief flash of discomfort to see the look of joy on Clint’s face.

They get settled at an outdoor table and put in their orders. Bucky sips his beer and looks around at the street, taking it all in. “This is really something else,” he says. “Have you been here before?”

“No, but Steve and Tony were telling me about it. I thought it might be something you’d like.”

Bucky nods. “I do. It’s...it’s nice. I feel like I can relax. Like I don’t have to be worried.”

“You don’t have to be worried anyway,” Clint tells him.

“I know that,” he says. “Believing it’s another story. Some of the shit I used to see, Clint, you can’t even imagine---”

“This isn’t the 40’s anymore,” Clint says carefully. “I know people still suck, but it’s not quite as bad as it used to be.”

“Yeah, but...” Bucky shakes his head. “I’m trying, okay? It’s just hard to shake.”

“I know, Buck.” He leans forward suddenly, setting his beer aside. “Look at me.”

Bucky does, noting the serious set to his face. “I’m listening.”

“Good.” He taps his fingers on the table. “Here’s the deal. I’m insanely happy to be with you. I want to hold your hand in public and kiss you in public and possibly have you bang me in an back alley somewhere.”

Bucky blushes. “Clint, what---”

“Shut up and let me have my fantasies.” Clint winks, then turns serious again. “But I brought you here because I wanted to show you this.” He gestures to the street, and the people walking past. “That there’s places out in the world where you don’t have to hide. You can be proud of who you are, and who you’re with.”

Bucky nods, not sure if he’s really got the words to express what he’s feeling at the moment.

“You don’t have to do this at home,” Clint says. “I don’t want to force you into doing anything you’re not comfortable with. If you need me to play the straight bro with you when we’re in public, I can do that. But I just wanted to show that there’s more people out here, like us. We’re not alone. It’s okay for you and me to be together, and it’s okay to show that we’re together.”

He reaches out and covers Bucky’s hand. “There’s always gonna be assholes and people making comments or staring. I can’t stop them. But I like you too much to let it bother me, and I’m hoping that one day you can get to the point where you feel the same.”

“I...”

Clint smiles at him. “I’m in this for the long run, okay? And it’s gonna take a lot more than some moron with an opinion to scare me off of you. Got it?”

“Got it,” Bucky says quietly. “Thank you, doll.”

“I got your back,” Clint says just as quietly, squeezing his hand. “Always.”

“I know you do.” Bucky smiles at him. “You’re my guy.”

“Damn straight.” He pauses, then says, “Well. Straight might be the wrong term.”

“Oh for fucks sake,” Bucky snorts, burying his face in his hand. “I can’t take you anywhere.”

“Shut up. You love my puns and you know it.”

Their food arrives, and they spend the rest of the time talking and eating. When they’re done, Clint drops a couple bills on the check before Bucky can and stands up. “Come on,” he says, straightening his jacket. “There’s a bar down the street we gotta see.”

“Why’s that?” Bucky asks, standing up.

“Rumor has it they have a hell of a drag show. I’ve been dying to see it.” He holds out his hand. “Shall we?”

“Happy to,” Bucky says, taking it, and he pulls Clint into a kiss that’s probably not entirely appropriate for a public space. But he doesn’t care, and to realize that he doesn’t care just makes him even happier.

“Okay,” Clint says when they break apart. “You kiss me like that again, and we’re gonna move here full time.”

Bucky laughs. “I think I’d be okay with that,” he says, letting Clint pull him away from the table. “I like it here.”

“Me too,” Clint says with a grin, tucking his hand more firmly into Bucky’s. “Me too.”

[wordinvader]

The Dumbest Inning of Baseball

Whenever my friends who don’t follow sports ask me who to root for, I tell them to root for chaos. Outside of my favorite teams, I will always root for something ridiculous to happen during a game. 4 overtime periods, obscure rules violations, and large men carrying a football when they shouldn’t are the best, most absurd moments in sports that everyone can enjoy.

My favorite sport, baseball, has its own share of chaotic moments, and I’d argue it has the most chaotic moments out of any American sport. There’s just so much baseball out there. 162+ games every year for every team means that there’s so much more potential for chaos to take the wheel. And in a winner-take-all playoff game 5 years ago, we were subjected to the most ridiculous inning of baseball I have ever seen.

A bit of background: it’s game 5 of the American League division series, Toronto Blue Jays vs. the Texas Rangers. The series is tied 2-2, and it’s win or go home. Toronto is the home team, and the game is tied 2-2 going into the 7th inning. Rangers player Rougned Odor is on 3rd base with two outs in the top of the inning, and Shin-Soo Choo take ball 2 from Aaron Sanchez. And then this happens:

Doink! On the throw back to the pitcher, catcher Russell Martin hits Choo’s bat and the ball dribbles down the 3rd base line. Seeing an opportunity and actually knowing the rules of baseball, Odor takes off for home and scores to give the Rangers the lead. 

Catchers throw about 320 pitches back to the pitcher every game when accounting for both teams. If you spread that out over an entire season, that’s over 750,000 pitches thrown back to the pitcher every year. I’ve watched baseball for over twenty years, and I’ve seen this happen maybe two other times. 

If there’s no runner on base, no problem. The ball is retrieved, and you end up on a baseball oddities compilation on Youtube. But if there are runners on, the ball is live and the runners can advance if they desire. I was taught this when playing little league, when catchers weren’t as good at throwing and pitchers weren’t as good at catching.

So the rarity of this moment has everyone confused, including the umpires. Both managers come out to clarify the call. The umpires are asked to review the play and see if there was any batter’s interference on the throw back. The announcers are watching the replay over and over, saying the same thing to kill time. Overall, this delay takes 20 minutes. Meanwhile, the Toronto fans are pissed and they’re throwing garbage onto the field.

Fun times. Either way, the call stands, and the Rangers are now up 3-2. The Blue Jays have declared that they are playing the game under protest. They’re also not too happy at their fans.

And then, after the angriest 7th inning stretch, the bottom half of the 7th comes.

Oh jeez, where to begin.

Well, Russell Martin starts off the inning trying to redeem himself. He hits a weak grounder to Elvis Andrus, the Rangers’ shortstop, and Andrus misses it. Andrus is by no means a bad defender. In fact, he’s an above average defender in just about every season. Seems like he just got a case of the yips. This should have been out number 1. It’s a huge break for the Blue Jays, and Martin doesn’t have to do the walk of shame back to the dugout.

Next batter grounds out to first base. First baseman Mitch Moreland throws to second to get a forceout, but he throws it in the dirt and Andrus can’t catch it. Error #2 in two batters. Something weird is going on. The next batter comes up to bunt, literally saying “I’m sacrificing an out to move the runners up.” Third basemen Adrian Beltre fields it and throws to 3rd to try to get the forceout there. Andrus is at third ready to catch the ball. Andrus drops the ball. All runners are safe, Andrus has been at the center of all three of these mishaps, and if no errors were committed, the inning would already be over. Instead, the bases are loaded and nobody’s out. The inning has been sucked into the Twilight Zone.

A groundout and a run-scoring forceout later, the Blue Jays have tied the game, but there are two outs. They were gifted a perfect run-scoring situation, and only getting one run out of this would have been deflating for the team and their fans. The announcer casually says, “What next?” 

Jose Bautista was next.

Boom. A huge 3-run home run puts the Blue Jays in the lead. Bautista tosses hit bat away in celebration. It’s one of the most majestic bat flips I’ve ever seen. The gif doesn’t do it justice. Just look at this.

Image credit: Getty Images

Loooook at it. Bautista looks like he’s saying farewell to an old friend. “You have done your job,” he might say. “The baseball has been obliterated, and now it’s time for you to be free.” The bat soars into the night sky. It’s flying to bat heaven where it can crush all the baseballs it wants. There were probably angels singing as it flew through the sky, but they were drowned out by the sound of everyone in the Rogers Centre losing their minds. 

Watch the video too. It’s just too glorious.

Just imagine all the tension and anger the fans had about this game, and Bautista made that all turn into unbridled jubilation. I can’t imagine how that feels, but it must have been incredible. 

Then the fans start throwing trash onto the field in…celebration? Sure, why not. The broadcast doesn’t show it, but the announcers commented on fans running on the field and trash all over the outfield. The game is delayed again. In this delay, the two teams start to get into an argument and the dugouts clear. 

Image credit: Getty Images

Because how the hell do you recover from this as a Rangers player? Hell, even as a Blue Jays player? It’s been the most exhausting inning, wrestling with obscure rules, dealing with errors on three consecutive plays, and a capacity crowd that’s taken an emotional rollercoaster to the moon and back.

In the end, the Rangers didn’t recover. They lost the game and the series. The Blue Jays went on to the ALCS, where they were beat in 6 games by the soon-to-be-champion Kansas City Royals. And even though the Blue Jays’ season may have ended in disappointment, they will always have this. A moment where the baseball gods got drunk and destroyed the heavens and the earth. A moment of pure sports joy and catharsis. This will be the most memorable sports moment for Toronto baseball until their next championship.

So. Let’s recap: a freak accident invokes a rule that’s so obscure that even the umpires are confused about and gives the visiting team a lead in a sudden death baseball game. The game is delayed, fans are pissed, chaos ensues, and then the home crowd riots as much as they can without getting the game forfeited. Then in the home half of the inning, a generally sure-handed defense fucks up 3 plays in a row, which leads to a Blue Jays fan’s dream scenario: a big, huge, stupid home run to take the lead. The inning, after all the delays, took 53 minutes to complete. Incredible.

I love baseball. It can be so dumb.

In May of the following year, the Rangers and Blue Jays played each other again. The Rangers wanted revenge. This is what happened.

Odor got the punch that all Rangers fans needed to see to start the healing process. It was a stupid brawl, because all baseball brawls are stupid. But it felt like a proper epilogue for what was the craziest inning I have ever seen of baseball.

Here’s a video detailing the doink that started the chaos.

Here’s a video showing the entire bottom half of the inning in all of its messy glory.

[let-it-raines]

Catch Me If You Can (13/?)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch. 

But then he came back and won the World Series.

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now. 

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

A/n: I obviously can’t make it through an entire MC story without changing the aesthetic I made at the beginning. Oh well. Happy Monday! Here are new words! As always, the MVP trophy goes to @resident-of-storybrooke for reading through all of these words ⚾️ 

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Tag list: @eala-captian @mariakov81 @ultraluckycatnd @royalswan @shey-starsfury @sals86 @iam2307 @ashley-knightingale @karenfrommisthaven @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @wellhellotragic @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @notoriouscs @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @cs-forlife @andiirivera @jonirobinson64 @galaxyzxstark @qualitycoffeethings @thejollyroger-writer

-/-

Killian Jones keeps hazelnut coffee creamer in the refrigerator of his apartment for her.

She made one comment about it, about how that’s how she likes her coffee, and the next time that she showed up to his apartment, it was there, waiting for her. He didn’t tell her, didn’t make a big deal about it or point it out to her. It was simply there waiting to be used sitting in the fridge in a spot that she knows he carefully cleaned out just for her.

It’s the smallest thing, nothing really, but it’s so damn considerate that it made her heart swell.

He does that to her.

She’s not used to people doing small things like that for her, but Killian is always doing little things like that.

And it’s not what she should be thinking as she watches him throw out his forty-second pitch of the game against Blue Jays, but it is.

Honestly, though, she’s either going to think about the fact that he really listens to her when she talks, or she’s going to think about the clench of his heavily stubbled jaw, the way that his hair falls messily over his forehead, the way his sea-blue eyes turn dark as night, and the muscles in his biceps as his fingers moved swiftly against her center as he made her come undone on top of the leather of his couch with Black Sails playing in the background.

Killian’s voice had gotten gravely as he spoke to her, dirty whispers and encouragements, and every bit of her body felt electrified. She was so ready, so damn desperate to have the rough pads of his fingers moving against her, to have his delicate touch teasing her breasts, and to have his lips attached to her neck as he thrust into her in easy motions that her mind has been conjuring up for a few weeks now.

She wants to fuck her boyfriend and feel the heat of him covering every inch of her.

And they can’t seem to find the time.

Granted, it’s only been six days since they pretty much dry humped – and a little bit more – on his couch, but it’s felt like so much longer. Killian got called away to practice, and that seems to be all that he’s done since. They had the series against the Sox, which Al seemed to really be stressing about more than usual, and despite the fact that they won the series and are currently number one in the league, the entire team seems to be on edge.

And, honestly, she can tell that it’s having a negative impact on the team considering how badly they are losing this game right now.

“I’m pretty sure Jones has a hickey on his collarbone,” Ruby speaks into her earpiece, and Emma is so damn glad that she’s not on camera right now for the way that she knows blush is painting her cheeks.

Jeff rolls his eyes from where he’s sitting next to her, the camera turned off and resting by his feet, but he’s very obviously still got his own earpiece in.

“I don’t think so, Rubes.”

“No, no, I think it is. It might be an old one. Do you think he has a new girlfriend? Or maybe just an overly enthusiastic one-night-stand?”

New girlfriend, yes.

But Ruby doesn’t know that. And she can’t. Not quite yet. And not over a system where several people can listen to their conversation, Walsh included. David decided that he’d fly several people to Toronto for this series as some kind of practice run and learning experience for what games are like on the road, and she absolutely cannot wait until they get to go home so that she’s not around all of these people this often.

Ruby, Jeff, and David – absolutely fine. Walsh – not fine at all.

He’s still got such a stick up his ass, and she prefers not to see his face. He’s the one who broke her heart, who betrayed their relationship, but sometimes he acts like she’s the one who ended them and cheated on him.

Definitely not.

Asshole.

“That’s really not our business,” she sighs, sinking a little further into her seat as her eyes scan over the field. It’s surprisingly cool outside today, and she’s really regretting wearing a dress instead of her jeans when her favorite pair is sitting inside of her hotel room.

“It’s kind of our business.”

“You’re just nosy,” Emma laughs, wishing she could change the subject. “Technically, our job is to only cover how these guys play, but it does help to know about their personal lives. If Killian has a new girlfriend, I’m sure it’ll be discovered soon enough. He’s never exactly been private in the past.”

Okay, harsh, Emma, she thinks to herself. She knows that she’s trying to cover a lie, but damn.

“Maybe he’s changed his ways.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Is this what you guys always talk about when you’re supposed to be working?” David asks, his voice coming in loud and clear over her earpiece.

“Yes,” Jeff mutters next to her, and she reaches over to slap his shoulder as Killian throws another ball. “They are the height of professionalism.”

“Jeff, if you’re finally going to speak, maybe don’t rat us out.”

“Maybe I don’t speak because you two never give me a chance.”

“Damn,” Emma mutters, winking at Jeff, “who knew you were going to be like that? And David, these games are very long, and I work for so little of them. Of course we talk. I hate my road trips where I’m by myself sometimes. That’s usually when I go bug the players in the dugout.”

“That makes it sound like I need to see if I can find more things for you to do. Maybe we can get you to commentate on a game.”

“Hell yes,” she says a little too loudly, the people around her looking at her like she just committed murder or something. “Can you really do that?”

“I can talk to a few people. I can’t guarantee anything, but maybe we can test you out on a few smaller games later in the season.”

“You’re the actual best.”

“Well, I figured I was already the best since we’re family, and you love me.”

“That’s beside the point.”

“It’s most definitely not,” David sighs, and she just knows that he has a smile plastered onto his face. “Speaking of family, Mom is coming into town on the twenty-first. I know that’s a busy week for you and that we’re sending you to London right after that, but I think we’re going to do a big dinner at the house.”

“I can make time. I didn’t know she was coming into town.”

“It was a last-minute thing since we couldn’t decide on the date that worked for all of us. I’m sure she’ll call you about it soon, but I know that she expressed concerns that she would be charged an arm and a leg for calling you right now since we’re technically out of the country.”

“She most definitely won’t,” Emma laughs all the while Arthur catches a ball in the outfield and the fourth inning ends, all of the players running back to their dugouts. “But yeah, that’s fine. Just let me know, and I’ll be there. I’m sure she’s still upset that I haven’t come to visit as often as you have, which doesn’t even make any sense considering you’re her child and I am not.”

David clicks his tongue, and she grumbles to herself knowing where she messed up in that conversation. “She’s not your mom like she is mine, Emma, but you’re our family. You know that.”

She does. She really does. Just…childhood hang-ups that are likely never going to go away. Maybe one day. She loves Ruth, loves David, and it’s only when she thinks about it too much that she doesn’t refer to David as a brother. Fully accepting love has been hard for her for a lot of her life, but she’s working on it.

“I know. Sorry.”

“You know,” Ruby sighs, “for someone who got onto us for talking while working, you sure seem to be doing a lot of that.”

“I’m the boss,” David huffs.

“You just keep thinking that, buddy boy.”

-/-

The Yankees lose that day, but they’re 38-22 for the season so far, and things seem to be looking up if they keep progressing the way they are.

But Emma knows that it’s a long season, and they’ve barely begun.

-/-

Killian: Do you have dinner plans tonight?

Emma: I’m literally eating with David and Ruby right now. Why?

Killian: I figured we could sneak out and find a restaurant together. I could take you on a proper date.

Emma: Is this proper date your version of being a gentleman?

Killian: Now, darling, you know I am one.

Killian: Eat with David and Ruby. I’ll figure out a way for us to go on a date that doesn’t involve my apartment at some point, yeah?

Emma: That sounds really nice. Though I do love your apartment. Especially that couch.

-/-

One of their producers ended up not coming on the trip with them, so Emma managed to snag her own hotel room instead of sharing one with Ruby. It’s not that she would have minded sharing when that’s one of her absolute favorite things, but she likes that she can sit on her bed and watch what she wants to watch on television without anyone bothering her about it.

Sometimes a girl needs her peace and quiet, and when she’s spent all day around massive groups of people, that’s kind of what she needs right now.

And something to drink.

She’s really damn thirsty, and bathroom sink water isn’t really cutting it for her right now.

Sighing, she gets up from the bed and grabs her wallet and her hotel room key, slipping her feet into sandals as she leaves the room and goes in search of a vending machine. They’re usually so readily available, but for some reason, nicer hotels don’t have them. Like rich people don’t want a bag of chips in the middle of the night.

What’s the point of being rich if you can’t eat junk food whenever you want it?

Emma checks the entirety of her floor, as well as the five floors below her, before resigning herself to only checking the main floor of the hotel to find herself something to drink. If all else fails, she’ll just ask someone at the front desk or walk down the street to whatever convenience store she can find even if that’s not that safe. She’d rather be mugged than pay the price of the drinks in her mini fridge.

Okay, that might be a bit of an exaggeration.

As she’s walking down the back hallways away from the lobby and the breakfast area, she passes the pool, not thinking anything of it until she sees a splash from her view in the tiny glass window pane over the door that looks into the indoor room.

Killian.

That’s Killian swimming laps in there.

For a moment, she debates whether or not she should go inside, whether that’s invading his privacy, but then she’s pushing the door open and closing it behind her, purposefully moving away from the door so that no one from outside can see her. This is very much them interacting while out in the open even if she doubts several people are going to be walking by the pool past ten at night.

And if they do, she and Killian are simply two people who decided to go for a late-night swim.

She just happens to swim in shorts and a camisole, and her body is completely dry because she hasn’t stepped foot inside of the water.

It’ll make a lot of sense to whoever walks in on them.

(She hopes that doesn’t happen.)

“Yo, Phelps,” she yells when Killian comes up for air at the side of the pool that she’s standing on.”

He blinks up at her, his mouth gaping like a fish, which seems appropriate, before he’s shaking his head and his hair out, the water droplets falling all over the concrete floor, and propping himself up on the edge of the water.

Heat pools between her thighs at the sight of water falling over Killian’s tanned skin, the dark hair on his chest curling in different ways than usual, and his muscles more defined even under the awful florescent lighting in this room. The want that she’s been feeling for weeks now keeps piling up, the untamable desire to be connected to Killian in more ways than just emotionally ramping up, and she already knows that when they have sex, it’s going to be different than it has been before.

That freaking terrifies her.

But she’s also more than ready.

It’s been a whirlwind six weeks, and she’s still trying to catch her breath.

Judging by the way Killian’s chest is heaving, she imagines he is too. More literally than figuratively.

“Swan,” he says on a sigh, reaching up to push his hair back off of his forehead, and that definitely doesn’t do anything to her at all, “what are you doing in here?”

“I was on a quest for something other than fifteen-dollar diet coke to drink, and I happened to pass by the pool. What are you doing in here?”

“Exercise.”

“Didn’t you get enough of that today?”

“Eh.” He reaches up to scratch behind his ear, a water droplet tracing the veins in his forearm. She really likes the veins in his forearms. That’s such a particular thing to like, but it’s a good thing to like. “This is relaxing to me, and it’s low impact. Archie recommended it for me for my shoulder.”

“Well, that’s good. You want to keep taking care of that shoulder. It’s the money maker. You played well today even if you guys lost.”

“Both an insult and a compliment all at once. Amazing.” He crooks his finger toward her, his brows waggling across his forehead while his smile stretches from one side of his lips to the other. “C’mere, love.”

“No,” Emma laughs, crossing her arms over her chest, the chill of the room tightening her nipples. “You’re wet, and I am not getting closer to you.”

Killian actually pouts, his bottom lip protruding, and she can’t help but chuckle at how ridiculous he is.

The most ridiculous.

“Oh, come on, Swan. This is a heated pool. It feels glorious.” He leans back into the water, spreading his arms out into the water as he floats on his back. “Why don’t you join me?”

“I’m not wearing a bathing suit.”

“You got underwear on under those clothes?”

“That is none of your business, twenty-nine.”

He whines in protest, standing up on his feet so that his chest is exposed to her again. “I’m also fine with no underwear being on underneath those clothes. Come on, Swan. What else do you have to do tonight than spend some time with me in an indoor and empty heated pool?”

He’s right. It sounds entirely appealing to join him, so without saying anything, she grabs the bottom of her camisole and pulls it over her shoulders, wishing she was wearing a different bra than the one she has on right now. It’s more lingerie than actual support system for her boobs, and she’s only wearing it because it didn’t show lines under her dress today. But if the heat of Killian’s gaze is any indication, the way that he’s hungrily staring at her, she can say that he probably doesn’t mind.

Deciding to toy with him a little bit, she turns around and slowly takes her shorts off, knowing that he likes her ass, before bending completely over to pull her hair up into a bun so that it doesn’t get wet. She can’t believe that she’s about to do this, but like Killian said, what else does she have to do tonight?

Slowly, she steps down into the pool, the warm water hitting her ankles, then her knees, then her stomach as she gets a little closer to where Killian is waiting, a far too triumphant smile on his face.

“Shut up.”

“I haven’t said a thing.” He swims a little closer to her, the ripples of water moving with his touch, before he’s in her space and cupping her cheeks so that their lips come together in a slow kiss that’s all soft lips and small tilts and something she’s never truly experienced before. “You’re simply reading into my actions.”

Emma scoffs, rolling her eyes a bit, but wanting more of his kiss and the feel of him pressed up against her, so she uses the momentum of the water to wrap her legs around his waist, her core pressing just at his hip, and hold onto him by holding onto the back of his neck. She can feel every inch of him lined up with every inch of her, and like it so often is with the two of them, nothing else exists outside of the darkened blue of his eyes and the way that his fingers are kneading at her ass, exploring parts of her that he hasn’t really gotten to explore despite how intimate they’ve been before.

This is not Killian’s couch.

Every move they make causes water to move, a loud echo in the enclosed space, and she tightens her ankles around his back while her fingers toy with the hair that’s getting a little long at the back of his neck.

“Do you always wear bras like that, love?”

Her gaze flickers down to where Killian’s is, the swell of her breasts as obvious as the tightness of her nipples from how her bra has shifted.

“Nope. They’re usually very beige and boring but comfortable since that’s the whole purpose of them. For me at least. So, you’re getting lucky tonight.”

“Am I?” he asks, his right brow raising high on his forehead, and she realizes exactly what she just said.

Is this the most sexual tension to ever happen inside of a hotel pool? Probably not. But that’s how she feels right now.

“Maybe. If you play your cards right.”

“Damn. I’ve always been bad at card games.”

“Remind me to invite you to poker.”

Killian chuckles, a sound that’s dark but also light and joyous, before one of his hands is releasing the firm grip on her ass to come up and brush away loose strands that have fallen in her face, an intimate touch that has a shiver running down her spine.

Yeah, that’s why a shiver is running down her spine.

“You’ll take away all of my money.”

“Little do you know, that’s been my plan the entire time.”

“I asked you out first, so I’m not sure it really could have been your plan.”

“Yeah, but when I asked you out, we actually did something about it.”

“Touché.” Then his head dips and his mouth is running against her jaw, soft pecks that get more insistent when he moves back toward her ear, his teeth nibbling at her lobe, scruff burning into her skin, that makes her sigh into him. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I’m so damn glad you stumbled into the pool tonight.”

She tilts her head back, wanting to give him more access to her skin, and he takes full advantage of it, nibbling and teasing and soothing as he works his way down her chest, biting down onto the swell of her breasts. It’s so much and not enough, so she tries to climb his body, to move herself further up, and he boosts her with his hands on her ass so that he can nose at her bra until her nipples are exposed and he’s sucking one into her mouth.

Holy fuck.

Killian hums around her, the sucking insistent, and she starts to wonder if she said that out loud, but she doesn’t really care when all of her focus is on the intense way that Killian is riling her up with his tongue and his teeth and his – ah.

She’s not above getting creative on places to have sex, but a public pool is not high on her list…and that’s definitely where it’s been leading.

“K-Killian,” she gaps, practically panting. “Killian, stop.”

He releases her with a wet plop, and when his head is leveled with hers, she can see the redness of his cheeks, the pink on his lips, and all of the dirty thoughts that she’s sure are curled at the tip of his tongue.

“What? Why?”

“We’re in a pool. That’s not exactly private, and with the way things are going, I think I’d rather like some privacy.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely.”

“My room?”

“Fuck yes.”

It has never taken her so long to dry her body enough to put her clothes back on, and after what feels like an hour but is probably a minute, she pulls her top back over her shoulders and yanks her shorts up all the while Killian places his chain around his neck and wraps the towel around his waist without putting a shirt on. He doesn’t have a shirt. Of course not.

Anticipations buzzes through her, her feet never able to stay still, so as she silently follows Killian down the hotel hallways and up the elevator, she’s practically bouncing off of the carpets. She can tell that he feels the same way with the tense set of his jaw and the way that his hand squeezes onto hers, and the moment his hotel room door closes behind him, she lets out a sigh of relief that’s captured by Killian’s lips as he pulls her closer by the straps of her camisole and hungrily devours hers, quickly swiping his tongue into hers with no preamble.

Then again, they’ve had weeks of it.

He’s heavy and insistent against her, and even though she feels a chill from the dampness of her clothes, all she can feel is warmth. His hands move from her shoulders to her waist, tugging her closer so that they’re completely pressed together, and there’s no hesitation in the way that he moves against her.

None at all.

For years, all she knew of Killian Jones was that he was attractive, known for his dating life, and that he was a damn good pitcher. All she saw was the confidence and cockiness, the way that he swaggered on and off the field and threw people off with a flirtatious answer or a sly smile. She didn’t know him, no matter how well she thought that she did, but that’s not how it is now.

She knows that Killian is confident and cocky, that he can flirt successfully almost every time, and that he is sure of his movements with how he’s tangling his tongue with hers and making her melt into him. But she also knows that he’s got a lot of darkness hidden behind the blue of his eyes, that a lot of his confidence is fake and is only there to hide where he’s insecure.

The great Killian Jones can be insecure.

And unsure.

There are so many facets of him that she knows, so many that she hasn’t yet discovered, but she can’t wait to learn.

Nothing about him right now is unsure, though. Not the way that he pushes her back toward the bed, his steps precise and the movements of his hands directed to cover every inch of her skin at once. His chain is pressing into her skin, the cold metal a contrast to the warmth of his skin and his chest hair against her, and when his fingers slide up her neck and into her hair so that he can tilt her head to the side to deepen their kiss, she groans into his mouth.

This is absolutely everything, and she wants to be kissed like this – passionate, possessive, lovingly – every day for the rest of her life.

When her knees hit the end of the mattress, she pulls away from Killian so that she can tug her shirt off, the clothes falling to the floor. Immediately, she reaches for her bra, but then Killian’s grabbing onto her hands and moving them away so that he can undo the clasp, helping her remove the wet lace.

“Beautiful,” he mumbles with a slight shake of his head, his eyes focused on her breasts before flicking up to her eyes so that she can see the slight smile. “So beautiful.”

Even though she talks for a living, she’s never been great with words, so she doesn’t say anything, simply tugging him closer by the waistband of his swim shorts, and then he’s pushing her back onto the bed, her back hitting the mattress with a small oomph that has her laughing the slightest bit.

First times (and so many times after that) are always so heated and yet awkward, elbows in places that they don’t need to be and sounds made that shouldn’t be made, and while she’s usually nervous, she doesn’t feel that way right now.

“Something funny there, love?”

“Nothing at all.” She beckons him closer with a curl of her finger like he did to her earlier, and he obliges, bracing his palms on either side of her shoulders so that he’s staring down at her, hot breath hitting her already overheated skin. “I just like you is all.”

“Funny thing,” he smiles, dipping his hide to bite against her collarbone, “I rather like you too.”

She pulls herself up to try to start working at his shorts, but he wraps his fingers around her wrist all the while tugging her shorts down. She has to lift her hips to help him out, kick out at her ankles so that they fall to the floor, and she’s just about to try to work at his shorts again when his fingers are moving against the slick flesh that’s wet and aching and absolutely desperate to feel his touch again.

A whine escapes from her lips, one that even she knows sounds needy, and she can feel Killian’s chuckle against her breast as he breathes her in and keeps on driving her mad with the expert touch of his fingers. He’s very obviously a good listener both with coffee creamer preferences and sex preferences because he’s doing just what she asked him to last time.

No one should be able to bring her this much pleasure this quickly, should be able to make her feel like she’s already coming apart at the slightest touch.

Emma Swan wants Killian Jones, and she’s finally going to have him.

Her hips roll up into his, an attempt at chasing pleasure and bringing her more friction even with the way Killian is circling her clit, but when she gets the friction she’s chasing, Killian pulls back with a hiss and a clench of his jaw.

Some of the high comes down then, but only for a moment before he’s pulling his shorts down his thighs, exposing thick, muscled thighs covered in hair and his length bobbing against his stomach. She gulps, the thought of him sliding into her overwhelming her and exciting her all at once, but then he’s leaning back over her, nearly aligning their bodies so that he’s pressing against her thigh, smooth and thick and so goddamn hard that her body jolts at the touch.

“You’re a siren, do you know that?” He whispers the words as he ruts against her, his lips tracing her clavicle before he’s taking a nipple between his lips and lavishing there. He watches her as he does it, blue eyes under those unfairly long lashes, and she can barely control her breathing. Her heart may very well explode. “Everything about you. Your eyes, your hair, your pretty pink lips.”

His right hand trails up the mattress until he’s grabbing onto her hand and threading their fingers together, holding them above her head all the while he shifts his hips so that his cock brushes against her aching flesh, desire continuing to build.

She’s going to burst.

“The way your ass looks in your jeans,” he continues, moving away from her breasts and up her body until his lips are hovering just over hers his nose squishing into her cheek. “The way you smile and the laugh that follows after it. Or the way that you eat so many horrible things but get so happy while you’re doing it. The way you’re so passionate about your job, about your friends, about everything you do. A damn siren calling me to you.”

She gasps, words still failing her, so with her free hand, she reaches up and traces her fingers along the line of his scruff, smiling up at him as she blinks. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re really good with words?”

“Once or twice.”

“You are. Just, like, the best.”

His smile can be tasted in his kiss, and it’s this slow, tender thing, so unrushed like the rest of tonight, and she revels in it even as their hips keep rolling together.

“Do you have a condom this time?” she asks on a whisper.

“Bought a whole damn box on my way home from practice that day.”

She giggles into the comforter and then whines when Killian moves off of her, his bare ass in her view as he gets up and ruffles through his suitcase, pulling out a foil and carefully ripping it open. He moves to put it on, but this time it’s her turn to stop him. His breath hitches, his chest visibly moving, and the curses that he murmurs when her fingers travel over his length and the velvety feel of him are downright dirty. She tries to keep eye contact with him, but she can’t help but watch as between her thighs slicken.

“Lay down on your back.”

There’s a raise of a brow, but he listens, settling down onto the mattress and spreading his legs as she moves to hover above him, kissing along the muscles of his stomach and his inner thighs all the while her nails follow the path. He’s trembling, just barely though, and she smiles into his skin before balancing above him on her knees while his fingers find purchase on her hips, squeezing into her skin as she slowly moves above him so that he brushes against her flesh.

This is everything she imagined, and she did imagine this, but nothing compares to the real thing.

“Emma – ” His fingers move, his eyes wide, and she nods her head to his silent question before sinking down onto him and taking in every inch that she can.

Perfect.

Warm.

Full.

It’s a slight stretch, a new adjustment, and she reaches forward to press her hands against his chest, curling her fingers into the hair there as she sighs.

“Holy fuck.”

“That’s kind of what I was thinking too,” Killian chuckles, the smile on his face bright compared to how hooded his eyelids are.

And then she’s moving.

It’s a slow pace, one that’s full of learning and experimenting and simply trying to find a rhythm that’s right for the both of them. Electricity is rising on her skin, her flesh covered in bumps as the coil in her stomach continues to tighten, and with the way that Killian is thrusting up into her all the while she’s circling her hips over him, she doesn’t know how much longer she’s going to last.

“I need,” Killian mutters, adjusting his position under her while he tugs her down to bring their lips together, her breasts pressing into his chest as sweat trickles down her back.

“Faster?” she questions.

“Fuck yes.”

Then it’s a quick, dirty fuck, skin slapping against skin and moans being exchanged between them, and when Killian’s hand snakes down between them and starts rubbing against her flesh, she nearly loses it, having to bite into his shoulder as he wraps his arms around her waist and turns them. He slips from her as they reposition themselves, but then he’s sliding back into her in a rhythm that’s so intense that she has completely lost her breath.

She comes with a keening whimper into his jaw, her orgasm more sparks of electricity across her skin, and Killian encourages her to feel it, to let herself fall, all the while he thrusts into her, grunting and cursing and then finding his own releases as he presses into her and the cool metal around his chest does the same, their bodies connected in every damn way possible.

Killian coming is a beautiful sight.

His eyelids are hooded, his jaw clenched, and the intensity is like none other.

As far as first times with someone go, she thinks she likes this one the best.

He falls onto her, pressing into her with his weight, and she reaches up to comb her fingers through his hair, damp from the pool and from sweat, and she’s never been so fond of the smell of chlorine.

“I stand by my comments of you being a siren,” he mumbles against her skin before rolling off of her and off of the bed, quickly disposing of the condom before he crawls back In and pulls the blanket over the two of them. She needs to get up to use the restroom, but she has time for that later. “There is no way I’m ever going to be able to give you up now.”

Why did she ever bother catching her breath when it’s going to be taken away with words like that?

Emma rolls over to Killian, looping her leg over his calves and resting her head on his chest so that she can feel metal under her cheek and the quick beating of a heart to prove that this is real and not some kind of dream. Rough fingers trace across her back, spelling out words she can’t figure out, and then there’s a press of lips to her hairline that has her eyes fluttering closed in happiness.

[trashforhockeyguys]

Can’t Help But Love You -6- Kasperi Kapanen

A/N: As always, all previous parts are linked in my masterlist.  And here go you, the final part. it’s been fun writing this, but all good things must come to an end. it’s been real kappy miniseries.

Your mind was blown by the end of the show. You’d never thought that it would be that good. You hadn’t let go of Kappy’s hand the entire time either, you couldn’t make yourself no matter how hard you tried. Part of you felt like you were on cloud nine, the other part was terrified of leaving Kappy.

 After this, once again, everything would change. You weren’t sure if you could keep pushing him away. You could keep trying, you could keep fighting every bone your body. But chances were, you’d lose.

 “Thank you for tonight,” You finally said as the both of you walked out.

 “Wait, c’mon at least let me get you some food,” He begged, “Room service for the third night isn’t good.”

 “Don’t call me out for my eating habit. Because you’re hardly one to talk,” You argued.

 “C’mon, it can even be fast food if you want,” He offered, “I just wouldn’t feel right about dropping you off without making sure you’ve eaten.”

 “Fine, but then I’m going back to my room.”

 He smiled and grabbed your hand again before pulling you down the sidewalk. You could only assume that he knew where he was taking you, or at least you hoped he did. But something about getting lost in the city with Kappy didn’t seem so bad. It didn’t seem to matter how much you tried to hate it, you loved being with Kappy.

 The two of you walked for nearly ten minutes before he pulled you into a small café looking place. You’d never seen it before, but you could only guess that he knew about it. The both of you sat at a small table in the corner. Kappy controlled the conversation, you merely nodded and added short responses when required. Truthfully, you were trying to figure out how to handle all of this, because it suddenly felt like nothing had changed between the two of you, yet almost everything had changed.

 “Why’d you leave?” He suddenly asked.

 Panic almost instantly started setting in. You hadn’t expected him to ask you about it. You figured his ego wouldn’t let him. But you’d been oh so wrong. He wouldn’t take his eyes off of you, he was watching your every move.

 “Kappy-”

 “I deserve an explanation.”

 You tried to breathe. He was, in some ways, right. You’d left him, cut him off, without ever telling him why. But telling him why required you to relive it, and explain everything. Including the fact that you loved him with everything that you were. You’d been in love with him most of your life, how could you begin to explain that?

 “I mean, was it the sex?”

 You almost wanted to laugh, out of everything, you and Kappy had never been bad at that, “Trust me, that isn’t the problem.”

 “Then what is it? We’ve been friends since as long as I can remember,” He reminded me, “What happened to when we’d tell each other literally everything?”

 You shook your head, “I can’t tell you this Kappy.”

 You could feel your eyes starting to burn. How much longer could you stand this? You loved him, more than you ever wanted to admit, and here he was giving you the chance. But every time you thought you might finally tell him, you kept seeing all of the girls that he’d brought around recently. You kept hearing him that morning, clearly telling someone else that he loved them.

 You had to get out of there before you broke, you refused to let him see you break. That was the one thing you absolutely couldn’t do. Quickly, you stood and apologized before practically running out of the small café. You hoped he didn’t follow you, even though you knew he would. He wouldn’t let you go this time, you were somehow sure of it.

 “Please don’t run from me,” He begged, “I’ll deal with it if you want me out of your life, I’ll figure it out, but don’t run from me.”

 The lump in your throat, so big you almost couldn’t breathe, was back. Removing Kappy from your life was the last thing you wanted. The thought of it alone was enough to finally make the tears fall. Not that you wanted to try, but you couldn’t imagine your life without Kappy even if you did try.

 He gently put his hand on your shoulder, almost as if he knew you needed something, anything. Your whole body shuttered as a sob finally escaped. Next thing you knew, your body was being tucked into Kappy’s arms, your head cradled to his chest. He held you, not daring to say a word, as you cried. He rubbed your back and combed through your hair, doing his best to calm you down without words.

 “I can’t,” You kept repeating the two words over and over.

 You had to tell him. He had to at least know. Even if nothing was reciprocated, you had to tell him. Just so that you knew you did what you could. But right now, you couldn’t get any words out. You were almost afraid to try.

 Something about saying it out loud to him terrified you more than anything. At least if you didn’t tell him you could continue to try and deny that any of it happened. But the second he knew, there would be no going back.

 “I can’t help you unless you tell me, Y/N,” He finally said.

 “I can’t,” Your words were no longer weak and broken sounding.

 Your voice sounded harsh. You were trying so hard to get him to drop it, even though you knew he wouldn’t. It wasn’t in Kappy’s nature to let something be if it was bugging you this much. Yet he’d let you go without much of a fight, and here he was trying to force his way back into your life again.

 “Yes you can.”

 “No Kappy, I really can’t!”

 “Why?”

 “Because I love you!”

 And there it was. The truth you’d been trying to deny. The very words you’d tried to ensure he’d never hear you say, were out and you couldn’t take them back. Everyone on that whole street had heard them. But more importantly, Kappy had heard them.

 He was staring at you, mouth slightly agape. You couldn’t even begin to try and figure out what he was thinking, his face was completely blank, other than the sheer shock. Your whole body started shaking, you couldn’t stick around to find out what he was going to say. There was no way you could face this, even if it meant officially losing the best friend you’d ever had.

 “Just, forget it,” You mumbled before quickly walking away from him.

 You weren’t exactly sure where you were in the city, but your plan was to just get as far enough away as you could and then get a cab. Above all, you just felt the need to escape, just as you had that morning. You couldn’t look him in the eye and wait for him to tell you what you’d known all this time.

 You could only hope that he wasn’t following you as you made your way hastily down the sidewalk. All you wanted to do was kick yourself, but he just made you so mad sometimes that you had no control over what you did or said. Things just sort of had a way of flying out of your mouth before your brain had time to catch up and think it over. And for some reason, Kappy had a way of always making that worse for you. He just got under your skin sometimes, in a way that no one else could, and that was part of what made you love him in the first place.

 Maybe you should call Steph to talk you back down. Or maybe she’d tell you how stupid you were being. Which, you already knew you were being even more stupid than you’d thought possible. But this was all you knew to do. You didn’t have the strength to fight with him, so running was your only option.

 “Y/N! Stop, why do you keep running away from me?”

 You spun back around so fast it made your head spin, “Because I know how this ends! And I can’t do this with you anymore. I can’t keep forcing myself not to feel anything when I’m with you, and you made it abundantly clear that you don’t feel the same way about me. So thank you for tonight Kasperi, it was amazing. But I’m going to turn around and walk away and that’s going to be the end, because I can’t keep hurting.”

 “But you said you loved me…”

 “And you said you didn’t love me. So again, thank you for tonight, but I’m done.”

 This time he didn’t follow you, but unlike last time you almost wished he would’ve. If he’d followed you, that would’ve meant that there was some type of a chance, or at least that’s what you thought.

 But still nothing when you’d gotten to your hotel room, or even once you’d returned to Toronto. Aside from seeing him at games, which you still attended like you promised, Kappy had become like a ghost to you.

 He didn’t talk to you when he saw you, but he didn’t bring any other girls with him, which you found odd. Willy and Aus didn’t bring Kappy up in any conversations anymore, unless it couldn’t be avoided.

 Steph didn’t push you on what happened in New York, almost like she’d been told not to ask. And a month after New York, you could almost forget that all of it ever happened. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought that you’d dreamt everything. Everything from New York to you and Kappy ever being anything together.

 So you tried to get back to normal, or as normal as you could be. Something still felt like it was missing, you, of course, knew it was a blonde boy from Finland that you’d accidentally fallen in love with, but you continued to ignore that feeling. You did everything you could to not seem bothered when you were out with everyone and Kappy was there. You tried not to make things awkward for everyone else, with normally ended with one of the guys going to the bar with you and getting drunk. You did your best, that’s all you could do.

 “You know, drunkenly passing out here is starting to become a thing,” Willy pointed out.

 “To be fair, I didn’t pass out last night. We fell asleep watching The Hangover, and now I have a hangover.”

 He laughed and handed me a glass of water before sitting on the couch next to me, “You said a shit ton of things before you passed out, because you did pass out.”

 “Oh I’m sure I did say a lot. We all know I’m a chatty drunk at the end of the night.”

 “Very chatty. You called Kappy an asshole who was, apparently, a really good kisser, among other things that I never needed to hear about him from you.”

 “I’m sorry, for some reason last night I just…I don’t know, I’m sorry.”

 “C’mon, what are you thinking in that pretty little head of yours?”

 You took a deep breath and leaned back into the couch. You’d been fine, until Kappy showed up at the bar, looking better than he had in a while. Something about him, and the alcohol had you feeling some type of way and it was all you could do to stay there and not make a fool out of yourself. So you’d sat in the corner almost all night, until Mitch dragged you out so you’d be with everyone else. But by the time you and Willy stumbled back into his apartment, you were ready to break. Not that you’d expected him to, but Kappy didn’t even so much as look at you all night. You’d normally at least say hello to one another, but it was like you weren’t even there. That’s when you knew you’d lost him forever. Everything that you’d had together was gone, and there was nothing you’d ever be able to do to get it back. And it was all because of one stupid decision at the lake house.

 “I was thinking that if I could go back to that week at the lake house, I’d change everything. Everyone always talks about how great it is to fall in love with your best friend, but they never talk about how much it sucks when it doesn’t work out and you lose both.”

                                       THE END OF AUGUST

 You stood in the middle of the crowded airport waiting for him to arrive. The summer had felt longer than others, even though for the first time, you’d flow out to spend time with him and his family during the off season. You’d seen him nearly a month ago, but it felt almost like a year. This year was no doubt different than any other off season, for so many reasons.

 You bounced on your feet, unable to stay still. For some reason, you were nervous. What if things would change now that he was back for the season, would he still want to be in a relationship? Or was it just meant to be a summer fling? Neither of you had ever really discussed what you’d do once the season actually started.

But everything went away the second you caught sight of him. Your heart almost melted as you watched him search for you. The grin he got when he’d found you was enough to make your knees go weak. He pushed his way through the crowds to get to you. It was almost like there were magnates pulling you to one another. And maybe there always had been, because it seemed like no matter how hard you tried to stay away from each other, you always came back.

 You wanted to cry the second his arms were around you, holding you so tightly to him it almost hurt. The only thing you could think about was all the events of the previous year that brought you to this point. Every horrible thing that made this possible. Nothing about any of it ever really made sense to you, but you’d never question it now. Not when you had this.

 “I missed you.”

 “I missed you more,” You replied.

 “So, lake house?”

 “I ditched the boys to come get you, so they’re all waiting for us. Morgan said he’d make sure they didn’t burn the place down, or break the boat.”

 “How many came this year?”

 “More than last year, Moore decided he wanted to come, Morgan, and everyone that normally comes, Freddie showed up too which I didn’t expect. So, you might have to share a room with me.”

 “Oh I think I can deal with that.”

 “Are you sure? Because I know you’d love to share with Mitchy.”

 “Trust me, I’d much rather wake up to you.”

 He leaned down to kiss you softly. Nothing like what you actually wanted from him, but you’d take what you could get. The boys weren’t likely to leave the two of you alone. By the end of the week you’d probably feel like a teenager having to steal kisses behind closed doors, but not take too long or else they’d come find you.

 “I love you,” He whispered to you.

 “Mmm, say that again?”

“I love you Y/N, always have,” You didn’t have to open your eyes, you could hear his smile.

 “I love you too.”

 He didn’t let go of you as you walked back to your car. He held your hand the whole way, kissed you at stoplights, and constantly made you want to melt.  He caught you up on everything that happened after you left, and passed on hellos from his family.

 “I miss your sisters, and your brother,” You sighed.

 “They won’t shut up about you, so I think the feeling is mutual,” he laughed.

 You were regretting having to pull into the driveway a few hours later. You almost wanted to turn around and drive in circles for a while, but if you did the other guys would definitely start wondering where you two went.

 He sighed as you parked and turned the car of, “Can’t we just stay out here for a bit?”

 “You know they’d come out here the second they noticed the car. But, tomorrow we can try and escape on the boat for a bit.”

 You helped him with his bags and tried to prepare yourself for the chaos that would ensue the second both of you walked through the doors. It was bad enough when you’d started hanging out more, but you hadn’t been around everyone since you’d started dating. Not that it was that big of a deal, but all of the boys liked to poke fun.

 “There you are! We were starting to worry,” Mitch yelled from the kitchen.

 “Sorry, the traffic was bad.”

 “Liar, you just took the long way,” Auston called you out.

 Your cheeks heated up, you hadn’t expected to be busted so fast. Nor had you expected Auston to be the one to call you out. After a quick dinner, all of you headed out back for the annual bonfire.

 You all talked about this season and what everyone hoped to accomplish, but you mostly just caught up after a long summer apart. These guys had become your family long before you were officially dating one of them.

 There were a few tipsy singalongs to random country songs that came up on whichever playlist the boys picked out. But mostly, it just felt like a family reunion, because that’s more or less what this week had always been about.

 “When are you two going to stop being so gross?” Trevor asked you two.

 “Probably never, it took me six years to finally get her. I don’t plan on letting her go.”

 “Just take care of her man, don’t do anything stupid, she’s a good one,” The blonde across from us warned.

 “Don’t worry, I don’t plan on messing this up, Willy.”

 “Kap?”

 “Hm?” He looked back down at you, eyes twinkling in the firelight.

 “I love you.”

 He smiled and kissed the top of your head, “I love you more.”

 One of the guys threw a pillow at Kappy, hitting him in the head. He quickly jumped up and ran to attack Mitch, who seemed to have thrown the pillow. Somehow it turned into most of the guys wrestling each other, and clobbering each other with the pillows that were left. You smiled as you watched Kappy.

 Had it not been for him showing up at your apartment not long after that night, none of this would’ve been happening. You’d begged him to leave that day, tried to tell him that there was no point, but then he repeated the very sentence that he’d said that morning, and you could finally make out the name that followed it. You weren’t sure what it was, only that it was Finnish. He sat you down and explained that it was a pet name of sorts, the very one that his family used when he was talking about you. He assured you over and over again that he loved you, and that the only reason that he didn’t fight for you was because he’d thought it was what you really wanted.

 He had been convinced that you really didn’t want him to be a part of his life. So the whole thing in New York had been a last attempt to win you back, and when it failed he swore he wouldn’t try again. But then William called him and told him that he needed to talk to you and at least explain what happened. You didn’t trust him right off the bat, you made him work for it. But eventually, you couldn’t help but fall back into step with him.

 No matter what, you couldn’t help but love him. And you were finally okay with that.

[artificialqueens]

living ultralife (Branjie) - Holzmanns

A/N: This fic uses male pronouns for Brooke and female pronouns for Vanessa for ease of reading more than anything else, though it is still a M/M fic. Thank you all so, so much for feedback on my last fic, I appreciate it more than you know.

6:03 pm | Jose: Get your ass over here!!

6:04 pm | Brock: Miss me already? It’s only been two weeks.

6:05 pm | Jose: Shut up, you miss me too. And it’s two weeks too long lol

6:05 pm | Brock: You’re not wrong about that.

6:06 pm | Jose: Which one??

6:07 pm | Brock: Both. Wednesday can’t come fast enough.

Brooke smiles at his phone, before placing it down gently on the table. He grabs his lash glue to put the final touches on his makeup. He’s ready almost an hour before his call time for the Saturday night gig, discipline from years of ballet touring rendering him unable to leave preparations to the last minute.

The local queens bustle around him in the communal dressing room in various states of undress, tugging on pairs upon pairs of tights and bantering over his head with one another. They’re all friendly enough to him - they are in every bar - but he knows that most of them are regarding him with a wary eye. He can’t blame them; he used to be one of them too – watching the RuGirls swoop in for gigs and electrify the crowd while wondering how on earth they made the cut for the show, what they had that he hadn’t.

He’s reached the goal that he’s been striving for for the past four years after auditioning over and over again, finally hearing “Congratulations, you’re on season 11” over a crackly phone call from a producer who probably knew exactly how much he just changed his life. Brooke is now one of the so-called lucky ones who fly around the country for gigs in every city and town, living out of a suitcase and catching up on sleep in airport departure lounges. Brooke’s grateful: aware of his luck and the novelty of people knowing his name before he even has to introduce himself. How his career opportunities have skyrocketed.

The nomadic lifestyle, however, leaves things to be desired. He misses his cats. They’re safe; he’s lucky to have friends in Nashville with no hesitation about taking them in while he’s away, but he misses their purring when he’d wake up in the mornings and the way they’d always try to grab a bite of his food.

Brooke also misses Vanessa.

It had been nice, after filming was over. They had felt like they had all the time in the world, with no cameras being shoved in their faces and no wayward producers dragging them over to film confessionals about the other. The months had been filled with visits upon visits to LA, Vanessa coming to Nashville (he showed her all of his favourite things in the city and introduced her to all of his favourite people and she truly, truly became a part of him), and a trip to Toronto where he showed her a past that not many others had been privy to.

The cast announcement had changed things. His Instagram followers shot up at the speed of light, his manager suddenly juggling requests for interviews and bookings across the country. It’s why they decided to take a break, knowing that they wouldn’t be able to keep their relationship the way it had been over the past, blissful six months after filming.

Vanessa is used to the grind from the previous season, after all, but it’s new for Brooke. It would only be wise to focus on their careers when the window of opportunity was the biggest as their season aired. Or at least, that’s what they had told themselves a few months prior. It didn’t last.

They had both pined for longer than either of them wanted to admit, avoiding talking about their feelings and how much they missed each other. And then he had gotten a drunken FaceTime call from Vanessa, punctuated with I’m sorry and can we please try again p l e a s e (the only parts he still remembers from the conversation, his heart had been beating too loud to hear the rest) and everything had changed.

It has been okay so far, pretty much how Brooke had expected it to be. He misses her just the same as he did when they took a break, still feels her absence and a tug in his chest every time he thinks about her, but now he can talk to her again. They’re not absurdly avoiding each other in the way that they had started to when neither of them wanted to say how they felt about the situation.

His phone dings with another message from Vanessa, a mirror selfie before she begins to paint for her own gig later in the evening. Brooke can’t help the smile on his face as he sends her a string of emojis in reply (something he never used to use in his texts before her).

Vanessa is one time zone and two flights away from Brooke, in LA for a week while he’s in Edmonton. Or is it Calgary? The cities are already beginning to blend together for him, despite touring only for a few months.                                           

He hosted the viewing party at Roscoe’s stone cold sober a few days prior so that he could hold things back and be intentionally vague – unlike drunk him, who spilled too much information at all the wrong times. He told the crowd that he wasn’t going to see her for a few weeks, which isn’t quite a lie. He really is going to see her in three weeks – except, he’s also going to see her way before that, too.

Brooke has a flight booked for Nashville the next day, to decompress for a few days at home and to switch out both boy and drag outfits before travelling again. His plan after that is to fly to LA on Wednesday for a gig, and more importantly to see her. He’s been counting down the days (now four to go) until LA for the last week and wonders why on earth he’s planned on stopping in Nashville in the first place.

The idea comes to him as he’s gluing down his lace. Why does he have to stop in Nashville?

He texts Courtney, his part-time assistant and full-time friend, to ask if there was maybe, possibly, some way he could switch his flight. He braces for her reply.

She calls him back in a matter of seconds. “You want to what?!”

“I know, I know! It’s last minute-“

“Yeah, no shit-“

“I just have some things to do in LA, that’s all.”

Brooke can hear Courtney’s snort on the other end of the line. “Oh, I know exactly what you want to do. Or who.”

“Shut up.” He hangs up the phone grinning, knowing that despite her teasing she’ll try to work something out.

The rational part of his brain is wondering about flight ticket cancellation fees, ungodly layovers, and being stuck with his current clothes for another few weeks, but the rambling thoughts are being overshadowed by the idea of seeing Vanessa earlier than planned. Should he surprise her? Should he call her now? God, he’s tempted, he wants to hear her reaction to the idea right this second.

He decides against it. He’d rather see that reaction in person.

Courtney pulls through as she always does, cancelling his Nashville ticket and instead managing to book him on a flight to LA for early Sunday morning by the time his gig is over for the night.

“You have to head to the airport in three hours,” she says. “You won’t get any sleep but it was the only one with seats still available. You’re welcome.”

Brooke is practically giddy when going through the security lines, despite the early hour and disgruntled travellers around him. He sends Vanessa a good morning text as he boards, knowing she won’t read it until she wakes up in another few hours, but wanting to message her before he’s in the air nonetheless.

Brooke is used to plane rides. He takes Xanax for the long ones, and sleeps or watches Netflix for the rest. His current three and a half hour journey to LA, while shorter and spread over two flights, feels endless in comparison. His leg bounces up and down and he’s drawn a glare from his seatmate once already.

The Uber from the airport to Vanessa’s place feels just as long. The LA traffic makes him feel as if he could walk through the gridlock and still get there faster. The lack of sleep is catching up to him and his head falls slack against the car window more than once.

His exhaustion fades when he finally, finally reaches her apartment. The Uber driver is nice, taking pity on Brooke and helping him bring his suitcases to the building’s elevator. He lugs his bags to Vanessa’s front door on his own, and has to catch his breath ever so slightly before knocking.

“Coming, coming!”

Brooke can hear her gravelly voice on the other side getting closer, and he is unable to suppress his grin when it is followed by the sound of tripping and a slight oof.   

“Damn I need to clean, now who the fuck is knocking so early on a Sunday-“

The door swings open and he’s face to face with Vanessa, whose bleary eyes size him up and take a second to register-

“What are you doing here!” Her hug is crushing his ribs and he doesn’t care, he’s here and she’s here and in his arms and all the travelling was worth it. “I’m so happy, what the hell Brock, come here.“

She pulls him down for a kiss, one that doesn’t last long because their grins get in the way. When they pull back Vanessa’s eyes are sparkling and she runs her hands over his arms, his chest, his cheek, his hair, like she can’t believe that he’s standing in front of her. In all honesty, neither can he.

“Surprise?” Brooke offers, and Vanessa cracks up, pulling him in for another hug. He swears that he hears a contented sigh when he kisses the top of her head.

“What happened to stopping in Nashville for a few days?”

The hug and his jacket muffle her voice. He shrugs, as much as he can in their current position.

“I couldn’t wait until Wednesday.”

It’s the truth. How could he when they both have days off? All time that he can spend with her. He feels like he’d be able to be in her company forever and not tire of it, never wanting to stop hearing her laugh and ramblings and everything else that comes out of her mouth. He doesn’t ever want to stop being able to pull her close and hug her and kiss her, being able to relish in the feeling of how perfectly they fit together.

After all, he’s tried once. They’ve tried once. It didn’t work. He never wants to try it again.

“You look beat,” she says when she looks up at him, her own sleepy eyes roaming over his face.

Brooke can feel the exhaustion of the journey starting to hit his system now that he’s made it, now that he’s with her.

“My flight was at five.”

She shakes her head incredulously. “When did you plan this?”

“…Last night.”

“You’re absolutely batshit, you know that? I love it.” Vanessa reaches on her tiptoes to place a kiss on his cheek when he protests that statement, then tugs on his hand. “C’mon.”

She helps him bring his suitcases inside. Brooke closes the door, then tilts her face up with two fingers under her chin. His lips are on hers and his heart is going to burst. He feels like he’s home and it’s like he never left, like he has forever to go with her.

Vanessa tugs the jacket off of Brooke’s shoulders, leaving it on top of the pile of suitcases. She grabs his hand and pulls him to her room, which is now becoming as familiar to him as his own. He has a nook for his clothes in her closet, a toothbrush by the sink and he never thought that he’d have this, that he’d want this but it feels so right and perfect. She’s right and perfect.

She goes to her dresser and tosses him a pair of shorts that he gratefully changes into (why did he wear jeans for his flight this morning?), and he tugs off his shirt for good measure. It’s still early in the morning, and by her stifled yawn he can tell that she’s on the same wavelength as he is. Everything else can wait.

Vanessa pulls him to the bed, and he climbs under the covers on his side (he has a side, he’s never had a side in someone’s bed before her) like it’s second nature. She curls into him as easy as breathing, her warm body pressing into his and making him feel like he’s defrosting on the inside. Her head rests against his chest and his arms wrap around her, as if letting go of her means that he won’t be here anymore.

Her fingers tracing up his sides and the lingering smell of her cologne help to ground him, to remind him that he is really here.

“I missed you.” It’s a whisper. She’s quiet when she’s feeling soft and sentimental, something he’s grown to understand.

He holds her impossibly tighter. “I missed you, too.”

Brooke doesn’t know if Vanessa has heard him. Her breathing is already beginning to slow down and her fingers are stilling as she drifts off. He doesn’t mind. They have days in front of them, and he can tell it to her as many times as she wants to hear it. And that she’s truly a part of him now, in his veins and his mind all the time and there’s no way that he can get her out. Not that he ever wants to.

He’s criss-crossed the continent over the last few months, travelled from city to city. As he lies in bed with Vanessa and feels the rise and fall of her chest as his own body succumbs to sleep, he discovers that he’s already found his favourite place in the world – and it’s with her.

[ask-jungshook]

Can I repost your art on Twitter? (W credit)

// Hi there guys! Gonna be kinda blunt with this (so sorry if it comes off as kinda rude, it not my intention at all lol)

I’m sorry, but the short answer is no.

I’ve been like super tentative about posting a reply to this because it can be a touchy subject to some, but either way, I have to respond – please just keep in mind that this is my own person stance on the matter.

As stated in my FAQ, I do not allow for my art to be reposted or edited without my permission on any social media other than my own. (The only place where I post up my stuff is this blog, my artblog, and occasionally my personal IG & twitter– the latter two are really rare though) I mean I’m OK if you use it for your own personal use like phone bgs, but only to that extent. And I just try to stress with everyone PLEASE RESPECT an artist’s decision on how they want their art handled.

If it helps, I can explain a bit on why that’s my stance on my artwork right now. I ran into issues in the past with people reposting my art without my permission and without credit (someone even posted their own watermark on top of one of my pieces lol) and some even had the audacity to call me a variety of colorful names when I asked nicely for them to take it down since my social media pages clearly state that I do not allow repostings of any of my works. (To give you context, I asked them nicely if they could take down the picture, then when they didn’t respond, I simply filed a DMC claim stating my violation of a copyright, they got salty and then started slandering me once their post got taken down because I was the ‘bad guy’– real mature stuff guys lol)

That event actually made me stop drawing for awhile because of how negatively it affected me (and honestly it made me stop drawing anything for kpop because of how nasty some fans can be – which is ironic because the fanart didn’t belong to them in the first place?? like why would you attack the original artist for just trying to protect their own work????) But thankfully the BTS community has been a delight to be a part of, so I’ve been slowly recovering from that mishap– seriously tho, bless you guys

I’ve also seen a lot of artists that I admire post similar posts to this regarding their stances on their art and I just want to paraphrase one of the things that I read that was written by one of them (the username escapes me rn im sorry, but I really liked how they phrased it): Every time an artist posts something, there’s always a risk involved. We trust our viewers to respect our decision about how we want our works handled, but once that trust is broken it’s really hard to regain it back. Please remember, we are also human, we have our breaking points. So please do not be that last straw that breaks the artist.

Right now, for me at least, I’m like slowly working out my insecurities over this topic with this blog and slowly once again starting to re-share my art online. It’s not really that much of a publicity/recognition thing for me, it more about what my pieces mean to me emotionally so any misuse of my art feels like an attack on part of me? Not sure if that makes sense, but that’s the best way I can explain about what my art means to me.

And if you’re one of those people who are like ‘no, I post what I want idc’, you have to put yourself in the artist’s shoes.

Like I don’t do art as a living, but a lot of other artists out there do. So let’s say you spend X amount of hours working on a piece that you think looks pretty dang nice and that you’re potentially looking to sell as a print or something. You post it on social media to show your friends and followers, only to have it taken and REPOSTED by someone else and the only credit towards you being “ctto” (which I learned meant ‘credit to the owner’). How do you think that makes the artist feel? (This also create a chain reaction of people reposting that repost and all goes to hell especially in this digital era since shady people can start selling art they stole as their own, but that’s a completely different topic)

It’s honestly can be really discouraging as an artist because it turns from a ‘I’m really proud of this piece that i drew’ to a ‘why is someone else claiming/taking my work’ which can lead to ‘I never want to share my art again’.

Some artists may put larger watermarks on their pieces to counteract that, while others may just delete their blog and all of their works completely. But it honestly sucks the most for artists who do sell their work as a living, because they can’t take down anything because it’s literally their job. Instead they have to worry that every time they post something up– will it get stolen by someone else? Things like this can potentially mess up the way they want to promote their works. (Or worse, impact their sales if someone steals it completely– but once again, art theft is a completely different topic haha)

So I’m sorry if I sound ‘selfish’ about my stance, at the end of the day it’s a mental battle between me and my conscious. Right now, I’m not comfortable with having my things reposted or edited (even if you offer to credit me– thank you for asking me first btw!), but maybe that will change in the future. I just ask for you guys to respect my wishes because while I think I’m at a pretty good place emotionally, if the wrong buttons are pressed, it doesn’t take much for me to go back into full seclusion mode.

However, if you really want to share my work, please just share a link to my tumblr instead of my actual pieces, I would be very appreciative if you did that instead. Hope that makes some sort of sense, & I hope you understand that it’s nothing personal against you guys. I really do appreciate all of my followers, but I also need to think of myself and my mentality first. 

Thanks for reading

[backstorywithdanalewis]

The Yorkshire Ripper Back Story podcast link here -  https://www.buzzsprout.com/1016881/6357289

Speaker 1: (00:00) [inaudible]. Yes. Dana Lewis / Host : (00:19) Hi everyone. And welcome to backstory. I'm Dana Lewis in 1980, I was a crime reporter in Toronto, in England. A chilling frightening story was unfolding. A man who was stalking and killing women dubbed the Yorkshire ripper. That's where he was lurking Yorkshire, England in towns, Lake Bradford, Sheffield Lee. He killed 13 women and attempted to murder seven more. He was eventually caught his name, Peter Sutcliffe. And this week Sutcliffe serving 20 concurrent sentences for life. Imprisonment died from COVID-19. In 1980, I told my boss his name was Robert holiday. Let me go and cover the murders. I paid my airfare and hotels and told the news director, if you like the story, I bring back, just pay my airfare. And that's what happened on my vacation time. This is the story I did way back then in the end, the story I prepared for a national radio show called Sunday, Sunday aired just as Peter Sutcliffe was caught and his terrible murder spree came to an end. I got my story and 600 bucks for the air ticket. I was only 20. This is what I sounded like. And that's the way it was. Hell of a crime story. Speaker 1: (01:39) [inaudible] yes, I won't say when, but yes, we will catch him. It's got a nice background to support. So when you can't live on 23 pound a week with two kids, sorry, it's not possible. So you're willing to take the chance of the ripper in order to feed your family into social skills. Well, I did come up the stock Hill girls, innocent girls as well. He come up from the other channels. You could be Jack. I could be Jack the ripper it's as difficult as that from ABC news. I'm Bob Windsor, British police might have caught up with a murderer called the Yorkshire ripper. I was terrorized Northern England for five years by killing 13 women police in West Yorkshire arrested two days ago about the murder Pharaoh. The feeling Speaker 3: (03:00) Is that, um, it is most likely on the time that they spend in the red. So they thought the beginning of a new one, which would be well or a new red is, um, now discovering. Um, how and why and who Dana Lewis / Host : (03:13) West Yorkshire police think they know who they have charged. 35 year old truck driver, Peter Sutcliffe with murder number 13. He has been remanded in custody until tomorrow. There are many clues as to how the murders were committed. There are few that indicate why friends and neighbors of Sutcliffe say he was a quiet man. They are surprised. That's the thing about your church. Friends and neighbors are easy to come by. It's a large area, but it has that small town atmosphere, Yorkshire views itself as a nation. It was the largest County in England until it was quartered in 1974. It's towns folk have produced textiles since the 18th century and that unmistakable scent of black coal fills the air. Although the rolling countryside could be sold in a travel magazine, the towns and cities of the area are bleak and gray. The people hardworking and conservative. The Yorkshire ripper has left the area in shock. Speaker 5: (04:15) The first victim that we attributed to them on this now locally known as the AKI Rippa was in fact, Anna Rogowski. She was a 37 year old woman who was walking through the streets in the early hours of the face of July, 1975. She was walking through the streets of Keithley when she was, um, struck about the head, attacked with a number of blows and left unconscious. Dana Lewis / Host : (04:37) The ripper began his spree of killings in the town of Leeds, October 30th, 1975, 28 year old Wilma McCann was struck over the head and stabbed savagely. The ripper was born and the stage set for Britain's worst mass murderer. During the next five years of the ripper would allude Britain's best detectives. It would attack 17 girls in total leaving 13 dead for police superintendent, Frank Mort. It was the largest investigation he would ever be involved in. I had come to you five years ago and suggested that, uh, a killer as bold, as vicious as this could elude you for so much time. Would you believe me? Speaker 5: (05:15) No, I don't think I would. Um, if you would have said to me that yes, we might have a mass murderer. Yes, I would have believed that. But if you would have tone, tried to suggest to me that a murderer could have, in fact, committed 13 violent and vicious attacks and left solidly behind that I would have found difficult to accept. Um, but events have proved. In fact, that we have a man who is capable of doing that, Dana Lewis / Host : (05:38) He seems to be able to lead these women away. Does he not, or at least approach them without causing them to run? Speaker 5: (05:44) Yeah, that's, that's one version that you could could attach to it. The other one, and the one that I prefer to think is probably the, the way he operates is not necessarily to pursue them for long distances, but maybe to stand in some secluded shop doorway or some secluded yard entry. Um, and when the woman passes email, you need to perhaps take one or two steps to strike the blow. Uh, so far as the prostitute was concerned, yester, I think it's fairly clear that, uh, he would pick the woman OPA as a normal customer would pick up a prostitute and drive to a secluded area, which either he or she nominated and committed the crime, uh, was this one. He would pick the area and wait for the girl to come into that area. I, in the past of like an M a little bit to the spider who picks his area, and then he sits quiet and waits. And when the fly comes by he'll snap, and I think the same principle applies here. He will pick it out here and he will wait until those circumstances are exactly right. And the girl comes along and then he will attack. And if the circumstances are not right, then that girl continued on her way. Speaker 5: (06:54) We're now into the 20th of January, 1976, when bucking leads the body of Emily Jackson, the 42 Ariel prostitute was found. She had been stabbed and beaten about the head many, many times. That was the first real indication perhaps that we had, um, a one-man killer and all one monitor attack, a woman that was working in a number of areas of the country. Speaker 1: (07:18) [inaudible] Dana Lewis / Host : (07:24) Besides a cassette tape, three letters were also sent to assistant chief, Constable George Oldfield from a man. Police believed was the ripper, the material criticized old field. Then in charge of the man hunt and his team of detectives. Speaker 1: (07:39) I can't see any sharp pain. Nick, just checking for fingerprints. You shouldn't know, by now it's painted in with some . Dana Lewis / Host : (08:03) The cassette tape gave the case a new mystery. It was dramatic. Some say spine chilling and investigator search for its author. Loudspeakers played at a gain and a gain from town to town in the hope someone would recognize the man behind the voice, the tapes and letters to police. What sort of a man does that? Speaker 6: (08:25) I think it's the kind of man who fits in with my hypothesis of him being a psychopath. It was fascinating to me too, to watch how it unfolded really how there seemed to be developing a battle of wits between mr Oldfield and this murderer to such an extent that he felt emboldened enough to send a tape and a letter now to digress for a minute. I think that was a mistake. Dana Lewis / Host : (08:50) Dr. Steven Shaw was one of several psychologists called into assist in ripper hunt in 1973, his work with the criminally insane expensive. Speaker 6: (09:00) So these are mistakes and a psychopath does make his mistakes and he doesn't learn from them, but he cannot resist the impulse. And that was another of my features cannot resist the impulse to have a battle of wits with mr. Oldfield. So has to taunt him has to send the tapes to say, I've got the respect for you, mr. Oldfield, but your boys are not much good. I am better than the whole of the West Yorkshire police, as it were almost crowing over them, challenging them to, Dana Lewis / Host : (09:28) It appears the Yorkshire police department has finally met that challenge and beaten the ripper at his game. There is a second half to this story besides the police and the ripper. There are the people of that area. There's is the real story in this tale. Speaker 5: (09:48) The ripper, in fact, didn't strike again for another 381 days. And then on the 5th of April, 1977, um, Irene Richardson, she was killed in Leeds and that's when the local media first started using the title, the ripper. Um, it didn't stop him killing. However, because he moved into Bradford and on the 23rd of April, 1977, Patricia Atkinson, um, she was killed 63 days later, he came back to leads and on the 26th of June, he killed a young 16 year old girl Jane McDonald. And this was the first of the women who were not in fact, a prostitute or a lawnmower Dana Lewis / Host : (10:28) As the ripper taunted, and played his deadly game with the people of Yorkshire. The area changed drastically, Oh no, not the buildings or landscape, but as residence in daytime hours, conversations were filled with tales of the ripper, who we might be, what he was doing. And when he might do it again at night, a terrified County locked its doors and fear cab drivers could see the change. Speaker 7: (10:53) It takes David like the suit to Lee's chapel town, or used to be not similar to, since the, um, since the murders, the, uh, the girls have tended to move out of laser just to cherries. Is that fair? Dana Lewis / Host : (11:05) Garth? What would I have found a five years ago? If you would've been driving me through this area Speaker 7: (11:11) Five years, you have found a lot, lots of activity. Basically. You see it, you would have seen the girls on the street corners, the punch of cars, driving around the streets, looking for the girls, basically just bunch of activity, which you don't see in alleys. It's just practically deserted. Since I've been taxing, I've met a good living out of it, but now I'm just barely making living. It's just so quiet. It's really, Dana Lewis / Host : (11:42) The red light areas were so quiet. It took me four days to find any prostitutes with the courage to work the area. When I did find them, it was under a street lamp and a broken down of the rippers, hometown Speaker 1: (11:54) Of Bradford there. The girls worked in pairs or not at all finished what's happened. There's no claims anymore. It's dead. Just pure, please. Just a lot of police. Are they giving you a hard time? Not really. They're just everywhere all the time. So a lot of the guys not coming around and there's no, no. Don't you get a little scared though. Yeah, but I don't work alone. I work with her two girls, whoever gets the client, you know, if they don't want, until they're the ones still goes, most girls now work away. Our town, wherever they gun London, pick towns, knowledge, London, Scotland, Ireland. Even because of the river. They were. Yeah. Yeah. Not just because they were afraid that because there's no money there anymore. Well, why don't the customers come up though? Is it because the police had given him a haircut? The police like do spot checks a lot and it's very, and when they've got family or police, aren't discreet about it, they just go knock on door and say in front of the wife, they'd been on pink, red light, or they'd been seen it's like, it used to be a spot check. Speaker 1: (13:02) And every car that came up here, it got checked out thoroughly. And to do that, they used to go to clients' homes, even the works and see the money driven state for the wives. So I'm not sure they can't afford that. Started scouting or sort of just stopped coming through that as well. It's dead. It is quiet. And it's like this every night now it's been like this past few weeks. The main thing is if you're a prostitute, wherever you go, this place, it's because there's no money. And what she was getting locked up for nothing. That's why they're going away. They're still getting locked up somewhere, but at least their own in the moment. Yeah. Well, how do you, how do you girls feel about the police? All right. Are you mad at them for doing well? They're doing the Japanese. So they try and protect us only for police on a red light area, rip a beer outside. Speaker 1: (13:50) That's the way I think that's the reason he's turned to straight people because he knows now not to come up cause he's gone and get spot checks or whatever it is. There's too many police now. So he's turned into straight people to do them. Yeah. Do you think about the river when you're standing out here at night? It's always a, it's always that because we know lots of the people. Not only have people been killed in your community, not only are girls really scared to go out on the streets at night, but when a girl, a prostitute, you know, well, just, just not someone you work with a friend of yours, it happens to her. Doesn't that make you want to quit? It does. Yeah, but you can't quit. I couldn't quit. Look at it this way. Right? All laws is one parent families. She has two kids. I have two. She's got three. Yeah. We don't have no fellow behind doors. Normally sports, as we've got, as renters, food is closed. Then you get all 23% of social security a week. I'm can you live? You can't live. So you're willing to take the routes. Well, you have to do, it's not a much a willing to take it as a matter of live in it's a mantra that you have taken that risk for your kids to start when going get put into care. Speaker 5: (14:59) And then there was another, and in fact, the longest gap of all, he went 441 days before he moved back to leaves and the latest victim Jacqueline Hill, and she was killed on the evening of the 17th of November, 1980. And again, she was beaten about the head Dana Lewis / Host : (15:15) From the Bradford red light district to elite pump. The feeling was the same. No one could escape the grip of the ripper like this man, all wondered if at one time or another, they had looked the killer right in the ear. Speaker 1: (15:28) They  tool to each other about it because you may be talking to the ripper. That's the feeling then it, sorry. Many people have said though, that this is the feeling around here. And in fact, in the whole of Bradford, you mean people are so scared that they're looking at anyone they talk to. And wondering if he's the ribbon. Dana Lewis / Host : (15:49) By the time I arrived in Yorkshire to gather this story, 13 murders had been recorded. Towns. People were awaiting. The next one, the families and relatives of the victims were tired, broken, and would not talk to reporters. But given the chance by the BBC to talk directly to the ripper, they took it. Mrs. Irene MacDonald, her daughter was murdered in 1977. Speaker 1: (16:13) It was a beast with no feelings. And you're a coward. Why do you come up with stock? Young girls, innocent girls as well. You'd come up from behind them, the door, other chance. You're not a man. You're a beast. And I heard too. And I believe all the population and leads and everywhere too. I wonder who you think you are. Do download. Think y'all God or something. God give life. God take us away. Not you. I think you are the devil itself. Dana Lewis / Host : (16:51) Mrs. Patricia Brandenburg, her niece was murdered in 1977. Speaker 1: (16:56) Jane was a beautiful girl. You took life from her. You destroyed a family in one way or another. A father just deteriorated. You're nuts. So mad. He despicable. I despise you intensely. Every living person curses you, you can't even dig a hole for yourself because people would come and find you and drag you out. Dana Lewis / Host : (17:18) Mr. Harry smelled, his wife was attacked in 1975 Speaker 5: (17:22) Of all the women you've killed. I think if you were to take a census of them all, I think given the opportunity to do, as you wish with them, I think they would rate you pretty low sexually. I think that's what it's all about. You you're proving. You're a man by killing them. Most men don't have to kill a women to prove that they're a man. Let's talk about real crimes, organizing bank robberies and on. And I think you will be really a non runner. It tends to be women and it has to be Dana Lewis / Host : (17:55) Behind mr. Hayden, highly. His daughter was murdered in 1979. Speaker 5: (18:00) You are the lowest of the low. You did mention, uh, believers in your tape to the police that you want it to be mentioned in the Guinness book of records. I'll go along with that, you should be classed as the biggest coward the world has ever known. That's in the Guinness book of records, Dana Lewis / Host : (18:23) Mrs. Barrel leech, her daughter murdered in 1979. Speaker 5: (18:28) Look over your shoulder. You hit him from behind. The number is tango uniform. Mike nine eight, three Romeo, probably three ways that the murder could be brought to justice. Number one is it could be some super detective, um, as a blinding flash of genius as a result of which the man is arrested. Yeah. That's possibility. Number one, possibility. Number two is that the grind, the day-to-day slug, uh, will bring results because of the painstaking tedious, very involved and very detailed inquiries. There is also the third way, and that is that some policeman, uh, doing some duty, totally unconnected with the ripper inquiry will. In fact, what round the corner and walk straight into the Manor. Dana Lewis / Host : (19:29) Superintendent. Frank Moritz predictions given to me several weeks ago. We're not that far off 35 year old Peter Sutcliffe was arrested. Nine days ago, two constables on routine patrol. And the red light district of Sheffield stopped a car driven by Sutcliffe in his company. A lady of the night, the license plates were checked and found to be stolen. One thing led to another and by the beginning of the week, it was announced the truck driver would stand trial for the murder of the rippers 13th victim. After interviewing over 200,000 people searching 30,000 homes at a cost of $10 million. The 500 man ripper squad has disbanded. The people of your chair will not return to the norm quite so easily. This is Dana Lewis. Eventually those tapes, the police played from town to town were proven to be fake. It wasn't Sutcliffe, but it did distract the police from catching the real killer for a while. How was Sutcliffe finally caught the two policemen who stopped him on a routine check? One of them felt suspicious when the man has to relieve himself. The officer went around to the scene later and found that Sutcliffe had dropped a hammer and knife on the ground. And that was the end of the Yorkshire ripper string of murders Dana Lewis / Host : (20:48) This week, victims of his attempted murders and families of those who were killed, spoke out to say they won't shed a tear for Sutcliffe's passing, but his death brings about closure to a bloody and terrifying period in Yorkshire. I'm Dana Lewis. Thanks for listening to backstory. Please subscribe to the best international news podcast and share our link. Take care. And I'll talk to you again soon. 

[hockeyytrash]

Alaska - Chapter Eighteen

-2550 words-

You know what sucks? Getting your period on vacation while stuck with the person who, at the moment, can't do anything without pissing you off. It doesn't help that your perfectly timed menstrual cycle causes you to have wicked mood swings that can turn you from jolly green giant to the spawn of satan.

Who is this especially annoying person, you may ask? I think you know the answer to that.

Auston and I are currently sitting on the edge of the pier, waiting for everyone to get done in the bathroom. I decided against going because of the hell-length line. Unfortunately, Auston was thinking the same thing. And so here we sit, a few silent feet apart, staring off at random things to occupy the time.

My eyes glaze over the rolling sea and waves crashing onto the shore just below the pier, soaking in all of its sandy salt water glory. A strong breeze continues blowing from my right, breaking me from my trance and forcing me to frantically brush numerous blonde hairs off my face.

After a minute or so of trying and failing to keep my hair out of my face, I drift back into my thoughts and imagination, this time, looking at the brown-haired boy across from me. He was staring at his phone, completely absorbed in something as his fingers fly across the screen. I lazily gaze at him for a moment before snatching his hat and placing it on my head. This yanks his attention away from his iPhone and directs it to me. He furrows his eyebrows then smirks.

I adjust the hat on my head, making it fit more comfortably and effectively keeping my hair from blowing out to sea. A satisfied grin spreads across my face as I rest my back against the light pole behind me. Auston chuckles, keeping his brown eyes on me. My cheeks heat up despite my best efforts and I give him a quizzical look.

"Why are you laughing?" I ask in a somewhat snippy tone. He raises an eyebrow at my sass before smirking once again, thoroughly making me squirm inside. I throw him another questioning look to show that I'm still waiting for an answer.

"You look good in my hat," he says through his smirk. I narrow my eyes at him, questioning the validity of his statement, but turning up no evidence to support either side of the argument. My cheeks remain steadily tinted pink from his words.

"I'm serious, Matthews. What are you laughing at?" I try again. Auston throws his hands up in protest as mine cross in front of my chest.

"I'm serious too," he says, scanning over my whole appearance. Does he have to do that? I shift uncomfortably under his gaze, suddenly concerned about slouching and looking bad.

"Okay," I reply in the most unconvincing tone. He rolls his eyes and pulls out his phone. I continue staring at him until I hear the sound of a picture being taken and the mumble of something being blurry. My eyes widen and then narrow at the boy in front of me.

"That better have been of you," I say seriously. He shrugs his shoulders and aims to take another picture. This time, I tilt the hat down and put my hands up so my face isn't in the picture. The sound of another camera shutter goes off just as Steph's boisterous voice becomes audible.

Auston taps away at his phone then slides it into his pocket, sending me a smirk. I shoot him a brief inquiring look before turning my attention to Steph and Carly who were bounding towards us. They immediately launch into a story about some lady in the bathroom as my phone vibrates in my pocket.

A notification from Instagram appears on my screen as I unlock my phone without reading the whole thing. The app opens, revealing a picture of me on Auston's account.

@austonmatthews: see, you look good in my hat

Tagged: @alaskamay

Location: Santa Monica Pier

40,283 likes | 539 comments

@marner_93: I go to pee for 3 minutes and y'all are dating?

@carlyyvalentine: when did this happen

@stephlachancee: wait hold up

@alaskamay: I didn't give you permission to post this

@williamnylander: well shit

@austonmatthews: @alaskamay since when did I need permission to take pics of pretty things

@43kadri: ^cute

@carlyyvalentine: @austonmatthews smooth

@alaskamay: I'm reporting this

@mattymarts17: ^me too, it's too cute

@mapleleafs: new friend?

@alaskamay: @mapleleafs no

I jerk my head up to face a smiling Auston who is obviously very pleased with himself. I glare at him and mouth 'really?' He flashes me a cheeky smile as we both follow the rest of the group towards our cars.

William leads the pack, pretending to be a tour guide while pointing out random things along the sidewalk. My phone continuously buzzes in my pocket, making me contemplate throwing it in the Pacific. What the hell is going on?

I pull the shiny piece of tech out of my jacket to see a constant stream of Instagram notifications. Most of them are either comments on Auston's post and new followers. I quickly power off my phone, not wanting to deal with it anymore, and slip it back into my pocket.

I refocus my attention on following everyone else and try to be present in the conversation, however, the sudden feeling of a large hand resting on my waist diverts my attention to the tall, sturdy boy next to me. My instincts kick in right away, causing me to swat his hand away.

He reluctantly obeys at first, but just a few seconds later, his hand is back on my waist. I look up at Auston to see him staring straight ahead with a small smirk on his face. I gently push him away and skip up to Carly's side in an attempt to get away from Auston.

"There you are! Did you have fun today?" Carly asks energetically. I smile and nod, glancing back at Auston. He was looking right at me and smiled triumphantly.

"Yeah, how about you?" I ask, turning back to the bouncing brunette. She nods and flashes me a thumbs-up.

"I can't believe we have to leave tomorrow night, though," she adds, pouting. I shrug and frown as well, although I was ready to go home. Don't get me wrong, I love LA and everything it has to offer that Toronto doesn't, but I miss my own bed and surprisingly the cold weather.

"I know! It went by so fast," I say, not lying. It really did go by fast. Carly nods then a big smile stretches onto her face. I raise my eyebrow questioningly, wondering where the sudden perkiness came from.

"What?" I ask her, noticing a small smile growing on my own face.

"It's movie night!" she bursts out. A few people look at her and nod as if to confirm that tonight is, in fact, a movie night.

"With all of us?" I ask, circling the whole group with my hand. She nods, pulling William to her side.

"Everyone's meeting in Auston and Mitch's room because it has the biggest living room," she explains, looking at William for confirmation. He nods and grins, glancing from Auston to me. I roll my eyes and stop on the curb when I notice that we have arrived at the cars. Everyone begins piling into the different cars at the same time. I frantically look for an opening in one of the cars, but even after the mad rush for a seat ends, there isn't room for me.

The honk of a car horn tears my eyes away from the now packed cars. The sound had come from Auston who had pulled the 'his' car up to the curb next to me. A smirk plastered on his face, he motions for me to get in. Seeing as though everyone else has already left so I can't even squeeze in the back, I get in the convertible.

I roll my eyes and buckle my seatbelt, anticipating his driving to be bad. Auston pulls away from the curb and starts down the road, catching up to the car with Matt, Sydney, Lexi, and Connor in no time

The drive started out quiet. Pop music played in the background, drowned out by the breeze that blew through the topless car. The insistent wind forced me to put my hair up at a stoplight to keep me from inhaling the blonde strands. I was perfectly content with watching the buildings and people of LA fly by as we made our way back to the hotel, but a hand on my bare thigh pulls me from my euphoric trance.

I first look down at the hand that Auston had rested on my leg and then glance up at the culprit. He flashes me a lopsided smirk and moves his fingers, tickling my leg a bit. Stifling a laugh, I place my hand on top of his and promptly remove it from my leg. A small, offended noise escapes his mouth at my resistance.

Not a minute later, his hand finds my thigh again, giving it a chill-inducing squeeze. I glare back up at him while, once again, removing his hand.

"Stop doing that," I tell him, crossing my legs with the hope that it would deter him from touching me again.

"Doing what?" he asks, playing dumb. I roll my eyes even though he probably can't see me due to the limited light outside.

"You know what," I say, not having it with his acting.

"I'm not sure I do. Maybe you should demonstrate," he says suggestively. His smirk can be heard loud and clear. I sigh and cross my arms over my chest, staring at the road in front of us.

"I'm waiting for the demonstration," he says impatiently. I look at him through the dark, thinking everything through. I don't want to lead him on per say, but I do want to mess with him a bit.

"This is what you were doing," I say, hesitantly placing a hand on the inside of his thigh. I feel his body stiffen and shift slightly under my touch. Amused by the effect I'm having on him, I move my hand further up his thigh. He jolts up a bit, taking my hand in his. He holds it in the air for a few seconds before setting my hand in my lap, placing his on top of mine.

I glance down at our hands and hold back a smile. I absolutely hate that I'm enjoying this. Absolutely hate it. Before I can break the contact, he shifts his hand.

"Oh, that? It helps me focus," he says, placing his hand back on my upper thigh. A dizzying feeling forms in my stomach at the new contact. Rather than moving his hand like the other times, I leave it go and try to focus on anything else.

Thankfully, the hotel was only a couple blocks away, so I didn't have to sit there losing my mind for much longer. In fact, as soon as the car is parked, I hop out and run to join Steph as we enter the hotel.

We all decide to go to our respective rooms and change into comfy clothes then head over to Auston and Mitch's room in 15 minutes. I'm glad we agreed on that because I have never wanted to change into comfy clothes more than I want to right now.

Once in our room, Steph, Carly, and I divide up to get changed, wanting to go fast so we can get good spots on the couch. As soon as I get in my room, I strip out of my clothes and change into a sports bra and clean underwear. Rummaging through the closet, I fish out a pair of pajama shorts that I hope aren't too short for this occasion and a sweatshirt.

Rather than fussing with my slightly smeared makeup, I take it all off and grab my glasses before joining Carly and Steph by our door. They were both dressed in similar attire with Carly in leggings and a t-shirt and Steph in sweats and a tank top.

We reach our destination eight minutes early, knocking frantically on the door. Mitch opens it, groaning about how loud we are, then steps aside so that we can come in. The three of us rush inside, heading straight toward the living room, but stop short when we see almost everyone else already sprawled out on the couches and chairs.

"Are you kidding me?! How did you people get changed so fast?" Steph exclaims, staring at the mostly occupied furniture. A couple people look up and shrug their shoulders, lucky that they have good seats.

William waves Carly over and pulls her onto the couch next to him. He wraps his arms around her and offers her a pillow. What a time to be single!

Mitch brushes past me, rushing to the spot on the couch that was blocked off by a suitcase. He removes the suitcase that was saving his seat and pulls Steph down onto the couch with him. This leaves me to awkwardly stand in front of everyone else who look at me expectantly.

I assess my options one last time, seeing the only two practical options are to sit on the floor or squeeze into the spot between Nazem and Auston of all people. I frown and prepare to sit on the floor with my back resting against the couch, but a strong arm wraps around my waist and drags me down to the couch in an ungraceful heap.

I feel my backside pressed against something solid and I immediately pray that it's not what or who I'm thinking. However, good luck seems to not be in my vocabulary because a certain brown-eyed centerman smirks at me when I turn to look.

I groan and try to shift my body as far away from his as possible as Mitch and Steph argue about what movie to watch, but his arm prevents me from moving apart from him. I continue to shift in an effort to at least get comfortable. Auston's arms tighten around me, cocooning me in warmth. My moving and squirming continue until he places a hand on my hip.

"Keep doing that and we'll have to cut movie night short," he says in a low voice next to my ear. A shiver runs down my spine at his words and heat rushes to my cheeks.

"Is that so? Because I'm not really feeling a movie anymore," I say, swaying my hips a bit while pulling my bottom lip in between my teeth.

"Damn it, Laska, I'm serious," he growls into my neck, causing goose bumps to scatter across my body.

"Who said I wasn't?"

[puckish-saint]

Helix Paragon

Reader Insert Pacific Rim AU Part 3

While Lechuza Renegade tears up kaiju like steak along the LA coastline, Helix Paragon gathers dust in Anchorage. Jack keeps trying to find a partner so far without success. His friends and colleagues empathise with him, pity him even. They know it’s not his fault, that he’s the victim of bad luck, their golden boy in a bad situation.

He wishes they were right.

Another candidate returns chagrined to the folds, leaves Jack on the training mats, staring at his bruised knuckles. For a second he allows himself to feel disappointed, to play with the thought that he's simply not meant to pilot a Jaeger anymore. They won't wait much longer. They keep Helix on ice for him but they can't really afford to let a Jaeger stay inactive this long. Sooner or later she'll have new pilots. With every passing hour it seems less likely to be him.

He spends his lunch in her company, hidden from the world by one of her massive legs while he watches the bustle of activity deep below. He can just about spot the other Jaegers in their bays, all newer than Helix. She's the only Mk 1 in Anchorage, one of only half a dozen still in service. Over the years she's been upgraded, retrofitted and modified to keep her competitive, to keep the symbol alive. That's all she is to the brass, a symbol they need for the public. For Jack she's so much more than that. Every scratch she ever sustained he felt like his own, every time her knee bent it was his own buckling in defeat and when he straightened up it was him and her facing down impossible odds.

She's a part of him and if he ever steps into a Jaeger again it will be her.

If.

“There you are.”

He looks up, finds you standing above him, your shadow mixing with Helix’. He smiles. Here's the only reason he didn't go mad in this whole mess. Years ago when talk popped up about decommissioning Helix Paragon and replacing her with a better model, you had his back arguing against her retirement. He doesn't know what she is to you, if she represents for you the same resilience he sees in this old Jaeger. He never asked and sometimes, feeling your eyes lingering on him a bit too long, he fears the answer. Helix lives up to every expectation. He does so only in her shadow.

“Got a new list?” he asks while you walk through the base at the leisurely pace of two rangers without a copilot. Yours was found dead in a ditch half a click from the base, two empty bottles of booze nearby. Your career stalled before it began and ever since you've been handling coordination between the Shatterdomes.

“We had a couple fly in from Russia," you say, flipping through the latest list of candidates eager to get into the most famous Jaeger ever built. To pilot Helix has been a childhood dream for half the rangers in the program. "The Marshall picked up a couple of Canadians you haven't tried yet. They must have lived in a tunnel under Toronto to evade you this long.”

He makes a non committal noise, smiles shyly when you pat his arm.

“Don't worry, we'll find you someone to fly with. Speaking of, there’s someone special who wants to shake hands with you.”

Fareeha has grown into a woman since last he saw her. Last time she was still a teenager, all gangly limbs and full of hero worship. Now she strides up to him like she belongs in this uniform and hugs him with the familiarity of an old friend. He and Gabriel let her spend her thirteenth birthday in Helix’ cockpit when Ana couldn't make it. He still has the pictures, taped on the wall in his quarters and saved in Helix' database. If he dies on a mission, those are the last images the VI will flash into the drift.

“It's good to see you, Jack.” she says. “Gabe sends his regards.”

He doubts he did but appreciates her words nonetheless. She trained with him in LA but if he was afraid she'd take Gabriel's side in the conflict he needn't have worried.

They catch up, enjoy this little family reunion and make plans for a bigger one. Nothing will ever come of it, the world needs them too much to allow all the top pilots time off at the same time, but it's fun to think about nonetheless. She's befriended some kid over in LA, talks about him at length until Jack can't keep his curiosity in check anymore and asks if she's crushing on him.

“On Jesse?” She laughs. “He's like an annoying big brother. Besides, I think he already has someone. He and his copilot get along well. Which brings me to why I came here.”

She stops and so does Jack, pulled in by her momentum but woefully slow on the uptake.

“Ever since I was a child I wanted to pilot your Jaeger." His Jaeger, he notes absently. Most mechs have had teams of pilots come and go, but Helix has always been his and Gabriel's alone. A PR stunt, some said, but Jack knows how effective they were with her. He couldn't have done half the things he did in another Jaeger. Fareeha continues, an intensity in her eyes that reminds him of her mother. "I know I'm inexperienced, and you and mom could never drift so the chances of this working are low, but I'm not my mother. I want to try.”

His first instinct is to say no. But then he’d have to come up with a reason why and he can’t give her that, either. Dread creeps up his spine as he thinks about drifting with Fareeha, the things that could happen, the things she might see.

But he has no excuse, not in the face of her eagerness and your scrutiny, and so he says weakly: “Alright.”

Helix Paragon welcomes him into her cockpit with the warmth of visiting a childhood home, well lived in and full of memories. He spent birthdays and anniversaries in here, partied until the J-tech crews threw them out, slept in a corner when his own bunks were too cold. Over there Gabriel threw up before their first mission, nerves getting the better of him but fading in the drift where they supported each other. On the bulkhead to his left he carved the name of every kaiju Helix took down. There's a nursery rhyme about it, he's heard it sung once by a class of school children during a charity event. Gabriel had been humming the song for days, casting it back and forth in the drift. An ear worm was a hell of a thing to have travelling between two brains. Sometimes, when attempting to drift with potential candidates, he swears he can hear it, like a memory Helix Paragon brings in herself.

She's his, has only ever been his. Where other Jaegers have two or three crews on rotation, Helix and Jack have only ever been deployed together. She kept his secrets, his insecurities and hid them underneath tons of cold hard steel.

While he adjusts the settings for a new pilot he listens to Fareeha’s excited chatter just outside. She'll be heartbroken when they can't drift.

If, Jack reminds himself, if they can't drift. He owes it to her to at least try. But a small traitorous part in him insists she's her mother's daughter and he could never drift with Ana.

They go through pre flight checks, Fareeha with eager precision, Jack with well worn routine.

“Initiating neural handshake in 3 … 2 … 1 …”

He's thrown into the drift, their shared memories rushing past as the connection gets stronger. Her first day of school, her college graduation, he sees everything through his and her eyes at the same time. She watches a TV show on Jaegers, makes fun of his face while he sits just behind her, but they're both struck breathless when they show the parade of Jaegers along the coastlines. With every shared memory, a whole life spent raising her like his own daughter, strengthens the link.

They're doing it, he realises, they're drifting.

The memories flicker past, none strong enough to trap him. Then, his first time in the Jaeger. The sour smell of sick and something else, something sharper -

“-don't try to stop me-”

“idiot if you think-”

-a puddle around his feet, he can't let Fareeha see this.

“Neural handshake failed. Would you like to try again?”

Jack dry heaves, drags himself out of the cockpit while Fareeha asks confused what happened. She doesn't get an answer from him. He runs until he no longer hears her voice, until the rumbling engines of Helix mix with the constant background noise.

He has no idea where he ends up, maybe somewhere near the Mk 5s in construction at the far end of the Shatterdome. He's well and truly lost his way.

You find him anyway and stand by his side while he pulls himself together. You're quiet, for which he is grateful, and piercing him with your eyes, for which he is not. You're trying to figure him out, to solve the riddle why he broke a stable link, his first chance in ages to become once again Helix' pilot. After that disaster with the drug addict you assumed he'd jump at the chance of getting to drift with someone dependable. Someone who would actually remember their mission after its completion.

It turns out that's exactly the problem.

“Who's next on the list?” he asks after a while, a weak attempt at changing the subject. You don't buy it.

“There's no list, Jack. You almost drifted with Fareeha, what the hell happened?”

He shakes his head, drags his hands through his hair drenched in sweat.

“I can’t … I-”

“Be straight with me, you owe me that much.” you say. "For months I worked my ass off searching for rangers who by some miracle weren't paired off yet and now I find out you weren't all that hot on actually trying. How many others were compatible? How many did you throw out because of some idiotic reason I can't begin to guess?"

Your words sting and much more when he realises he has to explain himself. Once again he feels your eyes on him, lingering like you're actually giving a damn about him. He doesn't want to lose your respect, but lying only got him so far.

The air changes, your anger seeps away. You lay a hand on his arm, note how he shivers under the touch. “What happened?”

On their first mission Gabriel threw up in the cockpit, but Jack was the one more scared. When they drifted Gabriel’s fear swept away with the excitement, made way for the cocky recklessness that would accompany him for the next decade. Jack never stopped being scared. From the second he stepped foot into the cockpit to the kaiju rising from the deep, seemingly inches from his face -

“I wet myself.” He says so softly you barely understand. “I pissed my pants and no one ever found out because the cockpit flooded during the fight. I was so scared, so terrified, I couldn’t - Gabriel was the only one who knew. After the mission I wanted to leave. He stopped me.”

He remembers their argument well, because he sees it everytime he goes into the drift. Him outside the compound, Gabriel pulling him back and almost tearing his shoulders out of its socket with the force.

“I’m not Jaeger material,” he said then. “Don’t try to stop me.” “We belong together,” Gabriel shot back, just as temperamental as he is today, “you’re an idiot if you think I’m going to let you desert.”

“I couldn’t let Fareeha see that. She thinks I’m a hero.”

He hides his face from you, shakes off your hand on his shoulder. He wants to pilot Helix so badly it hurts, but if the price is destroying the hope the world built around their infallible hero it’s too high. They need a symbol, not a coward pissing himself at the first sign of trouble. Your words pull him out of his self-pity and the rug from under his feet. “Let’s drift.” Before he can argue you continue. “What have you got to lose? Worst case scenario, we’re not compatible and you have to talk to Fareeha, but there’s nothing I won’t find out that I don’t already know. You just told me, and I don’t think less of you. Let’s drift.”

After everything he just told you the last thing he expected to hear out of your mouth is a request to fight at his side.

"I was scared. I still am." he says like by some coincidence you might not have understood. "So what?"

So what, indeed. The kaiju Storm hits the coast of LA with a vengeance. One Jaeger has already been taken out of commission, the two remaining in the field are hanging on their last thread.

“Repeat, we need support, now!” Gabriel shouts into the comm and they barely manage to get Storm away from Whiskey Deadeye, sacrificing a prime flanking opportunity. They’re on the defensive, pushed back under the constant onslaught of attacks. They didn’t count on this tactic. Kaiju behave like animals, retreating at least for a while when they get hurt, but this beast is relentless. Whiskey’s systems come back online but they don’t get a chance to use them.

Helix Paragon drops from the sky like sunshine, hull gleaming golden in the light. You and Jack dive into the fight, take the heat off Lechuza and Whiskey. Before long they move into a counterattack, regain enough breath to crack jokes.

“Figures they’d send an old sardine can as support.” Gabriel says as he and his copilot empty a volley of shells into the kaiju’s belly.

“Better watch that mouth, Reyes, because that sardine can is going to save your ass.” And it does.

[weekendwarriorblog]

56th New York Film Festival Preview Part 1

This year’s 56th New York Film Festival will be my 15th time covering the Film Society of Lincoln Center’s annual festival if I’m doing my math correctly, and it’s certainly gone through a lot of changes in that time with the departure of Richard Peña as its director a few years back and lots of personnel changes behind the scenes. The selections tend to be geared towards the Film Society of Lincoln Center’s older clientele, rich Upper West Siders who want to make themselves feel more special at dinner parties by saying they’ve seen the latest movie from this foreign director or another that most Americans a.) Do not know and b.) Do not give a flying fuck about. Sorry to be so blunt about it, but this is my blog and as long as I’m not getting paid to write it, I will do and say whatever the fuck I want. Got it?

Anyway, the festival offers enough variety and diversity and movies that haven’t played at previous film festivals like Toronto (TIFF), which I missed for the first time in over 13 years sadly.

The 56th New York Film Festival kicks off on Friday, Sept. 28, with The Favourite, the latest film from Greek filmmaker Yorgos Lanthimos, whose early film Dogtoothwas nominated for an Oscar in the foreign language category, followed by The Lobster, which received an Oscar nomination for screenplay. I didn’t like the former and didn’t much care for the latter either. Lanthimos’ last movie, 2017’s The Killing of a Sacred Deer I walked out of it at TIFF because I was hating the fact that everyone was talking like a robot. I haven’t seen The Favourite yet – see my note above about missing TIFF – but this one is getting even more raves. It’s a period comedy starring Olivia Colman, Emma Stone and Rachel Weisz, three actors who I absolutely love, and I’m happy to see Colman, who will take over as Queen Elizabeth II in The Crown season 3, getting lots of attention for her performance, which is either lead (going by the credits) or supporting (depending on who you’re talking to).  I’ll be seeing this early Friday morning and hope to have some thoughts in the second part next week.

I’m even more excited about seeing Roma, the latest film from Alfonso Cuarón, which was selected as this year’s Centerpiece and has also been getting raves out of Venice, Telluride and Toronto. Unfortunately, it’s nowhere near a premiere of any kind for the NYFF. What’s exciting about Roma is that it’s Cuarón’s return to his native Mexico (at least on camera) for the first time since 2001’s Y Tu Mama Tambien, which for many was their introduction to Cuaron. It’s also his follow-up to 2013’s Gravity, for which he won an Oscar, and it’s likely to be another visual spectacle that few others could master.

This year’s Closing Night film is the North American premiere of New York artist Julian Schnabel’s new film At Eternity’s Gate, which reunites him with Willem Dafoe as well as with making films about artists, this time being about Vincent Van Gogh. I loved The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, which was nominated for four Oscars but not Best Picture, sadly, and many people I know still love his first film Basquiat, so maybe this will be Schnabel’s return to greatness after the disappointing Miral. The movie skipped TIFF and Telluride, so it will indeed be the first time many will be able to see it.

I’m also looking forward to the Coen Brothers’ Netflix series-turned-movieThe Ballad of Buster Skruggs, which will play during the festival’s second and third week; that’s also a North American premiere. Barry Jenkins’ Moonlight follow-up If Beale Street Could Talk is also playing later in the festival, and I hope to get to that review sometime later in Part 2. I’ve also heard good things about Bi Gan’s Long Day’s Journey into Night and Claire Denis’ High Life, the former I’m not sure I’ll have a chance to catch before its theatrical release by Kino Lorber. Other returning filmmakers represented are Jafar Panahi with 3 Faces, Oscar winner Pawel Pawlikowski with Cold War, Korea’s prolific Hong Sangsoo’s Grass and Hotel by the River, Louis Garrel with A Faithful Man and more. (I can’t even THINK about making the time to see Mariano Llina’s 13 ¾ hour – yes, you read that right -- Argentine film La Flor, which will be shown in three parts or eight parts depending on your patience and free time, neither which

I tend to focus on the Main Slate films and documentaries, but the festival has grown rich with revivals and even a VR Arcade as part of its Convergence slate. If I only had time….

So let’s get to a couple mini-reviews of films I’ve seen so far…

Her Smell

Director: Alex Ross Perry

I’ve long had a strange love-hate relationship with the indie filmmaker who continually makes inroads into the mainstream (like writing Disney’s Christopher Robin, for instance). He’s a regular at my local theater, the Metrograph, and I’ve interviewed him a few times, and I just find him to be a fascinating filmmaker and interesting guy in general. What got me excited about this one is that Elisabeth Moss (who starred in his earlier films Listen Up Phillip and Queen of Earth) plays punk rocker Becky Something making a comeback with her girl group Something She, which is set for disaster due to her self-destructive behavior. Perry really takes a different approach to this than his last film Golden Exits, making a movie a bit like Birdman where the camera flows smoothly from one room to another in the various locations. The film begins in a club where Something She are playing their comeback gig, then follows them into the studio a little later and then to a club where Becky is trying to play with a bunch of younger female musicians. It’s not gonna be for everyone, and to be honest, I’ve worked with musicians/rock stars as nutty as Becky gets at her worst, so it was hard to watch sometimes. Moss is amazing but the rest of the cast around her is also amazing including Dan Stevens as her ex-husband, plus Eric Stolz as her manager, Virginia Madsen as her mother and all the unrecognizable women as various musicians in Becky’s circle, including Amber Heard, Cara Delevigne but particularly Gayle Rankin from Glow as Becky’s put-upon drummer Ali.

The Other Side of the Wind

Director: Orson Welles (kind of)

There’s been a lot of ballyhoo about this film which Welles was working on up until his death in 1985, and the fact that Netflix will be releasing it after it was finished by others is kind of a big deal, I guess. Honestly, I’m really not sure why stuff like this is done with filmmakers’ work even thirty years after their death. The plot involves a filmmaker played by the late John Huston who is throwing a party to show a rough cut of his latest film and all of the drama that surrounds the movie and the filmmaker’s entourage. My biggest problem with the “movie” was that it’s clearly edited together from stuff filmed at different dates, possibly even different years, and it uses the pretense of being a “found footage” movie cut together from various video cameras around the filmmaker documenting this party and the movie’s release. It certainly sounds like something Welles might do, putting him well ahead of The Blair Witch Project when it comes to “found footage.” Because of that, I had the same problems with The Other Side of the Wind, which could have used some color correction to make the editing between characters in the party scene not quite as jarring. The actual film within a film (also called “The Other Side of the Wind”) was much more interesting as an artsy and trippy film with two very attractive and frequently naked actors. (The NYFF is also screening Morgan Neville’s related doc They’ll Love Me When I’m Dead, which documents the 15-year history Welles spent trying to make and finish this movie. Both will play as a Special Event at the NYFF before Streaming on Netflix on Nov. 2)

American Dharma

Director: Errol Morris

Having just seen Michael Moore’s Fahrenheit 11/9 the day before, I wasn’t too sure if I wanted to sit through Morris’ new movie about Steve Bannon. I mean, I don’t have the hatred some of my colleagues do for Bannon, since I literally have no opinion of Breitbart and what goes on there. I certainly would never go to a right-wing site for any reason, let alone one that promotes the alt-right’s racism. As I expected, the movie is a lot of Bannon bragging about himself, but Morris comes into this story in an interesting way, since Bannon has respect for the filmmaker due to his Oscar-winning film The Fog of War. Maybe it’s that respect that gets Bannon to open up about what was involved with getting Trump elected as well as his involvement with Breitbart’s exposing of Anthony Weiner (sorry for the pun) and other endeavors. What I like about the film is that Morris is a true artist, accompanying Bannon’s boasting with clips from classic films (many which Bannon references) but also some beautiful visuals including the set which was based on the airplane hangar in Twelve O’Clock High, one of Bannon’s favorite films. This is playing as part of the festivals’ “Spotlight on Documentary” which includes fourteen films, but not all of them will have press screenings, sadly. I hope to catch at least Carmine Street Guitars, Ruth Beckerman’sThe Waldheim Waltz (Austria’s Oscar selection!) and Charles Ferguson’s Watergate in this section.

Non-Fiction

Director: Olivier Assayas

I’ve long been a fan of the French filmmaker since seeing Irma Vep many, many moons ago. While not all of his efforts have been masterpieces, he has enough great films under his belt that I’ll always give his movies a chance. This one worried me because it looked like another movie about French people talking about movies, books, relationships ala Summer Hours and just about every other French film made in the last couple decades. Surprisingly, the movie about an author (Vincent Macaigne) who tends to base his fiction on real life and his off-and-on publisher (Guillaume Canet) ended up being far funnier than I was expecting. It’s Assayas’ third film with Juliet Binoche, although her role is more of an ensemble one and more of the focus is on the two men. She plays the wife of the publisher who has an affair with the author, and if that seems like standard French fare, then not the way Assayas handled it. The entire cast is good but Macaigne is particularly funny, since he’s the perfect caricature of a schlubby and unapologetic writer. I guess in some ways, this is Assayas’ first official comedy even though he’s often played with satire and dark humor in his past films, and ultimately, this ended up being quite enjoyable for one of his talkier films.

Ash is Purest White

Director: Jia Zhangke

China’s Zhangke is another filmmaker whose work I’ve heard praised so much over the years, but I haven’t been able to get into either of the previous films of his I’ve seen (Still Lifeand Mountains May Depart). Not sure why I haven’t been able to get into his work, especially with the osmosis that comes with living in Chinatown for 26 years, but Ash is Purest Whitedeals with things I’ve liked in other Asian films. It starts out a bit like a Johnny To film with its look at the jianghu gangs of a small mainland mining town run by the beloved Brother Bin (Lao Fin) and his girlfriend Qiao (Zhao Tao). Things are going well until something happens that gets Qiao thrown into jail trying to protect Bin. When she’s released, things have changed, and she has to find her own way, but then Bin eventually needs Qiao’s help and she puts their differences in the past. Even though there’s definite genre aspects to the film including a section that reminded me a bit of Park Chanwook’s Lady Vengeance, this is still very much a character piece in the vein of Zhangke’s other work, but I think this one works better than some of his other efforts, mainly since the director has two fantastic actors in the leading roles, particularly Zhao Tao, who goes through such a transformation from one section of the film to the next and then into the final act, as the film covers a good ten to twelve years in their lives. Ash is Purest Whitewill be released by the Cohen Media Group, although I’m not quite sure when.

Burning

Director: Lee Chang-dong

It’s hard to call the latest film from the Korean director of Poetry and Secret Sunshine a “genre” film even though it has genre elements, because it’s more of a strange character drama involving three people. Mind you, I wasn’t a fan of Secret Sunshine even though many of my critical colleagues had raved about it, but Burning is a much stronger film even if it’s tougher to explain what it’s about (mainly due to possible spoilers). A young man named Jong-su Lee (Ah-In Yoo) runs into Hae-mi (Jong-seo Jeon), a girl from his old farmland hometown in the middle of Seoul and she convinces him to feed her mysterious cat while she’s travelling to Africa. Jong-su thinks that he might have a new girlfriend until Hae-mi returns with a rich and charming guy named Ben (Steven Yeun from The Walking Dead). Jong-su continues to hang with the duo even though he feels like a third wheel, although both men are clearly enamored with the strange girl. And that’s pretty much all that I can say about the movie. It’s a fairly long 2 ½ hour film where Jong-su gets more and more suspicious of Ben’s intentions, and there’s an odd exchange when Ben tells him that he likes burning down greenhouses. I think the film might be somewhat frustrating to those always looking for clear answers to all the questions the film raises, but it’s still a strong film from Director Lee that’s going to be South Korea’s selection for the Oscars. I’ll be curious to see if it’s too weird for the Oscar foreign language nominating committee. Well Go USA will be releasing Burning.

That’s it for Week 1 of press screenings, and I hope to get to some of the other movies. Here’s the official trailer for this year’s festival:

[flauntpage]

I Like the Difficulty of the Sixers’ Early-Season Schedule

Everybody talks about how challenging the Sixers’ schedule is, but I kind of like it.

In lieu of a harrowing slog toward the playoffs, you’re really just getting the hard part out of the way early.

Ten of the first 15 are on the road, including a five-game West Coast road swing. The reward for running that gauntlet is a “welcome home!” game against the Warriors, just seven days removed from a visit to Oracle Arena.

Yea, it’s gonna be a merciless start, but do you want Golden State now, or later?

This is a Sixers team that will need time to jell, evolve, and learn how to win. I’d prefer they start that curve in games where they won’t be favored, instead of facing pressure to get the job done right off the bat. Expectations feel like they’re a bit high for a squad that’s somewhere between nascent and burgeoning on the developmental scale.

We’re probably looking at a 5-10 or 4-11 start, but I don’t think anyone was expecting otherwise, not unless Ben Simmons and a restricted Joel Embiid come flying out of the gates ala Rhys Hoskins. Markelle Fultz is starting the season with the second unit and will need some time. I don’t know if a full-strength squad is winning at Houston anyway, so let’s get the ducks in a row before we get ahead of ourselves.

This isn’t next-level thinking; the flip side is that the back-end schedule is incredibly ideal.

You’re starting the final 15 games with six of seven at home against the likes of Brooklyn and New York. Assuming you tread water from December to March, there’s a really good chance to barrel towards the postseason with some momentum-building wins.

For the hell of it, let’s go down the list and see where we end up, starting with the first 15.

10/18 – at Wizards (LOSS)

Season openers are always hard to predict.

I see John Wall leading the Wizards to a close, fourth-quarter win. They’ve been solid in the preseason and they’ll be a top-four Eastern Conference team.

For what it’s worth, the Sixers played Oklahoma City tough in last year’s opener, a six-point home loss.

10/20 – vs. Celtics (WIN)

Not sure why, but I think the Sixers get it done in the home opener, which should feature the best crowd we’ve seen at the Wells Fargo Center in some time.

Just a gut feeling. Am I crazy?

10/21 – at Raptors (LOSS)

They lose in Toronto on short rest after an emotional win.

The Sixers went 5-12 in these back-to-backs last year. The interesting thing is that four of those wins came on the road when the team wasn’t always playing with a full-strength roster. The usage of Joel Embiid in these short turnaround situations, and the minutes restriction imposed on him, will be a monolithic storyline this season.

This will also be the third game in a row that the Sixers face an All-Star point guard (Wall, Kyrie Irving, and Kyle Lowry).

10/23 – at Pistons (WIN)

This one is critical because the Pistons are probably going to be in that seven to ten range in the east.

No one expects the Sixers to jump Toronto and Washington this year, but they need to consistently beat these mid-conference teams if they’re going to slide into the postseason. This game provides a good early barometer in that department.

"I can't wait to show teams why they missed out on me" – @IshSmith#ICantWait #DetroitBasketball http://pic.twitter.com/LV7uAMhUcW

— Detroit Pistons (@DetroitPistons) September 11, 2017

10/25 vs. Rockets (LOSS)

We’ll see how much home court factors in, but I just don’t see a win here.

10/28 at Mavericks (LOSS)

Toss up?

The Mavs weren’t great last season and won’t be that great this season. Philly gets two days off before this Texas swing. Consider this a wildly successful trip if they pip Dallas before heading down to Houston.

10/30 at Rockets (LOSS)

Nope.

11/1 vs. Hawks (WIN)

They’ll get it done at home and beat the rebuilding Hawks for the first time since March of 2015.

11/3 vs. Pacers (WIN)

Two in a row to improve to 4-5.

I’d feel pretty good if they go into the long road trip with four wins.

11/7 at Jazz (LOSS)

This is where the shitty part starts. You get a playoff team in Utah (sans Gordon Hayward) to start off the west coast trip.

11/9 at Kings (LOSS)

Outside of the Lakers matchup, this is the best opportunity for a win out west. I’m not sure what to make of Sacramento going into the new year, but they’re probably headed for mediocrity in the west.

I think the Sixers go 1-4 on the trip, but 2-3 would be phenomenal, and this is how you get there.

11/11 at Warriors (LOSS)

Loss.

11/13 at Clippers (LOSS)

Loss.

11/15 at Lakers (WIN)  

Markelle Fultz, Lonzo Ball, Ben Simmons, and Brandon Ingram all on the same court?

Mmmm.. that sounds good. I think I’ll have that.

It’s critical to get a win here and take some juice back home. I like the fact that there’s a day off between the Clippers and Lakers games without the necessity of travel. No flight between those games gives you a chance to settle a bit and get some rest.

11/18 vs. Warriors (LOSS)

Should be fun if it’s anything like this:

First 15 games = five wins, 10 losses

This could very easily be 4-11 or 6-9 depending on a couple of those swing games. Maybe they lose to Boston at home but beat Dallas on the road instead. Maybe that Sacramento game goes the other way. It’s hard to say, but I’m not sure they’re going 7-8 in these first 15.

The next five after November 8th are all at home, with Utah coming off a Houston trip and Portland flying in from Memphis. I like the Sixers’ chances to win those games and improve to 7-10.

That’s really not that bad going into the holiday season.

Let’s skip the middle chunk of the schedule and take a look at the final 15 games:

3/16 vs. Nets (WIN)

Easy enough.

3/19 vs. Hornets (WIN)

Two days rest before another home game = win.

3/21 vs. Grizzlies (WIN)

Probably the toughest matchup of the three-game home stand, but I think they get it done.

Last year’s home game against the Grizz was the famous double overtime loss, when Embiid didn’t play the second OT because of his minutes restriction. That result certainly changes if he’s in the game.

@sixers schedule released and I just played the W/L game. If Embiid plays 60+ games I got us @ 82-0. Under 60 games I got the same record

— Ryan Field (@ryan_field10) August 14, 2017

3/22 at Magic (LOSS)

Feels like a loss with a quick turnaround sandwiched in here.

3/24 vs. Timberwolves (WIN)

I’m curious to see how the offseason additions improve this squad.

The Sixers split with the Wolves last season, a team that should feature a starting lineup of Jeff Teague, Jimmy Butler, Andrew Wiggins, Karl-Anthony Towns, and Taj Gibson. In a lot of ways, they’re a good benchmark for the post-Process era, since they’re constructed in a similar fashion via several years of high draft picks and a free agent signing or two.

Difference is, when they were losing, they were actually trying to win.

3/26 vs. Nuggets (WIN)

Win.

3/28 vs. Knicks (WIN)

Win.

3/30 at Hawks (LOSS)

I’ll call this a loss just for the fact that I have them coming off three straight wins.

Again, Atlanta will be dreck this year as they blow it up and start the rebuild. It will be William Sherman-esque, but they’ll probably snag at least one win against the Sixers.

4/1 at Hornets (LOSS)

A day off before a very short trip to Charlotte. I’ll put it down as a loss just because I’m playing averages here, but I think this one could go either way.

4/3 vs. Nets (WIN)

Pencil it in.

4/4 at Pistons (LOSS)

I’m not feeling the road trip on a back-to-back.

4/6 vs. Cavs (LOSS)

Maybe you catch Lebron and company snoozing if they’ve got the #1 seed already wrapped up.

Otherwise, put this one in the “L” column.

4/8 vs. Mavericks (WIN)

Yup.

4/10 at Hawks (WIN)

I think they can certainly snag a win here.

4/11 vs. Bucks (WIN)

It’s a back-to-back, but that’s alright. I really do think they can finish with three-straight wins.

#Sixers HOFer, Charles Barkley, says that the Sixers are 100% making the playoffs. http://pic.twitter.com/oCWJ95s0ER

— Sixers News (@SixersNews0719) October 7, 2017

Last 15 games = 10 wins, five losses

They really have a shot at winning two-thirds of their games down the stretch.

When you combine those 30 total games on the front and back of the calendar, I’ve got them at 15-15, right at the .500 mark. If the Sixers can hold serve and play five-hundred ball for the middle chunk of the schedule (26-26), we’re looking at a final record of 41 and 41. That probably gets you into the playoffs in the Eastern Conference. 42-40 definitely gets you in, and a losing record might even be good enough, depending on how the rest of the conference shakes out. We’re only a few years removed from the 38-44 Bucks and Hawks making the playoffs.

I asked Dario Saric about the schedule, and whether he had a preference on going out west early, or starting off the schedule in Philadelphia:

“Maybe I’d like to have a couple of more games at home, to start in front of our fans and try to play good basketball and (learn how to play together). So home games, and then after that some away games. But this is an NBA schedule. Sometimes it’s like this. Of course we’ll give 100% and try to play the best we can in those away games.”

My prediction: 41-41, 8th seed in the east

I Like the Difficulty of the Sixers’ Early-Season Schedule published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv

[djrelentless]

“Circles And Old Habits”

December 19, 2013 at 5:11pm

I am finally back in Toronto. The past few weeks have been a whirlwind of events and emotions. I started December with one of my most ambitious endeavors to date. I put together an awards show to honor ten people from the community who either helped raise awareness or money in the fight against HIV/AIDS. I am happy to say that the POZ-TO Awards at Crews & Tangos were a success on World AIDS Day. It was amazing to see so many people come out from our diverse Gay Community to celebrate and help raise just under $1200 for Toronto's People With AIDS Foundation. What a way to close out the year!

Then it was the mad rush to get everything ready for probably one of the most important trips for myself and my husband, John.

Earlier this year I wrote about reconnecting with my family in Florida. I told you about not being in contact with my family for almost 24 years. I wrote about my strained relationship with my father and a Thanksgiving Dinner back in 1991 that would change the course of all our lives.

Well, after spending the better part of the spring, summer and fall of 2013 writing and calling my step-mother (Teresa), my uncle (Rudolph), my brothers (Anthony & Anton) I decided that I really wanted to go see them around Christmas. I had some gigs scheduled in New York City and Asbury Park. So, I booked a couple of cheap airline tickets to Tampa, Florida. I was taking my husband home for the holidays! Wow….I never thought I would be uttering that phrase in my life. This would be a trip back to two of my homes of the past. John had been to the New York area with me before, but going to a family reunion at my Uncle Rudolph's house in Florida was a big deal.

So, let's start with the trip to The Big Apple and New Jersey. Arriving in New York City felt like home. Seeing my friends like Marshall, Andrew, Adrian, Neil, Jermaine and Kale was a real nice way to start off. Tried to go to some of my old haunts like The Monster and The Hangar, but I'm afraid too much time has past. Both places were just the mere shells of themselves. I didn't recognize any of the small attendees (except for maybe a couple of die-hard regulars sprinkled here and there). Those places of old employment didn't feel like home anymore.

I called a few of my old friends but their lives seemed to have moved on in different directions. As I explained to my husband, the longer I stay away the further I am in most's memories. But oddly enough, a theme for our trip was starting in New York and New Jersey. And the theme was "Circles & Old Habits". From friends repeating old patterns in relationships to others not recognizing that they have addiction problems……some things never change.

Somehow, Asbury Park always seems to be the same. I guess it is because it is a little smaller than NYC. Spinning at Georgies Bar is always a treat. The reputation and legacy of DJ Relentless still holds up there. Unfortunately, the cold weather kept a lot folks in (and truthfully….I don't blame 'em). If I didn't have to be out, I wouldn't either. And no visit to Asbury Park is complete without the late night after the bar talk to catch up with David Hoffman. Him and Marshall White are probably my oldest friends (not meaning in age, but as in longest time knowing each other) in the Tri-State area.

So, then it was off to Atlantic City to fly out to Florida. To tell the truth, I was a little nervous. Talking to someone over the phone or through facebook is one thing, but seeing them face to face is another. Memories of the reasons I left Tampa came flooding back. And that insecure kid who so desperately wanted acceptance reared his head on the plane ride down. But as soon as I saw my Uncle Rudolph waiting for us at the airport, a sense of accomplishment rushed over me. The look in his eyes told me that I had done the right thing by coming home.

Finally, I could show my husband where I came from. The places I grew up and the food I always brag about. As we drove through the city, tons of memories that I had not thought about in years came back. Stories of my youth poured from my mouth. I'm sure John was sick of it by the second the day. And finally, I was going to find out what had happen over the past two decades in my family.

Me and the saviors of our family....Uncle Rudolph & Aunt Ruthie. These two are the ones who are trying keep everyone together.

First, I have to say that my Uncle Rudolph and my Aunt Ruth are the glue that holds what's left of my family together. I applaud them for putting "Family First" regardless what happens. After some of the things they shared with me, I don't know if I could do what they have done. My father's side of my family is a big bundle of "Circles & Old Habits". And the expression of "history repeating itself" is so fitting. My father, his mother, my Aunt Kathy and even the man who got me into DJ-ing (Uncle Herb) were not nice people. And the disfunction that they wallowed in has ruled the development of their off-spring. My brothers, Vaughn, Adrain, Anton, and Anthony are all following in my fathers foot-steps. All with kids too early in life, all consumed with sex and all making mistakes that are gonna haunt them later in life. Except for the kids, I am guilty of these things too. But fortunately, I stopped and changed my cycle. I have a different perspective about my life. In a way….I kinda feel like Uncle Rudolph's approach rubbed off on me. We both have the ability to see the bigger picture and what's important in life.

My Uncle Rudolph and Aunt Ruth invited everyone over to their house for a barbecue. They spend two days preparing all the food for that day. Chicken, beef ribs, pork ribs, potato salad, collard greens….hell, there was so much food I couldn't sample it all! Oh….and the best macaroni & cheese I've had in a long time! See my brothers, cousins (Tarkesha, Tula, Cookie and Cornell), nieces and nephews was such a treat. We laughed and reminisce all day. It was a shame that everyone didn't make it over at the same time. It would have been great to get a group photo. And John had such a great time meeting everyone. As a Canadian, John was really enjoying my family's accents and sensibilities. I think Aunt Ruth was his favorite. It was wonderful being respected and accepted. Too bad, Teresa (my step-mother) was not well enough to make over that day. So, we went to see her the next day.

But I guess the one brother that I was most disappointed with was Vaughn. He did not want to see me at all. I found out that his first born son is also gay. In some strange way he blames me. He treats his son exactly like my father treated me. He has nothing to do with him. I hope that he does not have the same fate as my father. I am a firm believer that God puts people and situations in your life to teach you how to love. It's just a shame that not everyone gets that lesson. Perhaps Vaughn thinks because I was so "out" about being gay so young that I set a bad example. But from my mother's side of the family, I was taught to just be me. That's all I can be. So, if that meant that I wanted o wear a wig and lip-sync songs for the family at Christmas….so be it. No one told me that I was wrong. My grandmother (Carrie-Mae) just let me be who I was and loved me unconditionally.

It was really heartbreaking to hear the demise of my Uncle Herbert. He went blind as a teenager, but was always talented in music. My Uncle Rudolph told me that he graduated from college with degrees in child psychology. I never knew that. I only knew him as a DJ and musician. It was terrible to know that he was robbed and beaten up so badly that he had to be put on life support. And basically it was my father's fault for leaving him alone with a stranger in the house. He was a brilliant man and he taught me so much about music. It's hard to believe that he is gone.

And the last disturbing thing to finally see the last mother figure in my life being mistreated my her sons. Teresa was a very important part of my life when I was trying to know my father back in the early 80's. She recognized that I was gay and tried to get him to accept it. I witnessed her taking mental and physical abuse from this man. I watched her get up and go to work to feed me, Adrian, Anton, Zuberi (my mother's other child) and Anthony while my father would lay around drinking some days. So, to see her not well and her own sons not making sure that she is comfortable and living better was just upsetting! This is what I meant about "Circles & Old Habits". My brothers are doing the same things my father did and don't even realize it. The disfunction continues with no end in sight. These lives are going round and round in circles.

Now, some would say…..why are you putting your family out there on "front street" like this? Well, I am hoping they read this and do something about it. I know that I am risking alienating myself all over again, but something also occurred to me while I was visiting. I am the oldest. After my Uncle Rudolph, I am the oldest male on my father's side of the family. It is my responsibility to step up to the plate and do what I can. I cannot be a father to my brothers. Too much time has past. Attitudes and habits have been formed. I can only set an example and lend my experiences to the fabric of what is our family.

Another interesting thing that my aunt and uncle shared with me was the last monarch of the family was gay also. My Great Uncle Luther was a closeted homosexual. So, it is so funny to me that some of the men in my family have issues with gay people. There are plenty of us in the family and have been for years.

So, I shall return to Tampa more often. There was a time that I was not interested in ever seeing Florida again. Now, I think I have to spend some more time there…..for my family and most importantly for me. Plus, I also found out that I have a couple of gay relatives who I think could benefit from having me around. I wanna make sure that they don't have to grow up with all the baggage that my father put on me. So, Uncle Jade and Aunt Johnny are gonna be a part of your lives.

The long weekend in Tampa seemed to have flown by. I did get to reconnect with my probably one of my longest running friends, Rossie. It's hard to believe that I met him back in the late 70's. It is great to know that some friends may come and go, but others are there for life. Hopefully, LaKiria & Ashley (girlfriends of my brothers) will be added to that list of life long friends.

So, we rushed backed to NYC for my last gig this trip. I was spinning at an East Village landmark, The Cock. I never really had a huge following in the East Village. I built my reputation on the Westside of Manhattan (Greenwich Village, Chelsea, Hell's Kitchen, Harlem). But thanks to another good friend, Shameless I think I am beginning to lay the foundation in other circles. New work relationships and new followings are being forged. I like it!

This trip really showed me that I made the right decisions in my life. I'm glad that I left Tampa when I did. That circle of disfunction had to be broken. I would not be the person I am today if I had not stepped out on faith and took a chance to change my life. And now I have a completely new life. I have continued to be blessed.

[flauntpage]

I Like the Difficulty of the Sixers’ Early-Season Schedule

Everybody talks about how challenging the Sixers’ schedule is, but I kind of like it.

In lieu of a harrowing slog toward the playoffs, you’re really just getting the hard part out of the way early.

Ten of the first 15 are on the road, including a five-game West Coast road swing. The reward for running that gauntlet is a “welcome home!” game against the Warriors, just seven days removed from a visit to Oracle Arena.

Yea, it’s gonna be a merciless start, but do you want Golden State now, or later?

This is a Sixers team that will need time to jell, evolve, and learn how to win. I’d prefer they start that curve in games where they won’t be favored, instead of facing pressure to get the job done right off the bat. Expectations feel like they’re a bit high for a squad that’s somewhere between nascent and burgeoning on the developmental scale.

We’re probably looking at a 5-10 or 4-11 start, but I don’t think anyone was expecting otherwise, not unless Ben Simmons and a restricted Joel Embiid come flying out of the gates ala Rhys Hoskins. Markelle Fultz is starting the season with the second unit and will need some time. I don’t know if a full-strength squad is winning at Houston anyway, so let’s get the ducks in a row before we get ahead of ourselves.

This isn’t next-level thinking; the flip side is that the back-end schedule is incredibly ideal.

You’re starting the final 15 games with six of seven at home against the likes of Brooklyn and New York. Assuming you tread water from December to March, there’s a really good chance to barrel towards the postseason with some momentum-building wins.

For the hell of it, let’s go down the list and see where we end up, starting with the first 15.

10/18 – at Wizards (LOSS)

Season openers are always hard to predict.

I see John Wall leading the Wizards to a close, fourth-quarter win. They’ve been solid in the preseason and they’ll be a top-four Eastern Conference team.

For what it’s worth, the Sixers played Oklahoma City tough in last year’s opener, a six-point home loss.

10/20 – vs. Celtics (WIN)

Not sure why, but I think the Sixers get it done in the home opener, which should feature the best crowd we’ve seen at the Wells Fargo Center in some time.

Just a gut feeling. Am I crazy?

10/21 – at Raptors (LOSS)

They lose in Toronto on short rest after an emotional win.

The Sixers went 5-12 in these back-to-backs last year. The interesting thing is that four of those wins came on the road when the team wasn’t always playing with a full-strength roster. The usage of Joel Embiid in these short turnaround situations, and the minutes restriction imposed on him, will be a monolithic storyline this season.

This will also be the third game in a row that the Sixers face an All-Star point guard (Wall, Kyrie Irving, and Kyle Lowry).

10/23 – at Pistons (WIN)

This one is critical because the Pistons are probably going to be in that seven to ten range in the east.

No one expects the Sixers to jump Toronto and Washington this year, but they need to consistently beat these mid-conference teams if they’re going to slide into the postseason. This game provides a good early barometer in that department.

"I can't wait to show teams why they missed out on me" – @IshSmith#ICantWait #DetroitBasketball http://pic.twitter.com/LV7uAMhUcW

— Detroit Pistons (@DetroitPistons) September 11, 2017

10/25 vs. Rockets (LOSS)

We’ll see how much home court factors in, but I just don’t see a win here.

10/28 at Mavericks (LOSS)

Toss up?

The Mavs weren’t great last season and won’t be that great this season. Philly gets two days off before this Texas swing. Consider this a wildly successful trip if they pip Dallas before heading down to Houston.

10/30 at Rockets (LOSS)

Nope.

11/1 vs. Hawks (WIN)

They’ll get it done at home and beat the rebuilding Hawks for the first time since March of 2015.

11/3 vs. Pacers (WIN)

Two in a row to improve to 4-5.

I’d feel pretty good if they go into the long road trip with four wins.

11/7 at Jazz (LOSS)

This is where the shitty part starts. You get a playoff team in Utah (sans Gordon Hayward) to start off the west coast trip.

11/9 at Kings (WIN)

Outside of the Lakers matchup, this is the best opportunity for a win out west. I’m not sure what to make of Sacramento going into the new year, but they’re probably headed for mediocrity in the west.

I think the Sixers go 1-4 on the trip, but 2-3 would be phenomenal, and this is how you get there.

11/11 at Warriors (LOSS)

Loss.

11/13 at Clippers (LOSS)

Loss.

11/15 at Lakers (WIN)  

Markelle Fultz, Lonzo Ball, Ben Simmons, and Brandon Ingram all on the same court?

Mmmm.. that sounds good. I think I’ll have that.

It’s critical to get a win here and take some juice back home. I like the fact that there’s a day off between the Clippers and Lakers games without the necessity of travel. No flight between those games gives you a chance to settle a bit and get some rest.

11/18 vs. Warriors (LOSS)

Should be fun if it’s anything like this:

First 15 games = five wins, 10 losses

This could very easily be 4-11 or 6-9 depending on a couple of those swing games. Maybe they lose to Boston at home but beat Dallas on the road instead. Maybe that Sacramento game goes the other way. It’s hard to say, but I’m not sure they’re going 7-8 in these first 15.

The next five after November 8th are all at home, with Utah coming off a Houston trip and Portland flying in from Memphis. I like the Sixers’ chances to win those games and improve to 7-10.

That’s really not that bad going into the holiday season.

Let’s skip the middle chunk of the schedule and take a look at the final 15 games:

3/16 vs. Nets (WIN)

Easy enough.

3/19 vs. Hornets (WIN)

Two days rest before another home game = win.

3/21 vs. Grizzlies (WIN)

Probably the toughest matchup of the three-game home stand, but I think they get it done.

Last year’s home game against the Grizz was the famous double overtime loss, when Embiid didn’t play the second OT because of his minutes restriction. That result certainly changes if he’s in the game.

@sixers schedule released and I just played the W/L game. If Embiid plays 60+ games I got us @ 82-0. Under 60 games I got the same record

— Ryan Field (@ryan_field10) August 14, 2017

3/22 at Magic (LOSS)

Feels like a loss with a quick turnaround sandwiched in here.

3/24 vs. Timberwolves (WIN)

I’m curious to see how the offseason additions improve this squad.

The Sixers split with the Wolves last season, a team that should feature a starting lineup of Jeff Teague, Jimmy Butler, Andrew Wiggins, Karl-Anthony Towns, and Taj Gibson. In a lot of ways, they’re a good benchmark for the post-Process era, since they’re constructed in a similar fashion via several years of high draft picks and a free agent signing or two.

Difference is, when they were losing, they were actually trying to win.

3/26 vs. Nuggets (WIN)

Win.

3/28 vs. Knicks (WIN)

Win.

3/30 at Hawks (LOSS)

I’ll call this a loss just for the fact that I have them coming off three straight wins.

Again, Atlanta will be dreck this year as they blow it up and start the rebuild. It will be William Sherman-esque, but they’ll probably snag at least one win against the Sixers.

4/1 at Hornets (LOSS)

A day off before a very short trip to Charlotte. I’ll put it down as a loss just because I’m playing averages here, but I think this one could go either way.

4/3 vs. Nets (WIN)

Pencil it in.

4/4 at Pistons (LOSS)

I’m not feeling the road trip on a back-to-back.

4/6 vs. Cavs (LOSS)

Maybe you catch Lebron and company snoozing if they’ve got the #1 seed already wrapped up.

Otherwise, put this one in the “L” column.

4/8 vs. Mavericks (WIN)

Yup.

4/10 at Hawks (WIN)

I think they can certainly snag a win here.

4/11 vs. Bucks (WIN)

It’s a back-to-back, but that’s alright. I really do think they can finish with three-straight wins.

#Sixers HOFer, Charles Barkley, says that the Sixers are 100% making the playoffs. http://pic.twitter.com/oCWJ95s0ER

— Sixers News (@SixersNews0719) October 7, 2017

Last 15 games = 10 wins, five losses

They really have a shot at winning two-thirds of their games down the stretch.

When you combine those 30 total games on the front and back of the calendar, I’ve got them at 15-15, right at the .500 mark. If the Sixers can hold serve and play five-hundred ball for the middle chunk of the schedule (26-26), we’re looking at a final record of 41 and 41. That probably gets you into the playoffs in the Eastern Conference. 42-40 definitely gets you in, and a losing record might even be good enough, depending on how the rest of the conference shakes out. We’re only a few years removed from the 38-44 Bucks and Hawks making the playoffs.

I asked Dario Saric about the schedule, and whether he had a preference on going out west early, or starting off the schedule in Philadelphia:

“Maybe I’d like to have a couple of more games at home, to start in front of our fans and try to play good basketball and (learn how to play together). So home games, and then after that some away games. But this is an NBA schedule. Sometimes it’s like this. Of course we’ll give 100% and try to play the best we can in those away games.”

My prediction: 41-41, 8th seed in the east

I Like the Difficulty of the Sixers’ Early-Season Schedule published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv