#Liz Maverick

[angelsanarchy]

Books to Movies: Still Hung Up On You by Liz Maverick

"A hilarious, heart-tugging rom com about two people finding each other again one phone call at a time. "

Hannah Gold never thought she’d speak to Ethan Reisner ever again. Getting dumped in high school will do that to you. But when she needs to find a beloved sweater in time for her parents’ 50th anniversary, she begins her search where she last saw it: Ethan’s childhood home. She thought calling Ethan out of the blue would be the hardest part, but breaking fifteen years of silence was just the beginning.

Hannah Gold - Played by Meagan Rath

Ethan Reisner - Played by Eric Christian Olsen

Sometimes I read books and picture certain actors in their roles so this is what you're getting. Stay tuned for more of these.

[oatflatwhite]

the inherent homoeroticism of war media: a completely unserious presentation by me

[note: some slides have been removed because they're literally just fancams and also i had more than 30 slides boo tumblr image limits]

BIBLIOGRAPHY (just going in order of slides)

and your knees are driving me wild - mash s02e08

george mackay has found his niche in homoerotic war movies

war stories are inherently homoerotic. that's how we got stucky

hangman you look good - top gun: maverick (gif by babyrooster)

letter of recommendation: watching masters of the air secondhand

it's not just sports - masters of the air e02

1 being not gay at all, 10 being liberace in an f-16

we'll go to chicago - band of brothers e01 (gif by @fkmylif3)

it is the law that every piece of war media

kim is a homoseggsual - kath & kim s01e02

Untitled (You Construct Intricate Rituals) - Barbara Kruger

The Secret History of Australia's Gay Diggers - Ben Winsor (+ Paul Fussell quoted within)

Sexuality, Sexual Relations and Homosexuality - Jason Crouthamel

Soldiers bathing in Malaya - AWM

Private Frank Crocker letters featured in Sebastian Faulks and Hope Wolf, A Broken World: Letters, Diaries and Memories of the Great War (2014), pp. 75-78.

mike's mic screencap my beloved <3

winnix gifs by @bandofbrothers2001 @preacherboyd @galebucky

winnix art by @andromeddog

winnix art by @onefineginger

In storms and at sunset by jouissant

winnix memes/text posts: 1 (@bleedingcoffee42) 2 (@krakerjaksstuff) 3 (@claudycod) 4 (@lewis-winters) 5 (@mon-mothmas-collar)

man is a hopeless creature i don't like much of anyone (@sluttyhenley)

You Create Intricate Rituals: The Homoerotic Action Movie - Rebecca Radillo (Lyvie Scott featured)

val kilmer icemav warrior compliation by @mavernick2

t as in top gun: maverick (@misaothewitch)

which is gayer (@holypowell)

we're fools to make war by whimsicule

all my roads lead back to you by liadan14

m*a*s*h video by @amrv-5 (+ reblog tags)

clegan/buck(y) gifs by @4o4notf0und @rcbertleckie

clegan fanart by @ifapromise <3

clegan memes: 1 (@rcbertleckie) 2 (@season-two) 3 (@ww2yaoi) 4 & 5

bomber's moon by moonrocks

**i tried to tag/link everything, if anything is broken or unsourced please let me know and i will endeavour to fix it! standard disclaimer that a) any discussion about war media based on real life people is based upon the fictional portrayals of those people and not the actual dudes. and b) this powerpoint was made for fun, it is not rigorous academic analysis. all opinions expressed are my own. please do not take it too seriously! that's all <3

[alegendoftomorrow]

Letters to our Soldiers

Summary: Bradley finds himself making a Christmas wish on a letter from a stranger as he spends another Christmas alone ten thousand miles away from home.

Character: Bradley Bradshaw and F!reader (no use of Y/N)

Word Count: 1,208

Warnings: None

A/N: This is my third entry into @sailor-aviator winter challenger. My prompt was Merry Christmas, though I did also use this as a springboard for a possible series that I hope to start soon. Now, is this late... so very much so. Did life decide to send me into the new year with one finale kick…. Also yes. Is this also the first personal thing I’ve written for myself in a long time…also yes. But I had so much fun doing it and it feels good to get back to writing again. I hope you all have a phenomenal New Year and you find all the things you were looking for…. Enjoy some Christmas in February!

Bradley jumped off the ladder of his F-18 and shivered against the wind that blew across the deck. The sweat beading up along his brow and making his curls stick there was now making him feel even colder as he saluted the handful of privates who came to tighten his jet down to the deck and then lower it away so they could head back into port. Their practice drills finally done.

Rushing inside he tucked his helmet under his arm and headed right for the debriefing room. If he was lucky their CO would have nothing of note to say and send them all back to their bunks. Bradley wanted to change and get under his blankets. There was heat on the USS Dauntless but the steal walls and floors always seemed to hold onto the weather outside better then they did the temperature inside. Meaning right now it felt like walking through an ice box.

“Hey Bradshaw, you coming with us tonight or not?” That was Fitz’s voice echoing down the hall.

Bradley paused in the hall and pressed himself against the wall to let another officer pass by him as he waited for Fitz to catch up to him. “Na, I think I’m just going to stay in and try to catch up on some sleep.”

Fitz rolled his eyes and groaned as he walked in stride with Bradley to the briefing room. “Come on man it’s the first time we’ve seen land in weeks and you’re telling me you’d rather stay on this floating tin can then come and enjoy the night out with us?”

“That is exactly what I’m saying,” Bradley quipped back. “I intend to spend my leave sleeping and resting in my own bunk. Not eating bread and water in the brig.”

Fitz rolled his eyes and punched Bradley’s shoulder. Waving him off like he was a lost caused. “First of all, that happened one time and secondly you’re still boring.”

Bradley just shook his head and plopped down on one of the wooden seats. His excuse was the truth. Mostly. The other reason though was currently burning a hole in the pocket of his flight suit. A perfectly folded letter that still smelled faintly of warm vanilla. A letter from a stranger he’d never met. Natasha had signed him up for one of those letter writing programs for soldiers. He’d been annoyed at first, but now he looked forward to each and every one of them.

“We’ll be heading into port in a few hours and I expect all of you to act like the officers you are. Dismissed,” their CO finally called after the debrief had ended.

“Last chance Bradshaw,” Fitz said already halfway out of the door. “It’s Christmas Eve!”

“Leave the man alone Fitz. He’s got big and important plans for the night,” Omaha said with a laugh. Dragging Fitz out of the doorway as a chorus of other officers and enlisted men chattered loudly, interspersed with laughter and off key singing which Bradley just chuckled at.

After a quick shower he changed back into his dark t-shirt and pants laying back on his lower bunk and taking out the letter. The writing on the front was in pretty, dark cursive. Whoever this woman was she had the prettiest handwriting Bradley had ever seen. He pressed the letter to his nose and breathed in the warm scent of vanilla that still only faintly lingered there. It would be a hard day when the smell faded from this one too. Opening the letter, he tucked one of his hands back under his head and smiled softly.

Dear Soldier, 

            I don’t know what time zone you’re in, or even what country you’re stationed at, but where ever you are I hope you’re not spending Christmas Eve alone.

Bradley laughed. “Sorry to disappoint sweetheart,” he muttered. Though he did wonder if this technically counted as spending the day alone if he was reading her words…

             I for one will likely be spending it at the hospital. One of my co-workers, Mandy--she was the one involved in the blue cupcake fiasco a few months ago—anyways she has two adorable little boys and so I took her shifts so she could spend the holidays with them. I don’t mind though so don’t go feeling bad for me or anything. I like what I do and it’s nice to get to spend time with the patients over Christmas. Especially when some of them don’t have any family to come visit them. You should see the nurse’s station all decked out in different decorations for just about every different holiday celebrated among us.

Bradley’s smile grew wider as his heart swelled in his chest reading over the words. This woman was so kind and bright. He could so easily imagine her sitting at a nurse’s station and painstakingly writing to him everything that came to her mind as she looked over her floor. He imagined she had the most beautiful smile to match her pretty words. He found himself longing, as he often did, to ask her questions back. He wanted to know everything about her and he wanted to tell her everything about him. He wanted her to know that he reread the twelve other letters shed written him nearly every day. That he held them close to his chest when the nights got dark or the sea was rough. He wanted to tell her that he had them memorized. Every friend she mentioned and patient she cared for; he knew them all. He wanted to tell her that they had the same favorite color and favorite Girl Scout Cookie flavor. He wished her letters came with a return address.

            Alright well it’s getting late and I have to head out for another round but I want to make sure I get this in the mail to you so you get it in some kind of speedy order. I don’t really know how to say this without coming off like a stalker or some kind of wierdo, and I really hope you don’t thinks it’s weird but I included my address at the bottom of this page just in case you wanted to write back to me.

Bradley’s heart flpped and he sat up so quickly his head nearly hit the top bunk. Flicking his eyes to the bottom of the page he did indeed she her return address written there. His thumb brushed across her name and the letters and numbers beneath it.

I know the service is random and I’ve already written more letter than I was supposed to but, I don’t know, getting to write to you these past few months has felt nice. You really helped me, whoever you are out there, and I just want to keep writing to you if I can.

            I hope wherever you are you’re staying safe and that m letters have been a little piece of home you’ve been missing.

Merry Christmas Soldier.

“Merry Christmas sweetheart,” Bradley whispered. He looked down at the address one last time and then reached under his bunk into one of the drawers there. Pulling out a notebook and his pen he began his own letter.

[horseshoegirl]

Happy First Anniversary to Damn Those Dog Tags!

On February 22nd of last year, I decided to return to fan fiction writing with this story and posted the first chapter. I couldn't have predicted the response or how many people fell in love with Liz, Sadie, and their version of Jake. So I wanted to mark the occasion with something special.

A few people on here know I draw, so for over the past three months, I've been trying to design a book cover of sorts. I finally finished it last night.

💛This is my thank you to you guys 💛

Please be gentle... I'm not used to publicly sharing my artwork (Idk if it's even that good, and I was also really scared to post it), though this story means a lot to me, so I had to do something 😅💛 Can you guess what chapter this is from?

Damn Those Dog Tags Masterlist

Special thanks to @desert-fern @sarahsmi13s @teacupsandtopgun @startrekfangirl2233 @dakotakazansky and @callsignspitfire for your feedback over countless screenshots as I drew it and encouraging me to post it 😅💛

Tagging the tag list for DTDT here:

@blue-aconite @tinytotontheoversizedpony @djs8891 @caitsymichelle13

@ereardon @dempy @shanimallina87 @daggerspare-standingby

@phantomxoxo @formulapierre @eli2447 @fulla02 @blckgrl-sunflower @mizzzpink @ohgodnotagainn

@bubblegumbeautyqueen @lynnestra44 @memoriesat30 @penwieldingdreamer @mxlanciia

@bradleybeachbabe @bobby-r2d2-floyd @lavenderbradshaw @roosters-girl @lovinglyeternal @kmc1989 @gigisimsonmars

@keyrani @craftytrashprincess @hisredheadedgoddess28 @abzidabzy @memeorydotcom @vicsnook @taestrwbrry

@its-the-pilot @dizzybee03 @fanficfandomlove

And for those who followed along: @mycobrakai1972 @wherethewildfanlives @abaker74 @wildxwidow @penguin876

@tgmreader @hookslove1592 @pinkdisneygirl97 @superskittles

From the master tag list:

@lynnevanss @wretchedmo @stargazer-88 @redbarn1995

@bellaireland1981 @halibshepherd

-Lucky ☘️

[sailor-aviator]

You’re gonna look me in the eye and tell me that Maverick, Goose, and Carole weren’t a polycule???

[fangirling-tussisque-noncaelatur]

Hangman: Hey darlin', what's that on your ass?

Rooster: *touching his butt* I don't know, what?

Hangman: It's right there on your ass!

Rooster: Well, what is it then?!

Hangman: *winks* My eyes.

Rooster: *shakes his head but blushes so hard*

[sorchathered]

I just need everyone to know how much I truly love all of my author friends for sharing your work with me and sharing your WIPS, I love seeing how amazing and creative your minds are it’s so awesome to me that I get to hang out with such bad ass people.

Also @sailor-aviator is currently trying to murder me with DHTN 😭😭😭😭😭

[letsboo-boo]

56 + hangster or fanback! - liz

56. Direct Me - Otis Redding (this one screams hangster) Shame on me, shame on me  I made a big mistake

It's the smile Jake directs at him when they're face to face after Bradley lands that seals the deal. Because that is not Hangman; it's Jake. His Jake smiling at him, his Jake that saved his and Mav's life. His Jake that Bradley should have never let go.

So when the carrier's doctors get a hold of him to take him to the med bay, Bradley reaches out to grasp Jake's sleeve, set on correcting that right this second.

Jake looks down to where Bradley is gripping him and then looks up to his face, gaze turning fond. "Come on, Bradshaw," he says softly, "I'll walk with you. You'll probably collapse halfway there otherwise."

He waves the medical staff away and curls his left arm firmly around Bradley's waist, helping him stay upright. They make their way through the carrier's corridors in silence, Bradley leaning more and more on Jake as they get closer to their destination.

"Jake—"

Jake shuts him up with a squeezing of his side. "Shh, we're almost there."

Bradley furrows his brows but presses his lips and says nothing.

Once Jake has helped Bradley flop on the cot in the med bay, the med staff letting them have some privacy before returning for the impending check-up, Bradley tries again, gripping the other pilot's flight suit once more. "Listen, Jake, I—" he takes a deep breath, gaze fixed on the spot where he's holding him, "I want..."

Don't think. Just do.

"I wanna try again," Bradley blurts out, "if you'll have me."

The room is silent, enough so that there's no way for him to miss Jake's sharp intake of breath.

"Bradley..." It's been so long since Jake's said his name. "It's been a rough day. You should rest."

Bradley grips Jake's flight suit tighter when he tries to pull back and looks up at him, straight into his eyes, hoping to convey the following words as clearly as possible. "I mean it, Jake."

Jake deflates instantly, hand reaching out to cup Bradley's cheek. Bradley leans into his touch, closing his eyes and sighing. 

There's shuffling, and then Jake's chapped lips press softly against his in a sweet kiss. Bradley could cry.

When Jake leans back, Bradley tries to follow, eliciting a low chuckle from Jake. He opens his eyes to Jake's grinning face.

"How are you so convincing?"

"I'm charming like that," Bradley grins. "It's the mustache."

Jake snorts and shoves him, making Bradley huff in pain as he falls back to the cot.

"Shit. Sorry."

Bradley chuckles. "'s alright."

Jake rolls his eyes and turns to the door. "Rest. We'll talk after the debriefing." He waves a stern finger in his direction right before stepping out. "And that's a threat!"

Bradley lets out a puff of laughter as he leans back into the thin pillow, flinching when a sharp jolt of pain rises from his ribcage.

It's taken Bradley five years, lots of lonely nights and tears, too afraid of all his fears and demons to try. But now, the prospect of talking, of opening up to Jake, is not so frightening anymore.

He's on the right track.

[emma-ofnormandy]

Hubs and I finally watched Top Gun: Maverick last night. The hype and positive reviews were right, which pains me because I am not a Tom Cruise fan at all.

It was really good. I'm still thinking about it.

[lucyswinter]

Request guidelines

Requests are : OPEN<3

Masterlist

Who/what I write for:

-Cillian Murphy/ characters: (Jackson Rippner, Tom Shelby, Neil Lewis, Jonathan Crane, Kitten Braden, Jim: 28 days later, Emmett: a quiet place part II, Raymond Leon, Robert Fischer, Tom Buckley)

-Criminal Minds: Spencer Reid, Aaron Hotchner, Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, Penelope Garcia, JJ,

-The Bear: Sydney Adamu, Richie Jerimovich, Carmen Berzatto, Sugar Berzatto

-Saw: Lawrence Gordon, Adam Stanheight, Mark Hoffman, Peter Strahm, Amanda Young, Jill Tuck, Lynn Denlon (for ships: I’ll do chainshipping, coffinshipping, and shotgunshipping/lynnmanda!)

-American Horror Story (All seasons up to Cult with the addition of 1984. Only ships if they are canon (by season, I mean)! i.e: I won’t do Kit Walker (s2) x Madison Montgomery (s3) or anything! And for canon relationships, I will do any season besides NYC and Delicate as long as they are already together. For example, I would do Montana and Richard from 1984.)

-Nip/Tuck: Sean McNamara, Christian Troy, Matt McNamara, Julie McNamara, Liz Cruz, Eden Lord, Sophia Lopez, Kimber Henry

-DC villains (from the Nolan trilogy or Gotham tv show! I will specify from which one I mean. I’ll also write Batman but that’s the only “hero”/vigilante)

-Peaky blinders: Luca Changretta, Tom Shelby, Alfie Solomons, Finn Shelby, John Shelby, Arthur Shelby, Oswald Mosley

-Top Gun/ Top Gun: Maverick: any characters! (For ships, I only rlly know IceMav 😭 but I’m open to others! I’ll also do penny!reader)

-Bridgerton/ Queen Charolette: Daphne x Simon, George x Charolette, Anthony x Kate, Colin x Penelope (and all of these characters individually as well as Benedict, Violet, Eloise, and the Featherington sisters! *Edit for season 3*: Lord Debling, Lord Stirling, Lady Arnold, Lord Anderson, Francesca Bridgerton, Cressida Cowper)

-Community: Professor Ian Duncan, Jeff Winger, Abed Nadir, Britta Perry , Annie Edison, Troy Barnes

-Impractical Jokers: Joe Gatto, Sal Vulcano, James Murray, Brian Quinn

-Supernatural: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Castiel, Destiel (will not do Wincest or Wincestiel)

-X-files: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, MSR

-BBC Sherlock (only JohnLock)

-Good omens (only Ineffable husbands)

-Hannibal (only Hannigram)

(Any other characters im open to! Just PM me to see if I know the fandom/media they’re in, or rec with a few options! I’ll ignore if I don’t know them <;3)

I will write: A bit ooc (depends on scenario 🤭), fluff, smut, small-ish age gap, AU’s, non romantic pairings, alternate endings, fem!/gn!/afab!reader, character x reader, character x character

I won’t write: Male!/nonbinary!/trans!reader (im a cis female so I will write gender neutral reader if requested, but most fics (unless specified) were written with a fem reader in mind :)), incest, underage reader (or character), dub/non-con

Thanks for reading! Feel free to PM requests if you aren’t comfortable sending them through the question button or want to work through the request :)

[chasingshadowsblog]

Review: Strictly Ballroom - Show Me Your Paso Doble

Title: Strictly Ballroom Directed by: Baz Luhrmann Written by: Baz Luhrmann, Andrew Bovell, Craig Pearse Cast: Paul Mercurio, Tara Morice, Pat Thompson, Billy Hunter, Barry Otto Year: 1992

Sometimes you start watching a movie and you know that you're not going to like it. It's not bad, it's not offensive, it's just not the film you were looking for in that moment...

THIS IS NOT THE CASE WITH STRICTLY BALLROOM

"Did I fail him as a mother?!" Baz Luhrmann opens his film with a series of interviews about an incident that occured at the Southern Districts Watarah Championships, in which main character and ballroom darling Scott Hastings blew his career by including non-regulated steps into his routine with partner Liz Holt. The world-building accomplished in this short segment is nothing short of exquisite. Not only is it very funny but the exaggerated reactions of Scott's friends and family throw the viewer into the deep end of the film's ballroom dancing world in a way that doesn't leave us confused, but completely understanding the level of scandal that Scott has incurred upon himself.

"I don't CARE about winning the Pan Pacific Grand Prix!" But Scott is no longer willing to compromise. He has something inside of him that he needs to put out into the world, even if it means killing his chances of becoming a champion. Enter Fran, a pimply, awkward but enthusiastic beginner who encourages Scott's new steps and defies all the rules of their world by approaching Scott and asking him to be her partner, "Look, a beginner has no right to approach an Open Amateur." "Yeah, well an Open Amateur has no right to dance non-Federation steps, but you did, didn't you?" Fran herself goes through little change throughout the film, having arrived fully formed as a young woman willing to call it as she sees it and who isn't afraid to put herself out there. Her feisty nature brings him back down to earth and while she might not be at the same level as Scott, Fran's passion for dance and desire to try something new is equal to his own.

Underneath Strictly Ballroom's main plot is a sweet and quiet love story between Scott and Fran, inevitable under the circumstances, but viewers would be mistaken to think that this is all the film is. The main story revolves around the maverick Scott and his defiance of the regulations imposed by head of the Australian Dancing Federation, Barry Fife, a plot which culminates in Scott launching himself onto the floor of the Pan Pacific Grand Prix in the costume of a bull-fighter, where he dances the paso doble with Fran - a Latin dance with connections to the military and bullfighters. Their initial practice of a rumba, a dance associated with love and sensuality, is over-taken by the more agressive and competitive paso doble as Scott frees himself more and more from the restrictions of the federation. Indeed, Scott has to re-learn the steps and soul of the paso doble from Fran's native Spanish father and grandmother, who laugh at his initial dance school version of the steps, "Show me your paso doble."

It is always interesting to see such a distinctive director's debut feature; while Strictly Ballroom is full of all the glitz, glamour and glitter that this world operates on, it is much less of a sensory overload than Luhrmann's later works like Moulin Rouge, The Great Gatsby and Elvis. Still, hints of the director to come can be found in the visceral world-building, Fran and Scott's magical dance in front of the Coca-Cola sign, and the glamorous costumes and over-the-top hairstyles of the dancing community. However, it in the quieter moments that the film truly shines; when Scott watches Fran's father dancing in the half-light of their back-yard with only clapping and a guitar for accompaniment or when Scott and Fran dance their beautifully intimate rumba behind the curtains, stripped bare of the costumery and drama of the competition floor. These are the film's most powerful moments, where Scott finally finds the passion, truth and intensity he's been looking for.

Other bits:

the way Scott, Liz, Wayne and Vanessa come out onto the ballroom floor at the beginning of the film like the popular kids that they are (chef's kiss)

"There was no doubt in anyone's mind that Scott and Liz would be the next Pan Pacific Grand Prix Amateur Five Dance Latin American Champions."

"Hi Liz! I thought you should have wo-" Fran gets punched by Liz (while we don't want to see Fran get punched by anyone the comic timing of this moment is inarguably hilarious)

"I want Ken Railings to walk in here right now and say, "Pam Short's broken both her legs and I want to dance with you!" "Pam Short's broken both her legs and I want to dance with you."

Tara Morice is so funny in this film, her timing is brilliant

Fran's excitement and Scott's pleasure and laughter at seeing her so excited when he tells her he wants to dance with her at the competition is such a sweet, beautiful little moment between the two of them (and likely the first time in a long time that Scott has enjoyed or been around someone who enjoys dancing in such an honest care-free way) (IMO)

"It was announced today her partner of ten years Nathan Starkey will be retiring because of commitments to his landscape gardening business."

"The inconceivable sight of Scott dancing with Fran!"

Fran's dad and abuela are wonderful

"Muy bien, Fran. Very good." I love this moment, the two of them dancing together and the surprise on his face

shout-out to cinematographer Steve Mason, MVP

Wayne's heroic leap to unplug the microphone

the soundtrack

I haven't seen his name brought up much when reading about the film but the choreographer is John O'Connell

fun fact: Scott's been dancing since he was six years old

[nerdgirljen]

Got my Panel Moderation schedule for DragonCon

Liz is on the fucking ball with the Alternate & Historical Fiction Track! So at some point during the weekend, I will be moderating the following panels:

Lessons in Chemistry Fan Panel - It's probably going to touch on the show and the book... which means I need to watch the show. And I have all intentions on watching it... but now that I know that a certain character dies, I have to work myself up to watching it.

Bridgerton Fan Panel - Yall, it's Polin season, and I'm going to be ridiculous during this panel. I'm ready for Penelope and Colin's story to play out, and while I don't agree with how the showrunners ended them in Season 2, I'm ready for the carriage, the mirror, and Mr. Colin "My Wife" Bridgerton."

Cozy Mysteries & Crime Fighting Pets - This is the 3rd year of hosting a cozy mystery panel, and this year we're going to talk about the pets that are integral to the genre. And believe me, the good cozy mystery series always has a pet or two... sometimes even a ghost pet... or a fantastical pet... Or sometimes a familiar.

I'll also just be a panelist for their Boddice Ripping panel that will talk about books/tv shows/movies in the Alternate & Historical Fiction genre that talks about smut. That's pretty much all that's going on there. I admit that I don't read much historical romance - unless Nora Roberts western romances count - but I've seen Bridgerton and Outlander... and that's about it, so I may end up backing out of this one depending on the rest of my schedule.

Shrug.

I do know that I will be leading another Disney Vacations for Beginners panel for Kids Track. I'll be the only Travel Agent on the panel, and I will be bringing a bunch of giveaways and Disney Parks/Cruise Line info to the people who come to the panel. I'm going to try to not cry during the panel this year, but no promises. (We were talking about emergencies while on vacation, and since I had just gone through a vacation where Hurricane Ian decided to butt in... I was able to give my experience on how Disney treated guests who were stranded and had to stay to ride out the storm.)

As for panels for American Sci-Fi and Fantasy, I hope I'll get to do a few panels for them, but since there's not really been much in the way of MCU shows/movies come out, and since Arrow has been finished for a few years, I'm not entirely sure what panels I'd be most interested in... new Ghostbusters, definitely. Twisters? Hell to the yeah. And I have to face it, anything Top Gun: Maverick will be part of Military and Sci-Fi Media Track... I may need to ingratiate myself with them...

This post was mostly for @love-in-light, but if any of yall find yourself at DragonCon this year, feel free to hit me up! We can get a drink or something, or maybe wave awkwardly at each other since I'm shy af in meeting new people. Lmao.

[alegendoftomorrow]

Ice Skating

Summary: A fun outing after Christmas turns into a tease fest when one of the Dagger Squad may not be as good at everything as they pretend to be.

OC: Olivia Carter (Liv, Livy, Olive,). Photo Journalist assigned to the Dagger squad to do a piece on Naval Aviators in the modern world. Official character sheet coming soon!

Word Count:1,971

Warnings: None

A/N: This is my first entry into @sailor-aviator ‘s winter challenge. My prompt was ice skating, though I did also use this as a springboard for a possible series that I hope to start soon. Now, is this late... so very much so. Did life decide to send me into the new year with one finale kick…. Also yes. Is this also the first personal thing I’ve written for myself in a long time…also yes. But I had so much fun doing it and it feels good to get back to writing again. I hope you all have a phenomenal New Year and you find all the things you were looking for…. Enjoy some Christmas in February

“This was a terrible idea,” Jake’s voice calls from somewhere behind Liv. His tone lacking its usual confident swagger as she turns towards it to find him clutching the edge of the ice like it’s his lifeline. His feet slipping and wobbling as he attempts to walk rather than skate.

“I thought you said you had been skating before?” Liv called as she glided closer to him. Stopping sharply in front of him and meeting his pouting glare with an innocent smile.

“Yeah, when I was ten,” he said sharply. Ducking his head in something that resembled sheepishness. “I thought it was like riding a bike.”

Liv shouldn’t laugh. She really shouldn’t. Yet she can’t help the barely contained giggle that bursts past her lips that she tries to disguise as a cough. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s not funny. Just try to—”

“What’s not funny?” Bradley’s voice cuts through her words and the Christmas music still playing on the loud speakers around them. “Seriously Hangman, you’re still attached to the wall? You know there are five-year-old’s doing laps around you right?”

Jake rolls his eyes and mumbles something unintelligible, his hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose while Bradley leans down and kisses Liv’s cheek. His mustache scratching her warm skin in a way that still sets her heart racing like it did the very first time he kissed her there. His arm wrapping around her waist and tugging her closer to his side. Effortlessly using his strength to keep them both balanced and upright.

“Come on my love leave the poor man alone. Can’t you see he’s struggling enough?” Liv playfully smacks Bradley’s shoulder as he throws his head back and laughs. The California sun catching his blonde-brown curls and throwing that warm light back down onto Liv. Momentarily making her forget there are other people around her until Jake very loudly clears his throat.

“If you two are about to start making heart eyes at each other again I’m going to throw up.”

“Oh, whose making heart eyes?” A voice calls out. All three sets of eyes turn to find Mickey and Reuban skating towards them. Bundled up like everyone else around them against the “cold”. Matching knitted candy cane stripped scarves around their necks that were a gift from Reuban’s wife. They’d opened them yesterday when they’d gotten back and had yet to take them off. Somehow Mickey seemed more excited them Reuban had been. Proudly declaring “his shared wife” had made it for him. Reuban had found this far less amusing then the rest of the squad.

“No one is,” Bradley said quickly. Squeezing Liv closer he nodded towards Jake who was doing hi sbets to look like he didn’t need the wall to stay balanced. “We were just making fun of Jake here and his inability to skate.”

“You can’t skate?!” Mickey’s voice added to the shock in his wide eyes and dumbfounded expression.

“I can—”

“No way!” Reuban continued. “You mean there is something even the great Hangman himself can’t do.”

Jake sighed deeply and hung his head into his hand, groaning as the teasing continued. Liv wanted to feel bad but considering Jake was often the first to jump on someone else’s weakness she really didn’t feel too bad about it.

“Yeah, well not all of us grew up in the ice and snow,” he weakly shot back. Another round of laughter as Bradley argued that he too had grown up in California for some time, and Mickey put in that he’d grew up without snow too.

Liv just leaned into Bradley’s chest and looked at the group with an amused smile. The California heat was new to her. As was a Christmas and New Year without snow. Her parent’s farmhouse was likely half buried in snow and the pond she’d learned to skate on would have been frozen for months.

“Yeah, and didn’t Javy grow up in New Orleans?” Bradley added with a pretend thoughtful expression. “Yet I know that man can skate nearly as good as Livy here.” He jostled Liv out of her thoughts for a moment.

“Speaking if Javy, where is your wingman, Jake?” She asked.

“Oh, he hasn’t made it to the ice yet,” Mickey said. Pointing across the rink to the outdoor rental building where Javy was leaning against the counter with a wide grin as his hands animated the story, he was telling to the beautiful woman working the counter. “Yeah, he’s too busy flirting to come and save you.”

The woman laughed at something Javy said and Jake gave a long-suffering sigh, a look of betrayal crossing his face.

“Don’t make that face.” Liv smirked. “Like you haven’t done the same thing to him a thousand time.” She raised her eyebrow in an almost dare to have him disagree with her. He did not.

“Yeah, well how come Bob gets to sit this activity out?” He shot back instead.

They all looked over to the row of bleachers sparsely filed with mothers helping their kids tie up their skates, friends huddled around hot chocolate mugs laughing with whipped cream on their faces, and a few older people with cameras waving to their families on the ice. Right in the middle was Bob. His cheeks covered in a pink blush as he stuttered his way through an explanation of his booted ankle while he helped a woman’s young daughter stand up in her skates. The woman’s son was sitting on Bob’s other side continually shaking his head when his mom tried to offer him a pair of skates. Bob must have said he would watch him because the woman smiled and took Bob’s hand, nodding her thanks which made the blush on Bob’s cheeks worse. He nervously adjusted his glasses and pointed to the ice, saying something that made the little girl laugh.

Good for him, Liv thought as she turned her gaze back to Jake who was growing increasingly annoyed.

“Because he twisted his ankle playing volleyball with us all yesterday,” Nat said. Her sudden appearance causing them all to jump and Jake to scramble back into the wall.

“A little warning next time Tasha!”

“Sorry,” she said in a way that made it clear she wasn’t sorry at all. “What are we all doing hovering awkwardly over here?”

“Jake can’t skate,” Mickey supplied.

“We’re making fun of him,” Reuban added.

“I hate all of you,” Jake shot back.

“Even me?” Liv asked. Turning out of Bradley’s grip to face Jake fully with her best puppy dog eyes.

“Especially you Olive. This was your idea.” Jake pointed a finger at her and yet there was no venom in his words.

Liv gasped and gripped at her heart. Mock hurt flashing across her face as she fell backwards and suppressed a laugh when Bradley’s strong hands caught her. “I’m hurt Jake. You have wounded me and I don’t think I can recover from this.”

She peeked an eye open just in time to watch Jake roll his eyes and the other laugh.

“You’ll get over it,” he promised.

Before Liv could say anything back, a very breathless and unsteady Javy called out for them as he skated quickly towards them before nearly crashing into Mickey and Reuban. Both men exclaiming as they caught him and scrambled to catch their balance. Bradley pushing Liv back to standing and Nat skating a step forward with her hands out to help if needed.

“And where have you been?” Jake asked accusingly when Javy had been rightened back onto his own feet. Though Mickey and Reuban kept their hands floating beside him just in case.

“Whoa, whoa why the aggression?” Javy asked with only mild confusion. Liv recognized that mischievous glint in his eyes as meaning he was only half listening to whatever any of them said. He had come here with a plan. “I was only gone a few minutes.”

“It’s been half an hour and I could have used some backup,” Jake said.

Javy tilted his head and scanned his eyes over all their faces for a moment before just shrugging and plowing on to what he’d come here to say. “Okay so I was talking to Claire and—”

“Who’s Claire?” Natasha asked.

“Unimportant,” Javy continued. “Anyways—”

“She’s the woman renting out skates,” Liv whispered to Natasha who leaned over so she could see the woman in question and then nodded.

“She’s cute.”

“I know.”

“—So, she says her friend Amelia is the best there is,” Javy finished with a flourish.

“Wait. Who’s Amelia?” Liv asked. Clearly having missed something while talking to Natasha.

Javy fixed both of them with an exasperated look. “Do either of you ever pay attention when I talk?”

“As a general rule of thumb, no,” Natasha teased.

“If it makes you feel better, I don’t listen to any of you,” Liv added.

“Hey!” Bradley turned to face her with a pout. His honey brown eyes locking onto hers as he stuck his bottom lip out.

“That doesn’t include you, my love. I always listen to you,” Liv added quickly. Cupping his cheek and patting it softly with her fingers.

A chorus of groans and gagging noises followed the action.

“Alright back on topic. Amelia is the red head over there that’s offering lessons. She’s also single,” Javy added with a smirk.

More groans and eye rolls followed as they all watched Jake’s interest immediately shift to the woman a few feet away from them. She was tall and had a white hat pulled down over her ears, her long red hair only barley contained in a thick braid down her back. Smaller red curls poked out around her face and her ice blue eyes were filled with light as she clapped for a pair of siblings who had just finished skating the length of the rink without falling.

“Don’t worry I already talked her up for you.” Javy nudged Jake in the ribs and the other man’s confident smile once again wavered. His eyes snapping to Javy.

“What did you tell her?”

“Only the good things don’t worry. Come on, consider it my very late Christmas present to you.” Javy didn’t give Jake a chance to protest as he wrapped his arm around his and dragged him over towards the woman. Jake attempting to still look as tall and in control of the situation as he still white-knuckle gripped the wall.

“Oh, this I have to see,” Natasha said as she too moved to follow after them.

“I’ll race you there,” Mickey dared. Tucking the edges of his scarf back into his jacket so he was ready.

“Twenty bucks says I beat all of you,” Reuban chimed in. Living up to his callsign as Bradley and Liv shared a look before declaring their intention to race too.

“Let’s maybe not race towards the group of beginners though,” Liv said. Pointing instead to the bleachers on the other side of the rink where Bob was still conversing with the young boy beside him.

The pilots and Liv all lined up against the wall and waited for an opening while Natasha cupped her hands to her mouth and called out.

“Bob! Call it when we get there.”

Bob looked up and squinted at them before shaking his head with a sigh and flashing a thumbs up. Liv was pretty sure he mumbled something about pilots and there need for speed but her lip-reading skills weren’t the best.

“Go!” She called.

More laughter mixed with the sound of skates cutting into ice as the last bars of Jingle Bells played on the loud speakers. Just for this moment at least, they were safe and happy, and really that was all any of them had wanted for Christmas anyway.

[horseshoegirl]

Damn Those Dog Tags: Part 17 - Come a Little Bit Closer

📖 One of my friends who beta-read this for me pointed out there is a scene in here that is very similar to one in Ted Lasso (I've never seen it, though there are a lot of people in my life telling me I should now); so I'm just mentioning there might be a similarity.

There is also something in here that people have been waiting for. Albeit, it's probably not the one scene everyone wants, given recent events. But someone(s) gets karma'd 👀

❗️+18, strong language, godmother reader/original female character, mentions of an original child character, angst, mentions of shitty family dynamics, physical fights, Ruthless Dagger Squad, violence, verbal fights, and mentions of blood.

#7k words

Part 16 | Masterlist | Part 18

“Are you a fucking idiot, Bradley?!”

You slapped Rooster hard on the back of his head, the thwack anything but satisfying.

“He is, indeed, a fucking idiot,” Nat quipped next to you. Bradley frowned at you, rubbing the back of his head. “I thought you would be happy I got to him!”

“You do not invert over another pilot on your team, catch them in a fucking corkscrew, and make them hit the fucking hard deck! Regardless if they are my ex or an asshole!”

It was hopeless to think you could ever stop swearing in Penny’s bar, not when Bradley was still pulling stupid shit like that. Therapy was a big step, but you knew deep down it would take a little more than a few sessions to make him less impulsive.

Maybe even more so from behind the joystick of his jet.

Rooster threw his hands up defensively. "I was just trying to teach him a lesson. You know what he did to you!"

You shot him a look.

Bob rolled his eyes and leaned against the bar, crossing his arms. "And what exactly did you accomplish, Rooster? Besides nearly killing yourself and him?"

Bradley gave him a death glare.

“I don’t care why you did it!” You snapped, tapping the end of the bottle opener hard on the top of the bar as you made your point. “You put yourself and a teammate in danger! You’re lucky Maverick stepped in before you got kicked out!”

You spun the tool in your hand while rolling your eyes, quickly popping the caps off the row of beer bottles lined up in front of you in frustration. Placing one in front of Nat, you handed Bob’s to him with a stern look.

“One, Robert,” You said, holding up your finger. “One, and then I am cutting you off.”

He grabbed the neck of the bottle, nodding and throwing his hand back in what seemed to be a 'yeah, I get it' kind of way. You held back on Roosters, holding it out of his reach, engaging him in a staring contest.

"Promise me."

"Liz."

You shook your head.

"This is not something I'm being funny about, Bradley. Promise me you will not pull that shit again."

"You're being unfair; it was just a dogfight."

You raised your eyebrow, purposely glancing over at the barbell for a split second. "I'll ring the bell on you."

Bradley cocked his eyebrow at you. The bell was something he prided on, never happening to him before. "I'll tell your manager you've been providing bad customer service."

You shrugged. "Go ahead."

Penny would legitimately not care. She'd do more damage to Bradley by chewing him out than you ever could.

"You should see the Yelp reviews when they mention me when I ring the bell on assholes. I don't care. Promise me you won't put yourself in danger anymore just to prove a fucking point."

Rooster made no effort to tear his eyes away from you. 

"Bradley Bradshaw, do you promise me?!" you tried again. When he didn't reply for the second time, you raised your voice, "Lieutenant Bradshaw! Do you promise not to risk your fucking life over proving a point?!"

Bradley blinked.

"Yes, Ma'am."

You thumped the glass bottle to the top of the bar, sliding it towards him with a huff.

“Liz!” Jimmy called out. You turned in his direction with a smile, though you were anything but happy right now.

“The Jukebox is doing that thing again. Can you see what’s wrong?”

“Did you try hitting it?” you called back.

“Several times!”

You sighed. Walking to the other side of the bar, you stopped in front of Bradley, pointing your finger into his chest.

“You pull that shit again, therapy or not, I swear to god, Bradley..." You couldn't even formulate the rest of your sentence, throwing your hands up in frustration and letting out a garbled yell as you walked away.

You approached the Juxebox with a huff, grabbing the sides as you peered into the glass. The machine was turned on, but the needle hadn't touched the spinning disc.

Someone slung their arm over the top of the machine, startling you with an almost empty beer bottle in their hand. 

"First, it was the keg, now it's the jukebox. What else is on your hit list, darlin'?"

You stiffened.

You hadn't seen Jake since that night. The minute you managed to get the courage to leave Rooster's Bronco, you cleared out your house of anything to do with him, his overnight bag sitting on your porch when you went to pick up Sadie.

It was gone when you came back home.

And It was suddenly like he hadn’t existed. You hadn’t found yourself going through what you assumed was the traditional aftermath of breaking up with someone. You hadn’t eaten a tub of ice cream, binged rom-coms or cried your eyes out except on the drive home. 

And that had been it.

No calls. No texts. No apologies. 

Without turning to face him, you remarked sarcastically, "Your over-inflated ego, but something tells me I'm going to need something bigger than a broken jukebox to take down."

Jake glanced at the machine, knocking it hard with the side of his boot.

You don't know what was worse, that the machine came to life or that it started up in the middle of the song, 'Come a Little Bit Closer' by Jay and the Americans, started up in the most ironic part.

Come a little bit closer. You're my kind of man, so big and so strong.

The quip fell easy from your lips. “Oh, what do you know, a knight in shining armour, solving all my problems.”

You don't know what you were trying to achieve by being like this. You just wanted him gone. But Jake didn't leave. Instead, he smiled at you. "You always have a way with words, don't you?"

You rolled your eyes. Snatching the bottle from his grip, you turned on your heel.

"What are you doing here, Jake?" you called out, knowing he would follow you.

"I just want to talk."

"I have nothing to say to you."

He quicked his pace, jogging up and interrupting your path. You stopped, gritting your teeth and twisting your hand away from him in frustration.

"Liz, please."

You huffed. You finally met his eyes, your gaze hard. “What is there to say, Jake? What could you say to me other than I was another bartender on your list? I just wish you had the common decency not to involve my niece in this, you asshole.” 

He opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by a shout across the bar. 

"Jake!"

George had called out to his brother, surrounded by a group of women. When Jake turned at the mention of his name, George was already waving him over.

You couldn't blame the women shooting him flirty glances, eyeing him up and down like a piece of meat. You just wished the pang in your chest didn't hurt as much as it did.

"Go ahead," you offered with a tense smile. "You made your intentions known. You are free to do whatever the hell you want now."

Jake faced you, his expression faltering as the edges of his mouth twitched, failing miserably to hold on to some semblance of confidence.

"You don't think I know that?" he remarked. "I think about it all the time."

“You should've thought of a lot of things before, Jake," you sighed, stepping backwards and away from him. "Don’t start on my account now.”

---

Why George had decided to stick around, Jake had no idea why. Maybe it was insurance that the damage he had done was permanent. 

Jake just wanted him to get the hell out of dodge. 

He wasn’t even paying attention to the conversation he’d been roped into when you walked away from him. He had no other choice but to walk over and let George introduce him to the two ladies he had been flirty with. 

Jake knew what George was doing. He was trying to entice him back into his old ways. It was clear as day to anyone George would be going home with this woman tonight. 

The other one, he thought her name was Bree or something along those lines, was trying to engage him in a conversation, batter her eyes or flirt. But he hadn’t so much as blinked, too caught up in how you shot him down and walked away from him. 

It wasn’t until George opened his mouth to answer a question that Jake snapped out of his trance and caught the last end of his sentence. 

“I guess having played football in high school makes it easier. My throwing hand is awesome when playing darts, though.”

That pipped his interest.

"Since when have you played darts?" he finally spoke up. 

"Since we hired a few new ranch hands,” George shrugged. “All they want to do is drink, sleep, and play darts. It's great for introducing yourself to other ranch owners. I practically win them over each time," he remarked, trying to throw in a bit of modesty.

The gears started to grind in Jake's head. And slowly but surely, the cocky-ass Mona Lisa smile came back. 

He nodded towards the dartboard. "Wanna play a game?"

George raised his eyebrow, taking a swing of his beer, "Want something else to lose your dignity to?"

Jake's grin didn't lessen. In fact, there was a certain glint in his eyes when he replied, "Something like that."

---

A crowd had gathered around the dart board while they had been playing. Practically, the whole bar was suddenly invested in this little game.

And you, leaning up against a pillar next to Bob, who had ushered you away from your post for a few seconds to watch the end of the game. Your arms were crossed, and you had a slight frown, watching him with sad eyes.

It was clear you wanted to be back behind the bar, not standing here, watching the person responsible for your broken heart play a fucking game of darts.

It wasn't even really a game. Jake could land a bullseye with his eyes literally closed. The regulars knew it, too. So, why was he purposely throwing darts with his non-dominant hand? You had no idea.

From what you could tell from when you were behind the bar, he still played well enough. They went for the long haul, starting at 501 points and slowly working their way down. Coyote and Rooster had decided to keep track, using the chalkboard on the side. George had led throughout the game and was still leading, but Jake was always close by enough to make it interesting.

Then George landed enough points that if Jake didn't get exactly what he needed to on his turn, George would win the game with his next. You didn't know why Bob pulled you over here; maybe it was to see Jake lose. Or to see George fail.

You have yet to determine which would be the better option at this point. And yet, you still couldn't bring yourself to step away.

You leaned over to Bob to ask, "What does he need to win?"

Bob sighed. "Two triples in the 20 slot and a bullseye. The bullseye needs to be last."

"What are the stakes?" you frowned.

Bob only shook his head next to you. "Nothing, from what I know."

George spun from his position, smiling at everyone cheering for him. He came to stand next to Jake, patting him hard on the back a few times.

"I don't know if you were trying to prove something, brother," he laughed, "But good game. We should do this again sometime."

Jake did the one thing he wanted to do his whole life.

He laughed at his brother.  

"George, I never understood why you've had this grudge against me for my entire life," he said, stepping out of George’s grip on his shoulder. 

Jake twirled the dart between two of his fingers, shaking his head. With a little sleight of hand, you watched as he switched his grip, the dart now in his dominant hand. You stood from leaning against the pillar and uncrossed your arms.

"You had it all. Dad's approval, the football career. All the girls flocking to your side in high school. You’ve spent your entire life under his thumb, chasing approval.”

He cut his eyes to you, seeing the frown on your face, and knew he had to continue. Stepping up to the mark, he squared his shoulders, eyeing the board.

“Trust me when I say this - you might've been the chosen one in Dad's eyes, but out here, in the real world? That doesn't mean shit."

Jake threw his first dart, the spike landing within the safety of the triple twenty. Everyone watching caught their breath in surprise.

Jake's smirk grew bolder, the fiery confidence he was known for blazing in his eyes as he looked back at his brother.  "Do you want to know what I would have said to you the day you were talking shit about Liz and Sadie?"

A quiet gasp escaped your lips.

George's mouth twitched.

“I agreed with you for one thing and one thing only. I know I won’t be welcomed back,” he stated. “I couldn’t give a damn if I am.” 

Something burned deep inside Jake’s chest as he pushed on, needing George to hear what he was saying desperately. 

" Sadie? She sees right through your bullshit. But she will not hesitate to stand up for someone if she thinks they are being mistreated. She’s so mature for her age, and I am damn proud to be her uncle.” 

He knew he shouldn’t have called himself that but was too caught up to care. 

“And Liz? The world throws so much bullshit at her, and she still chooses to be kind, even when she still buries her grief, because she doesn’t want her niece to see her cry.” 

Jake shook his head, a sad smile on his face. “I found people who, despite knowing my flaws, chose to stand by me. Not hold them against me.”

Jake threw the second dart, hitting the board next to his previous dart within the rim. 

"I remember all the nights you came home, mirroring Dad's words, telling me how worthless I was.” He chuckled to himself, shaking his head. “Now I just realize you were literally copying everything he had to say to you from that day. Making yourself feel better.”

He'd never admit Rooster forcing the both of them in a Corkscrew is what made him realize it. He had been regurgitating every diminishing word and sentence his father had screamed at him growing up back at Rooster's face, hoping it would make him feel better.

He picked at the tail end of his dart, the weight of it familiar and comforting, before glancing at George's face.

"You ever heard of Roosevelt?" he asked nonchalantly. George eyed him carefully, "What does a dead president have to do with a game of darts?'

Jake had a conceited grin on his lips. "Well, he had this quote, and I'm probably butchering this, but he said critics don't count. Or the person who points out how we stumble or how someone could have done something better." 

Jake twisted from his mark on the ground, standing square in front of George as he continued to explain his point.

"Because the credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly... and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly."

Jake's voice was steady, but his eyes bore into George's with a fire. "All my life, George, I've been in that arena. I've stumbled and failed, but I didn't listen to someone from the sidelines telling me how to live my life."

Jake lifted his hand, never taking his eyes once off George.

"It's time I remembered that," he said, thinking about Sadie. "You shouldn't have to either."

He flicked his wrist forward, letting his dart fly.

Bullseye.

He heard the thump of the dart hitting the board, and cheers erupted throughout the Hard Deck. Jake had thrown a dart enough times to know whether or not it had hit its mark; he didn't need to look. Even Rooster was laughing at the utter shock and disbelief across George's face.

"I'm living my life, George," he said, patting him on his shoulder, leaving his hand there. "It's about time you did the same."

For once in his life, Jake had managed to stand up to his brother. But the moment wasn't as satisfactory as he might have imagined - He found himself thinking it didn't matter.

Because as he stepped away from George to look back to where you had been, he realized you hadn't been there to see it.

---

Your shift came and went in a blur after Jake and George’s dart game. The squad still hung back well past closing hours, watching and even helping as you closed up the bar, except Rooster, who was messing around on the piano.

Jake was still here. And George. 

They had been out on the patio for over an hour now, simply talking. You tried not to pay them much mind as you tried to get through your remaining tasks quickly, but you couldn’t help but look out the back windows occasionally, unable to take your eyes off the Seresin brothers for long.

George approached Jake soon after he escaped the crowds. There had been no fights, no punches thrown or someone storming out. In fact, every time you looked up, the two seemed to be inching closer to each other.

Damn him and that cocky grin. Why'd he have to be so... Jake?

You didn’t want to be a spectator to Jake’s theatrics during that display during their dart game. Leaving before he threw that last dart, you were now questioning yourself… if you walked away to shield yourself or to punish him. 

While he stood up for himself against George, in the back of your mind, there was an insistent voice whispering that maybe, just maybe, that display was also for you too. 

Some of you ached at the idea of him seeking validation and needing to prove himself. And that's what hurt the most: that deep down, under layers of stubbornness and hurt, you still cared for him.

If it was, you weren’t ready. Not for this. Not for answers or explanations. You deserved more than whatever that was. 

But you still heard him. Heard everything he said to George.  

You really didn’t know what to make of it. 

The sound of the front door slamming up against the wall, rattling some of the portrait frames, startled you from your thoughts. There was a momentary thought of remembering you really needed to lock the front door when you were closing, but it was washed away just as quickly as it came.

You couldn’t take your eyes off Tyler’s body as he charged forward, finger pointed towards you with a seething glare. “You fucking bitch!”

You stepped backwards, the sharp edge of the sink hitting your spine hard. A few glasses jolted from the force of it, sliding off the ledge and shattering to the ground. Rooster’s playing stopped immediately, and the piano bench toppled to the ground.

Was it anger? Shock? Disbelief the past few weeks of not seeing him coursing through your veins responsible for your reaction? You knew Tyler was dangerous, but deep down, you hated how easily you cowered at his appearance.

Tyler didn't get very far in his effort to get to you. Bradley came out of nowhere, something out of a comic, with his fist flying, punching Tyler square in the jaw.

“That was for Sadie, you bastard!”

Unfortunately for Bradley, Tyler only keeled over briefly before taking a swing. Rooster had not been prepared for him to retaliate, thinking his punch would have been enough to put the asshole on the ground.

Tyler had taken more punches and hits to the face as a football player than the average person would in their life. While Jake had managed to get him on the ground when he tried to kidnap Sadie, and Rooster was fitter than the average person, it would take much more than Jake and Bradley combined to keep Tyler there.

The uppercut to Bradley’s jaw could be heard from miles away, and you could only stand there, watching helplessly, as Bradley crashed backwards into a wooden table, his name a cry on your lips as the pieces scattered.

Whether or not they heard your cry or the commotion, the rest of the Daggers swarmed the island bar as Tyler watched Bradley roll on the ground amongst the splinters in some twisted sense of pride.

Whether you could realize it at the time or not, that would be his biggest mistake.

Nat was the first one there, the first one to put herself between you and Tyler, readying herself in case he tried to leap over the bar to get to you. Javy, Fanboy and Payback had run from opposite sides of the room to surround Rooster and Tyler, Bradley finally rolling himself off the broken table on the ground and pulling himself up.

And Jake, almost breaking the sliding door as he bolted inside to get to you, George on his heels. Rooster was too happy to stand beside him as Jake placed himself before everyone else, this hand twitching in anticipation of a fight.

"This is the one who did all that?"

Jake side-eyed George as he came up from the back to flank him on his other side.

"What?" he remarked, puffing out his chest and not once taking his eyes off Tyler. "I'm not that much of an asshole to know that's not how we treat women. Or children. We should drag his ass back to Texas and show him some southern hospitality."

Nat cocked her head at Tyler, speaking up from her spot next to the bar. "You must be a complete idiot to walk back in here after what you did to them."

Tyler shrugged, a sickening smile on his face. "I've got nothing left to lose. Literally."

"What, Daddy cut you off and kicked you out?" Rooster asked, spitting out the blood pooling in his mouth.

With the presence of your friends, you managed to calm down a little bit. You were still scared, which would never change as long as you could see his face, but you could take in Tyler's state more clearly.

Dark circles under his eyes. Blonde hair, greasy. He was still wearing that same freaking white sweater, only it looked like it hadn't been washed in days.

Rooster was right. Tyler had been cut off, indeed.

Fanboy and Payback, having realized what was going on, went to either exit to stand guard. You weren't sure whether to keep people out or keep someone in. But Tyler hadn’t noticed. He was too preoccupied to remove his eyes from Jake.

You watched as Tyler glanced at everyone around the bar, obviously bothered by Rooster's remark but not addressing it. "Seeing a lot of protectors here. Must be that 'Navy bravado,' huh? All show, no substance. We've all seen how they fail when it matters most.”

Ironically, it was George who intervened first. “This isn’t your place, man. Walk away before you get hurt.” 

Tyler flicked his eyes between Jake and George, a smirk playing on his lips, “This is interesting. Another misguided soul ready to join this little squad over here?” 

George smiled at him, nodding at Tyler, cracking his knuckles, “Just somebody who doesn’t like your face.” 

Your voice was hoarse, vocal cords feeling like they were being dragged over jagged rocks, when you asked, “What the hell are you doing here, Tyler?” 

He didn’t even give you the courtesy of looking at you when he replied, “Respect! What else? 

Jake scoffed with amusement, "By wearing that dirty sweater and showing up here drunk and messed up? You're doing a great job, really. I applaud you."

Tyler doubled back with that all-too-familiar smug smirk, " Alright, saw through that one, did you,” He chuckled before he teased. “I came to see how Sadie's holding up. It must be hard, having her favourite play-hero away. Unless you've moved up from being her 'uncle' to something more."

Jake's face immediately paled, his entire demeanour changing from cocky to pure rage in a fraction of a second. The atmosphere in the room grew dense with tension. "You say her name again, and I'll make sure it's the last word you ever speak."

Still grinning but with an undercurrent of faux uncertainty, Tyler raised his hands in mock surrender, "Just stating facts, Jake."

George, sensing the danger in his brother, whispered a warning, "Easy, Jake."

But Jake's voice came out as a dangerous whisper, all restraint seemingly gone, "You wanna dance? Let's fucking dance."

Jake charged, tackling Tyler to the ground as you stood there wide-eyed and in shock. Rooster and Coyote flanked the grappling pair while George kneeled, calling out to Jake all the spots Tyler was leaving himself open. The sound of flesh hitting flesh accompanied Jake’s punches, and you couldn't bring yourself to look away.

A startled cry escaped your lips as you felt someone put their hands on your cheeks, turning you away from the fight and wiping away your tears. Bob had somehow found his way into the bar with you and was currently forcing you to stare at his face.

“Nope, you don’t need to witness any of this.”

"How much trouble are they going to get into because of this?" you asked, scared out of your mind. Bar fights were a thing that could get you kicked out of the Navy.

Bob glanced over to the fight. Nat was walking towards the back door, her phone pressed to her ear, no doubt calling the police. As his eyes tracked back to Tyler, George and Javy had now joined the fight, the elder Seresin brother grabbing Tyler by the back of his neck and his belt, tossing him like a bale of hay onto the top of a nearby table as Rooster surprisingly helped Jake up from the floor.

The legs splintered under the force with a sickening crack. It wasn’t until you shuttered at the sound and let out a soft whimper between his hands he remembered you asked him a question.

"None," his voice was firm. "As far as anyone knows, he walked in here like that."

"Bob..." you whimpered. He stroked a piece of hair away from your face soothingly. "I'm not going to be the one that says he doesn't deserve what's coming to him. Tyler’s not walking out of here now. He literally signed his own death sentence."

Deep down, you knew that. Tyler against not one, but three navy pilots and Jake’s brother? There was no way he was walking away from that.

The sound of glass shattering caused you to jolt again.

"Penny's so going to fire me after this," you managed to say through tears. Bob gave you an affectionate smile. "No way, you're the best bartender she's had in years. You put up with so much shit, and Sadie would no doubt give her two cents. She seems to be doing that a lot lately."

"Bobby..." you huffed through a sob. "You've never heard you swear before."

He shrugged, wiping away one of your tears. "I guess there's a first time for everything."

Bob hadn't covered your ears. He was only keeping your eyes off the ongoing violence. So you could hear everything going on. There were no more crashes, glass breaking, or wood splitting in two. You could only hear the rhythmic sound of flesh hitting hard flesh.

The next cry out of Tyler's mouth made you stiffen.

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth!" he gave an almost whine as Bradley laid a punch to his stomach. "I'm sorry for all of it!"

Oh.

Fuck.

No.

Where you were once scared, pure anger builds in your stomach. You pull Bob’s hands away from your face, swatting away his feeble attempts to reach for you. You marched towards the exit doors of the bar, rounding the corner to get to the group.

Jake saw you approaching first with a sharp lift of his head, tapping George on the shoulder, who looked up at his brother before his eyes landed on you, catching on instantly. He grabbed Tyler by the back of his sweater, hoisting him up onto his knees before changing his grip to the middle of his back. Jake gritted his teeth as he tugged Tyler's head back with a vice grip on his hair.

You kneeled down in front of him, taking in his face.

Even bruised and bloody, Tyler looked nothing like the egotistical sociopath you knew him to be. Nothing like the villain that stalked you months before this or when he walked into the bar all those weeks ago.

This version of Tyler looked desperate, unhinged, but on the verge of a last straw. You couldn't say seeing that white hoodie stained red was unpleasurable. To say he had nothing left to lose was one thing, but seeing it across his battered face was another.

“You’re sorry?” you snarked. “You’re sorry you abused my sister? Are you sorry you killed her? Sorry, you tried to kidnap my niece?!”

You wanted to nail him across the face. You wanted to know the absolute pain and heartache and suffering he had put you through. He took Ridley from you. He hurt Sadie. He hurt you.

But then you took in the room, Jake and George kneeling behind him. Bradley and Javy standing by, ready to pounce the second he might try to escape. And the state of the bar, the damage sobering your thoughts.

No questions asked.

You noticed the ties of his sweater were out of place. Lifting your hand, you fixed one back into place, smoothing the string down before looking him dead in the eye.

"I could fucking care less."

Approaching sirens could be heard outside the bar, making everyone hold their punches. You stood, turning your back on the display to rejoin Bob, who had followed you out from the relative safety of the bar.

You wouldn't give Tyler the satisfaction. Ultimately, he was still a narcissist, wanting a reaction.

"Tie him up," you heard Jake command. Despite Bob urging you not to look once again, you couldn't help yourself. You needed to see this. To see Tyler caught and unable to do anything but accept his fate.

You needed to know you and Sadie were safe.

Coyote was handing George a sailor's rope he had torn off the wall, having pulled the twisted pieces apart. Jake pressed his knee down onto Tyler's back, pinning him to the floor as George quickly hog-tied his hands together, not that he'd be going anywhere. The group of men had done enough damage. Tyler wouldn't be getting up anytime soon.

Everything happened so quickly in the moments after. The police burst through the front door. George was holding up some sort of badge, and you were suddenly rushed out into the parking lot by Bob and Nat.

Penny was already there, greeting you outside with extreme worry in her eyes, sweeping you up into a hug the second she saw you. She was trying to console you, tell you Sadie was safe with Mav and that you would be alright. You didn’t realize you started shaking until she pulled back in concern to ask what had happened.

Your breath hitched as you shakily joked, “I promise I’m not purposely wrecking your bar. I don't know where these assholes come from."

Penny huffed out a laugh and a sad smile. Biting her lip, she reached out and stroked your hair at the side of your face as only a mother could. She tugged you into her hold, refusing to let you go.

You don't know how long you stood there until Nat tapped you on the shoulder. She pulled you into her side and looped her arm around Penny's, holding you upright as the front door of the Hard Deck opened. A pair of Police officers were dragging Tyler out, still hog-tied and a mess. George was behind them, following them while speaking to another officer.

When you watched the police car containing Tyler in the back seat roll off into the distance, and a tow truck rolled that stupid white piece of machinery away, you finally felt like you could breathe.

Tyler's frightening hold over both you and Sadie was over.

And yet, it wasn’t as much of a relief as it should have been.

---

You wanted to stay away from the Choas unfolding in and around the Hard Deck. 

Taking the first chance you could, you escaped when nobody was looking, eventually finding yourself sitting in Penny's chair on the beach. 

Less than a year ago, you were sitting in the chair, unaware of what was about to happen to you. You who were desperately trying to get through a book by reading the same page twice. Gawking at a pilot playing Dog fight football who you knew was off limits, trying to get by till the following Saturday night. 

Then Ridley's ex came for you and Sadie. You had fallen in love with said pilot. Learned your sister was murdered. Your best friend hurt your feelings. You had gotten your heart broken by said pilot. 

You didn't know what was worse, the fact you had seen and experienced all this trauma, or that Ridley's death and abscene were still triumphing over all that. 

You jolted when someone placed a blanket around your shoulders.

George Seresin retracted his hands just as quickly as he placed the blanket around you, holding them up in surrender. 

You didn't have anything to say to him, choosing to remain stoic as he lowered himself into the sand, sitting with his back in front of the armrest of your chair. 

It was a full minute before he finally spoke. 

"I need to apologize, Liz."

You scoffed, pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders. "Apologize for the derogatory display of how you treat women? Or what you said to Jake to make him act the way he did?" 

At least this time, George had the decency to look shameful. 

"If his words at the dart game weren't any indication, I know you egged him on. He was trying to get you to back off, in his own twisted away.” 

"I still need to apologize. For all of it," he sighed, rubbing his temples. "It wasn't my place to do that to the two of you." 

"Yours is not the one I need right now," you spat, lifting your feet off the ground and curling into the depths of the chair. 

Either one of you spoke for a few minutes after that. George seemed to ponder his thoughts, scanning the horizon but not finding anything. The waves were both loud and quiet, making the world smaller than it actually was.

You couldn't handle it. 

"Do you realize the gravity of what you did, George?" you said heatedly, uncurling yourself from the chair and submerging your feet into the sand. "You weren't just egging him on. You were meddling in someone's relationship because your father asked you to."  

"Yes, I know." 

"Do you know how fucked up that is?" 

"Jake doing that grand display with the darts painted a pretty clear picture in my head." 

You rolled your eyes. "When was the last time you asked yourself if you were truly happy, George?"

George thought about it for a second before he replied, "When I became the livestock official back home."

"And let me guess, you made that decision all on your own, without any influence from your father?"

He looked down at the sand, grabbing a handful before watching it fall back to the ground. "Kind of. When I got the ranch, it wasn't by choice. But this felt like the first one I could make by myself."

"You just proved everything that Jake said, right." 

You huffed, frustration evident. "How do you plan on making up to him?"

George took a deep breath, steadying himself. "By supporting Jake genuinely in whatever he chooses. And by ensuring our father doesn't come between you two again."

Your eyes searched his for any sign of deceit, but all you saw was raw honesty. 

"Jake loves you. It's clear as day. Don't let this get between the two of you." 

You spat out a laugh, a high-pitchy sound you hoped would tell him you saw right through his bullshit. "Right."

"Liz, he didn't agree with the BS I was spilling to agree with me. Don't hold it against him."

 "But he went through with it," you countered. "Even if it was some twisted idea of dealing with all the bullshit you and the rest of your family throw at him save Janet, he still said those things. He still hurt me."

You threw yourself back into your chair instead. "I don't know anymore, George. I don't know what to think anymore." 

George dropped his head to his chest, furrowing his brow. "You know, you didn't allow him to explain that day. Or today even." 

That made you sit up. "Are you saying I should have?"

"I'm saying," he replied, "Whatever happened to giving someone a chance to know that people care? Even when other people think they don't deserve it?"

"That's different."

Maybe," he nodded. "But something is missing. I think that's only rooted in what other people think, not when they've done something to you." 

George's words made your voice catch in your throat.

"Give him a chance to explain, Liz. Just listen to what he has to say. Then make your decision." 

Suddenly you were wishing for the asshole from a week ago. Because, deep down, you knew he was right. 

"George, I mean this in the nicest way possible. You have potential. Listen to what your brother told you. You can't have your father tell you what to do for the rest of your life." 

He glanced down to the sand but tilted his head towards you so you knew he was still listening to what you had to say. 

"Ridley and I... My sister... We went through the same thing with our father. And I was so young, I didn't know any better. But she got us out before any more damage could be done. You still can get out. You don't need him in your life." 

"Is it wrong for me to want his approval?" 

You bit your lip, surprised at his question. "No. He's your father. It's natural you'd want that. But you shouldn't have to change who you are. You shouldn't have to seek his approval when he hasn't been someone worthy of giving it." 

George nodded, more to himself than to you, finally managing to mumble, "Jake is lucky to have you in his life. Sadie, too."

Even after everything that happened today, you still gave him a soft smile. "You're not that bad, George,” you said before adding, “When you want to be.”

He shook his head, the corners of his mouth turning upward slightly. "Don't let it get to my head. I might end up like Jake."

You reached over and patted his shoulder. "That wouldn't be a bad thing."

---

George left you a little while ago when an officer sought him out to take a statement. The night air was nipping at your skin, even with the blanket around your shoulders, and yet, you didn’t know how you would sleep after this, the adrenaline spike still showing no signs of slowing down. 

You didn’t know what to feel, the myriad of emotions thrown at you over the past week, month, and even year - any one of them would have sufficed. But you couldn’t bring yourself to figure it out. To live through any of them.

You just wanted to get through the rest of the day.

Dragging your feet through the sand, you made your way up the back steps of the Hard Deck’s back patio, shutting the door behind you. Shrugging the blanket off your shoulders, you gently placed it on the pool table, readying yourself to take in the true extent of the damage Tyler had wrought on the place.

The bar was dimly lit, save for the neon flashes of red and blue pulsing through the windows. There were splintered pieces of wood from the broken tables still littering the room, chairs overturned and scattered menus. With shards of glass and the thick smell of alcohol, you hated seeing the bar in such a state.

And in the middle of it all, Jake, sitting on a barstool with his head bowed and his hands resting on his knees. It was a stark image, seeing Jake’s knuckles bloody and bruised, his hair dishevelled. Looking less than himself. Utterly defeated.

It was a moment you weren’t supposed to see. A moment nobody was supposed to see.

And yet…

He didn’t hear your footsteps as you went behind the bar to grab a clean cloth, nor did he hear you take a metal bowl from under the sink and fill it with water. Or the ruckus as you fought with the first aid box.

It was only when you reached for one of his hands, having come to stand in front of him to run that cloth over his skin, that he jolted out of whatever stupor he had found himself in.

“Liz, I…”

You shook your head, shushing him. “Not now, Jake. Not tonight.”

He let you clean the blood from his hands. Let you dab at the split skin surrounding his knuckles. He was stiff as you worked, eyes tracking your every movement, from how you delicately held the bottom of his hand to watching you ring the cloth over the bowl. The water had already turned red by the second time you’d cleaned the fabric.

You reached for some antiseptic from the first aid kit, tilting the bottle forward as your finger held the cotton swab in place. Jake hissed when you placed the soaked cotton swab on his raw skin, his other hand shooting out quickly to grip your wrist tight.

His touch did feel like Sandpaper. But it wasn't as coarse, not as rough as you made yourself believe. You halted your fingers, the cotton swab falling to the floor at the shock of his touch.

“Sorry,” a quiet murmur on your lips. Jake eye’s darkened, a flicker of something passing through. He loosened his grip on your wrist but didn’t let go, letting his fingers slide loosely down to your wrist. You followed his touch, watching as careful fingers caressed the palm of your hand.

"You don't have to do this, Liz," he stated, his voice rough.

"Yes, I do," you replied softly, keeping your eyes fixated on his hand. "Someone has to. You certainly won’t."

"You're always caring for me."

You reached with your free hand for another cotton swab, but Jake stopped you, meeting your hand with his. He brought it down, and you let him pull you gently into the space between his legs. 

"Do I deserve it?" He whispered, playing with your fingers. "Especially from you."

You swallowed hard. "That's up to you. But I can’t stand by and watch you be hurt."

You finally gathered the courage to look up at his face. It was a miracle Tyler didn’t do much damage other than a slight bruise along his forehead.

“Otherwise, you’ll go crazy,” he remarked, recalling when Sadie was in the hospital. "Even when I've hurt you."

"Jake..." his name a quiet plead on your lips.

He let his hands glide up your wrists to your forearms, the air between the two of you heated as he leaned forward, hooded gaze intent on your lips.

"If not tonight, when?" he whispered.

Your foreheads met, you more than him, allowing yourself to press your weight against his skin. The two of you came together like this, a series of almost kisses and burning moments that left the two of you wanting more. 

Except that was when you thought you couldn't have him when everyone was screaming at you not to get involved with him.

You're not sure what it is now. Because the person who swore so long ago never to let Jake be in a position where he could break your heart was crawling out from the depths, insisting you push him away and run for the hills.

But Jake's breath, mixing with yours, lulled you into his gentle pull, hands tugging you into him as you felt him lightly graze your lips with his.

What would it be like to memorize the touch of his lips one last time?

Penny’s voice startled the two of you, making the both of you jolt back and away from each other.

"Come on, all this wait till tomorrow."

Whether she was referring to the mess in the bar or your relationship, you couldn't tell. 

You cleaned up the first aid supplies as Jake switched holding an ice bag you gave him between his hands and face. Penny locked up the bar behind the pair of you once you finished, always standing between you and Jake.

He followed the both of you hesitantly into the parking lot, unsure what he could say or do.

At the last second, you turned. You looked up at him, really looked at him for the first time since you yelled at him that day in the Hard Deck, a quiet mummer and a sad smile on your lips as you said, "Thank you, Jake."

Then, with Penny guiding you with a hand around your shoulders, you left towards your car, keys in her hand.

He could only watch every step you took, watching as the distance between the pair of you grew, left wondering if there was still hope for him to make things up to you after all. 

Tag list: (I think I'm missing a few people, so if you want to be tagged, please let me know!)

@blue-aconite @tinytotontheoversizedpony @djs8891 @caitsymichelle13 @startrekfangirl2233

@mayhemmanaged @ereardon @dempy @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @daggerspare-standingby

@phantomxoxo @formulapierre @eli2447 @fulla02 @blckgrl-sunflower @mizzzpink @ohgodnotagainn

@bubblegumbeautyqueen @sarahsmi13s @desert-fern @lynnestra44 @memoriesat30 @penwieldingdreamer @mxlanciia

@bradleybeachbabe @bobby-r2d2-floyd @lavenderbradshaw @roosters-girl @lovinglyeternal @kmc1989 @gigisimsonmars @dakotakazansky @

@keyrani @craftytrashprincess @hisredheadedgoddess28 @abzidabzy @memeorydotcom @vicsnook @taestrwbrry

-Wickett ;)

Part 18 - Sapling is in-process

[sailor-aviator]

@shinycupcakebaker you were right lol

Here.

[docrotten]

SNOWBEAST (1977) – Episode 220 – Decades of Horror 1970s

“I quit being a skier in 1968 because the other skiers were mavericks!” Well, isn’t that special? Join your faithful Grue Crew – Doc Rotten, Bill Mulligan, Chad Hunt, and Jeff Mohr – as they check out some cryptid horror from the television screens of the 1970s with Snowbeast (1977)!

Decades of Horror 1970s Episode 220 – Snowbeast (1977)

Join the Crew on the Gruesome Magazine YouTube channel! Subscribe today! And click the alert to get notified of new content! https://youtube.com/gruesomemagazine

Decades of Horror 1970s is partnering with the WICKED HORROR TV CHANNEL (https://wickedhorrortv.com/) which now includes video episodes of the podcast and is available on Roku, AppleTV, Amazon FireTV, AndroidTV, and its online website across all OTT platforms, as well as mobile, tablet, and desktop.

Synopsis: A Colorado ski resort is besieged by a sub-human beast that commits brutal murders on the slopes.

  Directed by: Herb Wallerstein

Written by: Joseph Stefano

Selected Cast:

Bo Svenson as Gar Seberg

Yvette Mimieux as Ellen Seberg

Robert Logan as Tony Rill

Clint Walker as Sheriff Paraday

Sylvia Sidney as Carrie Rill

Thomas Babson as Buster (as Thomas W. Babson)

Jacquie Botts as Betty Jo

Kathy Christopher as Jennifer

Jamie Jamison as John Cochran

Richard Jamison as Ben Cochran

Liz Jury as Mrs. Blodgett

Richard Jury as Charlie Braintree (as Ric Jury)

Rob McClung as Deputy #2

Annie McEnroe as Heidi (as Anne McEncroe)

Victor Raider-Wexler as Deputy Holt

Prentiss Rowe as Billy – Bell Captain

Michael J. London as The Snowbeast

Daniel Mandehr as Ski Instructor (uncredited)

Brett Palmer as John (uncredited)

Remember those great made-for-TV horror movies from the 1970s? You know the ones. They had familiar stars, and some were very, very good films like The Night Stalker (1974) and Salem’s Lot (1979). In this episode, the 70s Grue Crew returns to that well with Snowbeast (1977). Familiar stars? Bo Svenson, Yvette Mimieux, Robert Logan, Clint Walker, and Sylvia Sidney. Check. A very, very good film? Not so much. According to Bill, Snowbeast should be known as No Beast for its skimpy reveal of the title character. But there is that beautiful skiing footage. Oh well. Someone out there loves Snowbeast. Now, if we could just find them.

At the time of this writing, Snowbeast (1977 is available to stream from Amazon Prime, Tubi, Crackle, Plex, and Freevee. 

Gruesome Magazine’s Decades of Horror 1970s is part of the Decades of Horror two-week rotation with The Classic Era and the 1980s. In two weeks, the next episode, chosen by Bill, will be Colussus: The Forbin Project (1970), a science fiction thriller about a computer takeover. Wait. Is it science fiction if it’s already happening?

We want to hear from you – the coolest, grooviest fans: comment on the site or email the Decades of Horror 1970s podcast hosts at feedback@gruesomemagazine.com. 

Check out this episode!