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coll2mitts · 4 years ago

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#77 Grease (1978)

Slick your hair back and grab your team jacket, we’re hand-jiving our way through Grease, a movie about bunch of hot, self-motivated ladies with their whole futures ahead of them settling for a bunch of schmucks.

Grease is a strange experience to relive as an adult, because it was (as I suspect with a lot of people) ever-present in my childhood, and I didn’t understand the great majority of references then.�� This movie was intended as an 8th birthday present from my mother; I came home from school one day and the VHS was sitting on our kitchen countertop unwrapped. I didn’t recognize it, so when I asked my mom what it was, she feigned confusion for about 10 seconds before she gave up and said, “I bought it for your birthday, I guess you get it early now.” She promised me I’d like it when I popped it into the VHS player, and she wasn’t wrong. I hadn’t watched this movie in over a decade and I still could recite the majority of the dialogue.

While this movie is a toned down significantly from the stage show, it is still fairly raunchy in parts. What is kind of hilarious to me is Grease’s gradual shift in categorization over time as a “kids musical”. In 5th grade, my sister played Sandy in her elementary school’s production of it. I asked if she remembered any of the lines they changed to keep things “appropriate” (the Kidz Bopification, if you will) and she responded, “No, I just thought it was weird I had to go out and buy a sexy outfit.” Conversely, my 5th grade play was about the history of America and I dressed up like Martha Washington. I’ll never forget the 50 Nifty United States from 13 original colonies... SHOUT ‘em, SCOUT ‘em, TELL all about 'em, ONE BY ONE till we’ve given a day to every state in the U-S-A. AL-A-bama, Alaska, Arizona, Arkansas, California, Colorado, CON-NE-TI-CUT...

Anyway, do I think it’s weird that a movie about a bunch of horny teenagers has become Baby’s First Adult Musical? Sorta. Not really. I mean, the dudes act like children for the majority of this, so I’m not surprised, at least. It had, for sure, turned me off from wanting to date high school dudes when I was in high school. The high school girls, however... we’ll get there.

It’s the first day of school, and the oldest high school seniors I’ve ever seen are poised to take on their last year at Rydell High. The “T” Birds and their very uncool matching jackets are reunited after a summer apart and their super-senior leader Kenickie, played by the late Jeff Conaway, regales the tale of lugging boxes to earn money for a sweet ride, which you could feasibly do back in the 1950s. Danny, played by John Travolta, spent his summer getting action at the beach, which he eloquently describes as “flippin’”.

Frenchy and her new neighbor Sandy rendezvous with the Pink Ladies, who have very cool matching jackets and the unabashed confidence to go with them. Stockard Channing, who plays Rizzo, is turned off by Sandy’s pure, seemingly holier-than-thou persona, and is dismayed when Sandy starts to describe her sickly sweet summer romance. Her interest is only piqued when Sandy mentions her hunky date was notorious playboy and Rizzo’s ex, Danny Zuko.

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Sidenote: When I was a child, I thought Sonny asked if her “jugs were bigger than her nets”. I asked my mother what “nets” were, since I surmised that jugs meant breasts, and she didn’t know, which I thought was weird. It wasn’t until THIS MOMENT that I realized he was asking if her jugs were bigger than Annette’s. Who the fuck is Annette? Like the Mickey Mouseketeer Annette?! Rizzo sings about her later and I’m just like.. this revelation has lead to more questions than answers.

Rizzo hatches a plan to call Danny out on his shit and reunite Sandy with Danny at the school pep rally, as they know her boyfriend is an asshat. He predictably reacts maturely; Not wanting to admit his previous story of getting fresh with some cute Australian girl down in the sand was somewhat hyperbolic, he plays it off like he doesn’t give a shit about her, reducing Sandy to tears. Frenchy comforts Sandy like the supportive queen that she is and invites her to join the Pink Ladies at a sleepover.

Honestly, a Pink Ladies sleepover looks lit as fuck. As a kid (and now, tbh) I was Jan, I wanted to be Marty, I wanted to fuck Rizzo, and I wanted Frenchy as my best friend. I would totally be down to drink champagne, eat Twinkies and mutilate our body parts with needles. Sandy is a bit of a late bloomer and reacts to these series of events by puking. Rizzo decides to be a bit of a slag and make fun of Sandy for being an inexperienced virgin before shimming down a drainpipe to get laid by some jerk with a shitty car and a 6-year-old condom.

Sandy, whose night has done nothing to alleviate her heartbreak, sings a song about being in love with a coward. Part of the deal Oliva Newton-John signed to be cast in this movie specified she have her own solo number, so “Hopelessly Devoted” was written and filmed after the rest of the movie had been completed. This feel pretty obvious, since it gives off a very strong 1970s pop Best Original Song vibe. When I was a kid, I used this song as a break to use the bathroom or grab a snack, but as an adult I find myself humming it every so often.

Speaking of contract-obligated solos, we’re treated to a Travolta-led “Greased Lightning”, which I always thought was weird, cause like, who is going to sing a song about their friend getting tit in their sweet car? Jeff Conaway played Danny on Broadway, he deserved better... Also, I’m CONVINCED this song got the Pop-Up Video treatment, but couldn’t find it online anywhere. Otherwise, how the hell else would the fact that they thought John Travolta putting the saran wrap on his crotch was too racy live rent free in my head for like 20 years?

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After encountering Sandy on a date with a jock, Danny decides he’s going to join a sports team to prove to her he can be a motivated team player. Instead, he just physically assaults several members of his school, but it’s fine because he’s wearing a uniform when he does it. This is enough to impress Sandy, as she accepts Danny’s invitation to the school dance.

The other gang members are going through their own drama, as Rizzo is sick of giving it up to Kenickie without receiving a modicum of respect.

“A hickey from Kenickie is like a Hallmark card. When you care enough to send the very best.”

Danny regresses and continues to act like a shithead to Sandy in front of her friends.

“I don’t like tea.” “You don’t have to drink tea!” “Well, I don’t like parents.”

Jan and Putzie begin an innocent and adorable romance, which proves it’s possible to start off a relationship with mutual respect, even if your friends make fun of you for it.

“I also think there’s more to you than just fat.” “...Thanks.”

I love this scene, there’s so many good lines.

Frenchy, who had dropped out of Rydell to pursue a career in cosmetology, is also in crisis as her stint in beauty school went very poorly. After hours, she somehow hallucinates Frankie Avalon advising her to get her high school degree.

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As a child, I was so proud of myself when I realized all these women played other roles in the movie, as if facial recognition was an important skill.

The day of the big dance finally arrives, as National Bandstand comes to Rydell High with roofie-wielding predator and television host Vince Fontaine. Rizzo arrives with the leader of the rival gang, while Kenickie has his best girl, Cha Cha, as his date, because they are both very well-adjusted teenagers that know how to work through conflict by communicating and not using desperate attempts to make each other jealous. Danny and Sandy are cutting up a rug until Sonny attempts to physically assault Sandy, and Danny just lets it happen because another one of his exes, Cha Cha, starts to dance with him while Sandy is rebuffing Sonny’s advances. Cha Cha and Danny subsequently win the contest. Honestly, this is so fucked up, I would have dropped Danny after this lapse of good judgement.

But no, Sandy still allows him to take her on a date to the drive-in, and it’s not until he elbows her in the boob and then tries to cop a feel in front of everybody that she finally blows him off. Then he has the absolute gall to act emo about it because he’s afraid people will think he’s a loser. Jesus Christ.

Kenickie is also hurting, as he discovers that Rizzo is pregnant and she doesn’t want anything to do with him, regardless of what being an unwed mother will do to her reputation. He decides to process these emotions by racing Greased Lighting for pink slips, as he likes to live his life a quarter mile at a time. Unfortunately, Danny steals Kenickie’s thunder (road) yet again, as he’s forced to take his place in the race because of a car door-related closed head injury. Sandy is impressed by Danny’s driving skillz and decides to sex herself up for an unreliable and emotionally manipulative teenager. Danny has a similar inclination and decides to put on a nice sweater to win Sandy back, which is something, I guess. They declare they’re the one each other needs, oh yes indeed.

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The school year ends, and all the boys end up paired with the girls. Rizzo finds out she’s not pregnant and reunites with Kenickie?! Marty ends up with Sonny even though he’s a handsy creep. Danny and Sandy are just an mess with incompatible expectations of each other. But at least Jan and Putzie and Frenchy and Doodie are fairly inoffensive. The end.

This movie is great, even all these years later. The entire cast is fantastic, even those with smaller bit parts. I was *living* for the school staff, Principal McGee and Coach Calhoun especially. Grease also jump started my lifelong love for Stockard Channing. She’s great in The West Wing, but her part as Sister Husband in Where the Heart Is may be my favorite performance of hers. I’ve watched that movie so many times I can’t even call it a guilty pleasure, I love it so much.

Olivia Newton-John wasn’t even sure she wanted to be in this movie and requested a screen test so she could see if she was good at acting. John Travolta was enamored with her and helped convince Olivia she was perfect for the part, and he wasn’t wrong. She gives such a strong performance as Sandy; I bought her transformation from clean-cut cinnamon roll to sexpot completely. John Travolta was also unbelievably charming as Danny, and I found myself giggling at his line deliveries constantly.

The songs are also unbelievably catchy (albeit somewhat annoying after you’ve heard them 700 times). Barry Gibb, my favorite Pras-adjacent composer, wrote the theme for the movie and it just bops so hard. As a well-documented detractor of Doo Wop music, there’s not a whole lot else here for me, but that’s not going to blind me to the excellence of this soundtrack. There is a reason this movie is revered as much as it is. 10/10, fun for the whole family, as long as the kids don’t understand the references.

#100 best musical movies of all time rotten tomatoes #unwarranted opinion #grease

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rirah1writes · 5 years ago

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When pieces fall together. Chapter one: No Cap (no pun intended)

SUMMARY: Gathering intel goes wrong, running for too long puts stints in your side, and meeting a hot guy at the bar is a PERFECT distraction from work. (Plus no cap, you love ballcaps.)

A/N: Soo I decided I wanted to start a series.. No smut (yet) even though that's my usual forte. Feeling adventurous. First chapter in this series so its just a lot of character and plot development..Don’t worry I’ll build up to the good stuff! Hope ya’ll like it(: <3

WARNINGS: hOt bar MaKeOuT sesh! some violence, mentions of death. (uhh that's it)

Your brain was screaming at you to stop. Your muscles aching as you struggled to keep striding. There was no way you could stop now, or you wouldn't ever see her again. Or any of your family for that matter. A flash of her perfect smile and golden blonde hair flashed through your mind, keeping your legs moving as fast as you could make them. “I’m going to make it home to you Ella.” you huffed. You were trying to convince yourself more than anyone at this point, silently promising her as if she could hear you.

You briefly glanced over your shoulder rounding a corner to see how close they were, two men still bounded after you, maybe twenty yards away and closing. “FUCK...” you panted. You wouldn't be able to keep this up much longer, outrunning two grown men was becoming a quickly retired plan, you would have to think outside of their range if you wanted to make it out of this. You jumped a concrete barrier through a construction zone and somehow ended up in Kuta Square. There were plenty of tourists around, and you had bought yourself at least a minute or two of time before the assailants caught back up to you.

Indonesia was supposed to be an easy job. Gather intel from the informant, hell, the meeting had even been set up for you prior. But when a bullet darted through the window and through his neck barely missing you, not much was left to do but to grab what files you could and dash. Had it been a set up, or was there a mole in the agency that had tipped them off? You didn't know, shit you didn't even know who was perusing you right now but you didn't care. All that mattered was getting to safety, and securing the intel.

You slowed and pulled your hair back into a low pony tail, attempting desperately to change your appearance. You tied up your T-shirt in the front. “I need a fucking cap..” you mumbled to yourself, scuttling through the crowd as fast as you could. You spotted a bar that was playing live music, people were crowded out the front, drinking and hanging out, sounds of laughter filling the air. You slipped past the crowd, hostiles were nowhere in sight, but you didn't let yourself breathe easy as you entered the bar. The music seemed to be rattling the whole building and the lighting was poor, perfect place to hide.

You pushed your way to the back of the building and posted at a bar stool that allowed you a direct line of sight to the door and a direct line of escape through the back hall. Heart still pounding, you ordered and amaretto sour and sipped it attempting to calm yourself down. “Here with someone?” A voice made you choke on your drink, as you turned to see a handsome man with beautiful brown curls pushed back by a black ballcap. He was dressed nicely, black tee hugging his muscular upper arms, dark jeans, and black boots. He was certainly breathtaking.

Then you realized who he was. “Oh my..fuck..I’m sorry.” you chuckled, attempting to wipe the dribble of coke and whiskey from your chin. He smiled back at you “No, I’m sorry I didn't mean to startle you.” he laughed handing you a napkin. “Umm.. No! I’m here alone actually. I’m here for work, well..not at the bar for work obviously..In Indonesia!” he still had his cool smile across his cheeks, how was he making you, the smoothest talker known to the CIA and MI6, a flustered mess.

“Interesting, well if you’d like some company, can I buy you a drink, or your next drink?” He took a seat next to you, abandoning his friends that were lingering close by around a pool table. “Absolutely!” you smiled up at him. “I’m Tom by the way.” He extended his hand to you and you shook it. “Yeah, Tom Holland, I’m familiar with your work.” you had met celebrities before, the last thing you’d want to do is gush and make him feel awkward. “Oh yeah..and you are?” he chuckled and stared into your eyes. You couldn't help but dart yours away, not letting anyone look in your eyes, your training told you this was a sign of weakness and vulnerability. “I’m Y/N.” you offered up a cheeky smile, trying to still your nerves of the fact that somewhere out in the city, probably right outside the square, two men were trying to locate you.

But the drinks were warming and the loud atmosphere served for some sense of security, paired along with Tom’s company you could allow yourself to hide away for a while longer. “So, what kind of work brings you to Indonesia? Must be great to have a job that allows you to travel.” Your lie came immediately, it was one you were trained to tell in such situations. “I’m a journalist!” You stated, patting the vanilla colored files you had held firmly under your elbow for protection. “I’m doing research on crime, politics, and the drug pandemic in foreign governments and this is just the next stop on the list.” Tom’s eyes widened as he slid you your third sour, and sipped his own beer. “Wow, that's amazing. We’re just here on holiday, I’m a native of southwest London..” He continued on the conversation and proved to be a very intriguing man. You told him (as much as you could) about yourself without having to stretch the truth too much, about how you were Texas born and raised, started you career out in the prison system and after earning your degree got into “ Journalism.” You also talked about each others families, not forgetting to tell him about your youngest sister Ella, who you considered your own daughter.

The next half hour escaped from you, and even though you’d had five drinks, you were barely tipsy. After being drugged, poisoned and drinking as a casual cover for your work it took much more than that to put you out. Tom however was blissfully tipsy, the two of you leaning close in and thoroughly enjoying the atmosphere and conversation. You noticed the bar door push open for what happened to be the millionth time that night, but you immediately recognized the two men that entered, searching the bar for you. Internally you started cursing yourself for letting your guard down so easily. They were moving closer, making their way through the bar, nearing to where tom was sitting with his back to them. You had to act fast. Grabbing the cap off of Toms head you put it on your own, then meeting his confused expression, you pulled him by his T-shirt and crashed your lips to his positioning yourself between his knees hands traveling up his neck and threading your fingers through his curls, using his hat (and face) to cover your own.

After adjusting to the initial shock of your actions, Tom moved his lips together with yours, deepening the kiss, his tongue pushing past your lips and entangling with yours as he groaned into the kiss, cupping your neck with his hand. The two men passed by, you presumed to check out the bathrooms for you, or to exit the back alley of the bar. Either way it was time for you to go. You waved the bartender down grabbing a pen and napkin you scrawled down your number and slid it over to Tom. Leaning into his ear, you whispered...”I’ll return this hat to you, text me...I’m in London as well.” And with that you left the bar through the front exit, leaving him flustered, but as you looked back, you could see his hand trailing over his lips as he grinned.

Slipping back into the night air you knew you couldn't return to your hotel so you hopped in a cab and searched for a new one. Finally settling on a safe location, you checked in, cursing the fact that you had abandoned your bag at the previous room and couldn't go back considering whoever was after you probably was sifting through your belongings right now. “Good thing there wasn't anything important in there..” you grumbled to yourself. Sitting at the desk, you pulled out the files taking a deep breath. What was so important that it was worth taking multiple lives? Pulling the papers out it was easy to tell the files were incomplete, you couldn't grab everything in all of the confusion. Pictures of a woman who seemed familiar, but you couldn't identify was seen meeting with a known gun for hire, they called him The Body, presumably because of the fact he ruthlessly mutilated countless victims. Your brow furrowed. Your eyes scanned over the text until a sentence caught your eye “...United Solutions Co. employee, Michelle Campos, assistant to the ceo seen colluding with Antonio Balarez.” You read aloud to yourself. “Antonio... Now, what is the ringleader of a Venezuelan cartel doing meeting with an assistant to the ceo of a major pipeline corporation..hmm all very suspicious.” you mumbled to yourself, thinking if this was something as simple as an arms deal, money laundering, or was this something deeper? Rubbing your temples, you leaned back in your chair as your phone lit up on the bed.

Leaning over you saw an unfamiliar number pop up, the message underneath it read...”Had a wonderful time, Hope to see you soon, maybe in London? By the way, the hat looks better on you darling. Goodnight x.” A smile spread across your cheeks and your heart picked up in your chest. You confirmed the intel with your department head, Johnathan, confident he would see it early in the morning. Then sent signal for an extraction for first thing in the morning. Finally able to lay back and relax, you drifted off into soft sleep, your thoughts lingering on Tom.

#tom holland x reader #tom holland fic #series #no cap rn #cia #action #romance #tom holland x agent

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desideratvms · 5 years ago

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[ FLORENCE PUGH / KALLOS / ERIS / MUSE TWENTY-THREE ] / [ TATUM WEST ] is a [ TWENTY-ONE ] year old [ FILM ] major. [ SHE ] is known for being [ CREATIVE & LOVING ] but [ MOODY & JEALOUS ]. when i think of them, i imagine [ STREAKS OF RAINBOW LIGHTS SHINING THROUGH A WINDOW, DUSTY STRIPS OF FILM, NAILS BITTEN DOWN TO A BLEED ]. and even though they’re a proud HU student now, we all have our roots. theirs run back to them being a [ NEWCOMER ]. i asked around and it turns out they [ ARE ] an AOP student. in their interview, they managed to woo the admissions team by [ CREATING A DOCUMENTARY ABOUT THE JUVENILE DETENTION CENTER SHE ATTENDED ]. i guess that’s all there is to know! unless…

TRIGGER WARNINGS: domestic abuse, anxiety, homophobia

grew up absolutely poor. she’s one of five kids, her being a set of triplets meant they were a big expensive surprise to their parents and honestly thank god they have the sense to wrap it up after that.

mama west is very passive and submissive, has grown to sort of nod and listen to her overbearing, abusive husband and turn a blind eye to what happens to her kids. so safe to say, tatum isn’t a fan of either of them, though she absolutely loathes her father.

the five of them really stuck together growing up and it’s pretty much the only reason they all made it out of that house. one of her twins, dom, ran away when they were sixteen and tatum hasn’t fully forgiven him for it. the way she sees it, he abandoned them to deal with a mess none of them signed up for.

out of all of her siblings, tatum is closest with one of her twins, remy. they were the last two left in the house after their oldest siblings hit 18 and moved out and dom ran away. they bonded really heavily through this, but not without some bumps in the road. her relationship with her brother has always been a little complicated. he’d always been the more ‘likable’ one, tatum his moody, introverted counterpart, and though they have an intense love for each other, tatum is guilty of being extremely envious of him and others. she has an intense anxiety about being unwanted and disliked, and really can’t help the jealousy she feels.

outed when she was fourteen or fifteen. papa west was really on her case after that because he is a Big Ugly Homophobe. remy didn’t come to her rescue or comfort the way she’d expected him too which was what really broke her heart about the whole thing. in reality, remy was trans and hadn’t come out at the time, and watching their father’s reaction to tatum really spooked him into place. tatum obviously didn’t know about this until a couple years later when remy came out to her.

eventually because of this they decided to run away together and follow in dom’s footsteps, but being the last two in the house, their father wasn’t keen on letting this happen. once they were reported and eventually found and picked up. while running away typically isn’t enough to have the book thrown at them, their father wanted them to learn a lesson. with enough fabrication and the compelling testament of a parent, punishment was served. tatum did not want remy to potentially have to be in any female unit especially after coming out, so she took the sole blame and did a short stint in juvie.

being that it’s easy to smell the insecurity of tatum, she didn’t fare well. although she’s quite scrappy ( growing up in a less affluent area and with rougher kids meant she learned to hold her own surprisingly well ) she didn’t want to do anything to tack on anything to her short time there. which meant she did take all the shit she got from everyone.

eventually she came out, finished school and applied to move away as far as possible. hatchett was the one university she had her eye set on, knowing they accepted people with unique stories and diverse backgrounds. she got accepted by creating a short documentary about her time in juvie and her past, and now studies film.

personality-wise, tatum is hot and cold. for the people that have enough patience to deal with her, she is the most tender, loving person you’ll ever meet. she would quite literally do anything for you, and would go to bat for you in a heartbeat.

unfortunately, though, tatum has walls up and far too many layers of insecurity. she’s always picking apart the way she looks, what people think of her, etc. some days she doesn’t even make it out of her room because the anxiety is just that crippling. it’s exhausting to her because every little comment, even innocent ones, can set her off and send her spiraling for hours. she copes with this by being reclusive at times. the less she interacts with people, the less chance she has to be triggered by something, so she holes up a lot more than she should.

her jealousy can fully get in the way of her friendships. she fears people liking others more than her, so she can be quite possessive about the people she cares about. this can be viewed as selfish because she doesn’t want to ‘share’ these people out of fear of abandonment. it’s something she’s working on curbing, but it’s still hard.

she’s a very creative soul and expresses a lot of this pent up anxiety and hurt through art. though she focuses on film, tatum dabbles a bit in everything: fashion, visual art, music, singing, etc. if you’ve got a little crafty task, she’s actually quite good at tackling most things even if she doesn’t have experience with it. she picks things up like this pretty quickly.

on another minor note, remy helps her run an insta page so she’s an ~insta model~ but really all she does is take the pictures and send them off to remy to post bc she truly cant be reading the comments without having a mental breakdown but also like... money? and she has a lot of fun taking photos bc photography is so fun to her !!

overall, though, she’s got her heart in the right place she just has a lot of issues ok :(

#hatchet:intro

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pandemonivms-blog · 6 years ago

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⋆ ◦ ° ☾ caitlin stasey + cisfemale + she/hers — have you seen ariella coyle around? this twenty eight year old known as the hanged man has been hanging out at sharpshooter’s bar a lot recently. they are a civilian that works as an unemployed, and they feel excited about the gangs. a heteroflexible gemini, they are electric + active, as well as easily influenced + spoiled. rave lights strobing, long and tangled hair, sparkling eyes.

triggers for mentions of violence, rape, suicide, drugs

being born a twin is something of a blessing. at least there are people who choose to believe that being a twin is magical. ariella coyle will tell you that it’s something. born to a philanthropist and a stay at home mother, ariella holds dual citizenship in ireland and the united states. up until the age of 12 she resided in ireland with her family, and when her father sought to spread his business success to america the entire family was uprooted.

the family barely speaks about madden coyle, the older twin, but any of the nannies who were around can recall how off the boy was. when he tested a genius ari swears the obsessive attention to her brother started and at five years old she began doing the best she could to keep some of it on herself. ariella was not a genius, nor was she emotionally stunted, but instead she was painfully average. or at least that’s what government tests and federal this-or-that would say. ari herself began tugging on her mother’s dress hems asking to be involved in whatever she could to keep attention on her.

so began the pattern of beauty pageants, ballet and tap classes, miss something tournaments, piano, violin, flute, even fencing for how completely pointless and absorbing it could be. even when madden was lowered into her level classes ariella kept up with whatever hobby had her interest that year. at this point she’s multi-talented but barely ever utilizes the skills that she so desperately wanted to keep her parent’s attention with. and while she perceived the attention to be on her brother she never scorned him for it. instead ari kept her heart entirely open to her twin, sharing absolutely everything possible with her other half. when in reality both siblings were being ignored, ariella began descending into darker hobbies to attempt to grasp the attention of her family.

despite being “popular” among her peers she picked fights with anyone who looked at her the wrong way, or what she wanted to be the wrong way. she dabbled, at first, into drugs before throwing herself fully into them. she drank every weekend at first, then every night. and when her bad behavior flagged ramifications, madden was there. every single time he stepped in and calmly took the blame for whatever bad thing ari had done. with wide eyes she watched her brother step into the line of fire. he was her hero, the single only person in the world who stood up for her, who gave a fuck. he was everything.

at seventeen and with parties and bad behavior being so ingrained in her DNA by this point, ariella’s life changed. one night no different than any other had her dabbling with seniors and college kids in some upscale apartment on the far side of town. whatever cocktail of drugs and liquor ari had was messing with her head and when she was cornered by the police officer at first she thought he was going to help her get home. she was desperately wrong.

she couldn’t even fight if she tried. in the darkest part of her memory the entire night is suppressed down to a party gone wrong, but nightmares remind ariella to this day of what she suffered. he left no bruises on her, but he was stronger and by the time he finished she was left entirely diminished. ari gathered her things, stumbled into the street, and dialed madden. her hero could save her, but she couldn’t even dream of speaking of the atrocity. they traveled home in silence and the knowledge of the cop’s actions and his threat on her life kept her lips sealed.

for an entire year she woke in cold sweats, voice dead to open-mouthed screams. for an entire year she was a shell of her former self until she could barely keep the images from bleeding into her daydreams. her grades suffered more than they already might have, her attentive hobbies fell by the wayside. it wasn’t hard for her to get her hands on the pills and when she was sure she was brave enough, ari swallowed an entire bottle of prescription sleeping pills and laid down with a stomach ache. that was it. she was done.

except that she wasn’t. she was in a medically induced coma for two months recovering, in some private and expensive facility that the press never got to hear about. when she woke up she was confused and terrified and when the first name she asked for, madden, was denied visiting her she pressed more questions. eventually they were answered when ari was allowed to watch the news. a trial. murder. death row. the pieces fell into place when her parents outright called him a monster, divorced the family from the idea of their eldest son. or at least divorced ariella from the idea of madden.

they safe-guarded their wild daughter from madden’s freedom by checking her into a psychiatric care facility to seek help for both her mental instability, depression, and various drug addictions. when pressed about what happened to her that night ariella stiffened her lips once more. the cop wasn’t a problem anymore, and speaking of the devil would only bring him back. over time she learned how to cope without mentioning it. it took a long time for her to be “cleared”, and somehow ari knew it was by the hand of her parents. not for caring for their daughter, no ... but to save the family image.

publicly, she was dead. she’s being paid hush-money from her family to keep a low profile, and at first she was followed around by private security to ensure that she wouldn’t blow their cover. asked to leave new york, ari spent a lot of time traveling abroad. first she went back to ireland, though kept to areas her family was unknown in. then she traveled throughout europe, asia, australia. to lose herself, to find herself, to do something with herself. to be someone other than ariella coyle, the problematic twin who “died”, violently disallowed from seeing her other half.

she only arrived back in the states a few months before and completely ignored even letting her family know that she was around. instead she focused some of her be quiet money into a private investigator to search for madden with the knowledge that he had to be somewhere. for a while the trail was dead before she got a hit in the form of a simple picture, one of the creepy PI photos of him walking down the street of some town she’d never heard of. ari was so excited she could have kissed the investigator and instead packed her things and headed out to this place. some valdez.

personality: while standing absolutely at the opposite end of the spectrum of madden coyle, ariella is a piece of work all unto herself. spending an entire life searching for attention or validation has turned her from something brittle to something detached, though she’s lively and carries an electric energy about her. the company she keeps is almost always empty but ariella strives for it just the same. while she’s significantly backed off on the drug and alcohol use since her stint in the facility ariella can still be found anywhere that a good time is being had, often acting like an evil little fairy godmother convincing others of having a good time. she’s distrusting of any authoritative figure, whether they be government, parental, or especially police and while she typically carries a smile and desire to be jovial around others she’s incredibly capable of disconnecting herself from any given scenario. she’s ready to fight for what she wants now, instead of allowing herself to be passed over as usual.

#outlaw.intro #x.|| ariella / about ||

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k-reviews · 6 years ago

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2018 IN REVIEW: ALBUMS/EPS

The time has come for us to have a look back on the 2018′s most memorable and impressive albums and EPs. As per usual, it was not possible to listen and to and review every album which dropped this year however conscious effort was made throughout the year to listen to as many as possible and to review them whenever time permitted. Following last year’s format, this list will outline a top list of 10 albums/EPs released this year. The placement of the entries are based on a mix of review scores/critical opinion and my own personal enjoyment and preferences. One entry per artist was permitted.

In case you missed the 2018 Top 15 Singles roundup you can catch that here.

2017 - Singles

2017 - Albums

10. LOONA - [++]

Taking their sweet time before finally uniting, the payoff was mostly worth it; resulting in a tight 6 track EP filled with bubbly ideas that are expressed through its charming production and glistening performances. LOONA demonstrated a commendable degree of versatility in the sounds they approached on ‘[++]’, from the frenetically sweet title track ‘Hi High’ to the soaring ‘Heat’ and the hard hitting impact of pre-release banger ‘Favorite’, LOONA lay down foundations that paint a bright future for the group. [Full Review]

Recommended Track: Perfect Love

9. Giriboy - Science Fiction Music

Wasting no time after dropping his most accomplished project yet in last year’s ‘Graduation’, Giriboy stayed busy in 2018 with a myriad of collaborations, singles and a winning stint as a producer on SMTM. ‘Science Fiction Music’ is yet another excellent record, filled to the brim with razor sharp production that bleeds with vibrancy, depth and creativity. Giriboy’s performances remain energetic as ever, working in rapping and singing seamlessly. The guests he brings on the record also shine in their own regard. Giriboy continues to elevate himself above his contemporaries as one of Korea’s most engaging MCs.

Recommended Track: Acrnm (feat. Goretexx)

8. Dreamcatcher - Nightmare: Escape The Era

The rocking girls of Dreamcatcher bring their defining sound to a climax with ‘Escape The Era’, a mostly familiar, but undeniably confident and impactful EP. ‘You And I’ presents gorgeous, open verses with timid, yet emotional vocal melodies that ascend to an explosive chorus. The production across the board has the right amount of polish balanced with just enough grit to give the EP a tangible edge and palpable energy. Flexing effortless vocal performances that work in gorgeous unity with the production, ‘Escape The Era’ is peak Dreamcatcher. [Full Review]

Recommended Track: Mayday

7. EXO - Don’t Mess Up My Tempo

Coming through with arguably their best record since ‘Exodus’, even topping that perhaps is EXO’s ‘Don’t Mess Up My Tempo’. EXO once again demonstrate superb vocal performances whether it be in the bravado that carries the electric nature of lead single ‘Tempo’, or the emotive prowess they bring on the sensual ‘24/7′ and airy ‘With You’. The production is more modest, but infinitely rich throughout - ‘Gravity’ being the shining star in this field. ‘Don’t Mess Up My Tempo’ is a very focused effort that plays within very defined sonic borders without ever feeling static, instead its tracklist courses swimmingly. [Full Review]

Recommended Track: Gravity

6. BoA - Woman

Seemingly each year, there is just one phenomenal straight-up no twist and turns pop record that sets out to do one thing; make great pop and do so with flying colors. BoA does exactly that with ‘Woman’, her ninth and best album to date. Boasting abundantly colorful production in tracks like the fierce title track and the springing ‘Little More’, the record maximizes what’s fun in the current pop landscape while cutting the fat so that it’s just back to back joyrides. The glittery production aside, ‘Woman’ would not be what it is without the charisma that BoA carries herself with in all of her performances throughout.

Recommended Track: Little More

5. Jonghyun - Poet | Artist

Jonghyun of SHINee’s posthumous album, ‘Poet | Artist’ is a record that incites a myriad of emotions. It brings childish joy in ‘Shinin’ and infectious confidence in ‘Sightseeing’ all leading to the record’s closer ‘Before Our Spring’ which is nothing short of beautiful in its honesty and longing. As always, Jonghyun’s vocal flexibility, and sheer force illuminates the album’s broadly toned production. It can be a confronting listen, but what Jonghyun put together on his final album is ensures that he will be remembered not only for his stature as a successful idol, but as a compelling musician with a kind heart and a sharp ear.

Recommended Track: Take The Dive

4. Simon Dominic - Darkroom: Roommates Only

Finally following up his debut solo project in 2011, Simon Dominic presents the grim and intoxicating ‘Darkroom: Roommates Only’. Despite its heavy tone, it feels like a cathartic listen as Simon D candidly invites the listener into a dark state of mind that is muddied with anxiety, depression and uncertainty. He evokes moods through his masterful writing; blunt and grounded at times, and others he immerses us in his engaging storytelling, often supplemented by haunting performances that hold onto listeners with a suffocating grip. Sonically, Simon D’s harrowing rapping and singing is over very moody, atmospheric production that intertwine with his performances perfectly.

Recommended Track: Demolition Man (feat. Kim Jong Seo)

3. Younha - Rescue

Also making an anticipated return in 2018 was Younha with her fifth full length album, ‘Rescue’. ‘Rescue’ has Younha continuing to show her versatility and adaptability as a singer-songwriter as she approaches this record with a subtle, but atmospheric pop flare. The record is still nicely stocked with dreamy ballads that drown listeners in her luscious and crystalline vocal displays like on the opener. Brighter moments on the record truly sparkle, ‘Feel’ is one of the year’s most uplifting tunes that pulses with joy. Younha successfully unites her signature sound with some of the sounds of today, and none of it feels contrived at all. ‘Rescue’ stands proudly and comparable to her best works such as 2012′s ‘Supersonic’.

Recommended Track: Feel (feat. Chancellor)

2. DAY6 - Shoot Me: Youth Part 1

From the commencement of their EveryDay6 project in 2017, DAY6 have been an unstoppable force and they keep up their momentum with ‘Shoot Me: Youth Part 1′ in 2018. Headed by a fiercely bold lead single of the same name, the record is essentially the foundations laid down in 2017′s ‘Sunrise’ milked to their absolute potential in a compact EP format. The songwriting is incredibly tight and engaging, the performances from the boys both instrumentally and vocally are consistently thrilling and the production is supplemented by nicely toned and textured arrangements. DAY6 hits hard and fast with tracks like ‘Warning’, while also throwing curveballs like ‘Talking To’ in the mix. Whatever you want to label DAY6 as; idol group, idol band, pop rock band, pop punk band - there’s simply no other act doing what they’re doing at this very moment. [Full Review]

Recommended Track: Shoot Me

1. Paloalto & Justhis - 4 The Youth

Uniting two of South Korea’s most technically skilled MCs from two different generations of hip-hop, ‘4 The Youth’ presents a strong case to be one for the history books when it comes to hip-hop records. Paloalto’s demonstrates an effortless mastery in adapting beat to beat with his inhumanly smooth flows which glide over instrumentals with a sense of authority and concurrent airiness. On the other hand, Justhis brings a frenetic energy on his hyper-articulate and precise performances that cut through beats like glass. The duo come together on gorgeous and serene beats like the Groovyroom produced ‘Seoul Romance’ and the cold ‘Brown Eyes Views’ with sensitivity and inspiration. Harder hitting songs like ‘Zombies’ and ‘Cooler Than Cool’ is where our MCs let loose on their flows, with back to back highlight verses filled with cut-throat flows and an unparalleled command of attention between the two. The 22 track, 70 minute runtime could’ve divulged into a chore but thanks to tasteful beat selection and the raw talent of Paloalto and Justhis, ‘4 The Youth’ is a monumental hip-hop record, and the most outstanding record of 2018 overall. [Full Review]

Recommended Track: Switch, No Reason, Zombies

#day6 #paloalto #justhis #simon dominic #jonghyun #boa #exo #dreamcatcher #giriboy #loona

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avaalons · 7 years ago

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Chris Evans Fic: Since Then

If they are still open can I request Chris and y/n and they had a friends with benefits deal that resulted in a kid and now they are raising their kid together but not together if you know what I mean. But everyone around them can see how in love they are and they play it off. Happy ending all round please. Sorry if they are closed.

***

The day your daughter had been born, Chris had only just made it in time. She was three weeks early and Chris had been at the end of filming stint, planning on returning to Boston four days later so that he’d be around in those final weeks of your pregnancy and ready to go when you popped. But his baby girl had had other ideas, deciding she was more than ready to see the world and wanted out, like now. So your sister had called him, screaming more than was probably necessary and told him to get his ass on the next flight out if he had any hopes of witnessing the birth of his first child.

You were determined, this baby wasn’t coming until Chris was by your side, not because you needed him there as such, but because you didn’t want him to miss this incredible, life changing moment. You didn’t care how many nurses told you that birth didn’t work that way, that baby was staying in until her father could be there to welcome her into the world.

As luck would have it, your labour was long and horrendous. A head in the wrong position and a heavy dose of oxytocin were doing nothing for your comfort levels and by the time Chris arrived, you were a weeping, screaming, terrified mess, but he was a rock. He was ready with a cool washcloth on your forehead and the back of your neck; he had soothing things relentlessly spilling from his lips, even as you cursed him and shoved at him and told him this was all his fault; he let you near break his hand and didn’t even bat an eyelid; and when she was actually delivered, he cried with you, declared you a family now and that he’d be there for every ballet recital, ball game, science project, chess tournament, or swim competition. He didn’t care, whatever it was she wanted to do, he’d be there.

And you knew then at the back of your mind that it couldn’t possibly be true, his life just wouldn’t allow it, and you weren’t together together so the family part was a bit misleading, but in that moment, you didn’t care. You were floating on elation and nothing but nothing could pull you down from your cloud.

‘She looks like an Abbie I think,’ he whispered, referencing one of the girls names you’d both shortlisted via text while he’d been away.

And so there she was, Abigail Christina Evans, the middle name after your mother primarily but also a happy nod to her father, the light of your life and the delicate thread that held you and Chris together.

***

‘Mooommmm?! Mom?!’

You all but threw the iron into its holder attached to the ironing board and flung open the door to the hallway and stairs.

'Would it really kill you to take it upon yourself to descend this magnificent staircase once in a while instead of just summoning me like a servant?’

The sandy coloured hair of your now not-so-little girl hung down in a sheet as she leaned over the bannister from the landing.

'Sorry mom, I swear. But have you seen my Ariana Grande tshirt? You know, the one I got from LA when-’

'When your dad took you to her show,’ you finished for her in a mock-weary voice, a joke you both had about just how many times she mentioned going to see Ariana Grande live in one day, 'Yes, I know the one. It’s literally in this pile of ironing I’m doing. I’ll do it next. Is there anything else you need? Your dad is due any second.’

'No, I’m good apart from that tshirt. Thanks mom, you’re the best.’

You smiled up at her and she blew you a kiss. Sometimes you couldn’t believe just how grown up she was now. She was only ten but seemed such a little lady, and she was beautiful inside and out.

You finished her tshirt, folding it gently and just as you lay it on the pile of her other things, there was the sound of a key in the door.

'Sweetheart! Your dad’s here!’ you shouted as he stepped over the threshold with a smile and a wave to you. He barely had time to get out his hello before he was ambushed by his own child. She launched herself at him in excitement, clinging to him koala style and burying her face in his neck. His arms immediately wrapped around her as he hugged her to him tightly. You smiled to yourself, busying yourself with your chores and letting them have their moment.

'Oh princess, I can’t even tell you how happy I am to see you,’ he told her sincerely.

'Me too dad. Oh my god, I’ve got so much to tell you,’ and with that she wriggled from his grasp, the moment over as she launched into a fast and detailed explanation of all the friend dramas she sustained everyday with barely a breath, ’… so then Kaitlyn was like 'well I don’t want to be Abbie’s understudy,’ but Miss Clary told her straight up that she’d end up with no part at all if she carried on. I can’t help it if I’m a triple threat, can I Dad? Anyway, I need to grab my stuff from upstairs and then I can tell you what happened at soccer practise - oh my god! Mom told me you can come to my next game! I’m so excited! - but anyway, honestly, I can’t even - Jenna 'accidentally’ tripped up Chloe last week and - oh just wait a second while I get my bag.’

And like a sudden whirlwind, she was gone as quickly as she had arrived and you looked over at Chris with a knowing grin. He was stood with his eyes wide, apparently lost for words.

'I blame you. That must all be you because I was definitely not that talkative when I was her age,’ you told him.

He paused for a moment, shaking his head in disbelief before laughing, 'Triple threat?! Did she actually just say that?’

'Again, I blame you.’

He shook his head quickly, as if to shake off the verbal battering ram he’d just received, before clearing the room to approach you and pull you into a light hug.

'Anyway. Hello, hi, it’s good to see you.’

You laughed into his chest, giving him a quick squeeze, 'Nice to see you too. You’re looking well. Work going okay? Got to keep the beard this time I see.’

'Oh my god, I know!’ he replied quickly in excitement, unknowingly almost an exact replica of his daughter just moments earlier, as he scrubbed a hand over his facial hair, 'Cap with a beard, who knew?! What’s been going on here? Give me a run down.’

You walked through to the kitchen as you talked, Chris following you instinctively.

'Not a lot really. She’s doing well in school although could probably do with a tiny bit more focus on the academic side of things, but as long as she keeps the balance with her extra curriculars, she’ll be okay. Did you see I added the next parent-teacher conference evening to the calendar?’ You pulled open the fridge door and handed him a water before grabbing one for yourself. You’d worked out over the years that to keep Chris in the loop with everything going on in Abbie’s life, a synced digital calendar worked wonders.

He nodded, 'Yeah, I can be here. In fact…’

He was suddenly pensive and your curiosity piqued.

'Yes?’

'After I’m done with Cap, I think I’m going to take some time off Hollywood and spend more time in Boston. Move back for a while. Full time.’

You raised your eyebrows, a little surprised, 'Yeah? And what’s brought that on? Abbie will be thrilled, of course, but… is everything okay?’

He perched himself on one of your breakfast island stools, suddenly very interested in picking at the label of his water bottle, 'It’s just been a rough year with the whole Jenny thing. I need to refocus, get back to me. Spend some real quality time with my family instead of flitting in for a week every month. You shouldn’t have to put a question mark in every calendar entry. I should just be here.’

An edge of frustration creeped into his voice at the end and your heart went out to him. Balancing being an actor in Hollywood and a dad in Boston hadn’t always been the easiest of situations.

'Hey, we’ve both done our absolute best for her. You’ve supported her far more than some of her friends’ fathers who live in the same house as them, I can tell you that for certain! There’s no need to beat yourself up, she knows you worship the ground she walks on, just like she does for you.’

It wasn’t just words, it was the truth. Chris had worked hard to make sure Abbie felt like he was a consistent presence in her life. He knew it took far more than simply throwing gifts and money at her. Her parents might not have been together, but they were united and she knew full well how much they both loved her.

Chris looked up at you then, a half smile ghosting his features at your words before turning serious again.

'I just don’t want her to get to eighteen and I suddenly regret not being here more. Remember when she was born? I said I’d be there for everything.’

'You’ve been here enough to make her happy Chris, I promise,’ you placed a comforting hand on his arm.

'She’s my world, and she deserves to have me around more.’

'Listen, I’m not going to stand here and say I don’t think this is a good idea. She’s going to be beside herself when she finds out. I think it’s great! Just don’t be so harsh to yourself. You’re a great dad and she’s lucky to have you.’

'I’m lucky to have her,’ he did smile then, properly, 'And you.’

'Yeah, we make a pretty good team,’ you returned his smile.

'Do you think we work so well because we’re not in a relationship?’ The mood in the kitchen was back to being light and you moved to the counter to grab the tin of cookies you’d made earlier.

'I think I can say, without a doubt in my mind, unequivocally yes.’

He laughed at your comment and you slid the tin across to him, 'For you and Abbie and your inevitable movie night later.’

He prised the lid open and leaned forward to smell the baked goods, groaning as the scent of sugar and chocolate hit him.

'Oh my god, my trainer is literally going to beat me next week. Remind me again why I never married you?’

A peal of laughter broke from you, 'Because we were just friends with benefits until you knocked me up, dumb ass.’

***

Having Chris back in Boston did turn out to be a really great thing for Abbie. She saw him so much more and with him came his family, her grandparents and aunties and uncle and cousins. She always had them in her life, of course, but having Chris just made that link and bond even stronger.

This was exactly why you were dreading Christmas.

Christmas had always been a day for the two of you primarily. Chris was generally at his mom’s on Christmas Day, with the rest of his siblings and their children, so Abbie usually spent Christmas Eve at her grandmother’s and woke up there with her cousins for presents, but by midday, Chris would have dropped her off back at home and the rest of the day would be yours to spend together, opening more presents, watching DVDs and eating far too much turkey and playing with all the toys and games she had received.

But now, things were different. Chris was a much more permanent fixture in your lives and your instincts told you that he was going to ask if Abbie could spend Christmas with him and all his family. You couldn’t begrudge her it either: who wouldn’t want to spend Christmas Day surrounded by their family. Their household was large and chaotic and noisy, but it was also a lot of fun and full of traditions. Abbie would have a great time, but you’d miss her so much. You could go to your own parents, of course, or spend the day with your sister and her family. It’s not like you had nowhere to go. But you would miss your own little traditions that you’d created with your daughter over the years. She was growing up, however, and she could make her own decision about it.

It still didn’t stop the empty feeling in the pit of your stomach when Chris mentioned Christmas as he sat at your kitchen one evening with you and Abbie. He’d been with the two of you to see her play a soccer game and had stopped by for take out afterwards on Abbie’s insistence.

'So, I was talking to my mom and we were wondering about Christmas this year…’

'Hmm?’ you indicated you were listening at least even though you hoped the actual words wouldn’t be spoken.

’… it could be nice if we spend Christmas together, you know, instead of shuttling Abbie back before lunch. Don’t worry if it’s a problem, it was just an idea,’ he spoke the last part quickly, as if he’d expected you to make some excuse as soon as he got the words out.

'Yes! Oh my god, please can I go to grandma’s?!’ Abbie immediately responded.

'Abs, It’s up to your mom, don’t forget,’ Chris warned her.

'I think… I think that’s really great idea. I’m sure you’ll all have an amazing time!’ Your voice was weirdly high pitched as you struggled to try and not betray your disappointment.

You heard a snicker coming from Chris’ direction and when you looked at him, shooting daggers, your first thought was to be affronted. How could he possibly find leaving you without your daughter on Christmas Day funny?! But before you could make some pithy remark, he spoke again.

'You’ll be there too, of course.’

'Yeah mom, you’ll be there too, right?’

They both looked at you expectantly from across the table, identical expressions on their faces, and your heart soared.

’…of course I will, baby girl!’

As soon as Abbie went back to eating, you mouthed a thank you at Chris but he just furrowed his brow slightly and shook his head quickly as he plucked at his noodles with chopsticks, as if to say 'you’ve got nothing to thank me for.’

***

It was only six weeks until Christmas when your phone rang one Saturday morning. Glancing down at the screen you saw 'Baby Daddy’ and smiled as your rolled your eyes. Someone had managed to get hold of your phone. Again. You swiped to answer and immediately held the handset to your ear.

'I better be in your contacts as 'Baby Mama’ and I hope that whenever I call, you’ve got a girl with you.’

You heard him chuckle down the line, 'Only just seen that, huh?’

'Yes! Imagine if I was on a date and the guy saw! How am I supposed to explain that one away?’

’…are you on a date?’

'No, but that’s-’

'Listen, if a guy is getting sneaky looks at your phone on the first date, then he’s probably not for you.’

'Well, we can’t all be that choosy, can we?’

'You certainly can,’ was his immediate response, 'Don’t settle for anything less than perfection.’

'Oh great, I’ll just resign myself to being alone for the rest of my life then,’ you tried for a small laugh but it sounded hollow even to you. This conversation was getting deep fast.

'You’re not alone. You’ve got Abbie,’ he offered, and then added in a quiet voice, 'And me.’

It’s not the same though, you wanted to tell him but you also wanted to end this line of thinking and change the conversation immediately.

'Did you call for something?’

'Oh… yeah,’ he seemed to remember himself, 'I was wondering if we could go Christmas present shopping for Abbie.’

'We?’

'Yeah, she’s got Christmas show rehearsals all day, right? I was hoping you could help me out.’

'You don’t need my help, you always get her great presents!’

'It feels different somehow this year. I don’t know, more… moving back has made such a difference, I feel like I’m really truly cemented in her life now.’

'Chris,’ your voice was soft, 'It’s always been that way.’

'I know, I know, but I just love that I don’t have to be a visiting dad or a Skype dad anymore. I’m here, in the flesh, for her whenever she needs me and I want to get her something to reflect that.’

Your heart warmed for him. You knew the change in circumstances had been a happy transition for Abbie, but you didn’t think about how much it had affected Chris too.

'Okay, I’ll get my thinking cap on. What time shall we meet?’

'I’ll come pick you up in… an hour, say? Then we can go and collect Abbie afterwards. I feel like taking my girls out for burgers.’

You wondered idly if he realised how he sounded when he said 'my girls.’ A butterfly-like feeling rose in your belly and you quickly squashed it down. It did no good to think on the past. What you had now was good, it worked, and you intended to keep it that way, for Abbie’s sake. You and Chris had never been destined to be together, not properly. There was only ever one thing keeping you connected and it was your daughter. Without her, you would have parted ways a long time ago, probably never to see each other again. So when Chris said things like 'my girls,’ you needed to remember he didn’t mean it like you belonged to him or with him, just that you were a girl in his life, who happened to be the mother of his only child.

'Okay, I’ll be ready. Burgers are on you though. And I’m ordering sides. And dessert.’

He laughed, 'Whatever you want. See you in an hour.’

***

'Ten’s a weird age,’ Chris mused as you wandered the mall together, 'Especially for her. She seems so grown up sometimes.’

'I know. She seems too old for toys but too young to not have them. What about crafty things? She likes art and making stuff.’

'Anyone could get her that though. What can I get her that’s special?’

’…I might have an idea. Come with me.’

'Lead the way, oh wise one.’

He followed you dutifully through the mall until you came to a jewellery store.

'Isn’t she a little young for jewellery as a gift? Shouldn’t jewellery be from, like, Tiffany’s or Cartier or somewhere?’

You looked at him, baffled, 'You do realise those two questions completely contradict each other right? She’s ten, she won’t know the difference, and she definitely won’t care if it’s from Tiffany’s. But she also looks after her things now, she quite precious about it so I think jewellery would be nice. Plus, check these out,’ you pointed to some delicate necklaces on display with pendants in various shapes, 'You can get them personalised with an engraving on the back and have pictures put inside.’

'A locket?’ You could tell he was starting to see the appeal.

'Yeah, you could have a picture of the two of you inside, and then she’s always got you with her, even when you’re away for work or whatever.’

'You are a genius,’ Chris declared, making his way inside. 'Turns out you’re not just a pretty face.’

You gave him an affronted shove to the shoulder but he hooked his hand around your arm, pulling you into the shop with him.

The clerk was immediately by your side, asking if you needed help.

'We’re looking for a keepsake gift for our daughter…’

You left Chris to it and wandered off to look at all the beautiful pieces on display. It had been so long since someone had bought you jewellery. You’d had a few boyfriends over the years but just one that lasted longer than six months. It had been nigh on impossible when Abbie was a baby and as she got older, and dating should have become easier, you found that explaining the situation was difficult. Given Chris’ job, you had to work hard to protect the privacy of both your daughter and her father, and more often than not, you found your own wants and needs played second fiddle.

Chris’ relationships had been well publicised, of course, but he kept Abbie out of it all for the most part. Jenny had been the exception. She was a Boston girl too and was less 'Hollywoodised’ than some of his previous choices. She’d gone on the family Disney trip that year and by all accounts, had been perfectly lovely to Abbie. She’d been disappointed when her dad and Jenny broke up shortly after but Chris made sure Abbie knew it was nothing to do with her, that Jenny adored her but sometimes adults just couldn’t work it out.

As Abbie had gotten older, Chris had taken her to a few premieres as his 'date’, only ever to events that were controlled where there was plenty of other stuff going on so that they wouldn’t be the sole focus of the attention. He figured the interest in his life and with his daughter was inevitable and not going anywhere so he’d give enough to satisfy the need for pictures and information, and hoped that that was enough to keep them off her back when she was just at home, being a kid and growing up.

She did have a weird sort of 'in between’ life, but you supposed she had the best of both worlds. She could enjoy the nice bits that came with her dad’s fame, but she still had privacy and a safe place at home where she could grow up relatively normally and stay grounded. You and Chris had both sworn when she was born you wouldn’t let her be negatively impacted by his fame, and you thought you’d done an okay job so far.

'What do you think of this one?’ Chris’ voice and appearance at your side shook you from your reverie.

He held a velvet cushion in his palm with a delicate, heart-shaped locket. It was rounded at the edges and the join was almost invisible. It was smooth, bright gold and didn’t have all the fancy decoration you’d seen on some of them. It was perfect, simple and charming and, importantly, wearable. Not too flashy or too old. Just right for a little girl’s first piece of jewellery from her father.

'She’ll love it, without a doubt,’ you beamed up at him, 'Do you know what picture you’re going get?’

'Yep, I decided that first. I’ve already emailed it across. This one will have a picture in one side and an engraving on the other.’

'Perfect. Good choice!’

'Just wanted your approval before I paid. I’ll go get settled up.’

You watched him walk back to the counter, wondering how you and Abbie ended up so lucky. The situation you found yourself in ten years ago could have gone so wrong, but somehow, somehow, you became an unconventional, sometimes dysfunctional, but generally happy family.

***

Christmas Eve rolled around so quickly. You and Chris, along with all the other family members that would be at Lisa’s on Christmas Eve and staying over, had subtly squirrelled away the kids presents in various hiding places in her house so that by the time Christmas morning rolled around, the kids would be none the wiser. You’d driven carefully through snow in the afternoon, trunk loaded with your overnight bags and Abbie in the passenger seat, more excited than she could bear.

'I’m so happy you’re coming today as well mom, and I’m so excited to spend the day at Grandma’s tomorrow,’ she was practically bouncing in her seat.

'You could have stayed all the other times baby, if you wanted. You should have said.’

'Yeah, but you wouldn’t have wanted to stay overnight at Grandma’s and I wanted to spend time with you on Christmas too,’ Abbie reasoned.

'I’m staying over this time,’ you said in question to her idea that you wouldn’t.

'Yeah, but it’s different now dad’s home, isn’t it? You two are closer and we all spend more time together. And he hasn’t got a girlfriend,’ she shrugged nonchalantly as you blinked in surprise.

When did your little girl get so astute?

'Abs, your dad having or not having a girlfriend has nothing to do with anything. Your dad and I are friends and we care about each other and you, but that’s as far as it goes. We’ll always do what is best for you and that means us getting along and working together.’

'Oh mom,’ she sounded far too old for her years and you almost laughed, 'You’re so silly. You must have liked each other at some time or you wouldn’t have me at all, would you? Only married people or boyfriends and girlfriends have babies.’

Jesus Christ. You didn’t even know what to do with this conversation. Thank god you were turning into Lisa’s street and you were almost at your destination.

'I can see grandma’s house!’

And just like that, she was distracted, leaving you to your own confusing thoughts.

***

The house was manic. It was a sea of decorations and sweaters and food and drinks, all soundtracked by classic Christmas songs. Dodger was tap dancing with excitement around Abbie’s feet and he had been dutifully following the kids around as they ran and played, the excitement of what was to come tomorrow getting them all worked up. There was loud conversation and laughter from everywhere.

You caught up with Carly, Chris’ sister, in the kitchen, telling her about the surprising and hilarious conversation with your daughter and Carly laughed along with you, knowing all too well how awkward child-led conversations can get. But then her questioning turned more serious.

'Do you really never wonder what it would be like though?’ She spoke quietly next to you, your heads close together, each clutching a glass of wine.

'Wonder about what?’

'About you and Chris. What it would have been like?’

You shook your head vigorously, 'No, what’s the point? We would never have worked out. I’d probably have never seen him again if it weren’t for Abbie.’

'You did have Abbie and you did see him again. Is there really nothing there?’

You glanced over through the doorway into the living room. Chris was helping the kids put the decorations back on the tree after one of them had wound Dodger up too much getting him to jump for a toy and he’d stumbled backwards into the tree and knocking a whole host of ornaments off. Some of them were old and had been on the tree for decades, and Chris had a story connected to each one. The kids were rapt with attention and you watched as he scooped Abbie up so she could place a heavy Beauty and the Beast ornament on a thicker branch so it wouldn’t fall again.

'Carly, I… he’s the father of my little girl. I love him deeply, I do, but I can’t be in love with him. He’s an amazing dad to Abbie, and that’s all I need from him. He moved back here to spend more time with her and they have a great relationship. Nothing should get in the way of that.’

'Funny, he told me that too, but the more I see, the more I think it wasn’t just Abbie he came back for,’ she spoke cryptically and you whipped your head to look at her, shocked, but her attention had been caught by one of her sons and she was gone, dragged away to go and look at something he’d done and was obviously very proud of.

You were frozen. What did she mean? What else would Chris come back for? She couldn’t mean you, could she? You looked back at Chris, still holding Abbie, only to find your gaze caught by his own. He smiled warmly and whispered something in Abbie’s ear before setting her down. She ran over to you, grabbing your hand in hers.

'Mom, come and look at the baubles dad’s been telling me about. Do you know grandma got some of them for his first Christmas?! They’re soooooooo old…’ she trailed off as she pulled you into the living room.

'Hey! Less of the old, thank you very much! Go and look after your cousins before you wound my pride anymore!’ He spoke dramatically to make her laugh as she skipped away before turning to you, 'You okay? You seem quiet.’

'Yeah, I’m fine,’ you replied with what you hoped seemed like confidence as you resolved to pack away any of those strange thoughts Carly had conjured up, 'It’s just… you know… a lot different to my usual Christmas Eves!’

His face turned serious, 'I should have invited you before now. I don’t know why I didn’t, seems obvious now.’

'Chris, don’t worry about it. You’ve got your own life with Abbie and you deserved that time together.’

'You know me and Abbie aren’t separate from you and Abbie, right? We’re a unit, a family.’

'I know that,’ you nodded, probably sounding just as unsure as you felt.

'You’re so important to me, so important,’ he took your hand that wasn’t holding a wine glass and squeezed it tightly.

You could feel your face burning up and between Abbie’s conversation in the car, Carly’s in the kitchen and now this, you didn’t know what or how to feel anymore. You were so confused and the noise and the wine and the warmth in the house wasn’t helping. It was making you feel like you had a place here, and you didn’t. You were a guest, that was all.

You tried to make your voice light and joking, 'I know, dumb ass. I should hope so, being your baby mama and all.’

It didn’t draw a smile from him however and he immediately began to try and contradict you, eyes intent on yours, his thumb running over your knuckles, 'No, not just-’

'Chris! Can you run to the store?’ Lisa’s panicked voice could be heard from the pantry and Chris went immediately to see what was wrong.

You breathed a sigh of relief, nervous nausea dissipating immediately. These serious conversations were getting to be way too much.

'Has anyone seen my keys?’ He spoke loudly as he entered the room again. You began to look around, grateful for something to do and spotted them on the mantel over the fireplace. You plucked them up and placed them in his hand.

He did smile then, chucking a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of where his mom had been, but he spoke to the room rather than just to you, 'She’s forgotten the bacon for the pigs in blankets for tomorrow. I’ll be back in a little while.’

***

You had used the reprieve to compose yourself, sneaking off to the bathroom to splash some cool water on your face and take a few deep breaths. All kinds of things had been stirred up, feelings you thought had been long since buried and forgotten.

It was just Christmas sentimentality, you told yourself. You needed to get through the holidays and then just get back to how the way things had been. Maybe you needed to pull away from Chris for a little while, encourage him to do more with Abbie by herself. Maybe you could get a dating app and see what was out there. Just get through the holidays.

When you emerged, everything was as it had been. No one had noticed your absence, or your flustered state, and you were glad. You went through to the kitchen to see if Lisa needed any help and she set you to work filling a chocolate Swiss roll with frosting. You weren’t really sure who the Swiss roll was for, or when it was supposed to be eaten, because there seemed to be a million cakes and desserts around the place, but you did as you were told.

'Oh hell, there’s no herbs for the stuffing! Where has my head been this year? Could you be a sweetheart and give Chris a call? Tell him to pick up some fresh herbs while he’s at the store. I don’t know where my phone is, it’s around this place somewhere…’

'Sure,’ you agreed, wiping your hands on a tea towel before pulling your phone from the back pocket of your jeans. You pressed 'Baby Daddy’ on the recent contacts and held it to your ear, only to hear a phone ringing somewhere in your vicinity. You walked towards the sound, and on seeing the glowing screen, realised that Chris had stupidly left his phone on the kitchen counter.

'What an idi-’ but you were cut off when you saw the text on the screen.

'What’s he done?’ Lisa called from behind you but you barely noticed, disbelieving gaze glued to the illuminated screen of Chris’ phone as you let it ring out.

There, in glowing white letters against black as you called him, was the contact name he had given you.

Resolution 2018: Marry her.

***

You heard the front door slam shut and knew that Chris must have arrived back. You were sat in dim lamplight in the room Lisa had given you for the night, thoughts swirling and colliding. You didn’t know how to feel and upon seeing the name you’d been given, ran immediately from the room, fleeing upstairs where the noise of the family was muffled and the air was cooler.

Lisa had followed you up quietly, having seen the glowing screen over your shoulder and knowing instantly what was wrong. She paused at the door, purposefully not being intrusive.

'Is it a joke!?’ You asked her, unable to come up with any other explanation.

'No, sweetheart. He would never… he loves you far too much.’

A sob shuddered from your body then, all the emotions crashing at once, and Lisa rushed to your side, sitting down on the mattress with you and winding an arm around your shoulders.

'Hey now, there’s no need to cry. You’ve got some talking to do but I’m sure it will all work out,’ her hand smoothed comforting motions against your arm as she tucked your head under her chin, cradling you like you were a child, 'You love him too, right?’

You nodded against her, unable to get your words out.

'You two have been so wrapped up in Abbie that for the longest time, I don’t think either of you even considered that you could make each other happy too.’

That just made you cry harder. So much wasted time.

'You stay here where it’s quiet. I’m sure he’ll find you soon enough.’

Lisa had left you to your solitude and incredibly, within the twenty or so minutes between Lisa leaving and Chris arriving back home, you’d manage to go from being sad and helpless to angry. You were really angry. How could he keep this from you? Why would he make jokes about you working because you weren’t in a relationship? Why would he change his name in your phone to Baby Daddy? Why would he cheapen your feelings by implying he’d marry you for your baking, for God's sake?

So when you heard his footsteps clearing the stairs two at a time, you were ready for a fight. You deserved an explanation. But then he appeared at the door, his figure taking up the majority of the space.

You didn’t say anything. Just sat there, staring steadily at the floor, not trusting yourself to look up.

He cleared his throat in the silence and tried to break the ice, 'So, I left my phone behind, as it turns out.’

You looked up sharply then. Did he expect you to laugh? But you saw his eyes, worried and nervous, and you realised he’d been testing the water with all of those stupid comments. He was just as scared as you were about these feelings and what they meant.

'How long?’ You wanted to know, 'How long have I been alone when we could have been together?’

Your voice broke at the end as another wave of tears started up and he lurched forwards, crouching down in front of you, taking your hands in his and looking up at you.

'I didn’t realise, I swear to you. I was too stupid, too young, too dumb and too far away to see what I had. I wasn’t what you needed back then. I could just about get myself together enough to be a half decent human being for Abbie.’

'Did you move here just for her, like you told me?’

'I want us to be a family. A real family. Where we all live in the same house and eat all our meals together, and have movies nights snuggled under a blanket. I want to delete that stupid digital calendar and put a paper one on the fridge because we’ll all see it there. I want all of that, but I also want you, more than I ever thought possible. I want to kiss you and fall asleep with you and wake up with you and make love to you and have a billion more babies with you. I want to argue and then make up, I want you to tell me off for not doing the laundry right or for skipping my turn doing the dishes.’

You couldn't help the laugh that bubbled from you, even as the tears slid down your cheeks. He reached up from his crouched position to tuck your hair behind your ears, removing the curtain that protected you from him.

'Look at me,’ he whispered and you tentatively shifted your gaze to his.

'I love you, and I’ve come to realise that I think I always have. I just didn’t have anything to offer you. I’m not really sure I have much more now, but I can promise you that I will take care of you, be true to you, I will worship the ground upon which you walk, if you’ll let me.’

'Chris… there’s so much at stake here. What if we don’t work out? What’s that going to do to Abbie?’ you whispered to him, not wanting to break to spell with reality but needing to, for Abbie’s sake and for yours.

'I’ve been thinking about this. And everything happens for a reason, right? If we’d never had Abbie, we probably would have parted ways eventually, and we’d have moved on. I think the universe sent Abbie to us, to make sure we had a reason to stay connected until I could get my shit together to be good enough for you.’

You barked a sniffly laugh again. That was so like Chris. Of course it was the universe.

'And have you got your shit together now?’ You asked.

'Baby, my world revolves around you and our daughter. I’m not the same guy I was ten years ago, I know that for certain. It’s you, me and Abbie, together, from now, if you’ll agree.’

You sighed, feeling fresh sobs creeping through your chest, but sobs of happiness this time you thought. It had been such a long time.

It only took the briefest of nods to make Chris tug you down to the floor with him, crashing his mouth against yours. It was the same, but different as you explored each other. He was so familiar to you, but entirely new at the same time and you poured every bit of emotion you had into it, wrapping your hands tightly around his jaw, holding him fast. He held your body to his, unable to get close enough and eventually he pulled back to look you in the face, swiping at your remaining tears with his thumbs.

'Mom? Dad?’ A quiet, confused voice sounded from the doorway, 'What’s going on?’

You both snapped your heads towards the sound to see a rather vulnerable looking Abbie standing there.

'Oh baby girl, come here,’ Chris held out his hand towards her with a smile and she ran to you both, throwing herself into your embrace. You both pulled her in, hugging her between you, planting kisses against her hair.

'This is the best Christmas present ever,’ her muffled voice came from somewhere under your arms and you beamed at Chris, leaving over her to kiss him chastely.

'I agree,’ you spoke against his mouth.

***

The next morning, you were tired, there were no two ways about it. The kids had been told absolutely no movement before 7am, and Abbie had helped by setting an alarm before they all settled down to their Christmas Eve sleepover in the bedroom designated the 'Grandkids’ room’.

But of course, at the stroke of 7am precisely, a hoard of excited children could be heard running through the upstairs rooms, waking disgruntled parents and grandparents. Abbie launched herself into your bed and flopped against the pillows.

'Merry Christmas mom! Where’s dad?’

'Merry Christmas sweetheart. I guess he’s in his room.’

’… but why? Aren’t you together now? Boyfriends and girlfriends sleep in the same bed.’

Not again, you thought, how were you going to handle this one? Would a ten year old understand the concept of taking it slow?

You'd stayed up together, talking, long after the rest of the household had gone to sleep. You knew each other so well, but until recently, it had always been within the context of Abbie. Now, however, you had the opportunity to get to know each other as adults, but as happy and as heady as you were, even the two of you knew that sleeping in the same bed for the first time in over a decade in his mom’s house would be a mistake. So in the early hours, he’d slipped off to his own bed to get a few hours of sleep before the onslaught began.

'We need a bit of time to get used to being together first,’ Chris’ deep voice rumbled from the door from where Abbie had left it open. His hair was messy from sleep and he yawned as he padded towards the bed, tucking himself in behind Abbie, sandwiching her between her parents. 'And you probably need a bit of time to get used to it too.’

'Daaaadddd, no I don’t! I think this is amazing. Look, we can have cuddles in bed together. We couldn’t do this before!’

You bit your lip to keep from laughing as Chris’ raised his eyebrow at you over her head.

Thankfully, you were saved by a stampede of Chris’ niece and nephews in the room.

'Come on Abbie! Let’s go and see if he’s been!’

***

A couple of hours later, you were all ensconced in the living room on the floor, passing presents to their intended receivers as the kids opened their gifts. Chris had passed you a steaming cup of coffee early on and you smiled at him gratefully as he sunk down next to you. You pretended to ignore the happy glances of his mom and siblings as you leaned against his arm and he immediately wrapped his arm around you.

The morning was full of excited, grateful yells and whoops as the kids discovered items they’d written on their lists, punctuated by hugs and kisses of thanks. Occasionally, the kids remembered to pass some back for the grown ups too.

You’d had way more than you expected, receiving a gift from everyone in the family and then numerous packages all from Abbie, although you heavily suspected a certain father had taken her on shopping trip for them all. You whispered your thanks to Chris for each one and he pretended to not know a thing about it.

Eventually, Abbie got to a small gift bag that you guessed must have contained her necklace and you were excited to see her open it.

'Oh, there’s a matching bag here, with your name on mom. It’s from dad,’ she glanced at the tag as she passed it to you.

You looked at him in surprise, thinking there couldn’t possibly be more but he just gave you a bashful smile. You delved in and pulled out a flat, square velvet box, just bigger than your palm, and glancing over at Abbie, you saw she had an exact replica.

Confusion flitting across your face, you popped the lid open, you found the same heart shaped locket he’d showed you in the shop. Before you could question it, Abbie’s voice could be heard exclaiming at the side of you.

'Oh my god, I love it! Dad, thank you! It’s so cute. Look mom, it’s got a picture of us inside. And some writing!’

You look over at what she was showing you, seeing the picture was one of the three of you, not just Abbie and Chris as you had expected, taken next to the ice rink in New York when you’d taken Abbie to meet Chris there during a press tour. The inscription read 'My heart is always full when you are near. All my love, Dad’ and you felt tears prick your eyes.

'It’s beautiful, honey,’ you told her sincerely as she hugged Chris.

While they were both distracted, you picked up your own locket, intrigued as to what could be inside. You carefully opened it up and your breath caught in your throat. A hand flew to your chest as an involuntarily sob heaved from you.

The picture was almost the same as ones you’d seen a hundred times before: the three of you, in the hospital when Abbie had just been born. She was nestled against you in her swaddle and her tiny fingers were wrapped around Chris’ little finger. He perched at the side of you, arm around your shoulders and on all the photos you had seen, you both gazed down, joyful and elated, enamoured with the tiny bundle in your arms.

But on this version of the photo, one you had never seen before, you gazed down at a newborn Abbie and Chris, well Chris gazed at you. Still just as joyful, still just as elated.

And the inscription read, in beautiful loopy script:

Since then. All my love, Chris

#chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans imagine #chris evans x you #chris evans x reader

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boyswanna-be-her · 7 years ago

Text

goretober: space

“Hey, it’s me. Don’t be mad.”

Amal is mad.

She told the goddamn CAPCOM to keep her wife home--to keep Carmen out of all of this as much as possible. She asked him as a colleague and as a friend.

So what the fuck is her wife doing on this transmission?

“I know you hate it when I say shit like this, but it’s totally OK for you to be stressed out right now. You’ve been alone for a long time.”

Amal isn’t afraid of being alone.

She’s trained for years, prepped, spent months in carefully monitored isolation like a zoo animal. Amal can do years alone standing on her head.

Being alone wouldn’t be a problem.

The problem is that Amal is not alone.

“This stuff you’re seeing--this stuff that’s happening--it’s because you’re stressed.”

Carmen is being so careful with her voice and Amal can’t decide how she feels about that. Angry, she decides, because Carmen feels like she has to be careful. Thankful that someone exists back on earth who cares enough to want to treat her gently. Frustrated that Carmen--along with everyone else in Houston--doesn’t believe her.

“I can’t say we perfectly understand why it might be happening, but all of your vitals have been relatively normal.”

“Fuck my vitals,” Amal says to the empty capsule. “It’s not my vitals that are freaking me.”

She hasn’t been alone for three days, and if everyone back at mission control would just listen for half a minute, they’d know that.

“Please, Amal, take the diazepam. Get some sleep.”

She knows how much Amal hates being sedated. They all do. It’s part of what makes Amal such a good candidate for a years-long solo mission like this. She’s never been interested in sleeping away problems or worrying about them less.

You identify the problem. You assess the problem. You work the problem. That’s what astronauts do, and Carmen knows that because she’s been through the same training, been through the same emergencies on missions. Those situations should’ve been terrible--the type of thing to knock you down onto the therapist’s couch for a solid decade--but had instead been exhilarating for all of them, for the entire crew, and though Carmen and Amal never talked about it, she knew Carmen felt it.

Carmen may have started in Star City as a physician, but they all came out on the other side of Hermes I as astronauts.

Their minds went somewhere else--became something else--when potential catastrophes presented themselves in space. Training kicked in and took the situation out of their hands, the spectres of their months of drills in a swimming pool suddenly conjured up.

The crew became a troupe of dancers working through complicated choreography when they tackled problems together, and in the same way that Amal imagined a dancer might feel a high coming off of a good performance, they all knew the distinct sensation of seeing death’s design, understanding it, and dismantling it.

They beat death over and over again. Hell, manned space exploration in itself was an exercise in conquering death over and over and over again.

Fires. Breaches. Malfunctions.

None of those things were ever solved by popping a pill and zipping in for seven hours.

“Anyway, try not to be mad at Patrick for calling me in. I was already up anyway--and to be honest? He’s not the only one down here worrying about you.”

Amal snorts. “No shit, babe. I’m in charge of a multi-billion dollar operation and you all think I’ve lost my marbles.”

She lets herself wish for one split second that Carmen was there to roll her eyes.

“I’m not going to stick around for your transmission back because I know you’re going to tell me that you took your diazepam and you’re about to strap in for bed.”

Carmen is lying of course. Amal knows there’s no chance she’d split without waiting for a response.

“I love you Amal. I’ll talk to you on Tuesday.”

###

Carmen has been sitting at the empty desk next to Patrick, pretending desperately to pay attention to what he’s saying instead of staring at the time on his monitor.

She should’ve responded by now. Right? It’s been fifteen minutes. What’s she doing up--

“Shit, here we go,” Patrick says.

Carmen watches a status bar on the computer monitor tick up until it’s full and then there she is, floating a few feet away from the camera.

Carmen’s wife never looks different in space like everyone else does.

Space suits Amal, strangely. Her face doesn’t puff up like Carmen’s always had, and her close-cropped hair doesn’t need to be pinned and looped and braided like Carmen’s. No, in zero gravity and halfway to Mars, Amal still looks the same. The bruise-dark smudges beneath her eyes are the only real change.

She needs to sleep.

“She’s too pretty to be real,” Patrick sighs out--and Carmen laughs because their mutual and very gay friend Patrick is the only person in mission control, she thinks, who she doesn’t mind commenting on her wife’s appearance. Coming from anyone else’s mouth, it would either be completely irrelevant or totally inappropriate.

Coming from Patrick it’s ok because he knows she’s thinking the same thing.

Carmen’s heart is full to bursting every time she sees her. That’s part of why Carmen hasn’t been hanging out in mission control. It makes being apart too hard.

They’ve done this before. They got through it. Amal’s first stint on ISS was the hardest, but it all got easier after that. Carmen knows from experience that she deals best with her wife’s absences when she continues on with her own research on earth in the meantime.

This is the part she hates--the part they both try to avoid. These little snippets, these short speeches they deliver and then shoot through space to each other. It’s worse than not communicating at all.

In the fifteen-minute-old video, Amal reaches up to stabilize herself, grabbing handles on either side of the comms unit. It gives Carmen the uncanny feeling that her wife is reaching out, grabbing her by either side of the face, begging her to pay attention.

“I know it’s impossible,” Amal says--and her voice has a ragged edge now. “I know it doesn’t make sense. But I’m not alone in here. And I’m not taking a fucking xanny so that everyone can rest easy about me being sedated. I need to be sober if I’m going to--”

Amal goes still and it takes a beat before Carmen realizes that Patrick has paused the video.

“What’s up?”

“There’s something wrong with the unit,” Patrick says, frowning and leaning in to peer at the monitor closer. “There’s a reflection or--hm. Why’s it doing that?”

Carmen leans in and she sees it now, too. Amal’s face is being reflected in the observation bay window--but that doesn’t make sense.

“It can’t be a reflection,” she says. “It’s behind her.”

The statement makes Carmen shiver. It’s behind her. Like something out of a B-movie. The call’s coming from inside the capsule!

“Weird,” Patrick says. “I used to get rando visual artifacts from transmissions but I thought I fixed that. Whatever, I’ll worry about it tomorrow.”

With one hand, Patrick massages the bridge of his nose and with the other, he taps play on the video.

“--figure out who or what is fucking with me up here,” Amal continues.

Carmen’s heart drops. The more Amal talks like this, the more worried she gets. Why won’t Amal just bed down for a few hours? This is ridiculous.

“Anyway, I’ve got it under control, I’m working the problem, and it’s not like you can do anything for me from where you are.”

In the recording, Amal releases the handles and kicks off the wall, tucking her hands behind her head as she floats backwards.

“And Carm? You know I love you baby but the whole Nurse Ratched routine doesn’t really fit for you.”

Carmen rolls her eyes, sighs, leans back in the chair. At the same time, Patrick is leaning forward.

“Holy shit. Holy shit.” He goes stiff and suddenly he’s holding the desk like it’s the only thing tethering him to the earth. “Fuck. No. This isn’t… Carmen, what the fuck?”

She sees it then, the thing that’s set him off.

Amal is moving, drifting, playing it cool like she always does.

Her reflection is doing none of those things.

“It’s not a reflection.”

“It’s a messed up transmission artifact, like you said,” Carmen says shrugging.

“--Also, I totally know you didn’t just drive home without an answer from me, so quit being tacky and lying to me where Patrick can hear.”

Patrick is absolutely still beside her. He’s holding his breath. Why is he holding his breath?

It’s so odd to watch the two images of her wife on the screen: the Amal speaking clearly, joking, ribbing Carmen just like they’re sitting in their living room together, and the Amal who is a mirror image of herself, grainy but still just visible in the background.

“It’s not an artifact, Carmen.”

The reflection takes a breath. The reflection opens its mouth.

Very quietly but unmistakably, the reflection says its own name.

“Amal.”

The Amal in the front, the commander of this mission, hears it just as plainly as they have both heard it down here, so far away in Houston.

Amal’s biceps twitch. Her spine crooks. She falters in the air, moving her limbs to try to move her body, to face the noise, flailing and looking for an instant like someone who doesn’t understand the way a zero gravity environment works.

It’s panic.

She’s panicked.

In the eight years that Carmen has known her wife, she has never seen her panic.

Through fires. Through breaches. Amal doesn’t scare and she certainly does not panic and it is not until this moment that Carmen is truly frightened.

As Carmen watches, the center of her entire universe, the unshakeable core of what has made life bearable, the human vessel into which Carmen has placed all of her hopes for the future fights for leverage in a tin can hurtling towards a planet 55 million miles away.

Finally, Amal kicks a wall and spins to face her reflection--and now Carmen can’t deny it. She’s wrong. It’s not a reflection. It can’t be an artifact. Carmen struggles to make sense of what she’s seeing.

Amal faces her double and lets out a single yelp, hoarse and high and odd, a sound Carmen has never heard her make before. Amal--the wrong Amal, the one in the back, the thing that cannot possibly be her--Amal smiles.

Just as it had before, a moment passes before Carmen realizes that the video has stopped. She looks desperately to Patrick, but he hasn’t paused it.

The transmission is simply over.

#goretober #ew this one spooked me a lil but i don't even have any warnings to put on it???#so much for the gore part!!!!#unsettlingtober tbh

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qorillas · 8 years ago

Text

even more gorillaz headcanons

they tried to get noodle to eat brussels sprouts when she was little and they went on a health kick. she didn’t understand what they were called and thought they were called russel sprouts. to this day brussels sprouts are referred to as russel sprouts by everyone in the band and this is just an accepted phrase now. whenever they pass the produce aisle someone inevitably yells “hey russel!” and holds up a brussels sprout when he looks over (at least, 2d and noodle do. murdoc tends to just chuck a brussels sprout at russ’s head from all the way across the aisle and then pretend it wasn’t him.)

they all love the beatles so much. they tend to play beatles songs to warm up before practice; can’t buy me love was a favorite of noodle’s when she was little because 2d would dance with her and swing her around during the instrumental part while they sang. i want to hold your hand is also a popular one because during the bridge — “and when i touch you i feel happy inside” — 2d and noodle go all fake-sentimental and dramatically sigh and swoon all over the room. usually they sing to russ and get him to clasp their hands during this part or stroke murdoc’s face dramatically (he always pushes them away but he’s laughing.) one of the first songs murdoc learned was blackbird and he tends to play it to himself in his room when he’s alone, singing quietly. he taught it to noodle when she was really young and caught him singing it and even now, sometimes they’ll sit in the studio with their guitars singing blackbird together — it’s their thing.

more under the cut!

2d is autistic and has adhd. he experiences sensory overload a lot and finds it hard to keep the thread of a conversation; the bright lights and constant barrage of questions during an interview are really overwhelming for him, which is why he so frequently spaces out, trails off or loses track of a topic in the middle of a sentence. this is also part of the reason why he tends to struggle with sarcasm and sayings (half the time he doesn’t get them, the other half of the time he gets them but just wants to mess with the interviewer because he’s a bit of a prankster.) murdoc talks so much in interviews because he knows they’re tough for 2d to sit through and he’s covering for him (and also, of course, because he loves the sound of his own voice.) because of his 8-ball fractures obscuring his irises, 2d doesn’t generally make eye contact with people either; they don’t realize it because they can’t see where his eyes are pointing anyway, which 2d appreciates. 2d also stims a lot! he likes to hum under his breath because it feels nice on his throat and vocal cords. he finds the bloopy noises that keyboards make really comforting, and part of the reason he has so many keyboards is because each keyboard has its own unique sound and he likes to collect the sounds that feel the best to him. he has a whole slew of stim toys in his desk and all over the house; a lot of his flick knives and flickcombs are actually things he uses to stim with because he likes the noises they make. he always forgets to bring them with him when he goes out, though, so he has a habit of rubbing the loose ends of his friendship bracelets between his fingers to stim instead, which is nice because since there’s always one around his wrist, he’s never without something to stim with. he plays with his fingers and winds them around microphone stands during concerts to stim as well. his special interests are zombie movies, machinery and keyboards, and he tends to infodump about the latter during rehearsals. he also has mild dyspraxia because of his autism, which is why he’s a bit clumsy and tends to struggle with balance. he flaps so much, especially when he gets excited! he has the best wiggles. [thanks to @happy2d for looking through this hc and offering some great suggestions!!!]

the reason noodle has so much traditional japanese paraphernalia decorating her room goes beyond the fact that she’s immensely proud of her cultural background. since she was essentially raised in the uk, and wasn’t able to remember her childhood in japan for a long while, she’s always felt a bit estranged from her japanese identity. even after being able to remember her early life, the fact that she was brought up in an isolated military program, and then raised in the public eye as a british celebrity means that sometimes she feels like she’s not “really” japanese. at times she feels really cut off from her japanese roots, like she doesn’t deserve to claim an identity as a japanese person, or like she doesn’t really belong in england or in japan, or anywhere at all. she surrounds herself with things from japan and decorates her room with them because it helps her compensate for these feelings and reminds her to assert her identity. if it gets really bad, she remembers something murdoc told her once when he caught her crying during an identity crisis she had at 14: “you’re not half-british and half-japanese; you’re british, full stop, and japanese, full stop. the two things don’t cancel each other out. this is coming from a guy who identifies as mexican and whose only real experiences with it are a stint in prison and a long-gone mum. anyway, it doesn’t matter what you are since you’ll always be part of gorillaz, which is more than most people in the world can say. and if they do say anything, tell ‘em to fuck off, and then kick their teeth in.”

when del was alive, he and russel had plans to get married after college and adopt a baby girl. after del died, russ was absolutely gutted; the constant ache of del’s absence and the survivor’s guilt contributed heavily to his depression and anxiety, and he was in a really low place for a long time. noodle’s arrival probably saved his life. from day one, he and del regarded her as the adoptive daughter they always planned to have, but which just came to them in an really unexpected way. del, of course, was the cool dad and russ was the rule dad, considering that del was pretty much incorporeal and couldn’t actually enforce any rules they set beyond threatening to leave a note for russel detailing exactly how bad noodle had been. noodle loved conveying messages between the two of them, actually, and would force russel to go to bed early so that she could tell del that he said hi, or wake him up from naps to tell him that del said hi back. noodle still goes with russ to visit del’s grave between phases and whenever they’re in the united states.

murdoc is actually the best at cooking out of all of them. he was left alone so often as a kid, he had to learn how to feed himself somehow. he rarely cooks anything nowadays, though; he’s too lazy to do it when he could easily use an app to deliver something right to him or just order pizza, and he doesn’t care enough about what he’s eating to expend the effort of getting all the ingredients out and cleaning up afterwards for a specific meal. he only cooks at the most random times; for example, they’ll be in the middle of a songwriting session and murdoc will have a flash of inspiration and become manic, scribbling lyrics on the nearest flat surface, grabbing his bass and suddenly dashing off to the kitchen, and return three hours later with five quiches, one of which has a lyric sheet baked into it. “it’s a bit wordy,” 2d says, “but good.” he makes better tamales than your abuelita, but only when he’s worried about someone, and he has a bad habit of passive-aggressively shoving a full plate in front of whoever he’s upset with and watching them eat with a reproving glare until he’s convinced that they’re okay. a birthday means that the special person will find a scone on a plate, sitting in their room with no explanation. 2d’s is always vaguely swan-shaped. murdoc’s laughed at them so many times for asking if it was him. “is that a fucking joke?” he says. “you don’t think i have better things to do? it’s most likely poisoned, and even worse, it was probably sitting stale in a display case all day.” actually, when they woke up, the scone was still warm.

2d’s voice is different this phase because he recently had surgery to remove some vocal nodules. he’s fine and cleared to perform in the band’s upcoming tours, but his voice is still going to be a bit raspy for a while. russel says he sounds kind of like kevin bishop. 2d says he doesn’t know who that is but as long as he doesn’t sound like damon albarn he’s fine with it.

#it's been a while lmao but i kept meaning to edit the one about 2d and couldn't find time #plus i had finals but!!! it's finally done #i might expand on the beatles one lmao i love it so much and i've been on a beatles kick recently #anyway hope y'all enjoy #mine #a happy family

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janiedean · 7 years ago

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Do you have any theories about how ASoIaF will end? Like, who do you think will die and how, what will happen to Jon (seriously, I've read anything from "he's tots gonna marry Dany and they'll have kids and rule together forever" to "he'll die in a Heroic Sacrifice to Save Everyone" to "after all the shit he went through he's just gonna be like, 'fuck everything and everyone, Imma go wander beyond the Wall for the rest of my life!"), stuff like that?

HAHAHAHAHAHAH I JUST REPLIED TO SOMEONE IN PRIVATE OVER THAT I’m gonna c/p the jon and dany related parts and then add the rest, call me back in ten years to see if I’m right

SO, EXPLANATION OF THE MY EXTREMELY UNPOPULAR THEORY RE JON AND DANY:

- at the end of adwd dany's back where she came from and hasn't even met tyrion so everything that happened in the show BEFORE drogon flew her off should happen AFTER she's back in mereen- which puts her arriving in westeros WAY after the time she's in the show now- also the fact that in the book there's aegon prancing around dragonstone along with jon connington and the likes suggests me that IF no one dies before she has to deal with them first while shit goes down in the north and possibly grayscale spreads and blah blah blah

also, jon has to come back to life and I'm betting moneyt it's not as easy as in the show, grrm has to tie up the sansa plot and it's gonna take a lot longer because sansa is not in the north currently so it's gonna take ALL of wow for the starks to get back to winterfell IF they do get back to winterfell in wow and for people to find out jon was robb's legitimate heir and so on

first conclusion: there's no way jon and dany even meet before either the very end of wow or actually ados and by that time the zombies should be WAY too much of a menace for them to be worrying about bending the knee and shit

taken the first conclusion into account and that ados should be all about defeating the others with whoever has survived banding together and that the only surviving copy of robb's will is currently with howland reed who is GOING to have to show up soon, r+l=j should be a known thing BEFORE jon and dany meet or anyway it'd happen soon after so I honestly don't know if it's likely that they'd hook up in canon or if it wouldn't be MASSIVELY weird if they do, but anyway I could be wrong on that bc the text evidence for those two sort of hooking up is actually there even if I don't particularly agree with it, but NEVER MIND

anyway at this point they're obv gonna do away with the zombies which is gonna cause even more casualties and shit which is not gonna make anyone any happier, jon's gonna have to pull his azor ahai stint because it's him and whatever (AND HE SURVIVES IT), I'm 99% sure that in between all of this aegon and jonc AT LEAST are gonna die and it's not going to be just them, anyway at the end they're gonna be left with a post-apocalypse westeros where most of the people who wanted the throne out of I NEED TO HAVE IT BECAUSE POWER or I HAVE RIGHTS ON IT (ie stannis if he survives which I doubt) will have lost most of the interest/force of will

THIS STATED, unpopular jon theory: the thing about his storyline is that he's going through all the typical secret chosen hero steps but every time anything happens it goes badly/it's not what he wants (he loses his family, his first true love dies, he becomes LC and instead of going well he gets stabbed etc) and what did he want at the beginning of the books? to not be a bastard. where is he now? ops, your father was rhaegar targaryen and your mom was lyanna stark OOOOPS. which is *not* what he wanted, he wanted to be a *stark*. but furthermore, idk if it's likely that R married lyanna before leaving her in the tower of joy or not, but if he did he's actually legitimate and has the best claim since he's male and legit son of the legit male heir, and who's gonna want that job? no one. so who is going to have to take it? yeah, HIM. and he's going to... dislike about every moment of it at least in the beginning (MORE ON THIS AFTER THE DANY PART)

now, on to dany: in that scenario they COULD get married and united the dynasties again, but... they'd know about the incest part of it and idk if he'd go for it, but honestly, the thing with dany is also that she started wanting to go to westeros, and what's most actually ironic/backwards if she finds out that after the zombies, meereen and basically getting shit all the way through she actually doesn't even *want* it? I mean the thing is, dany imo (in the books) seemed more at ease/happiest/filling out a role she seemed cut for when she was a *khaleesi*, not when she was ruling, and for a khaleesi she was a++++ because she was very forward thinking, did away with most of the worse stuff in her khalasar and was actually doing some seriously nice enlightened sort of revolution differently from how it went in mereen, so like... my eventual endgame theory is that she goes back to essos to actually be the enlightened full-time khaleesi that essos deserves and making good use of what she learned while jon picks the pieces up in westeros and comes to term with being the only fantasy hero in existence who didn't want to be king at all and ended up there anyway and has to make it work

ALSO: my pet sorta wishful thinking theory re jon is that given that westeros will be a post-apocalypse mess in shambles with most previously powerful lords being either dead or done for and with a complete new system and in which most people will have been through too many wars, zombies and so on to give a fuck, jon could actually rule as *jon snow* rather than jon targaryen or stark (which imo is the name he’d take for himself if he had to choose) without getting married and continuing the dynasty and then after he dies after fixing what he could and putting things on the right way, the seven kingdoms secede, the throne gets destroyed (if jon doesn’t do it before) and they go back to being independent. like, I’m very much aware that it’s not very likely but idk IT MAKES SENSE TO ME THEMATICALLY OKAY? *shrug*

other characters and the likes:

people who are absolutely toast: cersei, the boltons, euron/victarion, lady stoneheart, the elder clegane and someone in dany’s retinue are goners, same as (SADLY FOR ME) aegon/jonc. jonc is definitely dying of grayscale unless what happens in the show with sam and jorah happens to him but I highly doubt that, aegon’s dying while going against the others or anyway after they all join up with dany and then someone else (possibly tyrion since grrm said that not all of the heads of the dragon have to be targ) takes his place. anyway, both goners. very sadly for me. tommen is also a dead man walking, either how it happened in the show or some other way but nope. myrcella might be but I’d like to think being in dorne and grrm not wanting to kill everybody in dorne because BUDGET might be her ticket to salvation, but I’m on the fence. hodor is also sadly dying most probably because the way they did in the show was too clever and well-done to be out of d&d’s imagination. at this point shireen is also most probably dying tho NOT HOW IT HAPPENED IN THE SHOW DAMN IT. stoneheart is dying because brienne kills her to save jaime and she becomes her aerys THIS IS MY PET THEORY OF THEORIES GRRM WILL HAVE TO PRY IT AWAY FROM ME. lf is definitely dying either thrown out of the moon door or some other way but he’s toast. also most freys are 100% toast.

people I’m definitely on the fence about: stannis - I’m sort of thinking he might die but I’m not 100% sure and anyway if he does it won’t be like in the bloody show, jaime (I thought he was kinda headed for the heroic death in the beginning but now I’m starting to think he has some chances of pulling through I really hope he does tbh), meera, the decent people at the wall (I mean some are gonna die when the zombies inevitably pass but I hope they don’t), jorah (not enough elements to decide sorry), blackfish & jeyne poole (same as above), sand snakes.

meanwhile, main people I’m definitely sure are living + their endgames for the ones I have endgames for:

the living starks are staying alive. sansa eventually ends up as rickon’s regent and bran is going to have some luke skywalker moment where he has to decide if he wants to go darkside or not and then obviously decides not to, but eventually renounces being the three-eyed raven the way the previous one had and rejoins the living. arya stays in WF or goes with jon to KL when he inevitably does - could be in his kingsguard or she can stay in WF and help sansa out. (on the fence re gendr/ya happening - might be, might not.) sandor ends up as sansa’s sworn shield at least.

brienne definitely makes out of it alive after fighting the white walkers at the wall with everyone else who had managed to get there. if jaime hasn’t died in front of her while fighting the white walkers (if he dies that’s how I see him going, and anyway they totally will have hooked up before I 100% believe that) they’re going back to tarth together, if not she goes there alone and proceeds to be the awesome person she is. (I said bitter*sweet* before right? I think she has a good shot at the sweet part.)

arianne gets her throne in dorne ofc

tyrion gets casterly rock while tywin rolls in his grave because I doubt he’d go to essos with dany AS PER MY HEADCANON BEFORE

sam gets his maester’s chain but eventually goes on to be jon’s right hand wherever jon ends up (I think in KL so XD hey THE CURRENT ARCHMAESTER IS DEAD)

if margaery survives (before the show I’d have bet on it, now I’m not so sure) she’s ending up in a way more demoted position than she is rn but anyway some tyrell’s gonna live - I don’t think loras might be one tho

davos is definitely surviving - if he doesn’t end up tied with anyone same as he’s in the show (I mean if he REALLY became jon’s hand of the king I’d die of happiness but idk how likely it is) - he’s coming back home a-la sam in lotr, like ‘hey marya I’m home’

theon and asha are definitely not dying. asha is eventually ruling the iron islands somewhat. about theon I’m not sure because I don’t have enough elements to decide if he’s going back to the islands (doubtful) or staying north (maybe) but anyway theon’s surviving that shit. he didn’t have the mother of all abuse survivor recovery storylines to die just when he can get to live without anyone breathing down his neck and trying to force his alliances. like I’m 100% sure theon doesn’t die it’s the one thing I’d bet actual money on after canon jb lol

varys is probably gonna live because he’s too smart not to

edmure is surviving and getting riverrun but he and roslin prob won’t separate so he also gets the twins or something along that line of thinking

I’m sure I prob. forgot someone but that’s the main lines of it I think XD let’s see how wrong am I if these books actually see the light of day

btw this is all based on book canon, on the show I have no fucking clue anymore #rip

#janie speculates #janie writes meta #game of thrones spoilers for ts #asoiaf spoilers for ts #I DON'T EVEN KNOW GUYS #game of thrones spoilers #idk I HAVE IDEAS HERE YOU GO #haljathefangirlcat #ask post

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flauntpage · 6 years ago

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The Outlet Pass: All Hail LeBron's Step-Back Three

Terrifying: LeBron is Adapting

In the first year of his second stint with the Cleveland Cavaliers, LeBron James went 3-of-9 on step-back threes. Four years later, we’re just 27 games into the season and James is already 17-of-32 on the same shot. I'm not sure if that volume makes this worthy of opposing scouting reports, but it belongs in there. It's at once demoralizing and a relief, a form of self-preservation that seemingly lets whoever’s guarding him exhale and wipe sweat from their forehead.

I’ve never defended LeBron one-on-one, but can imagine how glad it’d be after realizing he didn’t want to bulldoze his shoulder through my chest and dunk my whole being into oblivion. But three points are also more than two, and the threat of him careening into the paint makes the step back unguardable. It’s also the perfect counter for defenders who beat James to his spot and cut off his drive.

LeBron’s embrace of the three-point line isn’t new—nor is the step-back, which he’s pulled out of his bag from various distances in big spots throughout his career—but the pure, undisguised awareness of it is. If a path exists for him to get behind the line, even when presented with a runway to the rim, that’s what he’ll usually go down.

If you include his step-back jumpers inside the arc, LeBron’s effective field goal percentage on these shots is 71.9. (Last year it was 53.3.) Sometimes they have a comical effect, especially to those who remember how LeBron’s outside shot was treated by defenses earlier in his career, up until the San Antonio Spurs begged him to pull up—the hesitancy that came of it was the closest LeBron's ever come to feeling mortal. Now, he’s so damn comfortable out there. In the clip above, watch him completely dismiss Aaron Gordon, then barely leave his feet to drill the straightaway three. Old LeBron is Adapting LeBron, toying with the competition, taking his sweet ass time, and still evolving in his 16th season. Lord have mercy.

The Wedgie Rule

This is all-time Outlet Pass pedantry and has probably already been a topic of conversation elsewhere, but when a player's shot gets stuck between the rim and the backboard (a.k.a. a wedgie), why is there a jump ball? Why should the team that shot the ball be rewarded with a second opportunity? This doesn't make any sense. The offense did not do what they were supposed to do. The defense, however, prevented the ball from going into the basket. Give the defense possession!

Coach Cam

Last weekend, for only a few minutes, I found myself watching Duke basketball. While the game was being played, the announcers couldn't stop talking about Zion Williamson, who wasn't playing. So the camera cut to him live, sitting on the bench, watching the same action I was.

It was a little strange, but sparked an idea: What if you could opt into that same feature during an NBA broadcast, except instead of players on the bench, you'd get a zoomed-in look at each head coach? I would pay extra money for those facial expressions, to observe how they'd react to each pass, shot, and whistle. Think about how much you could learn by scanning their body language and, from there, deducing what their team should've done vs. what they did? It’d be 10,000 times more instructive than a sideline interview, and I very much hope that someday it becomes a real thing.

Jalen Brunson is...Lefty Lowry?

Jalen Brunson is a 22-year-old rookie, which, contrary to popular belief, actually doesn’t make him a puddle of toxic waste. He's solid, has room to grow, and, based on very little besides the fact that they attended the same school, are both strong as hell and were overlooked on their respective draft nights, why can’t he also be the next Kyle Lowry? Brunson sets great screens, makes smart passes, and plays with a scrappy fearlessness on both ends that partially mitigates his lack of gravity.

When Lowry entered the league he didn’t have a three-point shot. Brunson was only 9-for-33 from deep heading into Wednesday night's win over the Atlanta Hawks, despite shooting just under 40 percent in three years at Villanova. But that hardly defines his contribution. Minutes have been sparse off one of the league's most effective benches, but as Dennis Smith, Jr.'s temporary replacement in the starting lineup, Brunson has come equipped with a nifty floater and Metal Gear Solid off-ball movement along the baseline; he already makes the little Marcus Smart-esque plays that impact winning. The Mavericks have absolutely owned the defensive glass when Brunson is on the floor and box-outs like the one below on Sheck Wes Iwundu help clarify why that is:

There was also one play against the Houston Rockets that really stood out, where Brunson challenged P.J. Tucker off the dribble, then separated with a short baseline turnaround along the baseline. Not too many (zero?) rookie point guards are making this play right here.

As the reigning NCAA Player of the Year, a two-time national champion, and someone who clearly isn't fazed by the NBA, Brunson deserves more minutes in the Mavericks's rotation, and to be taken more seriously as an important part of their exciting young core. Hopefully, after DSJ comes back, Rick Carlisle can figure out a way to keep him on the floor.

Julius Randle’s Defense is Still Not Good

As an anachronistic big who’s useless outside the paint, Julius Randle has turned himself into an efficient and useful offensive player. Since he replaced Nikola Mirotic in the starting lineup on an apparent full-time basis, Randle has put up numbers worthy of All-NBA consideration in a six-game sample size.

“If you look at his numbers as a starter and what he’s done, it’s definitely something we have to sit down and talk about,” Pelicans head coach Alvin Gentry said, when asked if Randle’s role would permanently change.

But the Pelicans lost three of those games. And for the fourth consecutive season, Randle remains thoroughly detrimental to his team’s defense. While his All-Universe teammate Anthony Davis ranks first among power forwards in Defensive Real Plus-Minus, Randle is 91st out of 93 players. When Davis cleans up Randle’s mess (a.k.a. they play together), the Pelicans rank just outside the top-10 in defensive rating. When Randle is out there without Davis, they fall to 24th (which, coincidentally, is where New Orleans ranks overall).

None of this is a coincidence. As a bullish but undersized center, Randle doesn’t have the wingspan or intuitive awareness to affect plays as a help defender. Opponents almost shoot 60 percent at the rim when he’s near it, and so much of that number is thanks to late rotations from the weak side. According to Cleaning the Glass, New Orleans’s defensive free-throw rate ranks 23rd when he’s on the court and second (second!) when he sits. Plays like this illustrate why.

Instead of stopping Andre Drummond’s roll and forcing Reggie Jackson to either skip the ball to the opposite corner or get swallowed whole by Davis’s pressure, Randle gambles for the steal and is, per usual, a split-second slow. Sometimes he doesn’t bother to rotate at all. It’s impossible to ignore someone with Randle’s numbers, but over the long-haul Gentry may want to reconsider how his new big man’s flaws tangibly negate those impressive counting stats.

For all the rambunctious good he does when New Orleans has the ball, Randle’s game was designed to give it right back on the very next play. It’s unfair to call his stats empty, but it's also unclear how the totality of his contribution amounts to a winning player, and if the Pelicans make the playoffs, teams will go out of their way to attack him ad nauseam.

Jaylen Brown Should Dominate His New Role

As a starter, Jaylen Brown has been one of the most disappointing players in the entire league. Off the bench, he’s been a Rottweiler. Against the Pelicans on Monday night, the Boston Celtics were without Al Horford, Gordon Hayward, and Kyrie Irving, among others, but Brad Stevens still chose to bring Brown off the bench, a notable decision that forecasts long-term placement in that role. So far, for him and the team, that’s been a good thing.

Both sample sizes are extremely small (like, three or four games) and against weak competition (the Cavaliers, Knicks, and Bulls, for example), but Boston’s new starting five—which has Marcus Morris and Marcus Smart replacing Brown and Hayward—is +6 in 48 minutes, with an offense that annihilates everything in its path. The unit has a more natural hierarchy and is absent the uncertain selflessness seen from the original starting five (a group that still needs to figure each other out if the Celtics want to reach the Finals, by the way).

For now, though, Brown looks terrific. Just look at his starter vs. reserve splits, courtesy of Basketball-Reference. (On top are his 19 games as a starter.)

via Basketball-Reference

While minutes are basically the same, Jaylen is thinking less than before, and, as one of the most athletic players in the world, he's finally getting to the free-throw line! As a starter, 13.3 percent of his points came at the line. As a reserve, that number has climbed up to 22.2 percent. Brown is attacking the paint without hesitation, off pin-downs and flairs and catch-and-accelerate line drives. He’s turning the corner with ease, jacking up more threes off-the-bounce, and generally resembling the free and confident blue chipper he was six months ago.

Big picture, moving Brown to the bench lets the Celtics (when healthy) start the second and fourth quarter with units that feature him, Hayward, Terry Rozier, Aron Baynes/Daniel Theis/Time Lord, and Semi Ojeleye (or literally any one of the starters). That is uncut ridiculousness and, from a talent standpoint, unmatched by every other team in basketball.

Sometimes Jaylen’s aggressiveness gets the best of him and there are two or three possessions in every game since he’s returned where his tunnel vision eclipses the correct play. But the Celtics will accept sequences like the one below—where Brown drives into a scrambling Knicks defense to draw the foul instead of kicking out to a wide-open Jayson Tatum in the strong-side corner—over those where he’s timid, limp, and forgettable.

Brown is a key part of the Celtics future, both as a trade asset and member of their ceiling-free young core. He was always too talented to stay in the slump that plagued his start, but even though 58 percent from deep isn't sustainable over the next few months, it’s crucial that he rediscovers the active, loose, and carefree elements of a skill-set that are always fun to watch.

Checking Up on the NBA’s Five Worst Contracts

Remember the amnesty provision? That hilariously cruel mulligan each NBA franchise was awarded by collective bargaining negotiations just after the turn of the decade? Back then, long before the salary cap spiked, the length of a contract had enough power to prevent an entire fanbase from knowing how “hope” or “joy” truly felt. But now “bad contract” is almost an oxymoron. They still have the power to restrict flexibility but none are definitively untradable. Not every team needs to shed someone from their books, though there are a few deals that already/will inevitably keep general managers up at night. Here are the five worst.

1. Andrew Wiggins - $146.6 million through 2023

Wiggins may still become a quality NBA player, but nobody should argue against him being first on this list. He turns 24 in February, is already in his fifth season, has never come close to making an All-Star team and doesn’t project to ever do so. If someone asked “what’s your favorite Andrew Wiggins moment?” could you even name one? He’s barely making 40 percent of his two-point shots and is ten percent less accurate at the rim than he was a year ago.

There has been no progress as a rebounder, defender, or playmaker, and aside from the uptick in threes and changing hairstyle, he’s the exact same person today that he was when Cleveland drafted him first overall. That player possesses unteachable athletic gifts and is not astonishingly terrible, but how many first-round picks would the Timberwolves need to attach if they wanted to get off it? Two? Good luck to whichever team is paying Wiggins the $33.3 million he's due in 2023.

Until then, the Timberwolves are an independent record label that bet the farm on an incoherent Soundcloud rapper who isn’t gregarious, seductive, or talented enough to infiltrate the mainstream. It’s a sunk cost, and an embarrassing one at that.

2. John Wall - $188.5 million through 2023—including a player option

While there’s a small chance Wiggins actually improves through the life of his current contract, the same can’t be said about Wall, who, while not close to bad, isn’t young or consistently healthy enough to transform his game for the better. Wall is 28 years old but turns 32 right before the $46.8 million player option on this contract transforms whichever city he’s living in to Pompeii circa 79 A.D.

While his numbers remain All-Star caliber and his speed off a high screen is too blurry to comprehend, Wall's outside shooting has regressed, and for the first time since his rookie year the Wizards are better on offense when he's not on the floor. To justify this contract, Wall either needs to be the best player on his team, or the side-kick to someone good enough to make the Wizards a title contender. Right now neither is true. That’s a pretty big problem that doesn’t even speak to Wall's penchant for taking plays off on the other end, impersonating a statue whenever a shot goes up as his man rushes by to tip in the miss or grab the rebound. (He averages a comical 0.3 box outs per game, while averaging just over 34 minutes a night. Yikes.)

There’s a reason trading this version of Wall is so difficult, and, to be frank, wouldn't be easy even if his contract weren't a grand piano dangling overhead by a strand of dental floss. He's a point guard in decline, with weaknesses that don't mesh with the league's most irreversible trends. I personally enjoy watching him play, but that's because I'm not a 12-year-old Wizards fan.

3. Dion Waiters - $36.3 million through 2021

So, like, is Dion Waiters ever going to play again? His most recent game was December 22, 2017, and there’s no timetable for his return from [checks notes] instability in the left ankle. The dollar amount on this one isn’t a cap crippler, but $36.3 million is a lot of money to pay someone not to play, and couldn't strike the fear of God into anyone when he was 100 percent healthy. I wonder if/when the Miami Heat stretch Waiters and move on.

4. Nicolas Batum - $76.6 million through 2022—including a player option

While Kemba Walker demolishes defenses with a late-career leap that’s comparable to those made recently by Steph Curry and Isaiah Thomas, the Charlotte Hornets are quietly good enough to ignore those all-too-frequent nights when Nicolas Batum doesn't show up. Last night he scored two points in 30 minutes and it didn't even feel like an outlier. His usage has plummeted and he's averaging nearly five fewer minutes than he has throughout the previous six seasons. Batum isn’t finishing at the rim or hitting above-the-break threes, either. This is a problem.

"That's my job, to help him take his offense to another level, become more of a playmaker, more usage. That will take our offense to another level," Hornets head coach James Borrego said when I asked him about Batum's dwindling production. "We've been pretty good offensively so far. Kemba's usage has been pretty high all season. We're trying to balance out the roster right now and how we're playing offensively."

It's not like Batum has been bad, but he just clearly isn't what the Hornets prayed he'd be when they signed him to this contract. His PER is a career low 11.9 and, despite being more efficient than previous years, is not even averaging nine points a night. He turns 30 tomorrow. There are so many red flags; nothing about Batum's season is particularly uplifting for a Charlotte organization that's smashing piggy banks to prepare for Walker's looming payday.

Instead of peaking, Batum turning into dust.

5. Chris Paul - $159.7 million through 2022

This take might accelerate global warming, but Paul's contract is already an anvil. He's a six-foot point guard who turns 34 in May. There's no historical precedent for this type of player being an All-Star, and there are still three more guaranteed years left the on deal. He's currently averaging the fewest points per shot in his entire career, and Houston's offense is just so-so when he's on the court. Bleh.

Paul can still skate to his signature spots and create enough space for himself from the mid-post. Every so often he'll drill a step-back three or dribble a defender out of their Nikes, but that's few and far between relative to how impressive Paul looked last year. He's banged up, and that's a reasonable excuse. But at this price point there are no asterisks; Paul needs to play at a superstar level, and his struggle equals doom for a Rockets organization that desperately needs him to shine.

It's unclear how Houston's new ownership would feel if Daryl Morey traded Paul, but that's one of two short-term options for a team that entered the season with championship expectations. How much longer can Paul’s post-prime last? What could they get for him if it became clear they wanted to move on? This is a little silly. Paul deserves the benefit of the doubt because he's an all-time legend. But if they regain health, don't turn things around, and either miss the playoffs or get bounced in the first round, major changes feel like they'll be right around the corner.

Honorable mention: Chandler Parsons, Russell Westbrook, Blake Griffin, Kevin Love

The Outlet Pass: All Hail LeBron's Step-Back Three published first on https://footballhighlightseurope.tumblr.com/

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iwritetrash · 8 years ago

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What’s a little mess?

A/N - I have been horrifically inactive lately, and for that I apologise, I have, in general, entirely lost my motivation (and free time) to write, but here’s a little fic @xyalovegood beta’d for me, that I’d completely forgotten I’d written. Enjoy :)

Finn was neat.

It wasn’t that he was a neat freak, not at all, it’s just that he had virtually no possessions and far more free time than one person should ever be allotted.

Finn was still trying to find his way in a world outside the First Order, and with no clue what he could do to be of use to the Resistance, he found himself somewhat unemployed. What few tasks he was allotted, he often completed quickly and efficiently, a mannerism drilled into him by the First Order.

He also had a distinct lack of things to call his own that might serve to fill some space in his room. At that moment in time he had accumulated the following items: 3 standard-issue T-shirts 1 standard-issue long-sleeved top 2 pairs of standard-issue trousers 7 pairs of standard-issue boxer-briefs 1 pair of standard-issue boots 1 Resistance-issued datapad 1 wash kit Poe had found for him to use, including a toothbrush and paste and body wash 5 holonovels Poe had given him while he was in the hospital 1 walking cane to help him get around while his back healed Poe’s jacket

All in all, his possessions hardly took up any space in his room (small by Resistance standards but equipped with a desk, shelving unit, wardrobe and a bed). His possessions could hardly even be considered personal, since none of them actually belonged to him. Everything he had was on loan from the Resistance or from Poe.

A combination of too much free time, too few possessions, and rigorous stormtrooper conditioning left Finn with a room that barely looked lived in. His bed was always made, his wardrobe was organised by style then by colour (but Poe’s jacket hung on the back of his door when Finn wasn’t wearing it), his wash kit sat next to the datapad on his empty desk, the boots waited for him by the door, the holonovels were stacked alphabetically on the shelf, and the walking cane rested in the corner, unused but also unreturned.

Poe’s room was the polar opposite of Finn’s. Constantly cluttered with various knick-knacks picked up on distant planets, it was an explosion of colour, despite the basic white walls. His floor was covered with an exotic rug, his desk was littered with engine parts and mission reports, a small charging station was stashed in the corner for BB-8, his walls were covered in posters and wall hangings, his bed was swallowed up by an immense red quilt he’d brought from home, his shelving unit was filled to the brim with books and holonovels and souvenirs and candles (so many scented candles, surely it was a fire hazard?) and photo albums and photos in frames. A small table sat next to his bed, another item from home, with books piled high on top of it and a lamp resting precariously atop the stack. His wardrobe was full to bursting with flight suits and button-up shirts and T-shirts and uniforms and jackets and sweatshirts and jogging bottoms and pyjamas and a pile of shoes stuffed down at the bottom, ranging from dress shoes to plimsolls. Poe even had a collection of goddamned hair products next to the mirror in the ‘fresher attached to his room.

As unruly and cluttered as Poe’s room was, Finn couldn’t help but feel a deep-rooted desire for his room to be in a similar state. He wanted piles of built-up mementos, things brought from the home he’d left behind, stacks of worn, well-read books, clothes in all colours and styles instead of the standard black, ill-fitting clothes he was stuck wearing for the moment.

He wanted to be busy, busy enough that his room wasn’t in a constant immaculate state, busy enough that his free time was treasured like Poe’s was, busy enough to fill his desk with paperwork and pens and stationery to use. He wanted mess and disorganisation because it meant he had something better to do with his time than incessant cleaning, and more things that suggested his existence.

Fast forward three months and, after a lot of dancing around and a lot of groaning on behalf of Jessika and Rey, Finn and Poe are finally given the gentle shove towards the relationship they both wanted (BB-8 tripped Poe so he fell on Finn, leaving the two of them unable to focus on anything but the other’s lips. After some insistent beeping on BB-8’s part, the two of them were locked in a kiss they had both been craving since… well, since Finn took off his helmet and told Poe he was breaking him out).

Jump forward another two months and Poe is asking if Finn would maybe like to live with him. His answer, of course, is Yes, absolutely yes.

By the time Finn gets around to actually moving in, Finn’s belongings have only increased slightly in volume with the addition of a sketchbook and some charcoals (Poe had bought them for him after he spotted Finn doodling absentmindedly on a napkin, and Finn had been sketching in it ever since), and a textbook for his basic medical training, having finally found something he wanted to pursue, because let’s face it, he wasn’t cut out for fighting in a war. All in all, his things still all fit into a single box, and Poe stares at him as he arrives like Finn just turned up with a snake.

“Where’s the rest of your stuff? Do you need a hand with the boxes?” Poe asks, confused, and Finn shakes his head.

“This is everything.” Finn shrugs. “I just haven’t really managed to accumulate stuff to decorate my room.”

“Oh, right, okay,” Poe replies, gesturing for him to come in, but there’s something in his eyes that worries Finn a little.

“Did I do something wrong?” Finn asks quietly and Poe turns to him with an expression full of shock.

“No, Finn, no, of course you didn’t!” Poe hurries over, shutting the door as he does. “You didn’t do anything wrong, I just forget that you don’t have anything from home and you haven’t had the time to build up as much useless crap as me because of those goddamn First Order bastards…” Poe’s jaw tightens and Finn instantly brings a hand up to brush over the twitching muscle.

“Poe, I’m not there anymore,” Finn whispers gently to him and Poe breathes out in a slow, steady exhale as Finn’s hand brushes along his jaw, then up his cheek, ghosting over his cheekbone. “Besides, I have all the time in the world to accumulate useless crap, and the best part is I can do it with you.”

“Finn…” Poe smiles, but he can’t find the words to express how he’s feeling, so instead he presses his lips against Finn’s, capturing them in a gentle kiss that tells Finn everything Poe wants him to hear. Poe pulls back gently and rests their foreheads together, a small smile lifting up the corners of his lips. Finn returns the smile for a moment, then his eyes drift to the walls behind Poe’s head and he notices something odd. It dawns on him as he pulls away from Poe to take a better look at the room.

The walls are scattered with empty spaces where posters and hangings used to live, half of the shelf unit has been emptied, the desk has been tidied of engine parts and shuffled so all Poe’s things live on one side. Finn can’t see inside the wardrobe but he’s fairly sure there’s space there too.

“Poe…” Finn begins, taken aback and a little choked up by the gesture. “Honey you tidied.”

“I wanted there to be space for you.” Poe comes up behind him, wrapping an arm around Finn’s waist. “I want this to feel like home.”

“It will always feel like home if you’re here, Poe.” Finn turns his head a little to look at the man by his side.

“But I won’t always be there.” Poe whispers quietly. “I want this to still feel like home even while I’m away.”

“Well then, Poe, I promise to fill every single space you have made for me with yet more useless crap to take the place of the old useless crap.” Finn smiles warmly, turning his whole body and looping his arms around Poe’s waist.

“You think you’re up to the challenge?” Poe asks and Finn grins at him.

“I think I’ll manage.” Finn laughs, before catching Poe’s lips in a warm kiss again.

Within a year, Finn’s side of the desk is covered in notes and binders and textbooks as he enters full time training to become a doctor. He’s cluttered the shelving unit with various odds and ends he’s picked up in the few places he’s visited since joining the Resistance, including bobbleheads of Luke Skywalker, Han Solo and, much to Poe’s jealousy, General Leia Organa herself (though he would never admit that to her). He’s also got, to name but a few knickknacks, a shell from a beach he visited with Poe, a decorated pot filled with paperclips, and a few candles of his own. Kriff, he even had a jar of sand from Jakku (he still maintains that that planet is what hell looks like) that Jess collected for him on a mission because she thought it would be ‘funny’. Finn hadn’t laughed, but he couldn’t bring himself to get rid of it.

He’s decorated the empty spaces on the walls with posters he found from Poe’s brief stint as the ‘face of the resistance’, much to Poe’s dismay, and some of Finn’s own sketches, which Poe is far happier about. He’s also framed some of his favourite photos, one of Rey that BB-8 had managed to take before she left, and several of him and Poe that, again, BB-8 had taken when they weren’t paying attention, providing Finn with plenty of images of the two of them staring right into each other’s eyes as though nothing was more important.

The room was restored to its formerly cluttered state, with Finn and Poe both busy almost constantly, spending any free moment they had together, leaving no time for tidying. This fact, when combined with the sheer amount of useless crap and important crap alike, made for a very messy room.

And Finn loved it.

#stormpilot #finnpoe #finn #poe dameron #stormpilot cu #stormpilot fanfic #messy poe #neat finn #these two are adorable #just fluff #nothing but fluff #fpos28

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blankasolun · 5 years ago

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source: Metal Hammer 7th May 2020

How Dave Mustaine Took on Cancer and Won

By James Blaine (Metal Hammer) 21 hours ago

Megadeth mainman Dave Mustaine opens up exclusively about staring down cancer and what the future holds

The whole world is coming apart at the seams.

At least that’s the way it seems in Nashville, Tennessee this week. A T6 tornado tore the hell out of town just as the coronavirus hit the Volunteer State. Even President Trump is in Music City today, surveying the damage from Marine Helicopter One, hovering above us as we step into a dark, downtown studio to meet with local resident, Dave Mustaine.

The Apocalypse’s first and second horsemen take a back seat, at least for the moment. Right now, we’re more concerned about Dave’s dog. Oblivious to its diminutive size, the long-haired Chihuahua descends upon us like some high-pitched Hound of Hell, menacingly baring his teeth and threatening to devour our very soul if we step any closer to his master.

“Easy, Romeo. Easy,” Dave says, reaching to save us from the snarling beast. We coil back, cautiously offering the back of our hand. Dave laughs gruffly. “Oh, no,” he says. “That doesn’t work with him.”

As the Megadeth frontman corrals his pup, it gives us a chance to check out the legend after his recent health crisis. Mass of fiery mane – intact. Black jacket, jeans, black t-shirt, white sneakers. Honestly? Well, he looks like Dave Mustaine, like the hellraiser still not sold on cheap or easy peace. He moves a bit slow, but not creakily – more like a man who’s fought the Devil bare-fisted and lived to tell the tale.

With the hound at bay, he turns to greet us. It’s difficult to know what’s appropriate in this season of paranoia and mutant pandemic, especially for a man who’s just had his immune system nuked. Do we fist bump? Nod and touch elbows? “Nah, I ain’t worried, man,” Dave assures us, shaking hands with a vice grip. “I’m healthy now.”

The backstory: March 2019. After being bounced from doctor to doctor, Dave gets an official diagnosis that sounds like some dystopian speed metal verse. Squamous cell carcinoma on the base of your tongue.

Hold up. Cancer? Mustaine? No way.

If anyone seemed indestructible, it was Dave Mustaine. Bad ass, bad attitude, snarling, spitting, raging, red-headed, black belt-carrying soldier in God’s Army, Godfather Of Thrash. That cancer could sink its claws into someone like Dave sent shockwaves through the metal community. Now, one year after the diagnosis, Metal Hammer comes to Music City to hear his testimony first-hand. Because Dave Mustaine kicked cancer’s ass.

“Yeah, I’m pretty stoked about that,” he says, grinning as he grabs a bottle of water and motions for us to have a seat in a private, black- walled dressing room. The obvious first question: So, how do you feel? “I’m a little run down, but a lot of that’s from the medication and all the stuff that goes along with treatment. They hit the cancer really hard, nine doses of chemo and 51 radiation treatments, which just beats the hell out of you. My mouth is still messed up but overall, I feel really good.”

Dave settles in on the couch to tell us how he got the news that he was cancer-free. “I was here in Nashville, at my doctor’s office. He had to reach down the back of my throat, which was really unpleasant, but it was important for him to feel and make sure. And he said my progress was amazing, that both sides felt the same. I’ve got a metal plate in my neck that I figured might cause problems, but the doc told me, “Dave, you are in perfect health, 100%. You’re free to go.”

Dave pauses to slide a piece of Big Red gum into his mouth, twisting the foil between his fingers, reflecting before he continues. “It sounds bizarre, but I kind of knew. I took good care of myself. I’d done everything my doctors told me to do. I had tons of support from family and friends. And I had lots of prayer. I don’t want to sound arrogant, but I expected it. I had faith that I was going to be healed.”

At this point, Dave rewinds to early 2019, explaining how he received the grim verdict. While out shredding with Joe Satriani and Zakk Wylde on the Experience Hendrix tour, severe mouth pain struck. “I’d gone in to get some dental work,” he says. “And after, it felt like the dentist had broken a piece of scraper off in my gums. I went back and he sent me to an oral surgeon who checked me out and said, ‘You need to see an ear, nose and throat doctor. I don’t want to say anything bad, but it looks like the Big C.’ Well, fuck, dude! Why’d you say that, then?”

Dave shakes his head, still pissed, taking a long pull of water. “Anyway, I figured I’d take care of myself once the Hendrix tour was over. While out on the road, a friend of mine knew an ENT at the local emergency room. He came over, took a look, and said it wasn’t anything to worry about. But I knew something was wrong with me. It was just too far down for anybody to see.

“We had a day off and I was home in Nashville, so I saw a local specialist who suggested a scope. I don’t do good with scopes, so they had to knock me out to get the tube in. But yeah, they confirmed that it was cancer in the side of my throat that had spread to two lymph nodes.

“Initially, they wanted to send me to MD Anderson in Houston for 11 weeks and I said no. fucking. way. I’m not gonna be away from my family for that long. So, they set me up at Vanderbilt, with Dr. Cmelak, who’s actually one of the best radiation oncologists in the country. I had a good team.”

Fortunately for Mustaine, Music City is also the healthcare capital of the United States. The band cancelled tour dates and put the brakes on a new record so Dave could begin a brutal treatment regime, resting at his farm in the rolling hills of nearby Franklin between blasts of radiation and IV chemo drips. The worst, he says, is over.

“I’ll have to do another MRI soon and check in with the doctor regularly, three years, five years. But the cool thing is, my voice came back even better than before. I think the treatment shrunk whatever was on my vocal cord that was making it hard to sing. I’d seen pictures of my voice box and there was some kind of bubble on the flap that was giving me trouble. Cyst, tumour, nodule, whatever the fuck it was. But that’s gone now, and they say long as I don’t do anything stupid, I should be good for the rest of my career. I know once you get cancer you’re never really out of the woods, but if the process doesn’t scare you into changing your lifestyle, then shame on you.”

Dave is no stranger to injuries and pain. He suffered career-threatening nerve damage to his left arm during a 2002 stint in a Texas rehab, and a decade later, underwent emergency surgery for spinal stenosis – whiplash, if you will – resulting in titanium implants in his neck. Flashing his trademark maniacal smile, Dave insists he felt no fear in the face of death.

“I already died once,” he says, referencing his 1993 overdose on Valium. “I don’t remember anything, though. No light or tunnel or any of that shit. I respect death but I’m not living my life in fear. There was a little when I first found out that I had cancer, but it wasn’t so much about dying, as not being able to use my gift anymore, to play guitar or sing. That really shook me. To be inconvenienced is one thing. It’s something else to lose your gift.”

Dave leans in. His steely glare, coupled with the white beard and wild hair, gives him the appearance of some Old Testament prophet of doom. “When they told me that my arm was 80% and I would never play guitar again, I thought, ‘You have no idea who you’re talking to. I will absolutely play again, and it’ll be a matter of days, not weeks.’ There’s a couple things I still can’t do, but I feel like I can play almost as good as I used to. Going through that thing with my arm was helpful. It gave me the courage to face any kind of medical problem I might have down the road. I’m going to do everything they say and if there’s blood, I can handle it. I’ve seen my own blood before.”

We ask about the darkest days, if his reputation causes people to expect an unrealistic level of strength. Dave fidgets with his shoelace. Ruffles the pup sweetly. Reaches for another piece of gum before the reply.

“I think people do expect me to be invincible. It is a lot of pressure,” he admits. “But when you come out on the other side victorious, they cheer even louder. I like being a man of the people. That might sound corny, but it’s true. The hardest part was having to let others take care of me. I’ve always been so independent that even if I do need help, I’m not going to let anyone know. But overall, chemo wasn’t as ugly for me as it is for a lot of people. I had a couple of days where I got really sick and threw up, but that was it. I tried to be upbeat. When I would go in for treatment, I’d talk with the other patients, try to be encouraging.”

The thrash titan was forced to miss the band’s inaugural MegaCruise in October, with his daughter, Electra, stepping in to represent the family. Upon completion of treatment, Dave was able to return for the Killing Road tour with Five Finger Death Punch in January. While on stage at the SSE Arena in Wembley, he announced that the cancer was in complete remission.

“Actually, I think I mentioned it from the first show of the tour,” says Dave. “If not Helsinki, then Stockholm for sure. I wanted the fans to know that I’m OK and how great the crew has been. And for sure, I want to tell the truth and let everyone know how much I prayed through this whole ordeal. Not just like, ‘Oh, yeah, thanks, God.’ But that I really, seriously prayed.”

Christian for nearly two decades, Dave has always been vocal about his beliefs. While discussing the role faith played in his recovery, he pauses, raking fingers through his beard, measuring his words.

“After growing up as a Jehovah’s Witness, there was a time that I hated the concept of anything that I had to answer to. The church disfellowshipped my sister, Debbie, and I was the only one who would sit and listen to her cry. It flipped me out and all I wanted to do was get back at the people who hurt my sister,” Dave explains. “But now, I try to keep my prayers pretty gentle. I don’t pray for anyone to get hurt or get what’s coming to them, only for God’s will and that he would help me do what I need to do. To me, prayer is just an open, honest, easy conversation like you’re talking to your dad. Essentially, that’s what God is supposed to be, our Father, right? So that makes it easy for me to engage in prayer.”

Asked to elaborate, Dave adds, “In the Bible, the Pharisees liked to pray in public so everybody could see them. They thought the louder they prayed, the more pious they would seem, like it’s an indication of their righteousness. For me, righteousness is something that’s exhibited through consistent behaviour that’s Godly in nature. You sum up the gospels with the Golden Rule. Helping others, no matter what. There’s this old song by the Circle Jerks called Wonderful.”

He sings the chorus of the 80s punk classic. Romeo perks up, cocking an ear in his master’s direction. “It’s a great song that talks about how it’s really not so hard to do something nice for someone else. Help a stranger. Smile. If you see a homeless person, give them something to eat. I was homeless once. It was the worst, man. Scrounging for food, living in [bassist] David Ellefson’s van…”

Dave apologises for losing his train of thought, blaming the lingering effects of “chemo brain”. After a break, he switches gears, discussing the positive changes that have come from his battle with the disease. “My wife and I are getting along tremendously, and things are really good with my son and daughter right now, too. I’ve got a better relationship with my band. The other day, Kiko [Loureiro, guitarist] says to me, ‘I really like this new Dave!’ What he was talking about, is when you’re dealing with pain, you drink, you smoke, you bitch, because you don’t know what’s going on. But soon as I found out what was wrong with me, I attacked it. Once I did, I could feel myself getting happier too.

Support also came from outside Dave’s immediate circle. His old band brother, James Hetfield, reached out, as did Kiss’s Paul Stanley and Ozzy, who was at war with his own medical demons in 2019.

“Everybody’s treatment is different, but Bruce Dickinson had been through throat cancer about five years ago, so he was able to give me a lot of insight into what to expect. His biggest advice was to listen to the doctors and don’t rush to get back onstage. They told him to hold off, but he went back out to perform and nothing came out. Well, OK. I get it. Bruce waited a month before his first show, so I held off a little longer. My last treatment was in September and I made plenty of time to rest, exercise and eat right before we went back out on tour. We did 22 dates overseas, and I feel great now, except for the fatigue. But I think a lot of that might be due to um, extracurricular activities. Staying up late. Not sleeping. Maybe a little, you know…”

Thumb and forefinger to his lips, Dave inhales sharply, making the universal symbol for partaking of the herb. Could he be referring to the alleged medicinal benefits of CBD oil? “Don’t screw around with the oil, man,” he growls in the same gravel baritone as his crushing thrash classics. Our eyes go wide as the voice from sixth grade Headbangers Ball comes to life.

Dave cackles at our reaction, pushing back a wayward strand of hair. “If you’re gonna do it, get the good stuff. I think the world is just now finding out the beauty of cannabis and everything it can do for you. I hear people talk how it’s good for cancer patients. C’mon, it’s good for any fucking patient! The radiation zapped my salivary glands so I couldn’t make spit, which made it really hard to swallow and get food down. They gave me this crazy mouthwash to use that had Benadryl and lidocaine in it, but I still couldn’t eat. So cannabis helped with that, except I got a terrible craving for kiddie cereal. I went to the store and got, like, 20 boxes.”

The thought of the Tornado Of Souls singer devouring countless bowls of cereal is a pretty cool picture and we can’t help but inquire about his favourite fix. “Trix with marshmallows. Froot Loops with marshmallows. Frosted Flakes. The kind with little marshmallows. You get the idea. My cancer team told me to try and watch the sugar intake, but they said, ‘Dave, if you can eat – then eat.’ The doctor threatened to put a feeding tube in my gut if I lost too much weight. Well, they scared the shit out of me with that one, but it worked.”

With Dave healthy and back onstage, the follow-up to 2016’s Grammy Award-winning Dystopia is on every Megafan’s brain. Late last year, Dave teased songs that were “heavy as hell” with titles such as Rattlehead, Part Two and The Dogs Of Chernobyl.

“I don’t know if any of those titles are still holding up,” he says, revealing that the band has been tracking at Nashville’s Sound Kitchen with co-producer Chris Rakestraw at the controls again. “Whenever I make a record, the names of the songs change so many times. I think we’ve got 14 songs for this album and another folder with six. The songs are constantly evolving and as they do, we change the title to be more reflective of what makes the song distinct.”

So, will we see a new Megadeth album before 2020 ends? “I hope so, yeah,” says Dave. “We’ll start back in a couple of days and keep plowing until it’s done. Metal Tour Of The Year starts this summer, but that should be fun and easy [Editor’s note – we spoke to Dave before COVID-19 outbreak]. We’ve got a week’s vacation coming up soon and I’m going to go rest up and get ready to come back and make a brilliant record.”

Nashville traffic is anarchy these days and Romeo looks like he needs to hike his leg. As the sun sets over the Cumberland River, Dave stands and slides an arm around our shoulder, recruiting Metal Hammer to thank the fans for all their thoughts and prayers. It strikes us, how we expect legends to be carved from granite. On one hand, we understand that our heroes are human. But on the other, we never want to see them frail, or sick, or down. And that must be a hell of a burden sometimes. But perhaps, it’s also what keeps them moving. If our heroes can keep pushing, then that gives us the courage to keep pushing too, through all the shitstorms of life, disasters both natural and manufactured, even the ones we bring upon ourselves. Decades later, they still inspire perseverance, hope, and the determination to never let the bastards grind you down. Maybe even a little 21st century metal up your ass.

Still, we have to ask one last thing. Dave’s been on the road almost 40 years. Dues paid; the mark has been made. Was he ever tempted to call it a day, sit back on the farm and enjoy a slow, simple life?

“Yeah, I guess I could do that,” he admits, shrugging like it’s no big deal. “But I love what I do, and I like helping the band and crew make money. Playing music makes people happy. A lot of times while we’re out there, they share stuff with us, some good, some bad, but we get to bring our own little brand of panacea to people and somehow, that makes them feel beautiful. Even if it’s for just one night.”

Published in Metal Hammer #334

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Dave Mustaine Talks About His Fight With Cancer source: Metal Hammer 7th May 2020 How Dave Mustaine Took on Cancer and Won By James Blaine…

#bruce dickinson #chris rakestraw #dave mustaine #david ellefson #dystopia #james hetfield #joe satriani #kiko loureiro #kiss #megadeth #ozzy osbourne #paul stanley #sound kitchen #tornado of souls #zakk wylde

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thrashermaxey · 6 years ago

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Ramblings: Skinner needs to re-sign; ZAR back with Malkin; Winnington vs. Hamburgler – and more (Feb 18)

***

Jeff Skinner absolutely needs to re-sign with Buffalo. The roster and the coaching style fits him like a glove and he doesn’t want to mess with that. Sure, he could make an extra $1 million per season somewhere else, and perhaps that means an extra $6 million over the length of his contract. But he risks failure, embarrassment and – in an extreme case – perhaps even a buyout five years down the line. He need look no further than teammate Kyle Okposo when determining how signing with a bad fit can take your status as a star down a few notches. And how does Milan Lucic feel when he walks down the streets of Edmonton? With the Sabres, Skinner knows he can succeed because he’s thriving right now. Don’t mess with that, his best shot at a long and storied career is right where he is now.

With 33 points in his last 15 games, Patrick Kane has marched his way up to second on the NHL scoring list. And, thanks to another three assists on Sunday, Sidney Crosby has slid into a tie for eighth in scoring – entering the Top 10 for the first time all season (I’d have to double check that, but I think it’s true).

And thanks to the other 30 teams figuring out how to shut down the Avalanche, Mikko Rantanen and Nathan MacKinnon are fading down the scoring list. The answer, of course, is to simply shut that top line down and prey upon the defense. In the last nine games, Rantanen has just two points and zero power-play points.

I know I’m rehashing the top stats that anyone can see. I just get fascinated watching everything fall into place. Players who fall short or far exceed my expectations begin to shift closer to actual expectation.

If Patrick Kane notches an assist tonight, he will become the fourth player in NHL history to tally an assist in 17 consecutive team games. The other three – Wayne Gretzky (three times), Adam Oates and Paul Coffey.

Mark Giordano has three points in his last eight games after 52 in his first 48. That, of course, is just the market correcting itself.

Saturday I was asked by an Igor Shesterkin owner if he should be worried about Alexandar Georgiev, after a couple of hot games. I was pretty comfortable in saying that Georgiev will be nothing more than a backup and that Shesterkin is a future stud. Georgiev gave up six goals on Sunday.

After two periods in a close game, the Penguins removed Nick Bjugstad from the Evgeni Malkin – Phil Kessel line and replaced him with Zach Aston-Reese. ZAR proceeded to pick up a pair of assists and the Pens won by a goal. That bodes well for him sticking on that line for longer. With each time ZAR gets a shot there, as long as he stays healthy (which is another conversation), I believe his odds of success increase. His experience grows, as does his comfort level, and he inches closer to his prime.

Two games into his return and Justin Schultz has a point in each of them. Still getting secondary PP time though. One side effect to this is that the second PP unit is ten times better with him there, which helps the likes of Marcus Pettersson, Nick Bjugstad and Jake Guentzel.

Kris Letang had two points Sunday and has 12 in his last 10 games. I think the Schultz return only helps him and overall he’s up to fourth in the league among defensemen (52 points).

Mats Zuccarello is doing everything he can to drive his price up for the Rangers. At this rate they should retire his jersey in a decade, just for the favor he’s doing them. I mean, come on – 22 points in 14 games. Has he ever done that in his career before? And he's doing it now just when they really need him to beef up his value. It’s enough to add a good draft pick or prospect to whatever offer was being floated to GM Jeff Gorton two weeks ago.

Kevin Hayes picked up two points Sunday as well, so he has 25 points in his last 22 games. He is also apparently on the block and driving his price up. Man I wish I had players on my fantasy hockey squad driving up their prices like this for me as the deadline approaches. But no dice, I don’t have either of these players, stupidly under-selling them last year when I guess I shouldn’t have.

The Blues continue to cruise on the Jordan Binnington – Vladimir Tarasenko train. The Blues, of course, were so far out of it seven weeks ago that we all wrote them off. This was a team that most figured was a top three improved team last summer, but were primarily let down by Vladimir Tarasenko and Jake Allen. Now, playing the role of Allen, is Binnington. Tarasenko is playing as if the first half of his season was training camp.

Did Tarasenko come to camp out of shape and is only getting there now? With three points on Sunday he has five consecutive multi-point games. Tale of two Tarasenkos:

22 points in first 35 games

29 points in last 23 games

Speaking of Binnington, back-to-back shutouts for him now (and three straight shutouts for the entire team). He’s 12-1-1 already with four shutouts. The best goalie in the world doesn’t do this, so it’s obviously unsustainable. Still, this is an Andrew Hammond-like run to kick things off. The difference is, Binnington is a former third-round draft pick and is 25, which is a very common age for goalies to begin an NHL career for good. Hammond was undrafted and 27. Keep in mind that this is a contract year for Binnington and I suspect that he is earning himself a $3 million annual contract. Then again, Allen is making $4.35 for each of the next two seasons and everyone in the world other than Allen’s mother knows that Binnington is far superior. So does his agent play on that and get him $4.5? And once he gets that money, does he pull an Allen and start sucking year after year? Best guess, for me, is that he starts coming down to earth this season but is still the team’s No.1 goaltender. He leads them to the second round of the playoffs and earns a bridge contract at something like $3.5. Next year he gets something like 55 starts with numbers that place him in that 10th to 15th rank for goalies. That’s where my head’s at. Binnington has effectively pushed out the struggling (in the AHL) Ville Husso, who had been the prospect Golden Boy before all this.

Allen had a shutout himself on Saturday, which is something none of expect out of him anymore. I will say this – if the team comes together in front of him and he starts playing at an equal level to Binnington (assuming Binnington comes down to earth a bit), then the net will be Allen’s. All things being equal, follow the contract. This is just an aside, I doubt it will happen, but wanted to provide you with a just-in-case scenario.

Cory Schneider has allowed just one goal on his last 50 shots faced, and his first two wins of the season. It’s a good sign, and we haven’t had any of those in months.

With two points Sunday, rookie winger Oskar Lindblom actually has 10 points in 13 games. He’s played most of the year with Jakub Voracek, but the catalyst has been Sean Couturier being put on that line in place of Patrick Nolan. Looking at the numbers for Claude Giroux, having Couturier on his line saw the best production. Losing Couturier has seen a decline – just nine points in 12 games. Decent numbers, but nothing like what he was doing before.

Aleksander Barkov picked up four points on Sunday. But he’s a great player and that happens from time to time. What interests me is Keith Yandle still rolling. Two more points Sunday and eight in his last 10. His success since joining Florida has been steady across the board: 0.50, 0.68, 0.79 points-per-game in his three years there. His PP time is also rising, at 55.7%, 64.1%, 65.2% of the team’s available PP time year over year. He’s 32 and has another four years under his big contract. Despite his age, I don’t see a slowdown happening anytime soon. He’s an iron man. The older players in the league who are thriving right now – Brent Burns, Mark Giordano – are talented defensemen in peak physical shape.

Samuel Montembeault was recalled by the Panthers. I like him as a prospect for the long term, but his AHL numbers haven’t exemplified this (just .900 SV% in 36 games this year so far). I can’t help but consider the success of Jordan Binnington, Cal Petersen, Collin Delia, Carter Hart. I know Roberto Luongo is only gone for a game or two (personal reasons – death in the family), but I’d love to see Montembeault get into a game. He backed up James Reimer Sunday.

Reimer has won four of his last six games, including three Quality Starts in that span.

It took him eight games, but Corey Perry is finally on the board with his first goal of the season. He’s still playing with Ryan Getzlaf and Rickard Rakell so he’s in a position to succeed, through thick and thin.

It will be interesting to see the new-look Edmonton lineup Tuesday with both Sam Gagner and Andrej Sekera in the lineup. Gagner has been a prolific scorer in the AHL for the Marlies (37 points in 43 games) and he also had his eight-point game while he was with the Oilers. Sekera has two assists and was plus-6 in five games for Bakersfield on a conditioning stint.

Sidney Crosby has 1188 career points (920 games). Alexander Ovechkin has 1189 career points (1061 games). The last time Crosby had more career points than Ovechkin was January 5, 2011.

Artemi Panarin (24-43—67) enters the contest three points shy of reaching the 70-point mark in 2018-19, which would mark his fourth consecutive season with at least as many points. Only two undrafted players have started their NHL career with four or more consecutive 70-point seasons: Wayne Gretzky (13) and Peter Stastny (10).

I love it when someone turns negativity into a marketing opportunity. I love creativity in marketing…Check it out (start at 4:25):

{youtube}LoNN8vZf74c{/youtube}

{source}<blockquote class="twitter-tweet" data-partner="tweetdeck"><p lang="en" dir="ltr">We’re a bunch of jerks and we have the shirts to prove it.<br><br>Available later this week at The Eye. <a href="https://t.co/TEefqETEau">pic.twitter.com/TEefqETEau</a></p>— Carolina Hurricanes (@NHLCanes) <a href="https://twitter.com/NHLCanes/status/1097236771677573122?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">February 17, 2019</a></blockquote>

Love it.

See you next Monday.

from All About Sports https://dobberhockey.com/hockey-rambling/ramblings-skinner-needs-to-re-sign-zar-back-with-malkin-winnington-vs-hamburgler-and-more-feb-18/

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