#cbs eye speak panel

[ncisfranchise-source]

When Kyle Schmid showed up for the NCIS: Origins panel at this summer’s Television Critics Association press tour, he was rocking the most Muse Watson-y mustache that ever mustached.

That’s because Schmid in the prequel series will portray no less than a younger version of the Mike Franks character Watson played in nearly 20 episodes across a dozen years of CBS’ original NCIS.

TVLine spoke with Schmid, whose previous TV credits include History’s SIX and ABC’s Big Sky, about the method behind his mustache-ness.

“Becoming Mike Franks is interesting, because the fandom of NCIS is kind of unlike anything I’d ever been a part of,” he noted. “But in my opinion, as long as you play within the rules of specifics, it will allow you the freedom [as an actor] to do what you love individually.

“To me, the specifics were holding true to some physicality — and the mustache is one of those things,” Schmid explained. “I think it sets him apart, I also think it’s very period. And the Franks character that was so well rooted in the original series, in my opinion, kind of ‘stayed’ in 1991. So it only felt right to have the mustache at that time.”

Schmid, however, took his channeling of Mike Franks — his holding true of specifics — a step or two further.

“I convinced the producers to let me wear dark brown contacts,” says the blue-eyed actor, “because when you’re filling the shoes of somebody like Muse — not filling the shoes, but evoking — you want all of those things. If I look in the mirror and see Kyle Schmid when I’m about to walk out of my trailer, it’s not the same as looking in the mirror and seeing somebody completely different that you built from the ground up.”

Schmid also has adopted a speaking voice different from his own and more in keeping with how Watson has sounded on NCIS. “Every single day from 7 o’clock in the morning when I arrive, to 6 pm, 8 pm, 10 pm when I leave, this is what I do,” he said, slipping into his Franks voice. “I stay in character from the beginning of work to the end of work.”

The mustache, the hair, the eyes and the voice, as Schmid noted, will help longtime NCIS fans identify and relate to this younger version of this key figure from Leroy Jethro Gibbs’ life. But it’s the story that unfolds, beginning with Gibbs joining the NIS Camp Pendleton office in 1991, that will slowly but surely lay the foundation for the mens’ long-lasting friendship.

To quickly recap, Gibbs joined NIS not long after completing his tour in Operation Desert Storm and retiring — all while mourning his wife Shannon and their daughter Kelly, both of whom were tragically murdered by drug dealer Pedro Hernandez while Gibbs was still overseas, about to return home.

“As Mark Harmon and [showrunners] Gina [Monreal] and David [North] mentioned [at TCA], there was something ‘broken’ in the Jethro Gibbs character in the beginning, something that I believe Mike Franks sees in part in himself,” said Schmid.

“To potentially lose somebody based on the circumstances and experiences that they’ve had is a shame, and I think Mike Franks sees an opportunity to try and save somebody from themselves,” Schmid continued. “Bringing Gibbs into the world of NIS in 1991 was an opportunity to give an incredibly talented young man a second chance after a broken heart.”

Summing up that early Franks/Gibbs dynamic, co-showrunner North told TVLine, “They’re boss and probie! And there’s nothing I love writing more. Seeing Gibbs in these situations you could never imagine Mark [Harmon] in, it’s been just wonderful.”

[thefrsers]

Gina Rodriguez on the importance of culture representation & the impact Sara Ramirez had on her.

[suppenzeit]

BVs costume is pretty decent, actually: the post

Disclaimer: I'm not actually a professional, but I do like to think I'm not completely clueless. Also, I haven't written analysis like this in literal years.

Anyway, analysis below the cut

Some notes about his color:

-The color of his costume is a really good question. Depending on the lighting he can look purple or blue or even black. Color picking a neutral value in neutral lighting puts his base color right in the middle of blue and purple.

-However, I like him being blue more, so I’ll refer to him as blue.

-It really doesn’t matter though, as his base color really is best described as either a bluish-purple or a purplish-blue.

Anyway, let's get right into the analysis.

Overall, the goal of changing BVs design was to make him look more like a smooth talking gangster, and all of my points are about how his design achieves this goal. I’m not here to compare him to CBs costume, they’re trying to communicate totally different things, and comparing them wouldn’t really achieve much. (But just fyi, CBs costume really is just, *chefs kiss*, perfect little clown boy)

His color really is the most obvious thing about him. For a red caboose he sure doesn’t have a lot of red. Sure, but the change in base color is just strengthening his personality. The darker color makes him stand out less, fitting his more shady personality, and the blue makes sure that his red pieces and pinstripes still pop.

See how the stripes pop against the blue better compared to the red, even though they’re the same value?

And the stripes. The stripes have gone from just representing wood panels, to looking more like actual pinstripes, with the dark base and lighter stripes. This reinforces the idea that he’s more of a gangster, more specifically the smooth talking kind.

The red in the red caboose is now mainly limited to his hat, shoulder pieces, chest piece, gloves and shoes. Most of his red being near his face guides the eyes towards it, making his face stand out even without flashy makeup. His gloves and shoes could have been black, but I think them being red brings a nice balance (and his red shoes do look rather dapper!).

The shoulder pieces don’t resemble a caboose shape in the slightest, but Starlight Express isn’t too concerned with accuracy to real life. And neither am I, as long as it serves a good purpose. Trapezoidal shoulder pieces are sleek, and remind me of the padded shoulders of certain zoot suits, once again reinforcing the gangster theme. And, from the back, especially at an angle, the pieces form a sleek caboose shape. 

His hat can look a bit goofy I admit, but it does heavily depend on who is wearing it. Dan has a tendency to pull it down a bit too much, with no skew (though this could possibly be just his hat not fitting too well because it’s damaged). Thankfully most other actors wear it better, making the hat look less goofy.

(L -> R: Dan Ellison, Gary Sheridan, Tom Nihill, Kai Cameron-Jay and Darius James)

And still speaking about the hat, while the shape isn't quite like a regular caboose cupola, it is pretty close to a more tapered design seen in some Pennsylvania Railroad cabooses!

Now, for some actual complaints.

-His design is actually a bit empty? I wish he had something more going on, but I have no idea what you could even add. 

-His chestpiece looks kinda goofy ngl. But again, I’m not sure what could replace it. A chest box perhaps? Though I have my own personal reasons for not wanting him to have one…

-I wish he had some more silver in him. Perhaps some necklaces attached to his scarf?

-Speaking of, the scarf doesn’t quite fit the theme. Maybe making the costume look more like a suit and making the scarf a high collar instead could work? That’s something for me to ponder about later...

And I think I’ve ran out of juice! Thank you for reading this quick analysis of his costume! Discussion, comments and questions are welcome :)

[sshbpodcast]

Which Starfleet uniforms “Make It Work” as they “Make It So”? (Part 2)

By Ames

You’ll recall that last week A Star to Steer Her By checked out all the Starfleet uniforms from the first pilots through Enterprise (if you don’t, check it out in Part 1 here), and today we’re judging more modern trends. One thing you’re going to see repeatedly in the newer iterations of Star Trek is just a lot of strange nods to branding that strike us as counterintuitively capitalist, bordering on Ferengi. Just deltas everywhere all of a sudden. Listen to our in-depth discussion on the podcast episode (this activity starts at 53:40) and thumb through all the designs below as we prepare to crown some fashion winners and also to say auf wiedersehen to some potato sacks. 

[Images © CBS/Paramount, Star Trek Timelines, Ex Astris Scientia, probably others]

Star Trek (2009) and Into Darkness

Talk about a heavy-handed uniform. Having the texture of the material just be lots and lots of little delta shapes is just too much. Way too much. Overall, these look like soccer practice jerseys, the pants all look like they don’t even fit, and wowsers do the women get screwed over! Poor Uhura gets neither sleeves nor pants nor anywhere to even indicate her Starfleet rank. These uniforms might be more sexist than the TOS uniforms which featured most of Nichelle Nichols’s buttcheeks. Whose idea was this?

USS Kelvin In the 2009 film we get to see a flashback to George Kirk’s USS Kelvin, and it’s a kinda of strange look. While we’re all about just having Totally Normal™ pants and Totally Normal™ belt, the piping on the top makes it look more like an incomplete scuba suit somehow. The colors could also stand out more since they’re fairly muted. And turquoise, tan, and white? What is this department combination? Hard pass on these ones.

Star Trek: Beyond

Beyond changes things up by looking way more classic and what a relief! Sure, the cut is still pretty athleticwear-looking, but everything is chicer, the collars are more reminiscent of the classic TOS look, and the entirely unnecessary delta patterning is gone! Also, thank whoever gave Uhura sleeves and rank stripes again. Sure, we knew she was going to be in an extremely short dress no matter what, but now it at least feels like she’s a member of the same crew.

USS Franklin I forget the plot of Beyond but suffice to say there’s a different duty uniform that we see on the crew of the Franklin, and it looks like a nice cross between the Enterprise and TOS eras we discussed last week. It’s like a straight-up flight suit with the bonus of looking more streamlined. It’s got functionality. It’s got belts. The color blocking is fun. And I may not be able to speak for the whole podcast, but those mad pockets are absolutely everything!

Yorktown In the same vein as the Franklin, the starbase Yorktown has a similar duty uniform variant that is just as functional and just as sharp. Again, the color blocking catches the eye and makes everyone look nice and shapely – seriously, look at that leg patterning! The big honkin’ belt somehow works in ways I can’t articulate. I would seriously add that zip-up jacket to my wardrobe. What’s not to love?

Star Trek: Discovery

Seasons 1-2 We’ve reached present-day Trek and some really stunning uniforms that we start off with in Discovery. The blue color harkens back to Enterprise in a nice nod, the tailoring looks great on absolutely everyone, and we’ve got pocket sightings for extra points. The department colors in the side panels do get confusing because it is nigh impossible to tell which color is which, especially under show lighting. The one thing we could really do without is that self-referential nod in making the patterning within the panels more damn deltas. This way to the gift shop, everyone!

Season 2: USS Enterprise In season 2, Captain Pike rolls in in the USS Enterprise like a freakin’ boss, complete with more familiar-looking uniforms that only his crew gets to wear for some reason. Jury’s out on what people think of those massive black collars, but the gold, red, and blue that we all love do look gorgeous. The flattering cut of the uniforms seems to be the same as the Discovery uniforms, but the side panels and extraneous deltas are thankfully gone and not particularly missed.

Season 3 When we jump 900 years in the future for season 3, we see some really sad Starfleet uniforms. Apparently the look of the 32nd century is just frumpy. The department color swatches are fine (if you don’t stop to think why they’re still using the same color palettes after so much time has passed, which we won’t), but the primary grey color everyone wears as a base is super bland and flattering on no one. And the length: just wrong. Someone, please think of the belts going unused!

Season 4 Since the greys were just not going to work and everyone was looking like drywall, season 4 decks everyone back out in the normal department colors (plus medical white for a treat!). The colors are so much better – really, just that improved things tenfold – but the shape is still not our favorite thing. I’m not kidding: go back and look at the The Wrath of Khan jackets again and tell me a really obvious belt isn’t the answer to fixing this. I’ll wait.

Star Trek: Picard

Hey, you’re back! Moving on, when we look at the uniforms in Picard, it’s like a love note to the designs we saw back in TNG, DS9, and Voyager. The black bodies with department colors on the shoulders are something we’re all very used to at this point, and the tailoring looks pretty decent to boot. But look closer. What the hell are all these deltas doing in the patterning of the shoulders and collar?! Did the Ferengi design these knowing they could sell them to fans, because that’s the only way this makes any sense!

Picard flashback We also see in a flashback the design from, presumably, somewhere between Nemesis and Picard and while we wonder for a hot second what ever happened to the First Contact uniforms with the lavender quilted shoulders, that fizzles quickly. What we have now are uniforms that just look fast! It must be those racing stripes: they make the uniforms go faster and also somehow look like hockey jerseys, and is that such a bad thing?

Star Trek: Lower Decks

In the timeline, we squeeze in another uniform variant that must go just before the Picard flashback ones, because of course we do. And even though these are cartoons and can only depict so much detail and tailoring in the art, we get the impression it’s still very like the TNG uniforms but with a nice off-center front enclosure. It’s a little unclear, however, where the top ends and the pants begin. Or perhaps it’s another jumpsuit, who knows?

Sneak Peak! Star Trek: Strange New Worlds

We haven’t seen these in action yet while I’m writing this, but we got a taste of the new Strange New Worlds uniforms in the character teaser. Because you just knew they weren’t going to go with the existing costumes from Discovery when they could design unnecessary fresh ones! Time will tell, but so far they look incredibly similar to the very athletic Beyond uniforms, the bulky black collars are gone, and there’s some nice shoulder patterning that probably isn’t deltas for a change!

—

Now that we’ve seen all of the uniforms walk the runway, which ones are getting fashion commission deals and which ones are getting mocked in the tabloids? Here are our calls, with lots of honorable mentions since there’s so much to choose from:

Favorites

Ames: Enterprise

Honorable mentions: Yorktown and DS9/VOY

Caitlin: The Next Generation (seasons 3-7)

Honorable mentions: Discovery (season 1-2) and Yorktown

Chris: Discovery (season 2, USS Enterprise)

Honorable mention: The Wrath of Khan

Jake: The Wrath of Khan

Honorable mention: DS9/VOY

Least Favorites

Ames: The Motion Picture

Dishonorable mentions: Discovery (season 3), Star Trek (2009), and “The Cage”

Caitlin: The Motion Picture

Dishonorable mentions: Discovery (season 3) and Beyond

Chris: The Motion Picture

Dishonorable mention: TNG (seasons 1-2)

Jake: Discovery (season 3)

Dishonorable mentions: “All Good Things…”, The Motion Picture, and TNG (seasons 1-2)

Must Haves

Not everyone can pull off the scant, but which uniform does each of us want to wear to a convention right now?

Ames: “Yesterday’s Enterprise”

Caitlin: Discovery (season 4) or DS9 (seasons 5-7)

Chris: The Wrath of Khan

Jake:  The Wrath of Khan

—

Phew! That’s a lot of closet space to sort through. And we’ve still got racks to go because in upcoming Blogtivities we’ll be covering admiral and dress uniforms, so keep your pants on until then! Catch us here for more, listen to episodes over on SoundCloud and every other podcasting place, give us your own fashion tips over on Facebook and Twitter, and maybe don’t cover everything in deltas for no good reason. It’ll just come across as tacky.

[coffee-obsessed-writer]

The Devil in Disguise, Pt. 2

Dean Winchester x Reader

Part 1

Summary: Dean’s on the run from escaping a prison where a job went south. Sam is in the wind. With nowhere to go and an injured leg, Dean takes refuge in the only place he could find—an old remote cabin. Normally empty for long stretches, Dean happens to stumble in the same day that the cabin’s owner returns. After a rocky first encounter, Dean comes to believe that a distant connection they share could be the thing that saves his life and gets him back to Sam. But will it happen before Y/N’s finance, a prison guard at Green River, finds the secret she’s hiding in the woods?

A/N: The fic was inspired by the song “The Devil’s Backbone” by The Civil Wars. This is part 2 of ?? written for multiple bingo cards that go for both chapters. Set around S2 (Folson Prison Blues). New tag lists are at the end of the fic. I have tag spots open, let me know if you want to jump on or off for SPN (Dean and/or Sam, or RPF for Jensen)

Warnings: (Part One): Language, Mild angst, Hints of abuse 

WC: 4.9K

*Banner created by me. I do not own any of these pictures.

[Y/N] stood at the foot of the bed and examined her handiwork of cleaning and properly bandaging Dean’s wound. All the while thinking about the “BOLO” that came over the CB. Sure this stranger said he knew Deacon, but did he? Was he really who he said he was? Her eyes flickered from the fevered man in the bed to the task she was currently taking on, trying to figure out what her instincts were telling her. When she was satisfied, she moved around the room, cleaning up the leftovers from the bandages, along with the jumpsuit and discarded them in a big black trash bag. Leaving it in the corner of the room, she returned to the foot post, and leaned on it, wrapping both hands tightly around the frame. 

“Ok, you're patched up, you’ve got penicillin and soup is on the stove. Time to tell me a story, Dean. What was the job at the prison?” 

Dean used the strength in his upper arms to sit up straighter on the bed and watched her curiously for a beat before speaking. She wished she could read his thoughts and know exactly what he was considering, but all she could hope for would be his full cooperation and the complete truth.

“Do you believe in ghosts?” he asked simply, and leaned back against the old, wrought iron bedpost. 

Her eyes snapped up quickly. “Ghosts?”

“Yeah. I don’t mean Casper the friendly, either. I’m talking about vengeful ones. Ones that use their anger to kill people.”

[Y/N] felt her throat run dry and was grateful she was already holding onto the iron arch of the frame. “Yeah,” she whispered, then cleared her throat. “I believe in ‘em.”

“That makes this easier…” he mumbled to himself before continuing, “but the truth is, doesn’t matter if you believe. Because they’re real. So are vampires, werewolves, demons… all the nasty, vile monsters you can think of… all real and the prison had one that was killing inmates. Deacon called on us to help get rid of it.”

“Deacon… of course,” she whispered almost incoherently and expelled a long, slow breath. 

“You never did say how you knew him,” Dean said, and shrugged defensively when her gaze snapped back at him, flashing a warning not press his luck. “Just sayin’...”

“I’ve known Deacon since I was a kid. He used to come to my dad’s church.” There was so much more to it, but she wasn’t ready to share all her intel. “So, continue… ghost in the prison…”

“Right, so, Deacon called us in to figure out who it was. He thought we could get more info as prisoners then he ever would as the warden. The spook was going after his guys, he had to do something.”

“But you must have done something to get yourselves locked up. Deacon couldn’t just smuggle two people into Green River and pass them off as prisoners, warden or not. So, just breaking in somewhere was enough to get you thrown in prison? You were a little vague on the charges.”

“That’s… complicated and not relevant here. What is, is that we figured out who the ghost was, and Deacon was breaking us out to go--”

“Salt and burn…” she said, not meaning to interrupt but her blank expression and clouded eyes told Dean that she was suddenly lost a memory.

“Yeah,” Dean confirmed. “How did you--are you a hunter?”

“Huh? What? No,” she stammered and pushed off the iron frame. “No, not a hunter, but I know what hunters are.”

“How?”

“Story for another time,” she said, waving him off. “Please. continue… how did you go from Deacon breaking you out, to bleeding in my cabin while pointing my own gun at me?”

“He opened a panel for us to escape through, was going to bring us out the rear exit. We must have taken a wrong turn somewhere and went out the wrong doors. Shit went sideways fast, had to improvise and we got separated. Sam took off in the direction of the cemetery where the body was buried and my only way out was the other direction. Spotlights caught me as I hit the tree line and got shot. Ran as far as I could… damn near through the night. Now here I am.”

[Y/N] just nodded slowly, as if she was trying to comprehend everything he was telling her. She began to pace the room, but not with any vigor. It was methodical and slow, each step seemed to be taken with a thoughtful purpose as she went over his story in her mind. 

“Who was it?” she asked finally, looking up to meet the pair of dull green eyes looking back. She had a moment where she wondered how they would actually shine when their owner was bogged down with fever because even as muted as they were, they were still beautiful.

“A nurse who died in a prison riot years ago. They started construction on an old wing of the unit, and it stirred her up.”

“Oh,” [Y/N] mused, then settled on the end of the bed, the opposite side of where Dean lay. She brought her knee up to rest on the mattress and twisted her body to face him. 

“And your brother… he took care of it?”

“I sure hope so. I’m hoping he found his way to the car and got over there. Kinda hard to check up on that, though.” He motioned towards his leg, his whole expression shrugging with a hint of exhausted sarcasm.

“What cemetery?”

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to check, that’s why. You may not be able to, but I can. I need to do a supply run to town anyway. So, which cemetery.”

“Uh… Green Valley, but… lady… I don’t think its a good idea. Our PD, if she was forced to talk, that place is gonna be swimming in uniforms.”

“It's fine. I have family buried there. I can always say I’m going to visit them. What was the nurses’ name?”

“Glockner,” Dean replied but shook his head as he did. “It's okay. I’m sure Sam got there to take care of it. Right now he’s probably free and clear and freaking out trying to figure out where I am.”

“[Y/N],” she spoke up softly. “My name is [Y/N].”

“Thanks for saving my ass, [Y/N],” Dean smiled, relieved.

“Thanks for not shooting me, Dean.”

Across the queen size bed, they shared a brief, yet slightly intense gaze before each of them broke away. [Y/N] found him intriguing, and without doubt, believed what he was telling her. Her instincts may have been quiet before, but after hearing what he had to say, and knowing what she knew about Deacon, [Y/N] knew that she could believe his story. Besides, with Dean’s confidence in the man’s voucher, she really felt that she could trust what he was saying. That made her want to do whatever she could to help him get better, and then get back to his brother. 

“Where can I find your brother?” she asked. “Where’s home? Would he go there?”

“Home is long gone. We never stay any place too long.”

“Damn. Then how do I find him?”

Dean thought for a minute. All their usual ways of communication after separation wouldn’t work. He figured Sam would have a new burner by now, but not like he could get the number. Any cop in a hundred-mile radius would be looking for the Impala, and even Deacon was most likely being watched like a hawk. 

“Right now, I don’t think we can. Let me fight off this bitch of an infection, and then when my head is clear, I can figure things out.”

“Okay,” she relented and went to stand from the bed. Before she reached the doorway that led to the kitchen, she turned and faced him one last time. “You can stay as long as you need to. Take this room. I’ll stay in the loft. But, Dean... “

“Yeah?”

“If you ever point my own gun, or any gun at me again, I won’t hesitate to shoot you once I get it back.”

Twenty-four hours later, and Dean’s fever was still ragging. He was semi-aware of her sitting in the rocker placed in the corner for good stretches of the night, and when the sun peeked through the thin lace curtains it caused black spots to pulse behind his eyes. Somehow, [Y/N] could tell, and she moved to pull the heavier curtain closed.

Dean was also vaguely aware that she kept putting a cool cloth to his forehead and checked his leg a few times. At some point during the long night, he remembered wondering why she was going through all this instead of just getting on her CB and bringing the cops to her door.

Even with no clock present, when Dean finally came fully to consciousness, he could tell that it was sometime in the early afternoon. The birds weren’t as loud, and the brightness of the day had moved higher in the sky. He was able to push himself up to sitting, though it caused a burst of pain to ripple through his injured leg. 

“Sonofabitch!” Dean grunted through gritted teeth, as he tried to swing the leg off the bed. The motion of which caused a swirl of blurry vision, his head swimming in static and black spots again. “Nope,” he said to himself and moved his leg back to where it had been. 

Dean was still for a few minutes, making sure the pain evened out and that he wasn’t going to pass out again. Once he was sure he could focus, he listened closely to any sounds coming from out in the cabin. 

It was silent. But that’s when he noticed the folded scrap of paper sitting on the bedside that had his name written in a blunt, but feminine script.

Dean,

Making a supply run. Stay put. If you can manage to move, there’s cold water in the fridge. If not, there’s a room temp bottle and your meds by this note. Also a protein bar. See if you can choke that down. Be back soon.

[Y/N]

She had done as promised, and left the water bottle and pills behind the note, along with the protein bar. Dean felt himself smile despite his deteriorating condition. He made quick work of powering through the food, pills, and water, and then settled back onto the bed and closed his eyes. When they fluttered open again, the sun continued its descent into the sky, and when he peeked out of the curtains again, there was a soft twinge of pink and orange sky acting as a backdrop to the autumn colored trees. 

Noise from the kitchen snapped his attention back, and he instinctively reached under the pillow for a gun that wasn’t there. He had just enough time to register a slew of curses in his mind when the bedroom door opened and [Y/N] stood there with a tray, and a pleased smile on her lips. 

“Welcome back,” she smiled and moved over to the bed, carefully setting the tray down on the open side, then moving towards Dean to help prop him up. 

He waved her off and was able to get himself to sitting, but his eyes, not so dull anymore, watched her carefully. 

“Why are you doing all this? What do you get out of it?” he asked, unable to hide his curiosity over her generous nature. 

“I don’t get anything out of it other than helping you not die. But I am doing this because I believe you,” she said, and delicately lifted the material of the sweatpants to check on his wound. “When I was ten, I thought I saw a ghost in my dad’s church.” She paused, and seemed satisfied with how the bandages looked, and carefully pulled the pant leg back down. She retrieved the tray, kicked open the legs on it and placed it carefully over Dean’s lap as she continued her story. 

“Scared the shit out of me, and of course, he didn’t believe me. People started getting hurt. Workers who were repainting the outside of the rectory… an old lady pushed down the stairs by some unseen force. Stuff like that.”

Dean nodded in understanding and made the attempt to eat the soup and crackers she brought him. 

“Anyway, after the maintenance guy died, that’s when things got even weirder.”

“Weirder how?”

“Deacon had been a member of the parish for as long as I can remember. Never really thought much of him except for he was a Marine and that he worked at the jail. Nice guy, always smiled at me on Sundays. One night, I was hiding in the pews, reading some crap I shouldn’t have been, and I heard Deacon and some guy with him, arguing with my dad. Something about needing to burn something. Whatever Deacon wanted… some kind of old jewelry that was kept in the church safe… Dad refused. I was scared because I distinctly remember that guy with Deacon saying that unless they did, the spirit wouldn’t rest and could eventually kill the preacher, or even his family.”

Dean’s mind was racing a mile a minute. Despite the fever that had been stifling much logical thought in the last day, he was able to put the pieces of the puzzle together. 

“That guy, what did he look like?”

“Why is that important?”

“It just is!” he snapped, and immediately regretted it. “I’m sorry… can you just try and remember?”

[Y/N] closed her eyes and went back in her memories. “He was tall, dark hair, dark eyes. Not a beard exactly, but more than a few days beard, you know? He had these crazy dimples, too. I remember thinking they were as big as craters.”

“Holy shit,” Dean snorted in disbelief. “I think that was my dad. Was his name, John?” Her attention snapped back up and he could tell just by the look on her face that it was.

“Yeah, his name was John. He’s how I know what hunters are. That night, after my dad locked up, I stayed in the church. I was so scared of a ghost killing me that I went and stole the necklace from the safe. I rode my bike all the way to Deacon’s house and he was super pissed to see me there. Until I pulled it from my pocket…”

“Lemme guess... my dad snatched it from you and barked at you to go home?”

“Close, but not quite. I got to hear a snippet of their conversation, first. John said something about salting and burning the bones and that it didn’t work. The necklace had to be the link. Then he barked at me to go home.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing. I went home. Deacon and I never spoke of it again, but he always looked at me a little differently on Sundays. Almost like he was proud.”

“So, that’s why you believed me so easily. That talk doesn’t always go very smoothly for civilians.”

“Yeah well, guess you lucked out running into me then, huh?”

Dean exhaled steadily through slightly pursed lips and nodded. “You ain’t kiddin’.”

“I grabbed better meds for you in town this morning. Try and eat some and then you can take those. If that can bring your temperature down I think you’ll be alright. I checked your leg while you were sleeping, changed the bandages. You got lucky the bullet went clean through.”

“I can’t thank you enough for this, really.”

“It’s nothing. Just eat and rest.” 

She turned to leave and Dean realized he didn’t want her too. He wanted her to stay and talk to him; he liked when she was around. Maybe it was because they had some sort of distant connection through Deacon, or maybe it was simply because of her. Most likely, it was just his fever making him not want to be alone. But right then, he wanted nothing more than for her to stay and sit beside him.

“[Y/N], wait... “ he paused, leaning forward from the pillows until she turned around and slowly brought her (y/c) eyes to meet his. “Would you stay? Keep me company, maybe?”

She paused at the door, her left hand slowly sliding down the old wood trim of the frame. Dean saw her body relax a little, and when she finally turned back around to face him, her features were softer than they had been before. He was struck, not for the first time, by how beautiful she was in the dim light of the room’s light. When she turned and went back to the rocker in the corner, then dragged it closer to the bed, Dean happily leaned back against the pillows, relieved she was staying and worked on consuming the food she brought him.

The next morning, Dean woke with his head clearer than it had been since getting shot in the first place. Overnight he had sweat straight through the shirt he had borrowed and would just about kill for a clean one; maybe even a shower.

[Y/N] knocked lightly on the door before opening it just enough to talk through. 

“Decent?” she asked and waited for a response before entering.

“Yeah, good,” Dean replied. Once she was in, he approached the idea of a shower. “So, what are the chances I’m healed enough to take a hot shower?”

“I doubt you could stand on that long enough without support of some kind.”

Dean groaned and rolled his head back. “Dammit. I feel like I’ve been slimed. Just, head to toe gross. You know?”

“Yeah, I can imagine. I could pull a kitchen chair into the bathroom, you could give yourself a sponge bath at least.”

Dean bit his tongue from replying with some half sarcastic, half flirtatious comment. “I’ll take what I can get.”

“I’ll set it up for you, then I was going to get a fire going. Wanted to see if maybe you wanted to venture from the room today. Seems like maybe your fever broke overnight. Getting up and moving around would be good for you; a little of it, anyway.”

“I’m all for it,” he smiled, genuinely excited for both the change of scenery and the chance to spend more time with her. 

“Great. We really need to figure out a plan here, too,” she said softly followed by a side-eyed glance that didn’t go unnoticed by Dean. He even thought maybe, she looked a little disappointed. She wasn’t always the easiest person to read and he had only known her through fevered days so far. Despite all that, Dean could feel his sharp senses returning, and they were telling him this girl was one he could both count on and trust.

[Y/N] disappeared into the bathroom, and could be heard moving some things around, then reappeared. She seemed like she was about to speak when they both heard it. 

A running motor. The sound of a door being slammed closed. 

“Shit!”

Her eyes went wide with fear, and Dean felt his heart sink but his survival instinct kicked in. As quickly as he could move, he twisted his hips and let both legs fall to the floor. Standing quickly, a little too quickly, the wounded leg instantly buckled, but [Y/N] was right there to catch him. Dean slung an arm over her shoulders as she helped him limp across the floor.

“What? Do you know who it is?” he asked through the bolts of pain that coursed up his body from the sudden movement on his leg.

“Yeah, it could only be Derek,” she said, her stomach instantly going sour. 

“Derek?”

“My finance. Also, prison guard a Green River.”

“Well shit,” Dean huffed as she opened the bathroom door and nearly shoved him inside. “Talk about a coincidence.”

Ignoring his quip, she tried to think about what was her best course of action. “The linen closet is deep enough for you to stand in. Go in and shut the door. It can be locked from the inside. Lock it and not a sound,” she whispered desperately. 

Dean nodded and limped his way carefully to the linen closet. [Y/N] dashed about the room, cleaning up any remnants of the escapee’s presence and tossed it under the bed. Her heart was racing, her hands were trembling with fear; not just for Derek possibly discovering Dean, but for her own safety as well. 

Just as she finished hiding the evidence, and stepped into the kitchen, the front door to the cabin opened and the man she least wanted to see was making his entrance.

“You forget how to answer your phone all of a sudden?!” he barked, taking several hulking steps through the living room and into the kitchen.

“You know I don’t get service up here,” she replied calmly, an amazing feat given how badly she was shaking internally. “What do you want? Why are you here?”

Derek snorted in exasperation. “Are you dumb?! Didn’t you hear the CB at least?”

[Y/N] refrained from responding harshly, knowing it would only set him off more. “I may have been outside. Or on a supply run. What’s so important that I have to know?”

“Prisoners escaped. Two of ‘em,” he replied and rubbed a hand over his face down to his beard, something he only did when he was frustrated. Letting his hand fall back at his side with a slap against his outer thigh. “Pack your shit, I came up here to bring you home. No reason that you need to be up here with two escapees on the loose and weather rollin’ in.” 

“Haven’t seen a sign of any escapees this far out,” she shrugged absently, going about unloading the extra supplies she had grabbed when she went to town earlier. This didn’t go unnoticed by Derek. 

“Seems like quite the stockpile for one person for a weekend,” he grumbled, eyeing up the box of supplies on the table. “Might as well put them all back in, 'cause you’re leaving with me now.”

[Y/.N]’s head whipped around and up to meet Derek’s dark and brooding gaze. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Yeah, it’s why I’m here. You didn’t answer, so I came to get you. This is no place for a girl to be, especially alone, with two escaped felons on the loose.”

Derek grabbed her arm roughly, but her quick reflexes kicked in before he could solidify his grip. 

“First off, I am not a girl, I am a perfectly capable woman. Second, don’t you ever grab me like that again. I warned you, Derek. I am not going to be some pushover you can boss around.”

Their eyes locked and for a brief moment, she didn’t know if he would relent or go to grab her again, so she prepared herself just in case. Derek’s large frame relaxed as he backed off, pulled out one of the kitchen chairs, and plopped down into it.

“What the Hell are you doin’ up here [Y/N]. Ain’t nothing up here for you but a bunch of cobwebs and bad memories. There are two escaped felons, and we ain’t talkin’ bout no drug charges or simple B ‘n E. They were in for murder… grave desecration. These are two really sick sons of bitches. Weather’s rollin’ in on top of it. Just seems dumb to be up here when it ain’t necessary.”

[Y/N] went back to unpacking her supplies midway through his exasperated rant. Doing her best to ignore the word murder, she did her best to focus on the supplies and ignore Derek’s concentrated gazed watching her every move. 

“But yet, you’re still unpackin’. Do I gotta call your daddy? Get him up here to put you in your place?” Derek asked his questions and averted his eyes, keeping them transfixed on the side of the box before slowly bringing them back up to see the fear he had hoped to see on her face. When there wasn’t a trace of it, his brow furrowed and he tilted his head curiously. “What? Preacher Steve doesn’t put the fear of God in you anymore?”

[Y/N] snorted a laugh and took out the last can of tomato paste before she finally turned back to give him her full attention. She leaned in, dangerously close to her fiance and knew that what she was about to say could earn her a pop in the mouth. But something about spending the last forty-eight hours with Dean Winchester had somehow instilled the ability to not give a fuck.

“Fuck. You,” she whispered, a slight, rueful smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I’ll be back to town when I fucking feel like it. If you’re bored, Derek, call Rita from work. I’m sure she’ll be more than happy to assist you with whatever you need. Now, get out.”

Her knowing glare unnerved Derek, making him shift uncomfortably. He waited another beat and stood from the old wooden chair that groaned gratefully as he removed his hefty size from its worn frame. He wanted to say something--drew in a breath to do just that--but the crackle of the radio he wore on his hip made him stop, and simply expel the air in a huff and reach for the walkie as the voice on the other end was unintelligible when mixed with the static of the shitty reception.

“I’ll go. But I won’t be gone long. When I come back,  you’re coming home.” As he went to leave, he was about to press the button to reply, but paused and turned back around. “If you see or hear anything suspicious, you pick up the damn CB and call me!”

Ignoring his command, she turned her back to him and started putting away the cans of food into the pantry. 

“Did you hear me?!” he bellowed, making her shoulders stiffen and a shiver at the sharpness of his tone run down her spine. 

“Yes, Derek,” she replied without turning around. Gripping the counter with white knuckles, she waited until she heard the slam of the front door before exhaling the breath she didn’t realize she was holding it. 

“Goddammit,” she whispered and let her head fall between her shoulders. The entire interaction left her feeling cold and lost in a place she hadn’t gone to in years. But now, thanks to the man she was supposed to be marrying, she was knee-deep in memories that clawed at her insides to come spilling out. 

[Y/N] didn’t hear Dean emerge from the bathroom, nor did she hear him limp his way across the bedroom, then out into the kitchen. She was so lost in the recesses of her early years on the Earth, that she didn’t even feel his presence until he was standing right behind her. She didn’t jump or scare, she simply looked up into his furrowed, curious brow, and kind green eyes, and laid her head against his chest. 

“You heard all that?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah,”’  he rasped, “I heard. What I don’t get is why the Hell you would marry a douchebag like that.” 

“Long story, not one I particularly feel like telling at the moment.” She regrettably moved her head off his chest and caught his briefly caught his gaze. 

His eyes were slightly narrowed on her, his brow still showing lines of concern, and his full lips were set in a contemplative pout. She thought maybe the instinct to rest her head on him had soured him towards her. 

“Sorry,” she said, feeling suddenly stupid and quickly busying herself with the task at hand. 

She saw Dean wobble from the corner of her eye and dropped the cans she was holding onto help steady him. He draped an arm around her shoulder and she when she helped him sit in one of the kitchen chairs, he passed her a grateful smile. 

“Sorry for what?” he asked, wincing at the pain radiating from his leg. 

She crouched down and saw the fresh blood coming through the leg of his pants. “For… I don’t know… a moment of weakness I guess. One of your stitches popped,” she said changing the subject. “Sit tight. Let me get the first aid kit and patch this up. Then maybe I can wrap it and you can get that shower.”

[Y/N] started walking into the bedroom to retrieve the supplies that had been kicked under the bed in a rush when Dean reached out and caught her wrist. 

“Hey, you have nothing to say sorry for. Everything you’ve done for me…” he trailed off and shrugged, his expressive lips pushing up into a small, cocky smirk. “...least I can do is give you a place to lay your weary head.”

She snorted a laugh and shook her head. Despite his pallid complexion and current pain levels, Dean was flirting with her. Whether it was just to elicit a smile after the recent encounter with Derek, or because he was genuinely flirting, she didn’t know. Truth is, she didn’t care. She liked having him around and realized then and there that she would do whatever she had to in order to help him get better and get back to his brother.

Everything Tags: @sorenmarie87 // @yallgotkik

SPN Tags: @kazosa // @wings-of-a-raven // @closetspngirl // @idreamofplaid// @screechingartisancashbailiff // @linki-locks11 // @winchesterxfamilybusiness// @spnhollis // @sandlee44 // @stoneyggirl // @clarinette07 // @negans-wife // @deans-baby-momma // @hobby27 // @breereadsthings // @katehuntington // @81mysteriouslyme // @mrswhozeewhatsis // @deathofmissjackson // @lauravic // @aomi-nabi // @akshi8278 // @whereismyangel-damnitdeanshare// @coffeebooksandfandom // @rebelminxy // @22sarah08 // @fictionalabyss// @adoptdontshoppets // @blackcherrywhiskey // @babypieandwhiskey // @maddiepants // @lefthologramdeer // @his-paradox // @unlikelygalaxygiver

[summahsunlight]

We Belong to the Stars, CH. 18

Rating: Mature (18+ only)

Word Count: 2296

Pairings: Poe/Evelyn (OC)

Characters: Poe Dameron, Leia Organa, BB-8, Kaleb Skywalker (OC), Evelyn Skywalker (OC), Karé Kun, Iolo Arana, Snap Wexley, Jessika Pava

Masterlist / Read on AO3

By morning the humidity had not broken on Scarif.  Poe woke alone in the sleeping bag.  He wasn't surprised that Evelyn had snuck back to her tent last night, after all, they really were trying to be discrete.  He smiled to himself, still tasting her in his mouth, still smelling her on his skin, and he felt a rush of heat recalling how her body had felt wrapped up and around his.

Finding his discarded clothing, Poe dressed and slipped out of his tent. At the edge of the beach they had set up camp on he caught sight of Evelyn sitting in the sand, watching the waves crash against the shore.  She'd redone her hair into a braided bun, leaving no evidence behind that he had totally mussed it up last night. Eventually they were not going to be able to hide it that they were back together, but for now... he was rather enjoying the secrecy of it all. 

"Hey princess," Poe greeted, sitting down in the sand with her.  "Are you the only one up?"

"I am," Evelyn replied, smiling sweetly at him. "Guess our teammates aren't early risers."

Poe gently grasped her chin in his hand and stroked her cheek with his thumb. "I'm glad they're still sleeping; gives us a few more seconds to just be us." He pressed his lips to hers in a soft, tender kiss. "I'm really glad you invaded my tent last night."

Evelyn laughed, softly.  She had no idea what was going to happen when she crept into his tent last night; she'd had an idea of what she wanted to happen... but there had been no guarantee Poe would go along with the plan.  "I know it wasn't the next time we were in a bunk... but a sleeping bag worked just fine I think."

"It was with you so anywhere would have worked just fine," Poe whispered, his lips brushing against her pulse point. 

"Mmmmm," Evelyn hummed. "Why am I not surprised by that?"

Wrapping his arm around her waist, Poe pulled her towards him and crashed his lips against hers, kissing her hungrily. She melted into the embrace, her hand running over his chest and then gripping his tank top.  It was amazing how quickly they forgot where they were, what they were really doing in this place, when they were together like this--until they heard BB-8 whistle shrilly behind them, reminding them that he was tired of keeping their kissing a secret.

Poe laughed, softly and when the droid screeched at him, he put his hands up in defeat, sliding away from Evelyn. "Okay, okay," he said, appeasing BB-8. "I promise, you won't have to keep it a secret much longer, and we'll make sure not to do this when you're around."

BB-8 didn't sound convinced as he rolled away back towards the camp. 

Evelyn watched him go, turning her eyes to rest on Poe's face.  She reached out and played with his curls. "You know, it really isn't fair that we're asking BeeBee to keep secrets. It's probably against his programming."

"Probably," Poe agreed, with a smile. "He really is the best droid--and to think the Navy thought I was crazy for picking him."

"Why's that?" she questioned, fingers still lingering in his damp hair.

"Too skittish," he replied, honestly. "However, bb units have incredibly loyal subroutines--if treated the right way."

"I believe it; if a droid can love--that droid loves you."

"He can love. Trust me."

"How do you know that?" Evelyn countered, a soft smile gracing her features.

"Because, I see how he follows you around," Poe replied, laughing.  

She tossed him a teasing grin. "Are you jealous of your droid, Poe?"

He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. "I might be... just a little...after all, he gets to follow your gorgeous body around."

Evelyn laughed, playfully punching his shoulder. "You're so weird."

Poe grinned at her. "Sure... but it's all apart of the charm, sweetheart."

The sound of footsteps in the sand, and then a shadow cast over the beach, alerted them to the fact that they were no longer the only two awake. Paige and Jess sat down in the sand with them, offering cups of caf--or what was passed off as caf in their ration packs.  

"Hope we have better luck today," Jess murmured, sipping her caf and making a face. "Gods, this stuff sucks."

"Don't worry--the real stuff will be waiting for us back on base," Poe promised her. 

"Well, then we better find that transmission today," Jess retorted. 

"What's the matter, Pava? Don't like sleeping in a tent?" Paige teased.

"Come on, Tico, who does?" 

"I don't know; I don't see Poe or Evelyn complaining."

Jess threw them a cheeky smile. "Maybe that's because they didn't sleep last night."

Paige wouldn't have believed it, however she saw both Poe and Evelyn visibly react.  Their eyes quickly darted away, and color rose to both their cheeks. Everyone on base was talking about them; it wasn't like their romantic feelings for one another were a secret.  Finishing the rest of her caf, she glanced at the commander for a moment, and she smiled, silently to herself--there were going to be a lot of women back on the base disappointed and heartbroken...

Poe stood up, and cleared his throat. "We should probably get Snap up and get a move on. The longer we stay here on Scarif, the more of a chance that the First Order is going to track us and come after us. I don't know about you--but I'm a little tired of being shot at."

"Anything, BeeBee?" Poe asked, hopefully, wiping the sweat from his brow. When the droid responded negatively, the pilot sighed.

"We've been at this for almost two days now," Evelyn said next to him. 

"Dane must have gotten his information wrong," Poe countered, angrily. "Either that or this is punishment."

Evelyn cast her eyes downward, looking at the fern covered jungle floor beneath her. "I'm sorry, Poe."

Poe glanced at her while he put the panel back on the latest tower they had checked. "For what, exactly?"

She still refused to look at him; she wasn't sure why, but she suddenly felt guilty. "For the way Jas treats you; it's not fair. He's only doing it because of me."

He chuckled and reached for her chin, tucking it upwards and forcing her to look at him. "Evie. He wouldn't have liked me regardless of my relationship with you. So, you don't have anything to apologize for." 

"Dameron," his commlink crackled with Snap's deep voice, "we found it. Can we please get the hell off this planet now?" 

"Great," Poe responded, feeling an immediate sense of relief. "Head back to camp, pack up; Evie and I will meet you there. And Snap?"

"Yeah, Poe?"

"I owe you a drink, man."

"I'm gonna hold you to that promise, Dameron."

Evelyn laughed along with Poe as the commlink closed.  Poe placed the device back in his utility belt and ordered that they head back to base camp.

BB-8 was the one that bleated a warning even before a man and two stormtroopers emerged from the jungle.  "Just a minute, Commander," the man said. He wasn't too tall, broad shoulders, dressed in all black armor. His head was shaved all around, except for a narrow patch of gray on the top of his skull.  "I'd like to speak with you and Miss Skywalker."

Poe wasn't sure where the First Order agent and his men had come from; it didn't matter.  Keep Evie safe.  Instinctively Poe stepped in front of Evelyn, pulling his blaster. "Listen, I don't know what you want, or where you came from... but I'm not in the mood to play games, pal."

The agents were not phased by Poe pulling his weapon; non of them even flinched. "Good, neither am I, Dameron," the lead agent said, smiling maliciously at the two pilots.  He gestured towards Evelyn. "I'm here to escort Miss Skywalker to the Supreme Leader's ship; he wishes to meet her."

"I don't make it a habit to go with strangers," Evelyn snapped.

"Forgive me, Miss Skywalker, where are my manners--I'm Agent Terex."

"And forgive me, Agent Terex, but I'm not going to see the Supreme Leader. I have no desire to meet him."

Terex quirked an eyebrow, an amused twinkle in his eyes. "I think you misunderstood, Miss Skywalker, you do not have a choice in this matter. I am here to take you to the Supreme Leader."

Poe clenched his jaw and raised his blaster. Like hell these agents were going to take Evelyn away; they were going to have to get through him first. "Over my dead body," he growled, making brief eye contact with Evelyn.  He nodded his head so subtly that no one would have noticed if they didn't know to look for it; but she did.  The silent communication passed between them unbeknownst to Terex and his men.

"Believe me, Dameron, that can be arranged," Terex replied, annoyed.  He waved his hand. "Dispose of him."

"Now, Evie!" Poe shouted, dropping down low so she could get her shot off.

The blast that shot forth from Evelyn's weapon took out the first solider; the second one was taken down by Poe. He threw his leg out in a scissor kick, taking Terex down to the ground. Rolling away from stunned the First Order agent, Poe leapt to his feet and grabbed her hand.  The pair took off through the jungle, BB-8 and CB-2 rolling furiously behind them.  

Poe pulled his commlink, knowing that running at this pace through the jungle was highly dangerous--since they could set off a mine at any moment--he ordered Black Squadron to get into the sky.  They had what they came for; it was time to go home.

With no time to dress in full flight gear, Poe tossed his helmet own and practically vaulted into his fighter.  "Black Leader to all wings; report in."

"Black two, standing by," Snap reported. "We better hurry, Dameron. Sensors indicate we're not alone."

"Black three, standing by," Jess sounded off next. "Stars, I hope this information is worth it. I'm tired of running for our lives every time we go out there."

"Black four, standing by," Evelyn said after Jess, tightly. "If it's not, I get first dibs on punching Dane in the face."

"Paige, how are you holding up?" Poe questioned before she could report in.

"Anxious, terrified, any other word you can think of to describe fear," Paige reported.

Sighing, Poe lifted his x-wing into the air, watching as his squad did the same. "Okay, form up around me; Paige just follow Black Squadron's lead. We're gonna get us all out of this, okay?"

Paige muttered something that he didn't quite pick-up over the comms. Black Squadron had other problems than to be worrying about what she had mumbled--waiting for them in the space around Scarif were two Star Destroyers and their full arsenal of TIE fighters.  "Kriff," Paige cursed, and this time the entire squad heard her.

Poe flipped a few switches on his panels.  They needed to get out of this system and fast. "Evie, fall back with me.  Snap, Pava, Tico--make the calculations for light speed.  We'll hold them off."

"Two of against all those TIEs?" Jess sputtered. "Kriff, Poe, you are crazy."

"Listen, I've done this before," Poe responded, cutting his fighter into a tight swaf and firing. He hit his target dead on.  "I'll be fine!"

"One of these days, you won't be fine," Snap drawled. "Eventually even your good luck will run out." 

"There's a good chance you're right, Wexley, but it ain't happening today!"

Paige screaming over the comms alerted the others that she was in trouble.  The TIE fighters had quickly figured out that she was the weakest pilot out of all of them and had surrounded her.  She had taken fire and one of her engines had flamed out.  "My droid is working on it, but I can't shake them!" 

Poe swung his fighter about, ordering Evelyn to join him. Snap and Jess were close to making the jump to light speed.  If we can just get to Paige... we can blow those TIES on her tail and get the hell out of here, Poe thought as his finger brushed against the trigger. "Hold on, Tico, we're coming. Snap, Pava, how close are you to making the jump?"

Jess answered, sounding annoyed. "Thirty seconds.  But we're not leaving you, Poe.  So, blast those TIES and let's get the kriff out of here!"

"We are not having this argument again," Poe hissed. "You jump when the calculations are complete." 

Jess and Snap didn't listen to his order.  If he could have, Poe would have thrown his hands up in defeat.  I don't know why I bother giving orders.  "Evie? Where are you?" he asked into the comms, knowing that he didn't have time to argue with the others--the TIES were relentlessly closing in on Paige, like a swarm of wasps he'd once encountered as a child on Yavin. 

Evelyn's fighter pulled up on his port side and together they split the enemy fighters in pursuit of Paige. It was not a move they often practiced in drills--hell, Black Squadron barely had time for drills--it was a move that showcased how in-tune they were when flying. Without even communicating, the two fighters broke apart, taking the various TIE fighters with them--and off of Paige's tail. 

Black Squadron sailed underneath the belly of one of the Star Destroyers, and then once they were clear of the massive ship, simultaneously disappeared into hyperspace.

[kneipho]

Title: Squeeze (Part 2/4: Hot Soup by kneipho, 2004)  A ST: Voyager fanfic. Updated and reposted by request for Fanfic Anon

Thank you. It is nice to be remembered.

–

Notes: “Squeeze” takes place after “Mortal Coil,” but before, “Thirty Days.” Contains mild spoilers for, “The Learning Curve,” with special acknowledgment to, “Microcosm.”

Summary  An away mission goes awry.  

Link to Part 1 

Disclaimer: Star Trek and all of its subsequent incarnations, (including Voyager ) are the property of CBS Corporation and Paramount Pictures. No characters belong to me. No profit made. No harm intended.

–

Squeeze, 2/4: Hot Soup

He panicked at first. When he could not find his footing in the darkness, Commander Chakotay went a little wild. He thrashed around aimlessly for a few seconds or so, his hardy appendages slowly turning about like the rusty arms of an abandoned windmill before reason kicked in. He was not dead  —not dying. He was alive —alive and slowly paddling about in some sort of quasi-gelatinous substance in the dark.

Goo. He was swimming in chunky, liquid goo. Chakotay expelled a rattletrap sigh. Obviously, something had gone wrong during the transport. Where the hell are we?

Shouting into the comm-link of his space-suit, he attempted to hail the captain, ears adjusting to a continual clamoring gurgle that seemed originate from all around. He repeated the exercise several times to no avail, then switched channels and called out for Harry.

“I’m here, Sir!”

A shimmer of light passed over his face. He aimed his wrist torch toward the radiant glow to find Harry Kim floating, ghost-like, less than three-hundred centimeters away. 

Chakotay nodded toward the floating ensign, and redirected his torch —in oval and counter-clockwise; starting above his head and ending down below his feet. It was a slow process; the bemired atmosphere hampering his movements, impeding the operation. We’re housed in some kind of chamber, he postulated, squinting about in the murky dim.

The area was sizable, but not enormous, roughly circular and less than twenty square meters all the way around. He could barely make out the impression of borders and was unable to analyze the texture of the walls. Harry was also endeavoring to scan the area, possibly to discover a way out. Janeway was nowhere in sight. “Maybe she made it back to the ship.”

“I’m sorry, Sir?”

Chakotay hadn’t realized he had spoken aloud. “Looks like the captain made it back to the ship.” The utterance rang with more conviction than he actually felt.

“I hope you’re right.” the ensign replied. “Commander, something’s wrong with my tricorder.”

“Mine, too.”

“I can’t get any decent readings.”

“Keep trying anyway.”

“Aye Sir. Sir?”

“Yes?”

“Do you have any idea where we are?”

“No. Well, maybe. I can’t say with certainty, but I think we may have transported into the mineral quagmire we were investigating on the surface.” Harry made a face. Chakotay continued, “From the looks of things, we may be inside one of the those enclosed pockets of sludge we detected below the top layers of the marsh.” ”

“Great. That would explain… the decor.”

“Be grateful we can’t smell anything through our suits.”

“If you’re right about our location… all we have to do is rupture the top… of the pocket’s membrane… and then make our way… to the surface.”

Chakotay’s eyes lifted from his tricorder. Harry was panting, his skin green. “Check your oxygen levels, Mr. Kim,” he ordered. “Now. ”

“Oxygen levels are… within… normal levels…”

“Mr. Kim?”

“Ohhh boy.”

“Ensign!  Are you all right?”

“Commander— ”

“Speak up. Are you going to be ill?”

“I feel… dizzy.”

“You look like you want to retch, son. I told you not to eat before we went out on this mission. Mom didn’t pack you of change of clothes.”

“And I thought we left…Tom… Paris… s-safely behind.”

“Watch it, now. You’re crossing the line.”

“S-sir!” The word formed between chattering teeth.

“What is it?”

“I, I’m hot. I feel really hot and… my skin…is c-crawling.”

“This climate must be affecting your suit’s environmental settings. Can you adjust the controls?”

“I th-think s-so.” Kim was visibly shivering, his body quaking with active tremors.

Chakotay paddled over and put his arm firmly around the ailing officer.

“You’ll be all right, Harry. We’ll figure a way out of this.”

There was a sharp crack, an unexpected, thundery sound, reminiscent of a rock smashing into paned glass. Chakotay flinched, staring wordlessly as the transparent panel of Kim’s headgear mysteriously crepitated, fissuring above the cheekbone to the edge in a weird spider-web shaped pattern. The young man’s face had reddened into an extreme flush, cheeks marbling over with streaks of white, giving them the look of raw steak.

Kim stiffened under the commander’s arm and fainted. Chakotay tightened his grip, the muscles in his arm and chest contracting into hard coils as he swallowed the bile rising from this belly. He forced his focus on the fissures. They were extensive but blessedly shallow. The helmet had not compromised, but it only a matter of minutes before the face-plate fully ruptured and collapsed.

It wasn’t long after, he realized they were sinking; being drawn down in an intermittent swirl of current he had been too distracted to notice. He released his grip briefly; reclaiming an arm as Kim began to sink —and pulled. Chakotay kicked with all his might, propelling upward; his movements hampered in the alien gumbo, battling to drag the unconscious man up behind him.

There was a second loud ‘crack.’ Chakotay’s vision clouded. He smelled and acid and… puke. His muscles began to tremble. His face itched. His head was growing light and his veins tickled abnormally —as if something foreign were wriggling inside them, fighting to get out. 

Suddenly, he couldn’t move. Kim’s body began to convulse. The commander couldn’t hold him.

This was bad. They needed to get out of there.

–

End Part 2  (Back to Part 1)

[applsauss]

Mors Ab Alto [8/8] - Act 3

Description: The shuttle dips below a large asteroid, a shadow rolling over the control panel, and when it pulls up, Krung Thep rises over the field like the sun, like you’re stepping out of cool water and into the sun - The city of angels.

Fandom: 
Gundam 00

Pairing: 
Tieria Erde/Reader

Word Count: 3.8k+


Warning(s): 
None.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- 

One year before the armed interventions. Union Zone, Rural Washington State.

       The moon is a violent red; It simmers high in the chalky, night air; a sliver of a crescent. Everything else is dark, cast in a blue-black shadow. 

The drive down the winding driveway is long, and the car bobs along with all the dips in the road. You don’t breathe easily until the house is out of sight, still shaking with emotion. Tieria is silent all the while - he never speaks unless he has something to say and you’re stuck between wanting to sink into the security you feel with him, and the fear that maybe, all this time you misjudged him and secretly, he’s misjudged you. When the air grows smokey the more the altitude drops, you say, “the west coast is always burning this time of year.”

Tieria hums, watching the road with attentive eyes, and drives through the smoke. You stare at him for a couple seconds more until your chest grows too warm, and then you direct your eyes to the dark cliff on your side of the car.

It’s a long three hours to the airport. The roads are winding, but empty and so the drive is smooth and it’s rhythmic; the way trees turn to houses, then stores, then a town, then houses and trees again, all the way until you hit the four-lane highway and Vancouver. Then you cross the water to Portland. 

You feel the press of the G-forces as Tieria peels off the highway onto the diamond interchange, and then you watch as the number of big, blue signs directing you towards the airport steadily increase. When you reach the airport, Tieria pulls off into the rental car parking lot.

He parks the car, then you both step out. You sling a backpack over your shoulder, Tieria pulls a small carry-on suitcase out of the trunk, and then he locks the car. 

You stand for a moment, stretch and yawn into your palm before you hear the wheels of his suitcase start across the concrete parking lot. His suitcase is sleek and white, and it reflects the light from the streetlamps as you trail behind him. You watch the way it bounces when it hits a crack and he jerks it loose, or how it mows over little weeds growing from between the concrete slabs. 

He passes a fluffy, white dandelion. 

You kick it as you pass and watch the seeds float away. When Tieria looks back to check that you’re with him, he doesn’t look like he wants to scold you. He’s matter-of-fact. It’s why you’ve always liked him.

The airport grows less abandoned as you approach the first terminal drop-off. What little stars are left melt away under the floodlights, but the dirty orange moon remains a crescent in the sky. You quicken your step to match Tieria’s as you pass the terminal. He keeps glancing at you, out of the corner of his eye, and when you catch him, he looks away so quickly all you see is the slight downturn of the corner of his mouth. 

You look down at your feet to watch the ground move past, and then he sighs and you jerk your head up again, only he says nothing. You roll your eyes and decide to take your focus off him for good when he opens his mouth again.

“I thought…” he starts suddenly. There’s a break in his speech before he continues, “that it was supposed to always be raining here.” He’s staring up at the sky, past the floodlights that tie you to the airport. Briefly, you wonder if he knows exactly where Lagrange Three is, and if he can see it from here.

“Not where we are. There’s too much wind in the gorge for weather to stick,” you say, “storms are in and out within minutes. but it does snow. A lot.” you smile a bit at memories of days spent up the mountain. “I never understood why Washington always had that reputation.”

“Do you miss it here?” 

“Yes,” you say without missing a beat. You don’t mention that sometimes, it’s all you can think about, just returning to the way things were, like a redo, only this time, he and Ian would be there and life would last longer and be better than it was.

Tieria thinks for a moment, then says, “I prefer space.”

“I know you do,” You laugh, and he looks taken aback, so you amend with, “It’s okay, though. It grows on you. Well, everything but the exercise routine. Sometimes I just miss walking.” 

The conversation lapses, and you take a couple more steps before he speaks again.

“I was raised… In Warsaw,” he tells you quietly. 

You look at him, wide-eyed at his sudden admission. “Poland?” 

“I was in the foster care system.” 

You’re momentarily blinded by a car pulling up to your left. Tieria scrutinizes it’s passengers and driver, even though they only seem interested in the exuberant conversation they’re tied up in. He always seems so intent, so suspicious. It’s necessary as a member of Celestial Being, but he’s always been on another level of taking-things-seriously.

“... Do you miss it?” 

He makes a face, then looks away from the people surrounding the car. “No. I’m here now. That’s all that matters.” 

***

Present Day. Lagrange Three, CB Shuttle craft. 

      You sigh heavily through your nose when you finally spoon the rehydrated spinach into your mouth. It’s lightly salted, positively limp, and it’s the best goddamn thing you’ve tasted in your entire life. Your eyes slide shut as you chew, and test the consistency with your tongue. When you’re done chewing, your tongue sneaks out to wet your cracked lips, and you taste copper, and then you take another bite. It adds to the flavour, you suppose.

“Ptolemy is down for the count. We just stripped all its terminals bare,” Ian explains, both hands on the controls, both eyes forward and true. He’s in the pilot’s chair, Selar is to his left, watching the radar, and you’re hanging back in the doorway leading to the cockpit, tired beyond repair, too gone to help.

Your eyes and limbs feel unnaturally heavy, and the more Ian talks, the more your high fades into a background hum. Loosely, halfheartedly, as you shovel the ration pack of freeze-dried spinach into your mouth, you keep yourself tethered to the conversation by looping your arm through the railing framing the entrance to the cockpit.

“We’ve been holed up in Krung Thep,” Ian continues, “Dynames and Nadlee were the only Gundams recovered, and we’re working with just four GN drives, but other than that, well, and…” He pauses, exhales quickly and shakes his head, “We’re in not too bad a shape.”

The wrapper you’re cradling crinkles, and Selar wrinkles her nose as you take another bite. You’re warm in the space suit you’d yanked on after the hospital gown wore out its charm, and you’re eating and it feels so good you could cry, but your chest is too heavy, and it’s so warm except for the chill on your face, creeping down your neck. Your grip on the spoon is clumsy through the gloves, and it’s so, so warm, like you’re standing in front of a fire with the only person you can seem to need close to you anymore, under the dark trees. 

The railing begins to slip free from the crook of your elbow, your eyes slide shut, and then you jolt awake, tightening your hold, sucking in a breath through your nose and resuming chewing, eyes wide.

“How’s…” You pause to swallow, “How is everyone?” Something is telling you not to let the silence settle, and so you find yourself pushing to keep Ian talking even though he’s done nothing but talk for you since he’d popped you out of that fucking coffin.

Ian pauses, and from the angle you’re at, you see his jaw clench, before he continues carefully. “As well as you’d expect. Sumeragi hasn’t left her room in days, Lasse is shacked up in medbay, and Tieria and Feldt -“

“How’s Mileina?” you ask, turning away, and then after a moment of thought, you look around for the water bottle you’d pulled out of the pantry after the spinach. You kick off the floor and snatch your water bottle out of the air, before sinking back down to your original position.

“Brilliant.” Ian smiles. “Perfect.” You lick your teeth, then take a quick drink.

“And Linda?”

“We’re all busy working on the plans for the next Gundams.”

You pull the bottle away from your face, barely managing to not squeeze the liquid out, while you stare, shocked, at the back of Ian’s head. Your gut twists, your teeth clench, and then you look away. Of course they’d already be working on the next Gundams, Aeolia Schenberg’s plan isn’t done just yet. You swallow thickly and suck your cheek between your teeth. The news catches you off guard anyways, and the wary thought that you might not want to return nudges its way into your head. “The Double O?” You ask when you find your voice again, trying to keep it level and uninterested, but it comes out quieter than you’d like.

You think of Washington, and of your childhood home, and of your mother and you think of returning to all of that with Tieria. Then you shake your head.

Neither Ian nor Selar pick up on your struggle. “Mhmm,” he hums, and you find yourself staring blankly out of the windshield as the shuttle weaves through Lagrange Three rather than focusing on him anymore. 

Around the shuttle, the void of space is black and the stars are bright and you recognize but don’t recognize the scenery because an asteroid field is an asteroid field, there’s not really anything unique about them. You’ve been in this exact spot millions of times before, though, either approaching or leaving Krung Thep for one of the orbital elevators, on leave, on Celestial Being’s dime.

The shuttle dips below a large asteroid, a shadow rolling over the control panel, and when it pulls up, Krung Thep rises over the field like the sun, like you’re stepping out of cool water and into the sun - The city of angels. The solar panels, its golden wings, are blinding. The asteroid it’s seated in is beaten and where the metal cuts through, unnaturally smooth. 

You squint as Ian radios in. You don’t catch the conversation, but distantly, you recognize Linda’s voice. Krung Thep is huge up close, towering, and the hangar doors are terrifying, like gates to the underworld. Selar quips something, her voice lilting, and Linda’s laugh is static when it comes through the speakers, and you can’t think, can only feel the apprehension rising in you because - because they’re already working on the next generation of Gundams. 

“Yea, and we got a little more than we expected, too,” Ian looks back at you, and you catch his gaze and try to smile. You suddenly regret eating - and you don’t want to step foot off this shuttle, even though hours before, the thought of Krung Thep was all that kept you going.

For a stretched minute, the shuttle is stalled near the entrance as the airlock is cleared, then depressurized. Your mind is buzzing with anticipation, fear, at being tossed head first back into Celestial Being, the knowledge of who and what was lost still heavy on your shoulders, the idea of being thrust back into another Gundam project making you hesitate, but Tieria is here. Tieria survived, and he’s here, and the thought makes you clench your fists and will yourself forward.

Krung Thep looms, like a tall house in front of you, and you’re standing in its shadow, but the porch light is on and this is all you’ve got. This is all you are, and maybe… Taking a stand for beliefs held is preferable to having all the decisions made for you. If you didn’t fight, then you’d be no better than every stale person left on Earth, taking a side through inaction, letting people who don’t deserve to die, die.

The hum of the engine surges quietly as the shuttle begins to putter forward, and you can’t do anything but watch as you’re swallowed into the familiar hangar, where just a year ago, The Ptolemaios had been docked, and Tieria’d forced you away from the broadcast of a protest that did nothing but stir up doubt, old hatred. 

Celestial Being is all you are, you burned the rest, and your hand is being forced.

“Alright, kiddo,” Ian pushes himself out of the seat and pushes past you. He turns to address you as he floats past, “you ready?”

“Yea,” you say quietly, quickly shoving your food items in the waste disposal unit behind you before trailing after Ian and Selar. They’re holding the ceiling as the door to the shuttle slides open, revealing the cavernous belly of Krung Thep, and you follow your rescuers out into the familiar territory, wary and weary.

Your whole world expands as you leave the confines of the shuttle, the ceiling and floor drop off, the walls are pushed back, and the only mass taking up space are the handful of shuttle craft Celestial Being operates out of. The whole place smells like space, sharp, burnt and metallic, and somewhere far above, a gaggle of haros are working on what looks like the remains of the GN arms, which are blasted beyond repair, the metal burnt and curled and your thoughts return to Lasse and Setsuna, wounded in battle, missing in action.

Linda is waiting across the gap on the catwalk, and she gasps, both hands covering her mouth when you approach. You can’t help the smile that lights up your face when you see her, and the syllables of her name are pulled kindly from you. “Linda,” you say, the smile working its way up to your eyes, and as soon as you reach the railing, she pulls you in for a hug. You can’t feel the warmth of her body through the suit, but her hair smells like strawberries and you feel yourself begin to tear up again when she sniffs loudly.

“Is this the surprise?” she chokes out, even though the answer is obvious. Quickly, she pulls herself back and puts both hands on your cheeks, swiping her thumb across the apple of your cheek and wiping a tear with it.

If you say anything out loud, you’ll break, so you hold your breath and nod your head, smile watery, and then she starts crying, her glasses fogging slightly as she tugs you back into another hug.

“Welcome home,” she murmurs and you nod and hug her back, pulling at her shirt while you try to calm your breathing. 

Your heart rate slows. You shudder, then after a few moments, you pull away. Ian grips your shoulder and gives it a wiggle, a bright smile overtaking his features, and you return it lightly, with tired eyes. The relief is clear on their faces, because you’re one less person to mourn for.

Ian and Linda leave you on the catwalk, then, loitering next to Selar, who also wanders off after a few beats, offering to take you the mess, and then excusing herself when you decline. She promises to get you some real food next time, return a favor long forgotten, and you both laugh - and then you’re left, sitting loosely on the railing, with your feet hooked between the slats and your arms crossed in front of you as you let the familiar setting talk over your murmur. 

You think briefly of searching out your old quarters, but the idea makes your stomach flip. You’d rather be frozen here, with Ian and Linda in sight, and in the quiet. There are too many thoughts in your head and you need time to sift through them all - and there’s always Tieria. You’re always thinking about Tieria. 

You hold a muted admiration for him in your heart, and when you were sure you were going to die on The Ptolemaios, he was the last thing you thought about, your last hope, your last dream, all you had was the memory of him, in the briefing room - of him, on the steps of your childhood home, of him outside an airport, telling you secrets not meant to be uttered aloud.

Ian and Linda are both by the shuttle, exchanging various technical terms you drown out with the rattle of your own breathing, and you let the popping of soldering irons and the chatter of haros lull you as you wait for them to finish up. You don’t have much to do but wait, and so you don’t do anything but wait, and think. 

The doors at the end of the catwalk open, and you turn your head, expecting to find Selar returning, maybe with some food, but your heart stops when you watch as Tieria drifts in, catching himself on the railing opposite to the door, clumsy with one arm, the other resting near his sternum in a loose sling. The air is punched out of your stomach. 

He’s got his sweater on, his favourite one, with the loose sleeves and the cinched waist, the soft, pink fabric pulling taught and folding as he twists his body, eyes wandering the hangar until they land on Ian and Linda, and then he pushes off towards them and you can’t move, jaw set, eyes dropped open and breathing shallow. You’re helpless, trapped behind glass as you watch him push off the railing towards you, his eyes following Ian and Linda as they head into the shuttle. 

He grows closer, and the details grow more numerous. His movements are stiff and controlled in a shaky sort of way. The left side of his face is red with shallow scratches. He’s wearing a crown of bandages and there are dark pockets under his eyes, and when he stretches his neck, you see more bandages peeking out from under his collar. 

The harsh lights sink through the open air in the hanger, bouncing off glass and giving metal a sheen, but when it reaches Tieria, he looks unaffected, surrounded by this soft glow, like he’s untouchable. 

Does he look at you in the same light? And does it even matter if he does?

His head is turning before you can react, and when you make eye contact, whatever words you could have come up with die on your tongue. 

He looks at you, momentum still kept, and his eyes widen, mouth dropping open, and he looks afraid. You realize you’ve never seen him look afraid. Your teeth clink with the force of you shutting your mouth. He stops himself roughly with a hand on the rail, but it’s awkward because he has to reach across his body because one of his arms is indisposed and though his expression doesn’t change, you see the way his shoulders flinch at the strain. 

He doesn’t say anything, just presses his lips into a thin line and glances fearfully to the shuttle Ian and Linda had disappeared into, then back at you, swallows, and squeezes his eyes shut, the shadow of his brow melting into the dark circles under his eyes until you can barely see his face anymore. His grip on the railing tightens until he’s shaking and you’ve never seen him so distraught except for when he punched Setsuna, and you hope he doesn’t punch you, too, because you’re beat up enough. 

You open your mouth to say something, but can’t breath and then, “Tieria,” you hear your voice, but don’t remember being able to speak. 

He jumps, then says, lowly, “Don’t.”

You can’t think of anything to say, and begin to panic, clamming up before he speaks again, more quietly this time. “You’re not real.”

Linda laughing loudly in the distance is the only warning you get before you remember why you’re waiting where you are. “Hey, (Y/N)!” Ian shouts your name poking his head out of the open shuttle door, and both you and Tieria jump and turn to him like you’ve been caught doing something you’re not supposed to. Ian immediately shuts up, looking between you and Tieria and - You turn back to look at Tieria, but before you can say anything a rough hand bounces off your shoulder, shoving you back into the railing and a body collides with yours. 

The air’s knocked out of you on impact, and you’re suddenly sandwiched between the railing and Tieria as he squeezes you closer to him, one of his arms trapped between you, the other wrapped firmly around your shoulders, his head bowed, shoulders bowed, legs between yours. You let out a shuddering breath, shock coursing through you, before you hug him back, arms looping under his, a leg squeezing his waist and another wrapped around his. 

“Tieria-”

“Don’t,” he begs, his chin pressing the metal collar of your suit into your collar bone, his breath warm down your neck. You shut up, staring wide eyed over his shoulder, and then a full bodied shudder wracks through him and it could just be the heat of his breath, but it feels like your neck is wet. You cling to him loosely, still unsure how to handle this sort of reception, mildly uncomfortable with the emotional response you would normally be spared from with him - confused at the sudden display of emotion, unsure how to take it.

He inhales audibly, his voice catching and turns his head, pressing his nose under your ear, a hand inching up into your hair and he’s crying - you realize distantly. The thought then hits you and you glide your hands up his back and grip his sweater above his shoulder blades, pulling him closer. “Are you okay?” you whisper just loud enough for him to hear. 

He doesn’t answer, doesn’t do anything to let you know he heard you except to minimally increase the strength of his hold, and you don’t say anything else. It’s not a desperate clash of emotions, it’s not all consuming, it just is. And so you just let it be, accept what is given and give what is accepted. 

You don’t have a dog or a house in the woods and Krung Thep’s hangar is nothing like speckled sunlight pushing through a bedroom window, but Tieria’s here, in whatever way he wants to be, can be, at the moment, and you suppose that even though nothing has changed that much, truly, between the two of you, this is a step in the direction you want to be headed in. It’s something you can accept, with open arms, and so you do.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- 

Masterlist in desc.

[laveritaswoman]

And the Award for Best Fake Offscreen Ship Between Two Co-Stars Goes to ...

Well ladies and gentlemen, the last four years have been a long, crazy adventure for SC shippers in the OL fandom. But on January 22, 2018, our shipper boat took a direct hit courtesy of a barely noticeable news brief in People magazine: OL’s leading lady CB “confirmed at the GGs” that she and “fellow Irishman” (*cough, cough*) TM are engaged and CB is “very happy!”  Very.  Happy.  And just so everyone (read: shippers) is clear on the timing, “she was first seen with (T) in 2015.” So I guess that’s supposed to mean they’ve been dating since 2015, right? But we have to guess at that because C hasn’t spoken to any other media outlet about T or her engagement, and has yet to post anything about it on her social media. She didn’t even mention it during on-air GG red carpet interviews on the very night she shared the news with People (apparently because People had the “exclusive”). Instead of talking about her pretty big life event (at least for most people) when she was asked “so what’s new,” she spent her on-camera time speaking about sending S home and the Time’s Up “blackout,” all while hiding her engagement ring from view. 

Hey, SamCait shipper sisters, how did we miss this? So C has really been with T for the last 2+ years and not with S? But, but, just … how? Well, “obviously” we weren’t paying attention! Oh wait, we were paying attention, but we thought SC were together — even though they denied a relationship — because their actions rarely matched their words. That and the fact that we noticed that C and S never really showed any interest in or paid any attention to their SO adjacents. So why were shippers, journos and many others led to the believe that SC were a couple, despite their words to the contrary? Well, ACTING, obviously. S and C are actors, you know, and pretty good ones at that. So what do I, as a shipper (or former, IDK) think about all this? If this CT engagement is TRUTH and S and C never had a relationship IRL or aren’t covering up one now, then SC deserve ALL the acting awards for making us think they were together offscreen as well as on. S and C truly and completely convinced me and thousands of others (yes, thousands ... just check @jamesandclairefraser followers) that they were SOs offscreen too. But why, if they are such stellar actors, didn’t they just play the part of “great offscreen friends and co-stars,” instead of showing so much sizzling, sexually-charged chemistry offscreen that many were convinced they were together IRL? Especially if they really, really wanted us to believe they were not together. Why was C able to play the offscreen good friends co-star part so convincingly with Tobias, but unable to do the same with S? We know Ron Moore would have probably approved of SC toning it down, because he did his level best to make the show about a “love triangle, not a JC love story. Why didn’t the show staff or their agents tell them to take it down a notch, that fans would still love them and TPTB would still approve of a “friendly friends co-stars” act as long as the high ratings and money continued pouring in?

And what about the other actors on the show? Surely, in countless interviews after the IFH, don’t you think Tobias — another great actor — would have observed SC sitting “no room for jaysus” close, grooming each other, making crazy flirty eye contact and little mouth pouts at one another, all the while telling reporters “we’re not together ... just great acting ... sorry fans can’t separate us from our characters.” Don’t you think that after at least one of these interviews, that Tobias -- a cool, forthright guy who S and C highly respect for his acting chops -- would have pulled them aside and said, “Hey guys, nice interview and you both showed great chemistry and the audience/interviewer loved you, but you may want to tone it down since some people are still convinced you two are together when you’re ‘obviously’ not.” I don’t think if Tobias said this to S and C that they would have said “Oh Tobias, you’re full of shit because we’re not misleading anyone. If our fans can’t see that our sexed-up off-screen antics are just an act, then they’re just crazy and delusional!” Why did joking jokers like Steven Cree and Richard Rankin just politely listen, smile, and not make one sarcastic remark on-air when SC launched into their loved-up innuendo at panels and Cons? Don’t you think a no-shit guy like Cree would have jokingly called them out during the interviews (or in tweets afterwards) by saying something like, “Since were talking awards season, I nominate S and C for the MTV Fandom Award for Best Fake Offscreen Ship Between Two Co-Stars.” If jokes like these had been peppered throughout interviews fairly regularly, it would have gone a long way toward getting people off the ship and preventing new ones from boarding. 

And why, even when she acted onscreen post-IFH with S and C, would Rosie Day tweet C this birthday greeting on C’s PUBLIC Twitter account in 2016: “@caitrionambalfe HAPPY BIRTHDAY! Hope you have the loveliest day … And @SamHeughan treats you like the queen you are” (followed by 11 interesting, some might even say, “suggestive of a relationship” emojis, including a heart, champagne and wine -- things you might have on a date, for instance)? Couldn’t Rosie have tweeted instead “Hope everyone on set treats you like the queen you are”? or “Hope #TonyMcGill treats you like the queen you are” (followed by suggestive emojis)? WHY did Rosie have to make C’s bday best wishes about S? And then C responded:  “Thank you honey xxx.” If C didn’t want delusional fans to get the wrong message, she should have tweeted Rosie back: “Thank you honey. My civilian SO and I have great plans for this evening.” That would have shut down all the shipper celebrations that ensued shortly after that tweetfest and still allowed C “privacy.” And they continued crossing the line into sexual innuendo, whistling and checking out each other’s “assets,” as well as knowing too much about each other’s personal habits (4 a.m. workout … no) and identical interests and likes (sancerre, Netflix and chill, banoffee pie). 

Come on, SC (or at least “Captain S”) had to know they were pushing things too far when shippers were shipping and tweeting them like crazy and every article was about their “amazing chemistry” and asking whether it was acting or for real. Again I ask, WHY DIDN”T ANYONE TELL THEM THEY WERE TAKING THE CHEMISTRY THING TOO FAR AND MAKING PEOPLE THINK THEY WERE TOGETHER IRL? And if people did warn them about this — hell, someone must have — why didn’t SC listen for years and years?  Oh, that’s right, anyone who would think they were together offscreen must just be crazy and delusional! No one with two wits about them could possibly be getting mixed messages ... and SC ALREADY told everyone in a joint interview in early 2016 that they weren’t together. 

And still, the innuendo went on and on. S saw no reason why he shouldn’t whistle at C’s butt on the T2 red carpet. And C didn’t see why she shouldn’t compare her co-star’s genitals to a beer bottle, or a shrimp. And they could call each other “hubby” and “wifey” in tweets. And why would SC fans ever think the cute little emoji’s in their tweets were flirty little sexual innuendos? Come on, S and C just liked to make their tweets more colorful-looking and interesting by adding eggplants, blowfish, shrimp, peaches, umbrellas and cake — no one should have read anything more into it. And don’t all female co-stars simulate checking their male co-star’s “balls” and post it on social media ... trying to drum up fan support for a fave charity? And god, no, why would anyone ever think that feeling up your co-star’s breasts during photo shoots (repeatedly), telling the world you don’t wear modesty patches while simulating sex, being captured for perpetuity in S1 of OL moaning your co-star’s real name, and tweeting whilst sitting in bed together might be inappropriate ... if you’re not in an actual relationship with one another? Apparently, S and C’s real SOs were totally chill all these years with their sexually-oriented offscreen antics, so why weren’t fans similarly chill? And because they said they were “obviously” not together and just bff co-stars, they saw no reason that they couldn’t publicly stroke, whistle, grab breasts and tweet each other in a variety of sexual ways (and oddly, no one accused them of sexually harassing each other and neither did they). Why would anyone misinterpret their actions and ship them together? But some of us did. 

So, in what “may” be the conclusion of a 4-year roller coaster ride for a shipperdom filled with elation, creative brilliance, forged friendships, disbelief, battles with anti’s and trolls, “delusion,” anger, and gaslighting, here is what may well be the final honor shippers and ex-shippers alike bestow upon SC: “Best Fake Offscreen Ship Between Two Co-stars.” Indeed.

[patriotnewsdaily]

New Post has been published on PatriotNewsDaily.com

New Post has been published on https://patriotnewsdaily.com/the-world-turns-on-joe-biden/

The World Turns on Joe Biden

The whole world seems to be turning on Joe Biden. While he and Kamala both have been seen to be attempting to laugh it all off, the recent actions with how his administration has handled Afghanistan have resulted in Republicans and Democrats alike questioning his ability to lead the United States, while leaders from around the world speak out against his decisions. 

Days after the former President Donald Trump held a massive rally in Alabama, Biden seems to be losing more and more support from here in America to the world abroad. While many want to see a return to true leadership from the United States, the current leadership seems to be continually failing in everything that they attempt to accomplish. Between rising inflation, the massive failure in Afghanistan, mask mandates, vaccine pushing, and the continual censorship and demonization of anyone who asks questions about anything, as well as his own continual refusal to let media question anything that wasn’t a pre planned question (how many times has Biden walked away when asked questions now?), people are beginning to see through the illusion of competence that has been portrayed since the beginning of his run for the presidency and well after and into seemingly becoming elected. 

In recent interviews, Biden has tried to shrug off his failures, even going as far as laughing at the situation he has helped create. In one of the most recent televised discussions, a reporter confronted Biden on his public approval. 

The reporter said to Biden, “Americans wanted to withdraw from Afghanistan, but they disapprove of the way you have handled it. The poll also found that based in part with what has transpired in the last week, the majority of Americans, forgive me, I’m just the messenger, no longer consider you to be competent, focused or effective in the job.”

Biden scratched his nose and said, “I haven’t seen that poll.”

The reporter followed by saying, “It’s out there. CBS this morning.”

Biden then began laughing at the thought from his podium.

During a brief from the White House, another reporter asked Biden, “Do you trust the Taliban?”

Biden then replied, “I don’t trust anybody including you. I love you but there’s not a lot of people I trust.”

Even ABC News is revealing its concerns. During a special report live broadcast, one of its reporters said, “This very much remains a disaster and one of the contributing factors here is when you listen to the president, he is saying things that simply do not comport with the reality that we are seeing with our own eyes.”

NBC News cut away from a White House briefing from Joe Biden as soon as the first reporter asked “what is your thought process” on Afghanistan. 

During a segment on Dan Bongino’s Unfiltered show, he called for the immediate resignation of Joe Biden, saying that, “The first message is for Joe Biden, our president in name only: You failed. You are a total, epic, colossal apocalyptic failure. You failed the American people, you failed our country, you failed our military, our Army, our Marines, our Air Force, our Navy, you failed the Afghan people, you failed our allies. You, you, you failed everyone. Because you were a coward. You failed. History will remember this as one of the most colossal, epic political failures in America’s history. And you did this. Not our military. You did this.”

Bongino continued, “And not only did you fail, when your failures became obvious to everyone, when we watched Afghans fall off planes trying to get out of a country taken over by medieval savages, you dismissed them, telling people ‘Don’t worry, it was just a couple of days ago’.

Bongino concluded, “Biden should resign immediately. Biden should have resigned yesterday, in fact, he should have resigned last week. Listen, that’s a serious message. I don’t take it lightly. If he doesn’t resign, Joe Biden should be impeached. I get what you are saying that we would be handing the country to Kamala Harris. Ladies and gentlemen, it can’t get any worse.”

Lindsey Graham agrees with this assessment, along with several other members of the Republican Party, sharing online that, “If we leave Americans behind, or if we leave thousands of Afghans who fought bravely alongside us behind, President Biden deserves to be impeached for a High Crime and Misdemeanor of Dereliction of Duty.”

Americans aren’t the only ones stepping up with messages against Joe Biden’s actions in Afghanistan. Czech president Milos Zeman says, “by withdrawing from Afghanistan, the Americans have lost their status of global leader.”

UK Parliament member Tom Tugendhat, who spent time himself fighting in Afghanistan, said, “To see their commander in chief call into question the courage of men I fought with, to claim they ran, is shameful. 

Chris Byrant of the Labour Party there stated that Biden’s recent comments are “some of the most shameful comments ever from an American president.”

A segment from Sky News Australia ended with an entire panel of reporters collectively laughing at Joe Biden. Speaking on how Americans have turned on Joe Biden and making jokes about his job and covering for the Hunter Biden laptop scandals, prostitution failures and art mishaps, they said, “Joe Biden says that Hunter Biden is the smartest person he knows… he’s dumber than a bag of rocks.”

They concluded the broadcast after laughing saying that, “The tragedy is, I suspect you were right, that Hunter Biden probably is the smartest person he knows. & there you go.”

No matter if anything changes with Biden being president, I personally still wonder if Kamala would be capable of doing any better. I miss the leadership of Donald Trump, but I know that many across the nation and world would disagree with that thought. The Arizona election audit is supposed to release information this week, but looking at the past with things like the Durham Report, who knows if anything will actually move forward. The future is unknown entirely, but the moment sure is a mess.

[northjet]

CBS Eye Speak Panel with: Maria Bello; Jennie Urman; Gina Rodriguez; Sonequa Martin-Green; Aline Brosh McKenna; Sara Ramirez; Lori McCreary.  Nina Tassler was moderating.

[roselesliesource]

CBS Launches « Eye Speak » and Special Season 2 Premiere Screening of The Good Fight

CBS Corporation today announced the launch of “EYE Speak,” a program designed to promote female empowerment and help forge a path of growth and opportunity for women in the Company as well as the entertainment industry as a whole. To launch the initiative, CBS Television Studios will host a kickoff event on March 14 in Los Angeles featuring a panel of some of the strongest female voices in front of and behind the camera. They include: Maria Bello (NCIS), Sonequa Martin-Green (STAR TREK: DISCOVERY), Sara Ramirez (MADAM SECRETARY), Gina Rodriguez (JANE THE VIRGIN), Lori McCreary (MADAM SECRETARY), Aline Brosh McKenna (CRAZY EX-GIRLFRIEND) and Jennie Snyder Urman (JANE THE VIRGIN). They will unite to share their personal stories and how each of them is helping to move the conversation forward. The launch event for “EYE Speak” will be in concert with the Association of National Advertisers (ANA) and its #SeeHer campaign. #SeeHer was created with the mission to portray girls and women accurately in media. The goal is for women and girls, by 2020, to see themselves reflected as they truly are. The “EYE Speak” kickoff event is part of CBS’ ongoing partnership with the ANA to promote the initiative’s mission. As part of “EYE Speak,” CBS plans to host events throughout the year, including mentorship programs and fireside chats for employees at various CBS campuses, where they will have direct access to CBS executives and high-profile women in all areas of entertainment. The company also will look to build themed events and programs around certain CBS series and creative talent to create more opportunities for learning and growth. To support the mission of “EYE Speak,” CBS Television Studios’ critically acclaimed series THE GOOD FIGHT for CBS All Access will host a special season two premiere screening at The Wing, a network of women’s co-working and community spaces, in New York on Feb. 26. The event will include an intimate discussion with the strong female voices of the series. Participating in the panel will be the series’ stars Christine Baranski, Rose Leslie, Audra McDonald, executive producer/showrunner Michelle King, and Brooke Kennedy, who serves as an executive producer and director. (source)

[thefeministherald]

The Eye is stepping up its support of women. Variety reports that CBS has launched Eye Speak, a program dedicated to advancing women’s careers at the network and providing opportunities for female talent throughout the entertainment industry. Eye Speak is the passion project of Jo Ann Ross, CBS Corp’s president and chief advertising revenue officer. “I am extremely proud to be associated with Eye Speak because it addresses my passion to help women at CBS learn, grow, and flourish,” Ross stated. “Fireside chats” with high-ranking women at CBS Corp will be among the initiative’s offerings. “The plan is to build themed events and educational programs around CBS shows and CBS stars,” the source details. Eye Speak will officially kick off on March 14 at a panel presented alongside the Association of National Advertisers’ #SeeHer campaign. #SeeHer is a project pushing for better representation of women and women’s issues on network TV by 2020. CBS actresses Gina Rodriguez (“Jane the Virgin”), Maria Bello (“NCIS”), Sonequa Martin-Green (“Star Trek: Discovery”), and Sara Ramirez (“Madam Secretary”) will participate at Eye Speak’s launch. Producers Aline Brosh McKenna (“Crazy Ex-Girlfriend”), Jennie Snyder Urman (“Jane the Virgin”), and Lori McCreary (“Madam Secretary”) are also set to attend.

[oosteven-universe]

Star Trek: Picard #1

Star Trek: Picard #1 IDW Publishing 2019 Written by Kirsten Beyer & Mike Johnson Illustrated by Angel Hernandez Coloured by Joana Lafuente Lettered by Neil Uyetake     You’ve seen the trailer... now, witness the events leading to CBS All Access’s Picard. Before he retired to his vineyard, Jean-Luc Picard was the most decorated admiral in Starfleet. Then one mission changed his life forever. The Countdown starts here!     Mike and Kirsten are back with a new limited series hot off the heels of Aftermath, last week, and while this might not be the exact creative team this by all means is just as talented. I went gaga over this first issue with how much we learn and see about what this is going to be all about. Also it was a stroke of genius and luck that Patrick Stewart agreed to be Picard once more. Honestly as much as I liked the rest of the crew Picard is the only one who is capable of actually sustaining something on his own.     This made me feel like I was welcoming back an old friend I hadn't been able to see in years. That feeling of being under a cozy blanket while lounging by the fireplace, yeah that's the one feeling I mean. I hadn't realised just how much I had missed Jean-Luc until I was reading this issue. Also his reputation and his way of speaking just all comes rushing back to us as we are introduced to what is happening here. The opening here is fantastic and starts to build a mystery of what exactly did happen that these two Romulan's are apparently arriving on Earth at Picards vineyard. Beautifully done and crafted throughout and Kirsten & Mike really do make a great writing duo for the Star Trek Universe and this helps to showcase why.     The story & plot development that we see through the sequence of events unfolding and how the information is released to the reader is exceptionally well done. The set-up here is marvellous and how the story flows through the events we see feels so incredibly right to me. The character development is impressive, mainly because they are taking such well established characters and moving them forward into the future and making them feel so much the same and yet so different. You can sense that they've got experiences we don't know about that have forged them into the characters we see here. The pacing is perfect as the ebb & flow that is created by seeing the twists and turns that show up are presented.     Angel and Joana do some wonderful work on the interiors here. The myriad of species that we see throughout with the inside of ships or new and wondrous planets the creativity and imagination on display really is ice to see. The linework here is great and how we see the varying weights being utilised to bring forth this attention to detail is beautifully rendered. I will say this, the Romulan's we see have a much scratchier approach to the linework than Picard and his companion and it doesn't look quite right. The utilisation of the page layouts and how we see the angles and perspective in the panels show a greatly talented eye for storytelling. I absolutely adore how the backgrounds are being shown to us here. They have this impact on the setting that is more powerful than I think anyone realises and they really make the idea of Star Trek so real here. Good grief the colour work is exquisitely laid down. The way that we see the base colour and then the hues and tones within it create the shading, highlights and shadows is simply stunning. ​     New characters, familiar characters and THE event that changes Jean-Luc's life forever are looming. The way this has been started and the tension it builds for what's to come is delicious. I had forgotten how much fun Jean-Luc can be and matching wits with a Romulan to ensure the safety of so many hanging in the balance with the clock ticking well God I have missed this.

[ramajmedia]

Big Bang Theory: 5 Theories About Penny's Last Name We Wish Were True (& 5 Truths)

Big Bang Theory ran on CBS for 12 reasons. The sitcom centred around the lives of five characters, Sheldon, Leonard, Raj, Howard, and Penny, with two additional main characters added in the later seasons, Bernadette and Amy, along with several other supporting characters and guest appearances.

Despite the intricate geek-speak on the show, since the friends were all science nerds working in physics, engineering, neuroscience, and other similar areas at Caltech University, fans loved the show, making it one of the most popular on television.

RELATED: Big Bang Theory: 10 Worst Things The Gang Did To Penny 

One exception was Penny, who was a waitress and aspiring actress turned pharmaceutical salesperson who wasn’t into Star Trek, Star Wars, and science like the others. But she was central to the story nonetheless. Yet strangely, Penny never had a last name. Why was that?

Many theories have floated around the Internet, especially since, even in the final episode, her surname was never revealed. Here’s a look at 5 of the most outrageous theories, and 5 truths about why we never found out.

10 Penny Was A Spy: Theory

One of the most outlandish theories suggests that Penny was actually a spy, sent to keep an eye on Sheldon and Leonard. It could make sense, given that they were both working on pretty important research that might interest the government. Indeed, at one point, they did find themselves recruited by the government for a project.

Some theorists even go so far as to say that this is why Penny steals their Internet. It isn’t because she can’t afford her own, but because it makes it easier for her to spy on them. This is just way too far-fetched for a sitcom, though.

9 It Wasn’t Intentional: Truth

The show had aired a number of episodes already, during which time we learned of the surnames of all other major characters, including Sheldon (Cooper), Leonard (Hofstadter), Raj (Koothrappali), and Howard (Wolowitz). Yet we had no idea what Penny’s last name was. In fact, on the IMDb page for the series, it simply shows “Penny” as though she was a minor character, even though she’s listed third on the billing.

Even Bernadette (Rostenkowski) and Amy (Farrah Fowler), who joined the cast later in the series, have surnames, as do supporting characters like Stuart (Bloom) and Bert (Kibbler). But the truth is that it wasn’t intentional to leave out a surname for Penny. It just sort of happened.

8 Penny Was a Stage Name: Theory

Penny did move to California with hopes of becoming an actress. So one theory suggests that not only do we not know her surname, but Penny wasn’t even her real first name. Rather, it was a stage name she adopted in order to get more acting jobs.

RELATED: Big Bang Theory: 10 Hilarious Penny Memes That Are Too Funny 

It would stand to reason, then, that if Penny wasn’t even her birth name, why would we even need to know her surname? If anything, we’d want to know her real given name. Of course, there’s no truth to this outlandish theory.

7 Producers Got Superstitious: Truth

After the show had been running for a while, producers realized they had never mentioned Penny’s last name. It wasn’t intentional, it just was never discussed and never ended up being written anywhere into the script. And after that, they became superstitious about revealing it.

“We got nervous and superstitious and giving her [a last name],” confirmed executive producer Steve Molaro at the Wondercon panel this past March. It really is as simple as that, though slightly troubling that there was reason to reveal the surnames of the other characters. It could also be that they worked in a formal educational system were many colleagues referred to them as Mr. Cooper or Mr. Wolowitz, whereas Penny, in the beginning, was a waitress who was only ever referred to by others using her first name.

6 It’s Johnson: Theory

Some fans in online forums swear that her last name was Johnson because it was revealed at one point that she married Zack Johnson in Las Vegas, not believing that it was real. If this was the case, then legally, her name would be Johnson, right?

Well, not really. Even if she did marry him, unless she actually filled out official name change documents, her surname would have remained the same. That said, others note that Johnson is the most common surname in Nebraska, where she’s from. So it’s entirely possible that Johnson was her last name anyway, before she even married Zack. But probably not.

5 It's Hofstadter: Truth

OK, so we technically don’t know if Penny ever had her surname legally changed to Hofstadter after marrying Leonard, which isn’t a requirement. These are the types of mundane details that aren’t necessary to show in a sitcom. Though it would have presented a great opportunity to reveal her maiden name.

RELATED: Big Bang Theory: 10 Biggest Twists & Reveals, Ranked 

Nonetheless, at the Wondercon panel in March, executive producer Steve Molaro confirmed that Penny’s last name “will always be Hofstadter.” Some have criticized this notion, saying it implies that Penny didn’t have an identity until marrying Leonard. But the truth is that she was Penny, and that’s her identity. She doesn’t need a last name to confirm it.

4 It’s Longbottom: Theory  

In addition to speculation about Johnston, some others report believing that the name was Longbottom. Yet there’s no reference to prove this and it seems to be nothing more than Internet lore.

The theory is that this name was indicated on episode transcripts, which someone, somehow got wind of and “leaked” the details. But again, this hasn’t been substantiated, so really, it could have been anything written on those early transcripts. Only a select few people actually know the truth.

3 Kaley Cuoco Doesn’t Want to Reveal It: Truth

Kaley Cuoco, the actor who played Penny for all 12 seasons, says she doesn’t really want to ever reveal what Penny’s last name was. “It’s kind of a personal thing,” she told CBS News in 2017. “It feels like a jinx. We haven’t said it for so long. I feel like if we said it, the world would explode.”

This implies that Cuoco knows what Penny’s last name is supposed to be, presumably having seen it in the original scripts. Either way, it sounds like fans will never find out.

2 She Doesn’t Have A Last Name: Theory

Like Cher or Madonna, some suggest that Penny simply doesn’t have a last name. Of course both Cher and Madonna, and every other one-named artist, actually have surnames. So this is one of the sillier of the many theories.

And in actuality, this “theory” was first presented by Kaley Cuoco herself, meant to be in jest. This was her response one time when asked about the mysterious missing name. The truth is that Penny did have a last name, as anyone would.

1 Kaley Cuoco Was More Concerned About the Elevator: Truth

While Kaley Cuoco, who plays Penny, seemed fine with the character’s surname never being revealed, as she noted in interviews prior to the final episode airing, there was one thing she did want to get resolved before the series came to a close: that darn elevator that was always  out of service in the building.

She got her wish, as in the final episode, the elevator was finally fixed, much to the shock and awe of Sheldon, who rode in it with Penny for what seemed like the first time. The running joke throughout the series is that the elevator was always out of service, leaving the gang to trudge up several flights of stairs to their apartments. The time they spent walking, however, was when many important conversations took place.

RELATED: Big Bang Theory: 5 Relationships Fans Were Behind (& 5 They Rejected) 

source https://screenrant.com/big-bang-theory-penny-last-name-theories-truths/

[itsfinancethings]

A video screen is of course just the place to meet up with Chris Wallace. That arched brow and knowing smile have existed as pixels since the 1970s, when he began a television news career that took him from NBC to ABC to Fox, where he has hosted Fox News Sunday since 2003. But the face on Zoom is not the strangely ageless one known to viewers, as indistinct at its edges as the features of an infant. Without makeup, Wallace even at 72 hardly qualifies as craggy. But at least there are lines on his face.

“I’ve always in my career been the Kid,” says Wallace, who at just 34 became NBC’s chief White House correspondent. “I’m kind of the elder statesman now, which I kind of enjoy.”

He’s been riding out the lockdown in his Annapolis, Md., vacation home, working out of the guest apartment above the garage. As he pans his laptop to the left, the largely vacant space appears to be draped with several pairs of dress pants–exactly the thing you don’t have to wear in quarantine. In fact, the fabric turns out to be bunched-up blackout curtains for a makeshift studio. This is a work space, and lately Wallace has been working on more than just the first draft of history.

The book is out June 9. Countdown 1945 covers the 116 days between Harry S. Truman’s becoming President and the destruction of Hiroshima. Its brisk, naturally propulsive narrative rotates among players that include Manhattan Project scientists, a B-29 flight crew and a 10-year-old Japanese girl who manages to survive a blast that 135,000 people did not. The idea for the book’s structure came from Jay Winik’s April 1865: The Month that Saved America, but Wallace didn’t know where his book would start until February 2019, when he found himself in the U.S. Capitol hideaway where, shortly after FDR’s death, Truman got a call from the White House, set down the phone and exclaimed, “Jesus Christ and General Jackson!”

“And at that moment, I thought: That’s it!” Wallace says.

As a work of history written by a Fox News personality, the book aims for the best-seller list long crowded by the ousted Bill O’Reilly, whose Killing series has sold millions. But Countdown also reflects the rigor and fealty to facts that have distinguished Wallace, and made him a bit of an outlier at the network that pioneered spin. Researching the book, Wallace was stuck by Truman’s “decisionmaking process.” The novice President famously owned all final decisions–a plaque reading the buck stops here really was on his desk–but decided only after soliciting advice widely. The question of whether to deploy the atomic bomb was mulled by a committee that included the president of Harvard, physicists Enrico Fermi and J. Robert Oppenheimer, and other great minds.

“The inclusiveness and the deliberateness of that process does seem to contrast with the way decisions are made these days,” Wallace says, naming no names. “I wasn’t looking to do that. But it became evident as I researched the book.”

Wallace may be the physical embodiment of the media establishment. His father was Mike Wallace, the feared interrogator of 60 Minutes. But his parents divorced when he was a baby, and Chris was raised by his mother and stepfather Bill Leonard, the CBS News president who oversaw the creation of 60 Minutes and much else in network news. Chris attended Hotchkiss and Harvard, and worked at the Boston Globe. His own stepchildren were fathered by Dick Smothers, half of the folk-singer comedic team that, via The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour in the latter 1960s, became a touchstone for a liberal sensibility that eventually enforced a new orthodoxy across the national media.

The anchor says Rupert Murdoch and the late Roger Ailes, who together created Fox News, “took a completely different view: ‘We think there’s a big untapped market out there that feels, Hey, I haven’t been getting the news, the news as they understand it, as straight news, ever. And that these three broadcast networks are all telling a version of the news, and it’s all very similar–as you say, one set of facts. But they’re not speaking to us’ … And that’s the secret to the success of Fox News.”

Wallace says he has never been pressured to toe any line at Fox, and still enjoys the independence Ailes promised when he was hired. Wallace held Vladimir Putin’s feet to the fire in a widely praised interview in 2018. And he points out that he recently confronted both Trump Administration officials and former CDC director Dr. Tom Frieden with uncomfortable facts. “I’m a contrarian,” he says.

“The problem is I think people want Fox to be one thing,” Wallace says. “It isn’t. It’s a lot of things. And I understand why that becomes uncomfortable or difficult for people.” He notes that after Trump claimed to be taking hydroxychloroquine to prevent COVID-19, it was Fox host Neil Cavuto who warned viewers, “It will kill you.” But in general, the line Wallace draws runs between news and talk. “I do what I do, I’m proud of what I do. What happens in prime time, they run their operation.”

The President is not a fan. In an April 12 tweet, he called Chris Wallace a “Mike Wallace wannabe … even worse than Sleepy Eyes Chuck Todd of Meet the Press (please!), or the people over at Deface the Nation. What the hell is happening to @FoxNews. It’s a whole new ballgame over there!”

Is it? Control of the parent company passed in 2018 from Rupert Murdoch to his son Lachlan, but Fox News remains (as well as the most popular channel on cable) so synched to the White House that it has faced complaints that it may bear responsibility for deaths that resulted from its amplification of Trump’s early dismissal of the virus.

What has changed is the story. Politics, being about perception and framing, comes with a builtin flexibility that’s visible by toggling between Fox and MSNBC. But science is nothing if not facts. And public health requires consistent, clear messaging to coax the behaviorial changes necessary to contain contagion. Wallace lists his recent guests on Fox News Sunday: Bill Gates, Johns Hopkins’ Dr. Tom Inglesby, Frieden and National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases director Dr. Anthony Fauci. “I want anybody who watches my show to have nothing but the facts,” he says. “Nothing but the science. And there’s plenty else out there, and I can’t control that. I can control what I’m communicating to people.”

What does he make of the current President? “Well, it’s interesting,” Wallace says. After sitting down with candidate Trump in October 2015, he recalls telling his Sunday panel the man could be elected. “They all looked at me as if I’d come in in tennis shorts.” What persuaded Wallace, he says, was Trump’s argument that globalism had left behind millions of Americans who felt Washington no longer cared about them.

To a student of the Fox News formula, it had a familiar ring.

“We can talk about the President,” Wallace says. “I have plenty of critical things to say about him. But he clearly speaks to a feeling out there that there is an ‘inside game’ that those voters are not part of and that nobody is looking out for them, and he is.”