#i can finish seasons next week at the latest on all of 'em

[queen-scribbles]

Uhm, yeah, about that...

...she kind of is an assassin 👉👈

[lovely-necromancy]

A Cure for Insomnia CH 11

“Did I meet your friends last night?” Kirby asked as he unwrapped his crunchwrap in the driver's seat.

“uuh...kinda? Like Toby was with me when I gave you the Surge but you sorta just ran off with it.” you pause as you sip a bit of your Baja Blast. “Like a fucking gremlin.”

Kirby lets out a snort and lettuce drops from his mouth. He tries to hide his messy eating behind his hand. Failing miserably, you can't help but laugh at your friend.

“Wha' bout the other two? Kieth said you ditched 'em.” For a man who was trying to cover up his mouth he sure had the audacity to try and talk with his mouth full.

“They're Toby's roommates, I haven't talked to them too much.” he nods as you speak.

“Well I promise I'll be more...together,” he makes a sort of questioning sound as he debates if that was the word he was looking for. He can't really think of anything else so he settles for 'together'. “next weekend. They are coming right?”

After a brief pause he gets his mind back in place, “This weekend, picnic's this weekend.” You chuckle.

“Toby said they'd stop by. Don't think any are really people people.”

“People people?”

“Yup” not going to let Kirby rile you up as he often tries. Not that he could with his current brain power. Sleep haze still has him in it's hold despite being “up” for about an hour now.

Out of everyone in your friend group Kirby is probably the one you're closest to. Along with being a fellow Ace he's an ambivert and you two just instantly clicked over dumb D grade monster movies. He jokes you guys must be long lost siblings. Well he only started the sibling thing because multiple Hornets or other members of the committee kept thinking you guys were dating. Since then Kirby takes to purposefully calling you some variation of sibling when he shows any type of affection. It seems even just being referenced to being in a relationship squicks him out. You don't mind though you'd always wanted an older brother and Kirby is the exact type you would've wished for. The funny dork who was super easy to get along with.

Even when he steals your nachos...like he is now.

“I'm starting to understand the Cain Instinct.” you say looking him dead in the eyes. He lets out a roar of laughter and reminds you he bought “breakfast”.

“Dad tax and all that.”

“You're not my dad! Ugly ass doodoo head.”

“Is that what that kid said? I don't think that's right.” another thing you share is constantly referencing vines or tiktok sounds.

This of course led to an argument of what the kid actually said in the vine. Both of you were determined to get home and look it up to prove the other wrong.

After your breakfast Kirby started the truck as you put all the trash into the Taco Bell bag. You switch on his stereo much to his chagrin. Kirby got a CD stuck in the radio and now the only thing he can listen to is a meme mix tape he made back in high school. It was funny the first two months for him and now he prays that the novelty will ware off on you soon.

Though it has been a few weeks since he last drove you anywhere, and what can he say Discord is always a bop.

Kirby drops you off without much fanfare, you both agree to seeing each other next week at the picnic. Is it ironic that you want to call out for him to get some more sleep? Like you are the one who's been up since five AM and it's now eleven. But you have a medical condition, Kirby is just over worked and stressed beyond Hell and back.

Getting inside you have nothing really planned for today and while you could start heading out to thrifts to find something formal for Jo's recital you really don't feel like it. Productivity wise you've already had a pretty busy weekend so no one can really judge you for taking it easy and just merging with the couch for the rest of it. Even you, you can be so tough on yourself sometimes.

British Bake Off is just the thing you need to enjoy the rest of your weekend. A calming low stress but funny baking show. Just turn your brain off and lose yourself in the soothing monotone of the judges. It's nearly six in the evening when you finally shake off your lazy day haze.

Getting up, bakers still baking, you start making a simple dinner. Fried egg on toast sounds good. Also a good balance to your supreme nacho breakfast from this morning. Dressing one slice of toast in butter and the other with butter, a little mayo, and a dash of Tabasco before placing the egg on it. You head back to eat and continue watching the competition. Your meal fills you and gives the energy you need to continue “leisureing”.

After an hour you get up and wash the dishes from earlier. And while you have no energy to actually play any of your video games right now you do want to log in for your dailies.

A quick trip to your bedroom has you grabbing your laptop before returning back to the comfort of your living room. Couch calling you to it's cozy embrace. You half pay attention to what you're doing as you set up your laptop, muscles running on muscle memory more than any conscious effort on your part. You hadn't even noticed your hands flickering across the board and logging into your email.

By the time you do realize you aren't on your game's site you see you have a new email. It's from Barclay.

'Coming to ask for my help?' you think a little too smug that you'd been right about the cooking being too much for the man.

However, that wasn't what he was messaging you about. It seems he and Leo had been talking and the old man mentioned what your plans for cooking were.

Shortie,

Leo says you're making forager's pie for the picnic. Seasons ripe for ramps and mushrooms. You in for a little adventure through new unexplored territory?

...I'm hunting some lobster mushrooms, could use a hand or two Will share the bounty. ~Barclay sent 12:04 PM

An olive branch in hopes you weren't too sore about his rejection from earlier this week. The message and sentiment is lost on you since you got over that Thursday.

The idea of new terrain makes you a bit uneasy, however lobster mushrooms were pretty good and forage finds were really rare. Barclay grew up in these woods he probably knew what he was doing, not to mention he could easily know where to find ramps. Their flavor would really up your pie game. It's settled you're in for a forage date with big foot as your guide.

Am in Big Feet. When are we going? Sent 7:20 PM

Like with most things a waiting game began, down sides to living in a radio quiet community people weren't as attached to electronics because of the limited capabilities. But now that you know Barclay is emailing you, you can check your phone more often. Shutting down your laptop you close it before sliding it under your coffee table as you slide down the couch getting comfy.

It was two hours before Barclay got back to you.

Fantastic! Does Tuesday work? ~Barclay sent 9:42 PM

Barclay must be in a rush to get those mushrooms. You'd been thinking Thursday or Friday at the latest for the freshest mushrooms. Maybe he didn't need them for the picnic but a personal project. From what Jake has told you Barclay often falls into spells of testing out new ideas with the strangest of ingredients. With varying results but mainly positive ones.

Yea sure. Meet at the lodge after my shift? Sent 9:50 PM

Perfect see you then. ~Barclay sent 9:52 PM

Oki Sent 9:52 PM

Now that that has been settled you are free to continue your chill Sunday. Losing yourself to the lulling voices of the judges you hardly notice as you drift off. Warm in your throw blanket cocoon and cozy on the plush of your couch.

You jolt up right panting after being woken up by a loud bang. Or at least you thought you'd heard a bang, Sometimes auditory hallucinations came to you in your sleep no matter how well rested you were. The room around you is dark as the light from your TV is dimmed with Netflix's 'Are you still watching?' pop up mocking you for your marathon.

Without thinking you hit 'yes' and the bake off resumes. With the brightness restored you can see your living room and hallway are completely undisturbed. An auditory hallucination must have pulled you out of sleep. Nothing more, after all your stalker wouldn't get sloppy now, it's only been three weeks.

'That you know of.' seems to whisper and embed itself in your mind.

Shaking off the worrying thought you look at your phone to see it's now quarter till one. You are hungry and don't feel like cooking. Thankfully you have emergency white castles and fries in your freezer for this exact need. Getting up you go to the kitchen to microwave your food. Popping the fries in first you decide to head to the bathroom before that becomes a problem for you.

Before you go down the hallway you do end up grabbing the bat next to the bookshelf. The whisper from earlier clearly hasn't done much to settle your nerves after your rude awakening. Protection in hand you have a little less anxiety about walking down the dark hallway. You'd have to look into installing one of those cheap wall lamps from Home Depot to help you out in situations like this. Either that or a night light in your bathroom, you can probably get the night light done quicker. Maybe Leo sells them, you'll have to check next week.

You made it back to the kitchen after your bathroom break without any surprises, real or imaginary, jumping out at you. Replacing the fries inside your microwave with sliders, you snack on a few while you wait for the rest of your meal.

It's probably paranoia but you can't blame yourself for it as you continue to keep an ear out for any sound of abnormal movement within your home, as you eat and have the bake show low enough to catch the sounds of another person. None come, and you finish your food without incident. You're willing to chalk the noise up to a hallucination and your paranoia as valid but not necessary in this moment. Without much more thought you place your empty plate on the coffee table and curl back up in your throw blanket. Just like before you don't catch yourself as you fall asleep. This time you don't wake up until your phone alarm goes off for you to start your week and head to work.

The week has been much less dramatic than last week had been. But then again it is only Tuesday and you literally have gay brunch this Sunday. There will definitely be some sort of theatrics this week. Whether they come from homosexuals or your stalker is up to God.

Then later today you'll be going foraging with Barclay. And while that isn't anything dramatic it will be an adventure and, you hope, really fun! Your excitement has been tangible all day and you couldn't hold yourself back from focusing only on the clock in the shop all day. Even giddier than normal for the strike of five. With the energy rushing through you it amped up your tics but thankfully you hadn't hurt yourself in your excitement.

Even Nate is beginning to playfully tease you about your “date” with Barclay.

Great he must've been talking to Little Jo. What is it with this family and wanting you to date the lodge owner? Do you just look like the lead in a Hallmark Christmas movie that moved to a small town in order to feel the joy of the holidays? You could definitely get into the role but you don't think Barclay would be the main love interest for you.

Honestly he'd probably be the one all the viewers cheered for but you'd personally go for the puppy dog partner that has a scarred past. You have a type and your type is emotionally wounded and needing of love. That thought had made you chuckle as you and Nate closed up the store for the day.

Nate kept looking over at you throughout the day, and when he heard you giggle to yourself at closing he couldn't help the fond smile that came over his features. He could feel how his brows lifted themselves from their normally furrowed or downward tilt. He'd have let you leave early had it not been for the new procedures Big Jo had set. It's not often that your excitement shows so visibly. It's not often that the Cowell family has seen you happy like this.

But Nate understands it's not the crush that Little Jo seems to think it is, it's something more bittersweet. It's the excitement that comes from finally waning off of being isolated for so long. And boy does Nate understand that feeling. If he had to guess Nate would say you've been alone for most of your life even if you don't act like it. You need these little hangouts with your friends. So he does his fastest close yet. You both are out the door by five after and he bids you goodnight as you head to your respective cars.

With the close tonight being so quick you made it to the lodge and parked in the half full lot just before five thirty. Getting out of your car you noticed a familiar duo sitting on the stoop of the lodge.

'Something's wrong.' is the only thought you have as you walk towards the lodge.

“Hey stranger.” the brunette looks up to you at your greeting.

In this light you can just catch the slight movement of his pupils in his dark eyes as they widen in surprise.

“oh...hey?” he seems confused to see you here. Must not be used to living in a small town yet. He'll learn soon enough that you run into everyone all the time here. Sometimes multiple times a week as it would seem.

“You good?” motioning towards the hand on the back of his neck.

“Yea, fucking Bri-an Mrrow thought I needed this.” Toby moves his hand to show an ice pack that you assume he's been holding to the back of his neck.

“Heat sickness?”

“Nah, the RV's AC busted. I can probably fix it by the end of the week.” you nod.

That makes sense, after all CIPA affects thermal regulation, at least from a basic skim. You really need to get on that deep dive to make sure you're prepared for irregular injury prevention with Toby. Speaking of, the boy in front of you is just sitting here with Connor, why? Even if he's here to get a room at the lodge why didn't he just go in? Connor is a service dog after all not like anyone could turn him away. So why was Toby just sitting out here, especially if Brian thought he needed an ice pack to the neck to keep cool?

As if the universe heard your question and decided to give you an answer, Aubrey opened the door and poked her head out.

“Thanks for letting me put up Dr. Harris Bonkers. I'll keep him in my room during your stay.” Oh that makes sense Aubrey's rabbit normally has the run of the lodge. Even if Connor's a service dog and well trained Dr. Bonkers is still a prey animal with a weak heart. Seeing Connor may have stressed the poor rabbit out, if not nearly given him a heart attack.

Her russet eyes land on you when she opens the door wider to, you assume, let Toby and Connor in. They widen and Aubrey rushes in to hug you before stopping short as if remembering you don't appreciate physical contact.

“Hey YN! I didn't know you were coming over.” She says a little awkwardly mid pose for a hug.

You won't be saving her from the situation. With a smile, that she can't see, you nod.

“Barclay's taking me foraging today.”

Aubrey nods while lowering her arms and takes a few steps back so you and Toby can enter the lodge. The large foyer of the wooden chalet always looks bigger thanks to the deep red tones in it's color palette. From the dark cherry stained wood to the red rugs and table liners. Always feels a lot warmer too, but in a homey sense not the overbearing swelter of heat sense. You can't wait to see what it's like in the winter. Probably so cozy and welcoming with a fire roaring and the murmur of residents and tourist mingling over the winter festivities. There's a swell in your chest at the thought...it seems nice, you hope you're right.

'Hope you see it.' is the dark whisper that taints your thoughts.

You notice Brian and Tim are over at the counter talking to Barclay who is nodding along sympathetically to the trio's plight. He catches your eye and motions for you to wait. You'd been planning to, after all he's currently working.

Turning to Toby you see he looks a bit paler than normal, which should be a difficult feat. Aubrey had left you both, though you aren't sure if she'll be coming back with her girlfriend Dani in a moment or not. You decide to lead Toby over to the obnoxiously plush couch in the den.

It's not like the lodge is off limits to those who aren't guests, and seeing as most of it's workers live here their friends frequently come around thus using the amenities. After sitting on the couch Toby grabs at Connor's ears and starts shaking them. He isn't being rough with them despite the jerky movements and Connor seems to lean into the pet.

Just from what you can gather it seems like Toby has some pretty bad social anxiety. You really aren't sure of what you could do to help. He calmed down at the movie night with a distraction...oh that reminds you, you fell asleep on him. Figuratively and literally.

“I'm sorry for falling asleep on you.” probably not the most tactful or elegant way of bringing this up.

Toby takes a minute to register you words. Not taking his eyes off Connor or ceasing his movements he says, “Eh.” as he gives a muted shrug and continues, “Your friend...Kirby...gave you a ride right?” He said Kirby's name like a question. You'd have to formally introduce the two at some point. Probably this weekend.

“Yea, he's sorry about being a weirdo Saturday, said he'd be more “present” this weekend.”

Toby doesn't say anything more and you let a silence fall over you two. It isn't awkward, at least to you, and you're content to just sit and wait for a while. However, it doesn't take long before Tim, Brian, and Barclay are all entering the den.

“Knew they'd be here,” Barclay says to the other two, “Sorry 'bout the wait YN, Jake's comin' down to give these guys a tour an' set them up. We'll leave when he gets down.” you nod and give the other two a muted wave 'hello'.

It isn't long before Jake is sliding down the banister and leading the group out of the room before Barclay can get on to him about his juvenile behavior. Sighing at the twenty-three year old's antics Barclay turns to you and looks at what you're wearing. Hiking boots and jeans, perfect but one thing is missing.

“C'mon let's go get duct taped.”

“Duct taped?”

“Yup, keeps ticks from climbing up you.”

So you make your way to his office where he sticks duct tape, sticky side up, around each ankle and just above and below your knees. All while explaining how if a tick started to try and climb up you the tape would make them stick and stay there. You'd end up with less ticks on your torso and hopefully none at all.

In no time the two of your were in the forest two baskets in hand and hunting for your immobile prey. The ramps were super easy to find and the first you knocked off the hunt list. Barlcay said they grow in the same area every year, knowing this you may have to come and grab some the next time they're in season. You can already taste how good your forager's pie tastes with the new earthy tones. Actual mushrooms were much harder to find, aside from the lobster mushrooms you were really only looking for some hedgehog mushrooms. They aren't rare or extremely difficult to find but you two aren't having any luck.

Barclay suggested a spot just past a little pond, and while you didn't find mushrooms you did find some Black Raspberry bushes. Not one to let ingredients go to waste Barclay starts picking some, and you grab some too. Maybe baking an easy Black Raspberry cobbler will be your consolation prize. Though Barclay isn't as placated as you are with the unexpected find. The man is still on the hunt for his lobster mushrooms. So you continue scouring the path and a little bit off it in search.

“We should head back, it's dark.” you state plainly after a few hours of searching and remaining mushroom less.

Barclay agrees, but makes the comment that he'll probably come out again in a day or two.

“If I find any I'll still give you some or helping out today.”

“It's fine I've got my treasures right here.” You shrug it off, because while you are a bit disappointed, you still have ramps and the opportunity to make cobbler. It's not all bad. Barclay on the other hand, you know, will not be letting this go so you expect he'll hand you a container of mushrooms sometime in the coming month if not this weekend.

Getting back to the lodge Barclay helps you cut off the duct tape and disposes of it and the hitch hikers you picked up. He sends you off to shower and check for stragglers before he would allow you to go home. Thankfully you had the foresight to bring a change of clothes and after retrieving them from your trunk you do as you're told.

Barclay was right you hadn't had a single tick on you and you feel much better after a shower. Getting out you already smell the alluring aroma of Barclay's kitchen. You must have taken a bit longer than you intended if he was already done with his own shower and already cooking for the lodge. Heading downstairs with your duffle bag in tow, you are stopped by Dani at the door.

You haven't seen her in a bit so the two of you catch up and have a chat. After a bit Aubrey comes in with a Tupperware container of grilled salmon and veggies over rice.

“Oh I see, you were a diversion.” you said looking at Dani as you take the container. Dani gives a sheepish smile before running off to the dinning room, and after sending you a coy smile of her own Aubrey follows after.

You know you're more than welcome to join them, but you really don't have the battery for that and just want to decompress at home.

“Thank you!” you call out into the lodge, only leaving after hearing the distant chuckles drifting through the hall.

Opening the door you run right into someone. Looking up you see Toby, but he isn't wearing a mask. Instead he's wearing a large bandage on his face to cover the hole. In his hands is a box of similar bandages. Guess if they're staying for a bit he'll need them around the others.

Should you mention the others wouldn't say anything? That this whole place was like Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends, but for the misfits or the weird and disowned? You aren't really sure it's your place. And you aren't really sure you're comfortable with how comfortable you've gotten with Toby. You're probably crossing some boundary by over analyzing him so much. And he doesn't even know you're doing it.

Toby knocks you out of your head when he backs away and gives you space to exit the lodge.

“Get home safe.” it falls out of his mouth so easily.

You've noticed he has a habit of saying that...why? There you go over analyzing him, you need to stop. Shaking yourself from your thoughts this time you look at Toby with a smile.

“I will...I think you'll like it here.” when you're in your car you want to slam your head on the steering wheel but Toby is still watching. Why did you say that, you're so weird.

[blackmissfrizzle]

Let It Burn

Characters: Florian x black!reader

Summary: It’s grey sweatpants season and the reader hates it.

Warnings: Smut and Fluff

A/N: My first Florian fic and I’m excited. Also I wrote this in a day. I needed to get it out of my head. It’s inspired by this pic!

Smoke filled Florian’s lungs soon as he entered the house. He thought nothing of it because you were known to have candles burning around the house, but his assumption was wrong. Instead he found you in the living room, standing over a trash can containing fire and his grey sweats in your hands.

“What is this, Y/N?”

Flo’s amused voice caused you to look up. “This is me burning these fuck ass sweats!”

Automatically, Flo tried to rip the sweats from your grip, but you uncharacteristically moved too fast for him. Exhaling a deep sigh, Florian was already over your theatrics. “Why do you wanna burn them in the first place? You’re the one who bought em for me.”

Digging into your back pocket, you fished for your phone. When you retrieved it, you opened instagram and went to your boyfriend’s latest post. “Because of this,” you grunted, shoving the phone in his face.

Florian smirked at the image before him. It was him in the very sweats that you threatened to burn, lounging in the hotel lobby. “I see nothing wrong with this picture.”

You snatched back your phone and repeated him. “You see nothing wrong!? Everything is wrong with this picture. You out here in a tight-ass grey sweat suit and posting thirst traps!”

“So, what I’m hearing is that you think I’m sexy?” Flo donned a smug ass smile.

Upset that Florian was joking, you released a frustrated grunt and move his clothes closer to the fire. “I swear god, Florian I will burn these shits!” And just like a switch, Flo’s face turned emotionless, just on the edge of deadly. “Do it,” he responded before walking off.

With his sudden departure, Flo left you stunned. You didn’t think he would give in so easily, so that’s why you never got the chance to actually burn the sweats. In a moment’s notice, Florian return and he had one of your dresses in his hand. It wasn’t just any ole dress, it was the dress you planned to wear for your birthday. Flo extended his arm and dangled your dress dangerously close to the flames. “You burn my sweats and I’ll burn this dress.” Florian stated with no ounce of humor in his voice.

“WHAT? That’s not fair! I haven’t even worn it yet!” Flo shrugged his shoulders, showing you no remorse. He had to get that bratty attitude out of you. “I don’t care. Remember I was there when you tried it on, and it shows too much cleavage and a little too short. So, I know when you go out with your girls, you’ll be acting a damn fool on snapchat, almost showing all your goodies. Who will be the thirst trap then?”

You stood there fuming, because you knew Flo was right. You and your friends already knew y’all gonna get drunk as hell and that most likely would be twerking for the camera. But you didn’t want to give the giant you called a boyfriend the satisfaction, so you stood there defiantly inching his clothes closer to the flames.

Raising his eyebrows and giving you his hard stare that you could feel in the pit of your stomach, Florian growled, “Prinţesă.”

That pet name was meant as a warning and grumbly you took heed. Grabbing the bucket of water next to the trash can, you doused the fire. As soon as you set that bucket down, you found yourself upside down and facing the ground.

Florian had thrown you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Pissed that he was carrying you around like a caveman, you were beating against his back until he told you, “You better fucking stop or I’ll make sure you can’t walk for a week.” Instantly, you complied because you knew how hard it was to sit down for a day after one of Florian’s punishments.

When Flo got to your bedroom, he dumped you on your feet and ripped your clothes in half. Then, he sat on the edge of the bed and flip you over his knees, baring your nude ass to him. “You tell me the real reason why you’re so upset over that picture while I’m spanking this fat ass and you’ll tell me like you would if we were cuddling on the couch. If I so much hear you stutter or try to go faster, I’ll make you start from the beginning. Understand?”

“Yes, daddy”

Once the first smack came down, you had to stop yourself from moaning and begin your story. You told Florian of how you got a couple of dm’s about how lucky you were and that you weren’t woman enough to handle Florian, but that didn’t really bother you. It was your next-door neighbor that had some dumb shit to say. When Florian came back home from the hotel, she noticed his dick print and she had the nerve to tell you if you couldn’t handle all that dick, she could help you out.

“On your knees,” Flo ordered, when you finished your story. His monster of a cock was pulled out, dripping precum by the time you got settled on your knees. “Hands behind your back and suck,” he ordered once more.

Thanks to being with him for a while, you gotten used to Florian’s size and were able to fit all of him in your mouth, barely triggering your gag reflex. “Fuck,” Flo uttered, as he stroked your hair. “Look at how well you’re taking my dick. And you really let some dumb fucks make you doubt yourself. Whose dick is this?” Florian asked, ripping you away from his dick by grabbing a fistful of your hair.

“Mines,” you declared.

“Damn right it is,” Flo claimed, before he bit down of your bottom lip. And without warning, he laid you flat on your stomach, putting all his weights on his arms and plowed into you. You grateful that he didn’t begin you in all fours, because you would’ve ended flatten out anyway. His thrusts were punishing and loving at the same time. He knew you needed to be reminded that all he wanted was you.

Florian wrapped his arm around your waist and lifted you up, while his other hand went to put three fingers in your mouth. As your back was flushed against his chest, he murmured, “God, you were made just for me, prinţesă. I love you so much. Don’t you ever forget that.” And with those final words and a couple more pumps, Florian had you both cumming at the same time.

Still deep inside you, Florian moved both of you to lay down on your sides. “Next time you’ll talk to me before you try to burn my clothes,” he asked, his voice laced with humor.

Moving your head side-to-side as if in deep thought, you finally answered, “I’ll think about it.”

Rolling his eyes to the ceiling, Florian whispered, “Brat,” before sleep claimed both of you.

Tags: @honeychicana @crushed-pink-petals @themyscxiras @titty-teetee @marvelmaree @toniilaney @chaneajoyyy @gloryevans @pastelastronomy24 @ladydragonpurplefire @dumbchick @twistedcharismaaa @blackreaders-assemble

[edenfalling]

[Fic] “Between the Saltwater and the Sea-Strand” - Naruto

Summary: Yukiko and Kakashi run an undercover mission in the coastal port of Asase during monsoon season. Rain can make anyone philosophical. Part of the Apartment Manager AU, set after The Guardian in Spite of Herself and before An Unorthodox Pedagogical Approach. (3,515 words) Note: Written for warriordrgnmage, in response to the prompt: Naruto: Hatake Kakashi/Ayakawa Yukiko set in the Way of the Apartment Manager Series Timeline. For the Bingo card: Monsoon. It is also a fill for the genprompt_bingo square monsoon. For obvious reasons, Yukiko and Kakashi are using fake names while undercover. Yukiko is Aoi, and Kakashi is Hyoujin. Also, you may notice that this is gen! See, while I am perfectly cool with people shipping Yukiko with Kakashi, that is 100% never going to become Apartment Manager canon, for many, many reasons. If anyone wants a shippy AU, you are welcome to write it yourself, because I flat-out CANNOT. Seriously, even if I tried, you wouldn't want the results. They would be awful. Trust me on that. --------------------------------------------- Between the Saltwater and the Sea-Strand --------------------------------------------- Kuwa Natsume looked up as Yukiko slung herself in through the office window in a spray of rain, raised one eyebrow, and then looked back down to her account books. "Misplaced your shadow?" "Does anyone have a shadow in this weather?" Yukiko said wryly as she shut the window, reducing the sound of rain from deafening to merely incessant and inescapable. "I thought I was used to rain, but coastal monsoons are something new, yeah?" "We get that a lot from inlanders," Kuwa-san said as she drew a sharp line under a column of numbers and wrote a sum. "You get used to it, and it's easier for shinobi -- you have all that fancy ninpou and whatnot. But in all honesty, Aoi-san, where is your partner? I can't finalize your supply contract without both of your signatures." Yukiko made a face as she combed water out of her black-dyed hair. "Is it that important to be fussy when this is all ninety percent illegal anyway?"

"The more illegal, the more important to nail down all the details," Kuwa-san said. "What court would adjudicate the case if you sign alone and Hyoujin-san decides next week that he won't pay for his share?" Yukiko personally agreed with Kuwa-san's caution, but her cover persona would probably make one further push. So, "Oh, don't worry about him. Hyoujin trusts me completely--" Kuwa-san raised her eyebrow again. "--nearly completely when it comes to contracts. What's the point of having a partner if you can't split your responsibilities?" "I would say partners split focus, not responsibility. If you don't maintain some degree of joint liability, what's to stop one of you from turning on the other?" "Ethics?" Yukiko said with a winning smile, and allowed herself to laugh at Kuwa-san's carefully calculated answering smirk. "Fair enough. Let me look over the terms and I'll drag him over here to pretend he knows how to use a brush sometime before-- when do you close today?" "Six." "Before six. Actually, let's say before five, yeah? He's not that hard to track or sweet-talk if you know what you're doing." Yukiko held out her now-dry hand for the supply contract and wiggled her fingers until Kuwa-san passed it across her desk. She retreated to the broad windowsill and began flicking through the pages. It wasn't complicated, just a dead drop of miscellaneous dry goods in neutral territory that would hopefully establish her and Kakashi as reliable clients and Kuwa-san as a reliable supplier -- a standard way for missing-nin and gray market merchants to feel each other out. If the goods wound up as a cache for a long-term Leaf-nin mission, well, nothing in the contract specified that Yukiko and Kakashi had to be the ones to make the pickup. And their cash was perfectly legitimate Fire Country tender, so as far as Kuwa-san was concerned, there was nothing to worry about. (Yukiko was fairly certain there was nothing to worry about on Konoha's end of the bargain either. Kuwa-san had a rock-solid reputation for following through on her contracts. Nobody survived twenty years in the gray market without either keeping their word almost religiously or spending a fortune on bodyguards, and Kuwa-san barely bothered to pay for warehouse security.) "Where do you source kunai?" she asked as the rain's intensity kicked up a notch, beating against the windowpane in a nearly solid sheet of water. "Wind Country," Kuwa-san said without looking up from her accounts. "Earth Country's metallurgy is better, but the border tariffs aren't usually worth the slight increase in quality. I could change that if you're willing to pay the difference." Yukiko feigned consideration. "I don't care, but Hyoujin can get picky about steel composition. What would the increase be for this number of kunai and senbon?" Kuwa-san named a figure. Yukiko made an exaggerated expression of disgust. "No thanks! He can whine and make do. I'm not paying that much more for what, a half percent less chance of flaws? It's not like anyone expects kunai to last anyway. Use 'em and lose 'em and buy some more, that's what I say. Or steal whatever's left from your targets! That's economy, yeah?" "Officially, I can't encourage any behavior that would reduce my chance to sell you more equipment, Aoi-san. Unofficially? Yes, that's very economical. If only all my clients were equally practical." "Eh, there's all kinds of ways to be practical. What we're good at is mostly spying and killing -- it's more efficient to hire a ninja than do that stuff in-house, yeah? Just like you're good at moving stuff around to where we need it, so it's more efficient to hire you instead of us trying to figure all that stuff out from scratch. It's win-win, is how I see it." Yukiko tapped the papers to shuffle them into a neat pile, then handed them back to Kuwa-san. "That looks fine on my ends. Me and Hyoujin will be back sometime this afternoon to sign and pay the next installment." "It's a pleasure doing business with you, Aoi-san," Kuwa-san said. Yukiko grinned and dove backward out the window, into the pounding rain. --------------- Kakashi was lurking in one of Asase's numerous quayside bars, most of which were run out of the back doors of warehouses and also did a brisk side business in assorted seafood dishes. Rain pelted down on the roof tiles in a clattering racket that Yukiko found personally soothing but professionally irritating -- it was a lot harder to eavesdrop through the constant noise, not to mention the complications it added to genjutsu. She and Kakashi had spent their first night in Asase mutually grousing about the unpredictability of electric ninjutsu in waterlogged conditions and the difficulty of filtering ambient sounds out of illusions. Today Kakashi was sipping a bowl of lobster broth through a long, curved straw that vanished into the deep blue folds of the scarf he'd used to shroud his face. To the casual eye he was staring out an open window toward the rainswept harbor, his oversized gray hood restricting his range of sight and hearing, but Yukiko followed the combined angle of his feet and chopsticks to their targets: a trio of young missing-nin drinking in the far corner, defaced forehead protectors proclaiming their renunciation of Kiri. They were small-time, only a few months out on their own each with barely a name and one line of description in the latest bingo book editions, but anyone willing to go against the Bloody Mist was worth a second look. Whether this particular investigation would conclude in a job offer or an assassination was still up in the air. "Heya, Hyoujin. Thinking of roping in some new blood for larger contracts?" Yukiko asked as she dropped into a seat across from him (back to their targets) and set her ramen down on the unsanded wood of the table. Kakashi shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. Three's better than two for flexibility, but more than four on a mission gets awkward without ranks and a chain of command. Nobody who leaves a village wants to go back to those kind of restrictions." Yukiko tilted her hand. "Eh, there's assholes on power trips and there's division of labor -- not necessarily the same thing. I let you take the lead in a fight and you let me take the lead on retrievals. That's just practical, yeah? But we wouldn't throw each other away. Shinobi are tools, sure, but if you don't look out for your teammates, how can you trust they'll look out for you?" Kakashi shrugged again and continued sipping his broth. Targets hear? Yukiko signed under the guise of snapping apart her chopsticks. Yes, Kakashi signed back as he lifted his bowl and drank the last of his broth under the shadow of his hood and scarf. No bite. Yukiko slurped a mouthful of noodles and nicely salted broth. "Grouch. Well, whatever we do for future contracts, today we have to sign off on the supply contract with Kuwa-san. We'll need the goods for that thing in Tea Country and she wants both of our names in writing." "Sign for me," Kakashi said "Tried that. She won't bite." "So fake it. Illusions are your thing, Aoi; pretend I'm there and forge my seal." Yukiko slurped another mouthful of noodles in her best imitation of Naruto's sloppy manners. "Oh, sure. Lying is the best way to establish trust for future contracts, yeah?" "She's a civilian, how would she know?" "Not the point. C'mon, Hyoujin. You won't melt in the rain. Let's go make nice with Kuwa-san and I'll make it real worth your while." She ran the edge of her sandal up the side of Kakashi's shin and gave him her best imitation of her cousin Yura's flirtatious smile. Kakashi twitched. Yukiko slapped the table and let her smile shade into a more genuine grin. "Ha, I win." "Fine. Finish your soup and let's go drown ourselves. Again." "Eh, getting soaked's not that bad. Especially when you've got a partner around to help you peel out of all your soggy clothes and warm up when you get home, yeah?" Kakashi twitched again, then rallied and let a tiny arc of electricity jump between two raised fingers. "And then get wet again?" Yukiko held onto her cover persona by the skin of her teeth. "Now you're talking my language. All right, I'm done. Let's go give a little now so we get more back later." --------------- Signing the contract with Kuwa-san took all of twenty minutes -- half of which was entirely for show, as Kakashi lived up to his cover persona and whined about the kunai quality until Yukiko overruled him -- after which they had the afternoon and evening entirely to themselves and a conveniently established reason to retreat to their rented room and lock themselves inside Yukiko's best privacy genjutsu. "We can't stay longer than another day now that the contract's signed," Kakashi said as he flashed his hands through the seals for a quick and subtle bit of ninjutsu that left their clothes and skin completely dry without spilling any excess heat. "Do you think the targets will be receptive if we approach them openly?" Yukiko shook her head, grimaced at the awkward motion of her still-tangled hair, and began working the tie out of her ponytail. "No chance. I don't know if they'd even be open to a joint mission with Aoi and Hyoujin at this point. Sumire wants security and Kenichi likes profit, but they're still raw enough to see tigers in every other shadow, and Eriko's almost too paranoid to make deals with someone as solid and non-threatening as Kuwa-san. On the bright side, they're wildly unlikely to join up with anyone else." Kakashi slumped back onto the futon with an annoyed set to his eyebrow. "And since they haven't moved against Fire Country assets, there's nothing to justify an assassination without a contract. I hate leaving loose ends." Yukiko dropped down to sit cross-legged beside him, fingers slowly working through her tangles. "Think of it as a guaranteed vacation in a few months. Our agents will send word the next time our trio pass through Asase, Aoi and Hyoujin turn up to sign a new contract with Kuwa-san, and we sound them out for a joint mission. They ought to be the right balance of calmer and hungrier by then, and we'll get a better reading after a week or so of close contact." "Ugh." "Yeah, yeah, talking to people is terrible and scary." Kakashi rolled over onto his stomach and buried his face in his arms, the soft, voluminous fabric of his hood blocking all apparent lines of sight. "Only the living." Yukiko froze, then sighed and flopped onto her back with her arms above her head. "Yeah. The dead talk back just as much, but it's still so much easier." "Sometimes I wonder how many people in Konoha would qualify for a 'Lone Survivor of My Genin Team, Including My Teacher' club," Kakashi said into the futon. "Then I stop wondering because the math is too depressing. But we could start a private chapter just for us." "Sometimes I hate that you trust me enough to say things like that," Yukiko said to the ceiling. "Then I tell myself not to be an idiot, because it means I get to say equally horrible things to you. Like that I'm pretty sure if we recruit our targets, at least one of them will be dead within two years, and I'm not sure that balances the odds that all three of them will die within one year if they keep working as missing-nin. After all, there's always a chance they might retire and start a farm." "Says the woman who got so bored with civilian life she jumped into a chuunin exam the minute Sandaime offered her a chance." "Says the Anbu assassin." Kakashi snorted. "We're all so fucked up." "Yeah." "Might as well be fucked up with other people who understand." "Yeah." They lay in silence for some time, listening to the steady thrum of rain on the roof tiles above. The air was warm and sticky, and the breeze eeling through the open window smelled faintly green beneath the ever-present fish-salt-rot odor of the sea. "Let's accidentally-on-purpose bump into the targets tomorrow morning, buy them breakfast, and float the idea of a joint mission later in the year," Yukiko said eventually. "Might as well plant seeds when the ground is soft." "You pay." "It's all mission funds in the end." "To clarify: you handle all the human interactions. I'll stand behind you and look vaguely menacing so they'll think at least one of us is competent." "To clarify: you'll look vaguely constipated, while I impress them with my social competency. Networking is an important skill for missing-nin." "I object to that assessment." "Which one of us has experience making business deals directly with civilians instead of through the mission office?" Kakashi flicked a gust of wind at her, re-tangling her hair. Yukiko pulled out Aoi's grin as she kicked Kakashi gently in the ankle. "Ninjutsu isn't a valid argument, which means I win. Your forfeit is fixing my hair." "Having teammates and friends is a terrible choice and I should never have made it a second time," Kakashi grumbled, but he sat up and tapped Yukiko's shoulder. "Turn around and hand me your comb." --------------- They hadn't been able to slap any chakra tags on the targets -- Eriko's paranoia was too thorough for even the subtlest of genjutsu threads to make it past her guard longer than a couple hours -- but Yukiko had gotten a decent sense of their chakra signatures over a series of not-quite-encounters during the past week. It helped to have rooms in the same lodging house, of course. Kakashi took first watch, leaving Yukiko to spend the back half of the night with a manual on steam heating systems and the interminable patter of rain. Eventually the sky began to lighten from matte black to flat gray and her spider-light sweep across the building and surrounding streets caught movement from their targets. "Time to go," she said as she stood. Kakashi remained unmoving until she nudged him with her foot, secure that he was actually awake and wouldn't strike her in reflexive defense. "I remember pretending to be a morning person when I was too young to know better," Kakashi grumbled into the futon. "It was a terrible idea then and it's a terrible idea now. Nobody should be awake before the sun is halfway up the sky." "Unfortunately the targets set the schedule," Yukiko said as she tucked her book away into a holding scroll. "Come on, put on your face and let's get to work." Kakashi flicked a minor wind jutsu in her direction as he rolled to his feet, but Yukiko had braided her hair so this time it stayed secure and untangled. "I wonder if I should switch to bulky scarves as an off-duty option. It's easier to eat and drink through the gaps between layers than to yank a mask up and down very fast or while people are looking away, and people have been much less interested in Hyoujin's face than they tend to be in mine." "That's because Hyoujin doesn't have a reputation. There's no glory in pulling down some random missing-nin's scarf." Yukiko grinned at Kakashi's affronted eyebrow and slipped out the window ahead of another wind jutsu. It wasn't hard to find their targets today: apparently Sumire's morning grumpiness had won over Eriko's paranoia and the trio of former Mist-nin were huddled near a breakfast yatai, half-sheltered from the incessant rain, and haggling over prices with the male half of the married couple behind the counter. Yukiko couldn't have asked for a better opening if she'd tried. She eeled her way up to the counter and grinned at the woman scraping down the stove from whatever she'd last been grilling. "Two miso and two fish on rice -- salmon for me, mackerel for my partner," she said, jerking her thumb over her shoulder at Kakashi, who was standing, smugly dry, under a wind jutsu shaped into an invisible umbrella. "Oh, and how much extra for nori with the salmon?" The woman named a price. Yukiko rolled her eyes. "I hate bargaining on an empty stomach, so I'll just pay nine tenths of that and we'll all pretend you're not robbing me blind, yeah?" She glanced sideways to where the three young missing-nin were still arguing with the other cook. "I hate listening to arguments on an empty stomach, too, so how about I cover these loudmouths, too? Or at least the difference between what they're willing to pay and what you're asking." "Deal," the man said, interrupting the mockery of persuasion Kenichi was currently attempting. "Pay up and thank the nice lady for making sure I don't turn you away unfed." Eriko slapped her hand over Sumire's wallet. "No. It's poisoned." Yukiko rolled her eyes again. "There's a difference between reasonable caution and paranoia, yeah? I want a peaceful breakfast and our last mission went well, so I'm willing to pay a little extra to smooth things over. It's not like it's that much money. And hey, if it'll make you feel better, consider it a-- a-- Hyoujin, what's the word I want?" "Why would I know? You handle contracts," Kakashi said as he slipped a bite of mackerel through the folds of his scarf. "Ugh, why are we still partners?" "Because I'm very good with knives." "Point!" Yukiko slapped the yatai counter and turned back to the trio of missing-nin. "Anyway, breakfast. You're right that nothing comes free, so let's say that I'm paying for you to consider a joint mission sometime in the future, if me and Hyoujin have a line on a job that needs more than three people and we're kicking around the same market, yeah?" Sumire blinked. Kenichi looked like she'd slapped his face with a whole salmon. Eriko scowled and said, "That's not how contracts work." "Yes it is. It's called a-- a-- it's an option, that's the word! You can ask any of the suppliers in town, they'll tell you. I'm paying for the chance to run a job past you, because anyone who makes it out of Hidden Mist is worth a trial run, yeah? You don't have to accept. You just have to listen. And now I'm done with this conversation because I don't like having arguments on an empty stomach any more than I like listening to them. Don't die, and me and Hyoujin will see you around." She grabbed her rice bowl, her cup of miso, and her disposable bamboo chopsticks and kicked Kakashi's ankle to make him turn around and stop staring creepily at the trio of missing-nin through the folds of his scarf. Bite? she asked in handsign masked by a low-level illusion -- the chakra for which ought to be covered by Kakashi's own completely explicable umbrella jutsu. Maybe, Kakashi signed back, then added aloud, "What do you want to do for our next vacation, if this job goes as well as the last one?" Yukiko shrugged elaborately as she swallowed a mouthful of fish and rice. "Eh, there's worse places than the ocean. And by then, the rain should be over for the year. I like water a lot better when it stays flat on the ground than when it's trying to crawl up my nose and into my ears, yeah?" "That's because you have no imagination," Kakashi drawled. Yukiko considered countering with her own innuendo, but no; they were leaving Asase. They could leave Aoi and Hyoujin behind with the rain and introspection and return to more familiar ground. So she poked Kakashi with her chopsticks instead, and laughed when he neatly dodged the strike. As they walked past Kuwa-san's warehouse, bickering companionably, a watery ray of sun pierced briefly through the clouds over the storm-wracked sea and laid a path west to the green reaches of home. --------------------------------------------- End of Story --------------------------------------------- Well, that took significantly longer than it needed to, but I won in the end. \o/ Also, Kuwa Natsume (from Whose Allegiance Is Ruled by Expedience) is now officially part of Apartment Manager continuity. You're welcome. :D

[popculturebuffet]

Reviewcaps: Star Vs: Club Snubbed

Dance week kicks off!  I finally advance in the tomtrospective as Star makes the critical mistake of listening to ponyhead and causes a dad fight that threatens to spill into an international incident unless she and Tom can get along. Tom dosen’t know how to be nice under the cut. 

And we’re back! As I put in my latest amphibia review a combination of a busy few weeks and other things to cover has kept me from doing more reviews, and as such I left this on the backburner. But I decided that just ain’t right so this week, i’m not only bringing back the tomtrospective, but i’m doing a whole bundle of dance themed episodes because as i’ve made clear in the past, and making clear for you I love em. I never went to my own school dances and the one dance I went to for Demolay was fun enough, so that mixed with the shipping, hilariaty and usual good quality brought to these affairs made me want to do a theme week after Owl House last week, but ennui made me reconsider. So now i’m re-reconsidering. Lucky you! With that we can move on.  Unlike the last few tom reviews, this one.. takes place after about 80 pounds of plot have happened, so it’s time for a fuck ton of exposition to refresh your memories:  PREVIOUSLY ON STAR VS:

OH GOD WHY OKAY i GET IT THE GAG’S OVER... MOVING ON TO THE ACTUAL EXPOSITION. YEESH But yeah since we could largely sidestep the main story since tom came in literally before it in season 1 and it was irrelvant to him in season 2, I have a lot to cover.  Over the last two seasons, Toffee, a septarian warrior who assinated moon’s mom despite her almost brokering peace between monsters and mewman when Moon was just a teenager, plotted and schemed to destroy all magic, having star nuke the wand to spilit it in half, manupliating ludo from the inside of his half and then using his new existance as pure magic to slowly destroy it from the inside while using ludo as a puppet when necessary. Meanwhile , Star started to catch feelings for Marco just as Marco was getting somewhere with his crush Jackie Lynn Thomas, who star was being his wing man with unaware of her own feelings. This came to a head when a dance, yes another one, happened where Jackie asked Marco out on their first proper date, Star was jealous but couldn’t figure out why and this distracted her enough to let Ludo sneak in with his army of rats and then take the book.  Stars parents, in a suprising move for her mom more than her dad, accepted what happened and trusted her, though Moon started covertly working to get the book back under the nose of her allies in the magical high comission. Meanwhile Toffee revealed himself, while Star finally did realize her feelings for marco and proceded to supress them.  This all came to a head in the last two episodes of season 2: First Star had her song day, which meant having a song wirtten about her which was honest.. a bit too honest as it revealed her parents hiding the book, leading to the people being upset with our king and queen and the commission understadanbly being pissed Moon didn’t tell them sooner. Oh and the song also, without star’s consent, revealed she’s intrested in marco... right in front of Marco. And this part is actually really important to today’s episode but we’ll get to that.  Star continued to deny having feelings for Marco instead of working through them as the school year ended, while Moon and the comisson lead a raid on the monster castle, which will also be important later, TOffe was headquartered in. Things quickly went pear shaped, with Toffee easily murdering most of the comission, including moon by sucking out their life force to increase his own power, since their all made of magic, and only lekmet, the comisson’s wise sorta leader and team healer, surivived, using the last of his own life force to save moon before ending up as a pile of dust and a horn with Moon quickly escaping with the rest of her allies.. and Toffee omniously saying he was coming for Star and his finger.  Moon naturally panicked and told star they were leaving, possibly forever, for her own saftey, and Star confessed how she felt to Marco.. in front of Jackie> Which is never dealt with even when Jackie comes back. 

Also this confession isn’t dealt with until near the tail fucking end of season 3. God dammit star vs , just god damn. Anyways Moon tried to both hide star and ressurect her commrades, while a miserable Marco headed back to mewnit o find her only to get captured with river when Ludo, under toffe’s advisment, took hte castle.. and not under his advisment destroyed the book and it’s keeper and local asshat glossaryck.  Star eventually said “Fuck that” to “Hide and hope he never finds us” moon learned some lessons about racial tolerance she promptly unlearned next season, and Star dove into her wand with Ludo’s help, as Ludo had started to catch on to the frequent blackouts. Turns out that was toffe’s plan as he apparently kills star, and finished off magic and now restored, just casually walks off after easily taking out star’s allies.. including a greiving moon and marco. Also marco punches a whole in his chest. 

But STar manages to restore magic, unlock her butterfly form and reduce Toffee to a puddle of goo which Ludo finished off.. which also means moon’s attempt to dicker Eclipsa out of freedom just got undone. Yayyyy! I mean oh no.. no no I mean yay. She’s the best part of season 3.  So ALLL of that was to get to the status quo at this point: Marco goes home after a few weeks where again, the confession thing? Never brought up, while Star vows to stay to be a better princess. And yeah this does bring up one of Season 3′s biggest issues as despite Marco having dimensional scissors, the show constnatly acts like he can’t you know visit or vice versa. They just use the other dimension thing as a lazy excuse to write the earth side cast out even though....

I went with a Picard  one because why not. I get it being HARD for either ot make time for the other.. but make that a PLOT POINT instead of saying “oh you have to pick one”. Because it makes no fucking sense. Especially since star can still CALL THEM, so there’s no sense in them being absent from each other’s lives. Just schedule. Jesus. And it only gets WORSE from there.  Yeah see Season 3 is where the quality starts to get... 50/50. And unlike Amphibia where the last few weeks before marcy have been more one mediocre episode and one great episode the qulaity here is more “some great episodes, some utter abominations of episodes that destroy character or any semblance of plot” and some just okay ones too. Thankfully the first few from the season we have to cover for Tom, for the boy, are really good.. but we’ll get into the shit soon enough.. and somebody’s gotta shovel it. And so it might as well be me. But for now instead of shoveling horse crap we’re shoveling giant piles of sugar so pitter patter, let’s get at er, this is club snubbed.  It’s 2017, a winter’s ball and the butterfly family.. is actually not doing great, as most of the other kingdoms seem to view them as week for the whole rat invasion thing.. or at least the spider bites do. Yup this is where we meet the king, queen and daughter penelope. Aka two assholes who are dumb and I hate them and their precious daughter who I hope overthrows them. To thorw back to my loud house reviews, I hate them more than rusty. And look at him. LOOK AT HIM. 

The one in the center. Look at him. LOOK AT HIM.  Okay my irational hatred of the little prick, which isn’t entirely irrational aside the spider bites are rude, condescending, and really need to be overthrown so Penelope can take their throne. I just hate htem.. but unlike Rusty they don’t show up as much and that’s literally all I can say nice about htem. Penelope seems nice and I wish she got more screentime and she has an intresting romance we’ll get into in a few episodes, but  they are just.. their the kind of people you don’t want to be trapped in a room with alone for a prolonged amount of time. The kind of married couple other married couples, I conjecture i’m single and very lonely mind, are awkwardly roped into spending time with and then have to get drunk to ignore them sniping at each other or that ends in a who’s afraid of virginia wolfe situation. Thankfully their barely in this episode I just felt like getting my hate out at them since i’m probably not covering surviving the spider-bites for a while.  Anyways while they snipe at River who fires back “They were really big rats’ and I mean.. who does that.. who comes to someone elses house and tells htem they suck under their breath.. I mean rich assholes obviously, I answered my own question there but at least do it at your own house or on the carraige ride home sheesh. Your lucky river didn’t elbow drop both of you. It’s what you deserved.  Okay enough bitching about this stuff, the asshole kingdom, and penelope, along with all the other kingdoms of mewni are here for the silver bell ball, an annual tradition to reinvgorate the ties between kingdoms. It’s also how star and tom met, and that’s the topic of discussion with Star and her best friend, Pony Head... of the pony heads. Why yes a major chacter on this show is a talking horses head who acts like a mean teenage girl. And why no I have no idea where her species food goes or how she digests it, I frankly don’t want to know. Some things are better left unknown.  Anywho yeah this is my first review with ponyhead in it and she’s a divisive character to say the least. Some hate her , some love her, some REALLY hate her.. me.. I find her 50/50. Sometimes she can be really funny and entertaining and a good counterpoint to star, other time she’s obnoxious and a waste of hte wonderful Jenny Slate’s talents. This time she’s more obnoxious as this entire plot is partly her fault, btu we’ll get to that. We do get her and star scoping out the other royals, though Star’s unintresteds since she knows all of them, and Pony is only intersted because Larry kelpbotom got hot.. just like archie. And he’s got abs, just like archie. Two sentences I never would’ve said for years and years but that’s what Riverdale does to you. Back on topic the two talk Tom’s transparent absence and them having met and ponyhead having predicted drama. the two then horse around a bit before moon dickishly shushes them. Star only goes along with it because she’s trying to be a better princess, hence her staying on mewni at all now the danger’s passed, but yeah... even with moon’s backstory this moment just.. isn’t every plesant. Because while her backstory explains al ot, it dosen’t forgive how she treats star at times, as all star was doing here was being a normal teenage girl and not kicking her door down or anything. Star greets the other princes and princesses, including penelope, all of who I wish had more screentime. “Sigh” It’s then we get TOM. Horay!. And his family! Double horay, Queen Wrathmelor Lucitor and King Dave Lucitor. And yes I love how , just like the prince of the underworld is named Tom, the king, even if by marraige presumibly, is named dave. King Dave. I love it. Dave is a normal sized guy while his wife is giant.. and I can conjecture how they had tom but this isn’t hte place for that. The point is their perfectly lovely people, and I like that they zigged from where they were likelky orignally going with tom having abusive parents. INstead as far as I can figure they merley spoiled him and that combined with growing up in the unusual enviroment of the underworld and their own unresolved anger issues meaning they never thought to teach him how to deal with them properly. More on this later.  Anyways tom is here and in shades, because his parents are good people and River warmly greets the lucitors. IT’s time for the ball to get underway. 

Glad you asked. Basically each prince or princess asks each other prine or princess to dance, until everyone's dance with everyone. Simple. However suprisingly for him, Tom picks princess Jags to dance first. It’s then Pony ruins everything because she’s Ponyhead, and i’ts her special life skill. She tells Star tom’s “Club Snubbing” her... basically showing intrest in other girls to specifically act like he isn’t intrested.. which to be fair....

DOES sound like something Tom would do.. and what Pony’s doing to Larry because she’s a terrible person. It isn’t what he’s doing, we’ll get to the why at the right time, but it’s not unfair of star to suspect that. 

So Star decides to get even, pettily, by dancing with rich and talking him up and each keeps picking the other royals.. which worries dave and river because of course it does. And yeah star is being petty here... but I get it and sympahtise with it. Tom’s pulled some really manipulative shit the last few times he’s been around and she’s likely sick of it. She probably even got second hand sick of hearing what he did to marco. 

So she’s probably just fed up with his bullshit.. and she still DOES think he’s cute, as was made clear by his first proper apperance, she’s just tired of him being a jackass about perusing her when she’s no longer intrested. Which is fair. Tom is trying to be better.. but i’ts understandable why Star thinks he’s just still doing the same old shit just on a diffrent day.  So it comes down to both of htem with Moon hoping star dances with tom.. and naturally, still pissy she dances with Manfried , the butterflies butler, who’se delighted.. a bit too happy.. someone call the police.  Anyways Dave and River start to argue over whose club snubbing who.. as I said Tom has his dad, and his moms but again future episodes, anger. Dave is more controlled because he’s had more life experince but it’s clear enough stress can cause him to snap, as we see here.. he just dosen’t have his son’s demonic powers thank god.. he is clearly built under those robes though.. or at least you know skinny but a bit muscular. I mean otherwise Wrath would be a widow after tom’s conception. 

But tom just.. walks out sadly instead of reacting which further pisses star off and she follows. But this time as i’ve been making clear.. Tom has genuinely changed. He’s NOT doing some creepy scheme to manipulate her into taking him back, he learned from last time.. and from song day. See I told you it was important. He figured she was with Marco now, and isn’t mad as he puts it.. he saw it as a wake up call. She’s not into him and probably won’t be.. granted I thought he’d already learned that lesson, but i’ll let it pass. The point is he decided to give her space by not asking her and would’ve if she asked him. He was genuinely trying to be nice and respectful to her. And here’s where I can finally stop shit talking tom for the most part which thank god. I love the guy, I wouldn’t be retrospectiving him if I didn’t love this character and see him as my own surrogate fictoinal son. But I had to be honest and who Tom is at first, isn’t a good person.. but this episode and others give more weight as to the why, as well as show him genuinely TRYING. He wants to be better he just dosen’t know how... as is highlighed with star not wanting to be ignored, and Tom flipping out in a demonic rage  “I DON’T KNOW HOW TO BE NICE, AT LEAST GIVE ME CREDIT FOR TRYING”.  Which is what I put a pen in earlier with his parents; His parents are genuinely nice good people.. but the underworld is a diffrent, dangerous place with diffrent standards. So they likely didn’t realize their son had a troubling anger problem because of that, because a lot of the underworld is wild and vicious, until he started harassing star and doing something that raised a real red flag passed normal underworld standards. The two then quack quack bicker bicker in the sky, with an extra sized extra angry cloudy. CLOUDY YAY.. until a chair passes throught he window.  Our heroes run in to see the dad fight as esccalated to a wrestling match, and is about to esclate to an international incident. Star, seeing this can’t possibly end well, finally asks tom to dance which he agrees to not wanting to see a large bearded man beat up his dad. Probably how Domink Mysterio felt a few weeks ago honestly. And his entire life.  And then we get the dance.. and it’s fucking gorgeous. It’s slow and methodical, with the two at first doing this reluctnatly.. but as it goes on their walls break and the two genuinely have fun and it turns from two exes stiffly doing a dance to keep their dads from killing each other,... to somethin genuinely romantic and visually gorgeous as butterflies and flames errupt from their repsective feet before carrying them into the air and creating a beautiful tornado together. Disney really knows how to do a good dance sequence... maybe not gay representation until last week, and even then they had to be dragged into it more on that another time, but .. damn if they can’t animate pretty. It’s a genuinely beautiful sequence and easily tops the one from Blood Moon Ball.. not an easy feat mind as I say this with no bisas. I may not LIKE starco, at least not without some heavy continuity revisions.. but that dance was objectively good and so’s this one. The two land, moon rings the fucking bell to end things because again sh’es kind of a dick, and Wrathmelor causes earthquakes with her claps and reign of lava mom tearfs. Aww what a sweetheart. 

So Tom asks star for a corn shake, which she accepts, aww and Ponyhead is carried out by an entorauge. Eugh. The two laugh adorably together at her shenanigans, for some reason, to close out the episode.  Final Thoughts: Excellent even better than I remembered.. though it still has one or two problems, like what tom’s really doing being kinda obvious based on his body laungauge and middle part being mildly repeititive. But it’s all overridden by great character work, goregous animation and some neat world building as we meet the rest of mewni , most for the first time. I do genuinely wished they’d done more with them. And honestly.. tom and star are more adorable than I remembered. I think a combinaton of star’s later actions and the fact i wanted my starco dammit and figured tom wouldn’t last, I was mostly wrong as it took almost two full seasons for them to break up and we’ll get to that, so I had no real investment. I was annoyed he was seemingly just being throwni n the way as an obstacle to the main ship hwen they clearly changed their minds and he became more.. and then exactly that later because I can’t have nice things. We’ll get to that. But yeah a solid, enchanting episode and a good start to dance week. If you have a star vs episode you want me to review, just hit me up in akss or subits or comission it directly using those same options, or any other cartoon for that matter and follow me for more reviews as I cover Amphibia every week and will return to regular ducktales coverage at the end of september. Tom will return shortly. Until then stay safe, wear a mask, and later days. 

[bookandcranny]

Stone Heart Gambit

Part 1 - Chapter 1

Soso likes her town, but she’s starting to think she’s never going to find a single interesting thing about it. There’s a supermarket, a park, a few family-owned shops and eateries that haven’t yet succumbed to the pressure put on them by the encroaching chain franchises. Pretty standard small-town fair, not unlike the one she grew up in.

Therein lies the problem. She’d been so excited to leave home for the first time all those semesters ago that she hadn’t considered that change doesn’t always equal improvement, and putting a hundred miles of distance between her and her old problems didn’t guarantee her a perfect new life. She doesn’t particularly miss living with her parents, rather she finds herself feeling homesick for a place she doesn’t think she’s found yet. There’s a restlessness in her-- her mom claims she gets it from her dad, and vice versa. It’s plagued her in small ways all her life, in the way she finds new friendships but struggles to make them last, in the way she throws herself into new passions only to grow bored of them within weeks, in the way college had seemed so thrilling and full of promise when she was a bright-eyed freshman and now here she is, on indefinite academic leave, struggling to remember what it was she saw in the place that was worth a lifetime of student loans.

She only has so long to figure it out too. She wants to finish her degree, she does, but art requires inspiration and there’s only so much to photograph in a town whose main export is cow shit and stale gossip. If she changes her major again at this point her advisor is for real going to mount her head on a pike outside the bursar’s office, so she has to at least try.

It doesn’t help that she’s pretty much limited to the immediate vicinity surrounding her housing co-op until she either manages to get herself a car or the bus drivers union wins their latest standoff with city hall. Cars cost money though, which means getting a real fulltime job, which she expects will spell the end for any lingering chance of her going back to school anyway. The snake devours its tail, and Soso commutes by bike.

Soso’s handy; she’s confident she can fix anything given enough time, the right tools, and a couple reliable video tutorials. That, among other odd jobs, is her main preoccupation right now. It’s something, but she can’t picture herself changing tires and cleaning out gutters for elderly neighbors to support her Chinese takeout dependency forever. At the rate she’s going, her best customers are going to start dying off before she graduates.

On that morbid note, Soso decides she needs to get out of the house. She slings her bag over her back just in case she manages to run into something photo-worthy and grabs her bike. It’s a brisk autumn afternoon and the fresh air is just what she needs.

On the way out she runs into one of her housemates, Carmen the highly caffeinated, returning from campus looking frazzled. Soso isn’t particularly close with any of her housemates, frequently as they tend to come and go, but that doesn’t stop her from offering her sympathies.

“Any luck with the research?”

Carmen groans. “My paper is doomed. Remind me why I thought ‘modern impact of classical mythology’ was a good choice for my level 300 history course?”

“Uh, beats me.” In reality she thinks it sounds like a fun subject, but it doesn’t feel her place to say so given that while Carmen’s been slaving away at the school library, she’s spent the better of her day half-watching questionable documentaries on alien conspiracies.

“Ensfield is full of weird old superstitions and legends,” she goes on frustratedly. “The old bridge makes it on one of those ‘top 10 spooky locations’ lists like once a month. Complain about a cough to the wrong person and suddenly you get people telling you you’re hexed and you need to walk in a circle counter-clockwise under the new moon to get rid of it.”

She’s pretty sure that’s not a thing, but nods anyway, waiting for the point she hopes is coming.

“You’d think the library in a town like this would have better sources on mythology. But no, all I get is a shrug and the same three books everyone else in the class is using. If I want to bump up my GPA, I need something you can’t just find on Wikipedia.”

Another one of their housemates crawls out from the shrubbery by the porch. “Maybe you should try that other library.”

“Jesus!” Carmen jumps. “What are you doing down there?”

Phoebe brushes dirt off her knees. “I saw a black cat go into the gap.” She points at a thin crack in the woodwork. “Halloween is coming. Any cats, especially black ones, you see wandering around need to be brought to the shelter pronto. People do terrible things to them if they see them wandering around this time of year.”

Soso squints. “Looks too small to fit a cat.”

“I saw what I saw. Anyway, there’s supposed to be an old town library way past the woods, thataway.” She points. “Guy who works there is really weird I heard but almost no one goes there anymore so you’d have first pick.”

Carmen looks thoughtful. “I think I’ve heard of it. I kind of thought it was just something people made up.”

“Nah, it’s real. My brother’s fraternity brings freshman there to haze them. They tell them to go up and throw eggs at the place and then ditch ‘em in the woods.”

Soso blinks. “Why?”

She shrugs. “It’s just a thing they do. It sucks and it’s totally immature but no one ever accused those guys of being creative.”

“Whatever,” Carmen says. “I’m done with books for today. I’m gonna go inside and enjoy some nice brain-rotting TV.”

“Good call, honestly. If you get caught hanging around that place too much they’ll probably start egging us next.”

Carmen heads inside and Phoebe goes back to making little coaxing noises at the gap in the porch. Soso frowns to herself. Sometimes she feels like people in this town purposely go out of their way to ruin anything that could be the slightest bit different. It’s probably just a normal library that happened to be in a weird spot, run by a typical cranky old librarian. Even if it is nothing it probably has more to offer than spending the rest of her day throwing french-fries to birds and squirrels in the Burger Beast parking lot.

“Hey Phoebe,” she says. “Where did you say that library was?”

 --

 The trip is longer than she had anticipated. Her legs are strong but the sun’s getting low enough that she worries she’ll be riding home in the dark. A generous part of it she blames on Phoebe’s vague directions, scribbled into a patchwork paper map of hear-say more than anything else. Despite this she continues. She’s snapped a few pictures of the foliage in its brilliant reds and golds, so if all else is a bust at least she won’t have completely wasted her time. Worst case scenario, she returns home with a little extra muscle on her calves from all the pedaling.

Well, the real worst case scenario is probably more along the lines of her getting caught by an axe murderer and left to rot in the spooky woods, another ghost for the local repertoire. Even then, at least she won’t have to worry about the next family phone call if she’s dead.

Grim musings aside, she loops back and manages to find the correct path, a trampled dirt road half-hidden under the leaf litter, and at last make her way to the fabled “other library”. It’s one of those old brick buildings, surrounded by a low fence that struggles to hold its own against the climbing vines and insects nibbling at its posts. It’s early enough in the season that their collective buzz-chirp-hum still fills the air, though otherwise it is almost eerily quiet. It’s strangely peaceful, Soso thinks as she wades through wild patches of tall grass, as if she were returning to somewhere familiar.

The place is clearly abandoned, she decides, sunlight refracting off the firmly shuttered windows. It’s a cool discovery to be sure, but she ought to have known a mysterious library in the woods with an equally mysterious shut-in tending it was too much to expect from a town like Ensfield. That doesn’t stop her from exploring though. She likes it here, and she especially likes the gorgeous, ancient-looking gargoyle that sits in front of the steps leading up to the entrance, like one of those stone lions that stand guard outside of libraries of greater fame than this one.

The thing is magnificent, as well as truly hideous, its face twisted in a snarl so visceral and strikingly lifelike that it sends a genuine chill down her spine. The attention to detail, to carving out each individual wrinkle of flesh, is astounding. The stance the stone creature is frozen in comes off much more threatening than the regal intensity she might have expected, and it seems to her a counterintuitive choice of décor, but one the artist in her wholeheartedly approves of.

Propping her bike up against the stairs she crouches in the shadow of the gargoyle to get a better look. Organic shapes like vines encircle the beast, so lifelike that feels compelled to touch, as if they might fall away under her fingertips. Just as she reaches out however, the front doors of the library swing open and a stout, middle-aged man rushes out.

“Don’t- who- don’t touch that! It’s- it’s not-“ he stammers. “It’s an antique. Very breakable.”

The man is well-dressed, but his head of yellow hair is mussed to one side, like he’s just woken from a nap, enforced by the wrinkles he anxiously tries to smooth out of his vest. His eyes are a shocking shade of spring green.

“Sorry?” Soso offers, still recovering from the fright. She pulls her hand back guiltily and he seems to relax. How fragile could something made of stone be, she wonders, that he would work himself up into such a state over it. “Uh, is this the library?”

The man finishes straightening himself out before he responds. “That’s what you’re here for? Books?”

“What else?” she asks. His eyes remain narrow with scrutiny, so she adds, “Books on mythology. It’s for a school project. I heard… I am in the right place, right?”

There’s a copper plaque by the door that reads “North Ensfield Public Library”, but at this point she’d be as willing to accept that she wandered into a random person’s front yard, for how he looks at her. After another awkward pause, the man turns back towards the entrance and gestures for her to follow.

“Sorry about that. I don’t see many regular patrons anymore, not for a while now. Pardon the mess.” He speaks quickly, not leaving any room for interruption.

There isn’t much mess to pardon, not really. In fact, the shelves look well organized, if a bit dusty, and the space isn’t as cramped or cluttered as she had expected from the outside. A certain saying about books and covers comes to mind, but she doesn’t think her host would appreciate the joke. It’s no wonder he doesn’t see many people if he acts this way with everyone. Soso bumps into a table and nearly upsets what seems to be a pyramid assembled from various glasses, topped with an upside-down teapot.

“Do you live here?” she asks before she can curtail her curiosity.

“I’m a librarian,” he answers. “This is a library.”

“Right, but that doesn’t…” she fumbles.

“Do Canadians not live in Canada? Do Norwegians not live in Norway?”

“Vegetarians don’t live in vegetables,” she counters.

He considers that. “Well-played.”

Soso laughs despite herself and, to her surprise, things seem to go more smoothly after that. She continues speaking with the librarian and learns that his name is Surehouser, though if there’s a first name attached to that one, she doesn’t catch it. He’s certainly as eccentric as the rumors had led her to believe, but he seems harmless, and quite frankly more than a little lonesome. She doesn’t know how a person could be anything else, living like this.

He’s not friendly or unfriendly; his words have a measured quality to them, as if he’s afraid of saying too much. Soso gets the impression, as the sole carer for this seemingly ancient place, his occupation is more out of a sense of obligation than a passion for literature. He looks the part of the academic for sure, down to the silver that threads through his hair and the half-moon reading glasses folded in the front of his shirt, but his eyes track her as she browses like he doesn’t know what to do with someone who actually wants to check out a book.

“Do you have an idea of what you’re looking for?” he asks after she’s been at it for a while.

She doesn’t want to admit that not only is she not sure, since it’s not really her class she needs it for, but that whatever organizational system is in place here is totally incomprehensible to her. “Anything you have should be good.”

Which is how she ends up checking out way more than she meant to, sending up a tiny prayer that her comparatively tiny backpack can rise to the occasion. Surehouser gives her a look like he knows what’s going through her head as he leads her to the front desk. There’s no computer in sight, just a leatherbound book of names and dates and a thick rubber stamp.

“On my way out, would you mind if I took some pictures of that statue you have out front? For my project.” She adds that last part as an afterthought, then regrets it right away. She’s a notoriously terrible liar and the more she enforces the threads of this pointless story she’s weaving, the more awkward she feels.

He frowns and says, more to himself than to her, “I always thought that old thing was a bit gaudy myself. I’d have gotten rid of it ages ago if I could.”

Something about the way he says it strikes her as strange. Not knowing how to respond, she simply says, “I don’t know, I think it’s cool.”

He laughs. Or, she thinks that’s what it is. The sound is gentle but rusty at the edges. “I suppose you would. Feel free to do whatever you want, only do not touch it, and be careful.”

She walks down the stone steps, her haul unexpectedly light on her back, and pauses to look at the gargoyle once more. The light isn’t any good right now, but she’ll be back.

“See you later,” she tells it.

Sure enough, the next day she’s back. She hadn’t actually planned to be such a regular, but she’d been unable to keep the place from her mind, and it wasn’t as if she had anything better to do. Carmen had looked about to cry when Soso showed her the books she’d picked out. The ones she didn’t need for her paper, Soso decided to flip through herself and had found herself more invested than she’d counted on. The book on obscure pagan deities she’d selected, though dense and confusing in places, was particularly interesting. Before she knew it, she was finished, and thus had the perfect excuse to go back.

“This guy kinda looks like you, don’t you think?” She holds the page open so that the gargoyle could “see” it. Despite arriving at noon on a Wednesday, the library seems to be truly closed today and no amount of knocking had managed to change its mind. Since she’d already come all this way, she figured she might as well find some other way to entertain herself before heading home.

“The horns are all wrong, but the general look is there. He could be, like, your second cousin,” she tells the statue.

The statue doesn’t respond, obviously, but Soso likes talking to it regardless. She adjusts her position so she can keep reading while keeping the book within its line of sight. When it’s time to leave, she turns to it and says,

“Keep an eye on that guy who runs the place for me. He’s weird, and should really keep more regular hours, but he’s nice, and I think being alone out here is making him a little…” She makes a spiraling motion with her finger. “Guess I’m not one to talk though. I’m chatting with a hunk of rock.”

She doesn’t stop though. Maybe it’s the boredom, maybe it’s something just fundamentally Soso, but whatever the reason, she keeps coming back. Partially for the library, yes, and for the company of the strange librarian that dwells within, but primarily to have a quiet place to vent her frustrations and speak her mind, where often the only one around to judge is one who’s incapable of talking back.

Surehouser is an acquired taste, and they don’t have much in common, but he never turns Soso away on the days when her visits magically coincide with the hours of operation. He always seems to have snacks on hand and is content to let the young woman ramble on about whatever latest subject has caught her interest, which as much as she could ask of anyone really. He still speaks frustratingly little of himself, but she believes she’ll get it out of him eventually.

She’s moved from taking pictures around the library to breaking out her old sketchbook, sitting on the steps and muttering to the empty air as she tries to map the contours of the stone body before her. She’s always been visually minded, for whatever good it does her.

“My mom keeps calling and asking if I want to come home for the holidays,” she complains, holding her knees to her chest. “And I know that’s months away but if I say yes that means having to see my family in person while they interrogate me about my future. I’m not even sure I have a future.”

She paces around for a minute to work out some pins and needles and brushes back her hair where it’s been falling in her face. Feeling playful, she imagines she can feel the gargoyle’s gaze watching her.

“Oh this? Yeah, I did get a haircut, thank you for noticing. Just a couple inches off the bottom but I think it’s nice.”

She tosses her head. Nestled among her dark hair, a tip of pointed ear pokes out and she worries idly at the cartilage like she used to do when she was younger.

“You noticed that too, huh. I was born with this itty bity point to my ears. They used to stick out when I was a kid. I was kinda self-conscious about it, actually. I dreaded whenever we had a course in school about fairytales because the kids in my class would call me an elf. I started making my mom do my hair so that they were hidden and just, never grew out of the habit I guess.”

The gargoyle is without comment. She smiles.

“I knew you’d understand, dude. Us freaks have to stick together.”

The following week is a flurry of last-minute Halloween preparations. Soso herself hadn’t been planning to dress up, not having anywhere to be other than planted firmly on the couch in front of a horror B-movie marathon, but the other girls insist they decorate, as there’d been whispers in their neighborhood of pranks planned on those deemed not festive enough. According to Carmen, who had become the resident expert on local tradition since she aced her last history test, the custom of shunning those who didn’t partake was almost as firmly rooted as the decorating itself. It stemmed from a belief from ye olden days that the festivities helped to fend off ghosts and goblins and the meddling of the fae on the day when the border between their worlds was the thinnest.

“Wait, do ghosts come from the same place as fae, or do they just, like, carpool here?”

She snorts. “It depends who you ask, but a lot of people around here believe that anything that’s magical or ‘otherworldly’ in origin is technically ‘fae’. Ensfield has a whole history of convoluted fae-based superstitions. Did you know some people still leave out bowls of fresh milk for house spirits?”

“House spirits?”

“Like, brownies.”

Soso nods. “I love having milk with brownies.”

Phoebe pipes up from the kitchen. “I had a girlfriend in high school who left out offerings when she was doing her SATs.”

“Did it help?” Carmen asks. “I’ll try anything.”

Soso is no skeptic, but she’s more inclined to believe that leaving food out overnight will attract more mice than faerie blessings. The sentiment is nice, but it’s hard for her to take comfort in fairytales without remembering her childhood teasing. How much worse could it have been if it had been more than just a joke, if her ears and her daydreaming demeanor were enough to get her labeled as an outsider for life, rather than just for the span of third grade.

“Are you doing anything special for Halloween, Soso?” Carmen asks.

“You mean like leaving out bowls of milk?”

She laughs. “No, like going to a party. You can come with me to Katy’s if you want. It’ll be lowkey.”

Carmen has been making more of an effort to get to know her since she got her those books for her paper, but while Soso appreciates the thought, being a plus-one at a stranger’s party where everyone knows each other from the classes she’s still not attending doesn’t sound like her idea of a good time.

“No thanks. Someone’s gotta stay and hand out candy to the trick or treaters, right?”

“Good point. Did you pick up candy?”

“Not yet, but I’ll do it.”

“Just don’t put it off until the night of.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

That is exactly what happened. October 31st finds Soso standing in line with a back of candy under each arm. Their neighborhood isn’t exactly kid-heavy, but better safe than TP’d she figures. She’s nearing the register when a pair of college-age boys stumble in, looking conspicuously red around the whites of their eyes. She sighs inwardly as they wander around, talking just a bit too loud for comfort, and does her best to ignore them even as they get in line behind her. Looking out of the corner of her eye, she notices that there is nothing in their baskets except a two-liter bottle of off-brand soda, a box of marshmallow snackcakes, and about four cartons of eggs, each.

It almost doesn’t click for her until she remembers what Phoebe said about the frat bros and their hazing. That paired with it being a night notorious for pranks by idiot teens is enough to get her nervous. After making her purchase she lingers outside the store for a moment and watches as the boys climb into a car and drive away in the direction of the woods.

It might still be a coincidence, they might be heading to some other destination that just so happens to be in that direction as well, but the image of some stupid stoners invading her sanctuary makes her hackles raise all the same. She starts pedaling after them, following just far enough behind so as not to be spotted in the swiftly fading light.

[katsens-writing]

Holiday Headache

A/N: Sorry this is so very late guys. I’ve been getting adjusted to my new job and new work schedule. This is a little piece I wrote for @bitchassbucky‘s holiday writing challenge. It’s been a while since I’ve written anything, so I’m a little out of practice. I hope you enjoy it and if you want to be added to my Marvel taglist or any of my taglists, just send me an ask or shoot me a message! (To anyone who read it, the epilogue to See You Again is coming soon I promise. Thank you to all for bearing with me!!)

Content: Loads of fluff and a little bit of harmless mischief.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader if you squint

Word Count: About 1.8k

Masterlist   Buy me a coffee? :)

~

     “No, Peter, on the other side, next to Pepper,” you directed. “That’s it. Harley! Stop messing with your sweater and hold still!”     “Why am I doing this again?” Harley complained, pulling on his itchy sweater. It was green with shiny, silver tinsel-thread glinting throughout it.     Pepper sighed and rolled her eyes, explaining for the hundredth time. “It’s for the Avengers’ latest public campaign to wish everyone a safe holiday season.”

     “Again, why am I doing this?” Harley grumbled flatly. “I’m not an Avenger.”     “You’re doing this because it’s a family photo and you’re part of this madness, kid,” Clint grinned as he straightened his elf ears.     Harley’s brow furrowed and his jaw fell open indignantly. “I never signed up for any of this!” He protested.     Maria gave an explosive, exasperated sigh and turned to the young man. “Harley, so help me if you don’t stop whining I’ll web your mouth closed!” She gritted, pointing to the web-shooter on Peter’s wrist. Peter snickered, glancing at Harley.     Happy turned to Peter, narrowing his eyes. “And if you don’t stop moving I’ll web you to a chair.” Peter’s face fell and Harley smirked. Happy rolled his eyes. “I swear, Morgan should be babysitting you two.”     The two boys frowned and looked down at the little girl in front of them. Morgan just looked up at her brothers and gave them the brightest, most angelic smile, her curled, brown hair hanging down her shoulders and down to the big, golden ribbon tied in a bow on her back. Her eyes sparkled in the soft glow of icicle lights decorating the mantle behind them.     “Well, why isn’t Y/N in the picture then, huh?” Harley retorted, shaking his head as if coming out of a trance. He swore Morgan’s smile was hypnotic. If you weren’t careful you’d end up taking her to the International Spy Museum, something Pepper had forbidden after the last time Natasha babysat her. The last time someone stared at her smile for too long, Morgan was seconds away from convincing Bucky to steal her a panda from the National Zoo.     “Hey, someone has to take the picture!” You grinned, looking over the top of the camera on its stand at Harley. He opened his mouth to protest but you had already shifted your attention back to the rest of the group. “Peter, scoot a little to your left, I want to be able to see your whole sweater. I’m no expert but I know the menorah has more than six candles. There you go, perfect! Wanda, step back a little... a little more... right there, stop! Good.”     As you continued moving everyone around and giving directions, you didn’t notice Tony watching you closely. You told everybody that you needed to take the picture, saying you had an eye for things like that. That part was true, but in reality, you had offered to take the picture when you overheard Tony and Pepper discussing the campaign the week before. Tony had plenty of gadgets that could have taken it, but you seemed excited about the idea, so he agreed. Now though, Tony suspected there was a reason you didn’t want to be in the picture and he thought he might know why.     Tony sighed. You had only joined the team a few months ago, but anyone on the outside wouldn’t have known. You got along great with everyone around the compound, connecting with them right away. It may have only been a few months, but already he couldn’t imagine what the team would be like without you, and he knew he wasn’t the only one.     At the Avengers’ holiday party last week, you spent most of the night sitting at the bar in the ballroom, talking with Maria and Pepper. Whenever the team went out after a successful mission, you usually stayed behind, volunteering to do the report for SHIELD. Whenever they had nights in, you’d slip off to your room when you thought no one would notice. It seemed no matter how well you got along with the team, you felt like you didn’t belong. Tony could understand why you might feel that way but he really wished you didn’t. He’d been reading your file since you joined the team. He hadn’t finished it yet, but he knew if anyone deserved to feel like they belonged somewhere, it was you. Tony shook his head lightly as your voice broke through his thoughts.     “Vision, if you could--”     A snickering caught your attention and you turned to glare at Sam and Steve, laughing on either side of an irritated Bucky. You crossed your arms and glared at them. “Am I gonna have to separate you three?”     “No, you won’t,” Steve answered quickly.     “Sorry, Y/N,” Sam apologized. “Bucky was just saying how the picture would look better with you in it.” Bucky elbowed him in the ribs, his face reddening slightly. Steve snorted.     “Oh, I don’t know,” you replied teasingly, peering through the lens and hoping the camera hid the light blush forming on your cheeks. “I don’t think I could top Santa’s reindeer.”     Steve rolled his eyes good-naturedly and Bucky smirked to himself.     “Hey!” Sam protested, lifting his hands to adjust his antlers. “I’ll have you know, we are Santa’s best-looking reindeer.”     “You know, they’ve got a point,” Tony spoke up, giving you a slight start. He had barely said a word since you started arranging everyone for the photo. “Not about the reindeer thing,” Tony rolled his eyes. “But you really should be in the picture. You are an Avenger after all, and part of the Avengers family.”     “Thank you!” Harley threw his hands up in exasperated vindication.     Your cheeks flushed a little, lowering your eyes. “No, I’m fine, really. Someone has to take the picture and besides, nobody would know who I am.”     Rhodey snorted and jerked a thumb at Scott. “You think they know who he is?”     “Oh, come on man!” Scott whined, the tiny bells on his hat jingling as he tipped his head back in frustration. “I turned into a freaking giant, multiple times even!”     Bruce shook his head with a reluctant sigh. “This is why I don’t do group pictures.”     “Come on guys! I would like to be done sometime before New Year’s.” Natasha groaned.     “Natasha is right,” Thor agreed. “The sooner we get this picture done, the sooner we can get out of these uncomfortable clothes.” He scrunched his face as he pulled at the collar on his sweater.     “Hey now, I think you look very handsome in that Christmas tree sweater,” you chided with a grin. How Tony had managed to convince everyone to dress up for the picture you would never understand, although judging by his, Pepper’s and Morgan’s regular dress clothes, you suspected there may have been a misunderstanding somewhere along the line...     You scanned over the group one more time, eyes narrowed in focus. “Okay... I think that’s it. Now everyone, smile!” You grinned in emphasis as you spoke the last word. “Hold it...” After a few seconds, the camera flashed. “Ok.”     Everyone sighed, their muscles relaxing. “It’s about time,” Harley grumbled. Maria rolled her eyes.     “Wait...” The chatter fell as everyone froze and turned to look at you. Harley’s face darkened with a look of murder on his face. “We need to take one more, Scott blinked,” you continued. A collective groan came from the group and Hope elbowed Scott in the ribs. “And Rhodey, stop acting like Clint’s ears poked you in the eye!” You scoffed, glaring at the two.     “Hey!” Clint’s brow furrowed as he turned to Rhodey.     “That’s what you get for saying my Kwanzaa socks don’t count as dressing up!” Rhodey countered.     “Nobody can see ‘em!”     You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed before shaking your head. While you were distracted by all the bickering and squabbling, Tony leaned forward and whispered something in Peter’s ear, all the while keeping an eye on you. Peter’s eyes widened a fraction as he sat up straight with the faintest nod and a small glint of excitement in his eye.     You straightened and smoothed out your red and white striped dress before clearing your throat. “Ok guys, one more time. Five seconds, ok?” your eyebrows arched. “Just keep it together for five more seconds. You guys ready?”     After a few seconds of shuffling and murmuring, Tony answered. “I think we’re ready, Y/N.” He and Peter exchanged a quick glance while you set the timer on the camera.     “Ok, five...” In a flash a web shot out and wrapped around your wrist, catching you by surprise. “Wha-- woah!” Before the cry left your throat, you were yanked forward. Narrowly missing the camera, the force of the pull spun you around as you stumbled into the group... and right into Bucky.     On instinct, Bucky threw his arms up to steady you and ended up catching just as you tumbled into him. “You ok?” he asked as you looked up and shook the hair out of your face. Flustered, you opened your mouth to answer but you were cut off.     “You’d better smile Y/N, ‘cause I’m not standing for another pic!” Harley gritted through a forced smile. Shocked, you turned to face the camera just as it flashed. Once your eyes adjusted again, you stood up to straighten yourself out.     Bucky lowered his arms awkwardly, letting them fall to his side before rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Uh, sorry.”    “It’s ok,” you replied flustered, quickly tucking your chin to hide your embarrassment and your blushing cheeks.     Bucky looked at you in confusion. “You ok?” he asked again. “What happened?”     As you straightened your dress you noticed the web tangled around your bracelet. You frowned and turned to Peter but before you could say anything to him, Tony interrupted. “Let’s check out the picture, huh?” he suggested.     “And that’s my cue,” Harley spoke up as he made for the exit. “I need to stop by the library before it closes for the holidays.”     “I’ll come with you,” Peter offered a little too quickly. “Happy Holidays everyone!” He called over his shoulder as he followed Harley to the door.     You watched him with narrowed eyes before shaking your head with a sigh. You walked over to the camera and with a few taps you brought the picture up. “Wow,” your eyes widened. “That’s--”     “Not bad,” Tony peered over your shoulder. “Not bad at all actually.”     You turned to him incredulously. “Are you kidding? It’s terrible! My hair alone--”     Tony grabbed the camera out of your hand and started toward his office. “Hey FRIDAY, remind me to send this to the ad agency first thing tomorrow.”     You blinked, stunned, as Tony walked away with the camera. Bucky rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly again as he looked at you, wincing sympathetically.     “At least it’s only for the holidays,” you muttered under your breath as you walked away, rolling your eyes resignedly. “I’m already gonna be out of town. I’ll just extend my trip through New Year’s.”

~

Tags: @bla-369 @myworstdays @parkerspicedlatte

~

[kurtzyoufunkylittledruggy]

Bad Habits: Part 2

Pairing: (Kurtz x OC) (Malachai x OC)

Word Count: 1400+

Warnings: none (I think)

3rd person point of view

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

   School was something neither one of the twins enjoyed. Neither one of them being extremely popular made things hard. People messed with them cause it was easy too. The only Emma really talked to were her brother and Betty Cooper. Riverdale's resident girl next door.

   Emma walked down the crowded halls. The first day of school was always torture. Especially because of how much everyone had changed over the summer. The halls were crowded with the latest gossip. Who was with who. Who got hot and who didn't. Who did what. That's all anyone could talk about.

   Emma timidly waved at Betty as she walked down the hall towards her, another girl, the one everyone was walking about by her side. Betty flashed her a sweet smiled and waved her over. Emma walked over and hugged Betty.

   "It's so good to see you, Em." Betty said.

   "It's good to see you too, Betty." Emma said, flashing the girl next to her a smile.

   "This is Veronica Lodge, she's new." Betty said.

   "It's nice to meet you. I'm Emma Jones." Emma said.

   "It's nice to meet you too." Veronica said. Emma smiled and ran to class.

   Lunch rolled around Emma walked slowly to the courtyard. She glanced around and Kevin motioned her over. She smiled in relief and sat with them.

   "Hey, Em. How was your summer?" Archie asked.

   "Can't complain. How about you?" She asked. He shrugged.

   "Nothing to brag about." He said. She smiled and sipped her tea. Emma noticed the pinched up look Betty got on her face whenever Veronica talked to Archie.

   "I've got that meeting with Grundy so I've gotta go." Archie said, packing his things up and leaving.

   "And before you ask, no, Betty hasn't asked Archie to the semi-formal." Kevin said. Emma gasped and smiled.

   "You're gonna ask him?" Emma asked. Betty stuttered and looked between her three smiling friends.

   "I-I don't- don't talk about Archie." Betty hissed as Cheryl approached their small table.

   "What are you four hens gossiping about?" Cheryl asked.

   "Extracurriculars. Wetherbee wants me to sign up for a few." Veronica said. Cheryl started to go off about cheerleading and how Veronica HAD to try out.

   "Betty, Emma. You're trying out too." Veronica said. Emma's eyes nearly popped out of her head.

   "Emmy, you're always welcome to try out, as I told you last year. Betty, already has so much on her plate and being a River Vixen is kinda a full time thing." Cheryl said. Emma smiled shyly at her Cheryl before she walked away. Emma let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding.

   "Why is Cheryl nice to you?" Kevin asked. Emma giggled and shook her head.

   "She always says that because her and I are the only two twins in Riverdale that we were meant to he friends." She said.

   "I'd love to be a cheerleader, Veronica. It'd look great on college applications, but I tried out last year and Cheryl told me I was too fat." Betty said.

   "Which obviously isn't true at all." Emma said softly.

   "Very season five, Betty Draper. But as Emma said, not true." Kevin said.

   When lunch ended the rest of the day seemed to trickle by. Emma was about to leave when she was grabbed by the wrist.

   "If I'm doing this, then you are too." Betty said, handing Emma a cheer try outs outfit. Emma huffed.

   "Fine." Emma caved. Betty and he ran to the locker room and changed quickly.

   Emma did her routine alone. It truly wasn't bad. She was flexible and she used to dance so it came easy to her. When she finished Cheryl clapped and smiled.

   "Welcome to the team, Emmy." She said, standing up and hugging her tightly.

   "Thanks, Cher." Emma said softly. Cheryl handed her a Vixens uniform and squeezed her hand. Emma walked to the locker room and stared at the uniform in her lap. When Betty and Veronica came back they changed into their new uniforms.

   "Thanks for making me do this." Emma said. The girls shared a hug and Emma and Veronica exchanged numbers.

   "I've got to go. I'll see yous around." Emma said. She hiked her back up onto her shoulder and started to walk to the drive in. The Twilight Drive In was already littered with southsiders. Emma ran to the projector room.

   "Sorry I'm late, Jug. Betty made me try out for River Vixens with her." Emma said. Her brother stared at her and smirked.

   "I can see that." He said. Emma hit him with her book.

   "I didn't think I was gonna make it!" Emma said quickly.

   "Whatever. Just change into the uniform. Ben needs help at concessions tonight." Jughead said. She whined and collapsed onto her cot. He threw her uniform at her and smirked as she let out a frustrated scream. She changed into her work inform and smoothed down the skirt.

   "You didn't want to go to the dance tonight?" Jughead asked.

   "No. Who would I have gone with anyways? Besides, stuff like that has too many people." She said.

   "I'll get the projectors set up. Can you go open the gate?" He asked. She nodded and slid her phone into her pocket. She opened the gate and flipped the closed sign over.

   "Hey, Ben." Emma said as he walked in. He smiled at her.

   As people started to filter in Jughead started the movie. The line at concessions never seemed to end. It was a constant flow of back and forth, back and forth.

   It was more than half way through the movie and the line had finally died down. Emma was perched up on the counter reading silently as Ben scrolled through his phone. Emma jumped when the service bell rang. She slid off the counter and turned.

   "How can I help you- Kurtz?" She squeaked. Her eyes widened.

   "Yeah. Hey. You work here?" He asked. She nodded shyly.

   "U-Uh what can I get you?" She asked.

   "A coke." He said. She stood on her toes and grabbed the cups. She gave him his soda and took his money.

   "Keep the change." He said. She looked down and shifted.

   "This is a lot, are you sure?" She asked.

   "Yeah, definitely. As long as you come and watch the rest of the movie with me and my friends." He said. She glanced at the clock.

   "Ben, are you good here alone for the rest of the night?" She asked.

   "Yeah I'm fine, go." He said. She thanked him greatfully and clocked off.

   "Our set up is just over there." Kurtz said. She smiled and nodded, following behind him. He hopped up up into the bed of the truck and took her hand, helping her up. She sat next to Kurtz.

   "Emma, this is everyone. Everyone, this is Emma." Kurtz said. Emma smiled and waved shyly. Emma had picked the movie for the night so she knew it was good. It was one of her favorites. Heathers. Emma was a fan of older things. They had a certain level of intelligence she appreciated.

   "Let me see your phone, doll." Kurtz said. Emma handed her phone over and watched as he put her number into his phone. She smiled and took his phone. She snapped a photo of herself and set it as her contact picture.

   As the credits rolled Kurtz' friend nudged him and pointed at Emma. She was asleep. Head buried into her arms. Kurtz chuckled and shook her gently.

   "Wake up, doll. Movies over." He said. Her head shot up and she whined.

   "M'sorry." She whispered. He took her hands and pulled her to her feet. She squeaked and stumbled against him. He smiled and grabbed her waist, steadying her. She rubbed her eyes with her knuckles and leaned forward. Her head resting against his chest. She was so sleepy she didn't even realize. He smiled and guided her out of the truck. Holding her waist as she jumped down.

   "Thanks for inviting me to hang with you." She said softly. He chuckled and nodded.

   "Of course. Anytime. Might have to start coming every night now just to see you." He said. She giggled.

   "Well, let me know because I'll let you and your friends in for free. It's closing down in a week or two anyways." She said.

   "Wait..if this place closes where will you go?" He asked. She shrugged.

   "My brother will find a place for us." She said. Emma knocked on the projector room door and it opened.

   "Good night." Emma said softly. Kurtz smiled and kissed her cheek softly.

   "Night, doll. Talk to you later." He said. She flushed and closed the door to the projector room quickly. She collapsed into bed and the minute her head hit the pillow, she was out.

~

~

~

[tigerlilynoh]

Almost Got ‘em

Written for the 2019 @spnsummergen. Rating: G Featuring: Original characters, and a couple familiar faces Word Count: 3,143 Warnings: foul language Author's Notes: The prompt was “Early season - demons in hell plotting to take the Winchesters down.” I was immediately inspired by the Batman: The Animated Series episode “Almost Got ‘im.”   Summary: Deep in the depths of Hell, a group of demons discuss the two latest pains in their collective ass: Sam and Dean Winchester. Rumor is that the brothers had found the Colt and even killed a demon. Of course, rumors are just big talk— yet a pair of demons patiently listen; their plan is already in action.

Two figures made their way through the halls of the third lowest dungeon in Hell.  As they walked the jagged stone walls seemed to close in around them, but their petite, female forms prevented the blade-like rock from tearing at their temporary flesh.  Even if they were injured it would be of no importance; they were demons and there was a meeting that they very much wanted to attend.

Both were wearing lean, blonde women who might’ve been mistaken for sisters, but that was the limit of their outward similarity.  The slightly older of them wore a gauzy, white dress that, when combined with her delicate steps, gave her the air of a drifting spirit.  Her partner was another story.  The younger demon’s black combat boots thudded with every step, announcing her presence.  Her attire was entirely leather—the cow sort, not human—dyed dark enough to hide spilled blood.

Neither of them said a word as they approached the auxiliary dungeon rumored to be containing an unusual sort of rendezvous.  The pair didn’t have anything more to discuss for the moment.  They both knew their immediate goals, responsibilities, and when push came to shove, which of them was in charge.  They damn well better have known.  Between the two of them, they’d spent over a decade putting their respective pieces in order and double-checking their work.

When they reached the unmarked door that they’d heard whispers about, the demon in the white dress pushed it open without hesitation.  She stepped through the door with an unassuming demeanor.  Her colleague followed her, studying the contents of the chamber with a wary eye.

Inside there were eight lesser demons standing or sitting around a storage room.  Three racks had been laid out flat, then pushed together to create an improvised conference table.  Five of the occupants were perched on crates of acid, steel nails, and other implements of pain.  The remaining three leaned against the far wall, cautiously keeping some distance.

A brutish-looking man with pasty skin, a pronounced brow, and stringy black hair glared at the newcomers from the opposite side of the table.  He stared with the intensity of someone who had taken charge—he certainly didn’t hold any noteworthy rank as evidenced by his badly calloused hands that hinted at many decades or centuries of wielding a whip, the shoddy ones meant for working souls.  

In a low growl he asked the two women, “What do you want?”

“We heard that this is the place to be if you truly hate the Winchesters,” answered the elder one.

He stared at them for a moment before replying, “Get inside and shut the fucking door.”

The pair entered, closing the door behind them.  From the way that everyone turned their attention to a stout demon sitting on a box labeled ‘spiders’ they assumed that it was his turn to speak.  The two women settled themselves on a non-technically-iron maiden that was lying along one of the walls as if it were a bench.

The stout demon resumed addressing his audience.  “So then I tore the cow apart—six chunks, big ones but still enough to spread around, and some smaller hunks.  You don’t want to waste it by piling the whole cow in one corner of the room.  You might as well not bother cutting the damn thing up—Anyway, I hung pieces of it throughout the house.”  The sound of scuttling inside the box he was sitting on filled the room as he fumed for a moment in anger.  “It’s a classic omen!  It’s a horror!  And the older of the brothers makes a joke about hamburgers!”

“So disrespectful,” muttered a female demon with hollow eyes and frayed white hair.  Several demons nodded in agreement with her comment.

“That kind of work takes time,” complained the portly demon.  “I’m not a high-caste demon.  I can’t just wave my hand and make things move.  Do you have any idea how long it takes to cut up a cow?  And the first cleaver broke and I had to find a store—”

“Was it a vegetable cleaver?” asked the lean demon with a mangled left arm and long, frizzy brown hair sitting next to him.  When he looked up at her face in confusion, she rested her hand on his thigh, then said in a soft voice, “Milmont, sweetie, two kinds of cleavers.  Vegetable ones aren’t made for bone.”

“I don’t fucking believe this,” muttered a red-haired demon.  He was dressed like Billy Idol but his rosy cheeks undercut the attempt at an edgy look.  “Did you fight them or not?”

“I fought them!” Milmont replied indignantly.  “I had a knife—”

“Paring or bread?”

“—and I swung at the older one’s neck.”

One of the demons standing in the shadows noted aloud, “Swung means a miss.  You got your ass kicked.”

The stoat demon flustered a bit before reluctantly explaining, “He shot me in the chest with rock salt and hit me in the face with his gun—” 

“You fell on your ass,” guessed the red-headed demon.

“The younger brother can perform an exorcism really fast,” Milmont said while shifting, jostling the box of spiders.

“You shouldn’t have gone after them,” said the brutish leader of the group.  “You’re too weak.”

The stout demon glared as he hissed, “I have every right to go after the prey I choose.  I’m allowed to prove myself!”  He waved his hand at the rest of the room as he asked, “How many of you have been exorcised by them?  If you’re here bitching about the Winchesters on your weekly one-hour break, yeah, I’m guessing they made you look like an idiot too.”

Several of the demons nodded in acknowledgement of the point or murmured agreement.  The leader let out a small grumble as he reached into an open crate next to him.  He pulled out an unlabeled bottle containing reddish-tawny liquid, then yanked the black cork from it with his teeth.  After taking a swig, he handed it to Milmont.

“Corceo.”  The stout demon toasted him before having a sip.  

“You’re lucky that you were only exorcised,” the hollow-eyed woman told him while reaching out, wordlessly asking for a drink.  Milmont passed it to her and she took a sip before continuing.  “Rumor has it they possess the Colt.”

“Dajhila, they don’t have the Colt,” replied the demon with the bad arm.  “I brawled with them ten days ago and they didn’t shoot me.”

“Maybe you aren’t worth the bullets?” jabbed the rosy-cheeked punk.

With her good hand, she picked a knife up off the ground and stabbed it into the wooden table in front of her, inviting him to fight.

Corceo, the leader, hit the table, drawing everyone’s attention.  “Tisha, don’t carve Frey a new asshole.  He has plenty already,” he joked, earning a chuckle from one of the demons watching from the wall.  “The fact is that they had the gun.  They killed Tom.”

“Tom was an idiot,” huffed Frey.  “The only reason he wasn’t wading through viscera like the rest of us was because he was Azazel’s son.”

“Apparently he was attacking Sam, and Dean shot him,” Dajhila explained.  “There were witnesses.”

Frey shrugged indifferently at Tom’s death.  “Silver-spooned nepotist should’ve been the one to get his ass beat before he got shot.”

“I’m fine with the younger Winchester getting that bludgeoning,” interjected Tisha.  She snarled, “You know that little shit is a psychic?  I was so close to killing them.  It took me three weeks to lure them to this abandoned insane asylum.  I’d murdered twenty people in there—six hunters came before the brothers finally took the bait.  That’s the shit I had to deal with in order to roll out the red carpet for those thick-brained, underwear-model-looking—“

“They aren’t that good looking,” said Milmont.

“They are,” countered Corceo.  “Now let her finish or I’ll tear your fucking tongue out.”

Dajhila with the hollow eyes quietly said, “We should’ve kept the talking stick.”

Frey held up the pointy, splintered remains of a blood-stained wooden dowel that had evidently been used to stab someone.  The woman shrugged, conceding that it had worked better in theory than in practice.  The red-haired demon tossed it aside, grabbed the bottle of alcohol from where it had settled on the table, then gestured to their current storyteller.

Tisha waited a beat to see if anyone would interrupt her before continuing.  “I swear on my life, that Sam kid really is a psychic.  They knew it was a trap.  I’m sitting there with a semi-automatic rifle—I’m not fucking around—and all of a sudden the sprinklers are raining holy water.”  Her lips curled downward at the memory as she snarled, “Sam used a megaphone from the parking lot to exorcise me.  I only got to see their faces as my cloud was getting dragged back down.”

“Jesus,” exhaled Frey.  “A megaphone… and you had a rifle.”

“What weapon did you go after them with?” asked Tisha.

He thought for a moment before finally admitting, “A big rock.”  Everyone stared at him for a moment, then burst into laughter, so he added, “Sometimes simple is best.  We’re stronger than them and there was a big rock right there that I could throw—  It was a tactical decision.”

“With genius thinking like that, it’s no wonder we can’t catch a break against them,” said Corceo.

Dajhila commented, “The only good news is that the dad, John, he died two months ago.”

“John Winchester, hunter savante—  That piece of shit finally dropped?”  Milmont looked around, eyes wide with excitement.  “What did ‘im in?”

“I do not know.”  The hollow-eyed woman crossed her bony arms.  “Margot, down in processing, says his file is classified, but it is there.”

Frey leaned forward with interest.  “File—  We got him?  Fucker isn’t playing a harp?”

“In the pit as we speak,” she replied smuggly.  “Rumor is that Alastair’s working him personally.”

“Alastair?” asked Corceo.  “They’re breaking out the Grand Torturer himself for a Winchester?”

Tisha nodded slowly to herself as she put together a few pieces.  “Well, he is classified.”

The two women silently observing from their place on the iron maiden exchanged a knowing glance.  The one in leather subtly placed her hand on a bulge by her belt that was obscured by her jacket, but the woman in the white dress discreetly shook her head and gestured for her to wait.  At the order, the younger demon gave a quick roll of her eyes before relaxing her posture.  By the time they’d turned their attention back to the meeting, the conversation had switched back to discussing different methods of pursuing the still-living brothers.

“Dean is a hedonist,” commented Dajhila.  “Take a meatsuit with a figure as an hourglass and lay yourself in his path.”

Tisha raised an eyebrow.  “You really think he’s going to fall for something like that?”

“He’s young and proud.”

Tisha countered, “He’s a paranoid with low self-esteem—“

“Here we go,” muttered Milmont.

“—You all think they’re heroes out of a fucking Greek epic, but they’re just men—feeble, petty little things—“

“Little,” Frey scoffed.  “Have you even seen them?”

Tisha slammed her fist on the table.  “They are mortal children, too absorbed by their grief and self-pity—Yes, they are little, but that makes them paranoid, partially-psychic, sneaky cunts who use megaphones.”  She paused a moment to look around the table at the others, then said, “And maybe they don’t have it now or maybe I wasn’t worth the bullets, but they know about the Colt.  They know how to kill us—  Kill, not exorcise.”

After a brief, pensive silence, Milmont asked, “When was the last time you heard of one of us getting killed?  Cain going nuts and turning traitor?  That was almost 150 years ago—Earth time.”

Corceo nodded.  “Half the crew in my dungeon wasn’t even turned back then.  The sniveling pups thought we were immortal until they heard the news:  the fucking Winchesters killed Tom.”

There was a grumble of shared frustration at the indignity.  Humans had managed to kill demons, for the first time in over a century—and the bastards hadn’t even had the decency to stick around long enough to be killed in return.

“We have to stop them,” said Milmont quietly.  

Frey scoffed.  “Have you been listening or are ya’ as dense as iron?”

“Oh, choke on a ball of blades,” Tisha hissed.

The red-haired demon waved his arms, sarcastically miming fear.

“Save it.  The enemy is up there.”  Corceo waited to see if anyone would interrupt, then continued.  “I’m tired of all this theatrical, solo bullshit.  We murder them in their sleep.  If they salt the door, we use guns.  If they ward the building, burn it down.  Fucking drive an oil tanker truck into them—this is war.  So how do we find them?”

Milmont replied, “Since their dad died, my denmate, Bahshin, spotted them a few times with another hunter:  male, middle-aged, reddish-brown greying hair and beard, baseball cap, one of those grizzled sorts.”

Tisha nodded.  “I know the one.  His name is Bobby—don’t know the last name.  I’ve run into him and his partner a few times.  He sticks to the north central U.S.  Rural looking, lots of plaid.  He had an old truck.”

“Fucking hick hunters,” muttered Frey.

The woman in leather sitting along the wall wordlessly withdrew a small notebook and pen from her pocket, then wrote down, “Margot:  soul processing department grunt,” and “Bahshin:  den-dweller, has an Earth pass.”  

Corceo eyed the two silent newcomers from his place at the table.  “Taking notes?  Dainty little things like you gonna go gunning for the big bad Winchesters?”  He laughed.  “Well get in fucking line.  You come here, don’t say shit, and crib off our hard work—  How close have you come to offing them?  What makes you so cocky you’re gonna be the ones to kill the bastards?”

The woman with the notepad gestured to her partner, inviting her to address the challenge.  The demon in white stood up and smiled, unconcerned by the hostile attitude of the others in the room.

“We haven’t tried to kill them,” she replied.  “And we have a plan, the likes of which history has never seen.”

“Ready to shared with the class?” Frey asked.  “What brilliant plan are you two peons gonna try?”

“We’re gonna give them what they really want.”

Corceo’s eyes passed over the two women.  “A pair of eager-to-please blondes in suggestive clothes?”

The woman in the white dress corrected him.  “The only one we’re eager to please is our lord, Lucifer.”

A few of the demons chuckled at the absurd statement.  Lucifer was a fairytale, as much as God and angels were to the humans.  

“I’ll bite.”  Corceo’s mouth curled into an amused grin, punctuated by the occasional barbed fangs.  “What are you gonna give them?”

“We’re gonna make them heroes.”

The demons around the table laughed outright at the reply.

“You’re going to make them heroes?  Those hunter bastards know about the Colt.  They killed Tom.  They’ve been exorcising us.”  He placed his hands on the table and stood up, ready to confront them.  “The Winchesters aren’t scared of us—not the way they should be.  We’re demons.  That still means something.  So I don’t know what crazy scheme you’re thinking up, but it isn’t happening.  They don’t get to be heroes.  They die.”

“They’ll die when we—” She gestured to her partner “—say they die.”

“Looks like we have something of a race on our hands.”  Cerceo walked up to her and stood so that they were only a few inches apart.  A head taller than her, he glared down at her before hissing, “You think you can beat me to them?”

Her eyes turned white, causing his jaw to drop.  “Child you’re busy boasting and we’re on step fifteen.”  Lilith waved her right hand, locking the door to the room.  In a quick backhanding gesture, she threw Corceo against the far wall, then turned to look at her companion.  “Ruby.”

Ruby stood up and smiled as she drew her knife from the holster on her belt.  She systematically worked her way through the room, killing the others while her partner held them in place with telekinesis.  Afterward, she placed the bodies on the table, then rested her palms on the topmost corpse.  A few lines of Aramaic later, blue flame engulfed the bodies, destroying the evidence.

While watching the fire, Lilith asked, “Is Meg ready?”

“She’s still running recon on the other children.  In terms of pressure points so far:  four have lovers, eight of them are close to a parent, and we have a few like Sam where the sibling could be an incentive.  As of yesterday, she was watching the stoner with imprinting telepathy to figure out his achilles’ heel.”  Ruby wiped her bloody blade on the sleeve of her jacket to clean it while asking, “Did you take care of Crowley?”

“I encouraged several of his aides to let a few deals lapse.  Numbers are down.  He’s dying to get a big deal.”  Lilith looked at her.  “The second Dean Winchester’s soul comes across his desk, he’ll sign off on the contract just to get his name on something.  The grubby-fingered broker didn’t check the fine print on John; why should the son be any different?  I’ll hold Dean’s contract and the moment he bites it, he’ll get expedited delivery to Alastair’s dungeon.  No official processing.  No gossip—”  She gestured to the smoldering remains of the demon who had accidentally outed Margot as a leak in the processing department.  “—No mistakes this time.”

Ruby huffed an unamused laugh.  “The two of us sure as hell won’t have time to clean up any messes once this show gets rolling.  Round one we could afford to have things go a little sideways.  Once we pop up on Sam’s radar, that’s it.  We’re in, and I’m not coming back downstairs on a fucking milk run.”

“It will all turn out,” Lilith assured her.  “Our lord wills his return.  He cannot be denied.”

Ruby didn’t reply to the pious statement.  Instead she studied the charred racks in front of them.  “I know he’s your mentor and we couldn’t have done this without him, but Azazel can’t survive this.  You know that, right?”

Lilith nodded.  “When he finishes aligning his pawns, he’ll throw the fight.  He knows how important it is that Sam’s anger be directed solely at me.  That means clearing the field for the next generation of nemeses.”

“Don’t worry,” Ruby placed her hand on her partner’s shoulder.  “When I’m done with him, Sam will be foaming at the mouth to kill you.”

“I envy you,” Lilith sighed.  “You’ll live to see our lord.  It’s going to be beautiful.”

--------------

If you enjoyed this story, check out my Sam/Ruby Fic Masterlist or my Full Fic Masterlist.

[whichstiel]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Supernatural Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester Characters: Dean Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural) Additional Tags: Spn 14x01, supernatural episode coda, episode coda, Episode: s14e01 Stranger in a Strange Land, musings on hope and humanity, demon dean flashback Series: Part 1 of Season 14 Codas Summary:

An episode coda for season 14, episode 1.

Dean and Castiel reflect on hope and humanity in the shadow of Michael’s possession. 

(Also included in its entirety below because it’s pretty short. But please tell me what you think on AO3 or Tumblr! Comments are always appreciated.)

They were whispering about him at the other end of the bar. Dean sipped his whiskey, savoring the burn against his tongue, and eavesdropped over the hum of twanging guitar playing on the bar’s speakers.

“How long do we have to stick around this dump of a town? I haven't killed anything in at least a week.”

The second demon’s voice was lower, as though she was afraid of being overheard. “Until Crowley says it’s time to move on.”

Dean rolled his eyes. Brent and Laura. They had been flexing their muscles all over town, painting a big target on the motley King’s court staying at the motel attached to the bar. Crowley really ought to do something about them. Kill ‘em, or send them away.

Brent snorted. “You mean, until Winchester says it’s time to move on. I’ll admit, I was on board with the whole Hell’s Knight thing when I thought we’d be rampaging the fucking countryside with, you know biblical flaming fucking swords. But so far we’ve just watched him and Crowley make…make fucking cow eyes at each other.”

Laura grumbled a disgusted reply.

“Did you know,” Brent lowered his voice and glanced around the bar. Dean prevented himself from reacting, staring at his whiskey glass like it was the only object that mattered in the world. “They set up another date? A date.” He spat out the word like it was a curse.

“No,” Laura sounded scandalized. “That’s so…so…civilized. I can’t believe we’re sticking around town so Winchester can have a…a fivesome.” She called across the room to the bartender for another drink and after she took a long swallow of beer she said, “Knight of Hell, my ass.”

“Fucking weak.”

Dean took another sip of whiskey. He let the glass linger on his lips, enjoying the fire against his skin. Dean heard a lot of imprecations against his character lately. That was a consequence of falling in with demons. If he acted against every insult he'd have perpetually bloody knuckles and a whole hell of a lot less fun.

The truth was, they weren’t sticking around for the triplets, though they were very fun. Instead, he and Crowley were sticking around because the bar’s nice. It had a good sound system and decent booze, and there was plenty of tail to chase in this transitory place. Crowley had suggested moving on, but Dean had stopped him. “When was the last time you ever had a chance to relax, man?” And Crowley had taken one good look at him and backed right down. That’s true. Never. Might as well.

It was a good situation, and Dean didn’t intend to screw it up any more than he had to. He’d just sit quietly, finish his drink, and maybe bamboozle the bachelorette party camped out in the corner out of some hard earned money. Or sleep with the bride-to-be. The night was young.

But of course that wasn’t the end of it. Of course there was more.

An elbow bumped into Dean a little while later, deliberate and sharp against his back. “Oops,” Brent said at his ear. “Sorry. ”

Dean turned in his seat slowly and let his gaze flick along Brent fleetingly, like he was a fly. He turned away again, only Brent cleared his throat and said, “How does it feel?”

Dean swiveled to Brent and raised his brows consideringly. “Excuse me?”

“How does it feel,” Brent said with a sneer, “to suck so miserably at being a demon? I swear to god, you’re the most white bread demon I ever—”

Dean smiled lazily and grabbed the demon’s arm. His fingers cut into Brent hard enough to elicit a wince and Dean’s smile grew into a grin. “You got a problem with me, Brent?” Fear flicked across Brent’s expression, but it quickly turned into disgust. Dean let him pluck his fingers from his arm and drop his hand away. “You’re drunk. Which is a real fucking accomplishment for a demon, so kudos to you.” Dean lifted his glass in a mock salute.

“Yeah? Well you’re a shitty demon. Shitty and boring and…” A knowing expression crossed his face. “Bet it was all the angel dick you were getting.” He thrust his hips once and hissed, “Oh yeah, that sweet fire of the lord! Diluting everything that should make you great. Making you a waste of…of everyone’s time. You’re not a real demon.”

The Mark hissed against Dean’s forearm. It bubbled like liquor in his blood and he found himself baring his teeth. He let go of his glass. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he warned.

Brent snorted. “Please, everyone knows. Crowley’s talked about it. Hell, everybody talks about it. I don’t know why we bother when it’s obvious you’ve been compro— urk”

A moment later, Dean pulled the knife out of the demon’s ribs, winking as the blade scraped against bone. He swiped Brent’s blood casually against his a paper bar napkin and tucked it back in the sheath hidden in his pocket. “Talk about Cas again,” he said pleasantly, balling up the bloodied paper and dropping it next to his glass on the bar top, “and I’ll turn you inside out.”

He fucking had limits, after all.

The thing about Michael, Dean learned quickly, was that he was not a people person. Er…angel. And Dean didn’t mean that the archangel was unfriendly, although he was without a doubt a complete dick. No, it was that Michael simply didn’t…get people. He didn’t understand their motivations, or their complexities. He would ask Dean, early on, about the proper things to say to a human to sway them to his side. Like there was a manual every human was born with, and he need only ask for a copy. He’d asked about the angel Anael as though he and Dean were two colleagues, still working side by side. He’d asked before he’d tortured. Before he’d taken.

He’d asked because Michael truly was baffled. That fundamental lack of understanding would be how they would win, Dean often thought. He stewed over the problem in the prison Michael had built for him in his own mind.

“You think in black and white,” he muttered as he leaned over the lock in his hands. By concentrating very hard, he was able to manifest a version of the lock Michael placed over his latest trap for Dean. With a physical representation in hand, it felt easier now to pick at it and worry at it like a mouse nibbling away at a wall.

Michael had ranted to him early on about “fallen things,” which Dean had come to realize encompassed all of creation - humans, demons, surviving angels - you name it. For Michael, there was a high state and a low state, and nothing in between. “You don’t understand want or need or…or love. Just words.” He pushed the pin in and heard a click. “Just weapons.”

Encouraged, he kept on with it. “We have dreams. Desires. Hopes. We care about each other. We want fucking peace, you asshole.” Another tumbler clicked and Dean smiled. “And I’m not gonna let you ruin that.”

He’d thought for a while that Michael would try to batter down the walls of Heaven and take dominion of the place. The archangel enjoyed worship, thrived on it even. Michael had been bitterly disappointed by the impressions of angels in Dean’s mind, however. He’d been even more disappointed by his meeting with Anael, the supposed rebel fighting against Heaven.

If there was any rebel against Heaven slumming it on Earth, it was Cas, though. But Dean kept Castiel wrapped up firmly in his mind. Ever since Michael had taken over, pushed Dean down, Dean had dragged as much as he could from his memories of his loved ones down with him and pushed it into the dark corners of his mind.

Dean chewed on his lip as he worked at the lock. There were a lot of dark corners in his mind. Corners filled with pain that kept Michael at bay, as effective as insect repellant. It was almost laughably easy to bury his heart away from Michael.

Dean remembered the last time he saw Cas, after Michael had entered his body. He’d been filled with power, with fire so heady it had taken all of his control to hold fast to the reigns and not slip away like a paper boat in a flood.

Castiel had stared at him, jaw clenched, and anguish painted across the lines of his face. Dean had noticed that first and then he’d seen him through Michael’s eyes. Power streamed off of Castiel like holy fire, constant and blue-hot. His wings hung from his shoulders in tattered pieces, mere fragments of what they once were before Metatron’s spell shredded them.

Dean had never seen any sight more beautiful. Castiel - glowing with his own glory. Castiel - broken once, twice, over and over again. Broken, but never giving up. Never. And he still looked at Dean like he believed in him.

Dean remembered how he had failed in Hell, so many years ago. How he’d cracked under torture, given up. Castiel had saved him then and the memory of him would save him now.

He would push back against the walls, the locks, the pain that burned him with every second of contact with Michael’s grace. Dean worked at the lock.

He vowed to fight, because he couldn’t stand the idea of backing down again. Of giving up. And most of all, he couldn’t stand the thought of letting Castiel down. Again.

The thing was, he felt like Cas was with him. Not just the memory of him, but him. There, and steady beside him. Inside him. Dean shook his head. It didn’t make sense, but he was tired of trying to sort things into real and fake in his mind, of all places. He wrapped himself around Cas, or Cas wrapped himself around Dean.

The lock clicked open and Dean gathered himself, pulled his heart around him like armor. He picked up the lock and watched it grow long and sharp in his hand. “Heeeeeere’s Johnny,” Dean shouted and felt Michael flinch like a tiger in the wild at the call of something wilder.

Leaping from his cell, Dean began to slice.

Castiel cleaned the blood from his face grimly with a sandpaper textured washrag. He wished somebody had told him just how rough he looked before he’d gone to speak to Jack. Telling Jack he would be okay without his grace to back him up would have been a shade better delivered if Castiel hadn’t looked like he’d just received the beating of a lifetime.

He sighed and scrubbed the blood from his skin, rinsing the rag under running water and watching the red blood swirl in the basin, then down the drain.

Even as a human, he’d never felt more mortal. He supposed that happened to everyone. The more people you cared about, the more you realized how tenuous everyone’s hold on life and happiness was. It was hard to keep up, some days, without feeling hopelessness crystalizing into something sharp and impenetrable.

The cut in his lip was beginning to heal, but Castiel still hissed involuntarily as he scrubbed at it. It stung.

The cut stung and Castiel was…he was…

Castiel pressed his hands to the sides of the sink and leaned against it for a moment. The porcelain was very cold. He watched the bloody water droplets run towards the drain. He stood there for a breath. Two. Three. Then he lifted his head again, resolutely.

Dean was out there.

Castiel finished washing his face. He wet one hand and combed it through his hair, pushing out the blood and laying it flat again. Dean was out there, burning within Michael. He would feel it if Dean were gone, wouldn’t he?

He would.

In his millennia of life, Castiel had watched many things die, and many more things cease to be entirely. He should be inured to it. But he wasn’t. And he wouldn’t let himself become that way. He’d keep the faith that Dean survived, that he cared to survive.

Castiel finished brushing his hand through his hair and let his grace shudder through his shattered wings, flicking the last of the fight’s grime from him. He was a fallen thing, more human than angel these days. But maybe that was a good thing. Maybe, that human side of him helped him to believe, when everything seemed stacked against him.

He was fallen, but he was not low.

In the end, Castiel believed Dean would be saved.

And so, he thought, flicking off the light in his room and heading back towards the library, he will.

[brooklynfireproof]

Nick Zedd's "Beyond Transgression" DVD, New York Asian Film Fest Ticket Giveaways, "Forged in Fire" and Brooklyn Fire Proof Meets Troma!

Nick Zedd's "Beyond Transgression" DVD Available Now, Including Films Produced by Brooklyn Fire Proof

Brooklyn Fire Proof friend, collaborator and founder of the "Cinema of Transgression" underground movement, Nick Zedd, has a new DVD collection of his work available entitled "Beyond Transgression." Two of the films contained herein - "The Death of Muffinhead" and "Attack of the Particle Disruptors" - were shot at Brooklyn Fire Proof, and produced by Brooklyn Fire Proof. A special feature exclusive to this DVD - an interview between Nick Zedd and Muffinhead where they discuss Muffinhead's art and background was also produced by Brookyn Fire Proof. Nick has been living and working in Mexico City, where he has recently run afoul of the kind of gentrification he left New York to get away from. During that time, he has made a number of personal projects and some music videos for local Mexico City artists. A good number of that material, as well as films shot in the US and Europe, are collected in "Beyond Transgression." Nick came to the Brooklyn Fire Proof "Temporary Storage Galleries" in 2014 for a handful of screenings and a gallery show of his paintings co-presented by the Millennium Film Workshop and Microscope Gallery. During that show, we discussed having Nick do a project with Brooklyn Fire Proof. In 2016, as we at Brooklyn Fire Proof planned our Summer Screening Series, the decision was made to have a "filmmaker in residence" during this period. We decided to bring Nick in for this, and to make new films (on a whirlwind schedule) to premiere as the finale of our series, as part of a retrospective on Nick's work. The films were produced by Brooklyn Fire Proof's Kenneth Filmer and Thomas Burr Dodd, and featured creative work from many of our current and former employees and collaborators, notably animator Nouri Zander, cinematographer Kyle Parsons and writer Jonathan Mittiga. Both the series and the films were a success and have played multiple festivals, gallery screenings and a west coast tour with Mr. Zedd. 

Nick has been very partial to the films and the experience. In a recent interview with "A Gathering of Tribes," Nick described the experience: "I did a one-night show [at Brooklyn Fire Proof]. Brooklyn Fire Proof commissioned me to make two short films in 2016, one of which is called “The Death of Muffinhead” and the other was “The Attack of the Particle Disruptors,” which was the animated three paintings. And that was probably the best experience I've had as a filmmaker." For our own press release on the films, Mr. Zedd stated: “Working with Muffinhead and the Brooklyn Fire Proof team, especially Kenneth, Nouri and Thomas was the best filmmaking experience of my life.  In a limited time frame we got together, came up with great ideas and finished two films that broke creative barriers and made history. Muffinhead is a genius. His creative vision, along with the efficient support of Brooklyn Fire Proof films inspired me to make my best film ever, “The Death of Muffinhead.”

I'm grateful to Brooklyn Fire Proof for providing the resources, financing and creative support that enabled me to create “Attack of the Particle Disruptors” and “The Death of Muffinhead" with such speed, resulting in two new movies that have literally stunned audiences whenever I've shown them publicly.” Purchase the DVD locally in NYC from our friends at Forbidden Planet - one of the last great media stores in the city - at 13th and Broadway in Manhattan. You can also purchase copies from Nick himself and support the artist directly. We'll share more Nick Zedd news and content with our newsletter readers in the months ahead, as well as more news about upcoming Brooklyn Fire Proof productions. Pick up a copy "Beyond Transgression" today!

More Ticket Giveaways to the 2018 New York Asian Film Festival

The "Savage Seventeenth Year" of the New York Asian Film Festival is happening right now, and Brooklyn Fire Proof is pleased to be a sponsor of this exciting festival for the third consecutive year. As we did in our newsletter last week, we're giving free pairs of tickets to the following festival screenings to our readers.

July 5, Tears of the Black Tiger - The first email we receive at stages@brooklynfireproof.com with "Tears of the Black Tiger Tickets" in the subject line will win one pair of tickets to the film.

July 6, Ex-Files 3 - The first email we receive at stages@brooklynfireproof.comwith "Ex-Files 3 Tickets" in the subject line will win one pair of tickets to the film.

July 8, After My Death - The first email we receive at stages@brooklynfireproof.com with "After My Death Tickets" in the subject line will win one pair of tickets to the film.

July 11, Crossroads - The first email we receive at stages@brooklynfireproof.com with "Crossroads Tickets" in the subject line will win one pair of tickets to the film.

July 13, One Cut of the Dead  - The first email we receive at stages@brooklynfireproof.com with "One Cut of the Dead Tickets" in the subject line will win one pair of tickets to the film.

We'll have even more giveaways in the next newsletter, so keep an eye out for those.

*Please note that only one pair of tickets can be won by each individual/email address.

Check out the full schedule & pick up tickets to screenings here. 

New Brooklyn Fire Proof-Shot Episodes of "Forged in Fire" Airing Now

History's popular competition show, "Forged in Fire," is still airing brand new episodes of Season 5 every Tuesday night in prime time.  Of course, we at Brooklyn Fire Proof are big fans of the show, which shot all of the stage portions of their seasons 1-5 right here in our Stages A and B. They were a small show at first, and we watched them grow into a bonafide hit, as they essentially moved in for a few years.

Expect a big, exclusive feature about the art of "Forged in Fire" in a future Brooklyn Fire Proof newsletter, but in the interim enjoy these nice pieces about the show in Vice, Blade Mag, and the Democrat & Chronicle.

New episodes of "Forged in Fire" air Tuesdays at 9/8C on History.

Troma Entertainment, William Shakespeare and Brooklyn Fire Proof

It was only a matter of time until Troma came to Brooklyn Fire Proof! We'll let you guys know way more about this in the coming weeks and months, but Brooklyn Fire Proof is assisting with the production of the latest super high-brow Shakespearean adaptation from Lloyd Kaufman, Michael Herz, and the rest of their team: Shakespeare's Shitstorm. Established in 1974 by Yale friends Lloyd Kaufman and Michael Herz, Troma Entertainment is arguably the longest-running independent movie studio in North America, and it's one of the very few genuine brand names in the industry. World famous for movie classics like Kaufman's "The Toxic Avenger," Trey Parker's "Cannibal, the Musical," "Poultrygeist: Night of the Chicken Dead," "Class of Nuke 'em High," Charles Kaufman's "Mother's Day" and "Tromeo & Juliet." Troma's seminal films are now being remade as big-budget mainstream productions by the likes of Brett Ratner, Richard Saperstein, Akiva Goldsman and Steven Pink. Early work of many of today's luminaries  can be found in Troma's library of 1000 films, cartoons, TV shows and shorts. Jenna Fischer, Robert De Niro, Dustin Hoffman, Kevin Costner, Fergie, Vincent D'Onofrio, Samuel L. Jackson, James Gunn and Eli Roth are just a few. Troma's latest in-house productions include "Return to Nuke 'Em High: Volumes 1 & 2." Troma's Blu-rays, DVDs, books, t-shirts and movie merchandise can be purchased at TromaDirect.com. Please visit Troma at www.troma.com Troma has been a pillar of independent cinema in NYC for decades, and Brooklyn Fire Proof is quite pleased to be involved in their latest project. 

[frauleinsmaria]

The Holiday Season(s)

Summary: Emma Swan is not fond of holidays. But maybe a routine encounter with a local bartender could change that. CS AU

Written for @jones-alice for this year’s Captain Swan Secret Santa. I had so much fun being your CSSS and hope you enjoy this story! Big thanks to @forestiyari for reading this over <3

Also on AO3 and FF.Net

Emma Swan was not fond of holidays.

To be fair, it’s not that she didn’t want people to celebrate whatever was important to them or spend time with their friends and family. But when you’ve gone nearly twenty-eight years without much of either, seeing other people experience it usually stung.

This particular night was Valentine’s Day, arguably the worst of the entire year. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes as she saw every storefront in Boston covered with giant pink and red hearts and flowers, as people lined up to buy gifts for their significant others (who they likely ignored during the other three hundred and sixty-four days.)

She actually had plans this year- if you can even call a fake date with her latest skip before she dragged him to the police station “plans.” This one had put up a fight, and came close to breaking her nose. (His punch had hit her cheek instead, where she was now sporting a vibrant, purple bruise.) But she’d still been successful; the jerk was behind bars before eight o’clock, and she had a nice salary in her purse to prove it.

To be fair, she could have spent her Valentine’s Day in better company, and had actually planned to take the night off. But Mary Margaret, bless her, had jumped at the chance to set her up on a date as soon as she heard Emma would be free. She’d then arranged to take tonight’s job and claimed she had to fill in for someone else. Her friend meant well, but she’d been on one too many awful blind dates to be up for another.

Emma had left the police station, one hand on her bruised cheek as she walked through downtown Boston and observed its lovesick residents. Every bar, restaurant, ice cream parlor, and even hair salon was offering some kind of holiday-themed deal: Come in for a haircut and get a second half-off for your Valentine! Anyone with common sense would have to find it cringe-worthy.

It felt like a breath of fresh air when she stumbled upon a bar where the only hint that it was Valentine’s Day came from the couple making out in a secluded corner booth. Emma ignored them as she walked in and took a seat at the bar. The place was mostly empty to her relief, aside from the couple engaging in tonsil-hockey, a few guys playing pool on the other side of the room, and the bartender, who’d come out from the back when she’d taken her seat.

She didn’t look up at him until he approached her. “What’ll it be, love?”

It was far from the first time she’d heard an English accent in Boston, but it still managed to catch her off guard. His looks were only an added bonus: dark hair, blue eyes, a smile she could have easily fallen for if she wasn’t so careful. “Whatever you’ve got,” she muttered.

“One of those nights, eh?”

“You have no idea,” she muttered.

He made her a rum and Coke, something she rarely chose herself, but she gave no objections when he slid it across the table toward her. “There you are.”

“Thanks.”

He looked as if he wanted to say more, but a small group walked in and sat down at the other end of the bar, subsequently holding most of his attention for the time being. Even before this, she was grateful he hadn’t tried to flirt, or get something out of her she wasn’t willing to give. (Sleazy bartenders were just as bad as sleazy fellow-drinkers.) All he’d done was smile sympathetically and refill her drink when she’d asked.

And when she left the bar later that night and glanced back at him over her shoulder, it occurred to her she might not object to ending up at this particular spot again.

-/-

Saint Patrick’s Day was something she’d never been able to comprehend. Of course, it made sense to celebrate if you were Irish and wanted to celebrate your heritage. But most of the people she knew were Americans who used the occasion as an excuse to get drunk without judgment.

Emma couldn’t really talk badly about them considering she was on her second drink of the night. (But for all she knew, she could easily be from some kind of Irish descent via her birth-parents.) She’d chosen the same bar she’d come to on Valentine’s Day, which, again, was void of any kind of tribute to the supposed holiday. The place was crowded in comparison to her last visit, but still retained a laid-back atmosphere she knew would be difficult to find anywhere else in the city tonight.

As she sipped at her drink, she nonchalantly observed the others around her. There was another group of guys playing pool again tonight, something she assumed was a regular occurrence here. A few couples sat together at various tables around the room; she’d had fun for awhile trying to determine the status of their relationship from body language alone.

Two men sat both within speaking range with her at the bar, but thankfully, neither made any attempt at conversation. She’d spoken to no one but the bartender, a tall, curly-haired man whose accent resembled the guy who’d been working the first time she came by. He was nice enough, but she couldn’t help but be slightly disappointed to not see a somewhat familiar face.

After finishing her drink, she’d decided it was probably time to leave- she had work the next morning and knew she’d regret it if she stayed out late- when a familiar voice spoke up. “Fancy seeing you here, lass. Are you leaving?”

The bartender she’d just been thinking of now stood on the other side of the bar, arms crossed atop the wooden surface.

“Oh, um, hi,” she stammered, surprised at his sudden appearance. “Yeah, I’m working tomorrow morning. Can’t successfully catch the guy if I’m hungover.”

This piqued his interest. “Are you a cop?”

“No, bailbonds. I still try to weed out the bad guys, though.”

“What’s this about bad guys?” the other bartender walked over and interrupted them. “Is my little brother bothering you?” he asked Emma.

“Younger.” The other man- apparently his brother- rolled his eyes. “I’m Killian Jones,” he told her, “and this is Liam. We own this place, hence the name.” She glanced to her right and for the first time, noticed the sign that read “The Rusty Knot.” It was odd that she’d failed to noticed before now, but the bar did indeed have a subtle nautical theme: a decent sized model ship hung on the main wall, rope lined the edges of the tables, and the light fixture above them was even made to look like an anchor.

“Yes, we do own the bar,” the oldest one, Liam, continued. “Which is why I wanted to ensure our customers aren’t being bothered.” He glared at Killian, who just rolled his eyes. Emma couldn’t help but laugh at their interaction; they acted like kids rather than two grown men.

“No, he wasn’t bothering me,” she intervened on Killian’s behalf. “I was actually just about to leave.” She dug out enough cash for her bill and pushed it across the bar to them. “It was nice meeting both of you though.”

Both men smiled and told her goodbye, but the way Killian’s eyes caught hers as she walked out the door stuck with her for longer than was comfortable on the way home.

-/-

“I’ve gotta admit, this was not how I planned to spend my Saturday afternoon.”

Emma stood in David and Mary Margaret’s back yard, carrying a basket of eggs that she’d been instructed to hide for their son and his friend’s Easter egg hunt.

“C’mon, Em.” David took an egg from his own basket and placed it in the sandbox under one of Leo’s toys. “Besides, we get to have fun, too.” The main incentive her friends had used in order to persuade her to come early and help was they’d be having burgers and beers after the kids’ egg hunt. She liked David’s grilling too much to say no. That, and he had a cute kid.

“Am I gonna be the only one here sans child?” she asked. “Because, no offense, but that’s always awkward.” Since they’d had Leo two years ago, she’d lost count of how many times she’d come to events at David and Mary Margaret’s and been the only adult who didn’t have any input on cloth diapers or organic milk.

“No, actually. Mary Margaret’s invited some of her co-workers, and I asked some guys I met a few weeks ago at the charity soccer match to come.”

Emma let out a sigh of relief, then paused and narrowed her eyes at him. “I hope your wife knows better than to try to set me up; you never invite single guys to these things unless there’s an ulterior motive.”

“Hey, I never said they were single.”

“They aren’t?”

“Okay, they are,” David admitted. “But no worries. I’d like for you to meet them since I know all the kid stuff can be overwhelming, but I’ve made Mary Margaret promise to stop meddling in your love life.”

“Thank goodness for that.”

Half an hour later, parents arrived with their kids who immediately began tearing the yard apart to find Easter eggs. Emma stood back and watched the chaos unfold with Elsa, one of Mary Margaret’s co-workers she’d been introduced to earlier. The woman was more than friendly, and clearly understood Emma’s relief at being the only one to show up without a child or partner. They couldn’t help but laugh when little Leo had filled his basket to capacity and dumped a pile of Easter eggs in his mother’s lap so he could collect more.

The egg hunt was wrapping up when David tapped her on the shoulder. “Hey, Emma, these are the guys I was telling you about earlier. This is-”

“Killian?” She cut him off, recognizing the man behind him.

“Hello, love. Quite a small world, isn’t it?”

David was obviously confused. “Wait, you know each other?” “I’ve been to their bar a few times,” she answered. “I met him and Liam the last time I was there.” She hadn’t paid a visit to The Rusty Knot since St. Patrick’s Day, but Killian left an impression that was hard to forget.

The oldest of the two brothers was with Killian, but had stopped paying attention to them just then as he noticed Elsa standing beside her. The part of Emma that had been influenced by Mary Margaret over the years already had an idea as to where this may be going based on the look Elsa gave him in return. She couldn’t bring herself to feel disappointed.

“So,” she turned to Killian after David had left to tend to his son, “you two are friends?”

He nodded. “Aye, you could say that. I’m guessing he and his wife are friends of yours as well?”

“More like family,” she admitted. “What’s this I hear about a soccer team?” She was eager to change the subject once she realized what she’d potentially opened the door to discussing.

“Football. But yes, we have a local team that plays every other weekend.”

She fought the urge to roll her eyes, but laughed instead. “Is calling it soccer that much of an offense?”

“It just doesn’t make sense when you think about it: you do kick the ball with your foot, after all.”

“Touché.” There wasn’t much of an argument she could make against that. They spent the rest of the afternoon discussing American sports (which she didn’t even like but still enjoyed the conversation all the same) and making bets on his brother’s relationship with Elsa.

“They’ll be engaged by Valentine’s Day,” she predicted.

“Are you kidding? I give him until Christmas.”

-/-

Thanks to her liking for The Rusty Knot and David and Mary Margaret’s liking to the Jones brothers, Emma quickly became used to seeing them on a somewhat regular basis. The three of them were all at the Nolan’s Memorial Day barbeque a few weeks later- Liam and Elsa attached at the hip, to no one’s surprise- and Emma ended up at the bar after another violent ordeal with a skip on the Fourth of July.

(It was getting difficult to associate Killian Jones with something besides holidays and special occasions.)

Their friendship grew quickly after they’d exchanged numbers while planning David’s surprise birthday party with Mary Margaret. (Both of them were surprised she’d managed to keep the secret from her husband.) At first, it was just casual conversation filled with his corny dad jokes and her stories about whatever scumbag she’d been tracking. But over time, it shifted to more serious topics, like abandonment, past heartbreak, and trust issues. Emma would never be able to thank him enough for the night he and Liam waived her tab at the bar- and it was a significant one- after she’d dealt with a skip who’d abandoned his family and felt little remorse. She (faintly) remembered Killian all but carrying her out of the bar and hailing a cab, refusing to leave her alone until he saw she was home safely. She couldn’t help but feel indebted to him for that one.

Emma cursed under her breath as the zipper on her costume became tangled in her hair. Tonight was Halloween; she was going with David and Mary Margaret to take Leo trick or treating before going to The Rusty Knot for the costume party she and Elsa had talked the boys into throwing. It was the first time they’d done anything remotely festive at the bar, and were both hopeful the event would draw in more business before the holidays. She’d opted for Princess Leia circa Empire Strikes Back, wearing a white shirt, vest, and pants, grey boots, her hair in a crown braid she’d finally accomplished after watching two hours worth of YouTube tutorials. Her costume idea had sparked a bit of a trend- Liam and Elsa were going as Poe and Rey, and Killian had relented to Han Solo after a bit (a lot) of convincing on her part.

Leo was adorable in his Luigi costume, resulting in dozens of oohs and ahhs from his neighbors as they went from door to door collecting candy. His parents were dressed similarly as Mario and Princess Peach, although David spent the better part of the night complaining about the fake mustache Mary Margaret forbid him to take off. (Emma had a feeling he would insist on choosing the family costume next year.)

The bar was crowded when she walked in just after nine. People were dressed as everything from Disney princesses to Freddy Krueger, who was engaged in conversation with Gandalf when she squeezed by them to find Killian. She eventually spotted him working behind the bar.

His costume suited him so well it was almost uncanny. He wore a tan shirt with a dark vest and matching pants, a leather belt and holster hanging loose around his waist. His hair was messier than usual- and- “Are you wearing eyeliner?” she asked when she finally found an empty seat at the bar.

She thought she saw him blush as he laughed and started on a drink for the person beside her. “It was Elsa’s idea,” he explained. “She says Solo is a ‘space pirate,’ and pirates wear eyeliner, so it was only fitting.”

Emma smiled. “It suits you.” She wasn’t lying. His eyes somehow looked even more blue than usual.

She ordered a beer and sat with Elsa, casually observing the costumes of others in the bar while the boys worked for the next few hours.

“What do you think the chances are they’ll do something like this again?” the blonde asked her later as the crowd began to think out.

“I don’t see why they wouldn’t, especially if it helps with business. People who had fun tonight seem likely to come again.”

“That’s true. Although I hope they won’t be upset at the lack of eyeliner on the bartender.”

It was just after midnight when she decided to leave; the way she’d felt after the last time staying at the bar until the wee hours of the morning had been enough to keep her from wanting to do it again. She said goodbye to Elsa and Liam, and walked to the other end of the bar to find Killian- only to find him engaged in conversation with Harley Quinn. The girl, who didn’t look old enough to have the drink she held, laughed shrilly at something Killian had said and leaned forward across the bar to emphasize the ample amount of cleavage visible thanks to the low neckline of her shirt.

An unexpected wave of anger hit Emma in a way she wasn’t expecting. Her hands fisted at her sides as she watched the girl run a hand down Killian’s shoulder and whisper something to him she couldn’t make out.

He looked over and noticed Emma just as she turned to leave. “Swan?” He ran out the door after her and grabbed her wrist before she could bolt. “Emma, is something wrong?”

“No,” she lied. “I’m just...not feeling well.”

Killian looked unconvinced. “Are you sure? Is there something I can do?”

She shook her head. “I’ll be fine; just wanna go home and get some rest. I’ll see you later.” She broke away from him and took off before he could respond.

Emma spent the rest of the night mentally kicking herself for her reaction to the whole thing. First of all, she hadn’t wanted Killian to see her upset. And second of all, she had no reason to be upset in the first place. He was her friend. And you weren’t supposed to feel jealous after seeing someone flirt with said friend.

Because she had been jealous.

If she were honest, she’d been attracted to Killian since they first met. It was hard not to be with his eyes, hair, smile, and the accent that made her stomach flip every time he called her “love.” But attraction and becoming furious after seeing him interact with another woman were two entirely different things.

It was all confusing, but Emma was sure of at least one thing: she was in trouble.

She ignored his texts and calls for the next two days, not knowing what to say to him that wouldn’t make things awkward. It would’ve gone on longer if Elsa hadn’t sent her a text instead. I’m not sure what’s going on with you and Killian, but you need to talk to him. He thinks he’s done something to upset you.

Elsa was right; she couldn’t avoid him forever, and it’s not as if she actually wanted to. She picked up her phone with intentions of calling him, then opted for a text at the last minute. Sorry for being MIA the past few days. I haven’t been feeling great. It wasn’t a complete lie.

He responded within seconds. I hope you’re alright. Anything I can do?

(Of course he would try to be helpful.)

“Sure, just make yourself mean and ugly so I’m not attracted to you anymore,” she muttered. No, I’m fine. See you at Leo’s birthday party next weekend?

Aye. I’ll be there.

Now to figure out how to function around him without making a mess of things.

-/-

Leo’s party went off without a hitch. Thankfully, she was too busy helping Mary Margaret decorate and supervise to spend much time with Killian. He tried to speak to her a few different times, but she kept finding things that needed to be done in order to avoid him.

To be fair, she didn’t actually want to avoid him, but there didn’t seem to be much of a choice in order to keep her newfound feelings for him at bay. The more time she spent with him, the more she’d be tempted to act on said feelings. And the last thing Emma wanted was to screw up the friendship that had quickly come to mean so much to her.

A Thanksgiving ordeal was easily avoided, as he and Liam were invited to eat with Elsa’s family. David and Mary Margaret had asked her to join them at her parents’ in Maine, but she opted to work instead, feeling as if she’d be infringing on a family that wasn’t actually hers.

Twice, she’d gone to The Rusty Knot out of a sense of obligation, but managed to pick nights when business was booming and Killian had stayed occupied at the bar. She knew he was fully aware of the distance growing between them; she’d been giving one word replies to most of his texts, even when he sent her no less than a dozen lame jokes in hopes of getting some kind of positive response out of her. Emma had laughed at loud as she sat in her living room and read them all, but only replied, funny.

She quickly found herself dreading Christmas. David and Mary Margaret were staying in town and hosting dinner at their house, meaning she would have no choice but to be in close quarters with Killian. All she could do was hope there would be enough commotion to keep him from finally confronting her for being so distant since Halloween.

He wasn’t the only one who’d noticed her behavior, either. Liam, Elsa, David, and Mary Margaret had all mentioned it to her at least once over the past few weeks. All seemed to be displeased with her excuse of being busy with work, but she stuck to the argument criminals didn’t even take the holidays off. If she told them the truth, she’d never hear the end of it. (And Killian would likely hear all of it.)

Emma spent the majority of Christmas Day trying to come up with an excuse to get out of dinner before she admitted it was no use. If she told David and Mary Margaret she was sick, they’d show up at her apartment and insist on taking care of her. They wouldn’t believe that she had to work since she’d already told them weeks ago she’d taken the entire last week of the month off. She was still thinking of possible excuses even as she dressed in her favorite red dress and heels and left for her friends’ home.

Mary Margaret had told her to come at half past six, but she could tell she’d somehow still arrived late at six-fifteen. No less than a dozen cars were parked around the Nolan house; Emma regretted her decision to wear uncomfortable shoes as soon as she realized how far away she would have to park.

The front door swung open before she had the chance to knock. “Emma!” She all but fought for air as David hugged her tightly.

“I’m glad to see you too, but maybe let me breathe so it’s not the last time we see each other?”

He quickly released her. “Oh, sorry. Come on in; everyone is almost here now.”

David wasn’t kidding. She spent most of her time eating an unhealthy amount of Mary Margaret’s snickerdoodles while somewhat socializing with the other partygoers. (Emphasis on “somewhat.”) She had caught a glimpse of Killian when he and Liam arrived shortly after her, but kept towards the back of the crowd and hoped he wouldn’t spot her. This lasted almost an hour before she began to accept just how exhausting avoiding him for the last several weeks had actually been.

As if she’d read her mind, Elsa seemed to appear out of nowhere and cornered her in the Nolan’s den. “Elsa, what are you-”

“Cut the crap, Emma.”

“What?”

“I don’t know what’s been going on between you and Killian, but enough is enough. The poor guy is acting like he’s lost his best friend- which, I guess he has.” Elsa frowned. “At least do him the justice of explaining why you’ve chosen to avoid him like the plague.”

This proved just how much Elsa had come to care about both of the Jones brothers; Emma would have expected this confrontation from Liam rather than her. “You’re right, I’ve been horrible to him,” she admitted. “I’ll go talk to him now if it helps.” Leaving the party altogether seemed preferable to spilling her guts to him. In fact, Emma could easily think of quite a few things she’d rather do. But none of it seemed worth damaging her friendship with Killian any more than she already had.

At least Elsa seemed pleased with this turn of events. “Good. He was outside when I last saw him.” Probably moping about you she didn’t add.

Emma found him alone out on the Nolan’s back porch. He leaned against the railing, hands in his pockets, looking just as Elsa had said. The sad expression on his face was enough to make her heart sink. “Hey.” She smiled at him for what felt like the first time in months.

The smile he gave in return didn’t reach his eyes. “Hello, Swan.”

“Can we talk?”

“Aye.” He raised his eyebrows, surprised at her request. “What’s on your mind, love?”

She walked over and leaned on the porch railing beside him. “A lot of things. I think I owe you an apology.”

“Why is that?”

“You know why. I’ve been avoiding you for weeks for no good reason other than my own pride.”

He didn’t respond, indicating for her to continue.

“You remember Halloween, right? The costume thing you guys had at the bar?” she asked before she lost her nerve. She told Killian about the girl she’d seen flirting with him and what it made her realize afterwards. It all came out in a stream of words that she hoped he’d be able to comprehend since there was little chance she’d be capable of repeating it all again. “I’m sorry if this makes things weird now. I’m sure I can just get over it, but I thought you deserved to know the truth.”

Emma watched him nervously out of the corner of her eye. She could see conflicting emotion on his face as he processed all she’d told him. Had she just ruined their friendship? Did Killian think she was ridiculous?

What he said was the last thing she expected to hear. “Swan, can I kiss you?”

“Wait, what?”

“Sorry for being presumptuous, but I just figured as you have feelings for me, and I have feelings for you-”

Emma just laughed as she grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and pulled him forward to fuse his lips with hers. The rest could wait.

-/-

“What a year, huh?”

The Rusty Knot was packed, everyone crowded around the newly installed flat screen to watch the live broadcast from Times Square. They were all together: Emma, Killian, Liam, Elsa (who wore the ring Liam had proposed with on Christmas night, Killian continued to gloat about predicting that one.) Even David and Mary Margaret, who always worried about leaving Leo with a babysitter, had made arrangements to be there.

She smiled at Killian as he sat on the bar stool beside her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. They still had yet to actually discuss just what was starting between them, but she wasn’t scared of it anymore. Whether or not he knew it, he’d shown her over the span of the year that he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “I’m kind of sad to see it end, though.”

“As am I. But,” he smiled, “I’ve a feeling this next one might be the best year yet.”

They looked over as everyone in the bar began to count down with the timer on the TV screen. “Ten, nine, eight.”

“You know something, Killian?”

“Seven, six, five.”

“What’s that, love?”

“Four, three two.”

“I think you’re right.”

And when he kissed her on “one,” she knew he was.

[whennedmetchuck]

Lee Pace on Pushing Daisies and the Chances He'll Ever Become Ned Again

"Oh, you're going to get me in trouble."

BY JEN CHANEY MAR 22, 2015

The fact that Firefly is one of two shows battling it out in the final round of Esquire's TV reboot tournament is no surprise. The Joss Whedon and fan base and the Browncoats, specifically, are famously legion and famously loyal to Nathan Fillion, et al. But here's what is surprising: At the moment, Firefly looks poised to lose.

Pushing Daisies—the ABC dramedy about a pie maker who can bring the dead back to life—is currently leading by a fairly healthy margin as we head into the home stretch of voting (the poll closes at 11:59 a.m. Eastern tonight). As a seven seed requiring upsets of juggernauts Veronica Mars, Chappelle's Show, and Freaks and Geeks in order to make it to the finals, the Bryan Fuller series has played Cinderella in this tournament of unjustly cancelled TV shows, which seems appropriate, given that Pushing Daisies is all about finding new life and renewing hope.

Lee Pace, who played Ned, Pushing Daisies' pie maker with the heart of gold and the finger filled with rejuvenatory powers, has been watching in happy amazement as his dearly departed series has emerged triumphant, repeatedly, during this bracket. He called to discuss all of this from Atlanta, where he's currently filming season two of his latest series, AMC's Halt and Catch Fire, and to affirm that, if there a Pushing Daisiesreboot ever does happen, he's totally in.

Pushing Daisies is leading at the moment. You're beating Firefly.

That is unbelievable. I love that show so much—I think Firefly is such an awesome show and I'm not surprised to see it in the final two, because it was like: Why the hell did they cancel that show? It's so funny. So smart. It's just a home run, in my opinion. Don't tell anyone I voted for Firefly.

You guys have gone through several rounds and already beaten some pretty great shows, including Chappelle's Show and Freaks and Geeks.

What?

Yeah.

That's insane.

There's obviously a lot of fan support around Pushing Daisies. Is that surprising to you?

You know, at this point, it's kind of all about the fans. We made those shows a few years ago, a bunch of years ago. Not many people watched it. That's why we're not on the air anymore. But people have just been watching it so much since, it's kind of all about them now. It's like they're taking it on and making it their own, in a way. I guess, you know: you always do it for them. You hope people will like what you do but yeah, at this point, it's really all theirs. It's very little to do with us. It's all to do with the community they've built around the show. Wow. It's so nice that they still care, you know?

Definitely. I believe you've been trading tweets with Nathan Fillion, who, along with costar Alan Tudyk, have been making the case for Firefly on social media. Make a sales pitch here. We're in the final hours of voting. You said you love Firefly. But why does Pushing Daisies deserve a win over Firefly?

Because I think Nathan Fillion and Alan Tudyk are so cool that, you know, maybe, maybe, if the Pie Holers are as committed as the Browncoats, then maybe they'll want to be my friend. Maybe I'll show them that I'm worthy of their friendship.

Here's a question: is Pie Holers now the official name for Pushing Daisies fans?

I read it in the article.

Well, I put that in there.

You might have coined that. I'm sorry. [Laughs.]

It made sense to me so I just tossed that in there. I feel like maybe we should make it official.

I'll leave that to Bryan Fuller to make that official. It sounds a little dirty to me, if I'm honest. [Laughs.] I'm not opposed to that… But yeah, make it official. Go for it. Do the fans like it? It's up to them.

That's true. They really have to decide. We'll let time make the call, I guess. It's interesting because the Browncoats and the Firefly fans are more organized as a fan base, with Firefly conventions and Can't Stop the Serenity. Are the Pushing Daisies fans sort of an underground army that no realized was already mobilized?

I don't know about that, but what I do know is that I get so many nice comments about Pushing Daisies. If I get a comment about anything, it'll be Pushing Daisies. If I'm like, in a grocery store—I don't get recognized that much, but it's like, you know, when someone comes up to me and says, "Hey, I'm a big Pushing Daisies fan." You just feel like, "Oh, wow: You're the one who watched it. So nice to meet you."

The show was so special. The show was so unique. There was a darkness to the show, there was something really kind-hearted and lovely about the show. I don't know anything about how the fans are organized, but I know it means a lot to me when someone says they liked it, because we worked so hard on it. We knew we were making something different. But we loved it. We loved what was different about this show. We loved that it was a murder mystery that wasn't a conventional murder mystery. It was a love story, but we couldn't touch. There were so many things about the show that we just, making it, loved. That was all Bryan Fuller. When I meet one of the fans, I'm always like, "Aw, one of my people. You liked it, too? I liked it. You liked it. Let's talk about it a little bit."

When people come up to talk about it, what kinds of things do they say?

They love how the show looked. I think that Chuck and Ned relationship—they liked it. I don't know, I think it was the kind-heartedness. There was a real kind of love in the show. When we were shooting it, we liked each other a lot. We had a great time making it. Maybe that made its way onto the screen. Bryan Fuller—he's got a big heart. For all the dark—you know, Hannibal's a very dark show. Pushing Daisies is about a guy touching dead people and bringing them back to life. It's kind of morbid, you know. But there's a love to it. There's a kind-heartedness to it that I think makes it—I don't know, it's a good thing to put out there in the world, so I'm glad people responded. I'm grateful.

You've obviously done a lot of high-profile projects since then. Do people recognize you for Pushing Daisies more than Guardians of the Galaxy or The Hobbit?

I don't look like myself in either of those movies. If you're looking for Ronan the Accuser on the streets of Atlanta, you'll have a hard time spotting him. But Ned—Ned is a lot like me. So that's, I don't know: I'll always have a soft spot for Pushing Daisies. That world that we made, Anna Friel; I loved to fall in love with Anna Friel. It was just a very special time in my life making that show. So it was such a nice surprise last week when I became aware of the bracket that you all were doing. And I was like, Oh, how cool. People are still watching it. People still care. That really makes me feel good.

The underlying point of our tournament is that these are shows that people would like to see come back. I think there was talk at one point about Pushing Daisies potentially being a musical. Is there a real opportunity to revisit it again, in some way? Has that been talked about recently?

Never say never. You know: Never say never. Me and Bryan talk about it every time we get together. We talk about: what if this happened? What if that happened? I mean, story-wise. What if Ned did this? What if Ned and Chuck were that? It's like a story that we never finished, in a way. It's like an incomplete story. We got cancelled too suddenly. It would be satisfying to kind of just finish it and be in that world again. Go back to Coeur d'Coeurs and the Pie Hole and -- so yeah, we talk about it. I'd love to do it. I'd love to play Ned again.

But there's nothing planned officially at this point?

No, not officially. I mean: but it's those conversations that end up being movies. "Hey, do you want to do that? That would be kind of fun." "Yeah. Why not?" So I would be totally up for it if it comes back around.

I watched the end of the last episode last night because it had been a while since I watched it. It really ends in a way that you can imagine it picking up where it left off, even down to the last line of narration: "For endings, as it is known, are where we begin." It makes you want to keep going from there.

Maybe the story would have functioned differently if it wasn't in that TV structure. You know? If it was in a movie structure, who knows if it would have—how the story would have been different? Because there were very procedural elements to the show.

So you see it becoming a movie if it gets rebooted, versus a series?

Oh, you're going to get me in trouble. If all these fans who voted think there's going to be a movie … I would love to do it. But it's not up to me. I don't even know what goes into getting the rights to make the movie, you know, making the money to make the movie. But the fans have said that they would love to see it come back. So if—that's certainly a step in the right direction. Nothing would make me happier.

You guys seem to be in the lead right now in the voting, but things could go either way.

Those Browncoats. You've gotta watch 'em.

They can be sneaky.

It's a real Sophie's Choice here. How do you choose? How do you choose between Pushing Daisies and Firefly? That's tough. It's really, really tough.

If Pushing Daisies doesn't win, what would you like to say in defeat? And if it does win, what you like to say in victory? So basically, what's your concession speech and your victory speech?

I don't know. What do I say? I guess I'd just say thank to the fans for watching the show. And if we lose, then I'd say, "You guys, click harder next time."

Read the article.

[accio-ambition]

Today’s the day! After months of toiling, blood, sweat, and tears, I can finally share with you my second Captain Swan Big Bang! A huge huge huge thank you to my beta @sotheylived for keeping up with my mess of thoughts and outlines and both artists @shipsxahoy and @queen-icicle-fandom for creating beautiful pieces that I couldn’t have ever fathomed into existence. The lovely image you see above is a creation of shipsxahoy and it’s jUST SO PRETTY.

Summary: Bouncing around with her son for the majority of her life, Emma Swan has told herself she's happy in the city. It's where the most camera operating jobs are, and that's how she makes her money. But when an old friend calls her and asks for her help on a new project in small town Maine, Emma finds herself in a place she's never been with people she doesn't know filming a profession she knows nothing about. But with the captain of the ship she's filming begins taking a keen interest in her and her life, she finds herself wondering whether she might just catch something other than fish. Deadliest Catch AU Rating: T Content warning: Character death, some violent situations

You can read it on FF or AO3 or below the cut assuming tumblr decides to play nice today. And afterwards, go and check out the other CSBB stories over on @captainswanbigbang

Chapter One

“No, Anna, you’ve got to – no, the other way.” Emma groans, waving her hand in front of her face, careful to miss the expensive camera equipment below it. The woman in front of her scoots five inches, bewildered face smoothly appearing on camera. “Yes, thank you, now you’re in frame.”

“Oh, your left, not mine.”

Emma sighs and straightens up. She can already feel the ache in her back forming. “Yes, Anna, my left.” Glancing over her shoulder, Emma nods solemnly at the director.

“Alright, let’s get this scene started,” he says. Emma backs away from the camera, slowly weaving her way around the rest of the crew. She’s done her job for now. It’s too early and there are sprinkled donuts and bearclaws on the catering table that call her name.

For something that seems like such a low budget gig, this YouTube series employs a surprising amount of people. She’s constantly impressed by it – the sheer number of familiar and unfamiliar faces she passes by in the hallways. Hell, they’re even big enough to have a catering table that asks for requests every once in awhile.

She’s worked for productions with much less.

From the moment Anna cheerfully walked up to her yesterday afternoon as she was packing up, asking for any requests, “because my sister’s sending some things from the bakery,” Emma knew today would be better than most. A bearclaw: the one love/hate relationship she enjoyed in her life.

She spots it 20 feet from the table. It’s got her name on it, literally – a note on blue paper has her name scrawled elegantly across it.

(Elsa really is the best thing about this whole series. God, she should just ask the girl out, that’s how much she likes her.)

The bearclaw hangs right before her mouth, the sugar nearly on her lips, when the devil chimes in, sounding suspiciously like her cellphone.

Groaning, she removes it from her back pocket, sparing a glance at the caller ID. Her interest piques when she reads the name scrawled across it.

“Jefferson?” she answers. “What’s wrong?”

“I call you for the first time in four years and you automatically assume something’s wrong?” the man from the other end asks, too dramatic for his own good.

“Yes,” she says shortly. “The last time you called me, you asked me – broke, mother-of-a-six-year-old me – to bail you out of jail and lend you enough money to pay back that casino you got caught in.” She pauses for effect, then adds, “And then asked me to drive you home.”

“Oh,” Jefferson says on an exhale. “I’d forgotten about that. How is Henry these days?”

Emma sighs, tucking her phone between her shoulder and ear so she can rest her hand on her hip. “Jeff, what do you want?” she asks. “I’m at work right now, they’re going to call me back any minute and I need to e-"

“That’s actually what I’m calling you about,” he interrupts her excitedly.

“What? Jeff, this series is wrapping up, they’re not hiring.”

“No, I’ve got an idea for a show and I’ve gotten the okay for a trial season.”

“What?” This time, her question expresses more disbelief than anything. “That’s great, Jefferson! What’s it about?”

“It’s reality, sort of adventurey,” he explains. “Trawling for lobster and seafood up at the Georges Bank in Maine. Imagine Ice Truckers but with boats.” Her friend goes quiet for so long that Emma takes her phone back in hand to make sure that the call hasn’t dropped. “And I want you to come and shoot it, if that wasn’t obvious already.”

Shaking her head, she mutters, “I don’t like how this sounds.”

“No, Emma, trust me,” Jeff reassures her. “This is gonna be great.”

She sighs, turning away from the food table reluctantly. “Jeff, I can’t just up and move in the blink of an eye, I’ve got Henry.”

Even in the slight din of the studio, Emma can hear her friend mimic her sigh. “I know,” he says resignedly. “I called up David Nolan. He’s in. He and the missus just married and were trying to find a nice place for them.” When she doesn’t immediately respond, Jeff sighs again. “Look, we wouldn’t start filming until after Fourth of July. That gives you a couple months.”

It could work. She wouldn’t have to worry about taking Henry out of school. This project should wrap up by the end of next week. She’d actually have time to find them somewhere nice to live unlike previous times where producers have expected her behind the camera by week’s end. And David – who acted like her big brother when they were in school, always texting her to make sure she got home in once piece – and his girlfriend, now wife apparently, Mary Margaret would be there. For once, they’d be moving to someplace where familiar faces await them.

This could actually work.

“When do you need an answer by?” she asks. Now that the wheels are turning in her head, the plausibility of the whole idea works. She’s got to check with Henry first. No big life decision like this can truly be set in stone until her son has his word.

“I’d like one now, if that’s possible,” Jefferson responds with a chuckle, “but I’ll need it by the end of next week at the latest.”

Nodding her head, Emma concedes. “I’ll get back to you by then, if not sooner.” She hesitates only for a moment before asking, “Everything else alright there, Jeff?”

(They were kind of close, back in the day. Met each other in their first film class, kept in touch and always were down to hold the camera or act in front of it for whatever project caused their headaches at the time.)

“Yeah, great, actually,” he answers. “Grace is doing well. She’s getting really good at math.”

Emma smiles. She recognizes the strength and pride in another parent’s voice. It’s a sentiment that often tinges her own. “She’s a great kid, Jeff. You should be proud of her.” She could go on for days, swapping stories of Henry’s successes and Grace’s troubles and vice versa. It’s been a long time since she’s had a conversation with a good friend of hers. All Emma wants is for this phone conversation to just devolve into a catch up session, but she hears her name from set. Rolling her eyes, she groans. “I’ve got to get back to work, Jeff, but I’ll let you know my answer as soon as I have one,” she says.

“Thanks, Em,” Jeff tells her softly. “Tell Henry Grace and I say hi.”

“Of course.” Her name bounces off the artificially lit walls again, louder and more agitated. She sighs, again. “Bye, Jeff. Take care of yourselves.”

“Always do.”

Ending the call, Emma looks from her darkened phone screen to the uneaten pastry. She looks at it forlornly for a moment before shoving it in her mouth with one hand and her phone in her back pocket with the other.

No such thing as free time in show business.

0000

Broaching the topic of moving – yet again, for what’s probably the third time in as many years – proves more difficult than Emma’s expecting. Jefferson’s offer is somewhat ideal: the opportunity to meet up with old friends, as well as provide her son a more stable environment to grow up in. Or, at least, finish growing up in.

She picks Henry up from school that afternoon and, like any good parent, takes him out to ice cream for dinner.

“Where are we going this time?” he asks, chocolate raspberry swirl dripping off the tip of his nose.

Stopping her tongue mid-lick on mint chocolate chip, Emma reels back. She’s stunned, to say the least.  “What do you mean?” she asks, lowering the cone in her hand to rest it on the table.

Her son sighs, his shoulders rolling forward just the slightest bit. “We only get ice cream for dinner when you’re trying to tell me we have to pack and move in record time.” Henry shrugs, nonchalant, and renews his attack on his ice cream. “So,” he says between licks, “where are we going now?”

“Nowhere, yet.” Recovering from her brief shock, she too returns to her dinner. “Jefferson called me earlier today and said he’s got a gig for me up in Maine.”

“Maine? Like next-to-Canada Maine?”

“The same one,” Emma chuckles. Her son’s always had such a way with words. “Also, he told me to tell you that he and Grace say hello.”

Henry makes a face, scrunching up his nose, and waves off the hellos like they’re a bug buzzing in his face. “Mom, do you realize how far away that is?” he asks.

“I know kid, but I think it’s got potential,” she reasons. “It’s for a TV show about the ocean and boats.”

That catches his attention. “Like pirate ships?” he asks excitedly, eyes wide and ice cream temporarily forgotten.

“No, like fishing boats,” she explains, leaning forward to wipe at some of the ice cream that’s melted down his chin. “Filming doesn’t start until after the Fourth of July, so you wouldn’t miss any school and you’d have some time to acclimate and find new friends before it starts up again. We can find a place we both like up there.” Settling back into her seat across from him, Emma sends him a small smile. “What do you think?”

She watches her son process the information, sees the cogs turning about in his head. He’s quiet for a minute, staring off into the space his ice cream occupies. Then Henry shrugs.

“I don’t know, Mom,” he says. “Doesn’t it get really cold up there?”

“Yeah, but think about it. We can find a house with a fireplace and when it snows, we can curl up and drink cocoa and marathon Star Wars until we can’t see straight.” At the mention of winter weather, she watches Henry’s eyes grow wide and glossy. She can tell he’s lost in his own active imagination.

And then the thought strikes her: “You’ve never seen snow before, have you?”

Henry shakes his head. “Maybe once in real life, but mostly on TV,” he admits sheepishly. And then, like kids tend to do, his tone does a 180. “We could build a snowman!”

“Exactly!” Emma shouts, nearly throwing her ice cream at her son in the process. There’s more of the dessert on the napkin around her cone than in it, but she quickly finishes it up before speaking again. “You don’t need to tell me what you think right now. Give it a couple days.”

“When do you need to tell Jefferson?” Henry asks, his tongue making a round about the edge of his cone, trying in vain to catch all of it before it falls on his hand.

“By the end of next week,” she answers. “So instead of daydreaming in class about the next Uncharted game, think about this instead, alright?”

“Okay.” Henry finishes up his ice cream, shoving the last bite into his mouth and sighing contently as he chews. Once he swallows, he matches her gaze. “Does this mean we’re going to have something else for dinner too?”

Emma laughs despite herself. “Are you still hungry, kid?”

“I am a growing boy, I need my nutrients,” he quips back.

As her laughter dying down, she shakes her head. “We can stop at McDonald’s or something on the way home.”

Stretching and closing his eyes, Henry says, “I was thinking more along the lines of pizza.”

“Oh yeah?” she chuckles.

“Yeah. A large half cheese, half pepperoni.” Opening his eyes again, he grins slyly when he says, “And then you can get whatever you want on your pizza.”

Emma laughs so hard that her stomach begins to hurt. Henry’s already on his way to the car, but she manages to catch up, grabbing him by the shoulders and ruffling his hair. He’s still small enough that when she pulls him into her side for a hug, he can’t resist her strength. But she can’t lift him anymore, can’t hold him when he’s tired and falls asleep in the backseat of the Bug.

It always strikes her how quickly her little boy is growing up. She just never seems to realize it. It feels like only yesterday she was taking her first steps as a free woman, a newborn cradled in her arms and no idea of where to go from there.

Ten years later, Henry’s growing taller, looking more and more like his father every day. It hurts her heart, being reminded of her first love every time she looks at her son and the long line of mistakes that gave her him, but then he sasses her back or crinkles his nose like she does and the aches are soothed.

Though he may look like his father, Henry is most definitely her son.

0000

When the TV’s off for the night and Henry’s sitting at the kitchen table scribbling out his book report, Emma scrolls through her phone on the hunt for a number. She’s sure she still has it somewhere in her contacts, it hasn’t been that long since they’ve talked.

Or has it?

With how close the three of them were back in her short college years, she assumes that she would have been invited to David and Mary Margaret’s wedding. They were as thick as thieves until she took the fall for an actual one and spent her second year of college in a jail cell instead of the library. But they came and visited her when time afforded it. Emma tried to call David at least once every couple of months just to make sure everything was okay for them.

But thinking about it now, with her and Henry moving much more often and the crazy shooting schedules she’s always forced to adhere to, Emma can’t remember the last time she actually spoke with David.

“Aha!” She finds his number under the name Darlingest Charmsicle, the name she and another friend came up with when Mary Margaret first called David her “Prince Charming.” Before she can second guess herself, Emma presses the green call button and brings the phone up to her ear.

It rings and rings, and with each passing tone, she contemplates hanging up altogether. How long has it been since she talked to David? The longer she considers it, the more she wishes that the ringing would just end in an automated voicemail.

Alas, she’s never been that lucky in her life, for just as she senses the voicemail robot about to pick up, the man himself finally answers.

“Hello?”

“Hi David. It’s me,” she says meekly. Emma then starts to clarify. It’s not like she calls him every day. “It’s-”

“Emma,” he interrupts her happily. “God, how are you? How’s Henry? Is everything okay?”

The relief that floods her body is welcome, even if she didn’t realize how tense she was. “Yeah, everything’s fine with us. We’re down in Phoenix while I finish up a YouTube series.”

“That’s wonderful.”

“How about you guys?” she asks suggestively, settling her hip against the kitchen counter. “Heard through the grapevine that congratulations are in order?”

David chuckles. “Thank you. It was small, just us at the courthouse and family. Mary Margaret wanted to save some money and have a huge party instead without the trouble of an actual ceremony.” He sighs contently. “We got back from our honeymoon last week.”

“And how is marital bliss treating you two?”

“Perfectly.” And with that earnest sense of genuity he always manages to embody, David says, “She’s the love of my life and now I get to call her my wife.”

She can’t help the scoff that falls from her lips. He was always like this, even before he and Mary Margaret officially started dating. He just spewed chivalry helplessly and, just as uncontrollably, she always teased him back.

(Emma may not know how much time has passed since they’ve spoken, but falling back into old conversation habits makes her heart warm.)

“Aww, David, that’s so sweet, it makes me want to puke.”

“Ha, c’mon, you can’t expect me to say anything different.” They both laugh, and once they calm themselves, David asks, “So what has you calling me this late at night after so long?”

“Right, time zone, I forgot you two were on East Coast time.” She mentally scolds herself. Now she understands why he sounded a bit worried at the onset. It’s got to be close to 11 p.m. for him, and no good call comes that late at night.

“It’s fine, really,” he reassures her, “it’s not that late and we’re probably going to be up late anyways.”

Grimacing, and even physically recoiling, Emma mutters, “Gross.”

David sighs on the other end of the line. She can imagine him rubbing his forehead out of frustration. “Mary Margaret’s grading and I’ve got some pictures to edit.”

“Oh.” To be fair, she hadn’t explicitly been thinking about her friends crawling into bed together to dance the horizontal tango. Then again, what else do newlyweds do late at night?

Shaking her head to rid her mind of the image, she changes the subject to the real reason she dug so far into her contacts. “Well, Jefferson called me the other day.”

“Did he recruit you for the Maine trawling project?” he asks.

“Tried to. I still haven’t given him an answer yet.”

“I think it’s going to be fun,” David says. “I did a little bit of research on the town he wants to focus on and it’s…” He goes quiet before finding the word he wants: “Quaint.”

When he doesn’t explain further, she prompts him. “Meaning?”

“Small,” he says. “Real small. Everybody-knows-the-dirt-on-everybody small.”

“Oh,” she says softly. That could be both a blessing and a curse, given what’s happened to her in her life. She’s got secrets, just like everyone else, which could either stay excellently hidden or come out in a flash if the town’s anything like she’s imagining. The former would be her choice, but with all these strangers digging for information on the new folks in town…that latter one could be detrimental not only for her, but for Henry.

“It’s got its own harbor and a nice forest just outside of town,” David continues, oblivious to her inner turmoil. “We think it’d be a great place to raise a family. We’ve been in the city so long that we both kind of forget what it’s like to live like that.”

“Huh.” It’s all she can really say while processing her friend’s reasoning.

Seems solid enough.

“What’s keeping you from deciding, Emma?” David inquires. “Henry?”

She’s shaking her head before she realizes that his voice comes from the phone at her ear and not a physical being in front of her. “I told him about it and he didn’t say no off the bat, but…” Tongue poking out between her lips, she clucks at herself. “I feel bad. I’ve uprooted him too much in his life. I don’t want him to have to wait until college to make real friends.” And when she gets to the root of her problem, it hits her ton of bricks.

“I don’t want him to feel alone like I did,” she whispers.

“I’m sure he doesn’t, Emma.” Like it always was, David’s voice is calming. It keeps her from trying to strangle herself, her arm wrapping tightly around her waist. “He’s got you. And if you come out here, he’ll have us and Jefferson and Grace and the rest of the kids in town.” He pauses and she can’t tell if he’s trying to think of other benefits of this town or he’s run out of things completely. “If Henry says yes, then would you come?”

“Probably.” Emma shrugs and sighs. “I just want him to be happy, David.”

“I know, but don’t forget about your happiness as well,” he advises. That’s what he does: David always put things into perspective for her. “Look, I’ve gotta go, Emma. My wife is calling for me.”

Shuddering, Emma pushes off the counter and slowly makes her way back to Henry and his homework. “Ew, ew, I don’t want to know,” she mumbles. Then, more genuinely, she adds, “I’m glad you guys finally tied the knot. Tell Mary Margaret I say hi.”

“No problem. Good luck with the decision. Call me when you’ve made up your mind.”

“Okay. And David?” Emma hesitates to put her emotions into words, but if she doesn’t acknowledge the elephant on the line, she won’t be able to sleep soundly until she settles it. “Sorry I haven’t called in a while.”

She really is. It’s her fault, much like a lot of other things in her life, that they’ve gone so long without talking. Those first couple of weeks, maybe even months, after his graduation, David had tried to call her. Had called her maybe once a week, if not more. But the more time she spent with Henry, traveling around and looking for jobs to make ends meet, the less he tried to call until finally, one day, the calls stopped all together.  

“Nothing to apologize for. I’m just glad you finally did.”

“Me too,” she says with a small smile.

“Goodnight,” David bids her.

“Night.”

Her conversation leaves her in a weird state of content and confused. David has a point in everything he said. But then again, she’s been on the move – or may be more accurately, on the run – for so long that even attempting to settle down would harm more than help her.

She ponders her friend’s words for another silent moment before clapping her hands and approaching Henry. The apartment has only grown darker while she spoke with David, so now the kitchen light dangling above her son is a spotlight on his apparent struggle.

“So how goes the homework?” she asks.

Henry leans forward and taps his head against the table before lolling it back to look at her upside down. “My brain is fried, I’m dying, all the blood is going to my stomach,” he groans. Throwing an arm haphazardly in the air, he has the gall to scold her. “See, this is what you get when you feed your son ice cream for dinner.”

“Uh, no,” she laughs aloud. “This is what you get when you claim an entire large pizza for yourself.” Gently, Emma pushes his head back up and sits down next to him. She peers over at the journal before him, half written thoughts on the lines and little doodles in the margins. “C’mon, this looks like a good start. Talk to me. Talk me through it.”

As Henry begins explaining the prompt, she tries – really tries – to focus on it. She wants to help her son with his report, but David’s words and Jeff’s offer still simmer in the back of her mind.

Seems like Henry isn’t the only one who can’t mold his thoughts into coherent ideas tonight.

[weekendwarriorblog]

Welcome to Awards Season Part 3 – The Performances of 2019

Okay, things went a bit haywire with my scheduling on what I hoped to be an ongoing (and weekly) column/series, but to be perfectly honest, I need to focus on paid writing work. I actually had a whole second part of the movies piece that talked about the movies that premiered in the September festival season and in recent months, but it was going very, VERY long, and I just didn’t have time to finish it. It would have been great, as The Godfathers* once sang, “If I Only Had the Time.” (*Look ‘em up on Spotify.. this is a real band and they’re awesome!)

Instead, as you can determine by the title above, I want to talk about some of the actors in this year’s awards races, which has become quite a bit more competitive than it has in years past.

What’s interesting about the Oscar acting race is that there are some really strong precursors like the Golden Globes, Critics Choice and SAG, but they’re all different groups with only SAG having any membership overlap with the Academy. All three groups have announced their nominations with the actual awards being presented over the next few weeks. The first two winners will be announced before the Oscar nominations on Jan 13, and then SAG announces a week later.

Another thing to note is that everyone has a different opinion of what makes a great performance. Some like really emotive performances, others appreciate transformative roles where you no longer recognize the actors, and in some cases, a movie just has such a good script that an actor’s ability to deliver those lines is enough to honor their roles. We have some of all of those below, and this has been an amazing year where we have a number of tough acting categories to fill.  

Often, all the voting groups might agree on three or four nominees in each acting category and there’s one or two slots open for others but this year definitely seems to be a lot of  possibilities with some categories only have one or two sure-things, which can lead to a lot of surprises when Oscar nominations are announced on Monday morning, January 13.

THE ONE-OFFS

There are a couple movies that are getting a lot of attention for their lead performances, usually title roles, and that’s almost the only thing that’s getting any mention. Two or three of these days may get Oscar nominations, but it’s repeatedly been tough for actors to win in movies not nominated for Best Picture and only one of these three stands a chance in getting more than an acting award.

Joker

Todd Phillips’ take on a Batman villain origin story doesn’t have a ton of agreement on why it’s good or bad, but one thing everyone can agree on is Joaquin Phoenix’s harrowing portrayal of Arthur Fleck, which actually gives the late Heath Ledger’s Oscar-winning portrayal of the character in Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knighta run for its money. Even though none of the other performances in the movie are getting attention, I totally can see this getting other nominations for screenplay, technical categories and maybe even Best Picture which puts Phoenix in good place as a front runner for lead actor.

Judy

Another brilliant performance that no one can deny is Renee Zellweggerchanneling an older Judy Garland in this biopic that sees the aging singer/actor trying to mount a comeback at a series of London dates. It reminded me a lot of last year’s Stan and Olliebut Zellwegger has never been better in terms of what she puts into transforming into Garland when onstage performing but also creating an incredibly emotional

Rocketman

Another movie that I wish was getting more transaction is this Elton John musical that’s filled with his music but is equally brilliant for Taron Egerton’s performance for the veteran music man, a role that involves him singing all of his own vocals (unlike last year’s Oscar winner Rami Malik in Bohemian Rhapsody) and performing very emotional scenes. I love the movie, and I was glad to see Egerton get both

Dolemite is My Name

The last time Eddie Murphy was seriously a contender in the awards race was for his supporting role in 2006’s Dreamgirls, although he ended up losing the Oscar to Alan Arkin after winning SAG and the Golden Globe. Murphy is going all-out for his portrayal of Rudy Ray Moore in a movie that harks back to James Franco in The Disaster Artista few years back. Murphy already received a Golden Globe nomination in the Musical/Comedy category where his toughest competition may be Taron Egerton, but Murphy’s comeback trail might be paved with a second Golden Globe after six nominations.

Hustlers

The other actor getting almost all the attention for her movie is Jennifer Lopezin this crime-drama set in the world of strip clubs, and she already has enough support that she could be considered one of the frontrunners in the supporting actress category. Still, it’s going to be hard for Oscar voters to take her or the movie too seriously due to the subject matter, so like Murphy, she’s doing a lot of extra-curricular stuff to get her out there (like performing half-time at the Super Bowl), which should guarantee Lopez a well-deserved Oscar nomination.

Us

Jordan Peele’s follow-up to Get Outmay not have gotten as much awards traction, but considering that it came out in March, the support its getting for its star Lupita Nyong’oboth from critics and from early awards voters is refreshing for her performance in what is a straight-up genre film. She did not receive a Golden Globe nomination but her SAG nomination over other favorites (like Awkwafina) makes her a serious contender for a second Oscar nomination. (She won the Oscar for her first nomination in 12 Years a Slave.)

Uncut Gems

After a strong platform release, the Safdie Brothers’ new crime-comedy-thriller (?), starring Adam Sandler, has opened nationwide, and Sandler’s performance is getting a lot of the praise and accolades for the movie, although he wasn’t nominated for a Golden Globe (possibly cause of the film’s confusing genre classification, although Sandler was previously nominated for Punch Drunk Loveyears ago). It did get a Critics Choice nomination as well as an Independent Spirit nomination, but it seems like a tough battle to convert that into an Oscar nod.

Harriet

There’s something to be said about Cynthia Erivo’s performance as Harriet Tubman in an otherwise weak biopic (compared to some of the others this year), but she has already been nominated in all three previous precursors (SAG, Golden Globes, Critics Choice) which puts her in a good place to get one of five nominations. The question is whether she’ll get a nomination on the merits of the movie and her performance or if it’s a response to #OscarsSoWhite and the lack of women of color other than possibly Awkwafina, which would put her up against Lupita.

Just Mercy

Destin Daniel Cretton’s adaptation of this popular novel hasn’t been getting nearly as much critical or awards traction as other movies, but it’s best bet is Jamie Foxxas a prisoner on Death Row, which also got a surprising SAG nomination despite not receiving any other awards.  We’ll see if the movie gets any traction now that it’s in limited release. It will only hit theaters nationwide just as the Oscar nomination process is closing.

THE ENSEMBLES

A good problem for a movie to have is to have so many great performances by its cast that it’s hard to just single out one great performance. Sometimes, this means that it’s best best is in the SAG Ensemble category rather than in individual ones, but there are a few where there are clear standouts in an overall great cast.

Parasite

Bong Joon-ho’s class dramedy-thriller has gotten a lot of love and attention from critics over the past year since it debuted at Cannes, and a lot of that is due to its amazing cast. There are great performances by mostly unknown Korean actors, some of whom have been working for decades in Korea but you’d be hard-pressed to get anyone to remember any single name. The one exception may be Song Kang-ho, who is easily the Tom Hanks/Cruise of Korea, having worked with Director Bong since the beginning of his career. Lots of

The Irishman

Martin Scorsese’s latest crime-drama about the Jimmy Hoffa disappearance has an amazing ensemble cast, although like Marriage Storyand others above and below, it’s getting the most attention for three amazing performances. Probably the most attention is being paid to two performances: Joe Pesci in his return to the screen after many years, reuniting with Scorsese, and Al Pacino, who shockingly never worked with Scorsese before, instead being the lynchpin of Francis Ford Coppola’s “Godfather” movies.  The irony is that they’re both supporting roles to that of Robert De Niro, who not only plays the main character but also originally found the book and brought the project to Scorsese. De Niro is really good in the movie, better than he’s been in years, but it’s not the sort of transformative or emotional role that often gets attention. The fact that BOTH SAG and the Golden Globes left De Niro off their list might prove that there isn’t nearly as much support for this movie, although it’s likely to get two acting nominations in the supporting category.

Once Upon a Time … in Hollywood

In some ways, Quentin Tarantino’s ninth movie is in the exact same boat as Scorsese’s, because it’s a great ensemble but three performances in particular are getting all the attention.Obviously, Leonardo DiCapriois well liked and well-respected by the Academy to receive as many Oscar nominations as he has (before winning for The Revenant), and he’s doing something very different in Tarantino’s latest, definitely more comical. It’s an interesting counterpoint to the performance by Brad Pitt, who is just so dominant in the film in every scene that it’s hard not to think that putting him into the supporting category might help him win much like Christoph Waltz did for Django Unchainedand George Clooney in Syriana. (Oh, the joys of category fraud!) Margot Robbieis also pretty amazing in the film as Sharon Tate, but it’s not nearly as moving and memorable as her performance in…

Bombshell

The Jay Roach-directed Fox News sex scandal movie was released a few weeks back and has expanded nationwide with not much of a fanfare, but the biggest support it’s received is from SAG, who gave it four nominations including the coveted Ensemble Cast nomination against some of the stronger Best Picture contenders like Irishman, Parasiteand Once Upon a Time. Charlize Theron’s multiple nominations as Megyn Kelly by most of the groups, including Golden Globes, definitely gives her an edge to get into the Oscar nominations, and Robbie’s portrayal of a composite character is also quite compelling. Amazingly, Nicole Kidmanalso received a nomination for her turn as Gretchin Carlson, a much smaller role, but that was from SAG, who has more in common with the Academy than other groups.  I’m a little bummed that John Lithgowisn’t getting more attention for his performance as Roger Ailes or Kate McKinnonfor that matter.

Little Women

This might be better off in the one-off category, because so much attention is being foisted on Saoirse Ronan’s second performance in a Greta Gerwig movie that other great performances are mostly being ignored. That is, except for Florence Pugh, who is just as amazing playing Amy in two different periods, both younger and more mature. Frankly, I think Timothée Chalametis also terrific (as he is in The King), as is Chris Cooper and Laura Dern, but people have issues with some of the choices made and the movie might be more impressive for Gerwig’s adaptation than any single performance. The fact that this didn’t get a SAG ensemble nomination in a VERY crowded year is somewhat telling, but Ronan was also left off the list which might mean she may have to watch this year’s Oscars from Ireland.

Waves

I also want to mention Trey Edward Schutt’s latest movie, which has fantastic performances by Kelvin Harrison, Jr, newcomer Taylor Russell, Lucas Hedgesand Sterling K. Brown, the latter giving a fine supporting role. Unfortunately, despite the critical support, this one seems to be getting lost in the shuffle of a busier-than-usual fall awards season. The fact that Brown has yet to receive a nomination means this one is probably D.O.A., but still a fine dramatic film.

MULTIPLE PERFORMANCE FILMS OF NOTE

The next few movies also have great ensemble casts but their focus seems to be even more radar-focused on one or two performances, which may be why none of them received SAG Ensemble nominations.

Marriage Story

Noah Baumbach’s relationship drama might be the only movie this year that has a chance at the extremely elusive ability to be nominated in all four acting categories, something we’ve only seen recently with two of David O. Russell’s movies, Silver Linings Playbookand American Hustle. A lot of attention is being focused on the powerful, emotional performances by Adam Driverand Scarlett Johanssonand rightfully so, but Laura Dernis pretty amazing as the latter’s divorce lawyer, and it’s so wonderful to see Alan Aldaon screen as one of Driver’s kinder lawyers. This might be another case where the screenplay is so good that all the actors are doing their best work, although the lack of a SAG Ensemble nomination (despite those great performances) and Baumbach not receiving a Golden Globe nomination for directing also puts a slight damper. So far, the first three actors have received nominations from every precursor group and that should help get them Oscar nominations, although Dern has the best chances at converting her nomination to an actual Oscar since she doesn’t have as much definite competition.

The Farewell

We then get into the Sundance premieres that I spoke about last time, and Lulu Wang’s personal dramedy about going to China to visit her dying Nana, who was unaware of her condition. The movie has a beautiful performance by Awkwafina, one of last year’s breakout stars.  She has already received Golden Globe and Critics Choice nominations but was ignored by SAG in favor of others. That doesn’t mean that she’s completely out of the race and to the actor’s credit, she’s been doing the most in terms of getting out there and talking about the movie/role, which will keep her on people’s minds when filling out their awards ballot. It’s hard not to give equal credit to the Chinese actress, Zhao Shuzhen, for her performance as Nana, although she hasn’t received nearly as much early awards recognition, just a Critics Choice nomination. If you remember, Alfonso Cuaron’s Romagot a supporting actress nomination for a lesser-known Mexican actress, so maybe this film will get similar love.  As much as I love this movie, I feel that both actors are starting to become outliers within very crowded categories, but it’s hard to deny what they both bring to Wang’s film.

The Two Popes

One of four Netflix movies that the streaming service is pushing is this drama that features a fantastic script by Anthony McCarten (Darkest Hour) and two amazing performances by Jonathan Pryceand Anthony Hopkins, which certainly deserve accolades. The question is whether the Academy members give much support to the movie over others in a very crowded year. If this movie is able to get a Best Picture nomination or screenplay, one can probably assume that one or both actors will get nominated but it seems like Hopkins has a better chance, just cause Pryce is competing in a much tougher Lead Actor category. Both actors received Golden Globe nominations and Hopkins was nominated for a Critics Choice nod, but neither received SAG nominations, which isn’t great for their Oscar chances.

Clemency

A movie that just got released (today, in fact) after first premiering at Sundance all the way back in January might be in a place where it’s been forgotten by some and not seen by others, which is a shame, since the performances by Alfre Woodard and Aldis Hodgeare two of the year’s best even though the movie is definitely a tougher drama, maybe even than the somewhat similar Just Mercy. Unlike that one, this movie probably won’t even get a wide release, so it will probably get lost in the shuffle.

The Report

Another movie that got a ton of attention out of Sundance but has lost a lot traction since is Scott Z. Burns’ political thriller starring Adam Driverand Annette Bening, the latter as Senator Dianne Feinstein, who oddly is getting more attention than Driver. (It might since Driver is so much better in Marriage Storythat few are paying much heed to his equally great performance in this.) Bening did get a Golden Globe nomination but no SAG OR Critics Choice, so it feels like she may be an outlier in the supporting actress category.

Richard Jewell

An otherwise decent real-life drama that has been mired in politics and other stuff is Clint Eastwood’s new movie about the Atlanta Olympics bombing and the title security guard, as played by Paul Walter Hauser, who helped save lives but then was accused of planting the bomb. Hauser is quite fantastic, as is Kathy Batesas his mother, but only the latter has gotten any awards attention with her Golden Globe nomination.

DECENT PERFORMANCES IN OTHERWISE TOUGHER SELLS

The four movies below are likely to be remembered as the movies that people liked but didn’t get as much attention for their performances as for more technical aspects.

The Lighthouse

Another movie that got quite a bit of critical attention at Cannes ala Parasite but hasn’t been able to convert that into much attention beyond that is Robert Eggers’ second movie that relies so much on the two-hander performances by Robert Pattinson and Willem Dafoe. Dafoe seemed like a shoe-in to get a fifth Oscar nomination for his role – personally, I thought he was better in Edward Norton’s Motherless Brooklyn– but supporting actor has just become far too competitive in the later months of the year.

Jojo Rabbit

Taiki Waititi’s Nazi satire has many fans – I’m not one of them – but winning the Audience Award at the Toronto Film Festival is one of the precursors for the Academy’s Best Picture category that can’t be ignored. On top of that, Scarlett Johansson (already sitting pretty with her inevitable Marriage Storynomination) was nominated by SAG and the Critics Choice in the supporting category, which shows support for the movie, even though the Golden Globes only nominated her co-star Roman Griffin Davisas filler in the Actor, Musical/Comedy category. (He also could be a frontrunner for the Critics Choice Young Actor/Actress.) The thing is that they might have a tougher time at the Oscars, especially with so many other options in the supporting actress category.

Ford vs. Ferrari

I guess I’m a bigger fan of James Mangold’s racing drama than many of my fellow critics, and yet, many were surprised by the amount of support that Christian Balehas been getting in the earlier side of awards season, most notably with SAG and Golden Globe nominations, yet nada from the Critics Choice (my own group!). That’s really interesting, and it shows continued support and respect for the frequently-nominated Oscar winner, and we’ll have to see if that can translate to another Oscar nomination.

1917

Sam Mendes’ movie is fantastic and is likely to get a lot of Oscar nominations and George MacKay’s performance is one that really should be getting more attention, although it’s likely to get lost in the shuffle of the amazing visuals and action of this very personal war movie.

Honey Boy

Another movie that is definitely getting a little lost in the shuffle is Alma Har’el’s narrative feature debut based on Shia LaBeouf’s screenplay, in which LaBesouf stars as a version of his own abusive Hollywood father. It also has fantastic performances by young Noah Jupe, also great in Ford v Ferrariand Lucas Hedges, but it’s a tougher movie and like Waves, it’s hard to get people to see this when there are so many bigger and stronger movies.

I have more to write about the Oscar race and maybe next time I’ll make some actual predictions… again, time permitting.

[flauntpage]

Hot Garbage – Ten Takeaways from Saints 48, Eagles 7

There was a moment during yesterday’s game where I came to the realization that the Dallas Cowboys are going to win the NFC East.

It went like this:

“Huh.. the Eagles look like shit.. Alex Smith is done for the year… and the Giants are 3-7.”

That leaves Dallas as the only team with any sort of positive outlook. The Cowboys are gonna slide in at 8-8 and lose to the Panthers or Vikings in the Wild Card Round.

Later, in the third quarter, after the Saints scored to make it 38-7, my wife turned to me and said, “we could watch Real Housewives instead,” which got me thinking. At that point, I absolutely would have preferred to watch The Real Housewives vs. the rest of the Eagles game. I would have preferred to watch Teresa Giudice flip over a table and call someone a bitch. I would have preferred to watch disgustingly rich women discuss their latest plastic surgery or talk about how much of a struggle it is to find the right housekeeper to clean their 40,000 square foot Orange County mansion.

I would have preferred anything, really, because that was the most pathetic Eagles performance I’ve seen in at least seven days.

Which begs the question –

Did this team quit?

I don’t know if they necessarily quit, because I feel like they didn’t even really start the season. Did anybody on this team really give a shit at all? Or was this just a throwaway season because they won the Super Bowl and just decided to take a year off instead?

It feels like that. It really does, and I know you just can’t do anything about the myriad injuries on both sides of the ball, but everybody who is healthy regressed at the same time. Has Nigel Bradham or Jordan Hicks made a play all year long? How is Carson Wentz getting worse? Did Doug Pederson forget how to call plays? I feel like I’m in some sort of bizarro world here because this looks nothing like the team that won it all just nine months ago.

And it’s disappointing, because this was the year that you were supposed to prove to everybody that the Super Bowl run was not a fluke. You were supposed to prove that you could play as the alpha dog and not just the underdog. This was the season to transcend all of that rudimentary stuff and say, “we’re a damn good football team, and we know it.”

Instead you’ve put in one of the worst title defenses that I can ever remember seeing.

1) Let’s flip the script

The Eagles mustered six offensive plays for 15 yards and zero first downs on the opening two drives yesterday.

The scripting has been really bad. Reporters asked Doug Pederson and Mike Groh about it last week and they didn’t really have much of an explanation other than, “we’ve gotta do a better job.”

You would have to go back to the Giants game something like five weeks ago to find the last time the Eagles scored on their opening possession, and that was on a short field after the defense intercepted Eli Manning.

Since then:

Dallas: three and out

Jacksonville: seven plays for 38 yards, then a fumble

Carolina: three plays, -10 yards, punt

If you go back the last four games, these opening drives have gone 16 plays for less than 50 yards with three punts and a fumble.

That is some ghastly stuff.

2) Begging to lose

No defensive coordinator at any level of football should ever rush three linemen and drop eight players into coverage. The only reason you should ever do this is if you’re up by 20 points and playing prevent out of respect to your opponent, or your three linemen are Fletcher Cox, Lawrence Taylor and Reggie White.

I watch this drop-eight horse shit every week in the Big 12 and the defenses still give up 40+ points per game. It should never be done in the NFL, especially on an Eagles team where the strength is your defensive line and the weakness is your banged-up secondary.

There’s just no reason this defensive scheme should ever be used:

Somebody as good as Drew Brees is going to pick that apart every single time. It might confuse some freshman quarterback at Kansas State, but no NFL quarterback is going to struggle when you’re rushing three linemen against five and asking him to find a soft spot in the coverage.

Maybe there was a mistake here or something, because when I watch the play again, I see that both Bradham and Hicks are picking up the same guy:

Rasul Douglas gets lost in a natural screen and New Orleans picks up 15+ yards on the play. Were they even lined up properly to begin with? Did they have the right personnel on the field?

3) Josh Adams

I said last week that I thought he was just a guy.

I still think he’s just a guy, and that’s not even necessarily a derogatory term, I think it’s more about the idea that you can find a Josh Adams anywhere. There’s a reason he was an undrafted free agent and peripheral piece during training camp. He was the 5th guy on the list behind Darren Sproles, Jay Ajayi, Corey Clement, and Wendell Smallwood.

That said, it was really nice to see them run Adams between the tackles in the first half, and he ripped off a quality touchdown to give the team some life before the inevitable beatdown resumed.

Really nice blocking here by both Eagles guards. Brandon Brooks moved immediately to the second level and took A.J. Klein so far out of the play that Adams was actually able to cut back to Brooks’ right and then burn the defensive back:

That’s what we were used to seeing last year.

Adams finished with seven carries for 53 yards and a score. I didn’t see a sweep or a pitch or any of that horizontal stuff, not unless they did it later when I was half asleep and ordering Pizza Hut on the computer. This season is pretty much done, so at least you can give Adams the workload moving forward and see if he’s got a future on this squad.

4) Golden Tate

He actually led the team with 48 receiving yards, if you can believe it, but it still didn’t feel like he was that involved, did it? He also led the team with eight targets.

One thing I don’t understand is why they just don’t go five wide and get Tate on the field with Alshon Jeffery, Nelson Agholor, Zach Ertz, and Jordan Matthews at the same time. You know your running backs can’t pass block and aren’t great catching the ball out of the backfield. You know your offensive line hasn’t been very good this year. Your strength really is in the receiving corps, so just go empty set, spread ’em out, and dink and dunk your way down the field with some quick release stuff. Tempo, rhythm, early release – try to get Carson in a groove here, no?

Beyond those eight targets, they tried to get Tate on an end-around that was blown up for a huge loss. Nice play by the defensive end, if we’re being honest.

5) Carson Wentz

19-33 for 156 yards, 0 touchdowns, and 3 interceptions.

A quarterback rating of 31.9 was the worst of his career, about 20 points lower than what he put up in the two-interception performance against Minnesota back in 2016.

Wentz threw his helmet on the sideline and showed visible signs of frustration, which usually isn’t the case with him. The interceptions felt forced, like he was annoyed and just trying too hard to make a play and get his team moving down the field.

I certainly don’t think the team’s struggles are solely on him. He was very good after returning from the injury and on pace to put up career numbers, he just needed to cut down on the fumbling issue. But it’s strange to watch him slowly regress, which I think is just a product of the general malaise hanging over this entire squad.

He was pretty bad specifically on those deep shots yesterday, going 0-4 on attempts of 20+ yards:

Pretty rough.

Also, no, it’s not time to put Nick Foles back in the game. Carson Wentz is the franchise quarterback.

6) Yes, more injuries

They lost six guys yesterday:

Jason Kelce (elbow)

Rasul Douglas (knee)

Sidney Jones (hamstring)

Avonte Maddox (knee)

Jordan Hicks (calf)

Rick Lovato (think it’s a concussion)

Even the long snapper got hurt. It was that bad:

Long snapper Rick Lovato was running to the Saints sideline as if it were the #Eagles. A Saints player had to turn him around.

— Jeff McLane (@Jeff_McLane) November 18, 2018

Lemme think about who the starting secondary is next week…

I think it’s gonna be Malcolm Jenkins, Corey Graham, Chandon Sullivan, Cre’Von LeBlanc, and De’Vante Bausby in nickel. I don’t even know what they do if they go dime.

So take those six guys above and add it to Jay Ajayi and Darren Sproles and Mike Wallace and Mack Hollins and Richard Rodgers and Tim Jernigan and even more injured people that I can’t think of. Then take into account that Brandon Graham, Carson Wentz, and Alshon Jeffery were not 100% healthy to begin the season. It’s just been a nightmare of injuries all season long.

7) Losing your auxiliary battles

Ugly stuff here:

lost time of possession, 37.5 minutes to 22.5 minutes

-3 turnover margin

3-10 on third down (30%)

0-2 on fourth down (0%)

allowed Saints to go 6-11 on third down (54.5%) and 1-1 on fourth down (100%)

lost 18 yards on 3 sacks

0-1 success rate in the red zone

6 penalties for 49 yards

They made one red zone trip yesterday.

Also, it’s almost impossible for an NFL team to lose the TOP battle by that wide of a margin. The Saints had the ball for almost 38 minutes yesterday. They ran 69 plays and piled up 546 yards. That’s 7.9 yards per play..

8) Doug’s best call?

I guess it was the decision to run Adams between the tackles.

Shrug.

9) Doug’s worst call

Keeping Wentz in the game in the fourth quarter was ridiculous. Imagine if he had also gone down injured in a blowout loss.

The only bad call that even really mattered was in the second quarter, that 3rd and 3. It was slow developing play with Wentz starting from under center. You just can’t call a deep drop in that situation, especially not coming out of a timeout. I know Stefen Wisniewski got beat on the play and allowed the sack, but you gotta know you’ve got a backup center in the game. Situation-wise, you only need three yards, so why are you dropping back five yards in the first place? Just run that out of the shotgun.

That really was the point where this game was lost. They had a bit of momentum going for them, then crapped it away.

10) Miscellaneous stuff

I usually use this space to write about things I notice during the broadcast, but the Eagles were getting their ass beat so badly that I didn’t really pay too much attention to Joe Buck and Troy Aikman. I did hear Buck shout out Zach Berman for the second time this season, which was cool. Zach does a nice job for the Inquirer. I wonder if Joe Buck reads Crossing Broad? Probably not.

Anyway, the Eagles deserved to lose after John Clark shared whatever the fuck this was before the game:

New Orleans is known for their music

Eagles fans brought their own

#BirdsintheBayou #FlyEaglesFly pic.twitter.com/dG3ZDpmnXN

— John Clark (@JClarkNBCS) November 18, 2018

You want Delco Delco?

Yeah! Let’s do it!

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