#i live to serve for my fellow gremlins

[lululeighsworld]

im coining the term grellmaxxing to describe the phenomenon where people relate to/kin/identify as grell and proceed to try everything in their power to look and act more like them. you people know what im talking about. you know someone named grell who talks with tildes, probably claims to like jack the ripper and wants to dye their hair red/ is a redhead right. i know you do. you know someone whos grellmaxxing

[davycoquette]

OC Facts Tag Game

Thank you for tagging me, @sableglass; you're a real one! 🤠

Rules: Make a list of fun facts about your OCs. Like a headcanon list if you will. Except it’s canon.

This worked out well last time, so: if you see this, TAG, YOU'RE IT! Otherwise I would literally tag every mutual I have, because if you write original characters, I want to eat up information about them. I love it. Please tag me if you do this so I can bask in your gremlins' glorious luminescence.

SHILOH tw; drugs/pills/addiction & animal death mention

Terrified of dogs. Demonstrates by breaking out into a cold sweat or climbing all over the nearest person to escape. The size of the pup has little to no bearing on the intensity of his reaction.

Vegan. He's not squeamish about offing his fellow humans, but a childhood of ringin' chicken necks for supper has forever turned him off eating animals. He also believes the consumption of dairy is inherently anti-feminist.

Believes he excels in the martial arts... but doesn't. He's a wily knife-fighter and all, but all that other fanciness is pure delusion.

Yogi. He's been at this Yoga business since he was about eighteen; he's pretty bendy. He believes it's his meditative practices that have made him so impervious to experiencing physical pain, but is often harshly reminded of the truth when deprived of the hydros he pops like candy for any length of time.

RUCK tw; personality disorder mention

A redneck king. Out of the whole deranged Rucker brood, this one's the prodigal heir to the milk stool throne. Some Ruckers (like his younger brother) are glad to avoid it; others, like his same-age cousin, Billy, covet the position of he who seems to be the whole family's Golden Child.

Husky baritone. Damn if his singin' voice ain't pleasant! He's a six-string picker on top of it; music is his primary but underutilized talent.

Borderline. Almost certainly has borderline personality disorder.

Good intentions pave this self-saboteur's rocky road to hell. He's done some fucked up things (such as murder & multiple bank robberies in the cowboy verse, or bowling for HS kids in his hotrod in the 90s verse), but always in the spirit of self-sacrifice and helping those he cares about. At the end of the day, he's a very simple man - and in a perfect world, he'd live a wholesome life with his wife and their two kids.

LOU

Recurring weirdo. He's appeared in a few posted excerpts. Lou indirectly connects several of my characters; perhaps due to his convenient knack for dealing drugs and their knack for consuming them.

TV star. In modern verses, Loik appeared on an episode of a paranormal docuseries to discuss the time he was abducted by a race of sexy alien babes. He fully believes an alien lifeform was oviposited inside him and will one day burst free.

Handler. Despite his penchant for colorful Hawaiian shirts and being Chill AF™, Lou is dangerous. His paunchy physique belies how strong and quick he is, though he seldom resorts to throwin' hands. He'd rather call the shots from behind the scenes, utilizing strays scraped off the streets to rake in his fortunes in blood money.

Therapist. Lou's the best bud you ever had, 'til he forsakes you. The man is willing to listen to your woes, and tends to give kickass advice. Many 'customers' really stop by to unload and get his perspective.

Father of the year. Lou has a stepson and a biological daughter and serves as a deadbeat father figure to both of them.

Coulda shoulda woulda. Showed great athletic promise back in his hockey days, but he'd rather chill, man.

[stingslikeabee]

The Continental verse

Born as Lilian Siân Owens-Drysdell to a Welsh crime syndicate family, Lilian had the life of a princess growing up: surrounded in equal measures by luxury and the knowledge of what her family did for a living, the girl nonetheless took after her mother and her hobbies - gardening, beekeeping and being as sweet as the honey produced in their backyard had been Lilian's preferred strategy to achieve her own goals.

Not that she needed to manipulate the patriarch or most of his men to get anything - those under Edgar's rule would always do whatever his oldest asked without any hesitation, but his daughter just had a knack for being welcoming, hospitable and displaying other true talents of a seasoned hostess like her mother, used to holding, planning and organizing many grand events at the Drysdell estate.

And perhaps it was precisely because Lilian was so much averse to inheriting her father's role that she insisted in carving a different path, away from Edgar's shadow and influence. While firing a gun or getting into hand to hand combat were nothing the girl hadn't been trained for given her bloodline, there was no sense of personal fulfillment for Lilian in being a mafia boss. Instead, there was something much more attractive in connecting to people.

Finding out what made someone content, uncovering their strengths and weaknesses, providing for others while taking note of their reactions and soaking all that information - these were the true joys for Lilian, who fully embraced the approach of catching flies with honey and adopted the alias of 'Melissa'. With her origins, it was not difficult to find employment under one of the many Continental branches, earning the respect of the fellow hotel workers for her abilities and eventually getting promoted to the position of a concierge.

As concierge of the Continental, Melissa is the right-hand to whatever manager is currently serving as head of that location, as appointed by the High Table. While she is not privy to management-exclusive secrets of hotel operations, she is nonetheless vital to keep the hotel running essentially as what it is meant to be - from the regular hospitality services to the additional activities they might offer their guests for the right fees, there is a lot that she oversees and deals with, with varying degrees of personal involvement depending on how legendary the guest is.

The fact that she has blood ties to the Welsh mafia is not a state secret - but it is not openly advertised and, given how far Melissa has moved to make a career for herself, that connection is rarely (if ever) made. Most of the times, her reputation derives from the excellent service offered and the obvious preference for customized jewelry, accessories and weapons - several of Melissa's items have honeybees or honeycombs engraved or carved into them and she seems to enjoy the associations to the Greek nymph who she borrowed the alias from.

Note: I don't know what to say - but I sat down to watch 'The Continental' (the show set in the same verse of the John Wick movies) and I just had to make a concierge!Melissa verse. It has been in my head for a full day and I just decided to unleash this gremlin variety on the dash to make it everyone else's problem. I am using a mix of the movie and the show lore here and keeping her associated to a nondescript Continental; it doesn't even need to be a main one or under Winston's management (following Charon's death in JW4). It just made sense to me - Melissa's verses by default have her being a hostess and someone who derives a great deal of pleasure in connecting with people and making them feel welcome; it hardly felt like a stretch. The main difference is that this is a Melissa that knows how to fight back; she would never win against trained/professional assassins because that's not her forte, but she's not as useless in a physical confrontation as 99% of her counterparts. It's also safe to say she's absolutely used to violence despite having a decent family (although one she doesn't see or visits frequently). And although this is a verse rooted in John Wick lore, it doesn't need to be restricted to it! For any other purposes, she's just a concierge at a very unique hotel with surprising skills - either because she just doesn't want to pick up the family legacy as an outright mafia boss or for another personal reason that has driven her to the hospitality business. This is flexible and easy to be adapted as needed!

[brainunscrambled]

In Service To Others

I work in healthcare on the night shift.

Something about the moon being out makes everything different. The world is quieter, the hospital almost empty. With so few people to bear the burden, my job is heavier than it is when the sun is out and it weighs down my legs and makes my skin feel sticky and uncomfortable, my chest and head buzz with the too-sharp emotions that come from Being Responsible For Others.

Being a background character to someone’s hospital visit is hard when you feel so responsible and you want so badly to have a positive impact on others. I live to serve others. My purpose is to aid my fellow man. People come to me for help in the most vulnerable hours and expect that I do my job well.

People of the world, I watch as you interact with your family. I care for you when you have nobody, I care for you when you have ten visitors all fretting over every detail about you. I care for you with your mother, husband, eldest child at your bedside, championing for you, and I care for you when you do not have a voice for yourself.

I love you so. Do you know that? Can you tell?

Though the Huddled Masses are by and large alright people, the loudest and most memorable are usually gremlin-y individuals who have been poorly cared for in the past. In my experience, you can be made colder and hard through hurt and disappointment, usually at the hands of others.

I see you, when you come to me this way. It heals a little part of me to be kind to you. It heals a part of me to do my job well, to know you and care for you, to be present for you.

It is healing to be kind, it is healing to care for others. Oh but is it hard to look in your face and think of my own mother. To tend to every tiny detail as if you were her, as I would want someone to do for someone I love dearly.

And so you see, I have no choice but to love you, because that is the care you deserve, too. You deserve to be protected, you deserve for things to be done the right way. You deserve for someone to pay such close attention to every piece of minutiae, and so I will.

[fozmeadows]

race & culture in fandom

For the past decade, English language fanwriting culture post the days of LiveJournal and Strikethrough has been hugely shaped by a handful of megafandoms that exploded across AO3 and tumblr – I’m talking Supernatural, Teen Wolf, Dr Who, the MCU, Harry Potter, Star Wars, BBC Sherlock – which have all been overwhelmingly white. I don’t mean in terms of the fans themselves, although whiteness also figures prominently in said fandoms: I mean that the source materials themselves feature very few POC, and the ones who are there tended to be done dirty by the creators.

Periodically, this has led POC in fandom to point out, extremely reasonably, that even where non-white characters do get central roles in various media properties, they’re often overlooked by fandom at large, such that the popular focus stays primarily on the white characters. Sometimes this happened (it was argued) because the POC characters were secondary to begin with and as such attracted less fan devotion (although this has never stopped fandoms from picking a random white gremlin from the background cast and elevating them to the status of Fave); at other times, however, there has been a clear trend of sidelining POC leads in favour of white alternatives (as per Finn, Poe and Rose Tico being edged out in Star Wars shipping by Hux, Kylo and Rey). I mention this, not to demonize individuals whose preferred ships happen to involve white characters, but to point out the collective impact these trends can have on POC in fandom spaces: it’s not bad to ship what you ship, but that doesn’t mean there’s no utility in analysing what’s popular and why through a racial lens.

All this being so, it feels increasingly salient that fanwriting culture as exists right now developed under the influence and in the shadow of these white-dominated fandoms – specifically, the taboo against criticizing or critiquing fics for any reason. Certainly, there’s a hell of a lot of value to Don’t Like, Don’t Read as a general policy, especially when it comes to the darker, kinkier side of ficwriting, and whether the context is professional or recreational, offering someone direct, unsolicited feedback on their writing style is a dick move. But on the flipside, the anti-criticism culture in fanwriting has consistently worked against fans of colour who speak out about racist tropes, fan ignorance and hurtful portrayals of living cultures. Voicing anything negative about works created for free is seen as violating a core rule of ficwriting culture – but as that culture has been foundationally shaped by white fandoms, white characters and, overwhelmingly, white ideas about what’s allowed and what isn’t, we ought to consider that all critical contexts are not created equal.

Right now, the rise of C-drama (and K-drama, and J-drama) fandoms is seeing a surge of white creators – myself included – writing fics for fandoms in which no white people exist, and where the cultural context which informs the canon is different to western norms. Which isn’t to say that no popular fandoms focused on POC have existed before now – K-pop RPF and anime fandoms, for example, have been big for a while. But with the success of The Untamed, more western fans are investing in stories whose plots, references, characterization and settings are so fundamentally rooted in real Chinese history and living Chinese culture that it’s not really possible to write around it. And yet, inevitably, too many in fandom are trying to do just that, treating respect for Chinese culture or an attempt to understand it as optional extras – because surely, fandom shouldn’t feel like work. If you’re writing something for free, on your own time, for your own pleasure, why should anyone else get to demand that you research the subject matter first?

Because it matters, is the short answer. Because race and culture are not made-up things like lightsabers and werewolves that you can alter, mock or misunderstand without the risk of hurting or marginalizing actual real people – and because, quite frankly, we already know that fandom is capable of drawing lines in the sand where it chooses. When Brony culture first reared its head (hah), the online fandom for My Little Pony – which, like the other fandoms we’re discussing here, is overwhelmingly female – was initially welcoming. It felt like progress, that so many straight men could identify with such a feminine show; a potential sign that maybe, we were finally leaving the era of mainstream hypermasculine fandom bullshit behind, at least in this one arena. And then, in pretty much the blink of an eye, things got overwhelmingly bad. Artists drawing hardcorn porn didn’t tag their works as adult, leading to those images flooding the public search results for a children’s show. Women were edged out of their own spaces. Bronies got aggressive, posting harsh, ugly criticism of artists whose gijinka interpretations of the Mane Six as humans were deemed insufficiently fuckable.

The resulting fandom conflict was deeply unpleasant, but in the end, the verdict was laid down loud and clear: if you cannot comport yourself like a decent fucking person – if your base mode of engagement within a fandom is to coopt it from the original audience and declare it newly cool only because you’re into it now; if you do not, at the very least, attempt to understand and respect the original context so as to engage appropriately (in this case, by acknowledging that the media you’re consuming was foundational to many women who were there before you and is still consumed by minors, and tagging your goddamn porn) – then the rest of fandom will treat you like a social biohazard, and rightly so.

Here’s the thing, fellow white people: when it comes to C-drama fandoms and other non-white, non-western properties? We are the Bronies.

Not, I hasten to add, in terms of toxic fuckery – though if we don’t get our collective shit together, I’m not taking that darkest timeline off the table. What I mean is that, by virtue of the whiteminding which, both consciously and unconsciously, has shaped current fan culture, particularly in terms of ficwriting conventions, we’re collectively acting as though we’re the primary audience for narratives that weren’t actually made with us in mind, being hostile dicks to Chinese and Chinese diaspora fans when they take the time to point out what we’re getting wrong. We’re bristling because we’ve conceived of ficwriting as a place wherein No Criticism Occurs without questioning how this culture, while valuable in some respects, also serves to uphold, excuse and perpetuate microaggresions and other forms of racism, lashing out or falling back on passive aggression when POC, quite understandably, talk about how they’re sick and tired of our bullshit.

An analogy: one of the most helpful and important tags on AO3 is the one for homophobia, not just because it allows readers to brace for or opt out of reading content they might find distressing, but because it lets the reader know that the writer knows what homophobia is, and is employing it deliberately. When this concept is tagged, I – like many others – often feel more able to read about it than I do when it crops up in untagged works of commercial fiction, film or TV, because I don’t have to worry that the author thinks what they’re depicting is okay. I can say definitively, “yes, the author knows this is messed up, but has elected to tell a messed up story, a fact that will be obvious to anyone who reads this,” instead of worrying that someone will see a fucked up story blind and think “oh, I guess that’s fine.” The contextual framing matters, is the point – which is why it’s so jarring and unpleasant on those rare occasions when I do stumble on a fic whose author has legitimately mistaken homophobic microaggressions for cute banter. This is why, in a ficwriting culture that otherwise aggressively dislikes criticism, the request to tag for a certain thing – while still sometimes fraught – is generally permitted: it helps everyone to have a good time and to curate their fan experience appropriately.

But when white and/or western fans fail to educate ourselves about race, culture and the history of other countries and proceed to deploy that ignorance in our writing, we’re not tagging for racism as a thing we’ve explored deliberately; we’re just being ignorant at best and hateful at worst, which means fans of colour don’t know to avoid or brace for the content of those works until they get hit in the face with microaggresions and/or outright racism. Instead, the burden is placed on them to navigate a minefield not of their creation: which fans can be trusted to write respectfully? Who, if they make an error, will listen and apologise if the error is explained? Who, if lived experience, personal translations or cultural insights are shared, can be counted on to acknowledge those contributions rather than taking sole credit? Too often, fans of colour are being made to feel like guests in their own house, while white fans act like a tone-policing HOA.

Point being: fandom and ficwriting cultures as they currently exist badly need to confront the implicit acceptance of racism and cultural bias that underlies a lot of community rules about engagement and criticism, and that needs to start with white and western fans. We don’t want to be the new Bronies, guys. We need to do better.  

[shushiyuii]

Hello, this is a writing request. I like the idea of Tommy being a reckless giant. It wasn’t a problem for him when he was alone sense it was the only way he knew how to interact with the world. It was only when he was found by his small family with SBI and bee duo he realized it might be a problem as he kept hurting them on accident. It also doesn’t help that some of them hide they’re bruises from him to spare his feelings.

Hello? I've got an order for?... Angst?... I think- I'm kidding! My lovely Anon, your delivery is served. Enjoy your fluffy angst.

Warnings: Descriptions of injury (That's about it!)

Words: 1.1k

Tommy had always been alone in the forest, always isolated with the only company being the twinkles of the stars and the fellow creatures around. Tommy never hated it though, for some reason he didn’t know, the loneliness never bothered him.

That all changed within a short period though, as of now he had 2 best friends, a father figure and 2 brother figures. He was wandering through the forest one day, the usual routine when he found the 5 hybrids.

Originally, he was going to leave them, but he saw some of them had a lot of injuries, 2 of them were limping and he noticed that one of the family members had wings and one of the wings seemed out of place, broken.

They were most probably hunted by humans, he could understand from his standpoint, in his fair share of living there, he has had the occasional run-in with humans. He hated humans.

He carefully approached the pack, one seemed fish like with fins for ears and scales covering his arms, brown hair, and eyes, most likely a siren, he limped to be limping as blood was flowing out of his leg. The second was built like a brute and had boar attributes with pink hair and red eyes.

The third is a tall ender hybrid and the other is unknown, monochrome coloured with heterochromia. The fourth was a goat hybrid, brown hair, and green eyes, he was the most injured of the bunch with the ender hybrid carrying him.

Then was what seemed like the eldest, he held large grey wings, with his wing out of place, he reminded Tommy much of himself in appearance with blonde hair and blue eyes.

After a bit of convincing, he was told that they were being hunted down by humans. That convinced everything in his head that he had to help them, so he managed to get the family to follow him. With Tommy’s help, they managed to stay away from the humans and tend to their wounds. And stayed with Tommy for a while.

“Stayed” is more like decided to live with him and not leave since they grew attached to the boy, they’ve practically moved in and are like family to Tommy now. They’ve been around for a couple of months now and he couldn’t be more grateful for his tiny family.

They brought so much more joy and excitement to his once boring life; he didn’t know what he’d do without them. He loves Wilbur’s songs he sings to them at night, Techno trying to fight against his hand with all his might, Phil telling tales of when he was younger and told stories of their past.

And went out exploring with Tubbo and Ranboo! They always had their fair number of adventures!

That doesn’t mean there wasn’t their fair share of problems with it though, since Tommy’s been isolated from society for so long, he doesn’t quite get the idea of being careful sometimes and can be a bit reckless and accident-prone.

This has led to a fair number of accidents with his family, he’s maybe squeezed them a little too much or dropping them from a small distance.

Tommy’s noticed his family trying to hide things from him lately, especially when there was an accident, when he asked about it they always said “Oh yeah, I’m fine mate. No worries!” or “What the fuck you on about gremlin?! I’m completely fine!”. He’s noticed them limp when they think they’re out of sight. It breaks his heart to see them like that, especially when he’s the cause.

He’s tried to be more careful but with little success, it always fails. And that’s why he was sitting by the cliff, to be alone with his thoughts. The cliff was barely a climb for him, he wouldn’t hurt himself if he fell, but his family sure would.

He’s had a lot of thoughts recently, he’s become paranoid to an extent and doesn’t know what to do or how to handle it, he wants to talk to his family about it but how do you even bring up that kind of topic?

He sighed and held his hair in a stressed matter, every thought bringing him even more upset. He cringed as he felt tears stream down his face. He just curled in on himself, unable to focus on the night sky like he used to.

He laid there for a while, that was until he heard the fluttering of wings and change in the wind. He didn’t dare move in case he’d hurt him. He felt a weight on his shoulder and moved over towards the crook of his neck.

The figure placed his hands on his neck and began to soothe it gently, a way of comfort. He carefully moved his arm to wipe at his eyes, not wanting his father to become soaked with tears.

“You alright, mate?”. He made a ‘nuh-uh’ noise. Phil sighed, “anything you wanna talk about? Anything I can do to help?”. There was a moment of silence between the two until Tommy couldn’t stand the tension. “Phil how can even stand to be around me?! All I do is hurt you and the others?!”. Phil was a bit shocked by the outburst, but not because of the volume because he was worried about what Tommy said.

“Mate…”, “Please just leave me alone…”. “Right! -“He stood up and grabbed Tommy’s cheek, causing Tommy to stare at him. “No more grouching! It’s not your fault! I get that you’re worried and you care about us mate, but accidents are going to happen when there’s a large difference in size.

it's inevitable. But we’ll help you work through it okay? We all care about you so much, Toms, please. I hate seeing you upset.”. Phil’s expression showed it all worry and sadness. It all in all made Tommy regret his outburst, he hated to worry the man with his problems.

“Phil- I-…”. He couldn’t even get the words out until, “Shh, it’s alright. I’m here”. He leaned his head towards Phil, to which he embraced it, using his wings to give him the biggest hug possible, the two sat there alone for a while.

Eventually, the two of them headed, back much to Tommy’s reluctance, he carried Phil in his hands and surprisingly, he did it without failure. And when he returned, he came back to find an entire family worried about him, even fucking Techno was worried

(he could tell by the boar pacing back and forth for them to get back). Phil explained what had happened and let’s just say, the family decided along the lines of ‘Alright! It’s cuddle time with Tom! Drop everything else! Focus on the boy!”.

And so, they all laid in their respective places, Phil and Techno on his shoulders, leaning into his warmth and Wilbur, Tubbo and Ranboo cradled to his chest. And from then on, they worked it out and now he rarely dropped his family.

[edens-breathless-melodies-moved]

words: 2.9k

pairing: yamaguchi t. x f!reader

prompt: soft dom

warnings: unprotected sex, dom/sub relationship, yamaguchi being a fucking DADDY, yamaguchi with long hair lives in my mind rent fREE

summary: whenever your friends thought of you and your boyfriend, they always assumed that you called the shots; that you were the one in control. boy are they wrong.

a/n: this piece was actually heavily inspired by @introloves answer to this ask about soft dom yams, and i knew right there that i had to write this because holy SHIT that was hot and i hope i did it justice. please check out their blog, it’s literally immaculate.

yamaguchi tadashi.

if you were to mention that name to any of the main volleyball powerhouse school’s who played in 2012, they’d probably give you an odd look and ask, “who the hell is that?”

although making it onto karasuno’s volleyball team, yamaguchi wasn’t a starter like his fellow first years, and the only time he ever really saw any action on the court was if he was pinch serving.

in all honesty, yamaguchi tadashi was a nobody his first year.

but skip ahead to your last year of high school and you were to mention his name? suddenly the crowd would be alive with chatter, the air practically buzzing.

what had changed?

yamaguchi was a nobody his first year of high school because he didn’t want to be anybody.

since elementary school, yamaguchi always relied on someone else to tell him what to do; for someone to hold his hand and make his actions for him.

and for a while, he was content with that. from such a young age he believed that others were more wise and inept to tell him what to do than himself.

he trailed behind his best friend, tsukishima, and when they entered high school and met you, he trailed behind you for a while, too.

the day yamaguchi met you in the middle of his first year of high school, an unknown feeling embedded itself deeply in his chest. faint, but still there.

you had fit so seamlessly into his and tsukki’s little bubble that it almost seemed as if you were destined to have been friends with them.

you were incredibly smart (you were in the same class as them), you were witty enough to keep up with tsukki’s sass, but also kind and patient, lending an ear whenever he felt that he wasn’t good enough.

your never ending kindness sparked something in yamaguchi, and all he wanted to do was to give you everything you wanted. no matter what it was.

he was drawn to you because you were assertive, confident - a natural born leader. and to yamaguchi, you may as well have hung the moon and the stars in the sky just for him.

it made sense to anyone as to why he fell in love with you - you were all the things he wasn’t.

you realized even before you and yamaguchi began dating that he was more reliant on others than most, and it broke your heart.

even though he couldn’t see it, you recognized the potential in yamaguchi to be better than what he was now. he was such a caring and hardworking young man, he just needed that little extra push.

he recognized when to take charge, he just couldn’t see himself as the one to step up to the plate. in his head, there was always someone else to take the position, someone better than him.

so you decided to change that.

through the years of being with one another, you two slowly learned everything there was to know about each other, and you used that to your advantage.

slowly but surely, you helped yamaguchi overcome his dependability of others. you helped him grow confident in his skin and helped him realize his potential to lead instead of being lead.

like a farmer waiting for your crops to bloom, you watched him flourish with a deep pride.

but as much as you wanted to take all the credit for yourself, you knew that his friends on the team stood by yamaguchi’s side the entire time.

during your last year of high school, which only felt like yesterday (it was literally last year), you could still vividly recall the feeling of pure shock and absolute pride when ukai presented the captain’s jersey to your speechless boyfriend, the bold number one staring right back at him.

when his clear brown eyes met yours, that fire you’ve been waiting to see finally ignited in his irises, you knew your work was done.

now all that was left was to reap the benefits.

———————

you laughed at the loud belch that left tanaka’s mouth while tsukishima rolled his eyes in disgust.

all of karasuno’s old volleyball team sat around a large table outside the cafe, easily catching up with one another and sharing laughs and stories over drinks and food.

you smiled softly at the comfortable chatter of all your friends, chest warm as you felt a wave of nostalgia wash over you. ‘this feels just like taking a break during practice freshman year.’

back then everything felt so simple, the only goal they had in mind was to make it to nationals. and although all of that was in the past, it still brought a sense of comfort to you.

your musings were cut short when you felt a firm but gentle pressure on your thigh, a familiar large hand squeezing you comfortingly.

you brought your eyes to meet with the hands owner, and yamaguchi smiled softly when you raised a questioning eyebrow at him, lips pulled into a cheeky grin.

“what? do i have something on my face or do you just want a picture?” hinata snickered at your teasing words and yamaguchi rolled his eyes playfully.

“although a picture would be nice, i just wanted to know what you were thinking of, love.”

a soft smile replaced your mischievous grin from before and you looked around the table full of all of your closest friends, eyes full of happiness.

“oh it’s nothing, honestly.” you muse, pushing around a stray strawberry from the cake tsukishima insisted they ordered after lunch. “all this just reminded me of our first year of high school, s’all. y’know, like the breaks during practice.”

“i can kinda see what you mean.” daichi hummed while asahi and suga nodded along sagely.

“oh? if this is going back to your guys’s first year, does that mean yamaguchi is still being lead around by (y/n)?”

noya’s loud voice carried across the table, and suddenly, everyone’s eyes were on you and your boyfriend.

“hah?” you questioned, headed tilted to the side in confusion. yamaguchi rolled his eyes again while the table snickered to themselves.

“oh don’t play dumb, (y/n)! we all know that you basically had a leash on yams all throughout high school.” tanaka remarked playfully, waving his hand causally through the air.

“yeah! it was like you wore the pants in the relationship, not yamaguchi.” hinata joined in with a mouth full of cake, and you stared them down flabbergasted. your face flushed as even the third years nodded their heads in agreement.

“yeah, and it seems like she’s still wearing ‘em.” kageyama muttered and you choked on your spit while noya and tanaka howled.

yamaguchi scoffed, face pinkening as a playful smile curled his lips at his friends teasing. some things never change, it seems.

“what? do i really still seem like a pushover?” yamaguchi joked, but his eyes widened slightly in shock as the whole table nodded seriously.

some (see: tanaka and noya) even wiggled their eyebrows suggestively at the young couple. “yup, i bet (y/n) even takes charge in the bedroom, too.”

the mortified sound that left your lips fell on deaf ears as the table erupted in a bunch of juvenile hoots and hollers as yamaguchi lightly spluttered over his words, cheeks positively glowing now.

“are you denying it, (y/n)?” suga’s words silenced the table as everyone settled their eyes on you. even yamaguchi peered at you from beside you, curious to see what you would say.

while you were pretty sure you were dying from the embarrassment, there was a gremlin inside of you that wanted to tease your boyfriend in front of your friends.

so like an idiot, you went along with her.

“while i usually don’t kiss and tell, his voice is rather lovely~” you say with a wink, and genuinely laugh when the table interrupts into full blown chaos.

your amusement is short lived however when the hand that never left your thigh gave you another firm squeeze, but this one felt just a bit harsher than before.

you nervously turned to face your boyfriend, already knowing what was coming.

yamaguchi simply smiled sweetly at you, eyes full of love and humor. but his firm grip squeezes your thigh once more, and you know it’s a warning.

“you’re so cute, (y/n).” his words are light and sincere, but there’s something darker underlying them, just a tad bit menacing and you know what he’s really implying.

behave.

the only person to pick up on this little interaction between the two of you amidst all the hollering is tsukishima, and he smirks to himself as he takes a sip of his drink.

if only these idiots knew.

—————————

surprisingly, suga’s words stayed with yamaguchi for the rest of the day without his permission. like a leech, they imbedded themselves in his head and refused to leave no matter how hard he tried to focus on something else.

they stayed with him for the rest of the lunch with his old teammates, long after the conversation shifted to something else.

they stayed with him as you both said your goodbyes and headed back to your shared apartment near the university you both were attending.

they stayed with him even as he slowly undressed your body in your bedroom, calloused fingers gently trailing over your smooth skin as his lips connected with your neck.

“dashi~” you moaned as he gently left a red mark on your neck, sucking harder than usual so it would stick, staining your skin with his affection.

you yelped softly when yamaguchi gently pushed you to sprawl against the mattress, brown eyes looking at you with a gentle mixture of love and lust swirling in them.

but like earlier, there was hint of something harder behind his loving eyes and you knew it had to do with the conversation from before.

like any sane person would’ve done, you know you should’ve just left your boyfriend alone and not tease him about the earlier conversation. the last thing you’d want was to upset him.

but that same gremlin from before wanted to see how far you could push your normally sweet boyfriend. she wanted to see how far he’d bend till he broke.

so like an idiot for the second time that day, you indulged her.

with hooded eyes, you slowly rose to your knees and crawled towards your boyfriend who still stood at the foot of the bed, eyes watching your swaying frame with curiosity.

the large tent already forming in his jeans made your mouth water, and with teasing eyes you leaned forward and hooked your teeth on his zipper. your gaze never left his as you dragged it down, and you smirked at the way his kind eyes seemed to darken.

with practiced ease you pulled his jeans down along with his boxers and practically moaned as his long and heavy cock sprung from its confines, slapping against your cheek softly.

a soft groan left yamaguchi’s lips as your wrapped your warm and wet mouth around his weeping tip, eyes slipping shut as you lightly sucked on the head before bringing it deeper into your hot mouth.

you weren’t joking when you said his voice was lovely.

just as he was about to thread his hands through your hair to encourage you to take more of him into your mouth, you pulled away suddenly.

yamaguchi opened his eyes and settled his gaze on your giggling face, teasing eyes staring back at him as you gave his tip a coy lick before pulling away with a grin.

yamaguchi doesn’t falter, eyes never straying from yours as he simply smiles down at your teasing figure. bringing a big hand up to your cheek, you lean into his soft touch immediately before he trails down to your neck.

you freeze as his fingers wrap around your throat, squeezing firmly enough to take away your breath.

he only keeps his grip on you for less than a second, relaxing his fingers immediately. but as his index finger curls back to gently tap against your carotid artery, it’s his turn to gaze at you teasingly.

again, you’re reminded who’s really in charge.

“you really are cute, (y/n).”

you shiver as his words from earlier dance in your ears, and that same undertone of something else is laced through them, just a tad bit more forceful than before to give you the same warning. he only needed to squeeze you once to remind you.

behave.

with a nervous gulp, you stare into clear brown eyes as yamaguchi pulls his fingers away from your throat, watching in satisfaction as all traces of your earlier bratiness practically disappears.

he gives you another soft and loving smile as you scoot back on the bed to lay on your back, spreading your legs for him just like he taught you so he could get an eyeful of your wet and glistening folds, cute little hole clenching around nothing.

he didn’t have to say anything to keep you nice and obedient for him, he already had you trained so well. after all, you both knew who really called the shots.

——————————

yamaguchi tadashi may have been a nobody his first year of high school, but ever since you came into his life, for the first time ever he realized he wanted to be somebody.

and that somebody was someone to give you everything you wanted, no matter what you asked for.

this is what made him the perfect soft dom, the perfect lover. he was always willing to give you what you asked for.

you’d ask for him to touch you harder; to thrust into you faster. you’d ask for all of his love and affection and he would hand it over to you on a silver platter.

but he also knew how to keep you in your place, and you thrived off of it. it was the gentle way he went about it, the kind manner he spoke to you in that made it all the more tantalizing.

it reminded you all too much of a sleeping lion, waiting to be awakened.

like the way he was in his everyday life, yamaguchi was gentle with you. he never would do anything to hurt you on purpose.

he was gentle in the way he asked you to spread your legs for him. he was gentle in the way he’d pull orgasm after orgasm from your twitching and gushing cunt.

you thought he had forgotten about your two little slip ups from earlier, but you obviously didn’t know your boyfriend as well as you thought you did.

he doesn’t intentionally bring up your bratiness from earlier, but he thinks you get the message of his lesson as he folds your body in half, thick cock spearing you open as he pounds a little harder than usual into your dripping core.

you may have said his voice sounded lovely, but you’ve obviously never listened to yourself as he fucks you nice and deep, cock stirring up your insides with each thrust and grind.

“d-dashi! t-too much!” you squeal out, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he ignores your words, pumping his hips into you steadily.

his tip was hammering right into your poor cervix, dragging against your g-spot with each pass and you felt like you were going to hyperventilate.

he watches the way you attempt to cling onto any bit of sanity you have left, nails digging into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks as drool drips down your chin.

he moans your name softly as he pounds into you, eyes filled with adoration at the absolutely lost look on your face, cute brows furrowed in the pleasure that he was giving you.

he flushed at the way your walls fluttered around him, wet cunt practically sucking him back in every time he pulls his hips away, only to stretch you back open as he slams in balls deep.

he knows this position allows him to sink in deeper than he usually does, and he knows you’ve learned your lesson when you beg him to slow down, voice growing higher in pitch as you approach your orgasm.

instead, yamaguchi increases his speed, hips hammering into yours as he groans out your name again, relishing in the way you tug on his hair until it’s pulled from the loose ponytail he placed it in.

soft green locks curtain your faces as you both breathe in each other’s breath, eyes locking as yamaguchi steadily brings you towards your climax.

the only time yamaguchi will hurt you on purpose is when his teeth dig into your neck as he prepares to tip you over the edge, hands gripping your waist tight enough to leave bruises behind for tomorrow to see.

he pulls his lips away to watch with a possessive satisfaction as you fall over the edge, toes curling and nails breaking the skin of his shoulders as you scream.

your voice is broken and shot as you babble his name into incoherency, body twitching from overstimulation as his deft fingers never leave your clit, working you through your first orgasm and gently beginning to bring you to your second one, his hips slowing down but never stopping.

his eyes are full of pure adoration and love as you weakly cling onto him and babble out slurred ‘i love you’s. he knows you’ve learned your lesson, and he knows he’ll have to teach it to you all over again.

through the haze of your orgasm and the gentle building of your second one, you know he’s not done with you yet as he smiles down on you, freckled cheeks resembling a strawberry at the red blush dusting them.

“you’re such a good girl for me, (y/n). do you think you can give me another?”

taglist: @lovelypasteldreams @living-for-drama @arixtsukki @month-seasoning @bakarinnie

[the-tiktok-rogue]

Army Of Darkness 2: Middle Earth

prolouge:

My name is Ash...and I'm a survivor, I don't know where I am or how I got

here,but I do remember how this all started, me and four other friends

went down to a cabin in the woods,in the basement of that cabin we found

the necronomicon ex mortis, book of the dead, bound in human flesh and

inked in human blood, it was never meant for the world of the living, the

pages were recited, the evil awoken, each of my friends, one by one became

possessed, cheryl, shelly,scott, Linda...it took Linda, and then it came

for me, it got into my hand and it went bad, so I lopped it off at the

wrist,but then it came back...big time, after I had defeated henrietta,

and Annie summoned a portal to the past I was sent out to retrieve the

book, I messed up the words, summoned an army of the dead, beat them and

got back to my own time...and now it seems I'm here, last thing I remember

is falling through another portal,but how that happened I don't know.

Chapter one: The Shire I looked up and as far as I could tell I was in some kind of wooden

building, I got up off of my knees and quickly hit my head off of the

cieling, this place was tiny!, I quickly turned around to see outside the

windows it was daylight,a small imp looking fellow was walking towards

this house, he was approaching very quickly, I panicked and picked up my

boomstick slowly heading for the door, the door abruptly opened.

"Who are you and why are you in my house!" the imp shouted "I'm the one asking the questions here bucko!, where am I, and who the

fuck are you" I said back, interrogating him, as I walked forward gripping

my trigger "I am Bilbo Baggins, and this is my Hobbit hole, didn't you read the sign,

no admittance!" Bilbo huffed angrily.

Before I could respond Bilbo, kicked me in the groin and was dragging me

into a room with lots of plates, and food, he quickly ran to the door and

scowled at me before exclaiming once more "now you stay in here till I've figured out what to do with you!" great. Just great, I was once again stuck in the middle of nowhere with no

one to help me but myself, but now I was locked in a room with no way of

getting out, still I tried, I struggled opening the door with my metal

hand, but that didn't do much good, then I reached for my chainsaw but it

was missing, the little shit must have stolen it when I was dragged to

this room, so I looked for my boomstick, but that was missing as well, I

thought back to what had happened, I had my boomstick in my hand but I

must have dropped it in shock when he kicked me "Fuck!" I yelled cathartically, I felt so powerless for a supposed hero

from the sky...all I could do was wait.

I jumped as I quickly heard shouting from the...what did he call this

place a Hobbit hole?, so he was a Hobbit?, anyways! he was shouting to

someone at the front door!

"no thank you!, we don't want anymore visiters, well wishers, distant

relations, or men with pointy sticks!" Bilbo yelled indignantly.

Then I heard another voice chuckle,it sounded older, more gruff

"And what about very old friends?" the voice responded in a fond tone, I heard the door creak open "Gandalf?" Bilbo asked, so Gandalf was his name, I barely remember most peoples names I didn't

think I'd remember anyone else, I yelled more, this old guy might have

been my only chance at escape "LET ME OUT, HE'S GOT ME TRAPPED HERE" I screamed "what was that noise?" Gandalf questioned "oh n-nothing, probably just Frodo setting up for the party tonight uh

keep it down Frodo! eheh" Bilbo blundered, to my surprise the old guy bought it!, either that or he was just

intentionally ignoring me "Bilbo Baggins" Gandalf spoke sentimentally "oh dear Gandalf!" Bilbo cried with Joy "good to see you" Gandalf responded "one hundred and eleven years old who would believe it?...you haven't aged

a day" Gandalf noticed, that little gremlin was 110 years old? but he looked tiny, I thought he

was just some ugly toddler,how did that work?, I heard them chuckle and their voices got closer, I kept shouting but

neither of them seemed to notice or care,that old fella really was

ignoring me huh, I heard the old man hit his head and laughed, served him

right,asshole.

"So you mean to go through with your plan then?" Gandalf inquired "yes yes, its all in hand, all the arrangements are made" Bilbo spoke

excitedly "Frodo,suspects something" Gandalf said plainly "'course he does...he's a baggins, not some blockheaded grey scurdle from

hard bottle" Bilbo joked "you will tell him, won't you?" Gandalf asked again "yes yes" Bilbo spoke "he's very fond of you" Gandalf spoke fondly a small pause "I know...he'd probably come with me if I asked him I think in his heart

Frodo is still in love with the shire, the woods, the fields, the

rivers...I'm old Gandalf, I know I don't look it, but I'm beginning to

feel it in my heart, I feel thin,sort of stretched, like butter scraped

over too much bread, I need a holiday, a very long holiday, and I don't

expect I should return...in fact I mean not too.." Bilbo monologued.

As I continued to listen I felt weary, the fall from the portal as well as

being kicked and using all my energy to open this wooden pantry door had

left me exhausted...I couldn't help myself, I slumped and sat down only

meaning to rest my eyes...as I did so I slowly drifted off...

[dragons-bones]

6 for the end of year meme?

6. What’s your favourite piece of dialogue you wrote this year?

Dialogue is my ABSOLUTE MOST FAVORITE THING EVER TO WRITE, so here’s a fucking LIST. :3

Pearls of Wisdom:

Rereha threw open the doors to Aymeric’s office, shite-eating grin firmly plastered on her face as she skipped inside, and sang out, “Congratulations! It’s twins!”

-

“Twin carbuncles!” Synnove cheered. “I had to infuse them at the same time, so they each contain levin and water aether, but the black pearl absorbs levin more readily, and the white pearl more water.”

“So,” Aymeric said hesitantly, a hint of relief in his voice, “you aren’t pregnant, then?”

“What?” said Synnove, rearing back with a frown. “No! Why would—” She went from confused to unamused in a heartbeat and turned her head to level a poisonous glare on a certain lalafell. “REREHA.”

(And here’s a read more because this is gonna get L O N G)

-------

Retrouvailles:

Eventually, she regained enough energy to prop her chin on his sternum. Aymeric lifted his head to meet her gaze as he kept petting her, a questioning noise in his throat that became alarm when he saw the wide grin on her face that usually meant trouble.

“I have,” she said, enunciating clearly, “three more new dresses.”

Aymeric let his head fall back against the desk with a thunk. “Are you trying to kill me, woman?” he groaned, halfway to laughter despite himself. “Take me to dinner before you continue debauching me!”

“That was a perfectly mutual debauchment,” she said primly, “but I’ll grant you that sustenance will be necessary. The Bismarck, or would you prefer to try that new Thavnairian café that I was waxing rhapsodic about over the linkpearl last sennight?”

“The Bismarck,” he said, wrapping one arm around her waist and carefully leveraging them both upright with the other. “I want a steak. Medium rare.”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have the oysters?” Synnove said with a smug leer, wrapping her arms around his torso to snuggle closer, and giggled when he swatted her hip in reprimand.

“Brat,” Aymeric said, impossibly fond.

“Your brat,” she said in turn, tilting her head to kiss him.

-------

Quantum Shenanigans:

“This is an abomination,” Nero snarled, flipping from what little Synnove and Krile had managed to put together of the Arch Ultima on a tablet to the ones of the ravaged Ruby Weapon on a tablet. He was sitting at a heavy iron table in one of the Ironworks’s myriad workshops, fidgeting back and forth in one of the wheeled chairs Biggs had welded together on a whim one day, the chair swaying half an ilm side to side. “Absolutely repulsive. Of course, the VIIth is involved somehow, that legion has always been full of lunatics.”

He was already ducking out of the way of Synnove’s hand, making to smack him upside the head for the pun, but it left him open to Cid’s hard flick against his temple. Nero yelped at the sting and pointed accusatorily at the other Garlean, yelling, “Hypocrite!”

-

“Either way, the results are revolting,” Nero said with palpable disgust. “Forcibly downloading and uploading souls at a whim, who would condone such a thing?”

“You would!” Cid and Synnove snapped in unison.

“The Praetorium,” Synnove said, jabbing Nero in the kidney with her finger. He yelped and jammed his elbow into her stomach, or tried to, as Synnove was already dancing out of range as she continued: “I distinctly recall you waxing poetic about adding mine and my sisters’ power to the Ultima Weapon!”

...

Nero paused and set down the tablet, then pressed his forefinger against his lips as he searched his memory. “…So I did,” he said at last, grudgingly. “Not my finest moment, descending into full on megalomaniacal mad scientist stereotype.”

“That implies you ever rose from the state in the first place,” Cid muttered. And then wheezed out a curse while doubling over and clutching at his stomach; Nero had taken advantage of Cid’s momentary distraction to ram his bony elbow into the other Garlean’s abdomen.

-

Nero shifted uneasily, flicking his gaze from Cid, to Synnove, to Heron, and back to Cid to repeat the cycle. Finally. “…What?”

“I’m impressed, Nero,” Cid said. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth and he leaned back against the workbench to look at Nero with shrewd blue eyes. “You’ve actually matured. I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Bathe in ceruleum, Garlond.”

“Choke on a lug wrench, Scaeva.”

-

Cid’s face went blank in the manner that usually preceded him asking a question he would wish he had not in fact asked at all once he had the answer: “…Void storage metafold?”

“Yes,” Synnove said primly, bouncing the twins in her arms. They giggled. “It’s based on the one Khebi built for Carby, though the structure’s internal area is only about three square fulms instead of…whatever nightmare area Carby’s is. All you have to do to make one is calculate the Cartesian coordinates in four dimensions rather than three, then fold the aether along the proper axes and—”

Cid’s eyes were becoming suspiciously glassy.

“—Nero, kick him.”

Nero, using his non-injured foot, immediately did so in Cid’s shin while wearing a gleefully malicious grin. Cid shouted.

-

“Carby’s a good boy,” Synnove said automatically, the tone of someone who had made the argument before and likely would again. “He’s strange, but he’s a good boy.”

Cid looked at her incredulously. “Just last week you were screaming about having to rummage in his void storage again for your aether chalk and how he was gnawing on your shoulder in retaliation!”

“Carby is not a good boy, Carby is halfway between a constructor-kit outer entity and an unshackled artificial intelligence.”

“He’s not that bad.”

“Yes he is!” Cid and Nero snapped in unison.

-

“What the hells was that even for?” Cid said, leaning back up against the work table to pick up his leg and rub his injured shin.

“Your eyes glazed over as I went on a brief aetherology tangent!” Synnove bellowed. (The twins made oooooooo Uncle Cid’s in trouble~ noises.) “I will not have it! You might be an engineering protoyping savant, but your aetherology theory is shite! You have lived in Eorzea for fifteen bloody years, learn some!”

“Your grand idea for overcoming the first line of aetheric defenses of the Crystal Tower was to throw a bloody rock at it.”

“It has been four years, are you ever going to stop harping about that?”

“No!” Nero and Synnove snapped in unison.

-

Very slowly, Synnove turned her head to look at Nero, practically frothing at the mouth and his hands curled into claws as he grasped at air, and Cid, now aggressively cuddling a wrench he had gotten from one of his pockets like it was a comfort object. Deliberately, with precise enunciation, the arcanist said, “Please tell me I am not the only one who is hearing that harmonic as an approximation and not whatever it is my child is actually saying.”

“I know what those words mean individually,” Cid said. His grip on his wrench was white-knuckled. “I may even know what those words mean together. I am not ready to accept that. And I am most assuredly not ready to know whatever it is they are actually attempting to convey.”

“Blargle,” Nero agreed.

-

“Congratulations,” Nero said icily. “You have mothered two more constructor-kit outer entities. If the fabric of reality unravels any time soon, I am blaming you.”

-------

A Drop of Birch:

Aymeric shook his head, fascinated and astonished and awed all at once. “Sewing her own scarf and hat, and making her own syrup, as perfect as anything produced by the finest chefs in Ishgard,” he said. “She’s truly a remarkable individual, and that persistence will serve her well in bridging the divide between man and dragon.”

There was a very peculiar, familiar gleam in Synnove’s eyes as she sat up, vibrating with excitement. She opened her mouth—

Aymeric pointed his spoon at her and said, in the strict tones of the Lord Commander, “We are still not adopting her.”

“Aymeric!” His ladylove’s voice was pure affronted whining.

“No.”

“But—”

-------

“Signs”:

Tataru pointed at her fellow pinkette now. “I want to know what that hand sign you’re always using is,” she said, only the faintest slur present in her voice.

“You’re gonna have to be more specific than that, honey,” said Rere, lifting her mug to take a deep glugging pull. “There are so many I use to trash talk or gossip with, after all.”

Tataru forced herself upright, bracing herself on her elbows, and held her hands in front of her face, wiggling her fingers. Thancred propped his chin on his hand, raising his eyebrow. “Oh, I think I know the one,” he drawled. “That has to be one of the lewd ones.”

-

Rereha paused and tapped her chin. “Sometimes,” she said, finally. “Mostly, however, he’s a gremlin.”

At this, she held up her closed fist, then extended her forefinger and pinky as far to the sides as she could, the rough approximation of the round body and wide, pointed ears of the chattering voidsent.

Alakhai walked by at that moment, heading for Dawn’s Respite, while she carried a dozing Alphinaud piggyback. “Talking about yourself, Rere?” she said, eyebrows raised as she caught sight of the lalafell’s hand.

“Queen of the gremlins, that’s me!” Rereha cheered, throwing her hands up, and sending Thancred and Tataru into fresh peals of laughter.

--------

“The Lady of the Manor”:

(“You can misbehave after you’re married,” Da would have said at the end of such a lecture, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, while Mama threw up her hands in defeat.)

-

“You have dined me,” Synnove said, setting her glass down on the low table, emerald eyes locked on his. “You have wined me. You have treated me to fascinating conversations about the history of Ishgard and your own family—and I mean that genuinely, dearheart. I’ve enjoyed every moment of tonight.”

He grinned at her and did not bother to hide the pride that puffed his chest.

“But there is one thing I would like to do tonight, especially since Alakhai is babysitting the carbuncles and we’re not likely to be…interrupted.” She propped her chin on her fist. “A tradition perhaps not conducive with those of Ishgard—or, well, Ishgard’s high society.”

“And what would that be, my love?”

“I want to make out with you like we’re a pair of teenagers.”

-------

“A Cruel Arcanist’s Thesis”:

“Cidolfus Garlond,” Synnove said, still looking up at the G-Warrior, her voice full of malice, “did you refurbish an Allagan warmachina and not invite me over to the Ironworks to help?”

Cid froze mid-sentence, eyes widening as the full scope of what he had done—or, better to say, had failed to do—finally registered. Silence descended on the group as they all turned to look at first Synnove, practically radiating affronted rage, and then Cid, gone paler than his shirt; the Warriors of Light watched in anticipation, the Ascian hunters in mild confusion. Rereha took out a bag of candied nuts from her pocket, opening it and shoving a handful into her mouth, chewing as she watched.

“Um,” said the engineer, gaze darting around frantically. “Happy nameday?”

“You sit on a throne of lies, my nameday is next moon and you know it,” Synnove said, pivoting on her heel to look at him. Galette yawned, finally waking up from her nap, looking around in confusion. She paused when she saw her mama’s expression, ears going back, and immediately hopped down, bounding over to Alakhai and pawing at her knees. The Xaela bent over and scooped the carbuncle up into her arms, letting the construct flop around her shoulders with a dramatic huff.

“Cid,” Heron said gently, reaching towards Synnove, “I will give you five seconds.”

Cid bolted. Synnove lunged forward, but was halted by Heron clamping down on Synnove’s shoulders. Heron’s arms noticeably noticed tensed as she held her sister in place, while the arcanist screeched in rage as she struggled against the Hellsguard’s sturdy grip.

And then, after five seconds, Heron let Synnove go.

Synnove tore after Cid, hollering at the top of her lungs, “DID YOU LET NERO IN ON THIS? I SWEAR TO THAL IF SCAEVA GOT HIS HANDS IN ITS GUTS BEFORE I COULD—”

“I DID NOT LET NERO ANYWHERE NEAR THE ALLAGAN WARMACHINA!”

 “WHY SHOULD I BELIEVE YOU, YOU LYING LIAR WHO LIES?”

 “IT’S NOT RED!”

-

“Fuck no,” said an aghast Rereha, “I’m gonna die at the age of forty-five of combined liver failure and heart attack with my face buried between the thighs of a high-class courtesan after drinking twice my volume in Bacchus wine and coming sixteen times the night before.”

A beat of silence.

Two.

Three.

The former Black Wolf closed his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose before he slowly let the breath out again in a heavy, sighing gust. “I had to say something,” he muttered, tired and resigned. “I knew better and I had to say something regardless.”

-

“Surely,” Gaius said, mild exasperation in his tone, “there are better ways of assuring oneself of the physical health of one’s scientist friends than this?”

The Hellsguard turned and arched an unimpressed eyebrow as she stared down at the former legatus. “You say that,” she said, “as if you yourself haven’t staged false emergencies to get your own flock of nerds to exercise and acquire fresh air.”

Gaius growled something in Garlean under his breath that sounded an awful lot like, Nero talks too much.

-------

“They Grow Up So Fast”:

“Do you mean Ehll Tou?” he said. He barely held back the relieved laugh.

“YES!” she wailed again, still face down against his shoulder. “Hautdilong came by and said it had been days since Ehll Tou had gone to the Churning Mists to share her sandwiches with her friends and she should have been back and he was worried and I was worried and so I went to Zenith to find her and deliver the hammer Arvide made for her and one of her friends said she wasn’t ready to be seen and what did that even mean—”

Aymeric ran a firm hand up and down her spine and murmured, “Sweetheart, breathe.”

Synnove sucked in a deep breath and let it out again, shakily. “—and I gave the hammer to Ehll Tou’s friend to deliver but I wasn’t going to leave until I saw Ehll Tou myself and then Arvide and Haudtilong arrived because Hautdilong had gotten so worried and then Ehll Tou finally came and she was BI-I-I-I-I-I-G.” The last word came out as one of those heaving, hiccupping sobs, drawing it out to multiple syllables.

He fished a handkerchief from his pocket and pulled away just enough to offer it to his lady. “Blow,” he said, fond.

-------

“Breaking Point”:

“I AM YOUR DAUGHTER, NOT AN INVESTMENT!”

-------

“Strings and Things”:

Lucia tapped the Watch commander’s shin reprovingly with her foot beneath the table. Hilda tapped back. Lucia nudged her more firmly. Hilda responded in kind.

“Ladies,” Heron said drily, glancing over her cards, “before you get involved in a game of footsie, please recall my legs take up most of the room here and I am not keen to be caught up in one of your public displays of affection. Again.”

Hilda sniffed in disdain, though Lucia at least had the decency to look abashed as the two resettled back to their card game.

-

“Buggering shite,” Hilda growled, reaching for the deck. “Ruthless, vicious, definitely cheating—”

“It’s why you love me,” Lucia quipped.

-------

“Arcane Diagnostics”:

“Synnove, have you seen my WHAT IN THE SEVEN HELLS.”

Synnove didn’t look up from peering through her magnifying glass. “No, Cid, I have not seen your what in the Seven Hells.”

“Fuck you,” Cid said with only a touch of heat. “What the hells have you done to my garage?”

“All right, first, it’s not your garage—”

“It’s Jessie’s, yes, I know, get new material.”

“—and second I have done nothing to it except commandeer it for my use.”

“Then explain the use.”

-

“I would like to remind you,” Cid said, in the sickeningly saccharine tone of someone about to savor some serious schadenfreude, “that A’khebica designed Carby to be self-programming.”

--------

“Points of Light”:

“I’m sorry, but that’s definitely a dick.”

“For fuck’s sake, Rereha.”

“Listen, if you want me to be more descriptive, I can tell you whose dick I think it is.”

Heron moaned in pain, covering her face with her hands. Alakhai started cackling, quiet and whispery. Synnove reached over Alakhai to whack Rereha with her pillow, but the lalafell quickly ducked into her bedroll with her own strident cackle to avoid being hit.

“You’re my little sister!” Heron said from behind her hands. “Stop putting those images in my head!”

-

“Aye,” said Heron, voice only a little slurred. “And who needs a perfect world, anyhow? That’s boring. Just have a couple of sisters at your side—or brothers if that’s how that turn about the sun goes—and things will turn out just fine.”

-------

“A Languorous Start”:

“We weren’t exactly quiet last night, my lady,” he drawled against her temple, “either here or in my office.”

“If anyone was loitering that close to your office or your rooms,” she said imperiously, “then they were being voyeuristic busybodies and should have minded their own business, or gotten laid elsewhere.”

-------

“Fedarloh Fulltouch Chalk”:

Somehow, Synnove’s expression became even stonier. “You have ten seconds to give me my chalk.”

“Or what?”

“Or I tell Aunt Angharad.”

Neither Synnove, Halulu, nor Nero blinked, but between one moment and the next, Rereha was holding out a small wooden box, right beneath Synnove’s nose. The Highlander stared down at it, eyes crossing to bring it into focus.

-

“How does she not break bones more often?” Nero said as he chewed the last of the popcorn.

“We’re fairly certain Hydaelyn likes her best,” Synnove said, absently petting the box containing her chalk and actually crooning wordlessly to it for a moment. Then she frowned, brow furrowing, and glanced up to stare at Nero with narrowed green eyes. “Where did you come from?”

“I arrived about when you were chasing Rereha around your office like a particularly demented game of cat and mouse,” Nero said, brushing his hands clean.

“…That didn’t actually answer the question I asked, but I’ll allow it.”

-

Synnove opened the box and removed a single piece of chalk, still unused, took three strides to stand in front of him, and shoved the chalk beneath his nose. “Smell it,” she said imperiously.

He looked askance at her, but knew better, and took a derisive sniff. He did not sneeze, and at that realization, his eyebrows ticked upwards.

“Touch it,” Halulu said.

Nero touched the stick of chalk with a single finger, and Synnove used the opportunity to hand it over to him. His eyebrows raised further when she did so.

“Kiss it,” Synnove said.

“I beg your pardon—”

“Kiss it,” both arcanists hissed, auras of palpable malevolence flaring to life around them. A knife suddenly glinted in Halulu’s hand.

Wide-eyed, and definitely knowing better, he obeyed.

“That,” said Halulu, in her usual cheerful tone of voice, knife vanished to whatever metafold pocket it was normally stored within, as he drew away with a moue of distaste, “is the motherlode.”

“It is,” Synnove said dreamily, “the best chalk produced anywhere on this star. Ever.”

“It’s rarely breaks.”

“It leaves almost no dust behind.”

“It writes so smoothly, like with ink on paper.”

“It’s impossible to write a false theorem with it!” Synnove gushed, then paused. “…All right, that one’s bullshite. But. It is absolutely much more fun to write out the latest drivel produced by Radz-at-Han when it’s time to poke holes in all their research.”

-

“Who’s your dealer?” he said waspishly.

“That is privileged information,” she said primly, crossing her arms, chalk box still in hand.

He glared venomously at her, teeth audibly grinding, before suddenly grinning, vicious and pleased and knowing. “Shall I tell Rammbroes you said hello when I pay him a visit? The Sons are currently the only organization operating outside the Sharlayan homeland that isn’t on the Forum’s shite-list.”

-------

“Decisive Battle”:

“You rebuilt and refurbished an Allagan warmachina AND DIDN’T INVITE US!” Synnove bellowed.

“The nerve!” Nero said, waving a wrench for emphasis.

“The audacity!”

“The betrayal!”

“Oh my gods, I will throw you both over a cliff,” Cid said, rubbing his temples.

-

“And, truly, Garlond,” said Nero, “I cannot believe you passed on the opportunity to enact poetic justice and use the VIIth’s own tricks against them by means of deploying a primal-infused weapon against their forces.”

“No, no, that is a trap,” Cid growled, jabbing a finger into Nero’s chest. “Not when the basis of their work is partially your research. I am not falling for your false flattery.”

Nero sniffed and smacked the other Garlean’s hand away. “Please, their synthetic auracite system is an abomination, even you could do better with the original Ultima Weapon’s blueprints on hand.”

Cid’s face turned a fascinating shade of red as he gaped at Nero, hands flexing in the manner of someone who desperately wanted to strangle the person before them. Synnove muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like, Point to Nero.

-

“…Your carbuncles are terrifying instruments of wanton violence and destruction,” Nero said, staring at Ivar, “which speaks volumes about your actual levels of relative sanity and inherit bloodthirstiness.”

Synnove put her hand over her heart. “That is the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” she said, genuinely touched.

“I hope the next explosion you set off burns away your eyebrows and at least ten ilms of hair.”

“I hope the next time you get Thavnairian, the kitchen serves you the spice demon bowl and not the spice wuss one.”

-------

“Worst Case Scenario”:

Finally, Lucia came to Synnove’s room. Unsurprisingly, Aymeric had gone there straightaway, and when she arrived, the man was sitting as close as possible to Synnove’s bedside, holding her hand so that he could press his lips against her knuckles as Synnove slept, his other hand gently stroking her hair. Ivar was curled up on Synnove’s feet, but he raised his head as Lucia came into the room and, like his sister, chirped hello.

Lucia gave his ears a scratch before going to stand beside Aymeric, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder. He sighed deeply and murmured, “We put so much on them and expect even more, and then to see them laid low…”

“They well knew the risks of the adventurers’ path,” she said softly, “and it speaks of their courage and conviction that they have never faltered, even when the path forward is difficult. They will get through this, with the help of each other, and us, and all the rest of their friends.”

-------

“Mothers and Daughters”:

The arcanist shook her head to clear it of cobwebs, and warmly smiled at the woman. “Oh, no harm done, I always get lost in my head when I’m deeply involved in mathematics,” she said, to which Dulia-Chai sighed in relief while her ears relaxed. Synnove tilted her head and grinned a little wider. “Would you like to join me?”

Dulia-Chai smiled in return. “I would like that very much, thank you. I have my own work to be doing today while Chai-Nuzz is at the old Stoneworks offices, and I find it easier to stay focused when I am with like-minded individuals.”

Synnove laughed and leaned over to shove aside her grimoires so that they only covered a little less than half the table, rather than three-fourths. “Far less likely to be bothered here than at the Parlor, too, I imagine,” she drawled.

The miqo’te rolled her eyes as she slid onto the bench, setting down her things, opening a ledger and her folio, and beginning to spread out papers before her. “Heavens forfend that a woman enjoys some tea and biscuits in the sunshine while she balances the books!”

-------

“Stormsong”:

When the lalafell came to a stop before him, he grudgingly said, “Lieutenant Reha.”

“Ooooh, that’s Captain Reha now, Sergeant,” Rereha said, just shy of cackling.

Valdeaulin nearly dropped his pen. “Dear good gods, why do they keep promoting you?” he said in disbelief.

“Mostly to make me someone else’s problem,” she chirped, easily hopping up onto a stack of crates next to him. The dragonet in her arms croaked reproachfully as it was jostled, but she merely patted it on the head and continued, “I think the plan is to get me high enough that it forces Grand Marshal Brookstone to retire already. I am also, apparently, quite good at getting the job done even if it means someone goes prematurely grey from shock, mortification, or both.”

“That sounds like a quote,” he said.

Rereha held a finger up to her lips in a ‘shush’ gesture, smirking, and waggled her eyebrows.

-------

The Color of Home:

Synnove turned around once more and frowned herself as she took in his expression. “What’s wrong, love?”

There was no use lying. “Is something different with you?”

The frown turned into a playful smirk, amusement sparking in her eyes. “Darling, do I need to be a hypocrite?” she said, leaning back against the counter and crossing her arms, one eyebrow ticking upward.

“Considering how often I’m one regarding your own sleep and work habits, ‘tis only fair.”

Synnove laughed, his favorite sound in all the world, and said, “You work too long and too hard sometimes, my Aymeric. But, yes, I’ll grant you this: there is something different. Can you tell me what it is?” Her tone was light and lilting and dripping with mischief.

----

End of the Year Writer Meme! (Number 2 still left!)

[rayshippouuchiha]

Oh man.... Toni/Bucky, Carol/Rhodey or Kakashi/Naruto? Ino/Sakura too if you want to explore that idea. I'm not picky, you do The Good Writing™ for everything

Oh man this got away with me and we didn’t get any Kakashi/Naruto actual content but I did set up an entirely new AU that’s similar to some of my others but with a few twists.

For this scenario I think maybe it should all be Shisui and Itachi’s fault.  Although Itachi maintains he only had a ... very small hand in the entire debacle.

See since the coup never happens the village is way more stable. And, thanks to that, Shisui and Itachi both eventually end up transferring out of ANBU.

Itachi becomes an elite Jounin and takes up his training as future Clan Head.  There’s also rumors, much to Itachi’s despair, that he’s being considered for Hokage since the Sandaime is getting seriously old and Kakashi is notoriously uninterested.

Shisui, cause he’s a solid 6 on the Uchiha How Much Of A Dick Are You? Scale eventually decides that he needs a protege, someone to pass on his Will of First Of All Fuck You to, so he goes “huh let’s get some kids” and turns up all “yo, i want babies” at the prospective Jounin-sensei meeting.

Sarutobi, much to most people’s horror, agrees.

So Shisui ends up getting the most annoying, adorable, impossibly perfect team ever.

There’s his adorable gremlin of a cousin Sasuke.  Kid’s got an unhealthy obsession with swords and fire and is basically a walking, talking brother complex.  Just like a proper Uchiha.  It’s adorable.

There’s Sakura Haruno who is .... Shisui’s not really sure what she is but she switches between sweet and proper and cackling like Anko at the drop of a hat and it’s delightfully terrifying.  He starts calling her sweet side Pink Sakura and her other side Red Sakura, because yeah he’s pretty sure she’s got a split personality and not naming them both would just be rude.  Either way both Sakuras have a punch like a horse’s kick and that’s when they’re not even trying.

And then, last but totally not least, there’s his final student.

Shisui’s Holy Grail if you will.

Naruto Uzumaki, the Kyubi container, and worst kept secret in the entire village.

The kid is loud, somehow viciously cheerful, deviously sweet, has ungodly amounts of chakra even without the Biju factoring in, has an obsession with making things go boom, shows up in a kimono or as a girl roughly 50% of the time, and has a deeply embedded sense of Gotta Go Real Fast.

All things that Shisui both respects and appreciates.

But the most important thing is, in Shisui’s opinion, the fact that Naruto is the possessor of the biggest Fuck You Very Much I Do What I Want attitude Shisui has seen since Minato-sama and Kushina-hime were alive.

So, overall, Shisui and his team are a match made in the deepest, darkest, most glorious pits of hell.

The training Shisui puts them through, with Itachi being their honorary 2nd sensei, is whispered about for years to come.

They make Chunin in 6 months and Shisui, backed by his gremlins, just straight up tells the Hokage thatif he tries to break Team Shisui up they’ll stage a revolt and flee Konoha together for a life on the run where they’ll devote all of their time to making the lives of Konoha shinobi, and the Sandaime in particular, horrible for decades to come until they inevitably conquer and/or destroy the world in a blaze of glory.

Considering that Team Shisui consists of not 1 but basically 3 Uchiha (because Itachi would totally follow his best friend and little brother), whatever the hell Haruno turned out to be, and NARUTO Sarutobi takes them seriously.

They become a permanent squad.

By the time Shinsui’s gremlins are 16 they’re Jounin and have entries in every Bingo book to be found.

Naruto is well on the way to earning a Flee On Sight rank just like Minato-sama.

Shinsui couldn’t be prouder.  Despite the fact that there’s only a handful of years between them he’s pretty sure he feels almost father levels of pride for his gremlins.

That is until the romance bug goes around hard.

Sakura, to Shisui’s ever lasting awe and horror ends up focused on both Ino and possibly Rock Lee.  Shisui’s not really sure.  He just knows there’s a lot of flowers changing hands, a lot of punching being done, both Sakuras keep cackling, and Lee won’t stop screaming.

Shisui’s about 60% sure that Sasuke is gonna end up with Naruto because there’s some kind of obsession there between those two.  But that ends pretty quickly when Shisui realizes that Sasuke’s brother complex kind of pales in comparison of his new found “Keep Naruto Pure” complex.

Kiba makes one off color joke about Naruto’s new kimono looking better on Kiba’s floor and well .... let’s just say Shisui didn’t know Sasuke was a biter but Kiba does end up spending a good week in the hospital.

Honestly Shisui can’t really find fault in that either though, especially since he and the Sakuras take such delight in winding Sasuke up and urging him on.  Although they are both protective of Naruto too.

Naruto, despite a shitty childhood or maybe because of it, is precious.

Which is, of course, when Itachi slides up with a truly awful idea sometime post Kiba’s mauling.

“You know,” Itachi says softly, “Naruto has such a .... magnetic effect on others.  Look at how protective my sweet little brother is.”

Shisui does in fact know this.  He also knows Sasuke, who he has now seen actively chew on a fellow Konoha nin, is absolutely the sweetest.

“I think he’d be just the thing to brighten up and ground some of our more .... unstable comrades,” Itachi says casually.  “Naruto might even find his match there since we all know his peers aren’t ... equipped to handle him.”

Shisui agrees but he’s also not fooled.

Everyone might think otherwise but Shisui knows the truth.

Unlike Shisui’s solid and respectable 6, Itachi, despite being a pacifist, was born a firm 7 on the Uchiha How Much Of A Dick Are You? Scale.

“Who did you have in mind?”  Shisui asks but he’s pretty sure he already knows.

Itachi smiles.

Somewhere in the village Kakashi gets a chill up his spine.

Naruto, of course, takes Itachi and Shisui’s attempts to put him in Kakashi’s path with grace and good humor.

Sasuke takes one look at Kakashi’s orange book and looses his entire mind.

Kakashi isn’t sure what he did to deserve Minato-sensei’s entirely too attractive and entirely too strong kid stalking him, or his rabid Uchiha trying to kill him, but it doesn’t seem to be ending anytime soon.

Plus, about six months in, Kakashi thinks he might be having Emotions(TM) of the decidedly romantic nature and he does not care for that shit at all.  This is why he avoided doing more than watching over Naruto here and there when Naruto was a kid.  He can’t afford these kinds of attachments, especially not of the romantic nature, and Naruto is entirely too easy to get attached to.

In turn Naruto doesn’t care about him not caring.  Once Naruto latches on he latches on hard.  And Kakashi has his complete and total attention.

Shisui thinks it’s all adorable.

Sarutobi is kind of delighted honestly.  Kakashi is a bit older yes but it’s not so unusual in their lifestyle.  Naruto would be good for him and vice versa.  Plus Kushina had always wanted Kakashi to be family, Minato too.  Marriage would make that happen.

Meanwhile Itachi’s in the background silently gleeful because if Kakashi would have just accepted the hat none of this would have happened.  Itachi’s revenge is both sweet and Naruto shaped.

Now Kakashi will inevitably end up in the Hokage’s office anyways.  Either wearing the hat himself or as Naruto’s trophy husband.

If Sasuke doesn’t kill him first.

Either way it serves him right.

[dragonzzilla]

Fan ATOM File: Weston

Aliases: Old Man of the Sea, Chief of Mischief, The Shenaniganizer

Date Discovered: November 16th, 1955

Place of Origin: Kodiak Island, Alaska

Notable Stomping Grounds: Typhon Island, Fitzgerald Island

Height: 35 feet while quadrupedal, 100 feet while standing up

Length: 145 feet (including tail)

Biology: Weston is essentially a giant sea otter, complete with bushy mustache, giving him the look of an elderly gentleman, but his partially-retractable claws and inverse counter-shaded coat (lighter dorsally and darker ventrally; a coloration that aids him since he spends so much time floating on his back) are entirely unique to him. As a sea otter, Weston has a loose pouch of skin under his forelimbs, where he stores the meteorite that transformed him into a kaiju. While no more Yamaneon radiation remains in the meteorite, it’s still a giant ball of iron and rock, which Weston uses to crack tough things, like buildings or the shells of other kaiju. Remarkably, Weston has electromagnetic properties, and can project an area of electromagnetic interference in a 500 foot sphere around him, causing electronics to malfunction or shut down. Weston can control this ability at will, either decreasing the range or turning it off entirely, but it’s safe to assume wherever he goes, things will go awry.

Personality: Whether it’s splashing in the water, juggling his rock, or sliding down slopes, Weston lives to have fun. Unfortunately for everyone else, he’s also an incorrigible rapscallion. He loves to tussle with other kaiju, but even if they don’t want to play, he’ll invent his own fun, tugging on their tail and retreating out of striking distance before doing it again, chirping in delight all the while. He’s also terribly curious about humans, to the point that he’ll crack open buildings just to see what they’re doing inside. The intent is never malicious, but he doesn’t always stop to consider the consequences of his actions. He ultimately wants everyone to have a good time, even if that means stirring up trouble to keep things interesting.

I had so much fun designing the last kaiju, I decided to make another one in @tyrantisterror’s universe but this time it isn’t too serious. After learning that Yamaneon can be found in meteorites, I wanted to make a kaiju who got their powers from a meteorite, which is a classic trope. But I wanted to make the meteorite itself a part of their character... so I decided to make a sea otter, who carry around rocks to crack open mollusks. The concept was so whimsical that I had to do it. I introduce Weston, a curious otter whose life was forever changed when a meteor containing a load of Yamaneon crashed near him. The immense kinetic energy from the crash would serve as the catalyst for his transformation. In moments, he became a kaiju, one of the most powerful beings on Earth... then he went right back to being a playful otter.

While ATOM already possesses a heckler in the form of Colossaraptor, Weston is more of a lovable rogue who’s just so charming that you forget the mischief he causes, if only for a moment. A bit of a karmic trickster in the vein of Bugs Bunny, he targets high and mighty kaiju for his shenanigans, but it’s never done out of ill will. In his world, no one should take themselves too seriously, and if it falls to him to bring them back down to Earth, he’s quick to answer the call. Because of this, and his mustachioed appearance, I decided to give him traits of my favorite trickster in fiction, which I hope you can find out! To complete the trickster image and round out his powers, Weston can cause nearby electronics to short out, which is a reference to the gremlins of avionics folklore who purportedly caused airplanes to malfunction. Overall, a mischievous fellow.

[pro-bee]

“I am an NCIS Special Agent. My duty is to serve and protect the United States, and our Navy and Marine Corps, across global boundaries. I recognize my badge is a symbol of authority and public trust. I will live my life above reproach, understanding my actions reflect upon my fellow special agents and our agency.”

THIS IS IT YOU GUYS.

Sigh. 

He’s really leaving.

Of course, I wish we could have gotten some longer goodbyes, but I suppose that’s not really Tony’s style.

But I like how he leaves his friends.

That despite how he and Vance have butted heads over the years (remember when he used to call him “The Toothpick”?), they part on amicable terms, full of respect.

That he gives Ducky and gentlemanly handshake as is their norm, but that Jimmy gets a big hug, because dude’s full of emotions on the best of days, and Autopsy Gremlin has helped him out more than he can ever repay in the last few days.

(They’re all grown up!)

I wish Tony and McGee could have had a little longer to talk, but at the same time, that was never their style, either. Their nods kind of say it all. I love that Tony leaves Very Special Agent Timothy McGee “in charge” of their little family in his absence, because he knows the former probie is up to the task. I love that McGee gets it, and is as happy as he can be for Tony under the circumstances.

And I love  what he says to Bishop: “You're a very good agent. But not nearly as good as I think you one day will be.” Because their big brother-little sister mentorship has been one of my favorite parts of the last three seasons, and I think that’s revealed a lot about Tony’s character in the process, and some of Bishop’s too. I like how supportive he’s been to her, and how she’s taken it to heart.

And though it’s understated, I like the kind of throwback way Tony just finishes his walk down memory lane through the bullpen and steps onto the elevator for the last time, a little nervous and bittersweet, but also hopeful about what’s to come. Because he’s going home to his daughter, and that’s something he never thought he’d say. But mostly because he’s helped build this team no matter what the show says sometimes, and he’s seen these people grow alongside him into agents and leaders and friends, and he knows they’re going to carry that baton into the next generation.

I know this isn’t a series finale, but the way it’s structured? It may as well be. And I’m a huge fan of series finales where you see that life goes on -- that after the credits roll and your characters exit stage left, they carry on with their days and live their lives, and this is exactly that. 

Because you know Tony is going to be okay -- such as it is -- and is taking on a new adventure in the next phase of his life. But the team is going to be okay too-- new people will join and they will take them under their wings, and some will leave to find their own paths, but life will certainly move on. And Gibbs’ observing from afar kind of echoes that. 

“Grab your gear.”

DiNozzo OUT.

[brokehorrorfan]

Event Report: Rock and Shock 2017

It's quite serendipitous for horror fans when a Friday the 13th lands in October; the only thing that could make it even better would be a horror convention on the same day. That's precisely what happened for the 14th annual Rock and Shock, which took place October 13-15 at the DCU Center in Worcester, Massachusetts.

Although headliner James Remar was forced to cancel his appearance with little notice, the celebrity room was still packed, including many new faces to Rock and Shock. The Walking Dead's Tom Payne, Pollyanna McIntosh, and Kirk Acevedo were among the top names. Derek Mears (Friday the 13th) is one of the kindest people you'll ever meet in the industry or otherwise, while Amy Steel (Friday the 13th Part 2) was extremely sweet in her first Rock and Shock appearance - and she loved my friend’s Broke Horror Fan shirt! Japanese filmmaker Kurando Mitsutake (Gun Woman, Samurai Avenger: The Blind Wolf) was also very personable, and he sold everything - autographed Blu-rays, posters, 8x10s - for only $10 each.

Filmmaker Adam Green is always a big draw, but he continues to meet fans and give autographs free of charge. This year, he was matched with several actors from his Hatchet franchise - including the brand new fourth installment, Victor Crowley, which he screened the night before Rock and Shock in nearby Salem. The Hatchet alumni included Kane Hodder (Friday the 13th Parts VII-X), Mercedes McNab (Buffy the Vampire Slayer), Laura Ortiz (The Hills Have Eyes), Tiffany Shepis (Sharknado 2), Zach Galligan (Gremlins), and John Carl Buechler (Friday the 13th Part VII).

Hodder appeared in his Friday the 13th Part VII makeup for a limited photo op on Friday, while Eugene Clark greeted fans in his Land of the Dead wardrobe all weekend. Other celebrity guests included special effects legend Tom Savini (Dawn of the Dead, Friday the 13th), Jonathan Breck (The Creeper from all three Jeepers Creepers films), Alex Vincent (Child's Play 1 and 2), Christine Elise (Child's Play 2), Linnea Quigley (The Return of the Living Dead), Tom Morga (Friday the 13th Part V: A New Beginning), Barbara Magnolfi (Suspiria), Kristina Klebe (Halloween), and Eileen Dietz (The Exorcist).

The movie nerd in me loves hearing filmmakers and actors discuss their work in commentaries, interviews, and Q&As. As such, I was honored to host two Rock and Shock panels this year. On Friday night, I chatted with actors Alex Vincent and Christine Elise about the Child's Play franchise, including the new Cult of Chucky. On Saturday evening, I had the honor of hosting the "Makeup Maestros" panel with special effects greats Tom Savini and John Carl Buechler. One of my favorite Q&As of the weekend, they discussed everything from their shared history with the Friday the 13th franchise to advice for budding effects artists.

Perhaps the most entertaining event was Adam Green and Derek Mears' "We'll Tell You When We Get There" panel. Both have extensive backgrounds in comedy, so they had the audience - and each other - rolling with laughter as they riffed and shared humorous stories from their experiences in the industry. Green also revealed that there will be an episode in Holliston's third season that follows Mears' and Colton Dunn's recurring police officer characters on Cops-style busts that occur simultaneously with previous episodes of the show. During the "Legendary Ladies" panel, Amy Steel detailed an interesting concept for the original Friday the 13th Part 3 script she was pitched that would have seen her reprise her role as Ginny; she admits that she regrets turning down such a great role now.

It's always impressive to see the talented cosplayers strut their stuff in Rock and Shock's costume contest. This year, Rock and Shock co-founder Kevin Barbare, who served as emcee, got in the spirit with his own Jack Sparrow costume. Participants included two different incarnations of Jason Voorhees (Friday the 13th Part 2 and Freddy vs Jason), Alice Cooper, a guitar-playing Lucifer, Elvira, and a personification of the Necronomicon. As chosen by audience applause, The Babadook - in which the girl behind the makeup remained gleefully in character - took home the top prize, while a monstrous incarnation of Masters of the Universe's Skeletor - complete with the severed head of He-Man - was awarded second place.

The vendor room was filled with all kinds of great merchandise, ranging from officially licensed products to independent films to handmade crafts and everything in between. It was a good excuse to catch up with friends like Survival of the Film Freaks directors Kyle Kuchta and Bill Fulkerson, photographer Jeremy Saffer, authors Adam Cesare and Matt Serafini, and London 1888 artist Christopher Ott, along with the friendly folks at Source Point Press, Vinegar Syndrome, Troma, Fiona's Fright Shoppe, and more. Needless to say, there was no shortage of enticing booths at which to spend your time and money.

It wouldn't be Rock and Shock without concerts next door at The Palladium. This year featured Ministry, Death Grips, Harley Flanagan (ex-Cro-Mags) on Friday; Superjoint, Motionless in White, The Amity Affliction, DevilDriver, and Miss May I on Saturday; and Rock and Shock regulars Twiztid on Sunday, to name a few. Adam Green returned to his rock roots to perform with his recently-reunited band Haddonfield, which he fronted prior to moving to Los Angeles for his film career. Their first show back was on Saturday with a set that included "Love It Down Your Throat" from Holliston.

The Rocking Dead - a supergroup of metal and rock musicians that forms annually for Rock and Shock - once again gathered for a fun set of covers. Led by Ace Von Johnson (Faster Pussycat) on guitar, the main backing band also included Acey Slade (Joan Jett) on bass, Kriz DK (Genitorturers) on drums, and Wayne Lozinak (Hatebreed) on guitar, though they were joined by a revolving door of musicians - including Tim Cappello from The Lost Boys on saxophone for a couple of songs. Vocalists included Adam Green, former Headbangers Ball host Riki Rachtman, Wil Francis (William Control), and Bret Von Dehl (ex-The Relapse Symphony), belting out songs from the likes of the Misfits, Ramones, Alice Cooper, Black Sabbath, Dead Kennedys, and Stone Temple Pilots.

After last year's absence, I was excited to see the return of Rock and Shock's screening room. Two shorts that I directed (Root of All Evil and Be Us) played as part of short film blocks alongside some other bite-sized horror, both local and national. Several guests visited the film room to introduce their work, including Mitsutake with two of his films: Monsters Don't Get to Cry and Karate Kill. A mystery screening advertised as "It Came from a DVDR" in the program turned out to be a VHS transfer of 1985's Hard Rock Zombies from the folks at VHSPS.

The weekend came to a close with a To Hell and Back: The Kane Hodder Story. In addition to tell-all interviews with Hodder, the documentary features input from fellow genre icons like Bruce Campbell (The Evil Dead), Robert Englund (A Nightmare on Elm Street), and Cassandra Peterson (Elvira). But whether or not you have any interest in the actor/stuntman's extensive career, the film is a compelling tale of human triumph. Not only did he overcome a near-death experiencing involving a fire stunt gone wrong, he also opens up about the bullying he suffered as a child. Unfortunately, a scheduling snafu with the venue forced the screening to be cut short, but I'm very eager to see the rest.

While other horror conventions have resorted to expanding beyond the genre and into the "pop culture" realm in an effort to compete with the massive comic cons, it's refreshing how true Rock and Shock has remained to its roots. October is an impossibly busy month for any horror fan, but I always ensure Rock and Shock weekend is clear on my calendar, as I still find myself wanting more time even after attending all three days. I suggest any horror fan in the New England plan to do the same for the 15th anniversary in 2018.

Click here to see all of my Rock and Shock photos.

[truemedian]

Even a lesser John Mulaney-hosted Saturday Night Live is pretty funny

John MulaneyScreenshot: Saturday Night Live TV ReviewsAll of our TV reviews in one convenient place. “I mean a lot to a small group of people.” If your third SNL hosting gig is your weakest yet and is still consistently funny, well, you’re probably John Mulaney. The former SNL writer turned award-winning stand-up and almost apologetic actor is just funny. That’s perhaps not an enlightening way to describe the guy, but there’s a certain kind of comedian who just is. That’s Mulaney, taking the mic for his third opening monologue since he left the writers room and slaying with habitual, deceptively effortless ease. Joking about his eccentric career path to date, Mulaney explained that he is the host who’d done the least between his second and third hosting stints, his self-effacing shtick both cheeky and spot-on. (A set-ender about a Make-A-Wish girl confessing that her second choice Mulaney introducing her to that week’s guest Lin Manuel Miranda actually made her wish come true struck exactly the Mulaney sweet spot of potentially edgy and hilariously apt.) Mulaney’s always going to be Mulaney (even as a cartoon pig) his specific, knowingly oversized delivery marking him out as the funniest voice in any room. That doesn’t necessarily make for the most versatile Saturday Night Live host, but, with Mulaney’s intimacy with the show to guide things, tonight’s episode made typically fine use of one of its funniest, if most unlikely, superstar alums. But back to funny. With a sketch veteran like Mulaney in house, jokes just work better. He knows the rhythm of a sketch inside out, and slots himself into a role with the confidence of a guy who simply knows how the machine operates. (A little cue card hesitancy notwithstanding.) Which is a good thing, as the sketches tonight weren’t themselves stellar. The big news any time John Mulaney hosts these days is just whichever aspect of New York culinary-mercantile sketchiness will be the subject of a lavishly produced musical number, and, while tonight’s Broadway ode to LaGuardia Airport sushi is third in line behind (in order of undeniable delightfulness) “Diner Lobster” and “Bodega Bathroom,” it follows the overall theme of the night that third-best Mulaney on SNL is still thoroughly enjoyable SNL. Look, nothing’s ever going to capture the surprise victory of that first sketch—just like any recurring bit, there’s an element of giving the audience what they’re there to expect that saps some of the initial live-wire weirdness from the enterprise. But, apart from the central players in the set-up (Chris Redd and Mulaney as the New Yorkers horrified at Pete Davidson’s unwise choice of NYC convenience amenity), there’s a no-doubt inexhaustible well of petty New York gripes and vomit-worthy eccentricities for Mulaney and his fellow Big Apple veterans to plumb for extravagantly silly numbers whose disproportionate response is part of the gag. Here, we get Kenan as a plane-downing goose Phantom, Cecily Strong as an operatically remorseful, long-ago sushi chef (that spicy tuna is from 2018), Kate McKinnon as pretzel-hawking Auntie Orphan Annie blaming everything on de Blasio, Beck Bennett as the somehow unaccompanied baby on your flight, and—capping things off with a double dose of Mulaney’s Sack Lunch Bunch shenanigans—musical guest David Byrne as a “Road To Nowhere”-singing “baggage handler who throws your luggage into Long Island Sound,” and Jake Gyllenhaal, rigged up to fly as the traveler in pajamas who’s creepily enthusiastic about the TSA pat-down. (“You don’t have to use the backs of your hands!”) Taking the whole show into the audience to end the sketch amidst a shower of loose-wire sparks with Byrne singing the way, the whole thing was delightfully, goofily unnecessary.

Best/Worst Sketch Of The Night

So, apart from that one, I thought Mulaney’s stand-up persona found its truest home in the Sound Of Music sketch, a musical dissection of just how creepy that whole “I am 16, going on 17" romance subplot is. With Cecily’s Liesl (in ridiculously fine voice as ever) beginning to question her beloved sort-of Nazi suitor Kurt’s blond, Aryan suitability, Mulaney keeps slipping in the sort of wise-ass asides his comedy is built around, as Kurt keeps confessing to being more like “17, going on 47" as the song goes on. (Oh, and he’s planning to move them into an apartment with a lot of suspiciously Aryan roommates, including one named Goebbels.) With Mulaney’s Kurt alternating between snarking about his beloved’s growing number of reservations (“Wow, she’s got a list.”), and smoothly crooning away her reservations about the whole Nazi thing (“Focus on the age stuff.”), the piece was a perfect use of Mulaney. Him assuring Liesl, “This is Austria, nineteen-thirty-bad: In a few weeks this will be the least of your worries,” was the ideal synthesis of host, delivery, and premise. Any sketch matching Kate and Aidy at its center is an automatic contender, and the return of their melodramatically feuding 1950s sisters in the classic Say, These Two Don’t Seem To Like Each Other gave the ever-delightful duo a chance to outdo each other with bitchy period skullduggery in advance of their shared suitor’s arrival. The joke is, once again, that their Davis-Crawford (pretty much literal) back-stabbing proves helpless against the unwitting charms of a much more conventionally attractive family member (here, Mulaney’s returning sailor and “pass-around party bottom”). Having the joke that Beck Bennett’s Admiral (somehow being promoted from Corporal last time) is in a closeted frenzy at Mulaney’s oblivious nautical sexiness (shades of Kimmy Schmidt’s “Daddy’s Boy” and Hail, Caesar!’s “No Dames”) is hacky but funny, with Beck, Kate, and Aidy all doing absurdly over-the-top mugging (including a straight-up “Ha-ga-goo-ga-goo-ga-gaaa!”) while maintaining their 1950s film noir demeanor, and I laughed at pretty much all of it. Mulaney’s gift for straight-manning (as opposed to party-bottoming) was used to fine effect again in the meme sketch, where his suburban uncle angrily whips up a slide show of college-age nephew Pete Davidson’s reddit jokes at his expense. Mulaney makes the uncle’s outrage at being the internet’s #whitecollarvirgin simultaneously righteous and comically out-of-touch, as the memes keep coming. (His awkwardly grinning Facebook profile picture overlaid with “When ya’ll kissing and she say, ‘That’ll be $200'” is introduced with Mulaney’s hilariously perplexed, “This next one was tweeted by rapper Ice-T!”) There’s not much more to the sketch but watching Mulaney flesh out a portrait of out-of-touch suburban dudgeon, but’s just so great at it. Like more than a few sketches tonight, there were some pacing/timing issues, here mainly at the expense of an ending. Beck Bennett and Kyle Mooney got to do their behind-the-scenes thing with a filmed sketch about Mooney—tired of all the “geek” roles coming his way—deciding to turn their shared office into a gym in order to get cast in Mulaney’s proposed male stripper sketch. The pair’s signature self-parody here clanks alongside the admirable monstrousness of Mooney’s post-transformation prosthetics, as he immediately becomes a smugly buff, absurdly pumped-up dudebro (thanks to, among other things, the absurdist delight that is guest trainer Justin Theroux as himself), scooping a muscles-smitten Chloe Fineman into an offhand sex-date and allowing a bashful Lorne Michaels to pet his newfound bulges. Good Neighbor pals Mooney and Bennett’s humor traffics in such light cringe comedy, as clueless strivers inevitably find their lowest level, as, here, the horrifying, gravel-voiced, ’roid-gremlin version of Kyle, having made himself “less interesting” for glory, is summarily fired from the show by an unimpressed Mulaney. Lurking at the heart of most of these sketches is a mingled affection/contempt for the bottom-dwellers of the entertainment industry, pitiable losers whose lifelong consumption of TV and movies has left them convinced that they are just one big break (or Tupperware full of lean, broiled chicken breasts and a 5 p.m. bedtime) away from the stardom they just know is their birthright, and Mooney, especially, is most comfortable playing around there. (Also, filming schedules being what they are, it’s unlikely this sketch is in response to Pete Davidson’s off-weeks’ interview about being typecast on the show, but there’s a harsh but essential truth about living or dying on SNL that’s resonant throughout the bit.)

Weekend Update update

Che continues to successfully play around with his role on Update, here breaking from a joke about the growing coronavirus threat to muse about his fears that they’ll play an Update clip of him mocking the typically lame and self-serving Trump administration response to the crisis at his funeral. In what former SNL-er Al Franken would call “kidding on the square,” Che confessed to “sitting here pretending to care about politics,” before whipping off his clip-on tie, whipping out a tumbler of something brown (“Why am I hiding my drinking problem?”), and, finally, donning a crooked baseball cap as he essayed the role of a Michael Che who’s finally been broken by all the world’s unrelenting horseshit. It’s a blessedly funny move, carried out through the rest of Update (“You know, I just found out I might have a kid?,” he’s heard mumbling after the camera cuts back to the straight-faced Colin Jost), and it adds a frisson of reckless abandon to his side of the proceedings that’s sloppily energizing. “I feel free,” he exclaims at one point, and his story about his beloved grandma telling him, “We are living in our last days,” lands satisfyingly, before Che rambles on to rebut granny’s “no white girls” rule. (“I work in show business, that’s unrealistic.”) Joining in on the cold open’s queasy mockery of the prospect of noted fundamentalist and science skeptic Mike Pence leading the uninspiring cadre of sycophants, yes-men, and non-doctors Trump put in charge of fighting a potentially deadly outbreak of disease, Che did resort to yet another SNL “Mike Pence is secretly gay” joke. And I could have done without the “Chinese people eating dogs” joke when supposedly defending the virus hotspot, too, although, for Che, loosening up seems to come yoked to being sort of an asshole. Otherwise, Update’s cracks at the news of the day went as usual. Jost let Trump hang himself with his own slurred nonsense (Thank god we have “different elements of medical” on the coronavirus front), and—echoing Trump’s rhetorical gambit of using supposedly overheard chatter to disseminate patently absurd nonsense to the world—deftly managed to get the hashtag #TrumpSlump trending during the show when talking about what he’s definitely heard people calling the precipitous stock market losses since Trump started babbling incoherently about the “hoax” outbreak of a rapidly accelerating infectious disease outbreak. Hey, if that’s the world of public discourse we live in at this point, then fighting hashtag with hashtag is fair game, so good on you, Jost. Chris Redd, taking the well-known SNL path of making yourself a showcase on Update when you’re being underused elsewhere, put together a solid few minutes as himself, commenting on the just-concluding Black History Month. As with most such pieces, the jokes sprayed all over the place, although nominally anchored to the central premise that, as Redd put it, black people “took too many Ls” for Black History Month this year. Straying into politics while keeping his eyes on the joke, he ably described SC primary winner Joe Biden as Joe “I have a black friend” Biden, and noted how watching the garrulously long-winded Biden give a speech is like “watching an old man parallel park his thoughts for 20 minutes.” On Trump’s hastily disseminated photo of himself surrounded by the handful of black Trump supporters he could get to pray over him, Redd, in his best turn of phrase, described the gathered worshipful as “White House negroes,” and ran down some of the more egregiously misguided corporate appropriations of Black History Month, including that credit card that makes it look like Harriet Tubman is either saluting Wakanda or “she got recaptured.” Weekend Update has long been a place for cast members to present their own, individualized versions of the newsreader gig, and, should Jost follow through on his suggested post-election departure, this is about as good a tryout as Redd could give.

“What do you call that act?” “The Californians!”—Recurring sketch report

The John Mulaney “I hate New York” Musical Showcase; the Kate-and-Aidy 1940s Femmes Fatale Extravaganza.

“It was my understanding there would be no math”—Political comedy report

Hey, everyone’s going to get super-sick! So that’s funny. Or it could be, I suppose, if the cold open didn’t shy away from the aforementioned flop-sweat generator that is Mike (“condoms don’t work, pray away AIDS, smoking doesn’t kill, climate change is a myth, intelligent design”) Pence is in charge of mustering the nation’s medical defenses to wheeze into another underwhelming Democratic slate sketch. Again, the joke that noted frothing gay-basher Pence is in the closet is (whatever the truth may be) beyond played out at this point, although at least Beck Bennett’s strident Pence nodding toward his willful disregard of scientific truth by calling the coronavirus a test of his faith “like dinosaur bones, or Timothée Chalamet” was half-smart. And Kenan Thompson coming out as Ben Carson (“the brain surgeon that they put in charge of house development”) was the usual hoot, with Kenan’s approximation of Carson’s singsong cadence making his dire predictions about the toll of the virus extra alarming, especially to Pence, who hurriedly shoves Carson aside for straying from the administration’s sweaty “All is well!” public stance on the topic. That things veered suddenly into a another stealth Dem candidate sketch could have served to hammer on the theme, I suppose (although simply following through on the premise might have been an idea, too.) But things quickly turned into the same unsatisfying quick-hit impressions and internecine sniping among the candidates, an exercise that’s seeming more and more like a slightly unimpressive audition process for who’s going to be the eventual nominee. (Sort of like the much of the actual remaining Democratic field, but I digress.) Honestly, only the (increasingly unlikely looking) prospect of a four-year Elizabeth Warren-Kate McKinnon reign holds any interest for me at this point, McKinnon’s spot-on impression the only one to go much beyond the surface into something more substantive. (You know, like the actual Warren, but I digress.) As for the rest, we have ringers like Larry David’s Bernie Sanders and Fred Armisen’s Mike Bloomberg. And while who doesn’t like David’s gabbling, kvetchy Sanders, there are some issues. Namely that SNL can’t think of much to do besides grumpy old candidate jokes with the surging potential nominee (although a passing reference to Bernie’s “Castro wasn’t all bad” remarks this week at least nodded toward actual engagement). Also, as much fun as Larry seems to be having coming back to 30 Rock every other week, it’s unclear if he’s on board for a theoretical Alec Baldwin-style regular gig should Sanders win. As for Bloomberg—meh. He’s not going anywhere politically, and, as primly humorous as is Armisen’s shrugging rich guy approach to this whole “let the poor people decide” thing is, it’s yet another role whose farming out to a higher profile outsider continues to signal the show’s lack of confidence in its in-house talent. Same goes for Rachel Dratch’s Amy Klobuchar, whose best hope at this point is a Vice Presidential gig (on both fronts). There’s nothing wrong with any of these funny people or what they’re doing per se. It’s more that there’s no reason for them to be there, and that these sketches remain irritatingly shallow. On the in-house side, that seeming lack of confidence appears not so much borne out in these openers as untested. Sure, Colin Jost barely tries to conceal how unsuited he is to play college chum Pete Buttigieg, and the absence of other ringer (and other Dem impersonation I could stand to see more of) Jason Sudeikis saw the Joe Biden spot going to Mulaney (who would likely be the first to admit that celebrity impressions aren’t in his wheelhouse). But, what with SNL’s proven disregard for gender-appropriate political casting of late, the fact that able mimics Melissa Villaseñor and Chloe Fineman and nimble actresses Heidi Gardner and Ego Nwodim remain on the bench is increasingly vexing. As for the actual sketch, it was the same too-glib drive-by, with only Warren’s gloating over her debate trouncing of Bloomberg registering, in McKinnon’s lived-in performance, with any juice. Meh.

I am hip to the musics of today

Goddamn, that was great, as David Byrne (late of the aforementioned Sack Lunch Bunch), joined Mulaney and delivered a pair of electric live performances. He did “One In A Lifetime” first, and it’s striking just how Byrne keeps that well-trod Talking Heads song from receding into classic hits predictability in performance. That song is as weird and satirically biting as ever, as much as its ubiquity threatens to turn it into just another toothless oldie, and, with his identically grey-suited backup musicians all channeling that old Stop Making Sense spirit with their non-stop individualized choreography and musicianship, the song—with the 67-year-old Byrne holding center stage, as deceptively limber as ever—was a showstopper. So, too, the rousing second number, the Byrne-penned “Toe Jam,” where Byrne ceded even more time for each member of his expansive musical team to shake their stuff in the individual spotlight. Easily one of the most enjoyable musical guests in years, Byrne remains a one-man show unafraid to let others steal the show. Just bottomless fun.

Most/Least Valuable Not Ready For Prime Time Player

Not building sketches around the proven talents of performers like Nwodim, Fineman, Villaseñor, and Gardner just seems perverse at this point. SNL’s second line looks thin in the talent department because nobody’s making use of them. The LaGuardia extravaganza gave Cecily, Kenan, Kate, and Beck plenty to sink their teeth into, but Cecily’s second singing showcase of the night puts her on top.

“What the hell is that thing?”—The Ten-To-Oneland Report

Well, at least we got Chris Redd’s welcome and funny comic tribute to Black History Month on Update, so the muddled mush of the Jackie Robinson sketch can stay the ten-to-one oddity it is. Kenan is delightful, don’t get me wrong. As the lone black man to boo color-line-busting legend Robinson, his Dodgers fan Terrence “The Enlarged Heart” Washington was a funny construction, his petty jealousies trumping any sense of racial pride or loyalty. As the 1940s white fans around him look on puzzled at Washington’s animosity toward the first black MLB player, Kenan makes his frustrated non-ballplayer’s grudge almost but never quite hilarious, although the way his bewildering heckling keeps igniting pockets of revealing racism beneath the white fans’ sporting loyalties is fairly pointed. Beck Bennett’s loudmouth fan immediately starts an “Oh, so it’s all right to boo white guys?!” side-argument that ultimately and inevitably sees him getting carried away by telling Robinson to go back to the Negro Leagues where he belongs. Still, the funniest joke is when Kenan, berated by bleacher-mate Mulaney for talking that way in front of his kid, notices the young black child sitting next to him and exclaims, “I don’t know this kid!” Stray observations Kate, as The Sound Of Music’s Maria, sings her own reassurance concerning her relationship with the Captain, “I’m old enough, but it’s still kind of dicey.” Jost, on Joe Biden’s resurgent Democratic primary win in South Carolina: “But, in keeping with South Carolina tradition, the losers will get the statues.” (In front of photo of a Confederate monument.) Mulaney’s monologue has me scanning the internet to see if he’s scored another Netflix special yet. (Not yet, apparently.) From going as close to the edge as he gets with jokes about Jesus forgetting to do magic on the one occasion he could really have used it, to that Make-A-Wish anecdote, to a great run about how crappy the Founding Fathers really were, to a straight-up joke about Trump being stabbed to death Caesar-style by some senators, it was tight and focused and very, very funny. On that assassination joke, Mulaney reassured everyone, “I asked my lawyer if I could make that joke, and he said, ‘Let me call another lawyer,’ and that lawyer said yes.” Mulaney’s Kurt, to Liesl: “Oh, age is just a number that the government keeps track of.” Redd kids on the square that the withdrawal of all black candidates for president has meant less airtime for him. After Che—still in booze-swilling carefree mode—jokes that Ash Wednesday is the one day a year when Catholics can indulge in “a little bit of blackface,” Jost signs off, laughing, “For Weekend Update, I’m Catholic . . .” All welcome Che’s proposed new Houston Astros mascot, Cheatie the Camera. Before Davidson’s customer makes his ill-gated sushi purchase, he and Redd buy “a Chobani yogurt with no spoon to eat it with” and “a $15 dollar Dasani, extra plastic.” Once more the show ended awfully abruptly, so here are the full goodnights again. Good night! Daniel Craig and The Weeknd next week! Read More Read the full article

[karenherrera714-blog]

(Read Online) The World of Lore: Monstrous Creatures by Aaron Mahnke {Review} or Download in PDF or Epub

Simple Way to Read / Download Top Ebooks With Easy

🔝 Hello Fellow Readers, If you want to read online or download your favorite books, i can give you recommendation. I found the good site about book & review, the site provides the best book ads link to get the popular books, so you can try it to read or download your favorite book after reading the review. 🙆 I and my friends very like to read book reviews there, Many interesting & addicting books. The site always update hot new releases and best classics books to review before we read it, although you want to get the book in anywhere sites you like. Maybe you can try if you want to read most popular book reviews! You will not be disappointed! . Many of people very interesting to read books reviews there also. 📚 How to read or download Ebook: 1. Visit: www.hirobook.club 2. Find your book and read the review. 3. You May Visit book ads link provided. 4. Register free account to try, then search your favorite book there if you interest. 5. Wish you have good luck and ready to read online or download the book when you found it. 🎶 ✌ Sometimes maybe your book is unavailable depend from the advertiser. 👼 If you don’t fully love your experience, don't worry — you can cancel of being member at anytime. 🍟 Hope this help and Happy Reading! ☕ 8418. 4.09. tags: BEST READ BOOK ONLINE IN PDF. B.O.O.K DOWNLOAD ePub. Book Read Online or Download DOC. R.e.a.d New Releases Books WORD. B.O.O.K Online Library - Read Free Books & Download eBooks PPT. Free read best books online TXT. B.O.O.K Read the best books online on the App Store Ebook. Ebook Free Books To Read Online - Best Free Novels Online Kindle. BEST! Of The Best Places To Find Free Books Online Rar. Best Popular Free Online Books Zip. !BEST Classic Books Mobi Online. Best! Free eBook library Audiobook Online. D.o.w.n.l.o.a.d Best Sites to Download Free Books Review Online. Best The World of Lore: Monstrous Creatures by Aaron Mahnke Read Online Review. B.e.s.t Read Any Book Download Online. BEST! Read Online The World of Lore: Monstrous Creatures by Aaron Mahnke Book Review. ----------------------------------------------------------- Short Review about The World of Lore: Monstrous Creatures by Aaron Mahnke Book : A fascinating, beautifully illustrated guide to the monsters that are part of our collective psyche, from the host of the hit podcast Lore, soon to be an online streaming series. They live in shadows--deep in the forest, late in the night, in the dark recesses of our minds. They're spoken of in stories and superstitions, relics of an unenlightened age, old wives' tales, passed down through generations. Yet no matter how wary and jaded we have become, as individuals or as a society, a part of us remains vulnerable to them: werewolves and wendigos, poltergeists and vampires, angry elves and vengeful spirits. In this beautifully illustrated volume, the host of the hit podcast Lore serves as a guide on a fascinating journey through the history of these terrifying creatures, exploring not only the legends but what they tell us about ourselves. Aaron Mahnke invites us to the desolate Pine Barrens of New Jersey, where the notorious winged, red-eyed Jersey Devil dwells. He delves into harrowing accounts of cannibalism--some officially documented, others the stuff of speculation . . . perhaps. He visits the dimly lit rooms where seances take place, the European villages where gremlins make mischief, even Key West, Florida, home of a haunted doll named Robert. In a world of "emotional vampires" and "zombie malls," the monsters of folklore have become both a part of our language and a part of our collective psyche. Whether these beasts and bogeymen are real or just a reflection of our primal fears, we know, on some level, that not every mystery has been explained and that the unknown still holds the power to strike fear deep in our hearts and souls. As Aaron Mahnke reminds us, sometimes the truth is even scarier than the lore. Praise for the Lore podcast "Truth can often be much scarier than fiction--something Mahnke proves as he dives deep into the world of folklore and the darker side of history in a quest to root out the fragment of truth at the bottom of our fears." --Entertainment Weekly "Unlike so much horror that needs over-the-top viscera to scare you, this podcast leans on history--folklore, myth, the stuff people once thought was true--to tell its tales." --The Atlantic "Narrated by Mahnke in a style that evokes spooky campfire stories, Lore is a history lesson like no other."--Esquire.

[robertkstone]

Pragmatism Vs. Passion: Behind the Scenes at 2018 SUV of the Year

I’m stuck. Inconceivable. I unclip my seat belt and step out of the molten orange Rogue Sport and into the silty sand of the Mojave Desert.

It’s hot. Oppressively so. Especially considering the other 10 judges and I began our evaluations at the Honda Proving Center only an hour earlier.

As I step back to evaluate my sandpit predicament, international bureau chief Angus MacKenzie rolls up, bemused, in a blue Maserati Levante. I wave him by and watch as the Levante disappears behind a swirling rooster tail of dust before turning my attention back to the ensnared Nissan.

The other judges are busy cycling through the 37 SUVs we have on hand, and our photo and video teams are hard at work capturing the action. I don’t want to bother them, so only one option remains—do it myself.

I try all the tricks I learned after plowing my college-years Mustang into a snowdrift for the millionth time. Regardless, I taste bitter defeat. A few minutes later, road test editor Chris Walton, photographer Jade Nelson, and photo intern Darren Martin pull up in our long-term Ford F-250, the 2017 Truck of the Year. Jade and Darren position themselves on the Rogue Sport’s B-pillars. With a little throttle in reverse the Nissan springs free.

The great thing about evaluating SUVs at a facility such as Honda’s is that it not only allows each judge to evaluate our 24 contenders (totalling 37 vehicles) in the same repeatable way but also allows us to bring our unique automotive perspectives and experiences to the table.

I am a child of the Northeast. My younger brothers and I grew up shoveling snow from the stoop of my family’s apartment building every winter. When we wanted extra money, we’d walk up the block looking to rescue SUVs whose drivers thought all four-wheel-drive systems were created equal. We never had to look hard. For every Jeep or Subaru we rescued, we saved a half-dozen early Ford Escapes or Honda CR-Vs.

That would explain how I found myself stuck in the sand. Sand isn’t a perfect substitute for snow, but it’s close enough to serve as a SoCal analogue. I made a point to drive around the sand portion of our off-road course at city speeds, stopping and starting to see which SUVs could handle it. Most did fine. The Rogue Sport and Toyota C-HR did not. Others—some with strong off-road credentials—had more difficulties than we would have expected.

The 1.34-mile off-road course is just one of the four abuses we subjected our entrants to. We also made good use of a 7.6-mile oval, the 1.9 mile winding road, and a half-mile gravel loop.

We weren’t kidding around with these tests, and we do this so you can make an informed decision regarding which SUV will best get you to and from your ski lodge or hunting cabin without getting stuck in bad weather.

The goal of our time at Honda’s proving ground isn’t to pick a winner, though. It’s to winnow out the SUVs that aren’t winners. After two days cycling through every SUV and assessing them against our six criteria, we’d know enough to separate the contenders from the pretenders. Our finalist loop would settle the rest.

Although I spent much of my time on the off-road course, my fellow judges brought their unique perspectives to the table. Technical director Frank Markus, an engineer by trade, made a point of torturing himself on the Belgian block section of the gravel course, testing suspension compression, rebound, and impact harshness. Chris made multiple passes on the winding road, driving each contender in the same lanes at near-identical speeds so that he could accurately assess how they handle different performance thresholds.

Meanwhile, executive editor Mark Rechtin spent much of his time testing things buyers rarely notice on test drives but become bothersome after months of ownership: wind noise, air-conditioning performance, and high-speed cruise control accuracy—the latter so much so that he was chided by Honda’s proving ground monitors for, ahem, accidently exceeding the 100-mph speed limit. All in the name of science, right?

While Mark ripped around the oval, associate editor Scott Evans was taking a more holistic approach, attempting to recreated how owners would use an SUV in the real world, testing passing power, emergency braking, and ride quality.

Others, such as guest judge Gordon Dickie—an automotive engineering consultant who’s been an R&D executive for Kia, Mazda, Volvo, Ford, and others—spent extra time evaluating interior lighting, folding and unfolding rear seats, measuring body-panel gaps, and investigating hundreds of other traits that together make a vehicle great.

Not all contenders would make it through the test track torture scot-free. The C-HR and the front-drive variant of the Hyundai Santa Fe Sport joined the Rogue Sport in beaching themselves in the sand. The Chevy Equinox narrowly escaped its opportunity to join that club, too. Elsewhere, the Alfa Romeo Stelvio and Audi Q5 lived up to their brands’ sometimes spotty histories with electrical issues. The Stelvio periodically displayed taillight out and service headlamp warnings, and the Q5’s collision mitigation software would routinely freak out and slam on the brakes when being driven on the winding road.

While some SUV’s stocks tumbled, others rose. The Enclave Avenir, for example, impressed judges with its quiet, buttoned-down ride and handsome sheetmetal—though it’s as-tested price gave many judges sticker shock, especially compared to the equivalent Chevy Traverse. The Honda CR-V also impressed with its full suite of semi-autonomous driving tech, good road manners, and spacious interior. Judges were also blown away by the Volkswagen Atlas’ adult-friendly third row—who needs a reborn VW Microbus when the Atlas has packaging like this?

When a palate cleanser was needed, many judges gravitated to the hunchbacked Mercedes-AMG GLC43 or the Alfa Romeo Stelvio. The former, with its high-strung twin-turbo V-6, steamroller tires, and rear-biased AWD system, was a monster on the winding track. The Stelvio was an absolute sweetheart, too. Toss a corner its way, and it comes alive, exhibiting a sense of soul missing from many crossovers in its competitive set. With few exceptions, the sporty Europeans were a welcome respite as the days grew long and caffeine ran low.

At the end of two frantic days totaling some 5,700 combined miles of evaluations in this desert kiln, we haggled over the cut list in a mercifully air-conditioned conference room—while our hardy photo and video teams continued slaving away outside, fighting off dust storms and flybys from Air Force and Navy jets.

Ruthless People

It’s always interesting to see how the finalist cut conversation goes. Some years no one seems to want to narrow the field. Other years, judges want to slash and burn—a braying Roman gladiator crowd pitilessly thumbing down any vehicle that’s not up to snuff. This discussion quickly went the latter way.

Editor-in-chief Ed Loh started feeling out the room by offering up a vehicle that’d been banned from our off-road testing due to its propensity for getting stuck: the Toyota C-HR. Although an argument could be made for the C-HR on our Efficiency or Value criteria, when it comes to Engineering Excellence and Performance of Intended Function, the C-HR’s lack of all-wheel drive coupled with its carlike ground clearance led to failure in its primary mission of being a crossover.

Blood was in the water. A heated debate ensued on the GM triplets, the Buick Envision, Chevrolet Equinox, and GMC Terrain, ultimately ending in all three being cut.

Down the list we went—a cold-blooded 45-minute slash and burn before we agreed on our first finalist. However, once we had the low-hanging fruit out of the way, the debate was engaged in earnest for the remaining bubble candidates. Was the Audi SQ5’s zippy performance sufficient to overcome the Q5’s clinical styling and weird collision-prevention events? Was the thrilling Alfa Romeo’s occasional gremlin enough to disqualify it? Was the Buick Enclave Avenir a better seven-seat SUV for the money than its mass-market Chevrolet Traverse cousin? And although the fun Mazda CX-5 fell short against its Honda CR-V rival in most measurements, this is not a head-to-head test—so was the CX-5 good enough to make the finals? Were the awful gear-selector buttons of the otherwise competent GMC Terrain enough to ruin its chances? The debate raged on.

Finally, after hours of discussion, our field of 24 was down to just seven. The finalists couldn’t be more different; it’s a good thing that our Of The Year competitions aren’t comparison tests. Our finalists included a bit of everything: the sporty Alfa Romeo Stelvio, the family-friendly VW Atlas and Chevrolet Traverse, the value-packed Honda CR-V, the off-road-ready Land Rover Discovery, the cheap and cheerful Subaru Crosstrek, and the luxurious Volvo XC60. Over the next two days on real-world roads, we’d figure out which was worthy of the Golden Calipers.

We packed up as the sun set on the Mojave. Tehachapi and our real-world loops still lay an hour’s drive away. We jockeyed for keys and saddled up for our convoy to the old railroad town on the outer edges of the desert.

The Finalists

If the first two days of SUV of the Year are a sprint through 37 vehicles, the last two are a marathon through seven finalists. Over the next 48 hours, we’d each drive our 27.6-mile Of The Year loop 11 times, thanks to the extra Crosstrek, Discovery, and XC60 variants that help us assess the breadth of their given lineups. After 303.6 miles on highways, rural back roads, canyons, city streets, and industrial byways, we’d each be ready to put our heads together and pick our 2018 SUV of the Year.

Proving grounds are great places to test lots of vehicles in a controlled environment over a short period of time, but performance in the uncontrollable real world can make or break a finalist. For example, issues such as those we experienced with the Audi Q5’s forward collision software at the proving ground typically don’t rear their heads except on public streets with real traffic—in fact, a similar issue arose last year with the Mazda CX-9, sinking its chances at winning. The unpredictability of the real world also further helps us test everything from low-speed braking behavior and transmission responsiveness in traffic to radar cruise control, lane keep assist systems, infotainment software, and audio systems—something I vowed to pay particular attention to this year.

Just before 8 a.m. on the first day of the finalist loops, I walked into our hotel conference room and was greeted by a personalized drive schedule. Frank, who seems to always be running on East Coast time, made one for each judge despite turning in for bed past midnight and waking up at what I’m sure was way before dawn.

I snagged the keys to the diesel Discovery, fired up the oil burner, and set out for my first loop of the day.

Before I’d even made it to lunch with the gang some four hours later, I realized I’d made a terrible mistake.

I’d read recently that Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody,” with its operatic highs and heavy-metal lows, is one the best songs for testing an audio system’s chops. In year’s past I’ve used my favorite albums, but I’ve never used a single song on repeat. This seemed much more scientific.

It was on my fourth loop when I realized my critical mistake: Listening to a great song repeatedly on full blast ruins said great song. Sure, in those four hours I learned “Bohemian Rhapsody” sounds unexpectedly good on the Subaru’s Harman Kardon audio system and surprisingly bass-heavy on the VW Atlas’ Fender system, but at what cost? My ears would ring with Freddie Mercury’s voice and Brian May’s guitar on an endless loop.

By the following afternoon, I was ready for “Bohemian Rhapsody” to end and our debate to begin.

There’s always a tense, nervous quiet that overtakes the conference room ahead of our final debates. Some mindlessly fiddle with their phones. Others anxiously pore over their notes, gaining ammunition for the fight to come.

Unlike the relative anarchy of our contender cuts, Ed leads us diligently through the finalists. We start with the VW Atlas. “Anyone feel strongly that this should be our SUV of the Year?”

Detroit editor Alisa Priddle is the first to respond: “I know this is Volkswagen’s corporate styling, but the design does not work for me at all.” Angus jumps in, defending the Atlas’ sheetmetal before admitting, “My big problem with the Atlas is in its suspension calibration,” noting that it’s frequently either bottoming or topping out.

After thoroughly covering the Atlas, Ed moves the discussion on to the Volvo, then the Land Rover and the Chevrolet. Like the Atlas, the XC60, Discovery, and Traverse all get an exhaustive review from the judges—yet no one makes a passionate case for any of them to be crowned SUV of the Year. Everyone seems to be waiting for their favorites to be brought to the table.

Then we get to the Alfa Romeo Stelvio. “I feel like this is the most polarizing vehicle in the mix,” Ed said. Boy, was he right. For every case that could be made against the Alfa—from its electronic glitches and intermittently functioning sunroof (an issue which cropped up minutes before we began our discussion)—an equally compelling case could be made for its exceptional driving manners. The Stelvio was appealing to our hearts, the enthusiast in each and ever from PerformanceJunk WP Feed 3 http://ift.tt/2AFpqOm via IFTTT