#it's just...the moment i thought i was improving stuff goes sideways

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Ciao, blusy! 😊

I think this idea might be a bit triggering, so you can totally ignore it if you want, but I just thought of it and had to share! What if Mother Miranda kidnaps the Reader because she thinks they know who the perfect vessel for Rose could be, but they really don’t have a clue?

So, after asking a bunch of questions and getting no answers, Miranda gets super mad and hands the Reader over to Donna to lock them in the basement. Miranda drops by every now and then, trying to get the Reader to talk, but when they keep quiet, she loses it and tortures them. After she’s done, she tells Donna to do the same when she's gone.

Donna hesitates at first, but eventually decides to take care of the Reader after Miranda leaves the mansion. This whole cycle keeps happening—Miranda tortures the Reader, they don’t know anything, then Donna comes in to help afterward.

But one time, Miranda totally runs out of patience and goes harder on the Reader than ever before. Donna can’t handle it, so she finally steps in and convinces Miranda that the Reader really doesn’t know anything. After that, she takes extra care of the Reader and all that good stuff!

Yesss!!!! Sorry about the delay and thank you for your request!!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :)))))

Hopeless

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Angst, slightly dark themes, hurt & comfort, fluff...

Word count: 7,514

Summary: You are trapped in a nightmare and no one was going to save you...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

“She's a stubborn little bird,” the blonde commented with a sinister smile, glancing sideways at the other woman accompanying you, the one dressed entirely in black.

“I don’t...” you murmured.

“Shut up!” the woman dressed as a priestess, the woman who had kidnapped you a few days ago, shrieked. “If you're not going to tell me what I want to know, remain silent.”

The other woman looked at the witch briefly, but you couldn't tell how, since a strange black veil covered her face.

You knew little about where you were at that moment. You remembered the cold, an impressive mansion next to a waterfall, a portrait you could barely make out, and finally the darkness and dampness of a basement.

At least it wasn't the kind of cage that woman Miranda had locked you in for days, but of course, you were aware that your situation hadn't improved at all.

“Ugh...” Miranda sighed, rubbing her eyes and shaking her head. “Donna, I guess I can trust you.”

The lady in black nodded slowly, without saying a word. All you could do was watch, instinctively protect yourself, and slide to the floor. Trying to escape wasn't an option; you had marks on your arm to prove it.

The veiled woman didn't move; she stood before you, like a stone statue. You didn't know for sure, but you had the feeling those hidden eyes were watching you.

The priestess moved forward, leaning over you as you shielded yourself with your arms.

“You're lucky I have important things to do than make you talk, little bird,” Miranda whispered to you, tilting her head. “Or rather… You're almost lucky,” she murmured with a terrifying laugh, sitting up and addressing the woman in black again. “Fine, Donna… Keep her alive, will you?”

The lady nodded slightly again, and a cold draft told you that your kidnapper had moved away, causing you to lower your arms. The woman leaned toward the witch, murmuring something you couldn't hear.

“Of course you won't let me down, my dear,” the blonde said. “Well, I have to go, and I'll tell you again: As much as you'd like to play with her... don't kill her, okay? And you, little bird,” she whispered, approaching you again. “Don't force poor Donna to disobey me, will you? She doesn't like rude dolls.”

With a wide smile, the kidnapper turned around, leaving the dark room, leaving you alone with the unknown, silent lady.

The sound of the elevator told you she had left, and your heart calmed slightly, at least until your gaze fell on the strange woman again.

The silence was somehow reassuring, but uncomfortable. That lady in black stood motionless, her eyes probably fixed on you. For a moment, you thought you felt some relief, but the words of that woman, Mother Miranda, echoed in your head.

“Please...” you sighed softly, keeping your gaze on her. “Please help me, that woman has kidnapped me.”

The lady didn't move, but she turned her head towards you, showing she was listening. Of course, there was no response.

“Please, I shouldn't be here, I...” you insisted, standing up, but keeping your distance from that Donna lady. “I haven't done anything to deserve this.”

Once again, silence reigned in the dark basement.

“I've been locked in this place for days. I'm hungry and thirsty. Please, I beg you, set me free,” you pleaded, clasping your hands together.

A sigh escaped the black veil, and her heels clicked as she got closer to you, as if she were studying you, watching you. A pale hand reached out slowly, cautiously, towards your face.

You averted your face from the contact, causing her arm to flinch and a gasp to emerge from the black fabric. Then, without saying a word, she walked toward the door, ready to abandon you there.

“Wait!” you screamed desperately, lunging at her, grabbing her wrist. “Help me, please,” you whispered.

The lady turned slowly, slipping from your grasp with a sharp movement, but not moving away from you.

“Please... Donna, y-your name is Donna, right?” you stammered, breathing heavily, sensing an invisible danger that seemed to be stalking you.

She looked at you, you were sure of it, and grabbed your shoulders with a swift movement, forcing you to walk backward, to the back of the room.

“No, please, no,” you said, closing your eyes, fearing a retaliation, one that never came.

The sound of her heels fading away made you relax, keeping your gaze on the lady in black as she disappeared through the door, merging into the darkness of the basement.

“No...” you sighed, walking back to the exit. “Wait, please wait!”

The door slammed shut in your face, and you began to bang desperately on it.

“Help!” you shrieked, your fists bouncing off the wood. “Please, someone help me!”

“Shut up, you noisy girl!” A disgusting shriek came from the other side of the room, making you flee to the small bed. Could it be that strange woman? That voice certainly didn't suit her at all.

Exhausted, you sank onto the mattress, curling into a ball and letting the tears escape. Your situation hadn't improved, it never would.

Maybe it was your fault for fleeing your country, for seeking refuge on the old continent, for wanting to create a new life.

Almost a year ago, you lost your father, the only person you had left in the world. If you closed your eyes long enough, you could still hear his last words, his distorted voice through the phone, his last call.

“You have to burn those documents, (Y/N), do you understand?”

“Dad, what's going on?” you asked, his voice sounding cold, as if he were hurt.

“Honey, y-you just do what I say, do it, (Y/N), and no matter what happens... Remember, your father loves you more than anything...”

You obeyed his orders without question, unaware that it would be the last time you would speak to him.

The next day, reality hit you. That strange scientific expedition had gone wrong. The ship your father was on, along with his companions, had run aground in the Louisiana swamps; there were no survivors.

You'd never know what really happened, what was in those documents he forced you to destroy, but you barely gave it any thought. You were left alone, your dreams as a young scientist sunk with that ship.

Nothing mattered anymore; nothing was left for you in the United States. You'd have to start from scratch.

You spent months traveling around Europe, looking for the ideal place for someone like you, but there didn't seem to be one. Romania seemed pleasant enough, and spending one more day among those snowy mountains was the worst decision of your life.

Being kind was your downfall. An old woman asked you for help crossing a street, something that wasn't suspicious at all. Then you saw her smile, and everything went black.

You woke up in a cage, next to a blonde woman who called herself Mother Miranda. It didn't take you long to recognize that woman in one of your father's photos. She, along with him, had worked in the scientific group, The Connections, and had been on the Louisiana ship.

It was impossible; that woman was an old woman, and suddenly, she transformed into that horrible witch.

What did she want from you? Information, documents your father had kept secret, documents that apparently contained something very important to her.

And so, you ended up kidnapped in that strange village filled with nighttime roars, with shadows that seemed to lurk around that imposing castle. But Miranda's patience had its limits, and after days of torture, she decided to take you to that mansion, with that lady in black.

You were trapped in that place, and the worst part was... no one would come for you, something Miranda reminded you of again and again. What horrors awaited you with that woman in mourning? It seemed you wouldn't have to wait long to find out.

Your crying was interrupted by the creaking of the door.

That woman named Donna appeared slowly, and you instinctively got out of bed, leaning against the wall farthest from her. She was holding something in her hand, something steaming, which she placed on a small table next to a glass of clear liquid.

“W-What...?” you sighed in confusion, peering over to see what the steaming plate contained. It seemed impossible: Food. “What...?”

She didn't answer; she just stared at you, as if waiting for something. You, of course, didn't move, but tried to confirm that what was on the plate was indeed food, eyeing it suspiciously.

“A-Are you giving me food?” you asked in a low, cautious voice, taking a step forward. “Why?”

You expected nothing but a tense silence in response.

A tired sigh escaped from behind the black veil before the lady approached, roughly tugging at your arm and leading you to the table.

“Let me go!” you yelled, trying to defend yourself. You were weak, and that woman seemed stronger; you had nothing to do. “No!”

Her hand rested on your shoulder, pushing you down onto the chair in front of the steaming food.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked, your voice trembling, your senses clouded by the alluring smell of that plate of pasta. “What do you want from me?”

She didn't respond. She let your arm go and brought it up to your face with a strange, erratic movement, wiping away with her thumb a tear that was running down your cheek. You remained motionless, petrified with fear as her hand moved down to yours, to the marks left on your skin by the handcuffs you wore in that cage.

Her finger curiously traced the wounds, gently, delicately.

Your instinct forced you to move away, frightened, and she responded with a quick gesture, moving away, but still looking at you.

The lady clasped her hands in front of her, nodding towards her plate of food, turning and disappearing quickly, leaving you alone again.

When you recovered, you looked at the pasta. It might have been poisoned, it might be the last thing you'd ever eat, but your desperate stomach growled loudly, forcing you to pick up the fork.

The flavor was perfect, delicious, and the warmth ran down your throat, comforting you. There was nothing unusual, no sour taste to indicate that the dish had been altered in any way. It was food, real food.

You devoured the pasta quickly, noticing how you regained some strength, how the water calmed the screams in your dry throat. Maybe you'd gotten lucky, or so you thought for a second.

After dinner, you began to feel lucid and looked around the room more closely.

Flour, cans of preserves, boxes... At least you wouldn't go hungry. You sat up in bed, sighing, wondering what you could do to save yourself, and noticed a detail: the bedroom door wasn't completely closed; a black line appeared between the frame and the handle.

“My God...” you sighed, slowly getting up, pushing the door to check that it wasn't, indeed, locked. That could be your chance.

You were afraid, but your desire to escape was much stronger. Carefully, you walked, peeking through the door, looking around. Darkness was all you could see.

After a few minutes, checking that the woman wasn't around, you decided to try your luck, see if you had any luck left. You slowly left the room, wandering through that damp and gloomy place.

The labyrinthine hallways were a bad idea, and you turned to look for the exit, only to find a wood-paneled room, one that seemed to lead to a possible salvation. The creaking walls and the feeling of danger invaded you, forcing you to walk faster.

A smile formed on your face when you saw your salvation: an old-fashioned elevator that seemed to be waiting for you.

“Come on, come on, come on,” you repeated, nervously pressing the button, trying to open the door grille, without success. It was locked. “No, no, no, damn it,” you wailed, grabbing the bars and shaking them. “There has to be something around here I can use to open it,” you muttered, looking around.

“I wouldn't do that, stupid!” A squeaky voice like the one from a moment ago startled you. You'd been caught.

You gasped in shock, turning around as quickly as you could; there was no one, nothing in that place, only the dim light from a lamp, confirming that you were alone.

“Shit,” you whispered, your heart about to jump out of your chest, scanning your surroundings, looking for the lady in black, the source of that unpleasant voice.

Walking, you moved forward, peeking into the rooms you found and tripping over something that had been thrown on the floor. It looked like a doll, an antique ventriloquist's doll made of porcelain and wood.

“What’s this?” you asked quietly, bending down to pick up the puppet and examine it closely. “What the...?”

“Boo!”

“Ahhhh!” you squealed as the doll moved, as that squeaky voice came out of its mouth and its limbs thrashed in your arms. “Oh, God!” you squealed again, dropping the doll and running through the hallways.

“Hey! Be more careful, stupid! I'll tell Donna, I'll tell Donna!” it crooned, its sinister laugh echoing off the basement walls as you desperately tried to flee.

“Fuck, fuck,” you gasped as you ran, staring into the darkness behind you, clumsily tripping over something that crossed your path, a black figure you knew. “Donna...” you sighed, horrified by the consequences of your attempt to flee, but too scared to even think about it.

“Hey, come back here!” that voice shrieked, forcing you to make a stupid gesture, to take refuge behind the veiled woman, protecting yourself from that terrifying living doll.

The lady in black turned her head towards you, allowing you to see a thin line of pale skin on the sides of her veil. Realizing your mistake, you stepped away from her black clothing, unable to find a valid excuse for your behavior.

“S-Sorry, I was...” you murmured, moving further away from the lady as she followed you with her gaze. “I was looking for the bathroom.”

“Bullshit! Donna, she was trying to escape!” the voice spoke, making you retreat behind the lady again, who this time pulled you away, grabbing your arms.

“Please... I won't do it again, I...” you begged as she held you, while, out of the corner of your eye, you saw something impossible: That doll walking on its own, approaching you. “Oh my God... it's impossible...”

“Shut up, silly girl, do you think you could escape? Silly, silly,” the doll mocked, hands on its hips.

The lady abruptly let you go, approaching the puppet, extending its arms to her owner.

“How is this possible?” you asked, delirious at the sight before you, observing every detail of the doll. “No... This isn't happening.”

“Miranda didn't send us the smartest girl in the class, huh?” the puppet mocked, causing its laughter to bounce off the walls. The woman in black remained motionless.

“Are you a ventriloquist?” you asked, slowly moving away from the lady and her doll. “S-Sorry, I…”

“Shut up, silly girl,” the doll—or the woman, you didn’t know—scolded you. “By the way, the bathroom is down the hall on the left, not by the elevator gates.”

“Yes, I…” you said, thinking maybe you were talking to Donna, that it was her way of communicating with people. “I won’t try anything again, I promise, but please, d-don’t hurt me, Donna.”

“Donna? Lady Beneviento to you, stupid,” the doll snapped, making your legs shiver. “I’m The Fabulous Angie, but you can call me Angie for short,” it said afterward, extending a wooden hand towards you. “Come on, don’t be rude!”

Hesitant, but wanting to protect your life, you shook off the doll’s hand, walking away shortly after, your gaze searching the end of the hallway.

“That's it, go to the bathroom and then to bed, silly, don't make us angry,” Angie said, as you walked around, mouth agape.

You had no choice but to do what she said; everything was too strange, and you were too tired to think about anything else or run for your life.

Once in bed, the thoughts and memories of what you had experienced prevented your body from resting; living dolls, women in mourning, dark hallways... Yes, you might not be in a cage anymore, but you were in another prison.

The creaking of the door put you on alert again, deciding it was best to pretend to sleep, hoping the punishment for your disobedience would be swift.

The mattress sank with a new weight, and the scent of lavender that flooded your senses told you it was the lady in black who had sat down. With your back to her, you closed your eyes tightly, suppressing as much as you could the trembling of your body, the involuntary sobs you were emitting.

“Ti prego non piangere...”

You had to make a great effort not to jump when you heard that hoarse voice, so different from the doll's. You felt a warm hand in your hair, a subtle and silent caress. Her hand tangled itself slowly in your hair, and another hand pulled up the sheets to cover your trembling body.

Despite the strangeness of the situation, you didn't move. You let her cover you in a disturbingly maternal way, getting up with a sigh and carefully closing the door again.

You didn't have the desire or the time to think about what had just happened; it would be best to wait until the next day.

Nothing happened when you woke up. There was no punishment for your daring; there was nothing, only silence, only the distinctive smell of freshly brewed coffee and the sound of heels leaving your room.

“What?” you said drowsily, checking that you had a full breakfast on the table, your eyes searching for the lady in black. “Breakfast?” you asked, your voice cracking with sleep. You looked at the toast and the freshly brewed coffee.

“Good morning, stupid!” a high-pitched squeal almost made you jump.

That horrible doll was on the floor, waving mockingly at you. No matter how hard you searched, you couldn't find its owner, and you couldn't find a rational way to explain that extraordinary ventriloquism.

“Ahhh,” you murmured in fear, shrinking in on yourself as the puppet climbed onto the table.

“Well, I hope you've learned not to try anything stupid, silly girl,” Angie said, in a military tone. “It's your life that's at stake.”

“Miranda said she needed me alive,” you whispered, causing that sinister laugh to hurt your ears again.

“Oh, there are worse things than death, silly girl,” the puppet mocked, leaning too close to you and pretending to clear its throat. “So, Donna asked me to tell you that you can't get out of here, no matter how many times you try.”

“Donna told you to tell me? Aren't you her?” you asked curiously, shaking your head, but letting your hunger take over, reaching for a piece of toast. “I don't understand what's going on here...”

“Me? Donna? Please... I'm much more funny than her, you'll see,” the doll laughed, sitting on the table and swinging its legs, leaving you more and more astonished. “Anyway, you can wander around the basement, but try anything strange and you'll pay dearly for it, stupid...”

With those disturbing words, the doll disappeared, causing the idea of ​​escape to return to your mind, but not as intensely as before. You knew there was real danger in that place.

Two strange days passed. You ate breakfast, lunch, dinner... That strange woman fed you, but never said anything, not a word came from behind that black veil. You only saw her on those rare occasions; the rest of the time, you were alone.

Despite the warnings of that impossible living doll, you tried to escape once more, realizing, to your misfortune, that the place was much more dangerous than it seemed.

It was so real... much more real than a dream. The hallway was on fire, a ship's siren ravaged your ears, and your dead father haunted you, blaming you for everything. You didn't know what that was, how it was possible to hallucinate so lucidly every time you approached the elevator, but you didn't ask.

Donna, that Donna Beneviento, seemed to pay no attention to your escape attempts, probably because she, somehow, was causing those horrible visions. Resigned to staying there, you began to carefully explore that basement.

There was no torture, no contact. If it weren't for the fact that you knew the Angie doll was following you, it would seem you'd been abandoned to your fate in that place, alongside a lady in black who seemed nothing but a ghost.

“Hmm...” you murmured one bored morning, tired of begging for your release, accepting your cruel fate, studying the books in the old office.

In one of them, something was sticking out of the pages. You carefully pulled it off the shelf, frowning as you read a title you didn't understand.

“Italian? Great, I should have paid attention in my classes,” you commented with a wry smile, flipping through the pages until you found the paper sticking out.

It looked like an old black and white photograph, a photograph showing a family with serious expressions: a father, a mother, a teenage girl, and a baby, held in the woman's arms.

Curious, you turned the photograph over to read a small inscription.

Famiglia Beneviento, 1987

“1987?” you asked silently, shaking your head and turning the photo over again.

The teenage girl looked somehow familiar; she was a brunette, with her hair tied back in a messy bun and... with a scar across her right eye. In her arms, there was something even stranger: that sinister doll, Angie, was resting in the arms of the young woman, which meant one thing: That girl was Donna, the lady in the black veil.

“It's not possible,” you said, reading the inscription again. No, it certainly wasn't possible. The lady's hands were young, too young for that date, for all the years that had passed. “What are you?”

“Do you find anything interesting?” A familiar voice made you turn quickly, to discover something terrifying.

That horrible witch, Mother Miranda, was leaning against the doorframe, staring at you with glowing eyes. Fear gripped your body; the relative tranquility you'd experienced disappeared with her presence. You backed away slowly, your throat dry, you were paralyzed.

“You look fine, (Y/N),” the blonde commented, approaching slowly. “But I'm afraid we need to talk.”

Screams, demands, shoving… Your days in that cage resurfaced from your vague memory. Miranda tortured you on a chair, inside a sinister workshop while the lady in black, oblivious to what was happening, seemed to be working on something.

“You can’t remain silent forever!” Miranda shrieked, furious, gripping your cheeks tightly as your tears stained the stone floor. “For the last time…” she snarled, hurting you, digging her metal nails into your skin. “Where are those documents? What was the plan B?”

“I-I…” you stammered, paralyzed with fear, hissing in pain. “I don’t know what plan B you’re talking about, I don’t know anything, I swear…”

“You’re lying!” the witch shrieked, letting you go, almost knocking you off balance. “Your stupid father discovered a way to improve Eveline… I know you know it, speak up!”

“I don't know who Eveline is,” you said, your voice breaking, clumsily shielding yourself with your arms. “I don't know what you're talking about!”

“You useless little girl!" she yelled again, slapping you hard, knocking you to the floor. You felt a painful wetness on your cheek.

Desperate, you curled up on the cold stone floor, pleading desperately.

“Please... I don't know anything, please,” you sobbed, letting your tears soak into the blood running down your cheek due to the cut of her golden nails.

“Ugh,” Miranda protested, crossing her arms and shaking her head. “You're stubborn (Y/N),” she murmured, approaching, bending down and tugging hard at your hair. “Luckily for me, no one's coming after you. You can shut your big mouth as long as you want, I can wait…”

The woman released you, causing your head to bounce against the floor as you sobbed uncontrollably.

“Sorry, Donna, looks like you have to hold her in a little longer,” the priestess murmured before disappearing from the doors. “I'll come back tomorrow.”

The silence was only interrupted by your crying, your moans of pain. You remained lying on the floor, being closely watched by the living doll, which moved away, running toward its distracted owner.

“That looks bad,” Angie commented.

The woman stopped sewing, glancing at you before continuing.

No one was going to save you, and that reality made your tears intensify.

“I-I have to get out of here,” you muttered, dragging yourself along the floor towards the exit, clumsily trying to escape, something you knew you couldn't do.

The lady in black abruptly rose from the chair, still watching you, walking slowly towards your torture-battered body. She seemed nervous, playing with her hands in front of her body and seeming to nod and shake her head erratically, turning away from you.

When you heard her walk away, you continued crawling, but exhaustion and despair stopped you, causing you to collapse.

Donna, Lady Beneviento, stood up again, gesticulating strangely, as if she were debating something internally. Finally, her pace quickened, and her arms picked you up from the floor, pulling you to your feet. Panic gripped you.

“No, no! Please, no!” you begged, struggling with the woman, preventing her from holding you, kicking until she had no choice but to lift you into the air with a strength that was unnatural.

The lady in black effortlessly led you to a room adjacent to the dark workshop, dropping you into a chair. You tried to get up again, but a firm hand on your shoulder prevented you from doing so.

Weary, you lowered your head, the cut on your cheek beginning to sting. Donna stepped away when she was sure you wouldn't try to flee, opening a small cabinet on the wall as you watched.

“Please... let me go,” you sobbed, feeling the desperation speak for itself. “Please, Don... Lady Beneviento...”

She didn't respond. She turned around, holding a few jars and bandages, sitting in front of you. Frightened, you sensed a new round of torture.

“Don't do this, you don't have to do this...” you sobbed again, grabbing her wrists before they moved towards your face. “No, please...” you sighed, seeing in the motionless lady an opportunity to fight. “Don't touch me, don't touch me!” you screamed, frantically, moving your hands as hers approached your face again.

In one of your desperate gestures, you grabbed something, a black cloth that had been left in your hand; the black veil. Shocked by what you had done, you looked at the lady, discovering a truly beautiful woman, with a deformity on her face that was far from the small scar in the photograph.

Her single eye widened in surprise, and her expression grew cold, turning dangerous.

“Oh my God... I'm sorry,” you said, lowering your gaze, squeezing your eyes shut to withstand the blow you were sure to receive. Nothing happened.

Donna snatched the black cloth from your hands, glancing at it briefly, then back at you and finally deciding to leave the veil on the table.

“What... What happened to you?” you asked, moved by her appearance, by a beauty that seemed impossible to you.

The woman kept her gaze on you, but said nothing. She quickly brought her hands to your face again, bringing you back to the harsh reality.

“Don't hurt me! Don't hurt me!” you begged, shrieking, resisting her advances.

A cool sensation and a slight stinging settled on your wounded cheek. Fearfully, you opened your eyes, discovering that her hand was on your skin, alcohol and a cotton ball were cleaning your wound.

“What...?” you murmured, confused, seeing that this strange lady was healing you, looking intently at your wound while the cotton ball soaked with your blood. “Ouch...” you moaned at the stinging, causing her hand to retreat.

Her mysterious gaze rested on yours briefly before she brought the cotton closer again, her movements gentler.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked, sobbing, feeling a strange relief in your wound. “Why are you healing me?”

Donna didn't respond; she continued with her meticulous work, applying disinfectant, studying each of the blows the blonde witch gave you. She spread cream on her hands and carefully rubbed the bruises on your wrists while you, paralyzed, could do nothing but watch.

“Why aren't you talking to me?” you asked, pulling her back from her strange task, making her look at you briefly. “Talk to me!” you squealed demandingly, pulling your wrists away from her touch. “Fucking hell, say something!”

She gave you a dark look, but grabbed your hands again, applying more cream to them, ignoring your words.

“Shit...” you protested, shaking your head, wondering what you could do to get a word out of her mouth, an explanation, a reason for everything that was happening. “Don't you speak my language? You're Italian, aren't you?” you said, knowing you were walking a tightrope.

The woman stopped, but silence was still her answer.

“Fuck... P-Parli l’italiano?” you stammered clumsily, without causing the slightest reaction from the brunette, who seemed to be staring at your hands. “Aiutami, per... per favore...”

The woman looked up, removing one of her hands from your wounds, running a strange caress over your face. For a moment you thought you saw a smile, a change in her expression, but it was fleeting, too short.

“This isn't fair,” you sobbed, unable to get a response. “I shouldn't be here, I... Ah...” you hissed in pain as she placed a small bandage on your cheek, securing it tightly to your skin.

She opened her mouth, even if it was only for a brief moment, but no words came out. She simply rose from the chair with a discreet sigh, picking up her veil and putting it back on, ready to leave you alone.

Without fully understanding what had just happened, you dissolved into tears, in the confusion surrounding that new life, that horrible new life.

Unfortunately, that wasn't the last time Miranda went to that house. Like a sinister routine, the torture took place in that old workshop, and then, yes, then that lady in black, that silent, strange woman, treated your wounds.

Torture, affection, care... a spiral of pain and comfort repeated itself for several days. You could think whatever you wanted, but deep down you saw something different in Donna, something different in that woman who, little by little, stopped wearing the black veil, allowing you to study her features.

Your desire to escape was still intense, but doing stupid things wouldn't improve your situation. Somehow, that woman felt a certain... affection for you, a certain pity. Maybe you needed a different strategy.

“Why dolls?” you asked, wandering through the workshop while the lady painted a porcelain face. It was a bad idea, but you had to try.

During your stay in the basement, you had learned a little more about her, a little more about the lady in black. Apparently, she wasn't right in the head, suffering from an illness she inherited from her family. She was a shy girl who only spoke through her doll.

Your investigation came to an abrupt halt a year too far in the past, when, apparently, Mother Miranda took pity on her soul after the death of her family.

Something had happened; something had caused that woman to retain her youth after all those years. She couldn't be that old, she simply couldn't, just as her doll Angie couldn't move on her own. You were convinced; Mother Miranda had a lot to do with it.

“Y-Your father made dolls, didn't he?” you insisted upon hearing her silence again, leaning a closer to the lady, who paused for a moment. “I-It's a strange job. You don't see many porcelain dolls anymore.”

Donna didn't respond, but you were used to it. You sighed, shaking your head and picking up a finished doll, observing every detail, but still glancing sideways at the lady in black.

“It's beautiful,” you said with a natural smile, combing the toy's hair. “You're good”

“Basta,” a hoarse voice made you put the doll back. It wasn't the irreverent Angie speaking, it was that husky voice you heard on your first night in that house. “I know what you're trying to do.”

“Donna?” you asked surprised. She had spoken. “Oh, so you can talk,” you said in a lower voice, pulling away slightly when her eye met yours.

“Mother Miranda warned me,” the lady whispered, putting that porcelain head aside and crossing her arms. “She warned me that you would try to get along with me, that you would try to earn my sympathy.”

“I didn't...” you said, knowing that she understood your attitude, that she wasn't as easy to fool as you thought. “Well, so what if I do? I've been in this house for two weeks, trapped, being tortured.”

“That's because you want to,” Donna murmured, making you raise your eyebrows.

“Because I want to? That's a good one,” you said incredulously, crossing your arms. “You kidnapped me.”

“I didn't kidnap you,” she said, slowly standing up, making you regret your words.

“You're keeping me here,” you challenged, your voice nervous but strangely confident.

“I follow Mother Miranda's orders,” she stated, blinking erratically and sitting back down, sighing.

“Of course, you always follow Mother Miranda's orders,” you whispered, unfortunately loud enough for her to hear. “What the hell do you owe that horrible woman?”

“Don't you dare talk about Mother Miranda like that!” Donna shrieked, furious, clenching her fists on either side of her hips. “She saved me, she saved us all!”

“She did that to you, didn't she?” you said confidently, pointing at the deformity of her face.

“You...” the lady hissed, looking at you darkly. “You don't know anything, stupida,” she snarled, looking away. “Everything changed. I changed for her, for the Gods. It doesn't surprise me that an outsider like you doesn't understand.”

You were about to say something, but decided to keep quiet, decided to suppress the curiosity her words stirred in you.

“Do your siblings also obey her that way?” you asked, certain you were beginning to understand how that village worked, the Four Lords, the Black Gods…

“Mm,” Donna murmured disinterestedly, returning her attention to painting that empty face. “(Y/N)...” she said in a slightly different tone, with a different expression.

“You know my name,” you sighed, confused, trying not to lose your temper.

She didn't respond; of course she didn't.

“Just tell her what she wants to know,” she finally whispered, subtly signaling to you that the conversation was over.

“I'd love to, but it turns out I don't know anything,” you replied, leaning on the table, watching her hands work delicately. “So I guess things will stay this way, huh? Miranda tortures me, and then asks you to heal me so she can break me again.”

“She didn't ask me to heal you,��� Donna said in a dark voice, making you freeze for a moment.

“No...?” you stammered, blinking in confusion. “Then... why are you doing it?”

“I hate seeing something so beautiful damaged...” It was a sigh, a terribly low whisper that came from her lips. It was the last thing she said before silence fell in the workshop.

The lady's words entered your ears, lodged in your mind, in your chest. A strange statement that made you begin to feel a certain... relief, the certainty that this woman wouldn't hurt you.

You didn't understand her elusive reasons, her veiled words, but you embraced your new reality. Miranda would hurt you, but Donna would heal you, take care of you. For someone like you, it was much more than you thought you deserved.

But the torture grew worse and worse. Miranda's screams masked Donna's subtle words of affection, her strange whispers in a different language. The blows and the slaps began to make your skin forget the soft touch of the dollmaker's hands, the relief you felt from her caresses.

Even Miranda, tired of her failure, ordered Donna to torture you, to extract the information in any way possible. But Donna... she didn’t do it.

Everything turned dark, sad, and you didn't know how much longer you could endure.

“I can't take it anymore...” you sobbed as Donna treated your scratches, your new wounds now overlapping the old ones. “This is too much...”

“You can stop this, (Y/N),” the brunette murmured, wiping the blood from your arms. “Just tell her what she wants to hear.”

“I don't know anything!” you shrieked, pulling away from the lady's caresses. “I don't know anything... I... I burned the documents, I didn't read them... but she doesn't believe me... she'll never believe me... If there were any way to know what was in them... But there isn't...” you cried desperately as the lady looked at you stoically, without interrupting you.

“I believe you,” Donna said, making you rise your head. “No one is stupid enough to put up with this on purpose.”

“Do you believe me?” you asked hopefully. She nodded slowly, grabbing your hands, which began to caress each other. “Oh my God... you have to, you have to tell her.”

“I can't,” the lady sighed letting your hand go and shaking her head.

“Fuck... well...” you muttered, starting to lose your temper. “Then just kill me! Kill me now, I can't take it anymore! I can't do this, Donna, I can't... I'm suffering...” you sobbed, letting your body lean into hers, letting her arms wrap around it and your head bury itself in her chest.

“Calmati (Y/N),” she whispered in your ear as you clutched her clothes, desperate, crying like you never had before.

“Yesterday she asked you to torture me,” you said, your voice muffled by the fabric. “She asked you to continue and you didn't... Fuck!” you shrieked, abruptly pulling away, standing up from the chair. “I don't even have a reason to want to get out of here! My parents are dead, my girlfriend left me and... Shit, shit, shit!”

You screamed, kicking chairs, everything within reach.

“My life is so miserable that you're the only person who's ever given me any affection! And look at you, you're crazy, you have living dolls and... Fuck!”

“I'm just trying to take care of you,” the brunette defended herself, hurt by your words. “I know what it's like to be alone, you know? I know it better than anyone, but you... you can still save yourself, just... you just have to tell her...”

“I have nothing to tell her,” you said in a passive tone, slumping into the chair. “If you truly believe me, you know there's no solution, I have no escape,” you commented indifferently, playing with the bandages.

 “It's only a matter of time before Miranda realizes. If she doesn't kill me first, then...”

“Then?” the lady asked, with a childish look.

“I'll die,” you declared, shaking your head, noticing how you had accepted your fate. “She'll kill me or, well, she'll set me free, and then... then I'll be alone again.”

“I-It doesn't have to be that way, (Y/N),” Donna intervened, gripping your hands too tightly. “You could... you could stay here, with me. Neither of us would ever be alone again.”

You didn't answer, didn't want to answer. Stay with that woman? It’s crazy...

As time passed, the proposal faded. You didn't speak of it again, nor did she, but somehow, it sounded better and better in your head, even though you refused to think that way.

“I've had enough of you, (Y/N)...” Miranda hissed the next day, in another round of relentless torture, pacing around your semi-conscious body. “I'm getting tired, girl... I'm getting tired of you.”

“T-Then... kill me,” you said, your voice hoarse from crying, from the pain of an excessive beating, from noticing how she'd already lost her patience.

“Mm, you'd like that, wouldn't you?” the witch mocked, putting a foot on your chest. “I'm not going to give you the satisfaction... Speak!” she yelled, stomping hard on your foot, causing your screams to echo around the workshop.

Donna looked away, pretending not to see, not to know what was happening. Your eyes sought her help, that affection she gave you, but it was far away, too far away.

“You impertinent brat,” Miranda murmured, grabbing your arm, forcibly lifting you to your feet. “Very well, I think you can still talk with one less arm,” she threatened, lifting you up and pulling out her golden nails, ready to mutilate you.

“No!” A different scream appeared in the room, and the priestess abruptly stepped back as some arms pushed her away. “Basta! Basta, per favore!”

It was Donna, the lady in black pushing her Goddess away from you. Miranda's face was something that would be difficult to forget.

“Donna,” the witch said, straightening her clothes, approaching the brunette, who bent down to gather you in her arms, cupping your face. “What are you doing? Donna! Cosa fai?”

“D-Don't hurt her anymore, please, don't... don't hurt her,” the brunette sobbed, caressing you softly, letting a tear land on your surprised and weak face.

"Oh, I can't believe it," the blonde laughed, walking toward you, tilting her head. “Don't tell me you've grown fond of her... What were you doing when she asked you to torture her? Cuddles?” she mocked, pouting.

“S-She... (Y/N) doesn't know anything, Mother, she told me,” the Italian woman said, her voice breaking, flustered by her creator's anger. “She doesn't know anything...”

“She doesn't know anything,” she repeated, with a nasty grimace. “Gods, Donna, I can't believe you're stupid enough to...”

“(Y/N), tesoro... please, look at me...” the lady in black whispered, patting your cheeks to keep your eyes from closing. “Perdonami…Perdonami, tesoro…”

“Please, I’m going to throw up,” Miranda sighed, observing the scene and shaking her head, her expression changing. “Have you fallen in love with her, Donna? How predictable…” she murmured afterward, bending down towards you.

Donna pulled you away from her touch, causing the witch to laugh ironically, standing up again.

“Damn… it’s true, isn’t it? That girl doesn’t know anything,” she commented with a nervous gasp. “Then… well, I guess you can have her. But I’m warning you… I don’t want any trouble,” she said in a disgusted tone, fading into a black cloud.

“D-Donna,” you gasped, weakly grasping the pale hand that was caressing you. “Donna…” you sighed, letting your eyes close slowly, succumbing to the darkness.

“No, no! Per favore! (Y/N)!”

You thought you'd never open your eyes again, but you did, slowly, feeling a strange, pleasant comfort.

“Mm...” you murmured, your body aching, discovering an unfamiliar room and a pressure on your hands.

Donna was sitting in a chair across from you, her head buried in the mattress and her hands tightly squeezing you. She was crying, you could feel it. Somehow you remembered how she had saved you, what had happened; you knew Miranda wouldn't come back, thanks to that strange lady in black.

Your hand slipped from hers and traveled to her black hair, stroking it slowly.

“(Y/N),” she gasped, raising her head hurriedly, tightening her grip on your hand. “You're awake.”

“Yes...” you sighed, looking around. “Wow, this bed is much more comfortable than the other one,” you joked, checking your wounds.

She laughed through her tears, sitting on the bed, still looking at you, admiring you.

“It's all over now, (Y/N), she won't hurt you again,” she explained, cupping your face in her hands, making you smile for the first time in a long time.

What happened next surprised you, but it wasn't unpleasant at all. Donna pulled you in, briefly placing her lips on yours in a salty kiss, quick and clumsy, but terribly affectionate.

“You... you saved me, Donna,” you said, ignoring the kiss. “Thank you...”

“I couldn't do anything else,” she replied, signaling to Angie to give you a glass of water. “Drink, you need to hydrate.”

“Yes,” you sighed, looking at her lips, leaning in closer, kissing her again, deepening a kiss of gratitude, with an affection that went far beyond simple affection, although you tried to ignore it.

“I liked that,” Donna said shyly, her cheeks flushed, like a little girl. “S-So that means... you'll stay with me?” she asked impatiently, kissing you quickly again, caressing your free hand as her lips sought to touch yours in a clumsy, inexperienced, but adorable way.

“I can't imagine myself anywhere else but with you, Donna...”

[karezzasstuff]

From the project of interviewing Stanley S. Bass about his experiences with Karezza techniques, The Life Science Publishing created the 2008 book Energy-Karezza. Here Dr. Bass tells the story of how, in his 30’s, he was on his way to become a celibate yogi through Brahmacharya, when he learned about reaching the same spiritual goal via Karezza & Tantra. He decided to try Karezza instead.

Even though his personal goal was spiritual, Dr. Bass soon discovered that women loved Karezza, and couldn’t get enough. When he started teaching the improved Energy-Karezza method to couples with marital problems, the results were astounding. Usually, within weeks, the couple had fallen in love again. Problematic marriages healed, becoming more and more harmonious and stronger with time.

Over time, over 50+ years, he not only gained experience concerning every aspect of Karezza/Tantra, but also – thanks to his energy-understanding, being an orthopathic doctor – developed an improved, more powerful & easy-to-learn, version. Traditional “Karezza/Tantra” can be difficult for men, but “Energy-Karezza/Tantra” is easy, and also gives more pleasure & prolongation..

INTRODUCING OTHERS TO KAREZZA

Karezza is about one thing, the man has to control himself. It is so easy. I got so good at this control that I soon was able to go almost a whole year with no accidents. With very heavy sex - three times a week, four hours each session. It didn't take long to get to a high level of proficiency.

In a few months I was very good at it already.

It is very simple, it is natural. It is not difficult. Prove it for yourself, don't take my word for it. Try it out. The first time I heard about it, it was strange to me, so I tried it. It didn't take me long to get good at it. It was easier than I thought. In fact, I taught Karezza to a lot of friends, and everyone had success.

If one of them asked me, "how do I know if it will work?", I gave him a simple method of trying it. I usually said, "why don't you first try:

1. Don't have an orgasm quickly, but wait until the woman is finished, until she has had her enjoyment. Practice holding back for half an hour, for an hour, for several hours, if you can.

2. Then you'll see that your own orgasms are better; they are more enjoyable.

3. Also try having an orgasm only every other time you have sex.

Skipping one time. Every other time, try without orgasm. See how you feel."

With my sex students, those were my instructions, to begin with. These instructions summarize basic traditional Karezza. But these simple instructions could still be difficult for some men. They lost control (ejaculated) early, and were never able to do Karezza for a full hour.

Therefore, to make it easier, I gave my students some Energy-Karezza secrets. I asked them to improve their diet, and to avoid alcohol and all drugs. I told them not to eat before sex, because a man can not control himself after he has eaten. Why? Because then too much blood goes to the stomach.

Also, I gave very detailed instructions on the best movements in sex. I told them to move slowly, and explained how to move, so they wouldn't get too excited, e.g. sideways, in semicircles, avoiding the in-out moves.

For the premature ejaculators, I told them to give up salt, and to not use anything spicy hot, avoid hot peppers, stay away from spices, because this throws them out of control. And then I told them to use certain motions, slow motions, that makes it easy to control oneself. That's all.

Then the women will get the pleasure, because the men are controlling themselves.

For some men the pleasure was so overwhelming that they were still unable to control themselves very long, more than perhaps 45 minutes, even if their diet was good and they had high vitality. In these cases I think the solution is just doing it over and over. Sometimes men, just like women, may need saturation with lots of high-pleasure peak orgasms, before they can start with serious self-control and higher-pleasure valley orgasms. It may take months, but in the end they will get there.

I myself was never overly concerned with the clitoris or the G-spot, because the Karezza was so enjoyable and I was so good at it that a woman couldn't hold out long. If they wanted to have an orgasm, they could have it quick. Women enjoyed it.

The women were very happy. After beginning Karezza, it became unnecessary to calculate all this stuff. I never had to actually figure it out.

All I did was to function naturally, the way I felt like, without thinking about it. And it was right, for every woman. If one gets too mechanical about it, one becomes a dud. Then it is not real. Real sex has nothing to do with the brain, it has to do with feelings, true feelings and movement.

That's all. The brain is not needed.

From page 45 the Technique to Paradise.

🍎🐍🏖️

YAB YUM

What are you experiencing?

~ by yab yum

Be patient. At first you can't experience the orgasmic part of this process. Some get it on their first try and for some it can take years. Keep practicing with the exercise your teacher gives you. Even if you don't experience the orgasm, just the breath and energy circling alone is of great value. It will clear blocks so that eventually the orgasm can pass through you. Blocks can be experienced in many ways – crying, gagging, getting frustrated, resurfacing old memories. Just keep breathing. Visualize letting go of the "old" on the exhale, ringing out the "new" on the inhale. Energy levels will most likely rise and fall, like mercury in a thermometer. Tell your partner where it slipped. Your partner will encourage you to tap into your sexual center when energy is slipping. One of the main keys to learning this technique is KNOWING that it is possible.

(When asked if she had an orgasm, Sara responded 🙂

It was uninterrupted, uninterrupted… This was definitely something else, which I have never experienced so fully.

(Sara was then asked if there were any psychological changes.)

Oh yes, sure. From the point of view of spiritual practice it is always full of insight, a kind of insight that comes after, about how I am in ecstasy in my usual state, because it is obvious that the ecstasy is inherent in the body (level), of my being… and also of course this would affect my meditation. I am much more relaxed and receptive physically, emotionally and psychologically when I sit down to meditate…. I don't know what this has to do with anything, but meditation becomes very sexual, very physical, playing with all these hormones. Very often in my meditation there is a stage like deepening where it goes through something like lovemaking in a hormonal sense. I feel the heat and change of energy and so forth, and then it just cools down. That is when deep meditation begins.

It is absolutely blissful in ecstasy because the bliss is something I feel in the body. The ecstasy is something where the body is no longer. Energy goes up. His community. It is love. The transcendent, the energy feeling, transcends even the light that I'm talking about in meditation, and just went into the light.

One tree merges with another tree, the earth merges with the trees, the trees merge with the sky, the sky merges with the unknown...you merge with me, I merge with you...everything merges...differences lost, melting and merging as waves into other waves…an enormous unity vibrating, alive, without limits, without definitions, without distinction…the sage melting into the sinner, the sinner flowing together in the sage…becoming good becoming bad, becoming bad…the night turning into the day, day turning into night… life melts into death, death plunges into life again – then everything has become one.

This has changed my experience with sexuality forever… It has blown up things like this what you have about sex, the good feeling you get from sexual experience or trying to get. It broke that because it was so obviously about submission. It wasn't about me trying to do something. It was about not doing something, but rather receiving or allowing it, rather than doing and creating and making.

This is the most profound healing practice I have ever encountered. It has awakened me to realize that my body is often shut off from the bliss and ecstasy it might be experiencing. Through this practice I have come to learn that emotional pain occurs when orgasmic energy does not flow freely through my body and that there is an infinite flow of orgasmic energy available to me. It has taken me years to gradually release the tension and pain in my body and I still have areas of tension to unblock. The sensations can be different each time depending on my condition, sometimes there is a pulsating vibration and sometimes it feels like some kind of electrical current circulating through my genitals throughout my body. There may be tears of joy. My mind can be perfectly clear and it can seem like everything I feared has been resolved. When a certain area of ​​tension is unblocked and the orgasmic energy circulates, there is always an amazing sense of oneness with the life being awakened.

Mel 40 Auckland

My teacher knew how to touch – and where to make contact – He knew places to touch that I didn't know about – and soon I was on my way to another place in another universe. I was in a trance of breathing and sweat and pleasure that so long and so dead do had gone – that I traveled through light and sound. I never knew that such an experience could be had without actually making love. When I finally climaxed and climaxed and climaxed, I couldn't believe I was having a sexual climax in the presence of someone other than my husband. I felt both excitement and a little embarrassment. Looking back at this moment, I would never have thought that having an orgasm for another man would actually be the "beginning" of this whole journey in Tantra

Emma S 35

Auckland

And this is the joy of Cosmic Spiritual Orgasm, because you disappear for a moment. That moment is very small, but its impact is immense. For a moment you are no longer the ego, you do not think in terms of 'I', for a moment you dissolve into the oneness of the all, you become one with the whole, you pulsate with the whole. You are no longer an individual… you are no longer limited to your body. You have no limitations, for a moment you are unlimited, infinite.

That is the meaning of Cosmic Spiritual Orgasm – that your frozen energy melts, becoming one with this universe, with the trees and the stars, and the woman and the man, and the rocks – for a single moment, of course. But in THAT moment you have a kind of consciousness that is religious, that is sacred, that is one with all things. – OSHO

Unbelievable! Some are very strong and some are wonderfully subtle. In general, the more time you spend building up the energy, the more powerful the sensations. You experience “electricity” throughout your body, hands, feet and lips tingle, and there is a sense of letting go and receiving at the same time. You will feel high, euphoric and light-headed. It feels very different from a clitoral orgasm (but it can happen at the same time as a clitoral orgasm). You see a seed sprout, flowers appear on a tree somewhere, the birds are singing – the whole phenomenon is sexual. It is life manifesting in many ways. When the bird sings, it is a sexual call, an invitation. When the flower attracts butterflies and bees, it is an invitation, because the bees and butterflies bear the seeds of reproduction. Everything seems to be divided into these two polarities. And life is a rhythm between these two opposites. Repulsion and attraction, coming closer and getting far… these are the rhythms.

Z

[mamabearcat]

The Importance of Ramen: Ch3

Ch 1   Ch 2

Kagome sat on the mossy bank, her feet swinging in the crystal-clear water. The warm summer breeze lifted her dark hair around her face, and she tucked the errant strands behind her ear. The spot that Inuyasha had picked for their lunch break was beautiful; a swift flowing stream surrounded by willows. The water swirled and bubbled around her legs, and the smooth pebbles were cool under her aching feet. Bright red dragonflies hovered amongst the reeds nearby, adding their buzz to the sound of the cicadas chirping amongst the elegant willow branches moving in the breeze. Shippou was curled up in her lap, his fluffy tail tucked over his nose, the dappled sunlight making spotted patterns on his fur. He was snoring gently.

 She looked down at her lap, smiling fondly at Shippou. She had brought a packed lunch back for each of her friends when she had returned through the well this morning, and although he had battled valiantly, Shippou’s portion had obviously been too much for him. She looked up, checking the sun’s position in the sky. They would have to get back to the search for the jewel shards again soon, but it felt good to stop and rinse off her sweaty feet. Although not quite as humid as modern Tokyo, it was hot here in the past too, and everyone in their group was enjoying a brief respite from the heat of the sun on the dusty road.

 Kagome rubbed her eyes tiredly. She had finally managed to catch up on all her assignments, and had hoped last night that she would be able to catch up on the hours of sleep she had missed the previous two nights, but her sleep had been plagued by dreams. She couldn’t even really remember them, apart from the vague impression that she had been running in all of them, chasing something, but she didn’t know what. She rubbed her eyes again – they felt gritty and dry, and she felt vaguely ill, like she was coming down with a stomach bug. She really hoped it was just lack of sleep, she couldn’t afford to slow everyone down now they were back on the jewel shard hunt.

 The longer the hunt went on, the guiltier she felt about shattering the jewel in the first place. Every time they came across an animal or lower demon that had a shard that wasn’t under Naraku’s direct  influence, she felt her gut clench. How many villages had been destroyed, lives been lost, because of her moment of inexperience with the bow? It was up to her to make it right, and to help the others as much as she could, even though she could never hope to be as skilled as they were. She sighed, gently stroking Shippou’s tail as the petite fox kit slept on. She was so exhausted, she wished she could stay sitting on the bank forever. Her weary eyes were drawn to a tiny kingfisher, fluttering on a low branch on the other side of the stream. Its iridescent blue feathers caught the afternoon sunlight like a sapphire, as it repeatedly dived to catch tiny silver fish, bashing them sideways on the branch before swallowing them whole. Kagome took a deep cleansing breath. Everyone on this earth needed to work for their dinner, and she was no exception. Her friends needed her help, and she would not disappoint them.

 Inuyasha watched from his perch up in the tallest willow as Kagome gently placed Shippou onto a nest of moss, and padded over to check the recently refilled water bottles that were chilling in the cool stream. It had become part of their routine to build a fire and boil water for drinking as soon as they stopped near a flowing water source, ever since Kagome had explained how drinking water that wasn’t boiled could make you sick. Inuyasha didn’t quite understand her explanation about bacteria, but he had seen how whole villages could become ill from drinking polluted water, and he wasn’t going to take any chances with his pack.

 After Kagome pulled the bottles out of the stream, Inuyasha watched as she sat next to her backpack, and after placing the water bottles inside, produced a small towel which she used to dry her feet, and then tugged back on her socks and sneakers. She had returned through the well this morning without her usual school uniform, explaining her mother was tired of continually replacing it after it got ripped and stained. Instead, she was wearing blue cropped hakama that she called ‘shorts’, and a cherry blossom pink top with long sleeves.

 Inuyasha examined her face carefully as Kagome pulled her hair up into a high ponytail, securing it with a band. She looked tired; her face was paler than usual, and the dark circles above her cheekbones made her usually vibrant brown eyes look listless. Inuyasha made an annoyed grumbling sound in the back of his throat. Yes, he was proud of her efforts to improve, but if she didn’t rest, she was going to end up sick or injured. He wouldn’t let that happen. He looked around to check on the rest of his pack. Mirokou was sitting cross legged under a willow nearby, his eyes closed and shakujo resting across his knees. Sango sat close to him, polishing her hiraikotsu, softly humming, with Kirara perched on her shoulder, mewing softly.

 Kagome looked up as she felt, rather than heard, Inuyasha land lightly next to her on the soft grass.

 “Time to get going again?”, she inquired, squinting up at him, his light hair and ears haloed by the bright sun behind him.

 Inuyasha nodded, holding out a hand and wrapping his fingers around her slim wrist as she reached up to him, hauling Kagome to her feet.

 “There’s a village on the other side of that bluff over there”, he said, nodding in an easterly direction, behind her. “If we leave now, we’ll get there before nightfall.”

 “Sure, sounds good”, replied Kagome cheerfully. Even though she had her sleeping bag, a futon inside an inn was always preferable to the hard ground, even if she did enjoy looking at the stars as she fell asleep. As she went to pull back her hand, Inuyasha noticed a dark mark just under her sleeve. He tightened his hold on her wrist.

 “What’s this!” he growled, gently pulling back her sleeve, showing a livid bruise that ran from the middle of her forearm up to her elbow. Kagome tried to twist out of his grip, but it was no use.

 “Inuyasha, stop, please! It’s nothing”, Kagome fidgeted, looking down at the ground. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Who did this to you?”, he growled menacingly.

 Kagome sighed. “Stand down, dog boy. I did this to me. It’s just a bow string slap bruise. Don’t worry about it, it looks a lot worse than it is.” She pulled her arm out of Inuyasha’s grip, and picked up her backpack. “So, if we leave now, we’ll get to that town before sunset, huh? I better go wake up Shippou.”

 “Stop trying to change the subject wench!” began Inuyasha. Mirokou and Sango walked over to join in the conversation.

 Kagome, can I see?” asked Sango gently, pulling back the pale pink sleeve on Kagome’s arm again. “Ouch! When did you do this?”

 “Last night when I was practicing”, sighed Kagome, pulling her sleeve back down over the bruise. “Really, you all need to stop making such a fuss. It’s a common injury in archery. I iced it last night to keep the swelling down, and it will probably look worse before it’s gone, but it’s really no big deal!”

 Mirokou smiled at her. “Well, if it is as you say, Kagome, we should stop fussing. Although” he continued, gently tapping his forefinger on his chin in a thoughtful way, “I’ve never seen you injure yourself before like this when using your bow.”

 Kagome groaned, rubbing her forehead in exasperation. Why wouldn’t everyone just leave this alone! “I was just tired, ok!”, she snapped. “I was thinking about other stuff, and it was a moment of inattention, and my form got sloppy.” She bent down, retrieving a leather armguard from her backpack. “I’ve brought a bracer with me to wear, so you don’t have to worry about it. It won’t affect my ability to take down an enemy.” Kagome laced the protective leather on over her sleeve swiftly, covering from her palm almost up to her elbow. “There, is everyone happy now?!” Swinging her backpack over her shoulder, she picked up her bow and quiver and stomped over to where Shippou had just began to sit up, rubbing his eyes.

 “Is it time to go?” he yawned tiredly.

 “Definitely”, growled out Kagome, encouraging him to jump up on her shoulder. She began marching off in the direction of the village that Inuyasha had mentioned, her fists by her sides, muttering under her breath.

 “Is it my imagination, or does our Kagome sound a touch fatigued”, mused Mirokou, as he helped kick dirt on the fire so they could follow Kagome and Shippou a safe distance behind. “I would have hoped the three days she spent with her family would leave her well rested.”

 Inuyasha bristled. “She doesn’t rest at all”, he growled. “She does study, and archery practice, and self-defence classes and shrine duties and miko practice and school. She doesn’t sleep much so she can catch up on schoolwork. The only good thing about her going home is her mother’s cooking. I think she actually rests more when she’s with us.”

 Sango gasped. “I had no idea she was doing all this. It’s not like we rest very much when we’re out shard hunting either. She’s going to get injured if she doesn’t look after herself properly. Why is she doing this to herself?”

 “It’s obvious isn’t it?” growled Inuyasha. “You know what she’s like. She always puts herself last. She likes fixing stuff. She broke the jewel so she needs to fix it. She wants to help us, but she’s worried she’s not good enough”.

 Mirokou narrowed his eyes. “That’s very intuitive of you Inuyasha, if your evaluation of her feelings is correct. But why on earth would she believe that she is not up to the task?”

 “How would I know?” barked Inuyasha. “I don’t understand half the stuff that goes on in that wench’s head!” He ran his claws through his long hair in exasperation. “I talked to her mother, and she said something about stubbornness, and burdens, and… and families.”

 Sango looked towards the two figures who were getting further away, just about to move out of sight behind a gently sloping hill. “She’s comparing herself to us, isn’t she”, she sighed. Inuyasha looked at her blankly.

 Mirokou nodded. “I feel I know what you are getting at my dear Sango. We grew up learning the art of defence and combat out of necessity. Kagome has grown up in a time of peace, where these skills are not necessary. She has never had the need to learn them, but now the current situation with the shikon jewel has thrust her into an ongoing battle which she feels she lacks the skills for.”

 Sango nodded, turning her face back towards the fast disappearing figure of Kagome. “Alright, we are her family here, and we need to help. What can we do?”

 Inuyasha looked at them both, relieved that they understood the situation. “Sango, you can teach her some hand-to-hand stuff; maybe teach her how to use a knife for when she runs out of arrows.” Sango nodded, looking determined. “Mirokou, I know you can make spiritual barriers for defence, do you think that’s something Kagome could do as well?”

 “I’m sure of it”, he nodded.

 “Good”, huffed Inuyasha. “But, we have to try and make it seem like the wench has come up with the idea of doing this with us herself. It needs to seem like she’s helping us in some way, or she’ll get all twitchy about it. I know she likes sorting stuff out herself, but we don’t have time to wait. Something happened recently in her world that made her lose confidence in herself, so if we…”

 Sango’s eyes flashed. “What happened, Inuyasha?”

 Inuyasha gulped. “I promised I wouldn’t say”, he said firmly, eyeing the taijiya’s grip on her hiraikotsu warily. “But, she needs us. She’s forgotten that she can ask us for help too.” Suddenly his head shot up, his ears swivelling rapidly in the direction of the girl and the fox kit. They were now out of sight, but he could hear a shrill yelp of surprise and fear from Shippou, and the dull thwack of Kagome’s arrow hitting a target. “Fuck it”, he growled out, “she’s in trouble again!”

 He leapt forward, leg muscles bunching as he put on a burst of speed that had Sango, Mirokou and Kirara scrambling to catch up. Kagome and Shippou must have just turned around the bend in the road. As he got closer he could hear an eerie hissing, squeaking sound, that set his teeth on edge. He put on another spurt of speed, only to be confronted by a gigantic rhinoceros beetle that towered over Shippou and Kagome. The sound was coming from beneath the beetle’s tough outer wings.

 “Jewel shard behind its eyes”, yelled Kagome, dancing backwards hurriedly as a spur shaped projection on one of the beetle’s segmented legs came a little too close for comfort. Inuyasha could see one arrow wedged in between the shiny black segments near the monster’s neck. “My arrows are just bouncing off; its shell is too hard. We need to get it in the air, so I can shoot under the wings!”

 “I can’t leave you alone for one moment, can I wench?!”, roared Inuyasha, drawing his Tessaiga and glaring at the monster beetle. The beetle raised and lowered its enormous y-shaped horn menacingly as if in challenge, its mouthparts moving furiously. “Kagome, Shippou, get behind me, I’m going to try and tip it with the Wind Scar!” He readied his stance, as Kagome and Shippou moved to run behind him. All three of them were taken by surprise as the huge beetle suddenly flipped its outer wings upward, and with a deep thrumming buzz, launched itself into the air, catching up Kagome with the clawed protrusions on the ends of its front legs. Kagome’s bow clattered uselessly on the ground as she fought to get free.

 “Sango!”, bellowed Inuyasha, as he leapt to grab on to one of the beetle’s legs as it quickly became airborne. The shiny black surface was slick in his hand, his claws scrabbling to get any purchase as he tried to swing himself onto the creature’s head. He could hear Kagome’s heart beating frantically, as she struggled to get free of the beetle’s grip, swinging her legs wildly to try and get momentum. The beetle grasped her harder, pushing the barbs on its front legs into her arm and thigh. She shrieked in pain.

 “Kagome! Stop moving, it’s too high! Wait for Kirara!” yelled Inuyasha. He finally succeeded in swinging himself astride the huge beetle, as it bucked in the air, trying to throw him off. He could see Sango and Kirara flying directly under the beetle, with Miroukou and Shippou watching anxiously from the ground below. Kagome stopped her thrashing, and dangled in the monster beetle’s grasp, blood oozing down her arm and leg.

 “Doesn’t look like I’m going anywhere fast”, Kagome muttered back, gritting her teeth as the beetle shifted its front legs, still trying to buck Inuyasha off the back of its head.

 “I wouldn’t be so sure about that”, cried Sango, who had asked Kirara to fly directly underneath Kagome. With a flash, Sango’s katana sliced through the insect’s front legs, dropping Kagome in a messy sprawl onto Kirara’s waiting back. At almost the same moment, Inuyasha plunged the Tessaiga straight down up to the hilt into the gap in between the monster’s head and thorax. Kirara leapt out of the way, fire trailing from her feet as she took Sango and Kagome safely back down to the ground. The droning buzz of the beetle’s wings became intermittent, as the creature’s head began to hang forward, and as the head parted company from its neck, the wings stopped moving altogether as the body began a rapid freefall toward the ground. Inuyasha leapt from the insect just before impact, sliding his feet as he landed in the long grass.

 The head and body landed a good distance apart, but Inuyasha was taking no chances. He loped towards the head, and sliced it in half with his Tessaiga before the shard could assist in the insect’s regeneration. The revealed shard glinted in the afternoon sunlight, amidst the goop oozing from the insect’s cleaved head, the mandibles and antennae still twitching feebly.

 Kagome slid from Kirara’s back, ignoring Sango’s plea to wait, dragging herself forward to the remains of the insect. Reaching down, she grabbed the shard in her fist, and would have fallen forward into the slime if Inuyasha hadn’t grabbed her shoulders from behind to stop her descent.

 “Still a klutz”, he breathed out, drawing her backwards with one arm, holding her tight to his chest. Kagome sagged against him, her legs buckling, her head lolling backwards to rest against his shoulder.

 “Quiet, you”, she mumbled, closing her eyes. She felt sweaty and slightly sick, now that the fight was over, and she could feel blood still dribbling stickily down her leg, collecting in her sock. It felt vaguely ridiculous that they had just fought a giant version of an insect that Souta had once kept as a pet in his bedroom. She wondered idly what it would be like to have a day where at none of them was bleeding. At least it was her this time, and not Inuyasha, Miroukou or Sango, which made for a change.

 “Alright, let’s get you cleaned up wench”, said Inuyasha, lifting Kagome gently into his arms. Even though his voice was its normal brusque pitch, Kagome could feel his hands and arms trembling. She opened one eye to peer up at him as he carried her over to where Sango was waiting with the medical kit, Shippou unpacking bandages, swabs and ointments with the practiced air of someone who was very familiar with the task. Kagome lifted her uninjured arm to swipe her hand at his cheek.

 “Hey”, she said, trying to read his expression. His amber eyes glanced down at her and then looked away again, his ears drooping forward.

 “I’m sorry I wasn’t fast enough”, he murmured miserably.

 “Don’t sweat it, dog boy”, she smiled, trying to cheer him up. “You’re just upset that I get to be the star of the medical show today instead of you. I’m already good at first aid; gives you guys a chance to practice on me. And we got another jewel shard.”

 Inuyasha huffed out a sigh, and placed her gently on the grassy bank of the low sloping hill, in between Sango and Shippou.

 “Where’s Miroukou?”, inquired Kagome, looking around.

 “He’s doing a quick perimeter check”, replied Sango. She placed pressure on the wound on Kagome’s thigh, which was still bleeding. “Let’s start bandaging you up, Kagome”.

 Kagome sighed. “Insects often carry diseases and bacteria, so these wounds are gonna have to be cleaned really well with salt water first. You’ll find some in little plastic bags filled with it in the front section of the first aid kit.”

Shippou looked at Kagome anxiously. “Won’t that hurt, though?”

“Yeah”, replied Kagome, smiling at him, “but it’s better to do that now, than let them get infected later. You can help Sango, the quicker it’s over, the less time I’ll have to think about it, and then we can get moving again.”

 Without a word, Inuyasha pulled Kagome onto his lap. Kagome ‘eeped’ in surprise, and Sango raised an eyebrow questioningly at him.

 “What!”, he bristled, “I’m helpin’!”

 Shippou dropped his anxious look to grin at Inuyasha mischievously, but silently fished the saline packets out of the first aid kit and handed them to Sango.

 Inuyasha watched as Sango cleaned Kagome’s wounds carefully. They weren’t very wide, but looked deep, and he held his breath at her pained hiss as Sango irrigated them with salt water. At Kagome’s suggestion she placed a piece of tape across each wound to hold them closed before bandaging them up. Inuyasha could feel Kagome drooping in his arms as the minute’s ticked by.

 “Hey, you ok wench?” he asked uneasily.

 “Yeah”, sighed Kagome, and yawned. “You ever have one of those days, where you think things would have worked out better if you’d just stayed in bed?”

 “All the time wench, all the time. Especially since I met you, you attract trouble like nobody else.”

 “Hey”, protested Kagome sleepily, her head already nodding forward.

 Mirokou arrived back from his check of the surrounding area, bending down to look at the patient.

 “Was Kagome badly injured?” he questioned, taking in her closed eyes and limp pose in Inuyasha’s lap.

 “Not too badly”, replied Sango, as she and Shippou packed up the medical kit, “but I think she’s exhausted. What do you think, Inuyasha? Should we find somewhere close by to camp, or keep heading on to the village?”

 “Village”, replied Inuyasha, getting to his feet, with the sleeping Kagome still resting in his arms. “That carcass is gonna start attracting scavengers soon, and I don’t wanna be anywhere near it with Kagome out of action. If you three ride on Kirara, and I carry Kagome, we can get there in an hour or two.” He sniffed the air, glancing over towards the west, where dark clouds were building. “We should beat the storm if we leave now.”

 Mirokou gathered up Kagome’s backpack, Shippou picked up the quiver, and Sango the bow, unstringing it carefully so it would be easier to carry on Kirara’s back. As Kirara bounded into the air, the four of them silently watched the hanyou striding towards the east purposefully, with Kagome cradled gently in his arms.

[softestbuckley]

daliaaaaa could you tell me your fave sterek fics please?? :)

How could you ask me this? Do you have any idea how manysterek fics I’ve read over the years? How many I’ve loved?

This is a short list of the very few I could think of offthe top of my head. I think I’ll probably make a recs page, because I’ve beenmeaning to for a long time. I have a recs tag, but that includes differentpairings as well.

Sideways and Slantways and Longways and Backways

“I called you a slave-driver!” Stiles cried hysterically. “I called you an ogre! I stole all the blue paperclips!”Derek raised an eyebrow at him.“That’s company property!” he shouted, waving his arms madly in distress.Derek ran a hand over his face. “It’s not theft if the vice president of the company gives you permission.” (Otherwise known as the Elevator AU)

The Price

Stiles must surrender the most important thing in his life to protect the town… and no one can figure out what it was.

Around The Bend

The first time Derek catches sight of the new yoga instructor, Stiles is in the middle of showing a class how to do downward-facing dog. Derek walks into a wall.

Things don’t exactly improve from there.

Derek can’t stop staring at Stiles, the bendy new yoga instructor at his family’s gym. Stiles thinks Derek’s a repressed homophobe who hates Stiles for making him want the D. They fall in love.

can’t be hateful, gotta be grateful

“Be cool, Dad, we’ve decided to con Grandma.”

(Or, the one where the Stilinski men drag Derek to Thanksgiving dinner at Grandma’s and she gets the right wrong idea.)

Possibly I Like The Thrill Of Under Me You

It’s not that the idea of Stiles talking about him doesn’t make his stomach wrap itself in knots, it’s that it does just that. It makes him unbelievably uncomfortable and he doesn’t quite know why. He’s twenty seven years old, he pays taxes, he takes his mother out for lunch on Sundays; he is a grown up. But he’s getting weird butterflies when he glances over his shoulder to look at Stiles and a heat in his chest that feels something like what he supposes want must feel like.

i want to say all those things that would be better unsaid

Derek is a lonely professor who decides to call a phone sex line.

Stiles is a poor grad student who needs to make a living somehow.

“One night stands were never this good. Hell, his previous relationships were never this good. Derek was so screwed, but right now he didn’t care.”

Little Kid Crush

“What’s your name?” Derek asks, wiping the last of the tears off the kid’s face with his sleeve.

“’tiles,” the kid mumbles, and Derek frowns, wondering if he heard correctly.

“Tiles?” Derek repeats.

“Stiles,” the kid repeats, pouting at Derek slightly, defiant even though his eyes are still puffy and red and his cheeks tear-stained.

Ten Days

Derek Hale does not like babies. So when his pack gets turned into babies, it’s pretty much the worst thing that could happen to him.

Introduction to Zero-Sum Anthropology

Stiles buys Derek a set of cooking spoons. Derek retaliates with lunch.

The war begins.

Here’s My Hand if You’ll Take It (I Can Be That Part of You)

When Stiles is away at college, he realises that he’s in love with Derek. He also realises that he doesn’t exactly have the qualities an alpha needs in a mate. Boyfriend. Whatever. So he decides to change, with a little help from Martha Stewart. It’s just that Stiles isn’t all that great when it comes to tending to the betas, baking or cleaning. But maybe he doesn’t have to be.

The One Where Stiles Vets Derek’s Girlfriends

Across the loft, Cora claps her hands. “Okay, new rule. Any time Derek wants a date, one of us has to vet her first.”

Scott, who’s actually upside down on Derek’s couch, in apparent celebration of their defeat of the alpha pack—which somehow ended with Kali trying to give Derek her number, and he still doesn’t know how that happened, because he’s the worst alpha ever—says, “You know who’s got really good people instincts?”

Blind Date With A Book

Stiles thought the Blind Date With a Book trend was a great way to drum up business for his small bookshop. He definitely thought it was a great idea after the hot guy kept returning and buying more blind dates with books.

Derek didn’t know how he kept getting set up on blind dates by his family, or why he kept going on them. The highlight of his night was when the date was over and he could go to the little bookshop in town and buy something to read for the rest of the night. He wanted to read, not date.

the banana bread incident

“Is this a plastic spoon?” Stiles demands in disgust. “You do realise that there’s actual cutlery in the kitchen, right? I’m surrounded by morons who don’t know how to use a kitchen.”

“I know how to use a kitchen,” Derek protests lazily. “It’s just that all the other spoons were dirty.”

“There’s this revolutionary new invention,” Stiles says, widening his eyes in mock-amazement. “It’s called a sink.”

In which there are tiny pink shorts, a kissing gate, a cat called Pumpkin and a plethora of awkward moments.

Gravity’s Got Nothing on You

“Three weeks,” Derek says.

“Still don’t want to,” Stiles says.

“I’ll pay you,” Derek says, and that… that has Stiles interested. Alf’s Antique’s may be a great job, but it’s not a high-paying job, and half of Stiles’s tuition is coming from financial aid, so…

“How much,” Stiles asks, “are we talking here? Because I know your family, dude. And it’ll be kind of awkward after.“

“My family thinks you’re some sort of fucking gift to the world,” Derek seethes, like he’s jealous, “they’ll probably be pissed at me when we break it off, so don’t worry about that. Five hundred bucks.”

“A thousand,” Stiles says, because screw ethics. Also, the Hale family is loaded. Derek can deal.

A Cunning Plan

Stiles has a plan to get Lydia Martin to notice him. Derek is not impressed.

Strut on a Line, its Discord and Rhyme

“Carry me,” Stiles says.

“No.”

“But I’m injured.”

“You have a rash,” Derek says. “On your arm. Your feet work just fine.”

“Please?”

“No. You weigh almost as much as I do. And you ate a pound of chicken at lunch.”

“Well, yeah, but I pooped like an hour ago, so.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Don’t play, you love me.”

I do, Derek thinks, relatively horrified. I really do.

Jerk of Art 

The worst thing, ever, is being uninspired. There is literally nothing worse than putting a pencil to paper and having nothing come out. So, of course, when Stiles’ visual arts professor instructs the class to sketch someone as detailed as they possibly can, and Stiles pulls up a blank on people to draw, he wants to punch himself in the face.  

Safety In Silence

It’s perfectly understandable. Even Derek wouldn’t want to be Derek’s soulmate. 

Every Step You Take

Stiles accidentally ends up magically bound to Derek. It’s super.

Hemingway Can Suck It

“For those of you who just transferred into this class or simply decided that day one wasn’t important enough to attend, I’m Professor Hale. Welcome to English 346, The American Novel.”

Stiles is pretty sure his mouth is hanging open right now and that his eyes are wide with shock, because holy fuck, he thinks he knows why his students transferred. Hell, if he was still an undergrad, he probably would have transferred, too.

(Or: In which Stiles is a Biology professor and Derek thinks he’s a student.)

Untamed

Of course, the transfer kid gets mentioned because transfers are rare, but the news isn’t that exciting. In fact, according to Laura, no one even seems to know his first name. The only thing anyone has really figured out about him is that he’s American. And that’s not exactly hard because he obviously has an accent.

The only thing Derek really knows is that, despite other reports, he seems quiet enough, prefers to work alone, and has the most amazing shade of amber eyes that Derek has ever seen.

Not that he’s looking. Obviously.

OR: A Harry Potter AU where Stiles is a Slytherin transfer student and Derek is the grumpy Gryffindor who falls in love with him.

There are also potions, elves, and falcons involved. Oh, and illegal use of magic. Obviously.

Midnight Wolf vs Abominable Snowman!

Derek almost makes the mistake of saying, It’s not fanart, but he manages to catch himself, biting his tongue. This stranger, who’s already identified himself as at least a casual fan of Midnight Wolf, doesn’t need to know that he actually is the artist and author, not just another fan.

headlong (I’m falling in a)

Kink meme fill: When Stiles goes to college, for some reason, he has to share an apartment with Derek, which sucks, because Derek still hates him the most. They fall in love.

Binomial Coefficients

In which brainy freshman Stiles Stilinski wants star quarterback Derek Hale to join the math team, AKA math nerds in love.

John Hughes Did Not Direct My Life

Stiles and Derek are childhood friends who drifted apart. When Stiles joins the lacrosse team against his will, the universe (with a little help from Laura and Lydia) chooses to push them back together.

Patterns of Intention

Derek looked like the stuff of his deepest fantasies. His shirt was rumpled where Stiles had his hands in it, and he was breathing hard as well, chest heaving. His eyes—his eyes were glazed over and he looked stunned, like he’d been—like Stiles had—

“No,” Stiles said, blood draining from his face. The word was croaky and felt like it had to be wrenched out of his chest. “God, no.”

Insane Chemistry (with Derek Hale)

Derek is the popular, varsity jock, prom king of the school, and Stiles is not going to be the cliche that ends up falling for him. (It’s not a cliche if no one else knows about it, right?)

Not Your Disney Romance

After a long-forgotten agreement of an arranged marriage between Derek and the daughter of another pack’s alpha resurfaces, Stiles takes it upon himself to become the most amazing fake fiancé that a clueless, desperate alpha werewolf could wish for.

Five Times the Sheriff Found Derek Hale in His Son’s Bedroom

There’s a pattern Sheriff Stilinski just can’t ignore.

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

“Derek,” Stiles groans. “You have me. You’ve always had me, you absolute moron, how many physically impossible feats of life-saving heroics do I have to perform before you get it?”

There’s so many more I want to rec, but I think these are enough for now!

[flauntpage]

A Pulse, A Hart-Beat and a Couple of Brain Cramps – Thoughts after Flyers 2, Stars 1

It finally happened. After such a long drought, it finally came to pass.

No, I’m not talking about the end of the Flyers eight-game losing streak – although that too did come to an end Thursday.

Instead, I’m talking about a glimpse of what the Flyers thought they were getting when they signed James van Riemsdyk to a five-year, $35 million contract.

JVR had a hand in both Flyers goals in the team’s first win of 2019. His goal, the game-winner, was a bit fortuitous. His assist on the first goal of the game was nifty.

It was his sixth multiple-point game in 28 games since returning to the Flyers. That’s not a terrible percentage in this day and age.

That said, there have been far too many goose eggs. There were far too many games where JVR has been just a body skating around on the ice. He’s hardly lived up to his reputation as a potential 30-plus goal scorer who sets up shop in the greasy areas in front of the net and goes to work.

Maybe it was returning somewhere he had played before and expecting things to be similar, but they’re not. Maybe it was an expectation that he could play the same way he did in Toronto, where he was pretty successful for six seasons, and found out that won’t fit in the Flyers system.

Heck, the critics will say he’s playing like a guy who is comfortably sitting on his wallet after his big pay day, but knowing JVR, I doubt that’s the case.

A lot of the same weaknesses that have always been in JVR’s game are still there today. They’ve never gone away. But they are the kinds of things you can live with when the guy is potting 30-plus goals in a season.

Except, that wasn’t happening for him with the Flyers.

Yes, he missed some time with an injury that cost him six weeks early in the season, but he has now played in 28 games, and the Flyers were hoping for more than seven goals and nine assists through that many games. Extrapolated over a full 82, that’s about 19 goals and 24 assists for 43 points – a far cry from his totals last season in Toronto where he had 36 goals last season and was between 54 and 62 points in each of the four seasons he played nearly a full schedule of games.

It had gotten so bad for JVR, who before Thursday had only scored one goal in nine games that he was demoted to fourth line duty against Washington on Tuesday.

He cleared the air with coach Scott Gordon and seemed to get a better sense of what the Flyers interim coach wants him to do, and was given a chance to be put back on the top line with Claude Giroux and Travis Konecny against the Stars and it paid off.

It might have been JVR’s best game of the season for the Flyers. One, the team hopes, he can build off of and start playing like the player they were hoping would be a big part of the team’s success in the coming seasons.

“That’s professional sports right there,” van Riemsdyk said. “There should be dialogue between your coaches and players, that’s the only way you get growth. Especially I think for me, again I’m in a new situation and a new team and I want to try to get my bearings right and again there’s always some things you can clarify so things become a little second nature. I mean when you’re playing in a certain place for a long time, things become second nature that maybe they want you to do a little differently here so there’s been some good communication and dialogue about some of that stuff and yeah it’s good.

“I have a good relationship with Gordo since I played for him in Toronto and some USA hockey stuff so I appreciate him taking some time to talk me through some things that he wanted to see and some different things that we’re trying to do.  So yeah I think it makes it easier when you have that dialogue.”

Here’s the assist, which was his best play of the game:

TRAVIS KONECNY TIPS HOME JAMES VAN RIEMSDYK'S FEED!#LetsGoFlyers pic.twitter.com/sdIZoNyMGR

— Hockey Daily (@HockeyDaily365) January 11, 2019

Radko Gudas really makes the play with a great keep and shot from the point (more on him later), but JVR made a slick little no-look pass to Konecny to get the Flyers on the board first.

His goal was a bit fluky, but if you get to the spots on the ice where you have your most success, good things can happen:

The pigeon! pic.twitter.com/IvzDUMnW5R

— Broad Street Hockey (@BroadStHockey) January 11, 2019

There’s been a lot of double doinks in Philly sports recently, hasn’t there?

Anyway, JVR addressed this as well, saying that getting to the right spaces on the ice is part of where scoring success comes from in this league.

“The roles that I’ve been in are a lot of net-front stuff and being the stretch guy and a lot of that is reading the other players and playing off their speed. It’s kind of funny because guys who score goals – guys like Alex Ovechkin and Steven Stamkos – it’s not like they’re always blasting around and sprinting and stopping. They’re kind of meandering and they find that soft spot. People wonder, ‘how’d they get there?’ Well, they know where to go and how to get to the right spot when [their teammate] is ready to pass it. That’s what you try to learn over the course of your career.”

Dodging the missed opportunity bite

For one night, JVR was able to get to the right spot multiple times and it parlayed into a Flyers win. One that ended up being a nailbiter because the Flyers missed out on three consecutive odd man rushes. A 3-on-1 (shorthanded) a 2-on-1 (shorthanded) and a 2-on-0 with JVR and Konecny:

Anton Khudobin makes the save on the 2-on-0 rush. pic.twitter.com/ZQ90WmZg47

— Broad Street Hockey (@BroadStHockey) January 11, 2019

“It was funny because me and TK had just been talking about it after the 2-on-1 right before our chance and we were saying how [Stars goalie Anton Khudobin] likes to sit on the pass so we have to shoot one and sure enough we make two passes back and forth like dummies after we had just talked about it,” van Riemsdyk said. “It’s a fine line though, you don’t want to be the guy who goes in on a 2-on-none and misses either.”

Funny game, hockey. In almost any other sport, the players have a me-first attitude. Hockey is the other way around, to a fault sometimes.

“The Kid looks really good.”

On the elevator ride and subsequent jaunt to the locker room after the game, I happened to ride down with Dallas Stars goaltending coach and former Flyers goalie coach Jeff Reese.

After checking in on him and his family and talking about how well the Dallas goaltending duo of Khudobin and Ben Bishop have been playing, and crediting their coaching, Reese said, “Nah, my job is to just wave the pom-poms.” He then changed the subject to talk about Carter Hart.

“The kid looks really good,” he said. “His positioning and quickness is good for sure, but the thing that impresses me the most is his poise. He’s not rattled. That’s impressive for a 20-year-old kid.”

This was unsolicited mind you. It’s the kind of thing that indicates there is a buzz going on around the league about Hart and the way he’s looked so far.

His save percentage is now a solid .920. He makes a lot of saves look easy. His flaws – based solely on inexperience rather than an inability to do something – seem to get corrected quickly. Early in the season – in Lehigh Valley – Hart had a tendency to go down too soon and leave room upstairs for goal scorers to shoot for the top shelf. Now, Hart stands taller longer and relies on his quickness to get down, if he has to do so.

He still struggles a little bit with rebound control, but that’s also something that comes with experience. He tracks the puck so well that it won’t hurt him long term.

Hart has been a bit of an eye-opener. His play might just be changing the mind of GM Chuck Fletcher. Hart was originally called up for a short stint in the NHL, but the kid has earned his keep.

Now, to be fair, the Flyers are uber-defensive in front of him. They tend to put their bodies on the line to block more shots for Hart than they do other goalies, so that helps (They blocked 18 against Dallas, with Christian Folin leading the way with seven), so there’s that too. But Hart made 37 saves against a red hot Stars team. That’s no small feat, even if very few of the saves seemed to be of the 10-bell variety.

It’s likely to a point where the Flyers won’t hurt his development – at least for awhile anyway (things can always go sideways at some point) – and will be better suited to have him keep playing.

Miscellaneous

Nolan Patrick looked… OK. That’s an improvement over what he’s been looking like recently. But, he’s still giving you the same offensive output as Dale Weise. And his advanced metrics aren’t even as good as Jordan Weal, who can’t stay in the lineup. I still think Patrick would benefit from a little time in Lehigh Valley.

The defense was decent – Gordon switched up the second and third pairs. He went with Gudas and Shayne Gostisbehere and Folin and Robert Hagg.

Gudas has been playing pretty solid hockey for the Flyers for an extended period of time now. He’s truly looking like a very useful piece, and maybe one that could interest other teams at the deadline. He’s really been the most consistent defenseman on this team this season (apologies to Travis Sanheim, who has improved greatly).

There was a moment in the second period where Hagg was getting an extended one-on-one coaching session on the bench from assistant coach Rick Wilson. In the middle of the game, Wilson was hunched over, in Hagg’s ear and drawing frantically on the dry-erase board. There was extended conversation too. Nothing loud or angry. Just a good teaching moment. At the end there were a few pats on the back from Wilson, and Hagg played pretty solid hockey after that. I’m starting to be convinced that the hiring of Wilson may end up being the most underrated move by this organization this season.

Finally, I’m hearing there could be more news coming about the whole Jori Lehtera cocaine ring situation. While one of the members arrested in the ring is now backing off a story that he sold directly to Lehtera, I was told after the game that there might be another connection directly to Lehtera involved in this in Finland. I’m working to confirm what I was told (I’ve actually called a phone number in Finland for the first time in my life) so until I do, I won’t report it here, but I’m honestly perplexed as to why the Flyers are keeping him on the roster at this point. Just waive Lehtera. No one will claim him because of his salary and this investigation. At which point you can either bury him in the minors or give him his outright release. You can’t tell me that it’s better for this team long-term to keep him on this roster at this point than to give someone like a Nicolas Aube-Kubel a real chance to play in the NHL.

  The post A Pulse, A Hart-Beat and a Couple of Brain Cramps – Thoughts after Flyers 2, Stars 1 appeared first on Crossing Broad.

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A Pulse, A Hart-Beat and a Couple of Brain Cramps – Thoughts after Flyers 2, Stars 1

It finally happened. After such a long drought, it finally came to pass.

No, I’m not talking about the end of the Flyers eight-game losing streak – although that too did come to an end Thursday.

Instead, I’m talking about a glimpse of what the Flyers thought they were getting when they signed James van Riemsdyk to a five-year, $35 million contract.

JVR had a hand in both Flyers goals in the team’s first win of 2019. His goal, the game-winner, was a bit fortuitous. His assist on the first goal of the game was nifty.

It was his sixth multiple-point game in 28 games since returning to the Flyers. That’s not a terrible percentage in this day and age.

That said, there have been far too many goose eggs. There were far too many games where JVR has been just a body skating around on the ice. He’s hardly lived up to his reputation as a potential 30-plus goal scorer who sets up shop in the greasy areas in front of the net and goes to work.

Maybe it was returning somewhere he had played before and expecting things to be similar, but they’re not. Maybe it was an expectation that he could play the same way he did in Toronto, where he was pretty successful for six seasons, and found out that won’t fit in the Flyers system.

Heck, the critics will say he’s playing like a guy who is comfortably sitting on his wallet after his big pay day, but knowing JVR, I doubt that’s the case.

A lot of the same weaknesses that have always been in JVR’s game are still there today. They’ve never gone away. But they are the kinds of things you can live with when the guy is potting 30-plus goals in a season.

Except, that wasn’t happening for him with the Flyers.

Yes, he missed some time with an injury that cost him six weeks early in the season, but he has now played in 28 games, and the Flyers were hoping for more than seven goals and nine assists through that many games. Extrapolated over a full 82, that’s about 19 goals and 24 assists for 43 points – a far cry from his totals last season in Toronto where he had 36 goals last season and was between 54 and 62 points in each of the four seasons he played nearly a full schedule of games.

It had gotten so bad for JVR, who before Thursday had only scored one goal in nine games that he was demoted to fourth line duty against Washington on Tuesday.

He cleared the air with coach Scott Gordon and seemed to get a better sense of what the Flyers interim coach wants him to do, and was given a chance to be put back on the top line with Claude Giroux and Travis Konecny against the Stars and it paid off.

It might have been JVR’s best game of the season for the Flyers. One, the team hopes, he can build off of and start playing like the player they were hoping would be a big part of the team’s success in the coming seasons.

“That’s professional sports right there,” van Riemsdyk said. “There should be dialogue between your coaches and players, that’s the only way you get growth. Especially I think for me, again I’m in a new situation and a new team and I want to try to get my bearings right and again there’s always some things you can clarify so things become a little second nature. I mean when you’re playing in a certain place for a long time, things become second nature that maybe they want you to do a little differently here so there’s been some good communication and dialogue about some of that stuff and yeah it’s good.

“I have a good relationship with Gordo since I played for him in Toronto and some USA hockey stuff so I appreciate him taking some time to talk me through some things that he wanted to see and some different things that we’re trying to do.  So yeah I think it makes it easier when you have that dialogue.”

Here’s the assist, which was his best play of the game:

TRAVIS KONECNY TIPS HOME JAMES VAN RIEMSDYK'S FEED!#LetsGoFlyers pic.twitter.com/sdIZoNyMGR

— Hockey Daily (@HockeyDaily365) January 11, 2019

Radko Gudas really makes the play with a great keep and shot from the point (more on him later), but JVR made a slick little no-look pass to Konecny to get the Flyers on the board first.

His goal was a bit fluky, but if you get to the spots on the ice where you have your most success, good things can happen:

The pigeon! pic.twitter.com/IvzDUMnW5R

— Broad Street Hockey (@BroadStHockey) January 11, 2019

There’s been a lot of double doinks in Philly sports recently, hasn’t there?

Anyway, JVR addressed this as well, saying that getting to the right spaces on the ice is part of where scoring success comes from in this league.

“The roles that I’ve been in are a lot of net-front stuff and being the stretch guy and a lot of that is reading the other players and playing off their speed. It’s kind of funny because guys who score goals – guys like Alex Ovechkin and Steven Stamkos – it’s not like they’re always blasting around and sprinting and stopping. They’re kind of meandering and they find that soft spot. People wonder, ‘how’d they get there?’ Well, they know where to go and how to get to the right spot when [their teammate] is ready to pass it. That’s what you try to learn over the course of your career.”

Dodging the missed opportunity bite

For one night, JVR was able to get to the right spot multiple times and it parlayed into a Flyers win. One that ended up being a nailbiter because the Flyers missed out on three consecutive odd man rushes. A 3-on-1 (shorthanded) a 2-on-1 (shorthanded) and a 2-on-0 with JVR and Konecny:

Anton Khudobin makes the save on the 2-on-0 rush. pic.twitter.com/ZQ90WmZg47

— Broad Street Hockey (@BroadStHockey) January 11, 2019

“It was funny because me and TK had just been talking about it after the 2-on-1 right before our chance and we were saying how [Stars goalie Anton Khudobin] likes to sit on the pass so we have to shoot one and sure enough we make two passes back and forth like dummies after we had just talked about it,” van Riemsdyk said. “It’s a fine line though, you don’t want to be the guy who goes in on a 2-on-none and misses either.”

Funny game, hockey. In almost any other sport, the players have a me-first attitude. Hockey is the other way around, to a fault sometimes.

“The Kid looks really good.”

On the elevator ride and subsequent jaunt to the locker room after the game, I happened to ride down with Dallas Stars goaltending coach and former Flyers goalie coach Jeff Reese.

After checking in on him and his family and talking about how well the Dallas goaltending duo of Khudobin and Ben Bishop have been playing, and crediting their coaching, Reese said, “Nah, my job is to just wave the pom-poms.” He then changed the subject to talk about Carter Hart.

“The kid looks really good,” he said. “His positioning and quickness is good for sure, but the thing that impresses me the most is his poise. He’s not rattled. That’s impressive for a 20-year-old kid.”

This was unsolicited mind you. It’s the kind of thing that indicates there is a buzz going on around the league about Hart and the way he’s looked so far.

His save percentage is now a solid .920. He makes a lot of saves look easy. His flaws – based solely on inexperience rather than an inability to do something – seem to get corrected quickly. Early in the season – in Lehigh Valley – Hart had a tendency to go down too soon and leave room upstairs for goal scorers to shoot for the top shelf. Now, Hart stands taller longer and relies on his quickness to get down, if he has to do so.

He still struggles a little bit with rebound control, but that’s also something that comes with experience. He tracks the puck so well that it won’t hurt him long term.

Hart has been a bit of an eye-opener. His play might just be changing the mind of GM Chuck Fletcher. Hart was originally called up for a short stint in the NHL, but the kid has earned his keep.

Now, to be fair, the Flyers are uber-defensive in front of him. They tend to put their bodies on the line to block more shots for Hart than they do other goalies, so that helps (They blocked 18 against Dallas, with Christian Folin leading the way with seven), so there’s that too. But Hart made 37 saves against a red hot Stars team. That’s no small feat, even if very few of the saves seemed to be of the 10-bell variety.

It’s likely to a point where the Flyers won’t hurt his development – at least for awhile anyway (things can always go sideways at some point) – and will be better suited to have him keep playing.

Miscellaneous

Nolan Patrick looked… OK. That’s an improvement over what he’s been looking like recently. But, he’s still giving you the same offensive output as Dale Weise. And his advanced metrics aren’t even as good as Jordan Weal, who can’t stay in the lineup. I still think Patrick would benefit from a little time in Lehigh Valley.

The defense was decent – Gordon switched up the second and third pairs. He went with Gudas and Shayne Gostisbehere and Folin and Robert Hagg.

Gudas has been playing pretty solid hockey for the Flyers for an extended period of time now. He’s truly looking like a very useful piece, and maybe one that could interest other teams at the deadline. He’s really been the most consistent defenseman on this team this season (apologies to Travis Sanheim, who has improved greatly).

There was a moment in the second period where Hagg was getting an extended one-on-one coaching session on the bench from assistant coach Rick Wilson. In the middle of the game, Wilson was hunched over, in Hagg’s ear and drawing frantically on the dry-erase board. There was extended conversation too. Nothing loud or angry. Just a good teaching moment. At the end there were a few pats on the back from Wilson, and Hagg played pretty solid hockey after that. I’m starting to be convinced that the hiring of Wilson may end up being the most underrated move by this organization this season.

Finally, I’m hearing there could be more news coming about the whole Jori Lehtera cocaine ring situation. While one of the members arrested in the ring is now backing off a story that he sold directly to Lehtera, I was told after the game that there might be another connection directly to Lehtera involved in this in Finland. I’m working to confirm what I was told (I’ve actually called a phone number in Finland for the first time in my life) so until I do, I won’t report it here, but I’m honestly perplexed as to why the Flyers are keeping him on the roster at this point. Just waive Lehtera. No one will claim him because of his salary and this investigation. At which point you can either bury him in the minors or give him his outright release. You can’t tell me that it’s better for this team long-term to keep him on this roster at this point than to give someone like a Nicolas Aube-Kubel a real chance to play in the NHL.

  The post A Pulse, A Hart-Beat and a Couple of Brain Cramps – Thoughts after Flyers 2, Stars 1 appeared first on Crossing Broad.

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Throw the Damn Towel! Ten Takeaways from Eagles 51, Broncos 23

We’re at a point where broadcasters are bailing on the Eagles because they’re beating teams so badly.

Yesterday CBS cut to the Ravens/Titans matchup in non-local markets to show a “more competitive game.” Even the local production crew ran out of things to talk about and decided to spend five minutes shouting out their camera operators on live TV.

Ian Eagle: “There’s Bob. And Chris is steady, very steady. Is that camera 1?”

Dan Fouts: “That was camera 1.”

Ian Eagle: “And there’s Janice, who is with us every single week.”

Dan Fouts: “That’s camera 3.”

This is where we’re at. Broadcasters are bored with the 8-1 Eagles, a team sending Nick Foles out for victory formation while winning by three touchdowns.

Look, you can’t run out C.J. Beathard and Brock Osweiler and expect to be competitive against this team. The Birds’ top-ranked rushing D again made an opponent one-dimensional, limiting Denver to just 226 total yards and some garbage time points. Doug Pederson’s offense looked more like the ’99 Rams while putting up 419 yards and 51 points without its best receiver and Pro Bowl left tackle.

  1) Next man up!

The non-availability of Zach Ertz was a late storyline coming into this game, but the Birds didn’t miss a beat. Trey Burton and Brent Celek were targeted eight times for 5 catches, 80 yards, and a touchdown.

They did the damage early, too, no fourth quarter stat padding or shady context here. Burton had a big 3rd and 9 catch on the first drive and Celek snagged two of his three receptions on the first two series. Burton trapped the ball between his legs on a 27-yard touchdown pass to put the Birds up 24-6 with 9:15 still remaining in the second quarter.

Looks like the Birds are fine at the backup tight end spots. Burton is free agent this summer, so this was a big game for him.

  2) Bigger V

Speaking of next man up, did you hear Halipoulivaati Vaitai’s name called?

I think I heard it once, when the Eagles were driving in the second quarter.

Big V was solid yesterday in both run and pass blocking. On this play, a 3rd and 3, he does a nice job to take the safety Will Parks, a smaller and faster guy, and not only engage him quickly but move him sideways to create a lane for LeGarrette Blount:

There really should be enough there for Blount to get through that hole and pick up the first down, but Brandon Marshall does a really nice job of shedding Jason Kelce’s block and making the stop right at the line of gain. Kelce was frustrated with himself after the Eagles failed to convert this:

Vaitai also had a quality block on Jay Ajayi’s touchdown run, taking Shane Ray out of the play to bookend a hole you could drive a truck through:

You can fit six Jay Ajayi in that hole http://pic.twitter.com/Yop4jbBfCl

— Bill Barnwell (@billbarnwell) November 5, 2017

Is Ajayi the plural of Ajayi? Looks right to me.

Anyway, Vaitai was good on the day. The Birds’ game plan made his possible liabilities a non-factor, with quick releases and early pocket movement from Carson Wentz.

  3) All aboard the Jay Train

Jay Ajayi’s first involvement was on a couple of run/pass options, one going to Celek and the other to Alshon Jeffery for a score. He got his first carry later in the half, taking it up the gut for six yards.

One of criticisms Ajayi received from Adam Gase in Miami was that he was trying too hard to hit the “home run” instead of just taking what was in front of him and picking up the yardage.

On the big touchdown run, the only thing in front of him was 46 yards and the end zone, so he took it. Slash that run from the stat sheet, and Ajayi still finished with a respectable 31 yards on 7 other carries, good for a 4.4 YPC average on his Eagles debut. Only twice had he hit that number or gone above it this season.

Crazy what happens when you run behind a decent line.

Jay Ajayi this season, by team:

DOLPHINS 138 carries, 0 TD (most in NFL without scoring)

EAGLES 46-yard TD on 5th carry

¯_(ツ)_/¯

— ESPN Stats & Info (@ESPNStatsInfo) November 5, 2017

  4) Nice Touch

Carson Wentz finished 15/27 for 199 yards and 4 touchdowns.

I don’t know what else there is to say at this point. He’s playing at an MVP level.

One thing that stood out to me was the finesse and footwork he showed on a couple of opening drive passes. We’ve talked in the past about his lack of touch in the short and intermediate passing game, but he really used his feet to roll and release quickly on Sunday.

This one I thought was harder than it looked:

That’s a run/pass option with Celek peeling off the linebacker into space. Even though the ball is tipped, I feel like Wentz timed that release well and put enough oomph on it to make that deflection somewhat irrelevant on the play. Wentz has to wait for Celek to turn his head before he can get rid of it.

The second was on the opening score, another RPO look with a dime over the top:

Alshon Jeffery 32 yard TD http://pic.twitter.com/4BGkQwgb7T

— ⓂarcusD (@_MarcusD2_) November 5, 2017

Good footwork, nice touch over the top. I thought he did the same on the screen pass touchdown as well.

So not only have we seen improvement with Carson’s deep ball this year, but he continues to get better with his footwork and release on those types of plays.

  5) Don’t sleep on me

Last week Tim Reilly wrote a story called, “While You’re Dreaming About Jay Ajayi, Don’t Sleep on Corey Clement.”

Give that man a raise!

With all the Ajayi talk coming into this one, Clement probably had the best game for a Birds running back, handling it 12 times for 51 yards and two touchdowns while adding a 15 yard screen pass score. While it’s true that he took six of those hand offs in the 4th quarter, his early contributions were huge, similar to what you saw from Celek and Burton in the passing game.

I thought the most interesting thing regarding Clement was the design on his second TD run, where the Birds ran an option out of the pistol. I’m pretty sure it’s the first time we’ve seen the pistol this season:

Optionality. #FlyEaglesFly http://pic.twitter.com/HIqbEjQr7s

— Philadelphia Eagles (@Eagles) November 5, 2017

  6) To catch, or not to catch

What is a catch?

I thought for sure that Emmanuel Sanders had possession of this ball and took two steps before going to ground and losing control, but this was ruled an incompletion:

Sanders doesn't complete the process of the catch on 3rd-and-2 and Denver settles for a FG http://pic.twitter.com/mG2Bfb64uZ

— The Bitter Birds (@AdrianFedkiw) November 5, 2017

Denver should have challenged that, or at least tried to convert on 4th and 2 from the opponent’s 35 yard line while losing 17-3. I thought it was a weird decision to kick the field goal there.

  7) Ref, you don’t suck

Denver finished with 14 penalties for 105 yards.

The Birds had 5 for 35.

Savor the moment, because it ain’t gonna happen in Dallas.

The calls were lopsided in the Eagles’ favor for once, but I don’t know if every flag was correct. I mentioned the Sanders catch above. Wentz got away with a pass that looked like intentional grounding while also being dragged down for an unsportsmanlike conduct at the same time.

On the Ajayi touchdown, did he get the ball over the pylon? I don’t think there was conclusive evidence to overturn the call on the field. That goes both ways. If they ruled it out at the one yard line, that call probably would have held as well.

Also, on the 4th quarter strip sack and touchdown, was Von Miller offside here?

Offsides? #DENvsPHI #FlyEaglesFly http://pic.twitter.com/ZomKlaE4IG

— Nick Piccone (@nickpiccone) November 5, 2017

Either way, this crew was 10x better than a Pete Morelli or Ed Hochuli unit. Maybe 15x. Maybe 100x better.

  8) Doug’s worst call?

Every week I write this recap, this Doug Pederson entry becomes more and more pointless.

I guess we’re nitpicking now, but they really showed some poor clock management on that final drive before halftime. Huge lead or not, there was a chance to put some points on the board.

Outside of that, I think Foles could have been in the game sooner. Also, don’t let him throw the ball, just run it every single time. Give Wendell Smallwood and Kenjon Barner the rock and let ’em run out the clock.

Hindsight, folks. It’s always 20/20.

  9) Doug’s best call?

Everything?

I liked the game plan. The quick throws, rollouts, and chip blocking kept Denver’s defense off-balance and neutralized a very good D-line.

Pederson elaborated on the RPO after the game, explaining the mechanics behind Jeffery’s 32-yard touchdown reception:

Q. Take us through that play. I know that QB Carson Wentz throws the ball real well on the move and he just dropped in there. COACH PEDERSON: Refresh my memory.

Q. The RPO — COACH PEDERSON: Oh, the read. It just a play. It’s a read option, read the defensive end. It just so happened we were on the right hash. I think [Broncos OLB] Von [Miller] was over there and we knew their D-end was closed a little bit. It’s just something that we build into that play. It’s something that we’ve — it’s a Day-One-training-camp, Day-One-OTA play. And it’s just a one-step hitch-and-go, and we got 21 to bite on the play. Did a great job throwing the ball on the run and Alshon getting in the end zone.

This is what he’s talking about:

Cornerback Chris Harris Jr. said the he felt like the Eagles knew everything the Broncos were going to do on defense. Part of that is definitely some carryover from Pederson working in Kansas City and seeing Denver’s personnel twice a year.

Harris offered another bit on the RPO stuff:

“They run this college offense. They run kind of what the Chiefs do. They got an option to run, an option to pass. They run the read option, the real option. (Wentz) is checking to a lot of things. It’s a college offense and he’s just executing it very good.”

  10) Putting a “50 burger” on the board

Shout out to CBS for going to Tony Luke’s for the obligatory cheesesteak bump shot and shirking Passyunk Ave.

The “Rocky” mention came around 8:09 in the 4th quarter, with a couple of goofy looking hipsters on the Art Museum steps.

Anyway, I thought Eagle and Fouts did a pretty good job before becoming thoroughly bored in the third quarter, like Ed Rendell on the local post game show:

When you're 8-1, have MVP, coach of year candidates and can't control your emotions! #FlyEaglesFly http://pic.twitter.com/tNHooqy3n0

— Tony Bruno (@TonyBrunoShow) November 5, 2017

Throw the Damn Towel! Ten Takeaways from Eagles 51, Broncos 23 published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv