#miss Kirby I see what you’ve done here

[housederiva]

They’re reversed foils your honor

[brighter-by-the-daly]

Rachel Daly x Reader

The Ick

Posted: 12/04/23 Edited: 10/07/23

Watching the Villa game you could tell something was wrong with Rachel, she had scored a goal but missed at least 4 more that she could have got easily. She was shouting at her team and you could see on her face she wasn’t happy which was unusual for her. It pained you to watch her get subbed in the 60th minute, she rarely gets subbed so something must seriously be off with her. Jordan had scored a hatrick which included her first goal for Villa so she should be buzzing for her teammate, you noticed Rachel didn’t even join in the celebrations and thought she could be jealous. Your girlfriend is used to being top dog so on days when she’s not, she finds it hard to take. After the game, you saw her come over to clap the fans but only came halfway before walking off the pitch and down the tunnel. You said congrats to Jordan who was happily carrying around the match ball with the biggest smile on her face, you were so happy for her after making the move from Arsenal. You waited as they took photos with fans until everyone trickled out then walked off with her to find Rachel. Walking down the tunnel chatting about her goals, your girlfriend walked out of the changing room glaring at you both. You said well done to Jordan again as she went to get changed, she’d been called up for the Arnold Clark Cup after being left off but Fran Kirby is injured so they called her. You looked at Rachel with sadness in your eyes, you’ve never seen this look from her before and could not fathom what was wrong. “Do you wanna talk here or in the car?” you asked kindly, knowing it must be something serious. “I’m going on the bus” she said bluntly. “Oh okay, I’ll meet you back at home then?” you asked, questioning why she was now angry at you. “My home, it’s mine!” she snapped. “Rachel what the hell has happened, talk to me” you reached out to her but she stepped back so you couldn’t touch her, “don’t act like you don’t know, hun” she added viciously, folding her arms. You have never seen Rachel like this, you could feel your heart thumping and your anxiety was raising. “Well I’m not doing this here so you can meet me in the car or we’re not doing it at all”.

Racing out to the car park, your heart still thumping and your hands shaking. ‘Deep breaths’, you told yourself trying to break out of what was becoming a panic attack. You hadn’t had one for months, not since meeting Rachel so the fact that this one has been caused by her hurt deeply.

Moving robotically to your car, you tried to compose yourself and prepare for every circumstance that she could possibly be pissed off about. You couldn’t think of a single thing you had done that would upset her which made this whole situation even more bizarre. You see your girl appear from the stadium, with arms still folded and eyebrows furrowed she marched over slamming the car door as she climbed inside. Before she could start, you made sure to get in first.

“First of all, I don’t know who the fuck you think you are but you don’t talk to me like that, nobody talks to me like that. If I have done something to upset you I expect you to talk to me with damn respect, not cuss me out in front of everyone. Whatever is wrong, we can fix it.” you said calmly but forcefully so she knew you could give as good as you get. Rachel sat there in silence just staring towards the stadium, no eye contact, just a face like thunder. You touched her arm but she pulled away which made your heart thump louder as you started to panic again. ‘This is it’, you thought, ‘this is when I lose her’. “Can you please just fucking talk to me, you’re starting to scare me?!” you begged as tears started to bubble out of your eyes. Rachel’s head turned, slanting slightly in a way that meant she felt bad she made you cry. “If you’re gonna break up with me, just do it okay!” you pleaded which finally got a reaction out of her. “Woah, what? No! I’m not breaking up with you!” she suddenly snapped out of her stern posture. “Then what the fuck is this?!” you yelled, determined to pull an answer out of her. “I just saw you with Jordan and started overthinking, do you fancy her?” she said looking out of the window. “What?! Babe, we’re friends! I’m friends with your friends now and she’s with Leah, where has this come from?” you asked completely surprised that of all the things you were thinking could be the problem, this certainly wasn’t one of them! “Well it didn’t stop you with Millie!” she snapped right back into her defensiveness “you encouraged that!” you screamed at her bewildered. “I know, but you fancied her before that didn’t you” she shouted back at you. “Right? But did I act on it until you told me to? Did I say I fancied her until you encouraged it? Did I do anything that wasn’t simply just friendly until you told us to? No.” you stood your ground wondering how long she had been overthinking this.

“You’re not gonna be the only person I fancy for the rest of my life Rach, like I’m not gonna be yours. But we should be strong enough and should trust each other enough not to ruin what we have. I love you more than anything, you know this! I thought I’d be the jealous one, not you! You’re the superstar famous footballer, I’m just little ole me!” Her eyes flickered with sadness as she let her shoulders relax “you’re not just little ole you… you’re everything, my everything. I was just scared that now you’re being recognised everywhere and my friends love you that you might find someone better” she moped. Finally letting you take hold of her hands, “darlin’, I only have eyes for you. I’d marry you tomorrow, I’d marry you every day of my life if I could” you reassured her. Rachel accepted your affirmations and looked down embarrassed at the scene she caused. “Right so that’s what was up after the game, what was wrong during the game? You weren’t yourself” you asked knowing that the Jordan thing was only the tip of this very steep iceberg of problems she had today. “I just kept missing, I want to prove to Sarina that I can be the full time number 9 for England and I missed so many shots, she’ll never put me up front” she slouched into the chair with her head in her hands. “Hey, what happened to the girl that said she’ll play anywhere for her country?” nudging her gently. “I know, I just want to be better. You know I always want to be better” she emphasised, “look, nothing is stopping you from scoring at the back. You, Mill, Luce and Leah are the best defenders out there. There is so many people on that squad that can score, how many strikers can defend like you? Defence is just as important, you know this” you tried to offer words of encouragement. “I know” she said rolling her eyes. “Millie won golden boot last year and she’s not one bit a striker! There’s nothing stopping you this year! Why don’t you make that your aim? A defender scoring is much more impressive than a striker scoring, in my eyes anyway” you winked at her. “My game wasn’t there today and Jordan got a hatrick, I saw you cheering for her every time and got a bit jealous” her jealousy rearing it’s ugly head again. “Babe, I cheered for you too but you scored up the other end” you laughed, “I know, I’m just being silly” she sighed. “So I saw you get off the bus and you were already aggy then, what started all this?” putting a calming hand on her thigh, “I don’t know, I think I’m just tired. When was the last day I had time off? It’s constantly working, training, Villa, England, there’s no break. I’m exhausted” tears started to well up in her eyes. “Well, what can we do about that?” you asked “retire?” she forced a laugh, you raised your eyebrows knowing she didn’t really mean that. “I need a holiday” she admitted, burning the candle at both ends had finally caught up with her. “Well, let’s book one then, you’ve got a few days after the Arnold Clark Cup to go away, let’s just go somewhere to recharge. It finishes in Bristol. I’ll look at a spa hotel or something near by?” she nodded thoughtfully. “Thank you (y/n/n), I’m sorry for being a dickhead”, glancing up from your phone to respond. “Apology accepted but I think you should apologise to Jordan, she always celebrates your goals and you didn’t celebrate with any of your team tonight. It’s pretty selfish, you might be having a shit day but your team were on fire tonight, you should apologise to all of them” you told her candidly. “I know” she said with her head in her hands again, reliving how awful a teammate she’d been today. “Go get on that bus then before it leaves” leaning over her lap to open the door. “Yes ma’am!” she saluted, “meet you back at home?” “Who’s home?” you asked smugly, “ours” she smiled while rolling her eyes again. “I do love you yknow” she said before closing the door “I know” you replied as you watched her run for the bus. You pulled away after they did and followed them back to Birmingham.

Arriving back at home, you got into your PJs and put the TV on waiting for your girl to return home. You had a message from Jordan ‘whatever you said to her, cheers from all of us x’ and sent a picture of the team, Rach included which made you smile ‘any time x’ you replied. You posted the pic on your story with ‘this team is on fire 🔥 So proud of you all 💜’, which some reposted. Rach was leaving for England camp tomorrow so you started packing her bag with stuff you know she’d need. You found out her training kit and gave it an iron and slipped in a handwritten note for her to find ‘go get that boot ;)’ then packed her some snacks and made a playlist for the drive tomorrow. The rest of the players were meeting at SJP tonight but as Rachel and Jordan played late they said they can go tomorrow.

“Is it alright for Jord to jump in with us tomorrow?” she text you.

“you know you don’t need to ask babe 😘” you replied “how long you gonna be?”

“Not long xx” as she added a photo to insta of her and Jordan with the match ball.

Rachel arrived home with flowers and collapsed on top of you on the sofa. “How did it go?” you asked pausing the TV. “Fine, everyone has off days, they said it’s no biggie” she shrugged. “You’re telling me! Did you hear what happened to Tooney today?” you turned your phone screen for her to look at. “Red carded, at least you didn’t do that” you chuckled showing her the video “oh shit! She probably deserved it though, that girl’s a nightmare and Ella isn’t like that” she said taking a closer look at the article. “See, everyone has bad days, even England superstars” you smirked then shared your first kiss of the day. “So that was our first fight was it?” “I’m so sorry, everything was just getting to me and I took it all out on you. I was just overthinking everything and it all got a bit too much” “It’s okay beautiful, but if you’re gonna talk to me like that in the future 1. Don’t. And 2. Do it in private. I hate when someone has a go at me in public, it’s embarrassing and gross, don’t give me the ick again” you were firm and gentle to insure she’d learnt her lesson. “I gave you the ick?!” she asked shocked. “You gave me more than just the ick, I almost had a panic attack! You spoke to me like absolute shit in front of your entire team!” determined to not let her get away with talking to you like that. Rachel apologised again, and again.. and again the pinky promised you it’d never happen again. “I guess I’d rather break up with someone than get dumped. I act like I don’t care but I care so much, like I’ve never ever known anyone like you that makes me feel the way you do. I guess I was just scared you were going to leave” she crawled up onto your chest. “I promise you forever that I won’t. The only way I would is if you cheated or ended it” “same” “well that’s settled then, we’re stuck with each other” pinky promising again. You told her you’ve packed her bags and took her up to bed. She clung to you like a koala, laying on your chest with her legs wrapped around you all night.

When you awoke, Rach was up and ready to go - she’d packed the car, had made you breakfast and was crawling back into bed to eat with you. Wearing her vest and shorts on which she knew you couldn’t resist her in “you wore these on purpose didn’t you” tugging at the threads. “Mayyybe” she smirked knowing you love seeing her muscles, sliding your hand up her top to feel her abs before she left for the week.

There’s no time to get to it now as Jordan will be waiting and as you pulled up she was outside ready with her suitcase in one hand and last night’s match ball in the other. You both chuckled as you rolled along side her, “did you sleep with it?” Rachel asked “yeah, it’s my new pillow” Jord laughed as she climbed into the back of the car. “Thanks for picking me up guys” she said while stuffing her case in the boot. “No probs, I’m glad you’re friends again” you harped “oh nothing silly like that will ruin our friendship, aih Rach” leaning over to pat her friend on the shoulder. Rachel looked shifty like she hadn’t told Jordan the whole truth about thinking there was something going on between you two. You squeezed her knee and she held onto your hand, it didn’t need to be said, it would just make things awkward. “So Jords, are you gonna be dancing with the girls?” you asked her while squeezing the rest of her luggage into the car. “Oh not at all! I’m awful!” expressing her sustain for dancing. “Have you actually watched Rachel’s videos?” you laughed which earned you a to jab your ribs. You asked if she was excited to see the Arsenal lot and she said that’s why she bought the ball - to show it off! You smiled in the rear view at her, honestly couldn’t be happier that the move to Villa was working out for her. Rachel took a photo and sent it to the group chat and then insta ‘on our way to SJP! All four of us!’ drawing a face on the ball.

Pulling up outside the park and helping them get their bags out, you said goodbye to both of them and Rach asked why you weren’t coming in. You said it doesn’t seem right to be at everything and as you’re back down your end, you’re going to see your family. Rach said that she’ll send you tickets to the games for everyone when they get settled. As you hugged goodbye you heard a screech from behind “BEST FRIENDS!!” the voice shouted, knowing it could only be one person you turned around to see Millie running your way, scooping you all into her arms “I’ve missed ya sooo much!” You had a quick chat before waving them off, “you’re not coming in?” Millie asked astonished “no, you guys don’t come to my workplace everyday” you laughed “well you are working from home now so technically we do” Rach tried her luck. “We’ve got an open training session tomorrow” Mills said shoving their schedule in your face and wouldn’t take no for an answer. They told you they’ll send you the deets and you made them promise to make videos as they know it makes you happy. The three of them waved you off as you drove away heading home for the first time in what felt like forever.

[nev3rfound]

option two : b.b

after nightmares continue to haunt his nights, bucky knows there’s one person left who could potentially provide some form of comfort, but is she still willing to see him after all this time? (1.5k)

masterlist / permanent taglist / etsy shop - requests open!

5k giveaway celebration 

warnings: angsty, sad bucky, minor spoilers for ep1 of tfatws  requested: nope, just something i’ve been thinking about since ep1 of tfatws

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website without being credited, it has not been approved to be shared by me. all rights reserved.)

It felt real, as if he were back there holding the gun with no remorse.

Cold sweat covers Bucky’s body as he pants heavily, feeling the cool tags against his exposed chest rising and falling with his deep breaths that refuse to calm down.

He knew it wasn’t real, it was all in his head. But he knew it happened, even if it was many years ago, he still held the gun in his hand and pulled the trigger.

“It’s not real.” Bucky mutters to himself, glancing up to see the TV silently blaring a football game that he has no interest in, but it proves as a worthy distraction for the time being. “It’s not real.”

Remaining seated on the wooden floorboards with a blanket draped over his lap, Bucky glances over to his phone knowing there are two possible options ahead of him.

A sigh ghosts his lips as he stares at the contact list consisting of five names, only one having been used in the last week, well, month.

“James, you’ve got less than ten contacts in this phone and I’m the only person you’ve called all week.” Doctor Raynor sighs once more as she reaches for her notebook, not caring about the look of disdain crossing Bucky’s expression.

“It’s not like I’ve got anyone else to call.” Bucky shrugs it off, hearing her pen pause on the paper.

“Well, you’ve been avoiding messages from Sam for a start,”

“He doesn’t count.” Bucky remarks, hearing another quieter sigh leave her lips.

“Okay, then when was the last time you spoke to her, huh?” She counters, noticing his tense form relax at the mention of you. “Come on, James. If you want to help yourself, you have to keep in touch with those who still care about you.”

“I don’t even know if she does anymore, Doc.” Bucky admits, trying to hold back the sadness in his tone as Raynor closes her notebook.

“You have to try, James.” She reminds him. “Otherwise you’ll never know.”

Swallowing his pride, Bucky presses on the contact and listens as the number rings out. He’s counted the rings endlessly, knowing the hesitation there would be at the other end of the call.

“Hello?” He holds back the desperation clinging to his throat upon hearing someone answer, a loud yawn echoing through the line.

“Bucky?”

“Yeah,” Bucky lowers his head into his metal hand, even if it’s a different arm, it’s still part of the same tormented history. “I, could you come over?” A whisper leaves his lips as silence protrudes. “P,please?”

His ears perk up at the sound of sheets ruffling. “I’ll be there in twenty.”

Before Bucky can say his thanks, the line goes dead and the realisation sinks in; he’s going to see you again.

*

Bucky listens closely, hearing you outside of his apartment. He can hear you knock once softly, and a second time with more confidence.

He knows he should hold back a moment and pretend he hasn’t been hovering beside the front door since you hung up a mere twenty minutes ago, but he can’t help himself.

Unlocking the several locks covering the door, Bucky opens it a sliver, allowing you to slip in.

Keeping your head down, your focus remains on your feet as Bucky closes his front door before turning to you.

“I, I didn’t think you’d come.” Bucky admits quietly, afraid to hear what you have to say in response.

“Well,” You start, now lifting your head up to see him and your sentence falters in your mouth. You can’t deny that he looks worse than you envisioned, even during those late nights and early mornings when he woke up screaming in your arms, he’d never looked so grief-stricken like this.

“Yeah,” Bucky breathes out, following your gaze to his tired eyes, scratches covering his arm from attempting to claw it off in his sleep as sweat still clings to his chest. “it’s not great.”

You scoff under your breath as you follow Bucky through to his small kitchen where he pours you both glasses of water. “That is clearly an understatement.” Accepting the glass, you take the moment to reflect whilst he’s occupied. “How long has this been happening?”

Pausing at the sink, Bucky stares down into his glass of water, remembering the countless nights they attempted to drown him or try shock therapy. And how every time it didn’t work, he remembered it all.

“A while.” He mutters, his grip tightening on the kitchen ledge as his metal hand clenches around the glass, shattering it into the sink.

“James,” You call out, slowly rising from your seat and moving toward him. “I’m right here, you’re here too, alright?”

Standing beside him, you reach out for his hand, easing his grip on the counter until he lets go.

“You’re right here.” You repeat to him as his eyes remain tightly closed, his jaw locked and left hand still clenching the broken glass. “You can let go, Bucky.” The words leave your lips in a whisper as the remainder of the glass drops into the sink, and Bucky turns his body to face yours.

“It wasn’t real,” Bucky tells you weakly. “please tell me it wasn’t real.”

Without thinking twice, you lift your hand to rest it against his cheek and Bucky instantly cradles it with his flesh hand, keeping it in place.

“It wasn’t real, James.” You confidently state as he moves your hand and presses a gentle kiss against it. “Why didn’t you call me sooner?” You sigh as you both remain in the dimly lit kitchen, the only movement from Bucky as he turns the tap off.

“Nothings been the same since Steve,” He can’t help but trail off, knowing he doesn’t have to explain himself around you. “and I just couldn’t face it, not with all that history.”

Stepping backwards, you let your hand slip from his as you lean against the counter, crossing your arms. “But what about the rest of us, Bucky? You just stopped answering, after everything we’ve been through.” You try to keep your voice low, remain calm, but after all this time, it’s difficult to not let your feelings get in the way. “I’ve lost all of you. Sam, Wanda, Peter, Clint, Bruce, Thor and now you too.”

“I’m sorry, doll,” Bucky breathes out. “I never meant to hurt you, I, I’ve been making amends.”

Walking past you, Bucky rummages through his bedside table, revealing the well-worn notebook.

“Was that?” You don’t have to finish your question before Bucky nods, flipping through the pages to a series of names scribbled down.

“These are all the people I wronged or hurt or who were affected by the Winter Soldier.” Bucky explains, holding the book out to you.

He watches closely as your eyes scan over the names, flipping through the pages seeing those crossed out or circled or left untouched. Until you see the last name on the list, yours.

“Y/n, I’m truly sorry for leaving you, for causing you any pain.” Bucky begins to explain as you close the notebook, placing it back on the counter out of sight. “I know I can’t take back what I’ve done, for disappearing for months without warning, but I,” Unable to fight his emotions, Bucky cracks.

You reach out as he curls up to the ground, quiet sobs wracking through his body as you hold him close.

“It’s okay,” You shush him as you fall to a sitting position, Bucky curling his head into your lap once more. “we can talk about this in the morning, okay?”

“You’re not leaving, are you?” Bucky tenses beneath you before sparing you a glance, allowing you to see those blue eyes, the ones you’ve missed falling asleep beside and waking up to, those same blue eyes that hold so much pain you can’t comprehend.

“No,” You whisper, running your fingers through his short hair, missing how the long ends used to feel against your face in the mornings. “I promise, I won’t go.” You lean back against the cabinets as Bucky begins to relax beneath you, his metal arm outstretched whilst his flesh arm remains around your waist, hugging you close.

“This is real, isn’t it?” Bucky sadly asks, looking out toward the dark hallway of his apartment, seeing nothing besides the faint glare of the tv. “I, I’m not dreaming this again am I?”

The thought breaks your heart as you rest your hand on his shoulder, running your fingers along the faint scar that remains etched into his skin.

“It’s real, Bucky.” You tell him, trying to disguise the cry that is lodged in your throat. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Despite your words of comfort, Bucky closes his eyes uneasily, wondering when he’ll wake up from this dream to the painful reality he truly lives in.

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[incorrectsmashbrosquotes]

Well, it looks like Sakura and Galeem are getting along, but who's winning between Dharkon and Elise?

Previously!: The Corrins were partying up a storm in the Smash Mansion when their siblings from Hoshido and Nohr teamed up to "rescue" them! Stopped by Donkey Kong, the youngest of the siblings snuk away only to encounter Galeem and Dharkon. Meanawhile, realizing that Sakura and Elise are missing, the Corrins sober up and team up with their siblings to find their precious beans!

-

*The Corrins and their siblings are tearing apart the mansion looking for Sakura and Elise*

Corrine, yanking open Rathlos' mouth: ELISE?! SAKURA?! ARE YOU IN THERE?!

Corrin: Sis, I don't think that Rathlos ate them.

Corrine: THAT'S JUST WHAT RATHLOS WANTS YOU TO THINK!

*Rathlos knocks Corrine away and into a wall and flys away*

Corrin: Uggh, this is getting us nowhere.

Xander: Alright, let's think about this logically.

Ryoma: My thoughts exactly Prince Xander. Where would two desperate children go looking for their sibling?

Hinoka: Uhh... they'd look in their rooms?

Corrine, rapidly sitting up from the rubble: GENIUS! We need to search the dorms!

Corrin: Oh dear... I sincerly hope she didn't find Bayonetta's.

Takumi: What's so bad about this bitch?

Corrin: Uhh... She and camilla have... similar bedroom tastes.

Camilla: Oooh!

Corrin: Alright! We're going to need to split up for this, there's too many dorms to explore them all as a group. So, let's-

Corrine, grabbing him by the ear: One moment, we have something to discuss.

*Corrine drags Corrin away*

Corrin: OWW! OWW! WHAT IS YOUR-

*Corrine releases him and slams him against a wall*

Corrine: This is our chance! To sew some trust!

Corrin: ...Explain.

Corrine: If we're careful about how we split them up, we might be able to get them to start trusting each other, and blamo! No War!

Corrin: ...It's risky. We'd have to be extremely careful about who we put with who.

Corrine: Heh, leave that to me.

*She releases Corrin and waltzes back to the group.*

Corrine: Alrighty! Here's the scoop. Ryoma? You're gonna work with Camilla and search the Third Floor Dorms.

Ryoma, glancing at Camilla: I... see.

Camilla: Aww, it's okay! *brandishes axe* We'll have so much fun, Prince of Hoshido.

Corrin, face palming: We're doomed.

Corrine: Xander, you'll go with Hinoka. You've got second floor dorms.

Xander: Well... I shall endeavor my hardest!

Hinoka, under her breath: Just gotta wait till his back is turned near an open window...

Xander: We can hear you.

Corrine, nonplussed: And that leaves Leo and Takumi with the First Floor dorms.

Takumi: DIE NOHRIAN SCUM!

Leo: YOU FIRST HOSHIDAN TRASH!

Corrin: *slamming his head against a wall*

Corrine: And me and Corrin will take the basement dorms. And remember, we're doing this for Elise and Sakura. They need us to work together. Can you all do that?

*Reluctant nods all around*

Corrine: Great. Now, let's get going!

-

*The garden is all but destroyed. Dharkon is literally tied into knots and Elise is stamping on his eye*

Elise: SAY YOU'RE SORRY!

Dharkon: NEVER! *Elise slams her boot into his eyes again* OWW! IF KIRBY HADN'T EATEN MOST OF MY POWER YOU'D BE A IMOUTO SHAPED SMEAR ON THE PAVEMENT RIGHT NOW

Galeem: Are you two done playing? Sakura and I have made it through three Parcheesi games.

Sakura: You are a gifted player Galeem-sama.

Galeem: Aw, you're too kind.

Elise: Wait- Corrin! Crap, we completely forgot, we're here to rescue them!

Dharkon: Wait- rescue? You dumb kid, they weren't kidnapped! they ran away to here.

Elise, stomping on Dharkon's eye again: Shut up! They wouldn't abandon us like that!

Sakura: W- wh- why would they l-leave us?

Galeem: Probably because they didn't want to decide which set of siblings they wanted to murder.

Elise: But- but they love us!

Galeem: That's why they're here. They're delaying the inevitable. They don't want to lose any of you, and so they ran away.

*The girls are silent for a moment, looking frightened and guilty*

Dharkon: Aw... come one. Don't look like that. *Sakura starts to sniffle and Elise follows suit* Hey, l- look. Untie me and we'll take you to someone who's certain to know where they are!

Galeem: Who- oh. Him.

Elise, still sniffling: Y- you mean it?

Dharkon: Yeah! I- I even apologize for what I said earlier.

Elise: Well... okay. *She unties Dharkon*

Sakura: Who are we going to see, Galeem-sama?

Galeem: Uggh... a certain skeleton who can't stop making puns.

-

*At the front gate, DK has left to join the party and his post is now being manned by Chunky Kong. Chunky is minding his own business when a certain someone comes up to their door*

Chunky: Hey, no ticket no entrance.

Azura: Please, I need to get in there! I need to warn my siblings!

Chunky: Dire warnings are only accepted between 9 AM to 9 PM.

Azura: Please! They need to know what's coming!

-

*Somewhere...*

???: So, my little pawns think they can just run off, and then the rest of them think they can follow? Well soon they shall learn the cost of defying our will.

*he steps into the light*

Garon: The cost of defying the Will of Garon, and-

*The lights come up revealing Iago, Validar, Gharnef and Nemesis*

Garon: The will of the Dark Dragon League!

Validar: you're still salty about Ganondorf not inviting you into the League of Villains?

Garon: SHUT UP! NO I'M NOT!

[ana-maa]

Could you please do number 12 with Kirby Dach? X

12. “I have an extra ticket… Would you like to go with me?”

word count: 637

a/n: Fun fact, this was actually the first request I ever got and also the first blurb I ever written. I just never felt that it was good enough to post. Once again, thank you to all of you who sent in requests, you guys makes it possible for me to do something I really like <3

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You park your way too old car outside the apartment building. The rain is pouring outside and you wonder if you should walk as fast as you can to get inside or if you should stay in the car till the weather calms down.

You take a look in the rear-view mirror and see all the bags with freshly bought groceries. Why did you always buy so much food? It's like you forget that your best friend Maya doesn't live with you anymore.

You come up with the conclusion that you can't sit here forever, who knows when the weather will clear up. You take the groceries with you and basically run to get into the apartment.

Unlocking the door, you feel like you finally can breathe when you’re standing in the hallway to your quiet apartment. It used to be so different here, always two girls who were way too loud no matter what time of the day it was.

One day your best friend decided to move in with her boyfriend of two-year. You couldn't exactly be mad at her for having a love life just because you didn't have one. You could still miss the way it used to be, which you in fact did everyday.

One thing was actually different in the apartment compared to when you left earlier. A pair of shoes you know you don’t own are standing in the corner of the hallway and you know exactly who those pairs of Nikes belong to.

You walk into the living room and there he is, the person you have known since the first day you moved to Chicago, sitting on the sofa with his phone up in his face.

"Kirby, what are you doing here?"

“Adam ditched me.” He says and puts his phone away.

“Okay, what do you want me to do about that?”

“Pay attention to me.”

“Yeah maybe after I’m done unpacking all the groceries.”

You walk back to the hallway to pick up all the groceries and carry them into the kitchen. Placing all the bags on the kitchen counter you hear how Kirby comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. 

“I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too Kirbs but I really need to deal with the groceries now.”

You hear how he sighs as you start taking out the groceries from all the bags. You look up at him and give him a smile as his facial expression changes.

“Are you alright? Why do you look...nervous?”

“I actually got here because I wanted to ask you something. You know the new movie you wanted to see?”

“The conjuring?”

He nods his head. “What about it?” You say confused as to why he’s acting strange because of the movie.

“I have an extra ticket… Would you like to go with me?”

“Sure. That’ll be fun!”

“As a date?”

You put the groceries in your hands down on the counter as you close the fridge. You try to see in Kirby’s face if he’s serious or not. You guys have been friends for over one and a half years and he’s never asked you on a date before.

Of course you’ve been thinking of Kirby in more than a friendly way sometimes but you never let yourself catch feelings for him. You never thought he would be thinking the same way too. 

”Yeah sure.”

“Really?”

“Yes Kirby, I would love to go to the movies as your date.”

Kirby once again wraps his arms around you as he places a kiss on your forehead. When you stand there in his arms is also when you realize that Kirby doesn't even like horror movies. It puts a smile on your face, seems like you will be the one enjoying the night a bit extra.  

[lovely-necromancy]

A Cure for Insomnia CH.7

DISCLAIMER: Anything said about the Warrens in this work of fiction is not fact and more of an opinion. Not a skeptic just not a fan of their protocols and practices. I am not accusing the Warrens of anything in this work nor am I stating to know what actually happened in any of their cases. If you want to form your own opinion the podcast And That's Why We Drink has done multiple segments on their case files and given multiple reasoning for certain aspect of the cases.

If you didn't care that's fine I'm just trying not to get a defamation case.

Finding yourself lost to the humdrum of another by gone weekend and in the midst of a dull Monday morning is where most people start praying for some excitement. But when the excitement is debating the possibility of a stalker, you'd gladly take another lack luster week than deal with this bullshit.

And debating the possibility is the wrong thing to say. It's more accurate to say you've been contemplating what the proper steps to take in this situation are. Going to the police, or rather the Sheriff, is out because of how fucking useless they are when there's not a suspect present or Blue's Clue style trails for them to follow like breadcrumbs.

While David's surprising reappearance does stick out, you have no evidence to pin this to him. Then with all your knowledge on true crime and the likely hood of suspects it tends to be the first one who you've encountered in the stories. And that would point to Tim since you met him right before these shenanigans started but you were with him last night at the mini mart and even lost those fifty minutes together. So, there's no possible way Tim broke into your home and placed a book on your coffee table.

Then there's the issue of the book. You noticed it missing instantly because Toby had taken something from its shelf that you then went to put back. But it gets placed on your coffee table after you left, but not after you left the first time to take Toby home. Which was before you'd even notice the book gone. They were watching you, and knew you saw the book missing. You had to figure out how they were watching you. In case it was cameras you had changed in the dark of your closet today. And thankfully you've had practice showering in the dark before.

You really need more proof that you are being stalked and soon. The sooner you get that the sooner you can involve Big Jo. You'd thought on this all of yesterday on what you'd do and who you'd ask for help and the Cowells seem like your best bet in terms of stopping the stalker. Though that's only after you have proof. While Big Jo will help you out in a heartbeat you know it's more of a save his own skin down the line type of help and not out of the kindness of his heart, without proof he'd only humor you for a little bit. Not to mention if the stalker knows you're on to them at this point they could stop making it obvious, they'd get stricter with themselves, leave less evidence of their presence behind. Meaning it'd take longer to to get proof to catch them and even longer for you to feel comfortable.

Which is why you shoved away the idea of couch surfing until this blows over. If they were watching you at your house what would stop them from following you somewhere else. And if that happened and your friends got targeted or hurt you don't know how you'd live with yourself knowing you brought that to them. Or the other alternative of the stalker psychologically fucking with you and making you look crazy to your support system in this town before ultimately taking you down.

An even bigger reason as to why you suspect David. He'd been the first to start talking about Bambi's “wanderlust” before she disappeared. She'd laugh it off when people commented on it, but never really made mention of wanting to leave. He got it into everyone's heads that she wanted to get out of Kepler. To travel yeah, but she loved this town, she said it was home, she'd never leave without saying something.

When you came into town she'd been your first friend in years. You'll be the first to admit that you latched on to her but she quickly got you out making more friends with the residents. And even when you started hanging out with Hollis, Jake, and Kirby off planning events and deep diving for obscure movies for Saturday Night Dead she'd still talk with you everyday while she worked.

You really miss her.

Even if it wasn't David behind this, if this stalker was the person behind whatever happened to Bambi, you'd catch them. Not for peace of mind but so she'd have justice. It's what she deserves.

“uugggggggggh” you're pulling out your hair as you lay face down on the counter.

“I've never read The Book Thief but I didn't think it was supposed to be a frustrating book.” Nate says as he stops his dusting of the shelves.

You'd been “reading” the book your stalker left for you to find. Hoping you'd find a clue somewhere within it's pages to point to a suspect. But you've combed every page and not even the slightest mark had been left.

“Sorry I...I just have a lot of thoughts right now.” You say looking up through your arms that are now draped over your head.

“Want to talk?”

“Not now.”

The concern and uncertainty behind his gray eyes gives away his skepticism.

“Well, I'm here if you need.” a gentle reminder.

“I know and I appreciate it!”

Nate returns to his cleaning, sometimes it's like he was programmed to be productive. Most times actually. And you turn back to your book, having found no clues you decide to actually read through it. After all it is one of your favorites and maybe it will serve as a distraction from this whole mess. Help you calm down some.

An hour into your reading you're so engrossed in the story you hardly notice when the bell rings signaling the entry of a customer. If it wasn't for Nate calling out you'd have missed them completely.

“Hey welcome to Book & Nook.” the sound of his voice bombing through the quiet store front, startling you.

You look up at the right moment to catch sight of a furry black and brown rear going down an isle. Connor! Oh wait don't get too excited he has to be on duty to be here.

Now knowing that Brian has a need for the service dog too, you decide to wait and see who has Connor today. If it's Toby you could have a nice chat but if it's Brian you could be polite. Maybe thank him for helping with your episode the other night. Discretely of course, Nate would worry if he knew you had a panic attack. He'd probably assume it was due to the stress of the previous week and might force you to take some time to yourself. And that's the last thing you'd need if you were being stalked.

You really need to come up with an action plan. Keeping in mind that the stalker may not leave clues or escalate for a while it's probably best if you start getting active around town. Planting your roots deep and saying “hey I'm not going anywhere willingly”, but like subtly, y'know. Maybe start making habits about obsessively getting receipts even for packs of gum so if the last person who sees you is a cashier maybe they'd remember the strange interaction and might be able to help police find your body quicker.

God why does this all have to be so frustrating? And why you? Who stalks the mentally ill person who does nothing put listen to horror podcast and watch paranormal and true crime shows? Do they want to be harmed? Do they want to get caught. Oh for fuck's sake, that's another rabbit hole of possibilities.

You could've ignored the chime of the bell, but you most certainly couldn't ignore the boisterous voice that rang through the store. A welcomed distraction from your current mental struggle.

“What's up bros and non binary hoes?” Jake walks through the store like he owns the place, carrying a picnic basket over to the counter. As much of a Chad move it is Jake's a really nice guy he just has too much natural swagger in everything he does. It's probably the snow boarding showman in him.

“Jakey!” A very much welcomed distraction. Jake can always cheer you up with his “rad” antics and laissez faire attitude.

“What are you doing here?” while some of the stunt crew occasionally comes in for a book or to chat with you during your shift. Jake's never been one of them. You want to make the joke that the guy never learned to read but you've seen him actually read the manual that came with the new heater they got installed at the lodge. More of a practical reader than a for funsies reader.

“Sup YN, came to show you the picnic set ups that got in.” he places the basket on the counter and his hands give a jazzy effect for emphasis. What a dork.

“You missed the reveal at Saturday Night Dead, so I thought I'd stop by and let you see the final product before we finalize everything next week. After all 'Pride Picnic' was your idea, makes since that you should get the final say.”

With all the excitement of the past week you'd forgotten that it was already June. And you all had been planning a picnic for pride instead of a parade this year. So, and to quote yourself here, “Even the quiet queers can celebrate.” You guys had been planning this practically since you met. Seeing as you'd pretty much solidified a spot in Kepler's LGBTQIA+ community and planning committee. Really it was just the usual suspects for Saturday Night Dead; The Hornets, Hollis, Jake, and Kirby. But The Hornets, Hollis, and Jake were the extroverted types so when you mentioned a picnic to include the introverts or even the closeted of the community Kirby jumped at the idea before they could argue. Which they hadn't, everyone had been psyched for a change of event and for something that was more of a big block party than a traffic jam for the small town.

“Well?” you ask with anticipation nearly killing you.

Jake can't help his excited huffed laughter, kind of sounds like the 'boof' of a dog. And in one grand motion he opens the wicker basket revealing the lovely Pride set. It was a typical eight person set including stackable cups, forks, spoons, knives, flatware, and even bowls. One of item of each was assigned a color, going through the rainbow from pink all the way down to violet. It'd been a bit of a battle for Hollis to get the manufacturer to include pink and violet for some reason but they'd managed to persuade them enough. Probably pulled the influencer card and the company's marketing team caved instantly. But it got done, so yay to sell outs. One thing that'd been unanimously agreed on was having the modern flag incorporated. Which when you pulled out the thick durable blanket, was a vision that you couldn't have ever dreamed up. It wasn't a flimsy cover that was so thin that you could see through, but it wasn't the rough texture that most thicker blankets tend to have. And it was ginormous. But then again the basket was supposed to fit eight people per. Meaning the blankets would have to be eight person as well.

“Dude it's perfect.” you really didn't need to say anything, Jake could see your excitement from the stimming sway you were currently doing. But you took no notice of your stim as you stared in aww at the basket before you.

“Are non committee members allowed to see?” Why even ask when you're already craning your neck for a peak.

You and Jake share a look before rolling your eyes and waving Nate on over to inspect the Pride Picnic box.

“Woah you guys did great on this.” Nate says as he undoes the wrap around the cups to give one a tap. When it gives the tap tap that only ceramics make he nods in approval at the quality.

“Hollis was the lesion with the manufacturer so it was in our favor from the start.” Jake responds, not only were these baskets ordered at a heavily discounted rate due to bulk buying but add on the influencer discount and yea it pays to be an extreme sports streamer. So the man was allowed to be proud of his partner.

“Blankets don't leave a lot of room for food though.” you note with a pout.

“Yea we noticed that Saturday too,” you may have been pouting but Jake looks like a whole kicked puppy. “But we have an idea for that...at least for the picnic.” wow human labradors bounce back fast.

“Everyone brainstormed and we thought doing like a potluck style picnic for sides and deserts, then Barclay said he'd take care of main dishes.” That did sound like a good idea but with the turn out you were expecting you weren't sure. Especially with the time frame being two weeks. It's such short notice.

“Jakey, we're talking like block party amount of people, maybe like half the town max here...won't that be too much for him?” He'd already donated so much for you to even be able to order all these baskets since this wasn't a city sanctioned event. Sure everyone in the committee chipped in for a basket each or in some cases splitting one, but the majority of funds came from Barclay even if he said it'd be a donation from the lodge to add catering to his plate it was all too much.

“He'll be fine, he offered. And you haven't seen the lodge in the winter. Barc's used to it.” despite his confidence in the mountain of a cook, you think you'd stop by the lodge this week and offer a hand.

Nate and Jake get side tracked on discussing the details of the picnic while you struggle to fold the huge blanket. Having to step outside of the counter to get better leverage. When two large hands come from either side of the blanket and stretch it more. Jumping back from the blanket like it burned you. Amused hazel eyes meet yours as the blanket lowers until you can make out Brian's grinning face, your pretty sure that's the most genuine look he's had.

“Sorry, looked like you needed some help.” he's still grinning and while it isn't mean spirited, the lack of any sheepishness let's you know he's not really sorry. He'd been trying to at least give you a little scare, the fuck boy.

“Hey...ya thanks.” you say making to grab the bottom of the blanket and lift it up.

The two of you fold the blanket back up in no time with a weird synchronization for two people who never said a word. You just followed his lead and in no time the blanket was placed on the counter by Brian. Nate and Jake lost in conversation on the other side of the store, from what you can hear Nate's telling Jake about the faucet in the backroom that won't stop leaking and Jake offered to help.

“Mind if I have a look?” cocking his head towards the basket.

“Oh go ahead.” You don't see any harm in letting him have a look, if he was a homophobic dick who'd trash the box it wouldn't make sense that he gave you a ride. Or help you fold a pride flag picnic blanket up.

Thinking back on it he knew a proper gender neutral substitute. Even if he wasn't an ally in the sense of actively participating with the queer community he was in the sense of his awareness and knowledge. You've already extended an offer to Tim maybe Brian would appreciate one too.

“We'll be having a Pride Picnic this year in place of a Parade. Anyone for it is welcome to come.”

“Yea I think I heard talk of a potluck, right?”

“mmhmm” just as you go to nod your tic kicks in and your neck snaps left then right, “Barclay, he runs the Amnesty Lodge, he'll be cooking the main dishes. From what I hear we'll have most dietary restrictions covered.” Brian's brow furrows a bit as he tilts his head to look at you, before he straightens it back.

“That's right you haven't been here long.” he says it stoically and more to himself.

A comment like that should send your mind racing with thoughts of you stalker, but Toby could've just as easily mentioned it. Brian seems lost in thought after this and you take the time to look elsewhere, and see Connor who's sitting at Brian's side staring up at him.

Mindlessly you start to push your thumb into your palm with the other fingers on that hand rhythmically. Brian has Connor, and Toby said it was for seizures. Is it rude to ask how he's doing right now? You two have only spoken once, sure he helped get you to work and home but you'd argue that Toby did most of the work in both those cases. Not to mention you'd had breakfast with Toby and got to actually have a conversation and learn about him. You'd maybe said seven sentences to Brian since meeting him. It would definitely be weird to ask if he was ok.

“You ok there su- YN?” you note he did correct himself from calling you 'sugar'.

Shaking yourself out of your thoughts you look up confused at him.

“Uh...yea why?”

“Your hand.”

Looking to see what he's talking about you see you've just been pressing your thumb into your palm fingers dancing along in a rhythm you've long since forgotten the origin of. Cracking you thumb a few times and flexing your fingers you look back to Brian.

“Sorry just thinking, that happens sometimes.” you interrupt the silence before it has a chance to settle, “So...yea...everyone's welcome to the Picnic. Dogs too on or off duty. It's next Sunday just show up to Amnesty Lodge at like ten thirty in the morning and then everyone's hiking on over to the Archway. It's a great clearing and big enough to hold everyone.”

“I'll talk ta the boys 'n see what they think.”

“Ok cool cool, and when I said next Sunday I did mean next Sunday,”

“And not this one, gotcha.” You give him a smile which he returns.

Maybe this fuck boy look a like wasn't so bad...or he was just used to Toby's masked expressions. Still too soon to tell, he might still turn out to be a fuck boy in personality too.

“Do I check out here or...” you've only just noticed the four books on the counter.

“Oh yeah sure thing.”

Once you're behind the counter you have a clear view of the books that Brian's brought over Ghost an American History of Haunted Locations, Bell Dame, Deer from Hunt to Table, and lastly the first book in the Magnus Chase series. Odd collection but you yourself would read three out of four of them so you really can't say much.

“Oh have you read Percy Jackson or the Kane Chronicles?” making small talk isn't your strong suit but if you can find a fellow Riordan fan you'll make the attempt.

“What? Oh, oh nah, these are for Toby. He's working right now but wanted me to pick some new books up for him.” you make a note to try to talk to Toby about the series in the future. If he is a Riordan fan you can't wait for him to get to the Trials of Apollo series. “But 'e's read Percy Jackson, so is this next?”

This man has no idea the can of worms he just unleashed upon himself.

“No. Now has he read just the Percy Jackson series, or has he also read The Heroes of Olympus books?” He stares blankly at you.

“He's read whatever Percy Jackson was in the title of.”

“Ok, c'mon.” swiping Magnus Chase from the counter you make your way to the fiction YA section. Placing the book on the empty spot it came from you glance the shelves before finding The Lost Hero.

“This would be next, there are five in this series,” you pass the book off to Brian so you can point back to the shelf, “Then he'll have the Kane Chronicles, Magnus Chase, and Trials of Apollo series to look forward to. Book counts in each are three, three, and five.”

“So....Heroes of Olympus,” you nod at his pause, “five books in the series, Kane Chronicles three, Magnus Chase three, and Trials of Apollo five. Got it.”

“If you need help grabbing the next title just get me I've got it memorized from how obsessed with the Riordaverse I am.”

“Big reader?” he asks with a smirk.

“Not at all, just a found a good writer. Toby would probably like Neil Gaiman's work too. Maybe Diana Wynne Jones.”

“I've tried to get 'im to read American Gods but he just won't have it.” well this is awkward.

“I was thinking more Good Omens and Coraline.” Yea so this is a silence. Best make haste. To the counter!

Checking Brian out for the proper next book in the series, plus those other three, you forego the attempt at small talk. However, this is Kepler and you live in the radio quiet zone...the dial up internet doesn't make this a fast check out on your electronic register.

You remember two of the other books had been paranormal, might be worth a shot to bring up Saturday Night Dead in an attempt to stall for the register.

“Did Tim let you guys know about Saturday Night Dead over at the Cryptonomica?”

“Yea, somethin' bout cheesy horror movies right?”

“mmhmm, normally they're the good kind of bad but this week kick starts months of horribly awful kind.” the computer has finally loaded.

“Jeez YN do you want people to come to the show or not.” Jake's laughing so he can't be angry that you're insulting the upcoming movie list.

Scanning the books through you don't look up when you state, “I just have the personal opinion that you shouldn't prey upon low income families and sell their nightmares for profit then run.” you do look up after bagging the books to say, “Allegedly. And your total's thrity-five o'seven.”

“What's the movie?” Brian inserts his card into the chip reader.

“Insidious.” you and Jake said it at the same time, but in two totally different tones.

“Not a fan huh?” smirking bastard, he is a fuck boy you decide.

“The movie's fine, the case file and the people who inspired it are not.”

Brian's removed his card and opens his mouth, probably to egg you on even more when Jake throws in his two cents.

“Yeah yeah YN. Hollis told me all about the powerpoint. How 'bout we save this rage for Saturday. It's only a couple weeks.”

“Jake....there are at least 10 Amityville movies.” That shakes his mood.

“...what?”

“There are three Annebelles, Conjuring, and Insidious movies. Don't forget The Nun, La Llorona, The Haunting in Connecticut, and by the time we finish all those, there could be another Nun movie or The Crooked Man will have come out.” it's so matter of fact and you dare any of them to challenge you on this. Sad thing is you aren't even sure if those make up all the case file movies. But you do know it's a majority of them.

“For someone who hates these people, you sure know their movies.” Nate calls from his stool as he resumes dusting. God damn him and his uncle ways.

“Nah I get it, lay all the facts out so it's easier to see the lies and deceptions.” Brian supplies the other two men. Reaching out for his receipt he smiles down at you...a bit more genuine you note. Like the one you saw earlier. You are on a roll with this guy.

Like a Vespa it hits you. The reason Brian seems so familiar and so frustrating. The reason he gets under your skin with just a look. You should have caught on sooner but you'd paid so much attention, or not enough attention, to everything around you both. Looking at his face you hand him the receipt. It isn't real. He isn't really him. He'd been lying. No not lying, acting.

Just as he crosses the threshold you call out, “Your mask is really fucking irritating!”

Through the windows you see him pause as your words catch up with him, and you watch as he turns to make eye contact with you. He smiles again, and it's a nasty thing. A twisted smile mixed with...not ill intent but definitely not a friendly grin. His hazel eyes have a lively gleam in them. And you understand what that smile means.

The game is so on. Fuck boy.

[tessisawriter]

No More Secrets (Kirby Dach ft. Jonathan Toews)

Request: Kirby Dach imagine you are Jonathan Toews’ little sister and he catches them kissing

Updated A/N: This was written almost two years before the revelations about the Blackhawks organization came to light and Jonathan Toews’ disgraceful response to them. I stand with the survivors and will never write about any player on that team again.

Warnings: Swearing, angst

Word Count: 2.4k

You knocked on the Seabrook’s front door and waited, wrapping your arms around yourself due to the cold gusts of wind.

Fortunately, your wait outside was short and Brent’s wife, Dayna, opened the door. “Y/N, thank God you’re here. Kirby’s dying to see you and he’s been driving me nuts. Come on in!”

You rushed inside the house and Dayna closed the door behind her.

“Thanks, Dayna.” You hugged her, took off your heavy winter coat, scarf, and hat, and hung them in the front closet. While you were unlacing your snow boots, you asked, “Johnny isn’t here by any chance, is he? He wasn’t home when I woke up this morning and didn’t leave a note.”

“No, he’s out with Brent and the kids. Carter had the day off from school today and wanted to go to the Children’s Museum before the game.”

“Ah, I figured he was with someone from the team. The museum shouldn’t be too crowded today.” You paused for a few moments before adding: “So they won’t be back for a few hours, right?”

“If the ‘they’ you’re referring to is your brother, he won’t be here at all today. But you’ve got to tell him sooner rather than later, Y/N. He’ll be pissed if he doesn’t hear it from you.”

“I know, I’ve been telling Kirby there’s nothing to worry about, but he’s terrified—”

“Am not.” You and Dayna turned around to find your boyfriend of four and a half months, Kirby Dach, leaning against the doorframe that led to the living room, his arms crossed.

“Are too,” you shot back at him. “I don’t know what the big deal is. He knew when I transferred to Northwestern, I’d be interacting with his teammates, so he had to have realized something like this was a possibility.”

“Believe me, Y/N, I’m tired of hiding our relationship from everyone, too. I love you and want the world to know it,” Kirby said as he moved to stand in front of you, “but your brother isn’t just anyone: he’s Jonathan freaking Toews!”

You opened your mouth to say something, but Dayna put a hand on each of your shoulders and said, “All right, that’s enough. Let’s have a rational conversation about this in the kitchen. You’re not going to get anywhere through confrontation.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” You sighed, relieved that she had stopped you from saying something you’d regret later.

The two of you followed Dayna into the kitchen. You felt better knowing she was going to help you figure out a way to break the news to Jonathan about you and Kirby. When Jonathan was a rookie, he lived with Brent and Dayna, so they became a part of your family, and since Kirby was a rookie and living with them, too, they knew about your relationship almost right away. They promised to keep your secret, but Brent didn’t want to get involved beyond that. Dayna made no such promises, though: she knew your brother like the back of her hand, and she also understood the dynamics of your relationship with him.

Having two brothers 12 and 10 years older than you was tough enough in the best of circumstances. Your birth had been a complete surprise, as everyone assumed that your parents were done having kids after David. Neither brother was around for your earlier childhood, but David stopped playing hockey when you were 12. Jonathan was a superstar, so he missed it all. During the past four or five summers, though, he came back home and the two of you became close.

When it was time for college, you chose UND like your brothers, but it just wasn’t a fit, so you transferred to Northwestern for your sophomore year and moved in with Jonathan. Since he missed out on all but the first three years of your life, Jonathan was even more overprotective than the normal older brother, but he also wanted to see you happy.

As soon as you sat down at the table, Kirby sat in the chair next to you and grabbed your hand, interlacing your fingers. You looked up into his steel blue eyes and saw nothing but love and adoration. You gave him a small smile and squeezed his hand in return.

“Okay, so here’s what we’re going to do.” Dayna said as she pulled out a chair across from you at the table and sat down. “The boys are leaving for a long road trip tomorrow, so you’ve got to tell him after tonight’s game, no matter the result.”

Kirby groaned. “But what if we lose? Johnny earned the nickname ‘Captain Serious’ for a reason.”

Dayna raised an eyebrow. “Kirby, you’re like a second son to me now, so don’t take offense when I tell you that you’ve got to stop being such a wimp.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle. This was why you and Dayna got along so well: you didn’t tolerate bullshit.

Kirby glared at you, but you shrugged. “Sorry, babe, but she’s right. If Johnny senses your fear, he’ll be 10 times worse. You’ve got to look him in the eye and tell it like it is.”

“And while you can say you understand if he’s upset, you’ve got to be unapologetic about you and Y/N,” Dayna added. “He cares more about her than anyone else in the world, and if he sees how happy you make her like Brent and I have, then he’ll back off.”

“Wait a second, are you not taking any part in telling him?” Kirby asked you.

“Of course I will, but he’s going to want to hear a lot more from you. You are dating his only sister, after all.” You nudged him.

“And I am head over heels in love with her.” Kirby leaned in and kissed you on the lips, but Dayna clapped her hands before it could go very far.

“You’re so cute, but we’ve got to focus here!” she admonished, and Kirby pulled away, blushing furiously. “Okay, so here’s the plan: after the game, Y/N and I will come down and wait outside the locker room. Jonathan’s generally tied up in interviews and the last to leave, so Kirby, you’ll wait with us for him.”

“What about Brent?” you asked. “I don’t want to put him in an awkward position.”

“He’ll wait with us, too, unless he wants to hide in the car.” You knew from the way she said it that Brent would be in a lot of trouble if he chose the latter option.

“All right, sounds like a plan. Now that we’ve got our marching orders, I have a surprise for you, Y/N,” Kirby said before getting up and leaving the kitchen.

You looked at Dayna, who put her hands in the air. “I swear, I have no idea what he’s talking about.”

“Are you sure about that?” You eyed her.

“Yes.” You could tell she meant it, so you dropped it and waited for Kirby to come back, which he did, this time with a bag in tow.

Kirby held out the bag and you took it. “Open it,” he said.

You began pulling the tissue paper out the bag and the moment you saw the red fabric, you knew what it was. You grabbed the Blackhawks home jersey and held it out in front of you. Instead of your last name and your brother’s number 19 on the back, “Dach” was on the nameplate, accompanied by the number 77.

You looked up at your boyfriend. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. I wasn’t kidding when I said I wanted the world to know about us, Y/N.”

Without a word, you sprang up out of your seat and tackled your boyfriend in a massive hug. He pulled you in even closer and kissed the top of your head.

“He’s right for once,” Dayna said once the moment was over. “You might as well go all out and wear the jersey. I’ve known you since you were nine years old and never thought I’d say this, but welcome to the girl’s club, honey.”

“Thanks, Dayna, love you.” You hugged the woman who had been like an older sister figure throughout the years.

“I love you, too, kid.”

The moment was interrupted by the sound of kids running through the front door and Brent walking into the kitchen. He took one look at the jersey and said: “You’re telling him tonight, aren’t you?”

Before you could respond, Dayna replied, “They are, and I’m helping them do it.”

His eyes widened but he quickly schooled his face to a neutral expression and said, “Okay, honey.”

Kirby leaned down and whispered in your ear, “Do you want to take my pre-game nap with me?”

“Yeah, the cold weather’s been so draining.”

Kirby grabbed your hand and led you out of the kitchen, and you thought you were in the clear until you heard Brent yell, “No funny business down there, you hear me?”

You groaned. “It’s just a nap, Brent. I’m tired, too!”

Brent said something else, but you couldn’t hear him from the stairs, so you and Kirby ignored him and went down to the basement, where the two of you were out like lights within five minutes.

***************

You fiddled with the hem of your boyfriend’s jersey as you, Dayna, and Brent waited for Kirby and Jonathan to come out. Despite fighting hard against the Bruins, the refs disallowed one of their goals and they lost in overtime. Brent had told you Jonathan was furious and advised you to tell him the next day, but you thought it was best to get it over with, and Dayna took your side. Your other concern was that Kirby would come out after your brother because he had an assist tonight, but at least one thing went right tonight: you saw Kirby walk out of the locker room, a forlorn expression on his face.

“You played so well tonight, babe,” you said as you pulled him in for a hug.

“No, I didn’t.” His speech was muffled because his face was buried in the crook of your neck.

“You had an assist.”

“But I was a -1,” he replied immediately.

You sighed, pulling away to place your hands on his shoulders. His hands remained on your hips. “Look at me, Kirby. Not every night is going to be perfect, especially as a rookie, and you won’t win every game, either, but you fought hard, right?” He nodded. “Then you have nothing to be ashamed of.”

A small smile appeared on your boyfriend’s face. “Thanks, babe. You know exactly how to make me feel better.”

“No thanks necessary.”

“I disagree.” Kirby leaned down and connected your lips in a passionate kiss. You were so lost in him that only Dayna jabbing you on the shoulder with her finger brought you back to reality. You looked up and saw your brother standing there, his mouth wide open. Kirby looked horrified.

“Close your mouth, you’ll catch flies,” you chirped.

Kirby gasped. Jonathan’s eyes bulged out of his head, but he closed his mouth. You could see the wheels turning in your brother’s mind, so it didn’t surprise you that it took him a few moments to say something.

“What the actual fuck?” Jonathan’s eyes darted back and forth between you and Kirby multiple times, but you knew the question was directed at you, not Kirby.

For once in your life, you were at a loss for words. “Johnny, I…I…”

“Y/N and I are dating,” Kirby took over. “I know you’re mad, but I promise I’ll take care of her. I love her so much, Johnny.”

You stared at him in shock, and so did your brother. “How long?”

“Four months.”

“You’ve been keeping this from me for four months? And I don’t want an answer from you, Kirby,” he said, seeing your boyfriend opening his mouth to reply, “It has to be from Y/N.”

Jonathan looked genuinely hurt, and it made you want to hurl. Instead, you straightened your shoulders and replied: “I wanted to make sure it was going to last before I said anything. I never meant to hurt you, Johnny, and I’m sorry for that, but I love Kirby.”

He stared at you for a moment and looked at Dayna and Brent. “I’m assuming you knew?”

“Not right away, but we figured it out eventually,” Dayna replied. “We didn’t want to keep it from you, especially Brent,” Brent nodded vigorously when she said that, “but they’re so happy together and I agreed that it was best to see how things went before they told you and got this kind of reaction from you.”

Jonathan took a deep breath and locked eyes with you. “Does he make you happy?”

“Unbelievably so.”

“Well, then, you’ve got my blessing. Come here.” Jonathan walked towards you and swept you up in a hug. “I love you, Y/N, and I just want what’s best for you,” he whispered.

“I know, and I love you, too, big bro,” you replied, kissing his cheek before he put you down.

“It was you,” Jonathan addressed Kirby this time. “Y/N’s been so much happier in the past few months, and I didn’t know why until now. I'm grateful, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna go easy on you. If you ever hurt her, your sorry ass will end up in the ER. And you won’t be taking her out on a school night again unless I say it’s okay. Are we clear?”

“Crystal.”

Jonathan reached his hand out to Kirby, and they shook hands as you, Dayna, and Brent looked on. You couldn’t stop smiling.

“All right, little miss sunshine, let’s go home. I’m too tired to drive.”

“You got it,” you said before turning to address Kirby. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“You know it.” Kirby leaned in to kiss you, but after your brother started coughing to make his presence known, he settled for your cheek, which still managed to make you blush.

“Refrain from the PDA in front of me, please,” Jonathan gagged, “and you have to wear my jersey every other game.” You were wondering when he was going to notice the jersey.

“Fine. You’re such a drama queen, but I love you, anyway.” You drifted back over to your brother and threw your arm around his shoulder.

Jonathan ruffled your hair and wrapped his arm around you. “And I you. But no more secrets, okay?”

“No more secrets, I promise,” you said, and the two of you walked to Jonathan’s car in the parking garage.

[thiswasinevitableid]

A New Era of Gods and Monsters (Indruck)

Prompt for the 21st was: Monster Movie. Behold my old hollywood AU, featuring a title from the Bride of Frankenstein and a universe in which Transphobia doesn’t exist by the Hayes Code does. It is NSFW

February 20th, 1935.

Tinsel Town is abuzz with news that promising young director Joseph Stern is starting work on a new horror picture. The latest announcements from Kepler Studios state that it will rival the director's previous smash monster chiller “Nightmare Woods.” No news as of yet as to who will star, and who may be donning greasepaint and false fangs to play the creature. Only time will tell, but we look forward to whatever terrifying delights he has in store. Assuming, of course, that he does not run afoul of the censors. 

“Homoeroticism!” Stern tosses the warning from the Hayes office onto his desk, “that's what they sent me a warning about Ned! There wasn't even any in the picture.” 

“You know how these modesty police are, dear boy; they see depravity where there is none yet are so out of touch they do not recognize the very things they're afraid of when they are present. Now that you’ve been scolded, how do you wish to proceed?”

“In whatever way won’t get me fired. There's a fine line between the kind of censor uproar that drives publicity and the kind that the studio heads think is too risky.”

“As your producer, I support you entirely in whatever you choose. And I'm happy to apply my considerable eloquence to soothing the concerns of those who sign our paychecks.”

Stern flops down in his desk chair, staring at the almost complete script in a tidy stack. 

“If we’re going to gamble, the more big names I can get the better. I think it’s time to call in my favor from Amnesty Pictures. After that, well; if they’re going to complain about homoeroticism, we may as well give them something to really complain about.” 

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

A month later, Stern sits at a large table in the studio meeting room, the bulk of his cast already thumbing through their scripts and chatting quietly to one another. Some of them, such as Aubrey Little and Moira Redfeld, are contract players to Kepler, ones he snatched up for this picture before anyone could interfere. There are also two on loan from Amnesty,  a trade off for the time he and Ned worked their Hollywood contacts to help Mama, the studio head, raise money to fund the film that put the studio on the map. 

His own relationship with Mama’s right hand man, Barclay, who acted as their go-between in those early days, may have helped his case. 

The first player on loan is Dani Coulice, who’ll play Aubrey's dear friend and confidant who accompanies her to the house of her mysterious uncle. Dani has an understated charm on screen and, judging by the eyes she’s making at Aubrey, the two women will be able to pull off the romantic subtext he needs them to with ease.

And then there’s Indrid Cold. His first appearance in The Smiling Man drew quick comparisons to Claude Raines, Bella Lugosi and, more importantly, to the great Lon Chaney. Not only does the actor design and apply his own character make-up, he embodies his monsters and murderers in a way that leaves the audience hiding beneath their covers for days.

Stern knew the moment he and Kirby began working on the script that no one but Indrid Cold could play the titular Dr. Nacht. Now all that's missing from the table is…

“Sorry I’m late Joe. We ran long shootin the sword fight.” A southern drawl and apologetic smile announce the entrance of his other leading man. A man who's trained for years under two mentors to follow in their footsteps as swashbucklers, knights, soldiers. The man who is often described as destined to save the day, regardless of the picture. 

When you wanted a monster, you got Indrid Cold. When you wanted a hero, you hired Duck Newton. 

Which is why Stern remains surprised that Duck took this role so readily. He wants him for it, thinks he’s just the man to balance Indrid's aloof, otherworldly demeanor. But this time, his character won’t emerge triumphant. 

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

Duck cannot fuck this up. It’s a goddamn miracle Joe offered it to him at all, given that he’s never done horror before, the studio not wanting to waste him on something so strange. There was a time when Duck would have steered clear of it too, but he trusts Joe, and the rest of the cast is strong. And the leading men in these pictures are never the heroes Duck is used to; they’re scientists, good men in over their heads, soldiers carrying the mental wounds of the war. They’re something new. 

The only thing that worries him is Indrid Cold. Amnesty Pictures is known for darker, more daring fare than most studios, and Indrid always seems to be in the mix. His reputation is one of eccentric artistry, something Duck has little patience for. 

It’s been alright so far, the first weeks mainly getting costume tests and memorizing lines, and Indrid is polite but aloof. When Duck mentions this to Dani, she takes her eyes of Aubrey long enough to shrug, “He’s up in his own head a lot, he doesn’t mean anything by it.”

Today they’re shooting the arrival of his character, Henry Harper, at the lonely country estate of Dr. Edward Nacht. The doctor is Eliza’s (played by Aubrey) uncle, and she’s traveling to stay with him along with her dearest friend, Lucy (played by Dani). Henry and Eliza are ostensibly betrothed, but the script makes only the barest mention of it, putting Duck opposite Indrid and Aubrey opposite Dani in most scenes. 

Joe’s instructions are to play Harper as a classic, bland, heroic lead for the first third of the film, and he gets himself into that headspace as they take their positions.

“Now remember, Aubrey, you’re the only one who’s even little used to your uncle's mannerisms, so you should be genuinely happy to see him. Right, here we go, action!”

The trio pretends to startle at the massive mansion door shutting on its own, turning in sync to look behind themselves. 

“That’s the trouble with these old houses; they have a mind of their own.”

Indrid stands at the top of the staircase, eyes uncovered for the first time since they met. Head held high, dark suit contrasting with his pale hair and sharp features, he grins at them as he descends the steps. It’s commanding and unnerving, the actor managing to convey something odd lurking beneath his veneer of gentility.

Aubrey runs to greet him, saying her lines as Dani and Duck trail behind her. He only ends up at the right mark thanks to watching Dani  from the corner of his eye; the rest of his attention is locked on Indrid. 

“This is my dear friend, Lucy Price.”

“Wonderful to meet you, any friend of my niece is welcome in these halls.” Indrid takes Dani’s and, kissing it with a friendly smile. 

“And this is Mr. Harper, my finance.” 

The smile widens as Indrid offers his hand, Duck taking it as the blocking dictates. There’s a beat where Indrid guides it upwards, as if intending to kiss it. Then he stops, shaking it instead. 

“A pleasure to have you here, Mr. Harper. It seems my niece shares her mother's fine taste in men.”

It takes him a moment to remember he’s not supposed to stand transfixed.

“I look forward to gettin to know you, doctor.”

Indrid steps back, still grinning, “if you three will follow me, I will show you to your rooms.”

“Cut!”

Christ, that was awful, he should have played that more confident, more in control-

“That was perfect Duck, just the right approach.”

“Oh, uh, thanks Joe.”

“I must admit I am pleasantly surprised.” Indrid adds. 

“How so?” Duck looks up at him.

“Simply that quipping whilst swinging a sword about does not always result in someone who can convey complex emotions on screen.”

“Now wait just a fuckin second-”

“I, ah, I was trying to be complimentary.” Indrid almost sounds like he means it. 

Duck crosses his arms, “Oh yeah? Then I guess I oughta say I’m impressed a fella who runs around covered in monster make-up most of the time can actually emote.”

“That was uncalled for.”

“You started it.”

“I did not mean to start anything!”

“Gentlemen, if we could continue with our shooting” Ned’s voice cuts in and Duck turns to see half the soundstage string to them. 

“Uh, right, sorry. Always get  little, uh, tense on the first day. Right, Indrid?”

Indrid rises n unimpressed eyebrow, “Where shall we take it from?”

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

It doesn't get better after that first day. 

Duck tries, he really does, and he can tell Indrid is doing the same. But the longer they work together, the more often they snap at one another in between scenes. 

“What were you two arguing bout now?” Aubrey says as they walk to the parking lot one evening. 

“We, uh, well he, uh, huh. I can't remember.”

She shakes her head, “Yep, that's what I thought.”

They’re  third of the way through the shoot, and it's going on ten at night, Joe trying to get as much done as he can before another picture borrows the set for two days.

Duck and Indrid are the only actors remaining, working on the scene where Henry, having agreed to help the doctor in his work, confronts him over the nature of the experiments. Once they finish this scene, they’re done, but Indrid keeps tripping over the word “indomitable.”  

When he fucks it up for the fourth time, Duck drops his head into his hands, “fuck’s sake, it ain’t that hard.”

“That’s rather rich coming from someone whose accent ought to have rendered him obsolete at the advent of talking pictures.” Indrid replies dryly. 

“Fuck you.” 

Indrid straightens up, ready with a retort, when Joe shouts for them to retake their places and try again. 

“You are meddlin with forces you don’t understand, doctor. Forces that are a mystery for a reason.”

“Do not underestimate me, Mr. Harper. Man is far more powerful, far more capable than scholars or priests would have you believe.” Indrid steps towards him, voice cool and smile detached, “we are no better than beasts if we cower in the shadows of ignorance, never daring to dream of what may be within our reach. Man was meant to question, Mr. Harper, meant to search and create. Man is indomitable.” His grin brightens not only from correctly pronouncing the word, but as part of the scene; because Duck is hesitating, won over for an instant by his speech. 

Duck shakes his head, “Dreams and questions are all well and good, but they all come to nothin if you barrel forward without a thought for the harm you might do. No, doctor, while we're here, I forbid you from such experiments. I won’t have Eliza in such danger, nor will I risk her losing her remaining family.”

Indrid cocks his head, amused, “You forbid it?” 

Duck tilts his head up to meet his eyes, “I do.”

His back slams into the laboratory counter, Indrids hands gripping it on either side of him.

“Perhaps I have been unclear, Henry. I am the master here, not you.” Slender fingers grip Duck’s lapels, tugging him nose to nose with Indrid, “you would do well to remember that.”

“Cut! Perfect, thank the lord, so we can finally get out of here.” Joe’s voice snaps Duck back into the soundstage, but Indrid hasn’t let go, is instead eyeing Duck’s face, tongue coming out to wet his lips. 

How long has Duck been breathing this hard? 

Indrid release his hold, smoothing down the front of Ducks jacket. He frowns, “You’re shaking. Are you ill?”

“N-nope.”

Unconvinced, Indrid touches his forehead, “You feel rather warm. Please tell me you are going home rather than out to paint the town?”

Duck wants to tell him to mind his own damn business. All that comes out is, “Yeah, might just straight sleep through til Sunday. You rest up too, y’hear?”

Indrid smiles, “I will do my best.”

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

“Catching up on some correspondence?”

Duck sets down his pen as Indrid sits at the lunch table across from him, “My sister moved back out to West Virginia not that long ago, and I promised I’d keep her up to date on everythin goin on out here.”

“Is she younger or older than you?”

“Younger by four years. You, uh, you got any siblin’s?”

“No. I was raised by my aunt and uncle, so I have a cousin instead. Here, I think I might have a picture.” The taller man pulls out a notebook, flipping through it, “ah, there he is.”

“Christ, if I couldn’t see the smudge up there, I’d think that was a fuckin photo.”

“Thank you.” Indrid dips his head, tucking the notebook back into his jacket pocket, “I mostly keep that on me in case I am struck by a new creature design, but it has other uses.”

“Where’s your family from?”

“Germany, originally, then the Salinas valley.”

“Told it’s real beautiful up there.”

“It has its moments, fewer now that they’ve found oil.”

“What’s your favorite?”

Indrid tells him, talks about the nearby mountains and traveling down to the coast, about hitchhiking his way to Los Angeles because he felt foolish asking for the money for a bus ticket when most of the family thought his journey was pointless.

“Sure proved them wrong.” Duck nudges his ankle playfully under the table. 

“I suppose.”

After that conversation, Duck likes his days on set even better. The chair reading “Indrid Cold'' is now next to his more often than not, the two of them running lines or talking about gardens and art between takes. They bring in a black cat--meant to be the doctor’s pet-- for several days of shooting, and Indrid laughs whenever Duck picks it up and coos over it, smile fading to a gentle, shy expression when he catches Duck looking. 

And when Joe instructs them to brush hands, or let their gaze linger too long on each other during scenes, Duck hopes they’ll have to do take after take. 

Today the set is full of excitement, as it’s the first time Indrid will appear in his full monster make-up; he’s shot two scenes in shadows, hinting at the horror of it as he takes innocent life on the moors. Now, Duck will enter the laboratory and see first hand the results of the doctor’s experiments. 

“Action!”

Duck steps into the darkened room, equipment flashing and test-tubes billowing smoke. 

“Doctor, there’s been another death in the village, and you’re the police are asking for your help. They say it’s like nothin they ever seen before.”

Heavy footfalls and the scrape of nails on metal signal Indrid’s approach, but he’s not to turn until the actor speaks. 

“Doctor, can you hear me?” He looks around, worried, then calls hesitantly, “Edward?”

“Hello, Henry.”

He turns and yells in fright, hand flying to cover his mouth. Where there once was an elegant, odd figure, now a massive nightmare looms out of the darkness. Indrid’s mouth stretches wide, curve fangs protruding from either corner, face coated in bloodied, feathered scales, and claws reaching for Duck. 

“Edward what” he staggers backward,s “what in god's name have you done?”

“What I set out to do, my dear Henry. Can you not see that?” Indrid giggles with the hysteria of a man consumed by bitter disappointment, “perhaps you should come closer.”

“Stay back, I’m warnin you-”

Indrid lunges, snarling, and Duck throws himself out of the way, hitting first the edge of something sharp and then the ground

“Fuck!” 

“Cut!”

“Oh dear, are you hurt? Here, let me help-”

Duck holds up a hand, gritting his teeth, “You stay right where you are. Fuck, christ,” the hand gripping his leg comes away spotted with blood, “what the fuck, that wasn’t in the blockin!”

“Joseph said he trusted me to improvise my movements, to maximize the tension.”

“You gotta fuckin warn me about shit like that, all my movement is backwards, meanin I can’t see where I’m goin.”

“I assumed a man who made his living fighting knew how to use his peripheral vision.”

“How bad is it?” Dewey, one of the camera men, helps Duck up as Stern approaches them. 

“Give there’s  a bloodstain on our set, enough to send him over to the medical office. I'm calling it for the night . I’ll see you both tomorrow.” Joe runs a hand through his hair, levels them both with a warning look before turning back to dismiss the crew. 

It’s not all that bad once he’s out of the torn pants and gets it cleaned off. When he gets back to the dressing room to retrieve his coat and hat, there’s a large black case, like  fisherman's tackle box. It’s what Indrid calls his toolkit, full of the tools and tricks he uses to turn himself into a monster. He once called it his most prized possession. 

Duck switches off the light, has the door halfway shut before he stops. Groaning in frustration at his own decency, he turns and grabs the box from the floor. 

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

“This had better be important” Indrid calls through the apartment door, “I must go back out for something and do not have time to waste.”

“Wouldn’t happen to be goin out for your toolkit?” Duck says dryly. 

The door flies open, revealing Indrid in a black dressing gown, face a bit pink, no doubt from scrubbing off all his monster make-up. 

“Yes.” He snatches the box away by it’s handle, hurrying over to the table and leaving Duck in the doorway, “you didn’t touch anything did you? Or show it to anyone else?” His head whips over his shoulder, red glasses slipping down his nose to reveal a hard, suspicious glare. 

“No, I didn’t touch a damn thing.” Duck steps over the threshold, shutting the door and tossing his hat onto the couch, “and you're welcome.”

Indrid inhales deeply, “I, I apologize. The tricks I developed, my techniques, my materials, practically all of it is in this box. If someone else were to get  hold of it, replicate my effects, my career would be over.”

“What are you talkin about?”

The taller man sighs, turning his back and heading into his bedroom, “I do not expect you to understand.”

Duck is ready to tear his hair out, stalks into the bedroom after him, “Fuck’s sake Indrid, do you think you’re the only fella here with the brains to understand shit?”

“That is not what I meant and you know it.”

“No, I really don’t. What do you want from me, Indrid? Most days you’re palin’ round with me, then you act like you think I’m some sheltered idiot who’s had everything handed to him.”

“Because you have” Indrids hands could be conducting  symphony for how much they move s he continues, “you had mentors, people who told you from a young age that you had a place in this business, who carved out roles for you and handed down their skills, their legacies. I had nothing, I had to make my way based on skill and luck alone.”

“Were the fuck do you get off assumin that sort thing bout me? At lest you got some fuckin say in the way your career went. Minerva had it all planned out for me, hell, at the start I fought hard to do somethin other than those hero parts.”

The anger on Indrid’s face flickers, “Why did you stop?”

 “Because I didn’t wanna end up with nothin! As you keep pointin out” he steps towards Indrid, jabbing a finger into his chest, “my kind are a dime a dozen in this town.”

“Which means you can get any part you choose! You are the kind of man everyone loves. God help me if horror ever falls from favor, I will be back in dust of the farmland in an instant.” 

Duck growls at the sorry ploy for sympathy, “Bullshit, you’re better on camera than anyone in this town.”

“That doesn’t matter! For goodness sake, Duck look at me!” He gestures wildly at his face, “without my monsters, without horror, I'm nothing. Amnesty might try to help me, but they’d soon find that unless they can be terrified of me, audiences have no use for Indrid Cold.” Resignation tinges his voice, and it kicks Duck’s anger out from under him. 

“Indrid, that ain’t true-”

“-No, it is very true”

“-will you let me fuckin finish?” Duck reaches for him, not certain what he means to do.

“I have no desire to-” Indrid moves his arm to push Duck’s away, and puts too much force behind it, losing his footing on the hardwood floor and falling backwards onto the bed. In attempting to recover his balance, one leg kicks out, knocking Duck forward. He catches himself with one knee on the mattress and his hands on either side of Indrid, pulling abruptly down on the dressing gown. When it opens, they both go still. 

“You, uh, why ain't you wearin anythin under this?”

“I was not aware I need to follow a dress code in my own blasted house.” Indrid manages through grit teeth, face turned resolutely away from Duck. He follows the angle of his jaw down the line of his neck, the noticeable points of collarbone, ribs, and hips beneath tan, sun-hungry skin making him think of fine china or rare plants, the kind you cultivate for years in hopes of seeing something no one else could ever dream of. 

“Would you kindly stop staring?” Indrid murmurs.

“Why?” Duck drags his gaze away from his body just as Indrid levels him with an exhausted frown.

“Fine, go ahead and get your fill so you can--in excruciating detail--tell anyone who is interested that I look just as strange without clothes as I do in them.”

“Is that really what you think I’m doin?”

“I have a hard time believing there could be...another..” He trails off s Duck leans down, cupping his cheek and bringing his other leg up to straddle him. 

“You sure about that belief?” He bumps their noses together. 

“I'm starting to have my doubts.” 

Duck snickers, carefully bringing their lips together. Indrid hums, wrapping his arms round Duck and running his hands along his back up into his hair. He’s kissed plenty of times, on and off screen, but Indrid is earnest and hesitant all at once, as if Duck is giving him a gift he’s not sure he deserves. He’s also wonderfully responsive, twitching and arching whenever Duck touches him, licking and nipping at his lips, begging to be let inside. Duck opens them, sighs when Indrid teases their tongues together. 

When he sits up, Indrids hands draw across his bare chest, concerned. 

“Don’t worry, darlin , I ain’t goin far.” He slides off the bed, sinking to his knees between Indrid’s legs s he pulls off his jacket, “Just seems to me you need someone to show just how fuckin handsome you are.”

“Are you oh-so-graciously volunteering?” Indrid’s smile is plain in his voice. 

He pushes up his sleeves, “Yep.”

Indrid’s cock is soft when he wraps his fingers around it, stroking up gradually to rub the head with his thumb. Licking along the underside turns Indrid’s so “ohs” into a full-throated moan. 

“That’s more like it, darlin.” Duck kisses up and down the shaft , slipping a hand lower to gently toy with his balls, “get hard for me.”

“Wh-what” Indrid gulps down a breath, “what makes you think you are in charge here?”

In lieu of an answer, he takes the head of is cock into his mouth, sucking hard, not letting up until pre-cum seeps along his tongue. Indrid’s hands cling to the edge of the bed, the room filling with high gasps and the odd squeak when Duck zig-zags his nails along his inner thigh. 

He pulls off, wiping away the string of spit trailing from his lips. Laps intermittently at his slit as he speaks, hoping his voice is coming across husky rather than desperate, “Well, sugar, what do you say? Gonna let me call the shots?”

“I s-say” One hand wavers in the air, about to stroke his hair, and Duck dips to the side, bumping his head into his palm in tacit permission. 

“I say a man on his, his knees giving orders is presumptuous.”

“Ah!Fuck” Duck groans as Indrid tugs his hair, forcing him to sit up straight.

“And I’d say his mouth could be put to an even better use.”

Duck scrambles onto the bed, kissing Indrid furiously as soon as he reaches him, the pale-haired man rolling them over and tangling them both in the top blanket with their feet still hanging off the bed. 

“Did I say you could stop paying attention to my cock? OOhhnnnn, yes, yes” he hooks a leg over Ducks thigh, pumping into the shorter man’s fist, “perfect, god, everything about you is, is just right.”

“I ain’t the only one.” Duck aims for his lips, ends up kissing his cheek, when he buries his face into his neck with a whine.

“It’s true. You think I go to my knees for any old fella?”

“Mphhm” Indrid’s glasses dig into his shoulder.

“You think I’d be doin this” he speeds up his hand, “if that face of yours didn’t make me wanna do things in front of those cameras that’d make the devil blush.”

“Mmhpmm”  Indrid clings to him like lichen yet refuses to look up. 

Duck stills his hand, “I ain’t startin up again unless you answer me, sugar.”

Indrid raises his head halfway, five o’clock shadow pricking Duck’s cheek.

“Duck Newton, I do believe you are telling the truth. You think I am handsome.” Shyness lurks just beneath the teasing, so Duck tenderly brushes his fingers along Indrid’s face.

“That I do.”

He raises up enough to bring them nose to nose, “And I think you put all other matinee idols to shame with only your smile.”

“Indrid.” It’s his turn to blush, and he only grows redder when Indrid guides his hand off his cock and to his lips to kiss it. 

“I have an idea. As much as these” he releases his hand to snap his suspenders, “flatter that broad chest of yours, they and your pants need to come off.”

As Duck exiles his clothes and shoes to the floor, Indrid lays with his head on a pillow, steadily stroking his cock. Staring at that sight adds a good minute to his undressing, but Duck doesn’t give a damn. 

When he goes to straddle Indrid’s hips, the other man shakes his head, “Nono, up here.” He pats the pillow on either side of his head. 

“Shit yeah, been wanting to fuck that stunnin face for weeks.”

Indrid’s face is beet-colored by the time Duck brackets it with his knees. 

“S-so have eye”

“Aw, sugar, you gettin tongue tiIIIIedfuck.” His palms thwack into the wall as Indrid circles it along his folds. 

“What was that about tongues?” His smirk is just visible between Duck’s thighs. 

“That if you don’t keep usin yours like that, you’re gonna see a grown man cry with need.”

“We cannot have that.’

“FUuuuuck, fuck.” He wiggles his hips to help Indrid get the right angle, unsure if he can ask for more pressure.

“You, you can put more weight down if you need.” 

He grinds down, moaning when Indrid’s lips part further to give his tongue more room to work. The moan is echoed below him, muffled though it may be, as one of Indrid’s hands disappears from view. A moment later, he bucks, gasping and laving his tongue along Duck’s dick. 

“Shit, right there, keep goin right there.”

Indrid curves and flicks his tongue along the sensitive skin, hums of pleasure mingling with the messy sound of his hand flying up and down his cock. When he closes his lips around his dick Duck yelps, hunches forward to rest his head on the wall as he sucks him off, pressure spiking deliciously whenever he moans or strokes himself harder. Indrid cums with a whimper, sticky hands landing on Duck’s ass to urge him on as he ruts into his mouth.

“That’s it sugar, fuck, you’re amazin, feels so fuckin good oh fuck, fuck, Indrid, fuckin christ.” He rolls his hips harder and faster until the friction makes the orgasm burst through him. He just manages to lift himself off and collapse on the bed rather than Indrid's neck. 

“Did, do you hear a, uh, a crack?”

Red glasses, a split across the right lens, appear in front of him. 

“Aw fuck” he giggles, “didn’t know I was goin that hard. Lemme buy you a new pair?”

“I have several spares, on account of my own occasionally absent mindedness” Indrid is up on his side, grinning down at him, face still shiny with slick, “and I am taking that as a testament to my skill. Perhaps I should wear them with pride to the set tomorrow.”

“Please don’t” Duck laughs harder, “fuck, can you imagine the look on Joe’s face”

Indrid is laughing too now, “They are not part of my costume, it would not affect the shoot. Save the part where the reminder of how you looked just now, flushed and ecstatic above me, would make it rather hard to focus.”

Duck shifts onto his side, nestling up against him, “you’re a real sweet talker, you know that?”

“You have that effect on me.” He feels him inhale more deeply, fingers toying with Duck’s hair, “would, ah, would you like to spend the night? I believe you are not needed tomorrow, and I am only needed in the evening.”

“I’d love to” Duck nudges him onto his back to better cuddle across his chest, “got no interest in sleepin alone any time soon.”

“Do, ah, do you mean you wish to, ah, to-”

“Yeah, I do. I wanna see what it’s like to have the finest man in the city on my arm. Assumin he wants the same thing.”

“You do not think I am snobbish and strange?”

“Not anymore than you think I’m spoiled and had it easy.”

Indrid kisses the top of his head, “Then I think this could be the start of something wonderful.”

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

Stern looks up from the script as his two leading men walk onto the set, arms linked and whispering to one another, each smiling wider than Laurel Canyon. He turns back to his notes. 

“About fucking time.”

[kalypsichor]

five’s a crowd [ beatles x reader ] part five

chapter summary: It’s time for some apologies (aPAULogies!). You and Paul have a chat about student debt, Parliament, and showers. John tries to convince everyone that he won’t break the telly (again), Ringo tries to convince everyone that he’s NOT an old man, and you just wish George would drop that goddamn towel. 

warnings: george is almost naked but not naked enough (sigh)

masterlist and parts one | two | three | four

these chapters are just getting longer, huh. also, queen makes a more... definitive appearance.

Paul’s chosen the corner booth. It’s the spot that you all usually cram into, obnoxious and loud and always on the verge of being kicked out. Sitting there all by himself with nothing but a cup of coffee, he looks very small and lonely and you feel a pang of guilt.

He glances up when you sit down next to him. “Back for round two?” Paul says, and despite this he still scoots over to give you more room.

“No.” Sighing, you resist your fight-or-flight instinct. You’ve always hated confrontation. “I just wanted to apologize. I probably overreacted today and I shouldn’t have, um… ”

“Ripped me a new one?”

You laugh. “Yeah. Sorry about that. I’ve just been so stressed about midterms and all that--which isn’t an excuse for being an asshole, I know. It’s been such a long day, with Ringo having to go to the hospital and John almost killing us in your car and George, uh… actually, George hasn’t done anything. But… forgive me?” You try your best puppy eyes, although that’s more of Paul’s forte.

He pretends to think about it, but he’s already got that smile on his face. It’s soft and accentuates the roundness of his cheeks and you can see what John fell in love with.

“Of course I do. I could never stay angry at you for too long.” You let out a sigh that you didn’t know you were holding. “And I’m sorry, as well. I hope some of your papers were salvageable? I’ll pay for your textbooks, really--”

“With the thousands of pounds of student debt you’ve got? No way.” You nudge Paul teasingly. “No, it wasn’t that bad. Besides, if I don’t have most of that stuff memorized by now I’ll be fucked for midterms.”

“It’s the damn Tories, I tell you!” A businessman at the table over shoots him a dirty look and you have to muffle your snort behind your hands. “Anyway, we’re not here to talk politics. How’s George?” At the last bit, Paul leans in, raising his eyebrows conspiratorially.

Just great, still want to snog him senseless. Nothing new. “Why don’t you ask George yourself, you live with him. He’s still pretty pissed about having to take cold showers in the morning.”

“Please, no more. I’ve gotten yelled at about it enough already.” He throws his hands up in mock surrender and you’re reminded uncannily of John. They really are two sides of the same coin… “Morning’s the only time I can shower, anyway. It’s not fun waking up early, you know, but I do have to get the studio time. I’ve got, like, a million art pieces to turn in next week. It’s killing me.”

Though he says this with a rueful grin, you can see there’s bags under his eyes. With all the drama going on, you hadn’t stopped to think about what Paul must be going through. You internally scold yourself not to be so wrapped in your own concerns next time.

“I didn’t realize.”

“Yeah, well. The woes of an art major. But when I asked about George, I wasn’t talking about our little row.”

You ignore that. “Showering every day is bad for your skin, y’know.”

“First off, that’s my phrase. Secondly, you’re changing the subject.”

“You’re the one changing the subject!” Don’t blush don’t blush don’t blush. “Look, can’t you try and compromise with him? Like, taking turns or something. You can have the first shower every other day and ditto for George!” You smack the table excitedly. “Damn, I’m a genius.”

Paul laughs and downs the rest of his coffee. “Alright, alright. I’ll talk to him about it.” Standing, he stretches and tosses the cup into the trash. “You think the flat is safe enough to go back?”

You mirror his actions, donning your fleece jacket. “Probably. I’ll protect you, though, don’t worry.”

“My hero!” He swoons and loops his arm through yours as you step out of the cafe. The rest of the walk back, he doesn’t mention George again and you think he’s forgotten all about it. That is, until you reach the apartment. Paul unlocks the door and gestures for you to go first. When you brush by him, he leans down to your ear and says it so casually you don’t even register the meaning at first.

“I’ll get the truth out of you one of these days, y’know.”

Paul winks and though he doesn’t say exactly what the ‘truth’ is, you think you have a pretty good idea what he’s talking about.

***

The next day, you’re sat at the kitchen table over a bowl of cereal and some salvaged papers, not unlike yesterday morning. John is once again swiping through his phone. Ringo’s there, too, having scrutinized the entire kitchen floor this time before sitting down.

“TikTok is a load of shit,” John announces, throwing his cell down.

“Yet that doesn’t stop you from being on it for hours on end.”

“It’s addicting! All that… hitting the woah and- and grenade stuff.”

“You mean renegade.”

You both shoot a surprised look at Ringo, who pouts. “What? I can be hip too.”

“Okay, the fact that you said ‘hip’ kinda contradicts that.”

Ringo sticks his tongue out at you and you snicker. John clears his throat, steering the conversation back to him. Attention whore.

“Aaaanyway. As I was saying. Our phones are all the government’s rubbish way of brainwashing us. And that’s why I propose… drum roll, please.”

Ringo obliges. You note that he keeps a rather good tempo.

“Game Night Part Two!”

He’s met with silence.

“Uh, let me think about it-- no.”

“What? Why not!”

You tap your finger to your chin. “Did you already forget getting piss-drunk and missing your American Lit quiz the next day? Or spilling Fanta all over my /nice/ white tee? Or doing that?” John’s gaze follows your gesture to the tv in the living room with a great crack down the middle.

“And you’re a sore loser,” Ringo adds. John frowns and throws a cornflake at him.

“George was definitely cheating-”

“Abupbupbup! I’m not done.” You point at his sour expression. “Don’t you remember the noise complaint we got from our neighbor?”

John actually pauses at this. “You mean Paul’s classmate? The one that does graphic design? Not that you’d know it from the way he dresses like a fashion major.”

“His name is Freddie.” Ringo supplies helpfully. Ringo was always good at names.

“Yeah, he actually knocked on our door and everything. That was embarrassing, John.”

A scoff makes its way through John’s pursed lips. “He’s got no right telling us to keep the noise down when his bloody flat houses an entire fucking band. I can hear them going at it until two am sometimes and I don’t call the police on them.”

“They’re quite good.” As if to accentuate his point, Ringo taps a familiar rhythm with his spoon. Must be from one of their latest songs.

John inhales and you can tell that this’ll turn into a scuffle if you don’t steer the conversation away soon.

“Anyway! We don’t want another repeat of last month’s shenanigans. I’d like to be able to keep watching Netflix on a functioning telly, thank you very much. You’re outnumbered, Johnny.”

“Well, actually.”

You both swivel to look at Ringo: you in horror and John with glee. The oldest boy is usually the tie breaker, the swing-state if you want to be American about it. If he throws his weight behind John, it’ll be over.

“I think it would be a good idea. For morale, you know. We’ve been at each other’s throats all of yesterday, and havin’ another Game Night might get everyone on good terms again.” Damn you, Ringo, you think, damn you and your altruism. John, in every sense of the saying, looks exactly like the cat that’s got the canary. He swings to you with the stupidly smug look on his face.

“The match goes to Lennon! Take that,” he gloats, and you fight the urge to strangle him across the table.

“When you fail Professor Ono’s midterms because you’re too hungover to tell Walt Whitman from Langston Hughes, don’t go crawling to me,” you hiss.

John makes to retort but he’s cut short by the sound of footsteps running down the hall. Your brain barely has time to conjure up the weird feeling of deja vu before George skids into the kitchen.

He’s wearing nothing but a towel. Again. But this time, he’s smiling, and the brilliance of it cuts through your sleep-addled brain and curls up somewhere below your rib cage.

“I just took a shower!”

“Good for you, mate,” John snarks, staring ruefully at the phone in the center of the table--did he change his phone case or something? It looks different, somehow. You can see his fingers twitching toward it.

George ignores him. “I just took a warm shower. A real shower with warm water.”

Yes, you can see that from the bit of steam still rising from his shoulders and his hair, which is now curling slightly in the colder temperature. There’s a droplet of water making its way from George’s very naked chest down to his very fit stomach--how he has abs, you have no idea, since the boy inhales food like Kirby--and you look away sharply before your gaze can wander any further.

“A warm water shower,” he repeats.

Ringo nods. “Ah, yes. The poison. The poison for Kuzco. The poison chosen specifically to kill Kuzco.” He pauses, looking you in the eye rather seriously, and you say the next bit together.

“Kuzco’s poison.”

The two of you double over, giggling like schoolgirls. George, however, looks confused.

“What are they on about?”

“Some American film.” John finally gives in and snatches up the phone laying on the table. Something flashes across his face. You know that look, and nothing good ever follows it. “Smile, Georgie.”

There’s the click of a photo being taken.

“Hey! What was that for?”

“Nothing.” John pushes his chair from the table and stands up rather abruptly. The look on his face is growing into something… wicked. “Nothing at all. I will be in Paul and I’s room. Doing nothing.” He surveys you all once more with that good-for-nothing grin, cradles the phone to his chest, and then sprints down the hall past an even more confused George. The door closes and locks with a decisive click.

The three of you look at each other questioningly. Ringo grunts something unintelligible and shovels more cornflakes into his mouth. George shrugs and turns to head back to the bathroom.

He’s already halfway down the hall before he freezes.

“Wait a minute. Was that my phone?”

[radramblog]

Midnight Hunt Commanders (and Midnight Hunt Commander)

Another month, another new set release. This time: Innistrad 3 Part 1, Midsommar edition. I’m sure you’ve read all the jokes at this point.

Still, though, I like running through cards like this. I’ve heard some podcasters and other content creators lament the accelerating release pace because it means you only get to do so much “normal” content between set review stuff. But I like set review stuff! One of the handful of upsides of the hypercapitalist nightmare that is WoTC under Hasbro.

Anyway here’s some spooky things you can put in charge of a scary deck.

Adeline, Resplendent Cathar

While being strictly inferior to Adeline from Kirby, this card is a surprisingly aggressive beater. She’s going to be attacking for 4 commander damage on turn 4, and that’s assuming no ramp or other creatures on the board. Sure, those tokens are probably going to bite it, but that’s something you can take advantage of! Also, curving her into Cathar’s Crusade is both flavourful and also terrifying. White Token Aggro is far from a new concept, but Adeline is quite the efficient example of the trope.

 Lier, Disciple of the Drowned

I cannot imagine that many people playing this as the commander. The number one thing you’re going to want to flashback in mono-blue is counterspells, which this card turns off. Sure, there’s some funky things you can do with slow blink effects, but that’s a lot of work for an extra Cancel. With that said, this is going to be in the 99 of so many decks, so I wouldn’t feel bad for Lier.

 Gisa, Glorious Ressurector

I guess we’re seeing Geralf in the next set? Gisa is super cool- I’m not huge on just having a hate piece in the command zone, but Gisa justifies it by giving you a bunch of value. I’m not sure how I feel about Decayed as a mechanic, but flavour-wise it works really well, and considering how much you can get out of an ETB or just one attack in this format, she’s probably not complaining. I think you really need a haste effect to get the most out of her, though. But she’s cool as heck, another sick card for everybody’s favourite small zombie goth GF.

 Gorex, the Tombshell

Gorex is interesting, as a pseudo-delve threat that slowly regains the value you put into it, and it is also a giant zombie turtle. On the other hand, it’s not especially interesting. I feel like a lot of these “lieutenant” creatures are really hit or miss, and I’m afraid to say I think this one’s the latter. You can’t even play it with Meandering Towershell!

 Jadar, Ghoulcaller of Nephalia

This just kinda feels like a waste of a legendary slot. It’s somewhere between Ophiomancer and Dreadhorde Invasion, but significantly worse than both, and you want to put this in the zone? It’s kind of disappointing, especially considering this dude has been on flavour text since the original Innistrad block. Which was 10 years ago.

 Jerren, Corrupted Bishop / Ormendahl, the Corrupter

As much as I love Westvale Abbey, the condition to flip Jerren is so utterly specific that I’m not going to bother considering it, so we kind of just have to ignore Ormendahl, powerful as he is. And Jerren isn’t much to write home about either. He wants to be in charge of a Humans deck, clearly, but there’s not really much to support that at all. Like, Xathrid Necromancer and Village Cannibals I guess? Probably taking the pass on this one.

Man there were 4 whole Mono-Black commanders in this one and like one of them is interesting. Gisa’s carrying the colour on her back this time around.

 Kurbis, Harvest Celebrant

Kurbis is…eh. The thing with your big +1/+1 counter threats is that damage isn’t usually the thing taking them out, so they’d work better in a deck that tries to distribute the counters more evenly. But then, in order to get much from Kurbis, you’re going to need to shrink them a lot…I honestly can’t see playing this in either maindeck or command zone. It just doesn’t do enough. I do like the “counters equal to mana spent” text on cards like this, at least.

 Saryth, the Viper’s Fang

Another 99er. Lot of those this time. Saryth is a great if somewhat awkward way to both abuse and protect things like Circle of Dreams Druid or Faeburrow Elder, or just as another Thousand-Year Elixir for commanders that like tap abilities. But I cannot imagine building this as a commander.

By the way, we’re done with all of the monocoloured commanders. And only 1/3rd of the way through all the cards. I know multicolour is more popular, but this set is kind of dire for those types of decks.

 Dennick, Pious Apprentice / Dennick, Pious Apparition

This feels a lot like a fixed Temmet (since the back half gets to deal commander damage) but with a different flavour. He is a card you can get a lot of value from for fairly cheap, seeing as you only pay the tax half the times you’re casting him, and the abilities on both sides are solid enough. I’m not inspired by this commander in basically any way, but he’s pretty much decent on either side and with how cheap he is you could kinda just build the deck however. Sure?

 Eloise, Nephalia Sleuth

Finally, a commander for the 6 Surveil Matters cards that were in GRN, which admittedly is more than I was expecting. Eloise is both a solid value engine for sacrifice-y decks that only really have had one Dimir commander in the past (that being Kels), and the trigger on the second ability is surprisingly flexible- it’s clearly meant to work with the Clue tokens she makes and the Decayed tokens from the precon, but it works great with Eldrazi Spawn, Treasures, and any other token creatures you’re deciding to churn through for value. The consistency and efficiency this adds to these kinds of decks is super sweet, and I’ve just checked EDHREC and literally nobody has built her. That is shocking to me, frankly, but I’m sure that’ll change.

 Ludevic, Necrogenius / Olag, Ludevic’s Hubris

I heard y’all wanted a new Ludevic since the old one’s terrible? Fuck you he’s dead now. Ludevic’s front face is extremely uninspired, but the real commander is on the back side- he does at least enable the strategy. Olag is, unfortunately, kind of just a worse Mimeoplasm, something I have a lot of experience with seeing as I have a Mimeoplasm deck. It’s actually not cheaper, seeing as Ludevic is minimum 2+5 versus Mimeo’s 5, and you don’t get to play Green so that’s also worse for you. It does start as a 4/4 base, but you’re not getting smaller than that very often with Mimeoplasm, and unlike that card Olag can’t be used as graveyard hate. Exiling cards from your own graveyard in a graveyard deck feels terrible. The long and short of this is just…play Mimeoplasm. They’re underrated these days.

 Wilhelt, the Rotcleaver

The first line of text on this dude is super flavourful, I really like the idea of this legion that just keeps getting back up. The second line of text is also really good, seeing as it works with either part of the first half and it generates value in what will be a board-based deck. And while it’s not exactly wrath protection, it does at least give you a pile of bodies for when you do get wrathed, ready to dogpile the guy that dared wipe your board. I’m always hesitant about precon face commanders, because they’re always a little too pushed for my liking, but I really don’t think Wilhelt is fuckbusted- just a very solid commander to helm a solid archetype.

 Florian, Voldaren Scion

Excuse me, what the fuck is this Vampire doing in my Werewolf set? Get this shit out of here. Florian is an aberration, and also a frustratingly boring one. He takes significant deckbuilding effort to be good, and even then best case scenario it’s an exile-draw impulse once per turn cycle. Rakdos was doing real well for a while, and probably will keep doing well in future considering the next set coming up, so this is a bit of a disappointment.

 Tovolar, Dire Overlord / Tovolar, the Midnight Scourge

I’ve already spent a bunch of time discussing Werewolves in EDH, so I’ll try to keep this brief. Tovolar is the epitome of “fine, here you go”. He’s a powerful Werewolf commander that compensates for the tribe’s weaknesses, gives you card advantage, and echoes an iconic card from the past. He is unquestionably the best Werewolf to helm your deck of the three total real options. I still kinda think you want Naya for this tribe, but if you don’t want to compromise on synergy or lose this effect (and to be fair it’s a lot) then here he is. It’s hard not to be cynical, seeing as I was one of the people fucking pissed at how nothing Ulrich was, but at least he exists now.

Maybe give us another one in Crimson Vow, WoTC?

 Katilda, Dawnhart Prime

This is kind of interesting, a proper Human tribal commander for GW. Now, unlike previous, where your options were Sigarda 2 in GW (which isn’t very good) and some other stuff like the Kudros for other colour combinations, Midnight Hunt has a couple new options for this exact deck, but at the very least they all do it a little differently. Katilda is effectively a second Cryptolith Rite, but one that gives you something to do with all that excess mana, which is pretty cool and good- decks that need to commit to the board often run out of cards (on account of having things get broken) and this makes sure you always have something to do with that mana. So sure! If you have a haste outlet it makes Increasing Devotion insanely free and that’s super spicy.

 Kyler, Sigardian Emissary

I find this substantially less interesting. Kyler is Thalia’s Lieutenant, but it works a bit better, but also its way more expensive. Anthem commanders are always underwhelming, because the effect is usually mediocre and also you can just…play anthems. But also, it doesn’t take much for this guy to make your team quite big. My biggest issue here is that I just think 5 mana is a lot for an aggressive commander like this, and in order to make him work you need to still be playing things afterwards- so the curve is going to be have to be super wonky.

 Leinore, Autumn Sovereign

Our other face commander for this set, Leinore is here to support the Coven mechanic, both making it easier to get three creatures with different powers (especially since she has 0 power herself, which is fairly uncommon) and rewarding you for doing so. She’s another card on this list that basically says “meet condition, draw a card every turn”, but at the very least she’s pumping the squad a little at the same time and she’s not super expensive. I think she’s a lot less interesting than the other face commander, Wilhelt, but she’s inoffensive.

 Sigarda, Champion of Light

Aside from immediately slamming into my cube, Sigarda part 3 looks a lot like Leinore in just drawing a card if you have Coven once per turn. The upside, Sigarda does a bunch of damage while doing it, and could feasibly finish someone off if necessary. The downside, she needs to get Humans, and she sure as -hell isn’t a Human herself. This off-tribe-ness is supremely awkward for what is effectively a tribal commander, and as a result I would be surprised if she saw much play in the zone. But seriously she’s so much better than the last one holy crap that card was mid.

 Liesa, Forgotten Archangel

I still don’t know why Liesa is…alive… but here she is again. I wasn’t a huge fan of the first card, and unfortunately the second one doesn’t change that. She takes a classic Orzhov commander in Athreos, removes the fun politics and play angle from it, gets more expensive, gets graveyard hate, and loses indestructible. I imagine some Athreos players will switch over since she guarantees a return, but she’s surprisingly boring for such a potentially interesting character. Liesa was one of the defenders of Innistrad along with her sisters, but one that was willing to actually interact with the darker creatures of her world and try to understand them rather than murdering them on sight. When Avacyn got created, she killed the fuck out of Liesa since that shit’s heresy, apparently, and had her name effectively wiped from the records- that she’s apparently been alive secretly the whole time begs a lot of questions and has a lot of potential flavour that this card does not represent. The card certainly can’t bring itself back from the dead.

 Vadrik, Astral Archmage

I wasn’t sure about this one, but LoadingReadyRun’s recent deck tech video on it did sell me on it a bit. Vadrik obviously invites comparisons to Mizzix, which is a well-known, kill-on-sight Commander at this point- while I don’t think he’s nearly as powerful as she is, he’s a different flavour of interesting and he is a whole mana cheaper. As well, I do like a lot that he grows himself in the process, giving the deck a board presence that Mizzix’s 2/2 stats don’t really contribute to. I’m still not sure how well day/night will play in the format, but with a deck full of instants you can probably get 2 counters per turn cycle without sacrificing your own tempo, which is decent enough.

 Old Stickfingers

I’m not sure where to be on Stickfingers. I love the flavour of this card, just being a scary forest monster that’s just a new but established in-universe part of the world, much like The Gitrog Monster. The card is kind of medium, though, and its text does really confuse me.

Okay, no, turns out I just misread it completely. You know when your brain just fills in the gaps with what it thinks is right? That’s what I did. I thought Stickfingers looked at the top X and just milled the creatures, but it reveals cards until it hits X creatures, which is muuuuuch better. The X cost effectively does act like it does on many a Hydra, but with added value for the graveyard decks it’s sure to lead. That and it can serve as an effective combo commander- just grab Necrotic Ooze and its combo pieces and some Regrowths and you’re good to go. I don’t think the card is going to be particularly interesting for more casual play, but I can at least admit that it’s much better than I’d assumed.

 Rem Karolus, Stalwart Slayer

He doesn’t explicitly say as much, but Rem is secretly a spellslinger commander, and one that gives other red decks a lot of trouble with you. Dealing one point of extra damage is rarely going to be game-changing, but it makes many a spell that little bit more efficient, and that prevention ability is the real deal. It’s never that hard to protect a single creature from damage, and if you find a way to do that with Rem, you’re basically immune to damage-based boardwipes, and in a great position to abuse the fuck out of them yourself. The card doesn’t really solve any of Boros’s shortcomings, but it is at least Doing A Thing, which is more than I can say for a lot of the combination’s commanders.

 Slogurk, the Overslime

Because Simic didn’t have enough of a lion’s share of the colour pie, here’s Simic doing what is really more of a Golgari or Gruul thing. I don’t hate getting to play with land stuff in blue (beyond Tatyova/Aesi style landfall), but this does feel like an overstepping. Besides the meta angle, the card…I dunno. It’s got a lot going on, but maybe I’m just burned out on playing around lands decks at this point. Slogurk bores me. I do kind of like the idea of hitting yourself with a Traumatize and just killing someone with this, though.

 Lynde, Cheerful Tormentor

Our closing act is one that is undeniably extremely cool. Not only is Lynde mechanically interesting, she’s also a new character that is tied to the surprisingly popular “unluckiest planeswalker” guy- I guess it might not have been luck this whole time. Curses are a really interesting build-around idea, and considering there are 29 (30 if you include Accursed Witch) of them in Grixis for Lynde to play with at this point, you do actually get to pick and choose a bit. She does somewhat suffer from being in the colours that basically don’t get to really play around with Enchantment synergy, but between her 3 colours I reckon there’s enough to keep her going- you can run some of Theros’s Constellation things. And she’s just….really cool. Putting the curse on you before you get to move it off to someone else feel so playful, the two cards a cackling compensation from this cruel master of cursecraft.

 And that’s the lot of them. Unfortunately, much of the Legendary offerings from Innistrad: Midnight Hunt are seriously mediocre. Many of the cards feel more fit for the deck itself than the commanding seat, and a fair few of them don’t even have much going on for that. There are a few real highlights- perhaps me being so into Lynde, Eloise and Gisa says something but I’m refusing to analyse that- but there’s just so many misses that I can’t help but feel underwhelmed. I think it’s somewhat telling of modern Magic design that there are more commanders in this release than were in the previous two Innistrad blocks combined, and yet despite predating the era when legendary creatures were designed for Commander, most of those cards will be better remembered for the format than this new batch.

[currentfandomkick]

Miraculous Team and Batboys-Akuma Attack

okay, giving the update spamming a break.

--

Marinette flew through the city, sensing where the corrupted butterfly’s power landed. She swung into a home with a broken window—likely where the akuma fled.

She froze when she saw scraps of bread, cheese, snacks and other food items scattered in the area. It didn’t make any sense—where was the akuma?

Queen Bee made it next, landing beside her. “What do you think happened?”

Marinette frowned, looking around. This was ground zero, someone’s house, and no one was left…

“I’m not sure…” Marinette opened her yo-yo’s comm while Queen Bee left to check the area. “Chat, are you there?”

“Of course m’lady. Any akuma sightings on your end?”

“No, and no one to ask what happened… do you think this is another Collector or Pixelator?”

“Maybe? Any clues?”

“Just a lot of scraps and a broken window.”

“Ladybug! We have a witness!” Queen Bee yelled as she landed. “They said some kid was turning people into food with some wand.”

Marinette froze as she processed that. It wasn’t the first time hunger transformed an akuma—they had one that ate everything in sight called Kirby before. He was… an interesting akuma, and wasn’t in a good place. He was in a better home now, and they needed the Bee and Horse to finish him. Queen Bee and Pegasus was needed big time then, and she was glad they had one permanently now but…

“Hold on,” Marinette turned back to Chat on her yo-yo. “Chat? Call the Guardian, we’ll need Monkey, Fox and Pegasus for this one—Tiger on standby.”

“You got it m’lady, Chat out!”

With the call ended, Marinette put together what happened to the victims and swore.

“Queenie, patrol now, stick to the rooftops and don’t draw attention. Contact me and Chat when you find them, and do not engage. I need you to not get hit for this plan to work.”

Queen Bee nodded, quick to leave.

Marinette took to the rooftop as she waited for either Queen Bee or Chat to contact her. She wasn’t expecting Wonder Woman and Batman’s sons to make contact first.

“What the hell is going on!” Red Robin sounded… panicked?

“Ladybug, are you certain you are not in need of further assistance?” Wonder Woman asked, eyes moving about nervously.

“Let me guess, someone got hit by the beam and ended up food?”

“I know I say I’m a snack, but I don’t want to literally be a snack,” Nightwing panicked while looking behind him. “Red Hood got hit before I could stop him.”

Was it bad she wanted it to be Robin that got hit? “I’ll fix it with the Cure after my team handles this. I’m waiting for the three I sent for to get back to me, and Bee to give me their current location—unless the akuma is still there?”

“Long gone,” Red Robin confirmed. “It was headed toward one of the restaurants by the Paris Grande Hotel that helps.”

“Of course—I swear Hawkmoth just picks landmarks and tourist locations for fun at this point. He’s clearly never lived here otherwise.”

“What!”

“Nothing, my team has it under control. Keep your team out of our battles—we have magic protections, you don’t.”

“But!”

“I apologize Ladybug, I did not think—”

Marinette pinched her brow as another call came in.

“Wonder Woman, while the thought is appreciated, I have to go now.”

She ended the call, to see Queen Bee’s icon. “They’re by the Tower”

“Of course. Forward to Chat, I’m on my way. We’ll be having some old friends join.”

“Our friends or the batbrats.”

“Our friends.”

Queen Bee hummed as she cut out, probably to catch Chat and the others up.

Marinette made it there without being seen. It felt wrong but there have been worse battles before. She landed by Queen Bee with ease, and waited for Pegasus to bring the group over.

The akuma was a small child from what she could see, and held tight to… that wasn’t a wand. That was a switch. She felt a bit sick at what it meant, and suddenly felt less horrified for the first victims.

“As requested,” Chat gestured to the portal. “One Renard Rogue.”

Nathaniel stepped out, a bit twitchy but otherwise ready. She was glad she picked him for this—he proved with Evillustrator he could work well with magic.  As a civilian he is the right type of creative to keep someone distracted with a story or something flashy. (Alya was more...hands on, Nathaniel kept his distance, which... is better for a fox).Just what they’d need for the akuma.

“One Monkey.”

Kim came out with a nervous grin—they both knew he was good but that he needed to really have good aim for when his weapon hit.

“Our Pegasus will be joining us shortly, as he and the Guardian are talking Tigresse from bolting here and running in head first… again.”

Marinette wished Alya would stop that, on some level. On the other, its why she and Roaar get along so well. Bravery goes hand-in-hand with impulsivity.

“Okay, now if I’m right about this, the akuma should be hard to get unless we follow the plan.” She waited for everyone’s attention.

“I want Renard to distract first and foremost with Chat protecting him. Monkey, when I give the signal, hit them with Uproar. While they’re distracted I need Queen Bee to hit them with Venom, if it’s a tricky shot we need Pegaus to get her close. If that fails, Tigress is released onto the scene and we all know that should throw the kid and Hawkmoth off their game. Chat and I will use our powers if all else fails but…”

Marinette glanced over at the child.

“I’d rather be able to find out what happened and help them with the police and CPS after this.”

The group nodded while Nathaniel began to play.

Pegasus raised an eyebrow when he made it. “What’d I miss?”

“You’re on standby on location. If things get hairy, either drop Queen Bee off next to the akuma, or get Tigresse here.”

Pegasus nodded, making sure to have a clear vantage point.

Marinette didn’t check what the mirage was, only waiting for the child to go to the location Renard crafted.

Once the child was no longer throwing our beams, Kim used Uproar. A simple ball this time—to both his and Marinette’s relief. Kim pitched it quick as the Illusion disintegrated.

“No fair!” The child screamed when their powers were shooting off at random. Things weren’t turning as they should, left in some strange in between state.

Marinette nodded at Queen Bee and Pegasus.

“Voyage.”

Queen Bee murmured “Venom,” Before running into the portal. She hit the kid quick.

Marinette and Chat came down then, looking over the frozen child.

“Its okay,” Marinette soothed as she looked them over. They were scared and Hawkmoth was--god she hates that man. He’s hurting them.

“Here M’lady,” Chat handed her the switch with a leery eye.

Marinette snapped the switch and the corrupted butterfly escaped. “No more evildoing for you little akuma!” she snapped it up in her yo-yo before releasing a white butterfly. “Bye-bye little butterfly.”

Marinette gestured for Chat to keep the kid busy while she summoned her Lucky Charm and used the Cure. She made sure to catch the reverse ladybugs and catch them in her yo-yo. No need to let people remember their traumatic death.

“Chaton, I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Understood M’lady, I’ll keep our little buddy company.”

Marinette nodded, quick to grab the miraculous boxes guarded by Queen Bee, ever faithful to Ladybug and the rules for remaining a permanent holder—no looking into the temporary holders, but collect the miraculous for her and Chat when they couldn’t.

“Roaar should still be the Guardian. You can meet him when he says you’re ready, until then, I’ll take these guys home. Thank you for watching them.”

“Hmpf, as if I’d ever betray your trust.” Queen Bee softened then. “Thank you again for giving me another chance.”

Marinette eased up. “You earned your second chance as a civilian with what you’ve done for your classmates, like protecting a certain model from a liar. That was enough for me with the fact that you’ve always been a good hero in the mask. I’m glad you’ve grown outside of it, just don’t backslide.”

Queen Bee nodded while her miraculous beeped. “Gotta go, Can you cover patrol for me and Chat tonight?”

“I—Yes! You can count on me!”

Marinette smiled at that. “Great, bug out!”

Marinette swung to a safe place to de-transform and put the miraculous boxes in her backpack. While Tikki ate, Marinette made her way to Fu’s.

“Do you think those boys will calm down now?”

“Mmh, they should. If not…”

Marinette knew that meant the kwami would take matters into their own hands. And she didn’t like the idea of the Justice League attacking in retaliation.

Once the miraculous were back with Fu, Marinette transformed to deal with whatever nonsense the Justice League had in store for her.

“…he’s not a hot dog anymore.” Nightwing said

“Yep.” Marinette did her best not to look too insulted.

“Ladybug, if I may—“

“I am not answering questions when I have a victim to look after. The child was likely being starved and beaten for god knows what, and I need to ensure their permanent removal from their current household and placement into a safe location. Battles are off limits for non-magic users here��every meta and professional fighter in the city knows this. I see you didn’t check the basic legal work with civilian aides here.”

That seemed to get Nightwing to sit up a bit straighter. “We’re heroes too.”

Wonder Woman interrupted for her. “This is Order business, all non-members are civilians in your teachings, yes?”

Marinette glared as she nodded. “Unless you’re powered by a tiny god, stay out of the battles. We have enough people getting akumatized in their sleep from nightmares, I’d rather not add any Leaguers—as I said many times before you were sent.”

That caused Nightwing to wince. “We were not informed of any of this. My apologies—I’ll inform my brothers and try to keep them out of your hair.”

“See that you do,” Wayzz added over her shoulder. “I am not above letting my siblings wreck havoc to make a point.”

“Wayzz,” Marinette warned. “I can handle this, please keep Roaar from breaking out again and giving people the idea that they should join future battles. Again.”

Wayzz flew off.

Marinette rubbed her forehead. “I need to go. I have police to handle, a child to remove from monsters, and I can’t do my homework or essays or any of my other civilian life things until all that is handled.”

Nightwing signed off. Wonder Woman was concerned, Marinette could feel it.

“Yes Wonder Woman?”

“I did not mean to add to your stress.”

“I know.” It didn’t mean she didn’t.

“Perhaps I could have one of the bats help with tending to victims for you, to give you some more free time to tend to your civilian side.” That would be nice but…

“Unless they’re familiar with healthy coping mechanisms for traumatized children, I’m going to have to turn you down.”

“Are we counting vigilantism as a healthy coping mechanism?”

Marinette raised an eyebrow. That was too much to unpack at the moment.

“I will send Nightwing to help speak with the child—he is good with children, and has been in such situations himself.”

Marinette took a deep breath. “He can cover the 11 to 6 watch, by then the kid should have a place to stay.”

Wonder Woman smiled at her.

Marinette relayed the message to Chat before speaking to the police and explaining what she saw. Marinette and Chat kept the child far away from the others in the house, and far from hearing whatever ‘justifications’ they had.

The pair didn’t think about leaving until the child was fast asleep, sure to wake up again later. They knew another city’s hero would be there then to help them out.

Nightwing approached them slowly.

“If you even think about—“

“I won’t.”

Marinette eyed the hero.

“I promise, just, how are they holding up?”

“They go by Syd. Somehow they got it in their head that making mistakes means no meals. Pretty sure dyslexic and they’ve been failing spelling tests.”

Nightwing winced. “Any allergies or…”

Chat raised an eyebrow. “None.”

“Good. I’ll be back.”

Chat petted the kid’s hair while leaning against Marinette. “M’lady?”

“Yes Chaton?” Marinette waited for him to continue.

“I… is…”

She waited for him to find his words.

“Is it okay for Father to…”

“To…”

“…restrict access to food at home.”

Marinette stilled a bit. She knew it wasn’t good with Gabriel but…

“May I ask how?”

“No more than 900 calories a day.”

“Chaton.”

Chat winced, waiting for something. “I am going to kick your father’s ass.”

Nightwing paused at the door, not that Marinette knew he was there.

“No one, and I mean no one, should have that---that’s abuse chaton, especially if what you said about not being allowed to see anyone outside of a list your father approved of, or that you have to make appointments to talk to him weeks in advance. I just… That man is toast.”

“I, it’s not that bad m’lady…”

“Chat, I am getting you out of there, okay? I know who your civilian side is. I just need a plan.”

Nightwing knocked before entering.

“Here, I figured light veggie pizza, fries and a hot chocolate should help. I know they need to take it slow, but this should work for small bit for the night. You two get some rest, okay?”

Nightwing sent a text to the others: Chat in bad home. Bug is working on something—might get magic siblings if B finds out and Wonder Woman doesn’t beat him to punch.

--

That’s all i got for this installment. 

Next Time: I’m thinking about (for damian’s POV) having Damian be watching Marinette do her routine, and freezing when he hears her ‘blackmail’ someone over the phone as “He’s not staying there if i have anything to say, and if it makes you feel better, you’re stealing the face of his brand, you know, if basic decency isn’t enough” (to felix, probably) and decides Marinette is a dangerous person to watch out for, and better to keep an eye on as she���s probably doing something wreckless.

followed by Batboys having a meeting about their role after Damian gets back, with Nightwing updating them on the fact that the kids didn’t even want them there in the first place, and it sounds like the JL is twisting their arm on this more than they thought, the combat ban, and you know, the fact that one of the heroes is in an abusive situation, so. They need a Plot to keep the kid holding destruction somewhere safe without letting out their identities, and giving the miraculous team breathing room.

And quick poll: Nightwing meets Marinette when she’s almost mugged on a delivery before Dick meets her,OR  Dick meets her at a gymnastics place where she’s helping a ten year old Manon with stretches before going off to practice a routine on bars with an instructor that knews the Flying Graysons and invited Dick over to show him the place, OR Dick meets Marinette while getting Tim’s order and almost dies when he finds out Marinette calls him ‘zombie’ before sending Damian a message that his classmate is his new favorite person, and may be his sister soon if Dick and Tim have anything to say about it.

Jason meets her a little later as Gina (his favorite traveling biker granny who adopted him) needs to Appear first, and i like her crashing in at random, berating Jason for taking forever to call her back and then demanding he meet his brother/uncle and his family Right Now Or So Help Her and him being too scared to argue.

Sound Good? 

@worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @littleredrobinhoodlum @northernbluetongue @kceedraws @pirats-pizzacanninibles @theatreandcomicfreak @daminett4life @catthhay @weird-pale-blonde-person @amayakans @chocolatecatstheron @tired-butterfly @multplelifes @yin-390 @area51qt

[letterboxd]

How I Letterboxd #6: Sean Boelman.

Talking 2020 movie trends, the year’s best documentaries, and Elijah Wood’s death-stare with peach emoji lobbyist Sean Boelman.

“Honestly, there’s not much I like to do other than watch movies or go to theme parks, and one of those things wasn’t an option for months.”

In a year like no other for the movie business, it’s still possible to see hundreds of new films if you have the right connections. For professional critics, the downside of missing the in-person festival buzz and tent-pole previews is somewhat offset by the upside of being able to pace out your screenings in the comfort of your own home.

Wondering who might possibly hold the title of “the Letterboxd member who has watched the most new releases so far this year”, we poked around in the server room and found Sean Boelman, who has logged well over 400 films from 2020 in his diary. So far this year, Sean (20) has covered the Sundance, SXSW, Tribeca, Florida and Fantasia Film Festivals; he also reviews films via screeners sent through from PR firms. Sean hails from Orlando, Florida, and is the founder of movie review platform disappointment media, which he created to promote a wider range of voices in film criticism.

Park So-dam and peach in ‘Parasite’ (2019), directed by Bong Joon-ho.

How long ago did you join Letterboxd? I joined Letterboxd back in 2015. I attended a film class that summer and the teaching assistant had an account and encouraged all of us to create our own. I’ve been using the app religiously ever since.

You’re our youngest ‘How I Letterboxd’ participant to date. How would you describe your experience on Letterboxd as a teenager? When I was in high school, I was one of the earliest adopters of the app, so I told all of my friends about it and suggested that they use it too. By the time I got to college, it was already in the mainstream within the film community, so I was just the guy with the most extensive account. I love how Letterboxd is a community for film fans to talk about films we love, and with the exception of a few trolls every once in a while, it’s really conducive to good discussions.

Which features have you found the most useful? I’m definitely an obsessive logger. The diary feature is without a doubt my favorite part of the app. I started logging in June 2015 and have logged every feature-length film (and some shorts) I’ve watched since. I made the decision not to retroactively mark everything I’ve seen in my life as watched, because that would be too monumental a task. I also find Letterboxd particularly useful during a festival. It’s interesting to see the buzz about what movies people do and don’t like so that I can adjust my schedule accordingly.

And what’s a feature you wish Letterboxd had? I really loved when you guys changed the stars to flames for Portrait of a Lady on Fire. It would be awesome if you started doing that more regularly for releases that get a sizeable following. Like, give Parasite peaches.

Ivana Baquero and Doug Jones in ‘Pan’s Labyrinth’ (2006), directed by Guillermo del Toro.

What film kicked off your passion for cinema, and specifically, which films or community of film fans motivated you to watch as many films as you can find for the current year? I’ve loved cinema for as long as I can remember, but the film that I credit with really birthing my love for film as art is Pan’s Labyrinth. When I saw that in theaters at the—probably too young—age of six, I felt like [Guillermo] del Toro transported me into Ofelia’s world, and I then realized what magical capabilities the medium of film has.

As for why I’m motivated to watch so many new releases, I have a bit of an issue with saying no, haha. As a film critic, I’m inundated with requests to review movies, from major studio releases to B-movies most people have never heard of. I’ve done my fair share of adding titles to TMDb. I end up reviewing anywhere from ten to twenty new releases a week, depending on the season.

You’re a film critic, but you only post short summaries on Letterboxd instead of your full reviews. Why share only brief thoughts? Much of this boils down to the fact that when I watch something, it’s still under embargo for full reviews, so I can only log it in my Letterboxd diary and leave a little blurb. I also find that there isn’t as much room for humor in my full reviews, so I like using this platform to get my jokes out.

So, as of writing, you’ve ranked 457 films from 2020. What percentage of your total films seen are from these new ‘Roaring Twenties’? Out of the films I’ve logged on Letterboxd, it seems like about ten percent are listed on Letterboxd as movies from 2020. The actual percentage would be quite a bit lower than that, though, since my Letterboxd doesn’t include anything I watched prior to June 2015.

Before Covid-19 shutdowns, how many of these films did you have the opportunity to see in theaters? Which were your most memorable theatrical experiences of the year? In 2020, I was able to see 29 films in theaters, either paid or in a theatrical press screening, before they shut down. I’ve also gotten to see some since the shutdown in drive-ins or from the Florida Film Festival holding socially distanced, in-person screenings. But I definitely went through a bit of theater withdrawal. I missed the smell of popcorn dearly.

For my favorite theatrical experiences in 2020, seeing The Invisible Man on opening night with a packed crowd was definitely a hoot. I was sad at first to have missed the press screening, but like most great horror movies, it was awesome to see it with an audience and hear them gasp in surprise in the action sequences. Another one was getting to see Weathering with You in 4DX. Normally you wouldn’t think of that as a big, spectacle-driven 4DX movie, but it was super-immersive in all of the Sunshine Girl scenes.

And I have some awesome memories from SXSW 2019. At the world premiere of Us, I was pushed into Elisabeth Moss. I once got a death stare from Elijah Wood who seemed to think I was going to approach him. Don’t get me wrong, I love his work—but I wasn’t going to because of etiquette. I watched Long Shot with one of the world’s leading geneticists and then got to see Boyz II Men perform live. And I laughed hysterically when Robert Patrick said in a Q&A that even he didn’t understand the movie he was in. It’s a fun time. I definitely encourage any cinephiles to attend an in-person festival when things get back to normal.

You have more than seventy films in your 2020 list with five or four and a half stars. Would you describe yourself as a generous rater? I was definitely a lot more generous when I started my Letterboxd than I am now. I’m sure if I rewatched some of those films I logged in 2015 and 2016, they’d get a lower rating today. But I really don’t mind it. I don’t see my purpose as a critic as to tear apart the filmmaker’s art—I want to appreciate it. Maybe I’m a little liberal with my five-star rating, but what can I say? Gosh, I love movies. And for me, a five-star rating doesn’t mean perfect, it means great. I don’t think there’s such thing as a perfect film. A five-star [rating] from me means that it connected with me in an extraordinary way. I reserve the ‘like’ for films that set themselves apart from the rest of the five stars by some virtue. If I give it a five and a like, now that’s something you should definitely not miss.

Tunde Adebimpe in ‘She Dies Tomorrow’ (2020), directed by Amy Seimetz.

Your best film of 2020 so far is Amy Seimetz’s She Dies Tomorrow—it’s also your number three of all time. What resonated so strongly with you about the film? Are you surprised about its divisive reaction? I absolutely adore She Dies Tomorrow. I’ve really admired Amy Seimetz’s work as an actress for a long time, and her work behind the camera on this blew me away. I haven’t seen Sun Don’t Shine yet, but it’s on the top of my list. It connected with me because it really captured some of the anxieties I’ve been going through recently. She obviously didn’t set out to make the definitive Covid film, but that’s what it ended up being. And of course, how could you not love that film’s extraordinary use of color. It looks magnificent. But I’m not at all surprised at how divisive it is. It has a very segmented and unorthodox narrative, and not everyone is a fan of that type of structure. I understand why it hasn’t worked as well for some people.

What are the other most overlooked films of 2020 so far? In terms of overlooked 2020 films, I think the big one is the Russell Simmons exposé On the Record. I think that Kirby Dick and Amy Ziering’s The Hunting Ground is one of the most harrowing documentaries I have ever seen in my life, and On the Record combines a lot of that relevance while also offering a really compelling look at the life of a powerful woman in the music industry. It’s great, and only about one thousand members have logged it on Letterboxd. Watch it on HBO Max!

There are a lot of great movies released in 2020 that are widely available and [fewer than] 5,000 people having logged them on Letterboxd. A White, White Day is a great little revenge thriller from Iceland. But what makes it stand out from the genre is that it’s a lot more understated and character-driven than most. It has similar vibes to You Were Never Really Here, but perhaps even quieter. Maria von Hausswolff’s cinematography is absolutely breathtaking, and Ingvar Sigurðsson gives one of my favorite performances of the year. It’s just a gorgeous film.

Hlynur Pálmason’s Icelandic revenge thriller ‘A White, White Day’(2019).

The Painted Bird is a bit harder to recommend because it is by no means fun, but it’s one of those that you have to watch once and will never want to see again. I described it as “auteur shock cinema”. It’s a three-hour-long Holocaust drama that’s bleak and filled with torture, but it’s powerful, heartbreaking and harrowing. It also features great performances all around, especially from child actor Peta Kotlár.

I think Michael Winterbottom is one of the best directors working right now and I’ve always loved what he did with the Coogan-Brydon combo in his The Trip series, and this year’s entry, The Trip to Greece, is probably the best one yet. Over the course of the decade the series has spanned, Coogan and Brydon have changed a lot, and this series—in which they play themselves—has adapted to reflect that. This one’s a lot more heartfelt, but still features plenty of great impressions and tantalizing food shots. This really is one of my favorite film series of all time, so you should check all four out! Some other overlooked films I can think of are Jasper Mall, Aviva and Sword of God.

Which 2020 films would you say are the most overrated? Any absolute must-avoids? This is going to be a really hot take, but there was a trifecta of homebound horror flicks that came out in July—Relic, The Rental and Amulet—and I didn’t care for any of them. I think all the directors are talented and show a lot of potential, especially Natalie Erika James, but I wasn’t a fan of any of the films. As for ones to avoid, I try not to call out bad movies unless there’s a reason to [do so], and there are only two of those this year: Coffee & Kareem and Elvis from Outer Space. Coffee & Kareem is just offensive, and Elvis from Outer Space tries to be so-bad-it’s-funny and falls flat.

Jahi Di’Allo Winston in ‘Charm City Kings’ (2020), directed by Ángel Manuel Soto.

What films that you’ve been fortunate to preview via screeners or film festivals are you certain will be a big deal once they’re available on general release? Ugh, there are some I wish I could talk about but I’m still under embargo! So I’ll have to talk mostly about festival ones. Alice Gu’s The Donut King is wonderful. It was supposed to debut at SXSW, but obviously that got cancelled. On one hand, it is a food doc about donuts—who doesn’t love donuts?—but it’s also a moving story about the immigrant experience. It scored distribution from Greenwich and should be released soon. Charm City Kings is great, and HBO Max picked that up to be released sometime this year. That’s a really awesome coming-of-age movie with a story by Barry Jenkins. And I saw a work-in-progress cut of this indie called Millennium Bugs made by an up-and-comer named Alejandro Montoya Marín. He was part of the Robert Rodriguez show Rebel Without a Crew. It’s a great little movie about Y2K and the Latinx experience that will be debuting online at Dances with Films and is looking for a distributor after that.

Fill in the blank: “2020 is a great year for ____ in film”. What patterns have you noticed? I really think that 2020 is a great year for documentaries. We thought 2018 was a great year with Won’t You Be My Neighbor?, Free Solo, RBG and Three Identical Strangers, among others, but this year is shaping up to be even better. Boys State, The Donut King, On the Record, Rebuilding Paradise, Dark City Beneath the Beat, A Secret Love and Disclosure are all excellent, and that’s just scratching the surface.

I think what makes these documentaries stand out is their ability to make the viewer feel connected to their story. I love documentaries that take a story you might not have otherwise heard of and tell it in a way that feels intensely personal. By taking these stories like the problems inherent in American democracy, the immigrant experience, the California wildfires, the #MeToo movement, and issues with trans representation on screen and telling them in a way that people can relate to them even if they can’t personally identify with their subjects, these documentary filmmakers are making the world a more compassionate place.

What films are you most looking forward to that are scheduled to release in 2020? Any awards season predictions you feel strongly about? In terms of mainstream releases, I’m most excited for No Time to Die, unless it gets pushed to 2021 like some have rumored. I’m a huge Cary Joji Fukunaga fan, so I’m excited to see what he does with the franchise. For indies, I’m really looking forward to seeing Promising Young Woman, The Green Knight, Save Yourselves!, Nomadland and Another Round.

For awards seasons predictions, there are a few I’m pretty confident about based on what I’ve seen. Boys State is an early frontrunner for Best Documentary. I think Eliza Hittman will get some love for Never Rarely Sometimes Always. Dev Patel is a pretty good bet for a Best Actor nod for The Personal History of David Copperfield, even though the movie itself probably won’t get much more love. And there’s an upcoming Netflix movie that has a screenplay nomination in the bag, and maybe a couple other categories too, but shhhh, I’m under embargo on that one so I can’t say more.

Dev Patel in ‘The Personal History of David Copperfield’ (2019), directed by Armando Iannucci.

You keep thorough distributor rankings as well as year and franchise lists—how would you sum up the way each of these recently formed companies inspires you? Obviously A24 and NEON have amassed a pretty big cult following, and for good reason. There’s a particular identity their films have, despite the differences in genre, and I enjoy ranking them because of that. For the streamers, their films are a little more diverse, but I use my lists as a way for people to discover some of my favorite films they can watch at the click of a button. And for Blumhouse, it’s just because I absolutely adore the work Jason Blum does in supporting filmmakers’ voices. I’m usually pretty cool-headed around celebrities because interacting with high-profile people is a part of our job as critics, but I admittedly froze when I met him at SXSW since I’m such a big fan of his. I’ve always said that once I score an interview with him, I can “retire” as a critic, haha.

You’re of Guatemalan descent. Which films do you best relate with your Latino heritage? Of course, Pan’s Labyrinth is a big deal for me given the fact that it was a formative film in my life. [Alejandro] Jodorowsky’s The Holy Mountain is one of my favorite Latino classics. El Mariachi is great because Robert Rodriguez is the epitome of Latino DIY filmmaking and has always been such an inspiring figure. I got to interview him last year for Alita: Battle Angel, and it was an awesome experience. And in terms of more recent films, I think the Netflix doc Mucho Mucho Amor really captures the importance of community amongst Latinos.

What films are highest on your list of shame? I will say that I’ve seen more classics than I have logged on Letterboxd, but there are still a few embarrassing gaps on my list. I love the work I’ve seen from Akira Kurosawa, Brian De Palma, Agnès Varda and Chantal Akerman, and I really want to finish up their filmographies. Probably the most shameful omission I have is the fact that I’ve never seen a film by Ingmar Bergman. I’ve been lightening my workload for my site a bit, so I’m hoping to catch up on some of those soon.

Who are three Letterboxd members you recommend we follow? My friend Camden Ferrell who co-founded disappointment media with me. He’s also very passionate about film and does a lot of reviews for the site. Another one of our contributors is Sarah, who came on to the team during Sundance this year. She’s great and basically started the Portrait of a Lady on Fire fandom. I also want to give a shout-out to Jon Berk who was actually the critic to challenge me to start a blog back in 2016 when he was doing the Doug Loves Movies challenge, and now I’ve gotten to where I significantly outpace him, haha.

Sean’s site accepts story pitches from, and offers constructive feedback to, aspiring writers from under-represented and minority groups. Email Sean to find out more. Check out these 2020 rankings from Letterboxd members who have watched more than 100 releases this year: Orlan Harris, Austin Burke, Jerome, Joey Magidson, Kevin Yang, Jack, Jordan Raup, Matt Neglia, Weather Boy, Julian D, Johann Rucker, Mikey Brzezinkski, Ewan Graf, Denis Eremeev, Aaron King.

[nev3rfound]

allow me one last goodbye : h.z

giving you a moment alone, bucky allows you to say goodbye to zemo. (900 words)

requested: not exactly - the idea is mine but you guys agreed about having a zemo fic so here we are! warnings: tfatws spoilers

masterlist / permanent taglist / etsy shop - requests open!

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website without being credited, it has not been approved to be shared by me. all rights reserved.)

Walking ahead, the sense of dread was overpowering. You could feel your heart racing in your chest as you turned the corner, the heights of the memorial coming into view.

"Thought I'd find you here," You speak up whilst his back remains turned, allowing you a moment to try and compose yourself, ignoring the tears already threatening to appear.

"I just wanted to see it, once at least now that I'm free." Glancing over his shoulder, his stoic expression softens, his eyebrows furrow together at the sight of your weak smile whilst your heart pangs in your chest. "Mi Schatz," Holding his hand out toward you, Zemo watches closely as you hesitantly accept.

Pulling you closer into his embrace, you bury your face into the fur lining his coat, wishing you could stay with him like this forever.

"It's wonderful," You quietly mutter, looking up at Zemo's chiselled jawline, missing the nights you'd run your fingers along it and kiss down his neck. How during his days in prison you'd watch on the other side of the glass as he grew a beard, hating it whilst you quite liked it, teasing him about his appearance. Back before you fully knew him, knew Helmut as opposed to Zemo. "how do you feel, being here?"

Zemo hums to himself before tearing his focus away from the memorial, the family etched in stone to you, noticing the tears forming in your eyes. "At peace," He calmly states. "and I'm glad you're here with me." He smiles down at you, lifting his hand up to cup your cheek.

"I'm sorry you couldn't have visited sooner." You admit, knowing how little time is left between you both. "Helmut,"

"It's okay, Y/n." Zemo's hand moves to gently lift your chin up, allowing him to fully see your face in the sunlight, the warmth you provided him and light over the past few years when all he endured was darkness. "Thank you, for the visits, and putting up with me all this time." He jokes lightly, but you shake your head.

"I'd do it again, anything." You whisper, hearing the sound of footsteps creep from around the corner. "I love you, Helmut."

Zemo smiles proudly. "As you should, mi schatz." He chuckles, leaning in closer as his lips brush against yours delicately, too afraid to hurt you. "Do what needs to be done, for me." Zemo breathes into your lips, ignoring the plea in your gaze.

"I, I can't." It hurt to go against him, after all the things you've endured since meeting him when you were assigned to monitor his progress in prison. "It's wrong, Helmut, you know it deep down." Resting your hand on his chest, you can hear his heart beating faster, despite his cool exterior.

Ignoring your statement, he tenses up at the sound of a gun clicking. "I thought you'd be here sooner." Zemo calls out to Bucky who holds his left arm out for you, only to watch you bury your face into Zemo's chest.

"Y/n, come on." Bucky demands.

"One more minute, please, Bucky." You try to reason as Zemo strokes your hair and kisses the top of your head.

"It's going to be fine, Y/n." Zemo assures. "This won't be the end, my dove."

Before you can object, Bucky grabs a hold of you as he tears you from Zemo's arms forcefully. "Bucky! Stop!" You cry out as the Dora Milaje appear, forming around Zemo.

Standing tall, Zemo tries not to falter his gaze which remains set ahead, admiring the scenes he once loved of Sokovia.

"Please," You plead against Bucky as Zemo walks on, trying to keep himself together as he ignores your muffled sobs, his heart cracking at the sound. "let me say goodbye." The words are barely audible as you look up to Bucky weakly whilst you hang in his arms.

Looking over to Ayo, no words are exchanged.

Bucky releases his grip on you, and you're heading straight ahead toward the Dora Milaje. "Helmut!" You yell, running at full force as the Dora Milaje part from around him.

Evidently surprised, Zemo remains still as you wrap your arms around his neck, allowing him a moment to adjust.

Resting his arms around your waist, Zemo can still hear the soft whimpers leaving your lips. "Oh, Y/n," Zemo hushes. "this isn't the end, not for us, not yet." He chuckles dryly. "You'll see me again."

"You promise?" You know it's useless to ask such a thing, but the small smile forming on Zemo's lips says otherwise.

Nodding in response, Zemo captures your lips with his passionately.

Salty tears mix with your lips, the bitterness contrasting the sheer sweetness of his lips against yours until he pulls away.

"Take care, Y/n. Do what you must, my dove." Zemo takes your hand in his as you step backwards, your hand slipping out from his grasp for the last time.

The Dora Milaje form around him once more, and Zemo turns to face the jet before him.

Now knowing you're out of sight, a stray tear falls down Zemo's cheek, unsure if he can truly keep his promise this time to you, his love, his dove.

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[incorrectsmashbrosquotes]

Luigi's Odd Hip-Hop Phase

The Smashers were in the cafeteria eating lunch. For some apparent reason, there was a new hip-hop trend overtaking the mansion where a good handful of the Smashers were dressing up and adopting a hippity hop language. 

Jeff walks over to the table where Dark Pit, Pit, Vilager, and Ashley were sitting at, seemingly dressed up as the guys you’d find in old hip hop videos.

Jeff: Pit, check out these hip hop moves!

Jeff begins to dance around. While Pit and Villager look in general confusion, Ashley and Dark Pit stare at Jeff in horror of what they are witnessing. While Jeff is shuffling away, he bumps in to someone.

Jeff: Uh…Uh…Uh….uh-oh…(shivers as he turns around)

Incineroar, dressed in a hoodie and torn jeans: (Growls at him)

Jeff: S-Sorry, y-yo!

Luigi, coming in with a backwards cap, and two shirts over his body: You don’t know how sorry you are, nerd! This be my man, Incine-Savage, ya heard?! The swaggiest, hip hop, beatbox cat with the hottest bars out there!

Agent 3, in the back: Nope. Not doing this. The freshness levels have officially hit rock bottom. No one talks like that. C'mon. (picks up all the other Inklings and leaves)

Jeff: Cat? The way he’s dressed he looks more like a cringey uncle trying to be cool.

The cafeteria grows silent instantly. You even hear Sonic dropping his rings.

Dark Pit, in a flat tone: He’s dead.

Luigi: Oh, no you didn’t. I knooooooow you didn’t just insult my dawg, Incine-Savage, dawg!

Jeff: I-It was a mistake, y-yo! I’m sorry, really!

Luigi: Does Young Weegee gonna have to insult yo-

Ashley: Hold it.

The cafeteria looks at Ashley, who gets up from her table and goes to Lucas’ table. She grabs Lucas and Bowser Jr and gently takes them a safe distance away from the cafeteria. She then walks back in and sits at her table. 

Ashley: Okay, carry on.

Luigi: …Is Young Weegee gonna have to insult yo mama?!

Jeff: No! Anything but that!

Luigi: Yo mama sooooooooooo….

???: Yo mama so what?

The cafeteria turns around and sees Lyn standing behind them.

Jeff: Sword Mom!

(Luigi and Incineroar are now going by their rap names)

Young Weegee: Sword Mama?

Lyn, nodding: I arrived here because Jeffy forgot his sweater. (holds up a sweater that says, “I love my mom”)

Jeff: (nervously laughs, then pouts)

Lyn: Now, I refuse to tolerate you insult him, so lets just calm down and apologize like rational people.

Young Weegee: What'cha gonna do ‘bout it, Assister? You’s in Young Weegee’s house now! And ain’t no ponytail having, one move using, different colored Chick Marth, finna come up into my crib, and tell ya boy what to do!

Incine-Savage: Word.

Lyn, placing down her sword: Oh, you’ve done it now. I wanted to talk this out like a mature adult, but I guess we can’t even attempt that! So, I have no other choice but to start getting on your mother! Sorry, Mario.

 Mario: Eh, it’s more directed towards him.

Lyn: Yo mama so ugly, that kids go as her for Halloween!

Everyone: OOOO!

Young Weegee: Yo mama so stupid, she sold her car for gas money!

Lyn: Yo mama so ugly, she made Ridley cry!

Everyone: Oooooh!

Young Weegee: Yo mama so ugly, she turned medusa to stone!

Lyn: Yo mama so stupid, she took a ruler to see how long she’d flip!

Young Weegee: Well, yo m-

Lyn: Yo mama so stupid, she cheated off of Pit’s test exam!

Everyone including Pit: (laughing)

Young Weegee: W-Well, I…

Lyn: Yo mama so ugly, she looked out a window, and got arrested for mooning!

Young Weegee: Well, w-well….

Lyn: No no no! Your mother. Is so ugly….I mean, so repulsively ugly…she needs two bags to cover her face. Mmhm! And Bowser, wouldn’t even kidnap her. No he wouldn’t! Kirby wouldn’t even try inhaling her!

Kirby: (looks at the crowd, and just sticks his tongue out)

Young Weegee & Incine-Savage: Uh-Uh Uh….W-Wuh W-uh…(stammering and shaking)

Pit: This doesn’t seem good….

Everyone in the Smash Bros cafeteria quickly exits the building. Young Weegee and Incine-Savage back up, still shaking. Soon, they overheat and explode in a bright flash. 

The cafeteria is in total ruins, and Luigi and Incineroar are on the ground unconious. The cafe’s doors open once more. 

Little Mac, just getting here, looks around: …Did I miss the yo mama jokes? We haven’t done those since I was a kid!

[worldofcrack]

SSBU - World of Crack - The boys lose Marth in a forest

Mario: It looks like we’ll have to fight many people to get to the base. I suppose we’ll have to camp outside.

Pac-Man: There’s a forest nearby.

Kirby: When are the mites coming back? I’m fucking starving.

Olimar: Marth probably asked them to not find anything.

Kirby: Marth, how could you? I thought you were the only sane one besides me.

Marth: I never even talked to them. Although, I think everyone here could afford to lose some weight.

Olimar: Um, I’m normal weight for my species.

Pac-Man: Same here.

Kirby: Me too!

Mario: ... At least, I’ve lost weight.

Marth: Not enough! I need to get my weight back to what it was in Melee.

Mario: Marth, you’ve grown since Melee, you’re never getting your old weight back.

Marth: Fuck you! You always pick on me! I’m leaving! *runs into the forest*

Mario: Marth, wait!

Kirby: Not cool dude, not cool.

In the forest.

Kirby: I have gathered you all here to discuss Operation 21. Before we start, any questions?

Olimar: Who made you the leader?

Kirby: I did. Mario’s clearly unfit to be the leader, isn’t that right, Mario?

Mario: I didn’t do anything wrong!

Kirby: That’s what they all say. Moving on. We will split into two groups. Mario and Pac-Man will set up camp and find food. You must get the best food for me and get Marth his flowers.

Mario: I am not-

Kirby: You are getting those flowers, you’re the reason we lost Marth.

Mario: Fine.

Kirby: Olimar and I will look for Marth.

Somewhere in the forest.

Marth: I’m lost... I want my friends back... I wish everything could go back to the way it was. I miss my iPhone...

Random squirrel: ?

Marth: What are you looking at?

Random squirrel: *runs away*

Marth: Maybe I should climb a tree, I might find an iPhone 11 there. Oh, who am I kidding? I don’t have anyone to catch me when I want to get down.

In the bushes.

Olimar: He’s completely lost it. He wants to climb a tree to find an iPhone.

Kirby: Marth’s actually pretty good at climbing trees. That’s how he found his first iPhone. It was love at first sight.

Olimar: The Melee days must have been crazy.

Kirby: They were the best! What’s Marth doing- He’s gone! God damn it!

At the camp.

Pac-Man: All done. It’s getting dark so I’m gonna start a fire.

Mario: That should help the others get back.

Pac-Man: They’re really taking their time.

Mario: And I even got Marth his stupid flowers! Jesus Christ, I feel like his babysitter.

Pac-Man: The forest isn’t too big. Maybe they’re looking for food?

Mario: Marth must have climbed a tree. He’s always climbing trees. We once had to call 911 to get him down because Ocarina of Time Link convinced him iPhones grew on trees.

Pac-Man: Is that why he got replaced by Twilight Princess Link?

Somewhere else in the forest.

Olimar: Marth! Marth, where are you?

Kirby: Free iPhones! We have free iPhones, Marth!

Marth: *up a tree* You do?

Kirby: God damn it, Marth! How are you going to get down now?

Marth: I need someone to catch me but I don’t want to be caught by any of you.

Olimar: Pikmins, you know what to do:

Pink pikmins: *fly and get Marth down the tree*

Marth: That’s cheating! I’m climbing back up.

Kirby: No, you are coming with us or I’m destroying your iPhone.

Back at the camp.

Mario: Marth, I am sorry for what I said to you earlier. I got you your flowers.

Marth: You don’t mean it.

Mario: Fine, goodnight. Now go to sleep.

Marth: Wait, why do I have to go to sleep?

Kirby: You’re the youngest one here. You have to go to sleep first.

Pac-Man: Must be so nice being young.

Olimar: I don’t know about that...

The next morning.

Mario: I made breakfast for all of you and you’re going to like it.

Olimar: Um... I don’t see anything.

Mario: You’re going to like it.

Pac-Man: Did you get any sleep?

Mario: No! Marth talks in his sleep!

Marth: I slept like a baby!

Kirby: But babies don’t talk in their sleep.

Mario: I learned things I never wanted to learn!

Pac-Man: Oh, well... Saving the world is more important than Mario’s health.

[lovely-necromancy]

A Cure for Insomnia CH.6

You wake up sometime around one. Not too late in the day given your morning. With a decent amount of sleep under your belt you roll over and start striping your bed of its sheets. Then you make your way across your room, picking up stray clothes as you go to your hamper and dump your collection of dirty linens and clothes into it. You carry the hamper to the bathroom where you load half into the washer. There's no real point in separating the clothes from colored items and pastels or whites. You're only twenty-four and don't have your life totally figured out yet. You can be a little lazy with laundry.

Once your first load of laundry is being washed you go to do your weekly tidy of your home. The one good thing that came from the paranoia of your car's break in was you rearranged all the furniture of the home, thus cleaning as you went. So that means it's more of a quick wipe down of counters and sweeping today. Maybe you'd organize your art supplies while doing your laundry. It's an activity that wouldn't distract you too much and make you forget you had laundry in the wash.

You finish washing the dishes from this morning you begin wiping the counters and tabletop when you notice your fidget cube is still on the table where Toby left it earlier.

'Don't want to lose this. Back to the bookshelf where you belong.' When you get to the living room's bookshelf you notice one of your book's is missing. Ironically it's The Book Thief.

'Tobias probably picked it up and put it down somewhere.' you'd keep your eyes peeled for the book while you cleaned.

After wiping down bookshelves, tables, counters, even the mantel over the fire place you still hadn't found your missing book. You probably picked it right up and placed it right back down without even realizing. You'll just keep an eye out until you find it. You don't even reread books, you really just kept a copy to lend out to people when they ask what your favorite books are. It isn't a real big deal if you can't find it, plus there's bound to be a copy floating somewhere in a thrift shop or yard sale.

The washer chimes right as you grab the broom to sweep. Pausing this task to go retrieve your laundry and do the rest. You empty the dirty clothes left in the basket onto the floor and place the clean wet ones inside the basket. After starting the final load you carry the basket out back. As nice as this home is its still small and doesn't have a dryer, which early summer is fine but come fall and winter might be more cumbersome. Seeing as you have to hang the laundry out to dry outside. Maybe when it gets cold you'll just do smaller loads and hang them up in the bathroom or over the fire place. But that's a thought for future you. Right now current you is struggling yet again to get a fitted sheet to sit on the line. Fitted sheets are probably Satan himself in disguise.

When you finish stringing all the laundry up you take a moment to just enjoy the quiet and the peace that comes with the outside. It's nice out here, maybe after you finish the last few chores today you can come out and just draw, it'd be a good way to also keep an eye on this weather in case it turns. While it hasn't happened yet you're very aware of the risks you take by ignoring the existence of meteorologists. And by that you mean just not bothering to look up the weather for the day.

Heading back inside you restart your task of sweeping. Like you thought you've finished before the washer has even completed it's first cycle. The house isn't too big so it's easy to clean it from top to bottom within a day normally, but today you had even less to do thanks to this week's rearranging. So you move on to organizing your art supplies and separating all materials by medium.

Of course arranging materials is never easy, after all you end up staring at all your horded empty sketch books and note how your thumbnail notebooks are just covered in doodles and random scribbles but no real art or ideas. Maybe it's time to start kicking yourself into gear. You ran into a major period of burnout before moving and now with this fresh start you might be able to focus on progressing with art, even if you don't pursue it as a career. You've always loved the ability to draw and create images that make others happy. But right in this moment you just want to make yourself happy. Maybe you could start small just a few still lifes and see how you feel after that.

Hearing the chime of the washer you hurry to finish putting away the supplies in their newly assigned places. Just as before you transfer the wet and clean clothes into the awaiting basket and take them out to be hung to dry. You don't have another fitted sheet this go round so it goes by much faster than it previously had. Now with all of your washing for today hung you head back inside to grab a fresh sketchbook.

Having never been one for scenery, more of a portrait artist, you start off with small things. A few stills of a flower under the window, the old tire swing on the tree, and even the blue jay that dove for dinner right in front of you. Of course all of these were warm ups done in a few minutes, though you really wish you had more time on the blue jay one. You really need practice with things that aren't people.

The warm ups of course don't look very good, but you can still see what you'd been going for. The hatching and smudging you'd done, to increase depth and give the quick drawing more life, did help a little but it was clear this was an area where you weren't skilled. But that didn't deter you, after all you  needed more practice and wouldn't be getting better without it.

Deciding to draw the scene before you, a small open meadow surrounded by trees, in other words your backyard with your drying laundry. You start off slow and make sure to actually look and take in the yard in front of you, doing your best to not just make up the trees and their shapes as you go. Soon you are lost in the meditative muscle memory of drawing. The scratching of pencil scrapping across paper further lulling you into a trance like state as you etch out the scenery.

A harsh breeze blows through and the loud flapping of sheet hitting sheet knocks you loose from your trance. Checking to make sure none of your laundry was flying off, it hadn't the laundry was still secured to the line. Smiling you glance down to actually see what you've sketched out so far. It isn't too bad, though you aren't sure how long you've been working on it, the trees all have a distinct shape rather than your typical cartoon one size fits all attempts. Scanning the page your eyes catch onto something off, out in the tree line it looks like you'd drawn a figure hiding behind a tree.

Hearing the beating of your heart that's currently hammering against your chest you look around. Did your mind do that as a joke or had someone genuinely been watching you draw? Your mouth is dry as your eyes scan the tree line for any sign of what could've been mistaken for a person, but you saw nothing. No one was there. Had anyone ever really been there? Why would you draw that? Why wouldn't you remember doing it? You don't feel safe out here anymore. There are eyes watching you you can feel it. They may not physically be there but the phantom eyes that surround you and cause your skin to crawl make sure you know of their presence. You take that as a sign to head inside for the evening, one that doesn't need to be repeated.

You lock the door immediately behind you and check your phone. It's seven, and you have an email notification. Thanking whatever power for the distraction you slide down your back door and open the notification. It's from Hollis!

YN r u  coming to SND? It's that teen beach zombie movie u love. Y;know the awful D list one Blk and wht with the 50yos playing teenagers

Lemme know I'll save your seat.

Sent 6:47 P.M.

They're so sweet to remember you loved this awful D list zombie movie. Horrible subplots and main plot and all. But you're a little spooked right now and watching even that joke of a horror movie is probably too much for you. You doubt you'd feel better by the time ten rolls around to watch it. Not to mention your battery's still drained from Toby this morning. And knowing for a fact you'd probably stay late to talk till morning with Hollis, Jake, and Kirby you decide it's best to skip this week. Just not having the energy to handle Saturday Night Dead.

Nah, sorry man. Battery's dead from being social earlier. Thanks tho, I do appreciate you! ….....,.... lemme know what next week's movie is!

Sent 7:10 P.M.

It'd probably be a good time to make something for dinner, there's a box of mac n cheese in the pantry. Simple but always beloved. As you wait for Hollis to respond you start on boiling water. But you didn't have to wait too long since they'd answered near instantly.

Chill, don worry we'll catch ya next week

…..oooop

ot not...Kirb's said it's the start of watching the entire warren file collection

starting from the beginning

...well the first movie released, Insidious. LOL we probs won't ever see you again.

Sent 7:12 P.M.

How dare Kirby betray you like this. First off those movies are awful, and like not cheesy awful just awful awful. Not to mention he knows how you feel about the Warrens and their cases. You have a power point presentation ready for that dick the next time you see him. ...well not literally but you'd make one to prove a point!

Where's Kirby now? I just wanna talk, I just wanna talk is all.

Sent 7:18 P.M.

Already ran off toy vermont probably

will we get blessed with a ted talk nxt week?

Sent 7:20 P.M.

I can't tell if you're joking or not. If you aren't then yea I can make a power point and we'll play that instead of the movies. Every week until this town understands the severity of this.

Sent 7:21 P.M.

Ya just jkin.

Your passionate hate is funny tho, so could be good to do something mid warren marathon.

Sent 7:23 P.M.

Guess the dissertation on how horrendous the “exorcisms” were will have to wait. They'd just been joking. This is probably a good ending of the conversation anyway, it's hard to tell sometimes but you feel you'll just run in circles with the current topic or worse fall into a rant that they won't read all the way through because they'll have left with the rest of the stunt gang to get dinner before heading over to the Cryptonomica for Saturday Night Dead. Hollis is typically a real good sport about this kinda thing but you'd rather not bog down their night with your hate boner for the Warrens.

'I'll let them know later that I'll still come to Saturday Night Dead next week.' you think as you dump the pasta into the water that finally came to a boil. It's quiet as you cook your macaroni dinner. You'd normally not notice the lack of sound or life in your home before, but maybe having Connor and Toby over put things into perspective. Guests aren't really a thing you've ever had, you always feel rude if your social battery runs out before someone's stay is over. But maybe you're lonely, and it's put you on edge.

Though this week would've put anyone on edge, you have still been alone in this house for two months. That can't be healthy for your mental well being, humans are social creatures by nature after all. Maybe you could get a pet, something that'd make it's fair share of noise and give the home a bit more life than your normally hollow shell wondering the halls. Are you even sure you want a pet? Do you have time for one? You have the standard nine to five, but what about when you're off on a nightly trip because of your sleeplessness? What if you forgot about them? Hell your brain's been so foggy these last few months, it wouldn't be surprising.

Like a sign from the divine themselves, the pot of water boils over. Steam is rising as the sizzling is heard. Your head snaps twice to the right as you scramble to lower the heat and raise the pot off the eye. Putting it down on an unused eye you give it a quick stir and thankfully no pasta got burned to the bottom of the pan....this time. The pasta seems a little crunchy but a texture you'll eat so you kill the hot eye and start on the cheese portion of your mac n cheese.

As you eat you continue your original debate about getting a pet. Ultimately deciding that you just aren't ready for that kind of responsibility right now. Sure you'd had tons of pets in your parents' home but that was with a financial safety net and back when your mental health wasn't all over the place. Not to mention the pets were family pets and responsibility was split three ways.

There isn't much room in your home for you to have a roommate, and that presents a whole nother set of challenges. You could try to make friends through online forums again! It's hard to talk to people in general but you always get scared off before replying to a comment or post. Or overshare to the point people infantize you. Even better trying therapy out could help with your loneliness. Hah ok good one, even if you had money for it consistently you don't think you could trust someone knowing all your secrets but not knowing any of theirs. And while that in and of it self is an example of why you need it, you're rational enough to realize you aren't ready for that either.

After finishing your meal you put away the left overs and clean the dishes. You'll be happier tomorrow knowing they aren't your problem to deal with. You start to make your way to your bedroom but freeze just before the hall.

'You shouldn't stay here...you need to leave.'

A glance at the time tells you it's eight thirty-nine, if you left right now you could make it to Saturday Night Dead with time to spare. You don't need to fill the loneliness with new friends, just spend time with the ones you already have. Duh. Turning you grab your keys off the bookshelf and take one of the masks hanging from a hook by the door.

Checking your door was locked and locking your car once you were in, you're ready to drive. Knowing you're still overstimulated you forgo the music on this drive, hoping it will calm you down enough to enjoy the movie and some down time with friends. And that would help put a pin in your self isolating habits. It'd really be nice if you brought movie snacks over to surprise the gang. You're pretty sure the mini mart carries everything you need. Jake likes swedish fish, Hollis is addicted to those extreme sour airhead ropes, and Kirby's a weirdo with his love of red vines and surge. Hahaha that man will die before he's thirty-eight.

Still having the extra time you deiced to stop by the mini mart and grab the candy. What's the worse that can happen you have another panic attack in front of strangers. Plus you hadn't seen Magnolia the last few times and you'd hate for her to think you'd been ignoring her. Pulling into the empty mini mart parking lot you take a breath to steel your resolve before leaving your car.

Tim looks at the door when he hears the chime and stiffens when he sees you. Fuck you did have a panic attack in front of this guy last night, plus you really haven't formally met. But didn't Toby say his roommate was named Tim? And he and Brian were both here talking with Tim last night before you came in. That can't be coincidence.

“uh...hi?” you say awkwardly standing in the doorway, door closed behind you.

“um, hi?” perfect he's just as awkward in this situation as you are. You can work with this.

Moving through the first two isles you keep your eyes peeled for Magnolia, even though you can make this an in and out trip for candy, you do miss the little bodega cat.

“Wh- hey are you, are you even ok to be here?” Tim calls as he rounds the counter and makes his way to you.

“Huh? Oh...oh yea. I'm chill now.” you hear the bell before you see her. The little ting tin ting of her bell that comes with the grace only fluffy cats have.

“You literally collapsed on the floor last night after blacking out while driving.” his tone is very stern. He and Nate would probably get on like a house on fire. The grumpy old men who secretly care a lot duo.

“I don't remember collapsing...but I know I didn't drive.” well you don't know that but you do firmly believe that.

The man is just turning into the isle when you spot the floof sauntering just behind him. Magnolia didn't spare either of you a glance as she made her way to the counter. Probably going to her bed, an old shipping box for apples, you'd just meet her over there then. With no warning to the man you squeeze past him and and follow the cat. Agitated footsteps following after you in your quest to pet the cat.

Magnolia perks up upon seeing you, the flicking of her tail letting you know she's anticipating her pets. The huffing Tim hovering behind you isn't as pleased with your actions as the cat is. The man is radiating negativity, annoyance maybe or is it concern that breeds frustrated anger? The second he starts to clear his throat, as if to remind you of his hovering, you roll your eyes.

Looking back at him over your shoulder you see him in all his grumpy man glory.  His brow was furrowed so hard his thick eyebrows nearly covered his eyes. But with the way his lips emoted the man before you looked more like a pouting muppet. It would be funny if it weren't for the foreboding feeling of the moments before being reprimanded by a teacher.

When you straighten up you take note that your eyes meet perfectly. He's the same height as you that's surprising, you thought he'd be taller than 5'7. His eyes widen slightly at seeing your full height, it must've thrown him off since the first time he saw you, you'd actively been trying, and had succeeded at looking smaller.

“What are you doing here?” well he doesn't get thrown off for long.

Running a hand through Magnolia's fur a few more times as you respond, “Petting Magnolia.” you really are a little shit sometimes.

“No...no, why are you out? Toby had to take you home last night, you shouldn't just be waltzing around town after that.” maybe it was frustrated concern.

“Oh I'm fine now.”

Magnolia at this point has jumped up on the counter and is headbutting you for more attention. Chuckling you turn your attention back to her. Meanwhile Tim behind you is at a loss for words.

“Fine?? You don't just...bounce back from a panic attack.”there's personal experience behind those words.

“I just rationalize things fast.” Hearing the trill of the clock on the wall reminds you that you need to grab those snacks and head over to the Cryptonomica for movie night.

Going to the candy isle you grab one of each of the gang's favorites, you snag a bag of white cheddar popcorn on the way to the counter and place your items there. Tim doesn't get a word out before you rush off to the cooler near the back that is in all honesty pretty sketch. Like who even makes  Fruitopia anymore? That stuff got discontinued in the early 2000s. The cooler even has Hi-C Ecto Coolers...you might actually check if they're in date and grab a few.

Rummaging around the cooler you finally spot the weird tech green and black splattered can proudly stating SURGE. It has no date...questionable at best. But hey it's only Kirby drinking it, and it's been well established that man will die well before middle age.   Grabbing a can to check the Ecto Coolers, luck is on your side! These cans are from the re-release that happened as a promotion for the Ghostbusters revival a few years back, they'll be good for another two years! For now you'll just take one so you won't have to worry about lugging cans around for the movie.

Once your new items are placed on the counter the expression on Tim's face cannot even be described. The questions of the surge are probably the ones easiest to read...or they're just the most predictable.

“Kirby likes red vines and surge, sickening right?” Maybe a little joke will break the ice.

“...Like that little round pink...thing?”  What?

The laughter is coming out before you can stop it, the image of said pink Kirby consuming red vines and surge only to accessorize as your friend comes to mind. It's adorable and cursed at the same time. Adorably cursed. You'll have to draw that and print a few copies to hang around the Cryptonomica.

“No,” you're choking on giggles at this point, “Kirby, the owner of the Cryptonomica.” catching your breath and regaining your composure, “It's that tourist trap just across from the RV park.”

“Oh.” normally such a short cold reply would make you shut down the conversation. But This is Toby's roommate, and if you want to be friends with Toby, you'll probably run into him a lot more. Plus if he's a new night shift cashier it wouldn't hurt to be on good terms with him for when you're out on adventures.

“Yea, hey Toby mentioned you three just came to town, so you might not have known but the Cryptonomica does a weekly movie night on Saturdays. Saturday Night Dead. Normally it's awful old horror movies but next week they're starting a Warren Case files “arch”.” Tim doesn't take the conversation bait at the pause.

“It's a great way to meet other locals, you guys should check it out if you get the chance. It starts at ten and runs till one or so on most weeks.” Olive branch has been extended.

Tim relaxes for the first time since you got here tonight. The sheepish look on his face and twitchy pupils give the impression he's thinking it over. He sighs and nods before saying, “Yea, that sounds...nice.”

Olive branch skeptically taken! You'll count this one as a win in your book. With the mood lightened Tim breaks the ice a bit further.

“Surge and red vines can not be good for you.”

“Right! If living off mountain dew and pizza rolls doesn't kill him, this for sure will.” you both have a small laugh at that. It's nice to finally have cleared up the mix up from the beginning of the week. Which reminds you.

“Oh...um...I'm YN by the way. It's nice to meet you...sorry for the two,” your neck tics to the side, “previous nights.” you finish.

“Tim...and it,uh happens sometimes...'s fine.” Score awkward acknowledgment of previous meetings and you can now erase those from your nightly anxieties.

Tim finishes ringing and bagging your items and you pay. Giving another pet to the curled up kitty on the counter you nod farewell to Tim.

A trill rings out from the clock on the wall. It's ten.

Two heads snap to look at the wall. You take a second glance at your phone while Tim checks his watch. Both say the clock on the wall is correct. But it just turned nine not even ten minutes ago. Right? You can brush off yourself loosing track of time but when you involve another person that just doesn't make sense. Tim looks just as concerned as you. Only Magnolia lays unaffected by the lost fifty minutes.

“I should go.” Tim nods numbly to you as you exit the store.

You won't be able to make it to the movie, well you could but you'd disturb someone if you walked in mid movie. Choosing to go home instead you drive, once again without music. Entering your home you hang your mask back on the hook. Putting away the drinks and snacks for next weekend, you make your way to your bedroom. Once again freezing just before the hallway. Turning to your living room you can see a book in the middle of your coffee table. You definitely don't remember the book being there, and doubt you'd miss it out in the open. But as you got closer you could confirm, even in the dark, that it was The Book Thief.