#surely seven did not just straight up got out of indiana with no notice :D

[moonhuit]

you were like the sun—everyone orbited around you. how could i bring myself to look away? —stephanie burgis (spellcloaked)

[shiftyskip]

Alex Penkala Jr.

The Real Alex Penkala 

Alex’s parents, Mary and Alex Sr., immigrated from Poland to America in 1907. They were married the next year in Indiana. They moved to Taylor Spring, Illinois in 1910 and in 1918, moved back. They mostly spoke Polish. 

They had their son Alex M. Penkala Jr on August 30, 1924. He was the tenth of thirteen. He was given the nickname Junior, and it is still used today. Only a few of his siblings survived to hear about the show. 

Alex’s mother died during childbirth in 1928. The thirteenth child, a son, was given to relatives and lived under a different name. 

Alex’s family was catholic. They were considered devoutly Catholic, it is probably why he got along with Muck.

In 1920s they lived near Notre Dame University, where both Alex and his father worked. It was a family job center practically. Most of Alex’s siblings worked in various jobs around the university. With all of them working, the family managed to get by better than most people. 

Alex and his siblings spoke both Polish and English. Alex Sr. did not pick up on English and till his death, never could quite speak it. They spoke Polish first and then learned English from school and other events. 

Alex was described by others as an active, muscular kid. He did not talk much, and stood about five feet seven inches. He loved baseball and football. Alex and his friends snuck out to a barn near Notre Dame often and play around in the hay. 

Alex attended a Catholic High School, South Bend Catholic High School, and he enlisted with only one year under his belt. This was common for students to attended one year and drop out to help out around the house to keep money flowing. Alex had a girlfriend, Sylvia, during this time.  It is not for sure, but Alex could’ve been an 18-year old sophomore in high school when he enlisted. 

Alex enlisted on February 27, 1943. His occupations read “motorcycle mechanic or packer high explosives, munitions worker, or tool room keeper, or stock control clerk, or stock clerk.” 

Alex was shipped off to basic training and eventually cook school. No one knew quite why he was picked to be a cook, it’s believed that’s just where the Army put him. Two friends during cook school told him about the paratroopers and they all tried out together, only Alex made it. Alex did not train at Toccoa with the others. His paratrooper training took place else where. 

Alex was one of the first replacements for Easy. His first photo with them is at Fort Bragg, but little is known where he took his training. Only one photo survives of Alex and Skip, one they took at Camp McCal

Alex wrote to his family often. His letters were short and breezy. Most contained the general “I am doing well, how is family, send candy (Alex really wanted candy), I’ll write soon, I got your letter.” For example, 

“Dear Sis, 

I received your letter and was I glad to hear from you. As you probably know by now, I am going to cook’s school for eight weeks, as I am going to make the best of it.

No, I don’t need anything and I don’t want anything for Easter. Thanks anyways. I am not coming home for Easter because no one gets to go home during this time in school. 

You should see the WACs (Women’s Army Corps) here at camp! There are about 150 of them. You should know that Sylvia really doesn’t know how much I love or should I say like her. I don’t even go no place because I keep thinking of her so much.

Well, I am out of time so I’ll have to say goodbye until I write again.

Your brother,

Alex

P.S. Send box candy if you want to.”

“Dear Sis,

Well, I’m ok. Boy and do I like the army….I might get shipped to some other camp. How do you like my writing? I am in a hurry, so you’ll have to excuse it. Write more often. I’ll keep thinking of you.

So long, 

Your brother 

Junior.” 

Alex and Skip Muck got along fairly well because they were both Catholic with rather large families. They worked together on the mortar team, Alex was Skip’s assistant. Everyone claims Alex and Skip were a great, reliable team. 

Alex sailed for England with Easy on September 21, 1943 aboard the Samaraia. Alex had recently visited his home for the last time and they threw a party for him. His family noticed a little Airborne habit he had picked up since he had left: smoking. Alex had never smoked before, but suddenly he was smoking. 

When across the seas, Alex’s letters got shorter and shorter. His sister sent him candy, gloves, and t-shirts. He mostly talked about food and candy. Alex really seemed to love eating. He constantly asked for candy, or fudge, or peanuts. Most of his letters ended with him asking for food. “Send me something to eat-anything!”

 Alex went on a trip with Perconte to Ireland. Alex spotted a lady with her luggage and helped her. Perconte saw this and tried to convince Alex to flirt, Alex protested saying she was married. He had already gotten to know her fairly fast, or the lady just assumed other intentions were involved and told him straight out. He still helped her.

Speaking of relationships. While in England, Alex got a “Dear John Letter” from Sylvia. The break up didn’t affect him much and soon he was dating another girl in England. He talked about various girls in his letters.

A new replacement, Joe Lesniewski, said the first person to talk to him when he transferred was Alex. They both spoke Polish and became good friends. Joe taught them how to sing western songs. 

Alex jumped on D-Day and landed on a barn roof. He climbed down and joined his unit somehow. No one knows much about Alex’s D-Day experience other than he and Skip were the only ones from his squad to survive and he was acting as corporal. Alex signed a parachute after D-Day. His niece currently owns that as a gift from Joe. 

Alex made the jump into Holland in September 1944. Alex wrote only one letter home after that. 

On January 10, 1945, the Germans were raining a hard artillery strike on the American forces in Bois Jacques Woods near Foy, Belgium. The men scrambled to find foxholes under the shelling. Alex and Skip were in their large foxhole when a shell landed directly on them and killed them instantly. Not much remained of either man.

Alex was buried twice. Originally in France and then in Luxembourge with Skip Muck. He had two burial flags, one for each burial. The Penkala and Muck families remain close to this day.

[crimsonandclover-kataclysm]

Chapter 4- Grateful to be nowhere

Read Crimson and Clover on Ao3.

Read Chapter 4 on Ao3.

February, 1985. Hawkins, Indiana

Hawkins didn’t have much by way of food industry. There were only about seven restaurants and one of those was a lemonade stand run by the Baker girls. Benny’s Burgers was another, but the establishment had to close temporarily due to an unfortunate incident that led to Benny’s death two years ago. The food hadn’t been too good since. There was one bar downtown called Hideaway, and an ice cream parlor sat smack dab in the middle of the square. Not many options were available for a quick dine-out. What Hawkins did have though was a Domino’s Pizza, and it just so happened that Sandra and Di were good friends with the owner, Joe.

Susan and Neil had left money for Max’s dinner, so Diana called into Domino’s for a delivery. Gorging themselves on a greasy pepperoni pizza with bell peppers and black olives (for health’s sake, Diana said) and two Cokes while watching Webster. Joe had delivered the pizza personally to make sure that Di’s food got there straight out of the oven, but having stopped by, they ended up talking for another half hour, so the pizza was only moderately warm by the time the girls sat down to eat. Max didn’t mind though- she was having more fun hanging out with Di than she had in a long time. Not that she didn’t enjoy being a part of the party. The party was fun in a nerdy, adrenaline inducing, feel-like-you-might-die-at-any-second kind of way. Being around Diana was different. In a never-had-a-big-sister-but-this-must-be-what-it-feels-like kind of way.

Diana was sitting on Billy’s bench, legs crossed with her elbows resting on her shins. Max was sitting with her knees pulled up to her chin and arms wrapped around her legs, staring at the television as Diana french-braided her long, red hair into two even plaits on the sides of her head. They were quiet, and Diana was concentrating as Max watched The Twilight Zone intently. When the programming shifted to commercials, Diana asked a question that she had been curious about since working at the middle school.

“So, you and Lucas?” she mentioned casually, unable to see Max pull her lips between her teeth in a repressed grin. She could, however, feel Max nod ever so slightly, the light pull of hair between her fingers. Smirking as she tugged on the braid she had already tied, she felt Max let out a laugh. “Why don’t I see you with him outside of school?” she wondered.

The blood drained from Max’s face, her lips drifting into a frown as she let her forehead rest against her knees. “Billy doesn’t like it,” she admitted, shrugging. “And I don’t like to upset Billy.”  And she really didn’t. Not just because Billy could be a grade A dickhead (which he definitely could, and Max hated thinking about it), but Billy had been through more than he would ever let on. Deep down, Billy was still the kid that loved swimming and laying out, reading a book. But he hadn’t swum since the move, and Max knew his books never left his room. A sense of guilt crept through her gut, twisting her insides so that she felt she might have to puke. Maybe that’s why she was bringing Diana into their lives- she had to compensate somehow.

Di pursed her lips thoughtfully, knowing that her time to pry was nearing its end, but her curiosity got the best of her. “Why do you care if Billy doesn’t like it?” her question came right as she was tying Max’s other braid. Wide, blue eyes met her own, and she knew she had made a mistake in asking the question. Max’s face had blanched and water lined her lower lids.

But her voice was strong. “Billy thinks he is protecting me. But he’s just an asshole,” she turned back to the television just as the commercials ended, and she reclined, letting the back of her neck rest against Diana’s shins. Diana’s fingers reached out, running over the ginger plaits affectionately as she let the subject rest.

The Hargrove house was not built for soccer drills. If it weren’t so cold out, Di would suggest doing them outside, but instead they were relegated to the den. Doing quick feet and dodging drills in the confined space meant that both of them were constantly on the lookout to save any fragile decor that looked as if it might fall. Max had to push the lamp further back on the mantle twice, and Diana became acclimated with a picture of a six or seven year old Max and her mother that was set on a shelf next to the kitchen and had shifted precariously closer to the ledge over time. At around 9:15, Max announced she was exhausted and was going to get ready for bed. With a quick hug and a thank you, she made her way to the back of the house, and Di could hear the water of the shower begin to run.

Diana took the opportunity to clean up, throwing away the pizza box, Coke cans, and even the beer can next to the tv. You’re welcome, Billy. Pushing all pictures and moveable objects back to what she remembered were their original positions and shutting off the A-side album by The Clash she had running during their training session. Skimming her fingertips over the London Calling cover and pulling out the D-side, she fastened it onto the turntable and dropped the needle. Adding an extra five pounds to each side of the barbell before grabbing some cleaning spray and wiping down the bench. She wasn’t going to waste the chance to work out on private equipment. She had the thought that maybe she could convince Sandra in purchasing a bench for their home.

Laying her back flat on the bench and rounding out the small of her back, she lifted the bar easily from the mount, doing a couple of presses to test it out. She checked to see if the bench was adjustable (it wasn’t) before laying back and doing a few more reps of ten. A twenty pound dumbbell sat against the tv stand, so when she finished benching, she took off the weights she added, stacking them gently in their original positions, and grabbed the dumbbell. Doing a few tricep lifts behind her head before placing it back. Once more, she wiped down all the equipment she used with great care, trying not to be envious of it. It wasn’t the best quality equipment, but she could tell from the state of the cushion all the way to the chrome finish of the legs and bar that Billy treated it preciously. ‘He doesn’t let anyone else touch it,’ Max had said. Whoops, Diana thought with no trace of remorse, returning the London Calling album to the crate of vinyls in the corner, “Train in Vain” still echoing in her ears.

Falling back on the couch, Diana reached for the book she had laid out on the end table when she arrived. She was behind on her schoolwork and made a pact with herself that she would use the weekend to catch up, and she had a book report due Thursday in American Literature. The assignment was to choose a book that had relevance to a modern American literary movement, so she had chosen the Beat Generation and Hot Water Music by Charles Bukowski. It wasn’t a boring book, but Di had been so sleep-deprived that every time she sat down to read it, she would almost concurrently doze off, the pages of the book slipping from her fingers. Because of this phenomenon, she nearly always lost her place and would have to start all over. Rinse and repeat. Diana thought she must have read the first two pages of that book ten times already, but she just couldn’t keep track of any of it. However, sitting on the Hargrove couch with Max three doors down, the pizza and Coke still giving her a bit of a sugar high combined with the adrenaline of working out, Diana was able to read the first three short stories without pause. Somewhere in the middle of “The Great Poet”, her eyelids grew heavy and the weight of the book hit her thighs, her head falling into her hand with her elbow propped on the arm of the couch.

The sound of the front door slamming shut jarred her, Diana jolting awake when she realized where she was. “Max! Shit!” she yelped, jumping to her feet. Piercing blue irises stared at her, pink-tinted lips turned up in a smirk as Billy pulled off his jacket, throwing it over the bench. His eyes wandered over the corner, fingers stopping to rest on the ten pound end that sat crooked on the bar from Diana’s removal of the other weights. She could have kicked herself, and her fingertips ran over her lips nervously as his gaze shifted back to her. “I hope you at least wiped it off after you used it,” his voice low, but not menacing.

Di swallowed, blinking slowly to compose herself, heart still pounding from being awoken so abruptly. “Before too,” her comment was a little sassy for someone who had just messed with someone else’s property, and Billy let out a chuckle as he adjusted the weight. Diana was trying very hard not to think about if his lips were redder than when he left or if there were fewer fastened buttons on his shirt when she noticed the time. 9:45. “Date didn’t go well, huh?” She was still standing awkwardly, the backs of her knees lined up with the couch cushions. Billy sauntered over next to her, pushing up the sleeves of his shirt and falling back onto the couch.

He took out another cigarette and spoke as he lit it. “Fine enough,” relaxing his neck over the top of the couch cushion and reaching his arm out so that it lay over top the couch, behind Diana.

She sat, straight as a rod to avoid any contact with him. “You’re home early,” she shrugged.

“Kathy Simpson… not as good of company as everyone makes her out to be,” he took a long pull from the cigarette, and Diana watched him intently. Curiously.

Kathy Simpson was exactly the type of company she expected Billy to take interest in. Pretty, bouncy blonde hair that framed delicate and painted features. Dry and funny, a mean sense of humor that worked at the expense of others. Short skirts and tight pants. Big house and rich parents. Kathy ran the gamut of the qualities of girls that could get away with murder. And not that Diana took much stock in it, but word around Hawkins High School was that Kathy was some kind of exceptional lay. Yet here was Billy, sitting and smoking on his couch with Diana Miller. Weird, virginal, independent, scandalous broken home Diana Miller. It didn’t make much sense.

She eyed the ashes growing at the end of the cigarette. “You know they say those things’ll kill you.”

Reaching to pull the cigarette out of his mouth, Billy’s eyes flickered to her. His hand splaying out toward her, the butt of the cig held between his middle and ring fingers in an offering. Furrowing her brow, she looked at him skeptically a moment too long before relenting and taking it from him. She and Betty had snuck a cigarette or two behind the football stadium at school, so she wasn’t unfamiliar with the feeling of smoking. But that didn’t stop her from a reflexive cough as she took a drag. Billy chuckled. He reached into his pocket to pull another one from the package, lighting it and placing it between his lips.  “So you took off the ends? Benched what? Sixty pounds?”

Diana coughed, but not because of the cigarette. “Uh, no, actually,” her cheeks flushed as a smirk crept over her face, “I added ten.” Billy’s eyebrows shot up, his lips pursing as he gave a slight nod. He didn’t have anything to say to that, to the image of this girl laid out on his bench, those legs in those devilish leggings straddling either side, handling what must have been over half of her own body weight. He had to be careful- he might have been tired, but the night had left him remarkably unsatisfied, and he could feel that fire building in the pit of his stomach. In the interest of being polite, he kept his mouth shut.

A beat of silence passed, Diana’s gaze wandering over the room, settling on the picture of Billy and Max on the beach. “So,” she started, reclining back onto the couch cushion, her hair falling over his arm, and she felt his head shift on the couch to look at her. “You surf?”

Her eyes met a pair that had set in a hard stare; the look he was sending went straight through her. “How do you know that?” his voice had dropped half an octave.

Diana nodded toward the photograph. “You look happy. You both do.”

A soft sigh left his lungs as he remembered that day. Max’s father had taken the two of them down to Laguna Beach. Billy didn’t really surf, but James Mayfield did, and to connect with both of them, he rented boards for Max and Billy to take a lesson. He thought on Max laughing as he lost his balance off his board. He remembered the way he retaliated by picking her up over his shoulder and throwing her back into the water, splashing the salt water in her face as she resurfaced. Back when times were less complicated and less littered with Billy’s mistakes. That fire in his belly ran cold, replaced by something else. Something he didn’t like thinking about.

“It’s easy to miss California,” Diana said simply, twisting her lips to the side and looking down at her lap, twirling the cigarette between her fingers.

Billy looked at her startlingly. Those faded memories warping and molding into a different image. “You’ve been?” She nodded, and the image intensified. Diana, her olive skin and long brown waves, running along the shoreline in a barely-there swimsuit. Eyes focused, hair billowing, she looked something out of a wet dream, and Billy shifted uncomfortably on the couch. Blinking hard to eradicate the pretty picture from his brain, trying instead to focus on the Diana that was actually before him. Same chestnut hair strewn over his arm, same solid blue and focused eyes, same olive skin peeking from the drooping neckline that was making its way down her shoulder. Still a pretty picture. So pretty in fact that he hadn’t realized she was talking.

“-was beautiful. We traveled up the coast, just the two of us. I don’t think there’s been anywhere I loved more than Manhattan Beach. There was this little diner we went to in Bel Air too that had the best waffles you could imagine. And the Mexican food around there? Oh, the beaches, my mom and I would run down the shoreline and when we were done, walk along the tide with our shoes and socks in our hands. We hiked too- I can understand why people want to spend time outside when I think about California. It’s so gray and cold all the time here, or it’s gray and muggy. But there it’s all clear and blue and green, and-“ She saw Billy staring at her, and then she realized how stupid she must have sounded. He grew up there, he knew, and here she was rambling on to this person who obviously missed it about all the reasons it was great. Her voice lowered, and she broke eye contact with him. “-And I’m sorry, I could talk about it all day.”

“Go ahead,” he said nonchalantly, drawing a little circle with the hand holding the cigarette. The way he let the cigarette rest between his lips and reached up to scratch the back of his neck projected disinterest to Di, who slumped toward the arm of the sofa, lips drawn in tight. But when Billy nudged the back of her head with his wrist, she released a laugh and relaxed enough to continue.

“There was this one time- we were attending some sort of weird family beach party, and there was a very different kind of party happening at the neighboring beach. I was like eleven, and my mom was in the middle of a conversation with some people, and I liked the music at the other party more. So I snuck away, running and hiding behind peoples’ surfboards and lounge chairs. And there was this really pretty pink drink sitting there that looked like it hadn’t been touched, and I really wanted to try it. I knew when I tasted it that it was not just a pretty drink, and when I got back to my mom, she couldn’t understand why I was so much chattier than I had been earlier. But I knew why.” Diana wore a nostalgic smile, running through her memories as a mischievous kid. She thought about the pranks she and her mom had pulled, sneaking onto rides at Disneyland when Di didn’t meet the height limit, eating ice cream for breakfast just because they felt like it. Sandra Miller didn’t always make the best decisions, but she had a heart of gold and loved her daughter more than she could ever say.

“Huh,” Billy grunted, raising his eyebrows, “so Princess has got a bit of an edge to her.”

Diana’s face felt hot as she realized that he was making fun of her. Pushing up to her feet and taking a deep breath to cool boiling blood, she shot a hard glare back at him. “If you didn’t want me to talk, you shouldn’t have said anything. I am not anyone’s Princess.” When she turned to make a clean break toward the front door, warm fingers wrapped around her wrist and tugged her back.

Looking up at her with heavy-lidded eyes, Billy reached down toward her book that had fallen on the floor. “I’m tired of waiting to die. Let’s go out,” he spoke intently with a voice of velvet, refusing to break eye contact.

Her brow crumpled, and she almost lost her breath, “What?”

Billy bit his lip in a smirk as he looked toward the book, “Hot Water Music. That quote’s from the first paragraph. A hell of a way to open up a story.”

Despite the way the plea sounded coming from his lips, Diana shook off her surprise quickly, responding in a sharp tone. “So what are you now? Some sort of closet nerd?” The words ‘Let’s go out’ still reverberating in her brain. She’d been even more shocked that her initial inclination had been to say yes.

Pulling gently at her wrist as an invitation to sit down again (to which she hesitated, eyes on the door contemplating, before accepting), Billy chuckled with a slight nod. Letting go of her wrist and rubbing the same hand over his thigh. “Yeah. Something like that. The Beats. Good choice for the American Lit project.” Steel blue met cerulean, and Diana was taken aback by his eyelashes. Thick and dark, the perfect frame for the color of the ocean she found in his stupid almond eyes. She could see him there then, an extension of the picture of him and Max, except without the thirteen year old. Surfing and laughing with that smile-broken face he wore in the photograph. Swimming and wading and playing volleyball. Laying out on the sand reading Hot Water Music. She wasn’t sure why the image of Billy Hargrove shirtless with a book on the beach was affecting her the way it was, but she knew she was blushing again. Snapping out of her daze and back into their unbroken eye contact. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say by the way his teeth ran over his lower lip and the fluttering of his eyelashes, he might have been embarrassed. Exposed. When he spoke again, he spoke quietly. “But if you tell anyone I said that, you’re dead, Miller.” The corner of his lip quirking up as he snuffed out his cigarette on a nearby ashtray.

Time passed like lightning and molasses all at once. It was strange, really, for Diana to get caught up in a boy’s voice and story. She spent so much of her life fighting the desire to be around men because of her father’s actions, but here comes Billy Hargrove with his wicked bright smile and his leather jacket to draw her eye. And Billy, he was convinced that everything in Hawkins had to be shit. A small hick town in Indiana, for Christ’s sake. What could living in this place possibly hold for him besides a mild case of claustrophobia and pollen allergies? But there was Diana Miller in all her snarky glory and those goddamned leggings, and without warning, he was putty in her fidgeting hands. Turned and pulled and stretched, he felt uncertain and manipulated and almost violated because of this girl, and he wasn’t sure why. He just really wanted to knock back a beer. Or a shot of tequila.

California, Hawkins, college, good food, books, workout techniques, sports, nothing too far under the surface- all things the pair of teenagers talked about in the hour they spent on the couch. Diana’s feet tucked up underneath her body, turned toward the boy next to her. Billy’s posture relaxed into the crook of the sofa, arm still stretched along the back (he had to stop himself more than once from toying with the strands of hair that she would flip from her shoulder). Somehow they were back on California, and Di was pushing the subject.

“So what do you miss?” blue eyes eager and prodding.

He felt a jab in his gut even thinking about it. “A lot,” he threw back carelessly, not an accurate depiction of how he truly felt. Not even a little bit.

An assured nod in response, “You must have had to leave behind so much.” Billy tried not to stare as she pulled her lower lip between her teeth. “Friends, family… a girl.” The last part she said blushing. Thunder in her chest and tightness in her stomach driven by the look he gave her. Not a glare, not any sort of tender, just searching.

Slowly, he gave a slight nod, “There were girls.” Still prying for some kind of signal from her. Billy Hargrove never actively sought to learn how a girl felt about him- he never had to before Diana. Her heart turned a backflip painfully, like it got stuck in the wrong position. Breath catching in her throat as she finally looked away from him, staring at a snagged stitch on her sweater. Alpha instinct took over. “And women too.” A wink.

Diana rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything.

It was a defense mechanism, and Billy knew it. Both of them guarding themselves- from what, neither could or would say. Actually, Billy might have said, were it a different time, a different setting. He took a deep breath, almost wanting to take back his flippant comment. “But they are there,” he backtracked, “and I am… I’m here.”

Diana lifted her chin then, making eye contact with him once more, unsure if she was imagining the cloud of the unspoken two words that hung in the air between the two of them. Unfortunately, she didn’t have too much time to speculate, as the sound of a car from the vacant street stirred both of them.

Glancing at his watch, Billy’s jaw set, lips pressed in a hard line. “Shit,” he blinked slowly. 11:00. They’d messed up because Neil was about to walk through that door. He’d messed up because he’d lost track of time. She’d messed up because she got caught up in Billy Hargrove in the first place.

Urgently, he grabbed her hand, pulling her to her feet and toward the back of the house through at least three different rooms. In spite of his racing heart (whether because of his father’s arrival or the soft skin of Diana Miller’s palm, he wasn’t sure), his composure was cool.

On the other hand, she was freaking out a little bit. “Where are we going? I’m really sorry- I should have remembered. Do I need to talk to them?” Her questions stopped when he hissed a quick shush at her as the sound of the door opening and closing echoed through the house. They’d check on Max first, they always did. He had about four minutes of security to get Diana out. A carefully practiced routine, he silently shut the door of his room.

Fingers ripping at the buttons on his shirt, Di was staring at him, mouth agape. “Why are you undressing?” she whispered, alarmed.

“Date clothes,” he breathed. “Open the window.”

For the first time, Diana realized she was in Billy’s room. Though not at all appropriate, her eyes circled the space, taking stock of the few posters, the books, the stereo, the bed.

“Window,” his whisper sharp. Hurrying over, she tore at the locks, lifting the glass carefully. When she looked back at him, he was throwing his shirt into his closet. Tan skin catching her eye. A small birthmark on the back of his left shoulder. Muscles contracting as the white fabric of a t-shirt fell over her view. His eyes met hers, and as her cheeks flushed, his stretched into a smirk.

When she remembered, her face paled, eyes wide. “My book.” His gaze flashed to his makeshift bookcase, and he threw himself across the room, pulling his own copy of Hot Water Music from the stack and tossing it to her.

“You need to go. They’ll think it’s mine.”

Diana was already halfway out of the frame when strong hands held her hips, one moving below, planting itself on her rear end for support as she stretched her leg to the small lumber rack below the other window only a foot away. Hopping out quietly as music began to play from the stereo, and the door to Billy’s room opened. As discreetly as she could, Di approached the gate, and when she was out of view, ran back to her house without looking back.

Billy’s door opened to reveal his father, staring at him skeptically. Military rigid haircut, neatly maintained mustache, a stark contrast to Billy. In his haste, Billy hadn’t closed the window, but to cover for it, he was laid back on his bed, fanning himself with a newspaper as he stared at the pages of his history textbook with disinterest. His face unreadable, set in hard angles, Neil tossed Diana’s book and Billy’s leather jacket over Billy’s stomach.

“Don’t leave your shit out, boy,” his voice was ice, and it took every ounce of Billy’s self control to not retort. Not tonight.

Instead, he looked up, nodded harshly, and released a quiet but sure “Yessir.”

When Neil closed the door to Billy’s room following a nod that resembled that of his son’s, Billy took a deep breath to steady his heartbeat. Lifting up to close the window, he briefly imagined Di crawling through the space effortlessly. In his defense, she was climbing over the stereo, which anyone would claim as precious cargo. But his stereo was all he had, and all he really wanted to do was protect the machinery. That’s why he helped lift her over it, of course. That’s why he made contact with those legs. That’s why his hand found its way to her ass.

But that’s not why the feeling of her ass in his hand lingered. And it’s not at all why Billy was kept awake by thoughts of Diana Miller and her fucking leggings.

Case Number: #006 Location: Hawkins, Indiana File reopened 10/1985

Observations resumed upon return to Hawkins as advised. - Presenting signs of anticipated behavior. - Agitation and fixation when under stress

Conclusion

Does not appear to be cognizant of latent energy spikes

Advising for increased observation while at breech point

[kateofthecanals]

For The (Not)Watch: Episode 7.4

The Reason HBO Can’t Afford Direwolves Anymore

So this week wasn’t quite AS boring as last week, but that’s not saying much. I almost had an emotion or two. ALMOST...

We open on something other than Dragonstone for a change -- in the Reach(?) and on the Westerosi Wells Fargo Wagon, which Jaime is once-overing, while Bronn hangs out in the background demanding Jaime give him Highgarden, but Biggie Lannister is like “nah, mo’ money, mo’ problems!” Bronn’s not buying that line, though, and feels he should be on the list of debts the Lannisters pay off. He also makes some snarky remarks about Cersei which are actually 100% accurate but of course Jaime, like GoT watchers, is blissfully blind to the truth. Jaime then sends Bronn with the Tarlys to go shake-down local farmers for their sweet, sweet grains.

Then we head over to King’s Landing, where Tycho is hella impressed that Pinhead Cersei will be able to pay off her debts in one lump sum but is kinda bummed to be losing out on that tasty monthly APR. Cersei hints that Qyburn is in negotiations with the Golden Company to join her cause and Tycho vouches for them... but reminds Cersei that the Iron Bank ain’t doing shit until Jaime makes that big deposit.

Next we hit up Winterfell, AND WHO THE HELL LEFT THE KIDS ALONE WITH LITTLEFINGER?? Somehow that snake slithered his way into Bran’s chambers and is attempting some kinda cringeworthy heart-to-heart... Seriously I half-expected him to tell Bran “I’M YOUR DADDY NOW.” Instead he decides to give Bran a gift -- the Valyrian steel dagger that was used to try to murder him in Season 1. Bran’s like... “Thanks?” (But really, isn’t this kinda payback for last week when he threw Sandra’s wedding night back in her face?) LF starts monologuing about Catelyn, and Bran asks if LF knows who the dagger belonged to (I’m guessing just to test LF, because obviously Miss Cleo is gonna know exactly who it belonged to... right??), and of course LF is like “No idea!” Then he randomly mentions the word “chaos” and Bran’s creep-dar goes off, and he interrupts him by saying “CHAOS IS A LADDAH.” Yes, folks, Bran threw LF’s dumbest catchphrase back in his face and it was played off like a genuinely weighty moment and not something that required a laugh track in the background. LF has barely time to react before Meera comes in. LF leaves, and Meera makes the sad announcement that she has to leave to be with her family, and Bran’s just like “Cool, bye then.” And Meera’s like... “bitch that all you have to say to me????” And Bran’s just like “uhhhh thank you for your service?” Meera then be thinking hmmm maybe this is just like a teen comedy and he’ll come wheelin’ after me at the airport at the last minute to profess his love for me? But nah, Bran’s straight-up fixing to ghost her ass, smh. She’s like “my brother, your wolf, and Hodor all died for you, Bran!!” But he’s like

And because D&D would rather leave significant character development off-screen, they have Meera assure us that Bran “died in that cave.” Cool, thanks, good to know!

Meera leaves, and then Bran hears the familiar strings of the Stark Theme, and he knows that Arya is near! Yes, Arya has finally found her way back to Winterfell. She strolls up to the front gates and is immediately given a hard time by the guards in a blatant repeat of the same scene from Season 1 (not the first or last time we will be seeing rip-offs from the first couple of seasons just in this episode alone). One of the guards even tries to PUNCH her (???) before agreeing to left her in but telling her wait while they decide what to tell Sansa. And since WF is being guarded by 2 of the 3 Stooges, Arya is able to just wander off without them noticing.

The guards then enter what appears to be the Bat Cave where Sandra is hiding out and has pretty much no visible reaction to hearing that Arya is in the house. Which is funny because Arya implied to the guards that Sandra would have their asses if she found out they’d turned her sister away. Instead, she just kinda looks bored and is like, “whatever, I know where she is...”

We then go down to the crypts for one of the most-anticipated reunions in ASOIAF-dom!!! Buuuut this is GoT, so it’s all very awkward and forced. Like, seriously, Arya, you’re not fooling anyone...

Sandra runs up to hug her, but just like with Small Wonder Bran, Arya-Bot 1000 barely registers an emotion or even bothers to hug her back. WTF, people???

They briefly have a moment in front of Ned’s statue, which was kinda nice. I mean, they didn’t even call him stupid or anything!! The lowest of low-hanging fruit, but I’ll take it at this point... Then Arya says it doesn’t look enough like Ned and that it should have been carved by someone who knew his face, but Sandra says that everyone who knew his face is dead. Ummmm? Sandra, Arya, Bran, Jon, Cersei, Varys, Sandor, Jaime, Littlefinger, Beric, Thoros... that’s almost a dozen people right there who are still alive that knew what Ned looked like (though I can’t vouch for their stone-carving skills...). Then, as usual, the moment is completely trampled on when the two sisters bond over how they both wished they had killed Joffrey themselves HAHAHAHAHA so sweet. Then Arya tells Sandra about her List, and Sandra’s just like

They make vague allusions to all the things they’ve been through since their separation. They then venture the godswood to say howdy to Bran, who is a party-pooper as usual, calling out Arya on her plan to go to KL to kill Cersei. Sandra asks Arya who else is on her list... SO MANY OPPORTUNITIES TO BRING UP SANDOR BUT NOOOOOPE CAN’T HAVE ANY DISCUSSION ABOUT THE HOUND WITH OR IN FRONT OF SANDRA EVEN IF IT’S ARYA DOING THE DISCUSSIN’ so she’s just like “eh most of them are already dead.” Then out of nowhere Bran’s just like “check out this new toy Littlefinger gave me” and Sandra’s like “WHY IS LITTLEFINGER GIVING YOU WEAPONS” Bran’s like “doesn’t matter, don’t want it anyway” and gives it to Arya.

The three Starks then make their way back into the the yard, where Brienne and Pod see them, and Pod says, “Good job, m’lady!” and she responds pretty much the same way I did -- “I didn’t do shit.”

Then we hit up Dragonstone, where the Jonerys train is being happily conducted by Missandei and Davos. Both give their respective masters a forced series of “nudge-nudge-wink-wink” moments with regards to the other, so as to to remind the viewers that THIS IS TOTALLY A THING, YOU GUYS. Dany and Missy are taking a stroll, and when they see Jon, they exchange a look like two freshmen girls who have just been acknowledged by the varsity QB on the quad. It’s quite pitiful.

Anyway, Jon takes Dany into one of the dragonglass caves to show her something. Sadly, he keeps his pants on and instead ducks into a tunnel which opens up into another cave with a bunch of primitive drawings on the walls. Indiana Snow then schools Dany on how they were drawn by the Children of the Forest and depict their encounters with both the First Men and the white walkers.

P.S. the CoF totally phoned it in on the FM but got all HR Giger when it came to the WWs.

And even though Jon could have drawn those pictures himself and made up literally everything he said for all Dany knew, she considers this definitive proof of his claims and immediately agrees to help him... if he bends the knee. There’s a lot of whisper-talking and long-held gazes, which I think was supposed to be “sexual tension”.

They exit the cave with their chaperones, where they find Tyrion and Varys waiting for them, looking rather glum. Tyrion drops the bad news that although they took Casterly Rock, the Lannister forces took Highgarden and all the spoils. Tyrion tries to rally, but Dany reams him out for fucking up and suggests he did it on purpose cuz he’s really still loyal to the Lannisters (OH DUHHHHH). She then declares “enough with the clever plans” and decides instead to stick to more stupid ones I guess. To that end, she asks Jon what she should do.

Your QUEEN, ladies and gents. Has no idea what she’s doing and constantly has to ask the (much smarter) men around her to tell her what to do. But the mere fact that she is “in charge” is I guess enough for most people to declare this “feminist”. Sure, okay.

Anyway, Jon tells her that if she uses her dragons to annihilate everyone, she’s just “more of the same” and isn’t giving her followers anything better to hope for. Which is a fair enough assessment but we all know it’s being used to highlight Jon’s “dumb” honor and compassion because DRAGONS SO EPICCCCCC!!!

Back at Winterfell, Brienne is again cleaning Pod’s clock (remember when this kid killed a Kingsguard in the middle of the Battle of the Blackwater? D&D don’t either I guess), but then Arya rolls up on her with Needle and says she wants to throw down with the person who beat the Hound. Brienne’s like “haha cute” but then Arya pulls out all the water-dancing nonsense and completely flummoxes Brienne.

So, for those doing the math:

Brienne beat The Hound; Arya beat Brienne; ergo, ARYA CAN BEAT THE HOUND.

I really wanted to enjoy this scene, but I couldn’t forget that the last time we saw Arya actually spar with anyone was in Season 1 with Syrio. Now all of a sudden she’s the most formidable warrior in the Seven Kingdoms. 

Any-freaking-way, Sandra appears on her perch again (with LF not far behind, of course), and at first she seems pretty impressed with Arya’s skillz, but when it’s over, she just, like, storms off in a huff? Why??

She leaves LF to have a weird stare-down with Arya.

Back on Dragonstone, it’s now Davos’s turn to tease Jon about Dany, implying that Jon was staring at her rack apparently?? Jon’s like “ain’t nobody got time for that” but luckily they run into Missandei where Davos can continue on that train of thought. They then have a conversation about how bastard names work on Westeros (in Season 7?????) and Missandei declares that marriage isn’t a thing in Naath, and Dirty Ol’ Man Davos is like HAHAHAHA not where I come from either, wanna go grab a drink later?? Jon and Davos then start questioning why Missandei is so loyal to Dany, and Missandei begins to talk about Dany like Squeaky Fromme talking about Charles Manson.

^^ waiting for this dialogue to pop out of Dany’s mouth at some point this season...

Davos is basically like SORRY I ASKED. Just then, they’re interrupted by a dingy being pulled up on shore (somehow they didn’t notice this until the were RIGHT on the beach) containing Theon and the straggler Ironborn. Theon sees Jon and is like like “hey sup” and Jon’s all YOUSONOFABITCH!!! but stops just short of roughing him up because of what he did for Sandra. He then tells him that Euron has his sister and he needs Dany’s help to get her back, but Jon says she’s not home right now...

Where could she beeeeeee?? Welp, we hop back over the the Lannister wagon train, which, again, Jaime and Bronn are just sitting and watching. Apparently they are much closer the the Crownlands (or in the Crownlands?) than they had been at the beginning of the episode... They then decide to have some not-so-subtle small talk with Dickon Tarly, whom Jaime again calls Rickon, about how he fought pretty decently at Highharden but how he has yet to be really tested. THEN GUESS WHAT HAPPENS, GUYS??? The show is interrupted by a screening of Dances with Wolves--no, wait, that’s just the Dothraki streaming over the hill to fuck shit up... along with Dany riding Drogon.

COMMENCE BATTLE #371 TO DISTRACT THE VIEWERS FROM THE SHITTY WRITING!!!

Yes, it’s all very exciting and well-executed, if you ignore:

The Dothraki would have had to circumvent KL somehow to get there.

They couldn’t have gone by ship because Euron destroyed Dany’s fleet.

Horse-Surfing™

The scene was 90% about Bronn?? For some reason??

Dany, who not 10 minutes ago was complaining about not being able to feed her army, proceeds to destroy all the gold and grain the Lannisters were hauling.

Gratuitous horse violence because “edgy” I guess

WHY/HOW IS TYRION THERE?

So the big climax comes when Bronn gets promoted from Bronn of the Blackwater to Bronn of the Big-Ass Crossbow. Yes, in yet another ham-fisted callback to an early season, Bronn figures out how to use the giant ballista and fires an arrow straight into Drogon’s shoulder, forcing Dany to land. While she’s down, Tyrion is standing off to the side and spots Jaime on the battlefield and is mumbling for him to get the fuck out of there. But this is Jaime Fookin’ Lannister, he doesn’t run away from anything, especially his toxic co-dependent relationship with his twin sister!! So he grabs a spear and begins to charge toward Dany like he at the Hand’s Tourney (except we never actually saw him joust at the Hand’s Tourney, so once again, emotional impact of this moment is M.I.A.). Just as he’s about to strike, Drogon turns and is about to make him dragon kibble when he is rescued at the last second by, presumably, Bronn, and is swept away beneath an extremely deep puddle that just happened to be nearby. The End.

I know there are a lot of show-critics today who are super hyped about this battle (which is apparently a “reference” to the Field of Fire, ugh), but guys... sorry, no. I am way past the point where a showy battle scene is going to make up for all the nonsense that came before it. They’ve tried this trick already -- it was called “Hardhome”. It didn’t work on me then, and it won’t work on me now. I would have rather seen a more meaningful reunion between the Stark sisters than another expensive spectacle. If this is why the direwolves have disappeared, then sorry, I don’t consider it a fair trade-off.

[viraljournalist]

College basketball predictions - Will UNC complete the Duke sweep?

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College basketball predictions - Will UNC complete the Duke sweep?

Duke and North Carolina have their second meeting of the 2018-19 season on Saturday (6 p.m. ET, ESPN), and ESPN.com’s team of college basketball experts weighed in on whether the possibly still-Zion-less Blue Devils would earn the split or fall victim to the sweep. Our experts also made their picks for the much-anticipated Michigan-Michigan State rematch (8 p.m. ET, ESPN) and told us what they expected to be the most compelling conference tourney of the season.

Jump to score predictions for the weekend’s top games

It’s Duke/North Carolina, Part II. Tell us how this is going to go if Zion Williamson plays … and if he doesn’t.

Jeff Borzello, college basketball insider: I’m not sure it matters on Saturday. I guess it’ll be closer if Zion suits up in Chapel Hill, but I think North Carolina wins either way. If he doesn’t play — and Mike Krzyzewski’s comments make that appear the likelier scenario — I think the Blue Devils are really going to struggle. They’re a thoroughly average team without Zion and one that got steamrollered by North Carolina in Durham just two weeks ago. The Tar Heels dominated Duke in the post behind Luke Maye, Cam Johnson and Garrison Brooks, and that seems likely to happen again. At the other end, Duke hasn’t gotten consistent offense from anyone not named RJ Barrett, which could be an issue against a team that loves to push the tempo and put up points.

Coby White and UNC face RJ Barrett and Duke on Saturday. Can the Tar Heels pull off the season sweep? Lance King/Getty Images

Myron Medcalf, senior college basketball writer: Tough question. You can’t rely on the analytics for everything, but Duke without Williamson is a team that falls in love with the 3-pointer (42 percent of its attempts compared with 35 percent with Williamson available) and relies on Barrett’s straight-line drives. The Blue Devils are just easier to figure out and that’s what I think North Carolina will do (again) in a second win if Williamson doesn’t play because, as Jeff said, Duke isn’t really built to stop UNC in the paint without Williamson. If he plays, then Duke wins. Why? Because he’s the ultimate playmaker who fixes the flaws that were exposed (defense around the rim, post production, poor shot selection) in the first game.

Here’s your updated source for all of the latest on the NCAA tournament bubble.

Virginia, Duke and North Carolina all have top-seed cases … if they take care of business this week.

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John Gasaway, college basketball writer: This is going to go swimmingly for Duke if Zion plays. He changes the Blue Devils for the better on both offense and defense. That first part requires no further explanation, one surmises, but on D the freshman is a disruptor and a highly mobile wall of shot-changing menace. Fueled by Williamson’s return and, no less, by a desire to even the score after the game in Durham, Duke wins if Zion comes back. If not, this does not go well for the Blue Devils. Winning in Chapel Hill is a taller order than recording a home victory against Wake Forest.

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Jordan Schultz, insider/analyst: Duke is winning this game, with or without Zion. As poorly as the Blue Devils played in a near upset loss to Wake, they still received tremendous production from Barrett, whose 28 points helped him pass Marvin Bagley III for most ever by a Duke freshman. Assuming Williamson can’t go, look for Coach K to once again run everything through Barrett, isolating him on the wings with flat sets that allow him to work out against a terrific Heels defense. We should expect more from the uber-talented Cam Reddish as well, who already hit Carolina for a career-high 27 points in Durham. If Zion does play, however, expect a heavy dose of post-ups and highlight-reel plays considering this will be the only time the prodigious future No. 1 pick ever plays in the Dean Dome. Either way, an angry Duke team wins what should be an excellent game.

And then immediately after, it’s Michigan vs. Michigan State from East Lansing. You expecting a Spartans sweep?

Medcalf: I just want to be there. The Breslin Center is just a wild place, especially when that bass player in the school’s band gets going. It’ll be crazy this weekend. And I think that will be the difference in a game that will feature two teams hoping to get healthier before the NCAA tournament arrives. I just don’t see Cassius Winston, who has been a hero and Wooden Award contender despite his ongoing bout with knee tendinitis, falling short in this season finale against his team’s chief rival. Ain’t happening. Michigan State gets the sweep.

Borzello: Man, this is a tough game to read. First, it doesn’t sound like either team is going to be healthy. Charles Matthews has missed two games in a row for Michigan, and John Beilein didn’t sound optimistic that Matthews would play on Saturday. For Sparty, Nick Ward is still hurt and Kyle Ahrens also missed the last game. Michigan State goes through stretches where it struggles to score due to its lack of options, and that theoretically will be magnified against an elite defensive unit like the Wolverines. That said, this is basically the same team that went into Ann Arbor — with Matthews playing 28 minutes — and beat Michigan by seven two weekends ago. In that one, it was all Winston. He had 27 points and eight assists and outplayed his counterpart, Zavier Simpson. I think that happens again and I think Michigan State gets the sweep.

Gasaway: Yes, the Spartans will sweep Michigan after going 0-2 against Indiana. How perfect is that? In the first game, Michigan State did what you’re not supposed to be able to do against the Wolverines. Tom Izzo’s guys attacked in the paint and it worked beautifully. No Big Ten opponent has scored as efficiently against Michigan as did the Spartans (1.23 points per possession), and no Big Ten opponent has shot anywhere near as well inside the arc (68 percent). True, Michigan State took better care of the ball than UM, which we can safely class as a true freak occurrence. Still, I like MSU’s chances in East Lansing.

Schultz: I do not. Michigan was uncharacteristically locked up by the rugged Spartans defense in Ann Arbor, going 7-26 (26.9 percent) from 3 while amassing just six total assists. True, Sparty is elite on both ends — top 10 in offensive and defensive efficiency, per KenPom — but the Wolverines have more firepower and once again will not have to worry about Ward, who continues to be sidelined with a fractured hand. The X factor for John Beilein & Co. is Matthews, if he plays. When he plays well and is confident shooting it, Michigan becomes much harder to guard, because Simpson and Jordan Poole are both deft at creating their own offense as well. Matthews — who went 1-8 with 4 points in the first MSU game — must discover his stroke in this one. I’m betting he will, and in turn, that the Maize and Blue steal a tight one on the road.

You are forced to watch every minute of one and only one 2019 conference tournament. Which one are you picking, and why? (Ivy League mini-tournament not allowed):

Borzello: No naps? I’m going to be at the Big East tournament, so I’ll leave that one out. If literally every second has to be watched, I think you have to avoid leagues with double byes. If you choose the ACC, you’re saying you want to watch Wake Forest or Georgia Tech or Pittsburgh twice in 24 hours. The Big Ten actually has interesting lower seeds, but still, no. The SEC has you grinding through two games involving Texas A&M or Missouri or something. Meh. I’ll go with the Big 12. There’s a ton at stake heading into Kansas City and fascinating storylines abound. Oklahoma, TCU and Texas all still have work to do to feel comfortable heading into Selection Sunday, so those opening-round games are interesting. Does Kansas bounce back after seeing its streak end on Tuesday night? Does Texas Tech stay hot? Can Iowa State stop losing? Will Kansas State start getting national respect? I’m all-in on the Big 12 next week.

Medcalf: Oh, man. Borzello’s pick makes sense. The Big 12 is always fun and it’s in Kansas City, where you can just walk across the street to the Power and Light District and party with Iowa State fans after the games. But I’ll take the SEC. I mean, Tom Crean in the opening round, where Georgia might score 98 points (win over Texas on Jan. 26) or 39 points (Wednesday loss to Missouri)? He might punt a basketball into the stands before halftime. Mizzou’s Jordan Geist taking 30 shots because why not? Can Billy Kennedy save his job? All of that before we even get to LSU, Kentucky and Tennessee? I’ll take it. I’d love to watch everything that happens at the SEC tournament, including Frank Martin and Bruce Pearl possibly pulling off upsets and giving us the best postgame interviews of the week.

Gasaway: Is this even up for discussion? Absolutely the Pac-12 tournament. One, no one in the conference not named “Washington” or, possibly, “Arizona State” (and even that second one is very iffy) is getting anywhere near the NCAA tournament without an automatic bid. These teams will all be playing like hungry carnivores, not like the “let’s just stay healthy” locks in certain other major conferences. Two, these completely off-bubble teams can, paradoxically win a game or possibly even two if they do get in the field of 68: Utah’s offense is excellent and the two Oregon teams are both playing quite well without anyone much noticing. Three, UW’s Matisse Thybulle is possibly Division I’s most entertaining player who’s also healthy. Last thing, 12-team tournaments feel like less of a slog on the first day than your true mega-leagues. I’d love to be there with my Maui Jim sunglasses celebrating the conference of champions.

Schultz: This is relatively easy for me, if hardly conventional, but I love the OVC, mainly because Belmont and Murray State each have All-America candidates. We all know about Racers all-world point guard Ja Morant, who is arguably the best player — and highlight — in the country, save for Mr. Williamson. But don’t sleep on Bruins senior hybrid forward Dylan Windler, a sterling offensive machine who can shoot it (43.2 percent 3s), make a play off the bounce and post up as well. Windler (21.1 PPG, 10.3 RPG, 2.5 APG, 1.4 SPG) is one of the most efficient all-around players in the nation and a legitimate pro prospect as well, as one NBA scout recently noted to me. To be sure, a Belmont-Murray State OVC final is the matchup we all deserve.

ESPN.com expert picks for this weekend’s top games

(Lines, published as they become available, from the Westgate Las Vegas SuperBook.)

2018-19 college basketball predictions leaderboard

ESPN.com experts Last week SU Season SU Last week ATS Season ATS Jeff Borzello 7-3 51-19 4-5-1 38-28-4 Jordan Schultz 8-2 51-19 6-3-1 38-29-3 John Gasaway 8-2 51-19 4-5-1 31-33-6 Myron Medcalf 7-3 50-20 4-5-1 29-36-5

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