#this is for a little matching icon thing that i haven’t gotten around to finishing so please enjoy

[eggsdrawings]

could you draw my man dabert, daberina, dabiana, dabintina, dabs, dabid, dabily pretty please with a cherry on top

u can have a sketch from something i was working on

[fybillielourd]

I grew up with three parents: a mom, a dad and Princess Leia. I guess Princess Leia was kind of like my stepmom–technically family, but deep down I didn’t really like her. She literally and metaphorically lived on a planet I had never been to. When Leia was around, there wasn’t as much room for my mom–for Carrie. As a child, I couldn’t understand why people loved Leia as much as they did. I didn’t want to watch her movie, I didn’t want to dress up like her, I didn’t even want to talk about her. I just wanted my mom–the one who lived on Earth, not Tatooine. I didn’t watch Star Wars until I was about 6 years old. (And I technically didn’t finish it until I was 9 or 10. I’m sorry! Don’t judge me!) My mom used to love to tell people that every time she tried to put it on, I would cover my ears and yell, “It’s too loud, Mommy! Turn it off!”–or fearfully question, “Is that lady in the TV you?” It wasn’t until middle school that I finally decided to watch it of my own accord–not because I suddenly developed a keen interest in ’70s sci-fi, but because boys started coming up to me and saying they fantasized about my mom. My mom? The lady who wore glitter makeup like it was lotion and didn’t wear a bra to support her much-support-needed DD/F’s? They couldn’t be talking about her! I had to investigate who this person was they were talking about. So I went home and watched the movie I had forever considered too loud and finally figured out what all the fuss was about the lady in the TV. I’d wanted to hate it so I could tell her how lame she was. Like any kid, I didn’t want my mom to be “hot” or “cool”–she was my mom. I was supposed to be the “cool,” “hot” one–not her! But staring at the screen that day, I realized no one is, or ever will be, as hot or as cool as Princess F-cking Leia. (Excuse my language. She’s just that cool!) Later that year, I went to Comic-Con with my mom. It was the first time I realized how widespread and deep people’s love for Leia was, even after so many years. It was surreal: people of all ages from all over the world were dressed up like my mom, the lady who sang me to sleep at night and held me when I was scared. Watching the amount of joy it brought to people when she hugged them or threw glitter in their faces was incredible to witness. People waited in line for hours just to meet her. People had tattoos of her. People named their children after her. People had stories of how Leia saved their lives. It was a side of my mom I had never seen before. And it was magical. I realized then that Leia is more than just a character. She’s a feeling. She is strength. She is grace. She is wit. She is femininity at its finest. She knows what she wants, and she gets it. She doesn’t need anyone to defend her, because she defends herself. And no one could have played her like my mother. Princess Leia is Carrie Fisher. Carrie Fisher is Princess Leia. The two go hand in hand. When I graduated from college, like most folks, I was trying to figure out what the hell to do with my life. I went to school planning to throw music festivals, but always had this little sliver of me that wanted to do what my parents pushed me so hard not to do–act. I was embarrassed to admit I was even slightly interested. So when my mom called me and told me they wanted me to come in to audition for Star Wars, I pretended it wasn’t a big deal–I even laughed at the concept–but inside I couldn’t think of anything that would make me happier. A couple weeks later I went in for my audition. I probably had never been more nervous in my life. I was terrified and most likely made a fool of myself, but I kind of had a great time doing it. I assumed they would never call me, but after that audition, I realized I wanted to give the whole acting thing a shot. I was definitely afraid, but as a wise woman once said, “Stay afraid, but do it anyway … The confidence will follow.” About a month later, they somehow ended up calling. And there I was, on my way to be in motherf-cking Star Wars. Whoa. Growing up, my parents treated film sets like a house full of people with the flu: they kept me away from them at all costs. So on that fateful first day driving up to Pinewood, I was like a doe-eyed child. I couldn’t tell my mom, but little sassy, sarcastic, postcollege me felt like a giddy, grateful middle schooler showing up to a fancy new school. On that first day, my mom and I sat next to each other in the hair and makeup trailer. (Actually, she wasn’t really one for sitting, so she paced up and down and around me, occasionally reapplying her already overapplied glitter makeup and feeding Gary, her French bulldog.) Between glitterings, the hairstylist crafted what was to become General Leia’s hairstyle, then it was on to me: little Lieutenant Connix. Funnily enough, my mom had more to say about my hairstyle than her own. Even though she complained for years about how the iconic Leia buns “further widened my already wide face,” she desperately wanted me to carry on the face-widening family tradition! Some people carry on their family name, some people carry on holiday traditions–I was going to carry on the family hairstyle. So after we tested a few other space-appropriate hairstyles, we decided to embrace the weird galactic nepotism of it all and went with the mini–Leia buns. She stood in the mirror behind me and smiled like we had gotten matching tattoos. Our secret-handshake hairstyle. On the first day of this thing I could now call “work,” I walked into the Resistance Base set for rehearsal and J.J. Abrams, the director, told me where to stand and what to do–basically just press some pretty real-looking fake buttons. But I have to say, just pressing those buttons and observing the rest of the scene was one of the most fun things I had ever done. I had no lines in the scene, but my mom kept checking on me like I was delivering a Shakespearean monologue. “Are you O.K.?” she asked. “Do you need anything?” I scoffed at her maternal questions like a child embarrassed by her mother yelling goodbye too loud in a carpool line: “Mommy, go away! I’m fine. Focus on you, not me!” In the moment, I was humiliated that my mom was moming me on my first day of work, on the Star Wars set, of all places. But now I realize she was just being protective. Sets are extremely intimidating–I was too green at the time to know that–and she assumed I would be scared as hell. But weirdly, I wasn’t. At risk of sounding insane, something about this bizarre new world made me feel right at home. I had found a place with an empty puzzle slot that perfectly matched my weird-shaped puzzle piece. That night, on the long London-traffic-filled ride back from set, she turned to me and smiled. “Bits,” she said. “You know, most people aren’t as comfortable on sets as you were today. Especially on the f-cking Star Wars set, of all places!” (Excuse my language, but that was her language.) “This might be something you should think about doing.” At first I laughed, assuming she was kidding. But she continued to look me straight in the eye with no inkling of irony in sight. My mom was telling me I should act–my mom? The lady who spent my entire life convincing me acting was the last thing I should do? It couldn’t be true. But it was. I haven’t had many moments like this in my life–those aha moments everyone talks about. This was my first real one. My mom wanted me to be an actress. That was when I realized I had to give it a shot. She used to sarcastically quip that she knew all along what a massive hit Star Wars would be. As with most things, she was kidding. She was absolutely and totally beyond shocked by the massive global phenomenon that was the first Star Wars trilogy. It changed her life forever. Then, when it happened again almost 40 years later, she was even more absolutely and totally beyond shocked. It changed her life yet again. But that time, it changed my life too. I thought getting to make one Star Wars movie with her was a once-in-a-lifetime thing; then they asked me to come do the next movie and I got to do my once-in-a-lifetime twice. On our second movie together, I really tried to take a step back and appreciate what I was doing. I couldn’t tell her because she’d think I was lame, but getting to watch her be Leia this time made me feel like the proud mom. Watching the original Star Wars movies as a kid in my mom’s bed, I never imagined the lady in the TV would get older and get back in the TV. And I definitely never imagined we would end up in the TV together. But that’s where we ended up. Two little ladies in the TV together–Leia and little Lieutenant Connix. We wrapped The Last Jedi a little less than six months before she died. I went back to L.A. to film the show I was on, and she stayed in London to film the show she was on. One of the last times we spoke on the phone, she talked about how excited she was that the next movie in the trilogy was going to be Leia’s movie. Her movie. She used to say that in the original movies, she got to be “the only girl in an all-boys fantasy.” But with each new Star Wars movie, the all-boys fantasy started to become a boys-and-girls fantasy. She was no longer a part of a fantasy, but the fantasy herself. Leia was not just a sidekick one of the male leads had on his arm, or a damsel in distress. She was the hero herself. The princess became the general. My mom died on Dec. 27, 2016. Two days after Christmas, four days before New Year’s and about a year before she was supposed to appear in her final Star Wars film. Losing my mom is the hardest thing I’ve ever been through. I lost my best friend. My little lady in the TV. My Momby. And I inherited this weird, intimidating thing called her legacy. Suddenly I was in charge of what would come of her books, her movies and a bunch of other overwhelming things. I was now the keeper of Leia. About a year later, J.J. called me into his office to talk about the plans for Leia. We both agreed she was too important to be written off in the classic Star Wars introductory scroll. This last movie was supposed to be Leia’s movie, and we wanted it to remain that, as much as possible. What I hadn’t known–and what J.J. told me that day –was that there was footage of my mom that they had collected over the years that hadn’t made it into the movies, footage that J.J. told me would be enough to write an entire movie around. It was like she had left us a gift that would allow Leia’s story to be completed. I was speechless. (Anyone who knows me knows that doesn’t happen very often.) J.J. asked me if I would want to come back as Lieutenant Connix. I knew it would be one of the most painful, difficult things I would ever do, but I said yes for her–for my mom. For Leia. For everyone Leia means so much to. For everyone Leia gives strength to. For my future kids, so someday they’ll have one more movie to watch that Mommy and Grandma were in together. So they can ask me about the lady–now ladies–in the TV and tell me to turn it down because it’s too loud. I grew up with three parents: a mom, a dad and Princess Leia. Initially, Princess Leia was kind of like my stepmom. Now she’s my guardian angel. And I’m her keeper.

[doodlegirl12345]

“A Lesson In Tightropes” {1/5}

Hello everybody, this my first post on Tumblr. I written this story prior the release of Miraculous Ladybug season 4. A lot of things in this won’t match up to the current season. So think about it in a way of an AU story.

Read A Full Version Of Part 1 of “A Lesson In Tightropes” on Wattpad

Part 1 : Balance

Balance.

Another important skill needed in this never ending circus that we call life. As that’s what it can be seen as a complex balancing act. From the moment that we learn to move or stand we are supposed to follow a straight line without a certain end. As time starts to build up things are shove into our hands to juggle from small things such cleaning your room, washing behind your ears and finishing the vegetables on your plate. To the attempts of finishing ten page papers for university, keeping your light bill paid, and scrimping enough money for this month’s rent. The round shiny pennies that you have been juggling had turned into round shiny porcelain plates. More fragile and easier to break while trying to walk the straight line of a tightrope. The crowd that’s watching is ready to boo at you for any misstep and misdeed that is done, like the entertainment that you are. While the crowd that is supporting you and your accomplishments seem small like they can barely make a sound, even when it becomes too much and you fall without a safety net.

Up above the colors of orange and yellow painted Paris’ sky as the sun rose one early spring Friday morning. Sunlight quickly took its reign warming the frosty air from the previous night. The few people that were already out during this early morning minding their business as most were returning home from a grueling night shift or leaving for the long early shift that the day would give them. But right above them was the city’s beloved heroine Ladybug swinging through the sky with her trusty yoyo. The bug tossed the yoyo to latch onto the rooftops ahead to prolong the cycle of rush and relief of her body being pushed through the sky by her own hands.

As she had only one solid thought on her mind: home.

The few people who would look above and see the heroine had a few names that come to mind: hero, protector, role model, icon and savior. With all the things that Hawkmoth had thrown at her she seemed unstoppable. However, those were the people who easily let themselves get lost in the sparkle. They couldn’t see or wanted to notice the sway back in the bug’s posture, the misshapen form as she swung or the hesitation between each jump as she hanged onto the yoyo’s wire for dear life.

As underneath the surface level, it was clear that the spirit of exhaustion had been clinging onto her.

Nevertheless, Ladybug couldn’t stop moving as she sprung forward from the rooftop of Collège Françoise DuPont to the balcony of the nearby bakery. Nearly missing her footing on the balcony’s railing, the bug then jumped forward into the balcony’s opened trap door landing onto her bed that was underneath the opening. She landed flat on her back letting the cushiony padding of the mattress break her fall.

“Tikki,” the heroine said groggily. “Spots off.”

Magical red dust surrounded her body peeling off her costume and reverting her back into her civilian clothes. Tikki landed on the bed’s pillow, eyes already shut the kwami letting out a small yawn. While Marinette’s eyelids felt heavy, she felt herself slipping into a deep slumber needed to recover from last night and all of the previous nights before. Ever since she had returned home from her trip from New York. There have been back to back akumas and sentimonsters that Ladybug and Chat Noir had to deal with for the past three weeks. All of them appeared during the dead of night. It was like this Hawkmoth’s revenge for them not letting him plunge the world into another world war.

It was akuma alert notification, the most recent of many.

She suited up like usual, leaving her home after midnight hoping that this wouldn’t take long as she still was exhausted from the previous night. But those hopes were for nothing as the villain Creature Feature took hours to defeat, leaving both her and Chat Noir dragging themselves home, exhausted. Marinette turned over, eyes now shut as the mattress cushioned her aching body as she tried to reach dreamland. However, as she started to drift, a loud beeping startled the new guardian causing her eyes to fly wide open and herself to raise up. Marinette looked ahead to see at the foot of her bed was her phone ringing. She reached forward grabbing her phone as her alarm for school was going off.

But it couldn’t be time not yet as between last night and the night before she barely had gotten four hours of sleep! The guardian shut off her alarm and stubbornly threw herself underneath her covers. It can’t be time for school. That wasn’t fair as she didn’t want to go. Maybe today could be her sick day, better yet a mental health day.

It was the minimum of what she deserved.

But she heard a knock at her bedroom door, the guardian’s body didn’t even budge.

There was more knocking on the door, her mother’s voice came through the door calling out to her. “Marinette, sweetie it’s time to wake up. You don’t want to be late for school again. This will be the fifth time this week that you have been hard to get up!”

Marinette just let out a loud groan, taking her pillow on her head and bending it to cover her ears like this was going to be one of the worst days of her life.

An hour passed as the guardian dragged herself out of the door of the bakery with her purse and backpack. Instead of her usual outfit she was wearing a black tank top underneath a soft pink cotton top with short cutout sleeves, black sweatpants, and pink converse sneakers. She had dark sunken in circles underneath her eyes. A few minutes after not responding Marinette’s mother came into her room after Tikki hid trying to coax the young guardian out of bed. It got to the point it was easier for Marinette to force herself out of bed than trying and failing to get some sleep in the midst of that. In addition, her typical arsenal of excuses failed her, each one that she could think of Sabine counteracted with the statement of hearing it all before.

So Marinette got up and got ready just figuring the best thing to do is suck it up for another day. That was the notion that she had in her mind as she crossed the street to school. As outside in front of the steps students stood in their own groups chatting away with each other before class started. Marinette spotted Alya leaning against the wall of the school steps on her phone.

“Hey,” Marinette yawned as she approached her friend.

“Hey girl,” Alya said looking up from her phone. “You’re actually on time today.”

“You can thank my mom,” Marinette faintly smiled. “She wouldn’t let me be nearly late five days in a row.”

“Good mom, but hey are you okay?” Alya raised a brow.

“Yes, I’m a little bit tired,” the guardian nodded her head. “No big deal.”

“Well you’re not the only one,” her best friend gestured her head to the right. “It seems that your “friend” haven’t gotten much sleep either.”

Marinette turned her head in the same direction as she saw Adrien and Nino a few feet away. Adrien looked similar to her, a glazed look with deep dark circles underneath his eyes.

“Dude, you okay?” Nino asked him. “You look wiped.”

“Huh?” Adrien asked, almost like he was spacing out. “Yeah I just had a long fencing practice last night to get ready for our tournament in the next few weeks. Then I stayed up late doing homework.”

“So you sure you are fine?” Alya asked, bringing the attention back to her. “These couple weeks, you have appeared more exhausted every time I seen you.”

“I’m just a little jag lag from our trip.”

“The trip that we came back from three weeks ago? Nice try, M, that’s not going to work this time.”

“Um...well...it’s true.”

“Okay maybe I’m sounding a little pushy but I’m just a little worried about you.”

“That’s sweet but there’s nothing to worry about.”

“It’s not just me but other people. Alix texted me asking if you were coming to the Louvre this weekend to check out the “Fashion Through The Ages” exhibit like you said you were, considering that you cancelled going ice skating last with us last weekend.”

“Really? Why did she not text me?”

“Maybe because it’s been a little hard to reach you lately? You really haven’t been picking up or replying to our texts. So she just figured what was the point?”

Marinette bit her lip as she remembered last weekend she had come home from defeating the villain Archaic around seven in the morning after she got an akuma alert two in the morning. She was utterly exhausted and knew no way that could make it to the ice rink around eleven so she just texted the girls that she couldn’t go and went to bed. Practically for these past couple weeks beside school it’s been a trade off her sleeping and being Ladybug.

“So what?” Marinette’s eyes shifted to the side.

“So what? I’m worried about you ever since we got back from New York. You’ve been saying that either you’re busy or that you’re going to just go home to sleep. But you are still looking exhausted. Is there something going on? It’s starting to look like you have a double life or something.”

“Double life?!” Marinette exclaimed. “No way, I’m too boring to have a double life. I’m so dull that flies don’t even land on me! Boring is my middle name Marinette “Boring” Dupain-Cheng!”

“Well Miss Boring then what’s keeping you up at night?” Alya folded her arms, as if she wasn’t going to accept anymore deflection.

Marinette was at a loss for words as the truth feeling poison in her throat that if spilled as it would come up like acid. That she would die either way in this public setting. Unless she did her least favorite habit.

Lying.

“Okay okay you got me,” the guardian gave her friend a tight smile. “You’re so good, Miss Reporter.”

“Huh?” her friend looked confused.

“I’ve been working hard on a very special project...for you and the girls,” she wrapped an arm around Alya’s shoulders.

“Really?”

“Yep, I have been doing this project for weeks...that’s why I have been busy and tired. It’s all for you girls.”

Alya just looked at her with a stern face.

Marinette bit her lip as she thought. Is she buying this? No way that she’s buying this, she knows me way too well.

Her friend just shook her head. “That’s really sweet but leave it up to you to do something nice that is causing your own detriment.”

“Well you know me...I’m a giver. So everybody can stop worrying, it’s all over now.”

“Alright,” the inspiring reporter sounded skeptical. “Then I guess we can come over and you can show us the surprise tomorrow.”

“What?” the guardian looked confused.

“You said it was over, that means you’re done right?”

“Right... I guess that’s what it means, right...”

“Cool, then the rest of the girls and I can come to your place tomorrow before you go to the museum. Since Nora and I gotta take the twins to the circus tonight.”

“Circus?” she asked her as if it’s the first she heard of this.

“Yeah, I told you on Tuesday that Ella won four tickets for Andrea’s Traveling Circus that is going to be in town this weekend. As she won the award for most improved student in her class. Nora and I were going to take them since my mom and dad are going out to celebrate their wedding anniversary, remember?”

“Oh yeah.”

A string of electronic chimes came from the school causing the students to wrap up their conversations as they started to make their way up the steps.

“Ugh, the warning bell, we got five minutes until class starts,” Alya started to walk toward the steps. “Let’s go, the last thing that we need is Ms. Bustier marking us late.”

“Right,” Marinette yawned while following her up the steps feeling this was going to be a long day.

With that Marinette entered the school and dragged herself through a typical school day with an overwhelming feeling of exhaustion. To her it felt like the day trudged on even during lunch while Alya told the girls about the surprise, the one that the guardian had came up on the spot. So imagine her relief when she reached her last class of the day: Early World History. Her sleepy eyes were glued to Ms. Bustier as she was in the middle of her lesson about the industrial revolution. As the teacher lectured the guardian tried to keep her eyes open, keeping her mind and hands busy by taking notes on her school issued tablet.

But it was hard to keep her head up.

She looked at the clock as it read 1:05 pm. There was only fifty five minutes left of the school day, fifty five long excruciating minutes. While her head felt like it weighed like a ton of bricks that went through a centrifuge.

Come on Marinette you just got less than an hour left, you can do this. She thought.

However, her eyelids were getting heavier. She rubbed them a bit letting out another yawn. Before she knew it she could hear the ringing of the school bell causing her bolt right back up in her seat with a loud gasp realizing that she had been laying her head on her desk. Marinette’s eyes darted around the classroom to see that all her classmates were staring at her with confused expressions on their faces. Suddenly her face turned a shade of beet red.

“Okay class that is enough for today we will finish up our lesson on Monday,” Ms. Bustier said, her stern eyes right on Marinette. “For homework please read chapters eighteen and nineteen over the weekend.”

After that instruction the class packed up for the day and started to leave for dismissal while Ms. Bustier turned to the classroom’s chalkboard starting to erase the board’s chalk writings.

“D-did I fall asleep?” Marinette turned to Alya.

“Yeah halfway through class,” Alya replied.

“Halfway through class? Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“I tried nudging you but you wouldn’t budge. It was like trying to move a brick house.”

“I was that out of it?”

“Yeah you literally were snoring during class,” Nino chimed in.

Marinette’s face became a deeper shade of red. “I don’t snore.”

“Trust me you do,” said a familiar voice.

Marinette looked away from Nino to see Chloè standing in front of their desks, arms folded with a little smug smile on her face.

“Seriously Dupain-Cheng who knew someone like you snored just like a pig,” the mayor’s daughter laughed. “I guess the whole class knows now.”

“At least I don’t sound like a strangled cat when I talk, like you do!” Marinette snapped at her.

Chloè’s blue eyes narrowed in shock as if she was surprised that kind of comment had been made.

“Marinette, can you please stay after class as I would like to talk to you,” Ms. Bustier said, still erasing the board.

Paris’ newest guardian’s eyes suddenly become big as saucers. While Chloè’s smug smile returned as she left the classroom.

Marinette buried her head in her hands. “I don’t believe this.”

“Do you want me to stay for you?” Adrien asked her.

Marinette moved her hands and looked back at the golden haired model. “Really?”

“Yeah it’s the least that I could do after you convinced my father to let me go to New York,” he said.

A tiny smile formed on her lips at that sentiment but then she looked at the dark circles underneath his eyes. He looked just exhausted as she did.

“Um no you don’t have to,” Marinette told him. “I mean...I appreciate it but I made bed now I need to lay in it.”

With that the group packed up the things and her friends left the classroom to carry out the rest of their day. Marinette walked down the steps with her backpack and purse to Ms.Bustier’s desk where the teacher was sitting looking through a stack of papers.

“Ms. Bustier, you said that you wanted to talk to me,” Marinette approached the desk, already feeling like she was on pins and needles.

“Yes Marinette as we have something to discuss,” said the teacher.

“About sleeping in class? I’m so sorry I didn’t mean too. I just didn’t get much sleep last night but I promise it will never happen again.”

“It is not exactly just that but also there is something else I would like to discuss.”

Ms. Bustier pulled out one of the sheets from the stack of papers that she was holding and placed it on the desk. It was a quiz paper with Marinette’s name written in the guardian’s own handwriting. The paper was covered with red ink markings and up top the final score was twenty five percent.

“This is your history quiz grade from the quiz that we took on Tuesday. I graded them all but didn’t have a chance to pass them out today like I planned,” Ms. Bustier told her. “But your grade is twenty five percent Marinette which is a F. Is there something you want to tell me?”

“Uh...I’m sorry.”

“This wasn’t a hard quiz either as the second lowest grade in the class was seventy two percent. Most of these questions were things we discussed in class and the others were from the textbook. Was you able to study?”

Marinette’s eyes shifted as she thought back to Monday night this week. She had taken a nap after coming home from school then started up her chemistry homework when her phone went off with an akuma alert. Steel Titan, a giant robot sentimonster was terrorizing downtown. By the time she got back she only had an hour before school that she used to finish her chemistry homework instead of studying.

“Just a little...I was busy,” she sheepishly told her teacher.

“With what?” Ms. Bustier’s eyes shifted from stern to concerned. “After falling asleep in class I’m worried about you Marinette. I have noticed that your grades have been slipping. So I would like to ask, is everything okay? Is there something going on at home?”

“What? Of course not, everything is fine.”

“Well about your personal life? Family, friends, relationships? If there is something you want to talk about I’m here to listen. It can be about anything.”

Marinette was unsure how to respond. What could tell her that she actually been Ladybug this whole time? That every time that she had been running late or had to excuse herself for a bathroom break she was saving the city. Along with Chat Noir she stopped Hawkmoth from plunging the world into another world war with two other heroes. That was now she was Paris’ only guardian of the miraculous because her mistakes caused the other one to give up his memories due to her getting so emotional over a guy she had recently given the friend label. That might have to suffer the same fate if she ever had to give up her title as guardian. That the thought of that actually terrifies her. She has been running herself so ragged that sometimes standing up is a chore.

Those are the things that she wanted to tell her but couldn’t.

“Nope, I just should have studied like I was supposed to,” Marinette told her. “Um, to be honest it’s my fault. I...stayed up late watching this show called Infinity Lights and I put off studying.”

“Infinity Lights? I love that show, how far are you?” Ms. Bustier stated.

“Uh,” Marinette started as she never saw a single episode of the show. The only reason she said it was because she saw a build board advertising the show when she swung home this morning. “Not far just the first season.”

“Ah so stakes haven’t really hiked up yet but what do you think about Miranda and Nick?”

“I like them. Miranda is my favorite.”

“Really? My favorite is Bridget. But is that the only thing going on?”

“Yes, I didn’t do well with organizing my priorities. So I’m in trouble?”

“Not exactly the grade that you earned on the quiz still stands; it is just a quiz grade so it shouldn’t impact your final grade significantly compared to a test. However, I would like you to promise me something.”

“A promise? What kind of promise?”

“I would like you to promise me that over this weekend you are going to get some rest. I expect you to come here Monday morning on time, well rested, homework done and ready to learn. If you can’t do it then I have no choice then call your parents and schedule a conference with your parents. To let them know about your grades and lack of sleep, do you understand?”

Marinette hanged her head. “Yes ma’am.”

After wrapping up things with Ms.Bustier, Marinette went home instantly going straight to her bedroom to get to work. As she had dug herself in a hole with her friends telling them about a great surprise that apparently took three weeks to do. She entered her room, dropping her purse and backpack on the floor to sit at her desk to think of something to make. Tikki flew out of her purse suggesting she get some sleep as she looked exhausted. But the guardian protested stating that she lied and now that she had to lie she must become an honest person by making the lie true. Tikki tried to convince her otherwise but Marinette was insistent. So here she was hours later still at her desk working in her sketchbook surrounded by wadded up balls of paper on her desk of rejected ideas. At first it was hats then phone cases then it was hand knitted scarfs. But either it was that she didn’t have enough time or materials.

It wasn’t until an hour ago that she settled on making homemade earrings as it looked enough that time was taken and she had the materials from a jewelry making kit that ironically Alya gave her for her birthday.

So there she was sketching as she had to make five original pairs of earrings all before tomorrow afternoon. However when trying to sketch Alya’s the first one on the list she couldn’t think of anything. It seemed the well of creativity that she usually tapped into had dried up.

Not to mention she was still tired.

“This is hopeless,” Marinette groaned.

Suddenly she heard a familiar beeping alert sound coming from her purse on the floor. The guardian’s heart was now filled with dread as she stood up from her seat being pulled to it by curiosity and obligation. She went into her purse and pulled out her phone to see the already lit screen. It had a notification that said:

AKUMA ALERT: SUSPICIOUS ACTIVITY REPORTED BETWEEN THOMAS AVENUE AND DURAND AVENUE. PLEASE AVOID THIS AREA FOR THE TIME BEING. IF NEARBY GET TO SAFETY. ANOTHER NOTIFICATION WILL BE SENT ONCE THE AREA IS DEEMED SAFE. IF THERE’S A EMERGENCY PLEASE CALL EMERGENCY SERVICES.

Marinette looked at the notification as she knew where those streets were located deep downtown. It appeared that her alter ego was needed.

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

For the full version of part one, check it out on Wattpad. If you made it this far, thank you so much! I really appreciate it.

Also a little music to set the mood. Especially if you read the full Wattpad version.

Also here’s a link to the song on YouTube.

[oldsoldierr]

The Carnation ~ Part 7

summary: the media always told you that the famous art critic bucky barnes is an arrogant, rude playboy and you agree, but something still draws you to him. is there a deeper reason to why he acts the way he does or is he the class A jackass you first met?

art critic!bucky x artist!reader

word count: 2.1k

series masterlist

With a shaky breath Bucky continued. “I love you.”

He pulled the trigger.

The gunshot echoed through the apartment complex, leaving your ears ringing. It took all your strength not to scream. You had squeezed your eyes closed, bracing yourself for the pain. When it didn’t come you opened your eyes and looked around. You weren’t bleeding. 

The bullet had lodged itself in the floorboards. Bucky was collapsed on the ground, the weapon forgotten. You rushed towards his shaking figure and wrapped your arms around him.

“I’m so, so sorry. I just--a lot of things--and i don’t even know how--he’s gonna hurt her--” Bucky gulped in a breath. “I don’t know what I’m going to do now-- but I just couldn’t shoot you--i can’t lose,” A sob racked his body. “I can’t lose you. And it might be stupid--” 

“Hey, hey,” you shushed him and pulled away from the embrace.

“What happened? Who’s ‘he’?” The distraught brunette took a deep breath and fell against the wall. You quickly followed suit next to him.

“He--he, Brock Rumlow, my agent. He was waiting for me in my car when I left the art studio.” you sucked in a breath. “He threatened to kill my sister if I didn’t--” he bit his lip. “If I didn’t kill you by today.” You looked at him trying to fully understand what he was saying.

“Is that why you haven’t been coming to art?” you thought out loud. He gave you a solemn nod. 

“I don’t--I don’t know what I’m gonna do,” he said softly, with a new vulnerability. 

“I just, I can’t lose Becca or… or you.” His winter blue eyes looked into yours. You bit your lip in thought. You two sat in complete silence, heavy and defeated for what felt like hours when you had a sudden surge of emotion. You stood up.

“Maybe you don’t have to. At least, yet. Get up Barnes.” You extended a hand to Bucky. He looked up at you with confusion.

“What?” he questioned.

“We’re not giving up, not just yet. We’ve still got what--” you looked down at your watch. “We’ve got an hour. Let’s save your sister. No one has to die tonight. You in?” Bucky stared at you like you were crazy.

“But how? All we’ve got is a gun. I’ve thought this over a billion different ways, there’s no way,” He reasoned. “He probably already knows I couldn’t shoot you. He’s got eyes all over the city.”

“Well, I wasn’t here before. And look at it this way, if we fail then--” you sucked in a breath. “At least we can say we tried. Deal?” Bucky looked hesitant but eventually clasped his hand in yours and pulled himself up.

“But I need you to be safe. If you got hurt because of me, I--I couldn’t forgive myself.” He brushed his hand across your cheek.

“I’ll try my best,” you responded. You gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. 

“We can do this. Do you trust me Bucky?” He looked you dead in the eye.

“Yeah, I really do.”

“Then we gotta hurry.” You sprang into action and pelted down the hall, Bucky close behind you. You reached the staircase. After just a few steps you realized how much this would slow you down.

“Shit,” you muttered.

“Wait, I have an idea.” Before you could react Bucky swooped you up, wedding style and jumped over the railing. You yelped.

“What the fuck!” You both landed surprisingly safe. You kept descending the steps as fast as you could. Bucky looked over at you and grinned. 

“I had a parkour faze when I was in highschool.” He looked a bit sheepish. You managed to heave out a laugh at that. It released a lot of the tension previously there. They reached the first floor in record time and got in Bucky’s car that had been carelessly placed in the middle of the lot. You clicked your seatbelt into place and asked, “How far is your sister’s place?” His eyes widened in realization.

“More than an hour,” he said as he started turning the car out of the parking lot. 

“But if I speed it should be around 30 minutes.” 

“Just for reference, how good are you at driving?” you tried, fearful of the answer. Bucky clicked his tongue.

“I guess we’ll see.” He pushed down on the pedal hard. Your head hit the head rest. You felt your breath leave your body.

“Bucky!” you yelped alarmed. He didn’t seem to hear you as he was focused on the road. The car sped along the road with the determination of someone who had nothing left to live for. 

After only a little time, you heard the police sirens behind you. In the rear view mirror you saw the blue and red lights spinning. Bucky just went faster. It turned out he was a decent driver, but all the same, the car swerved harshly dodging vehicles left and right. You thought you might be sick. 

The car was painted by the crimson and azure lights. 

It was a good thing that it was late at night when there were less people out and about, because if this was during daylight you most certainly would’ve gotten into a crash. 

The world flew past you in a blur. It began turning from tall industrial looking buildings to calmer suburbs. By now you had to be going at upwards of 90 miles per hour. It was terrifying but it gave you a rush. You heard the police speakers boom commands but you allowed yourself to relax a little bit. 

As you got further, you seemed to lose the police cars. You had pulled out your phone and had been tracking the amount of time it would take to get to your destination. The minutes were steadily decreasing.

Only a little bit left to go, you thought to yourself. 

What were you doing? The blinking icon on your phone screen was so close to the end of the line.

“Take a left, and in two blocks you will reach your destination,” the robotic voice informed. The car swerved hard again as your body slammed against the window of the car. You had never seen Bucky so determined. 

In barely any time at all you heard the same robotic voice. “You’ve reached your destination.” 

The car screeched to a halt. Bucky tripped out of the car and ran full sprint to the house. You followed him. He rapped on the door of the quaint white house.

“Becca! Becca, can you hear me?” He repeatedly pressed the doorbell. You stood behind him, craning your head to try and see anything through her curtained windows. You heard footsteps behind the door. 

The door swung open, revealing a brunette woman. She looked to be a little younger than Bucky, but she had the same baby blue eyes. She was dressed well, with a ruby dress and her hair curled. She had a full face of make-up to match. Bucky didn’t give her a chance to speak, instead engulfing her in a hug. She returned it but looked confused.

“Hey Buck, what’s up? Why are you here at--” she turned her head to get a look at the clock “--11:48 at night?”

“Sorry--god--I’m so glad you’re okay. I can explain later, but right now I just-- we need to go.” Bucky attempted to push her towards the car but she pulled away.

“Um, I’m glad to see you, but I’m kind of in the middle of something,” she responded tentatively.

“What--?” Before he could finish a figure appeared behind Becca through the door.

“Hey Becca, what’s going on?” A low, gravelly voice asked, leaning on the door frame with an unforgettable smirk.

“‘S nothing Brock, just my brother,” she told him as she inserted herself by Rumlow’s figure.

“Bucky, meet Brock.” She gestured between them. “My boyfriend.” Bucky felt his breath leave his body and squared his shoulders, lifting his chin.

“We’ve met before,” the brunette grunted. Brock smiled.

“Indeed we have. Baby, I know this is our date but could we invite them in? They look cold,” he suggested, with a look on his face that was icy calm. This is when Becca noticed you.

“Oh, hi, I’m so sorry, nice to meet you! You are…?” She took your hand and speedily shook it with both of hers.

“Oh, yeah, um, I’m y/n. I’m friends with Bucky. I’ve heard a lot about you. It’s nice to meet you too!” you attempted a fake cheery tone. It shook a little, being caught off guard.

“Sorry to bother you so late but um--” you glanced over at Bucky. “--you know what, it’s nothing--how was your day?” 

“Oh, was pretty good. Thanks for asking,” she responded with an unsuspecting smile. “Here,” she said, gesturing for you to come in. You nervously stepped inside. 

As you passed Brock he whispered into your ear, “It better be nothing.” You could feel the heat from his breath. Even as  he pulled back and you got out of his range, you felt his eyes follow you. Bucky seemed to notice as he pulled you to his side protectively. You didn’t miss the murderous glare that the brunette had given Rumlow. 

All of you seated yourselves on various couches and chairs around a round, glass coffee table. You could feel the uncomfort radiating off everyone, excluding Becca. The room was awkward and tension filled. Rumlow and Bucky eyed each other hostily. 

Becca seemed to sense this as she tried to start a conversation.

“So…”

“Hey Brock--'' Bucky interrupted, saying the other man’s name like a slur. “--How do you feel about backstabbing motherfuckers who try to murder people?” Yours eyes widened at the lack of tact. 

Subtle, you thought. Rumlow’s eyes narrowed but his lips parted in a small smile.

“Haven’t thought much about it, unfortunately. Now tell me, have you ever lost someone you loved?” Bucky looked like he could’ve ripped out his throat right then and there. Becca looked between them with confusion.

“I’m sorry, did I miss something?” she questioned.

“Nope.”

“Barely,” Both men said at the same time. Becca continued to observe them suspiciously.

“...Right.” The room filled with thick silence once more. She cleared her throat.

“Well, I’m gonna get something from the kitchen real quick,” she excused herself. Brock stood up a little too fast.

“I’ll come with you,” He told her.

“Oh, baby, you don’t need to,” Becca replied.

“No, no, I will,” He insisted. 

Bucky craned his neck to make sure they were out of sight and hearing range. Once he was confident they couldn’t hear, he scooched closer to you.

In a hushed whisper he asked, “Okay, what’s our plan? How do we get her out of here? Brock’s not going to let her out of his sight and she seems to trust him.” You stared at the floor in thought and fiddled with your fingers. 

You turned to look at him.

“I don’t know yet, but we’ll figure it out,” you responded passionately.

 Bucky’s winter blue eyes looked into yours, and neither of you seemed to be able to tear away. 

“Yeah...we’ll figure something out...” He trailed off as he glanced down and bit his lip. He brushed your hair out of the way and grasped your neck. Your heart was beating out of your chest.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered lowly. You sat there, frozen, yet you were impossibly hot. You parted your lips slightly. He leaned in as your eyes fluttered close. His lips grazed your. You could nearly taste him. A scream shook you from your trance. You and Bucky turned towards the sound.

“Becca!” he shouted and bolted to the kitchen. You ran after him but not before looking at the clock. 

It was 12:00.

“Shit.” you followed Bucky into the kitchen. 

There you saw Brock with his back against the window, preparing to jump out at any moment. He had a tight grip on Becca, one arm around her neck, nearly strangling her, and a large chef’s blade pressed to her throat. 

Small droplets of blood were trickling down her body, disguised by her already scarlet dress. Her eyes were wide and panicked, but she didn’t dare move an inch. 

Brock had a cold, sharp smile, which was somehow more terrifying than if he had a crazed one. All the color had drained out of the brunette next to you.

“I’m a man of my word, Bucky boy.”

sorry this took forever ahaha :’) also sike nvm not finale take that i have a problem

series masterlist

tags

@supernaturalwintersoldier​ @the-fifth-marauder101​

[buns-with-a-book]

Beginner's Luck

Teeechnically a Bayonetta/DMC crossover, only because it’s based on concept art from Bayonetta of Enzo and Dante gambling...and Dante losing because of his bad luck. And a little bit of his Diesel costume from DMC2 (which actually isn’t that bad?)

Fandoms: Bayonetta, DMC Characters: OC (DMC), Rodin (Bayonetta), Enzo (Bayonetta) Tags: @furyeclipse @synchronmurmurs @harlot-of-oblivion @queenmuzz 

Summary: Cassandra takes up poker against an old friend of Dante’s to retake the hunter’s beloved guns: Ebony and Ivory. Of course, grabbing that signature red coat was a plus. 

Cassandra hummed as she walked down the grimy streets, bobbing her head to a song only in her head. Despite her chipper attitude, she had a place to be: a bar that Dante visited and came out with nothing. Literally, given his change of clothes from the iconic red to muted green. It didn’t look good, hence why she was walking down the street, finding the very bar he had been in the night before: The Gates of Hell.  

Cassandra really had only one concern: Did he have to head to the nastiest place in the city? The Dump was a perfectly appropriate name for this shithole corner of the city. Not even Morrison, as far as she knew, came to this stretch of the city.

But here she was, walking through the darkness like a lonely star in an abyss-black sky. She stood out of place, that she knew well enough, but ignored it to focus on where she was going. She could fend for herself, she wasn’t exactly unarmed despite all appearances.

She pulled out a flyer, a garish purple scrap of paper, and glanced at the building to her left. Just like it said, the Gates of Hell was here. She shoved the paper back into her bag, the bag being full of hard-earned cash to gamble with. If Dante had gambled away his prized guns, then she’d have to gamble it back (and have enough to pay for their tab, depending on how much of a drinker this mysterious man was).

Did it make her a target? Yes. Yes it did.

Was it worth it to make Dante happy? Yes. Yes it was.

With a soft sigh, she opened the door. Much to her surprise, it was empty. The only music in the bar was from the gramophone, the worn record playing a jazz piece that sounded like it'd come from a film noir. Her green eyes glanced around the empty establishment before she walked over to the bar, eyes focused on the black bartender.

“Hm.” The bartender hummed. She could feel his eyes focused on her, analyzing her every movement. It was almost supernatural...but she ignored that gut feeling for now. “Haven’t seen you ‘round here before, lightspark.” She squinted at the name, something that only Dante called her.

“I’m looking for a man. He was here last night gambling with my...employer, Dante.” She said. “Perhaps you know him?” The bartender was silent for a moment, mulling over her inquiry as he lazily cleaned a glass.

“What’s it to you?” He asked.

“...because that idiot gambled something precious to him and I’m here to gamble it back.”

“Sounds risky.” The bartender hummed. Cassandra shrugged.

“Perhaps. But I guess I’m feeling lucky tonight.” She said, tilting her head just a little. The bartender smirked.

“Better keep an eye on your back. Luck doesn’t like being pushed.” Cassandra glanced back behind her before back to the bartender.

“Duly noted-”

“Rodin!” The doors flung open, causing her to wince at the sound. “Fuck me sideways, I’m beat!” She glanced back, watching as a portly Italian waddle to the bar. “Hit me up with a martini!” She looked to the now-named bartender, who subtly nodded to her, before returning his gaze to the portly Italian.

“No can do Enzo. Not until you pay your tab.” Rodin said as he turned around. The Italian, now named Enzo, let out a whine.

“Aw come oooonn! You haven’t yelled at me for it before!” Cassandra slid a hand into her bag and pulled out a crisp $20 bill. Rodin paused as the bill hit the polished counter.

“You payin’ for him?”

“Yep.” Rodin shrugged before finishing the drink, setting it in front of Enzo. Enzo’s eyes widened.

“For me?”

“I mean, I just said I’d pay for you.” Cassandra said with a shrug as Rodin took the bill. “A second martini for me, please. Strawberry flavor.” Enzo laughed as he took a swing of the martini.

“Well, you have my attention. What cha want?”

“Well, you have something I want. Ebony and Ivory.” Enzo’s eyes went wide.

“Ooooh, you want those lovely ladies.” He laughed, walking to an empty table. Cassandra watched the martini rest on the counter before taking it. She took a sip, watching Enzo as Rodin counted out change. “Look, I ain’t gonna give those guns to anyone-”

“Not even back to Dante, where they belong?” She asked.

“You know Dante?” Enzo asked, flopping down in the chair. “How is he?”

“Miserable without his ladies.” She said, taking the change Rodin laid down. She quickly thanked him before walking over to Enzo. “But I get the feeling you won’t let them up without a fight. Or a good ole fashioned game of poker.” She sat down across from him, who had burst out laughing.

“Lemme guess, Dante taught ya! That man has HORRIBLE luck!” He howled. Cassandra rolled her eyes.

“You don’t need luck to explain the rules.” Cassandra pointed out patiently. Enzo set his martini on the table and pulled out a deck of cards.

“Tell ya what, let’s play a quick game and if you win, I’ll give ya the coat.” Enzo set the cards down and took a sip of the martini. “I’ll even go easy on ya for the martini!” He threw out some cards, to which she took with a smirk.

‘You think I’m a push-over?’ She thought as the game began. ‘You’ll find that I’m no pushover.’

“So.” Enzo began. “How long have you known Dante?”

“Oh, about eleven years. He’s like a brother to me.” She replied, occasionally glancing up to him. She noticed she could see his cards in his sunglasses but kept her mouth shut. If he was helping her win, then she would take that as long as she could have that boon.

“Eleven years? Cute. So you ain’t doing this because you wanna fuck him, right?”

“Hardly. I like him but, as I’ve said, he’s a brother to me. And he’s been looking like shit without his coat and his ladies.” She said. “It’s a good thing he’s not going off to do some big job because if he went out without those things, I don’t think anyone would recognize him as Dante. That coat is his brand.”

“It’s also expensive to repair.” Enzo rolled his eyes. “But I’m not dealing with that anymore. That’s someone else’s job.”

“Mine, actually.”

“Ha! I don’t blame you for trying to get the coat back! Replacing that’s expensive!” Enzo said, throwing down his cards. “Alright, let’s see what you got!” Cassandra did the same, looking at his cards. Enzo quietly swore: she had gotten three of a kind. Enzo had gotten two pair. She had won.

“Huh. Guess I won this round.” She said as Enzo took back the cards.

“Ok, that was just a freebie because I wanted to see how good you were.” He clarified, retaking the cards. “I’m gonna be harder on you for the guns. And that means real money!” He opened up his coat and pulled out a wad of cash. “For Ivory, $250 dollars!”

“I can match that.” Cassandra said, mirroring his actions. Enzo grinned wide as he began to deal the cards.

“I like a gal who ain’t afraid to gamble.”

“These are Dante’s ladies, of course I’m gambling for them to come back home.” She pointed out, taking the cards dealt to her. Enzo took a sip of his martini.

“Ah, reminds me of my brats.” Cassandra raised an eyebrow and looked to his fingers, seeing a golden wedding ring on his finger.

“You’re a family man?”

“Yeah, two little monsters of my own. They’re cute as fuck though.” He chuckled fondly at the thought. Cassandra felt a twinge of sadness at that. Despite his profession, it still seemed as if he loved them dearly. It was something she wished her own father had done with her in her adult years.

“Cards?” Enzo’s inquisitive voice roused her from her thoughts. Cassandra laid down her cards, a Flush. Enzo swore under his breath as he laid down the Straight he had accrued. “Beginner’s luck…”

“Well, how about we raise the stakes a little? $500 for Ebony.”

“$700!” Enzo snapped. Cassandra let out a humorous huff.

“A bit of a sore loser, aren’t we?” She teased as she pulled out $1000 and set it on the table. “Let’s make it $1000.”  

“Do play nice with the lady.” Rodin rumbled from behind the bar. Enzo grinned and leaned forward, taking back the cards and reshuffling them.

“You got yourself a game...aw shit, I just realized I didn’t get your name. What kinda player am I?”

“It’s Cassandra.” She pulled back a strand of hair.

“Cassandra...ok, nice to get a name to a face. Dante was talking up a storm about you.” Enzo chuckled. Cassandra raised an eyebrow.

“Has he now?”

“Oh yeah!” Enzo nodded. “Went on and on about this chick that’s been rooming with him. It ain’t the bazooka gal so it’s gotta be you.”

“If he calls me lightspark, then I’m the one.” She hummed, playing a card. Enzo laughed.

“It’s nice to meet ya. I know Dante’s got a new broker now and that means getting you is off the table.” He shrugged. “Oh well. It’s nice to play cards with him-”

“Because you can win.” Cassandra interrupted dryly. Enzo snorted.

“Fuck yeah I can win.” He smirked at that before throwing down his cards. “Four of a kind, haha!” Enzo laughed. Cassandra glanced to the cards, to her hand, and then back to the cards before chuckling, laying them to rest.

“Straight flush. I believe I win.”

“WHAAAAAAAAAT!?” He howled, staring at the cards. “Oh come fucking oonnn!” He whined. Cassandra finished off her martini and set it on the table.

“I won fair and square, Enzo.” She gently pointed out. Enzo groaned before getting up with a grumble.

“Ok ok ok, I’ll go get them.” He waddled out of the bar. Cassandra took her rightfully won cash, frowning.

“I thought I’d gamble away more money.” She said quietly. Rodin merely laughed from behind the bar.

“I never heard someone wishing they were unlucky.”

“It’s not that.” She corrected him. “I didn’t think I’d actually win back the guns.”

“I believe it’s called beginner’s luck.” He said with a shrug as Enzo reentered the bar. In his hands were Dante’s red coat and the handguns of note: Ebony and Ivory. They looked pristine, not a scratch on them since she last saw them. Cassandra swung the red coat over her shoulders.

“Ah, I hate beginner’s luck…” Enzo grumbled as Cassandra made sure the two were empty before placing them in her bag.

“At the very least, I’ll pay for the tab tonight. And only tonight, before you get any ideas.” Cassandra said, walking to the bar. She pulled out five $20 bills and set them on the counter. “Au revoir.”

“Jeez, you better tell Dante he’s lucky to have someone as nice as you!” Enzo yelled as she stepped out of the bar, walking her way down the streets away from the bar and back to Devil May Cry.

One long walk later, Cassandra pushed open the door. While she was heading back home, she picked up a pizza along the way, just for Dante.

“Dante!” She called. “I’m home!”

“I’m awake.” He grumbled. “No need to yell-” He perked up at the box in her hands. “For me?”

“Yeah, you dummy. But don’t get your hands all greasy yet. I got more than pizza for you.” She lowered the pizza on the desk and opened up her bag, producing the handguns and setting them on the table. Dante stared at them, eyes wide before she whipped off his coat and threw it back at him.

“You got them back?”

“Fuck yeah I did. These two.” She pointed to Ebony and Ivory. “Are your ladies. And your ladies should stay in your hands, not in some alcoholic Italian in a grimy fucking bar in The Dump.”

“...thanks.” Dante took the handguns and put them away. “Did you lose anything?”

“Only a hundred and twenty dollars for drinks.” She shrugged. “Mostly to make sure said Italian’s tab was covered for the night.”

“You’re spoiling him.” Dante shrugged, opening the box and taking a slice. “He’ll want to be your broker next.”

“Pfft, nah. I’m taken by Morrison and he knows it.” She sat down on the edge of the desk, setting the bag on the ground. She reached over and took a slice. “You know, you should keep the scarf. It’s not that bad.” She said casually. Dante just shrugged.

“Thanks for...everything, by the way.”

“You’re welcome, Dante.”

[idealuk]

Reaction to one of my own posts (and 10x02) that unraveled in to a mini fan-fiction script:

[The post in question] ... or not, because they both did stab Chester (multiple times in Mickey’s case), yet that’s okay because he’s asked for it and has done this before (white privilege any one?), and I know nothing (“wise” my very own white ass - the joke’s on me - on the prison era, any way, the rest has ironically been more legitimately spoiled, thank you, camera phones), but I still feel inspired ...

Ian: I’m not going any where.

Mickey: This isn’t going to work, Firecr--Galla--fuck, man, look, if you hadn’t noticed, I’m with some one (he gestures to who Ian would describe as a ‘nondescript redhead at best,’ if Ian’s being generous, which he’s not), and you didn’t want to be with me, any way. I’ve got a new boyfriend now (he meagerly swings an arm around the guy and finishes it with what Ian would proclaim as an ‘Iconic Milkovich eyebrow raise’ in a last-ditch attempt of confidence).

Ian: (tossing his crutches to the sidewalk with a series of clanks and awkwardly lowers himself to a kneel on his booted leg) Yeah, looks like one of my weird brother-cousins that I could not give a fuck about, and I don’t just want to be with you, or for you to be my boyfriend again, I want to be your husband! (He pulls out a ring box from his good-side pants pocket, having now gone to both knees for comfort, and to display his true intentions - begging - opens the box so that the dull Chicago sunlight can bounce off of the two matching pieces of silver metal insight just enough that Mickey’s eyes can get glued to them, waiting a minute for Mickey to have some sort of response, and his face breaks out in to a shit-eating grin as he realizes that his plan might have been a little too successful with its shock value) ... And I’ll use only Grade-A lube in your sweet ass from now on up until we die of old age. The kind that you have to get off the internet. (He ends the promise with a knowing tone and a smile to match)

Mickey: (he flings himself at the man he loves in exacerbation, knees scraping on the pavement through his pants as they skid, and allows his lips, teeth, and tongue to do the thing that they’ve always wanted to do since he met the man when they were both kids that he’d denied them of when they first started this years ago, the thing that they had gotten really good at over the years, and had recently been denied of doing again ... when both men finally do pull back from the kiss, they’re giggling with tears in their eyes too much to speak, so Mickey just determinately pulls the narrower ring from the box in the other’s left hand, taking the box with him in his other hand as he turns the now empty hand over with his spare fingers, pushes the ring on to it’s place with all of the possessiveness he’s been known to exhibit over the individual before him, and watches on as Ian does the same to him with the other ring and with the exact same energy) ... Uh, ... (he hesitates to look away from one redhead to look back at the other so much lesser redhead as he sees Ian put the now profoundly empty box back in the pocket that it came out of a few moments ago in the corner of his eyes) Jacob, I think our date is over. (He looks back at Ian who’s been clinging to him, and vise versa, since their hands were free) I’ve been in love with this fuckhead since I was sixteen and it looks like that shit’s never going away.

Jacob: (just has no words as the two men have returned to giggle crying in their own little world, so he just watches as Mickey helps Ian up, Mickey picking up Ian’s crutches and handing them to him, how they haven’t seemed to register that he hasn’t reacted to them in any way at all, and he leaves)

Ian: (does a double-take of Jacob while he still can as he and Mickey begin to walk/hobble in the opposite direction) Hey! That is my brother-cousin!

Mickey: So I have a type (he barks as he lights a cigarette).

Ian: You’re a fuckin’ freak!

Mickey: You love it.

Ian: Yeah ... I do.

[The one wherein Mickey was the one who proposed.]

[kabutoraiger]

usually i type up “final thoughts” posts like, immediately after i finish a show. usually i’ve already made up my mind about how i feel, i guess. but kr build is... a tough one to wrap my head around.

i went into build needing it to be really good. for me personally, rider hasn’t been truly great since fourze. i’ve definitely liked certain seasons in between. but i haven’t loved them. and so this was me kinda placing all my hopes on this 1 show to tell me that rider still had the potential to be incredible.

and... it was, in some ways. mainly in terms of character - it’s been a while since i’ve loved a main rider OR a secondary as much as i love our best match boys. their relationship is something i hadn’t realized how much we’d been missing in this franchise. we hadn’t had that powerful main/secondary romance fated connection since... decade, i guess, and nothing quite like ryuga & sento since kagami & tendou. even then, there’s only so far i can take that comparison. bc ryusen really is pretty incomparable to the rest of heisei rider relationships. build has a lot of showa leanings but it’s the main duo that reminds me the most of the olden days.

i mean tell me this isn’t some build lads dialogue right here:

and the rest of the cast has so many other standouts - sawa, who despite being severely underutilized is still wildly interesting and unlike any lady in rider in the past few years. gentoku and his several weird phases each of them iconic in their own way. evolt, who entertained me more than any central villain in rider ever has. (thank you papa dan the capitalist man for paving the road for more genuinely fun big bads. your contribution was invaluable)

soichi. though why i love him so much i’ll get into in a moment.

the way the relationships & connections are woven together in build is astonishing to me. the way misora’s childhood interests informed the fullbottles (ok, sure, a lot of That was half-assed as far as explanations go, but on the base level there are some affecting ideas in there). the way the best match ft. her favorite animal then named sento. the way sento & ryuga were seemingly destined to meet from early on. the way sento was built by evolt, and the way that was all slowly erased as he was rebuilt by people who loved him. the way evolt’s manipulation of his “proteges” so to speak mirrors nanba and his “children.” all these themes of being put on a preset path by some dark or terrible power or person, and having to fight to free yourself from it.

there are so many beautifully complex things going on in build. the ties into real world politics. the way the pandora box doesn’t turn people berserker violent but instead makes them lose their human empathy, makes them scheming and cruel. gives them imperialist notions of the ultimate satisfaction being war and conquest. the blatant “here, see for yourself, kids” about why wars happen - not for the greater good but because people in power want them to - and how innocent people will always get caught in the crossfire and be turned into little more than weapons to be disposed of at someone’s whim.

there is so much happening in build.

there is too much happening in build.

in the end, it throws so much at the screen that it was never all going to stick. you could make entire shows out of minor parts of kr build. the nanba children, ryuga’s origins, vernage and the dead civilization of fcking mars!! these could all be entire premises on their own. in build, these things are almost an afterthought. it’s dizzying, at best. frustrating, at worst. even moreso when you consider that clearly mr muto needed to burn time somehow before the endgame, which is the only explanation i can come up with for the collecting lost bottles nonsense and all that ungodly boring shit with sento’s dad.

how do you look at this show you’ve made, which has about 50 incredibly interesting ideas too many, and decide to ignore all of those in favor of dad drama, toku’s favorite dull as dirt oft-recycled plot concept? it’s mind boggling to me. and to think that time could’ve been spent deepening characters & relationships, too. letting sawa talk to utsumi. doing Anything with utsumi to establish some kind of consistent personality, to make us actually care when he’s revealed to have technically died in the human sense and had his free will stripped from him many episodes prior. letting misora & kazumi have a normal goddamn conversation for once. treating misora as a person with wants of her own and not just a cute little prop to stand around and cry over others.

letting soichi wake the fuck up!!

the intriguing tragedy of soichi is something that i kept hoping and wishing that build might address. being trapped inside your own body for a decade, watching someone pose as you, and with such a spot-on impression that no one notices at all. the helplessness, knowing that this entity is plotting something terrible for everyone on earth and just. not being able to do a thing about it. but the emotions most of all - what did he feel for sento & ryuga & sawa while he was trapped? was it real, if he had no say in it, if he could hear them but they couldn’t hear him? and what did he really feel towards evolt, his only actual 2-sided conversation partner for 10 whole years? how well did he know him? what wild knowledge of evolt’s weaknesses could he have imparted if he’d just WOKEN UP!!

and now, with the ending, it’s like it never happened at all. i suppose the idea going around is that someday they might remember. but that’s just... so nebulous. it’s not a merge of worlds if one is just gone. i’d hoped so much that certain outcomes might have carried over, just with different causes. gentoku’s father still being dead, for example. in the new world he wouldn’t have been killed by evolt but instead in, say, a political assassination.

it just all feels too simple. all that pain and strife just wiped away. maybe it’s hypocritical to complain about this as a ryuki fan, but. in ryuki, resets were established as a thing that could happen. and via the setup of the rider battle, what other option was there to end the series satisfactorily?

here in build, we were told that the worlds would combine, and that evolt would never have existed. but evolt was not the singular source of villainy in all the universe. this show which took so many thought-provoking risks early on is now apparently telling me that in a world without evolt, humanity is totally at peace. nanba was never affected by the pandora box’s light. he was just goddamn evil, because sometimes people are. i loved that about his portrayal. in a world with no war to profit off of, this man should by all accounts probably be trying to start one himself.

but that’s not the world we see in the final ep of build. instead, everyone is simply normal and happy, the terrible things that shaped them in another reality seemingly having never occurred at all, even the things (re: nanba children) that by all accounts still should have.

it’s a disappointment. it feels like the easy way out.

but at the same time holy shit that ryuga & sento romance ending and the idea of the others even just potentially getting their memories back is like my IDEAL tropey shit i am so into that stuff oh my god dude!!! i cried so fucking hard just thinking about it!!

... so. yeah. conflicted might be the word for all of this.

i wish build had been better. i’m not sure what exactly happened, in that 2nd half. rewrites, i guess? the command that it now had to be compliant with the setting of the next rider, and so whoops time to do a little reality smushing & for some reason throw out all the other plot points? demands to toss in even more fucking merch like it didn’t have enough collectibles and upgrades already, good lord, even kids can’t possibly keep up with toy schedules like this, can they, like by the time you convince your parents to buy you [x] it’s already goddamn obsolete in the show --

but it’s hard to deny that build affected me in a big way. i got tired of it, near the end. but i’m glad i watched it all the way through. and i’ll never forget the absolute euphoria i felt watching, like, ep 12 to ep 30 or so. that stretch was a highlight of this entire franchise for me. it was like i was watching something made specifically for me. it was beautiful.

beautiful just like the suits in this show. damn. 

if only sawa had gotten one.

[fangroyal]

WIP Meme

Okay, so hear me out, but I’m gonna start by giving a big thank you to @doubleappled�� for this one. You said you were tagging anyone who hadn’t gotten around to doing this yet, and I happen to be one of those, so I took that message to heart. Haha! I’d secretly been wanting someone to tag me in this for awhile, but it hadn’t happened yet, and I finally decided fuck it, I’m just gonna do it myself. I’ve not written in months because of this weird illness I’ve been dealing with, and I’ve been wanting to go through my WIP to kind of...try to get myself back into it? So here goes.

The Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous.

Now here’s another thing. I don’t have a single WIP folder. I have MANY, all split up into different categories. So I’m gonna list them as such.

Harry Potter

(Untitled Broship 01) and (02) - some dumb Draco & Pansy ideas I had like three years ago

(Untitled Krumwood) - What it says on the tin. I think I was gonna do this for some comment kink type fest awhile ago and just....never....did???

Pride - back when I used to be obsessed with Oliver/Draco. x’D I was planning on incorporating some Ginsy as well. Basically, I’d gotten super inspired by a picture similar to this one (can’t find the original now), and fell in love with idea of them hooking up at a wizarding pride parade, covered in rainbow paint/chalk/whatever.

Harry Potter > Requests

Jersey - So you all know, I name any request type WIP docs after the requester. Just a way to help me remember. Anyway, this is for my Draise fake dating fic The Wedding Date, which I’d originally started writing..........a year and a half ago..........for the amazing Jersey’s (aka @kevinsnowday​) bday in 2017. I managed to post chapter one on her bday just fine, and then......never.....got around.....to the rest........Sorry, boo. ^^’ I really, really want to get back to this one eventually.

Harry Potter > Requests > Gay!Draco Challenge > Round 2

kreeblimsabs - Another really old one I want to get back to, my god.....I got this request a fucking year ago this very week, I think........This was from, as the folder names say, round two of my Gay!Draco Challenge. kreeblimsabs (who I’m not sure if they’re still on Tumblr, it won’t let me tag them for some reason) requested I write them a Dron drabble inspired by my favorite Disney song. Well, I’m gonna tell you all now...my favorite Disney song happens to be Hellfire from Hunchback of Notre Dame. So yeah. Haha! The ONLY reason I haven’t written this yet is because that’s such a dark and iconic song, that I wanted to do it when the mood really struck me, which unfortunately hasn’t happened yet. Hopefully someday!

Harry Potter > A Weasel and His Ferret (my Dron exclusive folder ‘cause I’m obsessed, get it? Haha! x’DDD)

(Unnamed Dron 01), (02), (03), and (04) - some random little snippets I always keep around, either to throw into another fic at some point, or to build up into their own

An Unconventional Marriage - GUYS, listen! LISTEN. I have been wanting to write this idea for YEEEAAARRRSSSS. YEARS I TELL YOU!! I think I was still in fucking college when I came up with this, and I’ve never been able to work it out. This is my idea for a Drastoria fake marriage type deal, where they’re the bestest of best friends who decide they’re gonna play the game both their families want by marrying each other, but they’re gonna stay just friends...while fucking whoever they hell they want on the down low. Obviously culminating in Dron on the Draco side of it. I want it. I need it. I CRAVE IT. I hope I actually do it someday.

Because Blaise Zabini Is An Asshole - inspired by this Tumblr post

Chocolate and Sass - A quick little oneshot idea of them meeting as little little kids, no prejudice between them, sharing a chocolate frog. Cut to them fucking, drunk on chocolate liquor as adults. Yeah. I know. But I thought it’d be fun.

I Want To Warm Her Heart - Inspired by one of my favorite White Stripes songs, I Want to be the Boy to Warm your Mother’s Heart, which has always made me think of Dron. Ron’s experiences with a very...icy (*cough*homophobic*cough*) Narcissa over the course of his relationship with Draco.

Like Fathers, Like Sons - A mid hook up Ron and Draco (post divorce, no infidelity here) walking in on a mid hook up Scorpius and Hugo.

Support - Oh my god, you guys, this one is annnnnciiiieeennnttt. I’m pretty sure I started writing it directly after my very first fic posted to AO3, like holy shit. The title is a redemption for me on a fic I wrote at 15 (which still exists on FFN, and also just so happened to be a Dron as well, but please don’t bother looking it up, haha). Lucius was assassinated in Azkaban post-war, and there’s a death threat out on Draco. Auror!Ron is assigned as his body guard during the weeks surrounding the investigation and his father’s funeral.

The Measure Of It All - a crack fic about Ron’s huge cock

TLC - Equally as ancient. Draco’s a masseuse. Ron goes to get a massage, surprised to discover who it’s with. Smut ensues. Enough said.

What Happens In Muggle London - sequel to my fic What Happens In The Forbidden Forest, in which eighth year sneaking out to go clubbing in - you guessed it - Muggle London fuckery ensues

A Match Made In Hogwarts - a multi chapter post-war matchmaker will-they-won’t-they

A Very Fine Line - the second thing I ever posted to AO3, and will probably never finish

Keeping The Faith - That time I really wanted to do a wizarding version of Jones Town.......Don’t look at me........

One Week - I remember nothing of this other than that they were going to be Auror partners, and it was going to be a challenge to myself to see how many cliches I could fit into one fic. Haha.

Switching Sides - What if Draco ended up defecting and becoming a part of the Camping Extravaganza of Deathly Hallows.........Yuuuuup.

Wishful Thinking - Can you believe I’d at one time planned on adding three more chapters to this fic? Yeah, me neither...

19 Days

(Untitled ChengYi) - Yeah, I don’t know either.

It’s Exactly What You Think - sequel to my fic It’s Not What You Think, in which I’d intended for some actual Tianshan to happen

Who I’ve Been Waiting For - I’m so out of the loop with writing for this fandom these days, I don’t fucking know...All I remember is this is supposed to be when they’re adults and Jian Yi returns. Zhengxi’s been hooking up with He Tian in the meantime. They were gonna turn into a poly thing at some point. I don’t fucking know, you guys.

Batman

(Untitled Jaydick) - What it says on the tin. Post Arkham Knight angst, reuniting, and smut.

JTHM (Johnny the Homicidal Maniac)

You Make Me Sick -  Yooouuuuu guuuuyyyyysssssss!! You have no idea how badly I want to write thiiiiiisssssssss!!!! WHERE MY DISCIPLINE AT, LIKE GODDAMN. The title is a play on the Devi spin off comic, I Feel Sick. (I hope you JTHM fans out there got that, ‘cause I’m super proud of it, haha.) IF I EVER FUCKING WRITE IT, this is gonna be a Nny/Squee, but....not really. ;) Basically, the idea is that Squee kind of....discovered his sexuality? Because of Nny??? And grew into a very gay, very pain centric, confused young adult with a major crush on his old next door neighbor. Has had numerous torrid love affairs because of this that never ever ended well. It’ll start with him seeing Nny for the first time again in, like, twenty years and going into a spiral over it.

South Park

The Walking Conformists - GUUUYYYYSSSSS. Sorry to keep “guys”ing you, haha, but this. THIIIIISSSSSSSSSS. If i ever buckle down and WRITE THIS BITCH, I swear it’ll be my holy fucking grail. At least to me. CuRed. Goth kids. Road trips. Zombies. What more could you want?! I’m happy to discuss privately with any one of you who’s interested, because it’s way too much to put here, and this post is long enough as it is.

What We’ve Got - sequel to my fic What We Can’t Have

(Rockstar!Michael) - What it says on the tin. CuRed, obviously.

(Untitled Religious Boys) - Bradley/Gary Harrison. Sexual discovery. Yaaassss.

Everybody Knows - CuRed where everybody thinks they’re already dating, and of course I mean everybody knows they’re meant for each other but Michael and Pete ;)

Nobody Needs To Know - Another old as fuck WIP inspired by the SADDEST SONG IN THE WORLD from the musical The Last Five Years. If you know anything about that musical and this song, you can guess what this fic would be about. Michael cheating on Pete with Firkle. Adults all! No chan here, bitches, you know me, c’mon.

The First Step - CuRed. Holding hands on the school bus. Will be the purest thing I’ve ever written if I ever finish it. It’s a drabble, and I swear to you it’s, like, two paragraphs from being done, and I’ve just never gotten down to it.

HOLY FUCKING SHIT, I have a lot of WIP...Don’t have anything in my Fests/Challenges folders at the moment, because it’s, uh, been awhile, heh heh.

I’m gonna tag my love, @violetbehaviour​, because I think we’re the only two left who haven’t been tagged for this. xD But if any of you reading this are like me, and haven’t been tagged yet but really really want to be, please consider this me tagging you!

[wsmith215]

2020 NFL offseason winners and losers

Let’s break down some of the winners and losers from this NFL offseason. Some of the stories in the short term were obvious — you don’t need me to tell you again who won the DeAndre Hopkins trade — but I’m going to try to take a look at the bigger picture to see how players, teams, coaches and others around the NFL were impacted by the moves and decisions made over the past few months.

Let’s start with a trio of young quarterbacks from the 2019 draft, all of whom are leaving the acquisition portion of the offseason as their teams’ starters. It begins with the player who might have the biggest shoes to fill of any player in NFL history:

Jump to a winner/loser: Clowney | Edwards-Helaire | Haskins Lock | Minshew | Murray | Newton Prescott | Rodgers | Stidham | Trubisky

Stidham is one of the most obvious victors of the past few months. We all knew the Patriots and Tom Brady would come to terms on a deal … until they didn’t. Then we all knew that the Pats were going to acquire Nick Foles or Andy Dalton or pull off some impossible run up the draft board for Tua Tagovailoa … and that didn’t happen either. Through the entire player acquisition window, the only competition the Patriots added for Stidham is veteran Brian Hoyer, who lost his last battle with Stidham for the backup spot in training camp in 2019. Barring a last-second move for Cam Newton, Stidham is going to be the Week 1 starter for the Patriots.

Merely having a chance to play is a huge opportunity for Stidham and one rarely afforded midround picks who aren’t forced into action by injury. Imagine if one of the other teams looking for quarterbacks in that draft range last year took Stidham instead? The Panthers paid Teddy Bridgewater in lieu of handing things over to Will Grier (pick No. 100). Ryan Finley (104) is buried behind first overall pick Joe Burrow in Cincinnati, while Easton Stick (166) is third behind Tyrod Taylor and sixth overall pick Justin Herbert in L.A. One other late-round selection will be starting in 2020 — see the next winner — but there are midround picks who don’t really get a chance to play meaningful football across their rookie deals. Stidham will get his.

Jarrett Stidham is taking over for Tom Brady in New England in 2020, and the Patriots are bringing back most of their offense. Rich Graessle/Icon Sportswire

The Patriots didn’t exactly add any star weapons for their new starter, but they did address their threadbare tight end room by using third-round picks on Devin Asiasi and Dalton Keene. Retaining guard Joe Thuney on a franchise tag and getting back center David Andrews from a pulmonary embolism means the Patriots should be well-positioned to protect Stidham. It’s obviously way too early to say anything about how he will perform, but he has gone from being an afterthought to taking the reins for Bill Belichick & Co.

Likewise, the Jaguars cleared out a path for their 2019 sixth-round pick, as they traded away free-agent addition Nick Foles after paying him more than $30 million for four starts. Jacksonville then sat out the various free-agent quarterback options and didn’t use either of its first-round picks on a signal-caller. The Jags even added Tyler Eifert at tight end and used a second-round pick on wideout Laviska Shenault Jr., though their desperate attempts to get anybody to take running back Leonard Fournette off their hands found no takers.

Again, even having a chance to take meaningful reps as a sixth-round pick is rare. The last sixth-rounder to throw at least 400 passes over his first two seasons was Tom Brady, who threw three as a rookie in 2000 and 413 while leading the Pats to a Super Bowl in 2001. Minshew is already way ahead of the game in terms of opportunity; now, with just Joshua Dobbs and sixth-round pick Jake Luton backing him up, Minshew should get a full season to prove he’s an NFL quarterback.

Let’s hit a 2019 quarterback trifecta! Lock flashed promise while going 4-1 across his five starts at the end of the season, though it’s worth noting that those four wins came against the teams ranked 20th (Chargers), 26th (Texans), 27th (Lions), and 30th (Raiders) in pass defense DVOA. At the very least, he did enough for the Broncos to feel confident about opening the 2020 season with him as their starter.

While Denver held out some hope for luring Tom Brady, it didn’t make a move for any of the other quarterbacks when Brady decided to stay east. The Broncos didn’t even bring in a significant backup — the depth chart behind Lock consists of Jeff Driskel, Brett Rypien and Riley Neal. This is Lock’s team.

Drew Lock had seven touchdown passes and three interceptions while playing the final five games for Denver. Tim Warner/Getty Images

On top of that vote of confidence from general manager John Elway, no quarterback gained more weapons this offseason than the Missouri product. Lock already had a handful of exciting pieces in running back Phillip Lindsay, wide receiver Courtland Sutton and tight end Noah Fant. I can’t pretend I’m the biggest Melvin Gordon fan, and it’s not a great contract for the Broncos, but the running back can be valuable when he’s healthy and protecting the football. Elway then used his first two selections in the draft on wideouts Jerry Jeudy and KJ Hamler.

Denver didn’t address its problematic left tackle spot, but it did make a major addition on the interior by signing lineman Graham Glasgow to a $44 million deal. The Broncos finished up by adding experienced offensive coordinator Pat Shurmur, who has gotten Sam Bradford, Case Keenum and Daniel Jones to exceed expectations over the past few seasons. It’s fair to be skeptical of Lock after just five starts, but outside of a left tackle, the 23-year-old has everything he could have asked for from his organization this offseason.

On the other hand, there’s a member of that 2019 quarterback class who might feel left out among all the additions. Washington did avoid the lure of using the second overall pick on a quarterback, but it did little to help its starting quarterback.

Haskins’ receiving corps beyond Terry McLaurin was lacking last season, and the most notable free agents his team imported to help out its young starter were Cody Latimer and Richard Rodgers. Washington used midround picks on hybrid back Antonio Gibson and wideout Antonio Gandy-Golden, but it also traded away star left tackle Trent Williams without adding a meaningful replacement.

Loser: Cam Newton, QB, free agent

Things haven’t worked out for the former league MVP, who might have hoped to play out the final year of his deal with the Panthers while earning $19.1 million. Newton was instead cut, and the coronavirus pandemic has prevented him from finding a new team. He hasn’t been able to conduct a public workout, though he has posted videos on Instagram that show him going through drills. In the meantime, the starting jobs and most of the prime backup jobs have been filled.

There are still at least seven teams that should be looking for a backup quarterback, including the aforementioned Broncos and Jaguars, who don’t seem to want to challenge their young starters. The Cardinals, Rams and Seahawks all need a veteran backup, but there’s little chance of Newton playing meaningful snaps for those teams in 2020.

2 Related

The two most logical landing spots left for Newton are in the AFC. Let’s start with the Titans, who gave Ryan Tannehill $91 million in practical guarantees over the next three years. Tannehill’s hold on the starting job isn’t going anywhere at that price tag, but the former Dolphins starter missed 24 games over his final four years in Miami. There’s a reasonable chance he misses time this year, and the Titans currently have seventh-round picks Cole McDonald and Logan Woodside behind their starter.

Tannehill was revelatory as a play-action passer last season, which fits what Newton does best. From 2017 through the first half of 2018, Newton posted a passer rating of 114.7 on play-action attempts, the seventh-best rate in the league. The Titans are built around Derrick Henry and their power-running attack, and it’s not difficult to imagine how Newton could play a role in that attack. A few starts for the Titans could help rebuild his value before the 2021 offseason.

The ideal job for Newton would be in Pittsburgh. The Steelers should get Ben Roethlisberger back after he missed 14 games in 2019 with an elbow injury, but the longtime starter is 38 and has missed 38 games over his 16-year career. Mason Rudolph and Devlin Hodges were replacement-level quarterbacks last season, and Newton could viably make his case to serve as Roethlisberger’s long-term replacement in Pittsburgh if he plays well in a couple of spot starts.

While the Bears started this offseason suggesting that Trubisky would be their Week 1 starter in 2020, their actions suggest that his future is tenuous. Chicago traded for Nick Foles, and in restructuring the former Super Bowl MVP’s deal, it guaranteed Foles $21 million over the next three seasons. Then the team declined Trubisky’s fifth-year option, which would have guaranteed a $24.8 million salary in 2021 for injury.

Failing to earn a fifth-year option pickup has typically been a bad sign. Eight other first-round quarterbacks have had their fifth-year option declined. None of them made it to a fifth year with the team that drafted them. Six of them — Jake Locker, EJ Manuel, Christian Ponder, Brandon Weeden, Johnny Manziel and Paxton Lynch — didn’t take an NFL snap anywhere in Year 5. Teddy Bridgewater spent his fifth year sitting behind Drew Brees, while the only one of the bunch who saw meaningful action was Blaine Gabbert in San Francisco.

Trubisky will instead have to look toward a teammate for hope. The Bears declined Kyle Fuller’s fifth-year option after injuries and inconsistent play, but after a breakout season, they used the transition tag to keep him around before matching a four-year, $56 million offer sheet. Fuller ended up making much more than he would have if the Bears had simply picked up that option in the first place. They have spent years trying to surround Trubisky with talent to confirm their belief that he was a franchise quarterback in the making. Now he has to overcome their skepticism and the odds.

There was little trade interest in Howard before he was dealt to the Eagles last offseason, and after seeing his rushing yards and yards-per-game figures decline in each of the past three seasons, I figured that the league would see him as a relatively replaceable zone runner. Alfred Morris, a similarly productive rookie, wasn’t able to ever get a significant deal.

Howard instead got a two-year, $10 million pact from the Dolphins with $4.8 million guaranteed in Year 1. Miami also added veterans Ereck Flowers and Ted Karras in free agency before using first- and second-round picks on offensive linemen. The Dolphins traded for Matt Breida, but they didn’t use a significant pick on a running back, and Breida has been a boom-or-bust player with injury issues during his time with the 49ers.

Howard landing meaningful guaranteed money, a starting job and a team that invested heavily in offensive linemen has to be considered a victory.

Jordan Howard averaged 4.4 yards per carry but only rushed 119 times for the Eagles last season. Eric Hartline/USA TODAY Sports

In a similar way to Newton’s, Clowney’s market has been depressed by medical concerns and an inability to evaluate those issues under the current climate. For all we hear about how NFL teams don’t focus on sacks, Clowney’s three-sack total from 2019 hasn’t helped his case. The former first overall pick is unquestionably talented, but the massive deal he might have received under typical circumstances after a more productive season hasn’t arrived.

Naturally, it seems like the logical thing for Clowney to do is sign a one-year deal with a contender and try to rebuild his value in the hopes of signing a big deal next year. Under normal circumstances, that idea makes sense. This isn’t a normal season, though, and there’s a chance that Clowney — and many other veterans — might not be able to sign big contracts next offseason.

As Jason Fitzgerald of Over the Cap wrote last week, the uncertainty around 2020 stadium and ticket revenue could lead to a meaningful drop in league income, which would result in a shrunken salary cap. Teams have seen the cap rise by an average of just under 6% over the past decade, up from $120 million in 2011 to $198.2 million in 2020. With players improving their share of revenue in the new CBA, the cap was expected to rise well north of $200 million in 2021. Now, Fitzgerald projects, the cap could fall somewhere between $130 million to $175 million in 2021, depending on how revenues are affected by the pandemic.

Obviously, it’s too early to project what the situation will be like next year, and the league could come to an agreement with its players to push future revenues forward to try to account for a reduced cap figure in 2021, but we could be looking at a different financial landscape next spring. Teams that were planning for a $210 million cap would be forced to cut veterans to get compliant, flooding the market with talented players. Many free agents would likely look for one-year deals in advance of a massive projected cap increase in 2022 and 2023, when local revenue would return to form and the league would be flush with television revenue from new deals. Clowney might end up stuck signing back-to-back one-year deals as a result.

Losers: Teams with lots of guaranteed money tied up in 2021

While we’re again months and months away from having any idea about what the cap will look like next year, there are teams that have to be sweating the possibility of a reduced cap. Take the Eagles, who already have $263.3 million on the books for 2021, much of it tied up in players who are core pieces of the roster. Getting down to $210 million would require a couple of restructures and cuts of veterans like DeSean Jackson, Alshon Jeffery and Marquise Goodwin. Moving to $175 million would require another $35 million in savings.

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The Eagles would find a reduced cap most difficult, but teams like the Saints, Falcons and Steelers would also be in compromised positions. Again, the league and players could come to terms on a deal that could restore some of the missing revenue, and the NFL would get a bump from a possible 17-game season in 2021, but the alternative looms as a dangerous scenario for several of the league’s highest-spending teams.

I hit the most crucial parts of the DeAndre Hopkins trade when it happened in March, but it’s quietly a huge victory for Johnson. With the Cardinals slapping the transition tag on Kenyan Drake, Arizona was clearly moving forward with Drake as its starting running back. It wouldn’t have been surprising to see Chase Edmonds as the No. 2 behind him. Johnson was likely in line to get cut, where veterans like Devonta Freeman, Carlos Hyde and LeSean McCoy haven’t found a market.

Instead, the Texans traded for Johnson as part of the Hopkins deal, suggesting that Bill O’Brien sees him as a meaningful asset. With Houston treating Duke Johnson like a third-down back last season, David Johnson has a clear path to lead-back duties in an offense that ranked 11th in rush offense DVOA a year ago. There’s even a chance that the Texans pay Johnson the $9 million he’s due in 2021, which seemed out of the question when the offseason began.

While I wrote about why the Jordan Love decision might not be as bad as it seems for the Packers, it’s fair to say that Rodgers’ position can’t feel as good as it did a few months ago.

Green Bay seemed to set a deadline on the Rodgers era, and the only shopping it did to help Rodgers this offseason was to swap out tight end Jimmy Graham for wide receiver Devin Funchess. I still think the Packers could go after a veteran wideout like Kenny Stills, but you can understand why Rodgers would be cranky right about now.

One year ago, the Rams were coming off a trip to the Super Bowl. Every team wanted to hire a coach who vaguely resembled Sean McVay. Their young core seemed set to compete for another title. After a frustrating 2019 campaign left the Rams struggling for answers on offense and out of the playoffs for the first time since McVay arrived in town, it was clear that Los Angeles needed to make changes during the offseason.

I’m not sure those changes really helped, as this offseason felt like a repudiation of the Rams’ philosophy. They lost legendary defensive coordinator Wade Phillips and longtime special-teams coordinator John Fassel. Just two years after handing out huge contracts to Brandin Cooks and Todd Gurley, they punted on both of those deals, cutting their former MVP candidate at running back while trading the wide receiver to the Texans. They were even publicly called out for not paying Gurley and Clay Matthews bonus money, which should hurt the organization when it tries to sign free agents in the future.

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Sean McVay says the Rams are fully focused on the Cowboys in Week 1 after the NFL schedule release.

Furthermore, the Rams didn’t really resolve any of their problems this offseason. After trading two first-round picks to acquire Jalen Ramsey, they still haven’t signed their star cornerback to an extension. They swapped out Dante Fowler Jr. for edge rusher Leonard Floyd and used their top two picks to replace Cooks and Gurley, but they didn’t do anything to replace star inside linebacker Cory Littleton.

Crucially, L.A. almost entirely ignored an offensive line that crumbled in 2019, re-signing aging left tackle Andrew Whitworth while choosing to hope for a healthier 2020. With Jared Goff posting the league’s worst passer rating under pressure in 2019, McVay will need to conjure up a solution to get his prize pupil back on track this season.

Well, duh. The Buccaneers have Tom Brady and Rob Gronkowski now. Even beyond those two additions, though, the offseason has gone extremely well for the Bucs. They needed to retain the core of their wildly underrated defensive line and managed to do so by franchising Shaq Barrett and re-signing both Jason Pierre-Paul and Ndamukong Suh. Their biggest hole heading into the draft was at right tackle, and they had to move up only one spot to get Tristan Wirfs.

This offseason was something out of a dream for Tampa Bay, which has a higher win projection in Vegas than the Patriots for 2020.

A particularly big winner in this scenario is Tampa Bay’s general manager. Licht has been the general manager for six years, and the Bucs have gone 34-62 during his time in charge. That’s the third-worst mark in football. The team has cycled through three coaches over that six-year span, and while Licht nailed first-round picks on wide receiver Mike Evans and defensive tackle Vita Vea, he’s also the one who drafted Jameis Winston and stuck with the embattled quarterback over the past five years. Licht also whiffed on most of his second-round selections, most notably kicker Roberto Aguayo, who was the low point of an almost comical inability from the organization to identify a competent kicker.

• All 255 picks » | Biggest takeaways » • Bowen’s favorites » | Pick analysis » • Experts on Round 1 » | Home setups » • Full class rankings from Scouts Inc. » More NFL draft coverage »

Licht is by all accounts a nice guy, and he has hit on a number of his midround selections too. Teams are generally too aggressive in getting rid of their top decision-makers, and I’m not saying Licht should have been fired. Typically, though, general managers with that sort of track record don’t get to enter a seventh offseason, and when Licht did, he managed to convince Brady and Gronkowski to come to town. Nobody would have batted an eye if the Bucs let go of Licht last offseason; now, if the Bucs live up to expectations, he might very well win Executive of the Year.

Loser: Tight end streamers against the Arizona Cardinals

If you played daily fantasy football or chose to stream your tight ends on a week-to-week basis in standard fantasy football, you knew about the Cardinals. Last year, Arizona allowed 309 points to opposing tight ends in PPR leagues, an average of 19.3 points per game. No other team was above 244, and the league average was 195 points, or just under 12.2 points per contest. It’s the second-worst season any team has posted against tight ends over the past 20 years, trailing only the 2013 Cardinals. Everybody from T.J. Hockenson to Ross Dwelley had their best games of the season against Arizona.

Vance Joseph-led defenses don’t always know what to do with tight ends — the Broncos ranked 26th against tight ends during his two years as Denver’s coach — but the Cardinals did something to address the problem this offseason by drafting Isaiah Simmons with the No. 8 overall pick. They’ve suggested that the talented Clemson defender will begin his NFL career at linebacker, where he’s likely to see plenty of action against tight ends in coverage. Arizona has managed to get the least out of athletic, hybrid defenders like Deone Bucannon and Haason Reddick in years past, but Simmons could very well ruin one of the easiest exploits in fantasy football.

Did any first-round pick end up in a more advantageous landing spot? Andy Reid told general manager Brett Veach that he thought Edwards-Helaire was better than Brian Westbrook before the Chiefs drafted the LSU back with the final pick of the first round. The only running back Reid had drafted before the third round across his career as a head coach and personnel executive before Edwards-Helaire was LeSean McCoy, who was the 53rd pick in the 2009 draft.

While the Chiefs have suggested that Edwards-Helaire will split time with incumbent Damien Williams, the future belongs to the rookie. Williams is a free agent after the season and wasn’t healthy for most of 2019 with hamstring issues. The Chiefs also said the same thing about Kareem Hunt and Spencer Ware in 2017, and when Ware went down with a knee injury in the preseason, Hunt was handed the job and finished his rookie year with 1,782 yards from scrimmage. Edwards-Helaire should turn into one of the most productive backs in football; the only real question is when.

Losers: Rookie coaches (and players)

It should go without saying that this is incredibly low on the list of upheavals caused by the pandemic, but while the NFL has managed to keep free agency and the draft on schedule, there’s no realistic way for football teams to practice. With team facilities closed, organized team activities (OTAs) have been postponed and will likely be canceled. Rookie minicamps are being conducted remotely. It’s unclear whether teams will be able to undergo a full training camp.

As a result, newcomers seem likely to suffer. Some rookie players already have a difficult time catching up with the speed of the league and the complexity of professional playbooks; now they’ll have to try to catch up on the finer points over Zoom. Likewise, rookie coaches who are attempting to install a new scheme and work with new players already were going to have their practice time reduced over the summer by the new CBA. They’re almost surely going to miss out on any pre-training-camp practice time.

The Chargers took quarterback Justin Herbert at No. 6 overall, but Herbert likely won’t get many live reps in front of his coaches before training camp. Christian Petersen/Getty Images

Naturally, the teams with new head coaches and coordinators — the Browns, Giants, Panthers and Washington — are the ones that are most likely to suffer from this lack of teaching time. Teams with stability could benefit. In an indirect way, though they could not have possibly predicted what was going to happen, teams such as the Steelers and Texans who dealt away much of their draft capital could end up feeling better about their decisions, given that rookies may struggle to make an impact in 2020.

Winners: Veterans negotiating contracts with the Houston Texans

You probably knew that the Texans weren’t going to get out of a winners and losers column unscathed. I’ll leave the Hopkins deal aside, but it’s worth noting just how dramatically the contracts the Texans handed out differ from those of their peers. Slot corner Bradley Roby signed a three-year, $31.5 million deal when guys like Chris Harris Jr. and Brian Poole were forced to sign smaller contracts and Logan Ryan remains a free agent. Wideout Randall Cobb inked a three-year, $27 million deal when the wideout market totally cratered.

The biggest deal, though, belongs to Laremy Tunsil. The Texans didn’t sign the offensive tackle to an extension after trading two first-round picks and a second-rounder to the Dolphins last August. Tunsil said that even he would have made that trade from the Dolphins’ perspective, and he continued to dabble in negotiations when he chose to represent himself in extension talks with O’Brien.

Tunsil did well. He ended up signing a three-year, $66 million extension, meaning he’ll make a total of $76.9 million over the next four years. The deal shattered the tackle market, where the largest average annual salary belonged to Lane Johnson at $18 million per season, and Johnson’s deal is really a paper extension for cap purposes with base salaries that will void next offseason. The largest real deal for a tackle is Trent Brown’s four-year, $66.8 million pact from last offseason. Brown averaged less than $17 million per season on his deal. Tunsil averaged $22 million on his extension and $19.3 million over the next four years. Nobody in the league got a bigger contract this offseason after adjusting for positional expectations. Tunsil even gets to hit free agency again before turning 30. Not bad for a part-time agent!

I mentioned three other 2019 quarterbacks earlier, but I’ll add a fourth to the list with the first overall pick from last year’s draft. It isn’t complicated, of course: Murray was given the gift of DeAndre Hopkins, who will add to a receiving corps that already featured Christian Kirk and Larry Fitzgerald. The Arizona offense was also better after adding Kenyan Drake last season, and Drake was retained on a transition tag. Kliff Kingsbury’s offense will not lack for weapons.

I’m still a little worried about the offensive line, but the Cardinals did re-sign left tackle D.J. Humphries after his best season and added Josh Jones to compete with Marcus Gilbert on the right side. Last year’s MVP was a second-year quarterback who took a leap forward after his team spent the offseason surrounding him with the right weapons. It’s asking a lot of Murray to follow in the footsteps of Lamar Jackson, of course, but Murray should have the pieces he needs to take a leap forward in 2020.

I’ll finish up with one of the most interesting unresolved sagas of the offseason. No, Prescott doesn’t have his deal yet, though the star quarterback will have long-term financial security once he signs the $31.5 million franchise tag. The Cowboys continue to say they intend to keep Prescott around on a long-term deal, but they did add Andy Dalton and suggested last week that Prescott “has to accept what [the Cowboys] want to pay him.”

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Domonique Foxworth makes a case for why the Cowboys should sign Dak Prescott to a long-term contract.

Of course, Prescott doesn’t really have to accept that. The Cowboys can franchise him again in 2021 for $37.8 million, but with a third franchise tag costing them $54.3 million, they realistically have to get Prescott signed before the end of the 2021 season. And if the Cowboys think Prescott’s demands are unreasonable now, they’re not going to get cheaper, given that the likes of Deshaun Watson and Patrick Mahomes are going to raise the market by signing extensions of their own.

I’ve got a much bigger piece on the Prescott situation in the works, so I’m not going to get into the will they/should they questions here. What I will say, though, is that Prescott is in the catbird seat. The Cowboys let go of Jason Garrett, but they retained offensive coordinator Kellen Moore and star wide receiver Amari Cooper before adding another valuable weapon in rookie wideout CeeDee Lamb. Prescott lost veteran center Travis Frederick to retirement, but he’s well-positioned to deliver a big season for an offense that finished second in DVOA a year ago. If Prescott does that, well, the Cowboys might need to accept what Dak wants to be paid.

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Press: Billie Lourd on Becoming the Keeper of Princess Leia

    TIME – by Billie Lourd

  I grew up with three parents: a mom, a dad and Princess Leia. I guess Princess Leia was kind of like my stepmom–technically family, but deep down I didn’t really like her. She literally and metaphorically lived on a planet I had never been to. When Leia was around, there wasn’t as much room for my mom–for Carrie. As a child, I couldn’t understand why people loved Leia as much as they did. I didn’t want to watch her movie, I didn’t want to dress up like her, I didn’t even want to talk about her. I just wanted my mom–the one who lived on Earth, not Tatooine.

I didn’t watch Star Wars until I was about 6 years old. (And I technically didn’t finish it until I was 9 or 10. I’m sorry! Don’t judge me!) My mom used to love to tell people that every time she tried to put it on, I would cover my ears and yell, “It’s too loud, Mommy! Turn it off!”–or fearfully question, “Is that lady in the TV you?” It wasn’t until middle school that I finally decided to watch it of my own accord–not because I suddenly developed a keen interest in ’70s sci-fi, but because boys started coming up to me and saying they fantasized about my mom. My mom? The lady who wore glitter makeup like it was lotion and didn’t wear a bra to support her much-support-needed DD/F’s? They couldn’t be talking about her! I had to investigate who this person was they were talking about.

So I went home and watched the movie I had forever considered too loud and finally figured out what all the fuss was about the lady in the TV. I’d wanted to hate it so I could tell her how lame she was. Like any kid, I didn’t want my mom to be “hot” or “cool”–she was my mom. I was supposed to be the “cool,” “hot” one–not her! But staring at the screen that day, I realized no one is, or ever will be, as hot or as cool as Princess F-cking Leia. (Excuse my language. She’s just that cool!)

Later that year, I went to Comic-Con with my mom. It was the first time I realized how widespread and deep people’s love for Leia was, even after so many years. It was surreal: people of all ages from all over the world were dressed up like my mom, the lady who sang me to sleep at night and held me when I was scared. Watching the amount of joy it brought to people when she hugged them or threw glitter in their faces was incredible to witness. People waited in line for hours just to meet her. People had tattoos of her. People named their children after her. People had stories of how Leia saved their lives. It was a side of my mom I had never seen before. And it was magical.

I realized then that Leia is more than just a character. She’s a feeling. She is strength. She is grace. She is wit. She is femininity at its finest. She knows what she wants, and she gets it. She doesn’t need anyone to defend her, because she defends herself. And no one could have played her like my mother. Princess Leia is Carrie Fisher. Carrie Fisher is Princess Leia. The two go hand in hand.

When I graduated from college, like most folks, I was trying to figure out what the hell to do with my life. I went to school planning to throw music festivals, but always had this little sliver of me that wanted to do what my parents pushed me so hard not to do–act. I was embarrassed to admit I was even slightly interested. So when my mom called me and told me they wanted me to come in to audition for Star Wars, I pretended it wasn’t a big deal–I even laughed at the concept–but inside I couldn’t think of anything that would make me happier. A couple weeks later I went in for my audition. I probably had never been more nervous in my life. I was terrified and most likely made a fool of myself, but I kind of had a great time doing it. I assumed they would never call me, but after that audition, I realized I wanted to give the whole acting thing a shot. I was definitely afraid, but as a wise woman once said, “Stay afraid, but do it anyway … The confidence will follow.”

About a month later, they somehow ended up calling. And there I was, on my way to be in motherf-cking Star Wars. Whoa. Growing up, my parents treated film sets like a house full of people with the flu: they kept me away from them at all costs. So on that fateful first day driving up to Pinewood, I was like a doe-eyed child. I couldn’t tell my mom, but little sassy, sarcastic, postcollege me felt like a giddy, grateful middle schooler showing up to a fancy new school.

On that first day, my mom and I sat next to each other in the hair and makeup trailer. (Actually, she wasn’t really one for sitting, so she paced up and down and around me, occasionally reapplying her already overapplied glitter makeup and feeding Gary, her French bulldog.) Between glitterings, the hairstylist crafted what was to become General Leia’s hairstyle, then it was on to me: little Lieutenant Connix. Funnily enough, my mom had more to say about my hairstyle than her own. Even though she complained for years about how the iconic Leia buns “further widened my already wide face,” she desperately wanted me to carry on the face-widening family tradition! Some people carry on their family name, some people carry on holiday traditions–I was going to carry on the family hairstyle. So after we tested a few other space-appropriate hairstyles, we decided to embrace the weird galactic nepotism of it all and went with the mini–Leia buns. She stood in the mirror behind me and smiled like we had gotten matching tattoos. Our secret-handshake hairstyle.

On the first day of this thing I could now call “work,” I walked into the Resistance Base set for rehearsal and J.J. Abrams, the director, told me where to stand and what to do–basically just press some pretty real-looking fake buttons. But I have to say, just pressing those buttons and observing the rest of the scene was one of the most fun things I had ever done. I had no lines in the scene, but my mom kept checking on me like I was delivering a Shakespearean monologue. “Are you O.K.?” she asked. “Do you need anything?” I scoffed at her maternal questions like a child embarrassed by her mother yelling goodbye too loud in a carpool line: “Mommy, go away! I’m fine. Focus on you, not me!” In the moment, I was humiliated that my mom was moming me on my first day of work, on the Star Wars set, of all places. But now I realize she was just being protective. Sets are extremely intimidating–I was too green at the time to know that–and she assumed I would be scared as hell. But weirdly, I wasn’t. At risk of sounding insane, something about this bizarre new world made me feel right at home. I had found a place with an empty puzzle slot that perfectly matched my weird-shaped puzzle piece.

That night, on the long London-traffic-filled ride back from set, she turned to me and smiled. “Bits,” she said. “You know, most people aren’t as comfortable on sets as you were today. Especially on the f-cking Star Wars set, of all places!” (Excuse my language, but that was her language.) “This might be something you should think about doing.” At first I laughed, assuming she was kidding. But she continued to look me straight in the eye with no inkling of irony in sight. My mom was telling me I should act–my mom? The lady who spent my entire life convincing me acting was the last thing I should do? It couldn’t be true. But it was. I haven’t had many moments like this in my life–those aha moments everyone talks about. This was my first real one. My mom wanted me to be an actress. That was when I realized I had to give it a shot.

She used to sarcastically quip that she knew all along what a massive hit Star Wars would be. As with most things, she was kidding. She was absolutely and totally beyond shocked by the massive global phenomenon that was the first Star Wars trilogy. It changed her life forever. Then, when it happened again almost 40 years later, she was even more absolutely and totally beyond shocked. It changed her life yet again. But that time, it changed my life too. I thought getting to make one Star Wars movie with her was a once-in-a-lifetime thing; then they asked me to come do the next movie and I got to do my once-in-a-lifetime twice. On our second movie together, I really tried to take a step back and appreciate what I was doing. I couldn’t tell her because she’d think I was lame, but getting to watch her be Leia this time made me feel like the proud mom.

Watching the original Star Wars movies as a kid in my mom’s bed, I never imagined the lady in the TV would get older and get back in the TV. And I definitely never imagined we would end up in the TV together. But that’s where we ended up. Two little ladies in the TV together–Leia and little Lieutenant Connix.

We wrapped The Last Jedi a little less than six months before she died. I went back to L.A. to film the show I was on, and she stayed in London to film the show she was on. One of the last times we spoke on the phone, she talked about how excited she was that the next movie in the trilogy was going to be Leia’s movie. Her movie.

She used to say that in the original movies, she got to be “the only girl in an all-boys fantasy.” But with each new Star Wars movie, the all-boys fantasy started to become a boys-and-girls fantasy. She was no longer a part of a fantasy, but the fantasy herself. Leia was not just a sidekick one of the male leads had on his arm or a damsel in distress. She was the hero herself. The princess became the general.

My mom died on Dec. 27, 2016. Two days after Christmas, four days before New Year’s and about a year before she was supposed to appear in her final Star Wars film. Losing my mom is the hardest thing I’ve ever been through. I lost my best friend. My little lady in the TV. My Momby. And I inherited this weird, intimidating thing called her legacy. Suddenly I was in charge of what would come of her books, her movies and a bunch of other overwhelming things. I was now the keeper of Leia.

About a year later, J.J. called me into his office to talk about the plans for Leia. We both agreed she was too important to be written off in the classic Star Wars introductory scroll. This last movie was supposed to be Leia’s movie, and we wanted it to remain that, as much as possible. What I hadn’t known–and what J.J. told me that day –was that there was footage of my mom that they had collected over the years that hadn’t made it into the movies, footage that J.J. told me would be enough to write an entire movie around. It was like she had left us a gift that would allow Leia’s story to be completed. I was speechless. (Anyone who knows me knows that doesn’t happen very often.)

J.J. asked me if I would want to come back as Lieutenant Connix. I knew it would be one of the most painful, difficult things I would ever do, but I said yes for her–for my mom. For Leia. For everyone Leia means so much to. For everyone Leia gives strength to. For my future kids, so someday they’ll have one more movie to watch that Mommy and Grandma were in together. So they can ask me about the lady–now ladies–in the TV and tell me to turn it down because it’s too loud.

I grew up with three parents: a mom, a dad and Princess Leia. Initially, Princess Leia was kind of like my stepmom. Now she’s my guardian angel. And I’m her keeper.

Press: Billie Lourd on Becoming the Keeper of Princess Leia was originally published on Rebel Princess | A Carrie Fisher Tribute

[xb-squaredx]

Dragon Ball Xenoverse 2 Review: The Darkest Timeline

There are….a LOT of Dragon Ball games out there, so many that they start to blur together. The latest flavor of the month, the Xenoverse series, does admittedly have an interesting premise though. Players are inducted into the Time Patrol, an organization that works to correct any inconsistencies in the universe’s timeline and ensure events work out as they were originally intended. For our purposes, that means making sure the classic fights of the Dragon Ball series end as they originally did. I can’t speak much for the first Xenoverse game, but I DID play the second one, and while it has a strong premise, multiple issues present in the gameplay and overall story serve to bog the game down, making for a flawed, bloated experience.

Just as in the first game, the big draw here is creating your own custom characters and inserting them into the Dragon Ball universe and I definitely see the appeal. Players have five races to choose from, each with their own ups and downs. Saiyans are great attackers, and can later gain a Super Saiyan transformation to bolster their offense, for one. Humans are balanced overall, while Namekians rely more on greater health and defense, as do the Majin class, with Frieza’s race generally lacking in stamina but doing well elsewhere. Each race also gains some exclusive perks with certain major questlines in the game, usually leading to their own unique powerup, though most of these quests are exercises in frustration. Sparing with Vegeta to unlock your Super Saiyan form is fine, as is rising up the ranks of the Frieza force, but the other races aren’t so lucky, their challenges being tedious, with Namekians getting the worst mission of them all: constantly having to find Dragon Balls while fending off attacks from Frieza’s forces. Majin’s will also find that their exclusive transformation, the Pure Form, is pretty lackluster. Other than that, the races play similarly enough that players should be able to just pick their favorite…that said, the fact that each character is treated as its own save file and you’d have to start from absolute scratch in the game to play as the other races…I didn’t exactly get to play around with them all and stuck with my initial choice for the bulk of the game.

The game itself is a pretty standard affair when it comes to the many Dragon Ball games out there. Everything from Ki blasts to Instant Transmission is included here, with a combat system that’s simple, but flexible enough to result in some fun bouts that feels true to the source material. Slamming foes across the wide-open stages, then teleporting behind them to nail them with a Kamehameha never gets old…at least when it works. The game’s systems feel a little finicky at times, with enemies randomly popping out of combo strings or your teleported strike not quite lining up. The camera getting stuck in certain structures can also be a hassle, but generally you can fly away and reorient yourself fairly well.

I enjoyed the wide- array of abilities players can acquire through the game, some as rewards for completing quests and some learned right from characters in the series. Want to learn Krillin’s Destructo Disk or Vegeta’s Final Flash? Track them down and you can certainly do so. From blast-style special moves to melee-oriented moves, there are even the rare buff or debuff moves to mess around with, coupled with flashy Ultimate moves to finish foes off…if you can line it up correctly anyway. Personally speaking, a great many moves in the game…aren’t all that great, or are either too specialized or impractical to use all that regularly. The stronger moves tend to have a LOT of prep time, flashy animations that play before the attack that give opponents ample time to flee, even if you do your best to combo into the moves and hit a downed opponent. While the combat is certainly fun, there are some real glaring issues when it comes to the game’s overall balance.

At the start of the game, enemies are pretty laid-back about getting smacked around, and you’ll often barely be in any danger, but the difficulty ramps up quite quickly and after a point computers start to blatantly cheat and exploit their advantages for all they’re worth in lieu of providing something more fair. If you happen to use the guard breaking attack to drain their stamina, for example, you’ll find it recharges for CPUs FAR faster than it ever would for a player, and seeing as stamina is used to teleport out of combos, this means that even if you play the game optimally, the computer won’t let you get too much damage off. Some later-game optional quests even have them automatically dodge special attacks and blatantly use input-reading to react to actions the player hasn’t even performed yet. Coupled with missions in which multiple enemies will gang up on you at a time, the game gets actively less fun to play the further you go. While there certainly are a lot of missions, from the story missions to side-quest analogues in Parallel Quests, raid-bosses in Expert Missions as well as multiplayer sparring, I lost interest in the game rather quickly and found a lot of the extra content simply wasn’t worth the frustration.

It’s a shame, because the game has some strong moments and fun nods to the series that nearly won me back over to the side of enjoying the game. It was just fun to learn from Krillin, to run around the hub world of Con Con City and learn emotes from other in-game characters that cosplayed as Yamcha or Tien. Some story beats were cool, bringing back characters I hadn’t seen in a long time and in many ways, Xenoverse 2 feels like it’s trying to be a “greatest hits” of the Dragon Ball universe…but it still falls short.

With a set-up around fixing inconsistencies in the Dragon Ball timeline, the game has some great opportunities for some “What if?!” style stories. Unfortunately, the game always drops you in RIGHT before history has a chance to be altered, and said alterations are usually either “villain gets a sudden powerup!” or “a movie villain shows up suddenly!” What good ideas there are, like you and Goku tag teaming against Frieza and Cooler on a dying Namek or both Nappa and Vegeta deciding to go Great Ape IMMEDIATELY upon fighting the Z Warriors is drowned out by the same tired scenarios every single Dragon Ball game seems intent on recreating. It’s gotten tiring to start a game like this fighting Raditz, then Vegeta and Nappa, then the Ginyu Force, then Frieza, and so on and so on. Despite characters from Dragon Ball GT being included in the game as well, the main story does next to nothing with them, being relegated to side-quests. It’s a plot filled with missed opportunities. There are some parallel quests that attempt to shake things up, but you have to wade through an awful lot of mediocre ones to find them.

On the whole Xenoverse isn’t too bad on presentation, the cel-shading making the characters look about as good as any other Dragon Ball game (even if FighterZ looks much better in my eyes), with a decent rock-filled soundtrack and most of the iconic voice cast being retained, but there are still some rough spots. Many environments don’t look all that impressive, for one, and while the voice work is generally OK, there are many small issues. The opening cinematic, for one, has atrocious lip-synching, to the point that it’s nonexistent, alongside voice direction that doesn’t reflect the mood of the scene. Bardock is meant to yell Frieza’s voice in rage, but merely says it with grumbling annoyance. Sometimes spoken lines don’t match up with the lines in the text boxes, and at times emphasis is placed on the wrong parts of sentences. They’re small flaws, but they begin to add up over time and really distracted me. On top of that, various voice lines get cut off by the transition to cutscenes if you defeat enemies fast enough, and yet at times the game will leave the enemy with a sliver of health and force the dialogue to play out with no rhyme or reason …and I’m not sure which one is a bigger annoyance. Lastly, for the Nintendo Switch version that I played, the bulk of the game runs at 30 FPS, though one-on-one matches get a bump up to 60 FPS. It didn’t really bother me much, but it’s something I figured I should mention.

On the subject of that, the Switch version comes with unique motion control options for performing special and ultimate attacks with the Joy Cons. In a fast-paced game like this though, I choose to ignore them entirely. I also pretty much ignored all possible local or multiplayer modes, so I have no real opinion on them. I’m fairly certain the game is better with friends at the helm of allies, as opposed to the at times brainless AI though.

I haven’t played many Dragon Ball games in the last few years due to fatigue. Many of the games kept trying to reinvent the wheel, while simultaneously barely doing anything to differentiate themselves from each other. While Xenoverse has a lot going for it, the appeal of a created-character in the Dragon Ball universe is a strong one, I find the combat to be a bit too limited and the AI too cheap to really enjoy or recommend. And while the game allows you to duke it out with other players, it’s not quite a fighting game and I think you could do better with games that already exist or will be available soon.

I don’t hate Xenoverse 2 by any stretch, and I did have fun while playing a good deal of it, but it’s a series that’s not for me in the end. In a game with such a strong premise and having so many elements it could have pulled from other games, it feels a bit half-baked. Lacking in creativity and excelling in a lot of fluff and frustration, Xenoverse 2 is a game that should have aimed higher and seems instead content with minor tweaks to the first game, instead of taking the time to really iron out the kinks and make something special.

Until next time,

-B

[beardedsunshinetour]

Installment the First

Or, The Adventure Begins

Disclaimer: I don’t own the canon characters, obv. I’ve just stolen their souls for my own purposes. The MCs are a melting pot of my imagination, real interactions, and silliness.

Disclaimer 2: If you haven’t seen season four yet, spoilers will probably abound. Ye have been warned.

Part the first: Where we meet the fangirls and they encounter our favorite #bromance 

“This is silly.” Addie pulled her peacoat more tightly around her and blew into her hands to warm them.  She’d been the one to talk her sister Mal into this impromptu meetup with some of their online fandom friends. But now they were wandering beside Conscience Bay in Setauket, Long Island at ten o’clock at night in December in an attempt to feel some connection to the area’s history.

“Yeah, it’s freezing out here,” Mal agreed, stopping next to Addie. She let out a frustrated huff when their companions continued along the road, looking for a clearing to get to the edge of the water they'd been following for three blocks.

“Not the weather,” Addie pressed. “I mean, I love Turn, and I love Revolutionary History, but this place wasn’t even much to look at when we saw it during the day. What are we doing?”

“It’s awesome at night,” Leena called back over her shoulder. “Come on!”

“We might even see a ghost!” June, leading the group, shouted.

“Not if she keeps screaming like that,” Mal said, nudging Addie.

Addie smirked. “The guide this afternoon didn’t say anything about it being haunted, did he?”

Leena slowed down to match the sisters' pace. “Not that we know of,” she said, the light from the full moon making her toothy grin luminescent. “But last time I came, I swear I saw someone on the water. It was too dark to see who it was, though.”

“And you think it was Caleb Brewster coming from Washington’s camp to collect intelligence?” Addie asked, unable to suppress a bemused smile.

“Maaaaybe. Not going to rule it out!” Leena giggled before hurrying to catch up to June.  

Addie looked at Mal, the unspoken question of What have we gotten ourselves into hanging between the sisters.

“Friggin’ Twitter,” Mal muttered. They'd never met the other women in person before, and knew them only from the online fan group they were part of. “This would have been so much better if Steph had showed up.” Of all of their online friends, Steph had been the one to connect the most with Mal. Part of the reason Mal’d agreed to come at all was because Steph was also going. Except she’d had to cancel at the last minute because of a work obligation.

“We’ve had a good time up to now,” Addie allowed. Mal rolled her eyes. “Okay, like I said, this part seems silly. I don’t know what they think we’ll find out there, but I guess it beats just sitting in the B&B, right?”

“Get a fire going, make some hot chocolate, binge Turn –“ Mal shivered as another wintery blast buffeted against the treeline. “It’s going to friggin’ snow. Let’s just go back.”

Addie looked up at the sky, the stars clearly visible. “It isn’t going to snow,” she challenged.  

“It should snow if it’s going to be this cold,” Mal complained.

“Let’s hurry up a bit, then,” Addie suggested. “We can catch up to June and Leena.” The other women had already disappeared around a bend in the road, and Addie was nervous that they were no longer in sight.  

Mal made an irritated grunt, but quickened her pace to match Addie’s.

A scream pierced the hush of the evening. Addie and Mal looked at each other, eyes wide, before both breaking into a run and calling their friends’ names.

When they reached Leena and June, the other women were giggling, laying on the ground.

“What happened?” Addie asked, looking for any signs that they’d been hurt.

“Leena thought she saw a ghost and pulled us both down when she tried to get away from it,” June laughed. “Ghost turned out to be a dang squirrel! Pullin’ me down here,” she admonished. “Break my hip if you’re not careful!” June was twenty years older than the others, though she was in far better shape.

“Leena’s more likely to break her hip than you are,” Addie pointed out. “And I thought you wanted to find ghosts,” Addie laughed, offering a hand up to Leena as Mal did the same for June.

“Yeah, but – maybe not when I’m not expecting it, y’know?” Leena brushed off the back of her jeans and looked around. “Anyway, we’re here! This is where I saw him last time!”

Addie found herself peering out at the water, squinting her eyes as though that would show her the ghostly whaleboatman.

“What are we doing?” A voice whispered in Addie’s ear and she jumped, embarrassed by the resounding squeak of fear that escaped her lips. She spun around and exhaled as the others began to laugh.

Steph had made it, after all.

“Not funny,” Addie admonished, her heart still racing.

Steph was grinning. “It was a little funny,” she said before hugging Addie. “It’s so great to finally meet all of you!” She hugged the others in turn – and Addie was glad to see Mal smiling – finally.

“Ugh, sorry I missed the first couple of days,” Steph said once the hellos had been finished. “Work is so unpredictable. But I’m here now, ready to sink my teeth into history and all things Turn! So what’re we doing? Ghost hunting? Dibs on our illustrious spy leader if he shows up.”

“If Ben shows up, honey, I’ll fight you for him,” June said. “Ghost or not, I’d sink my teeth into that boy any day of the week!”

“OMG, cougar alert!” Leena giggled.

“I might be older than y’all, but my eyes work just fine,” June said with a smirk.

Addie laughed and shook her head. “So what now?”

“Let’s build a fire!” Leena suggested, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “We can all sit around it and do a round-robin fanfic!” She put her hands – hidden inside her slightly too long jacket sleeves – up in front of her face as she tried not to giggle again. The result was a high-pitched noise that sounded suspiciously like a mouse squeak.

“A fire?” Addie shook her head. “I’m not sure we’re even supposed to be out here, let alone trying to start a fire.“

“I’m with Addie,” Steph said. “Besides, I’m starving. I drove straight from D.C. and haven’t eaten anything since lunch.”

“We’ll head back to the road, see if anything is open,” Mal suggested. “It’s almost midnight, so I don’t think – son-of-a-“ she let a low growl finish the sentence as snow began to drift lazily to the ground. She turned to her sister. “No snow, huh?”

Addie looked up again. The stars were as bright and clear as they had been ten minutes before. “That doesn’t make any sense,” she said, frowning.

“So we head back,” Leena said, reaching up to put one arm around Steph’s shoulders and the other around Mal’s. The shortest of the quintet, what she actually managed was a hand up to her wrist on either girl's taller frame. “Find something to nom on and get back to the bed and breakfast before it decides to go full-on blizzard.”

Addie was still frowning up at the sky. “So we’re going to completely ignore the fact that there are no clouds for the snow to be falling from, yeah?”  

“You just can’t see them,” June said without glancing up. “It couldn’t be snowing like this without clouds. Hey! Y’all know what we need?”

“Flaming Dr. Pepper shots!” they cried out in unison, all of them laughing.

"I don't know if there's a bar within walking distance," Addie said as she and June caught up to the others.

"Everything's within walking distance technically," Steph said. "Just depends on how far you want to walk. Besides, if the snow picks up, we don't want to be driving around in it, right?"

Mal raised her fist in the air. "Here's to being stuck in a bar and getting hammered while we discuss a certain Major Tightpants!"

Addie laughed along with the others. Much of their online threads seemed to center around the wardrobe choices of the characters, the most infamous being the snug breeches of Benjamin Tallmadge, leader of the American spy ring. She shook her head. "Because being wasted and trying to walk through a storm is a much better idea."

"Maybe Caleb's ghost will be there. He can walk us home!" Leena suggested.

"Didn't he die in Connecticut?" June asked.  

"He did," Steph confirmed. "And Ben, too."

"Aww, the bromance continued after the war!" Mal laughed. "That's so cute!"

"So then why would he be haunting a bar that didn't even exist when he lived here?" June pressed. "That makes no sense!"

"Maybe the bars he haunts in Connecticut ran out of whiskey," Addie said.

"Or they tried to give him tea," Mal snickered.

The joking had distracted them. They stopped at the corner and looked up to the street sign to get their bearings - but couldn't see it. The snow had gradually reduced visibility without their noticing, and none of them knew quite where they were.

"Holy crap, it's really coming down now," Mal said. "Addie? Pull up GPS on your phone or something."

Addie complied, pulling out her phone and scrolling through her apps until she found the one for directions. She tapped on it, and frowned as it opened to a white screen, the 'processing' icon spinning. "It usually doesn't take this long to start," she said. "Probably the storm." The network icon at the top showed  NO SERVICE in red. "Dammit!" She showed the phone to her sister.

The other women pulled out their phones. There was a chorus of 'mine, too' as they checked their network status.

"Maybe the storm knocked out a tower," Leena suggested.

They all glanced around - except for the denseness of the snow, the 'storm' had very little teeth. An intermittent wind nipped at their faces, but the night was otherwise perfectly still.  

"Well we can't just go on standin’ in the middle of the street,” June pointed out.  

"Are we in the middle of the street, though?" Steph bent down and brushed the snow away from the ground immediately around her. "Grass," she muttered. "We were on pavement, weren't we?"

"Snow without clouds, disappearing pavement - anybody else freaked out yet?" Addie asked.

"Look, there's an explanation -"

"Be quiet, Mal." Addie held up her hand to silence her sister, her head tilted, listening to the sounds around them. A muffled exhalation of breath was followed by the crunching of snow. "There," she whispered when she heard it again. "Someone's coming."

"Help! We're poor tourists who have lost our way!" Leena laughed. The others shooshed her. A horse's nicker came in response.

"What the -" Addie frowned, shrugging as they all glanced at each other. Addie’s heart thudded against her ribcage painfully. Something wasn’t right.

A horse and rider cut through the storm, parting the snow as though it were a curtain. A second was right behind it.  

The women gaped.  

Mal grabbed Addie's arm. "Is that -"

Addie could only nod as the first rider turned his horse in front of them, his sabre drawn. His blue and buff uniform was spotless, topped with a plumed hat – it was Ben Tallmadge.

“Identify yourselves!” he demanded, eyes raking over the group.

The second rider circled behind them, effectively blocking any escape attempt they might have made.

The women huddled a little closer together, but didn’t answer.

The wind tugged at their coats and hats like a child wanting attention. Addie’s hat blew off, and she turned as she tried to grab it – with no success.

“Dammit,” she muttered, looking up at the second rider. Her heart stopped. The snow was still falling, but the long leather coat and cocked wide-brimmed hat were instantly recognizable to her as Caleb Brewster.

Addie grabbed Mal's hand.

"But the last season of Turn is already airing," June said. "Did you get picked up by Netflix? Oh my God. Are you filming right now?"  

"Filmin'?" Caleb asked, looking across their heads at Ben. He dismounted, reins in hand as he looked at each of them. “They’re all women, Tallboy!”

“No call for rudeness!” June huffed.  

Ben dismounted as well, coming around to stand by Caleb. He sheathed his sabre and sighed, hands on his hips.

“It isn’t rudeness, Madam. It’s surprise,” he said. “When you dress like a man, you should be prepared to be seen as a man – and a threat.”

"This is awesome," Leena giggled behind Addie.

And terrifying, Addie thought.

“’Dress like a man?’” Mal scoffed. “Steph, is this you?” Steph often boasted about her connections with the show – connections she never explicitly defined, but did always seem to result in inside knowledge.

She also liked her practical jokes.

Addie started to breathe a little easier. That’s all this was. It’s all it could be.

“Not me,” Steph said. “Shit. This is not me.” Her voice wavered. So did Addie’s relief.

“So – not on a set,” Addie said, her eyes locked on the men. “This is – real?”

"But if they’re supposed to really be Tallmadge and Brewster, they wouldn’t look just like -"

"I know," Addie said, hushing her sister. "I didn't say I could explain it."

“Don’t remember tellin’ you who I was,” Caleb said, head tilted to the side. His eyes flicked to Ben’s and then back to Mal.  “Suppose ya tell me how it is you seem to know.” His hand was on the top of the axe at his waist, his body rigid, waiting.

Mal squeezed Addie’s hand. Addie could feel the tremor running through her sister. She squeezed back.

“Well, hell, boys. Everyone knows wherever Tallmadge goes, Brewster’s at his heel,” June said, her words easing Mal’s trembling.

“And Brewster’s axe is legend on its own,” Steph said. “We just connected the dots. Sir,” she added when Caleb remained still. Only his eyes moved, back to Ben.

Ben gave a curt nod, and Caleb’s body relaxed. He folded his hands in front of him and straightened his neck, walking around the group, looking each of them up and down in turn.

Addie felt the heat rising from under her coat collar as Caleb passed. He stopped when he’ d made a full circuit of the group.

“None of ‘em are armed,” he conveyed to Ben.

Ben nodded, his posture becoming less stiff. “Identify yourselves,” he repeated, his voice still firm.

Steph made her way to the front of the group, pushing Mal and Addie apart in her haste. "Stephanie Beecham," she said, giving a perfect curtsey, one ankle crossed behind the other.

Addie glanced at Mal behind Steph's back, knowing the smirk that graced her sister's face was mirrored on her own. Mal shrugged and shook her head.

"Miss Beecham." Ben nodded stiffly.  

"Addie Hunt," Addie offered with an exhalation and a nod in response to Ben's.  

"Mal Gower." Mal thrust out her hand. Caleb cast a bemused look at Ben, then stepped forward and shook it. Addie found herself wishing she'd been as bold.  

"Leena Owens." Leena's voice squeaked as she stood on her tiptoes to be seen over the other women.  

"June Cort." June stuck her hand over Mal's left shoulder, palm down. Caleb looked back at Ben again, then took it and pressed his lips to it. June grinned. Her face, already red from the cold, deepened in color.

"Right. Now we all know each other." Caleb hooked his thumbs in his belt and stepped back, his head tilting to the side. “Mind tellin’ us just what you’re all doin’ wanderin’ around here in the middle of the night?”

“And how you managed to get past the posted sentries?” Ben added.

“Posted sentries?” Addie echoed.

“Aye, the sentries,” Caleb said. “The lads done up in blue and buff that are posted around the perimeter of our line.”

Oh, God. The war hasn’t ended yet, Addie thought. Her heart felt as though it would burst. Being here, mere feet from the living, breathing incarnations of what had effectively been an obsession for four years should have been exhilarating.

But they’d somehow been transported into the show – or at least the world the show inhabited – and these were very real people.

With very real guns.

"We were just in Setauket," Leena offered.

"Setauket?” Caleb snickered. “Yeah, give or take 100 miles.”

Leena blushed and grabbed June's hand. "He spoke right to me!" Her voice wasn't above a whisper, but they all easily heard it.

Caleb looked at Ben, an amused smirk spreading across his face.

“100 miles from Setauket?” Mal whispered to Addie. “How did that happen?”

“Sure, that’s the weird part of all this,” she whispered back.

"Never heard any of them names around Setauket," Caleb pointed out. “How ‘bout you, Ben?”

"’Course we’re not from Setauket, " June said. “We were just visiting family."

"Yeah, we’re cousins of the DeJong's," Mal finished, giving her sister a perfunctory nod.

"Cousins?" Ben asked, nodding. "All five of you?"

They nodded. "Distant," Steph said. "There was um a -"

"Wedding," Leena said. Addie suppressed a groan. Weddings were something they could check on. Although, come to think of it, so was the existence of visiting cousins. This wasn’t make believe. If they were taken back to camp and their stories checked, then found to be false - she began to fidget.

“Mind tellin’ us what you’re doin’ out here, then?” Caleb asked. “Like I said, it’s a long way from Setauket.”

Each of them looked to the others for some kind of direction.

“We got lost?” Steph said.  

“Lost.” Ben’s voice was flat, his free hand on his sabre hilt. “You expect us to believe you just - wandered up here from Setauket, through enemy lines?”

“So we’re in the show world, right?” Addie mumbled to Mal.

“What?”

“I mean, we’ve so obviously been Twilight Zone’d – and since they look like the actors, I figure we’re in the show’s universe, and haven’t somehow time traveled to the past, right?”

“How the hell do I know?” Mal hissed.

“I’m just wondering if they know about Hewlett yet,” Addie whispered.

“What’s this about Hewlett?” Caleb asked, stepping forward again and focusing on Addie.  

She turned to Mal, who shrugged. “I – I just thought you might not have heard that Major Hewlett’s taken over for Andre as Head of Intelligence for the British,” she said.

Caleb’s face tightened and he whipped his head around to Ben, who had a similarly grim look.

“How did you come by this information, Madam?” Ben asked.

Because I watch the tv show, Addie thought.

“Everybody’s talking about it in York City,” Steph said quickly.  

“Right,” Caleb said, nodding and heading back to his horse. “I’m going to find a way in –“

Ben stepped back and put a hand on Caleb’s chest to stop him, keeping a wary eye on the group of women.

“You can’t go to York City, Caleb. You don’t have a way in or a way out.”

“If Hewlett’s there, Culper’s at risk,” Caleb said.  

“No, it’s okay - they’re working together,” Leena said. Ben brought his gaze to hers slowly, and Caleb craned his neck around to look at her. The other women turned to her and exhaled, a collective breath of chastisement.

“What?” Leena asked, her palms turned up in front of her.

“What do you mean ‘working together’?” Ben asked, walking into the group so that he was in front of Leena.

He had his back toward Steph, whose eyes kept straying below his waist.  

Addie swatted at her hand as it reached towards Ben’s butt.

Behind them, Caleb snorted. Addie didn’t turn around, but felt the color rising to her cheeks again. She felt as though her face was going to be a permanent shade of pink before the end of the night.

“I was just going to give it a little squeeze,” Steph muttered.

Addie shook her head. “Not the time,” she whispered.  

“I mean,” Leena said, blushing even more now that she was inches from him, “that they made a pact to get Simcoe.”

“Simcoe,” Caleb said, crossing his arms again. “That bas-“ he cleared his throat as he remembered the ladies present. “We knew it was a risk –“

“We’ll discuss it back at the camp,” Ben said over his shoulder, studying each of the women’s faces before going back towards his horse. “I’m going to have to ask that you ladies accompany us.”

“I’ve got some rope in my bag,” Caleb offered with a grin.

“Oh, honey, you don’t have to tie us up,” June said.  

“Well, unless you want to,” Steph added, matching Caleb’s grin.

Addie wanted to scream. Why wasn’t anybody else freaking out?

“It isn’t far to camp, rope won’t be necessary,” Ben said. “Behave,” he muttered to Caleb as he passed him.

The snow had slowed during the exchange, and was now barely falling. Beside them, the moon was reflecting off of the river, a shimmering path that seemed to stretch endlessly in either direction.  

Ben and Caleb rode their horses, the girls walking between the two.

"We probably should have marked where we were," Addie muttered to Mal.

"Why?"

"Because eventually, we're going to have to try and get back, right?"

Mal pulled her head back slightly, a quizzical expression on her face. "Why are you even worried about that now?" she asked. "Just let go for once, Addie. Enjoy the ride while it lasts, and we'll figure out the rest when we have to."

“’Enjoy the ride’?” she shot back. “We’ve been dropped in the middle of a war being waged in a fictional universe where we don’t know exactly what will happen. Maybe we’re not tied up – yet – but we’re prisoners, Mal!”

“But we’ve got such nice eye candy,” Mal pointed out, grinning.

Addie ran her hand over her mouth, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.  They’d all gone crazy. Logic and reason were what she relied on in her real life, and even though what was happening now couldn't be explained with either of those things, she was trying to cling to them.

They passed a sentry post, the men nodding to Caleb and Ben as they passed, staring at the group of women with interest.

"Eyes on your watch, gentlemen," Ben chided. The soldiers grumbled, but turned away, one of them prodding at the fire by their feet.

"Where we gonna keep 'em?" Caleb asked. "Can't cram 'em all in the store room for very long."

"The barn," Ben said after a moment. "We can post guards there, and they'll be out of the weather."

"Yeah, barely." Caleb looked over the group again. "You lot eaten at all today?"

"I could eat a whole cow," Steph said.  

"Well, we ain't long on beef, but we'll find somethin' edible," Caleb said.

They arrived at the barn, the noises from the camp clearly audible even though they could not see it yet.

"Take care of the horses, and bring four men we can rely on to post as guard," Ben instructed, dismounting and handing the reins to Caleb. "This way, ladies."

Caleb led the horses into camp, and the group followed Ben in to the barn.

"This is where they brought Abe!" Leena squealed.

"Please, Lord, don’t make me stand anywhere near where they had poor Richard’s body," June said, a hand to her mouth.

Ben pulled the door closed behind them and advanced towards the women.

"How are you getting your information?" he demanded.

"Oh, oops." June put a hand over her mouth as Leena grimaced.

Ben's face was grim. "I will have no choice but to keep you here, under guard, unless you tell me how you have come to know the name Culper."

His eyes went to each woman's face in turn, searching for answers, for any sign that one of them were ready to speak.

One by one, they averted their eyes, shifting nervously.

Ben exhaled sharply, turning at the sound of the door opening. He held up a hand to stop Caleb where he stood, and focused again on the group of women.

"We will have your source," he said, pointing his finger at them.  

He walked to the door and drew Caleb back outside.

"See if you can get anything out of them," he said, his tone low. "I've got to tell Washington about Hewlett."

One side of Caleb's face twitched upward with the movement of his mouth. "You want me to go in to a barn full of women and get information from 'em?"

"Behave yourself," Ben huffed.

"I'll be a perfect gentleman, yeah?" Caleb grinned. "Who's to say they'll be able to keep their hands off me, though, eh?" He laughed, hitting Ben's arm.

His words carried easily into the barn. Mal grabbed Addie's arm and gave an excited jump. Behind them, June and Leena let loose a quiet squee.

"But no Ben and his breeches," Steph complained.

They shushed each other as the barn door opened again.  

Caleb shut the door, then walked over to the women, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Right," he said, grinning. "Who's first, then?"  

“Best. Vacation. Ever,” Mal breathed.

Addie felt like she was going to puke.                                                                                          

[lyricalt]

[ovw] Destiny AU - take you out

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, @irlwolves!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Here’s a little mcgenji destiny au.

The match begins without much fanfare at Firebase Delphi, rocky ground kicking up dust as both fireteams land on their feet in unison.  Less than a minute later, Genji takes first blood with even less flair, leaving the unfortunate enemy warlock to spawn elsewhere.  He leaves the rest of his team behind at Zone A—per his usual strategy when it comes to Zone Control, but he finds himself hurrying faster than normal, just the tiniest bit impatient to rush ahead to middle ground.

He had taken a quick glance at the teams’ rosters beforehand, so it comes as no huge surprise to him when he runs into McCree at Zone B.

“Fancy meeting you here,” McCree says, tipping an imaginary hat as his gunslinger’s cloak flutters behind him.  The circle of light around them blinks, HUDs showing that Fireteams Alpha and Bravo are both supposedly contesting for Zone B.

Thankfully there isn’t anyone yet to witness the two of them standing around.  Genji can practically hear Shaxx grinding his teeth in frustration.

I should just shoot him, Genji thinks wryly—but he’s got a sharp knife and a good sense of humor this round, so there’s no use wasting either of them.  He draws out his blade and lunges at McCree.

“A shame Shaxx decided to keep us apart,” Genji says, voice brightening when the barrel of McCree’s pistol connects with his knife to block it.  The metal clash shocks his hand but doesn’t slacken his grip.  A small shift to change the angle of the blade would have freed them both, but Genji only pushes forward, goading on a deadlock between their weapons.

And McCree doesn’t give an inch so much as lean closer to him in return.  Genji’s knife comes dangerously close to his neck, sharp point almost nicking at the lower edge of his helmet.

“Oh, us being on the same team would’ve been unfair,” McCree says, unbothered by the possibility of getting his throat sliced.  The gun in his hand shakes a moment from the strain. “But hey, after this match, how ‘bout I take you somewhere nice?”

Genji’s answer is immediate.  “No.  I’m on a Vanguard streak. I have Crucible bounties.”

“I’ll show you around Mars,” McCree adds, as if to sweeten the deal.  He pushes back with his gun, index finger sliding to the trigger.

“I’ve seen Mars,” Genji replies.  If he had eyebrows, he would have raised one of them.  “We are on Mars right now.”

“The parts that aren’t the Crucible. And without Cabal.”

Genji tilts his head to the side, considering.  The sand dunes had made for some interesting sparrow jumps at times, but that’s the only good thing about Mars Genji could say from the top of his head. In his opinion, one orange desert landscape is as good as any other.

“If you win this match,” Genji says, after a moment.  A Vanguard streak isn’t something he’s willing to forfeit so easily, after all.  “If you win, I’ll go.”

He can hear the grin in McCree’s voice, picking up the implication fast.

“And if I lose?” McCree asks in a low murmur, like he cannot wait to hear the answer.

“We’ll have a date on Venus instead.”

McCree pauses, voicelink cutting off for a quick second.  When he replies, there is an impressive amount of forced enthusiasm in his tone; “Oh, that ain’t no real punishment. So long as it’s a date with you, sugar.”

It’s almost charming, if not completely sincere. Genji laughs, unable to help himself.  “Have you checked the weather there? It’s storming. Acid rain on both hemispheres.”

McCree seems to mull over his own response before drawing out his own knife to take a swipe at Genji.  The feint is enough to make Genji hop back, but not before McCree’s pistol fires deep into his shoulder—and Genji suspects that vicious move may have been partially motivated by reasons less than charming.  

“Aw, hell,” McCree says, over the sound of his gun reloading, “I better not lose then, huh?”

Genji’s armor blinks a critical red.  McCree is a second away from finishing his reload and Genji’s no longer within knife range to do any damage.  There’s always his pulse rifle, but Genji opts for the pettier route and simply throws down his grenade between them.

And apparently he isn’t the only one to have the same idea.  Three more grenades join his in Zone B and Genji has enough time to feel exasperated—there’s half his fireteam, along with McCree’s as well.

“About time they showed up,” McCree says, echoing Genji’s thoughts.

Genji would have spoken, but the nature of demolitions takes its course and he supposes he’ll have to wait until after revival to reply.

Genji doesn’t run into McCree again for a few cycles.  If he hadn’t known any better, he would have suspected McCree was avoiding him, but a quick peek at the scoreboards show McCree is busy in his own right, either capturing zones or killing the other members of Genji’s team.

Meanwhile, Genji is collecting a fair amount of medals—a continuous stream of the usual icons appearing in the corner of his vision.  He runs around the corner, shooting down an enemy titan along the way before his radar shows a ping of red to his right side.  Without a second thought, he switches directions to hunt down his next target.

“You know we are playing Zone Control, right?” Ryuu says after a moment of running.

“Zones won’t matter if I have enough kills,” Genji says, checking the scoreboard again with a flicker from his HUD.  Alpha team is ahead by a few hundred of points with him as the top scorer. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, but his Ghost apparently senses something amiss.

“I advise against this strategy,” Ryuu says, as blunt as he is helpful.  

“You’ve never advised against it before,” Genji notes, and skitters to a stop when he spies a familiar red cloak and hand cannon pointed his way.

Ryuu falls silent, and Genji would never accuse his own Ghost of conspiring against him, but it seems like a near thing at this point.  

McCree’s first shot misses him, though Genji has no doubt the bullet would have landed if he hadn’t Blinked away.  The second shot does hit, a shock of pain driving Genji to move faster rather than stagger.  McCree’s trigger finger is quick, but it doesn’t make up for his slower movements.  Genji’s footwork to move around him is automatic, pathway almost a calculated circle.  He drives his knife into McCree’s back, invisibility device activating as the blade bites deep.

Genji backs up, footsteps light and soft to conceal his presence.  He has half a mind to taunt, but to his surprise, McCree takes off in a hasty retreat, bounding off through the plasteel doors.

Genji’s cloaking device fizzes out, leaving him in an empty room as the doors hiss close.  Less than half a minute later, Bravo Team captures Zone C.

“He gets it,” says Ryuu with a clear note of approval.

Genji shrugs.

“Don’t get angry just because he isn’t chasing after you for the entire match.”

Genji turns his head, expecting his Ghost to be hovering over his shoulder.  Upon finding the spot empty, he gives the air a swat anyway.

“No more advice from you,” he says.

Genji finds himself being approached by the enemy team in groups of two or three.  Normally, he wouldn’t have a problem with it—he would have gladly pitted himself against the entirety of Bravo Team by himself, but after his last three deaths under enemy fire, he finds it all a little bit too deliberate for random happenstance.

He wouldn’t have called it being ambushed—there’s no way, not in Crucible—but his suspicion doubles when he corners McCree beneath a rocky outcrop over dusty orange sand.

“One would think you weren’t trying,” says Genji, risking an open voicelink. He’s gotten McCree’s armor down to nearly nothing.  One more shot and McCree will be reviving on the other side of the base.  Alpha Team is still leading by a good number of points.  

McCree’s voice patches into his audio sensors, breathless.  “You underestimate how badly I want a night out with ya.”

“Try harder then,” Genji says, taking the shot, and McCree’s Ghost springs from his body.

When he turns around, half of Bravo Team is waiting for him with weapons that look like a good combination of rocket launchers and machine guns.

“Oh,” says Genji.

The alarms haven’t stopped blaring into Genji’s helmet for what seems like too long.  He doesn’t know when it happens, but Bravo Team shifts from chaotic carnage to organized killing and capturing.  Genji thinks McCree may be barking orders to his own team, which is a strange concept.  He knows McCree has a certain unwillingness for leadership, though he has on occasion seen McCree pick up the role when needed.  He isn’t quite sure how McCree is doing it, but time and time again, Genji becomes outflanked by two or more enemy guardians.  

It’s maddening, but also a little flattering.  

“They’ve got them all, Guardian,” Shaxx announces as Bravo Team’s score makes a leaping jump past Alpha’s.

Genji turns his head.  He isn’t surprised to see Ryuu floating over his shoulder this time, somehow looking as smug as a Ghost can be.  

“I think I see your point,” Genji admits.

Ryuu offers one last piece of advice; “Then get on the point, Genji.”

They meet again at Zone B, though the rest of Firebase Delphi is now empty, awaiting the next match between a new set of teams.  McCree stands beneath the zone’s banner, Bravo’s emblem waving over him.

Genji’s Ghost has seen fit to respawn him near McCree.  He lands on his feet and slings an arm around McCree’s waist, drawing him in.

“Zone Control isn’t my favorite,” Genji says, tipping his head back to look up at him. “But a loss is a loss, I suppose.”

“You sure as hell didn’t make it easy for me,” McCree replies with a huff, but he sounds pleased.  “Guess I’ll have to beat you in some other Crucible game.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Genji says, a little ruffled, but the feeling passes itself quickly as McCree’s helmet tilts to tap against his.  He reaches over to pat the dust from McCree’s cloak, which is looking more orange than red. It’s a futile gesture.  He’s sure they’ll both be up in dust again soon enough, considering he’ll be staying on Mars for the time being.

They start walking off from Zone B, McCree taking the lead to hop over the rocky ridge surrounding the edge of base. Genji follows after him.

When they get to the top, Genji is treated to Mars’ familiar sandy landscape and burning overhead sun.  He dims his visual settings, seconds away from making a smart comment, something about the weather on Venus being preferable.

But McCree grabs his hand, his gaze looking at some point beyond the endless orange dunes.  His grip tightens, excitement somehow emitting through his unseen Light, bright solar energy matching Mars.  

“I could do without the ridiculous wagers next time,” Genji says, staring despite himself.  

“Deal,” McCree says, turning to him with a laugh.  “C’mon. I’ll show you around.”

And Mars is beginning to look nicer already.

[rescuesirens]

NC Mermania 2017, part 2 - Mermaiding

From Jess (originally posted on rescuesirens.com, January 31st, 2017):   It’s hard to believe, but I haven’t written yet about my mermaid tail! I’ve posted a handful of tail photos here on the “Rescue Sirens” website as well as pictures and video clips on Instagram and Tumblr, but this is the first time I’ve blogged about it, and I don’t know if I can do it justice with mere words. My mermaid tail is a wearable, working piece of art.

Although it’s been around for decades, the sport, performance, or hobby of mermaiding has really taken off in recent years. Today, you can buy an affordable fabric tail that slips over a plastic monofin (a device, as the name suggests, that looks like a pair of fins fused together, designed to contain both feet and keep a swimmer’s legs together to aid in the dolphin kick), or you can spring for a variety of other materials, varying in price up to $4,000 or more. One of the most popular materials is silicone, and there are multiple tailmakers who create truly stunning silicone mermaid tails for swimming. My tail and matching top were handcrafted by Raven and Tyler Sutter of Merbella Studios Inc., based in my home state of Florida.

The story behind the creation of my tail is pretty magical. On our family vacation to Orlando in August of 2015, Chris, his daughter Nicole, and I made a side trip to meet Raven and Tyler at historic Weeki Wachee Springs State Park, Florida’s “City of Live Mermaids.” There, I got to view the fabled springs for myself for the first time -- I grew up in Florida and spent a lot of time at Ginnie Springs over the years as well as Silver Springs and Homosassa, but, almost unbelievably, I’d never visited Weeki Wachee… and now here I was in this iconic mermaid mecca, with Mermaid Raven, seeing one of her gorgeous silicone mermaid tails in person! Wow!

I was so impressed with her handiwork’s artistry and flawless construction, and even more impressed with Raven and Tyler themselves: they’re brilliant, beautiful, fun, and phenomenally talented people who I feel very fortunate to call my friends today.

That first meeting. As you can see, we all got caught in a Florida thunderstorm!

Before we parted ways, Tyler and Raven took detailed measurements of my lower body so they could custom-build my tail, and I left Weeki Wachee looking forward to the day when I could try it on and go for my first swim.

Both the tail and the top that went with it were going to be designed as a “realistic” version of Nim’s, the Rescue Siren whose appearance Chris based on mine, and I was curious to find out how Raven would adapt Chris’s drawings into something that had to obey the laws of physics and look like it “belonged” on a real human being (as opposed to a cartoon), while still retaining the spirit of Nim’s design. Over the next eight months, Raven periodically sent work-in-progress photos as she sculpted Nim’s flukes and fins as well as the leafy, kelp-like halter top that Nim wears in her undersea home, Lophelia. Even in humble gray clay, everything looked amazing.

In April of 2016, Chris and I took another trip to Florida, and we made plans with Raven and Tyler to spend some time at Orlando’s YMCA Aquatic Center. The Y features a seventeen-foot-deep dive well, and I was beside myself with excitement at the idea of hanging out with Raven again and even getting to swim together. I knew that she was close to completing my tail and had already finished my top, but I wasn’t expecting to receive them until May, so I figured she’d bring one of her extra tails and I could borrow it for our swim. Imagine the look on my face, then, when Raven unveiled my very own Nim tail in the YMCA’s parking lot! It was so unexpected that I actually didn’t register what I was seeing for several moments, and then I squealed and squeezed Raven half to death.

Raven had taken the images of Nim that Chris had drawn and she had made them real. The delicate curling fronds of Nim's seaweed top, with sparkling green crystals imbedded amongst the gentle floral curves... the sweeping lines of Nim's graceful tail -- "blue as the ocean in the morning," scales glittering with iridescent shine -- from the flawless transition at the blended waist to the lightly ribbed dorsal, adipose, and ventral fins, all the way down to the immense flukes: three feet wide and ingeniously hiding a Finis Competitor monofin within.

Raven still had some finishing touches to put on my tail’s paint job, but I could try it on and go swimming with her!

I didn’t truly understand the phrase “fits like a glove” until I put on my Nim tail. It was made to conform to my body exactly, and, boy, does it do that. Even with Raven’s help, I swear it took me something like an hour and half to wriggle into my tail that first time. I’ve since gotten it down to under ten minutes (again, with my husband Chris’s help), but, if I hadn’t had Raven there to show me what to do at first, I honestly don’t know if I would’ve believed I could get into that tail. Once it’s on, it fits like a second skin, which makes moving through the water effortless. (Loose tails can flap around a person’s waist and legs, catching water as they swim and creating drag.) And once it was finally on that first time, I took off into the dive well… and I felt like I was flying.

When you’re wearing a mermaid tail, you can’t really get a good look at yourself while you’re swimming, so what made me do a double-take was seeing Raven (who can get into her tail in, like, two minutes!) glide past me in her own tail. The illusion is flawless; the blended waist effect that Raven can achieve with her tails is wholly convincing, her tails’ flukes bend and flow realistically, and Raven herself is so fluid and graceful in the water that you would swear she’s a real mermaid.

A post shared by Rescue Sirens:Mermaids On Duty (@rescuesirens) on Dec 22, 2016 at 1:33pm PST

Chris and Tyler, watching us, discussed the interesting quirk about mermaid tails: when a Victoria’s Secret model wears angel wings, she can’t fly, but, when someone puts on a mermaid tail, they really can swim. The fiberglass Finis Competitor monofin built into my tail is rated for ocean swimming, and I can cross a pool in only a few dolphin kicks. I went from the dive well’s surface to the bottom at seventeen feet below in the blink of an eye. I felt strong, powerful, and beautiful -- just like I imagine the Rescue Sirens in my stories -- and I can never thank Raven and Tyler enough for that.

My Nim tail has already been on a number of adventures, from Orlando to two Hawaiian islands to Weeki Wachee Springs and back here to Los Angeles, but those tail-tales will have to wait for another day, because today I want to write about mermaiding at NC Mermania!

The main event of NC Mermania was our time at the Greensboro Aquatic Center, affectionately referred to as the GAC (that’s pronounced “gack”). Merfolk took over the facility’s dive well, which, just like Orlando’s YMCA Aquatic Center, is a whopping seventeen feet deep and twenty-five yards wide; vendors (like us) set up on either side of the giant body of water. Chris and I readied our table with books, buttons, and Diving Belle motel key tags, and then I “turned tail”… with the help of Chris (who is an incredible husband for many reasons; this is only one of them) and a whoooole lot of coconut oil.

Although the tail is a challenge to get into, the reward once I’m in is well worth it: I get to go swimming! It’s so refreshing, both physically and mentally. I feel like a little kid again, only I’ve leveled up the way I “play mermaids” in a manner that wee Jess never could have imagined. I've always been a water baby, and swimming in a realistic mermaid tail is a whole new way of interacting with the element I love so dearly.

I recently had rashguards screen-printed with the “Rescue Sirens” logo, and I wore those stretchy lifeguard tops as part of my Nim outfit for both days in the dive well at the GAC. I was so tickled every time someone recognized our property! I loved talking to people, answering their questions about the books and the world, and spreading the word about this series that means so much to me. Because NC Mermania attendees are passionate about many of the same things that I am -- the ocean, marine conservation, water safety, and mythology -- that made everyone easy to talk to, even for an introvert like me!

Besides talking about "Rescue Sirens," conversations involved admiring and discussing one another's tails (Merbella Studios' tails like mine, Finfolk Productions, Mertailor, Mernation, any number of commercially available fabric tails, and even handmade), swapping water-friendly hair and makeup tips, learning new tricks (I was taught how to blow bubble rings!), and simply having fun swimming together. There was an innocence to the event that I found really charming. When was the last time, as an adult, that you really just enjoyed splashing around in the water with friends the way you did as a kid? I didn't realize how much I'd missed that.

While I played in the dive well, Chris was a rockstar and, as usual, a phenomenal husband: he not only sold copies of "Rescue Sirens: The Search for the Atavist" at our poolside table, but he also took lots of photos and videos to remember our time at NC Mermania. The only thing that Chris couldn't do was take photos from in the water (since he had to be able to return to our table at a moment's notice), but the wonderful Karsten Shein of Mountain Mermaid Photography had that covered, spending both days suited up in scuba gear at the bottom of the dive well with camera in hand.

Here are some of my favorite candids shot by Karsten (thank you so much!):

In addition to Karsten's underwater photos, I chose some of the best pictures and videos that Chris shot from the pool deck and compiled them into this short video, which follows me around a bit during our time at the GAC on Saturday. Huge thanks also go to Tom Cardwell for graciously sharing the underwater footage that he recorded of me swimming, and to Mermaid Aria for the photo of her, Mermaid Jolene, and yours truly. I'm so grateful for everyone's help!

Next in this series: it's time to make legs and dry off for NC Mermania's social events and panels!

[sumigakure]

Photogenic

Fanfiction, A03, Original Post

Rating: T, maybe teen plus? Is that a thing?  Words: 2700  Summary:  Halloween party prompt fill. In which Gai dresses as Kakahi and gets all the girls while Genma sulks (but not for too long). Genma/Kakashi pairing implied  Pairing: Genma/Kakashi   Warning: Mild language, Genma warning, implied adult situations  Author’s Note: This is a prompt fill for Sumigakure’s Halloween Event on tumblr. Prompt 10: Halloween Party. It’s not what I planned at all but Genma and Sukea stole the show, so sorry not sorry?

“You can not go as a ninja,” Genma grumbled. “The whole point of Halloween is to be someone different.”

“I’m not just going as any ninja,” Gai said dramatically, spinning in a circle to present his former teammate with a characteristic thumbs up. “I’m a copy of the Copy Ninja.”

For once, Gai had forgone his green jumpsuit in favor of the standard issue jonin blues and green flak vest. The leg weights or leg warmers, Genma was never quite sure which, were missing as well. A matching blue headband slanted over Gai’s left eye while his face hid behind a half mask. Somehow, the jonin had managed to frost his dark hair to silver, and copious amounts of hairspray held it upright. In poor lighting, and with enough alcohol, he might possibly pass for Kakashi. At least, until he opened his mouth.

While Genma had opted for a more tradition costume, he’d gone overboard as usual. Anko had showed him a contouring trick that paled his skin, made his cheekbones more prominent, and drew attention to his hazel eyes. While, make-up wasn’t normally his thing, Genma decided Halloween could be an exception. Both iconic bandana and senbon were missing, which almost never happened, and Genma’s brown hair had been slicked back from his face.

The tokujo toyed with the buttons of his shirt, undoing two, then redoing the lowest. The white fabric hugged his muscles, and the open collar provided a peek at the black choker around his throat. His black pants were tight enough that Genma practically had to shimmy into them, and he wasn’t entirely sure that he could get them back off. But if the night went the way he was planning, that wouldn’t be his problem anyway.

“Kakashi is going to flip when he sees you,” Genma said as he pulled on a deep crimson vest, then a high collared cape. He’d selected one that was short enough to show off his most valuable asset. There would be no point in tight pants if he hid behind a cape. Pearly fangs peeked through Genma’s wine colored lips, and he clicked them together, grinning. These were almost as good as senbon.

Gai paused in the middle of one-legged squats when Genma’s words finally sank home. “You think my eternal rival will challenge me to a contest of flips? We haven’t done that one yet.”

Genma shook his head, not bothering to explain the idiom to the other man. “We’re already late, let’s just go.”

Music reached Genma’s ears long before he found the place the Halloween Party was supposed to be held. Since it had taken him longer to get ready than he’d planned, the room was already full of people. A civilian in an ANBU costume greeted Genma and Gai as soon as they stepped through the door. Genma could tell by the muscle tone of her bared arms that she wasn’t shinobi, but the tightness of her shirt more than made up for that. Perhaps the most surprising thing about her, however, was that she flirted with Gai, rather than Genma. Her hand rested on his arm, and she trilled with laughter over something that Genma was ninety-five percent sure wasn’t funny.

Oh Kami, she really believes it’s Kakashi, Genma realized with a start. He wasn’t about to try and explain the woman’s mistake.

A cursory glance around the room revealed several familiar faces. The hulking mass of werewolf leaning against the wall next to a petite mummy had to be Asuma and Kurenai. Their bodies were far too close for friendship, no matter what they claimed. Anko stood by the drinks, skin green with makeup and red with fake wounds to make her look like a ghoul. At least, Genma thought they were fake; shinobi lead difficult lives, the scars might have been her own. Her outfit, some kind of wrappings that looked like cobwebs, managed to be more revealing than her normal attire.

Extracting Gai from the “ANBU” temporarily, Genma dragged him deeper into the room. As he navigated through the sea of disguised yet recognizable faces, he found himself looking for Kakashi. It wasn’t that Genma had spent extra time getting ready because he thought Kakashi might be here. It definitely wasn’t that Genma wanting the man to see him in something other than his uniform. He just wanted to see the Copy Nin’s face-well his eye-when he saw Gai’s costume. That was all.

Anko grinned at Genma as she handed him a red plastic cup of some sugar laced concoction that was supposed to pass for punch. Her eyes swept over the vampire from head to toe. “You’re almost pretty enough to taste my blood instead of the other way around.”

“Almost,” Genma returned with a chuckle. Though he was rougher than average in the bedroom, he had never understood the woman’s fascination with blood.

Gai huffed in annoyance as he looked at the cup in his hand. “How does my eternal rival manage to drink things?”

“Carefully,” Genma responded absently. His attention was focused on two pretty women who were watching he and Gai from across the room. One was dressed in a skintight, black bodysuit with cat ears nestled in her raven hair, and the other wore a nurse’s outfit like nothing he’d ever seen on a medical nin. If they instituted that uniform, Genma would have allowed himself be injured far more often. “Do you have a preference of the two?” He nodded his chin toward the women while sipping his drink.

Gai’s visible eye moved to the women, then he seemed to realize what Genma was asking. “It’s unfair to pick a favorite. Surely each flower has its own uniqueness.”

To halt the laughter threatening to spill out, Genma drained his cup. Gai certainly didn’t mean flowers in the sense Genma was thinking, but maybe after tonight, he would. The tokujo refilled his cup before leading his friend over to the women. When their eyes drifted past him to Gai, Genma felt a sinking feeling in his gut. Not again.

“You’re the Copy Ninja aren’t you?” Cat giggled as Nurse moved closer to Gai, touching his chest. Gai mumbled some kind of response that sounded vaguely Kakashi-like and the girls laughed again.

“You’re so pretty you don’t even need a costume, do you?” Nurse asked and Genma almost threw up in his mouth.

After ten minutes, he realized that neither woman knew he existed and excused himself to get another drink.

“Aw, are you feeling left out?” Anko purred, moving closer to Genma’s side. “Look at Gai though,” she nodded to where a third woman had joined his harem.

Genma snorted. “How can they really believe he’s Kakashi?” He finished another glass of the fruity, fizzy nonsense Anko was serving.

After sipping her own drink, the woman shrugged. “Because Kakashi isn’t here, and I doubt he would bother with dressing up if he were.”

Anko rolled her eyes, and pointed out some of the better costumes. A painfully pretty “Madara” stood beside a geisha, chatting easily. Near one of the walls, an unfamiliar boy was dressed entirely in brown with his long hair dyed green. Flowers and branches had been worked through it. The best thing Genma could figure was that he was supposed to be a tree. A shock of silver-white hair caught Genma’s attention, and temporarily stopped his heart, but it was only someone pretending to Tobirama, red marks and all.

“Who’s that?” Genma nodded toward a stranger in jeans, a long grey jacket, and a blue scarf wrapped around his neck.

Anko shrugged. “Some kind of photographer, I think. He said something about capturing memories for future generation when he came to get a drink.”

The pair watched the man move around the room, easily snapping pictures of couples and individuals. A few men and women paused and struck up a conversation with him, but he gracefully slid away from mos. Even the damn photographer, who hadn’t bothered with a costume, was getting more attention than Genma.

“I want some consideration too. Dammit, I worked hard on this makeup,” Genma sulked. Anko flashed an amused smiled, but wisely didn’t say anything.

The later it got, the rowdier the party became. Kakashi-Gai had half a dozen women around him and the cute photographer was talking with Tree Boy, and it looked an awful lot like flirting to Genma. They stood nearly as close as Asuma and Kurenai has been earlier. Speaking of that, the werewolf and mummy were slumped together in a corner of the room, making out in clear view of everyone. So much for secrets, Genma thought. In fact, several couples were doing the same thing around the room. That seemed a bad idea, but Genma couldn’t remember why and was too busy pouting to bother with it anyway. The man who always had a lover on his arm didn’t even have a prospective, and Kakashi still hadn’t shown up.

For some reason, probably jealousy, Genma’s hazel eyes kept being drawn back to the photographer. He’d moved away from Tree Boy and was leaning against the wall by himself now. Surprisingly, nobody moved in to exploit his time, though he’d hardly been alone all evening.

“Why don’t you just go talk to him. If you stare any harder-” Anko’s face scrunched up as she tried to figure out what she wanted to say, then she giggled.

Genma’s mouth fell open, and he nearly lost his fangs in shock. Anko was capable of a wide range of sounds, from menacing laughter to the edge of insanity chuckle, but giggles weren’t in her arsenal. “What’s gotten into you?” He was terrified of the answer.

Anko stumbled two steps toward the table and refilled her glass. “I may have spiked the punch, just a little bit.”

“How much is a little bit?” Genma glanced at the massive cauldron sized bowl they’d been filling their glasses from.

Anko giggled again, and Genma felt his stomach drop. “A bottle, or two. Maybe three. No more than four.”

That would explain the behavior happening around the room from the frantic making out and the number of couples stumbling out together. The Madara and Tobirama he’d seen earlier were dancing in way that looked more suited to the bedroom than the dance floor. Genma’s eyes widened as far as they would go when he found his former teammate. Gai and Cat girl were making out against a wall and there was far too much enthusiastic hand movements happening. Genma felt his stomach heave, but maybe that was the effects of the alcohol, he’d certainly drank too much.

Since he’d had enough of being alone with Anko and her poisonous drinks, Genma wandered off after throwing his cup away. The photographer stood alone still, surveying the scene around him with a calm demeanor. He probably hadn’t drank as much as everyone else since he was working. As he walked toward the man, Genma put on his most endearing smile. “Do I know you?” That was terrible as far as pickup lines went, but Genma couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Maybe, maybe not.” Amusement filled the man’s unfamiliar voice. In a rush of overconfidence that was typical of Genma, he pressed closer to the photographer. Close enough for the faint scent of cologne to make his head spin, and to feel the tight muscles in the man’s forearm. “My name’s Sukea, by the way. Can I help you?”

“Do you want to go home with me?” Somehow, the normally smooth lines that were life to Genma fled, and he said the first thing that popped into his mind.

The man laughed, and his dark eyes appraised Genma’s body. While it was slightly uncomfortable, Genma wasn’t intimidated. He hadn’t been cursed with false modesty; he knew he looked good in his costume. “You’re quite forward with someone you’ve just met. You haven’t even offered me a drink yet.”

“Anko spiked the punch,” Genma confided a couple octaves louder than he meant to.

Sukea laughed. “I know, but I think I might need a drink before I let you take me home.”

Genma frowned. Sukea was pretty enough to be tempting, and it didn’t look like Kakashi was going to show up. Why not, whispered the voice that got him in trouble far more often than it helped him. Genma didn’t want all of his hard work on the costume and makeup to be for nothing, after all.

As they turned back toward the table and the drinks, Genma felt a hand ghost across his back then slide lower. Sukea leaned closer to whisper by his ear. “Do you have a pretty boyfriend I need to be worried about? Or girlfriend?”

“Would you be dissuaded if I said yes?” Genma turned back to the man and clicked his fangs together. They weren’t as good as his senbon, but they were fun in a different way. Heat entered the man’s gaze as he followed the movement with dark eyes.

“No,” Sukea chuckled, and it almost sounded familiar. Before Genma could figure out why, the man snaked an arm around his waist and pulled Genma close, pressing their lips together.

Breathlessly, Genma returned the kiss and leaned into Sukea. The hard muscles of the man’s chest met Genma’s, and he groaned in surprise. Another vague thought formed in the back of his mind, something about the fact that this man must work out harder than most shinobi, but Sukea’s skilled fingers caressing Genma’s back chased the thought away.

“I thought you needed a drink,” Genma breathed as they broke apart, his voice trembling slightly. He had been completely unprepared for the kiss, or for the electricity it sparked through his entire body.

“You kiss better than I thought you would,” Sukea growled softly, desire obvious in his voice as he trapped Genma from moving too far away.

Genma chuckled. “Wait until I get you home and show you what else I can do.”

Tugging his hand, Genma led the man from the room. Kakashi doesn’t know what he missed out on, Genma thought as he and Sukea stumbled into his apartment a few minutes later.

The next morning, Genma woke to an empty bed and a pounding headache. Groaning, he tried to recall the previous night, but it came in disconnected snippets. He’d definitely brought Sukea back to his apartment. He vaguely recalled that his fangs had left the man whimpering for more. The pants had been as difficult to get off as Genma feared, but Sukea solved that problem with a kunai. Genma could still see the tatters of black fabric on the floor by the bed, along with the buttons where the man had been impatient to get Genma’s shirt off.

There had been a moment, when they were wrapped around each other that Sukea whispered Genma’s name and he felt a flicker of something inside his chest. There had been multiple times during the night that Genma thought he was figuring something out, but Sukea was a distraction of the best kind and the alcohol made it too difficult for him to remember. Instead, Genma tugged the blankets back around him and fell back to sleep.

It wouldn’t be for another couple of years that Genma saw Sukea again. He, along with Kakashi’s genin, were in trouble for trying to break into the records room. Standing guard outside the Hokage’s office, he saw the man and felt the way that Sukea’s eyes lingered on him.

The hazy memories fit themselves back together like perfect puzzle pieces. The laughter could have only been Kakashi’s, the desperate caress as he whispered Genma’s name now sounded familiar. How it had taken him this long to put two and two together, Genma had no idea. Dark eyes met his, and “Sukea” smiled. Against all odds, Genma blushed and held his silence.

When Genma went back to his apartment later that evening, there was a envelop shoved under the door. A single picture of Genma nestled inside. He was lying in bed, brown hair falling over his eyes, with the sheets tangled around his legs. Though he was obviously undressed beneath the blankets, the photo only exposed his back and arms. It had been captured with just enough light to soften Genma’s features even more than the makeup had. Holding the photograph loosely, the man couldn’t help but laugh. Apparently Kakashi was as good at photography as he was in bed.