#also check out chris!!!! the silly fish man
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i love this costume. its like some kind of high fantasy military uniform or some shit and i haven't seen anyone talking about it
+ this was a period where jon was very soft and roundly shaped and im here for it ngl. also shoutout to the way his hair was styled for this photoshoot it also adds to the Vibe i feel
#also check out chris!!!! the silly fish man#hes standing with his legs spread out real far so he still fits in the picture next to jon lmao#theyre both looking really good here ugh#yes band#jon anderson#chris squire
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Doctor Who season overviews
My friend is embarking on the wonderful journey of watching of “Doctor Who” and asked me for a rundown of what episodes she absolutely has to watch, my favorites, and ones that can be skipped. I thought I’d share them here in case anyone else was interested. Also I’m curious what anyone else’s thoughts on some must-view episodes.
(Will be updating as my friend reaches each season.)
Series 1
Definitely watch 1 because it’s where everything starts and you start to get a vibe for how the show goes. A fantastic place to start, if you will.
2 is a fun one with a plethora of aliens. If you’ve seen gifs of the Doctor jamming to “Toxic” by Brittany Spears, this is where that’s from.
3 is the first “historical” episode of the revival. Ok episode overall. Has ghosts and a bit an unintentional easter egg for future episodes/series.
4-5 are a bit silly but also I think have some good characterization of the Doctor and why sometimes he needs a friend to keep him in check.
6 introduces you to a classic DW alien so you should watch it.
7 is good to watch because it sort of sets up some stuff for the finale but I also find the guest characters kinda annoying.
8 is good if you want to learn more about Rose and that becomes more important to later stories and the next season.
9-10 is an all around fan favorite (certainly one of mine) and introduces a re-occurring fan favorite character. The reason why gas masks will forever make me uneasy.
11 follows up after the events of 4-5 (all three could be skipped if you want to go along faster).
12-13 are the finale and should be watched.
Series 2
0 (the Christmas special) is the first one with David Tennant as the Doctor, a muse-watch in my books. (Also, some things happen that become very important in later stories but I won’t say more because spoilers.) Introduces a new important character and re-introduces something
1 has cat people.
2 is a fun one and has an easter egg of sorts for future stories/characters but isn't necessary for major plot line. It’s one of the ones I like to rewatch.
3 sees the return of an old fan favorite companion from Old Who (before this still ongoing revival).
4 is skippable unless you like some fancy French aesthetic or are into automatons.
5-6 you should watch. Re-introduction of another classic Who monster.
7 is kinda weird.
8-9 are a good, kinda creepy story. Sees the introduction of the Ood, which are one of my dad’s personal favorites, who will also pop up later.
10 is literally one of the dumbest eps ever.
11 I literally don’t remember at all but the internet tells me it involves a small child, and Doctor Who does have some good, creepy episodes playing on stereotypical childhood fears.
12-13 are the two part finale so you definitely have to watch those. Prepare for some serious emotions, though.
Series 3
0 (Christmas special) introduces Donna Noble. Must watch, but I won’t say why.
1 introduces the new companion. Also introduces a kind of goofy alien that will pop up again.
2 is a fun one with Shakespeare and witches.
3 sees a return to New New York on New Earth (same setting as 2x01). Should watch because of [spoilers redacted] at the end. (Hint: think of who mysteriously disappeared in that previous episode.)
4-5, as the titles suggest, feature Daleks and imo all Dalek episodes should be watched.
6 is ok. Honestly kind of predictable plot-line.
7 is also ok. Not particularly memorable, but it is the first episode written by Chris Chibnall, who took over as show-runner for Series 11 (first season with Jodie Whittaker, the first female Doctor).
8-9 is a two-parter and is a fan and personal favorite.
10 is unusual because the main characters are not actually the Doctor and Martha, but this is another much-loved episode. Also introduces one of my favorite and most scary (imo) aliens.
11, 12, and 13 all kind of go together. Sees the re-introduction of an important character from the show’s original run. All pretty memorable and Martha is a total badass.
Series 4 (tl;dr: watch all of this series)
0 (Christmas special; you get the drill) is a good one. Sometimes there are episodes where the Doctor meets someone where you just know they’d be a fantastic companion.
1 is a must-see because [spoilers redacted].
2 is another must-see. It’s a solid episode of Who, is yet another good example of why the Doctor shouldn’t travel alone, and as a fun fact, we see two actors who will pop up in later series.
3, as the title implies, sees the return of the Ood! Watch this for some foreshadowing.
4-5 we see a new-to-New-Who alien who is another one that will come to pop up again over time. Honestly the plot and guest characters follow some predictable tropes BUT we also get to see some of [redacted]’s family, which is always good fun.
6 I think is only an okay episode. But meeting the “Doctor’s daughter” (not a spoilers bc its the episode title) is kinda fun. And I think it gives us some interesting insight into companions post their travels with the Doctor.
Also, weird DW fun fact: David Tennant and the actress who plays his daughter is the real-life daughter of actor Peter Davison, who played the Fifth Doctor back in Classic Who, are now married with kids.
7 isn’t integral to any major plot lines, but it’s no doubt a fun one, especially if you like murder mysteries or Agatha Christie.
8-9 are another must-see two fan and personal favorites for many reasons why, but I can’t go into because spoilers! Some good spooky eps that are really downright chilling at times, but not completely without some good comic bits. Love watching this with friends who are watching it for the first time.
10 does an excellent job of being creepy, which is good if you’re into it, but you can skip it if not.
11 is a good one with a timey-wimey plot. Also yay because [spoilers]!
12-13 are an excellent two-part series finale and that’s all I can say.
The Specials (mini series between Series 4 & 5)
1 is good if you like Cybermen
2 has a spunky one-off companion who is a lot of fun
3 is creepy af
4-5 are a must-watch two-parter. If you liked the Series 4 finale (and let’s be real, how could you not), you’ll enjoy this. Also, it’s the last episodes with Russel T. Davies as show-runner.
Series 5
1 introduces the new Eleventh Doctor and their companion, so definitely have to watch that. (Side note: fish fingers and custard is a weird combination but, speaking from personal experience, it’s not terrible.)
2 is a good one with debatable ethical questions and some good insight into the Doctor.
3 is another Dalek episode, but it’s only okay as far as Dalek episodes go. It’s a historical one, if you like those. Fun fact: it’s written by Mark Gatiss, a collaborator of new show-runner Stephen Moffat and guest star from “The Lazarus Experiment.”
4-5 you have to see because spoilers. But it’s very good. Also, has some plot points that are related to the overall story of the Ponds.
6 you get the gist from the title and honestly it’s not terribly exciting. Some fun bits about the new group’s dynamic.
7 is a pretty weird one tbh but should be watched we get companion character development.
8-9 introduces some fun characters that will pop up again every now and then and has a very important plot point. (Fun fact: this one takes place in the year 2020!)
10 is one of the more emotionally-driven episodes and deals with mental health. One of many fan favorites.
11 is lighter fanfare after some honestly pretty heavy episodes that precede it. Not really important to the overall plot, but it’s a fun comedic one.
12-13 are the finale, so obviously definitely watch that. Gets a little timey-wimey.
Series 6
0 is fine, as the Christmas specials go. I’m a little tired of the “man makes it his purpose in life to save his dying love who is kind of helpless in her own story” but the ending’s alright.
1-2 set the stage for the whole series, so those have to be watched.
3 has pirates, which is fun but not necessary to the main story line.
4 has such an intriguing title, so how could you not watch it? Will we finally find out if River and the Doctor are married? Spoilers.
5-6 are key plot points. Love a good doppelgänger.
7 follows immediately after 6, so I can’t say much about it.
8 is a pretty weird one but hold on to your butts for a wild ride.
9 is a properly spooky one. Like, actually low-key terrifying. But not related to the main plot line.
10 is emotionally painful but in a good way.
11 is another creepy one that plays on common fears. Inspired by some Greek mythology, which is fun.
12-13 are the two-part finale, so you know the drill.
Series 7, part I
0 is another only-okay Christmas special. They’re just not as fun as they once were, in my opinion.
1 you have to watch for plot reasons. It’s a good one because [spoilers redacted].
2 is pretty much what it sounds like. We are now also accompanied by Rory’s father, which is pretty amusing. Sees the return of a previously-met alien species. (Fun fact: one of the guest stars is David Bradley from, among other things, the Harry Potter movies.)
3 has some fun moral quandaries.
4 is fun because we see the Doctor having a go at normal Earth life, as well as thee return of some familiar arguably badass faces.
5 is a must-see for plot reasons (and the return of one of my favorite on-again-off-again companions).
Series 7, part II (don’t read below if you haven’t finished part I)
5.5 you have to watch and is a sort of mid-season Christmas special. Sees the return of an Old Who monster as well as several New Who faces.
6 follows up the events of the above special, so you have to see that, too.
7 is good because gives some backstory to Clara.
8 sees the return of another Old Who alien, whose species will pop up later in New Who. I didn’t particularly like nor dislike this one.
9 is a ghost story, which we haven’t really seen in Who for a while. It’s ok.
10 is also only ok but you should watch it for overall plot points.
11 we see the return of the Paternoster Gang, who I find quite amusing, but otherwise I didn’t really like this episode. It’s a little gross.
12 is written by Neil Gaiman so you should watch it. It’s also only fine, but better in my opinion than most of the other episodes in this part of the series.
13 is the series finale and has a rather intriguing title and wraps up this half of the series’ major story arc. Honestly I’m not a fan but you should watch it anyway.
Series 8
1 sees the return of the Paternoster Gang and more dinosaurs, but is also the first episode of the new Doctor and as such should be watched. Also have to keep an eye out at the end for some important scenes.
2 introduces a friend of Clara’s and reintroduces the Daleks but with a bit of a weird twist. Not super key to any main plot lines.
3 is pretty much what the title says it is. “Robot of Sherwood.” It’s meh.
4 is a little timey-wimey and develops some intercharacter relationships but overall isn’t exactly mandatory viewing.
5 is a robbery heist with some sci-fi twists. It’s alright.
In 6 we see Clara trying (and failing) to compartmentalize her life with the Doctor and her regular human on Earth life. It’s decent and there’s a snippet at the end that hints at some overarching plots.
7 tries to make some arguments about ethics but isn’t too convincing. The plot’s kinda fun, though.
8 is another one where the title, “Mummy on the Orient Express” pretty much sums it up. It does have a couple small throwbacks to older New Who seasons.
9 isn’t key to major plot lines but it’s a decent and kind of spooky episode.
10′s kinda dumb but has some weak environmental messaging.
11-12 wrap up the season’s major plot lines.
Series 9
0 is like a Christmas-themed reworking of a previous episode but I won’t say which one because spoilers.
1-2 are a pretty strong two-part season opener, I think. We see the return of some of the Doctor’s oldest friends/enemies.
3-4 are a properly timey-wimey, fairly creepy story. It’s a good one that honestly I wouldn’t want to watch by myself late at night with the house to myself.
5-6 are also timey-wimey AND introduce a character played by Maisie Williams (of “Game of Thrones” fame) who is actually pretty complex for a female character created by Stephen Moffat.
7-8 sees the return of, no surprise here, the Zygones. And also UNIT and Osgood, who is fan service personified but I’m ok with that.
9, in a way, is about the evils of capitalism but in space!
10 is important for plot. (Sees the return of some new old friends.)
11-12 has some good timey-wimeyness and a healthy dose of angst. (Also, the ending is gay and you can’t convince me otherwise.) It’s frustrating, but in an understandable way? I guess?
#doctor who#dw blogging#the doctor#ninth doctor#tenth doctor#eleventh doctor#rose tyler#martha jones#donna noble#my stuff#amy pond#rory williams#river song#paternoster gang#madame vastra#jenny flint#strax
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The Intern - Part 2
Part 1
Summary: Summary: You are an intern at MSG, strictly forbidden to become involved in with any of the Rangers players. However, this becomes difficult when you catch the eye of a certain player. Word count: 2.1k
Warnings: none for this part except the usual I did not proof read and there are deff typos don’t Judge me
Over the course of the next few weeks everything was going great. Sure you were tired and running all over the place, but it was kind of fun. Plus, you felt like you were learning a lot and you never got tired of basically getting to watch rangers games as part of your school work.
You were also getting to know a lot of the players, who were nicer than you thought. From the media interviews they always seemed like decent guys, but you were nervous of how they’d be towards you. You would have honestly understood if they didn’t even acknowledge you given how much they have going on, but most of them chatted with you by this point.
The only player you didn’t really talk to was Lias. In fact, you were sorta avoiding him. Maybe that was dramatic, but you really didn’t know what to make of that little exchange from your first day. You were super weary of anything that could be construed as flirting or inappropriate for the work scare so you figured it was better to just avoid him. He hasn’t tried anything since either, not that you really gave him a chance to. You always stuck close to Beth’s side when he was around.
“Hey y/n, you have a minute?” Mika asked you.
“Of course what's up?” you asked, tucking the pen you had been using to jot down notes from the interviews behind your ear.
“A couple of us are going out later I was wondering if you'd wanna come?” he asked.
“Oh I um... am I gonna get in trouble?” you asked. You felt a little silly, like a teenager if they could go out past curfew.
Mika chuckled, “I’ve heard about Beth’s rules from other interns, but don’t worry there’s gonna be a bunch of us. Lots of guys are bringing their girlfriends and stuff too. I just thought you might wanna come.”
“That’s really sweet, Mika, thank you,” you replied, trying to hide how excited your really were. It felt nice to be asked to come along, it made you feel like they really liked you. “I’d love to out with you guys.”
“Great, and feel free to bring a friend or something if you want,” Mika told you. You exchanged numbers to Mika could give you details and you silently prayed Jess was off tonight.
No such luck.
“Why is it the one night you do something cool I'm working?” Jess huffed. She was already in her scrubs, ready to head out for the night.
“Um I do cool things on many nights,” you scoffed, feigning offense.
“Yeah but you’ve never done any cool things that could lead me to getting hot hockey boyfriend,” she pointed out.
“That’s fair,” you replied, “Maybe I just shouldn’t go.”
“What? No way y/n you’re going,” Jess insisted, “Maybe Lias will be there and you can finally talk to him.”
“I don't want to talk to him,” you replied. You hadn’t even thought about Lias being there, even though him and Mika were so close.
Jess rolled her eye, “You and I both know that’s not true. Listen, I know you have your rules or whatever but talking to him isn’t breaking them. You’re not going on a date, it’s a group thing. Just go have fun and don’t be weirdo about it.”
“I wish you could go,” you sighed. Jess was so much better with people than you were. Wirth her there you would definitely feel a lot more confident.
“God same, but duty calls,” she groaned, heading towards the door. “Like I said just have fun and don’t be weird. You need to get invited out again so I can find a man too.”
You laughed and nodded, “Everything I do I do for you.”
“And that’s why I love you! Have fun out there tonight.” You let out a heavy sigh, sinking into the couch after the door clicked shut. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea... if you didn't go Jess would never know, you could just tell her you did...
You shook your head. You didn’t wanna back out just over Lias that was silly. Jess was right, you just needed to have some fun. Besides, it would be rude to cancel on Mika so last minute. So, you pulled yourself off the couch and got yourself together.
The bar everyone was meeting at wasn’t too far from your place, just a couple subway stops away. It wasn’t a bar you and Jess ever would have gone to, despite it’s close proximity. It looked way too swanky for either of your budgets, but you were sure you could manage one drink for tonight.
“Hey! Y/n, glad you could make it,” Mika greeted you when you walked in. You smiled brightly, waving at him and Chris, who were huddled around a little table. Mika introduced you to his girlfriend and you noted that Chris was there alone. Jess would be thrilled.
A couple other players were there as well: Alex, Pavel, Brett, and a few other girls that you guessed were girlfriends but didn’t catch who was with who. Everyone was nice, though, so it didn’t really matter. You enjoyed chatting with everyone in a non-work setting. It was a little surreal honestly; just last year you were watching all these people on your TV and now you were out with them like it was a totally normal thing.
“I'm gonna grab a drink,” you excused yourself from the group, realizing you’d been there for awhile and never got anything. You drummed your fingers on the bar, waiting for your overpriced vodka soda. You mustered up a kind thank you to the bar tender - you knew it wasn’t his fault the prices were stupid.
“Shit,” you gasped, nearly bumping into the person behind you. Somehow you managed not to spill your drink and good thing, a few drops would be like losing a few dollars. You looked up to see who almost caused that disaster and found Lias smiling down at you.
“Hey,” he said cooly.
“Hey,” you replied stiffly.
“Didn’t know you were coming out tonight.”
“Yeah Mika invited me, it was sorta last minute I guess,” you told him. Something about him made you nervous. And not in like you were afraid of him kinda way, nothing like that all. He just sorta... made your stomach flip and got your tongue all tied up.
Lias nodded and a silence fell over the two of you. You were desperately wracking your brain for something to say, but every passing moment just made all of your ideas seem stupider. You were about to lie and say you had to go to the bathroom to get yourself away when Lias finally spoke up.
“I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot,” Lias said, “I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or anything.”
“It’s fine,” you told him, “It really wasn't a big deal or anything I knew you were kidding.”
“I wasn’t kidding though,” Lias admitted, “But I probably shouldn’t have led off that way anyway.”
“No it was nice, I appreciate that,” you replied, “It’s just, well I’ve got some strict rules to follow.”
“What do you mean?” Lias cocked a brow.
“Well Beth, my supervisor, has a pretty strong policy against her interns - err - fraternizing with the players,” you explained, “Like if she found out there was something going on between me and someone I could lose my place here and I need the internship to graduate so that would be really bad.”
“Oh wow, I didn't know that. I’m sorry I never meant to put you in a bad position,” Lias replied, sounding sincerely sorry.
“It’s all good, you didn't mean anything bad by it,” you assured him.
“Right,” he nodded, “I never heard anything like that, I mean Tony always goes after the interns. I heard hes gotten with a few.”
“Well that’s because Tony’s gross,” you heard yourself say. “Shit I didn't mean to-”
To your relief Lias laughed and nodded, “No you're right he is kind of a jerk isn’t he?” Thank god. The last thing you needed was someone spreading around you were talking shit about one of the players.
“Glad we can agree on that,” you laughed, playfully clinking his glass.
“So can we just pretend I never said anything and just be friends?” Lias asked.
“Well I don’t know if I totally wanna forget what you said,” you teased him. Lias blushed, playfully rolling his eyes at you. “But I would love to be friends.”
The rest of the evening you spent quite a bit of time with Lias. A lot of the people there had coupled off with their significant others and you didn’t wanna 3rd wheel anyone, especially since you didn’t really know any of them too well yet. It wasn’t awkward, though, you really enjoyed talking to Lias and you had a surprising amount of things in common.
“It’s not that funny,” Lias said, though he was laughing.
“My whole life I wondered what they called Swedish Fish in Sweden and you tell me its pas- paste- fuck I can’t pronounce it,” you were giggling, your drink clearly having an impact on you.
“Pastellfiskar,” Lias said. It sounded so pretty when he said it.
“Right that,” you nodded, “I have to thank you, Lias, you’ve solved one of life’s mysteries for me in just one night.”
“My pleasure,” he grinned. God he was attractive, you thought. You silently scolded yourself, you couldn't let yourself think like that. Maybe it was time to get out of here, before the alcohol got you acting too foolish.
“As lovely as this discovery has been, I should probably be on my way,” you replied. You checked the time on your phone and you were surprised by just how late it had gotten.
“Let me walk you home,” Lias said.
You shook your head, “I’ll be okay alone. I don’t want you to go out of your way. Besides, I’m kinda a long walk from here.”
“Uber then? I don’t mean to impose I just wanna make sure you get home okay. There can are some creeps out there,” Lias replied.
“Like Tony?” you teased.
Lias cracked a smiled, “Yes. Would hate for you to run into a Tony out there alone.” He did have a point, you did get nervous going home alone, especially this late at night.
“You're right,” you replied, “An Uber sounds good to me.” Lias ordered you guys a ride, which arrived quickly. Lias opened the door for you, sliding into the dimly lit car behind you.
“Beautiful couple,” the driver commented.
“Oh no, we’re not...” you trailed off awkwardly.
“She’s my sister,” Lias said, winking at you. You giggled to yourself, loving how Lias could make a weird moment light and funny. Even though you looked nothing alike the driver bought it, issuing an apology along with a laugh.
The rest of the ride was quiet, but not really awkward. It was nice to just be able sit with him and it not be weird. However, you did keep your eyes forward most of the way because there was something about the way the street lights were hitting his face that was making him look even more enticing.
“This is me,” you said softly when the Uber came to a stop. The air in the car suddenly felt thick and charged. You became hyper aware that your heart was thudding in your ears. You shouldn’t be nervous... why are you so nervous?
“Goodnight... buddy,” Lias said with a sly smile.
“Goodnight... pal,” you replied, hoping your voice didn’t sound too strained. You quickly got out, shutting the door and separating the two of you. You felt a lot better now that you were in fresh air.
It was just the car ride, you told yourself as the elevator ticked its way up to your floor, you just got a little car sick that’s why you felt weird. It was a lie to yourself that you needed to believe because the alternative - that you wanted to be more than just friends with Lias - was just not something you could entertain. You pushed that thought down as deep as you possibly could, slipping into a restless sleep.
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Recommendations (2/2)
This is part 2 of my entry for the @mrs-captain-evans 2,5K followers Writing Challenge.
Summary: Twitter is a strange place. But once in a while, you connect with someone.
Word count: 2,484
Warning: mild language, 35 seconds of angst, could be less if you read it fast.
The heavy double-paned door opened with a jingle and a creak, letting the cool air from late November enter the small café on Arrow Street. You didn’t bother looking up from your laptop, where you read an article about penguins instead of finishing grading yesterday’s pop quiz.
Procrastinating was your new favorite pastime since decreasing your online presence. Not that it stopped the ache you still felt every time you opened Twitter to post a new article, which was the only content you shared nowadays. Gone were the jokes geared towards your students, pictures of Captain Hook, or commenting on the everyday shenanigans of the White House and Congress.
The less you shared, the less you cared, and the only reason your profile was still up was because of your job.
You checked the time on the bottom left of the screen. Professor Kincaid’s class had been canceled and you had one hour to kill before your own class started, which prompted you to run to Bean There for a fresh pot of coffee and one huge Boston Cream doughnut.
As you read about penguins kidnapping other chicks if they own young died, you got wind of the murmurs and rushed voices going on around the room. You tried to tune them out, young people got excited about anything but they seemed to get louder and louder with every passing moment. You located your bag seating by your feet and was looking for your headphones when a pair of black boot cladded feet stopped in front of you.
Pursuing your lips, you let the ears buds fall back inside the pocket but didn’t bother to look up. If your assumptions were correct, the owner of those boots was the cause for the raucous around you.
“Y/N…”
Yep, the voice and the boots belonged to the same person.
Tears made your eyes sting and you blinked to prevent them from falling. You minutely shook your head, not knowing exactly what you’re trying to convey; that this was not the place or that you’re not, would never be, ready to talk to him.
“Please. Can we talk?”
The hurt in his voice gave you pause. Why would Chris feel anything but pride at playing you as he did? Did he want to do a coup de grâce to your ego?
Keeping your eyes downcast, you lowered the screen of your laptop, glad you hadn’t bothered with the power strip. Shifting the electronic around you other stuff took more time than intended but after a few tries, you zippered up your bag, grabbing some money out of your wallet and dropping it on the table.
You got up and your nose pressed against the most muscular chest you ever saw. He was so well built that you could see the hard contours of his pecs through the thick cream sweater he was wearing. The smell of his cologne hit your nostrils and you almost swoon, finally looking up.
He shouldn’t be allowed the whole package, that was so unfair to you.
Deep blue eyes framed by thick eyelashes stared back at you, the lower half of his face covered in fine auburn whiskers that couldn’t be more than two weeks old at the most, looking so soft that you had to restrain yourself from reaching out and running the tips of your fingers through them.
“All I am asking is for a chance to explain myself.” Strong fingers reached for you, encasing your small hand in his as if he really wanted you to stay. You scoffed at the notion, this man really knew how to play you. Did he get off in toying with you?
Your scared eyes looked from his eyes to your clasped hands and back again, silently begging him to let you go. He mouthed a soundless no and stepped towards you, bridging the already small gap between your bodies.
Later, if someone asked you why you did it, you would blame your next course of action on the overwhelming need to escape.
“Look, everyone, it’s Chris Evans.”
Chris’s eyes widened and a different kind of hurt clouded his vision. Betrayal. He let your hand go.
Good. Maybe know he would understand exactly how you felt.
A round of applause broke out around the café and the whispers were now cheers. The discretely held cellphones now pointed straight at the man in front of you.
Move, get out. Your feet took their sweet time obeying your brain, but soon you’re grabbing your coat and your messenger bag and making a beeline to the door, not bothering with actually putting on your coat before the full brunt of Boston’s late autumn slammed into you. You powered through, running through the streets that led you to your office, not once looking back, certain Chris would not follow.
Entering the gray building that housed Media Studies and Social Analyses, you allowed yourself to slow down and take a breath. Safe.
The lights stayed off when you entered your office, the loaded mahogany bookcases and dark upholstery making the room more ominous than it truly was.
You let your bag slide to the floor near your desk, not really bothering with damaging the electronics inside.
Heavy feet carried you to the sofa under the balcony window, where you sat with unfocused eyes, mind running a mile a minute trying to understand how your life became a drama movie in just a few short months.
What was Chris doing here? You thought you made your feelings clear when you blocked him. The pain ebbed away after a few weeks, diluted to an ache that accompanied you day and night. For a fleet moment, you had entertained the idea of a relationship with Chris. Not Evans. Just Chris, the wholesome and funny guy you got to know during those four months you spent trading messages with. But that guy didn’t exist, he was just a persona, one more character created and well played by Chris Evans. Right?
There was a knock and whoever was outside didn’t wait for an answer before your door was pushed open.
Professor Travis stuck his head inside your office, a scowl on his face.
“If I hear one more student going off about the Oscar worthy drama on the media department I’ll flunk them and fire you, we’re not a telenovela. Fix whatever this is or convince him to stay away, I got your next class covered.”
He pushed Chris inside the dimly lighted room, raised his eyes brows pointedly at you and left, the door closing firmly behind him.
Silence stretched around you, uncomfortable and unnerving.
His hands stayed on his pockets, heavy coat looped around one arm while Chris took inventory of his surroundings before focusing on you, his gaze never wavering.
“Can I sit?”
You didn’t expect the croaked voice, nor the way it warped around your heart.
Two fingers pointed to the chairs on the other side of the center table. A safe distance, an actual barrier between you.
Of course, he decided to sidestep the table and sat opposite you on the love seat, his knee almost touching yours.
“What you did back there was treacherous and mean.” He faced forward, fingers drumming on his knees. “I guess I deserved it.”
“You did.”
“I never thought those would be the first words I’d hear you say direct to me.”
You cocked your head, not sure what to say to that.
“I mean, I thought about our first meeting, how you would be surprised but also happy I wasn’t a serial killer, just a dumb actor with too much free time on his hand.” He let a dark chuckle. “I never expected you to out me to a room filled with twenty-somethings years old and run away.”
What did he mean by thought about you? You admittedly had mulled over the idea more than once, wondering if you would click on the real world as much as you did online. Even created a list of topics you could revisit from your online conversation, mixed with silly questions you’d never asked him, like blueberry or chocolate chips on your pancakes? Could this man, so famous he couldn’t even walk into a coffee shop without being recognized, also be so committed to the idea of meeting you?
No matter. He still deceived you.
“I asked you once if you were catfishing me. You said no.”
Chris whole body faced you and he trained his eyes on you.
“I wasn’t. I looked up what that word means. I don’t fit any of those boxes. I’m not in it to hurt you. I never said I was someone else. I just never told you my last name.”
“Or who you actually were.”
He huffed.
“See, that’s where you’re wrong. I shared with you exactly who I was. Am. My opinions, my true likes and dislikes. I didn’t sugarcoat it or played dumb, I didn’t hide behind a forced laughed or a sound bite. You got Chris, the whole unadulterated version.” His expression hardened. “It’s not easy to open up like that when people expect you to be a certain way, act another way. Since you teach about expectations and the effects mass media has on other people, I believed you’d understand why I had to hide behind a pseudonym.”
It was not the first time you wondered what was like on the other side of the fishing lenses celebrities were under. You taught the basics of how media twisted and organized exactly how the public perceived being famous, asking your students to always remember no matter how famous someone was, there were first and foremost a human being.
“I understand why you did it, that doesn’t change the fact that you lied to me.”
“I never lied to you.” Chris rebuffed.
“You told me you were a flight attendant and you worked for Delta.”
“No, I didn’t. You assumed all that, I just never corrected you.”
“I…”
He was right.
You remembered all the times he changed the subject when you discussed his work and you honestly believed he was embarrassed about his job. You never asked what he did, or what he was doing in Atlanta for so long.
You felt the hot flashes of embarrassment creeping up your face and you hung your head low. Were you really so obtuse?
“I’m sorry.” A staggered breath left you. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask and assumed.”
“I have my own share of the guilty Y/N. I wanted to tell you, I wrote hundreds of messages but I could never send them. I was terrified you wouldn’t believe me before I could send you proof. And then I told you my name and it got comfortable, I wasn’t lying, just leaving out some stuff.”
“A lie of omission is still a lie in my book.” The serious tone of your voice washed over Chris and he winced.
“I got that when you blocked me.”
Once again the room was quiet save from the filtered shuffling of feet coming from the corridor.
As a true scholar, you analyzed all the information he gave you, looking for strong points and flaws on his reasoning. It all checked out. You wouldn’t have believed him. He never outright lied to you.
There was only one question left unanswered.
“Why are you here Chris?”
His smile warmed you, made you want things that you shouldn’t. Images fleeted through your head, other times when he could smile to you like exactly like he was doing now.
“I’m here because I spent all summer and most of autumn inside a hot as hell costume, my hair dyed blonde, stuck inside a hangar filled with fake debris and green screens, and the only thing that kept me sane was that when I was on my breaks or done for the day I would open Twitter to a new message from you. I’m here because you were my island of calm while I drifted with anxiety.” Two fingers slid under your chin and he gently made you look at him. “I’m here because I like you.”
“You like me?” You repeated and he nodded.
“I do. You’re funny, wicked smart but you don’t take yourself too seriously unless you have too. You admitted to being a nerd, which if I didn’t make myself clear during the whole Hubble debacle, so am I.” He pointed to black baseball hat he was wearing and you saw the NASA logo. “On a shallower note, you’re way, way more beautiful than all my previous teachers combined. If all professors look like you, I might even give this whole college thing a try.”
Well, wasn’t he a smooth talker. Your smile now matched his.
“So do you like me like me or like me as in she’s okay?”
“Baby, you’re so far removed from okay, it might need a visa to visit you.”
The room filled with your laugh, your heart finally free of the hurt you carried the past few weeks.
He liked you.
“You’re not a nice guy.”
His smirk told you he knew exactly was this was going.
“I’m kind of an asshole.”
“I’m not denying that one.” He pouted and you wanted to kiss him. “So, not a nice a guy but not a complete asshole, so not a bad guy either.”
He got closer, his fingers playing with a loose tendril of your hair, the other hand fastening on your waist.
“That considerably narrows down your options, uh?”
His smile was contagious and you grinned back, shyly nuzzling his chest.
“How about you? You know, if you’re still interested.” You beamed at the man in front of you, bitting your lower lip.
“Let me show you how interested I am.”
The words were barely out of his mouth when his lips descended upon yours. He poured himself into the kiss, months of wanting you, feeling close but so far away. He fell for you during those late nights you stayed up texting, giving his heart and mind and receiving yours in return. He kissed you gently, slowly coaxing your mouth open, his tongue brushing yours.
He trailed his hands up your back to bring you closer and you shivered, settling contently against his chest, your fingers making their own journey to the back of his neck, brushing your hands on the hair there.
“How about that date?” Chris said against your mouth. “Let me take you out to dinner.”
“How about I cook for you instead? My house, 8pm?”
“I’ll be there.”
Disentangling yourself from his arms, you grabbed a notebook from your coffee table, writing down your address and handing it to Chris, kissing him on the cheek.
“Now go before Professor Travis forgets how much he likes us and I lose my job.”
You moved from the sofa, putting some space between both of you. You grab your bag, checking to see if your syllabus for the next class is still there.
“Y/N?”
“Uhm?” You’re sure he’s gonna kiss you again when he comes closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.
“One thing though.”
“What?”
The feel of his breath when he speaks so close to you gave you goosebumps. You’re ready, so ready to be kissed again.
“You gotta unblock me on Twitter. I only ever want one person to block me and believe me, you’re not him.”
#Chris Evans Fanfic#Chris Evans Fan Fic#Chris Evans Fanfiction#chris evans x reader#chris evans x you#mrs-captain-evans#writting#writting challenge
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That one where Leon is actually the protagonist to another video game
So I kinda wrote this a while back, and only recently gained the motivation to polish it up after an influx of angsty Leon Kennedy related stuff came in. It’s still kinda angsty at the start (and contains some of my own personal headcanons about Leon), but it’s also hopeful, which Stardew Valley is all about. It’s pretty short but I wanted to just hammer out what Leon’s prologue would’ve been like, and then let others decide how it’d play out, like you would in-game.
Anyways, thanks for reading this silly piece of mine. I hope you enjoy!
——
Leon can’t settle on what’s more absurdly irritating: the blood dripping into his left eye, or the difficulty he’s having deciding on how he should’ve crammed himself into this corner.
His hands might be trembling as he scans the crowd of corpses that lay twice-dead on the once pristine lab floor with his currently functioning eye. There’s no noise except for his own heavy breathing, no movement aside from his subtly quaking TMP held defensively out in front of him.
He needs to get out. Now.
A quick check through the pockets of his tactical vest let him know doesn’t have enough ammo to double tap them all, that he can’t risk using it up and losing use one of his only remaining weapons. And if he can’t get the data he’s recovered to Hunnigan for analyzation, this tiny USB drive he’d been given tucked away in his back pocket, god only knows what earth-shattering outbreak could happen next.
And so, he just runs. Runs through the maze of bodies, praying to whoever’s listening that they either won’t move for another 30 seconds or aren’t quick enough to grab his leg and get a bite in. If he falls here, he’s good as dead.
Up ahead, somewhere beyond the flickering lights of this desolate lab, something terrible shrieks, awaiting him on his path to freedom.
-
“Good work, Leon.”
She always says this after a successfully completed mission; he’s heard this so many times it’s lost its meaning. But he doesn’t tell her that. He just nods even though she can’t see him, more focused on staying awake long enough to just get home and drink himself to sleep.
“Thanks.” He answers, like clockwork. But instead of hanging up, like usual, Hunnigan continues on.
“By the way, your contract renewal is coming up next week, want me to get started on that for you?”
“Sure.”
“See you tomorrow for your report.”
He sets his phone in the passenger’s seat and turns down his usual exit. It’s late. Too late to hit up that bar three blocks from his apartment and get sufficiently drunk before they close up. He’s got a bottle of aged whiskey in the pantry, he thinks. Hopes.
Leon navigates the roads almost mindlessly, an action dictated by muscle memory rather than thought. There’s no other cars, just the lights above the streets and the traffic lights going through their motions. His eyes stay fixed on the asphalt stretching before him, half expecting to see bloodstains shining wet and fresh in the headlights of his vehicle.
By the time he pulls into the parking lot of the complex he dwells in, he finds his free hand has strayed to the firearm holster he’s got strapped to his thigh. He reminds himself to breath deeply as he steps out of his car, hits the half-functional auto lock button on the keyring, and slips inside before the silence of the night can get to him. The harshly lit interior and fluorescent lights above him in the entry hallway only help marginally.
Leon knows he’s been scattered to the winds. Each time he’s in a place like that, every lab, every overrun village, every alleyway crawling with zombies, some small part of him feels like it’s been left behind there. An inconsequential part, maybe, but those pieces add up. A solid chunk of soul gone away, too soaked in blood and the ash of vaporized bodies to be remotely functional.
He shuffles into his cold apartment, drops his keys on the counter with little fanfare, and makes for the kitchen. His cat’s sleeping atop the back of the couch in the adjacent living room, but stirs as he passes by and starts rummaging around the pantry. It’s where he usually leaves it, that large bottle of amber liquid that keeps the metaphorical demons at bay. Upon further inspection he finds that he’s got enough left for hopefully two glasses; enough to pull him under and maybe get a few hours worth of rest.
Lucie hops down from her perch after he sits at the table, whiskey measured out and ready. Her weight there is a balm for his nerves. One hand strokes her long, black fur as he downs the first drink. Warmth spreads through his chest in a welcome burst, and he sighs heavily as he finishes it off. He looks down, and his cat looks up, watching him idly.
There are times when Leon, absurdly, wishes he were a cat. They usually come after a few Black Russians. Leon had once confessed this to Chris in some dive bar in New York three months back; he’d never let him live it down.
Now, despite the fact that the whiskey hasn’t even begun to pump through his bloodstream, he wishes it again. To look up at someone with those curious, icy blue eyes of hers, to only have to worry about food and shelter. No churning emotions or terrible dreams that haunt his much more complicated brain.
It’s silly, but he’s lived this way for so long. No, like he’s not even living, just existing.
She’s puttering away like an engine when he polishes off the bottle and resolves to get more tomorrow after his report. Scooping up Lucie and leaving the empty glasses on the table, he heads to his bedroom. His cat curls up at the foot of the bed when he sets her there, clearly content. Leon simply strips himself of all but his undergarments and collapses onto the mattress.
His phone vibrates, but he’s too tired to answer properly. And besides, the booze is doing its job, clouding his brain sufficiently enough to keep the worst of it away and enticing him to close his eyes and-
-he’s running, legs pumping and he can only hope his memory is good enough to get him back to the elevator to the surface level. Turn left, then right, cut through the cold storage to get to the south hall by the operating room.
And they’re behind him. That slow drag of their legs and listless moaning echoing across the pristine metal halls. They won’t catch up with him at the pace he’s moving, but they have the luxury of ignoring exhaustion, all other human limitations. They’ll wear him out before he can ever hope to escape. There never was any escape, not from the hand fate has dealt him.
He reaches the elevator and jams the button, trying to catch his breath. The indicator symbol above the doors lights up, but the sounds of the dead drown out anything else aside from his pounding heart. Leon spins on his heel and sees their shadows at the other end of the corridor, sees them sway and move with their undead owners. Again, he presses the call button, knowing it won’t make it come any faster, but swiftly running out of options.
…save for the door that suddenly appears to his left. Probably not the safest option, but as the first zombies start to round the corner, he knows he doesn’t have a choice.
Leon turns and runs through, into a suffocating darkness. His legs move but he’s not getting any farther away. The moans grow in volume until he can almost taste the putrid odor of rotting bodies-
He collides with something solid, and then there’s warmth, surrounding him. Gentle arms, trim nails trailing down his scalp, that long forgotten perfume filling his senses. Everything is silent. It takes him a long, long moment to realize where he is.
“Mom…?” His voice is so small. He is small; he’s little again. He’d forgotten ever being this young.
“Leon, listen to me sweetie, this…this may be hard for you to understand, but…” she squeezes him tighter. “He’s going…somewhere else, so we need to say goodbye, okay?”
He nods against the coat his mother is wearing, soft to the touch, and she straightens up, wiping at her face. She takes his little hand in her own, and Leon follows her through the door at the end of the creaky hallway.
There are a few people in this room. His father, his aunt and uncle, standing at a bedside. They all look so sad. The air is warm with the fire that burns in the hearth across the room. And between them all, his wandering eyes fall on the wrinkled face peeking out from the pile of blankets. Upon spotting him, a smile breaks out across it.
“Leon, my dear grandson…” he hears, somehow. His mother leads him to bed, crouches beside him as if in silent support. “I want you have something…”
“Yes grandpa?” Leon likes his grandpa a lot. He would take him on walks through the forests behind his cabin, teach him the names of the plants and what kind of mushrooms he can safely eat with prep. They’d get caught in the rain sometimes and his mother would chide them for not bringing an umbrella with them. He’d showed him the basics of cooking and fishing, all throughout the many visits Leon and his parents had with him.
He’d forgotten he ever knew any of this.
A hand, weathered with age, moves towards Leon across the duvet, and in it, a thick, white envelope.
“Go on, take it.”
He grasps at the paper and pulls it from his grandfather’s hold. It’s addressed to him on the front, and on the back, a purple stamp seals it shut. As Leon’s finger starts to slide under it, he’s stopped.
“No, don’t open it just yet, Leon. Have patience.”
The window by the fireplace shudders without warning. He jolts with a squeak and realizes he can see countless rotting faces outside, mouths agape, moaning silently. They’re waiting for him; for a man living a half-life under a growing cloak of the dead. He needs to go outside and keep running, so that the rest of his family, standing frozen in their places, faces rigid with grief, may be spared a similar fate.
“Now, listen carefully.”
It’s been years since his grandfather died, but he suddenly remembers his words so well; the deep, raspy tone with a sweet laugh underneath it, the gentle but shaking palm that lands atop his head and squeezes with waning strength. The fear drains from him in an instant, and draws his attention back to his ailing relative.
“There will come a day when you feel overwhelmed by the burdens of modern life, and your bright spirit will begin to fade before a growing emptiness.”
The monsters are gone when he glances back outside, and there’s nothing but starlight, beyond the glow of the fire and the well-kept glass of the window. For how old it is, the cabin is pristine. He’s never seen the stars so clearly.
“When that happens, my dear boy, you’ll be ready for this gift.”
Even as he’s dying, the old man’s eyes twinkle with the satisfaction of a life well lived. Even as they slowly slide shut.
“Now…let Grandpa rest…”
Fingers sliding out of his hair, his mother gently tugging him away from the bedside as his father, his aunt and uncle hurry forward. He holds the envelope close, and looks out the window again.
The stars are still there, and they’ve always been there, waiting for him, too.
-
A headache is squeezing his brain when he wakes up before dawn, mouth dry and tongue stuck to his palette. There’s a warm weight on his chest that he instinctively recognizes as Lucie. Blearily, Leon opens his eyes and stares up at the darkened ceiling, trying to reconcile where he is to what he knows and what he remembers. And all he can come up with is the chase down the lab corridors the other day, not by zombies but by a thrice mutated Licker, the agonizingly slow elevator, and then-
The memory comes to him softly, like turning the page of a book he hadn’t read in years and suddenly realizing ‘oh, I forgot about this part’. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, Leon sits up. Lucie promptly starts to slide off of his chest, and while her claws digging into his flesh sting, he barely pays her any mind.
He hasn’t thought about his childhood in a long time. Those days feel like they belonged to someone else, someone unburdened by the weight of the world, by the claws of monsters and the safety of thousands. The Leon that could look back on those memories fondly died somewhere in Raccoon City, turned to ash with its destruction.
And yet…
Leon peels his miffed cat from his chest and stumbles out of bed, fighting past the cotton in his head that indicates an oncoming hangover and making his way across the room. His closet is the one thing in the apartment that isn’t spartan like the rest of it; crammed with shit he doesn’t need and yet still couldn’t bear to let go of, for whatever sentimental reasons he possesses somehow.
When he first moved out to D.C., his aunt and uncle had shipped him the rest of his belongings, and these are what remained of his days prior to the police academy. Leon digs through old boxed editions of D&D, nigh-unplayable monster movie VHS tapes, clothes that don’t fit him anymore but he never really tossed out, a sock he’d lost the twin to…
And finally, tucked in a shoebox filled with photos of his parents, he uncovers it. The envelope is creased in one corner, wrinkled somewhat and the white just a little yellowed with age. But the purple seal remains intact. He can see the tiny rip in the flap where he’d tried to open it initially.
Now, he smoothly slides his finger under it, breaks the wax sealing, and pulls out the contents that he can read well enough in the growing light of dawn. The first is a carefully folded letter addressed to him, the handwriting within neat and unhurried.
“Dear Leon,
If you are reading this, you must be in dire need of change. The same thing happened to me, long ago. I lost sight of what mattered most in life. Real connections with other people and nature. So I dropped everything and moved to the place where I truly belonged. I’ve enclosed the deed to that place: Kennedy Farm. It’s in Stardew Valley, further to the west in Northern California. It’s the perfect place to start over.
This was my most precious gift of all. And now, it’s yours my boy. I know you’ll take good care of it.
Love, Grandpa.”
He rereads the aged letter four times before finally, almost reverently, pulling out the even older piece of paper from within. It’s an ancient, but still somehow official looking, receipt to a massive plot of land, titled to his grandfather’s name. His headache almost seems to evaporate as he glances it over, eyes straining in the waning dark. Leon suddenly feels wide awake, like he’s surfaced from the churning ocean and finally, finally, someone’s thrown him a life preserve he can cling to, pull himself out of the depths, and escape this cycle of sinking and struggling.
He’s never been able to bring himself to quit. Too much at stake, too many lives at risk, this burden he’s taken upon himself after barely escaping Raccoon City with his life.
But reading this feels like a release. Like he’d been waiting for someone to give him permission to quit. Funny how it ended up being the man who would fondly watch Leon run circles in the puddles after a rainstorm, and encourage him to bring flowers home for everyone staying in that quiet cabin on the edge of-
That farm. Of course it had been a farm. A forest, a small town, so much smaller than the town he grew up in outside of Denver. A beach with little treasures riding in on the breaking waves.
Behind him, his phone rings. He knows it to be Hunnigan, but he doesn’t want to answer it. He’ll have to. He still has a report to type, data that needs to be analyzed, a debriefing to attend to. For now, he kneels here, as dawn breaks and fills the room with morning light.
Kennedy farm. Stardew Valley.
It sounds like a promise.
-
Hunnigan doesn’t even blink when he tells her, but she does look the slightest bit annoyed.
“You could’ve told me this before I started on the paperwork.” She leans back in her chair, and it creaks subtly with the well-worn sound of having been used for a very long time now.
“I kind of just now found out I’ve got a plot of land on the west coast.”
“So you’re gonna be a farmer?”
“It’ll keep me busy.”
Ingrid chuckles, eyes assessing him behind her rimmed glasses, as if wondering if this is some elaborate prank. When Leon gives no indication of such, she plucks the terms and conditions paper he’s gotta read and acknowledge every other year from the surface of her desk and pushes off of it. It’s a well practiced motion that rolls her chair right next to the paper shredder by the window. She drops it in with a subtle flourish.
“God,” She half laughs, half sighs, when the machine is done noisily eating the contract. “Intelligence is gonna have a fit.”
-
Three weeks later, after lengthy meetings, mountains of confidentiality papers that needed signed, goodbyes to the people who he’s fought beside for years, and a last-minute phone call, Leon finds himself driving down a lesser traveled road between impossibly green hills. It’s just turning to spring, but he hadn’t thought it possible for the distant mountains to look so alive already.
Lucie hasn’t enjoyed the car ride one bit, but he thinks she’s a bit calmer since they crossed the border into California. He’s let her out to stretch her legs, wandering in circles around his items in the back of the car.
Leon cracks the window and the air coming in is fresh; a far-cry from the slightly smoggy air of the city. The midday sunlight is bright and warm. He turns the knob of his radio a little higher as they pass by a faded sign on the open road.
Stardew Valley: 5 miles.
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Ode to Elf
Today, Netflix released a new miniseries, The Holiday Movies That Made Us, which features 45 minutes of insight into the creation and making of Elf. It’s worth the watch for any Elf fan. I made plans today to watch it, and immediately chased it with the full length film.
I’ve always been a ginormous Elf fan! I think it is debatably Will Ferrell’s best film - rivaled possibly by Step Brothers, and with a few others close on its heels. But I’ll even one up that statement by saying it is easily the greatest Christmas movie, as well as one of the greatest movies of all time. (My Top 3 are probably The Jerk, Billy Madison, and Elf.)
The mini-documentary is the perfect supplement, really putting a bow on what makes Elf so great. I encourage everyone to go watch it, but I'll be bringing up just a few of the things discussed in it, and elsewhere, for the sake of further proving that Elf is a classic.
As is seen in many Hollywood cases, there was some trepidation going in. The screenplay was written ten years prior in 1993, with Jim Carrey in mind. At one point, there were talks to feature Chris Farley, but writer, David Berenbaum, did not like that direction, citing it would have been a very different movie. And as much as I love Farley, and wish he were still around making movies, I agree. Both he and Jim would probably have been great playing their own version of the character in their own unique way, but, while I may be biased since Will Ferrell is my favorite comedic actor, I think the role ultimately found the perfect Buddy with Will. He just hits perfectly on playing the sweet, naive, innocent yet clueless fish-out-of-water. It’s also what makes Step Brothers so good. Even many of his other characters, like Ron Burgundy, have a little bit of that DNA dipped into contrastingly more vain, reckless, foolish personality traits. I think there’s no greater type of comedic hero than the innocently stupid comedic hero. It’s pretty apparent from my Top 3, as well as my love for similar archetypes like Will Forte’s MacGruber, Joe Dirt, or Conan himself.
Now I’ve been on the Ferrell Train since the mid-90s, growing up on that generation of SNL and Night at the Roxbury. In college, not long before Elf, I went to a screener for Old School, which was one of Will’s early big screen breakout performances. Yet apparently, in the process of getting Elf greenlit in the early 2000s, prior to Old School, there weren’t many executives willing to take a shot on a movie where Will played the lead. What a bunch of cottonheaded ninnymuggins!
But those involved stuck to their guns, and they eventually convinced someone to hand them 30 million dollars to make the film. From there, an incredible string of smart decisions were made as talent was brought on board.
Writer, David Berenbaum, and his team of relative unknowns at the time had some key qualities that they wanted Elf to have. David took a lot of inspiration from the Rankin/Bass stop motion classic, Rudolph - which if you know much about me, you know how much I love it as well, being a misfit and all. (I wrote about it here six years ago.) Yet I never really realized just how much Rudolph inspired it, so it was a joy to see the documentary explain just how much of Rudolph permeates Elf’s story, themes, presentation, costumes, and set design.
When director Jon Favreau signed on, he shared some input that really cemented him as the perfect director. He too wanted to double down on the Rankin/Bass homage. He also wanted it to be a nice family Christmas movie, one that you could share with your kids, as well as a timeless Christmas classic. Check, check, and check! Mission accomplished!
There were some other interesting facts I didn’t know as well. The casting feels perfect. However, the original casting choice for Walter, Buddy’s dad, was for Garry Shandling. With great respect to Garry Shandling, I think their back up, James Caan was a much better fit. Caan really brings home the qualities of a cold, isolated businessman that a likeable Garry would have had to really sell. You need that non-comedic straight character for that role. Ed Asner plays a perfect Santa, as we’ve seen multiple times. And Bob Newheart is a terrific Papa Elf. Plus, this brilliant pairing of Will and Mary Steenburgen was just a hint of what was to come via Step Brothers and The Last Man on Earth. There are a lot of great supporting actors as well, like the writing duo of Andy Richter and Kyle Gass, and the secretary, Amy Sedaris. And last but not least, Zooey Deschanel. She’s been my muse for years now, but Elf was the moment I fell in love with her. Her character was pitched as everything under the sun, but finding a singer just complements everything so well. The one thing that’s always seemed weird to me is the shower scene. What kind of department store has a full locker room with a shower?! But when logistics is your only complaint about a movie, you know it must be good.
One other interesting casting tidbit involves Jovie’s boss, played by comedian Faizon Love. He was a last minute add. They thought they had Wanda Sykes onboard, so much so that they already had the Wanda name tag for the costume. Faizon stuck with it, donning the name tag, so the character remains Wanda. I don’t know that I ever noticed that.
Early in production, the decision was made to avoid using CGI. Effects with actors were all achieved via some trickery with perspective. And the stop motion characters duties were handled by The Chiodo Brothers, who I oddly just learned about a few months back when I stumbled upon the 1988 cult classic, Killer Klowns from Outer Space, tucked deep in my Netflix recommendations. (If you enjoy campy horror films, I highly recommend it.) Growing up on the works of Jim Henson, I’ve always appreciated the use of analog means over digital options. Choosing that route for Elf paid off immediately, and will go a long way at allowing the film to maintain that timeless quality.
As with any movie, there were conflicts. When the movie was originally screened, execs thought it would be smart to cut the final heartwarming singing scene and just end with Santa flying away - once again adding to a tremendous pile of dumb ideas that the suits have had over the years when it comes to controlling creative projects. The team was a bit taken aback by it, but apparently with Will Ferrell’s recent box office success with Old School, there were thoughts of cutting the film differently, favoring a style similar to Will’s Frank the Tank character instead of the lovably innocent Buddy. Cooler heads eventually prevailed when they realized that would be impossible given the footage, and we got the film as it stands today, as intended.
I vividly remember anticipating the movie. It’s probably one of my most anticipated films of all time. It felt like every week there was a new preview, a new cut chocked full of new jokes and gags. After what seemed like a dozen of them, I was growing a bit concerned that there would be nothing new left to see when the film found its way to theaters. Then release time came, I paraded myself off to the theater, and I was dumbfounded by just how much comedy was packed into that 90 minutes. The quantity and quality of the humor is impressive. Every scene feels important, and was iterated on for maximum humor. Will’s improvisation constantly enhances scenes. Like many of Ferrell’s movies, it’s an insanely quotable movie, but it’s not all just written jokes and physical comedy. There are some great silent parts, like just capturing Buddy’s reactions. And one of my favorite moments can easily be missed, when Buddy is caught on the evening news, traipsing through Central Park. It’s staged exactly like Patterson–Gimlin Bigfoot footage, with a similar gait, a peek over the shoulder, and somewhat blurry camera footage.
Little details like that are precisely the things that make Elf the classic is set out to be. It feels like it was written for a misfit like me, catering to my loves for Bigfoot, Rudolph, and a lovably naive comedic hero. It’s funny and silly, yet heartwarming and endearing. And its a film I’d happily sit down and watch with any kid from one to ninety-two, regardless of whether it’s the month of December, or some time in early April.
P.S. There have been talks about a sequel. James Caan recently conjectured that it never happened because Ferrell and Favreau “didn’t get along very well.” Those two are both far more successful these days, and could easily back the project if they wanted to. But as much as I love Elf, sometimes things are just too good to risk repeating with lackluster results. Look no further than the last franchise I wrote about, Ghostbusters. An Elf 2 would probably easily make a profit, regardless of quality. It could even be a good movie. But there’s probably a greater chance that it wouldn’t hold a candle to the original. The story is perfect, and contains itself well. There’s no need for a continuation. It’s really hard to top something when the bar was set so stratospherically high the first time. And attempting to do so could easily diminish the efforts of the original, sabotaging everything Berenbaum, Favreau, and the team achieved. Elf is the Rudolph of this generation: a timeless classic with a tremendous amount of heart. Let’s just appreciate it for that, and leave it as it is, for everyone to enjoy with everyone they enjoy.
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Chris Coumo Loses It After Being Called “Fredo” And Says It’s Like Using The “N” Word
LTP News Sharing:
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FILE – In this May 16, 2018 file photo, Chris Cuomo attends the Turner Networks 2018 Upfront in New York. Cuomo will start his own two-hour radio show next Monday at noon on SiriusXM. The company said Wednesday that Cuomo’s weekday show will air on its nonpartisan P.O.T.U.S. channel. (Photo by Evan Agostini/Invision/AP, File)
“Let’s Get After It” indeed Fredo.
We always love to have fun with the fine folks over at CNN and the unique way that they report things and or spin the news during the day. In fact, I watch CNN more often than any other news channel being I enjoy picking through what they are doing. I find it relaxing.
The two partisan hacks that I love to follow the most are Chris “Fredo” Cuomo and Don Lemon. They both parade as journalists but are just progressive spinsters that are not particularly interested in the facts, just spin for their world view. When it came to which one would snap publicly though, I always thought it would be Don Lemon. I was wrong, and my apologies to the family of Fredo Cuomo.
In a HILARIOUS video posted late Monday night of our hero CNN anchor of Italian heritage, shows him losing his #$%^ over being called Fredo by some people who must be right-wing provocateurs. According to Fredo Cuomo’s hometown paper the New York Post…
A man sent cable news host Chris Cuomo into a flying rage when he called the anchor “Fredo” — an apparent insult referencing Fredo Corleone, the ineffective son of Vito Corleone in “The Godfather.”
“Punk ass bitches from the right call me ‘Fredo.’ My name is Chris Cuomo, I’m an anchor on CNN,” the newsman says in the video, which was shared on Twitter Monday evening.
“Fredo is from the ‘Godfather,’ he was a weak brother and the use of it to an Italian is disparaging,” he continues.
The 49-year-old anchor tells the man that the name “Fredo” is as offensive to Italian Americans as the n-word is to African Americans.
“Don’t f–ing insult me like that,” the Queens native fumes. “You call me ‘Fredo’ it’s like I call you punk b–ch, you like that?”
Fredo is taking this LETS GET AFTER IT slogan literally.
Now let’s ACTUALLY do something that Chris and Don seem incapable of doing on their shows…breaking something down logically.
Everyone has a bad day. Chris “Fredo” Cuomo maybe was tired from a long weekend running around with the family or possibly he had been told his show had been once again beaten by reruns on the Disney Channel. So I’m going to give him some slack for someone getting on his last nerve.
However, getting pissed off because someone called you Fredo!?!?! You are NOT serious. Also saying that this is comparable to using the “N” word for African Americans is laughable. I’m sure Don Lemon even choked back his latte after hearing that.
You are getting paid millions of dollars a year to spew B.S., your family is taken care of and you decide that being called “Fredo” is the absolute worst thing you could be called on a Sunday afternoon? Chris, you better check yourself before you wreck yourself. You should be more concerned about being called a hack journalist that has ridden his Dad’s coattails to a cushy job than being called the name of a fictional character.
One last thing.
Everyone knows that you never threaten to throw someone down the stairs, you just do it if you really think it is warranted. These talking heads on T.V. really need to do a better job of being threatening. I would have started to crack up had he said that to me all the while just watching him struggle to think of the next line to come up with. When you don’t have a teleprompter it is hard to go it alone with words. Fredo does not make a very intimidating T.V. tough guy just like he wasn’t in the movies.
I don’t want CNN to fire him but they should damn well suspend him. From the looks of the CNN statement, they won’t do anything via this garbage press release…
A CNN spokesperson told The Post: “Chris Cuomo defended himself when he was verbally attacked with the use of an ethnic slur in an orchestrated setup. We completely support him.”
You do not threaten to bust someone up for being called Fredo Corleone. If you do, you should get suspended and move on. I get people having a bad day but you are representing a corporation and threatening to wipe out some dude for calling you a name. That is just silly.
In the meantime, if your brother the Governor of New York asks you to go for a boat ride fishing, you might want to skip out on that. We would not Fredo history repeating itself now would we?
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YouTube Is Trying To Stop Fredo From Bringing Down Fredo By Deleting Cuomo’s Meltdown Video
By Brandon Morse
I know it was you, Fredo.
The greatest thing flying around the internet right now is CNN host Chris Cuomo suddenly donning an Italian-American tough-guy accent and losing it all over this guy who called him “Fredo.”
For those of you who don’t know why that’s insulting, in Godfather 1 and 2, Fredo is the weak brother in the family that *spoilers* ultimately betrays the family. Calling someone “Fredo” is an insult as it’s essentially labeling someone as the weak link in the chain or the softest person on someone’s team.
Cuomo doth protest a little too much after being called Fredo, and it’s understandable. It rings a bit true in his case.
The video went viral as soon as it hit the internet thanks to this hilariousness of watching Cuomo awkwardly try to be a tough guy by threatening to throw the guy calling him “Fredo” down a flight of stairs.
But, like all things fun, YouTube decided the video went against its terms of service and banned the video from being seen on its platform. According to one Twitter user, YouTube did so because “Fredo” was deemed an “ethnic slur,” which it’s not. According to another, it promotes harassment and bullying. My question would be, who is bullying who?
The only bullying happening here is Cuomo attempting — and I use the word “attempting” here very literally — to intimidate the guy calling him “Fredo.” If Cuomo had just been called the name and shrugged it off, it would have been a non-story. Instead, Fredo took it very close to heart and adopted a tough guy act that the world saw through.
As it goes viral, YouTube comes in with the assist and takes down the video from its platform.
This is the same platform that features actual World Star street fights on its platforms. You don’t have to look far for a video of a feminist harassing pro-life people or see a video of Antifa doing its thing.
Making fun of Fredo Cuomo, though? Well, that’s too far.
It’s all a waste of effort, though. YouTube can’t keep track of all the mirrors and duplicates that will now populate the internet thanks to the Streisand effect that censorship causes. It also doesn’t own the myriad of platforms outside of its territory, where this video of Fredo is going viral, even as you read this.
The question is, who out there is trying to protect Fredo’s reputation with information suppression? Why, despite the millions of videos on its platforms that feature content far worse than this, do they suddenly get strict with their rules for Cuomo? Is CNN working with YouTube? Have they tried to get the video pulled elsewhere?
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Tricks of the trade
Being a child was a lot of fun, being an adult is not as much fun. Sure, there are some positives like driving, staying out as late as you want and not getting grounded every five minutes, that might just be specific to me, but the cons are the icing on the cake as far growing up is concerned. Paying bills, cooking, cleaning, cooking, generally taking care of the universe, as well as getting grey hairs and wrinkles and cooking are just the tip of the ice burg. I think many of us took being a kid for granted, youth is most definitely wasted on the young. I would be an awesome kid if I could go back and do it again, I mean I did a pretty good job the first time around but there is definitely room for improvement. No two people’s childhoods were the same but one thing I think everyone has in common is the big bag of tricks we all used on our parents. Whether it was becoming severely dehydrated about half an hour after bedtime or pretending not to hear our parents calling us in when we were out playing, we all had our things. I can remember thinking myself very clever and original for all the tricks I used to pull on my Mum and Dad. I felt confident that I was the first child ever to do these things, even though my parents would tell me they did the same things when they were my age, I thought it was all bravado. That was until I had our biggest monster, Steven, and I quickly learnt that not only was I not original in my manipulations but I was not particularly clever at delivering them.
I can remember one time me and my mum had a falling out. Allegedly, yes allegedly, I had graffitied a wall around the corner from our house. It was no Picasso but I had signed my name at the bottom nevertheless. As I said above, I was not particularly clever at times. This meant I was in big trouble. I was grounded. I hated being grounded, it sucked. It wasn’t until I got older that I realised that it was likely that my Mum didn’t enjoy grounding me either, and not just because parents generally don’t like having to discipline or tell their kids off. I can remember being told I was grounded to my room, except for to use the bathroom obviously. It drove me mad being in my room. It was a tiny room and was pretty rubbish on all accounts as far as bedrooms go. There was no chance I would disobey though as that could result in an extended sentence. So, I came up with a plan. I was bored, fed-up and irritable, so that meant my Mum should feel something similar. Now my Mum’s rules said that I wasn’t allowed out of my room, but there was nothing about being silent or having the door closed in said rules. I sat along the line between my room and the hallway with the door open and I began to sing very loudly and not particularly tunefully either. I decided this wasn’t enough, so I began to bang on the floor with my feet and on the cupboard with my hand. It didn’t feel like too long had passed when my Mum ordered me out of the house. Success! Victory!
Another of my ‘tricks’ was to ‘run away.’ I know that this is probably hard to believe but I was grounded quite regularly as a child and teenager, shocking I know! Thinking that my Mum was over reacting about whatever I had allegedly done, I would ‘run away.’ This involved me packing a bag, usually containing a couple of books and maybe a change of clothes, I would tell my Mum I had had enough and was running away. “Would you like a lift to the train station or bus station?” she would ask. No fricking way Mum! If she dropped me at either station it was going to be a long walk home and there was no way I was dealing with that. I had no intention of running away and didn’t she know it. This was a game between us. So off I went, running away on foot. I’d go and hang out with my friends all day and then when I got hungry I would head home. Dinner was usually around five so I made sure to be back by then. There was never a time when there wasn’t enough food prepared for me to eat too, it was almost as if she knew I’d be back. My brother was not quite so good at this game. One time he was in trouble, he rarely got told off, he was the good child. Anyway, somehow he’d managed to get into trouble and for once I had nothing to do with it. He declared proud and bold “I am running away!” Our Mum responded with the usual question of station drop offs and the silly boy said “yes please.” So off Mum and Andrew go heading to the train station, she drops him off and pulls away. From what I was told he had a bit of a meltdown which ended in him apologising and begging to come home. He obviously did not realise that Mum had no intention of abandoning him at the station. I don’t think he ran away again. Funny boy.
I know that I have this kind of thing to look forward to with my three monsters. Steven tests the boundaries every now and then. His favourite thing to do is pretend he can’t hear us. Unfortunately for Steven we had his hearing tested a few months back. It turns out he has really good hearing so we know full well he can hear us, as does Steven, which explains the smirk on his face when I say “Steven, I know you can hear me because we had your hearing tested and you have super hearing.” He is a lot easier to talk around, Lyla is a completely different kettle of fish.
I’ve spoken about Lyla before and how unique she is, she is also stubborn and very clever in the art of manipulation and all things related to it. She is a lot like me when I was younger. Lyla will argue black is white with you just because she can, it can be pretty exhausting at times, but it is marvellous how her mind works.
Set scene: We’re running late (as usual) so I’ve asked the kids to get themselves into the car. I get to the car with Lachlan and find that Steven is sat in his seat with his belt on reading a book, meanwhile Lyla is sat in the driver’s seat pressing every button and pulling every lever she can. I clip Lachlan in and walk around to begin what I am hoping is going to be a quick and straightforward Lyla extraction from the driver’s seat.
Me: “Lyla come on we’re in a rush, get into the back please and into your seat.”
Lyla: “No I’m going to drive.”
Me: “Lyla Please get into your seat.”
Lyla: smiles and laughs, uh oh “No!” she then reaches over and slams the door closed.
Oh good, she’s in one of these moods. I take a deep breath, maybe a different approach will work. I open the car door.
Me: “Lyla, come on please. I asked you in the house to come out and get into your seat and you haven’t done that have you?”
Lyla: “No you didn’t.”
Me: “Yes I did.”
Lyla: Looking at me as though I am a completely ridiculous person “No you didn’t Mummy.” She sits up and tries to turn the steering wheel “Actually I am going to change my name, I am now Rainbow Dash”
Me: “That’s a lovely name Lyla…”
Lyla: “My name is Rainbow Dash not Lyla!”
Me: “Okay Lyla, I mean Rainbow Dash. You have a very beautiful name.”
She puffs up looking chuffed with herself.
Lyla: “I know.”
So modest.
Me: “Okay Rainbow Dash, beautiful unicorn, princess queen of rainbows can you move into your royal seat in the back next to Steven please?”
Lyla: “Mummy, I am actually a queen in real life you know.”
Me: “Oh wow. That must be fun. Would her royal highness like to sit in her royal car seat?” I step back and bow. I will win this battle she is only four how hard can it be to outwit a four-year-old.
Lyla smiles and relishes in the compliments. Oooooh I am winning! Ha! I am Queen of dealing with kids!
BANG!
Lyla slams the car door and laughs at me while I am mid bow, she then tries to lock the car, luckily she doesn’t know how. I look in the back to check on Steven and Lachlan trying to see what they are making of their insane sister. Those poor boys. I squash my face against the window and see that Lachlan is asleep and Steven looks to be oblivious to all the goings on. All of a sudden Steven glances up from his book and see’s Lyla in the front, he appears confused and looks around finally noticing me with my smooshed up face against the window. He smiles, waves and then points at Lyla in the driver’s seat mouthing “Lyla’s in the front Mummy!” Cheers Steven! Geez this child, I wish I could switch off the way he does. I mouth “I know”, he then responds with “She can’t drive.” Good point Steven, silly me for attempting to let my unstable four-year-old drive our car. What was I thinking? Pushing my desperate need to say “Reeeeeealllly” in the most sarcastic voice known to man I go with “Okay” and two thumbs up. Just as I am about to ask for his help he puts his head back down and continues to read. I take a couple of deep breaths and say my dealing with Lyla mantra of “I am the adult, she is the child, I am the adult, she is the child” and add a “you can do this” to boost my confidence.
I open the car door, again.
Lyla: “Oh hello. Who are you?”
Urgh!
Me: “Oh hello, I am Mummy and I am here to drive you to Steven’s art club. Shall I help you into your special seat in the back next to Steven?”
Lyla: “No. I am going to drive but Mummy I am going to let you sit in the front next to me because you are a good, clever Mummy and it’s a special treat.”
Gee thanks four-year-old me.
Me: “Lyla…”
Lyla: “My name is RAINBOW DASH!”
Me: “…sorry, Rainbow Dash. You can’t drive as you can’t reach the peddles.”
Lyla: “I don’t need to reach the peddles.”
Me: “You need to use the peddles to drive.”
Lyla: “No you don’t”
Me: “Yes you do.”
Lyla: “Nope.”
I suddenly flashback to a moment two years earlier. Lyla and I were arguing about her getting in the car when my friend Emily walked past on her way to work laughing at me. “Why are you arguing with a two-year-old?” She said. Good point Emily! Why am I arguing with a two-year-old?
Why am I arguing with a four-year-old? This is one of Lyla’s clever tricks to use on me, Chris and any other adult who falls for it. She gets you to argue the point with her, so much so that you don’t even realise you are doing it. That and trying to keep up with her name changes you end up mentally multitasking. It’s exhausting.
“I am the adult, she is the child. We’ve got this.” (Apparently there is more than one person in my brain?).
Me: “Right Lyla it’s time to go. I’ve asked very nicely and now I have to use my Mummy voice. You guys know how much I hate doing that, so come on please get into the back of the car.”
Lyla: “Okay Mummy, because you said please.”
I’m pretty sure I said please before but I am not going to open that can of worms. I get my clever wee girl strapped tightly into her seat, triple checking she can’t get out. I close the door and climb into the driver’s seat, get my belt on and turn the car on.
Steven: his head still in his book “Mummy, are we there yet?”
I lower my head to the steering wheel and press my forehead against it. With Lachlan’s gentle snores, Steven’s question and Lyla restrained like a feral beast into her chair, I begin to countdown the hours to bedtime.
Me: “Only six hours and counting.”
Steven: “What’s six hours Mummy?”
Me: “You guy’s bedtime.”
Steven: smiling “That’s aaaaaages away Mummy”
Me: Silently sobbing into the steering wheel “I know.”
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