Hamefura art dump 1

I finally bought Procreate

Katarina as Barbie.

Maria as Peach.

Nicol as that dude that likes zelda.

Alan as a bassist cause I read the Bocchi the rock spinoff

Your Leon backstory posts are blowing my whole mind right now. I'm working on a eagleone fic and was thinking through how to make Leon's NY / Italian upbringing work, but what you're saying makes so much more sense I might need to retcon some things! 😅 Thanks for posting this stuff it's really helpful to think about!

Oh dear lord, is the NY thing getting passed around as canon now too???? That's not even related to the Italian thing OR the mafia thing. That's from the Resident Evil novelizations that are so non-canon that Capcom gave up on funding them after Code Veronica. So, fandom is just taking all of Leon's "official" backstories and mashing them together to create an unholy amalgamation of bullshit, huh?

How long til they add "Leon's dad got him the job at the RPD (despite having been murdered in a gang war years ago)"? Like. Lmfao.

Here. I was thinking about this on the drive home from work just now, and I realized that a very simple rebuttal exists to the bs narrative behind Leon's character that's being pushed in fandom.

Resident Evil's target audience is the West -- so much so that the character dialogue in the games is written in English first, despite RE being developed by a Japanese team. If something was sincerely meant to be seen and taken as canon to the characters or storyline, it would have been released in an official capacity in English.

If someone tries to tell you that something is canon, and the only source for it is some obscure thing that was never released outside of Japan? They're bullshitting you. It isn't intended canon, because it actively goes against Capcom's intentions for the series to be carried by US/EU audiences.

Why would they withhold part of the story from us, knowing that to be the case? It doesn't make any sense. It directly contradicts their profit incentive, and that's all RE is meant to do, at the end of the day: make money.

And even then, you can't take the English releases of supplementary material as canon, because that's how we end up with shit like the Resident Evil Archives saying that Leon willingly handed Sherry over to the US Army after escaping Raccoon City, and then he set off to hunt Umbrella on his own.

The only thing that makes sense is to look at the games and the CGI movies as intended canon and nothing else. Because the vast majority of multiple millions of people who play RE are never going to hunt down that obscure niche shit and learn those facts to begin with. RE isn't a tiny little community of dedicated fans who are passionate about the lore like, say, Alan Wake fandom. Resident Evil is a multi-billion dollar juggernaut that's primarily played by Joe Average American dudes who more likely than not don't give a shit about getting all of the files in the actual games -- much less hunting down shit like that outside of the games.

Anyone who tries to tell you otherwise does not understand how game development, marketing, or storytelling actually work, and should not be listened to ever, for any reason.

And, to be clear -- and I've said this before -- I do not think that we should be hiding this auxiliary/supplemental information from new fans. If anyone wants to take any of it as their personal headcanon, that's fine. But it is not intended canon, and it's just wrong that it's being sold that way.

Anyway. Happy fic writing, anon. Make sure you share when it's finished!!!

Metallo

I wanted to talk about one of my favorite DC villains, a guy who I’ve always thought was incredibly cool. A guy who I’ve thought makes a really awesome contrast for Superman. A guy who has never been in stories that have utilized his potential in my eyes:

Let’s talk about Metallo.

Metallo’s Background

He’s one of Superman’s oldest Rogues, and also one of the Rogues who has gone through the most revamps. The Golden Age Superman fought a guy called Metalo aka George Grant who created a suit of armor made out of the strongest metal on Earth (something that would resurface in the Grant Morrison revamp during the New 52) and a super strength serum that made him Superman’s physical equal. In an odd way he was an evil proto-Iron Man/Post Crisis Lex Luthor:

The John Corben take wouldn’t show up until the 1950s, created by Robert Bernstein and Al Plastino. This was the foundation for the modern conception of Metallo:

Right off the bat Corben was positioned as an Anti-Superman, predating Bizarro who wouldn’t show up until later. Corben worked as a journalist to cover up his real activities as a murderer and thief. An accident that nearly killed him and crippled his human body, forced him to accept a deal with a scientist to transfer his mind to a new artificial body. The scientist transferred his mind into an android body covered in synthetic bulletproof skin, gifting Corben with super strength. The synthetic skin idea would be used in Byrne’s revamp and the DCAU incarnation. He was initially powered by uranium, but was told he would need Kryptonite to fuel himself permanently. Corben would also act as a romantic rival for Clark via wooing Lois with his pretense of being Superman’s secret identity.

Ultimately John Corben would die in his debut issue, after mistaking a museum prop for the actual Kryptonite he needed to power himself. I often wonder if the character might have been better off if he had not been killed off in his debut, similarly to how the Joker was saved from dying in his debut by editorial. There were many intriguing ideas present in Corben’s creation: He was a romantic rival for Clark Kent, he used his journalism in a similar if villainous way as Superman did, and he was powered by the very thing that could kill Superman while still possessing enough raw strength to stand on equal terms with the Man of Steel. If they had kept him around, fleshed him out more, might Metallo have enjoyed more long term respect?

 Regardless, Corben’s death paved the way for the third Metallo: His brother Roger Corben.

Roger likewise had a lot of interesting ideas that would eventually get folded into the modern Metallo. He was not a petty thief, but had a personal vendetta with Superman over the death of his brother. Superman accidentally caused the very accident that crippled Roger, adding to the man’s feud. Roger was also a leader within the Skull organization, rather than the small time criminal his brother was. This Metallo’s design would form the basis for the Geoff Johns/Gary Frank revamp during Secret Origin, and I suspect the Johns conception of Metallo as a member of a wider organization and whose transformation was caused by Superman has it’s roots here.

Sadly the take on a more fleshed out Metallo would not last. The Roger Corben version of Metallo would meet his end with the rest of the Pre-Crisis Superman Rogues Gallery in the seminal Alan Moore story Whatever Happened to the Man of Tomorrow?

Enter John Byrne:

During his Post-Crisis revamp of the Supermythos, Byrne returned to the John Corben take of a petty thief injured in an accident, who is rebuilt by a mad scientist Professor Vale. Byrne added his own twist though, with the scientist believing Superman to be the first scout in a full blown Kryptonian takeover of Earth, and specifically crafted Metallo to be an Anti-Superman weapon powered by Kryptonite. Metallo was to be humanity’s defense against the threat of Superman, an idea that would be revisited in Johns’ and Morrison’s revamps. Unfortunately petty thieves don’t make for great heroes, and Metallo killed Vale, ultimately coming into conflict with Superman not over any desire to protect humanity, but to simply eliminate a thorn in his side.

This incarnation of Metallo has basically served as the basis for his appearance in outside media, with a design that blatantly draws on the popular Terminator films.

This version of Metallo would also acquire a variety of powers thanks to making a deal with Neron that included the ability to transform parts of his body into weapons, transfer his consciousness into any technological or mechanical device, and manipulate his size:

Personally I’ve always loved that powerset upgrade, and think it’s crucial it sticks. It let him kick the shit out of Superman AND Batman in Loeb Superman/Batman, which basically solidified for me that this dude was a badass you didn’t want to mess with. Shame he’s never come close to matching that initial impression since.

The DCAU mostly used the Byrne revamp’s take, but they did change a few aspects which would end up carrying over to the mainline version. Most important was the replacing of Vale with Lex Luthor as the mind behind Metallo’s creation, something that would be incorporated in both Johns and Morrison’s later revamps.

One aspect that they introduced that didn’t carry over, that was still utilized to great effectiveness in the show, was that Corbyn’s transformation had robbed him of most physical sensation. He couldn’t taste, smell, touch, all the little things that made us human, and that drove him nuts. Ultimately he would learn that Lex was responsible for what happened to him, and he would swear a grudge against both Lex and Superman. Malcom McDowell was a fantastic choice to play Metallo, and is still the guy I “hear” when I read Metallo’s dialogue.

Now we come to the guy who crafted the next big revamp of Metallo: Geoff Johns.

This version of Metallo incorporated a ton of aspects from the multiple revamps that had preceded it, in much the same way Secret Origin did to Superman as a whole, while also adding a few new twists that I consider essential to the character now.

Like the DCAU, Luthor was the one who transformed Corben into Metallo. Like the Roger Corben take, this John Corben was accidentally crippled in a fight with Superman that gave him a personal vendetta against the Man of Steel.  Similar to Byrne, this Metallo was created to be an Anti-Superman weapon. Corben and Lois had had a brief romantic relationship, similar to the original debut of Corben. Johns even incorporated some of the Golden Age Metallo by having Corben suit up in a mech suit made of “Metallo”, the strongest metal on Earth to fight Superman before the accident. Johns also added a key bit of lore that I love, that Corben served as a soldier under General Sam Lane, and became the man’s surrogate son, the child he always wanted as opposed to Lois and Lucy. Here Corben is motivated to fight Kal-El by a mix of xenophobia, need to impress his father figure, desire to impress Lois, and a simple dose of blood lust.

The last major revamp came from Grant Morrison during the New 52:

Morrison kept a lot of the Johns revamp: Corben was a soldier serving under Sam Lane, he had a brief romantic relationship with Lois, he was distrustful of Superman’s heroics, and his transformation into Metallo was connected to Lex. However Corben was a much more sympathetic figure under Morrison than under Johns, genuinely believing Superman to be a threat, he volunteered to be merged with the Metal-0 superweapon (another callback to the original Metalo) to defend humanity, but Brainiac hijacked his cybernetics and turned him into a weapon. 

While Metallo would get another visual revamp for Rebirth, posted in the first image, Corben has more or less stayed within the confines that Byrne/Johns/Morrison established.

How I would use Metallo

I said earlier that Metallo is a guy I loved that I’ve never thought has lived up to his potential. He’s a villain with a lot of cool ideas, he’s a villain who has been continuously used by a lot of my favorite writers, but he’s never lived up to the Anti-Superman characterization that’s baked into him. Too often he’s just been a glorified henchman, or a petty thug, rarely if ever challenging Superman except in the most basic physical sense. I think that’s a great disservice to the ability of the character to be a much more important Rogue. That writers so often refuse to focus on him or any of the Rogues beyond Lex also hasn’t done him any favors. Instead of creating countless new OCs that are tossed aside by the next writer, someone needs to come on board with a passion for revamping the classics.

A lot of Superman’s Rogues suck not because they aren’t cool or don’t bring any interesting ideas, but because the ideas don’t do a good job in contrasting with Superman’s attributes. Metallo is a great example of this, look at all the interesting ideas creators have crafted around him, yet none of them have really been able to push those ideas as a way to explore and contrast Superman, so we get basic “Metallo tries to kill Superman, fails, Superman sends him back to jail” stories. That’s a failure of creativity in my eyes. I think that by choosing from some of the revamps listed above, a better, cooler, more interesting Metallo can be crafted.

The basics as established by Byrne/Johns/Morrison are great! The essential ideas that should be incorporated from all of the revamps listed above are:

1. Corben needs to have a military background as in Johns/Morrison. The petty thief origin is too dull, there’s nothing really to be mined there from a characterization standpoint. As a soldier Corben can serve as an interesting critique and contrast of Superman as an icon of America. The “American Way” has always been a dicey add-on to the original “Truth and Justice” motto. Often it’s been used to cast Superman as an obedient stooge of the government, as he was in The Dark Knight Returns, a characterization that has dogged him ever since. I think Corben can serve as an interesting character to explore Superman’s relationship with the American military-industrial complex. I would have Corben be what said complex wants Superman to be, at least in the beginning: A human WMD they can aim and fire, who will always follow orders no matter how reprehensible they are, who has a firm “America First” mindset. That way you can contrast the mainline Superman, and show that Superman is not that while also establishing what “The American Way” means in his eyes. Or you can have Superman drop that aspect of his motto in-universe, out of disgust for how his government perverts it. Either option is fine with me, I didn’t mind when Superman renounced his American citizenship.

2. If Lois often has to end up working with Clark’s exes, whether it’s Lana, Diana, or whoever, I think it’s only fair that Clark has to end up facing down an ex from Lois’ past. It’s important to show that Lois had a life before Clark showed up, and I think Corben is a good way to explore some of that. He’s the possessive ex-boyfriend who doesn’t respect Lois’ personal space and is convinced he can “win her back” via sheer determination. You can also compare and contrast the way Clark courted Lois, did Clark occasionally make the same pigheaded assumptions as Corben did? Corben debuted as a romantic rival for Superman, and I think that aspect still has merit. I also like his status as Sam’s surrogate son, it adds for some nice tension with Clark’s father-in-law that the guy he actually wanted to marry Lois was transformed into a weapon to kill the guy who ended up being his son-in-law. 

3. Corben is a true believer in the threat Superman poses, and is willing to take on the transformation into Metallo to protect humanity. It’s xenophobia yes, but with all the Evil Superman stories going around, it’s hard not to sympathize at least a little bit with Corben’s viewpoint, which tie into a deeper attribute of Corben’s I think needs to be brought up: Corben should be a sympathetic villain. I wouldn’t make him a bloodthirsty psycho, Superman has plenty of those. Corben should have villainous valor, willing to tackle on whatever threats to humanity are out there, whether Superman or others. I would make Corben instead someone who has the genuine desire to protect humanity, but lacks Superman’s concern for collateral damage. In that way you could contrast the two’s brand of “heroics”, Superman’s loyalty to humanity as a whole over one nation, and concern with protecting lives first and foremost, Corben’s desire to protect humanity’s future for the “greater good” even if it costs a few lives in the here and now and loyalty to America above all else. 

4. I like the idea of Superman being inadvertently responsible for the accident that cripples Corben and mandates his transformation. It adds to his sympathy, helps justify why Superman might continue to believe Corben could find redemption (he wants Corben to change and also wants to find a way to earn Corben’s forgiveness one day), and provides a good personal reason for why Corben would hate Superman, blaming Supes for his current state. I would also have him blame Sam and Lex as well, but he would subdue those resentments for as long as he remained working for the military. Only after he finally snaps would he target those two.

5. Finally I would keep the ability to shapeshift his body into weapons, and to manipulate technology. I would have Corben emulating Adam Jensen from Deus Ex, able to “hack” tech around him for his own purpose, armed with a variety of weapons that make him a huge threat not just to Superman but to everyone. Finally I would get rid of the Kryptonite heart. I’m tired of every battle with Metallo going the same way: He shows up, blasts Superman with kryptonite radiation, Superman lies on the ground gasping in pain, Metallo stands around gloating like a moron instead of finishing Supes off, Supes beats him by tricking him or by someone else intervening. I want to see Metallo as an Anti-Superman weapon realized beyond jus the Kryptonite. How about incorporating the DCAU version’s lack of feeling, so that Metallo doesn’t feel pain from Superman’s blows or his powers? How about giving him an internal temperature controller, so he can’t be melted by heat vision or frozen by arctic breath? How about an invisibility cloak that hides him from Superman’s vision, sound mufflers that let him sneak up on Supes even with his hearing, basically go WILD with his Anti-Superman status, let us see a real fight between someone who can counter each of Superman’s powers! You have Kryptonite Man and Lex for the villains who mainly make use of Kryptonite against Superman, I think Metallo should go in a different direction. Morrison making it so that “Metal-0″ was already powerful enough to hurt Superman is all the justification you need as to why he still poses a threat in my opinion.

I’ll go over the basic arc I’d want to see him undergo and the kinds of stories I think he’s positioned to tell in another post.

Viva Las Vegas, Pt. 11 - De Orfeo Records

Summary: Sunset Cure AU, Willex, is there a chance?, 2.8k

@trevor-wilson-covington is the bestie who makes these lovely edits, we stan supportive friends

WARNINGS: death mention

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10

Reggie and Carlos were running around in the middle of taking down equipment after their latest gig. Luke shook his head as he wrapped cords over his arm and placed them in a storage box. Alex, however, was nervously trying not to get run into as he carried various pieces of his drum set out and handed them to Bobby in the back of the van. He could forgive Reggie not really helping out since he was taking responsibility for the kid, but also hadn’t anticipated that their energies combined would put him more on edge.

As he went inside to grab the last piece of his set, he found that Reggie had taken his flannel and tied it around his neck like a cape, with Carlos wearing his leather jacket in a similar fashion. They approached Bobby, who immediately joined their game and they pretended to battle each other. By the time Alex had finished getting his whole set in the van, they were playing out a dramatic victory over defeating Bobby.

“Guys, this is great, but we really should finish packing up,” Alex said, although he was smiling from the entertainment.

“I guess you’re the next bad guy we fight,” Carlos said in a mock-deep voice.

“We can schedule it later, Robin,” Alex teased.

“Oh, no, he’s Batman,” Reggie corrected. “I’m Robin!” He put his fists on his hips in a proud superhero pose.

A big SHHHHHH came from Luke and they all looked over at him to see what was up. He was far off by the venue office, holding a phone to his ear and writing onto a notepad. His eyes were wide with excitement, and his energy was only held back by the other hand tapping against the paper. The boys watched as his smile grew bigger and he said goodbye, barely putting the phone back in place properly.

“YEEESS!!” he cried, raising his fists into the air in celebration. They all came running toward him to see what had happened.

“Boys, we’ve got good news!” Luke told them. Looking on in anticipation, Alex gripped his fanny pack tightly. “One of the record execs that came tonight is offering for us to sign onto their label and put out some songs! He even heard our demo!”

Everyone celebrated, jumping up and down and high-fiving each other. Reggie let Carlos climb onto him in a piggyback and they both yelled triumphantly. Luke pulled Alex into a bro hug, then Bobby. Alex held his arms up and placed his hands on top of his head, unable to believe what had just happened. Euphoria filled his head like helium and he went to double-high-five Carlos, who was still perched on Reggie’s back.

“So what else did they say?” Bobby asked, still smiling.

Luke had to shake off some more excitement before he could explain the rest.

“Ahhh, so he said we could meet in a few days to discuss business and contracts and such, let us get a look at the studio and stuff. I got all his contact information and he’s totally excited to get us on. We’re moving on up boys!”

The celebration continued, and their renewed energy caused the rest of the take-down to go by much faster. They were still riding the high as they drove home. Alex listened to Luke talk about which songs they would want to record first and where they would land on the charts. He remembered that feeling he had back at the Pearl during their sound check. Doing that? For real and not just dreaming and hoping about it? They hadn’t made it just yet, but this was a change he could be excited for.

Reggie had been staying with Carlos, which the rest of the boys figured was a good excuse to not stay home. As Bobby pulled up to the house, he and Luke began climbing out of the van. Carlos and Reggie were already inside.

“Uh, guys?” Alex said, still in the back of the van. They all turned back to him. “What are you doing?”

“Oh,” Luke gestured like oh-silly-me. “We all decided to stay here for the night. It’s just a nice change from the garage and Julie’s aunt has lots of leftovers that need to be eaten so…”

“So...I’m grounded,” Alex reminded, raising his eyebrows. His parents hadn’t been happy about him sneaking out to the pier the other night.

“Screw your old man, Alex,” Bobby said.

“Yeah, he can eat my shorts if he tries to do anything about it,” Luke added.

Alex took a moment to think. Disobeying wasn’t going to do anything for or against him at this point - he kept anything truly important to him out of his parents’ reach and since he’d gotten the punching bag he could actually contend with their tempers. They couldn’t punish him in a way that mattered.

“Yeah, you’ve got a point,” he said finally, following them into the house.

They found Reggie and Carlos already raiding the kitchen.

“Alex, you’re staying too?” Reggie said when he saw them enter.

“Yes!” Carlos cried, pumping his fist. “You get to make popcorn. Tonight, the Empire Strikes Back!”

“Oh yeah, baby!” Reggie responded as the rest of the boys began following orders from Carlos. Alex wasn’t crazy about Star Wars, but eh….young Mark Hamill was hot so he didn’t mind too much. He was sure most of them would fall asleep during the movie anyway.

A couple hours later it turned out he was right. Carlos was slumped on the floor leaning back against the chair Luke was sitting in, hand still in the bowl of popcorn. Luke was leaning on his hand, breathing soundly. Alex had watched earlier as Bobby’s head flopped onto Reggie’s shoulder and the flustered look that had overcome Reggie’s face, and it was too good not to smile at. Once the VCR began automatically rewinding the movie, Alex shut off the TV.

He stared at the ceiling as he pulled the handle on the La-Z-Boy he was in and reclined into a somewhat comfortable position. Even now, weeks later after meeting for only a day, the first thing he wished he could do was tell Willie the news about the record label. He probably would have been just as ecstatic as the rest of them, if not more. Victoria would be back soon and hopefully have some news. He guessed it didn’t matter if he’d been right about the missing kid, but maybe just knowing if she got to talk with Willie would be enough.

The memory of soft brown eyes still rose in his mind. He’d been doing his best to keep that moment cemented in his brain because he’d noticed it helped him sleep. It was funny because he’d done the same thing with the guys, but staring into Willie’s eyes had been an entirely different experience. Alex wished he had the proper words to describe it, but the best he could do was marvel. Willie was clearly unaware of the strength he held, and it made Alex want to bring that out with his entire being. If he ever did get the chance, that would be something worth looking forward to.

Victoria didn’t arrive until the afternoon the next day. Since Alex felt that she had gone because of him, he made everyone else clean her house as well as they could. No traces of food on the floor, no messy beds, and the kitchen was cleaner than when they had found it. As she came back into the house, she put a hand over her heart.

“Wow!” she exclaimed. “I should take trips like this more often if you boys are this good!”

“Yes, tía, please, please, please let them babysit me again! Pleeeeaaassee!” Carlos begged with his hands pressed together.

“Ay, sobrino, no me quieres?” she shook her head.

“No, I do!” Carlos tried to recover. “But they’re fun!”

As if to make a point, Reggie rubbed a hand on Carlos’ head.

“It’s okay little dude, we’ll be back.”

Victoria pulled her wallet out of her purse.

“Well, you boys took very good care of him and I promised I would pay you, so here you go.” She handed each of them a generous amount of cash. Luke, Reggie and Bobby all whooped as they thanked her and headed to the van. Alex held back with anticipation. Victoria looked at him seriously.

“There was no connection,” she told him before he asked. “His guardian explained everything to me, and there was nothing else to go on. I wanted to know because I thought I could solve an old case, but I had to let it go.”

“Well, did you get to talk to him?” Alex tried not to sound too urgent.

“You mean Willie? No, I never saw him. After talking with his guardian I didn’t need to.”

Bowing his head, Alex made himself swallow his other questions. She had at least tried.

“Thank you,” he said. “I’m sorry if it was inconvenient.”

“I chose to go, don’t worry about it,” she assured.

Nodding and saying thanks one more time, Alex hurried out after the rest of his friends.

A few days later, the boys slammed the doors of the van shut as they looked up at the building before them. It was so plain and simple on the outside; they never would’ve guessed there was a studio there. It was likely they had driven past it many times on the way to a gig. Pushing through the door, they all looked at the logo in neon lights on the wall: De Orfeo Records.

Collectively, the boys took in awed breaths at the reality of where they were standing. This was too good to believe. Alex took in the scene, trying to imagine this being a place he came to regularly. Could he ever get used to it, or get over the sheer excitement of just being there? Luke patted him on the back, desperately trying to contain himself. They wandered through the halls a little bit until they came to a room where the door was sitting open.

“Oh, boys!” A man called as they almost walked past it. “In here!”

As they all shuffled in, the man shook their hands and pointed them to a couch where they could sit. Alex nervously stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jacket as he took a seat. The man across from them was dressed surprisingly casually, if not with obvious expensive taste. He still had sunglasses on, but their yellow tint was clearly not for actual UV protection.

“Nice to meet all of you,” he was saying. “My name is Alan, I’m one of the producers here at De Orfeo. Which one of you did I talk to on the phone?”

Luke raised his hand.

“That was me,” he said, already gushing with excitement. “How’d you hear about us, anyway?”

Alan didn’t answer, but instead looked up at the doorway as someone else came in.

“Hello boys!” Caleb Covington entered, his charismatic smile spread wide across his face. “So nice to see you again.”

Alex’s heart rate immediately sped up and he clenched his hands inside his pockets. How could it be? He thought his last chance to reach out to Willie was gone and seeing Caleb brought back everything he hadn’t been able to ask Julie’s aunt. All the guys were happy to recognize him.

“I won’t be staying for the negotiations,” Caleb said. “but I wanted to properly introduce myself as the owner of this label. I want to assure you boys the best experience as newcomers in the industry. Let any nerves that still linger walk right out the door.” His eyes landed on Alex for a moment, and it felt purposeful. “Take it away, Alan.”

Listening to the producer’s pitch was difficult to focus on now, and Alex had to fight hard against his brain latching onto the new hopes that had arisen. He was thankful that when paperwork came out, Bobby was mindful enough to have them read through it. It was taking too long, though, and Alex was already wishing he had his drumsticks in hand to help pass the time. Reggie had so many questions, and Luke had trouble understanding numerous words - at least that kept Alex occupied because he could be helpful in that. A good hour had passed going over all the information.

“This looks great!” Luke said finally. “How are we feelin’ boys?”

Each of them nodded and looked around at each other, confirming that they all agreed on every settlement. Luke grabbed a pen and pulled his copy of the contract toward him, pausing momentarily to drink in what was happening. Then he signed his name in giant letters. Alex, Bobby, and Reggie followed suit, and Alex could feel a weird tingle rush through his hand as he made the final flourish with his pen. They were all in now.

As the band began celebrating, Caleb knocked on the doorframe.

“If it’s alright with you boys, I wanted to speak with Alex privately for a moment,” Caleb said, gesturing for Alex to follow him outside the room.

His curiosity was at the point of overflowing, and he went out trying to control his trembling hands. Maybe Caleb had talked to Willie after all. This could be his way to bridge that gap and he wouldn’t have to live off of just memories.

Everyone else was still going nuts over getting the contracts signed back in the room. Standing in the lobby, Caleb was looking at him seriously, maybe even pitifully. It quickly drained the exhilaration in Alex’s chest.

“I can tell you’ve been wanting to ask me some questions,” he began. “But before you do, I thought it was best to inform you of some important details first.”

Alex looked up at him with his hands back in his pockets and gulped. Why was his heartbeat suddenly so loud? He knew Caleb couldn’t actually hear it, but it still embarrassed him. His mouth began to go dry.

Caleb furrowed his brow, as if what he was about to say wasn’t easy to get out. He bowed his head and took a breath before looking at Alex again.

“Willie,” he started. Then he paused. “Is dead.”

The trembling in Alex’s hands stopped.

He stared at Caleb, as if he could pull off the serious expression and find a joking smile underneath. It was a few moments before he remembered to breathe in, and blinking seemed to cut that moment into two as if the first one wasn’t real.

“No, no, that can’t - ” he heard the words spill out of his mouth. Why was his body so tense and ready to defend itself? His cheeks felt hot.

“I know the news is hard,” Caleb interrupted, placing a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “I can hardly bear it myself. There was an electrical fire. He didn’t make it out.”

Alex could only shake his head. Caleb’s expression wasn’t changing and for some reason it was the most infuriating sight. He could punch that face and make him bleed if he really wanted to. The adrenaline was already rushing to his fist.

“There has to be a mistake,” he said, chuckling darkly.

“There is no mistake,” Caleb told him firmly.

How was the man so calm? How could he say those words out loud and not immediately crumble to the earth? How could he have worn such a large smile earlier?

“I know you two weren’t friends for long, but he made it clear you were important to him.”

The words came through as if from a tiny speaker. They’d only gotten one day and it wasn’t enough. Willie couldn’t go like that, he simply couldn’t - not when Alex needed to know if they could’ve ever had something real. He still wanted to know so many things about him and look into those brown eyes and soften the hard edges on them. He needed to - 

He was crying. On his hands and knees, trying to get the dark shadow that had grown inside his chest to come out. It made him choke. Caleb had apparently left him alone, unable to console him, and he felt hands on his back and shoulders as he fought to properly breathe. Luke was knelt down before him, mouth hanging open in want of words but not able to form any. Bobby was gripping his hand and supporting him as he and Reggie pulled him up onto his feet.

“We need to get him in the van,” one of them was saying.

Any movement from there was not his own. All three boys were trying their hardest to help the tallest member of their band out of the building. Everything was numb - like a machine that had broken down after being run too hard.

The brown eyes faded into darkness, murky and thick. There was no air in his lungs to scream into that dark, no tie-dye, no rolling of wheels on the sidewalk, no ‘ribbit’, no more wondering and hoping.

Dead quiet. That was all.

Love and Leather /Part Eighty Sixx/

Word Count: 5.9k

A/N: Enjoy! sorry the updates aren’t as often like they were before. I’ll try to do better

Warnings: angst, drugs, language, drug induced paranoia 

Taglist:  @miserablecunt , @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol,  @a-simple-salmon,  @hi-my-name-is-riley, @extremesadnerding, @thatbandchick39, @awkwrdcait, @countrygirlswonderland, @awesomealmostdopestudent, , @tashy-bear, @krazykatkay456, @terror-triplet, @shouttatthedevill @beachystars, @rodriguez025, @kickstart-myheart-sixx, @s-outhie, @anxious-diabetic, @awkwardblackgirls, @vintagebox @shamelessobsessions, @jerseytaint, , @criminalyetminimal, @motley-queen, @trapt-in-a-dream,  @broke-n-bitchy​,  @lovesick-heart0, @keepcalm-and-beyou, @miriampraez, @teenwolflover28​, @lilyhw1, @herbertweeest, @random-internet-user-4471, @falcon-arrows, @talranocchia2001,  @waywardprincess666, @iluvmesomemarvelndc, @zoenicoles, @vamprlestat, @supersoldierballerina, @electradestiny, @marshbev, @n0-sh0rtage-0f-faults, @cruebaby, @ggorehorror, @valentines-in-london, @nassauartist  @cmft-jr-winchester, @bokkie92, @notworthyofyou1120 @xrosegoldwolfx, @mgkobsessed, @chaoticvybe,  @kellysimagines @thoughtsoftheantagonist , @sleepyjunhong  @meetthesixxter @sparxx27 @gingerspicetalks @kaitieskidmore1 @unknownoblivion @nevergoodenuffbutokaaayyy @sublimeprincesswasteland @kylieinwonderland @haileynicoleseavey17 @lavendersoundbarrier  @xxisxxisxxis, @dogmom2014, @cruesixxlover1991, @xpoisonousrosesx,  @m0rnlngstar, @love-struck-aries, @youretheonlyonewhomakesme,  @i-want-to-shoot-myself, @arianareirg, @fentitrbl, @patheticgay69 @rocknroll--baby​ @redlipscrystalskies14, @samanthadegaro @jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels @thechangingme, @idkmanhereisshitilike, @makaelahdelvalle

Nikki held my hand tightly as we walked through a crowd of photographers. Quickly, he wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me closer to him, my hand darting up to his chest, fingers intertwining with the layered rosaries and the same padlock necklace I had gotten for him years prior.

I heard Nikki mutter a curse word when photographers screamed for pictures and a quick word. Nikki declined but allowed them to take pictures of us. We were at the album release party and there was already a buzz about the music. Mainly because they wanted to see if Mötley could do it without Vince.

We walked inside hand in hand before he quickly let go and put distance between us. I frowned a bit but quickly perked up when Alan Kovac came up to him, "Nikki! Congratulations man." He gives him a quick hug "All the hard work has paid off. C'mon let's celebrate." He's quickly pulled in another direction, I see him glance back at me before he starts talking to Alan and the other suits. The record label, the marketers...those people.

I sigh deeply as I walk over to the open bar. At least I had an excuse to go shopping and get a new dress. I order a vodka soda with lime as I sip and people watch. I didn't know half of these people and I'm sure Nikki felt the same way. I should have just stayed home with Arianna however I wanted to make an effort in supporting him like a good girlfriend should do, or whatever I am to him.

Ever since my date a few weeks ago, Nikki has been extremely distant. I know he wants to talk about it, and I do too but we both don't know how to bring it up. So the best thing we know how to do is ignore it and act like it didn't happen. Therapy was a bust the other day too, we sat in silence for forty five minutes. How much longer can we keep doing this?

I get tired of sipping through the plastic straw and toss it to the side, chugging the rest of it before putting the glass down and ordering another one. The bartender tries to make small talk, I brush him off and leave before walking over to the VIP area where the band is. Cigarette smoke from John and Mick hit my face, I would usually say Tommy too, but he's trying to quit before the baby gets here.

I sit down in the red velvet chair besides Clementine, "That's a pretty dress. Where'd you get it?" I smile at her.

She leans closer to my ear, "I got it at Target."

God bless Clementine for not being like the other wives and girlfriends.

"It's probably the last cute dress I can fit in for the next six months. I've already been gaining weight."

"I think it's just you stress eating and not pregnancy weight." I smirk as she flips me off and playfully hits my shoulder, "What are you drinking?" I point at the red liquid in a martini glass.

"A virgin cosmopolitan." She points at mine, "Vodka soda?"

I nod, "Double the vodka." I glance seeing Nikki come over, he eyes the spot next to me before changing his mind and opts for sitting by Corabi instead. I look at him a moment before looking back at Clementine. Her eyebrows raise in question as I take another long sip.

"Let me just take a guess, he's bitter over your date with Jon?" Clementine questions as I roll my eyes, "He needs to get over it. This was the deal, you both date someone else and decide if it's what you want. It's not that hard to comprehend."

I chuckle at her words, "You would think right? The only time we talk is at the dining table with Arianna and who's doing pick up duty. Other than that, there's no interaction. I even walked around the house in my underwear and one of his shirts and he still wouldn't talk to me."

"Have you tried being the bigger person?"

Well, obviously that would be too easy.

"I don't know why I have to be the bigger person. He's the one that's all cranky about it. I stopped giving him shit for Donna after their second date. He just doesn't like when I play his game better than him, he never has." I express to her as she chuckles.

"God, you two are a match made in hell." Clementine laughs, "Forget about all of that tonight and just have some fun. You're kid free and it's an open bar. What more could you want?" I glance at Nikki as she follows my gaze, "That's beside the point!"

I smile a bit, "I'm fine Clementine. I'm here and I'm having fun."

"You're always just fine, Van."

I glance, "Because I'm fine. I'm good." I look over when Nikki gets up, holding his cell phone to his ear before he disappears into the crowd, "I'm gonna go use the restroom. Maybe get another drink and some food. You hungry?"

Clementine chuckles "Do I even have to answer that?"

I nod, using her knee as a crutch to get up. I squeeze past people before I get to the restrooms, seeing the line and groaning. I eye the men's bathroom for a second, not seeing a single line or a dude walk through the doors. I clear my throat walking past dirty glares and eye rolls as I walk into the bathroom.

"Oh fuck.." I turn around seeing Corabi taking a piss, "I'm sorry John."

He laughs a bit, I hear the noise of his zipper before the flush of the urinal, "It's okay. There's nobody in the stalls." I nod quickly, walking into it. God, men are fucking disgusting. I squat over the toilet doing my business as I hear him wash his hands before repeated sniffing. I hear him mutter a "shit" before more sniffing. I flush the toilet and step out seeing him using his car key to take a bump.

"You want some?"

My mouth runs dry and the angel and devil are arguing on my shoulder, "I didn't know you used." I step over paper towels on the floor and go to wash my hands hearing him sniff again before pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Just socially. Helps with my anxiety." He responds monotone as he looks at me through the mirror. I see his eyes wander down the backside of me as I reach to dry my hands.

"Does Nikki know?"

"Why? You gonna tell him?" I shake my head and he smiles, "Good girl." He offers the bump to me as I stare at it.

C'mon. Just go ahead. Look out how little that bump is. It won't do anything to you.

I shake my head, "I'm okay John. Thank you though." I step to the door but he steps back and leans against it, "I should get back to-"

"Nikki?" He laughs, "Arent you two fighting right now? He's bitched about you for weeks now."

"John, you don't know what you're talking about. We're just having a disagreement." I stare at him, watching him sniff the white powder again.

Go ahead. Just say yes. You know you want too. C'mon, what's the big worry?

John laughs at me as he shoves his curly strands out of his face, "I guess dating other people is a pretty big disagreement."

"It's what he wanted." I raised my voice, becoming stern as he smiled at me.

"Hey sweetheart. It ain't any of my business." John snorts one last key bump before closing the vial and puts it back in his pocket. He grabs the door and holds it open, "Ladies first..."

My feet stay planted as I stare at him, he raises an eyebrow before closing the bathroom door, "One bump and that's it." Johns lips tug upwards as he pulls out the vial, "And you don't say shit. It stays here in the bathroom or I swear to god I will ruin your fucking life."

He doesn't say anything in return just a simple chortle as he dips the silver key into the vial. I hold a nostril close as I snort it up quickly. The whiz going straight to my head. I feel my heart beat throughout my body and the goosebumps rising on my skin cause me to shiver. I try to rub away the irritation, sneezing repeatedly right after, "Thanks.." I see that he holds out another one I sigh and snort it in the other nostril.

John chuckles as I wipe my face. He opens the door and follows behind me.

I feel Corabi's hand rest on my lower back as he gets us back over to the bands section. I stop walking seeing Donna sitting next to Nikki, her tan legs draped over his knee as she clutches a fruity drink with an umbrella. She's whispering in his ear and he laughs at whatever she said. His hand is placed over her knee, rubbing up and down her bare thigh, fingers pulling on the bottom hem of her skirt.

I glare at them, feeling my wrist being pulled on as my name is being shouted over the music, "What did you say?" I look at Clementine, eyes low and hazy as she stares at me.

"I said...what took you so long!?" She shouts a bit, dragging me over to the booth as I can't take my eyes off of them. Donna leans over and kisses his cheek and jaw as he as the biggest smile plastered on his lips. I feel my chest heaving up and down as I try to find a solid breath of air to suck in. Clementine touched my cheek to bring me back to her and away from the looming panic that was slowly rising.

"Sorry, the bathroom...the-the uh line was really long." I stare confused again as I now hear Donnas high pitched laugh over all the other noise. Why? Why was she here when I'm here? When he held my hand and held me close when we got here?

"And no food?" Clementine laughs. How could she be laughing? Does nobody see what's going on? My eyes widen when Nikki gently grips her throat, his thumb running over her skin back and forth as he kisses her. His eyes stay opened and locked on mine.

"Why's he doing that?!" I shout, startling her as she turns to look at what I'm yelling at.

"Who? Whose doing what?" She asks confused, staring at me concerned, "Vanity? Hey! Look at me!"

I can't rip my eyes away, Nikki smiles at me when she kisses his neck and touches his exposed chest, "Don't you fucking see her kissing him?!?"

"Whose kissing who Vanity?! Jesus Christ are you drunk already?!" She pulls me to the side but I try to fight her, "Vanity! Stop!"

"Nikki!! He-he's just!!-" I try to get it out, but my words are a jumbled, slurred mess.

"....is getting his picture taken with the band?" Clementine says in my ear as she points over to them. Huge smiles on their faces as they hang off of one another laughing and yelling as flashes from cameras go off.

I blink a few times, staring. Nikki sees me and waves at me. I look over to the couch, no one was there, "What?" I say quietly as Clementine grips my arm and drags me out the back doors. I feel relief wash over me as the cold air hits my skin.

"What did you do?" She shoves my shoulders, "What did you do Vanity?!" She shoves me again until I'm leaning against the concrete wall. I feel the world spinning around me, Clem is a distorted mess as she yells "What did you fucking take?!"

"I-I didnt..." I can barely focus on the three of them that were standing in front of me "Oh god..." I mutter as I run my hands through my hair.

"Don't you dare lie to me!" She shouts, "You look sicker than a fucking dog and your eyes won't stay still!"

I rest my hand at the base of my throat, I felt like I was choking on nothing as I try my hardest to focus, "B-blow! I had some blow in the bathroom! A-and I-I think I'm h-having a bad reaction!" I stutter over my words, trying to keep my tears in.

"Yeah?! You fucking think?! God Damnit." Clementine groans as she paces around before grabbing my hand "C'mon-" she tries to pull me back inside.

"No! I can't go inside! Not while he's with her!!"

"What?!" Clementine stares at me, eyes narrowing, "What are you talking about? He's not with anyone-"

"Yes he is!! I saw them!" I flinched, breathing rapidly when Clementine cupped my cheeks, "I-I saw them. And they were kissing and he was looking at me to make sure I was watching!! Why would he do that?!"

"Van-Vanity hey! Hey! Listen to me-" I shook my head as she forced me to look at her, "Nikki is not with anyone. You're just seeing things and none of it is real. It's just your mind making you hallucinate. None of it is real-" She repeated, "Let's go inside and try to relax, alright? We'll get some water and some food."

"None of it is real..." Clementine nodded as I shook under her hands, "Okay..."

*Clementine’s POV*

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!!!!

I held onto Vanity's arm, feeling her tremble as we walked back inside. Her jaw muscle was clenching and unclenching repeatedly. I looked down at the crease of her elbow hoping to find a prick mark from a needle but there was none. I guided her back over to our section as she plopped down on the couch, hunched over with her head between her knees.

"Okay. C'mon, you gotta sit up or someone's gonna ask questions." I told her as she leaned back against the cushion, pupils blown with greens and golds lit up around them, "I'll be right back, okay? I'm just gonna get us some water." Van looked panicked but she quickly nodded.

I glanced at her one last time before walking away, seeing the guys at the bar. Tommy smiled, running up to me and giving me a kiss, "There you are!" He cheered, wrapping his arm around my shoulder.

"Hi baby." I leaned up to kiss his cheek "I'm just getting some water for me and Van.." I tell him, he yells at the bartender to get one water and one Jack and coke, "Tommy..."

"It's too early for her to be drinking water." He whistles loudly and yells for Vanity as loud as he can, "Go bring her over here! She needs to celebrate too instead of moping around." He laughs a bit, "Vanity!!" He shouts, cupping his hands around his mouth.

I glance seeing her watching, she slowly gets up...well stumbling up as she comes over, "Jesus, maybe she does need a water..."

"Tommy...she fucked up.." I say in his ear as he looks at me.

"Well yeah! I'm sure she is a little fucked up by the way she's walking." He laughs loudly again and I grow frustrated with him.

I grab his arm and pull him closer to my height, "No Tommy. She fucked up. She snorted some blow and now she's having a bad reaction or trip or whatever the hell it is. She's hallucinating." I tell him over the music as he stares at me for a moment before glancing behind me. I turn around seeing Nikki sitting in a chair laughing.

Tommy walks away from me as he goes over to Vanity, wrapping his arm around her waist and helps her walk straight. He brings her over, blocking Nikki's view as he helps her up onto the barstool. He reaches over the bar and grabs a bottle of water and forces it into her hand "Drink it now or I dump it on you." He tells her sternly, I see the gleam of fight in her eyes, but she does what she's asked to do anyways.

Tommy turns back to me, "We need to tell Nikki." I suggest as he stares, before laughing.

"Baby have you gone nuts?! That's gonna be world war three! Just let her relax. She's just having some coke induced paranoia, she'll come down from it in a little bit." I move past him when I see Vanity struggling to keep her head up. I place my hand at the base of her neck and glare at him, "She could be overdosing Tommy."

"She's not foaming out the mouth and she isn't seizing. She's fine. I've seen her snort two eight balls in one night and obviously she lived. She's clean and sober and it's probably a shock to the system." Tommy laughs a bit, taking a sip of his beer as he looks at me, "What?"

"Is that suppose to make me feel better?!"

"Please don't fight over me. I'm sorry..." Vanity slurs as she looks at us, "I just wanted something to make me feel better."

"It's okay, Van. Just try to relax." Tommy sweet talks her as I slap his chest.

"It is not okay! Just sit there and be quiet. And pray to god Nikki doesn't feel like making things up with you."

*Nikki's POV*

My eyes wandered a few seats over seeing Tommy and Clementine laughing with Vanity. An empty pit formed in my gut as i watched them for a moment. I was only avoiding the situation because she was avoiding it too. I rubbed my face before ordering a Jack and coke and a vodka cranberry for Van to break the ice. I pop a piece of gum into my mouth before grabbing the drinks.

I strutted over, seeing Tommy and Clementine bickering about something before they turn to me, staring intently "What?" I glance at them before sitting in the chair next to Van, placing the glass in front of her and resting my forearm against the back of her chair.

"Vans actually done drinking." Clementine announced, "I told her not to eat that shrimp cocktail."

I glanced at her before Van "Are you okay?" I spoke against her ear as she nodded quickly.

"I'm okay. I feel better now. Just got a little woozy is all." I catch a bit of her slurring as I watch her reach for the glass and take a sip, the ice cubes shaking and clinking as she holds the cocktail. I glance down at my watch, we had barely been here for 2 hours.

"Do you wanna go home?" I ask softly, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, "I've talked to enough people and don't mind being home with you." I touch her shoulder and feel her tense up.

She shakes her head, looking at the counter of the bar and not me, "No, it's okay. I promise I'm fine. I guess I just drank too much to fast. I'm good Sixx."

I nod, leaving it at that but I still look at her worried. I notice her hands shaking still as she grips the edge of the bar, "Van, look at me a moment." She quickly glances at me before looking past me, "Please look at me. Just me." My eyes wander behind her seeing Tommy and Clementine looking at me, Clementine nervously chewing on her thumb nail as Tommy had a look of worrisome.

Golden eyes find mine, pupils blown but I don't react as I can see tears in her eyes. She knows that I know and that's enough for me. I put my hand on the side of her cheek, she was flushed and burning up, "Keep it together." I spoke sternly as she quickly nodded at my words.

"I-I I'm sorry.." she stumbled over her words, "I'm so sorry Nikki." My thumb catches the tear that rolls down.

"Just keep it together, okay? Only for a little while longer."

Vanity takes a deep breath in and exhales through her nose, "Okay...I can do that. Then we can go home?"

My lips curl in a smile, fighting back every derogative word I wanted to scream in her face "Yes doll, then we can go home. You sit tight, get some water and relax." I tell the bartender to give her a another water bottle before I glare looking at Clem and Tommy.

I leave Vans side, motioning for the two to come over to me, "What is she on? Is it coke? If that's the case, it's the calmest I've ever seen her than."

"W-what do you mean? She's on something? I had no clue.." Tommy stammers as I give him a look.

"Cut the shit. Is she using again?" I look at Clementine, begging for answers as she shrugged.

"I don't know Nikki. And I don't know what she's on. She wasn't making any sense and she started crying then she was hallucinating. She needs to go home Nikki."

I laughed "Have you fucking lost it? Arianna will still be up. If she's hallucinating here she'll be hallucinating at home." I look over at Van seeing her reaching out for something that's not even there, "Fuck. Just keep her distracted or something. I don't want her ruining anything tonight." I sighed in frustration running my hand over my face as I let out a muttered fuck, "I gotta step outside for a minute. Just keep an eye on her, please."

~Next Morning~

I jolt awake, gasping for a breath as I push and kick my comforter off of me. I wipe the sweat from my forehead before holding my stomach, god I felt like I was gonna hurl. My bedroom door is thrown open, the handle hitting the wall as Arianna and Anarchy come running in.

"Mommy!! I'm going with auntie and uncle Tommy today!" She announces pulling herself onto my bed and sitting on her knees in front of me, "Daddy said she's on her way to get me."

I rub my eyes and smile looking at the bun Nikki put her hair in "Is your backpack ready? And your shoes picked out?"

She nodded feverishly, "Yes! Daddy did it and told me to come wake you up to say bye." I run my hands through my hair before getting up. I notice my rooms in disarray as I pull up a pair of sweats. I help Arianna jump off the bed and she's clinging to my leg as we walk down the hallway and to the stairs. She lets go of me as she sits, sliding down the stairs and laughs up a storm as Anarchy chases her down.

"You ready for the whole day with your favorite person besides me?" Nikki smiles handing over her sneakers. I say good morning to him as I walk to the kitchen but he ignores me.

"The whole day? Does that mean I can bring my toys over?!" I hear Nikki chuckle, "No sweetie. I think you still have plenty of toys over there."

I pour myself a cup of coffee and let Anarchy out at the back door before going to the living room and sitting down, "Daddys right baby. You still have a lot over there."

She pouts a bit, "But they aren't new toys like the ones I have here.."

"Just ask Uncle Tommy for new toys." I shrug and smile at her as her eyes light up.

"Van." Nikki scoffs and rolls his eyes, "Arianna, you're fine with the toys you have there and the toys you have here. You aren't getting anything new."

Arianna huffs before she stands in front of the tv watching cartoons, "You hungry V? I can cook you something. She already ate."

I nod, looking at him "I'm starving. Can you make French toast? What are we doing today since she's going over to Clems?"

I stare when he narrows his eyes at me, "I'm staying home and so are you." He says sternly as my eyebrows pull together, "Don't need you in public till the news and frenzy dies down about your behavior."

I tilt my head to the side, "My behavior?" I say confused as I hear a car horn.

"Wait till she's out of the house, yeah?" Nikki rolls his eyes at me and I frown at his attitude. He helps Arianna with her jacket and hands over her backpack, "See you later bug." He bends down and kisses her forehead before he leaves to the kitchen.

"Is daddy mad?" Arianna questions curiously as we walk to the front door.

"What? No, no, daddy's not mad. You know he's just grumpy in the mornings." I bend down to fix her laces, "I'll see you later okay? Be good and we can go to blockbuster tonight." She leans forward and gives me a kiss on the cheek and a tight hug. I open the car door for her and help her get up and wait till she buckled. I feel Clementine looking at me and I glance, "Good morning."

"Morning.." she grumbles but cheers up when she says the same thing to Arianna.

"Thanks for taking her. I don't remember us talking about it though?"

"Yeah, you didn't. Nikki asked me."

Why was everyone being so damn short with me?

"Okay...well have fun. Bye Ari." I wave to her as Clem rolls the window up and starts heading down the driveway.

I walk back in the house, leaning against the front door as I smell cinnamon and vanilla coming from the kitchen. I feel jittery as I walk through the house, Nikki has the portable radio on to the rock station in the kitchen. He's moving his head a bit and has his back towards me, I pull myself on the barstool and keep to myself.

"That was Bulls on Parade by Rage Against The Machine and you're listening to KLAZT LA's best rock station. Up next, we're taken it back with a littl Home Sweet Home by Mötley Crüe. Speaking of the Crüe, did anyone else see the article in entertainment today about the antics of Vanity Blackwood last night at their album release party. Chick seems like a real keeper...Not!"

I gasp before Nikki tosses the magazine down on the counter, "You fucking embarssed me last night Vanity."

I stare at the magazine cover. I look fucking plastered as Nikki is trying to keep me standing and the headline reads: The princess takes a tumble as Mötley Crüe heads in the direction of their old antics.

My eyes widen at the shots of me on my knees outside of a limo with both Tommy and Nikki trying to pull me up. I pull up my sweats seeing cuts and bruises on my kneecaps and shins.

"God, Nikki..I-I'm so sorry. I don't even know what to say. I-I don't remember any of this."

Mötley Crüe was suppose to be celebrating their album release with new lead singer John Corabi, however they ended up babysitting. Vanity Blackwood (Nikki Sixx's ex and baby mama) had one too many fruity drinks and ended up having to be escorted out (see above). Our office reached out to the bands rep but they had no comment.

Nikki slammed his hand down on the counter, covering the picture of me in the limo with a bright yellow star reading 'censored' between my spread legs, "You're really going to look me in the eye, lie, and tell me you don't remember any of this shit? You humiliated yourself, me, and the band. So who gave you the fucking blow?"

Everything came rushing back, the blow in the bathroom with Corabi, the hallucinations, the vomit outside in the rose bushes when we got home, "I-I went to the bathroom then I needed some air and clem came with me and I started hyperventilating and that's all I remember."

"Vanity." Nikki took a deep breath, "Just tell me what happened. I won't get mad, I just want to know. I was fucking worried sick about you last night, almost took you to the damn hospital."

I pushed the magazine away from me, "I went to the bathroom, then I went outside. I remember I was seeing crap that wasn't there. And I felt sick to my stomach. But I didn't snort anything I swear. I haven't touched anything since New York."

"Vanity! You weren't acting drugged! Or like someone spiked your drink! You were a incoherent mess, you were pale as a ghost and your pupils were as big as the eye of a needle."

The yelling made my head throb as I rubbed my temples to relieve it, "I don't know, Nikki. The last thing I remember is sitting at the bar."

He rolled his eyes, "So I don't know when you're high on coke? You were a babbling mess. Kept saying shit over and over. You're jaw was clenched so god damn tight I thought I was going to have to take you to a dentist! Fuck! Van! You were saying I was with Donna and wouldn't shut the fuck up about it! She wasn't around! Wasn't even fucking invited!" He stepped away from me to go flip the French toast angrily and toss the spatula down after.

"I don't know Nikki..." I spoke in a soft whisper, "I didn't snort, smoke, or shoot anything. Why can't you believe me?" I was already this far down the rabbit hole, why should I stop now?

"Because Van, I know you. Did John give you something because he was acting fucking weird too."

I shook my head looking at him, his eyes were drilling holes in an attempt to get it out of me, "No....I barely talked to him. I congratulated him and that was it."

"Fine." He glares for a moment before looking away, "We'll have to wait a few days before coming out with a statement to clear things up."

"Can't we just wait for it to blow over like everyone else does?"

He scoffed, "Seriously?! You dragged my bands name through the fucking mud!" Nikki shouts before stomping over to the tv and turning it to MTV, "They've been talking about your god damn interview all morning."

"Any thoughts on the album Vanity?"

I rubbed my face as I saw myself almost fall over nothing before grabbing onto the interviewer for stability, "Well, in my honest opinion, the album could be better." I slurred every word, "It's-its not Mötley and it sucks without Vince. Corabi sucks, and the album sucks. It sounds like every band now a days. It's too...too heavy. And! And you know what else!" I pointed my finger at the camera and grabbed ahold of the microphone, "Vince wasn't even fired like Nikki said. I was there that day. Nikki was just bitching like he always does and-"

I felt sick to my stomach when Nikki turned off the tv and threw the remote down, "That's why we need a god damn statement. We'll go with your lie about the spiked drink and call it a day. Got it?"

"It's not a lie.."

"Just don't. Just fucking don't, okay? I know when you are lying and when you're telling the truth. I'm done fucking talking about it."

I stared down at my nails, seeing dried blood around my knuckles. Just say it. Just tell the truth. Just say Corabi gave you the drugs and risk the chance of Nikki kicking him out of the band. I heard Nikki groan when the house phone started ringing.

"What?!" He answers it before rolling his eyes, "It's for you." Nikki glares and hands it to me.

I get up and go with down on the couch, "Hello?"

"Bad time to call huh? It's Jon..." I smiled a bit and peaked over the back of the couch to see Nikki in the kitchen cooking, "I just uh...I saw MTV and-"

"Please, please don't watch it. I was really drunk last night and was acting like a total idiot. That's not how I am and I didn't mean anything I said." I explain, running my hand through my hair, grimacing when I feel it sticking together.

"I figured...they're making you seem like a bad person and I just wanted to make sure you're okay sweetheart." I hear his smile from the other side.

"I'm okay....just dealing with the repercussions. But thank you for checking in. It's really sweet of you."

"You're welcome. But hey..since I have you on the phone. I was hoping maybe we could get together soon? I had a lot of fun last time and I've been thinking about you quite some bit."

I blushed a bit, "Really? Um...yeah, I'd love to see you again. I'm free next weekend."

"That sounds good. Can I pick you up around four?"

My eyes widened, "You wanna pick me up? I can just drive to wherever."

Jon chuckles a bit, "Sixx gonna shoot me or something? Look, I'll take my chances just for you. You'll love what I have planned."

"Okay...yeah you can pick me up. My address is 7904 Palo Verde Court and the code to the gate is 666.."

I smile when Jon laughs, "How clever of him. I'll see you next Saturday Van. Don't listen to the media, it will eat you alive."

I thank him again and say my goodbyes as I put the phone back on the receiver. I go over to the plate Nikki put down as he's already eating, "Will seeing my tits make you feel better?"

"Shut up. Seeing you naked and bent over isn't going to make anything better. I'm pissed Van."

I sigh, "I know. And I'm sorry, okay? I really am. I didn't mean anything I said about the album. I like the album, it's not my favorite but I like it. You know I support everything you create."

"It didn't feel like it." I hear and see the frown and I gently reach over and touch his hand.

"I mean it Nikki. That wasn't me last night and I'm sorry I had you worried." Nikki gave my hand a squeeze before letting go.

"Let's just move past it okay? It already happened and there is no reason for us to argue about it. You said your piece and I said mine. We have time without the kid so let's just relax today." He leaned over and kissed the side of my head, "Love you..”

“I love you too.”

To whom it may concern,

My behavior and antics a few nights ago at the album release party were completely and utterly unacceptable. In no way, shape or form is that how I truly am. I was heavily under the influence and after a trip to the hospital, my blood work had an ungodly amount of Rohypnol in it. So in other words, my drink was ‘roofied’. We are working with the LAPD and the club owners to narrow down the assailant. To the boys, the band, Mötley Crüe, I have never once had any ill feelings towards anything that has been created. I have loved and cherished each album that has been put out by the band. I am extremely apologetic for anyone's feelings in and out of the band I have affected in a negative manor

Best Regards,

Vanity Blackwood

Nine for a Kiss

Kayo barely knows what’s running through her mind as she jumps directly out of Shadow’s cockpit and sprints towards One’s dock. She can’t think straight, all she can think of is making sure that Scott is okay.

Virgil would have cleared him to fly, so he must be alright. But she heard that tertiary explosion; a clear, ringing BOOM down the comms. Colonel Casey and Captain Rigby had heard it too, Kayo didn’t remember getting back to shadow, she didn’t even remember how she got home.

Her heart is thumping in her chest by the time she reaches the side of the sleek silver rocket.

Scott slumps onto the platform as he peels himself out of the pilot chair. It’s been a very, very long thirty-six hours. He’s tired. So tired.

“Scott!”

Kayo.

He doesn’t have the energy to speak but just enough to look up before she’s crashing down in front of him. He smiles as her hands come up to cup his face.

Her lips are on his before he can think of anything except how much he needs a shower. His hand rests on whatever part of her he can reach, his brain is a little too sleep foggy to notice, as all of his thoughts turn to her and just her alone. Her kiss is fierce, it’s burning with need after the day they have had, in that moment nothing else matters to her except him and nothing matters to him, except her.

*

 It hardly comes as a surprise when it happens. Although he doesn’t quite know when they crossed this line John’s hardly likely to object. He’s glad they’re up in space because if he had her pressed up against a wall of glass anywhere else, he’s sure four brothers would have something to say about it.

Her lips quirk up into a smirk.

“You’re thinking far too hard right now.”

“Just considering my options.”

“Oh yeah? And how are they looking?”

“Not too bad from my vantage point if I’m honest.” He’s not that much taller than her really, but he likes to remind her that he is. “What about down there?”

He brushes a hand along her jaw and around to the back of her neck. She smirks again and lets herself be drawn in.

“I like this option.” She whispers with mere millimetres between them.

“I thought you might.”

*

 It was a reflex. An old reflex. One left over from his final year at college when he’d dated his project partner (something else he shouldn’t have done, but hey you live and learn) a kiss born out of excitement and closeness.

“Oh my god. Brains. I am so sorry! I didn’t… I… Shit, I’m sorry!”

They had worked together on so many things, and it had never happened before. This crush was getting out of control.

“I-its fine.”

“No, it wasn’t. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s alright Virgil. E-enjoyable, actually.”

“I overstepped and I - - What?”

Brains shrugged slightly, and turned away with a smirk.

Virgil’s brain took a minute to catch up.

“Wait. No. You can’t just walk away… Brains!”

*

 She’d planned it meticulously the moment she’d heard Gordon’s voice over the comms.

Complete the rescue, save the people, get back on FAB 2, and bring Gordon with her.

Easy.

Simple.

Perfect plan.

Executed to perfection.

Gordon is sitting next to her, they’re on FAB 2 and they’re blissfully alone. They’re talking, getting closer, Penelope thinks he’s even getting the hint.

“You’ve been missed Gordon Tracy.”

“Missed. By anyone in particular?”

Except…

“Um…” She hesitated. Why did she hesitate? It only leaves room for interruption.

And interruption they get.

“What are we chatting about on this beautiful evening?”

“Pie!”

Just like that, the moment is gone. She smiles a little sadly but manages to cover it up with politeness.

“Well, we can’t say no to pie, can we? Let’s go find some plates.”

She doesn’t just hear Gordon’s sigh behind her. She feels it. Feels it in her bones. In every fibre of her very being, right deep down to the core of her person. So she stops, let’s the others go on ahead.

“Aren’t you going too?” She heard him mutter to the pup on his lap.

She turns.

She goes back, and before Gordon knows what’s going on her hand is on his knee and she’s pressed her lips to his. It’s nothing special, it’s brief, but sweet, and when she pulls away his eyes are wide.

He’s smiling, and she wants nothing more than to do it again.

“My way of saying: Thanks for saving us today.”

*

It was a party, there was alcohol, he was legal age in New Zealand, and he was on downtime, his brothers couldn’t exactly protest.

Or at least what they didn’t know, couldn’t hurt him.

And Brandon sure knew how to throw a party.

Alan was staying with Brandon but when he got there the party had already been starting up and Alan realised that he knew no one else, not even by reputation. Brandon had introduced him to a few people and then flitted off to play host.

Alan didn’t see him again until he went to the kitchen for another drink.

“Hey dude!” Brandon’s arm was around his shoulders before Alan was out of the fridge. “You really seem to be getting on with Kiera!”

“Wha - - Who?”

“Kiera. The girl you’ve been talking to all night, the one hanging off your every word?”

“Oh, right.” Alan shrugged, opening his beer. “Is that what her name is?” He hadn’t meant to sound rude, but the party was loud, and he was sure she only recognised him from the TV.

“C’mon dude, she’s totally into you!”

“I figured. No thanks, I’m good. I didn’t come here to hook up with a random girl.”

“No random girls, okay, okay…” Brandon nodded thoughtfully. “I’ve noticed Matt with his eye on you,”

“Which is he again?”

“Tall, long hair, sorta beard.”

“Still no thanks, no random guys either, I’m good.” Alan waved him off.

“Alright,” Alan watched Brandon take a long drink of his beer, draining the bottle. “Then what about me?”

“What about you?”

“I’m not a random guy, or girl for that matter. What about me?”

Alan raised an amused eyebrow, just how much had Brandon had to drink?

“You’re staying here anyway so it’s not like we’d have to chase out a rando in the morning.”

Alan wrinkled his nose, feeling a little annoyed. “Is this the reason you invited me?”

“A little, I need encouragement,” He waved the bottle in his hand to illustrate his point. “For courage to say stuff sometimes.”

“O-kay, I think that’s enough of that.” Alan took the new bottle from Brandon before he could open it.

“Just one.” Brandon held up a finger.

“What?”

“One kiss,” He clarified, stepping up to the astronaut. “And if you don’t like it, I’ll never say anything about it again.”

Alan nodded. “And if I do?”

“We can revisit again when I’m sober.”

“Alright.” Alan closed the gap between them. “Deal.”

He pressed his lips firmly to the vloggers and felt an instant response. Fingers sliding into his hair, scratching ever so slightly on his scalp, a tongue running against his lips that is granted immediate access.

Oh yeah, this is worth a revisit in the morning.

Submitted by Al Reinman;

Transcribed by Carter Albrecht

Like most GC natives, I hate this damned place in a special way only a Gothamite can. I grew up here. It’s gross, smells like a tire fire, the rich live in their high towers looking down on us all, I can’t walk to the corner to pickup a pack of smokes after dark, unless I’m packing at least my mag light(we’ll get to that), and we’ve got a new freakshow causing chaos every week. Don’t even get me started on the public transportation.

That being said, Gotham is MY town, y’know? Some out-of-towner says any of what I just said, I’m as likely as any Gothamite to knock their teeth in. See, I love this town as much as I hate it, in that special way only a Gothamite can. It’s hard to explain that to someone who isn’t from here.

So anyways, I work in sanitation. It’s not bad work, all thing considered. I do third shift tunnel walking. It’s a newer thing. See, after that Rat-King business, when that guy was kidnapped homeless people and forcing them to build something or other in the sewers, few years back, the city assigned Sani workers to do regular patrols to make sure nothing hinky is going on, y’know, like wannabe gangsters or shit like that.

Most of the guys hate tunnel walks. And I mean, that’s fair, there’s more of a chance to run into that big ass crocodile guy, or any of the other bozo’s Arkham can’t seem to keep ahold of. Of course I never saw the guy. Never saw much of anything, except a few teenagers playing thug. So I volunteer to do most of the walks. Got me one of those big metal flashlights, my mag, because you can bust a skull with those things, if you need to. I also have a piece, but we’re not supposed to carry while we’re on the job, so I usually don’t, unless one of the loonies is loose. This wasn’t one of those time, just so you know.

It was this past Halloween. I was kinda pissed because one of my buds was playing a show at The Hole, that dive over on Park. Well, I clocked in, and my super asked if anyone wanted to take the Walks tonight. I figured eight hours strolling was as good as I was going to get. My hand shot up, and into the tunnels I went. We’re not supposed to, but I like listening to podcasts while I walk. Vicki Vale’s Gotham Report is a favorite of mine. So I pop a headphone in, only one, I’m not stupid, and I start off into the dark.

Tons of concrete and steel kills any kind of cell signal, so I download my podcasts before I head down. This episode was an exciting one for me, because she was talking about an old Gotham legend. So if you grew up in GC, you were probably raised on stories about Solomon Grundy, who would emerge from the swamps to the north to gobble up kids who misbehave. Well, if you’re old enough. I hear kids nowadays are treated to threats of the Batman coming through their windows. Not sure which is a worse prospect.

Anyways Vale goes into the founding of Gotham, and the Five Families. Every kid learns about them in grade school, Alan Wayne, Theodore Cobblepot, Edward Elliot, Jeremiah Arkham, and Ezekiel Kane.

So story goes that the founders had contracted a cousin of Wayne, a guy by the name of Cyrus Gold. Gold was a merchant of some influence. The stories vary on the why, and the how, but some how, Gold was murdered, and his body dumped in that section of marshlands to the north, Slaughter Swamp.

So according to Vale, Theodore Cobblepot was into shady stuff way back when, and he had his eyes on Gold’s businesses. Old Theo was a cold dude from reports. His daughter, Millie Jane, she was fond of nursery rhymes, so old Theo would make men who crossed him recite them from memory before he wacked them. So Gold gets walked out to Slaughter Swamp. He’s blindfolded, and he’s reciting that old one, Solomon Grundy. Y’know, born on a Monday, etcetera etcetera. Theo pops him, plants him, absorbs his business.

Jump forward. The urban legend starts up, based on that version of the story. Kids say that if you say the rhyme in Slaughter Swamp on Halloween night, he’ll rise from the swamp and get you. You know how all those old stories, they never say what the ghosty or ghouly is gonna do, just that he’ll get you. I remember taking my first girlfriend out to Slaughter Swamp to summon Solomon Grundy. Lots of teens did it when I was in school, but no one I knew ever saw him.

Anyways, the route I took that night had an old disused outfall into Slaughter Swamp. Bruce had it redirected when he took over Wayne Enterprises a few years back, but the outfall is still open, and it’s a good spot to stop and have a smoke, about halfway through the route, so when I got there, I stepped out and had me a smoke.

I was on the phone with this girl I’d been chatting with, she does maintenance on the electricals running under the city, so we see each other at work sometimes. Anyways, I made this joke about being in Slaughter, and trying to summon Grundy. Just being funny, y’know. She’s loving it. She’s a Gotham Girl herself, but she never got taken out to Slaughter, but she’s egging me on, so I go for it.

It’s a simple rhyme:

“Solomon Grundy,

Born on a Monday,

Christened on Tuesday,

Married on Wednesday,

Took ill on Thursday,

Grew worse on Friday,

Died on Saturday,

Buried on Sunday,

That was the end,

Of Solomon Grundy.”

I wait. I say nothing, she says nothing. I’m hoping to build the tension and scream, give her a scare, y’know? Only, about the time I’m planning on screaming, my mag goes dead, so does my phone. Now the phone doesn’t surprise me. I carry a portable power bank for that, but with the concrete, you don’t get a lot of signal, so it doesn’t do much good, so I hadn’t hooked it up to charge. But the mag? Those batteries were brand new at the start of the shift. I always change my batteries before I go into the tunnels. Anyone who works underground will tell you there’s nothing more important than your light, y’know? And I always carry plenty of spares. Nobody wants to be down there in the dark. I always, ALWAYS put new batteries in before I start my shift.

There on the outfall, you get a bit of moonlight. More than in the tunnels. I’ll admit, I was spooked a bit, I should’ve had more than a few hours left on those batteries. So I was kinda rushing to get the old ones out and a spare pare in, and yeah, I let the old ones roll off into the swamp. I mean yeah, I was jumpy, but I wasn’t jumping at shadows, y’know? I’m a GC native. We’re tough stock, and hard to actually scare. Like really scare, y’know?

So the batteries roll off the concrete block in front of the outfall. Plop plop, into the swamp. Suddenly it gets real quiet. I mean dead quit. The owls, y’know, the ones on that preserve out there? Quiet. Bugs and night birds? Quiet. Hell, I don’t think I was even breathing, y’know? Just felt real tense. Your eyes play tricks on you at night. In the dark, you see things different, and out by the outfall it’s real dark, forest dark, y’know? Even with the super moon we had on Halloween this year, it was stupid, mind tricking dark out there. But I swear to you, there was fog rising from the swamp. And it wasn’t there before my light went out. Thick shit too.

Then I heard the splash. Like something big coming out of the water. I’ll admit that I was spooked. But I didn’t run or nothing. My eyes were adjusting to the dark, enough to make out the big shape moving towards me. I managed to fumble the new batteries into the mag about the time I asked:

“Who’s there?”

Thinking I’d stumbled on some teens playing a prank, y’know.

I got my light on right before the thing responded. Damn thing must have been nine foot tall, and wide as a truck. Dressed in the ragged, rotten remains of a suit. Sonovabitch looked like a jacked albino Frankenstein, like all rotted, deep sunken eyes and hollow cheeks, lumbering like it had a bad leg, skin and hair were bleach white, and the fingernails and teeth were all yellow and sick looking. And it spoke. Sounded about like rocks rubbing together. The thing lumbered towards me, hands outstretched, reaching as if to grab me, it rasped:

“Solomon Grundy, born on a Monday.”

I booked. I mean, I think it took me fifteen minutes to reach city limits? And I didn’t go back underground for months. It took me awhile to work up the nerve, y’know? But I’ve been thinking about it, and all the stories say Grundy only comes out on Halloween, right? So I should be fine as long as I’m not down there by Slaughter Swamp on Halloween, right? I should be fine.

Right?

okay so i think before I really start delving into this fandom I wanna give my thoughts on the game itself.  so MUCHO SPOILERS FOR CONTROL. IF YOU WANNA EXPERIENCE THIS AMAZING GAME YOURSELF DO NOT READ THIS POST.  You good? Alright, let’s go. 

So. First, I wanna talk about the game-play of CONTROL.  It’s fucking amazing. In a year where I played five incredibly strong games (Bloodborne, Uncharted 4, Red Dead Redemption 2, God of War and of course, CONTROL), it was my favorite game. In fact, I think it might be my favorite game of 2019.  It has something that all of the other games lacked, with the possible exception of U4...the core gameplay was inherently fun. The word “Next-gen” gets tossed around a lot in the gaming world, but this was the first thing I played that truly felt like it. The gameplay of CONTROL is at once simple and wildly different: I think I speak for most people when I say that the Launch ability is my favorite gameplay aspect: it just feels amazing to use, even after a year of playing it. It’s the closest I think a game has ever come to truly come (for me) to making me understand the sort of power the character wields in a way that isn’t superficial. From the sound design to the rumbles of the controller, to the superb animation, all of it comes together to make you feel powerful.  It’s amazing.  Okay so now that’s over, let’s talk about the world, characters, and story, the biggest reasons I love this game. As a long time fan of the more surreal and ethereal types of the supernatural, CONTROL immediately stood out to me with it’s central location: The Oldest House. What an incredible setting for a game, but also just what an incredible setting in general? When I walk through the hallowed halls of the House, I never feel at ease. I think it’s a fantastic combination of visual and audio design, but the House has a way of making you feel both unwanted and watched: even with all of the human touches the Bureau has scattered throughout the map, The House feels starkly inhuman- the ceiling too high,the doorways slightly too broad. Even after centuries of co-existing with humanity, the House has not quite adapted to humans. And yet there’s something also irresistibly compelling about wandering a place you know, logically, you probably shouldn’t be. It’s a fantastic way of putting you inside Jesse’s shoes: you feel both her fear and the powerful call of the unknown that beckons her to the darkest corners of the House.  The Altered Items themselves are also just...fascinating. The twisting of the mundane into the paranormal- there’s a word I’m looking for, but I can’t find at the moment. I know some people got annoyed with all of the reading in the game, but personally, I loved scanning through every document, case file, and correspondence. Dead Letters in particular caught my imagination: I’ve never stopped thinking about the woman trapped in the phone since I read about it, I even turned it into an original short story. CONTROL’s world feels very much lived-in, like it has history and activity outside of the game’s story, which is crucial to the livelihood of any setting.  Now, for the characters: Jesse Faden is perhaps my favorite video game character to date. I love her so much, words can’t describe, but I’m gonna try anyway. I love her sass, her jump-down-and-figure-out-a-plan-on-the-way-there attitude, her frustration and quiet sadness, her anxieties and ultimately- her love. Jesse Faden loves her brother so much that she literally threw away any chance she could have had at a normal, peaceful life and risked everything for him, not even knowing if he was still alive. As a proud brother of two siblings, It’s nice to see familial ties being just as strong in games as romantic ones.  Speaking of romantic ones, Emily freaking Pope am I right??? The minute Jesse and her sat down at the table I was like :eyes: “these vibes...the chemistry...the delivery...” I don’t care what anyone says Jesse and Emily are gay for each other and you cannot tell me otherwise, just look at all of their interactions. Remedy thank you for giving me another ship to stan until i die  The other characters are also amazing! I love my bois Simon Arish and Fredrick Langston, adorable dorks that they are. RIP Marshall but damn you were badass- also your long coat. Remedy make merch so I can buy it pls.  As for the more supernatural characters: Polaris.  Oh my god I love Polaris. My first assumption was that Jesse was speaking to us, the player, but learning the truth about what Polaris was and her own character was so fantastic- I would literally watch so much of just Jesse and Polaris communicating, the idea of humans and these...ethereal life-forms co-existing is just fascinating.  And then there’s the Hiss. I have been obsessed with the Hiss since I first heard those words. You are a worm through time. Like...the idea of a malignant radio wave, burring into your mind and planting itself within you, overriding your thoughts with song...just fucking chills. I can’t wait to write about this audible horror. 

Also just something I wanna note before I wrap this rambling thing up: CONTROL was not a game I expected this from, but I love how they handled representation in it: they never call attention to it or try to get clout for it, but they have a wide scattering of nationalities and a very even split of women and men: it was just so nice to have a game that didn’t feel dominated by dudes, you know?  Anyway: the story. I think this is where the game lost a lot of people, but I thought the way that it unfolded was fantastic, and every ending (Base game, Foundation, AWE) has left me excited to see more. I think my favorite plotlines thus far comes from the DLC’s: The Astral Politics and, of course-  Alan.  Fucking. Wake. 

But more on that in a bit. I think The Board and the presentation of them was fantastic: It’s so hard to for humans to write utterly in-human mindsets and persons, but I think Remedy’s team did a truly amazing job with The Board. Down to the method of communication alone, blasting divided concepts into Jesse’s thoughts that are literally shattering into synonyms because they don’t quite understand human language is just...aaaaaaahhhh, so good. And then The Foundation, my favorite DLC out of the two: So much expansion on the lore of both The Board and The House itself. The implication that The Board may, in fact, be just as much of an intruder as the Hiss are is chilling, and of course, The Foundation gave us even more Emily/Jesse ship fuel and development so like come on. As for the AWE DLC: I know a lot of people were disappointing with it, and I get that! Don’t get me wrong, when it ended, I literally went: “Wait, that’s it? That can’t be it.” I was expecting something roughly around the same length as the Foundation, and I think other people were too. Once I got over the initial surge, though, I sat down and really thought about it.  Story and content wise, Foundation is 100% the better DLC. But gameplay-wise? Oh man, AWE was so much more thrilling. I think this lends to Remedy’s incredibly atmosphere building, but after spending hours of Control feeling like an unstoppable badass, for them to completely turn it on it’s head and make me feel like a rat trapped in a maze, desperately lunging for any light and being utterly terrified of the dark: god, what an amazing fight the entire Third Thing was. The Service Tunnel in particular had me shook, man.  Was AWE short and felt more like a teaser trailer for Alan Wake 2? Yeah. Was it still really fun? Yes. And also, I think people missed out on how much lore we got for CONTROL, as well! Two words: Chester Bless.  So, to sum this completely chaotic post up: I adore CONTROL, every bit of it, and I can’t wait to talk to you y’all about theories, fics, and the like. 

Worlds Colliding - Chapter Six

I hope you all enjoy Chapter Six! Some things are starting to happen!

Relationships: Stiles x OC, Dean Winchester, Scott McCall, Alan Deaton

Warnings: None

Catch up here:  Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five

A month had passed by quicker than Natalie realized. She had pushed that missed call out of her mind, deciding to ignore it and went about her life as if it had never happened. Now, she had been so busy between work and spending time with Stiles. Almost every day that month, she had seen him at some point, even if it was just for a pop-in hello. Every time he would stop by the cafe, he would surprise her with little gifts to brighten her day. She was elated that he had walked into her life that day.

There was something about this man that made her feel like her heart could finally be repaired. She had never expected to fall this hard for someone new. But his sarcastic mouth and dreamy eyes had wormed their way into her heart in such a short span of time.

Stiles was just as happy to have this sweet woman in his life. She was everything he had been looking for and surpassed so many of his expectations. Being with her felt more natural than he could have ever asked for. But he was walking a tight line between adoration and guilt. He still hadn’t told her that him and Scott were keeping a close eye on her and it was eating him up inside.

He wanted to talk to her so badly, but how do you ask someone what type of supernatural creature they are. Stiles hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary as the month passed by. That was the worst part of it, now he just felt like he was spying for no reason.

Stiles fast walked up the path to Natalie’s front door, rapping his knuckles on the wood in animation. The hours had passed agonizingly slow until he could see her today. Natalie swung the door open with a squeal and leaped into his arms. He enclosed his strong arms around her waist and buried his nose into her hair, breathing in her scent of lavender and vanilla. Stiles felt a sense of calm flush through his body and he could feel his muscles loosen up. She attached her lips to the side of his neck in a delicious kiss and fire rushed through his veins.

“Well hello to you too, beautiful.” He set her feet on the ground softly and brought her hands to his lips. She blushed and smiled with pleasure. Her hands wove into his like matching pieces.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day.” Her purred softly and his heart leaped for joy. With that, she pulled him into the house like an excited puppy. She flourished her arm out like Vanna White, directing him to the living room. He looked around at the pizza, movies, and snacks she had set up. “I thought we could have a proper night in and have a Lord of the Rings marathon.” He studied the woman before him in awe.

“Where have you been all my life?” Stiles asked her with a chuckle.

“Waiting for you to find me, I guess.” She shrugged like it was obvious and dropped onto the couch, pulling her feet under her. Holding up the large, fleece blanket, she gestured for Stiles to come join her. He kicked his nikes off and scooted in beside her, making himself comfortable.

Natalie angled her body closer to his and whispered, “But I’d say I’m pretty damn lucky myself.” She nipped at his earlobe playfully and he bent down to catch her lips in a kiss, familiarity and passion mixing together. He loved that she could make him feel this way with just a simple kiss.

Stiles broke apart from Natalie and reached for her phone and snapped a photo of the two of them. He looked at her eagerly, “I thought you might want a new phone background?” Amused, she bobbed her head, letting him set his attractive face as her new screensaver. “That’s been bugging me forever.” He laughed faintly.  

He set his eyes on her puffy, pink lips and resisted the urge to lean forward and suck on them. She snuggled into his body, her curves matching his like a puzzle piece. Natalie let his warmth envelope her, feeling happier than she had in years. “Well let’s not waste any more time, shall we?” She clicked on the movie and settled in for a relaxing evening.

---

It was one in the morning when Stiles’ phone rang and jerked the couple awake, Stiles’ body thumped onto the floor as Natalie pushed him off the couch. The Lord of the Rings screen menu blaring on the tv. “Get the phone, Stiles.” Natalie huffed, her voice groggy with sleep, and she pulled the blanket around herself tighter. Stiles clicked the tv off and fumbled around on the ground for his phone, finally locating it under one of the pillows that had toppled to the floor.

Calling: Scott McCall

Stiles slid the green arrow over and glanced at Natalie’s sleeping form, walking out of the room without a sound. “Hey what’s up man?” Stiles whispered.

“Stilinski, where are you? You were supposed to meet me at the clinic at 12:30.” Stiles smacked himself in the forehead and groaned.

“Man, I completely spaced out. Nat and I fell asleep during a movie marathon.” He ignored the angry silence that was on the other end.

Finally, Scott said, “Well are you going to come or not? This is, like, the third time you’ve flaked on me.” Stiles rubbed his hand over his tired face and sighed in frustration.

“Yeah, give me ten minutes. I’ll be there.” He jammed his thumb on the end call button over and over. He padded into the living room and gathered his things. He pulled on his red flannel in hopes to calm the chill that had danced across his body. Stiles looked down at the sleeping Natalie and wished he could crawl back in next to her. He wish he could run his fingers along her soft skin and make her sigh in content, but that would have to wait.

He pushed his hands through her messy hair and murmured into her ear. “I’ve gotta head out, sweetheart. I’ll talk to you in the morning.” Natalie grumbled and rolled over, pressing her cheek into the couch cushion like a child. He jotted down a note for her and slipped out the front door, locking the bottom bolt behind him.

The world around him was quiet and the night air was crisp in his lungs. Her neighborhood had long been asleep and as he drove to the clinic in silence, his eyelids were begging to go back to sleep too. Stiles slapped his cheek a few times to wake himself up and cranked the radio up.

Before he knew it, he was sitting in the parking lot. He could see the light gleaming through the darkness that always had been his beacon of hope. He hopped out of his jeep and slinked towards the front door. Completely unaware of the eyes that watched his every move.

Scott looked up at him with irritation dancing along his features as the door slammed shut. “Don’t give me that look. A boy needs his beauty sleep.” Scott rolled his eyes at the statement. Deaton walked out from the back room and peered at the two boys standing before him. They had grown up so much from when it was hard to believe that they were still the same people.

“What have you found out about Natalie, Stiles?” Deaton looked at him, expecting something substantial.

Stiles dropped his head, gazing at his shoes. “Well... Nothing yet. There is nothing about her that feels supernatural and I’ve never seen her do anything strange. She just seems to be like me... Human...” He trailed off. He hated talking about Natalie behind her back, even if it wasn’t bad.

“Truthfully, Deaton, I couldn’t even catch a scent of anything. I’ve never heard her heartbeat rise like she was lying about anything. I don’t know where you heard that she was supernatural, but I think you might have gotten some wrong information.” Scott was frustrated that so much time this month had been wasted on a useless lead. His muscles seemed to be permanently tense and he was in definite need of some down time, preferably with a beautiful girl by his side.

Deaton was flipping through an old leather book, his face pinched with frustration. “I knew a shaman once who mentioned her name, I’m sure of it. If I could just find it...”

Stiles looked up, confusion filled his features, “I’m sorry, did you say shaman? Like an old dude who crazy chants to spirits in his free time?”

“That’s quite a stereotype, Stiles. Try to remember that all of this used to be unfamiliar to you.” Stiles dropped his head at the correction. “This man was a Native American man I came across during my search for something many years ago. He was a highly intelligent man who had ties to the many astrological plains. He had the ability to call to the spirits to do his bidding when he wished. It was a great joy to watch him practice.” Deaton continued to scan the pages of the book.

“Well then just call this dude up and ask him about all of this.” Stiles murmured.

Deaton’s eyes fluttered between the two boys. “That contact is... no longer accessible. But I’m sure it was her name. Natalie Costas. I just wish I could remember what he had said about her. It’s like there is a block on my mind.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.

Scott looked up, “Is it really going to be such a big issue if you don’t?”

“Beacon Hills has had their fair share of ups and downs due to supernatural beings. I believe it is fair to be cautious of all who come here. Especially ones who keep the company of Shamans.” Deaton rested against the metal table.

Stiles groaned into his hand, “I just don’t feel like she could be dangerous. You know how I am with my gut feelings.”

“Stiles, we can’t rely solely on your gut feelings. Her name wouldn’t have been drifting around in a Shaman’s conversation for no reason.” Scott remarked.

“Well you two need to figure out something. I’m not going to keep lying to her, I’m trying to have a meaningful relationship with this woman.” Stiles said bluntly.

“I’ll keep thinking on it. I have a few more techniques that I can try to use to jog my memory. For now, just try to find out why she came to Beacon Hills.” The boys nodded and started to head towards the door. “And Stiles, try to be careful. Until we know what she is or what she’s capable of, you are left at an disadvantage.”

Stiles dismissed the comment with a wave of his hand, Scott trailed on his heels. He knew deep down that Natalie would never hurt him, it didn’t matter that they’d only known each other a short time.

“Man, we’re not trying to make you feel bad.” Scott tugged on Stiles’ arm. “We have just been burned too many times to not be wary of people who move here.” Stiles smiled but was quiet. His friend was just looking out for his best interests.

“I know you aren’t. It’s just so difficult because I’m falling for her, ya know?”

“I knew you were from that first day, dude.”

“Just something about her takes my breath away. Sometimes I feel like my heart would just stop if I didn’t have her there by my side. Her green eyes are just... and she’s so smart. I’ve never met a girl so smart. I know you don’t know her very well but she’s kind and caring too! She always asks about how you’re doing, Scott.” Stiles rambled on and on, a star-struck look on his goofy face.

Scott patted his shoulder and said with a laugh, “She seems great. I’m happy you found someone who makes you happy. You deserve it.”

The boys let the conversation die. Suddenly, Stiles asked, “Do you think Deaton is right? Do you think she’s supernatural?”

“Truthfully, I think that if she is...she doesn’t know it.”

The boys were so engrossed in their conversation that they hadn’t paid attention to the heavy boots slapping across the pavement coming from behind the jeep.

A man came out from the shadows and locked eyes with Stiles. He looked like he had gone through war and Stiles noticed his harsh green eyes looking at him like he was a pile of trash. “No, she doesn’t know it. And it’s going to stay that way.”

Tags:  @multifandomdisappointment @music-magic-mayhem @ghostaccio @screamxqueenx94 @dark-night-sky-99 @rissyrapp20 @pissoffghost-korg

Could you turn me into an attractive maid? My friends keep making fun of me about how I'm single because of my looks, my shy and timid personality. Plus, I need a job to pay off a bunch of debts.

   My breath grew cold and heavy in my lungs like I had inhaled a block of ice. The center of the room felt like it was dangerous all of a sudden and every cell in my body screamed for me to avoid it. I couldn’t though, this was about personal growth. I wanted to slap myself but that would look really weird. Come on, come on, you can do this Jack. You’re the man, this is easy as pie. The scene played out before me. I had unconsciously crossed my arms as a woman asked a seated man about airfare to the Bermuda triangle. “What do ya want air rates for? We don’t even know if there’s no airports there anyway,” the travel agent said.“Well yes but ships always go missing in there,” she said.“Yeah, but we at least know there’s a couple docks so it’s probably safer.”“Probably? How often do ships go missing there?”“All the time. Every ship we send never comes back.” Come on Jack, jump in.“If no ships ever come back how does your company have such positive reviews?”“Well, no one’s come back to give us a bad one.” The crowd surrounding the pair chuckle and laugh, all but me. I’m still too nervous, a million lines and ideas are all competing in my head and it’s all too much. I’m sure a vein is throbbing somewhere in my head.

   “Hey man, I thought you said you’d get up there tonight? I’m bummed I didn’t get to see you freeze up in front of everybody,” Alan said. He was the lovable asshole that first suggested I come with him to his improve class to ‘break out of my shell’. I was perfectly fine in it, but it still got lonely. It was over nine years since my last girlfriend, and I’m not even sure how that one happened. “Sorry, I just got a little sidetracked thinking of what to say,” I said as I popped two Tylenol to squash the headache I gave myself. “That’s the fuckin problem dude, you don’t have to think in improve. You just do, ya know?” I didn’t know in fact. I can’t remember the last time I didn’t take a weekend off to plan out all the conversations I was going to have the following week. I was always just so scared of saying the wrong thing. “I’ll try better next time, I need to get to my night job or that dick boss of mine is gonna fire me.”“Ya know, I’ve heard you call him dick, asshole, fuckhead, motherfucker, cocksucker, pissant, and douce, but I don’t think I heard his name yet.”“Yeah, I may not like it but I really need the money. I have those student loans I took out remember?” This made Alan laugh, way harder than I thought was necessary. “Oh yeah, you were all set for a law degree and you got kicked out like the first day cause you called some woman ‘the most fuckable MILF you ever saw’.”“Yeah.”“And who did she turn out to be, again?”“The dean, alright? She was the dean.” Alan laughed so hard I thought he was actually choking. Part of me wished he would.

   I waited for Alan to recompose himself, he was the only one of us who could afford a car. I scanned the dimly lit hallway of the rec center. Looking for anything that could take my mind off my friend’s enjoyment of my situation. I saw a worn out cork board on the opposite wall lined with various ads. Better than listening to him choke on my misery. One said there was a snowmobile trailer in like new condition for sale, only $8500. Another advertised an old woman’s piano class, three times a week for only ten dollars a lesson. That was actually pretty good. A bright pink one hidden beneath a wanted poster from 1993 proclaimed the need for a groundskeeper at a country estate and offered to pay a hundred dollars an hour plus room and board. “What!?”

    A hundred friggin dollars an hour? I work a total eighteen hours a day between both my jobs and I barely bring home three hundred a week! “What’s wrong?” Alan said.“This lady want’s to pay someone a hundred dollars an hour to mow her lawn and stuff!”“No way, let me see,” Alan said grabbing the flyer from me. “Oh dude, that’s that old Haderly place like five miles outside town.”“So?”“Dude, she like a shut-in. But from what I hear she’s a total babe and makes all her money from doing cam shows online. No way you can work for a woman like that.”“Wow, I’m not used to hearing you so mature Alan.”“What? No, you can’t work for her cause you’re shy, short, and um, a homely guy. She’s not gonna want to hire you. She probably wants some super stud around to ogle at and get her in the mood. Sounds like a job for me!” Now it was my turn to laugh. He might have had a little nugget of a point, but he wasn’t exactly much better looking than me.“Don’t you dare. If anyone needs this job I do. You make plenty of money at your job.”“Not a hundred fucking dollars an hour. Don’t worry, when I’m loaded and she and I start dating we’ll let you live in the attic or something,” he said with a smile.

   It was an expensive Uber ride out to the property, but one hours wages from this lady would pay it back and more. It was early, the sunrise only just began to blind me as I walked down the path to the house. My fingers traced along the flyer as I walk, I would have called but there was no phone number on it, just this address. The air was so clean and filled with moisture I could hardly believe it. And the yard was nothing less than colossal. I had no idea there were even yards like this in the area. It looked like you had to measure it in acres. It took me nearly thirty minutes to walk it straight down the middle, no wonder the salary was so high, this was a full-time job. I was finally close enough to make out the detail on the ornate wooden doors when I saw another door at the side of the house open wide and a man stepped out. He was huge, built like a brick house and wore a really tight white shirt and jeans combo. He raised a Panama hat to his head and looked over the property with a steely gaze. Was this guy the lady’s husband? Not a second later did he reach back and grab a shovel and rake from the same doorway. Oh shit, was he a groundskeeper? Am I too late? Fuck, no wait. This place is huge, maybe she needs two? Oh please god need two, the ride back is gonna kill my wallet.

   The closer I get the more beautiful the house looks. This might actually be an old plantation home. That would make sense given the size of the yard. I can tell it’s solidly built as I step on the porch. Not a single creak or grown from the wood at all. I take a second before I knock on the door to check my appearance. My shirt is tucked, my shoes are clean, and my hair feels good. Ok, you’ve reversed this a hundred times since last night. Knock on the door, she answers. I say hello and offer a handshake, not too firm. We exchange names, I ask about the job. She asks my qualifications, can’t be too complicated for yard work. She either says yes or no, shake hands again and say thank you. Then I go home and wait for the call. Easy. I turn to knock on the door only find it already open, with a very beautiful woman laying against the doorframe.

   “And how can I help you young man?” she said. Her hair was a light brown color, accented with thin streaks of white. Her face looked beautiful despite light evidence of aging. He skin was still tight, but there was the odd wrinkle here and there. She wore a burgundy silk robe that failed completely at masking her impressive figure. Her hips made waves in her robe as they rested on the bawdy flesh. She looked like an ex-playboy bunny. “Young man? How can I help you?” she said. I hadn’t realized but her sudden appearance had thrown me off. “Oh, um, well,” I said. I fumbled with my hands trying to produce the slip for her. “I, well I was hoping that you could maybe hire me as a gardener. I mean the groundskeeper job,” oh god. I totally fucked this up. She had a questioning look on her face as she grabbed the flyer. “Well first off if you’re begging for a job you should probably lead with your name.”“Right, it’s Jack. I mean I’m Jack,” goddamnit Jack, you totally fucked up.“Thank you, Jack, my name is Irene Haderly. Secondly, I’m sorry to say that I filled that position over two years ago. This is just an old flyer, you probably already saw my groundskeeper, Samson, this morning. He’s more than enough for the property. What I really need right now is a maid. My last one quit about a month ago and it kills my knees cleaning this place by myself. So unless you want that job I can’t really help you.”

   I knew it was too good to be true. I never catch any breaks, I’m gonna be in debt for the rest of my goddamn life. But as she turned her back to me I felt this little ball of white-hot anger in my stomach grow. I was pissed at everything. My shitty apartment, my negative bank account, my stupid shyness, and it just sort of exploded. “Does the maid job pay just as well?!” I said. God, even angry I’m pathetic. But my whiny ejaculation seemed to peak her interest. “It does, actually. Even better, one-fifty an hour plus room and board. You would be expected to live here while you’re employed by me, and there is an appearance code that needs to be followed, are you up for that?” It was even better than I hoped, except for the appearance code. “Um, you’re not going to make me crossdress, are you?” Hell for that much money I wouldn’t even mind. “No, no. Nothing like that. You would, of course, need to sign an agreement, I lose maids so often I would just feel better if you made a commitment to working and living here. Would six months be alright with you?” Six months? At one-fifty an hour? With no expenses? “Could we make it a year? That sounds great!”

   I followed her inside and boy it looked awesome. It was the first time in my life I had an occasion to use the word opulence. I followed her down a naturally lit hallway, the sunlight blinding me on more than one occasion until we reached her office. She removed a simple looking brass key from her robe, it looked kinda heavy but I don’t remember seeing its outline in her clothing. “Now, other than tending to your duties, the only rule of the house is that you are never allowed in this office unless accompanied by me. Is that clear?”“Yes, ma’am.” That’s a pretty easy rule to follow. She handed me a fairly wordy looking piece of paper and told him where to sign. I had finally dotted the last I and crossed the last T, “Alright, ma’am, I think I’m done.” She smiled in a very loving way. “Perfect, now we just need to get your appearance up to snuff, follow me,” she said. This was the most nerve-wracking part. Was she actually going to make me crossdress? She said no but the thought was still chipping away at me.

   I was both happy and confused when she lead me instead of her closet to a side room in her office. It looked like a pantry filled with mason jars. It looked like they were filled with various spices, maybe she made her money with some artisanal spice company. But why bring me here? She looked like she carefully considered each jar, then she reached up and grabbed a small one and dumped the contents into her hand. She brought her hands together and rubbed the spice into her hands repeatedly. She brought her hands close to her mouth as she rubbed and it seemed like she was whispering into it. “Now, this is going to feel a little weird but don’t worry, it won’t hurt a bit.”

   What? She lifted her palm to my face and blew the dusty spice in my face before I could ask what she meant. I coughed violently as the powder flew down my throat and into my eyes. “What the hell was that!?” I said trying to rub the powder from my face, oddly enough though, she was right in that it didn’t hurt at all. “Sorry, I thought you read the contract? This was all explicitly stated.” I was about to tell her that nothing in there said anything about getting sand blown in my face, but all that came out was slurred speech. My knees were getting weak too. I didn’t feel any pain at all. But it was like I could feel the little bits of powder burrowing into my body. My vision got really fuzzy but I could feel everything so much clearer. I could feel really big, powerful hands grab my shoulder and cradle me in even more powerful arms. I knew we were walking but I didn’t know where until I was placed on a bed. It felt like little tacks all over my body just scratching the surface of my skin. It was heavenly.

   My whole body felt like the head of my dick when I masturbated. I tried to reach down for my cock but my whole body felt like jelly. Then after what felt like an eternity, it started to die down. I could finally feel how heavy I was breathing and it was like a had weights on my chest. My back was arched somewhat awkwardly too, but overall I just felt a bit out of sorts. My vision was still cloudy, like my contact lenses had fallen out. Without them, I could barely see a foot in front of my face, but I could make out the shapes of two people on the opposite side of the room. One was Ms. Haderly, but the other one took a little thinking before I could recognize Samson’s broad shoulders. “Finally awake I see, well good. You woke up a lot faster than some of the others.”“Woke up? Did you drug me or something? This isn’t some kinda kinky snuff thing you have right? Please tell me it’s not.”“Don’t be silly, you just had to be altered to fit the appearance requirement, and you turned out pretty great too If I do say so myself.” What was she talking about, turned out great? Oh shit, this was totally like the human centipede. In a moment of cinema-induced paranoia, I reached a hand behind me and, for a brief moment, fully expected to feel the face of some other poor guy who got caught in her trap. I did end up grabbing a lot more flesh than I usually did, but it wasn’t someone else’s face.

   It was my own ass, but it felt gigantic. My bottom was, at its apex, a boney little thing that only by the most generous definitions could be called an ass. This thing I had my hand digging into though, this was a real ass. It was curved, meaty, springy and pretty responsive to touch. I could feel the blood rushing all sorts of places as I fondled my way to understanding. Unconsciously my thighs rubbed together, and when they did I noticed a distinct lack of testicular pressure when I did that though. I wasn’t alone in the room but I really had to be sure. With my free hand I reach to my crotch I closed my eyes and uttered one last prayer and tried to grab my dick. Instead, my palm slaps into a flat, slick, cleft.

   I’m not some super macho guy, so being emasculated wasn’t exactly earth-shattering to me but who wouldn’t start freaking out after losing something so important? Other than my ass and my chest my body felt so light and wispy. I felt a rising nervous energy in my toes and I started bouncing on my heels. Ms. Haderly moved to my side quickly. “Now I know this is a shock, I would be pretty flustered too. But let me just explain what’s going on, okay? Samson, why don’t you leave us to some girl time?” He didn’t say anything as he turned around and left. I still teetered on the edge of a meltdown, but if she did this to me she was the only one who could undo it. So I just listened.

   “You have probably guessed already but I’m something like a witch. And you may not believe me but this was all spelled out in that contract, and I wasn’t kidding about the pay scale. Every hour you live here you’ll make one-hundred and fifty dollars, now a young guy like you probably needs cash like that. And this is only for a year. Now do the math, 24 hours a day at one-fifty an hour, you’ll be a millionaire by then.” That stopped me in my tracks. That was so much money it was crazy. “Why do I have to be a girl though?” “That’s just the way the magic works. Aside from the looks, which are much improved by the way, it also comes with the knowledge of how to execute your duties. That and, well let’s just say the job comes with some really great benefits,” she said. Her nails glided along my thigh, and her hand reached and grabbed what I assumed to be one of my breasts. I hope that’s what it was because I still couldn’t see well, and they felt amazing to be held. She moved in closer and kissed me. Her much larger chest pressed into mine and her tongue darted around my mouth. When she separated I didn’t need my glasses to make out the sultry face she was giving me as she licked her lips. “So, what do you think?”

   She led me to my room a half an hour later, it was towards the front of the house on its left side. The room was directly beside Samson’s it seemed. When I stepped in, from what little I could make out, it was huge. It looked bigger than my crappy studio by three times. She guided me over to a bed and for a second I thought we were going to resume what she started upstairs, but instead, she told me to get dressed and start going through the list of chores. I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised by the uniform she wanted me to wear. It looked like a sexy french maid’s costume, but the thing I was excited about was the glasses on top of the pile of silky clothes. I wasted no time or thought in putting them on, and oddly enough they were my exact prescription. The room instantly became clear and I took in its full rustic splendor. A room like this in the city would cost no less than six thousand a month, and it was mine for just the cost of my cock and balls.

   I was nervous as I crept into the hallway in my new uniform, but not nearly as much as I expected or was accustomed to. This was the most flesh I had ever had exposed while still being dressed. My legs were encased in the thinnest white fabric stockings I could have imagined. The air passed right through and stroked my legs as if they were naked. My heels actually confused me in his easy I took to walking in them. They were over five inches tall, and at first glance, I had no idea how I could walk in them without undergoing training. But as my feet slipped into them it felt just like riding a bicycle, and not once did I even buckle in the slightest. The bra and panties went on in much the same way, but the feel of the silk underwear still caused a blush across my body. They were tight and the panties clung to my new sex, creating a slight camel toe. The bra seemed like it was intended to make my, really rather impressive, chest pop and call attention to itself. There I stood, dressed only in my new underwear and heels, like a lot of porn I had watched, with a chest that begged to be touched. I really wanted to, like really really. But Ms. Haderly had given me a list of chores to get to, and if she could do this to me to help my work go easier, then I really didn’t want to picture what she could do when she was mad.

   My incredibly short skirt bounced as I walked the halls and cleaned the rooms, with a feather duster no less. The house was kept mostly immaculate and only required light upkeep. Still, the house was large and the sun was setting by the time I had finished. I had been required to make Ms. Haderly both lunch and dinner, now I hadn’t made much more than Kraft mac n’ cheese for the last few years, but as I entered the kitchen I flitted about like a master chef. Before I knew it I had made her a hearty seafood salad for lunch, and that evening I made her a two-course meal, a simple Caprese salad and a roast beef for the main course. She even praised the meal, saying it was simply delicious. I had no idea magic could make someone so effective at something so complicated.

   Not only the cooking was different, but I seemed to have an intimate knowledge of the layout of the house, and my own timetable, and well…I seemed to just do everything in the sexiest possible way. I don’t think I ever bent my knees once the whole day, always at the waist and displaying my round ass to whoever was lucky enough to be behind me. My walk was punctuated with a side to side thrust of my hips with every step. Whenever I was in Ms. Haderly’s presence I always had my hands clasped in front of my stomach, which squeezed my breasts together making them look even larger. Honestly, I didn’t mind as much as I would’ve as a guy. I wasn’t good looking, not hardly, but now I was hot. Like really hot, and I kinda loved flaunting it. The sun was finally gone and as I returned to my sizable room, I ran into the groundskeeper Samson as he returned to his.

   I had never actually been introduced to him. A few times I saw him through the windows as I cleaned them, he mostly didn’t wear a shirt all day. That was concerning me. Normally I would be jealous of his intense physical fitness, he was as big as Schwarzenegger and as toned as Bruce Lee. I was jealous that I didn’t have his body, just not in the way I normally would be. He still didn’t have a shirt on and his body glistened with sweat and his tanned chest and face were planted with small, light patches of dirt and dust. “Oh, nice to see you awake. I’m Samson. So I guess you’re staying then?” he says. His rock solid arm reaches up and rubs the back of his neck. His body is so toned I can see each individual muscle move when he shifts his weight. “Y..yeah, it’s really good money, ya know?” My thighs rubbed together absentmindedly, feeling much hotter than I thought they should. “Yeah, that’s what drew me here a few years ago. What was your name again?” he said.“It’s Jack, but you can call me Jaclyn if you think it sounds better,” I said, blushing harder than I had for a long time. “That’s a pretty name, suits you much better now. It’ll take some getting used to though believe me,” he said.“Wait, did she…?” I said.“Yup, two years ago. My name was Samantha, if you can believe it,” he said. I very easily could. I moved my hands behind my back and took a few steps forward, hips rolling with each step. “So, did she change everything on you too?”

   Not five minutes later I was thrown on my bed as he used his powerful muscles to strip me bare. I undid his denim jeans with my teeth and his hard cock slapped against my face, the heat of his solid manhood made my glasses fog up. We were just about to get into it when we heard a that clear near the door. It was Ms. Haderly, dressed in the same robe from this morning. I was horny as hell but nervous, terrified I had broken some unknown rule. “You naughty, little servants should know better. You need to wait for your mistress before getting started.” She stepped forward and her robe slid off revealing her still tight and erotic naked body. She joined me on the bed and began to lick and tease Samson’s cock. Her hand was pawing at my supple ass. It was then that I had made up my mind, this was the best job ever.

The end. Hope Y’all like it!

That 10 Character thing.

RULES: List 10 of your favorite Characters (I’ll be doing the Male one, although I’ll soon do the Female one) from 10 fandoms (no particular order), and then tag 10 people. I was tagged by Feadae (thanks friend. This was something to think on). 1). Charles Williams from Chronicles of the Imaginarium Geographica. This was so damn difficult, let me tell you! I’m sure any Scowler can relate to the difficulty of choosing just one male character from CotIG. There’s the three Inkling Caretakers, the Badgers, the Caretakers Emeritus (mostly Poe) to choose from. That said, I had to go with Charles “Good Charlie” Williams. He’s great, Master of Espionage that he is, greatest among editors, and can rock purple hair like no body else. Not to mention I eventually read some wonderful books as a result of discovering his existence in this series. Now on to the rest... 2). Isekander/Rider, from Fate Zero. aka Alexander the Great. Isekander is just plain awesome. Perhaps the most likable character in the show (not too difficult considering some, but still). Badass, funny, and rather kind and supportive at times. Just plain amazing. 3). Carter Kane from the Kane Chronicles by Rick Riordan. I’m not sure why I prefer Carter over Riordan’s other protagonists. It might be because he’s such a lovable and adorkable nerd at times. That might be it. Really the Kane Chronicles deserve more love. 4). Feste from Twelfth Night or What you Will by William “builder of Pyramids and Bridges, and Someone Should be Flogged ” Shakespeare. Really Feste is the best of Shakespeare’s later sort of Sot. The Arminian breed of Fool (those originally written for and performed by Actor and Scholar of Foolery and Folly Robert Armin), as oposed to the Kempian stock (Those performed by Will Kemp). Not that there’s anything wrong with the earlier sort. I mean Falstaff is in their company and he’s great. In fact I was this close to putting Falstaff in Feste’s Place. So why go with Feste? Because this Corrupter of Words was my introduction to Shakespeare’s Fools (the Arminian ones at least) and I love him for that. His songs are great, his banter beautiful, and his quotes....are so damn quotable. Falstaff is great but Feste beats him by ‘that’ much. 5). Kraft Lawrence from Spice and Wolf. I had to include someone from my favorite anime so I might as well pick the male lead. A skilled merchant, the dude is Clever. Funny, witty (he can match wits with Holo the Wise Wolf, so he’s got that going for him), resourceful, adaptable and over all a great guy. Even if he can get a bit greedy and sulk more than he should. Also, being voiced by J. Michael Tatum (in the English dub at least) is good to. 6). Okabe Rintaro. (Aka Hooin Kyoma) from Stein’s Gate. A self proclaimed mad scientist who manages to discover Time Travel on accident. A bit of a full of himself prick at times, the dude is Intentionally and knowingly over the top in the best of ways. Prone to dramatics, with quite an air of sophistication about him. Also funny, likable, and an amazing, loyal, and devoted friend. Also, voiced by J. Michael Tatum( almost always a plus). If you haven’t seen it, I’d recommend you do so. 7). The Walker, from the Chronicles of Ancient Darkness by Michele Paver. I’m not sure what is about this crazy, one eyed wanderer of the Forest that I enjoy so much, and yet he’s my favorite male character in the series (Sorry Torak, Bale, Fin Kedin). 8). Death, from the Discworld series by the late Great Sir Terry Pratchett. The Death of Discworld is perhaps the best depiction of Death I have come across in fiction. He is a Kind Death, a carring and sometimes sympathetic sort of Death. He has a fascination with humanity, but it is a genuine sense of intrigue and want to know more (usually) not some bullshit malevolent sort of ‘fascination’ which is at times over played in fiction (although still done well) also a provider of many great quotes. Also, since it’s the Holiday season, I highly recommend reading and or watching (preferably both) Pratchett’s Hogfather. It’s one of his best, with some great words regarding the idea of belief (See Belief according to Death if you get the chance. But still read the book and watch the Mini series). Mind you some things might need explanation, like Susan or Albert, but those explanations are easily found if you look for them. 9). Alan Foggarty from the Faerie Wars Chronicles by Herbie Brennan. I’m not sure if I’m in the FWC fandom. To be honest, I’m not sure if there is one. If there is, it’s smaller than the Gatherum. None the less Alan Foggarty is great. The old man who might be a tad crazy ( one for conspiracy theories), but he’s intelligent, kind(usually), and a surgoate grandfather sort of figure to Henry (one of the protagonists). Brings a shot gun with him while traveling to another dimension so he’s resourceful to a degree. Although, perhaps my favorite thing about him is a scene between him and Henry in the fourth book (The Faerie Lord). He’s talking with Henry about Butterflies, a bit out of it, but trying to get his point across. His point being, in a universe with multi dimensional travel, Faeries, Smoke bombs that make people lose their memory, Time Stopping Glass Flowers, and not to mention Demons, that the simple yet complex process of a Caterpillar becoming a Butterfly is ‘True’ Magic. That’s just stuck with me, and Mister Foggarty is a favorite for that speech and much more. 10). Oh darn, who do I pick for this last spot? Ah! Wait, but which one. Will or Halt? Will? Or Halt? Gah! Will. This was very difficult let me tell you. Will Treaty, from the Ranger’s Apprentice series, by John Flanagan. Resourceful, Awesome, becomes an excellent strategist with quite a few awesome plans under his belt and st such a relatively young age. Badass and Funny besides being intelligent and quick minded (a trait which leads to quite an amusing nickname later on). Simply great. By the way, if you haven’t read the Ranger’s Apprentice series, I’d recommend you do so. A bit long (12 books, with a spin off and a prequel series), but worth it. I’d really recommend it to fellow Scowlers. While it doesn’t really share a similar premise at all, it has that delightful sense of adventure about it. Considered YA but that really shouldn’t be a deterrent or some such( I’m pretty sure deterrent is the write word). Now for tagging people. I don’t really know how to tag people (on mobile) but I’ll at least list people. @sockdologer @space-nerd @anyawen @onedragontorulethemall @bliss-delight-jr. @zuchinigal @teabooksandsweets @nikolatesla-go @deadgiraffesdonthavesex @a-fangirl-in-too-many-fandoms Have fun, and make of this what you will. Al, the Chronographing Cottager.

Grey's Anatomy//Teen Wolf AU - Part 2

Characters: Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski, Lydia Martin, Kira Yukimura, Isaac Lahey, Alan Deaton, Vernon Boyd, Braeden, Reader.

Stiles was about to go into surgery. It was a routine surgery, a simple appendectomy, but all that mattered was that he was the first intern to go into surgery. You were all gathered in the gallery to watch.

You heard people whispering, making fun of him. “Ten bucks says he messes up the McBird.”

“Twenty says he cries.“ Kira nods.

“I’ll put twenty on a total meltdown.” Someone in the back says.

“Fifty says he pulls the whole thing off.” You say. Everyone looks at you, silent. “That’s one of us down there. The first one of us. Where’s your loyalty?” Everyone stays quiet a bit longer.

“Seventy-five says he can’t even ID the appendix.” Kira blurts out. You sigh.

“I’ll take that action.” Lydia nods and everyone mutters in agreement.

You watch as he grabs the scalpel from the scrub nurse, the scrub cap on his head is a bit too big, it makes him look like a little boy. Everyone cheers and Boyd motions from the OR for everyone to shut up.

“That Boyd…he’s trouble.” Kira grins and everyone laughs.

You glance at the camera, listening to Stiles and Boyd. “Damn, he got the peritoneum and he opened him up.” Someone says.

“I told you he’d pull it off.” You mutter.

“Scalpel.” Stiles sticks his hand out.

“Scalpel.” The nurse repeats and hands it to him.

“Appendix is out.” Stiles takes it out and sits it on the tray, inciting cheers.

“Now all you have to do is invert the stump into the secum and simultaneously pull up on the purse-strings but be careful not to..” There’s a ripping sound. “break them.” Boyd groans. “He ripped the secum. Got a bleeder. You’re filling with stool, what do you do now?”

“Uh…” Stiles looks panicked. “Uh…”

“Think. You start the suction, you start digging for those purse-strings before she bleeds to death. Get him a clamp.”

“BP’s dropping.” A nurse states.

Kira sits forward in her seat, “He’s choking.”

“Come on, Stiles.” You stare intently at the screen.

“Today. Pull your balls out of your back pocket, let’s go. What are you waiting for? Suction.” Boyd is becoming impatient.

The monitor begins to beep. “Getting too low, folks.” A nurse says.

“Get out of the way.” Boyd pushes Stiles back. “Pansy-ass idiot. Get him out of here. Suction. Clamp.”

“007.” An intern behind you mutters. You turn to look at him, he has curls falling in his face and he’s sitting in his chair like he’s at his mom’s house.

“007. Yep. He’s a total 007.” Another intern says.

“What’s 007?” Lydia asks.

“Licensed to kill.” You mumble.

You’re sitting in the spare beds in the hallway. “007. They’re calling me 007, aren’t they?” Stiles sighs.

“No one’s calling you 007.” You and Lydia say in unison.

“I was on the elevator and Murphy whispered 007.” Stiles pouts.

“Oh, how many times do we have to go through this, Stiles? Five? Ten? Give me a number or else I’m going to hit you.” Kira groans.

“He wasn’t talking about you.” Lydia nods.

“You sure?” Stiles looks over at her.

“Would we lie to you?” You raise an eyebrow.

Stiles is quiet for a moment, “Yes.”

“007 is a state of mind.” Kira shrugs.

“Says the girl who finished top of her class at Stanford.” Stiles shakes his head. “Maybe I should’ve gone into geriatrics. No one minds when you kill an old person.” He lets his head fall onto the wall.

“Surgery is hot, it’s the Marines, it’s the macho, it’s hostile, it’s hardcore. Geriatrics is for freaks who live with their mothers and never have sex.” Kira shrugs.

“I’ve got to get my own place.” Stiles sighs.

“4B’s got post-op pneumonia. Let’s start antibiotics.” You hear the intern that started 007 say.

“Are you sure that’s the right diagnosis?” The nurse asks.

“Well I don’t know, I’m only an intern. Here’s an idea, why don’t you go spend four years in med school and let me know if it’s the right diagnosis. She’s short of breath, she’s got fever, she’s post-op. Start the antibiotics.” He walks over to you. “God I hate nurses. I’m Isaac. I’m with Jeremy, you’re with the Nazi, right?”

You glance up at him, “She may not have pneumonia, you know. She could be splinting, or have a PE.”

He scoffs, “Like I said, I hate nurses.”

“What did you just say? Did you just call me a nurse?” You cross your arms.

He shrugs, “If the white cap fits…”

Your pager goes off and you begin to walk away.

“She seeing anybody?” Isaac leans over to Stiles.

“I don’t know.” Stiles shrugs.

Isaac whistles, “She’s hot.”

“I’m friends with her. I mean, kinda friends, I mean…not, you know, actually friends. Not exactly, but we’re tight. We hang out. I mean really only today-”

“Dude.” Isaac interrupts.

“But-” Stiles starts again.

“Dude. Stop talking.” Isaac shakes his head.

You walk into the room, your patient was on the bed, seizing. “What took you so long?” A nurse asks.

“She’s having multiple grand mal seizures, now how do you want to proceed? Dr. Y/L/N? Are you listening to me? She’s got Diazepam, 2 milligrams of Diazepam, I just gave her a second ago, Dr. Y/L/N, you need to tell us what you want to do. Dr. Y/L/N!” Another nurse shouts.

You’re panicked, you don’t know what to do. “Okay, she’s full on Prazepam?” You pick up her chart.

“She’s had 4 milligrams.” A nurse answers.

“Did you page Dr. Bailey and Dr. McCall?”

“The Prazepam’s not working.” A nurse says.

“Phenobarbital. Load her with Phenobarbital.” You nod.

“Pheno’s in.”

“No change.” A third nurse says.

“You paged Dr. McCall?” You ask.

“I just told you.”

“Well, page him again! Stat!”

“What do you want to do? Dr. Y/L/N, you need to tell us what you want to do!” A nurse looks at you. The monitor beeps. “Heart’s stopped!”

“Code blue, code blue! Code blue, code blue!” They pull out the defibrillators.

You take them, suddenly feeling in control. “Charge pulse of 200.” You yell.

“Charged. 200.”

You defib.

“Still defib. Nothing.” A nurse tells you. “Charging. 19 seconds.”

“Charge to 300.” You order.

“300. Anything? 27 seconds.”

“Charge to 360.” You defib again. Nothing. “Come on, Katie.” You mutter.

“49 seconds..” A nurse alerts you. “At 60 seconds you’re supposed to admit her…”

“Charge again!” You defib and her blood pressure registers.

“I see sinus rhythm. BP’s coming up.”

Scott runs in, “What the hell happened?”

“She had a seizure and-” You start.

“A seizure?” He repeats.

“Her heart stopped.”

“You were supposed to be monitoring her.” Scott sighs.

“I checked on her and she-”

“I got it. Just…just..go. Someone give me her chart, please.” He waves you out of the room and you leave.

You approach Bailey, “You get a 911, you page me immediately, not in the five minutes it takes you to get to the emergency…immediately, you are on my team and if somebody dies it’s my ass.” You walk past her. “You hear me, Y/L/N?”

“Y/N?” Kira raises an eyebrow.

You walk past her and she follows you out the front hospital doors, it’s pouring rain. You throw up in the grass. You stand up and sigh before walking back in. “If you tell anyone about this, ever…” You threaten her.

You find her later in the skills lab. “What are you doing?”

“I’m suturing a banana, in the vain hope it keeps my brain awake.”

Stiles laughs.

“What are you laughing at, 007?” She glares at him.

Stiles returns the glare, “You know what? I don’t care. I comforted a family today and I get to hang out in the OR. All is well.”

All of the interns are packed in a small room. Scott walks in and looks at everyone. “Well good morning. I’m going to do something pretty rare for a surgeon, I’m going to ask interns for help. I’ve got this kid, Katie Bryce. Right now, she’s a mystery. She doesn’t respond to her meds. Labs are clean, scans are pure, but she’s having seizures. Grand mal seizures with no visible cause. She’s a ticking clock. She’s going to die, if I don’t make a diagnosis. Which is where you come in. I can’t do it alone. I need your extra minds, extra eyes, I need you to play detective, I need you to find out why Katie is having seizures. I know you’re tired, you’re busy, you’ve got more work than you could possibly handle. I understand. So, I’m going to give you an incentive. Whoever finds the answer rides with me. Katie needs surgery. You get to do what no interns get to do. Scrub in to assist on an advanced procedure. Dr. Bailey’s going to hand you Katie’s chart. The clock is ticking fast, people. If we’re going to save Katie’s life, we have to do it soon.”

Everyone grabs a copy of the chart and runs out the door.

“Look, give the antibiotics time to work.” Isaac crosses his arms.

“The antibiotics should’ve worked by now.” The nurse argues.

Isaac sighs, “She’s old. She’s freaking ancient. She’s lucky she’s still breathing. Now, I’ve got a shot to scrub in downstairs with a patient who wasn’t alive during the civil war. Don’t page me again.” He walks away and Kira approaches you.

“Hey, I want in on McCall’s surgery. You’ve been the intern on Katie since the start. You want to work together? We find the answer we have a fifty-fifty shot of scrubbing in.”

“I’ll work with you, but I don’t want in on the surgery. You can have it.” You nod.

Kira looks taken aback, “Are you kidding me? It’s the biggest opportunity any intern will ever get.”

“I don’t want to spend any more time with McCall than I have to.” You shake your head.

She raises an eyebrow, “What do you have against McCall?”

“If we find the answer, the surgery’s yours. Do you want to work together or not?” You avoid her question. She grins and nods her head.

“Well, she doesn’t have anoxia, chronic renal failure, or acidosis. It’s not a tumor because her CT’s clean. Are you seriously not going to tell me why you won’t work with McCall?” Kira’s sitting in the library with you.

“No. what about infection?” You glance at a book.

“No. There’s no white count. She has no ceteal lesions, no fevers, nothing in her spinal tap…” She sighs. “Just tell me.”

You close the book and look up at her, “You can’t make a face, comment, or react in anyway. We had sex.”

Kira opens her mouth and closes it, “…what about an aneurysm?”

You shake your head, “No blood on the CT, and no headaches.”

“Okay..there’s no drug use, uh..no pregnancy, no trauma…was he good? I mean, he looks like he would be…was it any good?”

You don’t answer her question, “What are the answers? What if no one comes up with anything?” You groan.

“You mean if she dies?”

You nod, “Yeah.”

“This is going to sound really bad, but I really wanted that surgery.” Kira sighs.

“She’s just never going to get the chance to turn into a person. The sum total of her existence will be almost winning Miss Teen whatever. You know what her pageant talent is?” You ask Kira.

“They have talent?” She raises an eyebrow.

“Rhythmic gymnastics.” You deadpan and you both laugh.

“Oh, come on.” Kira shakes her head.

“What is rhythmic gymnastics? I don’t know…I can’t even say it, I don’t know what it is.” You laugh.

“Isn’t it like something with a ball, and a-” You go still and Kira stops talking. “…what? Y/N, what?”

“Get up! Come on!” You jump up. The both run out of the library. You walk by the elevator while Kira’s talking to you. She spots Scott and holds the door.

“-the only thing she could possibly need is a-..Oh, oh, Dr. McCall! Just one moment, um, uh, Katie competes in beauty pageants-”

“I know that, but we have to save her life anyway.” Scott shrugs

“Okay, she has no headaches, no neck pain, her CT’s clean, there’s no medical proof of an aneurysm…” Kira explains.

“Right.” Scott nods.

“But what if she has an aneurysm anyway?” She suggests.

“There are no indicators.” Scott looks at her.

“Ah, but she twisted her ankle, a few weeks ago when she was practicing for the pageant-”

“Look, I appreciate that you’re trying to help, but-”

“This is not helping!” Another doctor in the elevator shouts.

“She fell. When she twisted her ankle, she fell.” You explain to him.

“It was no big deal, not even a bump on the head, you know she got right back up, iced her ankle and everything was fine, it was a fall so minor her doctor didn’t even think to mention it when I was taking her history, but she did fall.” Kira nods.

“Well, you know the chances that a minor fall could burst an aneurysm, one in a million! Literally.” Scott shakes his head.

The both of you step back and sigh, letting the doors close. You hear a ding and look up, Scott walking out of the elevator.

“Let’s go.” He nods.

“Where?” Kira asks.

“To find out if Katie Bryce is one in a million.”

Yore in the scan room, looking at Katie’s recent scan. “I’ll be damned.” Scott shakes his head. “It’s minor, but it’s there. It’s a cerebachnoid haemorrhage. She’s bleeding into her brain.”

The three of you are walking down the hallway.

“She could’ve gone her entire life without it ever being a problem. One tap in the right spot-” Scott explains.

“And explode.” Kira nods.

“Exactly. Now I have to fix it. You two did great work. Love to stay and kiss your asses, but I gotta tell Katie’s parents she’s having surgery. Katie Bryce’s chart, please.” He says to reception.

“Oh, and Dr. McCall, you said that you’d pick someone to scrub in if we helped.” Kira calls out. “Oh, yes, right. Um, I’m sorry I can’t take you both, it’s going to be a full house. Y/N, I’ll see you in OR.”

You and Kira stay planted to your seats, shocked as Scott leaves.

Kira is clearly upset. “Kira..” She walks away, glaring at you over her shoulder.

You approach her and Lydia in the hallway. “I’ll tell him I changed my mind, you can-”

“No, no, don’t do me any favors. It’s fine.” Kira shakes her head.

“Kira…” You start.

“You know what, you did a cutthroat thing, deal with it. Don’t come to me for absolution, you want to be a shark, be a shark.” Kira waves her hands.

“I’m not-” You try to explain yourself.

“Oh, yes you are. Only it makes you feel all bad in your warm gooey places. No, screw you. I don’t get picked for surgeries because I slept with my boss, and I didn’t get into med school because I have a famous mother. You know, some of us have to earn what we get.” Kira rants. You didn’t know she knew about your mother.

You’re in the OR with Scott, he’s shaving Katie’s head. “I promised I’d make her look cool. Apparently being a bald beauty queen is the worst thing that happened in the history of the world.”

Did you choose me for the surgery because I slept with you?“ You raise an eyebrow.

"Yes.” Scott deadpans. “I’m kidding.”

“I’m not going to scrub in for surgery. You should ask Kira. She really wants it.” You shake your head “You’re Katie’s doctor. And on your first day, with very little training, you helped save her life. You earned the right to follow her case to the finish. You…you shouldn’t let the fact that we had sex get in the way of you taking your shot.” Scott looks at you.

You sit outside with Stiles. “I wish I wanted to be a chef. Or a ski instructor. Or a kindergarten teacher.” You sigh.

“You know, I would’ve been a really good postal worker. I’m dependable. You know, my dad tells everyone he meets that his son’s a surgeon. As if it’s a big accomplishment. A superhero or something. If he could see me now…” Stiles shakes his head.

“When I told my mother I wanted to go to medical school, she tried to talk me out of it. Said I didn’t have what it takes to be a surgeon. That I’d never make it. So, the way I see it, superhero sounds pretty damn good.” You shrug.

Stiles looks at you, “We’re going to survive this, right?”

Later you’re inside with Deaton and Isaac. Deaton was the chief of surgery.

“She’s still short of breath. Did you get an ABG or a chest film?” Deaton asks.

“Oh, yes sir, I did.” Isaac nods. “And what did you see?”

“Oh, well, I had a lot of patients last-”

“Name the common causes of post-op fever.” Deaton interrupts.

“Uh…yes, sir.” He pulls a notebook from his pocket.

“From your head. Not from a book. Don’t look it up, learn it, it should be in your head. Name the common causes of post-op fever.” Deaton crosses his arms.

“Uh…the common causes of post-op…” Isaac starts. “Can anybody name the common causes of post-op fever?” Deaton shouts.

“Wind, water, wound, walking, wonder drugs. The five W’s. Most of the time it’s wind, splinting, or pneumonia. Pneumonia’s easy to assume, especially if you’re too busy to do the tests.” You speak up.

Deaton gives Isaac a look before turning to you. “What do you think’s wrong with 4B?”

“The fourth W, walking. I think she’s a prime candidate for a pulmonary ambulus.” You nod. “How would you diagnose?”

“Spinal CT, VQ scan, provide O2, dose with Heparin, and consult for an IVC filter.” “Do exactly as she says, then tell your resident that I want you off this case.” Deaton says to Isaac. “I’d know you anywhere, you’re the spitting image of your mother. Welcome to the gang.” He smiles at you.

You’ve scrubbed in on Katie’s surgery, you’re in the OR with Scott.“

"All right everybody, it’s a beautiful night to save lives, let’s have some fun.” Scott says as the scrub nurse gloves him.

You spot Kira in the gallery.

After the surgery, Kira comes to find you, “It was a good surgery.”

“Yeah.” You nod.

Kira sits and sighs,“ We don’t have to do that thing where I say something, and then you say something, and then somebody cries, and there’s like a moment…”

“Yuck.” You laugh.

“Good. You should get some sleep. You look like crap.”

You scoff, “I look better than you.”

“It’s not possible.” Kira gets up and leaves.

Scott comes in, glancing at paperwork.

“That was amazing.” You sigh.

“Mmmm.” Scott continues looking at the paperwork.

“You practice on cadavers, you observe, and you think you know what you’re going to feel like standing over that table, but…that was such a high.” Scott looks at you and nods. “I don’t know why anybody does drugs.” You smile.

“Yeah.” Scott nods.

“Yeah.” You repeat.

Scott smiles, “I should go do this.”

“You should.” You nod.

Scott leaves, I’ll see you around.“

"See you around. See ya.”

After work you go to visit your mother. You walk inside the building, stopping a reception. You spot your mother in the corner of the room and you walk over to her.

“Are you the doctor?”

“No. I’m not your doctor. But I am a doctor.” You say.

“What’s your name?”

“It’s me, mom. Y/L/N.”

“All right.” She plays with her watch, “I used to be a doctor, I think.”

You take her hand, “You were a doctor, mom. You were a surgeon.”

The Disney “Dark Age” movies ranked

The movies made in between when Walt decided he liked amusement parks better than movies and The Little Mermaid are the dumbest, the most widely varied, the hardest to compare to each other, and in some ways the most interesting, so here’s my ranking, from worst to best.

Robin Hood: This one is unnecessarily bleak. There’s a lot of scenes where all we do is watch decent people suffering. And the bad guys are the most repulsive and least fun to watch of any Disney movie. They manage to feel completely nonthreatening despite the fact that they cause so much misery because they’re so whiny and impossibly stupid. Plus, this movie is definitely responsible for a nonzero number of people becoming furries.

The Sword in the Stone: I think this movie is supposed to be a handful of little episodes where Merlin uses nature to teach Arthur how the world works. It’s a little hard to tell because there aren’t many lessons and there are a lot of random action scenes. The squirrel part has a little glimmer of a point, but it’s also perhaps the most dated-feeling part, since so much has to do with gender and consent and bodies. Merlin’s pretty cool, though.

Oliver and Company: I haven’t watched this one yet but it’ll probably go here. 

Aristocats: Pleasant enough to watch, I guess. I really thought the conflict was going to be that the high-class cat would have to learn to be less uptight and more accepting, but she pretty much started right out being on board with the alley cat’s laid-back attitude. Without a lot of conflict, it’s either a bit dull or a bit relaxed, depending on your perspective. Thomas O’Malley the alley cat is the same voice actor as Baloo from the Jungle Book, and those characters are so central to the appeal of the movie that it’s hard not to compare the two. Baloo is a much more enjoyable character to watch, and the Jungle Book is a much more interesting movie, so it’s hard to recommend Aristocats. However, there’s one scene when a dude gets surprised and yells “Sacre-Bleu!” and at first it sounds like he’s saying “Fuck!” and that made me laugh a lot.

The Rescuers: This really isn’t a kids’ movie. Not that there’s anything inappropriate, but most of the scenes are adults going about their adult lives with their adult attitudes and stuff. And because it needs to be understandable to children, it’s all kept really simple, which makes it pretty mediocre. There is a scene without dialog or anything that moves the plot forward, which is a bit of a bold choice. I was glad for a chance to just enjoy the background art set to some chill music--I guess it’s probably “easy listening” type music, which is not at all Disney’s usual musical style. 

The Great Mouse Detective: Similar to The Rescuers in more ways than just the fact that it stars mice. It is another pretty “adult” movie in a lot of the same ways. This one loses points against The Rescuers because it cares less about mood and aesthetics, but gains more points than it loses because it’s funnier and less boring.

The Black Cauldron: I liked the dark, evil-looking monster stuff, though obviously it’s a weird thing to fill a kid’s movie with. The plot is frustrating. There are many times when the protagonists have a clear short-term goal, but in order to achieve it, they have to pass through some zany wacky “fun” characters who don’t matter but will take up the next five minutes of screen time. Also, you could see that Disney was starting to realize how powerful a protagonist’s inner desires are, but didn’t yet know how to convey those desires to the audience effectively. If this movie had an Alan Menken-penned “I want” song, I would have cared so much more about everything that happened.

101 Dalmations: Those are some cool backgrounds, one of the best title sequences, and one of the best villains. Cruella DeVille really sticks in your mind as a character. There’s that one scene where the dogs are in the town and have to hide from Cruella and roll in soot so they’re all black, which did Stephen Spielberg-style suspense better than 80% of actual Stephen Spielberg movies, and it did it all 14 years before Jaws came out. However, pretty much everything I didn’t mention here is mediocre at best.

The Jungle Book: I don’t fully understand why I’m ranking this one so highly. Something about it “works” on an unconscious level for me. The background music, Bagheera’s voice, and the grave, serious, simple, matter-of-fact dialog all stand out in my mind. Of course, the way Baloo sticks out from all of that like a sore thumb is pretty great, too. It’s weird to think how similar a role Baloo plays in the plot to Honest John from Pinocchio, but how differently we’re supposed to react to them as an audience. If that’s not an example of how important counterculture was in the 1960s, I don’t know what is.

The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh: So many of the lowest entries on this list preceded Winnie the Pooh, and had so much more ambitious stories that just didn’t work because the budgets and resources weren’t what they used to be. Winnie the Pooh, on the other hand, is comfortable without resources. Stakes? who needs them. Story? eh, not important. All Winnie the Pooh needed was a few very simple characters interacting with each other in lightly amusing situations. The last few minutes are also surprisingly subtle. Any adults in the audience understand the importance of the scene in a way that the characters don’t, and it’s a bit of a gut punch when you don’t expect it. There was one thing that bugged me, though. The implicit message comes across a bit like “everyone is special and valuable exactly the way they are. Except Rabbit, he needs to change if he wants people to like him.” Rude.

The Fox and the Hound: This one could support a bunch of youtube dorks talking about the plot structure and the character arcs. It’s all effective. If I have anything to complain about, it’s that there are a few examples where the movie resorts to cheap heartstring-pullers, but part of the reason any adult watches Disney movies is to have their heartstrings yanked on, so that’s only a flaw if you decide it is.

Dads - American Radass track by track review

1.  If Your Song Title Has The Word “Beach” In It, I’m Not Listening to It Scott: This was the first song we wrote for the album and coincidentally ended up being the first song on the album. We always write all songs together and it's never been just telling John to learn "my songs" or vice versa. There may be a riff or two I come up with at home or a drum part he thought up he wanted to implement, but that's the most we do separately. Anyways, I think I wrote the main/intro part with the idea of a slower Colossal finger picked type of part. I am not great at finger picking and now use a pick and it works out a lot better. John: Once we wrote the music for this song we sorta figured it was going to be the opening song for the album. I really wanted to start the record with a “We” so that it was about everyone, not just solely my lyrics or my stories, but something that everyone can be a part of. This is my take on a positive hardcore song in the sense that it’s looking of the society we are in and how shit needs to change for the better. A lot of us, myself included, spend more time dwelling on the past and things we can’t change. “We water the plants even after they die, waste all our time in the helpless notion” was my way of starting this discussion that we are so stuck on dead matter, forgetting that we need to work for the future, and when we do know something might be wrong, or something will go wrong, we ignore it, we don’t want to think about it, we’d rather push it to the back until it has passed and we can dwell on it after the fact. “We can pick out our faults enough to blame our parents, why can’t we blame ourselves?” is my answer to everyone saying “yeah, I know I do ________ and it’s fucked up, I get it from my mom” or “yeah I know I’m a shitty person when it comes to ___________, I get it from my dad.” If we can pick out are faults enough to make some excuse of “oh well I get it from this person” well then we should be able to isolate these faults enough to fix them. “You only you can change yourself” is straightforward. We’re being too dependent on helping hands, at the end of the day they will not change anything for you. 2. Get to the Beach!’ Scott: This ended up being the second song we wrote for this album and ended up flowing really well from the previous song. I wanted to write a catchy up beat riff to be a big contrast from the last song. Lyrically, it's about seeing/dating/living with someone over a course of a year and a half or so, only to personally make mistakes which led to a lot from the other person. Being cheated on, being broken up with, being led on for months on end while that person was sleeping with other/s, etc. It's a hard pill to swallow from somebody you (at the time) love. I changed the lyrics from "If you're not home with me, then this place isn't my home at all" to "Since you left this home we made, you've been out fucking someone else" the day before we recorded the lyrics in the studio. We all felt like it was a positive change. I try not to harbor bad feelings toward said person, but feelings are what they are and sometimes things are hard to get over. Life is a highway. John: I love songs like these because it allows me to sit back and focus on drumming even more while Scott sings. 3. Honestly, Chroma Q&A Scott: This song title is a pretty obvious Cartel reference. John and I listen to a TON of music people who like us wouldn't think we like, whether it be Drake, Alan Jackson, R. Kelly, or especially lately, Aerosmith. The intro is my take on the intro riff to "Honestly", but done in a more Dads-like style. Some people have speculated that the lyrics are the second part to "Get To The Beach", which isn't true at all. I actually wrote these lyrics before I even met said person from that song. It's just a mix of constant depression, my shitty sleeping and drinking habits, and my problems with my Father. Pretty simple stuff. John: I’m able to try out a lot of drum patterns with this track. I wanted to follow the rhythm as faithfully as possible but while still adding flares here and there. 4. Aww, C’mon Guyz Scott: This is a pretty fun song to play, I'm a big fan of jumpy chord progressions with weird strumming patterns and upstrokes. I listened to Minus The Bear too much in high school, I think. Before John wrote the lyrics for this song, we talked about how we are very open about not encouraging negative/hate speech, especially in the "scene," and if even as a "joke," and how we wanted to write lyrics about it. The ending is super fun to play and makes me feel like I'm in a shit kicking rock n roll band. John: When we were coming up in the different scenes in the northeast we were meeting a ton of new people and everyone was into what we were doing, which we were extremely grateful for, but we started to notice some of the people we became friends with were saying pretty hurtful and discriminatory things as jokes. Saying “gay” or “fag” as a demeaning name to call people, calling each other the N word and making horrible racist stereotypical jokes towards one another. There was a promotional group that was doing samplers and such that Dads was a part of until we noticed the dudes running it were doing this. We tried quietly and politely leaving it without there being any public drama, but that went south very quickly and it looked bad for everyone involved at the end of the day. Lies and rumors were spread about us that we still hear about to this day, and we felt like we needed to make this song with these lyrics now. We cannot force anyone to censor themself at all, but we do not find any of it funny and a sick joke isn’t worth alienating anyone in this scene. And after it all they would plaster their love for all of these old punk legends all over, and I felt like the only way to rationalize and end this, I guess plea or persuasive argument of a song, was to bring that into perspective. How would Henry Rollins or Ian MacKaye treat you if you met them and talked to them like your friends, saying racial slurs and hateful words? 5. Shit Twins Scott: This fucking song. When writing this, we had to write down all the parts on a piece of paper with the amount of times we play each, repeats, etc. There is so much going on, even if it's our most relaxed song on the album. We've only played it twice live and it's weird as shit. We wanted a longer song on the album to kind of break up the shorter faster songs and to make sure we weren't putting out a 20 minute full length. This came out a lot better than we hoped and turns out to be a lot of peoples' favorites. The super amazing artist and okay friend, Daniel Danger, named this song when he was talking about us and said it as a joking song title, which we ended up later using for this song. John: The first part of this song is a poem I wrote a while back that we’ve been trying to fit into a song since the re-release of our first EP ever. It never fit, and looking back on it now, I’m glad it didn’t. As time went on I turned that poem into a five part piece, and three of the pieces are now the lyrics for Shit Twins. Sidenote: All five pieces may surface at some point soon, not entirely sure yet. I don’t want to give away all of the secrets for this whole piece cause I want people to be able to interpret it however they feel fits to their life, BUT, because I get asked this a lot, “Miranda” is more than just a person. Miranda at first is a reference to the Miranda Rights, “you have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law” which then is put with “Tell me, tell me Miranda” because the entire song references communication, or lack there of. Miranda is also the pen-name I used in place of the real name of the person the poems were about. The last part of the song is a notion to how break ups usually lazily center around “this isn’t for good, it’s just for now” and how you make these pacts to keep sane for the time being about a possible future where you two will get back together. Coupled along with that is the question of, if you were to get back together, at least for a night (which a lot of people actually do, it IS a common thing) will it be just like the old days when you were together, will it be better because you have had more practice with caring for people, or will it be worse cause in the back of your mind you will be thinking of the people that have come since. 6. Grunt Work (The ’69 Sound) Scott: Since we are both 12 years old, we wanted a song that was 69 seconds long. Just a lot of quick riffs and a hard ROCK part at the end. Not much else to say about it. I forget where "grunt work" came from, I think from just lifting gear around and doin' real GRUNT WORK. The '69 sound came from since we are from New Jersey and it's a play off of world famous rock and roll outfit, The Gaslight Anthem. John: This is the antithesis piece to “If Your Song Title…” in the sense that it is a quick fuck you get out of the way type track, all about completely forgetting about trying to do anything with your life because you’re too busy getting stuck in bullshit ruts. It also starts off Side B of the record, which allows it you to compare and contrast it even more with “If Your Song Title…” 7. Groin Twerk Scott: This song is super fun to play because it's a really quick one where I'm doing lots of fun jumpy chord Minus The Bear/Colossal inspired parts again. Sometimes you have to do some grunt work and sometimes you have to twerk that groin. John: When you’re young, in love, and cruising by still trying to figure your shit out, pregnancy can be a nasty three-headed monster of a life ruiner. When you’re older and ready for it, pregnancy is something couples work hard for.  When your relationship is recently officially over, but there is a chance your now ex girlfriend might still be pregnant because you guys had that “we’re broken up but you still feel comfortable and right” love making, it is pure hell. But in the back of your mind, 10% of you thinks “well if she is pregnant, maybe we could work it out?” 8. Big Bag of Sandwiches Scott: This is our Wavelets callback song. Wavelets is a great band from Florida who we met about 2 years ago when they played my old house. Steven ended up writing lyrics in about us/New Jersey and named the song ("We're Really Jazzed About The Gig") after something we kept saying the first time we toured to Florida. This is a purposeful rip off song, also with a lots of pauses a la Cartel. The song title came from the time we toured with Dikembe and You Blew It and while in Rhode Island, someone at the show who worked at a sandwich shop gave us a ton of sandwiches. The next night was our last on tour together and during our set, the Dik/YBI dudes threw sandwiches around during our set. It was amazing. There's also probably some influence from the Sick Animation video, "C'mon Scoob." John: The dudes from Wavelets/Dikembe are some of our best friends. Wavelets played the first ever Dads show in Scott’s old house in New Brunswick. We became best friends with them immediately. In their song they say “Spent most of Jersey underground, drowning in new friends and safer sounds, singing” so I wrote of our Florida trip down there with “Spent most of Florida hanging around, drowning in old friends and beautiful sounds, singing” and then wrote hopefully a not corny song about being in a traveling band and the hardships of making extremely close and personal friends that you only see once or twice a year whenever you tour to their city or they to yours. “It turns out you’re right” is also a reference to the Wavelets song, and “(and I’m not sorry)” is another reference to their other song “Let Off Some Steam” which is my personal favorite of theirs. 9. Bakefast at Piffany’s Scott: This song title was also made up from Ryan from Wavelets/Dikembe. We're both in bands that reference/use weed jokes a lot, especially for bands that don't actually smoke pot. My lyrics are going back to the same situation from "Get To The Beach" and kind of getting over it more, learning to cope with everything, and realizing what I needed to do for myself for a change. The huge weed smoke part is definitely one of my favorite parts to play live because I just slap on a bunch of pedals, crank the reverb on my amp, stand in front of my amp and let it feedback like crazy, and then bend that note to hell and back. John: I grew up listening to a handful of folk singers that were able to talk about love and actually talk about sex without it being something overly raunchy, and I’ve always tried my hand at it. This song is also a mood swing of a piece because it starts out super poppy, cute, and happy, but then everything goes downhill quickly. I write very visually and I think this song is another prime example of that. Also, it’s cool to be able to fit in “brush your teeth” and reference your own release. And then it ends with a question of why do we keep letting ourselves get fucked over by people just because we hold them on some higher tier? 10. Heavy to the Touch (think about tonight, forget about tomorrow) Scott: This is just a big build up of a song with another jangle doodle heavily influenced by Minus The Bear's upstroke riffs. The song title is a mix of a lot of drunken things we've heard or said. We played with this band once who was promoted as sounding like Torche, but they weren't that heavy at all, although still very good. A drunk Dan Bassini wrote "heavy to the touch" on the wall, but I think he meant to write "heavy as Torche" or something. Then once when John and I were very drunk, I convinced myself that if I took some aspirin, I could keep drinking and I wouldn't feel awful the next time and and John declared, "Think about tonight, forget about tomorrow!" I don't remember that night, so I think I did good. John: There was a period of six months right after I graduated college where I was constantly on the road, would come back for a week at the most, and then be out on the road traveling again. When I’d come back home I’d try my best to reconnect with what I missed while I was away, but I would usually become overwhelmed and spend my time sleeping away the days and hating shit. This song is portrayal of all of that and how I realized that being on the road is what feels right, at least for this point in my life, so it is something I will continue to do, until, like the song says, everything I’m running from won’t even recognize me.

originally published at Sanctuary Review (which has since vanished from the web)

DiMarco’s

Concerned the draft reserves in our keg might not hold through morning, we start marching, up Bethel and across a deserted bank parking lot to the nearby neighborhood watering hole, DiMarco’s. A divided, four lane concourse of revving engines and weekend mad revelers, strip mall facades on both sides lit up indexing, variously, every known shade of the rainbow, this stretch of Bethel still sizzles with a heat only unexplored turf can sustain. Not only this stretch but the wealth of Upper Arlington beyond where, having conquered campus in our peculiar slipshod way, which is to say incompletely, but the best we’re ever likely to, may very well stand my next great project. Cataloging this terrain, or any fraction of the buffer separating their world and ours, or another series of blocks entirely. We cavort in myriad clusters like zoo animals gone AWOL, and I’m suddenly reminded of those January nights scouting out High Street for the very first time. The feeling that anything can happen and you’re on the edge of some tremendous discovery, a sensation you can never explain, nor one you’re ever capable of replicating on command.

DiMarco’s is a simple dive bar with a pair of real dartboards along the back wall, one pool table near the front picture window and not much else. Booths around the rim, and wobbly mismatched tables in the middle, square and shoved together in blocks of two or three. Jukebox topheavy with 1980s hair metal the clientele has never stopped listening to, one large screen television between the pool table and the entrance. This place might not have much of that elusive element, class, but enough that nobody’s cracking someone else over the head with a pool cue. Everyone here’s a friend, including the squat blonde middle aged barmaid Jan, quick to smile, her slightly pudgy right hand man Zerby, wiry black curls distributed sparsely across his prematurely balding pate, large black eyeglasses lending him the appearance of an owl. They are always here, I’m told. A schedule as religious as the price slashes they apply each trip to the bar, just because we know Doug and the Yanik sisters.

DiMarco’s has at no point ever been my favorite bar in town, but I sure have spent a ton of time here, nonetheless. Enough friends who lived up this way did consider it their top spot, to where the rest of us wound up here constantly by default. There’s so many random memories swirling around my head about this place, as is often the case, that it’s difficult to determine what episodes or details to share.

I know I’ve spent at least two Halloweens here, in part, of which that photo up top documents one. This would be the year that a really sharp looking brunette flashed her tits at the entire room, and Miles – though dressed like a doctor – raised both of his arms like a football referee and announced, “that’s a field goal!” This makes the highlight reel, to be sure, and is also a great example of the classic Miles comment, memorable despite or because of not making 100% perfect sense…even though you basically know what he means anyway. Otherwise, on this particular outing, I’m going with the self-explanatory bathrobe and pipe look, while Lisa, though she’s removed it by this point, had earlier adopted some sort of slutty kitten mask.

As far as other memories are concerned…Roy, Doug Fogle and I once caught a ride here in a pizza delivery girl’s pickup, in an absolute downpour. A bunch of us had been at Polo’s and virtually everyone else in our crew already left on foot for DiMarco’s. By virtue of hanging around just a smidgen two long, the three of us are caught up in this rain, though we don’t know it until stepping out the front door.

“Hey,” Roy says, spotting a pizza joint next door, “let’s wait in there until this lets up.” 

We walk over and begin rattling the locked glass door. The lights are still on, there are two girls working behind the counter, and an Asian couple is milling around in the lobby. So what gives? Finally, the Asian lady strides over and unlocks the door, to the visible consternation of both employees. 

“We’re closed,” one of the girls calls out as our motley trio staggers in. Apparently, the two ladies were making up one last order for this couple, and that was to be the end of their night.  

“Here,” the other, nicer girl offers, a modest looking brown haired chick, “we’ve got two whole pizzas left over – you guys can have them.”  

We thank her in an appropriately profuse fashion, and Roy hands a pie each to Fogle and me. Then he lays three dollar bills on the counter before we leave just as abruptly as we came, and in no better shape. The rain hasn’t abated any yet here the three of us are standing beneath the same awning, except encumbered now with the additional weight of two pizzas.  

The nice girl bursts through the glass door, jogging to a nearby truck, expertly toting a piping hot pizza bag in one hand which bears the well known company logo. One last delivery, it seems, before her night is through, before she can wash her hands of fools like us – that is, until her next shift in hell comes calling. 

“Hey, can you give us a ride up to DiMarco’s?” Roy shouts across the parking lot, long after she’s passed us. She’s standing beside her truck now, fishing for keys, and offers no immediate reaction to the question, or whether she’s even heard it. 

“I’m not supposed to,” she shouts back to us, “but okay. Come on!” 

Sprinting over to join this chick before she changes her mind, Roy jumps into the shotgun seat while Fogle and I are left sitting like a pair of rain drenched idiots in the bed. She tears out of the parking lot and only then do I realize we’re still holding the pizzas, also, too moronic to keep them inside the truck with Roy. Still, weighing the pros and cons of this arrangement stacks up well for us, better than walking, and the cardboard boxes somehow fare better in the rain than we do.  

Two minutes later, we arrive at DiMarco’s. Roy and Fogle sprint inside, while I stop to have a few kind words with our driver. Inviting her to either come in for a drink or else swing by Doug’s apartment later, though she laughs off each suggestion before driving away. I have no choice but to join the others, now, and meet them inside. 

II.

I happen to remember the night Damon first met the Yanik sisters, too, for whatever reason, even though nothing about it is all that remarkable. I think this is because we’d been in town for almost a year, and Alan and I both had already enjoyed some scattered bedroom adventures with Lisa, not to mention partied with these people an unholy amount for months on end. Yet here our third roommate had somehow not even made their acquaintance, not only the sisters but this entire crew.

Then again, our lives are often more compartmentalized than we think. Coworkers we’ve worked beside for years upon years, though they’ve never met our families, to give one example. Or, like how this particular gang never really ventured down to campus or Grandview much, just as my campus and Grandview friends were almost never up here.

Bored on some random winter weeknight, I decide to call them up, having not seen these folks for a number of weeks myself. Since Doug moved away and I left Kroger, that outrageous era had ended and I hadn’t been on this northwest end of town much. Learning now that a bunch of them are heading to DiMarco’s, Damon and I decide to ride up there ourselves.

Their younger brother Tommy now occupies Doug’s old couch, and Dane, who’s gotten into one bad situation after another over the course of a few weeks, has wound up getting fired from his most recent job, at a department store, for not showing up and dicking around when he did make it in. Then he busts out the windshield of Maria’s car during a nasty fight, and Mike Nelson drops him to the ground with a haymaker and he’s kicked out of their pad as well, exiled from the charmed circle of friends.  

I introduce Damon to everyone – seated at one table in the dimly lit other half of DiMarco’s, the half away from the bar, is the cool but somewhat spacey Charlie, a part-time drummer, his stringy black musician’s hair now almost as long as Damon’s; the ever talkative and impossibly busty redhead, Jen McBride; Lisa with her admittedly comparable breasts, dark blonde locks currently worn straight and halfway down her back; and her sister Maria, a brunette, whom we are fortunate to catch in a really vocal mood this time around. The two of us squeeze in beside them and brace ourselves for this conversation. 

Junior, Tommy, and their preppy jock friend Cooper, who I remember from one other party back in the spring, are playing pool nearby, while the girls relate to us the latest adventures and trending gossip concerning everyone else. Meanwhile, Damon sits looking bored and sipping on a beer, or else trying to strike up a conversation with Lisa and Jen, even though they didn’t know what to make of this longhair character in horn rims. 

Although, it is possible he’s having a better time than it appears. “I knew I’d be in trouble meeting these fat girls with pretty faces,” he whispers to me at one point, after downing a couple brews. Even if Lisa’s ruining the good cheer by bitching incessantly about her roommates. Finally, the clock reaches two thirty and house lights are coming on, as we pay the ever present bartending duo and head for the doors.

“Jesus Christ, Dude!” Damon exclaims with a sigh as we steps outside, “they seem like nice girls and all, but man, that one was getting on my nerves.”

“She’s usually not that bad,” I explain, which is true.

“And what about that other one, the redhead, what was her name, Lisa?” 

“No, Lisa was the blonde,” I correct.

“Well, whatever, she was the one sitting on the outside, right? I couldn’t believe she was bitching about everyone not cleaning their rooms! Maaaaaaan, I’d tell that bitch to fuck off!“

“Well, they’re usually not that bad,” I tell him, “especially after you get a couple beers in them. They throw good parties though, and they do have some nice looking friends.” 

III.

They used to keep decks of cards behind the bar here and DiMarco’s, and possibly still do, as we’ve played many a game of euchre here. There was a long running tradition, and may still be, of pool tournaments played blatantly for cash in this bar, and nobody batted an eyelash. Then again, I don’t remember ever seeing law enforcement around these parts, and the help situation was always remarkably consistent, with Jan and Zerby here just about every night. So you weren’t going to catch any heat from them, either.

That TouchTunes jukebox at the very least had an REO Speedwagon album on it. This I know because Lisa, who I constantly berated for her somewhat horrible tastes in music, was particularly fond of that one, would play it here often. At some point along the line, though sleeping together off and on for about a decade, we did try actually dating for approximately an eight month stretch there in the middle. One night she was at this juke and that infernal Speedwagon disc was blasting Time For Me To Fly, while Lisa and Jen F stood there still picking out further tunes, and Jen told her, speaking of me, “Lisa, this song is for you. It’s time for you to fly.”

Despite this period (or maybe because of it, as the more Lisa would yell at me, the more inclined I was to laugh in her face), I always was and continue to be thought of as somewhat of a zany, hopeless goofball with this crew. It’s funny how you get off on a certain foot with various scenes, be it socially, or with work, or with family, and nothing much can ever really change this. You begin to realize it’s a combination of elements contributing to this phenomenon: a little bit of people only seeing what they expect to see, a little bit maybe of you falling into your familiar role with each circle, but then also, I half suspect sometimes, it almost seems like life is throwing events in everyone’s lap to bolster these impressions. Even one night here in DiMarco’s where Lisa’s been screaming again and Tommy’s threatening me with, “don’t do anything stupid!” won’t change the dynamic, is pretty much forgotten about five minutes later.

“She doesn’t listen to anything, dude,” I tell him.

“It’s my fuckin sister – you think I don’t know that?” he retorts.

Perhaps riding around with pizzas in the rain isn’t the best idea, if you’re trying to dispel some image. Even so, in the late 90s I was dating this perfectly fine looking brunette named Stacy, however briefly. I’m pretty sure that the first time I ever came out with her around this group, we were at DiMarco’s. At any rate, it was one of the few occasions I was ever with her, around this bunch. We’ve been here a while and she says something about wanting to dip over to Polo’s. So the two of us say goodbye to everyone, climb in my car and drive over there. Stacy and I sit at the bar and order one beer…and then she completely disappears. She saw somebody she knew across the bar and was going over to say a quick hello, and this was the last I saw of her that night.

I was more than a little embarrassed at the time about my pathetic glasses, thus would never wear them. So my eyesight wasn’t the greatest to begin with. Nonetheless, I did sit there for quite a while, nursing my beer, and even made a cursory lap or two of the place. May have possibly ordered a second brew, even. In this pre-cell-phone era, this basically represented the extent of your options. Therefore, despite not exactly rushing into this decision, I eventually shrugged it off, hopped back in my car…and returned to DiMarco’s alone.

“Where’s Stacy?” everyone asks, baffled by this turn of events.

“I have no idea,” I tell them.

Of course the entire mob – which, now that I think about it, was fanned around one of those larger central tables, itself a rarity, instead of spread like normal all over the bar – is howling, clapping their hands together, pretty much on the verge of spewing beer out through their noses. I was unwittingly playing the same old part as always. I guess it’s somewhat amazing that Stacy and I actually went out some more after this. But I never quite lived this one down. Nor did I ever bring her to DiMarco’s again.

IV.

Though pretty much everyone else has moved on, we do still swing by here from time to time, of course. It was here one night that it became obvious Damon was really hitting it off with this Maryland chick, who worked with Tommy, and the two of them soon turned into a serious couple. At some point, a window was installed connecting DiMarco’s with the Ange’s Pizza next door, and there became even less of a need to leave your barstool than before. Fluke reunions across the years have almost always meant a pit stop in this place is required, if it involves any of this old gang. Like for instance, the last I’ve seen of such disparate characters as Miles or Jen McBride, these occasions have transpired right here. I seem to remember hearing something about Jan and Zerby buying the place, even, though I’ll have to research that – but either way, I like to think that the two of them are still behind the bar, every night, just like always.

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Bright Wall/Dark Room January 2019: The Year of the Death Wish by Fran Hoepfner

We are pleased to offer an excerpt from the latest edition of the online magazine, Bright Wall/Dark Room. Their latest issue discusses the best in film and television from 2018. In addition to Fran Hoepfner's piece below on "Mission: Impossible - Fallout" and "Free Solo," they also have new essays on "First Reformed," "Eighth Grade," "Annihilation," "Support the Girls," "Burning," "Cold War," "Mandy," "The Haunting of Hill House," "Schitt's Creek," "The Mule," "Jinn," "Disobedience," and more. 

You can read our previous excerpts from the magazine by clicking here. To subscribe to Bright Wall/Dark Room, or look at their most recent essays, click here.

There’s a fight scene in the first hour of Mission: Impossible — Fallout that takes place in a bathroom at an EDM party. I know, I know, you’re already sold. It was no doubt the highlight of the trailer, with an oft-gif’d moment of Henry Cavill’s Agent August Walker pumping his arms as if they were loaded guns (and who am I to say they’re not) before he punches a man in the face. It’s great, it’s comical. It’s the type of image you use to react to people on Twitter who say something wrong about a movie you like.

What drew me in, what sold me, really, 100 percent, on Fallout occurs just moments later when Walker is half-unconscious on the bathroom floor, and Ethan Hunt (Tom Cruise, a martyr, maybe, but we’ll get there), panting, looks up at the assassin who just clocked his associate. Hunt knowshe has to get up. He knows he has to take this guy down. He knows he has to finish the fight. But before he does it, he sighs and rolls his eyes. And not a blink-and-you-miss-it eyeroll, the type you sneak by your extended family during a long holiday meal. I’m talking a full 360 degrees eyeroll, baby. Isn’t that just the way it is sometimes? Or even most of the time? To get back up, to fight through it all, isn’t it the most annoying fucking thing in the world?

“Your mission should you choose to accept it,” Walker sneers, throwing the conceit of the entire franchise back at Ethan. “Isn’t that the thing?” That is the thing. The impossible missions of the Mission Impossible franchise are entirely optional. At any given time, they—and Hunt, specifically, and his scrappy can-do attitude—can choose to not accept. And yet, with an eye roll, no less, he gets back up onto his feet and runs full-speed into the man who wants him dead.

I have for several years now held onto a belief that every Tom Cruise movie is about death—the fear of, the desire for, the fight against. I say this not as a diehard Cruise fan (and truthfully, it feels almost entirely unethical to write about him in 2018) or even a Cruise completist, but where there’s smoke, there’s often fire. And even if not every Cruise vehicle aligns with my flippant theory, the Mission: Impossible franchise has certainly evolved to become more death-defying than ever before. Set against the Fast & Furious franchise—different, I know—and its increasing hyper-reliance on CGI for its stunts and locations, the Mission: Impossible movies and their penchant for making everything as real as it can be feel downright old school. And knowing that, it’s tough to watch Mission: Impossible — Fallout, and it’s even tougher to watch Cruise motorcycling sans helmet through the frantic roadways of Paris and not think, this guy is going to die making these movies.

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I got into a bad habit this year where I became almost too reliant on the texting acronym “kms.” It stands for “kill myself.” Never did I use it to be anything but flippant. I promise it was never a threat. Rather it became an emotional crutch throughout what I’ll politely refer to as an emotional and turbulent year. There was some sort of creature comfort in responding to each subsequent blow by referring to all of it as “real kms hours.” It is hard to articulate what I mean by this, and I dedicated too much time throughout the year patiently telling those closest to me that this was just the way I communicated, and not indicative of any cry for help. For what it’s worth, most of my close friends seemed to hate this. It drove them insane, and I’m not proud of it. “Can you please not…say that?” they’d patiently ask. And I knew I shouldn’t. I knew it was bad. But what I meant, truly, any time I would respond to something with a tongue-in-cheek “kms” was not unlike the feeling of rolling one’s eyes before getting up and tackling a guy to the ground. There’s a death wish—embedded, floating, amorphous, invisible—but I’m gonna barrel on anyway.

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National Geographic Documentary Films

It is sort of impossible to talk about guys with death wishes in film in the year 2018 without talking about Free Solo. The rock climbing documentary, directed by Jimmy Chin and Elizabeth Chai Vasarhelyi, centers around 31-year-old rock climber Alex Honnold as he attempts to solo El Capitan in Yosemite National Park. Apologies for all of the proper nouns. Free soloing, for those unfamiliar, as I was before I saw this documentary, is a lone ascent up a rock face with no ropes. To phrase it so formally feels like a disservice. The dude climbs up cliffs with nothing.

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(Let me tell you a non-secret: Men are insane!)

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The plot of Mission: Impossible — Fallout is both incoherent and deceptively straightforward. An attempt to procure three plutonium cores before they are sold to a terrorist organization called the Apostles is, easily put, botched. In lieu of letting his teammate Luther (Ving Rhames) die, Ethan Hunt lets these cores get into the hands of the Apostles. The rest of the film (where twists and turns abound, of course) is a mad dash across the globe to get these cores back so the Apostles don’t use them to make nuclear bombs. Simple enough, right? That Ethan let the bombs get into the hands of terrorists rather than lose a member of his team haunts him throughout the film, and this mistake (if you consider it one) pushes him to greater and greater heights—both physically and emotionally—to make up for what he’s done.

Alan Hunley (Alec Baldwin), Hunt’s handler, as he sends Hunt on his mission, tells him: “Some flaw deep in your core being simply won’t allow you to choose between one life and millions. Now you see that as a sign of weakness. To me, that’s your greatest strength.” It’s said appraisingly of Hunt, but it doesn’t feel entirely accurate. Hunt is constantly choosing millions over the one life—the life in most cases just isn’t that of his teammates, but himself. The extent and frequency at which Hunt puts his life on the line is wildly irresponsible. Before you tell me that’s the premise of the franchise, trust me, I’m aware that’s the premise of the franchise. But in Fallout, the structure feels changed, altered. There’s a tragic undercurrent. He has to keep going. He’s not trying to die, but it’s also the job.

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Jimmy Kimmel, in speaking to Henry Cavill on the press tour for the film said, “I was getting angry watching [Cruise] do these stunts in this movie because it seems just irresponsible at this point.” Moments later: “Is he nuts? Is he out of his mind? Does he have a death wish?”

“You know what,” Cavill says, only half-certain (no matter what his jawline tricks you into thinking about his tone of voice), “you would assume so…”

“Yes!”

“But he doesn’t,” Cavill explains, before elaborating how good Cruise is at these stunts, which, if I’m being totally honest, seems entirely besides the point.

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Free Solo is not, if you can believe me, “about” death; it’s about perfection. I know, I know: it’s easy to look at someone climbing up a cliff and decide they’re doing it because they want to die. Tommy Caldwell, Honnold’s friend and something of a mentor to him, explains: “Imagine an Olympic gold medal-level athletic achievement that if you don’t get that gold medal, you’re gonna die. That’s pretty much what free soloing El Cap is like. You have to do it perfectly.”

Part of what makes Free Solo such a compelling watch is that it dives so thoroughly into Honnold’s training process for soloing El Cap. Day after day, he gets up onto the rock, practicing sequences (“pitches”) over and over again until they don’t seem quite as scary. Except, obviously, they’re still extremely scary. It’s still a 3,000-foot vertical ascent with no sense of security whatsoever. Honnold says to the camera, “[T]here’s a satisfaction in challenging yourself and doing something well. That feeling is heightened when you’re for sure facing death. You can’t make a mistake. If you’re seeking perfection, free soloing is as close as you can get. And it does feel good to feel perfect. Like for a brief moment.”

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Maybe you know this, maybe you don’t: Tom Cruise broke his ankle filming Mission: Impossible — Fallout. The footage, or a fraction of it, makes it into the finished movie. Hunt is running along a series of rooftops in central London, leaping across alleyways with all of the grace of a big cat, until he misses the mark for one, slams his body against the edge of the wall. He eases himself up over the ledge and hobbles ahead on a shattered ankle. Hunt trucks along, as does Cruise. For a moment, they’re one and the same. A man determined, grimacing, pushing forward.

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I read tweets all the time that talk about the loose fascination we all seem to have with threatening to die or promising to die or saying we want to die. I’m generalizing. Your feed could be a lot brighter than mine. Regardless, it’s tough to not feel like we exist on the precipice of the apocalypse, if not already somewhat submerged in it. (If nothing else, the end of the world is fucking boring.) And to be flippant about death gives us, maybe, maybe!, a sense of control. Yet, I don’t think the political/economical/environmental circumstances are the same as flattening the language we use around death these days. I’m forced to quote Honnold in Free Solo and echo: “Look, I don’t want to fall off and die either.” We don’t joke about this because we want it, really. He doesn’t. I don’t. It’s just that it feels so unavoidable that there are fewer and fewer ways to react. The inevitability of death feels unavoidable and unfair and helpless and horrible, so why not come face to face with it? Even for a second?

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Walker punches Ethan Hunt in the face. “Why won’t you just die?” he spits.

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I have done about as much as I can do this year to not take care of myself. I mean this more emotionally than physically. Well, physically too. It was the year of no sleep or too much sleep, no food or too much food. I thought giving up an air conditioner would be a sign of physical strength, and I wound up with a heat rash. And in a recklessness that I can only describe as “theoretically romantic yet profoundly irresponsible,” I only escalated this harmfulness in my personal life. I sent the one in the morning text. A few too many of them, to be honest. I dug up the bodies of relationships long gone and buried for good reason. No one I haven’t spoken to in three years should be able to make me cry, and yet—. It was the first year I can recall knowing there are people who no longer want to be in the same room as me. To appease my loneliness, I scrounged my past in search of answers. There will be clues, I figured, easter eggs, for why things were the way they were. Why I am the way I am. In the heat and humidity of my un-air-conditioned bedroom, I wondered if I had always been so doomed?

I told a friend about something stupid I wanted to do, something I thought would be “good,” in scare-quotes, because I really meant bad, and they said, “that would be compelling if you hadn’t already done that this year.” Another go on El Cap. Another entry in the franchise. These things do get repetitive sometimes.

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The truly harrowing footage in Free Solo—and this is a bold claim to make about a movie that centers around a man alone on a cliff without a rope—are the interviews with those closest to Honnold trying their best to make sense of his drive to solo El Cap. Or solo, in general. His mother, his girlfriend, even the production crew for the film itself. Jimmy Chin, the director, explains as evenhandedly as one can, “It’s hard to not imagine your friend Alex soloing something that’s extremely dangerous and you’re making a film about it which might put undue pressure on him to do something,” and here, Chin’s hand simply lowers, “and him falling through the frame.”

The weight of gravity haunts the film, a spectre. An inevitability. Mikey Schaefer, a climber and cameraperson on Free Solo, spends the majority of Honnold’s climb with his back to the camera and his hands over his eyes. I was able to stomach the film without looking away, but I felt all the liquid in my body sweat out through my palms. Walking out of the theater, a friend (a different one, I have at least two friends) turned to me and said, “We’re gonna live to see Alex Honnold die, aren’t we?”

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Tom Cruise laughs at the footage of his ankle breaking on Graham Norton as Simon Pegg looks away in fear and disgust. Look, he’s insane! Cruise, I mean. I know it! You know it! The movie is still good! Watching Cruise by which I mean Hunt but I really mean Cruise get up onto that broken ankle and run across London was exhilarating. Thrilling. In the theater, I remember laughing. It’s ridiculous, this impulse. I can’t think of another way to face it.

Later in Fallout, as Hunt mans a helicopter—a vehicle this character is not known to know how to pilot, and that Cruise learned how to fly in order to make this film—art imitates life: Benji (Simon Pegg) tells Ilsa Faust (Rebecca Ferguson), “I find it best not to look.”

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It does not seem like a coincidence to me that men get the luxury of hurtling towards death with an unrelenting eagerness. Honnold’s girlfriend, Sanni McCandless, confronts him about his intent to solo El Capitan without telling her first.

“I want to have this more holistic approach,” McCandless says, “like you have where you’re like, ‘we’re all gonna die, might as well do what we want while we’re here and it’s okay when people die,’ but I feel like I want you to meet me halfway, and when you solo to take me into the equation.” Moments later she adds: “Would putting me into the equation actually ever change anything? Would you actually make decisions differently?”

“If I had some kind of obligation to maximize my lifespan, then yeah, obviously I would have to give up soloing,” Honnold tells her.

“Is me asking you—do you see that as an obligation?”

“Uh, no. No.” He’s confident. Certain. This is what remains so remarkable about Honnold. His steadfast commitment to risk and perfection. To placate McCandless he adds: “But I appreciate your concerns and I respect that, but I in no way feel obligated, no.”

“To maximize…your lifetime…?” she specifies.

“No,” he repeats.

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What makes Fallout and Free Solo what they are is not death. It’s the spectatorship of death. It’s watching those around a person come to terms with what we all know is out there. Say what you will about Cruise, but we don’t want to see Ethan Hunt die. We want to see him succeed, we want him to achieve perfection. Mission accomplished, etc. And Honnold, too, is humanized in Free Solo. Easy, as I did earlier, to chalk him up to being a psychopath, but like so many other things, it’s much more complicated than that. “If I perish, it doesn’t matter, that’s not that big a deal,” he says. But Free Solo proves otherwise. It would be a big deal. It would ripple throughout the lives of his family, his friends, his charity work, the world.

Hunt, too, does not throw himself at assassins in French bathrooms for the hell of it. It’s so the world can keep spinning. The sun rises on Ethan Hunt and his teammates in a valley in Kashmir. “How close were we?” Benji asks. Hunt shrugs. “The usual.” Then he laughs.

Honnold too, reflects on his proximity to death, shifts uncomfortably. “Maybe that’s a little too callous,” he murmurs, looking away.

I type “kms” then delete it quickly. “Haha, sucks,” I write instead. Is this profound? I have no idea. Together, sometimes, even briefly, we soften.

from All Content http://bit.ly/2SSwIUc