#scott z. burns

[deadunderorbit]

The Report (2019) dir. Scott Z. Burns

[tv-moments]

Extrapolations

Season 1, “2068: The Going Away Party”

Director: Nicole Holofcener

DoP: Hillary Spera

[kittykat-pikachu]

list of things about mussed up houses

house of leaves by mark z. danielewski

skinamarink by kyle edward ball

the house in the ocean by mister manticore

myhouse.wad by veddge

this house has people in it by alan resnick (possible? its more like the people are the strange thing)

monster house by gil kenan (maybe not messed up in the right way for this list)

burning down the house by the talking heads (only in passing)

additions:

the haunting of hill house by shirley jackson (book)

the haunting of hill house by mike flanagan (tv adaptation of the book)

rose red by stephen king

vivarium by lorcan finnegan

changing planes by ursula k. le guin (not a house, but thematically close)

charlotte markham and the house of darkling by michael boccacino

slade house by dave mitchell

little, big by john crowley

the inner room by robert aickman

phantom architecture by phillip wilkinson

bite size terrors: erobos heaven by anoverthinker (seems like possibly the house isnt whats strange? but i dont know for sure i havent played it)

anatomy by kitty horrorshow

childhood homes (and why we hate them) by qrowscant

the house next door by annie rivers siddon

white is for witching by helen oyeyemi

haunted by poe (album counterpart to house of leaves??? holny crap)

the house with a clock in its walls by john bellairs (also has a movie adaptation)

p.t. by hideo kojima

coraline by neil gaiman (more like the creature is making the house messed up but yeah ill count it)(EDIT: okay yeah that house IS just messed up. forgot the beldam didn't make the other house)

starling house by alix harrow

the witch's house by fummy

house (hausu) by nobuhiko obayashi

the house is alive and the house is hungry by the paper chase

my house walk-through by nana825763

control by sam lake

house of bones by jeffery scott lando

lungbarrow by marc platt

if anyone knows of other things that fit this niche, any type of media, feel free to add on. i'll edit and add it to the original post. i just really like this specific niche

thank you to @bas-fish, @eggmixercortex, @ohiotpke, @posteriorpeasantpresents, @hadoom, @dougielombax, @lite-weaver, @mimillion, @elvriskastello, @apotheoseity, @hauntedhousez, @sophiewooloo, @jumbledthemes for contributing :3

i should sort this + add links putting that on my to-do list

[lpmurphy]

Begin Again

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Summary: It had been thirty years since his truck tires rolled out of her drive for the last time. Even longer since the day his locker door slammed shut beside hers and marked the beginning of Jack Abbot. Beth had never expected it to end. Never expected to live a lifetime with only the ghost of the boy who promised her one together. She never expected to see him again. Until that curtain flung open, and there he was. And just like that, Jack Abbot began again.

Notes: jack abbot/single mom!ofc, reunited high school sweethearts, second chance romance, slow (emphasis on the SLOW) burn, seriously it's slow, ofc’s daughter is a teenage gen z menace and we love her for it, angst/longing/yearning, hurt/comfort, author is just an english teacher with no medical background, eventual smut, jack and ofc are emotionally constipated idiots

Word Count: 6,615

Read on AO3 (Up to Chapter 15!)

Chapter Four: Day One Pt. 2

Hospitals had a certain smell. It wasn’t necessarily a bad smell; just distinct. It clung to her clothes and her hair well after her shift would end, seeped into her skin until she could’ve sworn her blood smelled like hand sanitizer and disinfectant. Parfum d’hôpital, Mom had called it. No matter the city, the staff, or the patient load, that sterile tang never changed. It was constant. Routine. Comforting, in its own strange way.

But the Pitt, as the night charge nurse had called it during her site tour last week, felt different; familiar in a deeper, more visceral sense. Like muscle memory. She was met with noise the second she stepped in, the waiting room already packed before seven a.m., and the ER buzzing with the sort of barely organized chaos only found in places that treated drunks with head lacerations and pulmonary embolisms at the same time. She’d already stowed her things in the locker she was assigned at orientation, ran through her morning prep, and now clipped her shiny new badge to her vest, zipping it halfway before stepping into the ring.

She hadn’t seen Jack yet, and with any luck, she wouldn’t. Maybe he worked nights. Maybe the schedule gods took mercy and decided their paths wouldn’t have to cross at all. She could live with that. Hell, she’d be grateful for it. Out of all the hospitals in the fucking country, he just had to work here. Still, she caught herself glancing sideways every time someone stepped too close. Her stomach tightened when tall figures moved in her periphery, heart kicking up before her brain could talk it down. 

Stupid.

She exhaled through her nose and tried to shake it off. There were enough nerves in her chest already, no need to feed them. She’d earned this. She had every right to be here. And he… well. He didn’t get to take up any more space in her day than absolutely necessary. She pulled her shoulders back, lifted her chin, and kept walking.

Let the day start. Let it be his day off. Please.

Her watch buzzed on her wrist and pulled her attention from the swirl of movement around her. The small display lit up with Abby’s text; Have a great day! Kick ass. Love you Mom :)

Her lips tugged up. Her sweet girl. Before she could start to tap out her response, squinting at the too small letters, another message rolled across the screen; Also, can I please spend the night at Mia’s tonight? Scott already said it was ok!

She rolled her eyes, still smiling. There it is. She tucked her mug under her arm, starting to tap out her response again, and stopped just short of getting mowed down by a gurney, patient writhing and moaning while nurses worked furiously on the move. Yep. Same shit, different layout.

She already felt right at home.

She spotted a familiar blonde bob and felt her shoulders relax slightly before she made her way toward the nurses’ station.

“This place always a zoo,” she called out over the din, leaning against the counter, “or are y’all going big for my first day?”

Dana turned, glasses sliding down her nose as she scanned the floor. Her face lit up when she spotted Beth. “What can I say? We like to make an impression.”

Beth grinned, the weight in her chest easing at the sight of a familiar face. “Yeah? Good or bad?”

“Too early in the day to tell,” Dana said with a wink, reaching across the counter to pull her into a quick hug. “Thank God, you actually showed. Now save me.”

Beth hugged her back with a laugh, still gripping Dana’s arms when she leaned back. “I thought about turning around, but then I figured you’d never let me hear the end of it if I did.”

“Damn right,” Dana said, swatting her arm with her clipboard. “Would’ve made a complete ass out of me with how much I’ve been talking you up around here.”

Beth laughed under her breath and leaned heavier against the counter. “Oh, good lord. I hope you’re not out here writing checks I can’t cash.”

Dana smirked. “Too late. Told them you were God’s gift to triage.”

Beth rolled her eyes, but truth be told, she was just grateful to have a familiar face around, and a welcomed one at that. She’d met the hilariously blunt woman years ago when Abby had made the varsity volleyball team as a freshman, and Dana’s daughter, Jenna, had been a senior and team captain. Beth had found a kindred spirit in the only other mom who showed up straight from a twelve-hour shift, still in scrubs, hair barely wrangled into a bun. They’d swapped war stories between sets; hallway births, combative psych patients, and the classic “I don’t know how it got in there, doc, I swear” foreign object cases. Just another day in the office for them, while the other parents quietly edged away from their corner of the bleachers.

Even after Jenna graduated, they kept in touch; mostly Facebook comments and the occasional text until earlier that summer, when Dana called out of the blue to tell her that there was an opening in her department. She recruited her like she was earning commission, said she wanted someone who could keep up and wouldn’t flinch when things got loud. “Besides,” she’d added, “if I have to deal with someone’s sorry ass all day, I’d rather it be yours.”

The timing couldn’t have been better. Beth needed a way out of Mercy fast, and Dana had practically lit up the runway and guided her in. She said yes before she had time to talk herself out of it, and now, here she was.

“How’s your sweet girl?” Dana asked, softening just enough to make the question feel like more than polite conversation.

“She’s good,” Beth said, a little smile tugging at her mouth. “She’s back to giving me hell, so I’d say she’s feeling better. Already counting down the days until she gets cleared for sports.”

“Sounds like Abby,” Dana chuckled. “Come on, let me introduce you to everyone before they all scatter.”

She turned and scanned the nurses’ station like she was mentally taking roll, then gestured toward a small group still lingering nearby. “That’s Donnie and Perlah; don’t let Perlah’s face fool you, she’s friendlier than she looks. Kim’s the one over there trying to do six things at once.” Each gave Beth a quick smile or wave before darting off in different directions like worker bees.

Dana nodded toward the two residents standing over a terminal, both already halfway through reading something as they walked. “Blondie is Mel, one of the residents. She’s newer, you’ll love her. Sweet girl. Heather is with a patient already, you’ll meet her later. Let’s see, who else…”

Beth nodded along, doing her best to match names with hair colors and approximate height, though she missed the redheaded woman’s name. Cassie, maybe? She made a mental note to circle back later and properly introduce herself. Redheads needed to stick together.

Dana glanced back over her shoulder and gave her a dry look. “And yes. There will be a quiz at the end of your shift.”

Beth was about to reply when Dana raised a hand to flag someone down. “Robby! New girl is here.”

Beth turned in time to see a tall figure slow to a stop. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a week; tired brown eyes framed with smile lines, stubble that teetered towards a full beard, hoodie thrown over black scrubs and sleeves pushed up to the elbows like they were already in his way. She recognized him vaguely as one of the dozen people on her interview panel. 

“Doctor Michael Robinavich, our fearless leader,” Dana said with a smirk. “This is Beth, our newest glutton for punishment. And a friend of mine, so don’t scare her off.”

“Oh, wouldn’t dream of it, Dana.” He smiled, slow and a little crooked, and let his gaze linger a beat too long to be purely professional. Beth clocked it instantly, but instead of bristling, she smirked. Damn. Too bad she didn’t date coworkers anymore. Or doctors, for that matter. Or dated much at all, really. He was cute; scruffy in a half-dead-on-his-feet kind of way. Just her type of man.

She switched her travel mug to her left hand and extended the right. “Doctor Robinavich. Good to see you again. Beth Baker.”

He took her hand, warm and firm, and held it maybe half a second longer than necessary. “I remember. Please. Robby.”

“Alright, Robby.”

“I’d say we’re lucky to have you,” he said, glancing down the hall like he was already late for something, “but we both know it’s less about luck and more about finally finding someone desperate enough to say yes.”

“Gee, you sure know how to flatter a girl,” she smirked, watching as the ambulance bay doors slammed open. A trauma team surged forward with a gurney, voices overlapping;

“GSW, two to the chest.” “Pressure’s tanking.” “Call the OR, now.” 

Good morning, Pittsburgh.

The current pulled them down the corridor like a riptide. Beth crossed her arms, leaning back slightly to watch them disappear into a trauma bay. Five person teams. Nice. That was the same, at least. “Looks like I picked the right day to start. Seems like you could use the hands.”

Robby huffed a humorless laugh. “Welcome to the Pitt. Hands, prayers, small miracles. We’ll take whatever you’ve got.”

“Well, I don’t know about the miracles, but I’ll try my best,” she smirked, leaning back to get a better look at the triage screen over the station. “I’m ready to go, boss. Throw me to the wolves.” 

Robby shook his head with a small, tired chuckle. “Remember, Baker, you asked for this.”

He glanced at his watch before turning to address the group around them. “Alright, seven on the dot! Night crew, pack it up and get outta here. Day crew, circle up.”

A ripple of groans, calls of “thank God” and “good luck, suckers” echoed from the staff clocking out, some already halfway down the hall, scrubs rumpled like they’d all just crawled out of a bunker. Which, Beth supposed, wasn’t far off. The day shifters drifted toward the center like planets in orbit. Beth followed Dana’s lead, stepping in closer with her arms folded, trying to look like she belonged when curious eyes flicked to her.

One pair of eyes felt heavier than the rest. Beth didn’t look right away. She didn’t need to. She felt it; just enough heat and weight to tell her exactly who it was. At one point, that look would make her feel steady. Now it just made her skin itch.

Whether she had wanted to or not, she glanced up, quick enough to hopefully go unnoticed. Jack stood across the huddle, shoulders squared but hands shoved deep into his pockets. The second their eyes met, his dropped quickly, and with it went her stomach.

Damn it. She really thought she was going to get off easy. Thought maybe, just maybe, the universe would cut her a break, just this once. Guess she thought too soon. Then again, when had the universe ever done Elizabeth Baker any favors? 

She tightened her arms around herself and turned her attention to Robby instead, but she could still feel it. Could still feel him. Like a pulled muscle she couldn’t quite stretch out.

“Okay,” Robby said once the group clustered loosely in a semi-circle around the desk, “night wasn’t terrible. Only 3 codes, so slow night. Two admits waiting; ortho consult on one of them, psych consult on the other. Myrna is around here somewhere, so be warned. Bay 2’s got a GSW, Bay 3’s still hot; MVA, headed to OR.”

He rattled off the rest with practiced ease: attending coverage, consult availability, OR backups, a heads-up that radiology was short-staffed again, so expect delays. Beth scanned the group, trying to clock faces and squint at name tags, then caught his look again. It flickered across at her like it was unintentional, but it landed all the same.

This time, she didn’t look away. Her spine straightened like a wire pulled taut, and she met his eyes with a calm she didn’t quite feel. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. Just met hazel eyes that had taken too much sleep from her. If he wanted to look, then fine, Jack. Look. If she had to remember every goddamn detail, then so did he.

Jack didn’t hold her stare long. He shifted his weight, blinked, and looked down like something on the floor suddenly needed his attention. Beth didn’t let herself feel good about it. She didn’t let herself feel anything at all. Instead, she turned back to the group without a word, jaw tight, heart ticking faster than it had any right to, and nodded along to Robby’s quick debrief.

“Couple of techs out sick, so keep that in mind. Langdon’s still out, so until he’s back in—”

“Twenty-three days,” a voice piped up from across the huddle. It was the blonde resident with glasses, Mel, Beth remembered, and she was grinning before the group turned to look at her.

Mel blinked like she didn’t mean to say it out loud. Beth caught the soft flush that crept up her neck. She offered her a smile; not teasing, not pitying. Just quiet recognition. Mel returned it before dropping her eyes to the floor.

Robby smirked and gestured toward Mel like he was proving a point. “So, yeah. A few weeks.”

Then he turned toward Beth, stepping aside just enough to make room for her in the circle. “Alright, last thing; new face on the floor. Everyone, this is Dr. Beth Baker. She’s joining us from Mercy, and somehow we convinced her we’re the better circus. Try to keep fooling her, yeah?”

Beth raised a hand in a quick wave, giving the crowd a small smile. A few people nodded or murmured greetings, a couple offered smiles. Someone in the back muttered, “Sorry in advance,” and got a smack from Perlah. Beth already got the feeling she was going to like Perlah.

“She’ll be a regular on days,” Robby continued, “since we’re doubling up on attendings until Langdon is back in. If she looks confused, help her. If she looks competent, leave her alone. Let’s keep up the illusion so she sticks around, yeah?”

A few chuckles arose before Robby wrapped up with the last few instructions and a quick nod before the group began to disperse. Jack was gone before Robby even finished talking, ducking into a room as quickly as he could. Staff pulled back into the steady current of the floor, the hum of urgent footsteps and clipped voices filling the space again. Somewhere down the hall, alarms buzzed sharply, and a gurney rattled past, a paramedic jogging alongside it.

Robby turned to Beth, a gentle smile warming his face as he crossed his arms. “Hey, how about you take the morning to settle in? No pressure. Just get comfortable, get a feel for the place before diving into any cases.”

Beth gave him a knowing look. “The classic ‘take it easy’ offer, huh? Funny, I’m usually the one giving it. This must be what the other side of the desk feels like.”

Robby chuckled and tucked his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “Technically,” he made air quotes with one hand before tucking it back in, “you’re supposed to shadow me today. The grand tour, login walkthrough, pretend we’re not short three staff. Whole nine yards.”

Beth smiled, tapping her nails against her mug. “Ah yes. Shadowing; where I trail behind you like an intern while we pretend I haven’t been doing this since Bush was in office?”

He chuckled, smirking. “Which Bush?”

Beth let out a dry laugh and shook her head, brow raised. “Ouch. Watch it, Robinavich. I was just starting to like you.”

Robby laughed quietly. “So no to the tour of the supply closet and some good old administrative hand-holding?”

“This is hardly my first rodeo.” She sipped her coffee and shrugged, gesturing between them. “You sign off that I was glued to your side all day, and I’ll tell any administrator who comes looking for my babysitter that you’re in the bathroom?”

His grin widened. “You got yourself a deal, Baker.”

“Pleasure doing business with ya.” She set her mug down in front of an empty terminal, tucking it up under the counter before she stepped back to look at the triage board again. “Alright. Put me in, Coach. Where do you need me?”

“Triage is underwater,” Robby said, eyes skimming the hallway again. “Honestly, it’s been underwater since, oh, I don’t know… forever? You okay taking rounds?”

Beth gave a quiet laugh and nodded. “You got it.”

He smiled, handing over the triage iPad mid-scroll. “System’s the same as Mercy, so you should be golden. Just tap here to log in, swipe to claim, double-tap to open charts… but it looks like you’re already three steps ahead of me.”

“Like I said; hardly my first rodeo,” she said, already tapping through. She glanced up at him with a small smile. “How often are vitals reassessed? Every two hours?”

He opened his mouth to say more, but paused when he noticed Jack step out of a room. He didn’t see her, distracted by whatever a resident was presenting to him as they walked. His sleeves were pushed to his elbows, scrub top clinging in familiar places that Beth dropped her eyes from. Deep in her gut, she felt that same twist she’d felt in the shower that morning, ancient and oppressive, but something traitorous fluttered against her ribs for a moment before she grabbed it by the wings and shoved it down hard. She kept her gaze on the iPad, but her jaw shifted and she bit down on the inside of her cheek until a jolt of pain lessened the pressure.

He looked the same. Or maybe he didn’t. 

It was hard to tell when her memory refused to let go of a younger version that lived within it. His curls had gone gray, but they still flattened from where he dragged his hands through them, brow pressed together the same way it had when he was tired or irritated or thinking too hard. She used to tap that space with a finger when it wrinkled to get him to loosen up a bit before he’d trace his thumb against her lips. His laugh came at something the resident said in passing, brief and dry, just a flash, but it twisted in her gut at how familiar it sounded. His lips tugged up for a moment, and that was the same too. Too small. Too tight. Wrong. Not hers.

And from the look of the band on his finger after he peeled off his gloves with a practiced snap, it hadn’t been hers for some time now. 

Jesus Christ, Beth. Get a fucking grip.

He glanced at Robby first, then his gaze found her. She looked down again before she could catch his eyes.

“Hey, Abbot!” Robby called, waving him over without missing a beat in his instructions. Beth’s fingers moved across the screen, feigning focus to keep from looking up.

Jack approached as Robby nodded at the chart she’d pulled up in a desperate attempt to look occupied. “Looks like you’re all set. Before you go, Baker,” he glanced to Jack, then back again with a faintly conspiratorial smile, “This is Jack Abbot, one of our—.”

“We’ve met,” Jack said without pause. He barely broke stride as he moved past them without so much as a sideways glance.

Beth didn’t flinch. Or at least tried not to, she hoped she’d done a good job of hiding the way her shoulders tensed. Just adjusted her grip on the iPad that was a little less steady now, pretending to scroll, and looked back to Robby, whose brows were now raised somewhere near his hairline.

“Well,” Robby said slowly, watching Jack disappear down the hallway, “I was going to say I think you two’ll get along…”

Dana leaned back, charge phone pressed to her chest, and gave Robby a look. “Don’t take it personally, Cap. He’s been like that since he got in.”

Robby huffed a short breath of amusement, but Beth could tell he didn’t love the brush-off. She didn’t either, but she pushed it aside. Kept it tucked away, same place she stored all the old hurts with his name on them. Wasn’t the first time he walked away from her.

Beth glanced past him, gaze catching on a cluster at the far end of the counter. Three kids—no, not kids, but close enough—stood in a loose triangle like they were at a middle school dance and waiting to be asked to dance. Eager. Green. Good lord, they kept looking younger and younger every damn year.

Still, she felt something warm uncoil in her chest. They never got less determined, never less passionate. That was the beautiful, painful thing about working with med students that she loved the most; they threw themselves into the fire without flinching, certain they’d walk through it untouched. She remembered that feeling well.

She flicked her head toward the group. “So, do I get to corrupt the youth yet, or is that privilege reserved for next week?”

“Be my guest.” Robby’s smile was easy, his voice pitched low as he gestured discreetly at the students. “Javadi, Santos, Whitaker. Take your pick.”

Beth tilted her head toward them. “Which one’s your favorite?”

“Favorite?” Robby gave a mock-offended scoff. “Doctor Baker, a good teacher never picks favorites.”

But he flicked his eyes toward Whitaker with a wink before being called down the hall. He excused himself with a quick, light touch on her arm, and then he was gone, leaving her alone in front of the kids.

The three students stared at her like Dad had just brought home his new girlfriend. She stared back.

Santos was the first to break eye contact, picking at a nail before straightening her back and sinking onto one hip like she’d seen enough to be bored. Beth knew that type. Sharp, maybe too sharp, often had something to prove. Usually the first to burn out or burn through people.

Javadi stood with the kind of composed alertness Beth liked; eyes scanning not just her, but behind her. She was already looking for context clues. That was promising. Beth could work with that.

Then there was Whitaker.

She already knew she was going to like Whitaker.

Poor kid didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. Or his face. He kept shifting his weight like he was caught between asking a question and hoping he wouldn’t be noticed. He caught Beth’s eye and she smiled, which he returned uncomfortably. She knew this type, too. There was a reason they became the favorites, and usually, damn good doctors. 

She pointed to Whitaker. “You. Come on.”

He glanced behind him, then back at her, uncertain. “Me?”

She gave him a flat look. “I’m pointing at you, aren’t I?”

“…Yes?”

“Then let’s go. Triage awaits.”

Alright, day one. Let’s do this.

- - -

She lasted all of fifteen minutes in triage before the first real one rolled in. Fifty-eight-year-old male, brought in by a wife who had watched him hobble around for a full day post-MVC insisting he was fine. By the time Beth clocked him, he was ghost-pale and gripping his side like it might fall off. The bruise had spread across his flank in angry purples, blooming like a rotten fruit; classic Grey’s-Turner sign. Ruptured pancreas. Not fine. 

Robby cracked a grin and joked that she didn’t waste any time when she came busting through the doors flanking a gurney, already calling for labs and a FAST scan to the nurses she had introduced herself to in the same breath.

She scrubbed out sometime around ten after the guy made it to the OR stable, and by ten fifteen, they threw another chart at her. This time, a construction worker who took a fifteen foot tumble off some scaffolding. Fractured wrist, three cracked ribs, and a CT that showed a kidney laceration. He got a bed. The marble up a toddler’s nose that she removed in the waiting room did not, but a very frazzled mom got a pep talk, little man got a sticker, and Beth got a surprisingly nice hug from a stranger.

By noon, she was three coffees deep, two traumas handled, and only marginally behind on her charting, which, all things considered, felt like a win. The morning had been one case after another, but manageable. No mass casualty alerts, no screaming family members, no staff dissolving into tears in the hallway. Just a full board and a decent rhythm and the chief attending shooting her flirty smiles between patients. She was starting to think she might like it here. 

She finally crossed paths with the other ER redhead a little before noon. Cassie, just like she’d guessed. By then, Beth had already given up on the protein bar she’d been pulled away from three times and earned herself two new bruises from a run-in with a gurney, but things were otherwise going surprisingly well. Cassie was sharp, funny, easy to talk to, and as it turned out, they had a few Mercy friends in common. By the time Beth settled in beside her at the terminal with a half-flat Diet Coke, they’d traded mom stories and made carpool plans for the wedding of one of those friends they were both invited to. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but it wasn’t this. She liked everyone so far; even if one of them had been doing a damn good job of pretending she didn’t exist.

Maybe she had been right when she told Abby that she was a little excited. 

“Tawny actually called me when she found out you were working here,” Cassie said, glancing over at her as she signed off a chart.

Beth chuckled, already lamenting whatever the sharp-tongued, firecracker of a nurse that always goaded her into drinking far too much during staff get-togethers had told her new coworker. “Uh-oh. How afraid should I be?”

“All good things,” Cassie promised. “She said to tell you she’s still pissed at you for leaving, though. Also, she set the bar high; said you were basically the emergency department’s resident baked goods supplier.”

Beth grinned, tilting her Diet Coke towards her in a mock-cheers. “Gotta save something for the second day.”

It was so far easy. Comfortable in a way that tamed the beast that had been trying to rip its way out of her gut since she woke up. And when Cassie finally asked, “So what made you leave Mercy anyway?” she almost didn’t mind the shift in tone. Almost.

Because that was the exact moment Jack slid into the empty terminal across from her like he hadn’t spent the entire morning acting like she didn’t exist. He still hadn’t said a word to her. Not during rounds, not when they were alone together in the staff room together for a fleeting moment, not when she’d brushed past him grabbing a pair of gloves and he flinched like he’d been shot.  

She didn’t care. Not really. Not that her now-married high school ex-boyfriend hadn’t looked at her all day, and apparently had decided to pretend that whatever history they shared never happened. He didn’t need to look at her. She was happy to pretend too if that’s what he wanted. She’d gotten pretty damn good at that. 

Still, something in her chest shifted at the sight of him. That little flutter of that stupid little girl she’d left on that rooftop after she learned that fairytales didn’t exist. She took a sip of the Coke and shoved that girl’s head right back under the water where she belonged.

She set the can down, eyes still on the screen as she reached for a pen, only to brush against his hand as he went for the same one. Just the edge of her pinky, a quick skim across the back of his hand, but it was enough to fire up nerve endings she hadn’t used in years. She pulled back like she’d been shocked.

“Sorry,” she said too quickly.

“‘S fine,” he muttered, already logging out of the terminal and hustling away like he had somewhere else to be. Anywhere else.

Beth cleared her throat, eyes fixed on the screen even though the words were suddenly hard to read. “There was… a change in leadership,” she told Cassie, hoping the pivot was smooth enough to pass for casual even though she could feel her pulse in her throat. “Mercy just stopped being a good fit.”

Cassie gave a slow nod, eyes trailing after Jack before turning back to Beth. Her lips parted, and Beth braced herself for the one question she’d been hoping to dodge today, feeling it coming like a wave she didn’t have the strength to duck. She really should’ve practiced her answer in the car. Because right now, everything she could think of sounded absolutely batshit insane.

“GSW en route. Male, mid-teens,” Dana called from the desk. “Drive-by. G1 to right upper arm. ETA two minutes.”

Beth could’ve kissed her on the mouth when she looked over at her and asked, “Baker, you want it?”

She was already halfway out of her seat. “Yes, please,” she called back. 

She’d never been more thankful for someone else’s shitty afternoon in her entire life. She grabbed gloves and a gown from the trauma cart, forcing herself to settle her breathing into something calmer. Controlled. She didn’t glance back to see if Cassie was still watching. She just kept moving.

She’d figure out a good answer on the drive home. Something clean. Something that didn’t sound like she was still holding a grudge. Something that didn’t sound like a lie.

- - -

By the time she made it to the locker bay at the end of her shift, her body ached in places she didn’t know could ache. Her feet throbbed in protest with every step, her back twinged when she bent to undo her laces, and she was pretty sure she could no longer smell anything except bleach, blood, and hospital-grade antiseptic. 

The gunshot wound had turned into a full-blown treasure hunt for a fragmented slug, and everything after that blurred together into a parade of sutures, scans, a very brave five-year-old with a dislocated elbow from the monkey bars, a hypoglycemic trucker who swore up and down he hadn’t eaten anything weird despite his glucose clocking in at 34, and a frat boy with a steak knife stuck in his thigh who had no reasonable explanation as to why it was there and zero shame.

All in all, a pretty fun first day.

The locker bay was blessedly quiet now, the shift change rush thinned out and gone. Beth rubbed at her eyes, stepped in front of her locker, and sighed as she rested her forehead against the cool metal for a moment, already dreaming of the bottle of red waiting for her at home on the kitchen counter. As Abby would say; she’d been a brave girl. She’d earned a little treat.

She punched in her code, Abby’s birthday, like always, and hit the unlock button. Twisted the knob, and was met with resistance.

She blinked at the lock, shoulders sagging. Must’ve fat-fingered it. Always took her two or three tries to get it right after a long shift anyway. She tapped it in again, slower this time, glancing down at the text Abby had sent her before twisting the lock again. Still jammed.

Beth let out a breath. “Okay, Baker,” she muttered. “Get your shit together. Let’s go home.”

She tried again. 11-19-08. Press red. Twist.

Once again, nothing.

She frowned and double-checked the locker number just in case the day had finally broken her brain. Nope. Right one. She was mid-punch on her third attempt when a hand brushed lightly against her shoulder.

“Nice work today, Baker,” Robby called as he passed, backpack slung over one shoulder, his scrubs half-untucked like the rest of him was already off the clock. He gave her a grin on his way down the hall. “Think we’ll keep you around.”

“Hope so,” Beth smiled despite herself. “Have a good night, Robby.”

He threw up a little wave without turning around and disappeared around the corner. She stared back at the locker like she could will it open by sheer exhaustion alone, sighed again, and tried the code one more time. Still, it didn’t budge. She closed her eyes, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her vest. 

This stupid piece of metal was the only thing standing between her, clean clothes, and her couch. She refused to be bested by it. She swallowed down the frustration fluttering in her throat and let out a determined, steadying breath. New doesn’t mean impossible, she told herself. Be smarter than the locker, Baker.

11.

19.

08.

Red button.

She twisted the knob, holding her breath out of sheer hope. Surely, this had to be it. She was feeling lucky. And…

Fucking nothing.

She huffed and rubbed her eyes, biting down hard on her cheek. She glanced around, hoping nobody was watching a college-educated woman nearing fifty-years-old in a losing battle with an electronic lock. She pulled her phone from her vest pocket and tapped into her email. Maybe the welcome packet had locker instructions. Reset steps. Please, God, anything, but she was met with nothing but HR fluff.

She was just about to try again until a hand reached over, covering the pad. 

She glanced over, expecting to see Robby, maybe Dana, someone easy. But the shape of the hand and the scar on his knuckles told her she was wrong before she even looked up. Broader. Familiar.

Jack.

He looked at her for the first time all day. No smirk. No amusement. Just… tired. And that was almost worse. The clawing in her gut didn’t stop, but something lighter stirred underneath it. A fluttering against her ribs that she didn’t want to feel, that felt almost cruel.

He lifted his hand from the pad without a word, like helping had never been out of the question, held down the reset button until it chirped, then pressed the pound key. When he tilted his head toward it, she didn’t argue. Didn’t ask how he knew. Just swallowed her pride and typed in the code again. Red button.

The lock clicked.

She twisted the knob and pulled the door open. “Thanks,” she murmured, offering him a tight-lipped smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

He nodded, returning one of his own. That same damn tight-lipped thing he used to use when he didn’t know what to say but wanted to pretend he did. It felt just as wrong now as it had back then.

He opened the locker next to hers and started gathering his things in silence, the faint sounds of zippers and metal echoing down the now-empty hall. She couldn’t see him past the door between them, and she was glad for it. Whatever was hanging in the air between them didn’t need a face to go with it.

Beth turned back to her locker and reached for her bag with fingers that fumbled more than they should have. She busied herself with pointless organization, straightening things she’d already straightened that morning. A change of scrubs. Clean shoes. Spare socks. A battered toiletry bag with a sticky zipper. A photo of her and Abby in DisneyWorld for cheerleading nationals in February was taped to the mirror on the door. Jack didn’t walk away, just continued to pack up in silence while they both pretended the other wasn’t there. 

He finally broke the heaviness after what felt like days. “Good work today,” he said softly.

Her hands stilled, fingers wrapped around the strap of her bag. She wanted to say something snarky, something dismissive to keep him at arm’s length the way she’d promised herself to do. But the way he said it tightened something in her throat. It was simple. Honest. Like he meant it.

Instead, she tugged her keys out of her bag and managed a soft, “Yeah. You too.”

He didn’t say anything else. The silence settled again, thicker now. She could hear him moving; clinks of metal, the rustle of fabric. Close. Too close.She squeezed her keys so tight that the teeth bit into her palm.

This was ridiculous, she told herself. They were nearly fifty, for God’s sake. Too old to be dancing around the edges of a thirty-year-old wound like nervous teenagers, and he was married. He’d obviously continued forward the same as she had. She’d buried that hatchet a long time ago; stitched her heart back together piece by piece and kept going. Pushed through med school alone, survived the last year of residency with an infant and her family on the other side of the country. Built a career, raised a daughter, made a good, stable life. She could handle a conversation with a boy she used to love.

Except somewhere along the way, she’d kept a map to that damn hatchet. Hadn’t even realized she’d drawn it until he walked into that exam room and she saw him again. Thirty years and all it took was one look to feel the ache of it all.

She hadn’t even known he’d gone into medicine. She guessed that had always been the plan though, until it wasn’t. She’d head to med school first, and he’d do his time saving lives in combat zones. Then it would be his turn to suffer through labs and lectures once he got out and she held down the fort until they both had a few new letters following their last name. But that version of their future ended the night he pulled out of her parents’ drive like he couldn’t get out fast enough. Her knowing anything about his life had stopped then, and he’d made sure of it.

It didn’t matter. She’d told herself she didn’t care so many times it should’ve been true by now. The scar tissue around that wound was thick, and she knew better than anyone how difficult it was to cut through. 

She chewed the inside of her cheek and glanced at his locker door. Be the bigger person, Beth. There’s a bar two blocks from the hospital. Buy him a drink, say what needed to be said, clear the air. Then go to admin, and request opposite shifts. Put on your big girl panties. Learn to swim.

Not like he’d say yes anyway. He probably had his wife waiting for him at home; a family to hustle back to. She had to get back to… well, Abby was at Mia’s for the night. If she put her DoorDash order in now, she might beat it home.

She sighed. God, she was so tired of being the bigger person. She slammed her locker shut with more force than necessary and turned. 

“Jack—”

But he was already gone. Only the soft whisper of the door swinging closed at the far end of the corridor remained.

She stood there for a moment, keys clutched too tight in her fist, the echo of his voice still warm in her chest. Beth exhaled, long and slow. Then, she adjusted the strap of her bag, squared her shoulders, and walked out alone.

Maybe she’d get that drink anyway.

[jerseyluck]

Batman: No Man's Land: Nightwing (#35-37): Escape to Blackgate (Story #24)

After many mentions in other stories, it is about time to see Nightwing's grand plan to take over Blackgate Prison from Lock-Up.

The comic opens up by showing the awful conditions that Lock-Up has been keeping the prisoners that Batman sends him. Yup, many prisoners shoved in one bunker, getting shocked for attacking up, using muscle (KGBeast/Trigger Twins) to keep everyone in line! Sounds like the American prison system.

The comic cuts to Batman and Nightwing discussing the issue. Are they going to take over the prison because of inhuman conditions that the prisoners are facing?

Nope, this is a Chuck Dixon comic, this is not about helping prisoners Batman wants Nightwing to take control of Blackgate because the Caped Crusader is worried that villains will team-up with each other and will form organized groups to take action. You know like a union! God damn Dixon and your backwards politics.

Anyway, Dick contacts Oracle to establish the plan to the audience. There is a prisoner in Blackgate that kind of looks like Dick, so Nightwing will free the guy and take his place. At some point, Lock-Up will be ambushed and Bat-family will control the prison system.

Nightwing scubas his way to Blackgate prison, while Lock-Up are welcome new convicts to their new home. Fun spy shit.

But as Nightwing approaches the prisoner he wants to replace, we are reminded that is a No Man's Land story. Lock-Up prison conditions are inhuman... but the prisoners are feed on a regular basis with a roof over their heads. But that is better than a lot of wildlands that Gotham is in.

So, the prisoner alerts KGBeast and the Trigger Twins (not enough space to discuss what their deal is) that Nightwing is here. KGBeast is a master assassin, and the Trigger Twins are good at shooting people at a distance, so Dick is in trouble. When our hero takes a breath thinking that he got away, Lock-Up ambushes Dick knocking him unconscious.

And this is where Nightwing Secret Files is placed in the NML reading order. But that issue adds nothing to this arc, so I am skipping it. Instead, I am going to update you on the Bludhaven developments that Dixon put it here to establish stuff for the longer Nightwing series.

Nite-Wing (the crazy copy vigilante that just beats anyone, not just criminals) is captured by Bludhaven's police. But the corrupt Chief of Police decides to manipulate the kid, aiming him at Blockbuster's forces. Meanwhile, Blockbuster finds out that he needs a heart transplant (and god I want to talk about where he found his new heart instead of this story. It is very fun/stupid.) and the crime boss's mom is not taking it well.

Okay, back to main story, Lock-Up throws Nightwing into a pit with all of the supervillains. Dick can't escape by climbing up the hole because KGBeast is guarding it.

There is a huge fight among the villains about what to do with Nightwing. Scarecrow wants to spare the hero, but Firefly and his crew want to kill Dick (especially Firefly, in a previous story the arsonist's body was severally burned in a fight with Dick). It comes down to Ventriloquist and his sock puppet (yes, really) to calm down everyone.

Nightwing leads the villain to attempt to blow a hole in their pit so they can escape. But then Lock-Up comes to check-up on Dick (because he doesn't want to piss off Batman), but the prisoners lie and say that did some cannibalism instead. Lock-Up decides he needs to kill the supervillains to hide his crime.

Nightwing finds some gunpowder to blow a hole with help of a Z-list villain. And they manage to get hole to open before Lock-Up can flood the pit with seawater. In the next room, Nightwing notices some chains that he can climb up.

But as he climbs up, KGBeast ambushes Nightwing as he climbs up and Firefly is chasing after Dick for revenge. So, in a pretty solid fight scene (Scott McDaniel is a great artist for acrobatic action), Nightwing throws KGBeast down into the pit, trapping the supervillians.

Lock-Up and The Trigger Twins attack Nightwing once he is out, but Dick uses a forklift to defeat the jailers. The GCPD takes over the Blackgate, and Dick goes to Barbara's tower where he collapses from exhaustion. The End!

Yeah, this sure was a story. Let's start with good bits. McDaniel's art is great for action...but it is hard to make out who is who. There are so many villains in pit, but it is hard to make out the different faces to know who each other are. And this issue makes me curious about the ongoing Nightwing story. But this story is just fine.

5.5/10

[flawless-v1ctory]

Oscar Isaac in Pu-239 (2006) dir. Scott Z. Burns

[the-star-rigel]

You’ll never recover from that kind of devotion.

Jason Grace: on family and the lack thereof, wolves that really are dogs, remembering and healing and the sudden inevitability of being remembered.

I Bet on Losing Dogs, Mitski / War of the Foxes, Richard Siken / You’re on Your Own, Kid, Taylor Swift / Trees II, McCafferty / Mowgli Taken in by the Wolves, 1937 / Space Dog, Alan Shapiro / Moon Song, Phoebe Bridgers / A Hymn to Childhood, Li-Young Lee / Susan Smith, wych elm / The Blood of Olympus, Rick Riordan / Saint Bernard, Lincoln / Lupa Capitolina in Ludus, Romania / The Odyssey, Homer (trans. by Emily Wilson) / quadruple dog art by @mxmorggo on Instagram / Norwegian Wood, Haruki Murakami / The Lost Hero, Rick Riordan / House of Leaves, Mark Z. Danielewski / Vulnerability, @/kazerad / Euripides, Elektra / Jason seizing the Golden Fleece, Charles Natoire / Thalia (Grace) / I can’t find the source… / My Sister’s Keeper, Jodi Picoult / Seam, Tarfia Faizullah / In the Blood, John Mayer / The Vintage Book of African American Poetry, Michael S. Harper, Anthony Walton / Memento Mori, Crywank / And My Father’s Love Was Nothing Next To God’s Will, Amatullah Bourdon / Family Line, Conan Gray / Franz Kafka’s letters to his father / Kronos/Saturn, Peter Paul Rubens / Wolf and pup / American Teenager, Ethel Cain / LET YOUR FATHER DIE ENERGY DRINK, Daniel Lavery and Cecilia Corrigan / Scott Street, Phoebe Bridgers / Tumblr, @/inanotherunivrse / Tomatoes, Shane Koyczan / Pinterest / Tumblr, @/heavensghost / Tumblr, @/tagdevilish / through sickness and in health… by Angelina Hajducky on Instagram / Jason (given name), Wikipedia / Human Acts, Han Kang / The gas pillar in the Carina Nebula, NASA / Tumblr, @/roach-works / Not Strong Enough, boygenius / Grit, silas denver melvin / Herakles, Euripides (trans. by Anne Carson) / Pelias sending forth Jason, 1880 / The Audre Lorde Questionnaire to Oneself, Brianna Albers / The Mark of Athena, Rick Riordan / Wolf in White Van, John Darnielle / The Oresteia, Aeschylus / Tumblr, @/orpheuslament / Anecdote of the Pig, Tory Adkisson / The Burning Maze, Rick Riordan / I Bet on Losing Dogs, Mitski / Icarus, The Crane Wives / The Three Graces, Edouard Bisson / For Your Own Good, Leah Horlick

[lilyvalerieorchard]

If anyone of you interacts with any irredeemable media such as

Steven Universe

She-Ra

The Owl House

Star Vs The Forces Of Evil

Avatar: The Last Airbender

The Legend Of Korra

Ducktales

Gravity Falls

Helluva Boss

Hazbin Hotel

Young Justice

Gargoyles

Neon Genesis Evangelion

Sailor Moon

Dragon Ball Z

All anime

All manga

Harry Potter

X-Men

G. Willow Wilson's run on Ms. Marvel

All modern Cass Cain/Batgirl story post-One Year Later

All modern Peter Parker/Spider-Man story post-One More Day

Super Mario Bros

The Legend Of Zelda

Wolfenstein

Doom

The Last Of Us/The Last Of Us Part II

Uncharted

Ratchet & Clank

Jak & Daxter

Sly Cooper

Metal Gear Solid

Tomb Raider (old and new)

Final Fantasy

The Original Star Wars Trilogy

Star Wars: The Clone Wars

Star Wars: Rebels

The Last Jedi

Lord Of The Rings

The MCU

The Mad Max saga

The Evil Dead Trilogy

Braveheart

Lethal Weapon

All films by Francis Ford Coppola

All films by Roman Polanski

All films by Woody Allen

All films by Terry Gilliam

All films by Brian De Palma

All films by Quinten Tarantino

All films by Stanley Kubrick

All films by Tim Burton

All films by Rian Johnson

All films by Don Bluth

All films by Steven Spielberg

All books by Stephen King

All comics by Dan Slott

All comics by Donny Cates

All comics by Jason Aaron

All comics by Jeremy Whitley

All comics by Grace Sina

All comics by Tom Taylor

All Comics by Tom King

All comics by Scott Snyder

All comics by James Tynion IV

All comics Brian Michael Bendis

All comics by Tini Howard

All comics by Vita Ayala

All comics by Joshua Williamson

Music by Michael Jackson

Music by Janet Jackson

Music by Prince

Music by Madonna

Music by The Beach Boys

Music by The Beatles

Music by Mozart

Music by Bach

Music by Beethoven

Music by Hyden

Music by Handel

Music by Wagner

Music by Dvorak

Music by Holst

Hideo Kojima

Greg Weisman

Weird Al

Rebecca Sugar

THEN YOU ARE AN EVIL NAZI ENABLER WHO MUST BURN!

[austinslounge]

Source

Supposedly, according to this account, there are rumors that Austin has passed on the "American Psycho" role.

This might explain Luca's recent comments at CinemaCon. 🤔

Obviously, take this new claim with a grain of salt, but this is what is being rumored.

[starlightshadowsworld]

At this point, with Fyodor having his fingers in every pie which I hope it burns you rat! I wouldn't be surprised if Fyodor had a hand in the Great War--- Heck! I wouldn't be surprised if HE'S the REASON why the War happened in the first place!

Bet he was like looking at Fukuchi having a mental breakdown because having a space time sword must be a real pain in the ass-- and was like 'this soup needs more trauma, need to add a bit of WAR to spice up the relationship drama and a lot of pain and suffering to bring out the other components (that being Yosano's suffering in the Defense Force-356th Infantry Division, Fukuzawa being an assassin, Paul and Chuuya's experimentation, The Headmaster origins, whatever the Werecreature Experiments were) ' .

I mean this rat's been behind it all form the first chapter/episode and before that, Shibusawa was interest in Atsushi (who was 11-12 at the time) because Fyodor told him about his ability, during the Dragon Head Conflict which was right after Shibusawa had 'first died' from Atsushi's claws-- Fyodor saw him 'die again' from fighting Chuuya, he's the reason why the Guild was interested in the tiger/Atsushi in the first place cause he told F. Scott Fitzgerald about him. He was behind the Cannibalism Arc, Dead Apple to test Atsushi, the Hunting Dogs and the Decay of Angels and what the manga is going through.

Hate to give the rat any attention but it's really crazy how he's practically everywhere, guess that what happens when you're as old as dirt.

Anyway, that's just my thoughts, thanks for listening and remember.......

YOUR AWESOME!!!!!!

And we’ve still got whatever the hell he’s got going on with the Order of z Clock Tower.

We need to stop giving this rat pies it’s getting out of hand at this point.

[tv-moments]

Extrapolations

Season 1, “2059 Part II: Nightbirds”

Director: Richie Mehta

DoP: Jaime Reynoso

[mgopinoon]

I just saw this now , it was posted recently, am done guys ,I can't take any more bad news about Austin's casting, I need to healllllll, this is too much, just when it's over another different article pops up

Calm down girl, your world is not coming to an end and he is not a reliable source, this is

[autistpride]

How many of these famous autists do you recognize? And this isn't even a complete list!

So many amazing wonderful people are autistic. I will never understand why people hate us so much.

Actors/actresses/entertainment:

Chloe Hayden

Talia Grant

Rachel Barcellona

Sir Anthony Hopkins

Dan Akroyd

David Byrne

Darryl Hannah

Courtney Love

Jerry Seinfeld

Roseanne Barr

Jennifer Cook

Chuggaaconroy

Stephanie Davis

Rick Glassman

Paula Hamilton

Dan Harmon

Paige Layle

Matthew Labyorteaux

Wentworth Miller

Desi Napoles

Freddie Odom Jr

Kim Peek

Sue Ann Pien

Henry Rodriguez

Scott Steindorff

Ian Terry

Tara Palmer -Tomkinson

Albert Rutecki

Billy West

Alexis Wineman- Miss America contestant

Athletes:

Jessica- Jane Applegate

Michael Brannigan

David Campion

Brenna Clark

Ulysse Delsaux

Tommy Dis Brisay

Jim Eisenreich

Todd Hodgetts

John Howard

Anthony Ianni

Lisa Llorens

Clay Matzo

Frankie Macdonald

Jason McElwain

Chris Morgan

Max Park

Cody Ware

Amani Williams

Samuel Von Einem

Musicians:

Susan Boyle

Elizabeth Ibby Grace

David Byrne

Johnny Dean

Tony DeBlois

Christopher Dufley

Jody Dipiazza

Pertti Kurikka

James Jagow

Ladyhawke

Kodi Lee

Left at London

Red Lewis Clark

Abz Love

Thristan Mendoza

Heidi Mortenson

Hikari Oe

Matt Savage

Graham Sierota

SpaceGhostPurp

Mark Tinley

Donald Triplett

Aleksander Vinter

Comedians:

Hannah Gatsby

Robert White

Bethany Black

Scientists/inventors/mathematians/Researchers:

Damian Milton

Bram Cohen

Michelle Dawson

Carl Sagan

Writers:

Neil Gaimen

Mel Bags

Kage Baker

Amy Swequenza

M. Remi Yergeau

Sean Barron

Lydia X Z Brown

Matt Burning

Dani Bowman

Nicole Cliffe

Laura Kate Dale

Aoife Dooley

Corrine Duyvus

Marianne Eloise

Jory Flemming

Temple Grandin

John R Hall

Naomi Higashida

Helan Hoang

Liane Holliday Willey

Luke Jackson

Rosie King

Thomas A McKean

Johnathan Mitchell

Jack Monroe

Caiseal Mor

Morenike Giwa- Onaiwu

Jasmine O'Neill

Brant Page Hanson

Dawn Prince-Hughs

Sue Robin

Stephen Shore

Andreas Souvitos

Sarah Stup

Susanna Tamaro

Chuck Tingle

Donna Williams

Leaders:

Julia Bascom

Ari Ne'eman

Sarah Marie Acevedo

Sharon Davenport

Joshua Collins

Conner Cummings

Kevin Healy

Poom Jenson

Amy Knight

Jared O'Mara

David Nelson

Shaun Neumeier

Master Sgt. Shale Norwitz

Jim Sinclair

Judy Singer

Dr. Vernon Smith

Artists:

Miina Akkijjyrkka

Danny Beath

Deborah Berger

Larry John Bissonnette

Patrick Francis

Goby

Jorge Gutierrez

Lina Long

Johnathan Lerman

Julian Martin

Haley Moss

Morgan Harper Nichols

Tim Sharp

Gilles Tehin

Willem Van Genk

Richard Wawro

Poets:

David Eastham

Christopher Knowles

David Miedzianik

Henriette Seth F

[bleuangel88]

The character-building around Mickey Bolitar is frankly fascinating to watch unfold.

And the use of dialogue, things like placement, direction, and camera shots only add to this character standing out as he does.

One of the best things about a series is how you can become immersed in everything about it and take a moment to appreciate all the little details.

The opening scene had Mickey and our boy Spoon Spindell in jail after they got arrested, piecing together all the information they knew about Ashley and the mystery surrounding her disappearance.

Mickey and Spoon are so Scott and Stiles coded that I appreciate how this series scratches the Teen Wolf and a bit of Riverdale itch

.The two of them lying on the bench, mostly unfazed by their predicament, both focused exclusively on figuring out this. Ashley's situation was delightful.

But one of the most notably subtle moments was the placement of the Kasselton police emblem behind Mickey.We have this young, determined, protective, fearless teen boy on a mission to find his friend when the police won't even entertain her absence.

And he's sitting in front of their emblem of the American eagle, with the words "Honor, Service, Fidelity" emblazoned on the wall.

Mickey possesses all of these virtues. We've seen it, and it's only been two installments. He embodies what those words mean, and his mission to find Rachel is how it's showcased.

You just know that was a deliberate shot, and those are the little things in a series that make me squeal in delight.

Agent's intuitive proclamation that Mickey was a "protector" further solidified who and what Mickey is, although that moment was heavy-handed in its delivery as they spoonfed us this concept.

Mickey Bolitar is a worthy, honorable, lovable protagonist and hero, and we already know he won't stop until he gets to the bottom of everything that plagues the Kasselton community riddled with secrets.

..

Agent's intuitive proclamation that Mickey was a "protector" further solidified who and what Mickey is, although that moment was heavy-handed in its delivery as they spoonfed us this concept.

It's hard to say what the trio's plan is whenever they find Octoface, but it doesn't seem like they're thinking that far ahead.

Ema Winslow's connection with Agent, the tattoo artist, would've given them a solid lead if Agent were honest about Octoface. Agent knows who he is, and rather than tell Ema anything about that, they burn the photo of Octoface in the tattoo book.

But it seems Agent knows a lot more than they let on. Despite not giving Ema the information she needed, Agent did mention that the spirit encouraged them to put the specific butterfly on Ema because it represents a goddess known for protecting children.

Agent's cryptic parting words to Ema were that she might not be the child needing protection. Instead, she may be some manifestation of the Roman goddess, Abeona, someone who protected children.

Based on the path she, Mickey, and Spoon are currently on, it's a prophecy coming to fruition.

[themculibrary]

Scott/Tony Masterlist

A Birthday Party To Remember (ao3) - camichats T, 890

Summary: When Pepper has to go out of town unexpectedly, it's left to Tony to take Morgan to her friend's birthday party. He almost left early, but Cassie's father, Scott, proves to actually be interesting.

A Piece of the Action (ao3) - Politzania G, 1k

Summary: After watching Scott fleece Rocket in a couple of rounds of Three Card Monte, Tony tries his hand. After losing, he agrees to show off some tech - flirting ensues.

A Single Spark (ao3) - Tora_Uran E, 1k

Summary: A newly divorced Scott is having another day/night at work until Tony Stark happens to run into him. PWP.

Awkward (ao3) - Dowwwney (Wynt) E, 4k

Summary: “Well, Bugs?” Tony asks. “What do you want?”

Without missing a beat, the word coming out in a rush, Scott responds.

“I wanna kiss you.”

gotta get with my friends (ao3) - wanderseeing N/R, 2k

Summary: The spice girls might have been onto something.

(aka: Scott meets Rhodey. He fears for his life.)

Lab Partners (ao3) - thedevilchicken T, 1k

Summary: Tony asks Scott for some help in the lab. Scott's pretty sure he doesn't need help at all.

maybe there is hope in fragments (ao3) - wanderseeing N/R, 3k

Summary: All Tony knows is that he will die alone someday.

He's proven wrong.

Sharing Space (ao3) - Politzania T, 1k

Summary: Scott goes on an overnight road trip with his kinda-sorta-boyfriend, Tony, who has chosen the perfect itinerary.

Spark, Burn (ao3) - FreshBrains M, 1k

Summary: “This is weird. I’m into it, but it’s weird."

This is an Official Cry For Help by Peter Parker (ao3) - Foxlove844 T, 607

Summary: In here, Tony is in a relationship with Scott Lang, and they were on a date at the restaurant when the ship appeared. Scott stowed away on Tony's suit and Peter Parker shows them a little bit about how much help Gen Z needs.

walkin' on sunshine (ao3) - wanderseeing N/R, 1k

Summary: Somebody pinch Scott Lang, because he's got to be dreaming.

(AKA: Scott is brought in to be recruited to the Avengers and meets Tony Stark for the first time. There may or may not be heart-eyes all around.)

What do you need? (ao3) - smallest_moon T, 880

Summary: Tony goes after Scott after his little stunt and Scott finally asks for help

When you're drunk, every idea is a good idea (ao3) - harpywrites M, 1k

Summary: Tony invites Scott over to his lab and treats him to some asgardian mead.

alternatively: author drinks three caffeinated beverages in six hours, cranks the hyperpop, and calls it a creative writing exercise.

[svankmajerbaby]

like i have faith in guadagnino hes a great director but. no disrespect to scott z. burns (i just know him from contagion and from his aaron-sorkinesque the laundromat) but something like american psycho should be written by someone like diablo cody. hear me out. diablo cody or emma seligman. or pulitzer prize finalist sarah delappe from bodies bodies bodies. or god imagine a version by coralie fargeau. that might end up being too much of an aping of the original 2000s movie (i know this is supposed to be another adaptation of the book but the mary harron movie afaik is already pretty faithful to the book). if u absolutely need male writers, then maybe tony mcnamara if u want to go the safe route? or someone from the team of succession could be good, they have this sharp insightful way of writing ridiculous powerful characters....

but what i mean is that a. to be interesting and have something new to say it might be a good idea to set the novel in the present, and b. it HAS to be satire. it cannot be played straight. it HAS to have a humorous edge, otherwise its just a scary supermodel guy killing women.