#Sam the mute composer

[wandagcre]

What do you think abt Sam (non g!p) has the first time with her gf and she cums first (and gets very embarrassed afterwards, cuz she didn't even need to be touched for that!)

first time | sam carpenter 🔞

(Sam Carpenter x Fem!Reader)

Sam never understood the clichés of firsts, until you – the only one that mattered.

WARNING: make out session, fingering, first time - set in Scream universe | 18+ men & minors dni. Words: 1.1k Note: the softest smut i have written yet ahh enjoy! <3

"Fuck," Sam gasped, breathless as you were. "You feel- it's blowing my mind..." she tilts her head and slips in her tongue.

A small smile escaped your lips, knowing how the woman couldn't compose her words properly at your intense make out sessions as this. you let her in, finding her eagerness adorable. The soft rubs of your thumb on her nape only reeled Sam further to your touch. She takes off your top and the hunger in her motion made you arch your neck.

You slow down a little and Sam is tad confused but it doesn't stop her. Her own lips chased yours as you pull away and it didn't faze Sam, who continued caressing her hands onto your bare torso.

You and Sam had barely left one another enough for your lips to become numbed with the well-known dance that has been going on for minutes now. Her eyelids fluttering as she's wrapped in a dazed sensation – the rustling of your limbs against each other and touching and seeing you – has left the entirety of Sam scorching hot.

"Baby, baby," you moan in muted tone. The pit of fire in Sam’s stomach continues to burn, although she finally looks at you in concern.

"Are you okay? we can stop anytime,"

The tenderness is palpable on her doe eyes. You can't resist but run a finger softly on those hooded eyelids.

"Funny how i was going to ask you the same thing. You beat me to it," you say with a crooked smile. Your hands loosely wrapped around her waist and somehow, Sam’s body reacted too enthusiastically, and it made her hips buck onto your front. "Someone's excited."

"I can't help it, you know that too well, querida..."

"And I can definitely attest to that." An inevitable grin breaks out of Sam’s pretty face. It's so easy with you. "I’m all in, baby."

"I am, too. all in. I love you," Sam murmured as if she was in a daydream, stroking your cheek.

Sam drinks the appearance that beholds her. Your skin so soft and delectable, that she failed to keep her hands off you. The creases in your face with your gentle smile. Your soul that welcomed her without a hint of prejudice; paired with your eyes that relayed nothing but acceptance and love.

How Sam got lucky with you is lost on her.

Sam pulled you in once again, the softness gritting into a deplore of conviction; wanting to express how much you mean to her – cheesily enough, you are her world now.

Unfortunately, it also meant she had grown ridiculously damp. a stretch of her lower limb would make it seep much worse. She feels the electric coursing through her veins, prickling soundly onto her sensitive areas. She feels bare and vulnerable in all forms, you didn't even have to touch her that much for her to come undone.

It was mind blowing how Sam haven't thirsted this much to her previous partners before. Even with your limbs intertwined and skins grazing upon another, it simply wasn't enough. Sam is constantly chasing for more.

"I want to have you first," you breathed softly on Sam’s ears to her surprise, making her temperature rise even more. "Please, let go for me, Sammy. I promise to take care of you."

You look at her with glossy eyes, filled with devotion. How can Sam ever say no to you?

She nods with no reluctance to your glee. Oh god, this is happening. Sam feels your fingertips along her abdomen, touch so incandescent, that it made her muscles contract, as it makes its way further down to your goal.

When the heel of your palm laid on her lower stomach, fingers stretching in to go underneath her underwear, Sam felt herself vividly ooze a palpable amount of wetness that made her heave out of breath – thigh muscles spasming that she can barely move.

She rasped a moan as she laid her forehead on your shoulder.

"Are you okay, Sammy?" your eyes went wide in concern.

She weakly laughed. "Yeah, yes. Shit i think– this is unreal. I just came. I surely just felt it," she retracts her hold around you to cover her face in embarrassment. "Now I feel ridiculous. that- that wasn't supposed to happen,"

You looked at Sam bewildered at the news she had dropped.

"Baby, no, no. look at me," you shook her by the shoulder gently and cradled her face. "That's nothing to be shy of. If anything, I’m happy to make something as sex not only pleasurable by means of aggressive throes of lust, but comfortably mind-blowing to you."

It took a while for your words to sink in for Sam. She bit her lip, nodding in agreement. Sam looks at you straight in the eye. All she saw was comfort. Safety. Love. All of which resounded strongly when it comes to you. Slowly, the feel of embarrassment ebb out of her system.

This wasn’t a quick fuck, nor a casual thing. You weren’t cheeky and condescending as the other men she had encountered.

Sam felt like she mattered for once – as though she wasn’t a meat or a conquest.

The thought wasn’t lost on you as Sam looked at you in wonder and it breaks your heart. You decide to grasp her hand and place gentle kisses on her knuckles. The same hands that have gone through unimaginable violence, yet it’s gentle and slightly trembling in your hold.

"Thank you, mi querida."

The kissing resumed as your fingers also continued making its way to the depths of Sam’s crevice. The pad of your fingers that she ushered for you to rub harder had sent her on the edge. The soft gasps of excitement and pleasure, Sam couldn't take it.

Every touch had her entirety reeling, as though you had her absolved all her sins. Nothing else mattered.

"Listen to me, you're doing great. You look... beautiful."

Albeit it came rarely, Sam was somewhat desensitized to praises. But yours were raw and innocent. Sam feels her heart thumping louder than ever.

"Always a charmer,"

From there, she cants her pelvis closer to you, rocking her hips to the newfound rhythm – riding your fingers. All Sam can think about was your name. She met your thrusts and each time, you never failed to give her praise. I love you, I love you, I love you -- you confess, akin to worshipping a deity. The open mouthed kisses on her sternum and chest that you spread all over her, has made Sam's head spin. You simply understood how vulnerable and hard it was for the woman to let go. Sam swore she felt heaven – it made her surrender all her strength completely under your touch. She has never known a safer place as yours.

Wet enough she was, and this time both of you couldn't hold back your smiles, complemented by neediness, as you make love for the first time.

do not repost/translate on other sites. © wandagcre

[supercorpkid]

Baby Danvers who is Kara's bio little sister sent to earth with Kara in the pod as a baby. Has a crush on Ruby Arias, they bond over being Kryptonian and teenagers not allowed to use their powers in public. Please 🙏

(love your work)

Everything Has Changed.

Supergirl. Baby Danvers. Kara Danvers x Sister!Reader, Alex Danvers x Sister!Reader, Ruby Arias x Reader. Sam Arias.

Word Count: 2310.

"No," Kara repeats, speaking to you as if you were a toddler. "You can't join the track team when you have super speed. You know that."

"You just won't let me do anything!" You scowl, showing your sister how upset you are. Usually, that's all it takes, but when it comes to your powers, Kara never budges.

"Yeah, because it's not fair to other people, Y/N! You have superpowers," Alex chimes in from the kitchen. You roll your eyes, knowing this was bound to happen. The open concept in Kara's apartment really doesn't help when you're trying to have a conversation with just one of them.

"What good are all these powers if I'm not allowed to use them?" You turn on your heel, quickly going to your bedroom and slamming the door behind you. You hear a crack in the wood and curse under your breath.

"If you break another door, you won't get a replacement!" Alex yells, and you grunt in frustration.

God! You break a few things around the house or bump into someone and break their arm on the street a couple of times and now you're treated as a menace! Sure, it doesn't help that your bedroom door looks like it might turn into ashes if you slam it one more time, but most of the time it isn't on purpose. 

Do you really want to join the track team? Not necessarily. What you really want is a way to use your powers without Kara and Alex yelling at you. You can't wait until you're an adult.

When you were younger, you couldn't wait to get your powers. When you and Kara crashed on this planet, she was already a teenager, so she immediately got all of them—the flying, super speed, super strength—everything you always wanted. But since you were a baby when you came to Earth, you had to wait until puberty.

Now, you finally have them. You can fly around the world, save people, hear all the gossip at school, and yet your sisters insist that you mustn't use them.

"How did Eliza do it?" Kara asks, and you put your headphones on mute to hear the conversation better. "I seriously don't remember what she used to do when it was me."

"Well, if I remember correctly, it was basically the same," Alex says, and you can't help but roll your eyes again. Perfect Kara Danvers wasn't so perfect after all.

"Eliza was more composed after it, though." Kara takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself. You slide your glasses down to look at them moving to the couch. "Did I mess up her life by bringing her to live with me? Eliza said she wanted Y/N to stay there."

"Kara," Alex reaches for Kara's arm, giving it a gentle stroke, "you wanted to bring her here so you could teach her about her powers, to help her feel how normal it is to have them. Besides, you promised your mom you'd take care of her."

"Alex, I know all the reasons, but what if they're not enough? Having me fly around, saving people, using my powers daily, and not being able to use hers—I don't think it's helping as much as I thought it would."

Alex is silent for a moment. "You know, Sam has told me the same thing about Ruby. Maybe we need to get them together, so she can see that even though her experience feels singular, it really isn't."

"That's a good idea, actually." Kara grabs her phone right away. "I'll ask Sam if they're free this weekend. Oh! And Lena can come too."

You smirk — of course Kara would want to bring Lena everywhere.

Kara knocks on your door a while later. You take your headphones off and watch as she slowly approaches, testing the waters. "I'm sorry you can't join the track team. You do understand why, right?"

You sit up in bed and give her a soft, "Yeah" so she knows you're no longer upset. She sits in front of you, grabbing one of your stuffed animals on the bed so she has something to do with her hands.

It takes a couple of seconds and a long breath from her to add, "I love you, baby. I'm just trying to protect you." Kara blinks at you, and you can see how sad she is about fighting with you all the time.

It's not fair that she had to take care of you all your life. Sure, Eliza was an incredible mother figure to both of you, but Kara is 13 years older than you, and she promised your mom she'd care for you when Alura put you both in that pod. And that's what she's done her entire life. She fed you, changed you, taught you both English and Kryptonese, told you about your planet, and showed you its place in the sky. She's the blood relative who truly raised you (sorry, Kal, but it's true).

As soon as she graduated from college and got a job, she brought you to National City to live with her. Eliza wasn't happy about it, but you were over the moon. You'd never say this out loud, but deep down you know Kara is your mom. Not Alura, not Eliza, not even Alex (though she sometimes feels like one). Kara cradled your baby self in her arms all those years ago, and she has yet to let go.

You throw yourself into her arms, hugging her with all your strength, grateful you can't hurt her with it. "I know. I'm sorry." Tears threaten to leave your eyes, and you swallow them. "Kar, I – I know you're doing more than you should as a sister. And so I don't want to be a burden to you."

"You are not a burden!" She squeezes you tighter. "You could never be a burden, little one. You are my whole world." Kara holds your face between her hands, her eyes full of tears, and when you look at her, you know exactly why. "You are the most important person to me in any universe. That's why I don't want you in any kind of danger."

"I know, but I just want to make you proud."

"Oh, baby. I couldn't be prouder of the girl you are, trust me. But we still need some rules about using your powers. You're all I have left," she reassures you.

"I mean, did I die at some point?" Alex asks, leaning against the doorway.

You smile. "Pretty sure you're a ghost, and this house is haunted, yeah."

Alex opens her arms and joins the hug. "You'll have a nice weekend with Ruby and will stop breaking the doors, right?"

You crack a smirk. "I'll try. No promises."

They let you fly to Metropolis, and you appreciate it, even if it's just a less-than-five-minute flight. You get to carry Alex, while Kara carries Lena—because, of course, Lena was coming.

You've met Sam before, though you don’t remember much about it. However, you’re sure you’ve never met Ruby. Usually, you dislike when people dictate who you should or shouldn’t be friends with, but that changes when you meet Ruby.

You love her excitement about things, which mirrors your own enthusiasm, often dimmed by other teenagers who want to look cool. Ruby is nice, has superpowers, and is best friends with her mom (which is similar to your relationship with your older sisters). So when Sam says you’ll have to share a room with Ruby, you’re thrilled.

It's refreshing to have someone you can confide in about your powers, your frustration with not being able to use them freely, and how much you love your sisters despite their misunderstandings.

"I know! Like, okay, I get it. I can't use my powers to gain an advantage in life, but maybe I want to play volleyball!"

"Or join the track team!" You agree, pointing at her. Ruby’s smile widens, and you stare up at her from your spot on the sleeping bag on the floor.

"And honestly, she gets so mad when I break something, like it’s my fault I have super strength." Ruby makes space for you in bed and invites you up with a gesture. You promptly sit in front of her without a word, too preoccupied with your complaints to talk.

"And yes, I understand it's hard to explain why my door keeps breaking, but I’m a teenager! I’m supposed to slam doors behind me."

Ruby laughs in agreement. "It probably doesn’t help when I break things at school, though."

"One time I stopped suddenly in P.E. class, and a kid running behind me ran into me. He broke his nose. I didn’t even move." You give her a sheepish smile. "That was hard to explain."

"That’s nothing! We were playing dodgeball, and I sent someone flying across the room." Your eyes widen at the image. "I was banned from P.E. for weeks, and everyone started calling me 'Wonder Chick.'"

"Uh," You smile. "Did you tell them they got the planets mixed up?"

"Tried to. Mom wouldn’t let me."

You laugh loudly, and although Ruby laughs too, she shushes you so none of the adults come to check on you.

You talk all night, and as the hours pass, the connection between you deepens. You can’t believe how easy it is to open up to Ruby, sharing things you’ve never felt comfortable saying before. After showing her where Krypton would have been if it still existed and teaching her a few Kryptonian words, you both lie side by side on the roof, gazing at the early morning sky.

The sun rises, casting an orange glow that makes Ruby's chestnut eyes shine even more than when she’s telling a story. You think it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. Her eyes feel like coming home.

The conversation eventually slows, and a comfortable silence settles between you. You’re both exhausted, but there’s a sense of peace that neither of you wants to break.

“I’m really glad I came here,” you murmur, your eyes heavy with sleep.

"Yeah," She scoots a little closer. "I’m really glad you came too. I’ve never met anyone who understands me so much."

"I know! Same." You bite your lower lip, looking at Ruby's lips. "I think you might be one of my favorite people already." Your cheeks flush when you realize what you just said. "Is that weird?"

"No." She shakes her head, eyes flicking between your eyes and lips. "It can’t be weird to meet your soulmate."

Soulmate? Oh.

"May I ask what you two are doing out here?" Kara’s voice nearly makes you jump out of your skin.

"Shit." You place a hand on your chest, checking if it’s still there. "Kara! You scared us!"

"You two should be in bed!" You open your mouth to argue, but your sister cuts you off. "Come on, go get some sleep. You guys can talk more before we have to leave."

Your face drops at the thought of leaving, and you see the same sadness on Ruby’s face when Kara’s eyes soften. "You guys will see each other again. Rao, why are teenagers so dramatic?" When she doesn’t see you moving, she adds, "Bed! Now!"

You obey her orders, Ruby slipping into bed and you into the uncomfortable sleeping bag on the floor. You drift off quickly, a sense of contentment washing over you. Despite only getting a couple of hours of sleep, you don’t regret it one bit.

"Ruby! Y/N! Come down for breakfast!" Sam calls from downstairs. Even though more sleep sounds tempting, breakfast sounds even better. You both rush to the kitchen.

"Oh, cool sweater, by the way!" Ruby points at the "Power to the Girls" slogan, and you beam.

"Thanks," Kara’s voice comes from the couch. You can see her snuggled up with a mug and Lena, but she’s not looking at you. "It’s mine. And no, I didn’t let her borrow it."

You glance down at the sweater. "It was mixed with my laundry. I thought you’d given it to me!"

"Nice try." Her voice comes a second later. "Stop stealing my clothes."

You shrug. "I tried."

The rest of the day passes in a dreamlike haze. You find yourself wishing your sisters had thought of this sooner, but you’re incredibly grateful they finally did. Meeting Ruby, your soulmate, has changed everything. For the first time, you don’t feel so alone with your powers. You have someone who truly understands you.

When it’s time to say goodbye, you feel a pang of sadness, but you know this isn’t the end.

"You’ll come visit next weekend, right?" You ask again, even though both Sam and Ruby have reassured you several times.

"Yeah. And you’ll text before that, right?"

"As soon as I get home!" You smile proudly. "So in like, five minutes."

"Cool."

You can’t suppress your smile as you look at her one last time before taking flight. "Cool."

As you fly back home, you feel a sense of peace you hadn’t expected. Meeting Ruby is one of the best things that has happened in your life, and you’re already certain of it. Maybe your sisters are right about some things, but that doesn’t mean you’re alone. You now have Ruby, someone who understands you like no one else ever will.

You: Photo 📸 You: Guess what? It turns out you can break doors when you're too happy too! Rubes: Love the pic. Alex looks thrilled 😆 Rubes: Please get a new one before I visit.

You smile at your phone. For the first time in a long while, you feel that things are going to be okay. Your life isn’t as bad as you thought. In fact, it might just be pretty great.

[novelmonger]

Continuing with the Production/Post-Production audio commentary for TTT, with Barrie Osbourne (producer), Mark Ordesky (executive producer), Andrew Lesnie (director of photography), Mike Horton (editor), Jabez Olssen (additional editor), Rick Porras (co-producer), Howard Shore (composer), and Jim Rygiel (visual effects supervisor). Here are my notes for things that were new to me:

There's actually very little CG involved in the transition from the aerial shot of the mountains in that first scene to the inside of Moria with the Balrog. The mountains were obviously shot from a helicopter, and then they built a little tunnel set that they moved the camera through, and then they just slapped them together so it would look like you're basically going through a crack in the rock to get to the cavern where the scene is happening.

Originally, Sam's knot in the Elven rope untying was going to be a CG shot, but someone on set on the day figured out how to tie the right kind of knot that they could just pull apart like that and make it look believable.

Okay, this is why I love what Howard Shore did with the soundtrack so much. When talking about coming up with Gollum's theme, he said he wanted to take an instrument that's used in the Shire music and incorporate it into Gollum's music, because Gollum was once something like a Hobbit. He ended up choosing the hammered dulcimer, because it has a very tremolo quality to it that seemed to fit Gollum's character. But there's still an echo of what he once was.

In that beautiful shot going up Barad-dur, they shot this huge miniature they'd made that was 166th scale and stood almost 7 meters tall. Even though it was so huge, they had to get the camera very close to capture the detail; it was never more than three or four inches away from the surface. The main challenge was keeping the lighting consistent, because you'll notice the camera moves almost 180 degrees around the tower. So they actually had to move the light source with the camera as they twisted around the tower.

The Wild Men are played by a biker gang! XD

It was a little confusing how this was said, but I think this is what he means: Almost all of the dialogue in these movies was rerecorded, because the nature of the action going on or the conditions of the location or having to speak through prosthetics and whatnot made the dialogue recorded on the day unusable. The only characters they never bothered recording ADR for were the mother who sends her children to Edoras on the horse, and the girl. The conditions that day were good enough, and the girl's performance was so good on the day, they knew they would never be able to recreate it in a recording booth, so they used what they recorded on the day. But everybody else had to rerecord lines. That doesn't mean all the dialogue you hear is necessarily ADR, but something like 85% of it is. I think they did a really good job of not making it sound like it's all recorded in a booth!

Something you sort of unconsciously notice but maybe don't consciously think about it is how the lighting in Edoras reflects Theoden's mental state. In the beginning, when he's completely under Saruman's control and is on the verge of an unnatural death, the hall is kept very dark, and the colors are all muted, with lots of yellowish and greenish tints to make you feel slightly sick. But then once Gandalf comes and releases him from Saruman's control, there's much more light and vibrant color in the hall.

Three of the times Viggo kicked the infamous helmet, it hit Andrew Lesnie's leg XD He says he winced every time it went past, and it's a wonder he didn't jiggle the camera when it happened.

They mentioned it's really difficult to get a horse to stomp on top of a camera underneath plexiglass. You can train them to do it for days, and it's kind of a toss-up whether they'll actually do it on the day, because they really don't like doing it. So I guess it's pretty cool that they managed to get that shot of a horse almost stomping Pippin!

I have trouble identifying the voices, but someone said, "You've got to throw out preconceived notions of how to make movies when you're working with - either with Peter, or with a giant tree guy holding a couple of Hobbits."

They talked about the importance of foley for selling Gollum as a real character who was really there in the same place as the other actors. At first, the foley guys performed him the way he looks, with very light movements since he's so skeletal. But then they went back and made the movements sound heavier after all, because it just made him feel more real. Another thing they did sometimes was make the movements of Gollum's hands with wet hands or putting their hands on wet rock. They had some samples to enhance the vocal work, what they call "sweeteners" (another example of which would be putting animal growls in with the orc voices). But actually, Andy Serkis did most of the sounds so well with his own voice, they didn't really need any sweeteners for Gollum.

Gandalf's battle with the Balrog was originally going to be longer. You would see not just them crashing into the water, but then they would come out of some kind of lake, and the Balrog's flames would be extinguished, leaving behind just a slimy black monster. You would also see several Watchers like the one in the pool outside Moria from FotR, scuttling away because they're afraid of the Balrog. Personally, I'm glad they didn't bother doing all of that, not least because it would have probably dragged on too long.

For the scene where the Black Gate opens, naturally the mountain trolls that open it were CG, but they had little foam-rubber models there while filming the miniature. At one point, someone set them up so they were playing chess while they waited for the signal XD

They put a lot of thought into how much sunlight they should have in and around Mordor. For the story, Orodruin is sort of belching out these unnatural clouds to hide the sun so the orcs can be outside, and then there's also the symbolic significance of the encroaching darkness. But the problem is that, if everything is always dark all the time, the darkness actually either becomes distracting (hello, all movies and TV shows these days where you can't even see what's happening!) or you become so desensitized to it that you don't notice it anymore. So they often made the decision to have some sunlight breaking through the clouds despite everything, just to provide some contrast so you'd really feel how dark the darkness is, so to speak.

Somebody said: "On some level, we're used to looking at movies and seeing real photography. We know what it is. We may not be able to define it, but we know it when we see it. And so if you're looking at a film and you don't see what we perceive as real photography, we start to worry at some level. We start to wonder, 'How did they do that?' or 'Why does this look the way it does?' or 'Why do I not feel that this is quite right?' When that happens, you've lost the audience, because you're not doing good storytelling. Our job is to tell a story. It's just to tell a story. It's not to show off and show how cool we are at making a digital image or how cool we are at making miniature shots. It's to tell a story and then walk away and erase our tracks."

Uma Thurman was once thought of for the role of Eowyn and Ethan Hawke was going to be Faramir?????? ఠ ͟ಠ

Bernard Hill told one of them that it really mattered that they bothered to go the extra mile and actually construct things when they could have done it digitally. He said it informed his and the other actors' performances, because if they thought it was worth the trouble of going out to some remote location and spending 5-6 months building an actual Edoras when they could have done it all on a set with bluescreen, then it must be worth the actors giving their performances every bit of effort they possibly could.

Sometimes they had to digitally fix the color of Gandalf's nose, because it was a prosthetic, and sometimes it would react differently to the light and would be really obvious that it wasn't his real nose XD

It took 98 takes to get the simbelmyne falling to the ground just right!

All the fires in the Golden Hall, including the one in the center, were gas fires so they could be completely controlled. Not a detail I ever considered before!

Apparently there was some friction between Peter Jackson and Viggo Mortensen about how he played the scene in the stables where he calms Brego. I guess Peter wanted the scene to be more about Aragorn and Eowyn's relationship, while Viggo felt (and played the scene) that the focus should be on Aragorn and Brego. 100% horse girlie behavior XD

During the storyboard stage for the warg battle, one guy was sketching out some ideas for beats in the scene, and at one point he had Aragorn's horse get killed, not knowing the plans for emphasizing the bond between Aragorn and Brego. And Peter Jackson just kind of looked at him and went, "You're going to kill Brego?!" Obviously, they didn't go with that idea.

Apparently they often struggled to keep Orlando Bloom in focus, because he does a lot of "intense Elvish staring," as they described it XD So basically, Orlando's feet would hit the right mark, but then because he's supposed to be giving a sharp glare or looking intently farther than the human eye can see, he would often sort of lean forward, making it difficult for the camera operators to anticipate exactly where he would be so they could keep him in focus.

An interesting observation that the Uruk-Hai's pikes give you more of a sense of how many there are than the actual orcs themselves.

Peter Jackson got the idea for the lamps the Elves hold when they leave Rivendell the day before they were going to film that scene, so the props department worked overnight and made them all in time for the shoot! @_@

Most of the sets were built from foam - specifically, a kind of blue foam that is used to insulate refrigerated trucks. It's very dense and firm material that is easy to carve and also very light, which makes it easier to transport pieces of the set if necessary. Most of the miniatures were also carved from foam, except for the Barad-dur miniature, because it had to be at such a small scale. If they tried to carve the miniature at the level of detail they needed, the foam would have just fallen apart, so they had to work with a harder material (he didn't say what).

An interesting issue that cropped up in the Helm's Deep battle I never would have thought of is the part at the beginning where all the Uruk-Hai are banging their pikes against the ground. Most of them are CG, created by the Massive program that was developed for the army movements so they wouldn't have to be individually animated. So they could program Massive to make the Uruk-Hai bash their spears against the ground, but it was the program that would choose the rhythm in which they did it. It makes for a realistic shot, as anyone who's tried to get a crowd to clap along in time with some music can tell you, but it led to some headaches for the sound team when the rhythms Massive chose were different from what the actual extras did on the day. They had to overlap the sounds of the rattling spears in such a way that it would sound believable with what you see.

They added in a lot of digital arrows to the battle of Helm's Deep, as you might imagine. But some of the arrows were practical ones that were really there, light ones that were blunt and wouldn't hurt anyone - which is great, but unfortunately that means they don't necessarily fly as well as sturdier arrows meant to kill things. One of the difficult things the editing team had to do was choose takes where none of the practical arrows flew astray, so the digital arrows could be added in without having to do the extra work of painting out arrows that weren't going where they were supposed to.

They made a weird comment about that part where Aragorn's like, "How long do you need?" and Theoden responds, "As long as you can give me." Apparently, it was originally "How much time do you need?" but they thought that would be...anachronistic? Like people in Middle Earth, with a more or less medieval level of technology, would have no concept of time itself? People were keeping track of time by sundials and candles and things (not to mention just looking up in the sky and noting the position of the sun) in the Middle Ages, so I have no idea what they're talking about.

Massive and motion capture footage worked really well together. They could motion capture an orc climbing up a ladder, for example, then put that movement into the Massive program, and it would have the other figures react to it like any other Massive figure. I imagine that made things a lot easier for directing the battle the way they wanted it to go.

The part where Legolas shoots down one of the ladders was completely made in the editing/post-production stage. They just found a clip of Legolas shooting, painted out whoever he was shooting at, and instead put in the digital shot of the Uruk-Hai on the ladder.

They shot a whole storyline of Eowyn helping Morwen (the mother of the two children who run away from the burning village) give birth in the caves, and because of this they have to stay behind while all the other civilians escape out the back way. Then some Uruks come, and Eowyn has to fight them off. Uhhh...I wanna see that!!! I totally get why they cut it out of the movie, but...still!

Some of the close-up footage of Aragorn during the final charge was actually originally from the warg battle.

I think I noted this from one of the previous commentaries, but I still marvel over it. For Sam's speech at the end that ties the three climaxes together, all they had of that in the original shoot was the parts where you actually see Sam looking through the window. The part where it's just voiceover while you see the montage of everything else that's happening? All of that was added in later, with just Sean in a recording booth. And, as Mark Ordesky put it as he was talking about it, now you can't imagine it any other way.

[whateverthese2havetournament]

Round 3, Match 4

Chell and Genetic Lifeform and Disc Operating System (Portal)

VS

Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee (Lord of the Rings)

The Gist:

A mute human test subject and the malevolent AI running the facility in which she's trapped. GLaDOS spends one and a half games trying to kill her, gaslight her, and belittle her. After the Act 3 twist in Portal 2, they have to work together to stop a greater danger, and GLaDOS silently realizes how much she needs Chell, and simultaneously how they cannot coexist. She has composed three break-up songs about their relationship. Arguably more.

Two halflings in the Fellowship of the Ring. I'm not accurately going to summarize three books in a single paragraph, but Sam acts as friend, confidant, and loyal manservant, carrying Frodo onward when the weight of his journey became too much, both literally and figuratively. Their bond is stronger than an evil artifact's mind-altering curse. If Sam didn't have a wife, it could be argued that that this is just canon. Some fans still do anyway.

[therealgchu]

Snippet Sunday

back to a schedule, sort of. the husband and i are headed out to kansas city for naka-kon this thursday, so no updates till memorial day.

in the meantime, i have been getting some writing done. posting up a quick snippet from chapter 5, which is like 70% done.

Read Seven Days from the beginning over on ao3.

my other works on ao3.

sneak peek for the beginning of chapter 5

Sam was suddenly awake, with an idea fully formed in his mind. Manipulation was never his strong suit, but he had learned from the best, namely his father. He did know how to use it to his advantage, but rarely did as it seemed pretty dishonorable to him. Plus, anything that reminded him of his father left a bad taste in his mouth. However, he was a prisoner, so honor be damned.

Breakfast was already sitting on the small table, steaming waffles and hash browns. He eyed the food warily, along with the table. His eyes swept the cell and saw that the broken table had been cleaned up and taken away. In all his life he’d never been a heavy sleeper, even when he was a teenager. Since he’d been stuck in the cell, he’d slept more in the past four days than practically the past ten years combined. The fact that someone was able to come into the cell, clean up the mess, and replace the table, all while he slept soundly, screamed that he was being drugged. He figured it had to be dinner, since he didn’t have any problem staying awake during the day. Realizing she was drugging his food only served to piss him off even more. Drugged into docility, fucking mindgames. It was all one-in-the-same for her.

He sat up and saw the woman was sitting on her chair in the usual spot, reading a slate. It didn’t appear that she noticed he’d awakened. He took a few minutes to himself to compose his thoughts before he dealt with her, finalizing his plan. After he mentally prepared himself, he sat up and wolfed down the food, barely tasting it. He wasn’t relishing what he had planned, but it might be his only chance to get out this hell hole. 

Sam stared at the woman, “Are you ever going to let me out?” he asked.

She looked up, her face a mix of emotions, but didn’t answer.

“If you never let me go, you’ll orphan Cora,” he said icily.

She blanched, but still remained mute.

“I thought you cared about Cora,” he growled.

Her eyes darted around, not meeting his gaze this time, but she started shaking her hands.

[startseeingstars]

Maybe It’s Fate - Samuel Lafferty (UTBOH)

CH05

The street was quiet, save for the distant hum of crickets in the summer air. You stopped at your front door, turning to face Sam. His hands were in his pockets, his shoulders slightly hunched as though trying to contain something he wasn’t ready to share.

“Thank you for taking me home,” you said softly.

Sam smiled, his gaze fixed on you, but he said nothing for a moment. The way his eyes lingered sent your pulse into a flutter, and you couldn’t ignore the subtle tension radiating off him.

“It was my pleasure,” he finally said, his voice low and warm.

He could feel the tension building, that pull toward you that had been simmering since the skating rink. His eyes flicked to your lips before he could stop himself, and he immediately averted his gaze, silently reprimanding himself for how badly he wanted to close the small distance between you.

You could see it—the struggle. The way his eyes darted briefly to your lips, then away. How he shifted slightly on his feet, as if fighting some internal battle. Your heart thudded in your chest.

Taking a small step forward, you reached up and gently touched his cheek. His heart thundered as he stood frozen, utterly captivated by the tenderness in your touch.

“Goodnight, Sam,” you whispered, your voice sending a shiver through him.

Before he could respond, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. You lingered there for a moment, close enough to feel the warmth of his skin and the steady rise and fall of his breath.

When you pulled back, his expression was unreadable, his lips parted as though he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

“See you tomorrow?” you asked, your voice tinged with hope.

He nodded mutely, his hand twitching at his side as though resisting the urge to reach for you. “Goodnight, Nora.”

The door closed behind you and you leaned against it, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the way your heart raced.

As Sam walked back to his truck, he resisted the urge to glance back, though every part of him wanted to. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, his mind racing with the memory of your touch, the softness in your voice.

And yet, that other part of him—the part molded by years of his father’s expectations and the weight of his upbringing—whispered warnings. He tried to ignore it, pushing away the unease and clinging to the memory of your smile instead.

xxx

The church was bustling as you and Brenda arrived together, weaving through the crowd to find a seat. The Lafferty family sat across the aisle, their presence impossible to miss. Sam was there, his posture as straight and composed as ever, though his gaze darted to you the moment you entered.

You felt his eyes on you as you settled into your pew, and when you dared to glance back, you found him already looking. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and you couldn’t help but return it, a small, secret exchange that sent warmth blooming in your chest.

Smiling at you felt like the most natural thing in the world to Sam. “You look happy, son,” Ammon said beside him, his tone measured.

Sam’s smile faltered, and he quickly looked away, mumbling something about the good weather. He could feel his father’s gaze, heavy and searching, but he kept his focus on the hymnal in his hands.

Brenda nudged you playfully, whispering, “He’s smitten. You can tell.”

You nudged her back, cheeks flushed, but said nothing.

As the service began, you tried to focus, but it was impossible not to steal glances at him. You caught him doing the same more than once, and each time, your heart fluttered a little more.

Throughout the service, his resolve crumbled bit by bit. He couldn’t help but steal glances at you, noting how your eyes lit up when you listened to the sermon, or the way your hair caught the light streaming through the windows. Every time you looked back at him, his heart raced, his mind quieting for just a moment.

But Ammon noticed. Of course he did.

When the service ended, Sam saw his opportunity. Rising quickly, he moved through the crowd, his focus solely on reaching you. His heart swelled when you turned toward him, your expression brightening.

“Nora,” he called, his voice cutting through the murmurs of the crowd.

But before he could reach you, a firm hand clamped down on his shoulder.

“Samuel.” His father’s voice was low, but the authority in it left no room for argument.

You watched as Ammon gestured toward a young woman standing nearby. She had a kind smile and an air of innocence about her.

“This is Sarah,” Ammon said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I believe the two of you should get to know each other.”

Sam nodded out of habit, his politeness automatic even as his chest tightened. Sarah smiled at him, kind and sweet, but she wasn’t you. She could never be you.

Disappointment settled in your chest as you turned away, pretending not to notice. Brenda looped her arm through yours, pulling you close as the two of you made your way toward the exit.

“Don’t worry,” she said quietly. “It’ll be okay. You’ll see.”

You smiled faintly, but the ache in your chest remained. Sam had seemed so eager to see you, but now…

Glancing back one last time, you caught a glimpse of him looking over Sarah’s shoulder, his eyes searching the crowd—searching for you.

By the time Sam looked back at Sarah, his father was still speaking, his words blending into the background. Sam nodded along, but his heart wasn’t in it. It was still with you.

xxx

Later that day, as Sam was finishing his chores outside, he could feel his father’s eyes on him, heavy and watchful. Ammon had always had that way about him—like he was constantly assessing, always expecting more. Sam tried not to flinch when his father approached, carrying that air of authority, the one that made everything seem more serious than it was.

“Samuel,” Ammon began, his voice measured, but with a subtle edge that always made Sam wary, “What do you think of Sarah?”

Sam hesitated, wiping his hands on his pants, unsure of how to respond. He didn’t want to offend his father, but the truth was, he didn’t feel the connection with Sarah the way he felt with you. There was something about you, something raw and real that he couldn’t explain, and he couldn’t shake it no matter how hard he tried.

“I… I think she’s nice,” Sam said carefully, not wanting to make his father angry. “She seems kind and well-mannered, but—” He stopped himself before he said more, not wanting to get in trouble for even hinting at his feelings for someone else.

But Ammon was already looking at him, his eyes narrowing. He was about to say something, to shut it down like he always did when Sam’s mind drifted toward things that weren’t what he expected, when Doreen, his mother, stepped in with her soft voice.

“Maybe Samuel should invite Nora to the family picnic,” Doreen suggested, her tone gentle but firm in a way that only she could pull off.

Ammon paused, clearly thrown by the idea. Sam felt a small spark of hope ignite in his chest. If his mother had intervened, maybe it wasn’t as impossible as his father seemed to think.

Ammon didn’t look thrilled, but after a long silence, he finally gave a reluctant nod. “Fine, but don’t expect it to be easy.”

Sam tried not to let the doubt settle in his chest. This was his chance, a small one, but a chance nonetheless. And even if his father didn’t approve, he was determined to try.

The next day, Sam walked into the thrift store, a mix of excitement and nerves buzzing in his chest. He spotted you immediately, looking so beautiful even in the midst of your work. For a moment, he just stood there, watching you move between the shelves, the familiar ease with which you navigated the space making him feel even more drawn to you.

He cleared his throat, walking up to the counter, and you looked up, your eyes lighting up when you saw him.

“Hey, Nora,” he greeted, trying to keep his tone casual even though his pulse was racing. “I was wondering if you’d like to come to a family picnic with me.”

The words hung in the air, and Sam’s heart skipped a beat as he waited for your response. He had no idea how you’d feel about it.

Your mind raced. A picnic? You knew it was more than just a casual invitation. It was his family, his world—something so much bigger than you. You felt a lump form in your throat. You weren’t sure if you belonged there, if you could fit into that kind of life.

You hesitated, trying to keep your voice steady as you responded. “I don’t know if I’d be the right fit for your family, Sam,” you said, your eyes flickering toward the floor. “I’m not sure I meet their standards.”

Sam’s heart sank. He didn’t want to hear that. The idea that you thought you weren’t good enough for them made his chest ache. He stepped a little closer, trying to reassure you with his eyes.

“Hey, don’t worry about that,” he said gently. “I want you there. I promise it’ll be okay. You’re more than enough. Besides…” He gave you a small grin, his heart racing. “I’m kind of hoping you’ll come, just so I can show my family how amazing you really are.”

He watched as your expression softened, and for a second, he felt like maybe this could really work. Maybe his family could see you the way he did—beautiful, strong, and so much more than what anyone might expect.

You hesitated, but then, with a small sigh, you agreed. “Okay, I’ll go. But just to warn you… I’m probably going to be a little awkward.”

Sam smiled widely, his relief palpable. He could feel the weight lifting off his shoulders. “I don’t care about that. I’m just glad you’ll be there.”

You looked at him, a mix of nerves and curiosity in your eyes, but Sam was too focused on the fact that you had said yes to really worry about anything else.

He didn’t know how things would turn out, but for the first time in a long while, he was hopeful. He was eager to see where this would go—whatever it was.

xxx

As Sam’s truck rumbled to a stop in front of the Lafferty homestead, your nerves spiked once again. You’d known this would be different from anything you’d experienced before, but now, standing in front of the sprawling farmhouse with its large lawn and the picnic setup beneath a grove of trees, the reality of it hit you hard. The air was warm, a gentle breeze ruffling the leaves above, but you couldn’t shake the unease swirling in your stomach.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked as he put the truck in park, glancing over at you with concern. His warm eyes softened, and for a moment, the anxiety receded. He was right there with you, trying to make you feel comfortable. Still, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being out of place. His family was so different from yours. They had something you couldn’t quite understand—something stable, deeply rooted in tradition.

“I’m fine,” you replied, your voice a little shakier than you would have liked. You pasted on a smile, hoping he wouldn’t notice the hint of doubt in your expression. “Just… not used to this.” You breathed out to steady your ever growing nerves.

He smiled at you, his hand briefly brushing yours before he opened the door and stepped out of the truck. You followed him, and the two of you walked toward the gathering.

As you got closer, you saw the others sitting on picnic blankets, their laughter carrying on the warm breeze. You spotted Allen and Brenda right away. Brenda waved eagerly, her face lit up with excitement. You smiled at her and waved back, feeling a little relief that at least she’d be there to share in the awkwardness. Allen, already deep in conversation with a couple of the other brothers, caught your eye and nodded politely.

“Everything okay?” Brenda asked when you approached, her voice warm and reassuring.

“Yeah,” you answered, trying to sound more confident than you felt. “Just a bit out of my element.”

“Don’t worry,” Brenda said with a wink. “You’re with me.”

Ammon, Sam’s father, stood nearby, his expression unreadable. When he noticed you and Sam approaching, his gaze sharpened. You couldn’t help but feel the weight of his scrutiny. There was something about the way he looked at you—his eyes calculating, assessing. Despite the warm weather, you felt a chill run down your spine.

He approached you both with a polite smile, but there was an underlying tension there. “Ah, Samuel, you’ve brought a guest,” Ammon said, his voice steady and commanding, though you could hear the edge of something else in it. His gaze shifted to you, and you felt yourself tense under his careful inspection. “Nora, is it?”

You nodded, giving him a small smile. “Yes, sir. It’s nice to meet you.”

He gave you a small nod, his lips curling in what could be interpreted as a smile, but there was something guarded about it. “I trust you’ll be comfortable here. We take great pride in the Lafferty name and the traditions we uphold. It’s important that we continue to strengthen these bonds, not just within the family, but with those we invite into it.”

The weight of his words settled in your chest. You had no idea how much of a role you were supposed to play in this family dynamic, but his words made it clear that you were being scrutinized in more ways than you had imagined. He might have been polite, but the judgment lingered, just beneath the surface.

Doreen, Sam’s mother, stepped up then, smiling warmly. She was everything Ammon wasn’t in that moment—gentle, kind, and welcoming. She extended a hand toward you, her eyes full of warmth. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Nora. Sam’s told us a lot about you.”

Her voice was soothing, and you couldn’t help but feel grateful for her gentle presence. You shook her hand, relieved by her kindness.

“Thank you, Mrs. Lafferty,” you replied softly. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

Ammon seemed to step back as Doreen engaged you in light conversation, and for a moment, you could breathe again. As Sam continued talking with his brothers, you caught a glimpse of Dan, the second eldest, who was hanging out by the grill with his brothers. You could tell he was a bit older than Sam, probably in his late twenties, his presence calm and commanding.

Everyone was polite, if a little distant, but you could feel the weight of Ammon’s expectations hanging over you. You couldn’t help but wonder if you’d ever really be able to fit into this world, with its rigid rules and traditions.

As the picnic went on, Ammon took it upon himself to address everyone—his voice booming with authority. “Our family’s name carries a great deal of weight,” he said, standing before the gathered crowd. “It’s not just about blood, but about what we stand for, what we believe. We work hard, and we work together, always lifting each other up. Those who join this family must understand that. The Laffertys have a legacy to protect.”

The words felt heavy. You could see how much they meant to everyone around you—especially to Sam, whose face grew a little more solemn as he listened to his father speak. It was as if you were being measured not only by your relationship with Sam but by what you could contribute to the family as a whole.

Sam didn’t say anything, but you could feel his presence beside you, his body tense in that way he had when he was thinking too much. He kept glancing over at you, offering small smiles, trying to make sure you didn’t feel too uncomfortable. You appreciated it, even though you could sense the tension in the air.

As the speech ended, you tried to relax and enjoy the food, but it was hard to ignore the feeling that you were constantly being observed—especially by Ammon. You could only hope that over time, they might come to see you as more than just someone who didn’t quite fit their ideal.

But as Sam’s hand brushed against yours during the picnic, you couldn’t help but feel like you were exactly where you needed to be, even if it didn’t quite feel that way just yet.

[samsegrist]

The Story of Someday

By Sam Segrist

"Someday" is the third track on Premier, the only album released by The Fashion Coasters, the band I played in during college. This song was ever recorded at the famed Nevada Recording Room by Jim Bogensberger (R.I.P.) in the spring of 2003. I recently had many thoughts while listening to it in preparation for the song's resurrection by Dude Won't Die, my newer band which features 4/5ths of the super-talented musicians who composed The Fashion Coasters.

I've been playing in bands for over twenty-five years, and this song is special to me and might seem catchy yet strange to someone hearing it for the first time.

If you're the type of music aficionado who likes to listen to a song with as little context as possible before learning more about the track, you can stream it here on our YouTube channel.

While you're listening, I'll wait.

…

"But I can't wait for someday, thinkin', thinkin' 'bout for you…"

Now that you're back, we can begin a guided tour through the many facets, layers, anecdotes, and quirks of this tune.

Let's start with the bassline and the key of D, played so steadily by Allen.

It's essentially "With or Without You" by U-Know-Who, except that the fourth note returns to the 'A' rather than going to the 'G'. We even placed it as the third track on the album, the same spot where Bono and the lads placed their mega-romantic-hit on The Joshua Tree. Sequencing is so important to the flow of album, donchaknow.

The palm-muted guitars on the verse are reminiscent of The Cars, another big influence in my life. ("Just What I Needed" was one of our most-covered songs back in the early 2000's.)

Enter Geoff's heartfelt and bittersweet vocals:

"If you're gonna send a shout-out to everyone you miss…"

I suppose this was a very indirect reference and response to the last line of J.D. Salinger's The Catcher in the Rye:

"Don't ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody."

But what happens if you're already in the state of missing everybody and decide you don't just want to tell them something, you want to shout it out loud?

"…I hope when the time comes, you'll remember this. When you're far away, perched with a lonely view, you can rest assured I'm thinking, thinking about you…"

That whole "perched with a lonely view" line is a blatant lifting of "Scar Tissue" by The Red Hot Chili Peppers. That single was on heavy rotation for four-plus years during my Xennial youth. What can I say? It just sounded right. The bittersweet (symphony) of irony is that the speaker of the lyric "Someday" is probably the one who is perched on some precipice like a lonely Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog mixed with Rodin's The Thinker, brooding and lonely, still thinking about the one who is no longer in their life. (The Cure's "Maybe Someday" was another thematic predecessor for this track…)

Now the pre-chorus hits:

"But I can't wait for someday, thinking, thinking 'bout you…"

In its initial incarnation, all four repetitions of this pre-chorus were played with an identical staccato rhythm of the drums and guitars playing in unison, while the bassline and the vocals percolated over the rhythmic hits. Fortunately, it was the suggestion of our ska-loving fill-in bassist Thomas who suggested doing the second half of each pre-chorus as upstrokes that gave variety and contrast to the choruses that were to follow.

(Where is Thomas today?)

Between this first verse and the pre-chorus lies something unsaid, a wish the speaker has for this absent person. The absent person can count on something and be rest assured that they're in the speaker's thoughts, but what is IT exactly?

Why can't they wait for some indeterminate future date?

"I will call you someday, I'll tell you I love you. Past this time of uneasiness, when you know my words are true."

Herein lies a contradiction in that the speaker has just declared (repeatedly) in the pre-chorus that they are incapable of waiting for someday whilst they spend quite a bit of time thinking/cogitating/daydreaming/fantasizing/romantically pining for the person they are addressing, yet they very emphatically, confidently, and declaratively uh…declare on the chorus that they shall someday contact this very person to express their love for them, but this will only happen after this present time of instability, stress, and uneasiness, because only then will the other person be able to clearly see the truth of the speaker's words, after the muddy waters of interpersonal conflict have become clear.

Following this first chorus is one seriously dainty interlude of a guitar lick. There's a tender, romantic, and schmaltzy quality to it which--with only the added hindsight of time--revealed itself to be a manifestation of my love for the exquisitely cheesy guitar solo of Savage Garden's "Truly Madly Deeply" and any of the Pure Moods tracks that featured guitar.

Verse Two begins:

"Sometime past spring or fall, we'll look back and remember it all, we'll remember all the good times, they're the times we left behind."

Here, I applied the song-arrangement principal of "Don't bore us; get to the chorus!" and the second verse was half the length of the first verse.

After the second chorus, there are two guitar solos and a key change.

The first solo is by me and is just the melody of "Lean on Me" by the late, great Bill Withers.

This blatant homage of a well-known gospel song was a direct influence from me reading Noel Gallagher's interview in Guitar World's May 1996 issue:

GW: You have a reputation for "borrowing" a hook or two. Do you stick other bands' riffs in a song so people will accuse you of nicking them from somewhere?

Gallagher: Yeah, of course! That's half the game. I want people to know where the inspiration for the song comes from. I don't think there's anything wrong with it. That really winds up other bands in England, though. They'll go, "Don't you feel guilty about having so much success by blatantly pinching riffs?" I'll go, "No, I don't feel guilty. But you feel pissed off because you didn't do it first." We have a saying: Why write your own songs when you can use someone else's? [laughs]

I chose to interpolate "Lean on Me" into this song to evoke the ache, the pain, the sorrow that we all feel sometimes in our lives, but to serve as a hopeful and time-based reminder that there's always (a someday) tomorrow. This epiphany is emphasized by an ecstatic change in key from D to A and a soulfully upbeat solo by Toddka Vonic, a solo which always reminds me of the celebratory vibes of The Allman Brothers' best jams.

But no matter how triumphant the epiphany may be, there's eventually a return to a state of contemplation, a dwelling on the past.

The third verse of this song features an unusual distancing move regarding the arrangement: following the guitar solo, the track breaks down to just bass and drums, played so crisply by Woody, our jazz-trained rock drummer. Emotionally, the speaker is back where they started, but the song's arrangement decompresses somewhat and allows for more thoughtful introspection by delaying the re-entry of the vocals one more time through the drum & bass progression.

"Sometime past spring or fall, we'll look back and remember it all, we'll remember all the good times, they're the times we left behind."

Unlike in Verse Two where the band hits it hard on the pre-chorus, this verse's lyrics are followed by a wistful, melancholic, and semi-triumphant ascending guitar line that is complicated by the harmony guitar line that descends wistfully before The Dudes return to the final pre-chorus and chorus.

"I can't wait for someday, thinking, thinking 'bout you" + "I will call you someday."

Just as Bono couldn't live with or without you, Our Dude singing his heart out can't wait for someday without calling you.

To tell you the truth.

And here's a truth I've never told anyone:

In the spring of 2001, I was a freshman at the University of Wyoming. There was another local songwriter and music critic for The Branding Iron, the college newspaper, named Anthony Bayles. We bonded over writing, music, and writing about music.

Sometime after the spring semester ended, he drove to my parents' house in Scottsbluff, Nebraska so I could record some of his songs for him in their basement. Whether these recordings were intended for an album, EP, or demo tape, I really can't remember the end goal of the sessions. All I remember is he played this super cool sequence of double-hit chords that went D D, A A, Bm Bm, GG -> AA with a repeated phrase of "Can't wait for someday, thinking, thinking 'bout you."

The recording session ended abruptly over a disagreement about money. He thought I was going to record him for free, but I was expecting some compensation at the time. (I regret that I--at the naive and insecure age of 20--was not as clear in establishing and communicating financial arrangements.) He left and nothing became of the recordings. While I probably scrubbed them from my 250 MB Zip Disks to make room for other recording projects, I never forgot his sequence of chords or that repeated line "I can't wait for someday, thinking, thinking about you."

A few years after that one-off recording session, I placed those words and those chords into the rest of the song that would eventually become "Someday."

I've read enough about the origins of creativity and the history of songwriting to know this kind of thing happens all the time. Little bits of life/art we experience get extracted, remixed, and inserted into larger mixtures, but this particular "lifting" has always given me a certain pain in my heart, that I was a thief somehow by taking four chords and a few words from another musician and based an entire song around it.

The guys in my own band don't even know this aspect of the story, but perhaps it doesn't matter. We've taken those four chords and few words and made them our own. It's been over twenty years since Premier was released. Just what is the statute of limitations on minor artistic borrowing(/theft?)?

Who knows, but Anthony, I can't wait for someday to say thank you and I'm sorry. I can't wait for someday to say thank you and I'm sorry. Can't wait for someday…

[theloniousbach]

ALMOST COUCH TOUR: MARTIN WIND with Jim McNeely and Ed Neumeister, MEZZROW’S, 7 SEPTEMBER 2023, 9 pm set

I wrap up a run of drummer-less trios with this one bass/piano/trombone after hearing ones with a singer and a trumpeter joining the venerable piano and bass. I saw this configuration about a year ago on the basis of MARTIN WIND’s leadership, curiosity about the trombone, and an oh yeah moment about Jim McNeely. They were celebrating the release of their album Counterpoint which was, obviously, featured. On Wind’s website he commented specifically on the interplay with the trombone as another bass instrument.

Though, as with last year, I found Ed Neumeister slightly weaker than his comrades, between the slide and lots of plunger mute the vocal qualities of the horn felt overdone to the point of imprecision. But Wind is right, it is a sonorous instrument and he and Neumeister had much to say to one another, particularly with the rich fluffy bed McNeely’s piano provided.

He and Wind were rhythmically strong and harmonically lush. Both were driving, fluid, and intelligent. Each soloed well and set Neumeister up nicely.

Wind provided Last Waltz which served as an appealing ballad and a Ray Brown tribute as a closer. He doesn’t have that smooth irrepressible swagger, but that, and Sam Jones’ Bittersweet, were welcome indications that this was a bassist’s gig.

They opened with McNeely’s Hiatus comemmorating his time with Phil Woods and they included a clever trio arrangement of his big band tune Extra Credit which did evoke largeness while remaining Mezzrow’s appropriate.

This widens a discussion I’ve been having with myself primarily in the most recent light of the Kavidas/Ax/Ma settings of some Beethoven symphonies after the Liszt transcriptions of the same and Hummel’s home settings of some later Mozart symphonies. What makes them symphonies even if played by chamber ensembles? In this world, the Ellington Orchestra accomplishes something different with those compositions than when they are just (just?!?) part of the canon. But here we have a composer/arranger, as he announced, “being the rest of the band” having assigned parts to Wind and Neumeister. I shall give it a think.

And really that’s this gig’s unexpected pleasure.

Drummers come back with a vengeance as I hope to hear Ari Hoenig tonight.

[billie-the-sleepyhead]

He’s ready for date night!

I haven’t had the chance of energy to draw much lately so have this little Sam Angel as a treat!

[prettytoxicrevolver]

Teacher | Awesamdude

Requested? yeah by me, cause I'm a teacher

Warnings? Bad writing lmfao

Summary: You and Sam are teachers at the same school who also happen to have a crush on each other

Word Count: 2,184

You juggle a million different things in your hands, trying to balance your water bottle, coffee, purse, and papers as you walk into school. It seemed like a possible thing when you first stepped away from your car. You’re quickly proven wrong by the time you’re stumbling towards your classroom, praying you don’t drop anything.

“Morning (y/n),” you hear from someone behind you.

You turn your head a fraction to see the tenth-grade math teacher, Sam, walking behind you. You try to throw him an easy smile but it’s quickly thwarted by your coffee nearly tipping out of your hands. You make a small noise of surprise before stopping and steadying all of the things in your hands.

“H-hi,” you squeak out, still performing your balancing act as you walk.

When you get to your door, your eyes flicker between the keys on your lanyard, the locked door, and the millions of things in your hands. You’re about to sacrifice your coffee and possibly your water when someone nudges your arm. You find Sam's green eyes staring down at you again and you smile.

“Let me,” he says and you take a step back from your classroom door.

He grabs his master key, sliding it into the lock and opening the door with ease. He swings it open until it locks in place and you offer an appreciative smile towards him. You’re about to take a step but he pulls your coffee and water out of your hands, before gesturing for you to walk in before him.

“You’re the best,” you sigh out, dropping all of your stuff onto your desk. He follows behind you, placing your drinks on your desk with care.

“It’s no problem.”

You had known Sam for two years now, both of you being hired around the same time. Your classrooms ended up being in the same hallway, you being the tenth-grade English teacher and him being the math teacher. You shared the same set of students and found out it’s helpful to know how certain kids acted in your room versus how they acted in his and vice versa.

You two were also the youngest teachers in the building, Sam at 25 and you at 23 showed issues with bonding with your other coworkers who were in their 50s and 60s. You quickly found refuge in your young friend and the two of you spent time in each other’s classrooms often.

That closeness brought a set of feelings you weren’t totally happy with. You liked Sam from the start but had always been warded off from getting involved with a coworker. Still, your pulse always kicked around him.

“How was your break?” you ask, hoping you’re coming off more and more composed by the minute.

“Good, restful. Got to see my family. You?”

“Good. I basically slept all week.”

Sam laughs, knowing how much you valued your sleep to the point where you usually get to school at the last second so you could savor your last few minutes of rest before the busy day. Some days were good for you though, like today, you were able to get to school early and set up your classroom again after break.

“What are you doing today?” Sam asks, finding a seat at the desk closest to yours.

“Uh, I think we’re starting a new book?” you look around your room, suddenly realizing how unprepared you are. Coupled with your racing heartbeat you felt like a mess.

“Mind if I stop by later and see which one?”

“I’d love that,” you respond smiling and Sam returns it before getting up and heading towards his room.

When he’s gone, you let out a sigh and drop your head onto the desk. You’re tempted to let out a muted scream of frustration but try and remember where you are. Just as you lift your head from your desk, you hear a knock on your door before your friend enters.

“Hi!” you greet brightly and she smiles at you, all-knowing.

“Sam?” she asks, taking the seat that he was just previously in.

“That noticeable?” you ask, dropping your head back down again.

“I think we’re starting a new book?” she repeats in your voice, mocking your confusion. “Come on (y/n), you have a Ph.D. for crying out loud.”

“Alright, alright,” you say holding up your hands in defense.

“It’s so obvious the two of you like each other, just do something.”

You roll your eyes and she grins at you before standing and walking out.

“Have a good day!” you call to her and she laughs from the hallway.

The bell rings, signaling the beginning of the school day and you grab your school keys before heading over to stand by your front door. You greet students as they walk in, and before you know it the final bell rings and you’re starting your new unit.

You happen to pause, turning to take attendance when a knock sounds on your door. One of you students stands, letting the person in and you feel your heart quicken as Sam walks in. He shuts the door behind him, offering a sheepish smile as he looks up at you.

“Hi!” you greet like you didn’t just see him moments ago.

“Hey.”

“What’s up?” you ask as Sam steps towards you.

He scans the room, pausing before taking a step forward and holding a paper up to hide your conversation. He leans in and your heart skips, his breath fanning over your cheeks.

“Adam parked his car in the visitors parking so Ray towed him,” he whispers and your mouth drops open, a giggle escaping.

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious. Ray is gonna make him pay for it too.”

You let out a loud laugh, leaning back and Sam’s grin splits wide on his face. He drops the paper and you realize that you’ve caught the attention of your entire class.

“I’ll talk to you later,” Sam calls and you smile and watch as he leaves the room.

“Uh Miss?” you turn, once again realizing your students were right there, and shake yourself out of your flustered state.

The rest of your classes go by with a breeze, most kids are either exhausted from break, (high schoolers never get enough sleep) or hyper and excited to see their friends. You take it by stride, adjusting your lesson to match each class and making sure the kids are doing alright after the break.

During last period, your favorite period, Sam strolls in, taking a seat at the empty table near your desk. You smile widely at him as your students walk in, greeting both of you before the bell rings for the last class of the day.

The lesson was easy enough, a simple introduction to the new novel the students would be working through for the next couple of weeks. However, your heart won’t slow for a moment causing you to stutter over your words, and shake like a leaf.

When you send your students off to finish up the sheet you gave them, you head over to Sam, the two of you standing to the side of the room.

“To Kill a Mockingbird? Excellent novel,” he comments.

“I haven’t read it since college but I think it’s good for this age group.”

“You’ll do a great job teaching it.”

He touches your arm with reassurance and your skin flames at the simple gesture. He whispers something about having to finish grading the tests he gave weeks ago, before striding out of the room. Your gaze stays on him the entire time until one of your students clears their throat, and you feel yourself flush red.

“Miss (y/n)?” Alice calls and you look over to her.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“What?” you ask, shock coursing through you from your students' questions.

“Yeah Miss, do you?”

“No, I don’t,” you respond with coolness, and the two girls pause.

“But you like Mr. S, don’t you?” another student pipes up and you feel your flush move from your cheeks, spreading down your neck.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Your students obviously don’t believe you but leave the conversation alone for the moment which you’re thankful for. The rest of the school day flies by, before you know it you’re at home ready to go to sleep at any moment.

However, your tiredness takes over you in the worst way possible. You wake up the next morning, feeling rested but the minute your eyes land on your phone, you rocket launch out of bed.

The time on your phone displayed 7:30, the start of first period at school. You rush around the house, cursing yourself for sleeping through your alarms. You get ready hastily and just as you’re out the door and headed to your car it occurs to you that you should call someone to make sure they can watch your students until you get there.

You make the call, the office assuring you that someone was already in there watching your students and you let out a breath. You start your journey to school, a feeling of nerves never seeming to leave your body.

When you get to school, you race in and head straight for your classroom. You rush in, catching the attention of your tiny first period. You’ve clearly interrupted a conversation because the room falls silent at your presence.

“Miss, you’re late!” one of your boys, Angel calls.

“Thank you for the reminder,” you respond back.

You turn towards your desk, seeing Sam in your rolling chair. A sigh of relief is let out, and he stands offering a smile.

“I realized you weren’t here so I opened the door and decided to stay,” he explains.

“I’m so sorry,” you begin but Sam holds up a hand. “I overslept and I should have called.”

“It happens. I should have called you when I realized you weren’t here,” he says and you smile.

“Well thank you, I appreciate it. See you during 7th?”

“I’ll be there.”

Sam strolls out of the room and your gaze follows him. The minute he steps over the threshold, your kids round on you.

“Miss! Stop flirting bro it’s weird,” your loudest kid Angel calls.

“I wasn’t flirting!” you defend growing hot.

“Sure Miss,” he says and you roll your eyes.

“For real miss, do you like Mr. S?” one of your sweeter boys asks.

“That is none of your business.”

“Don’t worry Miss, if he tries anything we’ll take care of it.”

You can’t help but giggle at your boy's overprotectiveness. They had always been like this since you started teaching them and you were grateful for the adorable 15-year-olds.

When you get your break at 5th period, your heart still pounds thinking about Sam and his kindness. You decide to head to his classroom, hoping to thank him for this morning.

You knock on the door and step in when one of his students opens it for you. When you look up, Sam is already staring at you and you smile. You gesture for him to finish what he’s saying before stepping further into the room.

You meet him by his desk, and he does a sweep of the room before making his way to you. He smiles, sticking his hands into his pockets and rocking back onto his heels.

“I just wanted to stop by and say thank you again,” you lean up and whisper into his ear.

“It was no problem, really,” he shrugs it off.

“It meant a lot to me. Seriously, thank you.”

You stand on your tip toes, pressing a kiss to his cheek, and he flames under your touch. You bid him goodbye before ducking out of his room and heading back to yours.

One of Sam’s students has to call his name 3 times before the math teacher can snap out of his daze. His students don’t say anything, but Sam doesn’t stop smiling for the rest of the period.

By the time 7th period rolls around, you’re fully awake and ready to head home after a long day. Just like the day before, Sam comes into the room and takes his seat.

Knowing your lesson, Sam walks around the room with your students and tries to help as much as possible for a math teacher.

“Alright guys, any questions? Mr. S do you have anything?” you ask and he shrugs.

“No, I think you covered everything perfectly,” he says, smiling at you.

“Mr. S, just ask her out already bro,” your ever-intense sophomore insists.

Sam sputters, flushing head to toe and you giggle nervously. At this, the rest of the class hypes him up and he turns towards you.

“Uh, Miss (y/n)? Will you go out with me?”

“I’d like that.”

The bell rings and your students file out. You and Sam stare heart eyes at each other, and you can feel your heart missing a beat over and over.

“Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack,” he says and you grin.

“Thank god.”

[epicstuckyficrecs]

Weekly Recap October 11th-17th

MARVEL TRUMPS HATE AUCTION WEEK IS LIVE! I'm offering two different auctions this year 😃 

- #1106: typesetting for the fic of your choice! INCLUDING A PHYSICAL COPY OF THE BOOK! Bidding is tiered, so 50$ for 50K, 60$ for 60K, etc. up to a 100K max!

- #2045: one fic cover/banner for the fic of your choice!

You can find the full details for both my auctions here!

Complete

💙  The Bargain by GoodbyeBlues/ @goodbyeblues-ao3​ (Historical AU, Marriage of convenience | 20K | Mature): Forced to wed to keep his inheritance, Steve finds himself married to a handsome but gravely wounded soldier. There are a number of issues surrounding this arrangement, but the most prominent one is also the most unexpected of all: Steve's dying husband is no longer dying.

💙  Take You for a Ride (On my Garbage Truck) by GoodbyeBlues/ @goodbyeblues-ao3​ (Modern AU | 20K | Teen): Despite how it often looks, dramatic millennial Bucky Barnes is not actually homeless. He's just really, really bad at flirting.

💙  The Taming of the Brew by GoodbyeBlues/ @goodbyeblues-ao3​ (Coffeeshop AU, Magic Bucky | 18K | Mature): When overworked nurse Steve Rogers sets out to get a simple cup of coffee, he somehow finds himself in a curious little shop owned by a captivating, yet slightly confusing young man. Steve soon discovers that his life begins to change for the better when he becomes a frequent customer, but that's got to be because of the delicious beverages, and absolutely not because of... anything else. It couldn't possibly have to do with the beautiful man behind the counter, who whispers secret words into cups of coffee and seems to know Steve better than he knows himself. ...Right?

Number Twenty by plutosrose/ @plutosrose​ (What's Your Number AU | 13K | Explicit): After finding a magazine on the subway that says that omegas who have more than 20 sexual partners have a 4% chance of getting married, Bucky becomes determined to find out if one of his exes was secretly The One. There's definitely, absolutely zero chance he'll fall in love with the hot alpha who lives across the hall.

The Irony of Fate by janedarling/ @anonymousjane (Canon adjacent | 11K | Explicit): Bucky had been curled up at one end of the couch when Steve got home on Tuesday, buried up to his collarbone in a purple flannel quilt Clint had recommended as "the coziest shit ever, you have to get one of these" and so absorbed by The Obelisk Gate that he barely said hi. Steve had simultaneously wanted to crawl under the quilt to suck his cock and bring him a cup of tea. He'd landed on tea, but now he's regretting it. Bucky had been so warm and soft, and Steve could have slid up under the quilt, spread his legs and settled down in between them. Maybe Bucky even would have kept reading a bit, and Steve would have had to work at it a little to distract him, do his best to get Bucky's attention with just his hands and his mouth— “Have you tried talking to him, or are you just thinking about sex all the time?" Sam asks.

Not Technically A Bromance by dontcallmebree/ @iamthe-wo-manwhocan​ (Canon adjacent | 2,5K | Mature): “A bromance?” Bruce asks, voice tinged with restrained laughter. “Yeah, we have one of those.” Steve glowers at Bruce, who’s patently laughing at him, eyes bright and twinkling with mirth. Bruce composes himself, biting at his bottom lip. “And you’ve had sex how many times?”

WIP

A Tapestry of Two by BlueSimplicity/ @bluesimplicity73 (Post-Winter Soldier, Mute Bucky | 4/? | 23K | Explicit): Ever since DC, things haven’t been easy for Bucky Barnes. HYDRA stole everything from him, even his voice, and two months later he’s barely surviving as he struggles to pull the few scraps of himself left into a cohesive whole. Until he gets his hands on a blanket and everything changes. Fascinated by its color and softness, he begins a journey he never would have imagined. Taken in by a stranger who teaches him to knit, Bucky slowly discovers he is so much more than a dropped stitch in the fabric of life. With time, patience, and the help of a few who have had their eyes on him for a long time, Bucky begins to turn himself into something stronger, softer and more beautiful than before, weaving a tapestry of friendship, laughter and love warm enough to embrace the entire world, fix old wrongs, and wrap around the only other person who never stopped believing in him.

💙  Read, White & Blue by JJK/ @trenchcoatsandtimetravel (Shrunkyclunks, Librarian Bucky | 4/16 | 18K | Teen): If Steve was certain one thing would have stayed the same during his sixty-something years in the ice, it was that libraries were still the place to go if you needed information. And Steve needed information. Lots and lots of it. aka Librarian Bucky helps freshly desfrosted Steve learn how to use computers and catch up on everything he missed whilst he was in the ice.

💙  What Once Was Mine (A New and Improved Guide to Project Rebirth by Steven G. Rogers) by dontcallmebree/ @iamthe-wo-manwhocan​ , kocuria-visuals (kocuria)/ @kocuria​ (Canon divergent, Post-TFA | 1/2 | 13K | Mature): Fresh out of the ice with no recollection of his past, Steve Rogers strikes out on his own and tries to cobble together a life worthy of the clean slate he’s been given.

[trektraveler]

Chapter Five: Hello Again

Summary: Although Omegas had won the legal battle for equal rights, society was slow to catch up. Thought to be the weakest of the genders, they struggled to find opportunities that Alphas and Betas took for granted. Known as the Guillotine, Emmaline Beaumont was woman with a secret. Head of her family’s company; she was smart, shrewd, and tough as nails. At sixteen she presented as Omega and she’s hidden it ever since. Suppressants and hormone reassignment therapy allowed her to live her life as the Alpha her family needed her to be. The perfect solution, so long as she never allowed herself to be claimed.

As the President of Winchester Inc. Dean’s professional life was golden. As an unmated Alpha nearing forty, he was restless. Charming and devastatingly handsome, Dean was rarely without female company, but he wanted more. He wanted what his parents had. Someone made especially for him. His match, his true mate. Finding her on a trip to New York had been an unexpected dream come true, but no one ever said the road to love was easy.

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!OFC, Dean x OFC, Dean Winchester x OFC

Characters: Dean Winchester, OFC, Sam Winchester, Jessica Moore, John Winchester, Jody Mills

Warnings: ABO dynamics, Heat/Rut cycles, Smut (Unprotected sex, knotting, oral sex, claiming bites), hurt/comfort, sickfic, hospitals and medical talk, fluff and angst, age difference (Dean is 39, OFC is 27), True mates, self hate (OFC struggles with gender)

Chapter Five: Hello Again Word Count: 2115

Masterlist

“Mr. Winchester is here.”

“Thank Christ,” Emma muttered before pressing the intercom button, “Great Jess, show him in please.”

She was determined to keep this meeting brief. Dean was flying in for the weekend, and she was desperate to see him. They kept in close contact, texting multiple times a day and having long phone calls at night. There was something old fashioned about courting this way, something innocent. Because they were already mated, the pressure of where all of this would lead was absent. They were already committed to being together so they could just talk, get to know each other. The sound of her Alpha’s voice soothed and comforted, and frankly she would been hard pressed to survive the separation without it.

Knowing that he was on his way to her this very moment had her mind wandering. It would be the first time they had seen each other since they were mated and all she wanted to do was burrow into his arms and stay there. Still, Emma was not without her pride and her professionalism. She was a Beaumont, damn it! And she wasn’t going to let her personal life prevent her from doing her job. She was strong, intelligent, determined and resolved. The iron fist in the velvet glove.

She sat straight and regal in her embossed, leather office chair. Queen of her domain, completely composed, she delicately sipped the remains of peppermint tea as the door to her office opened. Showtime.

The cedar forest scent of home hit first. It knocked her off balance even still seated.

Nothing could have prepared her for the sight of Dean walking into her office at that very moment. It was completely impossible, yet there he stood. Sure as the sunrise. Tall and bow-legged, clad in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit. All polished, pressed, and perfect. So very different from when they had last seen each other, but there was no mistaking the strong features of the man who had dominated her every thought since the moment they met. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. Oh fuck!

Dean followed the chirpy blonde into the executive suite, his sharp gaze taking notes. Thick, ivory carpet, elegant wallpaper in muted tones of light blue and gold. A carved maple credenza displayed an array of leaded crystal liquor decanters and a small refrigerator of bottled water. The air was lightly scented with citrus and sea salt. It was a continuation of the atmosphere that greeted him in the lobby. Chic and tasteful yet warm and completely feminine.

He recognized the floor to ceiling windows from the article and the woman who stood to greet him… he recognized her too. Ebony hair swept up in a simple twist, silky complexion airbrushed to perfection, full lips painted a classic red. The high-necked, cashmere sweater and matching trousers were cream and skimmed the subtle curves of a body he’d dreamed about for weeks.

He made it exactly three steps and froze. “Omega.”

Emma couldn’t breathe. The polite smile she reserved for business dissolved as her heart tripped. “Alpha.”

Jess looked between the pair and gaped. “You’ve got to be kidding me… your Alpha is Dean Winchester? How did you not catch that?!”

Emma couldn’t stop staring at him. Her mind was short circuiting, desperately trying to piece things together. Her professional life and her private life had just collided head on.

Her voice was surprisingly steady when she finally found it. “Jess, could you give us a minute?”

“You never got his last name?!”

“Jessica!”

With great reluctance and a dramatic eyeroll, Jess turned on her heel exited, her long skirt swishing around her ankles.

Dean was already across the room when the doors closed with a discreet click. A primal growl sounded in the back of his throat, and he had her in his arms. His mouth angled over hers, hot and urgent. His hands splayed her back, fisting the soft fabric of her sweater.

She clung to the lapel of his suitcoat for balance as he ravaged her. Delightfully warm and fuzzy, she tingled all the way down to her toes. Her Omega sighed in contentment, finally whole again after being separated from her mate.

He had to catch his breath when he finally broke the kiss. “Missed you, ‘Mega mine.”

She grinned up at him, swiping her thumb across his lips to wipe away the lipstick. “I missed you too. SO much… so much.”

He ran his hands up and down her arms, reacquainting himself with the feel of her. So different from when they first met. She looked like royalty, as refined and elegant as the environment around her.

“I like your grown-up clothes,” he brushed over her lips again, earning a happy sigh. “Sexy.”

Emma melted into him. She let herself be swept away, nipping enthusiastically at his beard covered jaw until his words registered. Grown-up.

She suddenly drew back with wide eyes. “Oh my God… you’re Dean Winchester!”

“Guilty.” He winked with a wolfish grin, “Emmaline.”

“Oh God,” she groaned, extracting herself from his grasp. “This is a disaster!”

“This is hilarious!”

“Stop laughing, this is serious!” She shoved his chest in frustration, only causing him to laugh louder. “We’re business rivals, you idiot!”

“We are?”

“Yes! Winchester Incorporated. They’re a complete monopoly! They own everything from Chicago to Seattle and whatever they don’t own, they hunt down and snuff it out before it can become a threat.”

“The nerve of those guys,” Dean drawled, leaning his hip on her desk.

“That is why you’re here isn’t it?” she demanded, hands on hips. “Test the waters? Scope me out?”

“Oh, I’m all about the scoping.” He grasped her hand and tugged so that she crashed reluctantly to him. She stood in the open space between his legs, her midnight eyes sparking with the humor although she refused to smile. That would be a submission, and he had to earn that.

“I’ve gotta admit, your portfolio’s impressive.” He murmured, his voice dropping low as he nuzzled behind her ear. “For a company barely out of it’s pampers.”

“It’s more than impressive, its profound. Of course, we’re always looking to expand our base.”

“Oh?” his teeth grazed her ear lobe causing her breath to hitch.

Emma cleared her throat, raising her gaze to the ceiling desperately trying to distract herself from Dean’s gentle exploration. “Mergers are an option that can be mutually beneficial.”

Dean hummed as he buried his nose in the crook of her neck and inhaled deeply. That was when it struck him, like a spell that broke. He had been so consumed by their bond when he saw her that he never even noticed, he couldn’t scent her.

“Dean? What’s wrong?’” she asked when he pulled back and frowned. His eyes flickering over her face.

“I can’t scent you.” He tried again and failed to catch even the faintest wisp of the sweet fragrance. She was thinner too, he realized as he scrutinized her appearance. She’d lost a good ten to fifteen pounds since he saw her last. Then he remembered the file Sam sent him. Emmaline Beaumont wasn’t an Omega; she was an Alpha.

“You’ve lost weight, are you taking those fucking suppressants again?”

“Of course not! I have no desire to go into toxic shock.”

“Well then what the hell? Because the whole world thinks Emma Beaumont is an Alpha.”

“That’s right. And they are going to keep right on thinking that so long as I’m in charge of this company.”

Dean on high alert now, his Alpha instincts kicking up. This was certainly not the reunion he had planned. His stubborn Omega stood utterly defiant, haughty even. Looking very much like the woman described in the article. Fire in her eyes, daring him to challenge her.

It was then that he caught a glimpse of something peeking out from under the high neckline of her sweater. Right where her claiming mark would be. His fingers peeled down the collar down and found a bandage covering her mating gland.

The Alpha flinched in stunned anger, as if he’d been slapped in the face. The claiming mark was meant to be worn openly, declaring an Omega’s status to the world. It would deter potential rivals and was a point of pride for her mate. It was a symbol of commitment and belonging. A visual reminder of their sacred bond. To see it hidden away, as if it were something shameful cut him to the quick. He’d dreamt of her, spent years searching for her. Did she not want him?

With one swift move, he ripped the bandage off. She yelped in surprise, rubbing the sting left behind by the adhesive, “Ah, Dean!”

“What the hell is this?!” he demanded, not bothering to disguise the hurt darkening his green eyes. “Why are you hiding my claim? Are you ashamed of me?”

“What?! No, of course not!” She reached up and cupped his face in her hands. Now that her claim wasn’t covered, her natural scent wafted up. It was all the stronger for having been sealed up for the past few hours. “I’m thrilled to be yours; this is just business. Like you said, Emma Beaumont is an Alpha.”

Apple orchard and magnolia blossom. Amazing what that combination could do to a man. He buried his nose in the crook of her neck and he was home. It made everything right. Hurt and doubts evaporated. Questions lingered, but they could wait. “Omega.”

Emma felt better than she had in weeks. That lingering headache was gone and the nausea along with it. Everything that had been bothering her faded to the background, replaced by her Alpha. His scent was so thick it made her dizzy, floaty. Intoxicated. She swayed slightly, falling into him. “Alpha.”

He grasped her arms lightly to steady her, smiling at the dreamy look on her face, “You alright?”

She let out a deep sigh as her brain buzzed, “Just a little lightheaded. Better now, I hate that patch.”

On closer inspection, Dean realized it wasn’t a bandage. The adhesive side was covered in a blue goo that gave off a strange, pungent musky smell. “What is this, anyway?”

“Just a patch,” she shrugged carelessly and her words slurred. “Alpha patch.”

Dean’s brows drew together in concern, she didn’t sound right at all. “Em?”

She grinned drunkenly, not caring at all that the room was tilting. She just felt so warm and relaxed, every ounce of tension drained away. It was delightful! “Hi.”

“Damn it,” he muttered when her eyes rolled back and she slumped into his arms.

She was somewhere between conscious and not as he sat her in her desk chair. Still smiling but not really looking at him. Her head nodding like a dashboard bobble. Dean knelt in front of her and took her chin firmly in his hand, “Emma, hey! Come on baby, look at me. What’s wrong, did you take something? Huh? Suppressants?”

“Hmm…. no. Patch.” Her tongue felt heavy and clumsy in her mouth, “Alpha. Alpha… patch.”

She frowned suddenly; her bottom lip stuck out in a pout. “You’re late.”

Her pupils were huge although her eyes couldn’t seem to focus on anything. Hell, she could barely keep them open. If he didn’t know better, Dean would have thought she’d been drugged. And he couldn’t help but think back to that horrible doctor that showed up when she’d gone into shock after he claimed her. If that son of a bitch has been treating her again, I’ll break his neck!

Suddenly remembering the assistant who showed him in earlier. He punched the call button on Emma’s desk while keeping a firm hold on her to keep her from sliding to the floor.

Jess had been pacing just outside the door. She couldn’t even eavesdrop thanks to the soundproofing her sister had insisted on during the last renovation. Ever practical, Emma always errored on the side of caution. It was infuriating!

The scene that greeted her when she rushed back in, was certainly not what she expected.

“What the hell happened?!”

“You’re her sister, right?” Dean demanded as he shrugged out of his suitcoat and wrapped it around Emma’s shoulders.

“Yes, what…?”

He cut her off, “You got a car?”

“Yeah,” Jess nodded, grabbing her sister’s bag and phone, already on the same page.

“Good.” Dean hooked one arm under Emma’s knees and the other behind her back, lifting her with ease. She hummed softly although her eyes were closed. Her head lolled aimlessly against his shoulder.

“We’re taking her to the hospital.” Dean said, his tone leaving no room for debate. “Let’s go.”

[impalaimagining]

On The Edge

Dean Winchester x Reader

1,726 words

Warnings: smut, 18+ only 

Beta: @torn-and-frayed​

Written for @spnkinkbingo​ filling the square “edging”

SPN Kink Bingo 2020 Masterlist - Masterlist

“This is insane, Dean.” You leaned back in your makeshift office chair - a library chair with two pillows, one stuffed under your backside and the other stuffed behind your lower back. “Another month?”

“Yeah, another month. They’re working on containing things, and since some people can’t listen, it’s taking longer than anyone wanted it to take. We’re stuck cooped up.” Dean offered you a feeble smile. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

You sighed. “It’s not your fault. It’s just a pain in my ass.” You reached down, rubbing your glute. “Literally.” You stood up and stretched your hamstrings, suddenly missing the luxury of the standing desk your office implemented for every employee.

“We can get you a new chair.” He offered, but you shook your head. “Seriously. We have all these rooms. We’ll set one up as an office for you. You can’t work from the war table for another month.”

“You and Sam do it.” You shrugged. “I got it.”

Dean scoffed. “Sam and I also grew up sleeping on mattresses made out of rocks.”

“Not wrong.” Sam chimed in as he entered the room. “But why are we discussing our less-than-luxurious childhood?”

“She needs an office. With everything that’s going on, she’s gonna be working from home for the foreseeable future.”

“Right.” Sam offered you a sad smile. “We’ll go shopping.” 

“Online.” You raised your brows. “Social distancing.” 

“Right.” Sam repeated with a slight roll of his eyes. It’d been a long time since he and Dean had been cooped up in the bunker for more than a few days. He opened his laptop and pulled up the IKEA website, spinning the screen so you could see it. “Pick one.”

It didn’t take long for you to pick one with full back support, a slight curve where your lower back would fall. You let out a groan when your eyes fell on it as you scrolled through the page. “That looks so comfortable.”

Dean chuckled. “It’s just a chair.”

“No, Dean. It’s so much more than a chair at this point.” You stood up and stretched your arms above your head, your back snapping as your spinal discs popped back into place.

Sam flinched at the sounds emanating from your spine. “How often do you have to do that?” 

“Too often.” You offered Sam a tight smile. “Sometimes - depending on the day - I swear it’s better than sex.” You smirked.

“Hey.” Dean raised his brows and pointed at you with his index finger while the rest of his digits wrapped around his coffee mug. “Watch yourself.”

You giggled and shook your head, rolling your eyes fondly as another meeting reminder chimed on your desktop calendar. With a groan, you resumed your place in front of your computer and entered the meeting call.

“Son of a bitch.” You held your mug between your palms and closed your eyes, inhaling the scent of the coffee in an attempt to wake yourself up.

“You okay?” Dean sat opposite you, his own coffee cup on the table in front of him.

Shaking your head, you leaned your forehead into your palm. “I am so sick of these meetings, Dean. I’m exhausted, I’m barely sleeping at night because this quarantine has my schedule fucked six ways from Sunday. I’m just… over it.”

Dean stood up, taking a quick sip of his coffee before setting it back down again. He walked behind you, his hands moving over your shoulders as his fingers dug into the muscle there. “When’s your next meeting?” He squeezed the balls of your shoulders.

Like clockwork, your computer sounded again, reminding you of another meeting in fifteen minutes. You huffed and pointed to the screen, hanging your head. “Fifteen.”

“Last one for the day?” Dean asked, and you nodded. He bent down and kissed your cheek. “It’ll be okay.” Dean gave your shoulders one last gentle grip before walking himself back to his seat on the far side of your computer screen. Your fingers tapped out a few more emails, keeping customers updated and giving your coworkers the information they needed to stay on track for the week. As your computer dinged when someone began the meeting, Dean’s eyes watched you over the rim of his whiskey glass. You painted on a smile and greeted the meeting’s other participants. 

Dean licked his lip as he watched you tuck your hair behind your ear. He ran the tip of his tongue over his top teeth as your eyes wandered around your screen, scanning your co-workers’ faces. Your boss, Joe, started sharing a spreadsheet and rambling about the numbers within it. Dean pushed his chair back slightly and disappeared underneath it, unbeknownst to you. You looked up from your computer screen and noticed the empty chair across from you. The slight furrow of your brows turned into a look of surprise when Dean’s index finger ran over the cotton of your underwear directly covering your core. 

You flailed, slamming your finger down on the mouse to mute your microphone. “Son of a bitch, Dean!” You murmured, careful not to move your mouth too much while you spoke for fear that your coworkers would see you talking. “What are you doing?” 

Dean pressed a kiss to your inner thigh before scraping his teeth along the soft skin. “Focus on your work.” He commanded gently; you were always so quick to obey him. You closed your eyes and attempted to steady yourself with a breath. 

From under the table, Dean faintly heard the sounds of your meeting through the wood. He pushed them from his mind along with everything other than his intentions. He ran his index finger along your core again, waiting until he felt the dampness of your excitement through the material. The pad of his finger traced the outline of your clit, then down to your entrance, prodding into you softly. His lips danced over the crease between your right thigh and your pussy, leaving whispers of kisses on your skin. When Dean pulled his hand away, he caught a glimpse of the small wet spot on the fabric of your peach-colored underwear. 

Dean’s finger dipped into the elastic along the side of your underwear, moving the fabric to the side. He retraced the path of his finger, this time against your bare skin. The pad of his finger circled your clit, and when he reached your entrance, he twisted his wrist and flipped his hand, pressing his finger into you to his first knuckle. 

A whimper threatened to escape your lips, but you caught it in your throat and swallowed it down as you clenched your jaw. Your fingers dug into the edge of the table, skin turning white as you worked to calm yourself down. Dean pushed his longest digit further into you, curling it and rubbing gently against your g-spot. He flicked his tongue out and wriggled the pointed tip on the underside of your clit.

Your entire body jumped, muscles in your thighs and backside tensing at the feeling of his tongue on you. Carefully, you pushed your fingers into his hair and pulled. Dean smiled against your skin and flattened his tongue against you. He rolled the muscle of his tongue, applying pressure directly onto your clit as he pumped his finger in and out of you. Dean sealed his lips around your clit, pressing just the tip of his tongue onto the sensitive bundle of nerves.

Your hips jerked forward as you pulled your lips into a thin line. When you parted them just slightly, a shaky breath poured from your mouth and you closed your eyes. Your hand trembled over your mouse, finger hovering over the button. Quickly, you tapped your finger down and muted your microphone long enough to let out a quiet moan.

“I fucking hate you.” You mumbled, not letting your lips move around the words. 

Dean smiled again before his onslaught continued, his finger rocking back and forth into you and his tongue laving over your overstimulated skin. You ran your hand down your face as you faintly heard the sound of someone trying to get your attention through your computer speakers to ask how things were with your to-do list. 

You ground your teeth together and composed yourself, sucking in a stabilizing breath. “All good here.” Your voice trembled, so you forced a smile and clicked the mute button again, making sure none of your tiny moans made their way into your microphone.

Your thighs shook, your hips swirled, and you writhed in your seat under Dean’s ministrations. He felt the pulse of your walls around his thick fingers, You were about to crumble, to dive right over the edge and fall apart for Dean. With one last gentle kiss to your clit, Dean withdrew his finger from you and pulled his face away from your core. The mewl that left your lips had you beyond thankful that no one could hear anything from your end of the call. Dean continued to tease you, to hold you right at the threshold of your orgasm, pressing featherlight kisses to the heated skin of your thighs.

As your meeting ended and your colleagues said their goodbyes, you hung up and checked your calendar frantically; the rest of your day was clear. Exhaling through your nose and dropping your tongue out onto your lower lip, you eyed Dean as he stood up on the other side of the table and wiped his chin on the back of his hand with a smirk plastered on his face. 

He turned and caught your stare. “You gonna get back to work?” The glint in his eye only added to the throb in your clit. You pushed your chair back, the legs screeching across the floor before you walked to Dean. You shoved your hand against his chest until he was sitting on the edge of the table. Swinging your legs over his thighs, you reached down and freed his cock from the confines of his pajama pants. Holding the base of his shaft, you eased yourself down onto it, bringing your hands up to grip onto his shoulders. You rocked your hips forward, dragging his cock along your walls. “What abou-”

You cut him off and molded your lips with his, riding Dean as his hands held your hips. Work would have to wait.

gif: x

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[rottenroyalebooks]

Rotten Corpse

Chapter One

-Originally written on Wattpad-

Pairing: Corpse Husband x OC! RottenRoyale/Sienna Colt

Genre: Real Person Fic, Romance, a little bit of angst.

Warnings: None for this chapter.

Series Summary: A life full of deception can only lead to her downfall, will he be there to catch her?

~*~*~

I could see the sun rising in the window next to me and I groaned, looking at the clock on my studio wall realizing that I had spent all night recording and editing a video when I should have been studying for my college classes, again.

My phone vibrated on the desk next to me as my alarm went off that was supposed to wake me up; but not today.

I turned off the alarm seeing a text from my mom.

"I made breakfast for you whenever you're ready. It's in the kitchen of the manor, I'll be in my office if you need anything." I smiled and chuckled at my mother's text, looking out the window again and gazing at my family's Manor, and seeing my mother waving at me from her office window.

When my videos on YouTube started taking off and I started gaining popularity, my parents let me move into the guest house that's located in the backyard, fixing it up and turning it into my studio.

I stood up from my desk, stretching slightly and walking out of my office, and heading to the first floor. I exited my studio and walked across the backyard and opened the kitchen door to the manor.

I saw the plate on the island counter and smiled to myself; hopping up on the stool as Miranda, our live-in maid walked into the kitchen.

"Ah good morning Sienna! What is on the agenda today?" She asked walking over to the kitchen to clean the dishes.

"I'm going to stop at the coffee shop by the university and cram in some last-minute studying until my noon financing class. Then, when I get out of class, I will head back to my studio, shower, and get ready before I stream. Busy day." I say with a smile.

"Sounds like it. Make sure you eat before you stream. Do you want me to make you some lunch today? I don't mind making your food." She offers but I shake my head.

"I'm going to be cooking on stream today, for my She Can Cook series on YouTube. I was taught by another YouTuber how to make Honey Butter Fried Chicken and he challenged me to make it so I set up my streaming equipment in my kitchen last night so I wouldn't have to rush myself today." I explained as I ate my breakfast.

I felt my phone buzz in my pocket and I pulled it out, seeing an email from my professor.

I opened it up and groaned in happiness as I read the subject line:

CLASS IS CANCELED

"Bless! My professor canceled class today which means I can play video games!" I said cheerfully as I went to my messages and found Sean's number, texting him.

"Hey man! Are you up for playing Among Us today?"

I sent the text as my mother walked into the kitchen, "Darling, I'm going to assume that your office light being on all night was not because you were studying." She said crossing her arms.

It was a trap! I thought to myself as I stopped chewing my food. I thought about my answer carefully as I swallowed and sat up straight.

"You assumed correctly." I mumbled looking down at my plate, "I was recording and editing a video all night, a new song."

She sighed, "Sienna, your grades are important. Midterms are around the corner-"

"And if my job flops on me then I won't have a backup." I finish the statement for her. "I know mom, I'm sorry. Professor canceled class today so I'm going to focus on relaxing today but I promise I will binge study tonight and stay out of my office tomorrow." I tell her and she nods.

"Deal." She said before walking away. I felt my phone vibrate with a message from Sean.

"I was just about to text you! We need one more person for our game in about an hour would you be okay with that?"

Meeting new people is always fun.

I met Sean a few years ago at Vidcon when he came up to my booth and exclaimed how he liked my music and asked ME for a picture. I was starstruck and we became friends from that day forward. We collaborated on a few gaming videos and because of that more people decided to watch my channel and I blew up soon after.

He isn't the only YouTuber I know. I'm also friends with Gloom (Kassie), Dangthatsalongname (Scott), LDShadowlady (Lizzie), Laurenzside (Lauren), SmallishBeans (Joel), and Joey Griceffa. I've collaborated with a bunch of other people too like Shannon Taylor.

Lots of big names, I know.

I replied to his text agreeing and for him to send me an invite.

I ate the rest of my breakfast quickly and Miranda took my dishes for me and I thanked her before heading back to my studio.

I jogged back up the stairs and brushed my teeth before hopping in the shower and getting dressed into my clothes so I wouldn't have to do so later.

As soon as I sat down at my computer I got the invite from Sean and I set up the game before accepting.

As soon as I entered the call I heard people chatting away, starting with Sean.

"Oh! She's here! Everyone, meet Rotten. Rotten, meet everyone!" Sean said and I chuckled.

"Hey everyone," I said with a smile, adjusting my headset on my head.

"Hey! I'm Lily!"

"Hi! I'm Rae."

"I'm Sykkuno!"

"Hey Rotten! Dave is here too." I smiled hearing Dave speak up.

"Rotten! Best Friend!" Glooms' voice came through the call and I smiled.

"Glooooooom!" I said in a weird voice that made everyone laugh.

"Hi, Rotten! Lizzie here!" Lizzie's voice makes me smile and I greeted her back.

"Wait! You're Rotten Royale, aren't you? That alternative singer that Marzia listens to on the daily. She is obsessed with Up all Night." Felix's voice was the last person I expected to be on this call.

I had to mute myself so I didn't say something stupid. PewDiePie knows my name AND his girlfriend listens to my music? So rad.

I quickly composed myself and unmuted my mic, "Yeah that's me! So glad to hear that someone likes my music." I joke as I design my character. My color is cyan and I have a cat head hat on my character's head.

"Oh please, your four million subscribers would simp for you in a heartbeat." Sean joked which made everyone in the chat laugh.

Then someone else joined.

A deeper toned voice comes through my headset, "Is there someone new in the chat?"

His voice set me back, deciding not to say anything as I knew he probably got a lot of comments about his voice. "Yeah, I'm Rotten." I introduce myself.

"Rotten?" His tone was questioning and Gloom giggled.

"That's her alias on the internet, well it's Rotten Royale, but everyone just calls her rotten for short," Kassie explained to me and I smiled.

He hummed, "Makes sense. I'm Corpse."

I barked out a laugh, "And you question my name?" I teased.

"Oh! Rotten, are you streaming?" Sean asked.

"Negative, Ghostrider. All my streaming equipment is currently in my kitchen for my Stream later today."

"Why in the kitchen?" Sykkuno asked and I chuckled.

"I have this series I do on my side channel called She Can Cook where I have all different kinds of people trying to teach me how to cook because before I couldn't even boil pasta correctly because my mother spoiled me," That earned a laugh from a few people, "A week ago I had Sam the Cooking Guy come to my studio and teach me how to make Honey Butter Fried Chicken and man it's amazing. I'm going to be attempting to cook it on stream and pray I don't set my studio on fire."

"Oh, I'll be watching that." Kassie chuckled.

"Yo Rotten I just listened to Up all Night and it's so good! Your voice is so Angelic!" Lily exclaimed and I let out a chuckle.

"Thank you, I appreciate the feedback," I said shyly and Sean piped up.

"I think you should be recording this, Rotten, this is going to be an interesting game."

I smirked lightly, typing quickly on my computer and seeing my third screen pop up with the recording of the screen in front of me.

"Hang on, I have to grab a cam. All of my good ones are in the kitchen." I muted my mic and rushed over to my bookshelf, grabbing a box that I put my old cam in.

After getting the face cam set up I turned it on, seeing it pop up on my other screen. I unmuted my mic and smiled, "Alright! I now have a face. Let's do this thing, momma needs to procrastinate doing her Finance homework."

[voxymoxyboxy]

Scrapped Secret Santa Idea

While struggling to write for my AU drabbles, I was looking at my old writing and stumbled across this abandoned draft for the Sam and Max secret santa from last year! I read it and found that I still really liked it so I thought I would publish it on here for people to read! It’s not finished, but I do really like what I wrote. Please enjoy!

The familiar thrum of the microwave sounded through Sybil’s kitchen as she leaned against a nearby counter. Little pops began a few seconds later, the smell of butter and salt slowly, but surely, washing over her like a warm bath. Thin fingers drummed against the large plastic bowl in her hands. Rather than compose a new symphony for one- though that didn’t sound too bad for her next career-, Sybil decided to cross things off a mental list.

Comfortable pajamas pulled from the depths of a bottom drawer? Check.

Snacks? Enough to feel like utter garbage come morning.

Fluffy blanket? Spread on the couch just waiting to be wrecked by her guest.

Speaking of her guest… Sybil checked her watch. It was almost eight o’clock, the time when their little girl’s night was supposed to start. Supposed to, because Max wasn’t exactly known for his punctuality. The woman sighed. If she had to guess, the lagomorph would burst through her front door at about nine, a full hour late, wide smile on-

A knock on the door startled Sybil from her thoughts. The bowl clattered to the floor, but the women kicked it aside as she made her way through the living room. Whoever was waiting outside stopped for a second, only to be begin spamming the doorbell instead. Sybil quickened her steps.

“I’m coming!” she shouted. “Just give me a second!” The ringing continued, much to the woman’s dismay.

“Sybil!” a high-pitched voice called through the wood. “What you say in the bedroom’s none o’ my business!” Nearly banging her arm against the doorknob in her hurry, Sybil threw open the door to find Max, wide teasing smirk on his face clothed in nothing more than a flimsy scarf. His hands were clasped behind his back and he rocked back and forth on his heels.

The woman rubbed the bridge of her nose but returned the lagomorph’s smile. “Good to see you Max.” She stepped to the side to let him in. “Come on in.”

Max strutted inside, a bag the woman hadn’t noticed until then clutched in his paws. Sybil raised a brow when, instead of just dumping it on her carpet, the lagomorph gently placed the bag under the coffee table. Free from potential harm and the crumb zone, the woman noted. He jumped on the couch, already making himself at home by wrapping himself up in Sybil’s blanket like stuffing in a burrito.

“So.” The lagomorph eyed the snacks on the coffee table. The woman watched as Max snatched the largest chip bag of the bunch. Ripping it open, Max dug out a handful of salty goodness and stuffed it all in his mouth. “Where’s the kid?” he asked, crumbs spraying everywhere from talking with his mouth full.

Sybil grimaced. Tomorrow would be a clean-up day for sure. “I left Penny with a good friend of mine from work.”

“What is it this time? Graphic designer?” Max picked at his teeth. “Toy making? No!” He snapped his fingers. “Mall Santa!”

“Elf, actually.” Sybil said, making her way back towards the kitchen. “Hired me on the spot after finding out I’m a mother.”

“Must be desperate to avoid any lawsuits this year.” Max commented and dumped the rest of the bag down his gaping maw. “Probably don’t wanna lose another Santa.”

“Lose another Santa?” the woman parroted, confusion plain in her voice. “I don’t remember hearing anything about a Santa being arrested last year.” Max flattened out his blanket nest so his arms were now free to move about. He grabbed a soda and popped it open.

“Whaddaya mean?” The lagomorph took a small sip before continuing. “You were there! I kidnapped you that mornin’ to help me get a present fer Sam! Near ‘bout had a heart attack when he burst in and handcuffed the bastard.” He traced the rim of the can, ears drooping a bit before shooting right back up. “Right?”

Sybil had to tread carefully.

“The popcorn’s done. Why don’t you get it while I turn on the tv?” Max was silent for a beat. While subtle, she could see his jaw tighten, grin turning forced. The grip on his soda tightened, leaving tiny dents in the aluminum. And yet, just as quickly, Max was bouncing back. Literally, as he’d jumped to his feet.

“You actually trust me to go within six feet of yer microwave?” the lagomorph said. He brushed away an imaginary tear. “I’m touched!”

“Get going before I regret my decision.”

“You probably should.”

“Go.” The woman chuckled, playfully shoving him towards the kitchen archway. Max ‘harumphed’ and left the room. Sybil rolled her eyes. It was all just for show. The guy was a drama queen through and through. What had caught her eye were the muscles in Max’s shoulders. The habit leftover from her old job as a masseuse proved to be useful, for they were tense, almost like the lagomorph was preparing to fight.

Or flee.

Sybil reached over the side of the couch and pulled out the remote. After finding the device in Penny’s mouth one too many times, she’d decided to buy one of those stupid arm slings to hold it. Admittedly, it worked pretty well. She flicked the tv on, muting it before leaning to get comfortable. Flipping through channels, the woman looked for the right one. No, no, uggh, ah-ha! Now she could really get settled in.

Before she could really hunker down, Max slid in front of the flat screen. His back faced Sybil, pristine white fur now covered by a long-sleeved purple pajama shirt, both sleeves and matching pants rolled up. Bowl held over his head, he leaped back onto soft cushions, stray pieces flying to hit Sybil’s arm and leg. Her gaze traveled over Max and she stifled laughter with a hand as she saw what was hovering over his chest.

“Merry Christmas, Ho, Ho Hoes?” she read, giggles bursting through her fingertips. For the first time that night, Max’s smile turned genuine. The lagomorph puffed his chest out, pride radiating off his person.

“Jealous?” he nearly purred.

“Hardly.”

“Green doesn’t become you, Sybil.” Max sing-songed.

Said woman gasped. “I’ll have you know it brings out my eyes!”

“Whatever helps ya sleep at night!” Max shot back.

The two started at each other for a moment before bursting into hearty laughter. Some of the tension from before ebbed away as they clutched their quickly hurting middles. Wiping away small tears, she glanced over at her friend. A weight Sybil hadn’t known about lifted from her shoulders as the rabbit devolved into giggles, stray pieces of popcorn flying everywhere.

“You know,” Sybil scootched back to her side of the sofa, "I was wondering.”

“Bout what?” Max tossed a kernel and caught it with a loud crunch.

Sybil gestured towards the television. “Why Hallmark movies?” She tucked her legs under her. “I thought you hated those.”

Max froze, caught off-guard by the woman’s question. He recovered fast, face blank as his attention turned to the movie. The woman on the screen- the heroine, Sybil assumed- walked under a garden arch adorned with Christmas lights. A man followed close behind, a look of complete adoration gracing his features. Slowly, he plopped the dish onto the middle cushion.

“Yeah,” he brought his knees to his chest, “I do.”

“Then why…?”

Max buried himself in Sybil’s blanket. He placed his chin on his knees. “How long’ve we known each other, Sybil?”

Sybil tilted her head quizzically. “About two or three years now, I think.” She paused. “Why?”

Snow began falling in the movie. The woman laughed and pulled the man towards a tackily-decorated gazebo. He followed without fail, lips flapping as he probably spouted cheesy dialogue.

“It’s funny, ‘s all.” Max said, sad little smile on his muzzle. Sybil had a feeling he didn’t really mean it. “From what I remember, it’s been at least five. But then again,” the lagomorph tapped his head, “Never did have the best memory.”

“Don’t sell yourself short Max.” Sybil scooted closer and lightly placed a hand over Max’s. He flinched but didn’t move to rip the limb off. She took it as a good sign, welling with pride as she squeezed the paw. “You’re smarter than you think. But that’s not the real issue here, is it?”

“Dunno. You tell me Miss Psychotherapist.” The rabbit tried to crack a joke, but the woman wasn’t having it.

“Max.” she said, slightly increasing the pressure on his hand. By now the soon-to-be couple were sitting on a bench found in their temporary shelter, shoulders brushing while they talked. “You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong. But know, as your friend, I’m here for you.”

Max tossed the words around in his head. He pulled his hand from Sybil’s and grabbed a mug from the table, whipped cream already melted into the warm cocoa. Holding it with both paws, the lagomorph took a deep breath.

“It happened a few years. You n’me were just fuckin’ around at one of our movie nights.” His grip tightened around the porcelain handle. “Landed on the channel and had the crappy idea to mute it and write our own story.” Patiently the woman waited as Max took another swig.

“Was so stupid.” the rabbit mumbled, corners of his mouth pulling up just so. “But fun. Were laughin’ our asses off by the end of the night. When I was ‘bout to leave, you suggested we do it every year and-“

“You wanted to keep the tradition going.” Sybil finished, voice wrought with understanding.

Max sent his friend a look, mouth shutting with a clack. “Somethin’ like that.” The rabbit’s gaze wandered back to the film, pang in his chest at the woman and man twining their fingers together. “Guess I just wanted something familiar in m’life.” he confessed.

Sybil peered at her friend intently. “…Have you told Sam?”

“Hell no!” Max said. “He’s the last one I wanna tell!”

“Is something going on between you two?”

“No.” he lied, thumb running over the edge of Sybil’s mug.

“Did he do anything? Because I know the guy can be dense sometimes-”

The lagomorph shook his head. “Yer readin’ too much int’ it Sybil.”

The heroine and hero were staring at each now, the camera rotating around the outside of the gazebo in a way that had to make some people sick.

“…Has he been distant lately?” Sybil tried, sadness clawing at her throat when Max’s ears pinned against his skull. “Do you know why?”

Max bit the inside of his cheek. “No. But what I do know,” the rabbit hugged the mug closer, “is that he’s been weird round me. It’s like…” he tugged at his pajama sleeves, racking his brain for the right words, “guy’s always on edge. Just yesterday me and Sam were caught n’ the middle of a few mafia goons.”

“Tis the season.” Sybil chimes in, prompting a snort from her friend.

“Bullets are flyin’ everywhere, the smell of gun smoke heavy in the air. I take two of ‘em down no prob but then,” Max furrows his brows, “then Sam just freezes up. Had ta save his sorry ass and off the rest myself. When I asked what happened, he tried to play it off like it was no big deal!”

“How long’s this been going on?”

“Not too long after we started dating.” The lagomorph sighed. At that moment, the man pointed out a sprig of mistletoe hung on the ceiling. Trapped like rats, the two hesitate but for a beat before kissing. “Makes me feel like, like-”

“You’re the problem.” 

Max pouted. “Stop that!”

Sybil chuckled. “Sorry. Force of habit. Still.” She placed a hand on Max’s shoulder. “You should tell him. You two may be terrible at talking about anything emotional, but Sam appreciates honesty.” The woman squeezed it and slid back to her claimed space. “He’ll listen. You’ve just gotta trap him somehow.”

[billie-the-sleepyhead]

I made some “character cameo” toons for Sammy and Norman for CoJDS (Curse of Joey Drew Studios) so here we have Sam and Norm!

Sam the mute composer: Sam is an angel, he was in heaven’s choir with Alice but after she left for earth and began interacting with Bendy and gang he started questioning if he actually belonged in heaven. It was after spending a week on earth with all the creatures and hearing all the fun music that he decided to leave. He he was punished and forced to leave his voice behind but his music and Sign language (he knows ASL) are all he needs to communicate with others and live a good life.

Norm the cat: this trickster feline did odd jobs as light tech and projectionist in multiple theatres and opera houses until he met Sam. The angel offered him a stable job in exchange for a place to stay after leaving heaven. Norm accepted and they became fast friends (and perhaps more). He loves listening to Sam play the piano and knows ASL because of his deaf sister.

The design of Sam’s injuries/punishment are meant to reflect the Twisted Alice of the studio and a lost one as the episodes with these two would air when the New studio gets opened in the 70’s to 80’s.