#Still nice to have them in the periphery in case something cool DOES happen and catches his eye

[tswwwit]

When bill sees thru an eye does he switch from one to another like channels or can he see thru all of them at once and pick on which one he wants to focus on?

He can see through multiple eyes at once, though probably not ALL of his eyes at once. There's simply too many around to spread himself that thin! And of the ones he's currently using, he'll only pick a few to really focus on.

[infini-tree]

FANFIC: in post

Summary: A unexpected reunion takes place. Captain may be the one who starts it, but its Benjamin who ends it.

A/N: (alternate title - i don’t know what possessed me to write this post in fic form, but its here now and you all have to deal with it)

in post stuff isn’t going to be an ongoing multi-chapter thing, let alone in order, but just a place to put all the little drabbles I have. Unlike what the name suggests not all of them happen after the main story of the AU, though this one definitely does. The only way I can imagine this is after years after the main story has wrapped up.

though lbr i mostly because I got tired of trying to figure out titles for WIPs.

And just in case: slight content warning for verbal abuse from a parent. Its nothing explicit and is just a flashback, but it does take up the entire paragraph chunk its in and starts with “Suddenly he was back at his living room”.

                                                        ——–

Captain comes back to a gymnasium full of people and music, which wasn’t the weirdest part. Nor was the fact that the people were grown-ups. 

No, the weirdest part was that the gym wasn’t the one he had come to associate with Jerome Horwitz. Though, it was difficult to appreciate the novelty; between the sudden noise and people, he feels out of his depth.

His body moved automatically. Every accidental bump into someone was a shock, each trumpet blare was like a blow to his skull, and he dimly recalled thinking ah, that’s it when hearing the sound of snapping in the music. The clothes, while leagues comfier than his counterpart’s go-to, it was still there.

After what felt like ages of wading through a sea of people, he stumbled into a hallway just as unfamiliar as the gym. He really, really wanted to get out of this place quickly-- or at least, bring Benjamin back to deal with whatever this place is himself.

(Which bears the question: why did Benjamin come here? Parties aren’t exactly his Thing.)

The music faded as he moved away from the gymnasium, which helped a little.  Captain forced himself to look around. The walls looked the same as Jerome Horwitz was, but if the details were reshuffled. The lockers were in different places, the corridors weren’t exactly where he expected them to be and neither were the bulletin boards with posters on it-- wait, posters!

There were a lot of random stuff about clubs and other announcements, but one stood out. Its top edges curled in on itself, so he couldn’t read the top part, but the rest read: REUNION.

“Welcome back, class of--” Captain repeated, until--

Someone cleared their throat. He leapt up in the air with a short yell, nearly stumbling over his shoe-covered feet.

The newcomer winced, but nonetheless stayed silent. If the Waistband Warrior could describe her, then it would be... sharp. Sharp look, sharp flat top, sharp gaze. Not mean, though it could be. It reminded her of his sidekicks’ freshly sharpened pencils, ready and full of potential.

“...Are you lost?”

“Beg pardon?”

“You’ve been wandering the same hallway intersection and--” she pointed a thumb towards a distant hallway. “The gymnasium is over there.”

Captain blinked for a moment, letting her words sink in. “Oh-- ohhh. Oh no, I meant to get out of the gymnasium,” he said matter-of-factly. “Though yes, I am lost. Do you, ah, could you show me where the nearest washroom or... water fountain is around here, er--”

“Moxie.” It looked like she was expecting something, but when nothing did, her shoulders untensed.

“Captain!” he beamed.

The sharp look turned severe. “Is that a joke?”

He flinched, unsure of what set her off. “U-- uh, no?”

Sensing his nervous energy, the severe look shifted to apprehension. Her brow furrowed. Did she not know either?

“Ma’am?”

“...Do I know you from somewhere?” she asked, crossing her arms. “I’m no good with faces.”

Captain paled. Either she knew Benjamin-- which was not a conversation he was equipped for-- or she recognized him as Captain Underpants-- which was a whole other, potentially dangerous can of worms.

“Uh, nope!” he chirped. “About that washroom--”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” she said after a moment, pointing a thumb down a nearby corridor. “There should be one down the hall.”

"Alrighty, thank you! Have a lovely night, Moxie.” And with that, Captain rushed to the washroom to wash his face and get out of whatever that was.

And only when he looked in the mirror of the dingy washroom, to the clothes that made it hard to think did he slap a hand to his forehead. He really did just introduce himself as himself while dressed up as Benjamin. 

He was definitely going to read an essay’s worth of complaining after this whole thing.

                                                       ——–

“Hey, Captain.”

Benjamin gripped at his chest at the sudden voice. He just stepped outside and into the parking lot only to find Moxie Swaggerman, straight A student, the envy of literally half the school, now astronaut just...

“Uh, what are you doing out here?” his lip curls up wryly out of old habit-- he’ll address the whole Captain thing later-- what did that idiot do while he was out?! “Got tired of people asking for your autograph?”

She tilted her head, adjusting her aviator glasses. “Oh, so you do know me.” She almost seemed... disappointed by that. “Why, you want one?”

“Urgh, no.” He crinkled his nose. Opinions about her aside, that just sounded... weird to ask from someone he knew, even if said knowledge was periphery at best and non-existent at worst.

Moxie let out an amused huff. “Good, because I can only take so much people trying to kiss up to me.”

Despite himself, Benjamin couldn’t help but let out a laugh, short and loud and practically a cackle. The woman’s brow quirked up as she regarded him.

“What?” he snapped back.

“The lack of hair threw me off, since I remember you with that weird swoop back, but I finally figured it out--” And he couldn’t help but adjust his toupee as she swept back her hands on both sides as a pale imitation of how his hair was all those decades ago. “You were the one who competed against me for Prom Queen.”

Benjamin wanted to say something, but all that came out was half-noises. His entire body grew hot and his hands became clammy as she just... continued to stare. The worst part about all this was that, with the low light of outside, he couldn’t tell why. 

Suddenly he was back at his living room-- but not his, not anymore, he refused to consider that place his own-- staring down at the floor and clutching at the hems. Seeing his brother just peering in in his periphery vision as his mother continued her tirade, each word bullwhip-precise at hitting him in his core. But this was different; he was older and under no one’s thumb.

“A-- and what about it,” he managed to pry out of his throat.

Moxie’s posture shifted, and he could see her surprised expression now. If the circumstances were a bit different, then he would be reveling in the fact. Right now, though, he felt exposed, which was saying something considering who his counterpart was.

“Whoa-- hey, I didn’t mean it like that,” she clarified, and was that a hint of awkwardness? Remorse in her voice? “Honestly, it’s... nice to see you again.”

It was his turn to gawk. “...Really?”

“I mean, yeah. It’s uh-- like, its nice to see, ah... people like me still kicking.”

And it was then that Benjamin remembered the old rumors about Swaggerman-- about why she couldn’t get a nice guy to fall for her, and the girl from the rival school that clung by her side like a second shadow during summer vacation.

“I’ve always wondered for the longest time if you did that whole thing as a...” she paused, pursing her lips. “A joke, or something.”

“Oh,” he managed. “No, it wasn’t.”

“OK.” She nodded. “OK. Good to know.”

“Why, was that eating away at you?”

A passing car lit up her features in relief. When had her annoyingly cool façade been just that? It looked guarded now. A little more awkward. Funny how a few decades of separation can do.

Moxie shrugged. “Would have been nice to know back then.”

Benjamin wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he shrugged sympathetically and began to fiddle with the keys in his hand-- he had almost forgotten why he was out here in the first place.

She gaze followed the source of the glint. “Leaving early? Figure I should head out too.” She sighed. “Thanks.”

“...For what?”

“For making my last night before I get put to my paces a little more bearable.” She stretched her arms in front of her.

“Really, last night before you go to space and you choose to come here,” Benjamin deadpanned.

“First of all, no that’s not--” she shook her head. “Never mind. Basically, I wanted a normal night, and at least I got a bit of that. So, thanks, Captain.”

Benjamin had half a mind to correct her, but the moment had long passed and frankly he didn’t want to break the moment he was in now.

“Uh, yeah.” He waved her off awkwardly. “See you later.” 

She's going to space, idiot, not a weekend road trip, his own mind admonished.

Moxie only nodded in reply before she went off as well-- presumably to her own car.

[graymatters]

New beginnings

He was late.

A discreet tempus charm cast under the table informed Harry that Malfoy was late. Fifteen minutes in fact. What was Harry expecting from Draco Malfoy, anyway. This was the man who hadn't contacted him once since Harry had spoken at his and his mother's trial. This was the man who had been Harry's enemy and mildly unhealthy obsession since he was eleven years old. A wave of disappointment washed over Harry, quickly followed by a strong sense of embarrassment. Of course nothing had changed since school. Draco Malfoy was always more important than anyone else.

So now, Harry sat at his table in a muggle coffee shop, tapping his foot impatiently. He contemplated how he had clearly misplaced his hope that returning Draco Malfoy's wand in person was going to be a good experience. He had imagined meeting and clearing the air would have been helpful, encouraging, and maybe even allow the pair to start over in the aftermath of a war that had done everything to pit them against each other. Harry exhaled his false optimism, closed his eyes for a moment to take a few deeps breaths, then readied to leave.

Harry stood, carelessly grabbing his bag containing Malfoy's wand, leaving his empty tea cup at the small corner table. He heard the bell above the door ring as he pushed outside.

Scowl firmly in place, he turned to set off down the sidewalk and halted firmly in place. There was Malfoy, back leant against the side of the building, eyes closed, but otherwise appearing the opposite of serene. His breathing was shallow, uneven, and his long, slender fingers were gripping the hem of his gray sweater firmly enough to cause it to stretch and bubble. His brow was wrinkled and he appeared to be whispering to himself. Harry felt a pool of guilt build up inside his stomach, realizing why Malfoy was late to their meeting. Recognizing a panic attack when he saw one, Harry very calmly approached Malfoy. Keeping a bit of distance between them, Harry very quietly said, "Malfoy, it's Harry."

Draco Malfoy's eyes flashed a silvery grey towards Harry that contained none of the malice he had become accustomed to. In fact, what Harry saw in those eyes was hesitancy, uncertainty and, above all, fear. Harry was not new to panic attacks, having experienced several himself and coaxing others out of them over the summer. He took a deep breath, pushed his emotions to the side, and began the process of talking Malfoy down.

Fully aware that Harry's presence might be the cause of the overwhelming anxiety in Malfoy, he began by asking, "Malfoy, is it alright that I’m here? Is it alright that I help you?"

He could almost feel Malfoy's eyes crawl over him, assessing the situation at hand, weighing the options in the midst of his panic. A slight nod was the only sign he gave that Harry could stay, could help.

Harry slowly took one step closer, still maintaining a polite distance to keep Malfoy from feeling smothered. Malfoy’s eyes widened and began to search the area around them, looking for any possible sign of danger. "Malfoy, you're having a panic attack. You’re safe here, and I'm going to help you. Can you look at me and focus on my breaths?"

Malfoy turned to face Harry slightly and attempted to maintain his focus on the rise and fall of Harry’s chest. "Good, you're doing great. See how I'm breathing, nice and slow?"

Malfoy again responded with a narrow dip of his chin, the only indication that he heard Harry.

"Great, now I want you to breathe with me, at the same time. Breathe in," and at that Harry took a deep, audible inhale through his nose. After a brief moment, Malfoy mimicked the same. "Wonderful, Draco, now breathe out, slow and steady, through your mouth." Draco pursed his lips and exhaled a long, even breath as Harry did the same.

After a few minutes of deep breathing and encouragement from Harry, Malfoy visibly seemed more relaxed. His shoulders eased away from his ears, his fingers released his jumper, a more serene expression presented on his sharp facial features. 

"What do you need from me?" asked Harry, beginning to process not only how weird the situation was. He understood that it was appropriate to ask, but, it was still Malfoy standing in front of him.

Malfoy looked down at his black dress shoes for a moment before raising his eyes to Harry's, "I need to know what is on your ridiculous shirt, and I think I'd like to sit down. Can we go inside?"

Harry laughed, appreciating the return of Malfoy’s snark, signaling the worst has passed. Looking down, Harry chuckled again, understanding Malfoy had to stare at the bright red mouth and tongue on his shirt to focus on Harry’s breathing patterns. 

"Sure, absolutely. And it’s the Rolling Stones; it was Sirius’ shirt" Harry re-entered the coffee shop, again hearing the echo of the bell as he opened the door and held it open for Draco to follow. He heard Draco mutter something that sounded like, “What the hell does a tongue have to do with rocks?” as they approached the same table Harry had occupied not ten minutes earlier. The two former enemies sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment. Harry didn't want to force Draco to talk until he was ready. He admitted to himself this was not how he had anticipated this meeting going.

"Do forgive me for my behavior, Potter, it won't happen again. Shall we get to it, then?" Malfoy said quickly, eyes not meeting Harry's. He's embarrassed, Harry thought to himself. While he initially was ashamed of his panic attacks, nightmares, and overall anxious behavior immediately after the war, he had learned that his reactions had been normal. That he wasn't broken because of his anguish, he just needed some time to heal.

"Draco…Can I call you Draco?" Suddenly unaware of how to act after witnessing a vulnerable moment from his former nemesis.

"Well I suppose that is my name. Although, I'm not sure I'm prepared to call you Harry quite yet," Draco replied, cool and steeled against judgment of his previous exposure of weakness.

"Whatever you prefer. Just, look, Draco, there's no need to apologize for your panic attack. I still get them sometimes, too. There is no judgment for that from me," Harry said, trying to navigate the water that was Draco Malfoy's temperament.

At that, grey eyes met green in an evolving look that conveyed more emotion than Harry knew was possible. Shame, guilt, anxiety, and finally, relief. Draco's mouth twitched into a nearly non-existent smile. But Harry saw it, and flashed a more grandiose smile back before saying, "So I have something for you."

Harry waved his hand, casting a wordless Muffliato over their area at the corner table. There was only one other occupied table on the other side of the shop, but, as this was a sensitive topic, Harry didn't want to take any chances.

Harry removed the black case from his bag that he'd hung over the chair and handed it to Draco. Their fingers brushed briefly as Draco reached for the case and opened it with an expression of deep longing. He placed the open case on the table in front of him and dropped his hands to his lap as he simply stared at the small piece of wood. Harry had polished it, and bought the case to keep it in. And perhaps had used it a time or two. He wanted to ensure it didn't get temperamental from disuse, of course.

Malfoy raised a hand to take the Hawthorne wand out of its case and Harry could feel its magic crackle in his periphery. It was an anxious energy, but contained. Like a corked bottle, aching for release. Harry smiled as Malfoy pocketed the wand, a look of appreciation and disbelief on his face. "Thank you…Harry." The weight of Draco’s words implied he was talking about more than the wand.

"You're welcome, Draco. Glad you have it back. Fancy a cup of tea?"

Draco shrugged, "I suppose I have time. Don't think that this means we're friends, Potter."

At that, Harry laughed, a loud and contented laugh, "Not yet we're not. But we've gone from sworn enemies to calling each other by our first names in less than an hour. Who knows what we'll get up to on our next date." Harry gave Draco a quick wink, and saw a faint flush of pink creep up Draco's neck. It was a bit enchanting to watch, to know he caused it to happen.

A quiet cough as Draco cleared his throat pulled Harry from his thoughts. Did he just call Malfoy enchanting? And suggest they were on a date? Harry shook his head, clearing his traitorous mind, "Cream, two sugars?" He asked.

Draco looked up, a brief moment of surprise on his face. "I see some of our stalking habits from sixth year were good for something," he said, settling into a smirk.

"Whatever, Draco." Traitorous mind be damned, he thought, as Harry rose from the table to order more tea, a satisfied grin firmly in place.

_________________________________________________________________

This was my first time writing anything like this in years and years. A bit rusty, but I mustered through. Thought I would post it to encourage myself to continue.

[bluepenguinstories]

Remoras Full Chapter XLI: Here Comes the Sun

We ran through the tunnels, unsure what we would encounter next. There was an unsteadiness about it all which threw the rhythm of my heartbeats off balance. It both startled and excited me; that we were all together again and working to put an end to the things that have caused us such suffering for well over a year. Of course, there was no guarantee that we could, or that our answers would be found, but just knowing that we were together again and all felt a grain of hope, of purpose, made all the difference to me.

Our path was illuminated by dim lights set up along the walls of the tunnel. Little lanterns with stained glass casings and small crescent bulbs which produced a gentle glow. Each thud our footsteps made as we ran, the click-clacks, felt like we were that much closer. Of course, there were several miles of tunnel and Ray and I knew that the end was supposed to lead to an entrance to the airport. This felt different somehow. Like we were on a treadmill and the gap between the start and the end widened with every step.

Look at me. I’m contradicting myself. First I’m saying how we’re moving forward, and then I’m saying how we’re not moving at all.

Yes. It was confusing, and maybe it was more of a sense of swimming against a current than anything else. Funny, that: there was a strong chill down there. Maybe not a breeze or even a heavy wind, but a dead chill all the same.

“You know, I kinda missed it at first, but I swear, any minute now I’m going to complain about how freezing it is,” Ray slowed down and grumbled.

Compared to Tigershark and I, Ray wasn’t used to running long distances. Demetria slowed down as well.

“Come on, why’d you stop? It takes more energy to stop and start back up than it does to keep up the pace!” Demetria berated my husband, something which I really should have scolded her more over.

“Newsflash: we’re not exactly dressed for the part of running underground in below zero temperature,” Ray pointed out.

I think I was most surprised by the fact that Demetria didn’t seem the least bit tired out. I remembered back when we had our adventure together, she had trouble just walking up a mountain. Now she was complaining about Ray, who’s probably walked up plenty of mountains of his own, not keeping up.

“Yeah, it is a problem, but...are we really about to head back to grab our jackets?” She countered.

“This stinks!” Tigershark complained.

Everyone started to bicker among themselves and I began to shiver with a great intensity as well.

“G-Guys!” My arms and legs shook and I shouted. They all looked my way.

Good, good. You’ve got the floor, Sunny. Now to make yourself look cool. Don’t fuck this up!

“This is unpleasant,” I began. OK, not a great start, but I knew I could pick up momentum, “but we’ll have to make do! We’ll just have to get that blood flow! If we need to take breaks, that’s fine, but we still need to do all we can to –” I stopped myself as I realized what I had on me.

I reached into the inside of my jacket pocket and pulled out an unlit torch. Looks like I may have been more prepared than I thought.

“Hun, wanna do the honors?” I smiled and held the torch up to him. My heart skipped to the tune of ‘Skip to my Lou’, as something as simple as that felt like a grand romantic gesture. There was a slight hesitance to it and not one defined by the natural chill, but by the passage of time itself. For Ray’s part, he looked up and into my eyes, and they looked watery, a possible result of the chill. He shuffled into his pocket and he looked like a timid little rodent all the while.

“I can’t see very well,” he croaked and his words almost crashed into themselves bit by bit as he went on, “but you still shine so bright.”

If words alone could keep me warm, those most certainly would have.

“You do as well. Even faint, that light is still there,” I replied.

He pulled out his lighter and flickered a little flame. After the torch was lit, he looked away, perhaps in shame.

“I’ll admit, everything that’s happened up to this point still affects me. It’s hard to think that anything can get better, but...I’m trying.”

Demetria tapped her foot against the stony ground.

“Can we put the flirting on hold and get a move on?” Her impatience was characteristically hers. Even if other things about her may have changed, that little childishness remained. It kept the smile that was already on my face intact.

“Who says I can’t do both?” Ray chuckled and he sucked in a gulp soon after, his eyes wide in shock that he could even manage to do that.

We started walking on and huddled close together as Ray held on to the torch. In the midst of it, Tigershark jumped up and whined.

“Guys! Guys! I’m still cold!”

“How old are you now? 11?” Demetria scoffed.

“Be nice!” I scolded Demetria.

“Fine, sorry.”

“You’re never too old for a piggyback ride!” I told Tigershark, then swooped her up and got her up on my shoulders.

“I’m going to have to remember that one,” Ray commented under his breath.

Now, with Tigershark on my shoulders, we ran forth once again. Ray had a bit of trouble keeping up, but he was still doing a good job. A+ for effort. All was going well and we were filled to the brim with a heaping helping of determination.

“Hey Ray,” Demetria turned to him while running.

“Yes?”

“I know you didn’t want me to come back here, so you’re probably mad that I did so anyway.”

Ray shook his head.

“Right now we’ve got more pressing matters. Besides – I’m actually quite proud. I didn’t think you had it in you to do something so crafty.”

That all came to a head, however, when the ground before us began to shake. I wobbled and held onto Tigershark’s legs, struggling to keep my feet on the ground. Ray wobbled as well and almost fell while Demetria stood her ground, only bending her legs ever so slightly.

“What’s going on?!” Tigershark poked her head in front of me and looked around. “Is it an earthquake?”

I looked around as well. Her question was soon answered when the walls in front of us began to crumble, or rather, chunks of it slid out and what emerged were three creatures made of stone in the shape of large, human figures. My eyes were fixed on the holes which once made up the wall. Those human-shaped holes.

It’s their hole. It was meant for them.

My thoughts would have gone in all sorts of zany directions if not for the fact that one of them slammed their rocky ‘fist’ into the ground and knocked us all down. I managed to catch Tigershark in my arms as I fell, but it still wasn’t such a smooth landing. Meanwhile, the other two of those rocky beings blocked off the path forward.

“Gah. Just a distraction,” Demetria groaned before helping Ray up.

“Thanks,” he took Demetria’s hand and pulled himself up, then brushed off his pants.

One of the animated stone figures hurled a rocky arm my way and I swerved to the side. As I watched the stone fist fly by, I tried to raise a leg up and kick them down, only for my leg to slam in and feel a surge of pain rise from the heel of my foot up to the top of my leg.

“Dammit,” I hissed. Of course that wouldn’t have worked. That would’ve been like kicking a boulder.

Still worth a try.

One of my jacket pockets contained a thick pair of steel gloves. As I fastened them on, the stone figure once again readied their fist my way. In unison, our fists connected and I had to hold on with my other arm as well just to hold my ground. My legs slid back and I had to kneel just to hold my ground. That said, cracks began to form in the boulder-like fist of the figure.

Just a little more...just a little more…

In my periphery, I caught one of the other stone figures stomp their way over to Tigershark who was frantic in her avoidance of them, as the third alternated between trying to hit Demetria and trying to hit Tigershark. With two, there was a greater chance of her being hit. I couldn’t let that happen. But as I started to shift my attention, so did the stone construct as they noticed Ray, caught in the middle.

“He’s hurt enough already!” I grunted as I skidded across the smooth floor and almost fell in the process, but in a cool move from yours truly, I landed just in time to react to two fists slamming down. I raised my arms up and struggled to get up.

“Hun,” he gasped.

“Don’t worry,” I reassured him, “to me this is just another adventure. I can hold these things off. What matters more is everyone else’s safety.”

“Ha,” he scoffed and I could tell there was a smile about to form even without looking his way. “You’re beginning to sound like how I was. There’s no need for that, y’know?”

As I held my ground, he spun around until he was beside the construct and I, then pulled out several needle-tipped threads of razor wire. I noticed them wrap around the stone figure’s fists and he yanked forth, tugged with all of his might until the animated pile of stone had no choice but to yield and even if it was just a few centimeters away from my own fists, it was all the distance I needed to get an opening.

“Now!” He yelled.

“You don’t have to tell me that, silly,” I replied, all coy as I swung my fist right into the ‘head’ of the construct and watched small cracks form.

It’s not enough.

Faster, I jabbed the ‘head’ several more times, using greater force with every pounding of my fist until the cracks deepened and finally the stone head shattered into many misshapen pebbles.

“HA!” I spat into the figure, and I was taken by surprise once I realized that the thing was far from defeated: they swung from the side and on instinct, I held up both arms to block it, but the jab struck me right in the side of my abdomen and I was knocked back and fell right over Ray. We both hit the ground and my landing was somewhat smoothed with me being over him, but even then, I knew I must have been bruised pretty bad.

We both got ourselves back up just in time for the two stone constructs to stomp our way, one on each end. Ray’s back was to mine and we worked to protect the other.

“I thought you weren’t equipped for a fight,” I commented as I huffed between words.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t have anything to work with,” he replied. Our sly grins matched each other’s and it felt good to stand beside each other against an obstacle once more.

Just the other day, I didn’t think we would be able to fight alongside each other at all. He had kept to himself in that diner for the most part. With Aurora’s crew huddled in the diner, the place was even more cramped. Worse, she wasn’t exactly the most well behaved.

“Mutiny! I call mutiny! Avenge me, my crew!” Aurora shouted as her and Ray emerged from the kitchen. She looked enraged and threw a fit. Ray was making shooing motions and looked ever so annoyed.

“We hardly have any food at all and where do I find you? On the floor with a jar of cookies in your hands! How do you think that’s fair to the other occupants?”

As Ray dragged Aurora out into the dining hall, she looked back and stuck her tongue out, then stormed off and sat across from me at the table I was seated at.

“I’m going to have to side with my husband on that one. That was a dumb move,” I commented. Really, I know I could’ve just said hi, but it wasn’t like she said hi to me, either.

“For real, boss,” Allison, one of her crew members leaned over from one of the other booths to add her input. “I want a cookie, too!”

Aurora closed her eyes and slumped over, her lips folded down into a stubborn frown. She reached into one of her (what I assumed to be) many pockets and pulled out a cookie, then held it up with the tip of her fingers. One small, crisp chocolate chip cookie, made courtesy of Tigershark and meant for a small dessert after everyone’s dinner. Oh, if only. Allison took the cookie and munched away.

“Thanks boss!” She chirped while nibbling down on the cookie.

“Hey! I’m hungry too! That’s no fair!” Other denizens of the diner began to raise a ruckus. I knew such a thing would happen, and I was sure Ray knew as well. There just wasn’t a lot of food to go around and portions were getting smaller by the day. Despite such an uproar, Aurora just remained quiet. After a while, it died down.

With how deathly quiet it could get when everyone was hushed, even the slightest noise could return the place to chaos. Case in point was when a strained shriek let loose from the opposite end of the dining hall.

From then, I heard Ray’s defeated groan as he shuffled out from the back with bandages in one hand and hydrogen peroxide in the other.

“Poor Todd. His wounds must have reopened,” I made note.

“Todd?” Aurora asked.

“He’s a newcomer. I’ve tried to make him feel as welcome as possible, reassure him that things would get better and that he was in good hands here. It’s been hard, since he arrived with pretty deep gashes all over his skin.”

“Huh. I’m just surprised you know his name. Didn’t seem like you or Ray cared for stuff like that.”

“I try, just a little. I can’t say I know everyone much, and some haven’t been interested in telling me much. Maybe moral support isn’t much, but I don’t know what else I can offer. It seems like both he and I help out, but only at a distance, and at different intervals. Sometimes I provide medical attention, but mostly I just check up on folks and try to make them as comfortable as possible.”

“So this has affected you as well.”

“Of course,” I smiled, my voice turned warm and airy, “I never claimed I didn’t. Just that I need to have hope that things will get better.”

“That’s all well and good, and it better end, but hope without action will only get us so far,” Aurora argued.

I didn’t know how to state my case, if I even had one, so I changed the subject instead.

“I heard Russell died. It must be hard for you,” I tried to offer condolences.

“Yeah, it sucks, but what can ya do?” Aurora shrugged it off.

“Huh. You’re taking it rather well. I’d have thought you’d be more broken up about it, considering how much you cared for him.”

“Are you kidding? He was the best. Well, right next to Allison, of course. But I can’t afford to be sad. He’s too good for that. It would be disrespectful.”

“So you didn’t grieve? Nothing like that?”

She waved it off once again.

“I don’t really identify with those five stages of grief or shit like that, but I suppose if I had to pick one that resonated with me, it would be anger. None of this – none of this should have happened. Yes, environments out here can be harsh, brutal. People die from the cold all the time. This is different. It’s not natural. So yeah. I’m pissed.”

“So if it was the cause of nature, you wouldn’t be?”

“Hell no. This unknown force we’re dealing with? Or, rather, I should say, this cowardly force. I don’t care if it’s some supernatural bullshit or not, it’s cowardly that this thing kills with blatant disregard and then brings him back just to make him a monster, make us kill him again. It’s torture, I don’t care what you say. It’s not some unknown or uncaring force, it’s got intent, malicious intent. See, I may not have a formal education, but I get nature. It’s not always pretty and it can be dangerous, outright deadly, and I don’t know the inner workings, but it’s there and we live with it. If he was taken by a blizzard, or caught in an avalanche, hell, anything else, I could make peace with it and move on. This, I can’t. Not from him, but from what was done to him.”

“I see. That all makes sense. I’m just worried that even if we find out the cause of all this, we might be too powerless to stop it.”

“I thought you were hopeful.”

“I am, by necessity. Nothing is meant to be permanent. Not the good, not the bad. So I just have to hope that we can see it through and see the good again.”

At last, she opened her eyes and turned to me with a toothy grin.

“So you’re planted firmly in the denial stage,” she remarked.

“I’m not in denial!” I got on the defensive. “I’ve been acknowledging how bad things are this whole time.”

“Ha! It’s not the lack of acknowledgment that makes you in denial, it’s that you think everything will return to normal on its own. That if we all just clap our hands and believe hard enough, then poof, happy days are here again. Go ahead and tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re not…” I hung my head. “What do you propose we do, then?”

“I don’t know…”

We sat in silence for a moment and I kept my ears open, listening in for any possible conversation. There were some here and there, but nothing I could make out, as they all bled into other conversations being had. I had no choice but to throw in the towel. Unsure what else to do, I brought out a deck of tarot cards.

“I’m hoping for a good omen…” I muttered. It was like I was playing poker or something, a sort of spiritual game of poker.

As I shuffled the deck, I was brought to a fright by none other than Astraea herself.

“Hello, Sunny,” she blew forth those two words.

“Hey, kiddo. All done bringing everyone their orders?” I turned to her, still shuffling my deck.

“Yes. For now. Until the next one. Amen.”

“Hey! Look who it is! It’s Astraea!” Aurora chortled in excitement, nudging Allison along the way.

“Hello, human named Aurora,” Astraea greeted Aurora right back.

“Please, I’m begging you, just call me Aurora.”

“Very well, Aurora human,” Astraea closed her eyes and breathed life into her words.

“C’mon! How come Sunny is just Sunny? What about me?” Aurora began to whine.

“Because I wanted to annoy you. Yes.”

Tigershark must have taught Astraea about little tricks like that. I admit, it’s quite amusing.

“Dang, OK. I see how it is,” Aurora crossed her arms and pouted.

“What are you doing?” Astraea turned her attention to me and the shuffling of my cards.

“I’m doing a tarot session for myself,” I explained.

“What is ‘t-arrow’?” Astraea tilted her head.

“It’s sort of like fortune telling,” I tried to explain. “Each card is meant to represent something, and I’m curious as to what the future holds.”

“As am I. How interesting, then, that you can find that out through cards.”

“Ah, ha, I think it’s more complicated than that. It may show you a version of the future, but it’s still up to the reader to interpret its meaning.”

“May I watch?”

I nodded.

The shuffling continued until I felt a little spark, a spot of contentment, like a satisfying drop of water on my tongue. Then, I set the deck down and drew five cards and laid them out on the table. One by one, I flipped them face up.

“Let’s see...three of swords, the hanged man, the star, the hermit, and the world.”

As individual cards, I could tell each one in relation with the past, present, and future. However, I couldn’t say what it all meant when connected. I studied each one and just felt a murky, insatiable feeling. Maybe I could tell what it all meant, what everything was leading to, but at the same time, I refused to give myself the answer.

“Ha,” I laughed, “maybe it’s better not to know the future.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, I could say I have a pretty good idea...but I think it’s best not to tell.”

“I still don’t understand.”

“Let’s just say that right now, we’re in the middle, and the world is at the end. It should be a good thing, but I don’t know if I’m ready to face the world just yet. I’m still looking for that star.”

“I’m the star,” Astraea stated with great confidence.

“You sure are. Makes me wonder what role you play – if you are the middle, what is the hermit that will lead us to the world?”

Astraea shook her head.

“If it was me, every card would be the star.”

“Nothing else?”

“The stars are vast.”

“So past, present, and future?”

“And everything in between.”

I put the cards back into the deck and reshuffled, then put the deck back into the box. You could say that I made peace with the results. There were still other things that I hadn’t made peace with. Like the fact that I couldn’t see anything when I looked outside. No, it wasn’t a pitch darkness, but instead a thick buttermilk gravy-like shade.

“You know, something’s been bugging me,” Aurora brought up.

“Yes? What is it?”

“When this all first started, what did you mean when you said you could hear ‘voices of the dead’?” Aurora sounded like she was in disbelief that I would even say such a thing, but I remembered saying as such.

“Ah, you heard about that?” I chuckled.

“I’m not saying it’s a wrong assessment, but it just seems odd.”

“Now I’m curious as well,” Astraea chimed in. “I’m still new to the fact that humans die, but isn’t it known that a human must be alive to have a voice?”

“Oh, Astraea! I forgot you were still there!” Aurora gasped. She then gasped again when Astraea plopped down on the seat next to Aurora. That time, however, was less a surprised gasp and more of a pained gasp, as Aurora had her legs stretched out across the booth and now they were crushed under the weight of Astraea’s tush.

“Now you may remember,” Astraea spoke as if to comfort Aurora, then turned to me, “go on, Sunny.”

“Well, about the voice thing...not necessarily,” I corrected.

“What do you mean? Like, ghosts?” Aurora asked.

“What are ghosts?” Astraea also asked.

Hmm...I didn’t want to have to go back and forth answering two people’s questions, and the one using Aurora’s legs as her throne was the type to be full of nothing but questions.

“I think I can answer both of your guys’ questions. First, I think what I said back then may have been misleading. It wasn’t the dead that I heard, but rather something that felt devoid of any life.”

“Uh...no shi...i…” Aurora stopped herself from cursing, peering over at Astraea, who was bobbing her head and smiling. “...indig. No shindig. If somethings devoid of life, then it’s dead, isn’t it?”

That’s the best non-swear you could come up with?

“Please don’t interrupt,” I raised my index finger. “Anyway, it felt void of life. Like there was nothing in it. It was a voice, a noise, sure, but there were no words. It was like an imitation of words without a connection to them.”

“I see. I don’t get it at all, but I see,” Aurora replied while nodding. Astraea nodded as well.

“But this is why I’m not in denial, like you said,” I continued, “because nothing lasts and everything is in a constant state of change. Yes, when something ends, something else takes its place. But even that doesn’t have a true end. My childhood is gone, but my parents could remember moments of my childhood. There are places that I’ve been to that I’m not at right now, but I can still picture them through my memories. It’s through our memories that we are able to preserve things that have long since gone.”

“I recently learned what sleep is, but I don’t remember how I came to know it,” Astraea observed.

“But you remember sleeping now, right?”

Astraea nodded.

“And I remember watching others sleep, too.”

“Even if it’s not in our immediate consciousness, we remember things. We remember people, even long after they’re gone. Sometimes memories of a person can be fleeting, but to just remember at all, to just have them in your thoughts, gives them that much more life. In that sense, it could be said that no one really dies, because there’s someone out there to remember them.”

Aurora scowled. Maybe I had hit a touchy subject, given her lost crew members. But then again, it could have been possible that she lost others in the past as well. At last, she opened her mouth.

“Hm. Yeah. That tracks,” she said, all nonchalant.

“There’s a belief that says ghosts are just memories. Little flickers and images of someone who has since left. I suppose I subscribe to that belief as well. See, even if someone never knew them, wasn’t there to remember them, their spirit remembers. Little memories, like routines. That’s why it may appear like they pass through walls or show up in places they shouldn’t. It’s because that specific instance of memory is being played out. Those voices in the fog, they sound...forgotten, or detached from memory.”

“Mm. Living through memories. It would appear that you too are interesting, Sunny,” Astraea commented. By all accounts, I took it as a compliment.

“One possible interpretation of the death card in tarot is a form of change. How one thing ends and another begins. That’s not the only card to instigate change, but it’s the one I want to focus on. I didn’t draw it, but it’s what I’m looking forward to the most: the death of this fog, and for something new to take its place.”

Astraea hopped off and stood back up. Her gaze fixed on me, a focused endless chasm emanated from her pupils. As I stared, it seemed like the chasm grew wider, deeper, and darker.

“But if you remember the fog after it’s gone, wouldn’t you say that it’s lived on in your memories?”

“I…” I was stunned and speechless.

“I’m just wondering: how do you separate the memories that live on and the reality that you want?”

I should have had an answer. I shouldn’t have just let her walk away in wonder, but I too in that moment wondered what the answer was. It seemed so simple, right? Everything affects everything else, and even if the past doesn’t leave, it’s still possible to create new memories from the present and future, right?

It could have been fear. Not a fear of change. Many people had that fear, but that was one of the things I embraced, even sought out at times. But what I had a fear of...oh, I wasn’t even sure. Even if I knew, it would have been best not to say what it was.

Whatever stopped me from answering, I knew that the fog had affected Ray. He was worn down, torn, both on edge and out of energy. Kept him from smiling. Our lives were in upheaval and it seemed like I was the only one smiling. Or smiling for the both of us. But that wasn’t fair, was it? Should I even have been smiling at all?

On the off-chance we succeed and things got better, he would still be affected, and then the question would be: how much would he change at all? Or would there still be that little piece, somewhere in the back of his mind, always jaded and weary?

Still, I couldn’t help but be excited in that moment. The two of us, back to back, fighting those stone figures and us getting beaten up together. I couldn’t have asked for anything more.

As the one on his end readied for a punch, he tossed some more threads at the stone ‘fist’ and once the threads connected, he tugged the large rock right off. On my side, the other figure readied a fist as well.

“Hun, I’ve got an idea,” he proposed.

“OK, but first, here’s an idea: duck!” I shouted and we both ducked down as the animated pile of rocks shot their ‘arm’ forth. We just barely missed being hit. Thank goodness.

“Now, take the rock and get smashing,” he voiced his idea.

From my eyes formed an invisible line which connected to the large rock in front of me. Then, it registered.

“Right!” I snapped my fingers.

I grasped the large rock in both hands, then lifted it up and in a swift series of motions slammed it down against the rock creature on Ray’s side. The other, the one who wanted a piece of me so bad stormed over and Ray swerved out of their way. I too maneuvered around, then thrust the rock down upon their head and slammed it down a few more times in successive motions, each one harder than the last, until the figure before me shattered into pieces.

I huffed. What a workout. It took a moment of catching my breath to realize that there was still one more of those figures and they were targeting both Tigershark and Demetria.

“How are you holding up, you two?” I called over.

“Bad!” Tigershark yelled as she jumped out of the way of the stone creature’s fist.

“All I can do is dodge,” Demetria replied, more collected, though visibly frustrated, “my knives are no good against these things.”

Makes sense. They’d have to be some really sharp knives to have any hope of piercing through such large rock formations.

“Don’t worry about it!” I assured her, “I’ve got something to break them now!”

My attention then turned to Tigershark.

“As for you,” I dug inside my jacket. Not the pocket, but buried between my usual top and the inside of the jacket. It was the last item of use I had on me and it was a wonder it could fit at all. I tossed it over beside Tigershark. “Here’s that makeshift weapon you made, dear!”

They were two thick wooden stakes connected together by several layers of thread. I didn’t know how effective it would be, but Tigershark was strong, and something was better than nothing.

“Ooh! You remembered!” Tigershark looked down and held onto the threads in between.

“Go nuts, kiddo!” I raised my thumb up and grinned. She did the same back to me.

As I got ready to join in, two more of those figures emerged from the walls in front of us.

“God damn it, we just can’t catch a break,” I cursed.

“There’s more?!” Tigershark freaked out, although by now at least she was having fun alternating between jumping around and whacking her foe. “I hope Remora’s doing okay right now!”

“Jeez, you had to bring her up now?” Demetria sounded annoyed.

“Well, these things are tough and I’m worried about her,” Tigershark cried out, agitated.

“She’s probably fine. She’s tough,” Ray tried to reassure her as we prepared to fight more of those stone figures.

“Yeah, but that other her looked scary!” Tigershark cried out further, rather than her worries be allayed.

“Other her...ugh,” Demetria scrunched up her face. “When it comes down to it, she really is the self-sacrificing type.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

Demetria looked back behind us through the low light of the tunnels. She turned back to us and shook her head.

“No. I need to stay here. You guys are more important.”

I couldn’t help but let out a little laugh.

“Go to her,” I sounded like I was giving her permission. Maybe I was.

“But –”

“You said so yourself: your knives are no good against these things.”

“But will you guys be okay?” She looked distressed, conflicted.

“Oh yeah! These things?” I pointed my thumb over. “I’ve faced worse.”

Once again, Demetria looked back, looked at us, then back again.

“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?” She asked, deadpan and dreadful. Yet all the same, she turned back at last. “OK. But if I go, you guys better still be alive when I come back, got that?”

I nodded.

“Got it, dear.”

With that, Demetria ran off, back into the nightmare that was the basement of the diner. Once she was out of view, I looked forward where our enemies greeted us with open fists (well, closed, but seeing as they had no fingers, I had to play fast and loose with my metaphors).

“Now with her gone, it’s just us,” I looked over to Ray as I cracked my knuckles.

“I’m here too!” Tigershark jumped up and jabbed her stone enemy in its ‘head’, causing them to knock down.

“Right! It’s just us three!” I proclaimed. “And the three of us are going to kick butt, aren’t we?”

Really, I couldn’t have asked for more.

[sydkn3e]

Lay Your Weary Head to Rest

“Had a damn good run, didn’t we?”

They’re the first words that either of them have spoken in hours.

Cas shifts in his seat. He reaches down, squeezes Dean’s hand. It’s frail, a little wrinkled, thin skin spread across sharp bone. He swallows; Dean hears his throat click. He looks up at him, furrowing his brow.

“We did,” Cas says finally, meeting his gaze. Those same wide blue eyes, the same look, even after all these years. Like Dean’s the only thing that’s ever mattered.

Dean gives him a smile, dropping his gaze to the bedside table when Cas smiles back. An old photo stares back at him, one that had taken them several tries to get right, with Dean struggling to set the timer and Jack hardly ever looking at the camera. They’d finally gotten one, though, of the four of them, arms slung around each other’s shoulders, smiles on all their faces. Cas and Dean in the middle, Sam to Dean’s right, Jack to Cas’s left. Dean’s gaze hovers over Sam.

“He knows?”

Cas nods.

Dean swallows. “He’s good?”

Cas leans forward in his chair, laying his other hand on top of Dean’s. “He’s happy.”

“Happy.” Dean huffs a laugh, rubbing a hand over his chest. “I’ll be damned.”

“It’s the very least what you both deserve.”

Dean closes his eyes, breathing in deep and letting it out slowly. He thinks of Cas. Of the day they saved him from the Empty. The day Chuck gave him his powers back. The day they said secret vows to each other one night after a rugaru hunt, and Sam’s knowing smile when they’d returned home.

He thinks of Jack. Of the first time he ever drove the Impala. The first time he went on date. He thinks of his inquisitiveness and kindness. He thinks of how the three of them raised a kid seemingly pre-destined for evil to be one of the most empathetic people he’d ever had the pleasure of knowing.

He thinks of Sam. Oh, does he think of Sam. He thinks of the Sam he saved from the nursery all those years ago, the Sam who ditched school and a loving girlfriend to help his family. He thinks of the Sam who saved his life numerous times. The Sam who beat Lucifer. The Sam who saved the world.

Sam died peacefully in his sleep just a few short years ago, with his wife by his side. He was happy. Dean was happy for him.

Dean opens his eyes. Cas looks at him, and he knows. They both do.

“It’s time.”

Cas lets out a shaky breath. “Yes.”

Dean blinks up at him. Cas’s eyes are glassy, his lips slightly parted. He looks the same as he always has, the same as he always will. A picture frozen in time.  

“You gonna be there when I wake up?”

Cas’s face contorts, eyebrows drawn together, eyes downturned in the corners. He tilts his head, leaning in closer, holding Dean’s hand between his own and pressing it to his lips as he speaks.

“Of course.”

Dean smiles and squeezes Cas's hand. He closes his eyes, and finally lets himself sleep.

----

When he opens his eyes again, Dean squints against a bright light. It fades slowly and he blinks, chasing away the black spots in his vision. There's a old door, light streaming underneath, knob old and tarnished. He reaches out it, turns it, and steps inside.

It's Rocky's.

Soft music from the jukebox fills the space, but Dean's focus is drawn to the man sitting at the bar, two chilled beers open in front of him.

Sam turns, laying an arm across the bar. He looks like his old self, devoid of wrinkles and gray hair. He smiles, sliding one of the beers to the stool beside him.

“There you are. We've been waiting.”

Dean's breath hitches and he swallows. Something in his periphery catches his eye and he looks over, seeing his reflection in the mirror behind the bar. His meets a wide- eyed gaze, a smooth face with faint freckles. A face he barely remembers. A face he hasn't seen in forty years.

He slowly reaches up, watching his reflection, and touches his cheek with a hard bob of his Adam’s apple. The skin feels as smooth as it looks, with some peach fuzz to go with it. Dean takes a step back and looks down at himself, almost laughing when he sees his old body. He’s wearing clothes he hasn’t worn in ages, old hunter flannel with jeans and thick boots. Dean feels...young, light, like him again. His hands look strong, not withered and trembling with the effort just to hold a damn cup of coffee. Dean almost wants to unzip himself just to see-

“Dude, do not look at your junk with me here,” came Sammy’s voice again.

Dean snaps his head up, blinks, and grins. It’s a little wobbly, and his eyes are blurry, but he walks up to his little brother slowly and stops just a few feet from him. He looks at him- really looks at him- and swallows past the lump on his throat. So many memories come rushing back his knees almost buckle. His death had been hard, of course, but not surprising. Few hunters got to grow old like they did. Settle down. Have families. Sam passing in his sleep had been a miracle.  

Dean finally slides into the barstool next to Sam and wraps his fingers around the beer. It’s cold and Dean bets it never gets warm.

“So,” he says, voice rough and unsteady, “this is…”

“Heaven,” Sam nods, taking a casual sip of his beer. As if he isn’t sitting in a bar in Heaven, looking 40 years younger, in a bar that doesn’t really exist. Then again, he’s had some time to get used to this.

“You, uh…” Dean licks his lips, running his thumb over the cool glass of the bottle. “You said ‘we’. Who, uh…”

“Everyone,” Sam chuckles softly, setting his beer down with a quiet thunk. “Bobby, Charlie, Kevin, Jo, Ellen, mom...dad.” He shrugs and turns in his seat, bracing an arm over the bar. “But I wanted some time with my brother first.”

Dean clenches his jaw and nods, his throat bobbing. He can’t think of all their faces right now. It’s too much and of course Sam knows that. Knows he wouldn’t have been able to handle all of them at the start, at once. That’s the real reason Sam insisted he go first and Dean is grateful his brother knows him so well.

“How are you...here?” Dean asks, finally looking up, taking in the face he hasn’t seen in years. Decades. “I thought in Heaven everyone stuck to their own little piece of paradise.”

Sam shrugs, rapping his knuckles on the worn wood of the bar. “Let’s just say you have it in with an angel who apparently has a lot of pull around here. Plus, I think Chuck kinda owes us one.”

Dean’s eyes suddenly glance around sharply, searching for that familiar blue tie and trench coat. Cas isn’t there, though, and Dean tries to push away the flutter of panic in his chest. Cas promised he’d be here when Dean “woke”. He’ll be here.

“Sammy, it’s…” Dean huffs and scrubs a hand down his face, then finally pulls Sam into a tight hug. “Damn, it’s good to see you.”

“You too,” Sam says roughly, patting Dean on the back hard. The hug probably lasts longer than it should, but fuck if either of them care.

“How-how you been?” Dean asks, pulling away and finally taking a chug of his beer. It’s perfect.

“Really...really good,” Sam laughs, tucking some hair behind his ear. Dean doesn’t have it in him to poke fun at the length. Yet. “I kinda thought I’d get bored, you know? But...I dunno, man. It’s nice to just...be. Peaceful. Nice to know it’s finally done for us. Whatever happens down there...it’s up to the next generation now.”

Dean nods in understanding. Despite them “retiring”, a hunter never really stops. They slow down, sure, but never stop until their bodies just physically couldn’t keep up anymore. Or something ate them. Either way. Sammy and Eileen had married, moved into a beautiful house, had a kick-ass daughter and a dog. But even through that, Sam had still helped out where he could. Researched cases for other hunters, found cases and hunters to take care of it. Even joined a case every once and a while, but that had been rare.

Dean had taken longer to pass the mantle, so to speak. Habits die hard and all that. Him and Cas took over the bunker, made it a sort of way station and safe house for any hunter- or victim- in need. It was Cas’s insistence that finally made Dean give up active hunting. It had been surprisingly easy once he did. Domesticity had never been something Dean ever thought he could have, but with Cas...well, the angel always made things easier. And it helped that Cas always found interesting ways to keep Dean occupied.

He had always felt a bit anxious, though. Waiting for the next apocalypse, the next big bad to come and fuck everything up. Sam is right. It’s nice to know he’s done now. He can rest, knowing that all those nasty monsters aren’t his problem anymore.

“You think we taught him well enough, then?” Dean asks, spinning the bottle against the wooden bar.

“He's got this,” Sam says reassuringly. “And even if we didn't… Cas is helpin’ him. When he needs it.”

“Cas.”

“Yeah.” Sam looks over at him, tapping a finger against his bottle. “He was with you, there at the end, wasn’t he?”

Dean looks down at his glass and smiles, huffing a laugh. “Yeah. ‘Course he was.” He raises his head and catches Sam’s eye, finding his brother smiling softly at him. Dean coughs once and clears his throat, looking back down as he fingers the Cosmic Cowboy label on his bottle. “He, uh...he said he’d be here.”

“Dean.”

Dean snaps his head up, and there he is.

Cas is standing at the other end of the bar, with a case of Grackle stout in his bare arms. He’s wearing a Rocky’s t-shirt and jeans, his hair tousled and swept to the side in the way Dean had come to love over the years.

Dean slides out of his seat, grinning.

“Cas.”

Cas smiles widely, complete with eye crinkles, and sits the case on the top of the bar. Dean starts over to him and Cas rounds the bar, his arms wrapping around Dean’s waist when Dean throws his arms around him.

“It’s really you,” Dean murmurs into his neck, eyes swimming.

“I told you I’d be here.”

Dean swallows and closes his eyes. He thinks about how he’s never felt more at home, more content, more happy than he does at this very moment, finally getting to live peacefully with his brother and the love of his life. With all the people that ever made his life worth anything.

With the person who made him realize his life was worth something.

“I love you, Dean.”

Dean lets out a gasping sob masked inside a laugh. “Love you too, Cas.”

Dean pulls back and touches a hand to Cas’s cheek, then claps him on the shoulder, squeezing softly. He looks back at Sam and runs a hand down his face, wiping away stray tears. He quirks a smile, tilting his head.

“End of the line, eh, boys?”

“I like to think of it as the beginning,” Cas says sagely, pressing his lips together into a smile when the brothers look at him.

Sam smiles, cheeks dimpling, and shrugs. “Nothing ever really ends, does it?”

Collaboration with my cowriter and soulmate @deanmon69 🖤🖤

[rkxsoojin-blog]

MGA5 MAIN SKILL PERFORMANCE SINGING INTO THE NEW WORLD by 소녀시대 CHI CHI [0:08-2:08] 

 Minkyung’s always been a self-assured sort; it isn’t arrogance, she insists, simply a healthy confidence. It’s not the belief that you’re infallibly wonderful, although Minkyung thinks she could certainly make a case for that argument, she’s pretty fucking cool, but rather an honest internal assessment of your own skill set, and perhaps a bit of emotional detachment. That helps with everything.

 It’s why she’s not in the least bit surprised that she’s made it through.

 Upon hearing the terms of the next performance, she’s actually excited, the flames of competition stoked within her, already reaching something of a fever pitch. God, does she want to win this. She loves winning. 

 She does understand, almost immediately, that there is one logistical problem, though, going forward into this particular challenge; there’s a surplus of vocalists.  She happens to be a vocalist. It’s uniquely tricky, because although she, quite frankly, thinks that it’s the most beneficial of the three relevant skills to have, being the only that has an element of innateness to it, a degree of un-learnability, it’s also the hardest to show off time and time again in ways that are fresh or interesting. 

 She can only imagine the number of ballads people are going to be doing, and it’s all she can do the following evening, to plot and scheme, to try and figure out how she might stand out from the crowd of crooners. 

 She may or may not have an obsession with standing out, and although she’d loved the gimmick she’d done last week, with her little light-up tiara, she thought it’d gone underappreciated, a little lost in the sea of one hundred contestants. 

 This week, she decides to keep it a little simpler, to go with a ballad, although instead of your bog-standard romantic plea, or woeful wail, she decides to do a ballad version of Into The New World by Chi Chi, still the nation’s girl group in her heart. She wants to do a Korean song, having done an English one last week, and chooses Into The New World because its lyrics are hopeful, and uplifting. It’s a song that she feels is quintessentially Korean, somehow. She’s heard drunken aunties belting it out in karaoke rooms, and has read about it being played over loudspeakers at political protests. It really gets around.

 She arranges her piece so that the first minute or so features a slow, steady build of her vocals, the musical accompaniment light, just some sparkling piano and gauzy synths, a string here and there, but then, after that minute, once she hits the chorus, the track goes silent, and she proceeds to belt out the words of the chorus a capella. 

 Minkyung wants to lean into this being a show of the contestants’ main skill, so she wants her voice, her vocals in all their purity, to be the main focus of the performance. It’s somewhat daunting, and potentially risky, because although there’ll be some reverb on her microphone, if she pushes her voice too far and it cracks, if she wavers on a riff, if a note is offkey, it will be entirely obvious; there’ll be no backing track to mask it. 

 She’s certain to practice it, of course, but the truth is, she’s hardly nervous. She can’t see the viewers on the other end of the cameras, only the audience in the studio, which is comparable to shows she’s played before. This performance is still very much her forte, it’s standing and singing, and she’s sure to be smart. 

 She doesn’t like to advertise them, ever, but she knows her limits, and knows what’s too much for her. Sure, stretch them out, work to improve them, but part of being good is knowing how to sell the abilities you’ve already got. 

 The day of, she dresses a little more simply, a cute, a bright red stretch dress that hits her mid-thigh and fits her tightly, over which she’s tossed her signature denim jacket. On her feet, are white sneakers, and although she’s done her hair and make-up nice, she’s not looking to impress anyone with her outfit choice, not today, at least. 

 She wonders if she’ll have another moment trying to find a seat, until Suwoong finds her, wasting no time in dragging her to sit with him and his pals, which she’s grateful for; she thinks he’s pretty cool, perhaps because he reminds her a bit of herself. They chatter a bit as the show begins.

 By chance, Xuxi sits next to her that day too, and they briefly catch up, talking about their animals, who had met months earlier at the dog park. 

 Eventually, it’s her time to step to the stage, and she does so with a sense of grace, bowing low before the judges before she rights herself. 

 Once shes introduced what she’s doing, she takes position, finding the camera with the red light, watching the stagehand counting down in her periphery, and then the music clicks on, a warbled, hazy piano note, the instruments sad in a distinctly sentimental, nostalgic sort of way, and a moment later she begins to sing.

전해 주고 싶어 슬픈 시간이 다 흩어진 후에야 들리지만 눈을 감고 느껴 봐 움직이는 마음 너를 향한 내 눈빛을

특별한 기적을 기다리지 마 눈앞에선 우리의 거친 길은 알 수 없는 미래와 벽 바꾸지 않아 포기할 수 없어

변치 않을 사랑으로 지켜 줘 상처 입은 내 맘까지 시선 속에서 말은 필요 없어 멈춰져 버린 이 시간

 The vocal labour is rather light for the first three little verses, although she does build with each one, gaining a bit of volume and power as they wind forward. Her focus at first is on cadence, and rhythm, these verses a little bouncier than the chorus, and she manages a slow, thoughtful stroll along the edge of the stage as she lets each note slip from her mouth, looking back and forth between the cameras, and the judges, wanting to perform this to them both. As the first part of her performance comes to a close, her ending it with a bit of a high-note on shi-gan, she pushes forward into the first half of the chorus as the twinkling piano notes fade into vague, barely-present strings, her voice lifting up into a strong belt, although not yet at the top of her range.

사랑해 널 이 느낌 이대로 그려 왔던 헤매임의 끝 이 세상 속에서 반복되는 슬픔 이젠 안녕

 She stands still, assuming a triumphant stance that she supposes matches the hopeful, future-orientated tone of the words she’s singing, although it’s mostly to preserve stamina. As the first half of the chorus ends, she steadies herself, sneaking a hearty breath, and launches into the final few lines, her voice lifting to the top end of her range as the musical accompaniment drops out entirely, her voice entirely naked now. 

 Minkyung doesn’t want to strain her voice, or to stretch too hard for the notes, so she’s practiced this part a thousand times, practiced it so that she can hit the notes and still maintain some resonance in her face, to give the notes roundness and warmth.

수많은 알 수 없는 길 속에 희미한 빛을 난 쫓아가 언제까지라도 함께하는 거야 다시 만난 나의 세계

 She drags the last note out, swooping up into it so that it builds, and she holds onto it for a few seconds, until her two minutes is up, and then she turns from the mic to breath, giving another bow before she steps from the stage to find her seat, wondering if that’d been enough not just to stand out, but to prove her skill. 

 Minkyung liked to think it had.

[douxreviews]

Cloak and Dagger - ‘Blue Note’ Review

"Make them ride the highs and lows with us until we all come out the other side, changed."

Dangit show, please don't make me feel bad for Lia. I refuse to feel bad for Lia.

OK, I feel a little bad for Lia.

This is a story about ascension.

They may have mentioned it a time or two. 'Power up.' 'Get to the next level.' 'Run the scale until you get to the top.' You know, the occasional subtle hint.

In which case, it's probably germane to start the discussion with the title. Forgive me in advance if you're a proper student of Jazz as a form. I'm personally not, as you'll see in just a moment. I apologize for the grotesque oversimplification that follows.

A blue note, in jazz, is 'a minor interval where a major is expected. A note played at a slightly different pitch.' The upshot is that after running a musical scale, instead of playing the expected major finish to the scale you play a different note. A 'blue' note. Typically a variant of the expected major off by somewhere between a semitone and a quartertone.

That feels like an accurate and specific description of Andre's ascension into becoming a Loa, almost certainly intentionally. He's ascending and it's going to end up slightly darker and 'off.'  It helps that Andre himself is specifically underlining the metaphor right from the very first scene of the episode. Ninety-six months before the current events, Andre and his band were about to play a show that was intended to make their name in the music world. Andre specifically refers to the LPs of the jazz greats in the bin at the record studio as 'the gods.'  Further, he clearly states that it's his intention to become one of them through playing his performance. Through running the scale up to the blue note, he intends to become one of the gods. You just cannot state a thematic metaphor more directly than that.

Sadly for Andre, that's the night of his first migraine, which brings the show, and his career, crashing down around him. That's right, a good chunk of this week's episode is devoted to Andre's secret origin.

The timing for this background information isn't terrible, although it does feel a little bit like we're turning our wheels waiting for the big final confrontation. Fortunately they get away with it for a few different reasons. The primary one being the performance of Brooklyn McLinn as Andre. Despite the truly terrible things that we've seen Andre do, and the terrible things he continues to do in this episode, it's impossible not to feel for him during the scenes of his attempted suicide. That's not easy to do, as the scenes are solo and completely without dialogue. The only thing that doesn't really work about the flashback sequences, and it's a minor thing, is the way his migraines are timed to onset with his attempt to hit the blue note. There's an unpleasant aspect of 'you flew too close to the sun' about it that seems to almost be blaming Andre for his own migraines, as if they were caused by his own hubris. That struck an unpleasant note for me, no pun intended.

Another aspect of the structure that made the flashbacks not feel like they were just wasting time is that by devoting a little time to telling Andre's backstory they could simultaneously use that time to clear up a few extraneous plot threads before next week's finale. So Tandy and Mayhem track down Lia's body, while Ty goes to resolve that 'gangs want him dead' issue that's still lingering on the periphery.

I have to say, Ty's 'negotiation' techniques with the gang leaders were just wonderful. I honestly thought he'd let the one die when he threw him off the roof. Good on Ty for knowing how to use his powers to the best effect by this point, and for knowing that he can't really do anything about people buying drugs for themselves. So he focused on what he could, and now the gangs of New Orleans know better than to try to sell drugs which will be used in human trafficking. That was a good resolution to that thread. Obviously in a comic book show you can't have your characters magically 'fix' something as genuinely awful as human trafficking without coming across as crass. This was a good way to show Ty making a difference without crossing a line into something distasteful. Well judged.

Meanwhile, Tandy and Mayhem hash out whether extra-judicial murder is ever justified by the expedience of Tandy believing it is, then looking into the soul of someone who seems truly irredeemable and learning to see their humanity. Mayhem was a good foil for that particular character journey, and neither the character nor the journey outstayed its welcome.

Which brings me neatly back to the last reason that the structure of Andre's flashbacks didn't feel like a waste of time. They used our assumptions about how flashbacks work to pull an impressive rug-pull and have Andre of today's plot suddenly dovetail and interact with the Andre of seven-ish years ago's plot. Apparently, Andre of today sensed Lia being given back her hope and reached out into her despair space of seven years ago and stopped Tandy from giving her hope back to her.

Notice that the above paragraph, when written down starkly like that, sounds absolutely 100% bat-sh*t crazy and does not make a lick of logical sense. But in the episode it makes perfect aesthetic sense, and I've never seen a flashback structure used in that way before, which makes me love it. Who needs logic when you have visual poetry.

So, after giving us some backstory and cleaning up some side plots, the episode arrives at the only tangible thing that you can point to and say really 'happened' this week, if you're just looking at it in terms of pure plot progress. Andre has summoned all the girls he's 'infected' with despair to the sight of that fatal jazz performance and played the blue note, successfully 'leveling up' and getting through the locked door in his despair dimension. Cue next week's climactic battle.

It shouldn't all hang together and feel like one complete piece, but it does without question, and it's all down to the expert application of that ascension theme we started this discussion with. If I was going to compare the plot structure to music, I would call it jazz. Really, good jazz.

Bits and Pieces:

-- Very cool combination trick of Tandy throwing the light knife into Ty who teleported to where it needed to be released. Too bad it was just a little too late.

-- Andre's veve lines lighting up looked a lot like he was finding cell reception.

-- Nice little seed early on of showing Melissa Bowen's records in Andre's record store of despair.

-- I actually believed that Tandy was trying to protect Loa from waking up in an ambulance with strange men after what she'd been through. That was a clever ruse.

-- I feel like we were denied a very interesting conversation of Ty finding out that Evita got god-married.

-- Ty teleporting does not interrupt his cell reception or drop any call he happens to be on at the time. That's suspiciously dependable cell service.

-- I suspect that they showed Adina burning the bloody newspapers both as a way for Ty to understand that she'd murdered Connors and to tell the viewers, 'No, we're not faking you out, she totally killed him for real.'

-- Will Brigid get a turn at being in control of her hybrid body after the crisis is over?

-- It was a little awkward having people suddenly vanishing as a plot point what with the snap still being theoretically a thing. I'm not sure where exactly this season of Cloak & Dagger fits in relation to Infinity War, but it definitely made me second guess if that was related to what happened.

-- Tandy's plan of borrowing younger-Lia's hope in the form of sheet music and giving it to older Lia in order to give her hope back was a really elegant plan. On most shows that would have worked.

-- “Luke Cage in Harlem rumble” by Karen Page. That entire scene with Solomon is why representation is so important. Luke Cage is a hero that looks like him and because of that he inspires him to try to be better. That. That's why representation matters. Every kid deserves to see themselves in their heroes.

-- When Ty or Tandy touch someone they go into that person's 'realm' for lack of a better world. When Andre touches someone he pulls them into his. That feels like an important distinction.

Quotes:

Tandy: "Tyrone, if you ask me about my feelings one more time I’m seriously gonna kill you."

Tandy: "Brigid was a better liar." Mayhem: "Yeah, well that’s about all she was better at."

Soloman: "Sometimes you can’t fix things. Some things are just broke."

Ty: "Which one is she?" Tandy: "Both of them."

Tandy: "When all hope is gone, this is what’s left."

Tandy: "You can’t kill her. An hour ago you practically begged me not to hurt her." Mayhem: "An hour ago she had something I wanted."

A solid penultimate episode that got all of the necessary setup in place for what looks like to be an explosive finale.

Three out of four abandoned trumpets

Mikey Heinrich is, among other things, a freelance writer, volunteer firefighter, and roughly 78% water.

[spiderfan22]

COCKSUCKER BLUES by DJS

As promised, here is the play in its entirety. Inspired by the Robert Frank documentary of the same name.

I own nothing.

 1.

Backstage 1972. Someone tunes a guitar. There is a table with food that a couple groupies hang around.

Charlie has his drumsticks.

CHARLIE            There’s a thing I do. Like to do. For when I’m a bit stressed. Calms me down. A method you might call it.

                             What you do is you clench your fists – both your fists – and hold ‘em out in front of you. Like this.

                             If you’d like to try it too, by all means. But both fists out in front of you. You can squeeze as much or as little as you like. Whatever you’re comfortable.

                             Now imagine in one hand you’ve got a flower. Can be any kind you want. I always picture a rose – a white rose specifically. Don’t know why, that’s just what pops into my mind.

                             Now in the other hand imagine there’s a candle. Just your normal candle, lit. And what you’re gonna do is is you’re gonna breathe in the flower. – Breathe in the smell of the flower, a nice deep breath, a nice long inhale. Like so.

He demonstrates.

                             Then you just breathe, breathe out. And blow out the candle. You breathe out blowing out the candle, your imaginary, in the process. Nice long breath out.

                             It’s a breathing exercise. For your heart. To get you back in the right rhythm.

Pause.

                             Girl taught me that. Don’t remember her name.

 2.

Mick is being interviewed by an American Reporter.

REPORTER   Do you have any children?

MICK No. Not as yet.

REPORTER   Does that mean you want children?

MICK What makes you say that?

Chuckles to himself.

           I don’t don’t want children. Just haven’t met the right girl have I?

REPORTER   Imagine you have your pick.

MICK Can.

REPORTER   Are you just not ready to settle down?

MICK You could say that.

REPORTER   Having too much fun?

MICK You could say that too.

REPORTER         How has the tour been so far? Are you finding America much changed since you were last here?

MICK                   No, it’s great. As always. We love the states.

REPORTER         Do you have a favorite region?

MICK                   Region?

REPORTER         A certain area of the country –

MICK                   Down south, yeah.

REPORTER         And what is it about the south?

MICK                   Well that’s where your music comes from, all your best stuff doesn’t it?

REPORTER         You’re talking about the blues.

MICK                   Blues, rock n’ roll.

REPORTER         What about Elvis Presley?

MICK                   What about him?

REPORTER         Well isn’t it sad how he’s deteriorated over the last few years?

MICK                   Has he? I didn’t notice.

REPORTER         Are you still a fan of his?  

MICK                   Course I am. Why wouldn’t I be? I mean just because a guy might have lost a step or two, what is that, why would that change anything?

REPORTER         But would you say he’s been an influence on you? On your songwriting?

MICK                   Sure. Everything I’ve ever heard.

REPORTER         You don’t find that to be a generalizing statement?

MICK                   What

REPORTER         That you were influenced by all music?

MICK                   No.

                             Not if it’s true.

REPORTER         So you like all music.

MICK                   I didn’t say that. Did I say that?

REPORTER         No but you implied –

MICK                   No, you implied. You took it the wrong way. You guys are always taking – people are always using what we said against us. And let me tell you it’s frustrating.

REPORTER         How many more dates on this leg of the tour?

MICK                   Leg? I don’t know. Did someone ask you if you want something to drink?

REPORTER         I’m good, thank you.

MICK                   I don’t drink coffee. Americans love it for some reason.

REPORTER         I suppose they do.

MICK                   I suppose they do.

REPORTER         Getting back to your new album Exile on Main Street –

MICK                   Yeah, why don’t we.

 3.

Hotel swimming pool. The floor opens up and the groupies take off their clothes and dive in.

DIRECTOR    Can we do an underwater shot? Do we have the equipment for that?

CAMERA       We can. We can order it. We can get it in.

DIRECTOR    About how long are we talking for something like that?

CAMERA       I don’t know, end of the week?

DIRECTOR    What about – can we rig something in the meantime?

CAMERA             You’d risk damaging the camera and exposing the film. It’s a specially built plexiglass case we’re talking about –

DIRECTOR          No I understand that, I understand that. I’m just inquiring if we can do it ourselves.

CAMERA             Can I be honest, what’s the rush?

Director doesn’t answer.

DIRECTOR    What about 8mm?

CAMERA       Well yeah, but it’s the same problem.

DIRECTOR          But I’m saying what’s an 8mm camera cost? If it doesn’t work, if the film gets ruined then we don’t really lose anything. I just really wanna get this shot.

CAMERA             And it can’t wait?

DIRECTOR          Do you ever – do you ever get inspired? Dream? Or is that – is everything technical to you? Yes and no? Binary?

CAMERA             You’re being dramatic.

DIRECTOR          No I’m not, I’m just illustrating a point.

CAMERA             And your point -

DIRECTOR          That I’m an artist and you’re clearly not. You’re a technician.

CAMERA             I never claimed I was.

DIRECTOR          Yes but you’re supposed to help me, your job function is to facilitate in my vision. To make it happen. Your job is to say Yes.

CAMERA             My job is about reality. Capturing reality. And there are certain limitations.

DIRECTOR          You will rig me something, you will go back to the truck and you will use whatever materials, you will build me a box that can house a camera so it survives underwater, so it’s ready to go tonight. We get this shot tonight.

They stare at each other for a long time.

CAMERA             I’m gonna need an hour.

DIRECTOR          I’ll find some way to amuse myself. Go.

Cameraman exits.

 4.

The boys arrive. They party by the pool. Someone falls in and has to be rescued. Documentary cameras film it all.

 5.

Mick in a spotlight playing bluesy harmonica solo interspersed with the following lyrics:

MICK Girl wanna know where it is

           She wanna know what it is

           Reach down and

           Reach down and find you something girl

           Find you something girl

           Find find

           Reach down and find it

           Tell me what you find

If you find if you find

If you feel something girl

Tell me if you feel something girl

Because I wanna know

I wanna know

She wanna know

If you feel something girl

If you wanna feel something girl

Hard

Hard

Hard

Hard

 6.

Backstage. Keith on the periphery of some drug activity.

Dialogue overlaps:

Come on in. Come on. Plenty for everybody. You want another? What did you think it would feel like?

Nothing, just different.

Like I was them.

This is your first time? Do you want another?

What’s the primary impulse?

You want another? Have another.

You can’t do too much.

Plenty for everybody.

This was your first time?

Virgin.

Virgin.

Look she liked it. The way you don’t move.

Yeah.

How do you like it? How did you like it?

Different, it was different.

Different to how, how you imagined?

It would be yeah.

Some more?

No. No I’m think, I think I’m good for now.

Don’t pressure her, man.

I’m not I’m just explaining.

If she wants to she wants to.

I’m not. But she’s gonna want some later that’s all I’m saying. So she might as well do it now.

What do I owe you?

The nose knows.

The nose knows, man.

Laughter. This phrase “The nose knows” gets repeated like a mantra or inside joke and cracks everyone up.

Keith comes over and they set up a big line for him. He snorts it. Reels.

           There he is. There he goes.

Cut to black. An amplified voice says:

           WHAT IS THE PRIMARY IMPULSE?

 7. Hotel room.

BEARD          If you had a million dollars you still couldn’t buy enough coke.

GIRL 1           You think?

BEARD          Not to get addicted.

GIRL 1           You can’t get hooked on it?

BEARD          No, I’m saying: you’d have to have more of it than you could even do.

GIRL 1           You wouldn’t have enough money.

BEARD          Precisely.

GIRL 1           To do so much –

BEARD          You’d have to have piles of it, mountains.

GIRL 1           That’s a lot of coke.

BEARD          Which is why I never worry.

GIRL 1           You do a lot. I’ve seen you.

BEARD          I don’t do a lot, I do enough. The expense is only money.

GIRL 1           Yeah but where’s the money come from?

BEARD                See? That’s why it’s good to be on the supply end of things. Problem takes care of itself.

GIRL 1                 Do you think I could get a ride to Phoenix? Are you going on with the tour?

BEARD                Remains to be seen. I’d like to, but I have some prior commitments.

GIRL 1                 Where do you live?

BEARD                Hollywood. West Hollywood.

GIRL 1                 I’m from Torrance.

                             Do you know any movie stars?

BEARD                If they like to party, yeah we’ve probably come in contact.

GIRL 1                 Who’s like the most famous person you’ve “come into contact with”?

BEARD                I don’t – John Wayne?

GIRL 1                 John Wayne does –

BEARD                Nah I just saw him at a movie premiere once. I used to work at the Grauman’s Chinese Theater, as an usher.

GIRL 1                 I never been there.

BEARD                Maybe I could take you sometime, see the footprints.

GIRL 1                 That’d be cool.

BEARD                Would you wanna go? Can I get your number? Do you still live at home?

Girl 1 nods. He gives her drugs. She snorts.

GIRL 1                 But I’m gonna move out soon.

BEARD                Get your own place.

GIRL 1                 I wanna be a actress.

 8. We’re back at the pool.

Mick Taylor pops out of the water. He is interviewed by the side of the pool.

INTERVIEW       Since coming on, have you noticed a change in the band? Has the group dynamic itself changed? How have things shifted? Are you able to assert some kind of authority or style on the band? Is this change for the better or the worse you think? What’s your relationship like with Keith? Is there a healthy competition there? Do you think you ever might supplant him as a creative force? How deep does the rivalry go, and is that healthy? Have you had much input into the songwriting process? Would you like more? Are you content? To what level are you content? Or is discontent a good thing for an artist? How do you find the road? Is it hard being away from your wife and daughter for so long? Can we address the temptations inherent in such a lifestyle? Do you find yourself easily succumbing?

MICK T                Do I find myself what?

INTERVIEW       Easily succumbing. Can we talk about the quote-unquote groupie situation? Do you partake? Can we talk about the drug situation? Do you partake? Or do you consider it as part of your role to be the sober level-headed one, the stabilizing influence in the group, a role model of sorts, as opposed to the more hedonistic exploits of Mick & Keith? Do you feel an obligation to refrain as it were, to help rehabilitate the band’s image? Do you consider yourself to be the quiet one, how George was the quiet one? The quiet brooding one? The mature one? Where do you go from here? Where does the group go from here? What’s left? When you’re playing the biggest venues in the world, selling them out night after night, well, eventually you have to come down don’t you? Eventually there must be a fall? Or price to pay for such success? How many years do you think the band has left? How many good years? Or is it running out of steam as we speak? Are you immune to all this fame? Is the money really that good? I heard you were all in debt, I heard the tax situation was rather grim. Or was that only the original members? Can you comment on this? Can you comment on that? Can you see through it? Can you be objective to the fact that nothing lasts forever? Have you set aside any money for retirement? Can rock stars like yourselves age gracefully or is it all for not in the end? Exactly how old are you?

Mick T doesn’t say anything. Instead he spits water in the interviewer’s face. Playfully.

 9. Outside stadium. A local TV news crew talks to fans waiting to get inside.

TV                         Can you rate your level of excitement to see the Rolling Stones tonight on a scale of 1 to 10?

Ad-lib excited responses, “we love the Stones” “I’ve seen them however many times”

                             Was anyone at Altamont?

More ad-lib responses, “it was crazy” “I was right there, I saw them kill that guy” etc.

FANATIC            There’s like no security. Anybody could get in and just do anything. That’s what they don’t think about.

TV                         Were you at Altamont?

FANATIC            No but I wish I had been.

HYPE MAN  cutting in          Hey man! Hey! Hey, the guy you should be talking to is my friend over here boy!

TV                         Your friend? Who –?

HYPE MAN         He’s selling tickets man, he’ll hook you up. Front row, whatever you want. Ask him.

TV                         Is that right? Are you a scalper?

SCALPER            No

HYPE MAN         Oh he’s lying! We been out here all afternoon, made about two thousand so far. Tell him, man.

He doesn’t want to get in trouble with the police.

TV                         And how are you connected with –?

HYPE MAN         See what I do is, my job I go around the parking lot, round the crowd and see who needs what. Then I direct them to my man here for the exchange.

TV                         Uh-huh. Two thousand dollars. That must be quite the mark-up.

SCALPER            I really don’t want to be on TV.

 10. Hotel suite. Bianca Jagger is being fitted for a dress.

Mick stands around with his bathrobe open giving everyone a good view of his cock.

There is a strange pause before the scene begins like they are waiting for the director to call “Action”.

BIANCA        So where were we? Where’d we leave off?

MICK Something about a book I think?

BIANCA        Like there wasn’t anything more relevant to talk about.

MICK                  What do you want eh? This is supposed to be the domestic – the happy newlyweds and all that.

Bianca side-eyes the audience.

BIANCA              Years later in an interview someone will ask me when did I know my marriage was over. To which I’ll respond, tartly: “On my wedding day, love.”

           Isn’t that so terribly witty?

DRESSER      Hold still please, Miss Jagger.

She looks at the dresser. Seems to regard him.

BIANCA              Fag.

DRESSER            Excuse me?

BIANCA              No I’m just confirming. You’re a fag, right? You sleep with men?

DRESSER     Oh, well, some men, dearie. I have to admit to being a bit choosy.

BIANCA              What about my husband? Forget he’s a rock star, forget he’s famous, and rich. Do you fancy him? I mean in the abstract.

Mick tries to hide his interest in the answer to this question.

DRESSER            Well, I don’t know. He’d do in a pinch I guess. But there’s not much to him is there? All skin and bones. I really prefer a more traditionally masculine, you know the macho type. And he’s sort of flouncy isn’t he?

                             I can see his cock.

BIANCA              Because he wants you to. Because he’s proud of it.

DRESSER            Circumcised.

BIANCA              Yes. He’s the first man I was ever with who had that done to him.

DRESSER            Well surely it wasn’t his choice, he didn’t have a say in the matter.

BIANCA              Are they not reversible?

DRESSER    stifling a laugh   Came as a shock did it?

BIANCA              Oh it came all right. Only too quick. Bit of a recurring problem there.

They laugh. They laugh at Mick, who ties his robe closed and sulks.

DRESSER            So you’re saying you married him for his money.

BIANCA              Yes, I’m afraid.

DRESSER            Well there are worse things, more pathetic.

BIANCA              There are? Like what?

DRESSER            Well, you could have married for love. Sheer love! What lunacy! And that would have been really tragic.

BIANCA              Yes I suppose it’s smart of me to not have made that mistake.

                             But what if one person marries for money and the other for love? What then?

DRESSER            Oh, you’re doomed regardless, dearie, we all are. Love is a long-since abandoned thing, at least in its pure form. We’ve stripped it back, mined it, you know? People just use it for a tool now. A blunt instrument to inflict pain on each other. Which let’s be honest can be a bit of fun, provided you’re not on the receiving end.

Bianca is suddenly sad. Mick has left the room.

                             Are you. Are those tears? Are you crying, dear? Don’t tell me I’ve upset you.

She shakes her head violently “no, no, no” and tries to pull away from him.

DRESSER      My god I have. Ohhh.

He holds her for comfort.

           Ohhh. I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.

He doesn’t let her go.

           But it’s the truth.

 Images. We are shown short bursts of activity, like vignettes, just long enough to get the point across:

11. A naked woman walks down a hotel corridor, stumbling every couple steps.

12. Int. car. Some of the boys, Mick and Charlie, Bianca, along with a bodyguard.. Everyone is having a good time passing a joint back and forth. Another car passes on the highway. The rest of the band – Keith, Mick T and Bill Wyman shout from the windows.

13. Hotel bathroom. The same naked woman in front a mirror. Her chest and stomach are covered in a sticky white substance – which she proceeds to rub into her skin.

14. Close up of a tight pair of leather pants with a big bulge. Hand comes into frame and rubs the budge, making it harder.

15. Extreme close on the woman’s finger as she brings a dollop of the white sticky substance to her lips and licks it with her tongue.

LATE NIGHT VOICE          The icing on the cake, ladies and gentlemen!

Sound of canned audience laughter continues over:

16. Keith and Charlie dislodge a hotel TV from its stand and throw it off a balcony. We see this two times; once from the guys’ perspective, the second time from the parking lot below. Just as the TV is about to land on us, crushing us –

Cut to black.

 17. Pool hall.

In a stunning feat of theatrical showmanship, a pool (billiards) table rises from out of the water of the hotel swimming pool. The floor closes back around it. The band is here hanging out, drinking, smoking. Charlie takes on an old Black Man.

BLACK MAN            So you play the drums huh?

Charlie just smiles as he lines up a shot.

Heard you were pretty good. Keep a good beat. That’s the main thing. Nothing too showy. But reliable. The backbone.

Charlie nods. Makes the shot. Lines up another.

Like to play pool too huh? You do that back home? Thas England right? They got pool halls back there? Where’d you learn? Got a nice touch, real delicate. Only the pros know that. Now I’m thinking you might be sneaky, taking me for a ride. But I fell for it – so who am I to complain?

Charlie misses his next shot.

           My turn I guess.

Mick and Keith have cornered an Old Blues Man they know, trying to convince him to join them onstage tonight.

MICK One song.

BLUES MAN I don’t know. You young guys…I might not be able to keep up.

MICK Just come out. Any song you want, we mean it.

KEITH            Grew up listening to your stuff.

MICK There’ll be GIRL 1s.

BLUES MAN   big laugh       What do you want me to have a heart attack?

Mick and Keith double-over laughing.

 18. Backstage before a show. Impromptu jam session. Acoustic guitars. Charlie drums on a coffee table. This is the only time we will see the whole band play together.

 19. A moment of violence. Everyone runs away as: the floor suddenly opens up causing the pool table to crash into the water. The water isn’t deep enough for it to sink completely.

Silence. Then everyone pretends like nothing happened and goes back to what they were doing.

We watch the boys get ready for the show.

They dress.

They tell jokes.

They do drugs.

They drink.

They meet-and-greet VIPs, celebrities – Andy Warhol, Dick Cavett, Truman Capote.

Eventually it’s time to go out there, and we watch them do that too – one by one leaving the room.

The year is 1972.

We’re somewhere in America.

And these were The Rolling Stones.

 21. Camera films the marquee outside a venue. Pans down to the sidewalk where a long line of fans waits to get in.

Light shift/jump cut –

We find a girl on the street. 19 years old. She doesn’t look well.

CAMERA       50 dollars?

GIRL 2                 Sure. I’m a poor orphan. My parents hate my guts, so I have nothing else to live for except the group that’ll make me happy. I’m a very sad lonesome person…you know? It’s a terrible thing, they took my child away from me because I was on acid. What’s wrong with…what’s wrong with a mother that’s on acid and like, loves her child?? Then the state comes along and takes my kid away ‘cause…because I take acid. She was born on acid! It blows my mind, I don’t know what to say.

CAMERA       But the concert makes you happy?

GIRL 2                 Yeah. It’s the only thing I want to see. I’ll… man, I’ll go kill myself if I don’t get in there. Go jump off a bridge, I don’t care. My life’s already half-wrecked.

Lights slowly fade on Girl 2 as she turns and walks away.

The projector goes out. The film is over. Roll credits over “Mother’s Little Helper”.

End of play.

[recentanimenews]

THE GREAT CRUNCHYROLL NARUTO REWATCH Crashes the Chunin Exams in Episodes 64-70!

Come and come all to THE GREAT CRUNCHYROLL NARUTO REWATCH! I'm Nicole Mejias, and I'll be your host this week as we make our way through all 220 episodes of the original Naruto. Last week, we covered episodes 57-63, and we continue this week with episodes 64-70.

So the Chunin exam finally comes to a close in an explosive way, as Sasuke and Gaara face off! This was quite the rollercoaster batch of episodes, with the debut of Sasuke's Chidori attack, the hints about Sasuke's true abilities to power up, Gaara's real strength, and then... the exam ends with the attack of Sand on Leaf. It seems like Orochimaru felt Gaara going out of control was the perfect time to hatch his plan, and now everything is in chaos. As we finish up for this batch, we start getting some truly confusing resurrection powers utilized to give us 2 on 1 Hokage fighting action! Seems like things are only going to heat up after this week's batch!

Alright, let's get the ball rolling and on to what the Crunchyroll Features team thought of this week's episodes!

This week's episode sees the Chunin exam come to a somewhat unsatisfying ending as the true plan of the Sand Village unfolds. I remember my first time around that I wanted to see the exam actually complete, but how do you all feel about this sudden interruption?

Joseph: I didn’t mind it at all, it made the story less predictable and kept the pace up rather than transitioning into your usual post-tournament downtime. I really enjoyed the tournament but I can’t say I care who would have won.

Carolyn: I have to agree, I thought it was nice to see a bigger world/threat/issue than just the controlled, one-on-one fights.

Danni: I love a good tournament arc, so it’s a bit of a shame this one only lasted a few matches. That being said, the new developments are pretty cool. I’m looking forward to where it goes from here if a war does indeed break out.

Kevin: It makes for a bit more dramatic turn, since on first viewing it seems like we’re about to go into another short tournament to finish the arc, but then a war starts. In terms of personal feelings, I could go either way. I appreciate the story not following the exact beats that the audience expects, but I also like tournaments, so wanted to see how the fights progressed.

David: Stopping powerlevel defining tournaments early isn’t exactly new—looking at you, Saint Seiya—but in this case the seeds for the attack have been sown as early as the forest arc, so it’s hard to complain. If anything it would be disappointing if nothing had come of that.

Paul: I welcome the swerve. Sure, in part it feels like Kishimoto got bored with the whole tournament fighting arc, but I love the idea that there's a huge, precarious world out there filled with fragile alliances and ninja skullduggery of which the main characters, in their youthful innocence, are only experiencing a tiny taste.

Kara: I don’t think I’d call this ending unsatisfying, really. I mean, everyone got slapped in the face before the Round 3 preliminaries with the fact that the exams are largely politically motivated, and we’ve known the Sand Village was up to something the whole time. I feel like finishing everything out by the book and handing out Chunin diplomas or whatever would be more disappointing after all that setup.

Noelle: Tournament arcs are such a staple that they almost feel expected for the genre—so anything that tosses it up is something that I’d welcome. 1v1 fights are fun, but after a while, I think I’d lose the patience to sit through the whole thing.

Jared: I think this was fine the tournament during the opening round. It’s certainly something that doesn’t blindside you as it’s abundantly clear something’s going to happen, but it’s a neat way to play with your expectations.

Sasuke is back the spotlight this week during his face off against Gaara, and wow, it’s definitely quite the impressive fight! What are your thoughts on Sasuke vs Gaara after all the build up for Gaara and Naruto?

Joseph: I love how unhinged Gaara is, especially after we learned more about him during his backstory last week. It’s kind of dull that Gaara essentially turtles on defense the entire time, but I like the moment where it hints once again at his monstrous transformation. Even though I said I didn’t need to see the tournament fully play out, I would have liked to have seen where this fight went if it were allowed to continue.

Carolyn: I just felt so bad for Rock Lee the whole time. Those were his moves! But Gaara freaking out and losing his mind over a little blood is part of why I liked him so much on first watch. He’s almost uncomfortably weird.

Danni: I dunno, I thought it was pretty underwhelming. It seemed more like a teaser for an approaching REAL battle between them than anything.

Kevin: Sasuke versus Gaara is one of the fights that I remember most from when I watched the show as a kid. Sasuke pulling out new techniques, showing how much more powerful he’s become, all of it stuck in my head. Watching it again… it’s not as good as I thought. They renamed Raikiri to Chidori for no real reason, and Sasuke managed to reach Lee levels of Taijutsu in a month (and also offscreen), when Lee himself is supposed to be a genius at martial arts, and it took him years to get that far.

Nate: They actually get into this—the Raikiri (Lightning Blade) is Kakashi's version of the original technique, Chidori (Thousand Birds).

David: As others mentioned, this is the first real example of classic shonen action powercreep; Gai and Kakashi point out in no uncertain terms that Sasuke has matched Rock Lee’s physical prowess within a month, and Rock himself even admits this. There’s also only one good bit of animation before the whole thing goes wrong. Overall it’s important but kind of disappointing even if you’re a Sasuke fan.

Paul: I don't currently have any opinions on Sasuke vs. Gaara, since that fight it still on-going, but I do wonder where exactly the story is going with that bit about Gaara momentarily transforming into the Tetsuo-blob from the end of Akira.

Kara: This was my semi-regular reminder that Gaara is a walking horror movie. Gotta agree with Carolyn, I feel sorry for Rock Lee watching Sasuke out there using his moves. Nothing against ludicrous power-ups. Just Sasuke taking a level in awesome, while awesome, feels kind of sour when viewed through the lens of Lee’s story. I’m starting to understand why Naruto is so cranky about Sasuke in his periphery constantly.

Noelle: Sasuke was always going to get his power-up, that was inevitable, but it feels kind of… eh. Probably because we didn’t really see Sasuke work to get these power-ups much, so it doesn’t really feel earned that he’d suddenly become more powerful, especially enough to copy Lee. Sure, Sasuke’s the co-protagonist of the series, but it doesn’t feel as much of a thrilling fight from his end. Gaara is now full-blown horror and I love it.

Jared: It was kind of weird since they build this up to be Sasuke being the returning hero to vanquish Gaara, but since he’s been out of the picture since his fightin the prelims, the real build had been more Naruto/Gaara. Probably doesn’t help that there’s no real conclusion here. Sasuke certainly gets his moments of showing he’s truly back and more formidable than ever and Gaara looks even more unhinged, but it certainly didn’t have the same feel that a Naruto/Gaara match would have had.

This is the first time we see the Chidori in action, showing off how much Sasuke really does seem to be ahead of Naruto in terms of skill. How’d you all feel seeing this signature attack for the first time?

Joseph: They do a good job of making it clear how powerful Sasuke has come in such a short period of time. I dig that they made it seem as if he spent the whole time mastering genjutsu before busting out his awesome new move.

Carolyn: Agreed. It gives some justification for his almost rockstar status amongst his classmates. But also goes to show that hard work and determination are key factors.

Danni: It was cool seeing a physical manifestation of chakra just obliterating anything near it, but it still bums me out that Naruto doesn’t get to be the protagonist of his own show.

Kevin: Sasuke running down the wall, ball of lightning in hand, is one of the most iconic moments in anime for me. It stuck in my imagination for years after seeing it for the first time. My only issue with it is that Guy and Kakashi try to explain away the name change, and it doesn’t really make sense why the technique has two names.

Paul: Having never watched Naruto before, and having only ever absorbed bits and pieces of it through cultural osmosis over the years, I'm ashamed to admit that when I kept hearing people say “Chidori”, I assumed that it was the name of a kunoichi. I think the technique is cooler when Kakashi uses it, personally.

Kara: Despite my aforementioned feeling for Lee, I gotta admit the Chidori looked pretty rad. And yeah, I kind of thought Chidori was a person and not a move, but I’m looking forward to seeing it used later.

Noelle: There’s no questioning it, Chidori looks awesome!

Jared: It makes sense he would inherit a devastating attack like that, plus it’s a cool looking attack to boot.

This segment of the show really gets to let Shikamaru shine a bit, with him fighting Temari and also fighting the faceless Sound Ninja. Shikamaru was always a favorite of mine, and I know some of you like him too, so how do you feel after seeing him get some serious action?

Joseph: I love Shikamaru’s attitude, and I appreciate how differently his fight ends up playing out compared to the rest of the tournament. With that in mind, his real highlight is episode 70 in the classic trope of staying behind to give your teammates a chance to escape. The resolution of that scene is fantastic.  

Carolyn: I love him! He’s basically a genius mastermind who hates that he’s so capable and it’s great. I agree that his stepping up in the actual battle is where he really shines this time around. My favorite bit would actually have to be his very, very detailed plans for how he expects the rest of his life/future to turn out. The boy has brains and strategy, to say the least.

Danni: He has such a bad attitude, and I love it. It was great finally seeing him thinking five steps ahead of everyone else around him. I hope he eventually figures out some kind of finisher for when he has someone trapped in shadow paralysis.

Kevin: Seeing Shikamaru actually fight is a bit odd. I love seeing him in action, but he is most at home as a tactician. In his first fight, he gave up because he was running low on chakra, and in the second fight he needed his teacher to save him because he ran out of chakra. He is a brilliant strategist, but don’t force him to actually fight people himself.

David: Honestly, I don’t think the show does a great job of convincing me of Shikamaru’s character. We don’t know a whole lot about him before this, which is fine, but then he ‘defeats’ Temari mostly because she forgets a tunnel can also have a shadow in it. Then later Sakura is impressed when he stays behind to stall the enemies because he has never been “this reliable of a character before” as she puts it, but most of what we’ve seen from him has been a subverting of that so far, which doesn’t work when I wasn’t convinced of the original concept in the first place. So overall I’m less impressed than I remember being before.

Paul: I like the cerebral aspects to Shikamaru's fighting style, but I could do without the low-grade sexism of him complaining about how he keeps getting matched up against girls. The women in this universe are clearly as dangerous as the men, and a shuriken will kill you just as dead regardless of the gender of the person who throws it. Get over yourself, Cloud Boy.

Kara: It’s funny because Shikamaru annoyed me so much early on for being Captain Haaa Mendokusaaaai. Not that that’s not a mood. I do appreciate that the show played me (and Shikamaru’s classmates) for a fool with that, though. It never occurred to me that he might consider things boring because he’s already five steps ahead of everyone else. As much as I appreciate his tactics, I do kind of hope he gets his ass handed to him by a kunoichi before long.

Noelle: I really think that Shikamaru’s real time to shine comes later, but here we get a fairly good idea what he’s about. He’s smart, his fighting style is unconventional and that makes him rely more on tactics as opposed to brute strength. That being said, even though he’s up against Temari who is more along the lines of overpowering her opponents, this fight isn’t that bad.

Jared: I was kind of surprised just how much they put him over in these episodes. He certainly has a different style and attitude which is a refreshing change from everyone being rather serious about what they do. Although if he really wants to commit to the tranquilo lifestyle, he needs to be more cool and collected than just bored.

I remember my first time around not really understanding the resurrection jutsu in this show, and I won’t spoil things but it comes up again later. If it’s so easy to bring people back from the dead, why don’t people do it more often? Both the First and Second Hokage seem totally fine until Orochimaru controls them. What are your thoughts on this life and death power that we see here for the first time?

Joseph: I don’t recall how it’s used later in the series, but regardless of what it hints at this is just a cool way to heighten Orochimaru’s showdown against the Third Hokage and make him seem even nastier as a villain.

Carolyn: I don’t remember a lot in advance either, it’s been so long since I last watched the show. That’s why this is so much fun!

Danni: I...don’t really get it. I expected them to be zombies, but they seem totally unaffected. How are they supposed to be a threat when they’re friends with the guy they were summoned to defeat?

Kevin: I’m pretty sure that it’s not used more often because it’s a Forbidden Jutsu, like the Mass Shadow Clone jutsu, it’s just probably forbidden due to ethical issues. Seeing Resurrection for the first time, it doesn’t have as much impact as I would’ve expected. If Orochimaru brought back Zabuza, the audience would have a much stronger personal connection and we could measure a previous antagonist’s power against the Third Hokage’s. Instead, he summoned the First and Second Hokage, who are definitely better choices for Resurrection targets, but there are two problems. First, the audience has no idea who they are initially, so we aren’t as invested in the fight. Second, how did Orochimaru get their bodies? Shouldn’t they be under the tightest security the village can muster?

David: It’s currently confusing and weird and as far as I remember it only gets more confusing and weird.

Paul: I'm still of the opinion that Summoning style Ninjutsu techniques (and by extension, Resurrection techniques) don't actually summon a real, individual person or animal. Instead, I think they involve Chakra taking physical form, and that the resulting manifestation is shaped by the will of the summoner. I don't think that's literally Zombie Hokage 1 and Zombie Hokage 2 we see in Episode 70, but rather it's the idea of these Hokage colored and called into being by Orochimaru's memories, biases, and desires.

Kara: I have so many questions about the resurrection jutsu, mainly regarding the summoned people’s loyalties and the entire ethics of it. Granted, ethics in the world of Naruto are pretty screwy already. But the can of worms the show has opened up just by saying this can be done is big and squirmy and terrible. I hope they go into it more.

Noelle: Not going to lie, still kind of iffy on the Resurrection thing. Half zombies, half mind control, I suppose? I do think that revival is by no means easy, but Orochimaru lives for breaking out taboo jutsu anyway.

Jared: Gonna agree with some of the others and say it’s kind of confusing what’s actually happening. My thoughts were that they were able to come back but couldn’t disobey orders from Orochimaru? Whether it’s actually them or not, I’m not sure and I’d assume this isn’t done more often is because it’s a high level technique or forbidden.

And as always, what were the high and low points of this week’s batch of episodes?

Joseph: Low point: gosh, I actually really liked this section of episodes through and through. I guess, while I didn’t mind the tournament itself ending, the low point was cutting the fight between Gaara and Sasuke short. The high point was Pakkun and his SOFT AND SUPPLE PAWS.

Carolyn: High point is definitely Shikamaru taking charge and running through his already planned out future in his head. I don’t think I had a definite low point this week, but I laughed a lot at Sasuke’s James Bond-like introduction of himself at the exam. Does that count?

Danni: Can’t really think of any standout low points. I think the high point for me was finally getting to see the Third Hokage in action.

Kevin: High - Shikamaru’s thinking stance. Seeing him just take a moment to clear his mind, think of a plan, then start acting actually impacted my so much as a kid that it is seriously something I still do. Clasp my hands together in some kind of fake hand sign to focus my thinking to break out of my current mentality. Low - As simple as the moment is, my lowest point was when Kabuto knocked out Kiba. Sure, Kiba’s out, but Akamaru should still be conscious and making a ton of noise that would alert at least the crowd, meaning that Kabuto wouldn’t be able to cast the genjutsu that starts the war.

David: High point despite everything is Sasuke just bodying Gaara. Extremely satisfying and smooth to watch. Low point is Rock realizing how underpowered he is in the face of Sasuke, not necessarily because of the power level issues there, but just because no one is there to comfort him for it all.

Paul: Although I bagged on him earlier, my high point was Shikamaru pretending to be put to sleep by the hypnosis Genjutsu in order to avoid getting dragged into the bigger conflict, because he's just that much of a lazy ass at heart. My low point was probably the English translations for some of the episode titles. “Hit it or Quit it” and “Late to the Show, but Ready to Go” in particular rub me the wrong way, bruh.

Kara: High point is the existence of Pakkun. I love this good boy and his squishy paw pads. Low point is, again, having to watch Rock Lee watch Sasuke. Which is less a “the show did bad” low point like previous weeks, and more an “I feel sad about this” low point.

Noelle: High point, Sasuke vs Gaara, especially with Gaara freaking out over finally bleeding again. Low point, Rock Lee feeling bad because Sasuke powercreeped him, give Lee a break.

Jared: I really liked the Third Hokage taking off his hat to reveal an even cooler hat. Low point was my boy Rock Lee getting real sad about being overtaken by Sasuke.

How about a little bonus question? Since the Chunin exam ends and is more or less never referenced again, who do you think would have won had it gone to an actual conclusion?

Joseph: Knowing this show, probably Sasuke. Then they’d do the whole thing again later Dragon Ball style so Naruto could win.

Carolyn: It seems almost impossible, from a writing standpoint, that Gaara could win, though he’s so powerful that seems to be the logical choice. It’s too soon for Naruto to take it. So, I think Sasuke is the only real option, here.

Danni: No one. The proctor would try to stop Gaara from killing Sasuke, leading Gaara to kill everyone there rendering the entire exam null.

Kevin: I can’t imagine Shino defeating Temari, since she can blow any flying insects away and can fly to get away from any remaining ground insects, so she would advance to the finals. I could see Sasuke versus Gaara going either way (provided he don’t allow stuff Garaa reveals in the next set or two of episodes), but Naruto wouldn’t be a match for either of them, so whoever won that fight would advance. If Temari fought Gaara, she’d probably forfeit before the match even started. If she fought Sasuke, he could probably overwhelm her with speed alone. So unless shounen tropes intervened in the tournament to give Naruto a way to the finals, I suspect that either Sasuke or Gaara would win, depending on who won in the first round.

David: If Gaara’s powers had been allowed to completely come out—in other words, the tournament not interrupted—then Gaara would have completely obliterated Sasuke. Squashed him. He would be dust. Gaara would not only win but Sasuke would be dead.

Paul: Definitely Sasuke. Not only is he a prodigy, he's also got that whole legacy thing going for him as the last-remaining (non-evil) scion of the Uchiha clan. Whether he actually deserves to win it is another matter...

Kara: If things actually went as power levels and fighting styles seem to dictate they would, Gaara, nearly to the death. Considering how Naruto goes, Sasuke with one last-ditch, low-powered jutsu he learned in the first season.

Noelle: At this point in time, it would probably be either Sasuke or Gaara. Provided that Gaara doesn’t go berserk of course, Gaara would probably outmatch Sasuke. If Sasuke activates the power of plot armor, he’d likely make it to the top. Sorry, Naruto.

Jared: Probably the winner of Sasuke/Gaara, although with how everyone was incredibly drained after their first matches, I wonder if by the finals it’d just become a stamina battle and technique wouldn’t be as much of a factor.

COUNTERS: "I'm gonna be Hokage!" count: 23 Bowls of ramen consumed: 29 bowls, 3 cups Shadow Clones created: 258

And that's everything for this week! Remember that you're always welcome to join us for this rewatch, especially if you haven't watched the original Naruto! Watch Naruto today!

Here's our upcoming schedule:

- Next week, on MARCH 29th, DANIEL DOCKERY returns as the Third Hokage springs into action in EPISODES 71-77! - Then, on APRIL 5TH, CAYLA COATS stops by just in time to introduce us to a mysterious new shinobi in EPISODES 78-84! - And on APRIL 12th, NOELLE OGAWA elaborates further in the antics of the mysterious shinobi in EPISODES 85-91!

Thank you for joining us for the Great Crunchyroll Naruto Rewatch! Have a great weekend, and we'll see you all next time!

Have any thoughts on our thoughts on Episodes 64-70? Let us know in the comments! Don't forget, we're also accepting questions and comments for next week, so don't be shy and feel free to ask away!

----

Nicole is a features and a social video script writer for Crunchyroll. Known for punching dudes in Yakuza games on her Twitch channel while professing her love for Majima. She also has a blog, Figuratively Speaking. Follow her on Twitter: @ellyberries

  Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features!

By: news+feed@crunchyroll.com

[divinedinosaurs]

Example Writing!

Hi!  These are some of the fanfictions I did long ago!  

For quick reference, there’ll be snippets from fanfiction/original work beneath the cut!

SETTING

The soft lavender of early morning is breaking to the gentle silvered blue of sunrise.  Brilliant golden sun rays peek over the lip of the ridge surrounding them, shattered by the crooked black spine of glossy rocks sheltering the agricultural utopia.  They shaft through the air with a magnificence only found now, when no one stirs but beasts.  The light halos the lupen, casting their backs with glowing gold.  A breeze stirs through the vibrant yellow grasses that gave this region, the Golden Hills, its name.  The sunlight glitters off of the metallic blades of grass as it churns magnificent patterns, the contrasting colors of the valley’s shadow and the sun’s brilliance.  

Humming deep in his throat, he closes his eyes and lifts his face to the sun.  Its magnificent rays bathe his face in warmth, and a gentle breeze plays with his hair.  He breathes in and smells the fresh earth and sweet grasses.  The world feels new.  

This is the perfect time.  

For now, in this short time of early morning as the sun crests over the black stone and the world itself only begins to stir, it is quiet.  Other than the gentle murmur of the wind through grass, other than the quiet breathing of the lupen as they sniff at the dark earth, the world slumbers.  The whole world is consumed by a deep and peaceful silence.  

He will miss this quiet.  

But when day breaks so does the silence.  The whispering gives way to a mundane din of men at work in fields and the bellows of heavy-footed bolven.  People shout and cry out at one another; their raucous laughter echoes like warnings.  Amon has learned to flinch at the holler of his name, ordering him to get his ass here – it’s always too loud, too angry, too hard on the tongue.  Nothing like this quiet.  

BANTER

"Oh, boo, reports," Hasdiel says, sitting on the edge of the rickety desk Michael is lounging by, crumpling papers as he does. "That's all you ever do is look at papers." 

The human looks like Hasdiel's taken a shit on Michael's desk. He grins even wider. 

"Your boldness is excused," Michael says coolly, distractedly, still not looking up from the papers in his hand. His noble brow is furrowed almost imperceptibly - his golden eyes placid as always, but dangerous, like the calm sea before a storm. 

"Oh, put away your papers, old vulture, I've found something much more interesting," Hasdiel says, kicking at Michael's knee like a petulant child. Grinning, he produces his prize. "The humans call it a harmonica." 

Excitedly, Hasdiel blows into it. It makes a whining screech so horrible it feels like his ears are bleeding. 

"That's truly awful, Hasdiel." 

Hasdiel grins, dropping his hands to his lap. "I knew you'd love it." 

Michael chuckles, rolling and deep, like someone had chucked Hasdiel's beloved harmonica down a very, very deep well. There's a lack of his usual detached coolness, replaced instead by a distant warmth, like sun rays on a cool spring morning. 

Delighted, Hasdiel gives the harmonica a few more curious blows - each shriek more discordant than the last. Michael, chuckling, sets down his papers. 

"Leave us," he says to the human, who quickly scurries out. Hasdiel winks at her as she walks by and lets loose another scream from the harmonica. 

"You can't be playing that right," Michael says. 

"Oh, I'm definitely not." Hasdiel puncuates it with another scream of his harmonica. "But how adorably human. To make an instrument capable of such melodies" - Hasdiel blows, stringing a few pleasant notes together - "and such horrors." 

He takes a deep breath and makes the worst squeal yet. Michael laughs, tipping his head elegantly back, and those sun rays get a little bit stronger.

FLUFF

“Can’t imagine why not.”  Jean grins.  “You’re cute when you’re excited.  Your eyes light up – it’s really adorable.”

Marco smiles.  The tip of the straw twirls between his fingers coyly.

“Y’know, I almost wish this was a real date,” he says, propping his chin up on a hand.  “I can at least promise to text you if I’m late to dinners.”

“Appealing offer.”  Jean grins.  “Yet another reason you’re so much better than that asshole.  See, if this were a date, I’d treat you to something nicer than a shabby diner.”  His empty glass sits accusingly in front of him.  “…Though the milkshakes are fantastic.”

“They are,” Marco agrees enthusiastically.  “But if this was a real date, I’d suggest sharing one.  Much more romantic.”

The realization that Jean would very much like a real date with Marco smacks him upside the head.  He feels his cheeks heating like a schoolboy.  A nervous knot ties in his stomach.  Chuckling awkwardly, Jean wraps his hands around the milkshake glass and stares at his emptied plate.

“I, uh.  I – um.  Maybe… we could… next time?”

Goddamn.  That was – awkward as fuck.  Marco might just leave him now.

But it doesn’t seem like that.  In his periphery, Marco’s eyebrows shoot up, and his lips part small, excited O.

“Y’know… for an actual date?” Jean elaborates, feeling foolish.  His cheeks are actually on fire, he’s sure of it.  “If… that’s something you’d like?  Maybe somewhere nicer if you’d…?”

“Jean.”  A warm hand closes around his fingers, chilled from the cold glass.  “I would absolutely love to have a real date with you.”

MORE SETTING

Eren’s always loved the lively sprawl of a good traders’ den.  

Never, ever has he found a boring one, but some are just absolutely incredible. The thriving of a noisy, crowded, crime-riddled mess of markets and stalls that all seem to have one massive heartbeat, all the whores and beggars and merchants and thieves and mercenaries dancing to one colorful rhythm – that is what he loves.  

There’s always something happening in a good traders’ den.  Usually, there’s many things happening.  Blink-and-you’ll-miss-it things happening with one main stage for a select few events like the most exciting theater play.  

Dreki Kló is no disappointment.  Eren can’t help grinning from ear to ear as a running woman with a dagger in hand accidentally collides with a man beside him so hard they both crash into the waves.  Bubbles froth upwards, a few limbs breach the surface.  Only the woman emerges again, but she seems to have lost her dagger.  

The air smells of piss and sweat and ale.  Eren breathes in deeply and grins all the more broadly.  

ANGST

I kiss his forehead tenderly and let my body fall heavily back against the mattress again.  Jean, carrying on with his massage, waits patiently for me to find my words.  His ginger touch makes me feel safer, a physical anchor to him and the world around me.

Everything happened a long time ago, of course.  But trauma is a wound.  And like any wound, it infects if it is closed hastily with thick thread and blunt needles without washing the dirt from the sore.  One who does not care to cleanse, to receive help and accept the healing – one who sews it shut impatiently to have it over with, who ignores the severity of their injury – is doomed to have it reopened again and again.  The horrible memories can fester worse than any wound, like a plague of the mind, and I know it better than any.

That said, my wound wasn’t cleaned properly.  I had the stitches torn open time and time again, none of it by my own accord, and I always was left in a daze of pain worse than the last.  It feels – odd, to say the least, to be the one prying these memories from their tightly sealed case in the back of my mind.

[...]

There are things I do not tell him.  I do not tell him how it wailed, how it swam towards me in vain hope of rescue.  I do not tell him how it reared its head from the water while the thunder crashed and drowned out its cries.  I do not tell him of the lightning that formed silver sickles in its pale yellow eyes when it met my gaze and bleated for salvation, and how the salt clogged my throat when I screamed its name, how my numb legs pumped fruitlessly in the pitch black sea.  I do not mention the horrible, sticky warmth of the water as I drew nearer, and how a red tinge clung to my clothes for weeks afterwards.  I do not tell him that the warmth of its spilled blood was the only reason I didn’t freeze and die there beside it in the cold, dark sea. 

It is not that I don’t trust him with the gruesome details – Jean would understand the horror of it all better than any, I think.  But it is also… raw.

Dirt in the wound.  Dirt that must be cleaned.  But not now. 

TENDERNESS

The straps beneath my stump are difficult for me to reach – they’re smaller and slender.  After a few fumbled attempts of pulling them through the buckles, Jean clucks his tongue and moves closer.  He brushes my fingers away.  

“I’ve got this,” he reassures, glancing quickly up at my face.  I hesitate, but my hand falls back complacently by my side, a silent declaration of trust I’m not quite sure he understands.  

“I can do it myself, you know,” I murmur.

“I know.”  His fingers pause for half a second, resting against my breast.  “I want to.”

He glances at me so quickly only the swift flash of gold from his lovely eyes can betray him.  A light pink colors his cheeks.  Ducking his head, he busies himself in adjusting my armor.  

There is a gentleness in his movements that takes me aback.  Perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised that nimble fingers work so delicately to fasten it all into place.  But that isn’t merely it – he seems tentative, careful, as if with a wrong touch I may fall to pieces like a delicate spring bloom.  So different than the callus touch of Berk.  It’s strange, but in its strangeness is intrigue.  

Jean tugs down on the leather.  Satisfied with its snug fit, he turns attention to straightening out every last detail.  Straightening the strap across my chest, shifting the pauldron, growing so close I can smell his hair to straighten its collar.  

He smells of pine.  I know not how he could, on an island with no evergreen, but it’s nice.  A kick of nostalgia hits me hard in the gut at the memories of Berk’s lush forests.  

Jean’s ministrations draws my attention back.  His hands linger across my abdomen, flattening the scales of my armor slowly.  The gentle pressure feels ever so heavenly.  I lean slightly into his touch.  

SUSPENSE

The one-armed Chief faces the Boneknapper, his expression stone.  His bear cloak ripples in the wind as regally as any king’s velvet.  Braced in one strong hand, a slender broadsword gleams wickedly.  Its flash of silver is the only thing keeping the dragon at bay.  

The Boneknapper snarls.  A shiver runs down its back, rattling its bones together threateningly.  Its long, wickedly sharp talons sink into the oozing mud with every cautious step, leaving long-fingered prints in its wake.  

The pair size one another up and circle each other slowly.  Clattering bones and snarls, careful steps and silence.  Neither seems willing to make the first move.  It is the tense calm before a storm, the moment a doe looks into the hungry eyes of a wolf before she flees, the still second before the poisoned arrow is released.  If either one strikes, there is a mutually assured potential for this fight to end in defeat.  

It is an unsteady calm.  

And then, suddenly, it’s broken.