#and it doesn’t work AT all I gotta write a different dialogue. toss the baby and the bath water.

[candycryptids]

🤧 man. I’m gonna figure out the right order of words and punctuations for this thing I’m still working on writing and then it’ll be over. For. Probably me. LMAO.

[fbfh]

dear baby; strawberry milkshakes - leo x reader parents au

words: 1.8k

summary: You and Leo are getting used to adulting together, when Chiron asks for your help. Next thing you know, there’s a little demigod for you two to take care of - and you’re not going to let her down.

warnings: almost boning but getting interrupted, shit is said twice, one use of fucking I think, mentions of orphanages and the foster care system, mentions of CPS, being at a CPS building, adopting a child, leo has trauma, leo and reader take in a child when you’re both 19, technically teen parents but not really, the kid has some trauma too, everyone has trauma but literally what’s new

au: sort of college + parents au

song recs: raining in new york mix - the bootleg boy (tw for some sort of sad dialogue samples), falling in love with love - bernadette peters in cinderella (1997)

a/n:  I saw a kids book called Sophia Valdez Future Prez and I know nothing about it but immediately knew I had to do a parents au where you and Leo have a daughter named sophia???????? also I accidentally gave myself baby fever whoopsie

also I was barely able to proof read this and had no brain while writing half of it so if the beginning feels rushed at all that’s why teehee

Straddling his lap, you start to take off Leo’s shirt. He tilts his head to the side as you nip at the skin gently. He moans softly, then tenses. 

"Shit!" He hisses, sitting up and pulling your shorts back up. You look at him bewildered, and he nods his head to the side, and you see a shimmery cloud that says that you have an incoming iris message from Chiron.  

"Oh shit," you echo, moving to a reasonable distance away from him, a thick throw blanket tossed gracefully across your legs and pulled up to cover your chest, and you're grateful your shirt hadn't been thrown across the room already. 

He pulls his shirt down and you toss him a throw pillow to cover his very obvious excitement. You give each other a ready as we'll ever be look and accept the call. 

"Hey Chiron… what's up?" Leo asks nonchalantly. 

"You must pardon my intrusion, dear children, I hope I'm not - er - interrupting anything.” “No, no, not at all,” you answer, hoping what you had been doing wasn’t too obvious in spite of how both of you are looking particularly flushed and deschevled, “we were just watching a movie.” 

Leo nods in agreement, and you list two different movies at the exact same time, the dark knight rises and moonstruck.

A beat passes, and you continue, “Double feature. Just finished Batman and we’re about to start Moonstruck.” 

Leo agrees. You can’t tell if Chiron is buying it, but he seems to move on relatively quickly. 

“Right. I’m afraid I must ask for your help with a rather time sensitive situation.” your brows furrow in unicen as he continues. 

He tells you about a young demigod a satyr found, not even four years old yet, but they haven’t been able to get her to camp. Apparently there were some complications, and CPS was called, now they’re looking for her parents to see if she’s going to a foster home or orphanage. If they can’t get to her before the CPS finishes processing her, she’ll be lost in the system. He’s asking older demigods and demigod families in New York, since processing time will go the fastest if the family or guardians are in-state. 

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but please consider taking her in, at least temporarily.” You and Leo share a look, hearts already hurting that life has gotten to this kid so soon. 

“I’ll give you some time to discuss this, please call me back as soon as you have an answer.” 

You agree, and the shimmery image of Chiron dissipates.

“... Oh my god,” you breathe. 

You turn to each other again, the same thing mirrored in each other's eyes. An immediate, unspoken conformation that there’s no way you can’t help this kid out passes between you. You know Leo, especially, will do whatever needs to be done to keep another orphaned demigod out of the foster system. The scope of the impact you could have on this kid’s life starts to dawn on you, and you lock eyes with Leo again, his face set in determination. 

“Estrella,” he starts, and you know what he’s going to say. 

“I know,” you confirm in agreement.

His leg is bouncing, and you lean over, grabbing a notepad and pen from the coffee table. Your mind is already racing, and you begin scribbling down a list of everything you’d need to do; get her a bed and clothes, research where she is in her developmental stages, put together a meal plan or at least some foods she’ll like - what do toddlers even eat? He starts pacing around the coffee table. 

“We gotta help this kid, we-” he cuts himself off, overwhelmed with determination. 

“We will.” you confirm, equally determined. You grab your laptop and start copying your list digitally so you can get everything organized. You stare at your reflection in the black screen while you wait for your computer to boot up. Once again, the reality of your situation hits you.

“We’re 19…” you state, in disbelief. Your mind is racing with doubts. What if you somehow make everything worse, what if you can’t handle it? He crouches next to you, placing his hand on your cheek.

“And we have a lot of love to give.” The smile in your eyes tells him that you know he’s right. You transcribe your writing, surprised that you’re okay with how fast this is all moving, and you let out another breathy laugh of disbelief. 

You go through your hastily made checklist, switching between tabs about child psychology, parenting advice, and kid’s furniture and clothes websites, strategizing with Leo on how you can pull this off, and a plan gradually comes together.

“I mean, this is a two bedroom,” he says as you look through pages of bed frames and mattresses, “we can clear out our studio and turn it into her room.” 

“And…” you add, checking yet another tab, “there’s a building nearby that rents out studio spaces and workshop areas. Ooh, and free parking.” you read on the website. It’s already late, but you send them an email anyway. Hopefully they’ll get back to you tomorrow. But for now… 

“We can get a bed tonight, but we’d have to hurry. We can probably get some pjs and maybe a stuffed animal while we’re there- toothbrush!” You exclaim, adding it to your list, “I knew I was forgetting something…”

 Leo stops pacing, and looks at you. “So… we’re doing this?” You can’t fight the smile on your face, and he already has his answer. 

“We’d better call Chiron back,” you say, excitedly bubbling out. You both enter the bathroom, and iris message chiron with mist from the shower. He answers almost immediately.

“We thought it over and…” you trail off, letting him finish.

“We want to help.” 

After changing into some presentable clothes and swinging by the store for a car seat and some other essentials (you almost forgot tooth paste this time), you’re driving with Leo to meet Chiron at the CPS office where they had Sophia - the girl Chiron told you about. You call the Ikea store not too far from your apartment, thankful you’re able to reach them before they close. You arrange to have them deliver a toddler bed to the spare bedroom in your apartment, your neighbor agreeing to let them in. Luckily, you had the presence of mind to get most of your and Leo’s stuff out of there, the corner of the living room now holding your desk and his drafting table. 

You’re still a little blurry on the details of how you’re going to get custody of this kid when you’re barely legal and have no ties to her or her family, but Chiron said he could work everything out. You assume the Mist will come in very handy. You and Leo discuss this on the way over. 

You can tell he’s worried. Knowing the horrors he went through in the foster system would be bad enough without all the demigod bullshit on top of everything. You take another deep breath. 

“This is what’s best for her,” he says matter of factly, “she needs to be with people who understand her.” You agree, and he continues, very fired up.

“She needs to be in an environment where she’s not going to be ignored and ostracized; she needs to be part of a family, not a fucking meal ticket.” 

You squeeze his leg supportively, and he takes another breath. 

“You’re right. And she’s going to get all of that.” He scoffs in agreement.

“There’s not a better place for someone like her than-”

“With someone like her.” you finish. He pulls into the parking lot and you enter, meeting Chiron in the building. Your hand holds Leo’s tightly, unsure of who’s shaking more. Chiron explains that he already had a discussion (wink wink) with the social worker, and knows that he has the perfect couple to take little Sophia in, and all you have to do is meet with her and sign some papers. 

So that brings you here, waiting outside the office door, holding each other’s trembling hands before finally entering. She doesn’t look up at you at first, until the social worker introduces you. Leo squeezes your hand, and she finally looks up, her eyes speaking a language you and Leo know. You know there is absolutely no going back from here, and you both sit down across from her. 

“Hi, you’re Sophia, right?” She looks away, clearly and understandably overwhelmed. 

“Don’t be rude, Sophia-” the social worker starts, but you cut her off. 

 “It’s okay, she didn’t do anything wrong.” you turn back to her, “You know, me and Leo have an extra bedroom at our apartment, and a kitten that I think would really like you. Do you want to come stay with us?” 

She doesn’t look back up right away, but she turns her head towards you. 

“Is it a boy or a girl?” she asks softly. How is she so precious already?

“A girl,” you reply, “named Jackhammer, because she purrs so loud.” 

She giggles, and you and Leo squeeze each other’s hands in unison.

“Really?” she asks. 

“Oh yeah,” you reply, “I’m sure she’d love to play catch the mouse with you.” She considers for a moment, then looks over at the social worker, who gives her an encouraging nod. After a moment of consideration, she replies quietly, “...Okay.” 

She hops down from her chair, and you both follow suit. The social worker hands you some papers, and you both sign. You guide her to the lobby, let Chiron know it went well and promise to update him soon, and bring her to the car. You pull out of the parking lot. 

Not long after leaving, you see a fast food place. 

“Are you guys hungry?” you ask, nudging Leo gently. 

“Yeah, I could definitely go for some fries. How bout you Sophia?” 

She nods, then asks quietly, “Can I get a milkshake?” 

Her expression is hesitant, and you get the sense she’s expecting a no. 

“Of course kiddo,” you say.

“What flavor do you want?” Leo finishes, turning to look at her. Her eyes are bright with hesitant excitement. 

“Strawberry, please.” 

After leaving the drive through, you have Leo search through your phone for any kid friendly music, and discover the only thing you have saved that’s appropriate for present company is the soundtrack to the Cinderella musical from 1997.

That’s how your little family started; driving late at night, singing along to Bernadette Peters, and drinking strawberry milkshakes.

[kariachi]

And we’re going to try for another two episodes today, which’ll be the last season 4 ones I have access to in a language I know for a while. So after today we’ll probably be getting breaks of at least a week between liveblogs. But that’s something to worry about then, this is now, and we’re going for What Rhymes With Omnitrix.

There’s poetry in this episode, I love poetry. Ya know before I settled deep into fic I used to mostly do poetry? Anymore I only rarely do, but back in like the sixth, seventh grade? Poetry all over the place. Then I realized I could induce emotion better through narrative prose and dialogue and a true ficcer was born.

Anyway, is another Kevin episode of course, and Charm but who gives two shits about Charm, so let’s get into it! My son and poetry!

~~

They’re just dropping us right in with Charm, who has poetry very blatantly about Gwen and how she hates her. In public. Can’t fault the kid for confidence or dedication.

This girl and Kevin both need therapy, preferably in different cities because last time she and Kev were in the same space he looked this close to killing her and while that would be entertaining to watch, kinda hard to go to therapy when a pissed off tween is carving your bones into parts for his latest piece of tech. Because if anybody would tap into the necromantic arts purely as a fuck you to someone he’d already killed, it’s reboot!Kevin.

‘Ode to Hating Gwen So Much #16′ Charm, kiddo, you need therapy and a hobby. Have you considered felting? Maybe videogames? A couple hours of Terraria would do you good.

Polite people at the (presumably) Amateur Poetry Night.

Oh look, a Kevin. Of course any book you carry around is gonna be black, you aesthetic mess.

Also can I pause a moment here in appreciation for every bathroom we’ve seen so far I think appearing to be unisex? Very nice.

“Conning” and here is where I heave a sigh and my bloodpressure goes up a bit, because what she did to Kevin was not conning in any way, that was clearly and blatantly magical enslavement complete with chains, torture, and mindcontrol. You can’t just downplay that shit like this and expect me to go along with it, not when the sequel series already tended to pull that, especially with regards to Charmcaster doing that sorta shit. You do not get to blatantly show Kevin being forced to do things against his will, being tortured for fighting back, and then try to pass it off as him having been tricked into working with her. What the fuck is with this franchise with having Charm do horribly evil shit and then just waving it off?

At least Kevin still clearly hates her.

Charm trying to play like she’s actually gotten more powerful since they last saw each other and is not, ya know, powerless in front of somebody she literally tortured and who is bigger than her even without his shapechanging watch. At least she’s reacting appropriating even if Kevin isn’t. Laying it on kinda thick though for someone who just ruined her makeup with tears not three minutes ago.

Are these children both trying to outbluff each other? Oh that works. I can totally work with a Kevin who’s kinda scared of Charm after what she did, alongside a Charm that’s definitely scared of Kevin now that she’s powerless and has hurt him so bad. That is something I can enjoy. Not that Kevin does it particularly well, but he’s young yet and anyway he doesn’t need to bluff well to avoid trouble here, he just needs to fall for Charm’s bluff.

And lo, the classic ‘we bumped into each other and dropped our books, then each grabbed the wrong book when we walked away’ trope. Always a good one. I hope they realize they have the wrong books fast though, given they look nothing alike.

Definitely a unisex bathroom, nice.

Charm’s uncle gave her a magic amulet. I’ve seen people theorize this is referring to Hex, but I don’t think that makes sense given what we know of either of them so far so I’m not giving the reboot back those points.

Of course Slam Poetry Night attracts a Rath. Of course. I wondered how they were going to get Ben into this.

Max really needs to stop using slang from any decade. It’s just painful.

Gwen sees Kevin take the stage and just, “oh no”.

So, this is definitely where Kev realizes he has Charm’s book, he’d have to, it’s full of somebody else’s poetry.

Also can I just say 1) I am proud of my baby for going into poetry, it is very good for working through your emotions (am proud of Charm for that too, but, ya know, my son vs Charm) and 2) I am not surprised to see him being into poetry given the sheer number of books we see him owning in other series. Like, at least 65, which doesn’t seem like a lot until you remember he’s probably only been acquiring them over the past few years, if not just over the course of the sequels, and that he’d have to be putting aside time specifically to read them given how much shit he’s shown doing regularly. Basically- my boy is literary and it’s wonderful.

And he has realized this ain’t his book.

Ben no heckling! There are rules and manners to the world you know! Gwen smack him.

And upon being heckled Kevin just tosses the book and decides to freestyle it ‘I came out here to have a good time but bitch if you wanna go I’ll go’ style.

He’s not bad. Especially when you consider he’s, so small. As nix would put it ‘this is a fetus’.

Ben, not happy with getting called out.

Ooo, complete with dropping the mike and walking away, point to Kevin! That is Kevin 1:Ben 0 so far this episode.

Ben just the living embodiment of that Pikachu meme after that.

Climbing on stage to try to win a point for himself in this battle of the wordsmithing. Godspeed, Tennyson.

Rath is being Rath and Kevin is just, not impressed. He knows he’s won, he knows Ben is rising to the bait and can’t do shit.

Kevin glancing out into the crowd like ‘am I the only one seeing him being this... wtf? tell me I’m not, we’re all seeing this right?’

Kevin trying to point out to Rath that he is not rapping, not even close, wtf Tennyson. The best part being, I’m fairly sure he’s offended on behalf of all rap at Rath’s complete failure to even be in the same ballpark.

And Ben times out, thank fuck, maybe we can make some progress here before Kevin kicks his ass just to defend the honor of a whole artistic medium.

Also I’m already counting the above as point 2 to Kev.

He hasn’t even started and I’m in pain.

Not eight words in and already Kevin is even less impressed and I’m in even more pain. Just gonna channel Ben trying to rap when I head into urgent care, that should be enough pain to chill me out.

Not even a verse in and Gwen and Max are this close to skipping town and just, abandoning Ben here. “Tennyson? No, no, we’re the Smith family, never seen that kid before, think he might be delusional.”

Point Kevin. He didn’t even have to do anything for this one, just not be Ben.

So that’s Kevin 3:Ben 0, so far this episode.

“Even your grandpa wants you off the stage.” Which is true, but gets Kevin dive-tackled offstage anyway.

Hello Charm, back again I see.

And now it is your turn to realize you have the wrong book?

Oh gods Kevin put effort into making his alien names cooler than Ben’s. And the early ideas were shit. But it worked in the end, so hey. At least we can assume his band-related naming scheme is deliberate in-character. Good on him, too, for writing everything down, it’s good for reference and can help get thoughts straight. (part of why it’s good for dealing with emotional shit)

Don’t you side-eye the camera, child, you mean to tell me you just jumped straight to Charmcaster without any stupid name ideas along the way?

“You started it!”“No you started it!” Okay boys, take you shoving match elsewhere and also Ben, Kev’s right, you are the one who started it with your heckling.

Charmcaster is just, not for Gwen existing in the same area as her. Gwen, meanwhile, is just surprised to see her.

Charm I don’t know what you’re looking for in there, it’s a tween engineer’s private journal, it’s not gonna have anything you can use against Gwen. Against Kevin, probably, against Gwen, not likely.

Charmcaster you cannot get up anyone’s ass about emo poetry when you recited ‘Ode To Hating Gwen So Much #16′ on stage. Pot, kettle, black.

It’s a poetry powered amulet. Either that or Kevin’s poetry counts as spellwork. I wonder if there’s something specific you have to do to make a poem count as a spell or if it’s just whatever works as long as it’s a magic user reading it aloud? Because Charm clearly ain’t meaning to cast this as a spell, at least at first, and yet. That seems kind of worrying though, if that’s the case. I mean what happens if a warlock tries to read his kid some Shel Silverstein at bedtime?

What happens if a sorcerer recites It’s Raining Pigs And Noodles?

I don’t know whether I’m more concerned to continue listening or for how Kevin’ll react if he notices Charm is reading his poetry aloud. I mean this is sounding like a personal one (and speaking as a former 11yo poet with Issues, I know what that sounds like) and gods if somebody I didn’t like was reading one of mine aloud I don’t know if I’d have broken down or killed them where they stood.

Gods I’m gonna have to rewatch this episode when it ends up on CN’s site so I can get a proper transcript of this, their captioning works right.

Welp. I knew emo poetry was powerful but this takes the cake.

Charm that is not your shit! Go find your book again! Or are you worried your shit isn’t as strong as his? I mean I’m getting more and more convinced this isn’t something he’d have been reading aloud.

Oh gods it does only go for real poetry! She tries to throw in some stuff built for spellcrafting and the amulet nopes right out! ‘Sorry, kiddo, there’s gotta be emotion involved or it’s just not happening’.

Hopefully that answers the Pigs And Noodles question

I’m kinda hoping Charm’s mini reign of terror is ended by a beet red Kevin divetackling her from offscreen and wrenching his journal from her. Bonus points if he gets her upside the head with it.

Gotta love when youtube decides to while you’re trying to pause on a scene.

Meanwhile, the boys have worn themselves out with their fighting and arguing.

Kevin, panicking because Charmcaster has his notebook and is also reading it aloud. As is the only proper response to such things.

Ben- out to stop Charmcaster because she a dangerous badguy Kevin- out to stop Charmcaster because she is reading his poetry aloud AAAAA

Charmcaster pls, stop being an ass for seven seconds

Child you cannot just recruit emo boys to write you sad poetry! Especially not after you just read their poetry aloud without their okay, it’s just not right! Besides, that’s not the look of someone who wants anything other than for you to close the book and forget you ever saw anything that was in there.

Charm: Work with me Kevin: Fuck you and the horse you rode in on

“You two are weak” Chamrcaster you only have power right now because you’re taking it from his poetry. I’m pretty sure that puts him above you on the scale by default.

Kevin, joining Team Tennyson purely to get back his notebook. Again, perfectly valid.

TL;DR: Kevin accidentally wrote a spellbook

I’m still wondering what it is that makes his poems work but not Charm’s actual spells? Is it the emotion behind them? In UAF magic was made of life force, in theory putting enough emotion into your writing could maybe imbue the words with magic? Is the solution to this puzzle that Kevin was feeling so strongly when he wrote this shit that they became magic on their own? Or does the amulet just search for true emotion in words and make it so? How is this all working?

If these boys could stop fighting each other for like 13 seconds we might actually get something done.

Charmcaster sealed Gwen’s voice with poetry. Welp.

Welp, the old ‘everything’s an enemy’ illusion trope. Not an illusion this time, but same deal.

Kevin: *easily sees through the spell because Charmcaster!Humongasaur keeps growing his damn tail* “You’d have to be a complete nincompoop not to see through this, right Tennyson?” Ben: *falls right for the spell*

Damnit Ben, Kevin thought you were better than that.

“I can’t not hit the dweeb now.” These children.

Charmcaster leave the innocent bystanders alone!

It takes Ben hearing himself get called Dweebyson to realize he’s fighting Kevin. Kevin knew the deal from the word go. Have I mentioned which one is my son?

Kevin makes Ben embarrass himself to prove he’s him, even though he already knows. Turns to him for a plan.

Kevin as Darkmatter: Finds Ben not timed in, fiddles with Omnitrix to bring it back up to charge, throws him at Charmcaster

“Stop her before she finishes that poem!” Well I’m concerned now

“I’ll show them all what I can do, I’m much more than a leech, their bodies paralyzed by words, their hearts grow heavy from my speech” Yes yes this was a very powerful verse magically I’ll unpause for the results in a second, do you see that second line? That second line there. Do I have to kill somebody? I have to kill somebody don’t I...

Huh, that verse increased gravity on the target(s).

Charm trying to recruit Kevin again, and he’s still turning her down because fuck her and everyone who looks like her. He looks so small in this frame. Very soft faced, he’s got two years younger from the stress of all this.

Oh and she’s pulling out WIPs to blackmail him into complying. I’m going to guess it’s less emo and more Gwen-focused, because I’ve seen media before in my life and know how that shit works. Would prefer more Kevin inner working stuff, but whatcha gonna do. If it is a love poem it’d knock down the rating though.

Also, when you’re so pissed the animators have to give you sharp teeth to emphasize it.

Okay, Kevin’s doodles are cute.

Also why do you have a note in your notebook denoting the secret shit Kevin? Do you have siblings or something? Who is going through your stuff, or that you’re worried might go through your stuff? Or are you just paranoid? It could be the last one.

Okay, so I’m paused on the poem in question and aww, Kevin’s ‘h’s go directly into his vowels. Yes I am commenting on his handwriting let me live. It’s an emotional poem and I’m working out things to say...

Kevin trying to claw his way forward to shut Charm up, it’s not working but he’s trying

Welp

Kevin, wearing a hoodie this episode purely so that during this scene he could drag it over his head to hide his embarrassment at having a poem about caring about Gwen read aloud.

I’m still deducting a point from the episode.

The good news is, the poem restored Gwen’s speech, which, I don’t know what Charm expected to happen there. Of course the semi-positive poem would have a positive effect, come on girl, do you know nothing of magic?

Okay, so, they’re gonna defuse Charm by using her own magic to silence her, via Kevin playing along and writing her a poem that’ll do just that. His improve abilities shall save the day, and what’s left of his pride.

Charm fuck off

Charm, digging your own grave, pls

And Kevin drops the hood when he sees Charm falling hook line and sinker, so proud of himself

Oh that was brilliant darling! “My spells undone, I’m speechless at my own defeat”, two lines and he not only stopped her but undid all the damage she caused! My son! My brilliant, poetic son!

Kevin, so smug

Gwen calling Charm’s ass out on treating people like toys when she of all people should know what that feel like

And not Charm’s amulet responds to her rhymes. Guess it does have to be tied to a proper emotion, rather than just being willy-nilly

Kevin is just happy to get his notebook back.

And Gwen compliments his work which, of course, leads to complete avoidance tactics. I don’t know what you expected Gwen, that last poem was all about him not knowing how to talk to you or even really having a solid hold on how he feels.

And we end with Kevin walking away as Ben disappoints everyone with more horrible rapping.

10/11, the Kevin stuff made up for the Charmcaster bullshit, but we still lose a point for Gwevin as is the rule. I continue to eye Kevin’s backstory with suspicion and suspense.

[oscopelabs]

Lie To Me: The Multiple Personalities of Tom Waits’ Acting Career by Chris Evangelista

“I ain’t no extra baby, I'm a leading man.”

— Tom Waits, Goin’ Out West

Tom Waits lights up the screen. The minute the singer appears in a film, he brings with him a sort of atmospheric baggage—we may not know what character he’s playing, but we know him. We know that no matter what the film is, Waits will lend his own distinct, off-kilter brand of weirdness to it. Waits has been playing characters all through his musical career, the boozy troubadours and raspy-voiced noir loners who populate his songs are all engaging Waits creations.

Using his distinct, gravel-caked voice, Tom Waits conjures up boozy ballads designed to be played low at 3 a.m. and melodies that might echo off the broken-down rides of an abandoned, haunted carnival. His is an eclectic style, combining blues, jazz, cabaret, Spooky Sounds of Halloween sound effects tapes, and more. This distinct, unmistakable style goes beyond Waits’ musical accomplishments, finding its way into his acting in the two dozen or so film appearances the singer has made.

Waits doesn’t consider himself foremost an actor. “I do some acting,” Waits tells Pitchfork. “And there’s a difference between ‘I do some acting’ and ‘I'm an actor.’ People don’t really trust people to do two things well. If they’re going to spend money, they want to get the guy who’s the best at what he does. Otherwise, it’s like getting one of those business cards that says about eight things on it. I do aromatherapy, yard work, hauling, acupressure. With acting, I usually get people who want to put me in for a short time. Or they have a really odd part that only has two pages of dialogue, if that.”

Waits’ first film appearance was in Sylvester Stallone’s 1978 directorial debut Paradise Alley. It’s a small part, with Waits essentially playing a version of himself, or at least the self he presents in many of his songs. The character, Mumbles, shows up at a piano, twitching and crooning. “When was the last time you was with a woman?” Stallone’s character asks him. “Probably before the depression,” Mumbles says. “What are you saving it for?” Stallone shoots back in that garbled manner of speaking Stallone has perfected. “I dunno,” Waits replies. “Probably a big finish.”

In the grand scheme of things, this is a nothing part; it was intended to be a bigger role, but Stallone cut it down to little more than a cameo. Yet what made it to the screen is distinct because Waits makes it so. Stallone is very still in the scene, leaning on Waits’ piano like dead weight. Waits is a study in contrast, never sitting still, his eyes half open. It might even be considered too much acting. When asked if acting came naturally to him, Waits replied, “It’s a lot of work to try and be natural, like trying to catch a bullet in your teeth.”

Waits’ career was at an all-time-low following 1978. He had grown tired of the music industry in general, having released six albums with very little commercial success. Battling depression and alcoholism, Waits left Los Angeles for New York and began a period of reinvention. “I just got totally disenchanted with the music business,” he would say. “I moved to New York and was seriously considering other possible career alternatives...the whole Modus Operandi of sitting down and writing, and making an album, going out on the road with a band. Away for three months, come back with high blood pressure, a drinking problem, tuberculosis, a warped sense of humor. It just became predictable.”

Waits’ music became more avant-garde, more eclectic. And his film career and personal life took a distinct turn in the 1980s. In 1982, Francis Ford Coppola hired Waits to write the music for One From the Heart, a romantic fable that Coppola wanted to make as a sort of palate cleanser following the troubled production of Apocalypse Now.

“I looked forward to the challenge,” Waits said. “I needed something to stimulate my growth and development. The sole process of making music that would adhere to film was still something new to me. So it was a little terrifying. But working with Francis seemed like a good opportunity.”

It was on the set of One From the Heart that Waits would begin his relationship with future wife and musical collaborator Kathleen Brennan, who worked as a script analyst for the film. The two had previously met at a New Year’s Eve Party, but it was during One From the Heart that the relationship blossomed. “She was a story analyst. Somebody told her to go down and knock on my door and she did and I opened the door and there she was and that was it,” Waits said. “That was it for me. Love at first sight. Love at second sight."

One From the Heart would be a financial disaster for Coppola, but Waits and the filmmaker continued to collaborate. Coppola would cast Waits in small parts in his back-to-back S.E. Hinton adaptations The Outsiders (“I had one line: ‘What is it you boys want?’” Waits told Rolling Stone in 1988. “I still have it down if they need me to go back and re-create the scene for any reason.”) and Rumble Fish (“got a chance to pick out my own costume and write my own dialogue. Gotta nice scene with a clock.”)

Little by little, Waits was building a bit-part filmography, showing up in the background of films and stealing the show with little to no dialogue, catching the eye with his lanky frame and coiffed hair. Coppola would cast Waits again in 1984’s The Cotton Club. Waits plays the club’s MC, but most of his scenes were cut from a film that became more and more bloated during production.

Waits’ first big role would come courtesy of Jim Jarmusch’s 1986 Down by Law. Set in Louisiana, the film follows three convicts—John Lurie, Roberto Benigni and Waits—who escape into the bayou. Once again, Waits seems to be playing a variation of himself, or the self that he built through his musical career, although he insisted the character not be a musician. Instead, he’s a DJ. Waits’ inaugural scene kicks off with him creeping into his bedroom, trying hard not to wake up his sleeping girlfriend, played by Ellen Barkin. But Barkin’s character isn’t really asleep, and when we next see these two characters, she’s tossing Wait’s belongings out of their New Orleans apartment, disgusted with his philandering.

Waits spends the scene sitting on the bed, mostly silent as Barkin rages, tossing one vinyl record after another and hurling curses at Waits. Waits doesn’t fully spring into action until Barkin is about to toss his clunky, pointed, steel-tipped shoes. “Not the shoes!” he protests, sounding generally horrified. Later, he sits at the curb, his possessions scattered around him, slipping those shoes on. It is an overall commanding performance, illustrating that simple cameo appearances from the singer, while memorable, waste his natural hipster charisma. To put it simply, Waits is cool—the type of old-school cool that would likely come off as posturing if you caught someone trying it in public. Yet Waits makes it sing. His characters are perhaps never as cool as they think they are, yet the coolness is undeniable. These are the types of performances people want to emulate when young. You look at Waits’ ridiculous Frankenstein shoes in Down by Law and briefly think, “Where can I get a pair of those?”

In the somber, autumnal Ironweed, Waits plays Rudy, the physical embodiment of every boozy balladeer Waits has ever sung about, particularly in “The Piano Has Been Drinking.” (“And you can't find your waitress with a Geiger counter/ And she hates you and your friends and you just can't get served without her.”)

“I have a red nose, and I had a toothbrush in one pocket, a sandwich in the other. I don’t know why I got it, but I’m glad I did,” Waits said. The part found him playing alongside acting giants Jack Nicholson and Meryl Streep. “Nicholson is really a diamond cutter,” Waits said. “He's a bank president and a bronc rider. He has a million stories; all of them are true. He’s a very generous actor, and he’s responsive, like a good musician.” The pair play off each other beautifully, with Waits not just holding his own alongside Nicholson but occasionally outshining him.

“At rehearsals, Tom Waits looked like any moment he might break at the waist or his head might fall off his shoulders onto the floor,” Nicholson said. “I once saw a small-town idiot walking across the park, totally drunk, but he was holding an ice cream, staggering, but also concentrating on not allowing the ice cream to fall. I felt there was something similar in Tom.”

Waits, who eventually would go to AA and get sober, likely was able to draw on his own alcoholism for the role. “[O]ne is never completely certain when you drink and do drugs whether the spirits that are moving through you are the spirits from the bottle or your own,” he told The Guardian. “And, at a certain point, you become afraid of the answer. That’s one of the biggest things that keeps people from getting sober, they’re afraid to find out that it was the liquor talking all along...I was trying to prove something to myself, too. It was like, ‘Am I genuinely eccentric? Or am I just wearing a funny hat?’”

At this point, Waits began to become highly sought after for film work. He would continue to take on eclectic, eccentric parts, like as a rough-and-tumble bush pilot in the 1991 drama At Play In the Fields of The Lord and an uncredited role as a disabled veteran in Terry Gilliam’s The Fisher King. “He was a friend of Jeff Bridges, basically,” Gilliam said. “[Bridges] said, ‘You ought to meet Tom.’ It’s funny because when I met him and even in the course of making the film, I’d never heard a Tom Waits record. I’d never listened to them at all. I just met him and liked him immediately. So into the film he went, and he was great. The studio was trying to cut him out. They felt it wasn’t advancing the narrative in any significant way so they thought that was things that could go. They were totally wrong.”

In 1992, Francis Ford Coppola made a play to save his struggling American Zoetrope studio with a lush adaptation of Bram Stoker’s Dracula. The gothic costume drama gave Coppola and Waits an excuse to work together again, with Waits taking on the role of bug-eating madman Renfield. It was a distinctly un-cool part for Waits, yet he manages to steal almost every scene he’s in. He rants, he raves, he wears bizarre metal devices on his hands. Yet there’s a distinct humanity underneath the over-the-top madness, such as a scene where Waits’ Renfield disobeys his master Dracula to warn Winona Ryder’s Mina that she’s in danger. “Got to have a really meaningful scene with Winona Ryder. Not how I imagined it would be, though. Bug juice dripping from the corners of my mouth. Unshaven. Totally gray. Screaming behind bars. Not how I saw our scene together. But I tried to rise above it,” he told Image magazine.

At this point in his career, Waits was aging gracefully beyond his hipster youth into his 40s, in a sense turning into the older-seeming, more lived-in man his songs portrayed. In Robert Altman’s 1993 Short Cuts, adapted from the works of Raymond Carver, Waits plays a washed-up version of the younger, cooler individuals he had excelled at. He’s aging, alcoholic limo driver Earl, married to waitress Doreen (Lily Tomlin). “He seemed like someone I knew very well on a soul level,” Tomlin told The A.V. Club. “We did one thing I recall that would never read on camera: We ‘tattooed’ on our hands, at the base of the right thumb, the image of half a heart and when I’d pass him at the counter, we’d touch that part of each hand to the other and he’d say under his breath, ‘’Til the wheels come off.’” Waits also went method for the role, according to Tomlin: “Tom called me the first night after shooting, in his character of ‘Earl’ and spent maybe half an hour talking to me as ‘Doreen,’ as he supposedly drove around in the limo, which was Earl’s job. Tom did that for two or three more nights after work. Thinking he’d never do it again, I never was prepared to tape him and, each time he called, he was nothing if not filled with poetry as Earl.”

From there, Waits’ roles only grew more and more bizarre. He had wondered, “Am I genuinely eccentric? Or am I just wearing a funny hat?” around the time he quit drinking, but now he seemed to be firmly entering the “funny hat” zone of his acting career. In Mystery Men, he plays an inventor of non-lethal weapons who spends his free time trying to pick up women at nursing homes; in Domino, he appears as an exposition-dumping character known only as the Wanderer; Wristcutters: A Love Story finds him as commune leader in the afterlife; The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus reunited him with Terry Gilliam again to play the devil himself; and Seven Psychopaths had him playing a serial killer who loves rabbits.

The older Waits gets, the more he seems comfortable playing such wild weirdos. Perhaps he’s always been comfortable growing into that weirdness. Waits’ musical career was filled with sea change. He went from the lonely-heart, tears-in-my-beer crooning of his earlier albums to the banging-on-a-trashcan hullabaloo of 1983’s Swordfishtrombones. In 1999, Waits released Mule Variations, an album that, according to Rolling Stone, “rounded up his multiple personalities—barfly poet, avant-garde storyteller, family guy” into one place. Those multiple personalities spilled over into his acting career as well.

Waits is known for intriguing and eccentric choices as a musician —and that’s a recognition that should bleed over into his acting career. “I think most singers, when they start out, are doing really bad impersonations of other singers that they admire,” Waits once told NPR. “You kind of evolve into your voice. Or maybe your voice is out there, waiting for you to grow up.” For Waits, changing and evolving was like second nature. “The person that I saw changed every year,” said music producer and Waits friend Dayton “Bones” Howe. “His philosophy was, if I keep being a moving target, I can't get hit. He never wanted to be the same again in any way.”

[brothersapart]

The Long Road Home

((Omw what am I even doing? Entering a contest while running a contest of my own... But inspiration struck. And it wouldn’t let me go until I had it all out, buried myself underneath all the feels.))

((Hello all! For those that know me and those that don’t, this is @nightmares06 with my entry for the contest going on at @asksamstuff! If you don’t know the blog, I highly recommend checking out! There is wonderful content over there, all quality-done supernatural comics that are so inspirational to check out! So inspirational that I’ve written this contest entry based on one of them! Posted to the BA blog since the majority of my readers are found here.))

Story also found: Archive of our Own || Fanfiction || Deviantart

Inspired by: Part 1 || Part 2

Most of the words spoken in this are directly from the comic strip, I make no claim on the idea or the dialogue, merely the writing.

Ask: Would your life had been different if you’d been an only child?

John stands in front of the graves; he feels a tear threaten to fall and etch its path down his stubble-covered cheek. The love of his life and his first-born son lie beneath the cold, hard ground. No comfort waits for them. No warmth and no love, ever again.

Dead. All dead.

Mary, gone before he could reach her. Dean, killed by part of the house falling on him as he took Sam to safety.

A squirming in his arms pulls him back from his pit of despair. Sammy, the youngest and worse-for-wear Winchester, is hungry. After surviving a house fire and the death of half his family, he calls out, not knowing his mother will never answer his call again. No more Dean, bright-eyed and curious, will peek up at his baby brother when it’s time to put him in his high chair and feed him.

Just John.

Their lives have been stolen and John has no idea what the future holds for himself and his infant son.

Kick.

Years pass.

Kick. Kick.

“Dad… um…”

The kicks die off.

The kid’s voice is petulant, but not whining. He’s grown up fast in this life, forced to mature beyond his years by circumstances beyond their control.

“Am I gonna get to go back to Uncle Bobby’s…? I liked my room…”

The words trail off into silence. Though by themselves, the words should sound hopeful, there is no hope in them. They fall flat on the air, and another part of John dies. The kid knows the answer before he asks. He just needs to hear the answer from John.

“I’m sorry, Sam, but no. Bobby and I… we had a fight…”

Even to John, his reasoning sounds flimsy as he tells his son why he can’t give him a semi-stable place to live. He sounds uncaring; it is as though his emotions are lost in translation from his heart to his mind. They’re there, but never there. The kid picks right up on it, unfairly empathic as kids can be.

There it is again. He’s thinking of Sam as ‘the kid.’ There is a barrier keeping John from forming that emotional attachment with Sam that he had with Dean those all-too-short years growing up.

He will never toss another softball to his son, and so Sam suffers because of it.

John sighs. His explanations and excuses and demands die off. For a moment, his guard falls and he’s just a father sitting with his son.

The pictures he pulls out of his wallet are old and worn, the corners crinkled and faded from age. Sam’s hands are reverent as he takes them from John, his hazel eyes wide.

“This is what your mother and brother looked like.”

A woman with the most beautiful smile John had ever laid eyes on stares out of one, and the other…

Sam recognizes the kids; one is himself, after all. The other, the older kid, had a smile in his warm green eyes, freckles dotting his fair cheeks and his arms wrapped around his baby brother with pride in his smile even at four years old.

Dean.

Sam brushes a finger across Dean’s face, feeling a brief spark in his chest when he does. “Dean and mom… they look happy…” He almost misses what John is saying, so intent on that picture he is.

Perhaps it would be better if he had missed what John was saying.

John feels a part of him twist. He knows he is abusing the love Sam feels for their missing family. But he needs his only child to protect himself, to stop arguing, to follow orders. How can John protect Sam if Sam won’t protect himself?

“I know it’s a lot. I do. But that monster… whatever it was, it took them away. Now we gotta protect ourselves, and honor them.”

There. The words are out. Sam frowns at the pictures, his small hands tightening on the paper. Even at such a young age, John suspects Sam knows when he’s being manipulated.

They argue about the guns, as expected. It ends the way John knows it will, but this time something in him can’t leave it that way between them. Sam is all he has. He can deny it all he wants to himself, but his family is down to one small child.

John takes an item out of his bag. He’s carried it around for years, unable to completely part with it. A memory that Sam deserves to have.

“I want you to have this.”

John holds out the stuffed dinosaur. Its head is heavier than its neck can hold up, bobbing down at Sam as the boy looks up with wide eyes. He holds out his hands, already enamored with the green and purple polka-dotted critter.

“It was given to me from our old home,” John explains, ruffling his only child’s hair with more tenderness than he’s ever shown him. “Your mother gave it to Dean. He was saving it, wanting to give it to you when you were old enough. He never got the chance to, but… I can do it for him.”

Sam smiles as he holds the dinosaur tight. “Dean… thanks…”

Sam is like that hours later, sitting on the bed. John is gone. He has a hunt in town, and Sam will stay at the motel until then.

John doesn’t know, and will never know, but something in the dinosaur has awoken a part of Sam once dead. He stares into its plastic eyes, seeing his reflection sent back at him with a dark tint.

“I wish you were here,” Sam whispers, and this time he isn’t speaking to the dinosaur. He angles it so its face bobs once, and for a moment the eyes glint green back at him. “I feel… something hurts-- like a punch!-- whenever dad says your name.” Sam blinks back tears. “Like you should be here. I don’t know you, but… I feel like I’d be a finished puzzle!”

Laying down on his side, Sam touches his nose to the dinosaur’s, unable to look away from those eyes. He imagines Dean is staring back at him. “It’s okay,” he reassures his absent older brother. “Pastor Jim says you’re in heaven and angels are watching out for you. Thanks for the doll. I’ll see you and mom someday soon!”

He snuggles close to the stuffed dinosaur, and a little bit of the hole in his chest feels like it’s been filled. His sleep that night is a little better than normal, and an invisible hand brushes his long bangs from his face while he sleeps.

Sam grows up.

He lives, he thrives. He even finds a life for himself, outside of hunting.

John was right. Sam had sensed the manipulation throughout his life and grown to resent it. The youngest Winchester would not be pushed around, his backbone growing in as strong as steel. His emotions for his mother and brother were not meant to be played with, and Sam knew this. Instead of bending and taking John’s orders, he’d left and taken everything with him.

There are a few more scars without Dean around to haul his ass out of trouble on those first hunts with John. He can no longer see out of his right eye, the thick scar tissue a blemish on his face. It no longer hurts, but the skin can grow tight when the air grows cold, making it uncomfortably itchy.

Jess never cares. She comforts him, and helps fill in a bit more of that void in his chest. Like a puzzle piece that doesn’t quite fit, her love and the stuffed dinosaur can’t quite block out all of the pain, but the warmth and love offered helps him begin to heal injuries he never even knew were there.

Throughout it all, the stuffed dinosaur from Dean watches from its special corner of the room, the light gleaming green when it catches in the eyes. Sam finds himself smiling at it, the one happy reminder of the older brother he’d lost.

And then, once more it comes.

The fire of Sam’s childhood strikes again, this time consuming the rest of his life. His newfound freedom, his love, his last gift from an older brother he never knew…

Again, Sam finds himself adrift. He’s lost Jess and now all attachments to Dean are broken. The photos are nothing more than dust in the wind and all that’s left of the dinosaur is a single half-melted eye, the plastic seeped into the burn floorboards like a tear, melding into the crack until it becomes just another part of the wreckage of Sam’s life.

In the end, it's a good life.

Though Sam can count on one hand the number of times he’s felt true happiness since the second fire, he’s made a difference. Saved the world a few times.

Yet, there’s always been something missing. A hole in his chest. One that not even a friend like Castiel, Angel of the Lord can fill. The type of hole that feels suspiciously shaped like a certain floppy-headed dinosaur.

In the end, it’s not a demon. Sam’s survived Lucifer himself, gone against angels and hordes of monsters to fight for freedom and always come out on top.

A simple vampire gets the best of him one night, while Castiel is helping Bobby with research. Tears his throat right out.

Sam can feel it feasting on the hot lifeblood that pours out of him as it all fades to black.

Warmth on his cheeks.

A breeze wafts through the air.

Sam blinks a few times, the warm blue sky almost blinding in its brilliance as he wakes.

Warmth, light, life.

Sam jumps to his feet as the realization begins to sink in. There were more than a few times during the apocalypse where he’d asked Castiel how it would all end. Where they would go when their time was up.

The explanations were often confusing and disjointed, owing to the lack of familiarity Castiel had with humans, a familiarity Sam had worked to instill in the angel as he became a part of their team--

Sam. Bobby. Castiel.

Team free will, a snarky voice in Sam’s head dubbed them proudly.

--but from those explanations Sam had begun to build up his impression of what heaven and hell would be like.

And this was no hell.

There was no Lucifer waiting to greet him as he stood with his feet planted in the soft, moist soil. Earthworms burrowed away from his laceless boots, restored to their original color and lacking any sign of mud- or blood-splatter on the soles. No Crowley to mock his death, calling him a moose without a squirrel, a jeer that had put more pain in Sam’s heart than it should.

The confusion sets in quickly as Sam takes in his surroundings. From Sam’s understanding of heaven, if that was indeed where he was, he should be reliving parts of his life. His ‘greatest hits.’ His own very personalized heaven, built up from the memories of his life.

Perhaps being greeted by Jess, a slim arm around his waist and her soft hair under his chin.

This-- he could see a cabin in the distance. The path he was standing on lead to it, birds chirping and insects buzzing. Despite the omnipresent sounds, a fly never buzzed into his hair and no mosquitoes tried to dive bomb him. Sam took a deep breath, and could smell the plants and flowers that grew around the small cabin.

Nothing he recognized, but it didn’t seem like a bad place to start. Sam starts to walk towards the cabin, figuring he can start there.

Sure is peaceful here.

Sam briefly wonders where Castiel was. If he knew what had happened. The nerdy little angel might be able to help him out, give him a ‘get out of jail free’ card and catch a lift back to earth. Bobby always needed a hand with thin--

His thoughts trailed off as a young voice interrupted his musings.

“Wow! You’re tall! ”

Sam turns, confusion crowding his eyes. He doesn’t recognize that voice at first. It’s young and hopeful, excited and elated. All emotions and sensations that Sam has lacked for most of his life. A burning ember kindles in his chest as he sees who’s talking.

Blond ripples of hair. Bright, eager green eyes. The kid takes a tentative step forward, his eyes wide and enamored with the man he’s looking at. Sam’s lips part in amazement.

Nothing deters the kid’s excited nature, not Sam’s hesitation or his size, his scruffy unshaven face or the long waves of dark hair.

“WOW. Can I sit on your shoulders to get some apples?”

Sam doesn’t know if he has a pulse here, in heaven, but if he did it must have missed a beat.

Squatting down on the ground, Sam lowers himself to the kid’s level, unable to leave him staring up at him with his neck tilted so far back. “You’re… Dean, aren’t you?” Sam asks in awe, understanding now why Castiel wasn’t around.

The angel wouldn’t want to get in the way of the brothers’ reunion, something sought after for as long as Sam can remember.

Sam’s a little more nervous now, swallowing before he gets out the rest. “Do you. Um. Do you … know who I am?” The sudden fear that hits him, that Dean doesn’t know who he is after all this time apart, scares him more than anything. Sam was just a baby the last time they were together. Now he’s big enough to lift Dean up with one arm, tall enough to tower over the kid who means more than anything else in the world to Sam.

Dean dives forward, hitting Sam’s arms in a hug with all the subtlety of a train wreck that weighs forty pounds. There is no denying the happy air about him.

“Of course I do! I’ve been waiting for you! You took super long!

“Sammy!”

It all spills out of Dean, and there’s no stopping the kid now. “You’re Sammy, and I’m your big brother! You’re just taller than I thought, musta ate all your vitamins!” He leans back in Sam’s arms, glistening green eyes matching the water Sam can suddenly feel in his own. “I heard it was really bad down there. But… It’s okay. I’m here.”

Sam clings to Dean, his eyes overflowing. All the hard years catch up to him, hitting him all at once. It’s like feeling the completion of a puzzle he'd worked on all his life come to fruition. The hole in his chest was gone, replaced by the slight weight in his arms and the little hands that brush over his hair to calm him down. Sam’s life is warmth and light, and after so long in the cold darkness, he doesn’t know how to react.

Dean pats Sam’s face, brushing away some of the tears. “I’ve waited so long to meet you, kiddo. Forty goddamn years!” For a moment, Sam can hear an echo in Dean’s voice. A deeper, sterner version telling him he’s left Dean waiting too long. Yet the look in Dean’s eyes is all forgiveness.

Sam’s voice is hoarse and stuttering. The words catch in his throat, coming out so gruff compared to Dean’s warm tenor. “Y-yeah. It’s okay now… We’re safe.”

As Sam finally unwinds himself from Dean’s arms and stands, he knows this might not last. Castiel might show up at their door in the morning, with a job that only Sam can do. But for now, this moment, he takes Dean’s hand in his, feels those little fingers curl around two of his and just barely make it. Sam has to keep his pace slow for Dean’s short legs to keep up, listening to the kid’s unbridled energy spill over, telling Sam all about his life, sharing what they missed out on. Sam even learns about how much Dean loved the cabin John took him to, just the two of them on Dean’s fourth birthday gone fishing for the weekend. It was the most fun he’d ever had! he insists to Sam, wistfully saying he wanted to do it with Sammy after he got big enough.

For the first time in a long time, Sam feels like things are going to be okay. The warmth in his chest builds up, and he lets the tears flow freely, no longer holding in his emotions now that Dean’s back in his life.

Castiel might check on them, he might not. But for now, Sam has a fish to catch his older brother.