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platonicteenwolf · 3 years

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Second Chance At First Line

(S1E2) Part II

Teen Wolf x Reader Series Rewrite

A/N: I am absolutely KILLING IT with these updates. Expect a lot more coming up. Also I don't think I'm going to continue making three separate parts for pronouns whenever a part doesn't use any pronouns for the reader.

Any Pronouns

Next Part / Masterlist

Warnings: mentions of a dead body

“What do you mean you can’t play the game tomorrow night?” Coach asks as Scott follows him into his office.

“I mean I can’t play the game tomorrow night.”

“You mean you can’t wait to play the game tomorrow night?”

“No, I can’t play the game tomorrow night.”

“I’m not following.”

Scott sighs looking around the office. “I’m-- having some personal issues.”

“Like what? Is it a girl?”

“No.”

“Is it a guy? You know our goalie Danny is gay.”

“Yeah, I know, Coach. But that’s not it.”

“You don’t think Danny’s a good-looking guy?” Coach cuts off, looking shocked.

Exasperated, Scott tries to continue; “No, Danny’s good looking. But I like girls. And that’s not it anyway--”

“Is it drugs? Are you doing meth? My brother was hooked on meth. You should have seen what it did to his teeth, all rotted and cracked. It was disgusting. He was a mess.”

Genuinely concerned, Scott asks, “What happened to him?”

“He got veneers. They look perfect now. Is, is that what this is about? Are you afraid of getting hurt McCall?”

“No. I’m just having some issues dealing with... aggression.”

“Well, here’s the good news, that’s exactly why you play lacrosse. Problem solved.”

“Coach. I can’t play the game.”

“Listen, McCall. Part of playing first line is taking on the responsibility of being the first line in the game. If you can’t shoulder that responsibility then you’re back on the bench until you’re ready.”

“If I don’t play the game, you’re taking me off first line?”

"McCall,” Coach says pointedly, “Play the game.”

-----

Stepping back into the corridor and into the rush of students, Scott jumps when his phone RINGS in his pocket. He takes it out to read a text message from his Mom:

Got the night off! Coming to see you play! So excited!!

Scott breathes a sigh of frustration. His phone BUZZES again with a second text from his Mom:

What does LMFAO mean?

He’s about to type back when he notices someone coming down the corridor to find him; Allison Argent. As she walks through the crowd, every teenage male eye seeming to follow her. But her perfect smile is reserved for Scott.

Nodding to his phone Allison asks, “Hey, you busy?”

“No. It’s just my Mom. She’s nothing. I mean it’s nothing. I’m never busy. For you.”

“I like the sound of that... I have to run to French class but I wanted you to know I’m coming to see you play tomorrow.”

“You are?”

“And we’re all going out afterwards. You, me, Lydia, Jackson. It’s going to be great. And bring Stiles too. Save me a seat at lunch, I’ve gotta go.”

Scott barely has a chance to nod as she hurries off. But just before she disappears into the rush of students, she smiles at him again. With a quick wave, she’s gone.

Scott slumps against the lockers muttering to himself, “I am so screwed.”

-----

Down the adjacent hall, Allison stops at her locker, quickly spins the combo, grabs her French book and suddenly stops when she notices something strange inside. Slowly, she pulls an item out, one that shouldn’t be there... her jacket from the party.

As she eases the locker shut, she notices how very alone she is in the corridor. She gazes down one end of the hall and then the other. Not a soul. Not a sound. Until--

The second bell rings, startling her. Breathing a short laugh at herself, she hurries off to class.

-----

At the chalkboard with other students solving algebra problems, Lydia whispers to Scott.

“Why is there a rumor going around that you’re not playing tomorrow?”

“Because I’m sort of... not.”

“I think you sort of are. Especially when you brutally injure my boyfriend by ramming into him.”

“He brutally injured himself ramming into me.”

The math teacher steps past, eyeing their work on the board.

“Jackson’s going to play Saturday, but he’s not going to be at peak. I prefer my boyfriend at peak performance.”

“Okay...” Scott responds, wondering if she’s still talking about lacrosse.

“See, I date the captain of a winning lacrosse team. If they start off the season losing, I date the captain of a losing lacrosse team. I don’t date losers. You understand how that works?”

“Losing one game isn’t going to kill anyone. In fact, it might save someone,” he argues back.

Lydia looks at him. Doesn’t get it. Doesn’t care. “Fine. Don’t play. We’ll probably win anyway. We’ll go out after like we’re planning. I’ll introduce Allison to all the other hot players on the team. And while she gets the attention she deserves, Scott McCall can stay home surfing the net for porn. "

She finishes her math problem, wipes the chalk off her hands and saunters back to her desk. Scott returns his attention to his own equation on the board.

The math teacher walks up behind him chastising, “Mr. McCall, you’re not even close to solving your problem.”

“Tell me about it,” Scott quips back.

-----

As Stiles and I turn the corner to the hall our next class is located, I see someone familiar talking to the vice principle.

“Wait-- is that Noah?” Grabbing the back of Stiles’s collar I drag him back behind the wall to hide us from view. Peeking around the corner, there Sheriff Stilinski standing in the middle of the hall having a seemingly serious conversation to the vice principle.

“I can’t hear them, what are they saying?” Stiles whines.

“I don’t know I don’t have super hearing.”

And as if a lightbulb went off in his head, Stiles bolts off looking for someone who does in fact have super hearing as I continue to keep an eye on the targets.

Hearing stomping footsteps behind me I turn around seeing an out of breath Stiles, Scott in tow.

“Come here, come here, tell me what they’re saying,” I ask Scott as the boys follow my gaze down the hall. I can see Scott focus, attempting to tune in the voices.

“...animal attacks... just don’t want the kids out... 9:30pm... institute the curfew....”

With a look of annoyance Scott turns back towards us.

“A curfew. Because of the body.”

Great.

“Unbelievable!” Stiles starts to complains, “Seriously unbelievable. My Dad’s out looking for a rabid animal while the jerkoff who actually killed the girl is just hanging out doing whatever he wants.”

Interjecting, I add, “Well, we can’t exactly tell him what’s going on with Derek. He’d want to do something about it.”

“Well, I’m gonna do something about it.”

“Like what?” Scott asks.

“Like find the other half of the body.”

And with that Stiles walks to his next class. Waving a bye to Scott I go catch up to him.

-----

Scott stops when he spots Allison shaking hands with an extremely good-looking lacrosse player. Lydia wears a big smile while introducing them while staring right at Scott.

Allison turns to see him approaching as Lydia and the lacrosse player slip away.

“So, Lydia’s introducing you to everyone?” Scott questions.

“Yeah, she’s been so unbelievably nice. Usually, the popular girls are totally evil when I move to a new place. But she’s making it really easy for me.”

“I wonder why.”

“Maybe she gets how much being the New Girl can suck.”

He’s about to reply when he notices with alarm that she’s carrying the jacket from party that Derek had.

"Where did you get that?”

“My jacket? It was in my locker. I think Lydia brought it back from the party. She has my combination--”

“Did she say she brought it back? Did someone give her the jacket?” Scott is starting to get more urgent; how did Derek get into her locker? Was he still here? Is Derek going to hurt Allison?

“Like who?"

“Like Derek."

“Your friend?”

“He’s not my friend. How much did you talk to him when he drove you home?”

“Not much at all.”

“What did you say?"

Allison can tell he’s getting more and more aggressive; cautiously she replies, "Sorry, but I have to get to my next class. Can we talk later?”

“Allison--”

“I really have to go.”

She hurries off, leaving Scott ruminating on the jacket. But then he turns, moving with focus, faster and faster--

-----

On his bike and pedaling at top speed, Scott charges down the road. Finally, he whips onto a driveway leading to the rundown Hale house.

“Derek!”

He lets his bike clatter to the ground, school bag with it. In a flash he’s on the porch, looking in each window.

“Derek!”

Still no response. Scott slips around the side of the house and to the back. Then something catches his attention-- At the edge of the woods, he sees FRESH DIRT covering the ground. As if something had been dug up. Or buried.

But before he can approach, a sound stops him in his tracks... a heartbeat. At first, it’s a tiny rhythm in the distance. But then it rapidly gets louder, stronger. Scott starts to back away, moving for the front of the house again and for his bike when Derek steps out of the woods. No sudden appearance, no theatrics. He just calmly walks out of the shadows while Scott tries to stand strong.

“Stay away from her. She doesn’t know anything.”

“What if she does?”

Derek keeps coming, backing Scott away from the house.

“You think your little buddy Stiles can Google werewolves and now you’ve got all the answers?”

Reaching down to Scott’s school bag, Derek picks up the lacrosse stick, playfully turning it over in his hands.

“You don’t get it yet, but I’m looking out for you. Think about what could happen. You’re on the

field. The aggression takes over. And you shift in front of everyone. Allison, your mother, your friends...”

Derek’s hand comes up and his claws are out. Scott flinches back, both in fear and surprise at his display of mastery over his abilities.

“And when they see you--”

He rakes his claws over the net.

“Everything, falls, apart.”

The slashed threads flutter away from the head of the lacrosse stick, the net now in tatters. Derek tosses the ruined stick. Scott catches it. When he looks up, he’s alone, Derek having vanished yet again.

-----

Bursting through the front door of the McCall’s home, Stiles sprints up the stairs towards Scott’s bedroom. Chuckling to myself I close the door behind me and head the same way. “Hey Ms. McCall!” I shout

“Hey sweetie!”

As Stiles bursts through Scott’s door and into his room I can already hear him shouting about the news. Scott called me with an update on the body, said there was some evidence at Derek’s and we needed to get over there as soon as we could.

I greet Scott with a wave as I follow Stiles into the room. At his desk, Scott works on something, concentrating on it with exact focus

“I found something at Derek Hale’s,” he starts

Still full of energy, Stiles shouts, “Are you kidding? What?”

“Something’s buried there. I smelled blood.”

Interjecting, I ask, "You think it’s from the body?”

“That’s what I need you guys to help me find out. And when we do, we’re going to help your dad nail Derek for the murder. And then we're figure out how I can play lacrosse without changing.”

Scott stands, revealing what he’s been working on so intently: his lacrosse stick. Now perfectly re-laced, he spins it in his hands with a look of pride.

“Because I’m not missing out on that game”

-----

The doors of Beacon Hills Hospital slide open. Stiles, Scott, and I casually walk past the front desk trying not to be conspicuous in front of waiting patients, nurses and orderlies. Stiles nods to a set of double doors and a sign pointing to the morgue; exactly what we need. While Scott and I quickly push through the doors, Stiles heads to the waiting area to keep an eye out.

As Scott and I step inside the almost pitch-black freezer room, he lights the display on his phone using it to search the labels on the drawer.

“Why’d you leave the lights off, this place is mega creepy!” I whisper to him. “Who decides to leave the lights off when they’re around a bunch of dead bodies?”

“Would you keep it down? You’re gonna get us caught!” Scott says as he finally located the body.

JANE DOE – partial. Police Evidence, Do Not Tamper.

We both take a breath as Scott yanks open the display.

-----

Standing outside in the corridor, Stiles looks to the waiting area and does a double take. Lydia Martin sits in one of the chairs. It’s a moment of opportunity he simply cannot pass up. Leaving his post, he tentatively approaches her.

“Hey, Lydia. You probably don’t remember me, but I sit behind you in Biology. And I know you’re dating Jackson and all that, but I always thought we had a kind of connection. Unspoken, of course. But I sort of think it would be cool to get to know you. Sort of.”

“Hold on. Give me a second.”

Stiles looks at her, quite confused. But then she pulls out a Bluetooth headset that was covered by her hair.

“I didn’t get any of what you just said. Is it worth repeating?”

“Uh... No. Sorry.”

As she gives an irritated sigh, Stiles takes a seat far away from her, head falling into his hand.

-----

Scott covers his mouth while gazing down at the lower half of the body. He slowly pulls the drawer open to where the sheet finally flattens out just above the severed hip. The smell coming from the body is absolutely putrid and I can tell his face is getting greener by the second.

“Don’t throw up on the body,” I joke.

Removing his hand from his mouth, Scott sends me a lighthearted glare and then pulls the sheet up to reveal the decayed and rotted feet. Then, unable to stand anymore, the sight or the smell, he covers up the body and slides the drawer shut. We’ve found all we need.

-----

Back in the waiting room, Jackson comes around the corner to find Lydia. He walks up to her while massaging his shoulder.

“Did he do it?”

Nodding, Jackson replies, “He said it’s not a good habit to get into but one cortisone shot won’t kill me.”

“You should get one right before the game too.” He gives her a concerned look. “What? The pros do it all the time. You want to be a little high school amateur?” Teasingly, she continues, “Or do you want to go pro?”

She pulls him into a kiss that’s all tongue. As they walk off, Stiles watches with a jealous gaze from behind the pages of a hospital pamphlet.

-----

Walking back to the waiting room with Scott, I see Stiles holding up a pamphlet titled: All About Your Menstrual Cycle. Inconspicuous. Scott yanks it out of his hands, surprising him.

“The scent was the same.”

“You’re sure?”

Scott nods and starts off with the two of us following.

“So he did bury the other half of the body on his property,” Stiles confirms.

“Which means we have proof he killed the girl.”

“Then I say we use it.”

After watching the boys go back and forth I interject,

“Scott, are you doing this because you want to stop Derek? Or because you want to play the game Saturday and he said you couldn’t?”

“There were bite marks on the legs. Bite marks. And if he knows about Allison now...”

“Okay. Then we’re going to need a shovel.”

We slam through the exit door and out into the night.

-----

Derek’s black Dodge Challenger roars out from the long driveway leading to the dilapidated house. In its wake, Stile’s Jeep slowly pulls forward.

Now carrying a shovel and pick, Scott and Stiles head for the house while I hold the flashlight. But Scott pauses, glancing around.

“Something’s different,” Scott says while glancing around.

“Different how?”

But Scott shakes his head. He looks back to the road, listening for any sounds.

“Let’s get this over with.”

Unnerved now as well, Stiles and I follow him around the house to the edge of the woods. Waving him over, Scott kicks at the dirt on the ground. It’s loose, gravelly. They start digging. Piles of dirt landing on the grass nearby while I keep watch. They work fast, Scott pulling up his sleeves as sweat starts to drip down his forehead while the two start bickering.

“This is taking too long,” Scott complains.

“Just keep going,” Stiles replies.

“What if he comes back?”

“Then we get the hell out of here."

“What if he catches us?”

“I have a plan for that.”

Now sitting down next to the hole they’ve dug, I interlude,

“Ah yes, Stiles Stilinski with the genius plans.”

“Oh shut up Y/N”

“Well, what’s the plan then,”

“I run one way, you both run another. Whoever he catches first? Too bad.”

Scoffing, Scott says, “I hate that plan.’

They dig faster, harder. Muscles burning, Scott keeps throwing nervous glances to the driveway.

“Stop, stop, stop!” Stiles shouts.

Dropping the shovel, Stiles clambers down into the hole. He feels around and finds a dark FABRIC in the dirt. Both of them now digging with their hands they finally uncover a black drawstring bag tied in tight knots. Stiles digs at the knot with his fingers.

“Hurry,” Scott urges.

“I’m trying. Did he have to tie the thing in nine hundred knots?"

“I’ll do it.”

Both of them claw at the drawstring, almost frantically trying to get the knot to come undone. And then finally it loosens. The black bag flutters open to reveal the body inside--

Except it’s not a dead girl. It’s the body of a wolf. Stiles and Scott both holler, jumping back.

Poking the carcass with a stick, Stiles asks, “What the hell is that?”

“It’s a wolf.”

“I can see that. I thought you said you smelled blood? As in human blood?”

“I told you something was different.”

Scott pulls back the edge of the bag to get a better look. The remains of the wolf peer through, a tangle of legs and blood-crusted fur.

“This doesn’t make sense.”

Still looking around nervously, Scott urges, “We gotta get out of here.”

While the boys talked, I had gotten up to look around the area. Suddenly I notice a purple flower in the ground. It sticks out of the dirt as if it had only recently been planted there.

“Wait,” I call to them.

Looking up, Stiles sees what I’m looking at.

“Do you see that flower?”

“What about it,” Scott wonders.

“I think it’s wolfsbane.”

“Wolfsbane?”

I look back towards the duo as Scott has a confused look on his face.

“Haven’t you ever seen The Wolf Man? Lon Chaney Jr.? Claude Rains? The original classic werewolf movie?” Stiles questions as Scott shakes his head. “You are so unprepared for this.”

"Aconitum napellus, or Wolfsbane, is a common known weapon against werewolves. It's toxins can cause your heartrate to slow to a fatal amount," I explain.

Kneeling next to the flower, I gently feel around the stem. Pulling it up, it’s revealed that the flower has sprouted out of what appears to be a very thin but strong twine interlaced from its stem and root.

Jumping out of the hole, Scott and Stiles take several cautious steps back as I continue unearthing the purple-flowered rope. Soil falling around my shoes, I walks in circles around the grave.

As I continue, the Wolfsbane rope leads back to the grave in an almost perfect spiral. Finally, at about ten yards out, I finally reach the end of the rope. With a pile gathered into my arms, I turn back to the boys who are staring back at the grave.

At barely a whisper, Scott says, “Look...”

The rope slips out of my hands, falling at my feet as my eyes widen. The wolf is no longer a wolf. It’s the upper half of the girl.

-----

Tag List: @linkpk88 @mochminnie @im-a-stranger-thing @that-winged-rat @avengersgirl1221 @everybirdfellsilent

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bucket-of-amethyst · 1 year

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SHERIFF SPIN SATURDAY: 2!!!! GO SILLY MODE

#sheriff spin saturday :]#SPIN HIM SPIN HIM SPIN HIM #he will never stop #bucket of random #solidarity jimmy #jimmy solidarity #empires #mcyt #empires smp

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brokehorrorfan · 3 years

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Blu-ray Review: Night of the Animated Dead

There are two facets any potential viewer should be made aware of before pressing 'play' on Night of the Animated Dead, an animated adaptation of George A. Romero’s Night of the Living Dead.

First and foremost, it lacks any credit to Romero, co-writer John Russo, producers Image Ten, or any of the cast and crew. It's common knowledge that Night of the Living Dead is in the public domain therefore the original creators' permission is not needed, but the least one can do is credit them on screen, if not compensate them financially. But there is nary a mention of any of them; not in the credits, not in the billing block, and not in the making-of featurette. The script goes uncredited altogether!

Secondly, the bait-and-switch cover art does not accurately represent the film's animation quality. Rather than beautifully rendered 3D characters, the movie features adequate but decidedly less impressive (and substantially cheaper) 2D animation. It more closely resembles a dated Flash animation than modern computer-generated work. That's no slight to the animators at Demente Animation Studio; there's a charm to the style - at times, it's reminiscent of a Saturday morning cartoon - but don't show me a steak and then serve me a McDonald’s burger.

Such egregious offenses would almost be understandable if it was a rinky-dink production from an independent distributor, but Night of the Animated Dead is a Warner Bros. release. Even if you're able to look past these transgressions - a tall order, indeed - Night of the Animated Dead is often as lifeless as its zombies. Beyond Romero's genre-defining 1968 original and Tom Savini's formidable 1990 remake, competition among the various versions of Night of the Living Dead isn't exactly stiff, so this one ranks somewhere in the middle.

Night of the Animated Dead is a virtually beat-for-beat - and occasionally shot-for-shot - adaptation of the film. After being attacked by a flesh-eating ghoul, Barbara (Katharine Isabelle, Ginger Snaps) escapes to a farmhouse. She meets the resourceful Ben (Dulé Hill, Psych), and they barricade the home as more zombies try to get in. More survivors - bull-headed Harry Cooper (Josh Duhamel, Transformers), his wife Helen (Nancy Travis, Rose Red), their sick daughter Karen, and young couple Tom (James Roday Rodriguez, Psych) and Judy (Katee Sackhoff, Battlestar Galactica) - are soon discovered hidden in the basement. Of course, the human struggle becomes just as dangerous as the undead threat.

Director Jason Axinn (no stranger to animated horror, coming off To Your Last Death) adds a few minor sequences not found in its live-action counterpart - most notably, a flashback to Ben finding the truck at Beekman's Diner - along with a considerable increase in gore, padding the runtime to a scant 70 minutes including credits. The voice casting - which also includes Will Sasso (Mad TV) as Sheriff McClelland and Jimmi Simpson (Westworld) as Barbara's brother, Johnny - is rather inspired, not to mention the fun Hill/Rodriguez reunion for Psych fans, but none of the talent is able to bring much dimension to the uninspired material.

Perhaps Axinn and company thought it would be an interesting experiment to remake the same movie in animated form - learning nothing from Gus Van Sant's much-maligned Psycho remake - but I struggle to see the point. With animation opening up boundless possibilities, why not try to do something different? They could have modernized it, or made Barbara less of a catatonic damsel in distress, or leaned into the cartoon aesthetic and made it family friendly, or swapped all the genders, or done literally anything to put a fresh spin on the well-worn material. Alas.

Night of the Animated Dead's Blu-ray and DVD releases include a 10-minute making-of featurette with Axinn, Hill, Duhamel, Sasso, and producer Michael J. Luisi (Oculus, The Call), plus footage of the cast in the recording booth. Axinn explains that he wanted to show how powerful the story still is by animating it, using the replication of story betas and exact dialogue as a point of pride, as if fans were clamoring for it. Adding insult to injury, the featurette opens with clips from Romero's film. If only someone could have mentioned him by name.

Night of the Animated Dead is available on Blu-ray and DVD now via Warner Bros.

#night of the animated dead #night of the living dead #george romero #josh duhamel #dule hill #katharine isabelle #review #article #dvd #gift #katee sackhoff #james roday rodriguez #will sasso #jimmi simpson #horror

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shriketimes · 2 years

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sunday november 1st, 1987

October has come to a gruesome end in Shrike Heights as the annual Halloween Spooktacular has ended in twelve residents injured and three others dead. The town had been left holding its collective breath after the last vicious attack took place at the summer carnival, and while everyone was hopeful that that would turn out to be the last of the tragedy they would see in the town, the Halloween event sadly took its own very tragic turn. Two previously involved killers were reportedly involved in the attack last night, while three new and unknown attackers were also said to be the cause of the injuries and the deaths of some of our beloved residents. Authorities are yet to conclude whether or not these perpetrators were all working together, or if some of the incidents were the result of Halloween tricks gone wrong. On behalf of the entire Shrike police force, the sheriff would like to remind residents that they are working endlessly to put an end to such incidents, they wish to assure all that they are working to protect the town and its people, and they encourage anyone with any information to come forward and contact authorities as soon as possible.

saturday october 31st, 1987

As the end of the night nears, the residents of Shrike Heights who have chosen to attend the Halloween Spooktacular! are still enjoying the event and the many activities that it has to offer. Some huddle together around the bonfire, escaping from the night air that has been growing ever colder since Winter nears. Some are enjoying a spooky-themed drink at Julio’s pop-up bar. Others are revelling in their success at the Halloween costume competition. The event seems to be a much needed distraction for the townsfolk - but like most good things in Shrike Heights, it is short-lived.

Lark Delaney is the only one from their group of friends who makes it out of the corn maze for quite some time. It isn’t until they’re out in the open that they realise how claustrophobic the maze had been making them feel, with all of its twists and turns and dead ends. As they wait alone, they can’t help but feel anxious and uneasy by all of the jack-o-lanterns sitting on hay bales that surround them. They sit at various heights on the stacks of hay, some of which even sit taller than Lark themself. Their memory is jolted back to that early October night when they were almost attacked by the pumpkin-masked killer. They swallow hard as they attempt to shake the memory from their mind, but their heart stops as they swear they see a jack-o-lantern move. I have to get out of here, they think to themself. Of course they think it will be safer to wait for their friends in a crowd rather than waiting for them all alone.

So they start to follow the path back towards the start of the maze, but find themself frozen in place when they think they see yet another jack-o-lantern move. It’s all in your head. Come on. Before they can make another start - their suspicions prove themselves to be true. The Jack-o-Lantern steps out from behind a bale of hay, his boots thumping loudly against the dirt, which makes him sound a lot heavier than he looks. With a sudden gasp, Lark stumbles backwards, over a stone and onto their back. The sound of their own head hitting the ground startles them, and they don’t give themself any time to recover as they sit up and look for the killer. Their head spins and their vision is heavily blurred. Panic truly sets in as it seems jack-o-lanterns are swirling all over right in front of their eyes, though they know immediately that they can’t trust what they see. They quickly reach for one of the garden stakes that line the path, and scramble to their feet, struggling to stand upright with the way their head spins. Squinting in an attempt to regain the clarity of their vision, they’re almost certain they’ve got him with they swing the stake - but instead, a regular jack-o-lantern bursts into pieces. They take a step back, taking a shaky breath as they search desperately through the mess of their dizzy vision, and they swing yet again in hopes of hitting the killer. Pieces of yet another pumpkin go flying, and Lark is beginning to feel a real sense of hopelessness. They’re smart enough, however, to recognise that they have no chance of fighting in this state. They flee, stumbling back into the corn maze without looking back.

Similarly to Lark, Momoko Noguchi finds herself separated from her friends, much to her dismay. It’s unsurprising considering it’s her very first Halloween Spooktacular, the layout of the grounds isn’t as familiar to her as it is to some. Nearby the haunted house attraction, they run into one of their Karaoke Dokie co-workers, Nathan Berry. “Momo! I don’t suppose you want to go into the haunted house with me? N-not because I’m scared or anything, but because… I thought you mightn’t have been yet,” he asks her, voice a little high pitched as though he were in denial. Momoko has to think about it for a moment, but she doesn’t have to meet Akito for another hour or so, so she agrees to go with them. Being her first Spooktacular and her first Halloween altogether in Shrike, Momo wants to make the most of it.

Inside the haunted house, it’s so dark that they can hardly see their feet. The place is decorated heavily in cobwebs and fake spiders, and dimly lit electronic candles. Black lights light up spooky Halloween decorations and props, and every so often, spotlights turn on to illuminate the animatronics and cardboard cutouts that jump in front of them as they move through the house. The two of them find themselves startled by the initial jumpscare, but their yells are followed with laughter as they make fun of the low-quality props once they’re in clear view. With each room that they move into, the door behind them shuts and locks, so that they’re not distracted by the lighting and the music emanating from the room before them, and so that they’re made to move forward through the attraction. Momoko feels a thrill knowing there is no return to safety, but otherwise she feels safe, especially since she is not alone.

Once they reach the center room, and the door closes and locks promptly behind them, they find themselves in a ghostly-themed room, full of fake smoke and cool air being blown in their direction. Standing stationary, in the centre of the room, right in the walkway, is a person under a white sheet. Momoko is anything but impressed by the costume. Other than the sheet seemingly blowing in the machine-made breeze, there is no movement from the figure, and they begin to wonder if there is a person under the sheet at all. Nathan and Momo don’t hesitate to move forward, ready to move on to the next room. But as her co-worker takes a few steps ahead of Momoko, there is a rapid movement, and a guttural scream. Nathan stumbles back to reveal a large cut across their stomach, and blood pours down their front.

Momoko’s heart sinks, and she immediately turns on her heels to reach for the door several strides behind her. She desperately fumbles with the handle but it’s securely locked, a measure taken to keep the attraction running smoothly. The Ghost approaches her, and she instinctively holds an arm up to block an attack. The Ghost’s knife cuts into her arm. Before she has time to react, they grab her by the hair and slam her head against the door. She slides down, her head spinning so severely that she almost vomits. She starts to see double once her vision comes back to her, and right in her line of sight, she witnesses her co-worker desperately trying to escape through the door to the next room. But it’s too late. The Ghost is slashing her co-worker with the already bloodied knife. At least five more large, deep cuts are scattered over her coworkers body before they fall to their knees, their skin turning pale as blood drenches their costume and pools on the ground around them. He gasps and splutters, hands desperately going from wound to wound as if he can cover them all and hold enough pressure on them to stop the bleeding, but eventually he falls forward and goes still. Momo cries out as she watches him die, holding onto her own wound in hopes of not meeting the same fate. But the cry alerts the Ghost once more, and they turn back towards her. There is nothing that Momoko can do, but it doesn’t stop from her from trying. She scrambles across the floor until she can pull herself up, desperate to reach the door ahead of her. She only gets as far as her coworker before the Ghost slashes her across the torso multiple times, blood splattering the props around her with the flick of the knife. Momo doubles over in pain, hopelessly trying to hold her wounds, her head even dizzier before. But then, she collapses.

Across the commune, the ghost train ride is running on schedule. On board are Josie Taylor, Lake Wright Townsend, Teagan Mitchell, Ángel Gasol and Sage Kahn, who are all finding the ride slightly underwhelming, but not without a little fear, being a dark ride further out from the rest. It all seems to be running smoothly, when the train stops with a sudden jolt, jerking the passengers forward uncomfortably. “What the hell was that?” someone asks. “Have we stopped moving?” another chimes. After a few moments of sharing confused looks, the passengers begin stepping off the dark-ride train in order to investigate. Though at first they think perhaps it’s just a part of the scare, the way the driver is handling the situation gives them reason to be concerned. Ángel makes his way ahead of the other passengers, to the front of the train, where the volunteer driver is examining the tracks. There, he sees what has stopped the train. Bones are scattered across the tracks, which obstructs the path of the ride. “The rides emergency stop was activated due to the obstruction,” he says as he examines the bones.

The rest of the crowd still feels uneasy about the situation. And suspicions are proven to be correct when suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, a bone-clad figure swings a large femur bone and hits Josie harshly in the side. Before he even has time to register or recover from the first blow, The Skeleton figure swings again, and this time Josie feels a harsh crack in his ribs as he doubles over in pain. The other people in the attraction move quickly; some running towards the exit of the ride, others rushing to aid Josie before the Skeleton can swing at him again. Lake is the next to be hit, the Skeleton giving a full force swing of the femur right into her stomach. Lake is winded immediately, and she doubles over in pain until she’s hit once more in the shoulder, which causes her to straighten out. Tears sting her eyes and a desperate cry escapes her as she throws her arm up to block the third blow. It does nothing to help her. The collision sends a pain like no other through Lake’s entire forearm, and there’s no mistaking that the bone is broken.

Lake stumbles away from her attacker and reaches for Teagan. There’s a brief moment of hesitation from the blonde, whose fight or flight instincts have kicked in (and they’re telling her to flee). She knows she can’t leave Lake to fend for herself, however, so she carefully wraps an arm around her and helps keep her on her feet while her body aches. “Hold onto me,” Teagan tells her. Lake nods appreciatively, but she can’t find the words to thank her just yet. In the dark, they almost believe they’ve gotten out of reach of the Skeleton, and that they have some chance of making it to the exit with no additional harm coming to them. But the Skeleton is quiet and quick in the darkness, and Teagan doesn’t even have the opportunity to cry out before the femur hits her in the side of the head, almost knocking the two stumbling girls to the ground. Sage and Ángel are quick on their feet and they catch the girls to support them and immediately help them and Josie reach the end of the ride.

As the group make it out of the ghost train as safe as possible, they continue to run, concerned that the Skeleton might be right on their tail. Just as they’re passing the corn maze, with the haunted house in clear view, they all stop in their tracks. Ángel looks behind them so swiftly that he’s lucky he doesn’t pull a muscle in his neck, all to be sure that the Skeleton isn’t behind them. Though they seem to have lost him, they now face another issue. Right ahead of them in their view is the Jack-o-Lantern killer. The entire group is breathing heavily, half due to the physical exertion, the other half due to the absolute panic that is running throughout all of them.

“We should split up,” Sage is seemingly the only one with an idea in that moment as they quickly observe their surroundings. “Those of you who are injured should move to the hay bales. If Ángel and I run, we have a better chance of getting help. We can try divert his attention if we run.”

“Okay, good plan, you take the heat,” Lake nods, holding her broken arm against her, as if any amount of pressure will help the pain.

“Be careful out there,” Josie adds.

Josie, Lake and Teagan take refuge behind the hay bales, the three of them huddling together in an attempt to make themselves as small and undetectable as possible. Sage and Ángel run out in the open, making themselves seem like easy targets for the pumpkin-masked killer. They feel as though they’ve never run so fast in their lives, and they’re scared to turn back to see if their plan is working. Before they even get the chance to wonder if they should - Ángel finds himself knocked to the ground with a brutal blow to the back. Before Sage can turn around to see what’s happening, Jack repeats the action with them - lifting a heavy boot to knock them down to the ground with a force so powerful it knocks the air out of them. Sage groans and tries to pull herself away from the killer using her arms, but there’s no need. Jack has turned back to Ángel, retrieving his knife from its sheath in a quick motion, the sound of metal scraping causing Ángel’s stomach to churn.

Sage almost can’t watch as Jack plunges the knife downwards. She expects to hear a crunching blow and a guttural scream, but instead, Ángel uses the last of his strength to move at the very last minute. The carving knife slices along his bicep, but he lets out a breath of relief considering how much worse it could have been. He immediately starts thinking of his next move as he looks into the soulless eyes of the killer, who is busy raising his knife once more. But before Jack can make a move, a rock hits him square in the head with a hollow thud. While it doesn’t impair Jack’s ability, it does distract him enough for both Sage and Ángel to catch their breath and regain some strength.

Teagan is standing up from behind the hay bales, having just thrown the rock that distracted their attacker. She can feel her heart hammering in her chest as she feels the killers eyes glaring into her very soul. They stare at each other for just a moment too long, and it gives Ángel an advantage. He kicks upwards with some of his recovered strength, knocking the carving knife out of the killer's hand. Jack looks back at Ángel with what could only be assumed to be viciousness, but before he can react, Sage reaches for the knife, scrambling to their feet as quickly as possible. They waste no time plunging the knife into Jack’s neck. They let go of it, leaving the knife embedded in his neck. Jack immediately flees, and both Sage and Ángel take a moment to register what just happened.

Unbeknownst to the others, Teagan, Josie and Lake aren’t the only ones who have witnessed the attack on Sage and Ángel. Adi Hans and Hyun Min-Seok watch in horror, and they run before they get the chance to see the Jack-o-Lantern killer flee. As they escape from being seen by Jack, they see The Slayer waiting up ahead under the dim orange light of a lantern. The two of them are halted just outside of the haunted house attraction. They’re terrified, unsure of what to do. No matter which way they go, it seems they’re to be forced into danger. They’re only snapped out of their shock when an arrow is shot from a crossbow. Bambi winces as it grazes and cuts her side, and the two immediately know they need to find shelter. “The haunted house, we can try lose him!” Adi says, taking Bambi by the wrist and leading the way. With her other hand, Bambi holds her side securely in an attempt to stop the blood flow.

They burst through the doors, Adi leading the way. The two of them have been so shaken by the events outside the attraction that none of the jumpscares or booby traps bother them. They’re hoping to find some place to hide until they’re sure they’re safe. But when they reach the middle of the house, the atmosphere is different. There is no music, no spooky sound effects playing over the speakers, and the eerie quietness prepares Adi for a jumpscare that doesn’t come. Instead, all that catches their attention is three figures underneath white sheets, lined up on chairs, blood dripping from the figures and pooling at their feet. At first, they think it’s a part of the attraction, and neither of them are impressed. But the scent of blood hits them quite suddenly.

“Surely it’s pig blood,” Bambi says, trying to calm the anxiety that is building up inside them. They don’t want to consider for a moment that it could be real blood at all, but if it had to be, then they were silently begging for it to be non-human.

“No, it can’t be pig blood. The people of the commune wouldn’t support the use of real animal blood here,” there is a knot in his stomach as he approaches the first figure, slowly stretching his hand out to grasp at the fabric. He swiftly pulls it back to reveal Nathan Berry, blood dripping from his pale, lifeless body. It takes Adi a moment to unfreeze and remember to breathe. Bambi places a hand sympathetically on his shoulder from her position behind him, her insides tightening as she realises they might not be as safe as they originally thought.

Adi slowly approaches the second sheet, a little more hesitant than the first. Seeing one dead body is bad enough, but he needs to be sure of how many bodies are in the haunted house in case he makes it out to tell the authorities. He pulls the sheet back again to reveal Momoko - who he recognises vaguely from the mall. Her body appears to have fewer wounds, but she is equally as lifeless. He curses under his breath as he reaches up to wipe beads of sweat from his forehead. “You don’t have to look at the third one, Adi-” Bambi protests. But Adi insists that it’s the right thing. He pulls the third sheet back with less hesitation, but the same sinking feeling in his gut. However, when the sheet is gone, there is no-one and nothing underneath it.

The two of them stand in silence, in complete shock. How on earth could that be possible? What had caused the sheet to have such a perfect human figure, and where did the pool of blood around the third chair come from, when there was nobody there to cause it? Before they have the chance to discuss, or even ask any of these questions out loud, Bambi screams.

Adi turns to face her, just in time to see the Ghost standing behind her. As they stumble forward, Adi can see a large cut across their back, dark blood seeping into their clothing, a stark contrast compared to the fake blood of their costume. Adi catches Bambi, but the two of them stumble backwards into the wooden chairs of the victims. Nathan falls lifelessly to the floor with a heavy thud, and Momoko follows suit. Adi turns as he steadies himself and Bambi, but standing still even for the shortest moment gives the Ghost enough time to cut down his bicep. He groans, instinctively holding the wound as he stumbles backwards. Bambi gasps as she sees the body on the floor start to cough and splutter.

“She’s alive!” Bambi is astonished.

Adi immediately forgets his own injury, carefully scooping Momo into his arms and stumbling towards the door ahead of them, towards the exit of the haunted house. “Stall the Ghost, we have to get her out of here.” Bambi nods and takes no time to pick up one of the wooden chairs. With all their strength they throw the heavy chair at their attacker. The heavy wood pins the white sheet down, and the figure beneath thrashes and pulls, desperate to unpin itself. This stalls the Ghost long enough for Adi, Bambi and Momoko to get to the next room safely. The door shuts behind them, and they make their way out of the haunted house as quickly as they can with their injuries.

Back inside the corn maze, Lark’s dizziness has almost completely cleared up, though they’ve worked up a sweat and are breathless while trying to navigate their way through the corn maze. Despite their best efforts, they haven’t been able to find their friends. They suppose they’ve made it out, and it seems like Lark is the only one left inside. They need to catch their breath, and conveniently, they turn and see a scarecrow ahead that they decide they can use as a landmark of sorts. They use the place to rest for a moment, to catch their breath and compose themself. They don’t rest for long however, as they know their need to escape is dire. As soon as they’ve regained the strength, they’re running again, making mental notes of which turns they’re taking to prevent themselves from going in circles. However, that idea doesn’t seem to work, as they end up right back at the scarecrow again. Frustrated, they’re sure they just made a mistake. It’s a corn maze, after all. The twists and turns are supposed to trip you up, they think.

Almost frantically, they continue on, breaking into a sprint again. They decide to try take a different path than that of before, but as they turn a corner (one that they’re certain they didn’t turn earlier), they once again end up back at the scarecrow. This time, they’re even more confused, and their fear is steadily growing. They don’t waste much time to ponder it before they’re off again, and the next time they reach the scarecrow, their fear and confusion is added to with anger. Lark barely looks at the scarecrow this time. Instead, they back up to it and look around them. Is someone playing a sick joke on them? By taking the scarecrow from its spot to move it where Lark will find it again? To confuse them and make them lose their place? They stand still, breathing heavy, until something drips down from the scarecrow, a drop landing on their forehead.

Lark reaches up, wiping the liquid from their forehead and investigating it. Even in the slight shadow of the corn maze, they know immediately that it’s blood. Quickly, they look upwards. Lark gasps in horror and jumps back away from it. Instead of the scarecrow that they had seen the first three times, hanging up in its place is the dead body of Starstrike employee Hugh Mclaughlan. Lark barely even has time to register what has happened before they feel a sharp pain in their thigh. They push themself, leaping forward. The pain only worsens as four metal prongs that had impaled their flesh, reap down their thigh and tear out of them. They turn to see their attacker. The Scarecrow that they kept running into has seemingly come to life, and he stands holding a pitchfork that is now dripping with Lark’s blood. Warm blood rushes down their leg. The pain is intense, but the stab wounds aren’t so deep. Lark just finds themself lucky enough to still have the ability to support themself on the injured leg. They turn and hopelessly try to get away from the scarecrow. Before they can run fast enough, the pitchfork slashes them across the back. Though Lark falls forward, they’re able to scramble forward and push themselves back up to their feet, running faster than they’ve ever ran before. They don’t run into the scarecrow again, and this time, they believe they can see the start of the maze once again.

Once out of the haunted house, Adi - still carrying Momoko - and Bambi find Corey Windsor. The sight is completely unexpected, and he stares wide-eyed, completely shocked and frightened. It only takes a moment for him to register that all three of them are hurt, and once it’s realised he immediately steps forward to help Adi support Momo. “We should get back around the front. I could hear other people there only a minute ago. We need to find others who can help everyone get to safety.” Bambi and Adi hesitate for just a moment, but agree. If Corey had heard voices there only moments ago, it was very unlikely that the Slayer was loitering around that area. They assumed that he had either moved on to find new victims or that he had followed them into the house and that they were lucky enough to have lost him before having to face the Ghost.

They’re not right in thinking that the Slayer had moved on from the front of the haunted house, or in thinking he followed them inside, but they’re unfortunately right in thinking that he has found new victims. Mathew Lahde, Ryanne Williams and Miette Auclair, who have all separately found themselves in the area, are under attack.

Unfamiliar with the killer, Miette thinks that she is safe from the killer at a distance - but she couldn’t be more wrong. The Slayer makes use of his crossbow once again, an arrow landing right in the front of her thigh. She cries out, but her step doesn’t falter as she moves to duck behind a hay bale to prevent any more arrows being shot her way. Mathew is next on the Slayer’s list. He aims for the same place on him, but Mathew has a fraction more time to attempt the dodge. The arrow doesn’t lodge itself into his flesh, but it cuts his skin deep. The next arrow that is shot from the crossbow is aimed at Ryanne. She’s able to dodge it just in time, the arrow head grazing her sleeve. But in the rushed attempt to escape it, she finds herself tripping over the rocks that line the path. She catches her fall with her hands, but sharp pain in one says that she’s sprained it. She rolls onto the side of the path and scrambles behind the haybales alongside Miette. Thankfully for Mathew, the Slayer is distracted from that trio as Corey, Adi, Momoko (who is still unconscious) and Bambi emerge. The Slayer aims for Corey’s bicep and doesn’t miss. Corey cries out in shock, and near drops Momo as the pain flares in his muscle.

Miette - while struggling with her own injury - rushes out from behind the hay bales in order to help Adi and Corey with Momoko, and the Slayer aims for those further away as she does so. The larger group comprising of Sage, Ángel, Josie, Lake and Teagan are still in the same area as their run in with Jack, only a little ways down from those falling victim to the Slayer. Naturally, they freeze as they see the confrontation with the Slayer, and they try to contemplate what they can do. Spirits are low, people are injured, and things are feeling hopeless. The Slayer shoots another arrow from the crossbow and all Lake feels at first is a hard thud on her shoulder before the pain springs to life. Josie holds his arms up in front of his face and chest to protect himself from the arrows, but one of the barbed arrowheads manages to cut down his forearm as he protects himself.

Miette is once again aimed at, an arrow cutting across her back. It’s only shallow but it hurts just as much as the arrow to the thigh, as her body is already struggling to handle the physical trauma. Is this really how I go? She thinks to herself as the arrows continue to fly, aiming for all of the members of the different groups. Lark bursts through the corn maze, finally free of the scarecrow. But they stand in what is essentially a circle of different groups that the Slayer is having all too much fun targeting, that is, until he begins to miss. This fuels him with a rage that is evident in his body language. With his last arrow, he aims at the person closest. Ryanne, who has only been half protected by a hay bale, gets an arrow right through the muscle of her shoulder. She cries out and desperately tries to keep her breathing under control as she tries to think about what to do. As the Slayer moves towards his next victim, he swaps out the crossbow for one of his wooden stakes.

The Slayer reaches Mathew first, gripping onto his neck before the man can even attempt to flee. Mathew squirms and struggles in his grasp, but it’s no use. As Corey watches the attack, an idea comes to him like the switching on of a lightbulb in his head. Using his skills learnt from having played football all throughout high school, he sprints as fast as his body allows and tackles the Slayer. It doesn’t knock the killer over completely, but it at least saves Mathew from getting the stake through the chest, which is a relief. The heavily-cloaked man now stands amidst Corey, Adi, Sage, the now free Mathew and Bambi. Some are frozen in fear, some step back with an intention of escaping, and others are planning to fight as they know they can’t get away fast enough before being injured.

The first to be hit is Sage; they simply can’t move fast enough before the slayer smacks them across the side of the head with the wooden stake, so hard that it knocks them out cold, sending them crashing to the ground. Adi is next; the Slayer swipes the stake in his direction, the wood scraping across his stomach as he steps back out of the way. Mathew is next; the Slayer hits him harshly across the face, splitting his skin open and knocking him off of his feet. As he falls back, however, he reaches out and grips the stake. The Slayer lets go of it immediately, seemingly unphased, and reaches for the other stake strapped to his belt while Mathew’s grip weakens and leaves him accidentally throwing the first one aside as he falls to the floor. Next, the Slayer grips Bambi by her hair, pulling her in closer as he readjusts his stake in his hand before raising it. Bambi feels like this may truly be the end for her.

Corey panics as he watches, but the Slayer’s fumble with his stake gives him just enough time to pick up the other stake and to swing it at the killer, hitting him brutally across the head. The Slayer throws Bambi down immediately, clearly angry about the assault as he stomps and turns around to see who had had the nerve to fight back. Still in a panic, Corey does the only thing that seems to make sense to him. He uses all his strength as he lunges forward, shaky hands gripping the stake tightly, a scream of terror leaving him as he plunges the stake deep inside of the Slayer’s chest. It’s the only thing that made sense to him. He was watching everyone be brutalised in the attack, and he knew the killer’s history with injuring and killing others, including people he had known for quite some time, people he had loved. Somebody had to end it, he wasn’t about to watch more people reach the same fate as the likes of Charlie Davis, even if what he had to do was perhaps as awful as the attack itself. Corey is surprised that it was him of all people to end it, and even more shocked to see that it’s worked. The Slayer is clearly hurt beyond repair, gripping the stake in his chest as if he wants to pull it out. But he can’t. Instead, he spins and stumbles ever so slightly before falling to the ground, landing on his front, sending the stake through his entire body, sticking up tall.

Corey saved them. He saved the day, and he feels so deliriously relieved. He looks at the people around him, but for some reason they don’t seem to share the feelings of relief. Instead, they all stare at him with terror on their faces, and that’s when Corey’s relief quickly dissipates. The relief is replaced with the panic he felt so strongly only moments earlier; his entire body feels numb, yet at the same time he suddenly becomes aware of the most excruciating pain spreading from his core all over. He looks down; the Slayer has staked Corey through the chest as Corey had done the same to him. It happens quickly. Corey lets out a cry, blood gurgles in his mouth, and he turns very weak until his body no longer supports him. He falls down right on top of the Slayer, the stake in his chest plunging through him deeper, and the stake poking out from the Slayer’s body piercing completely through his stomach. While the initial stab to his chest wasn’t as deep as the one that ended the Slayer’s life so quickly, there’s no possibility of Corey surviving this now.

Despite the devastation, the others have to make the difficult decision of leaving Coreys body behind. No-one in the party is strong enough physically or mentally to carry his corpse to a safe place after having to carry both Momoko and Sage’s unconscious bodies. (And truthfully, no-one is sure that the Slayer is truly dead). When the group rejoins civilisation, the authorities are found and backup is called. No killers or suspicious figures were seen within the commune. Medics retrieved the bodies of Nathan Berry, Hugh Mclaughlan and Corey Windsor. Though no-one from the group had examined the Slayer’s body out of respect for Corey, by the time officials had arrived at the scene, there was no body to be found. All that remained of the Slayer was a perfect silhouette singed into the grass, despite there having been no fire at all.

plot drop 006 features thirteen of our muses encountering the jack-o-lantern, the ghost, the skeleton, the slayer + the scarecrow.

aditya ‘adi’ hans is left with a cut down his bicep and a scrape across the stomach.

angel gasol is left with substantial bruising on his abdomen and a cut across his bicep.

corey windsor is left with an arrow wound in his bicep, a fatal wound from a wooden stake through the chest and another wooden stake through the stomach.

joseph ‘josie’ taylor is left with substantial bruising to his side, one cracked rib and cut across the length of his forearm.

lake wright townsend is left with substantial bruising to the stomach, shoulder and arm, a broken forearm and an arrow wound in her shoulder.

lark delaney is left with a mild head injury, four wounds down the back of their thigh, four cuts across their back and substantial blood loss.

mathew lahde is left with a deep cut across his thigh, a mild head injury and a wound on his face from skin splitting upon impact.

miette auclair is left with an arrow wound in her thigh and a graze across her back.

min-seok ‘bambi’ hyun is left with a graze across her side, a cut across her back and bruising from being thrown down.

momoko noguchi is left with substantial cuts on her arm and torso, a head injury and severe blood loss.

ryanne williams is left with a sprained wrist and an arrow wound in her shoulder.

sage kahn is left with severe bruising to the torso and head and a head injury.

teagan mitchell is left with bruising to the head a head injury.

as police and paramedics arrive to the scene, all but one victim survived the ordeal - despite the severity of some of their injuries.

#shrikekillers #plot drop 006 #stabbing tw #injury tw #death tw #trauma tw #murder tw

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fence-macabre · 4 years

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HAUNTED HOOTENANNY Saturday October 3 | Silverpine Forest | 6:30-9:30PM WrA | 8:30-11:30PM MG

Neutral Event | Warmode OFF | Bring Tongues Potions | WrA | MG/Other realms welcome!

What is the Haunted Hootenanny? The Haunted Hootenanny is Fence Macabre’s annual October party. Come visit us at our headquarters, Vagrant’s Respite, in Silverpine Forest (proxy: farm near Ambermill 63, 56)! Square dance to a hand-curated list of barn-bustin’ music, test your speed and accuracy at our Bottle-Blastin’ mini game; tell and listen to spooky, scary tales that send shivers down your spine; and even come by to the Fence Warehouse, the only time of the year where all of our merchants’ wares will be up for sale!

The Basics

Date: Saturday October 3rd Time: 6:30-9:30PM (WRA/PST); 8:30PM-11:30PM (MG/CST) Location: Vagrant’s Respite, Silverpine Forest (63, 56) Anchors: Loira-WyrmrestAccord (Horde) | Oceanid-WyrmrestAccord (Alliance) How to get here Horde: Portal to Undercity, Fly to Silverpine Forest Alliance: Portal to Ironforge, Fly to Refuge Pointe (Arathi Highlands), Fly to Silverpine Forest

Schedule

6:30 WRA (8:30 MG) - Event Start 6:45 WRA (8:45 MG) - Opening Speech; Activities Open Immediately After 8:30 WRA (10:30 MG) - Tombstone Tales 9:00 WRA (11:00 MG) - Raffle Entry Closes 9:30 WRA (11:30 MG) - Closing Ceremony, Winners Announced

Join us on Discord! Find us on Twitter!

Booth Activities

Bottle Blastin’

Your favourite semi-retired salesman and the friendliest Forsaken in Fence Macabre, *Billy Highman* returns to run Bottle Blastin' at this year's Haunted Hootenanny! Make sure to get your name down on our list of competitors - this fan favourite has fierce competition, limit of 30 people per faction.

The competition is divided into two sections: preliminaries and finals. Signups will be cut-off fifteen minutes after the start of the activity, or when the signup cap is reached - whichever comes first. Each raid group will then have people come up to shoot in groups of six, working their way down the list from top to bottom. Each member of the group will take one shot. If they pass, they move onto the next round. If they fail, they're eliminated. This continues until only six contestants remain between Alliance and Horde, moving onto the finals.

Potion Roulette Fence’s resident Apothecary, Loira Winford is opening her potion stores for this game of chance. Want to breath fire? Float above the ground? Look like someone else? Be sure to stop by Potion Roulette, where Zori is eagerly waiting to meet you and Loira is… well, she’s there too.

All potions on offer are safe for consumption by both living and dead, and all effects are temporary. As this is a game of chance, we don’t know what potion you might get! That’s the chance you take when you try Potion Roulette.

Hog Wrasslin’ Fence Macabre’s beloved truffle sniffer and intruder headbutter returns to this year’s Hootenanny! If you’re wanting to test both strength and skill, come try your luck against the toughest and cutest Undead hog in the Eastern Kingdoms! The ever friendly Velvet will get you ready to go, and make sure you get your prize. No need to sign up in advance, just drop on by with a good attitude and be ready to try your best!

Remember, Popcorn’s family to us and she’s real fierce - underestimate her and you’re bound to get hurt! Your job is to catch her, but you can’t hurt her: no weapons, no magic, no outside items or help.

Chuck Wagon Vittles Well it wouldn’t be a proper party without some grub! Chortlerip and Taoln are preparing a delightful array of dishes for our living companions, while our Undead friends will doubtlessly enjoy our offerings from The Bloated Rat. With a range of drinks for dead and living alike, we asked none other than The Squeaky Wheel to send over some of their favourites. Come out and enjoy the buffet, where members of the Fence will be happy to get you sorted with your snacks.

Menu Coming in October!

Tombstone Tales Tombstone Tales are back at this year’s Haunted Hootenanny! Our favourite Ink-slinger, Ryeolan Quillsong will be overseeing the sharing of your spook stories and ghastly tales! Taking place in the Fence’s barn, we promise that the spirits aren’t your imagination. Silverpine is quite haunted, and the Respite is no exception. If your tale is Ryeolan’s favourite, there’s a lovely prize in it for you: an illustrated scene from your story!

Submit your story here!

Fence Warehouse The Haunted Hootenanny 2020 Warehouse is a special event for both our customers and our merchants. During the warehouse, ALL items from ALL participating merchants will be up for sale: we normally only bring a selection of wares to each market, they’re difficult to transport after all! Silverpine’s own Sheriff, Remington Thornbolt will be handling the delivery and placing of your others alongside Fence’s artist in residence, Calria Dawnbrook.

Prop up your feet, grab your beverage of choice, and get to reading! Our menu’s expansive and we’re looking forward to receiving your orders. To pick up for order at the Hootenanny, you must place it before October 3rd. Orders placed on October third will be delivered to you ICly up to a fortnight after the Hootenanny’s conclusion.

Fence Warehouse Menu & Order Form

Hallowed Whispers Silverpine is full of secrets, and yours could well be added to them. Bakuzan Burlycloud will be available all night. Your conversations will be private: just you, her, and her plants.

Square Dancin’ Spinning spooky tracks that’ll get you down on the dance floor (or dance field, in our case), resident moonshine brewer Old M.C. Donald returns for the second year in a row! Forget your glowsticks? Not to worry, we’ve got plenty. Listen on in right here.

Frequently Asked Questions

"I’m Alliance, or from X Server, can I come?"

Yes, absolutely! Fence Macabre is a neutral guild and, as such, this is a neutral event. Everyone is welcome to attend. However, do keep in mind that Fence Macabre is primarily comprised of Forsaken: if your character would have a problem with that, or if the’re die-hard military and strongly opposed to the opposite faction, this isn’t the place for you.

When does this take place? Our 2020 date is Saturday October 3rd. The event runs from 6:30-9:30pm server, and will begin promptly. You’re welcome to stay as long as you like afterwards!

Is there anything I shouldn’t do in Silverpine Forest? (IC) If you are a scarlet crusader or adhere to Scarlet-like ideology, you will be shot on sight. You will not be buried. (IC) If you cause a ruckus, harass people, or are disrespectful to attendees or the hosts during the event, you will be walloped and thrown out. Don’t be that person. (OOC/IC) Be respectful of the speakers. Hard work has gone into their stories, and talking while they’re trying to tell them is extremely disrespectful and rude. Don’t be that person having a full-blown conversation while everyone’s trying to listen to the speaker. Reactionary emotes are welcome and encouraged. But keep unrelated conversations and emotes during storytelling in party chat or in whispers.

#events #haunted hootenanny #Haunted Hootenany 2020

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grigori77 · 3 years

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2020 in Movies - My Top 30 Fave Movies (Part 1)

30. BODY CAM – in the face of the ongoing pandemic, viral outbreak cinema has become worryingly prescient of late, but as COVID led to civil unrest in some quarters there were a couple of 2020 films that REALLY seemed to put their finger on the pulse of another particularly shitty zeitgeist. Admittedly this first one highlights a problem that’s been around for a while now, but it came along at just the right time to gain particularly strong resonance, filtering its message into the most reliable form of allegorical social commentary – horror. The vengeful ghost trope has become pretty familiar since the Millennium, but by marrying it with the corrupt cop thriller veteran horror screenwriter Nicholas McCarthy (The Pact) has given it a nice fresh spin, and the end result is a real winner. Mary J. Blige plays troubled LAPD cop Renee Lomito-Smith, back on the beat after an extended hiatus following a particularly harrowing incident, just as fellow officers from her own precinct begin to die violent deaths under mysterious circumstances, and the only clues are weird, haunting camera footage that only Renee and her new partner, rookie Danny Holledge (Paper Towns and Death Note’s Nat Wolff), manage to see before it inexplicable wipes itself. Something supernatural is stalking the City of Angels at night, and it’s got a serious grudge against local cops as the increasingly disturbing investigation slowly brings an act of horrific police brutality to light, until Renee no longer knows who in her department she can trust. This is one of the most insidious scare-fests I enjoyed this past year, sophomore director Malik Vitthal (Imperial Dreams) weaving an effective atmosphere of pregnant dread and wire-taut suspense while delivering some impressively hair-raising shocks (the stunning minimart sequence is the film’s undeniable highlight), while the ghostly threat is cleverly thought-out and skilfully brought to “life”. Blige delivers another top-drawer performance, giving Renee a winning combination of wounded fragility and steely resolve that makes for a particularly compelling hero, while Wolff invests Danny with skittish uncertainty and vulnerability in one of his strongest performances to date, and Dexter star David Zayas brings interesting moral complexity to the role of their put-upon superior, Sergeant Kesper. In these times of heightened social awareness, when the police’s star has become particularly tarnished as unnecessary force, racial profiling and cover-ups have become major hot-button topics, the power and relevance of this particular slice of horror cinema cannot be denied.

29. BLOOD QUANTUM – 2020 certainly was a great year for horror (even if most of the high profile stuff did get shunted into 2021), and this compellingly fresh take on the zombie outbreak genre was a strong standout with a killer hook. Canadian writer-director Jeff Barnaby (Rhymes for Young Ghouls) has always clung close to his Native American roots, and he brings strong social relevance to the intriguing early 80s Canadian setting as a really nasty zombie virus wreaks havoc in the Red Crow Indian Reservation and its neighbouring town. It soon becomes clear, however, that members of the local tribe are immune to the infection, a revelation with far-reaching consequences as the outbreak rages unchecked and society begins to crumble. Barnaby pulls off some impressive world-building and creates a compellingly grungy post-apocalyptic vibe as the story progresses, while the zombies themselves are a visceral, scuzzy bunch, and there’s plenty of cracking set-pieces and suitably full-blooded kills to keep the gore-hounds happy, while the horror has real intelligence behind it, the script posing interesting questions and delivering some uncomfortable answers. The characters, meanwhile, are a well-drawn, complex bunch, no black-and-white saviours among them, any one of them capable of some pretty inhuman horrors when the chips are down, and the cast, an interesting mix of seasoned talent and unknowns, all excel in their roles – Michael Greyeyes (Fear the Walking Dead) and Forrest Goodluck (The Revenant) are the closest things the film has to real heroes, the former a fallible everyman as Traylor, the small-town sheriff who’s just trying to do right by his family, the latter unsure of himself as his son, put-upon teenage father-to-be Joseph; Olivia Scriven, meanwhile is tough but vulnerable as his pregnant white girlfriend Charlie, Stonehorse Lone Goeman is a grizzled badass as tough-as-nails tribal elder Gisigu, and Kiowa Gordon (probably best known for playing a werewolf in the Twilight movies) really goes to the dark side as Joseph’s delinquent half-brother Lysol, while there’s another memorably subtle turn from Dead Man’s Gary Farmer as unpredictable loner Moon. This was definitely one of the year’s darkest films – largely playing the horror straight, it tightens the screws as the situation grows steadily worse, and almost makes a virtue of wallowing in its hopeless tone – but there’s a fatalistic charm to all the bleakness, even in the downbeat yet tentatively hopeful climax, while it’s hard to deny the ruthless efficiency of the violence on display. This definitely isn’t a horror movie for everyone, but those with a strong stomach and relatively hard heart will find much to enjoy here. Jeff Barnaby is definitely gonna be one to watch in the future …

28. THE MIDNIGHT SKY – Netflix’ big release for the festive season is a surprisingly understated and leisurely affair, a science fiction drama of big ideas which nonetheless doesn’t feel the need to shout about it. The latest feature in the decidedly eclectic directorial career of actor George Clooney, this adaptation of Good Morning, Midnight, the debut novel of up-and-coming author Lily Brooks-Dalton, favours characterisation and emotion over big thrills and flashy sequences, but it’s certainly not lacking in spectacle, delivering a pleasingly ergonomically-designed view of the near future of space exploration that shares some DNA with The Martian but makes things far more sleek and user-friendly in the process. Aether, a NASA mission to explore K-23, a newly-discovered, potentially habitable moon of Jupiter, is on its return journey, but is experiencing baffling total communications blackouts from Earth. This is because a catastrophic global event has rendered life on the planet’s surface all but impossible, killing most of the population and driving the few survivors underground. K-23’s discoverer, professor Augustine Lofthouse (Clooney), is now alone at a small research post in the extreme cold of the Arctic, one of the only zones left that have not yet been fully effected by the cataclysm, refusing to leave his post after having discovered he’s dying from a serious illness, but before he goes he’s determined to contact the crew of Aether so he can warn them of the conditions down on Earth. Despite the ticking clock of the plot, Clooney has reigned the pace right in, allowing the story to unspool slowly as we’re introduced to the players who calmly unpack their troubles and work over the various individual crises with calm professionalism – that said, there are a few notable moments of sudden, fretful urgency, and these are executed with a palpable sense of chaotic tension that create interesting and exciting punctuation to the film’s usually stately momentum, reminding us that things could go suddenly, catastrophically wrong for these people at any moment. Clooney delivers a gloriously understated performance that perfectly grounds the film, while there are equally strong, frequently DAMN POWERFUL turns from a uniformly excellent cast, notably Felicity Jones and David Oyelowo as pregnant astronaut Dr. “Sully” Sullivan and her partner, mission Commander Adewole, and a surprisingly subtle, nuanced performance from newcomer Caoilinn Springall as Iris, a young girl mistakenly left behind at the outpost during the hasty evacuation, with whom Lofthouse develops a deeply affecting bond. The film has been criticised for its slowness, but I think in this age of BIGGER, LOUDER, MORE this is a refreshingly low-key escape from all the noise, and there’s a beautiful trade-off in the script’s palpable intelligence, strong character work and world-building (then again, the adaptation was by Mark L. Smith, who co-wrote The Revenant), while this is a visually stunning film, Clooney and cinematographer Martin Ruhe (Control, The Keeping Room) weaving an evocative visual tapestry that rewards the soul as much as the eye. Unapologetically smart, engrossingly played and overflowing with raw, emotional power, this is science fiction cinema at its most cerebral, and another top mark for a somewhat overlooked filmmaking talent which deserves to be considered alongside career highs such as Good Night & Good Luck and The Ides of March.

27. PALM SPRINGS – the summer’s comedy highlight kind of snuck in under the radar, becoming something of an on-demand secret weapon with all the cinemas closed, and it definitely deserves its swiftly growing cult status. You certainly can’t believe it’s the feature debut of director Max Barbakow, who shows the kind of sharp-witted, steady-handed control of his craft that’s usually the province of far more experienced talents … then again, much of the credit must surely go to seasoned TV comedy writer Andy Siara (Lodge 49), for whom this has been a real labour of love he’s been tending since his film student days. Certainly all that care, nurture and attention to detail is up there on the screen, the exceptional script singing its irresistible siren song from the start and providing fertile ground for its promising new director to spread his own creative wings. The premise may be instantly familiar – playing like a latter-day Saturday Night Live take on Groundhog Day (Siara admits it was a major influence), it follows the misadventures of Sarah (How I Met Your Mother’s Cristin Miliota), the black sheep maid of honour at her sweet little sister Tala’s (Riverdale’s Camila Mendes) wedding to seemingly perfect hunk Abe (the Arrowverse’s Superman, Tyler Hoechlin), as she finds herself repeating the same high-stress day over and over again after becoming trapped in a mysterious cosmic time-loop along with slacker misanthrope Nyles (Brooklyn Nine Nine megastar Andy Samberg), who’s been stuck in this same situation for MUCH longer – but in Barbakow and Siara’s hands it feels fresh and intriguing, and goes in some surprising new directions before the well-worn central premise can outstay its welcome. It certainly doesn’t hurt that the cast are all excellent – Miliota is certainly the pounding emotional heart of the film, effortlessly lovable as she flounders against her lot, then learns to accept the unique possibilities it presents, before finally resolving to find a way out, while Samberg has rarely been THIS GOOD, truly endearing in his sardonic apathy as it becomes clear he’s been here for CENTURIES, and they make an enjoyably fiery couple with snipey chemistry to burn; meanwhile there’s top-notch support from Mendes and Hoechlin, The OC’s Peter Gallagher as Sarah and Tala’s straight-laced father, the ever-reliable Dale Dickey, a thoroughly adorable turn from Jena Freidman and, most notably, a full-blooded scene-stealing performance from the mighty J.K. Simmonds as Roy, Nyles’ nemesis, who he inadvertently trapped in the loop before Sarah and is, understandably, none too happy about it. This really is an absolute laugh-riot, today’s more post-modern sense of humour allowing the central pair (and their occasional enemy) to indulge in far more extreme consequence-free craziness than Bill Murray ever got away with back in the day, but like all the best comedies there’s also a strong emotional foundation under the humour, leading us to really care about these people and what happens to them, while the story throws moments of true heartfelt power at us, particularly in the deeply cathartic climax. Ultimately this was one of the year’s biggest surprises, a solid gold gem that I can’t recommend enough.

26. THE LAST DAYS OF AMERICAN CRIME – Body Cam’s fellow heavyweight Zeitgeist fondler is a deeply satirical chunk of speculative dystopian sci-fi clearly intended as a cinematic indictment of Trump’s broken America, but it became far more potent and prescient in these … ahem … troubled times. Adapted by screenwriter Karl Gadjusek (Oblivion, Stranger Things, The King’s Man) from the graphic novel by Rick Remender and Greg Tocchini for underrated schlock-action cinema director Olivier Megaton (Transporter 3, Colombiana, the last two Taken films), this Netflix original feature seemed like a fun way to kill a cinema-deprived Saturday night in the middle of the First Lockdown, but ultimately proved to have a lot more substance than expected. It’s powered by an intriguing premise – in a nearly lawless 2024, the US government is one week away from implementing a nationwide synaptic blocker signal called the API (American Peace Initiative) which will prevent the public from being able to commit any kind of crime – and focuses on a strikingly colourful bunch of outlaw antiheroes with an audacious agenda – prodigious Detroit bank robber Bricke (Édgar Ramiréz) is enlisted by Kevin Cash (Funny Games and Hannibal’s Michael Carmen Pitt), a wayward scion of local crime family the Dumois, and his hacker fiancée Shelby Dupree (Material Girl’s Anna Brewster) to pull off what’s destined to be the last great crime in American history, a daring raid on the first night of the signal to steal over a billion dollars from the Motor City’s “money factory” and then escape across the border into Canada. From this deceptively simple premise a sprawling action epic was born, carried along by a razor sharp, twisty script and Megaton’s typically hyperbolic, showy auteur directing style and significant skill at crafting thrillingly explosive set-pieces, while the cast consistently deliver quality performances. Ever since Domino, Ramiréz has long been one of those actors I really love to watch, a gruff, quietly intense alpha male whose subtle understatement hides deep reserves of emotional intensity, while Dupree takes a character who could have been a thinly-drawn femme fetale and invests her with strong personal drive and steely resolve, and there’s strong support from Neil Blomkampf regulars Sharlto Copley and Brandon Auret as, respectively, emasculated beat cop Sawyer and brutal Mob enforcer Lonnie French, as well as a nearly unrecognisable Patrick Bergin as local kingpin (and Kevin’s father) Rossi Dumois; the film is roundly stolen, however, by Pitt, a phenomenal actor I’ve always thought we just don’t see enough of, here portraying a spectacularly sleazy, unpredictable force of nature who clearly has his own dark agenda, but whom we ultimately can’t help rooting for even as he stabs us in the back. This is a cracking film, a dark and dangerous thriller of rare style and compulsive verve that I happily consider to be Megaton’s best film to date BY FAR – needless to say it was a major hit for Netflix when it dropped, clearly resonating with its audience given what’s STILL going on in the real world, and while it may have been roundly panned in reviews I think, like some of the platform’s other glossier Original hits (Bright springs to mind), it’s destined for a major critical reappraisal and inevitable cult status before too long …

25. BILL & TED FACE THE MUSIC – one of the year’s biggest surprise hits for me was also one I was really nervous about – the original Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure and its just-as-good sequel Bogus Journey have been personal favourites for years, pretty much part of my geeky developmental DNA during my youth, two gleefully dorky indulgences that have, against the odds, aged like fine wine for me over the years. I love Bill and Ted SO MUCH, so like many of the fans I’ve always wanted a third film, but I knew full well how easy it would have been for it to turn out to be a turd (second sequels can be tricky things, and we’ve seen SO MANY fail over the years). God bless Alex Winter and Keanu Reeves for never giving up on the possibilities, then, and for the original screenwriters, Chris Matheson and Ed Solomon, for writing something that does true justice and pays proper respect to what came before while fully realising how much times have changed in the TWENTY-NINE YEARS that have passed since Wyld Stallyns last graced our screens. Certainly times have moved on for our irrepressible pair – in spite of their convictions, driven by news from the distant future that their music would unite the world and usher in a new era of peace and prosperity, Bill and Ted have spectacularly failed to achieve what was expected of them, and they’ve grown despondent even though they’re still happily married to the Princesses and now the fathers of two wonderful girls, Billie and Thea (Atypical’s Brigette Lundy-Paine and Ready Or Not’s Samara weaving). Then an emissary from the future arrives to inform them that if they don’t write the song that unites the world TODAY, the whole of reality will cease to exist. No pressure, then … it may have been almost three decades, but our boys are BACK in a riotous comedy adventure that delivers on all the promises the franchise ever made before. Winter and particularly Reeves may have both gone onto other things since, but they step back into their roles with such ease it’s like Bill and Ted have never been away, perfectly realising not only their characters today but also various future incarnations as they resolve to go forward in time to take the song from themselves AFTER they’ve already written it (a most triumphant and fool-proof plan, surely); Lundy-Paine and Weaving, meanwhile, are both absolutely FANTASTIC throughout, creating a pair of wonderfully oddball, eccentric and thoroughly adorable characters who would be PERFECT to carry the franchise forward in the future, while it’s an absolute joy to see William Sadler return as Bogus Journey’s fantastically neurotic incarnation of Death himself, and there are quality supporting turns from Flight of the Conchords’ Kristen Schaal, Anthony Carrigan, Holland Taylor and of course Hal Landon Jr., once again returning as Ted’s grouchy cop father Captain Logan. The plot is thoroughly bonkers and of course makes no logical sense, but then they’re never meant to in these movies – the whole point is just to have fun and GO WITH IT, and it’s unbelievably easy when the comedy hit rate is THIS HIGH – turns out third time really is the charm for Matheson and Solomon, who genuinely managed a hat trick with the whole trilogy, while there was no better choice of director to usher this into existence than Dean Parisot, the man who brought us Galaxy Quest. This is the perfect climax to a trilogy we’ve been waiting YEARS to see finally completed, but it’s also shown a perfect way to forge ahead in new and interesting ways with the next generation – altogether, then, this is another most excellent adventure …

24. TRUE HISTORY OF THE KELLY GANG – Justin Kurzel has been on my directors-to-watch list for a while now, each of his offerings impressing me more than the last (his home-grown Aussie debut, Snowtown, was a low key wallow in Outback nastiness, while his follow up, Macbeth, quickly became one of my favourite Shakespeare flicks, and I seem to be one of the frustrated few who actually genuinely loved his adaptation of Assassin’s Creed, considering it to be one the very best video game movies out there), and his latest is no exception – returning to his native Australia, he’s brought his trademark punky grit and fever-dream edginess to bear in his quest to bring his country’s most famous outlaw to the big screen in a biopic truly worthy of his name. Two actors bring infamous 19th Century bushranger Ned Kelly to life here, and they’re both exceptional – the first half of the film sees newcomer Orlando Schwerdt explode onto the screen as the child Ned, all righteous indignation and fiery stubbornness as he rails against the positions his family’s poverty continually put him in, then George MacKay (Sunshine On Leith, Captain Fantastic) delivers the best performance of his career in the second half, a barely restrained beast as Ned grown, his mercurial turn bringing the man’s inherent unpredictability to the fore. The Babadook’s Essie Davis, meanwhile, frequently steals the film from both of them as Ellen, the fearsome matriarch of the Kelly clan, and Nicholas Hoult is similarly impressive as Constable Fitzpatrick, Ned’s slimily duplicitous friend/nemesis, while there are quality supporting turns from Charlie Hunnam and Russell Crowe as two of the most important men of Ned’s formative years. In Kurzel’s hands, this account of Australia’s greatest true-life crime saga becomes one of the ultimate marmite movies – its glacial pace, grubby intensity and frequent brutality will turn some viewers off, but fans of more “alternative” cinema will find much to enjoy here. There’s a blasted beauty to its imagery (this is BY FAR the bleakest the Outback’s ever looked on film), while the screenplay from relative unknown Shaun Grant (adapting Peter Carey’s bestselling novel) is STRONG, delivering rich character development and sublime dialogue, and Kurzel delivers some brilliantly offbeat and inventive action beats in the latter half that are well worth the wait. Evocative, intense and undeniable, this has just the kind of irreverent punk aesthetic that I’m sure the real life Ned Kelly would have approved of …

23. MUST MERCY – more true-life cinema, this time presenting an altogether classier account of two idealists’ struggle to overturn horrific racial injustices in Alabama. Writer-director Destin Daniel Cretton (Short Term 12, The Glass Castle) brings heart, passion and honest nobility to the story of fresh-faced young lawyer Bryan Stevenson (Michael B. Jordan) and his personal crusade to free Walter “Johnny D” McMillan (Jamie Foxx), an African-American man wrongfully sentenced to death for the murder of a white woman. His only ally is altruistic young paralegal Eva Ansley (Cretton’s regular screen muse Brie Larson), while the opposition arrayed against them is MAMMOTH – not only do they face the cruelly racist might of the Alabama legal system circa 1989, but a corrupt local police force determined to circumvent his efforts at every turn and a thoroughly disinterested prosecutor, Tommy Chapman (Rafe Spall), who’s far too concerned with his own personal political ambitions to be any help. The cast are uniformly excellent, Jordan and Foxx particularly impressing with career best performances that sear themselves deep into the memory, while there’s a truly harrowing supporting turn from Rob Morgan as Johnny D’s fellow Death Row inmate Herbert, whose own execution date is fast approaching. This is courtroom drama at its most gripping, Cretton keeping the inherent tension cranked up tight while tugging hard on our heartstrings for maximum effect, and the result is a timely, racially-charged throat-lumper of considerable power and emotional heft that guarantees there won’t be a single dry eye in the house by the time the credits roll. Further proof, then, that Destin Daniel Cretton is one of those rare talents of his generation – next up is his tour of duty in the MCU with Shang-Chi & the Legend of the Ten Rings, and while this seems like a strange leftfield turn given his previous track record, I nevertheless have the utmost confidence in him after seeing this …

22. UNDERWATER – at first glance, this probably seems like a strange choice for the year’s Top 30 – a much-maligned, commercially underperforming glorified B-movie creature-feature headlined by the former star of the Twilight franchise, there’s no way that could POSSIBLY be any good, surely? Well hold your horses, folks, because not only is this very much worth your time and a comprehensive suspension of your low expectations, but I can’t even consider this a guilty pleasure – as far as I’m concerned this is a GENUINELY GREAT FILM, without reservation. The man behind the camera is William Eubank, a director whose career I’ve been following with great interest since his feature debut Love (a decidedly odd but strangely beautiful little space movie) and its more high profile but still unapologetically INDIE follow-up The Signal, and this is the one where he finally delivers wholeheartedly on all that wonderful sci-fi potential. The plot is deceptively simple – an industrial conglomerate has established an instillation drilling right down to the very bottom of the Marianas Trench, the deepest point in our Earth’s oceans, only for an unknown disaster to leave six survivors from the operation’s permanent crew stranded miles below the surface with very few escape options left – but Eubank and writers Brian Duffield (Spontaneous, Love & Monsters, Jane Got a Gun, Insurgent) and Adam Cozad (The Legend of Tarzan) wring all the possible suspense and fraught, claustrophobic terror out of the premise to deliver a piano wire-tense horror thriller that grips from its sudden start to a wonderfully cathartic climax. The small but potent cast are all on top form, Vincent Cassel, Jessica Henwick (Netflix’ Iron Fist) and John Gallagher Jr. (Hush, 10 Cloverfield Lane) particularly impressing, and even the decidedly hit-and-miss T.J. Miller delivers a surprisingly likeable turn here, but it’s that Twilight alumnus who REALLY sticks in your memory here – Kristen Stewart’s been doing a pretty good job lately distancing herself from the role that, unfortunately, both made her name and turned her into an object of (very unfair) derision for many years, but in my opinion THIS is the performance that REALLY separates her from Bella effing-Swan. Mechanical engineer Norah Price is tough, ingenious and fiercely determined, but with the right amount of vulnerability that we really root for her, and Stewart acts her little heart out in a turn sure to win over her strongest detractors. The creature effects are impressive too, the ultimate threat proving some of the nastiest, most repulsively icky creations I’ve seen committed to film, and the inspired design work and strong visual effects easily belie the film’s B-movie leanings. Those made uneasy by deep, dark open water or tight, enclosed spaces should take heed that this can be a tough watch, but anyone who likes being scared should find plenty to enjoy here. Altogether a MUCH better film than its mediocre Rotten Tomatoes rating makes it out to be …

21. PENINSULA – back in 2016, Korean director Yeon Sang-ho and writer Park Joo-suk took the tired old zombie outbreak trope and created something surprisingly fresh with their darkly satirical action horror Train to Busan. The film was, deservedly, a massive international smash hit and a major shot in the arm for the sub-genre on the big screen, so a sequel was inevitable, but when the time came for them to follow it up they did the smart thing and went in a very different direction. Jettisoning much of the humour to create something much darker and more intense, they also ramped the action quotient right up to eleven, creating a nightmarish post-apocalyptic version of Korea which has been quarantined from the rest of the world for the last four years, where the few uninfected survivors eke out a dangerous day-to-day existence amidst the burgeoning undead hordes, and the value of human life has plummeted dramatically. Into this hell-on-earth must venture a small band of Korean refugees, sent by a Hong Kong crime boss to retrieve a multi-million dollar payday in stolen loot that got left behind in the evacuation, led by former ROK Marine Corps Captain Jung-seok (Secret Reunion’s Gang Don-won), a man with a tragic past he has to make up for. Needless to say, nothing goes according to plan … Train to Busan was an unexpected masterpiece of the genre, but I was even more bowled over by this, particularly since I got to see this on the big screen on Halloween night itself, just before the UK cinemas closed down again for the Second Lockdown. This certainly is a film that NEEDS to be seen first on the big screen – the fully-realised hellscape of undead-overrun Seoul is spectacularly immersive, the perfect cinematic playground for the film’s most impressive set-pieces, two astounding, protracted high-speed chases with searchlight-and-flair-lit all-terrain vehicles racing through the dark streets pursued by tidal waves of feral zombies. Sure, the plot is predictable and the tone gets a little overblown and maudlin at times, while some of the characters are drawn in decidedly broad strokes, but the breathless pace rarely lets up throughout, and there are moments of genuine fiendish genius on offer here, particularly in a truly disturbing centrepiece sequence in which desperate human captives are set against slavering undead in a makeshift amphitheatre for sport, as well as a particularly ingenious use for radio-controlled cars. And the cast are brilliant, with Don-won providing a suitably robust but also pleasingly fallible, wounded hero, while Hope’s Lee Re and newcomer Lee Ye-won are irrepressibly feisty and thoroughly adorable as the young girls who rescue him from certain death among the ruins. Altogether, this is horror cinema writ large, played more for thrills than scares but knuckle-whitening and brutally effective nonetheless, and in a year where outbreak horror became all too real for us anyway it was nice to be able to enjoy something a little more escapist anyway – given the strength of its competition in 2020, this top-notch sequel to a true genre gem did very well indeed to place this high. I’ll admit, I wouldn’t say no to thirds …

#body cam #body cam movie #blood quantum #the midnight sky #Palm Springs #palm springs movie #the last days of american crime #bill and ted face the music #true history of the kelly gang #just mercy #underwater #underwater movie #underwater 2020 #peninsula #train to busan presents: peninsula #2020 in movies

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trytobreatheandletgo · 3 years

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Dear Debra,

I get it now. I understand what happened. He totally charmed you, wooed you, made you feel loved and special. He told you how beautiful you were and he filled you with all these ideas of how perfect you were for him. How he wished he'd found you sooner so he could love you longer and how he doesn't know how he will ever live without you. He told you how awful I was, how mean I was. How I didn't satisfy him. But he left out how he almost lost our house, how the sheriff was showing up with summons or Process servers were ringing our doorbell on early Saturday mornings because he wasn't paying taxes, assessment fees or the mortgage and how he lied to me over and over and over again about what was really going on. I bet he didn't tell you all that. He just said I was frigid, mean and he never had any good ideas. He didn't tell you how many years ago a co-worker of his emailed me about how he was involved with a woman at work (sound familiar?) named Jackie. He won't tell you how he's screwed his daughter over for college by not filing income taxes for the past few years. He doesn't tell you all of that. He just charms you, because that's what he does. He shows you this grand and admirable and desirable (safe) persona.

He sent you a movie clip from WHEN HARRY MET SALLY. The very wonderful scene where Harry finally admits his love for Sally! It's an amazing scene. One WE treasured (or at least I thought WE did) and one where he QUOTED "When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible." to me when he PROPOSED! So he recycled it for you. He also recycled songs that he used to play for me. SRV Pride & Joy and some Little Big Town songs. Yes, I am aware of these things. Yes, I am devastated to know that he took something that was deeply personal between us and gave it to you. But then, that's what he does. He recycles what works to suit his wants and needs. To get the optimum results.

No wonder you act with the confidence of a woman who feels loved. Wanted. Respected. Spoiled with affection and tokens of his admiration. Things like a bracelet with your kids' names on it, love notes and cards with arrow hearts on them, day trips to Chicago and long walks talking, hugging and kissing into the wee hours of the morning after shift. Texts with little hearts and words of support and caring. Secret phones and meetups to add to the thrill. Meanwhile, he treats me like the plague and is arrogant, spiteful, vindictive and mean while showing you the best of himself. I used to blame you. But I remember his charms. I remember how he could make you feel like the most loved and wanted person on the planet. How he shows you how loving and caring he is. I remember that. He took that away from me. Had to make me the ogre. Flaunted you in front of me, driving me crazy and treating me with arrogance and disdain while saying how wonderful you were because you were easy to talk to, you got him, you were his soulmate. I hear you have or are divorcing your husband, Joe. I'm so very sorry to hear this, because you're planning for a future that may or may not happen the way you think it will.

Someday, you will be standing where I am, wondering wtf? Did you know that he tells me he was "confused" with you and that you didn't mean anything. That he wants US and that he loves me? That all the while he's messaging you, he's telling me how I am his ONE AND ONLY and the reason he won't leave me is because he realized what he had. But then I found out he contacted you again. I wasn't healing fast enough. I wasn't just sweeping things under the rug. I find out how you undermined my place in my family with your passive aggressive defense of him. Why wouldn't you? He is SO wonderful. I get it. He plays misunderstood so well. I blamed you for the interference in my marriage when truthfully, he was spinning webs. I hear back from other people what he says and I am dumbfounded that he hates me that much.

I am not fighting you anymore for him. If you want him, come get him. Start the "rest of your life" now. Go be happy. Go have the most amazing time ever. But he will disillusion you. He will grow weary of having to keep up appearances - he will get bored. He will find someone who thrills him, who fits into his fantasy world. Who will stimulate him. Because he's an addict. And then suddenly, YOU will become the shrew. He will turn on you faster than slots in Vegas and you will be like me. Trying to find the truth in the webs he spun. He's all yours, Debra. You think he's so wonderful and I feel sorry for you. I was there. I once was that wide eyed girl who thought he was amazing while ignoring all the red flags. I left a good man who really did love me, for him, for his lies, his promises. I f'd up royally and I hurt someone, for him. I've known him and his family since I was 15. How long have you known them? Just remember me when he starts WORKING LATE, or he takes an hour in the bathroom, or a 15 minute errand takes 3 or 4 hours. When the savings you have start dwindling because he's losing fantasy football or his vanity kicks in and he wants to spend, spend, spend. When he gets angry at you for checking up on him, or asking where he's been.

Take care, Debra (Wanna be Janiec). I hope he's everything you ever dreamed of.

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captain-emmajones · 4 years

Text

Love, Emma (6/7)

(Art by the wonderful @carpedzem <3)

Loosely based on Love, Rosie (2014).

Killian and Emma are best friends and neighbors. They’ve always been – until he leaves for the Navy when his brother dies. When he comes back, nine months later, summer has begun and childhood is ending. Emma can tell something is changed in him, but she doesn’t know what. Until she does. He’s fallen in love with someone else.

And then, suddenly, they’re kissing on her nineteenth birthday. When she asks him to forget their night out, and never talk about it again, Killian thinks she means to tell him she regrets the kiss they exchanged. Except she has no memory of it.

Killian and Emma will dance around each other, until their heads spin and their legs hurt, and everything becomes blurry and it has to stop – for both of their sake.

A huge thank you to @profdanglaisstuff who beta’d this and gave me her precious thoughts <3

Friends to Lovers - Mutual Pining - Angst - Fluff - 6000 words - ao3

Part 1 - MIRRORBALL, Part 2 - AUGUST , Part 3 - HOAX, Part 4 - PEACE, Part 5 - THIS IS ME TRYING, Part 7 - INVISIBLE STRING

Note: Everyone gives a lot of love to @carpedzem who drew this wonderful art for this fanfic :’))

Quick Summary: Last chapter ended on Neal finding Killian's love letter to Emma. This chapter opens on Emma, a week after Killian and Emma's kiss.

Reminder: Present time is Emma’s wedding to Neal, and that scene on the balcony during which Killian congratulates Emma on her wedding -- although he’s mostly dying inside. The words “I love you” slip out of his mouth, however he’s quick to add “as a friend” which leaves us with two very sad individuals who are both committing a grave mistake.

PART 6 - CARDIGAN

Six months before Emma’s wedding, a week after Emma and Killian’s kiss.

Emma tosses and turns in her bed. She does not want to glance at the clock sitting on her bedside table. It’s probably joyfully, painfully displaying a horrendous number set between 1am and 5am and Emma wants nothing to do with it.

There is not a spark of light in the room she shares with Neal, the heavy window shutters closed down.

Emma wishes there was some kind of light. Perhaps then the weight over her chest would feel less terrifying, would feel less like the terrible, dark blue waves of a tormented sea she watches swallow her alive and spit her back onto the sand.

She’s battered between the waves, back and forth, back and forth, skin rocking against water, until she manages to reach the surface and breathes in deeply.

But she’s only inhaling sea water and it fills her lungs and brings her to tears and it’s bitter, and it’s shit, and she cannot forget the taste of Killian’s lips.

Another turn, a grunt of anger and despair.

How dare he kiss her and let her leave him when he was in pain. How dare he.

It was inevitable, whispers another part of her, but that part she ignores diligently.

Nothing is inevitable. Especially cheating on her future husband. With her friend whose feet were barely out of the surgery block.

Well, she didn’t properly cheat if he was the one to kiss her…that would have been true, had she not furthered their kiss.

Had she not backed him into his chair and sucked his breath away and marked his scalp with her fingers and tugged on his hair and filled his entire being with her, and her only. It was long overdue, after all.

She turns, more aggressively this time, nearly knicks Neal out of the bed, her right foot whizzing past him.

She kissed him back because he was clearly seeking support and comfort and because a part of her will always love him, has always loved him and there’s nothing wrong with that.

Horseshit.

It is wrong. Utterly, completely, wrong.

Nobody deserves to be cheated on. Nobody. Period.

She’s just a piece of shit, now, is she?

She glances on the side. Neal is still laying on his back, peacefully snoring, one arm flung across his face. She nearly hates him for it. She totally hates him for it.

His chest raises up and down, comfortably, peacefully. What would Emma give for just an ounce of peace in her veins.

Her breath is coming out in short puffs.

It was inevitable, stammers once again her inner voice.

“NO.”

And the scream she thought only existed in her mind causes Neal to startle next to her, and this time she’s thankful it is complete darkness in their room, because he cannot see the flush on her cheeks.

She can make out the shadow of his head lifting in the dark, and she imagines his features groggy with sleep. “You okay, Emma?”

She turns back, grumbles. “Yeah, don’t worry. It’s just a nightmare.” And she definitely sounds like she’s blaming him for it.

A long, tortuous week flies by. Emma’s under-eye circles darken with each passing day, and she is alarmly pale when Graham asks her in a weary tone: “You’re sure everything’s okay, Emma?”

She nods and glances down at where Graham has been looking, and she realizes she’s been holding the files upside down.

Well.

“Shit. Yes. Sorry, Graham. I’ve been having a rough couple of days, is all.”

And then Graham does this thing where he leans into her space, with his big brown eyes, and this kindness in his smile, and he inquires again: “Everything okay with Neal?”

And Emma nods a bit too abruptly for it to be believable, and she knows Graham is smart enough to see it, but she nods harder, it’s the only movement her brain seems to know. “Neal? It’s never been better.” And a quick, lively chuckle to seal the deal.

And really had she laughed harder she would have choked on her fears.

(Her fears have blue eyes and are missing a limb now, and she does not dare to send him a text, to ask him “How are you?” because he must be feeling like shit, and in part it is because of her, she left him, but he had no right to kiss her like this and she had no right to kiss him back.)

She has David on the phone later this week.

“Hello, Emma. I’ve arrived in Portsmouth. I’ll be spending the week with him.”

She hates the feeling of guilt that circles her heart, even as she sighs her biggest sigh of relief.

“Thank you, David, it means the world. I would have come, you know, but I’m so busy with the wedding and the sheriff station and—”

“Sure thing, Emma,” he blurts out and Emma thinks he sounds so accusative, it nearly knocks her out. She is convinced she deserves it. “I’ll take care of him, don’t worry.” A few words more, and he hangs up.

For the first time in ages, Emma feels like Killian and she are on opposite teams, and David has chosen his.

She swallows a lump down her throat.

Emma caves in on Saturday night. Outside, the rain is pouring heavily against her windows. The wind is also howling, curling around the walls of the house and threatening to crush it under its strength.

Neal is out at Granny’s watching a soccer game with friends when Emma sits down on the hard wooden floor of their living room. Her legs are crossed and her heart is drumming in her ears, and she calls him. There’s a bottle of red wine in front of her, and it’s looking at her with a lot of judgement in its glassy eyes but Emma doesn’t care.

She cannot go on like this. She needs to know that he is alright, and that this was all a grave, stupid mistake, and she needs him to say something like “I’m fine, Emma, I’ll survive this” but also “I meant to do that for years” and then it would be her cue to nod under the ceiling light, tears in her smile and she’d say some stupid shit like “Oh god, I’ve been waiting for you to say that” and then she’d drop everything to fly back to him and they’d be happy together or some shit.

Ring, ring, ring.

That’s a lovely dream indeed.

Ring, ring, ring.

And just as Emma gets impatient, not to say she gets scared, a voice answers her. It’s a groggy, foggy voice, and it does not belong to Killian.

“Hello, what is it?” The voice echoes, chuckles, as music resonates behind it, and it is the voice of a woman.

Emma figures they must be in some kind of pub, just like Neal is.

“Is this Killian’s phone?” attempts Emma, fingers clutched onto the phone, and heart on her sleeves.

“Yup...” Another giggle. Emma decides she hates the voice. “But he is currently unavailable. Do you want me to give him a message?”

And then Emma hears his voice, emerging from a twirl of songs and other talks. “Why are you using my phone, Tink?”

Emma thinks Killian’s voice irrupts into her empty house just as a gust of wind rattles her shutters. She flinches. And for a minute, glances above her shoulder, afraid that he might appear behind her back.

But silence is her only companion. And this house is so impressively, distinctively silent.

Something clicks inside of Emma’s brain. Tink. She knows Tink. What’s her real name? Mary something. They went to high school together, and she had a disgustingly big crush on Killian, and, and –

“I dunno, some chick.”

And Emma barely has time to hear Killian’s “Which chick?” before she hangs up on a whim.

She heaves, hands trembling around the phone, and something grotesque disfigures her face.

She was worried about him and he’s been having the time of his life with this Tink, and, and – what was she expecting?

She stares at the floor as though she is able to distinguish the broken bits of her heart spilled there, and the bloody marks they leave, and it’s such a goddamn mess, and how could she allow herself to feel this way after all these years, after having been shown all the goddamn reasons why Killian Jones will never love her back a hundred fucking times.

Rose-Mary, of her surname Tink, tosses and turns in Killian’s bed. He is fast asleep next to her, one hand thrown across his face. He snores lightly.

Tink has this tingling desire deep within her, this desire to grab the phone he left on his nightstand and delete Emma Swan’s call from it.

“Give me the phone, Tink!”

Back in the bar, she was quite lucky to find out in the shape of his raised eyebrows that Killian Jones wasn’t actually serious, that he was seriously hammered and couldn’t have cared less for his phone if he had tried. As her only answer, she had simply locked her lips to his and pressed his phone’s home button to switch it off.

Because Tink knows Emma Swan.

Killian Jones was already in love with her when Tink asked him out, during their senior year. She cannot forget the look on his face, as she was standing in the middle of the hallway, risking her heart. Behind her, Emma Swan was leaning against a locker with Mary Margaret and Ruby, and Killian simply, positively wouldn’t look Tink in the eyes.

“I’m sorry, love,” he said, “but my affections lie elsewhere.” And Tink remembers thinking he surely didn’t have to sound like he escaped from one of Shakespeare’s plays, and she turned to discover the pretty blonde smiling at Killian, waving with mischief, and his arm around her shoulders as soon as he reached her.

Some things were truly unfair.

As luck would have it, Killian’s path crossed hers years ago – when he moved to Portsmouth to join the Navy whilst she began Nursing school. But even then, he didn’t seem interested, was dating an older woman.

And then, finally, two days ago, their paths crossed again in a bar. He is missing a hand now, but he is still the same handsome guy she crushed on in high school. Perched on a stool, he looked disheveled, desperate, nose in his rum glass, and he welcomed her into his warm, solid arms.

“Still in contact with Emma Swan?” she asked, and it wasn’t like she cared. She didn’t want more than he could offer. But still, she asked.

“Emma? Who’s Emma? I only see you.”

Although she knew that to be a lie, she still decided to kiss him back, knowing the instant Killian Jones heard Emma Swan’s name again, well then, he would find a very gentle, delicate way to make her go away.

And that’s fine. But if she can prevent it, well –

Tink stands up as silently as she can, and like a feather in the wind, grabs his phone. He casually gave her his pin number earlier during the night — change this bloody song Tink will you — and Tink deletes Emma’s call in the blink of an eye.

Satisfaction sparkles in her heart. No one will bother them anymore.

As Neal and Emma go on tasting wedding cakes, Emma thinks about how Killian never called her back. Not the morning after her conversation with Tink, not the night after, not the day after, he did not call. Period. It’s the only answer he is willing to give, and she accepts it.

He doesn’t care about her. Not like she cares, anyway.

“The chocolate one,” Emma mumbles, trying not to spit crumbs of cakes out of her mouth and failing, “it’s perfect.”

Delicacy remains a skill she has yet to learn.

But Neal doesn’t seem to mind when he chuckles and kisses her cheek. Emma grabs his face and doesn’t care that there are still chocolate chunks in her mouth and she kisses him, hard, to forget the taste of Killian Jones’ lips.

Killian stares at the picture of Emma and himself on his fridge. It’s been a month, stammers his heart. She will not call, now.

Tink is still sleeping in his bed. He needs to call things off with her as well. She’s too attached, he’ll break her heart. That’s one too many hearts to be responsible for.

He swallows stone, but he takes the picture off the fridge. It’s too painful to stare at what ifs.

A few minutes before Emma and Neal say “I do”.

Taking a picture off a fridge is simple enough. Not racing towards the town hall of Storybrooke to try, one last time, and stop Emma’s wedding, isn’t nearly as easily done.

Hope and denial are, after all, two very close kingdoms and both of them inhabit Killian’s heart.

At least he’s got that going for him. However, Mary Margaret and David – who are also running beside him – really have nothing going for them except for their foolishness.

How dare they show up in his home and tear him out of his cobweb of misery and self-pity. How bloody dare they.

“There’s no use arguing, I’m not going!” he yelled, and then Mary Margaret had this very dangerous smile, and before he knew it, his ass sat on a plane between the two of them and he was wearing his most expensive tie.

“And look sharp, Killian.”

Which is why, as Killian races down that street corner, and up that small hill by Granny’s, and then down again Main street, towards the town hall, Killian no longer expects Emma and Neal to come out of the building, holding hands, married.

But that’s exactly what happens.

They come out as a crowd of strangers surrounds them, and they look like the sun has set all of its rays of sunshine on them, they are shining, shining, much like the waves of fear down Killian’s belly because he is too late. Of course he is.

And he wants to turn around and hit David in the face.

But what’s the use of fighting anymore? The war is lost. Lay your weapons down. Bring the soldiers home.

And in that moment, as the sun seems to align with some divine power and its golden beams shine on Emma’s eyes, glittering green lakes, she gazes at him and he holds his breath. In spite of everything, he still thinks she is the most beautiful woman on earth. He smiles, as his heart shatters to the ground, as Neal kisses her open mouth.

What is there else to do but smile?

“Fuck,” exclaims Mary Margaret next to him, and Killian sure does nod.

“Aye. Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

Present day – Neal and Emma’s wedding reception.

Neal watches as Emma shuts the large French windows that lead to the balcony behind her. He puts down his glass of champagne on the white table in front of him. The bubbles fizz inside, as if to mock him.

For there’s not the shadow of a smile on his wife’s face. In fact, she looks utterly devastated. Her complexion is pale, her cheeks have lost all the colors they gathered during their dances, and there is not one sparkle of happiness left in her green eyes.

A frown. Why does his wife look devastated at their wedding?

He sees her glance down, seemingly lost, and she does this thing when she doesn’t know where to put her hands, so she folds them in front of her. And she plays with the bracelet around her wrist, twists the little charms, twists, twists his heart.

And then he realizes. She’s waiting. But for what? Or rather, for whom?

He wishes the answer didn’t come quite as soon, not quite as sharply, he wishes the room did not start spinning as Killian Jones leaves the balcony in his turn – devilishly handsome as he’d say and looking entirely like a mess.

What a picture. They both look devastated. They look like the bride and groom, him in his white shirt and her in her white dress. Two bleeding snowflakes under a golden chandelier.

Neal watches as Emma risks a glance back, but Killian doesn’t look up, only stares at the hard wooden floor, Neal watches as she presses her lips together and straightens her back, but still glances back at him.

Always back at him. Of course.

And that’s when one realization hits Neal quite hard.

His wife… His wife is in love with someone else. He just married someone who is irrevocably and for all of eternity in love with someone else.

Why did he do this to himself? For the longest of times, Neal thought it didn’t matter that Emma’s gaze was filled with green, shimmering clouds of pain whenever Killian Jones’ name was mentioned in a conversation, he really thought it didn’t matter that her cheeks would always flush whenever she received a text from him, because he was the one kissing her lips and sleeping between her sheets.

He was such a fool.

He married a woman in love with someone else.

Such a fool.

Neal grabs his glass of champagne again, downs it in a few angry mouthfuls, and gathers courage and legs to stand and stride towards his wife.

Emma might be in love with Killian, but she loves him too, surely she does, or she wouldn’t have agreed to this marriage, right?

And there is something very scary vibrating in his chest, fear, a green and viscous fear, he’s losing her, she’s slipping between her fingers…

“Neal,” Emma’s voice is very soft as it greets him, but her smile doesn’t reach her eyes.

How dare she, how dare she be in love with Killian, when Neal gave up everything for her, when he…

From the corner of his eye, Neal can see Killian lean against the wall. He is looking at them. Perfect. Now watch, you little fucker.

“Hello, baby,” two words, and Neal dips Emma and savagely presses his lips onto hers.

A burst of applause rattles the crowd.

Neal tries his best to muffle the voice inside his head that sneers that the only thing their guests are cheering at, is the end of their love.

“I’m going back to our room, I’m really tired” mumbles Emma over her empty mojito glass.

The sea whispers behind her back. Neal doesn’t look up from his piña colada.

On the terrace of this luxurious hotel by the French Riviera, Neal and Emma are sitting and everything sucks.

It is the third day of their honeymoon, and for Neal, it is the last straw. There is no way in hell he can keep up this charade. They both deserve better than this.

She’s been looking miserable since they arrived here – it isn’t for a lack of trying to conceal it. Actually, no, it’s worse than that. She’s been looking miserable since Killian Jones left their wedding without a look back at her. Should have seen her face, Eurydice left by Orpheus in the depths of hell.

It’s killing him to see her like this, to know there’s nothing he can do to make things better. Purely and simply because, as much as he’s tried to, Neal Cassidy will never replace Killian Jones in Emma Swan’s heart.

And as she bends towards him to give him a quick peck on the lips, a very vicious sentence tickles his tongue and he lets it out without a second thought.

“Bet you looked more eager to kiss Killian.”

It is a dick move, yes, but after all he isn’t the one who cheated on her, and Neal thinks she deserves a little karma.

The look she darts on him then would have probably killed him, had there not been empty glasses standing between the two of them to shield him.

“What the hell are you talking about?” she spits out in a sharp, defensive tone.

Neal is surprised she tries to deny it all.

“Your lover sent you a letter,” he hisses back.

Satisfaction sparkles in his heart at the sight of her face turning crimson under the moonlight.

He watches as she angrily gulps a last mouthful of rum, watches as her knuckles whiten around her glass and her jaw clenches. “Who are you talking about?”

“Who the hell do you think I’m talking about?”

And then the god forsaken, sacrilegious name. “...Killian sent me a letter?”

And from guilt to anger, there is only one, treacherous step. And she seems eager to jump it.

“Oh yeah, he did. Said it all about your kiss and loving you, and I nearly vomited…”

And then it is really upsetting because he wants to be mad but her face does that thing where it just freezes, mouth open wide and eyes even wider, and it would have been funny had he not been putting an end to their short-lived marriage.

“He…he loves me?”

She cannot possibly not know it. She can’t be that oblivious to reality.

“I’m telling you I know you cheated on me and that’s your only reaction?” A roll of eyes, his voice coming out shriller, to mock her, mock her pain, because he wants to hurt her like she hurt him. “ “He loves me?” Of course he loves you, Emma!” he blurts out, because the entire world knows it except for her, apparently.

He can’t have married someone as oblivious.

Well, you did marry her knowing she was in love with someone else.

And she stands up, cheeks hot and burning and red, and she isn’t making any sense anymore. “What the hell are you talking about? Killian doesn’t love me, he never has.”

And seeing her wrath, the way her body trembles and shakes, he knows she is truly convinced Killian Jones isn’t in love with her.

But how…

“You really don’t know, do you?”

“Where is that letter?”

“I got rid of it, of course!”

“Then you have no proof! How convenient.”

He wants to stop her then, to yell “Hey YOU cheated on me,” but he can tell that in her grand order of things, her cheating on him has nothing on Killian Jones possibly loving her.

And then a small, mad chuckle jolts out of her mouth. “Killian would never write a letter. You made that up.”

“But how would I know about the kiss?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care, and I, I—” A turn, and then she is gone, disappearing in a tornado of anger and guilt and sand.

Neal doesn’t try to hold her back, remains very still on his seat, lets her go, much like he should have years ago. He glances down at the empty drink between his fingers.

The waves crash against the sand, whoosh, whoosh, and Neal feels terribly lonely.

But at peace.

But mostly lonely.

Damnit, she is stubborn, and she is lucky he’s in love with her. That he’ll always be, somehow, even if he is a fucking idiot who probably blew his only chance at love when he stole those watches.

Later that night, Neal finds her sitting on their king side bed and its perfectly white blankets, hands folded in front of her like he knows them to, shoulders down and head bent towards the floor, and Neal desperately wants to hug her.

There is not an ounce of anger left in his body. Only sadness.

There’s not a flicker of light in their room as he sits down by her side. The rustle of the waves can be heard from their room. It’s the only reason why he chose it. He knows she loves that sound.

(He doesn’t know she loves it because of him, but that’s fine.)

“Hey…” he begins softly, and his shoulder gently bumps against hers. “You okay?”

She’s twirling her wedding ring around her finger. Of course she is. She always has been. And that should have been a clue, too.

“Are you being sincere right now?” she asks, and her voice is nothing like the voice he’s grown to love.

Emma’s voice has always been soft, but vibrating with a very triumphant confidence as well.

“What do you mean?” he asks, because precisely he doesn’t know what she means.

He’s never understood her like Killian can, in spite of how much he loves her. And while he spent most of the beginning of his adulthood hating him for it, he realizes now it is simply a battle he cannot win.

She lifts her face up, and he makes out her shimmering eyes in the darkness.

“I cheated on you. Aren’t you mad?”

A gigantic sigh shakes his shoulders as these past six months flash before his eyes.

“I was angry, Emma. But it’s been too long, I’m not anymore.”

“Too long?”

Oh, right, that. She’ll hate him, but well, she deserves the truth. He winces, fidgets with the collar of his shirt.

“I might have been hiding this letter from you for a good six months now…” he whispers, and forces a smile on his face as an apology.

“You what?”

She doesn’t sound nearly as angry as he expected her to. In fact, she doesn’t sound angry at all. She sounds defeated, hopeless.

“I was so scared that if I confronted you, you would just run and never marry me, and I thought I could hold on to you by not telling you…But I was wrong. There was no holding on to you.”

And something terrible rattles her body then, as she cups her face and disappears even more in a small, scared puddle over the bed.

“Fuck. I’m sorry Neal. I ruined everything.”

And he shakes his head then, grabs one of her hands. “There’s no need to apologize, Emma. We both fucked up. I should have let you go a long time ago.”

His throat is tight, but he knows this is the right thing to do.

“What are we going to do now?” she whispers, just as one of his arms comes to wrap around her shoulders.

She muffles a sigh in the crook of his neck while he gently brushes her hair.

“I don’t know. Is there some kind of three weeks wedding notice?”

She chuckles then, but he can clearly imagine the tears rolling down her cheeks as she sniffles into his neck.

“You’re an idiot.”

“I am.”

Silence. By then, it’s somehow raining in the room and his shirt is soaked.

“I’ll always love you. You know that, right, Emma?”

She nods in the darkness, her hand clutching onto his shoulder, and she seems to him a firefly caught between a child’s chubby hands.

“I know, Neal.”

“Good.”

Moving out of this house is one of the weirdest things Emma has ever had to do.

“Emma, you’re not coming?” calls David’s voice, and Emma looks up to see his head peering from the driver’s seat of his old, orange truck.

Safely packing all of the pieces of furniture was a collective effort. Mary Margaret, Ingrid and Ruby also came to help, and Emma is quite thankful. It’s such a blinding, sunny day of August, and if not for the fresh breeze that swirls between the tree branches, it would be unbreathable.

Emma simply shakes her head. “No, don’t worry. I’ll join you guys later at Granny’s.”

Her right foot nearly knocks out the small cardboard box at her feet, sending a loop down her stomach.

This one she’ll carry herself.

Neal and Emma agreed to sell the house and the furniture, and Neal – well Neal decided to move to Boston, and Emma cannot quite blame him.

This last month has been…weird, on so many levels, and Neal wasn’t the weirdest thing about it.

“Alright. Call us if you need anything.”

As David drives away, Emma stares back at the house. Her feet seem buried into the doormat, the door still open wide, and her fingers clutch onto the keys.

It is a bittersweet sight, those empty walls.

She thinks life has a funny way of coming around. She thinks she thought she’d have a family there, with Neal, she thinks she thought this was what she wanted, what she could bear to have and risk losing.

She’s glad that Neal showed himself braver than she ever could. That he refused to settle, for both of their sakes.

She inhales deeply.

Exhales.

And lets it go. All of it.

Click, she locks the door, and turns her back on her past.

A summer breeze greets her face, swirls around her legs and tangles her hair, and she closes her eyes into the warm embrace. It carries childhood smells, this smell of burnt wood, and Rocky Road ice-cream, and Killian’s cologne.

“Heard you needed help moving out?” Her eyes snap open. Her heart skips a beat.

It’s August in Storybrooke, Maine, and anything is possible again.

The wind carries the first fallen leaves to her feet and his scent to her heart. Something mystical splits her face as she takes a step towards him. She nearly trips on the cardboard box at her feet, again, grunts and picks it up in a blink, and she hears it – his laughter in the wind.

As she looks up, a flower blooms in her chest, carries blood to her heart and her face with its roots, and her lungs are soon filled to the brim with petals.

“Yeah.” A quivering whisper, it is hard to breathe when the sun drops golden and blue beams into his eyes. “Thank you, Killian.”

And in a few strides he imprisons the cardboard box she held against her chest, the one containing memories of her childhood, and his eyes are so warm on her face that he steals her breath away.

“Any baggage left?” he asks, and it is a hoarse whisper as well.

She swallows hard.

She shivers beside him. She’s a fallen leaf herself, caught in a whirlwind. Her eyes are open wide and she feels completely swallowed by his gaze but it is a wonderful kind of fear.

“Not at all.”

And he smiles then, and it is one of the most gentle smiles she’s seen on his face, and at last, he is Killian and she is Emma.

“Good.”

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