#this post brought to you by someone saying cole ‘likes to be forgotten’

[lyriumlullaby-ao3]

hate it when someone else doesn’t get The Character like you do, you feel?

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

In Bloom 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, allusions to trauma, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After wasting much of your youth in a toxic situation, things are starting to look up. That’s until you meet a certain flower seller.

Characters: Cole Turner, short!reader

Note: It’s suiting that it's hump day cause I feel like cole is into that.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You slice into a cucumber, moving the knife carefully. As you focus on the task, you notice Aunt Bev’s glances. Are they intentional or is she concerned? You keep the blade steady and slow, sure not to catch your fingertips. 

“Hon, did you want to borrow one of my skirts for dinner?” She offers. 

You look down at yourself. You think the jeans and tee are just fine but now you’re doubting yourself. You blink at her and shrug. 

“Should I?” 

“It’s up to you, of course. Just whatever you’re comfortable in. I just have this nice blue flowery one and it suits you better.” 

“Well, I...” you put the knife down and gather up the cucumber in your hands, dumping it onto the bowl of lettuce, “I could try it on.” 

You grab the dish rag and wipe your hands. You just want to make her happy. You never had someone like Aunt Bev, someone who is happy over the smallest things. She makes everything you do seem like some great achievement. 

“Oh, come on, it’ll be nice,” she insists and gestures you down the hall, “in here.” 

You follow her upstairs to the bedroom she shares with your uncle. She rolls open her closet as she hums. She pulls out a wrap skirt; blue petals on white. 

“You’ll need a shirt to go with it,” she insists, “one sec.” 

She hands you the skirt and turns to sift through a dresser draw. She pulls out a plain chiffon blouse with a little scallop at the bottom. “It will go nicely.” 

“Thanks, uh, but what... what if I spill?” 

“That’s okay, honey,” she holds out the shirt, “you can keep them. They’ll look much better on you.” 

“Oh, uh,” you look down then up again. 

“You just get changed,” she sweeps past you, “I’ll be downstairs.” 

You can’t deny her. The door closes before you can even think of changing your mind. It would be rude to say no anyway. They’re such nice clothes. You look down at what you’re wearing and crumple inside. You made the wrong choice again. You should’ve known to dress up for company. 

You change as quickly as you can. You carry your clothes back downstairs and into the small room you’ve been allotted. It was once Aunt Bev’s craft room. You feel bad about that too. 

You return to the kitchen. She’s not there. You rinse some cherry tomatoes and quarter them on the wooden cutting board. As you do, you hear voices. 

Aunt Bev strolls in as Cole follows her. You don’t turn to see. You’re too shy. You hope he doesn’t even notice you. 

“Oh, honey, you look lovely,” she chimes as she nears the counter and sets down a round pan, “isn’t it wonderful, Cole brought dessert.” 

“Ma sent a pie,” he explains, “do you like rhubarb?” 

You want for Aunt Bev to answer. She doesn’t. You look up and over and realise they’re watching you. Oh. 

“Uh, I never had it.” 

“Never had rhubarb?” Cole blusters, “well good news, my ma makes the best strawberry rhubarb crumble.” 

“Um, oh, thanks,” you try to smile but your lips just strain tightly over your teeth. You turn back to the counter and add the tomatoes to the bowl. 

“Salad looks yummy. Very colourful,” he comes closer. He’s so tall you can’t help but shrink down. “Bev’s right, that’s a really nice skirt. Suits you.” 

“Thanks,” you cheep. 

“Can I help with anything?” He offers. 

You look around him at Aunt Bev. She smiles and gestures as if to say, ‘go on’. You turn back to the cutting board and lay the knife down. 

“I’m almost done,” you say, “no thank you.” 

“Well, when you’re done, honey, why don’t you show him the garden?” Bev suggests, “she has really livened it up, you know? She spends hours out there.” 

“I’m sure. I’m excited to see it,” Cole agrees as he lingers close by, “nice house. Cozy.” 

“Ah, you know, we try to make it home,” your aunt preens. “I didn’t even say how nice you look. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a tie.” 

“Shucks,” he waves her off as he leans on the counter right next to your work space. 

You go to the fridge to get the container of feta and come back to sprinkle it over the salad. 

“Smells delicious too. Did you cook all this?” Cole asks as he looks down at you. 

“No,” you shake your head, “just the salad.” 

“She’s a good helper,” Bev beams and nears, taking the bowl from in front of you, “I’ll just go set this out on the patio table, why don’t you two go check out the garden?” 

“I’d love to,” Cole stands straight, “ladies.” 

He waves ahead of him and you hesitate. You pause to put the feta away then follow Bev towards the sliding doors. She goes out onto the deck and plants the large bowl on the wooden table. She stays there as you drag your feet past. You do your best to keep moving as you feel Cole getting too close. 

You go down the steps, nearly stumbling at the bottom. You cross your arms as you approach the garden where daffodils stand tally among the pansies. He puts his hands on his hips as he steps up. His blue eyes rove over the foliage as he peruses it thoughtfully. 

You peek over at him. He wears pale khakis and a grey button up rolled to his elbows, a trim of teal along the buttons. He wears a tie in a darker shade of grey as his hair is even fluffier than the last time you saw him. You shy away before he can catch you. 

“Wow, it’s so nice, and the placement is wonderful. Great for crossbreeding,” he points around. “You know a lot about plants?” 

“I read,” you say. “Library books. Aunt Bev brings them home.” 

“I love the library,” he chirps. 

“Oh, I don’t... I haven’t gone.” 

“Yet,” he insists, “one day, I’m sure.” 

You nod and fold your arms. You sway and search the grass. He kneels by the edge of the garden and touches a leaf. 

“What happened to your daylilies?” He asks. 

You bounce on your toes, “put them in my room.” 

“Really? You must have petals all over,” he chuckles as he continues to rustle the plants, feeling each one. “Do you have a favourite?” 

“I don’t know, they’re all pretty.” 

You nibble your lip. He talks a lot. He makes you talk a lot. You sniff and squeeze your arms. 

“Don’t get lost out there,” Aunt Bev startles you as she calls from the deck, “I’m about to bring the rest of the food out.” 

“Ah, thanks, Beverly,” Cole waves at her and smiles, turning to look at you, “shall we?” 

“Okay,” you don’t move. He doesn’t either. 

“You go first,” he says. 

You do as he says and he follows. The skirt flutters around your legs, swirling in a way that tickles the back of your knees. You’re not used to it. You never really wore one before.  

As you come up on the deck, he trails you toward the table. He sidles past you and pulls out a chair before you can do it yourself. He opens his hand to the seat, “please.” 

“Uh, thanks, you don’t have to...” 

“My ma always taught me manners,” he assures. 

You sit and he slides the chair toward the table, trapping you in it. He claims the one next to you, his elbow almost on the armrest of yours. You make yourself small. You’re really good at that. You miss when you could be invisible. 

Bev appears again, a long pare of tongs in her hand. She approaches the roiling BBQ and opens it up. As she turns the drumsticks, she smiles over at the table. 

“Don’t you two look ready to eat,” she trills. “I just told the others to come out and get a plate. Just gotta get this chicken and the potatoes.” 

She uses the tongs to transfer the drumsticks to a large serving plate. Cole clears his throat and gets up. He goes to take it from her and brings it to the table. 

“You are just the biggest, sweetheart,” she grins, “your mother must be so proud. Such a lucky lady.” 

“I do what I can,” he says, “don’t want you to burn yourself.” 

“Oh, don’t you worry about me. You do too much of that,” she removes the wrapped potatoes from the grill next, “I can’t thank you enough for helping us last weekend.” 

“Really, it’s fine. It was a very busy weekend,” he meets her again to take the next tray, “I can tell a lost soul when I see one. I figured it was best to get her out of the tide before it swallowed her up. Sometimes I even get overwhelmed.” 

“It really was so amazing,” she insists, “we got more than enough. You make sure you take leftovers for your mother. She sent that lovely pie.” 

“Sure,” he agrees easily as he sets down the potatoes. He sits down once more, further crowding you. Is he that big or that oblivious. “She’s a nice girl,” he peers over at you and you look at the table, “I couldn’t just let her get lost.” He turns slightly in his chair, towards you, “I hope it didn’t scare you away. I have some new stuff I’m bringing next week; thought maybe you’d like to see.” 

“Oh, you know that would be so lovely, honey.” 

“If that’s too much,” Cole leans his elbow on the arm rest and extends his fingers as he speaks, “she could come up and see them at the farm. Right in their natural habitat.” 

“The farm?” Bev exclaims, “how exciting.” 

“Of course, you’re all welcome to come up and see. My ma loves having a full house but my sister never comes around anymore and it was only ever the two of us. She always wanted more but, ah, you know?” 

“That’s too bad,” Bev says, “but that would be so wonderful. Honey, wouldn’t you like to go see all his flowers?” 

“I could use some help potting too, if you have a set of hands to spare,” he suggests. “Not that I’m looking for free labour, I just... figured.” 

“We’d love to help out, wouldn’t we, honey?” 

That’s it. She’s given the answer for you. You can’t disagree with her or you’d be mean. You’re not a mean person. Not like she always said you were. 

“Sure,” you murmur. 

“We’ll make a day of it,” she sings, “just let me know when.” 

“Will do,” Cole says brightly. “Sorry, I’m a dweeb about these things. I don’t really meet a lot of people who like flowers as much as me.” 

“We can all use friends,” Bev goes to the sliding door and pushes it open, “right, hon?” You nod, choked of your voice and she sighs as she pokes her head inside, “where is everyone?” 

🌷

You help clear the table after dinner. You sit down as Cole gets up and you’re relieved to be on your own. The others sit on the other side of the table; Uncle Morris along with your cousins, Mason and Lena. The latter two are on their phones and Uncle Morris chews on toothpick. 

You’re content enough to watch the clouds in the sky. Aunt Bev is so good at keeping things lively but you never know what to say. You don’t really feel safe around anyone but her. She’s the one who found you, who helped you. 

You look down at your hands and the faded welts. There’s more up your forearms and on your legs. They are almost indiscernible, though a few are stark enough to be picked out. You rub your hands together, as if you might wipe them away. Some memories are wrought as much into your skin as your mind. 

The sliding door opens and your Uncle Morris sits up and pats his stomach, “ah, about time. Dessert! The best part of dinner.” 

Bev and Cole dole out the saucers. Yours is placed before you as he sits next to you again. You take your fork and spin it nervously. Morris is quick to dig in as your aunt asks Mason and Lena about school. Their conversation edges you out, but you’re used to that. You prefer it. You never have much to add. 

“You gonna try it?” Cole keeps his voice low as he pokes at his crumble. 

“Oh, uh, sure,” you scoop up some of the reddish pink goop and oats. 

“You have to tell me the truth, if you like the rhubarb. I gotta report back to ma.” 

You nod and take a bite. You don’t like how he watches. It makes you self-conscious. His eyes linger on your hand as you slid the fork from your mouth and chew the tart dessert. Your cheeks pinch and you swallow tightly. You like it. 

“Well?” He nudges you and you wince. “Oh, sorry, are you okay? Was that too hard?” 

“No, I... I liked it,” you put the fork down and try to hide your arms. They’re oversensitive. Most of you is; just brushing against furniture can make you whimper. “Thank you.” 

“Told you, ma makes the best,” he proclaims, but a vee of worry remains between his brows, “you sure I didn’t hurt you?” 

“Yes, I’m sure,” you insist. You have to act normal. 

You grab your fork and take another bite. He continues to watch you, moving the crumble around as he does. You wish he'd stop looking so much. 

“Oh, wow, did that hurt?” He points to the back of your hand. That one scar that stands out. 

“No,” you lie. 

“What happened?” 

You shake your head, “nothing.” 

“Doesn’t look like nothing.” 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you hiss and drop your fork. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

“I’m not upset,” your eyes well and you flick your lashes. Your hand throbs. You hear the snap of the switch, you feel it against your tendons. You want to scream but you can’t. “I’m fine, I’m fine...” 

“I...” Cole babbles and looks around. The table is silent as you gulp for air. 

“Oh, hon,” Aunt Bev gets up and comes around to your chair, “have some water, alright?” 

“I didn’t... I don’t know what I did,” Cole stutters. 

“It’s not you, sweetie,” Bev pets your hair as she offers the glass of water. “She’s okay. She was out in the sun today, she gets a bit faint.” 

You want to cry even more. Not just for the embarrassment. Because you’re grateful. Because she lies so easily for you. She protects you like no one else ever has. 

“Can I go inside?” You whisper. 

“Sure, hon, I’ll put your dessert aside for you,” she smiles.  

[pluviophile-bookworm]

AWAE 2x9 rewatch: thoughts and reactions

This review is dedicated to Dalila Bela, who turns 19 today. Happy birthday!

After a long wait, there she is at last - Muriel Stacy, decorating her new home with potato stamps. What a lovely way to show she is a kindred spirit. She’s basically like an older Anne. 

Marilla and Anne utter the same words upon passing Miss Stacy, who is cycling in the opposite direction at top speed - ‘My heavens!’ - except their intonations are so different. Marilla is shocked at the sight of the unconventional-looking stranger, while Anne is in awe of her, and especially the fact that she’s wearing trousers. I don’t think the women of Avonlea, be they progressive mothers or not, won’t be so fascinated with her, though.

And again, Miss Stacy acts exactly like an older Anne, going on and on about potatoes and tardiness and motorbikes before she’s even caught a breath. I can’t wait for Anne to finally meet her. And that concludes the cold open. 

I don’t care what Prissy and Josie, or their mothers, say about Miss Stacy- I’m with Anne on this one. They shouldn’t judge their new teacher before they’ve met her up close. She’ll warm her way into their hearts, I’m sure. I actually know it for a fact.

I simply cannot believe Billy brought a gun to school and is openly proclaiming he’s about to kill an animal, a living being, with it. And it’s not just any animal - it’s the fox, Anne’s fox. What has it done to him that he’s so personally violent towards it?

Again, Gilbert alone is the voice of reason (unlike season 3 Gilbert, who is the most confused individual I’ve ever seen and has the eyebrows to prove it). ‘There’s no fox here, so how about you put the gun away?’ It’s as if he speaks for me. 

Who does Billy think he is, calling his teacher ‘little lady’? He’s lucky she’s not Phillips, otherwise he wouldn’t get away with such disrespectful behaviour. 

Once again Anne uses the exact same words as someone else, but with a different intonation. Prim and proper Tillie’s ‘Oh my goodness!’ is one of disapproval (which she’s not to blame for, that’s probably just what her parents have taught her), while Anne’s is an expression of pure admiration and fascination. [Side note: Let’s put things into perspective, though - what would you think if your new teacher showed up to school with no bra on, on her first day at that? I don’t really know what to think of corsets anymore, so I’m not sure how to take this. You tell me.]

What, now Matthew and Jerry, two of my favourite AWAE men, want to catch the fox too? I understand it’s stealing people’s chickens, but hey, a fox must eat too, and it’s not like it can get its food in another way.

What’s happening to Bash? Is farm life not his speed? I’m worried about him, I hope he’s alright. 

For this next scene, the introductions, I’ll insert a note from when I first watched this episode. I notice I’ve been doing that a lot lately, but well, it seems I’ve got quite a lot of first impression notes on this season written down, so why not make them public now, here where it’s appropriate? Here goes:

And, just as I was fascinated, things got dramatically bad. Anne wouldn’t stop saying quite private things about everyone who spoke, and Miss Stacy reprimanded her for spreading gossip, resulting in her being unable to come up with words to describe herself (the method used for introductions was everyone would use words starting with their initials to describe themselves. I really wanted to know what Anne would have said about herself, as nobody else seemed to struggle much with the exercise (although I myself always do when asked to do it).

Alright, now I’d like to add something to this. When Ruby describes herself as ‘romantic’ and looked for a G word for ‘Gillis’, I could swear she thought of a certain young man right to her left - heck, she even looked at him before quickly blurting out ‘girl’. Well, yeah, she is a girl. But she’s also defining herself through Gilbert too much. I hope she knows how much potential she has beyond him. Besides, he only has eyes for Anne. I wish we’d got another season so we could see how far Ruby and Moody go. I liked them, but we saw too little of them together. #renewannewithane

Ok, but... it was like Miss Stacy just finished Anne’s sentence. ‘Ruby has a crush on...’ ‘Gilbert Blythe?’ Well, yes, but that’s not what we’re talking about. See, I’m noticing details I did not deem significant enough to note down the first time around. This is what rewatches are for. 

Rachel Lynde needs Marilla’s help. That’s a first. Oh, well, it’s rumours, what else. She’s against Miss Stacy. I really don’t like her right now. 

No, seriously, what is happening to Bash?

Of course, what the mothers of Avonlea fail to see is that, female or not, trousers or nor, corset or not, Miss Stacy is much more capable of teaching the young minds of Avonlea school than her predecessor. Or at least she’s much more willing to educate them properly. Of course she’ll tutor Gilbert. And Anne will soon find her way into her good graces. I hope. Nay, I know it. 

‘Appalling, stupid, clueless...’ this is what I hoped wouldn’t happen, but it happened anyway. Now Anne is beating herself up for the scrape she got into by complete accident. Gosh, I hope someone can fix this.

From my old notes:  And again, Cole knows how to fix things, and he does so, brilliantly I would say. Also, with the way he goes out into the nature, raises his hands and shouts out “Come to me, Muse!”, I can totally see him being a pagan... and who’s to say he’s not? I mean, Anne has the makings of one too, remember the Beltane ritual in season 3?

Rachel’s only job seems to be to stick her nose in other people’s business. She has no right to go around asking about Muriel’s marital status and whether she wants to be an old maid. But as anyone who’s watched the full series knows, this will be carried over into season 3.

Seriously, Rachel right now reminds me of Anne earlier with all the gossip, and I see now why she (Anne) made such a bad impression on Miss Stacy. Unfortunately, she (Miss Stacy) cannot assign Rachel Lynde an essay.

Anne’s mind is all taken over by the fox... so much that she’s fallen asleep over her papers... and now, disaster after disaster lead to a small fire, which grows into a bigger fire. If Anne’s essay burns in it, I’ll literally cry. I know a thing or two about lost work. Why, half of this very post I had to write a second time after my computer decided to restart the page with the unsaved draft open. But hey, this is not about me. 

So I guess they’ve figuratively and literally forced Miss Stacy into a corset. That’s sad. But I see she’s not giving up on her unique identity.

Oh, great, now the found brothers are fighting. I guess it turns out Bash’s problem is he’s inexperienced in farming and he needs help, but Gilbert is pursuing his own future now and doesn’t seem to care all that much. I feel bad for Bash. But we know Gilbert will stay at least another year and Bash will figure farming out by the time he has to leave. 

Ah, I see Anne is feigning sickness so as not to go back to Miss Stacy after yesterday’s fiasco. Well, I’d do the same if I were her, but I’m not quite sure that’s the best solution to the problem at hand. Marilla’s suggestion seems much better to me. Going together so Anne has someone to vouch for her... reasonable and concerned like a true mother.

I see Bash is trying to figure out horse-riding on his own. It looks tough. But he can manage it. 

It’s a shame Jerry won’t help Anne with the trap... but well, he was promised good money, and his large family is so poor... the ends sort of justify the means here. Still, Matthew is not in the right to plan on skinning the fox for money. 

Gosh, things are heating up between Shirbert. Anne seems to be all the more determined to find and develop her vocation now that Gilbert is working on his. And he doesn’t seem to care much about her feelings right now, being so busy studying and all. But I wonder how this whole thing really makes him feel. 

Hey, there are the potato light bulbs! The first science lessons Miss Stacy teaches the class. And they never forget it. How inspiring!

Hey, I just realised something. In her ramble in the cold open, Miss Stacy mentioned that you can use potatoes for a lot of purposes... well, here’s the second one she demonstrates in this episode. Stamps and... lighting a bulb.

Marilla, who took up Miss Stacy’s offer to stay and observe, seems to be a new supporter of the young teacher. See? If people only gave her a chance and saw what she does and how she does it, she might soon be a hit in town. But no, some choose to condemn her instead, as if she’s ever done them wrong. Just like the fox. Except the fox stole some chickens. Miss Stacy is perfectly innocent. 

And... poor clumsy Moody had to ruin everything just as Rachel and the ProgressiveTM mothers came in. Too bad. But hey, it’s him who recalled this very first lesson later on when they were graduating, isn’t it? 

Hey, Bash has gone to see Mary. Things are getting serious. I guess.

Alas, the mothers are not too pleased with how the lesson turned out. Luckily, Marilla was there to see the whole thing from beginning to end and can support Miss Stacy in front of the rest of the women. And it seems Gilbert and Anne are ready to step in and defend her as well. On their second day with her. That speaks volumes. 

Oh, so he’s visiting Mary to talk about Gilbert. But he also talks about himself and his idea to go deep into farming. His story is truly an inspiring one. And also, he’s staying with Mary for supper. As I said, things are getting serious. 

Anne decided to show Miss Stacy the story clubhouse... nice. But she’s made another blunder in doing so. She’s forgotten Cole is hiding there from his parents. And now they’ll force him into farming again... as my younger self said when I saw this for the first time, ‘this episode is one of the most devastatingly dramatic ones of this series – ever. What a way to lead up to the season finale’. I think that says it all. 

Ah, yes, nobody told Gilbert that Bash wouldn’t be home for supper this evening. Too bad... now he’ll think Bash has run away on him. Meanwhile, Bash is having a good time with Mary. But there’s no way for Gilbert to know that. How unfortunate. 

One shot, one gunshot and... wait, it seems the fox has not been killed yet. But the poor clubhouse... Billy is the worst person in this series, hands down. I can’t even. I’m crying. Real tears. Right now.

See, Anne’s blunder was not telling Miss Stacy about Cole. After all, she swore her to secrecy. But it was a blunder nonetheless because Miss Stacy takes her duty as a teacher more seriously than her promise to Anne. If only she’d known the full story... Cole might have been saved. 

Miss Stacy riding with Harmon Andrews... I wonder what Rachel, aka the Avonlea yellow pages, will make of that. 

‘Sometimes you just have to use your imagination.’ This is powerful because it comes from Marilla. Also, perhaps this is the hidden sense of humour that L.M.Montgomery talked about in the book, which I’m currently rereading. 

I can’t, I just can’t. Now Cole feels betrayed by Anne, and Anne is devastated about the clubhouse.... and the women of Avonlea are against Miss Stacy, and Matthew disappointed Anne... can nobody be happy in this episode? It’s truly tragical and devastating. I should not have opted for rewatching it right before going to bed, on a school night at that. How will I sleep now?

Gosh, Cole really has had it now. I’m not saying Billy Andrews did not deserve it (he did and he does), but violence is never the answer. Still, I guess it’s justified now. Too bad it will probably lead to even more trouble for Cole. See, even he’s scared of what he’s done. He surely didn’t mean for it to go that far. And to the creators - this is no way to end an episode.

Let’s sum up: we meet Miss Stacy; intonation matters; the fox is in danger; Billy the bully has a weapon now - how bad can things get?; Bash struggles with farming; Anne accidentally makes a bad impression on a kindred spirit; appalling, stupid, clueless; ‘Come to me, Muse!’; Rachel Lynde sticks her nose into things that are not her business - what else is new; potato light bulbs; Bash visits Mary; the clubhouse is destroyed; Anne accidentally betrays Cole, leading to dramatic consequences; a disastrous ending to a devastating episode.

[fromtheringapron]

Scary Wrestling Stuff from My Childhood

Every Halloween season, it’s not uncommon for wrestling fans to reminisce about the moments in our great sport that genuinely scared them, and I’m certainly no exception. At the end of the day, wrestling is still a fantasy world that’s seen plenty of dark, suspenseful, and even at times supernatural bullshit. In fact, one of its biggest stars is The Undertaker, who has been in turns a mortician, a zombie, a Satanic cult leader, a desert biker, and some strange hybrid of all those characters at once.

Truthfully, nothing in wrestling scares me anymore. Well, at least not in kayfabe. Real life still provides a lot of fright in and out of the ring. When I see a wrestler get legitimately injured in the ring, you bet I’m concerned. The depressingly common trend of premature wrestling deaths is a terrifying subject on its own. But when you’re a kid, where even the most ridiculous thing in wrestling can seem real, there’s a lot in kayfabe to be scared about, and you don’t even known what the hell the term “kayfabe” even means.

So, to get in the spirit of the spooky season, I’ll give you a quick rundown of some things that personally scared me shitless watching wrestling as a youngster:

Evil Doink the Clown: Doink is usually associated with everything wrong in WWF’s New Generation era⏤one-dimensional gimmickry, cheesy beyond belief, and worst of all, out of touch. But it’s a reputation that isn’t quite deserved. The original Doink character was that of an evil clown, brilliantly brought to life by Matt Borne. As someone who churned out many rewatches of WrestleMania IX as a child, which features the character at its peak, you better believe I was terrified of this wrestling clown with lime green hair. If evil Doink’s sudden mood swings and aggression weren’t unsettling enough, the entrance music is fucking horrifying to this day. Far scarier than Pennywise and the Joker could ever wish, complete with maniacal clown cackles. Yikes, yikes, yikes. It sounds like the soundtrack to a haunted carnival episode of Are You Afraid of the Dark? on Nickelodeon. Given the rise of creepy clowns in recent pop culture, evil Doink would still get over now, and scare a whole new generation of kids to boot.

Kane, Circa ’97/‘98: Hear me out: the video package to Kane and The Undertaker’s clash at WrestleMania XIV is one of the best ever. The music, the footage, and even the random Michael Cole narration all flow together perfectly to create something goosebumpingly epic. But, damn, as kid? This was some terrifying shit. Considering I was too young to stay up and watch every episode of Raw in full, that package was like a highlight reel of pure horror. Kane has become known for taking part in some of the most infamous and illogical storylines in WWE history, but it’s often forgotten how effective a job was done to build him up as a monster upon his debut. Remember when he lit that random dude on fire on Raw? Holy fuck. Not even the Wicked Witch of the West setting fire to The Scarecrow in The Wizard of Oz shook me up quite like that. The eyes peeping out of his mask was, to me, the most frightening part of his appearance. Total nightmare fuel. Generations more familiar with bald, mask-less Kane could never quite know the trauma.

Papa Shango’s Sega Genesis Theme Music: Okay, this a fairly obscure one, but my brother and I would play WWF Royal Rumble on Sega Genesis back in the day. The game was complete with cute little 8-bit versions of each wrestler’s entrance themes. The Crush theme, in particular, is a minor masterpiece. The other piece of music that made an impact on me is the version of Papa Shango’s theme. I didn’t have too much footage of Papa Shango in my childhood wrestling VHS collection so he held some mythical status to me. The original theme is creepy enough, but the Genesis version really takes you to an dark, murky swamp where Shango is hexing his latest victim. It scared me so much that I’d speed ahead the character selection screen in the game so I wouldn’t have to hear it. You can scoff at me now all you want, but I must speak my truth.

Zeus and Randy Savage Attack Hulk Hogan and Brutus Beefcake: If you’ve watched Survivor Series 1989, you may remember a segment where Mean Gene interviews Hulk Hogan and Brutus Beefcake about their upcoming match at No Holds Barred. That’s not scary at all, but it’s what happens as the interview unfolds that, for whatever reason, really tore me up when I’d put my copy of this show in the VHS. Sensational Sherri crashes the interview, with the most wild-eyed glared you could imagine, shouting at Hogan and Beefcake in her dark, garish makeup. She then throws handfuls of powder in their eyes, allowing Zeus and Randy Savage to attack them. It’s so hard to describe what’s so scary about this. No Holds Barred, both the movie and the pay-per-view, were pretty notorious failures so it’s not even like it’s remembered as a major angle or anything. If anything, I gotta think it has something to do with the sudden tonal shift from a goofy babyface interview to an all-out assault, which can be pretty striking for any young viewer.

Mick Foley, Hell in the Cell: I don’t really need to say any more, do I? The Hell in the Cell match at King of The Ring 1998 is something that warrants a post of its own, as its undoubtedly one of my favorite matches of all time. But I cannot stress this enough: watching a human being do what Mick Foley does in this match, no matter how pre-planned, is some seriously distressing shit. As an adult, you realize you’re watching this man single-handedly take years off his career. But even in kayfabe, there’s true terror in watching the full extent of Mankind’s threshold reveal itself. The dude literally fucking smiles to the camera as he’s concussed and his mouth bloodied into steak tartar. If that image alone doesn’t stay with you, I don’t know what will. Mick Foley turns this match into a mini horror movie. Years before people tuned in droves to watch Saw and Hostel, they watched Mick Foley torture himself. In the match’s most chilling moments, he turns Mankind into a character like Michael Myers or Jason Voorhees⏤just when you think he’s been completely broken in half, he’s up and ready for more.

Early Undertaker: I can’t possibly go on without mentioning The Undertaker. When you really think about it, some of things I’ve mentioned already wouldn’t have been possible without him. It seems a little cliche to even bring him up for a topic like this, but he’s the OG of cheesy wrestling horror. Plus, it needs to be said: The Undertaker, in first couple years of his WWF career, could easily scare kids. It definitely scared the kids who grew up watching that version of the character, at least. I watched Survivor Series 1990 countless times growing up so, as you could imagine, I was one of the fortunate/unfortunate children. One of the more brilliant touches of The Undertaker’s early character, outside of the creepy glare and slow approach, was the various shots of mortified children in the crowd. It seems like a minor detail, but it went a long way in establishing him as a genuine monster. Not to mention, there were things the Undertaker did during that era that, even by the family-friendly standards of early ‘90s WWF, were pretty messed-up. How about that time he locked The Ultimate Warrior in a coffin? Or when he worked with Jake Roberts to terrorize Randy Savage and Miss Elizabeth? Make no mistake, those first few years were critical in letting us know for whom the bell tolls.

And that about does it for my own personal horrors. Maybe you think mine are silly, but what about wrestling scared you growing up? Does it still scare you? Does it still give you nightmares? As you ponder, I’ll be looking over my shoulder, hoping I’m not attacked by Zeus.

[badchoicesposts]

Don’t Dream It’s Over Chapter 1

Summary: Liam and Ali thought that their relationship was perfect, but their whole world came crashing down when Constantine called him back to Cordonia. Four years later they meet again at Liam’s bachelor party, determined to make things between them work even if it isn’t always easy. 

In this kind of AU, Liam and MC (Ali Moonessar) dated for a year in New York while Leo was still crown prince. They broke up when Constantine asked Liam to come back to Cordonia, but they meet again at Liam’s bachelor party before the social season. The story will contain flashbacks, which will be italicized, of their relationship and follow them as they try to navigate the season with Ali as a suitor. I’ve messed around with the timeline a bit so that it fits the story better. I’ve also added in a few OCs of my own.

Pairing: Liam x MC (Ali Moonessar), Drake x MC (Platonic)

Word Count: 2,556

A/N: This is my first time ever posting a fic. Please let me know if you enjoyed it and would like to read more. I thrive on validation, lol. Thanks for reading!

Ali pushed her dark curls out of her face for what felt like the millionth time that day and sighed.

“If I do this you owe me,” she said as she watched the bachelor party begin to shuffle towards one of the largest tables in the bar. 

She had been on her feet all day, and even though her shift had ended over an hour ago, she had stayed overtime because of under staffing. Her boss was fair guy and typically easy to get along with. But, now she was annoyed, and as her chronic back pain began to get more and more irritated, she cursed him for not hiring a larger waitstaff. 

A smile broke out over her co-worker Daniel’s face, and he threw himself forward, wrapping her in a hug. 

“Thank you! You’re the best!” he said as he ran off. 

“Hell yeah, I am,” she grumbled under her breath.

Ali plastered her customer service smile on her face and took a deep breath as she made her way over to the group. There were about six or seven guys, and she mentally prepared herself for what was sure to be a difficult table. 

“Hi, I’m Ali and I’ll be your server toni-,” she began in a fake, peppy voice, before abruptly stopping. 

Ali furrowed her brows in confusion, surprised to see the man in front of her. 

“Drake?” 

The man looked just as surprised to see her as she was to see him. 

“Moonessar?” 

Ali felt a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. It had been four years since she had seen or heard from Drake Walker, but some things never changed. Like that damn chambray shirt, or the fact that he only called her by her last name. 

“It’s so good to-” she began to say.

She was cut off by the strained look he had on his face as he stared at something over her shoulder. It didn’t take long for her to realize what he was looking at, and it suddenly felt as if all the air had been drained out of her lungs.

“Damnit,” she breathed out, already knowing who was behind her. 

She could tell by the cologne. That hadn’t changed either. Ali closed her eyes and tightened her grip on the pen in her hand. Her palms were beginning to sweat, and she tried to calm her rapidly beating heart while simultaneously scolding herself for agreeing to cover Daniel’s shift. 

She turned around and opened her eyes, biting her lip to keep the tears that were clouding her vision from falling. 

“Liam, I don’t want you to leave,” Ali mumbled.

She buried her face further into his chest as their bodies swayed slowly to Crowded House’s “Don’t Dream It’s Over”. In the days leading up to his return to Cordonia she had done her best to put on a brave face. If she didn’t show him how much he meant to her and how much she grew to love him in the past year, then it would hurt less when he was gone. She tried to tell herself the harsh truths about their situation. Liam was a prince. There was no way their relationship would have become anything too serious anyway. By the looks of things, the chances of his older brother Leo actually taking the throne were slim, and that meant Liam would probably be king one day. There was just no place in his world for her. But, now that there were only twelve hours till his plane left, and she had about half a bottle of tequila in her, she couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of her mouth or the tears from falling from her eyes. 

Liam pulled away and gently cupped her face in his hands, his sapphire blue eyes looking straight into her brown ones, his own pain clearly evident in them.

“I wish I didn’t have to, my love,” his voice was soft and gentle. 

Her tears were now falling freely, and she pulled herself out of his arms, frantically trying to wipe them away. His hands found her waist again and pulled her closer, kissing her forehead gently.

“I love you,” he whispered against her skin.

“Liam,” she said his name quietly, reaching up to push her glasses higher up her nose. It was a nervous habit that she had since she was a child.

Her presence had an obvious effect on him as well. He had stopped dead in his tracks, his mouth hanging open slightly, and she saw about a dozen emotions flash behind his eyes before he relaxed again and gave her a soft smile.

“Ali,” he breathed out, eyes never leaving her face. 

The two of them stood there for a few moments before Liam, throwing all sense of propriety out of the window, moved forward and wrapped his arms around her small frame, his large body towering over her. It seemed like an eternity had passed since they had last seen each other, but she still sunk into him instinctively. The blond man was over six feet tall while she barely reached five with the right pair of heels, and she had always jokingly called him a giant. But, she had never felt as small in his arms as she did in that moment. As the familiar scent of his cologne invaded her senses, Ali felt a mixture of overwhelming heartbreak and nostalgia. She wasn’t sure how long they stayed in that embrace before the sound of someone clearing their throat brought them back to reality. 

Ali had forgotten that it wasn’t just the two of them. Liam and Drake had come in with a group of people, and the fact caused a wave of embarrassment to wash over her. Liam met the gaze of man that was slightly older than the rest of them, and he immediately straightened his posture. 

The man had dark hair, grey eyes, and was well built. He wore a three piece grey suit that stood out in comparison to the more casual outfits of the other patrons, and she immediately recognized him as Bastien, a member of the royal guard. He was obviously there to make sure things didn’t get out of hand. 

“My apologies. That was completely inappropriate, ” Liam said, quickly glancing over the group before taking his seat. 

Ali felt a sharp pain in her chest at his words, but forced a smile on her face nonetheless. She looked over to Drake, who still seemed startled, and he took his seat as well.  

“Right, as I was saying before, my name is Ali and I’ll be taking care of you guys tonight. Can I get you started with drinks?” 

As Ali turned and basically ran from their table to put their drink order in at the bar, she could feel several sets of eyes on her back and was sure she heard a surprised, “Is that THE Ali?” followed by a disgruntled, “Shut up, Maxwell!”

The bartender, Cole, had been a friend of hers for years and looked at her with concern as he took in her strained expression. She subtly nodded her in the direction of the table, and when he caught sight of Liam, his eyes widened to a point that would have been comical if she wasn’t on the verge of a breakdown.

“What do I do?” she whispered frantically.

“I don’t know! Where’s Daniel?”

“I’m covering his shift!” 

The two continued their whispered argument for several minutes before someone clearing their throat caused them to jump apart. Ali moved out of the way so the person could order their drink and retreated to the kitchen to pick up the order for another table.

She dropped off the plates and walked back over to the bar where she collected the glasses and bottle that they had ordered. Ali shot Cole one more panicked look before starting over to the table. She was taking the smallest strides possible but still seemed to arrive there too soon.

“You look good,” Drake said, as she placed their glasses in front of them. 

“Wow, that’s high praise coming from you,” she shot back, a smile on her face. 

Drake chuckled and grabbed the bottle, pouring some of the dark liquid into his glass.

“You look good too. Especially for someone who hasn’t cut their hair in four years. If you let it grow out a little longer you’ll totally be able to rock a man bun,” she said, with a smirk.

Drake shook his head good-naturedly and ran his fingers through his hair. He didn’t respond, but Ali could see him suppressing a smile.

“I’ll give you guys a few more minutes to look over the menu,” she said, glancing around at the rest of the group, purposefully refusing to meet Liam’s eyes.

She turned to leave but only managed to make it a few steps away before being stopped again. 

“Moonessar, wait!” Drake said, jumping up and grabbing onto her wrist to stop her from moving. 

“It really is good to see you,” he said. 

Ali smiled up at him and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“It’s good to see you too, Drake.”

“I- I’m sorry I didn’t keep in touch,” he said, lowering his voice so that she could just barely hear him over the sounds of talking and the music playing over the bar’s speakers.

He looked down at his feet, and Ali got the impression that he was uncomfortable having this conversation. She smiled sadly, remembering the promise she had forced him to make the last time she saw him; even though things were over with her and Liam, the two of them would still remain friends.

“I understand,” she said truthfully.

She wasn’t happy that they had fallen out of touch, but she understood that it was probably awkward for him to be stuck in between the two of them. Not to mention, it had been four years. Life went on. 

“It just sucked. I lost the man I loved and a pretty great friend all in one day.” 

He looked as if he wanted to say something else, but she pulled him into a quick hug before he could. He barely had enough time to wrap his arms around her in return before she was pulling away and walking back over to the bar to pick up another drink order.  

As the evening passed, she was faintly aware of the eyes that followed her every move, and she had to continually force herself not to look in their direction. The bar slowly began to clear out, but the group remained rooted to their spot at the table. When Ali finally began to clear away the dishes from their meal, there were only two or three other patrons still there, and Cole had already abandoned her in hopes of making it to some party he had been invited to.  

“Hi, I’m Maxwell!” a cheerful voice said, pulling her out of her thoughts.

The speaker had brown hair, blue eyes, and an infectious smile. Ali remembered Liam’s stories about him, and although she felt about as stressed as she usually did during finals week, an odd sense of calmness washed over her. She knew that Maxwell was one of Liam’s oldest friends and that he was the most easy-going and fun-loving person in the world. She had heard of the legendary Beaumont Bashes that he and his brother threw, and although she wasn’t much of a party person, she had to admit that they sounded like a fun time. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Maxwell. I’ve heard a lot about you!” she said sincerely.

He seemed to perk up even more at her words. 

“You have? Aw, Liam, Drake, I can’t believe you told her about me!” he said, smiling widely and looking back and forth between his two friends

“I’m sure I’ve told her a bit about all of you,” Liam replied, a blush creeping onto his cheeks. 

“You should properly introduce us.” 

Ali recognized the owner of the new voice immediately. The man shared many of Liam’s features, but had slightly lighter blond hair and his eyes were a deeper shade of blue.

“As if you need any introductions, Leo,” she teased. Leo jokingly placed his hand over his heart.

“I don’t know if I should be flattered or offended, love. Either way, it’s nice to finally meet the only woman who has ever managed to capture my baby brother’s heart,” he said, not realizing the impact of his words until after they left his mouth.

A tense silence once again fell over the group. Ali cleared her throat, and resumed picking up their plates.

“Yes, well, that was a long time ago,” she muttered, quickly combing through her mind to find a new topic of conversation. “So, who’s the lucky guy getting married?” 

However, her question only had the opposite effect on the group as Liam awkwardly tugged at the collar of his shirt before speaking up.

“I am. The social season begins in a few weeks and as the new Crown Prince the people expect me to find a wife,” he said, quietly.

Ali felt as if her heart had stopped beating. 

“Oh, congratulations.” 

She tried her best to sound happy, but she knew her tone wasn’t fooling anyone. Another voice quickly filled her ears and she almost sighed in relief.

“I’m Charles, but you can call me Charlie,” said the man sitting beside Leo. 

He had flaming red hair, bright green eyes, and a sympathetic smile on his face. A smile broke out across her own face as she looked at the shirt he was wearing. The words “Must Be A Weasley” were written across his chest in broad white letters. It was probably hard not to be a Harry Potter fan when you were a redhead named Charlie.

“I enjoy everything about that,” she said, gesturing to his shirt, not at all concerned with hiding her amusement. 

Charlie straightened his spine in an exaggerated manner and smiled at her proudly.  

“Charlie Weasley was the best Weasley brother,” Maxwell, piped up. 

“I always wished there was more content about him,” Ali admitted, prompting a laugh from the two of them.

“That’s Ben and Bastien,” he said, motioning to the remaining members of the party. 

“It’s really nice to meet all of you, and to see you again, Bastien,” Ali said.

She had finally managed to calm down a bit, but she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that had developed in her stomach since she had locked eyes on them. Bastien gave her a small but friendly smile which she returned. 

“Why don’t you join us?” Leo asked, reaching over and pulling up a chair from a nearby table for her to sit in. 

“Oh, thanks, but I should really get back to work,” she said with an awkward smile, only to turn around and realize that the only other person still in the bar was an older gentleman who looked as if he had fallen asleep while nursing a glass of scotch. 

She turned back to them with a slight grimace on her face and saw that Leo was wearing an amused smile. Her excuse to get away from them had completely backfired.

[cowboy-crimez]

5 times stan tries to make bill blush plus the 1 time he succeeds

 stanley uris/bill denbrough

tags: modern!au, no pennywise, nothing is Bad Ever, technically it’s a thot stan au, teenaged losers club

@stenbrough this is less of a thot stan au and more of a thot in theory stan au but ty for saying it was okay to use some of ur hc’s !! they’re a hoot and a half

read on ao3

brief a/n: im a minor/around the same as age the characters which is why i felt okay writing/posting this

1.

Stan doesn’t think he’s at all conceited or vain when he says that he’s attractive. At 17 he’s mostly grown into the lanky limbs that plagued his childhood, his face filled out to be nicely angular but still soft and kind. His hair is still curly but now he knows how to style it, knows how to make the curls fall across his forehead, almost into his eyes to make him look cute. The scars around his face from the time that a dog attacked him smoothed out over the years; instead of them being puckered, raised, and uncomfortable, they now lay flat, only paler than the rest of his face. Even those aren’t ugly anymore.

 So Stan doesn’t think he’s too full of himself when he says he’s attractive. And he doesn’t think he’s tooting his own horn when he says that a lot of people are attracted to him, want to date him, even. His only problem is that the one boy who he’s attracted too, and he wants to date, seems to be a fucking idiot.

 “Bill, can you help me with this?” Stan says, twisting a curl around his index finger. Bill nods, and leans across the table where the Losers are eating lunch. He looks down at the binder full of paper in front of Stan.

 “T-t-this is chemistry.” Bill says, looking up at Stan, “I’m shit at chemistry.”

 Fuck. “No, you’re not,” Stan says, biting the end of his pencil a bit. He thinks it gross, the metallic taste, and oh lord, the places the pencil has been. But apparently it’s cute. “Just try to help me, please?”

 Stan flutters his eyelashes a bit. He did it last week with a girl in his history class, and she turned red as a tomato. Bill looks at him, tilts his head. For a second, Stan thinks he finally has him.

 “D-do you have something in your e-e-yes?”

 Stan sighs. Out of all the boys in the school, it had to be Bill.

 2.

 I really commit and sacrifice so much for style, Stan thinks, dragging his feet along. His boots are way too heavy, and his pants are a bit too tight to be comfortable, but, fuck, if they don’t make his - admittedly, flat - ass look good. It rained recently, so the ground is damp but the air is fresh.

 Another sacrifice: all he has is his off the shoulder sweatshirt, so if it rains again, he’s screwed.

 He walks up to Bill’s door, knocks, and a few moments later Gerogie opens the door.

 “Bill?” he asks. Stan nods, and Georgie closes the door slightly, so he can turn and yell, “Bill! Stan is here!” before opening the door again.

 “What’s up, Georgie?” Stan asks, laughing at his antics. He’s growing up too fast, Stan thinks, and he knows that soon Bill will be crying over how big his baby brother is. Richie sometimes jokes that when they go off to college, Bill will cry the most purely because he’ll be leaving Georgie behind, and Stan has to admit, he might not be wrong.

 He makes small talk with Georgie for a few minutes, not much to talk about since he saw him only a few days ago. Bill comes clamoring down the stairs, and starts pulling on his shoes. He waves, and Stan waves back. Bill grabs his car keys from the key hook, ruffles Georgie’s hair and shuts the door behind him.

 Ever since he got his license and his car, he’s basically been the group’s personally taxi. As Stan climbs into the front seat, he has a brief moment where he imagines kissing him in the back seat, Bill’s long fingers tangling into his curls. Bill’s lips are always slightly chapped; Stan wonders how they’d feel against his own soft ones. The thought leaves quickly, and Stan is left there, face a bit warmer, as Bill turns the car key.

 They drive to the library where they’re meeting Mike and Eddie. Bill parks and shuts the car off. As Stan opens the door he sees the library steps, and the perfect plan pops into his head. He makes sure to walk a little bit faster than Bill, just enough so that he’s a few steps ahead, but not enough for it to be suspect. Even with Bill’s much longer legs, Stan reaches the steps first, and puts his plan into action.

 He makes sure that when he steps he moves his hips more than strictly necessary, aware that he’ll be at the perfect height for Bill to look at his butt. He’s about halfway up when he hears Bill mumble something to him, still at the bottom of the stairs.

 “What?” Stan asks, turning his head slightly, as he takes another step. Except with the damp ground and his clunky boots, instead of gracefully taking a step, the toe of the boot gets stuck on the lip of the stair. “Fuck!”

 Stan’s knees hit the concrete, and his forehead hits the flat of the library entrance.

 “Oh my god, S-s-stan, are you o-okay?” Bill asks, rushing up the stairs to kneel next to him.

 “Fuck, shit, piss, fuck,” Stan grumbles, putting a hand to his forehead as he turns to sit on the offending stairs. “Ow. Am I bleeding?”

 Bill gently takes a hold of Stan’s hand, moving it away from his head. For a moment, Stan think this would be so sweet, if he hadn’t just ate shit in front of his crush.

 Bill inspects him for a moment, “No, b-b-ut you’ll have a n-n-nasty bruise later.”

 Stan pouts, “Help me up.” He makes grabby hands, and Bill laughs, standing up, before pulling Stan up too.

 If Stan is limping slightly when walking into the library, Bill doesn’t mention it. He doesn’t get the same luxury when he goes home later that evening and his mom freaks out over the huge blue mark on his forehead.

 3.

 Eddie’s house is always too warm. His mother must pay a fortune on heating. Ever since Eddie got into a huge fight with her when he was 13, she’s loosened her grip slightly, especially after he couch surfed on all their couches for a few days when she refused to change her ways.

 But she still refuses to let the house to cold, less her precious baby Eddie bear catch a cold in the night. So whenever the losers hang out there, they always end up sweating, stripping out of their coats, hoodies, and sometimes shirts within minutes.

 Richie, since he goes over the most, came up with the perfect solution: bring popsicles. Even though it’s hailing outside, the Losers are inside, not really watching their Texas Chainsaw Massacre marathon, and eating the fruity popsicles that Richie brought over.

 Someone is screaming on screen, but they’re too busy listening to Beverly’s reenactment of how some kid managed to flip his desk in math while leaning back in his chair.

 “So it’s dead silent, Cole and Phillip are getting absolutely destroyed by Ms. Jackson, and then BAM! All we see is papers flying everywhere-” She takes a break, laughing too hard at the memory. Bill smiles at her. Even though his crush is long gone, Stan knows that there’s a Beverly shaped soft spot in his heart, probably right next to the Georgie shaped on. Stan wonders if there’s a spot in there that will be shaped like him one day.

 A drip from the popsicle runs down his hand, onto his wrist. Stan starts to lean in to lick it off, when he notices that Bill’s eyes have shifted from Beverly onto him. Without thinking, Stan meets his gaze, sticking his tongue out as he runs it up his arm, catching the juice on his tongue. He’s moving more slowly than necessary, but no one else has seemed to notice him. He sees Bill gulp, his own popsicle melting in his hand, forgotten. Stan takes that as a sign to continue.  He runs his tongue up his own popsicle - strawberry flavoured - and once he gets to the tip, he slowly puts it into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks as much as he thinks will look hot.

 Bill is still watching him, even though Beverly has recovered enough to continue her story. For a second, Stan thinks maybe he should quit while he’s ahead, most of the popsicle isn’t in his mouth and he can see the tips of Bill’s ears are pink.

But that could be the heat. It could be because they came from the outside only a few minutes ago, so it could be the temperature change. Stan wants, no, needs  to know that Bill is red because of him.

 So he keeps pushing, looking right at Bill, who’s eyes keep flickering from his lips to meeting Stan’s gaze. Stan can almost feel it at the back of his throat, and he’s about to pull it out, having enough evidence that he thinks proves his point. But then Mike starts laughing, and his arm flies out and nudges Stan’s arm, the one that’s holding his popsicle.

 Then Stan’s eyes go wide, pulling the popsicle out of his mouth quickly, as he retches.

 “Oh my god, if you throw up on my carpet, I’m kicking you out.” Eddie says, from where he’s laying on his bed. Stan doesn’t reply, only covering his mouth with his free hand as he gags and coughs. Mike pats him on the back, saying, “Sorry!” over and over again.

 Stan waves it him off, “It’s okay.” he says weakly, eyes a little watery. His face is red, and while it’s mostly from choking, a part of it is because Bill saw him choke while he was trying to be sexy.

 Stan doesn’t meet Bill’s gaze for the rest of the night. He finishes eating his popsicle normally.

 4.

 It’s a warm weekend, and for the first time in years they ride their bikes around again. When they all got to be 16, they stopped, thinking it was too childish, too immature for them. Then they started getting licenses and cars, so for most of them, their once cherished bikes sat in the back of their garage. But Ben texted them all the night before saying that it’d be fun to ride around town for all times sake, go by their usually haunts, old and new.

 For once, Stan decides to dress for the weather, not for the secret fashion show that is constantly going on inside his head. He puts on sneakers, the first (okay, third or fourth) t-shirt that he sees, a zip up hoodie, and a pair of shorts that he knows he won’t care about if they get dirty.

 They have fun, riding around town, stopping to get snacks, window shopping, the likes. Richie falls off his bike twice, and Stan always has fun laughing at him, especally when he knows it’s not a serious accident. They throw their bikes down on the grass at the quarry, sit around and hang out. At some point Mike shows off his double jointed elbow (just one) which makes Eddie gag, and then the coversation is about flexabilty. Richie can put his foot behind his head, and while doing that he falls off the rock he’s sitting on. Beverly can do a back bridge and walk. Ben surprises all of them by also being able to put a foot behind his head, and unlike Richie, doesn’t fall. Eddie admits that the only reason he can touch his toes is because his leg to arm ratio is way messed up, and that he’s not flexible at all. Bill isn’t flexible, but he can do a handstand and cartwheels. Then, they’re all looking at Stan, waiting to see what he can pull out of his sleeve.

“I can do the splits.” He says.

 “Bullshit.” Richie replies, “You can’t.”

 “Can to!”

 “Prove it!”

 Stan huffs, stands up from his log, brushes off his pants and walks a few steps to wear there ground is flat. As he’s starting to spread his legs - one in front of him and one behind - he notices that he’s closest to Bill. He starts lowering himself, low enough that his palms can be flat on the ground.

 Richie wolf whistles, and for a moment Stan stops so that he can flip him off. He looks up when he’s a few inches from touching the ground, and sees Bill staring, mouth agape. Stan smirks slightly, then smiles sweetly at him.

 Then his back foot slips, and what was a slow descent is now a fast drop, arms not quick enough to stop him, and his crotch, from hitting the ground without warning.

 Stan screams.

 “FUCK ME, HOLY SHIT, FUCKING-” Stan groans, arms giving out and torso flopping over, so his forehead touches his knee.

 He can hear Richie laughing in the background as he moans in pain. He wills his arms to move to try and push him back up, but he’s at an angle where it’s hard, and his thighs hurt now, refusing to move.

 “I’m stuck.” He groans. “Holy fuck, I swear, if one of you doesn’t help me right now I will murder you.”

 “How you gonna kill us if you can’t even stand?” Richie asks, still snorting. Bill stands up, slowly makes his way over to Stan.

 “G-give me your hands.” He says. Stan raises his arms, hold onto Bill’s elbows as he grabs his forearms. Planting his feet, he starts to lift Stan up.

 He thought that getting out of the painful position would feel good, but instead it feels like Hell, so he groans in pain again as Bill lifts him up. Once he’s high enough that he can move his legs independently, he automatically brings them together, letting go of Bill so he can drop to his knees and hunch over. Forehead pressed to the dirt and hands between his legs, he lets out one more scream.

 “Richie, I blame you!”

 Stan decides to walk his bike home that day.

 5.

Stan and Bill are in Bill’s bedroom. Alone. In his bedroom. Alone. Not that it hasn’t happened before. When they were younger they hung out alone all the time. Hell, they hung out alone a few days ago. But a few days ago Stan wasn’t wearing a crop top and tight fitting jeans, sunglasses perched on top of his head, as he leaned over Bill’s shoulder to watch a video on his phone.

 Stan’s always been aware that Bill grew up well, but this close he can really see how much he grew up. His shoulders are wider than they were when he was 13. His cheekbones more prominent. He’s still tall and thin, but years of baseball and noncompetitive football with Mike, Ben and Richie made his arms a bit more muscular, legs and thighs a bit thicker. With his head almost on Bill’s shoulder, he can see the tiniest amount of stubble on his chin, in places where the razor missed. Even his stutter is getting better, and sometimes through the pride of seeing a friend get over an insecurity, Stan almost misses the day when Bill would stumble over his words, have to slow down and speak clearly. It feels like they’re all growing up, and Stan isn’t sure how to feel about that.

 The video ends, and Stan can’t say that he really paid attention to it. Bill looks at him. Stan has nothing to say, so he just stares.

 Bill’s eyes flicker from Stan’s lips to his hairline, unwilling to make eye contact. Stan doesn’t have any tricks up his sleeve, nothing to try and seduce him with. He bites his lip without thinking.

 Bill leans a bit closer. Stan has to sit up straighter in order to get closer to him. Bill presses his forehead against Stan’s, noses almost touching.

 Stan’s eyes flicker close as he feels Bill’s breath against his lips. If he concentrates he swears he can already feel them brush, feels the chappedness of Bill’s against his own, can taste the peppermint of the gum he was chewing a few minutes ago.

 Stan is about to lean up a little bit more, close the almost microscopic distance between them, when he hears a loud knock and, “Billie! Billie! You said you would drive me to swimming lessons today!”

 Bill leans away as Stan’s eyes shoot open, a blush covering his face, working its away down his neck when Georgie opens the door.

 “Billie, I’m going to be late.” Georgie says with a pout, already in his swimming trunks and a hoodie, towel thrown over his shoulder, “Come on.”

 “I’ll be d-d-down in a minute, Georgie, go put your shoes on.” George nods and leaves the room, pointedly not closing the door. Stan looks down at his lap, plays with the fraying edge of a hole in his jeans.

 “Do you w-w-want a ride home? I’m sure I could just drop him off, drop you off t-t-t-then make it back to his lesson.” Bill asks, always the gentleman. His face isn’t red, and even his stutter is just from the fact that he stutters, not embarrassment. Stan shakes his head.

 “No, it’s fine. I can just walk home.” He stands up and quickly makes his way out of Bill’s room, rushes down stairs and pulls his shoes on. His face is still warm as he says bye to Georgie, giving him the customary high five.

 When he gets home, he doesn’t slam the door to his room, even though he wants too. He quietly closes it, then lays face down in bed and wonders why he has to like such a fucking dumbass.

 +1.

 They haven’t spoken about The Incident as Stan likes to think of it. Stan continues to wear the same clothes, make the same suggestive looks, and laugh at the same dumb jokes that Bill makes. He’s good at acting like nothing is different. Except now, he can see Bill making suggestive looks back at him, can feel it when Bill places a hand on his arm for a second too look, can hear the flirtation tone in his voice when Bill tells him that he looks good, that his pants make his legs look good or that his shirt is showing off his midriff.

 But nothing changes. They still hang out with the same people, and they still hang out alone with nothing happening.

 Bill is driving Stan to a drive in theatre that they wanted to go to,  the next town over. The rest of the Losers were either working, busy or were on one-on-one dates. It’s just him and Bill. Alone in a car for 45 minutes there, two back to back movies then 45 minutes back.

 Stan is tired of waiting for change.

 “Pull over.” He says suddenly, making Bill jump a bit.

 “Why?” he asks, glancing over, “Do you f-feel sick?”

 “Just pull over.” Stan repeats. Bill nods, indicates, and pulls over to the side, cutting the engine, and looking at Stan with concern.

 Stan unbuckles his seatbelt and leans towards Bill. He puts his hands on either side of his face.

 “You’re such an idiot,” is the first thing he says, “I have been flirting with you since I was 14 years old, and you have been flirting with me since you were 16. You are literally the most beautiful person I have ever met, the sweetest person in the world, one of the most caring, but you’re so dumb for not making a move yet.”

 The bridge of Bill’s nose is a light pink, “Well, you c-c-could have made one by n-now too.”

 “Shut up.” Stan says, before pressing his lips against Bill’s. His chapped lips are rough against his own, but it’s not unpleasant. Bill’s fingers get tangled in his curls, just like he always imagined. Stan smiles against Bill’s lips when one of Bill’s hands rests against his waist.

 When they pull apart, Bill’s face is red, and for once, Stan’s isn’t. He grins at Bill, and leans back in.

 They don’t make it to the drive in theatre.

[backwardspalindrome]

so here’s what’s been going on with me lately (this is a long post with a lot of rambling, sorry):

1. i haven’t been using this blog like at all. the last posts were from pretty early in my first semester at college. once i got through that initial hard part of getting used to the university environment, my life has been incredible. here’s a couple sub-points:

1a) i started hormone therapy (spiro tablets and an estradiol patch) in january. actually started on friday, january 13th which is beautiful and i love it. that also  means that my 5 month anniversary is the day before my birthday this month. but that’s stuff you probably know from my tumblr and twitter.

1b) i really started to connect with a few people at college and now i have a better grasp of who i can trust and who i can turn to. that’s a weird and bad way of putting it, but it’s important that i know those things.

1c) i also started doing more with my online friends like cole and jack. in fact, i am now officially the Founder of something - i run a podcast network along with cole that’s shaping up to be pretty good. again, keep an eye on my twitter and tumblr.

1d) in the few weeks leading up to finals and summer break, i met a transfem person on okcupid in springfield. (she had “trans woman” on her bio when we found each other on the app, but i guess that’s no longer fully accurate. i haven’t asked her about labels or even pronouns yet because i’m a bad person.) her name is leslie and she is just stunningly gorgeous. we like a lot of the same things and we were kinda talking really vaguely about maybe having some kind of not-just-platonic relationship. i met up with her face-to-face for the first time just a couple days before i left for summer break. i like her a lot, but distance is hard and i get paranoid easily.

2. this brings me to the problem, and the reason i’m back on this blog after so long. i had to move back to tipton for summer break. i couldn’t find any internship or job or summer class to keep me in springfield so now i’m back in the middle of nowhere with nothing to do and no one to see. and it’s tearing me back down again. here come the sub-points.

2a) i came out to my parents about a year ago. the day before i moved to springfield, actually. my sister told me that it would help if i gave them some kind of expectation or directive - something they could do to show support. i asked them to use my name and my pronouns when we were alone. just in private, not a big task, and i made sure that they knew i wasn’t expecting perfection. my mother has used my name one time in the year since. my dad has not. neither have used my pronouns. i tried to confront them about this the other day. their reasoning boiled down to: well, we have some problems with how you act at home and so we’re not going to give you the basic respect of name and pronouns. fuck, i’m being reductive but they literally brought up how i don’t refill water jugs or how i don’t like eating with other people. during the conversation i was trying to have about my pronouns. they brought up other things that i feel are part of me being somewhat autistic (that’s a separate conversation). my mother said to me that when she thinks of trying to say my name out loud, it makes her want to throw up. she said that to my face. and i’m the one who has to change my behavior.

2b) there’s no one here. in college, i had easy access to my college friends (who are actually pretty good at handling heavy topics), my online friends, support groups, and my counselor. if i felt something and i needed to talk about it, 80% of the time i had someone willing to talk with me. now i have my online friends and that’s it. i can’t talk about anything with my parents, i have no friends in tipton, and there’s not a single community within 30 miles of here where i could actually belong. there’s no lgbt center in tipton, there’s no pride celebrations in tipton, there’s no group counseling in tipton, there’s no therapists in tipton. the only thing i can do with my emotions is let them fester in my head.

2c) i’ve always felt negatively about tipton. my entire life i’ve hated this piece of shit town and everything around it, about it, and in it. i’m starting to think that my attitude of hating the physical place of tipton also started to apply to how i feel about my experiences being in the closet. all of the worst things in my life - being closeted, my bad relationship with my parents, my inability to find friends, the lack of resources - they all are tied to this town. that’s why it was so easy for me to adjust to springfield. i was ecstatic to leave the town where i had to endure 17 years of psychological harm. that’s maybe part of the reason i felt so good for so long in springfield too. i left everything bad behind. and now, i’m back. and all those 17 years and all those bad experiences just sat here in tipton and waited for me. add to that the fact that apparently my parents were fostering more resentment than i thought about the fact that i never wanted to come home. for me, tipton is everything wrong about the world in one place. if you were to make a community built on willful ignorance, it would be named tipton, missouri. my primary goal in life is to never have to be in tipton ever again. but here i am. 

i think i’m done with the points and sub-points now, but now we’ve made it to my big fear right now and the reason i started writing this post in the first place. i think i might be slipping back into the tipton headspace. i went back to dressing more like i used to (old t-shirts, sweatpants). my dysphoria - while thankfully not as bad as it used to be - is coming back. the ever-present fear that i forgot was part of the atmosphere of tipton is back. ever since i got here, i haven’t been able to stop comparing my life during college to my life now. the main thing is that in college, i was actually happy. i was happy most of the time. i was happy in a general way that touched every part of my life. i realized this sometime in second semester.

see, i used to do this obnoxious depressive-nihilist-millenial thing where every time i crossed the street i’d make a half-joke in my head about getting hit by a car. it takes different forms, but i think you know what i’m talking about. sometime in second semester i crossed a street, saw a car, and had that thought about getting hit. and then immediately, i realized that no - no, i don’t want to die. that was the first time i ever remember having the explicit thought “i don’t want to die”. i felt like i had a future for the first time in my life. when i began to fully understand what that moment was for me, it was one of the most terrifying and the most liberating realizations of my entire life. liberating, because i recognized that there was a possible future where i could live as myself and be happy. terrifying, because i realized all at once that i should have had that feeling before, and tipton stole it away from me. 

i described it to my counselor like this: tipton is a bubble, and it has an insidious way of making the people inside it think there’s nothing else in the world but tipton. tipton contains everything, and it’s not possible for someone to need something that tipton doesn’t have. remember how i said earlier that tipton has no lgbt centers, no theatres, no therapy? when you’re in tipton, you can’t need those things. nobody needs those things. what even is it that you think you need? those things don’t exist. you don’t need therapy, you just need to suck it up. why aren’t you like everyone else?

that’s what tipton did to me. and that’s what it’s trying to do to me again. i noticed today that my brain seems to have gone back to being depressed more often than not. but now i know there are other things than this god-forsaken hellhole. tipton is what drove me two steps from attempting suicide. i will burn the entire god damned place to the ground before i let it do that to me again. i don’t know how i’m going to avoid all this shit. i just know that i can’t let tipton destroy me for a second time.

i don’t have a game plan. all i have is this. i’m writing this on thursday. tomorrow i work. saturday i’m coming out to my grandparents. sunday, i’m coming out to my uncle. these are the people that my parents told me i need to talk to in person before i can come out on facebook. my public coming out will be at midnight on my birthday - wednesday. i want every obscure relative and forgotten acquaintance to see this post when they try to wish me a half-hearted happy birthday. i’m gonna spend the following two days dealing with the aftermath. i have no plans after that, but i think once i come out publicly i’ll be able to fight back more effectively. i’m going to rip control of my life out of the hands of this town and then i’m going to be the most important force in my life again. 

i started this post because i felt sad and helpless about what tipton was doing to me. but for the first time, writing shit on this blog has actually helped me. all of this post boils down to what could be described as my supervillain origin story: this town ruined me once. now, i’m going to make it kneel before me.

[racingtoaredlight]

Profiles in IMDb Greatness: Matt Ross

I love the Internet Movie Database. If I’m looking to Instagram stalk the pretty Italian lady from the second season of Master of None it’s a great outlet to find her real name. As such I enjoy looking over random performer pages and arbitrarily judging the scope and quality of their careers to determine if they merit entry into my vaguely defined IMDb Hall of Fame. Today’s enshrinee: Matt Ross

Fate and the Home Box Office television network conspired to serve up a perfect actor for inclusion in this hallowed Hall when as the fourth season of Silicon Valley was up and running while it seemed like American Psycho was on twice a day (and then like a month passed without my actually doing the post but it’s here now so leave me alone). Anyone who can both legitimately unnerve Patrick Bateman and make hostile corporate takeovers hilarious is working with a full deck as a performer.

First Listed Role: I already know this profile is going to be a winner since I’ve seen his first credited role, 1994′s PCU.

It’s been a great long while since I’ve seen PCU (so long ago that even with the picture I can’t remember what exactly Matt Ross did) but I recall it being entertaining enough while still thinking my buddies oversold the hell out of it. It’s a fun movie to look back on as a reminder that even with all the crybabies today annoyed they can no longer use racial slurs decrying political correctness is not a new phenomenon.

Also George Clinton rocks pretty hard in it if memory serves.

Most Recent Finished Work: The great Silicon Valley. That show sneaked up on me during the second season when I had a realization that I looked forward to it just about as much as any other show on TV and would regularly have your faithful writer laughing loudly like an idiot multiple times an episode.

On the show Ross has helped create one of the great villains of television Gavin Belson. Think a more insecure, outwardly evil Bill Gates whose tech giant company Hooli is a constant cloud over the doings of the show’s, for lack of a better word, heroes. A common trait with Ross’ best roles is being able to possess a certain oily sleaziness. Gavin Belson as CEO of a major corporation is more polished than the Alby Grants he’s portrayed but the running bit with animal props as board meetings is a perfect showcase for a hilarious lack of basic morality.

CSI/Law & Order/NCIS Guest Spots: In furthering being the perfect IMDb HOF entrant Matt Ross has a double dip of CSIs (no Law & Order surprisingly, but he does do more film work than a lot of the others so less available time I’d imagine).

From CSI: Miami we have Silencer.

Horatio and his team investigate a double murder at a concert, but unraveling the mystery becomes difficult when leads take them in two directions: the Mala Noche gang, and a pharmaceutical company.

Difficult to say where Ross’ character Paul Burton falls into this mess but if I had to guess I’d wager he’s aligned with the pill pushers than the Mala Noche gang. Being a shady pharmacy lab tech feels just right for him. I just hope it was George Clinton concert that claimed those two souls as a bit of an Easter egg to Matt Ross’ early work.

And then there’s CSI: Original Recipe with Meat Jekyll. As first I got excited thinking Ross was playing a character named Meat Jekyll before realizing it was just the title of the episode. An even bigger disappointment is not using Ross’ aforementioned ability to play sinister to be the Hannical Lector of the episode.

The crime lab reluctantly brings in imprisoned serial killer Nate Haskell after he claims to know the identity of "Dr. Jeckyll." Meanwhile, clues revealing his next and perhaps final victim are mailed to Dr. Langston.

Instead they gave that *sunglasses* MEATY role *yeah* to That Guy who was in Eight Men Out as one of the few players who didn’t get kicked out of baseball. Can’t trust a man who won’t take a gambler’s money in this reporter’s opinion.

Hall of Fame Ballot Submissions: Twelve Monkeys (maybe my favorite treatment of time travel as a concept and how you wouldn’t be able to change anything since it’s already happened in the future), Face/Off (I only watched about 20 minutes of this and shut it off but it’s such a famous goodbad movie that I included it, just couldn’t buy in to Nic Cage’s skin fitting around Travolta’s giant head), Oz (this post’s winner of the biggest “Oh shit, really?” work, he was one of the guards killed in the riot), American Psycho, The Aviator, Good Night and Good Luck, Big Love, Silicon Valley.

Big Love was a bit of a stretch here since by the last couple seasons I was outwardly hating it but Ross’ Alby Grant is probaby still the role I most associate him with when he pops up elsewhere due to how devastatingly creepy he was. Also I included Big Love for Bill Paxton so in the name of consistency it’s here again, plus this adds to Ross being the king of HBO.

The Aviator was another flick that HBO brought back into the rotation in the last few months that I hadn’t seen in forever and I’d forgotten he was in it. In a weird turn his character Odie is simply a competent airplane mechanic without any degenerate character tendencies, I’m sure it was his hardest role to pull off.

And what’s left to say about his turn in American Psycho, he’d know better than anyone that too much praise can be grating.

Miscellaneous Credits: New rule, if you play Johnny Cash in something, it gets mentioned here like with Lifetime’s Ring of Fire.

Suppose you’d have to ask someone else why this was made when Walk The Line had come out eight years earlier but hey, if they can keep rebooting Spider-Man this century than certainly the Man in Black should be celebrated as often as possible.

Highest Rated IMDb Entry: Goddamn right, the Silicon Valley episode Optimal Tip-To-Tip Efficiency that pulled the whole first season together and hinted at the heights it could reach. 9.4 stars, this episode fucks. I love this one sentence from the episode description:

The guys break out into a ridiculous argument

Yes they did, IMDb plot recapper, yes they did.

Lowest Rated IMDb Entry: I’m not about to go through every other post in this series to check but 5.4 for the worst (according to IMDb users) production one’s been in might be the new high water mark. Take a bow, A Deadly Vision. I’ll be keeping my eyes open to see if the Lifetime Movie Channel re-airs this.

A waitress who has psychic visions of murders before they happen is asked by a police detective to help find a serial killer.

Making this all the better? Matt Ross is indeed the killer and is billed simply as The Killer, just like with The Joker a menace can be more terrifying without any sort of tether to humanity. I’m now wondering to myself just how good Matt Ross could be as The Joker in something. Him and Ben Affleck are pretty much the same age so why not make him the Clown Prince of Evil for any standalone Batfleck film instead of Jared Leto’s ass. Just something to think about, Hollywood bigshots.

IMDb Fun Fact: Matt Ross is  6' 0½" tall.

I feel like I was pitching a perfect IMDb HOF post and then the Trivia section stepped to the plate and laid down a bunt that hugged the third base line of uninteresting tidbits of a great actor’s career. Shame.

IMDb HOF Members: Even though the ad wizards have decreed that only video is worthy of internet bandwidth it sure would be swell if the dear readers clicked back on any old posts they haven’t read yet and tell me how these used to be better before I became cynical and jaded beyond recognition.

Bob Balaban

Jim Beaver

Clancy Brown

W. Earl Brown

Reg E. Cathey

Gary Cole

Keith David

Cary Elwes

Noah Emmerich

Jami Gertz

John Hawkes

John Michael Higgins

Toby Huss

Allison Janney

John Carroll Lynch

Margo Martindale

David Morse

Joe Morton

Robert Patrick

Bill Paxton

Jon Polito

Alan Rickman

Stephen Root

Matt Ross

Alan Ruck

Peter Stormare

Daniel von Bargen

Next Time: Should I just do an actual Jami Gertz one? She’s been in there so long I can hardly remember what inspired the running gag in the first place.

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[quickspinner]

Let Me Forget the Sky, CH 4

A DA:I Fanfic

The differences between them seem as large as the riven sky, but the cause that unites them turns out to be the least of the bonds between them. The Inquisitor and the Commander’s romance, told in the moments between, with as little game recap as I can manage.

Chapter 3 ** Chapter 5 **  Fiction Master Post

Chapter 4 - Failure

His emotions were roiling as he turned his back on her, unable to watch her walk out of the Chantry doors to her fate. There was too much to process in the moment. Anger, fear, betrayal, horror, despair. He paused, closed his eyes for a moment, and took a breath, shutting it all down. Time for that later.

Cullen straightened and strode into the main hall, calling for his lieutenants. He briefed them quickly, and sent them scurrying to follow his orders.

Leliana appeared by his side. “What can I do?”

“Talk to Roderick,” he ordered. “Then send your scouts to make sure the way is clear ahead. I don’t want to get trapped with all of these people in a tight space.”

“Consider it done.”

“Rylen,” Cullen called, and the man appeared before him.

“Commander.”

“I need a rear guard. No more than twenty. The Herald will distract the beast but there will still be regular troops and those--those monsters to defend against.”  He gripped Rylen’s arm, looked his second in the eyes. “Make sure they understand what we’re asking. Volunteers only. You will not be one of them, understand? I can’t afford to lose you.”

“Yes, Commander,” Rylen said heavily. Cullen nodded, and released his arm. Rylen swore under his breath as he turned away. Cullen couldn’t blame him. He knew Rylen would rather be out there than running, Cullen felt the same way, but they both had a responsibility to the Inquisition that trumped personal honor and feelings.

Cullen turned to the ambassador. “Josephine, make sure these people understand they need to travel light. I will not lose men defending people who dawdle over trinkets, understand? Whatever they left in the village is lost.”

“I will make sure they understand.” Her voice trembled, but her stance was firm as she turned away.

He might have felt a measure of pride if the situation had been less serious. The retreat was more organized than any rout had a right to be, his lieutenants keeping their respective charges organized and in check. Cullen spared a moment to thank the Maker that the mages and templars, having fought alongside one another, had put aside old grudges for the moment. He didn’t dare believe it would last. He only hoped they would make it to safety before it all fell apart.

Then they were running, and he had time to feel again.

Failure was a familiar flavor to him, but the bitterness still sat heavy on his tongue.  He was the commander of the Inquisition's forces. The safety and defense of Haven was his responsibility.  It didn't matter how many times he told himself he could never have prepared a settlement like that for an attack of that magnitude. Cullen didn't need Dorian's commentary nor Vivienne's snide remarks and withering looks to tell him he should have done better. He knew it, down to this bones. He had failed.

And as always, it was another who would pay the price for his weakness.  In his mind he saw her, both defiant and resolved, ready to give her life to protect so many others - not because she owed them anything, not when they had imprisoned her, blamed her, practically conscripted her - but because it was the only chance any of them had.  Because of his failure.  

When the trees gave way to snow-covered rock, Cullen scrambled up a boulder and, once atop it, lifted the spyglass he had appropriated from one of the scouts, and trained it back on Haven.

He found her surrounded by fire, pinned between the dragon and the twisted form of the Elder One.  He watched in horror as the strange darkspawn lifted her.  The branching tattoos stood out starkly in her pale face--

I wear the symbols of Mythal, the Protector.

--and her already large eyes were wide with fear. Green magic sparked and flared in the air around the two and Cullen could not tell if she was trying to use the mark or if the magic came from the twisted creature that held her. If she could not even get to the trebuchets--

He drew in a sharp breath as the Elder One flung her through the air like a rag doll - right onto the platform of the trebuchets.  Relief and sick horror roiled in his stomach.

He turned to give the order, but that strange boy appeared beside him, gripping his arm. “Wait.”

“There’s no time!” Cullen hissed, but even as he looked back toward Haven he could see the soldiers he’d left for a rearguard struggling up through the trees, helped by Cassandra, Solas, and Varric.

“That’s all that will come,” Cole said calmly. “The last three were already wounded, dying. They sent the others ahead and stayed to hold the line.”

Cullen turned and waved to one of his soldiers.  "Send the flare up! Now, send it now!"  He bellowed, and then turned and raised the glass again.

The soldier fumbled for a moment and then Cullen heard the shriek of the signal hurtling skyward just as he found her again.  

He saw her eyes narrow, fear gone, as she stood forward with a sword that was much too big for her. He watched her hiss something at the monster, watched her turn and kick the release for the trebuchet--

And then the ground was shaking, and Cassandra was pulling him down from his perch, snarling for him to get moving.

"You left her?" he demanded, stumbling along through the snow behind her.

"The dragon cut us off, we had no choice," Cassandra bit out.  

"She would have forgotten the mission in trying to save us if we had stayed," Solas sounded calm, emotionless, even raising his voice above the wind, and Cullen’s anger welled up inside him.  But this was not Solas' fault - it was his own, and so Cullen merely pushed forward, focusing on what must come next.  

They travelled as far as they could before storms and exhaustion forced them to camp.  Cullen paced the perimeter, hand on his sword, ignoring all suggestions that he rest.  He kept looking out into the darkness, the blank wall of gray beyond the campfires, though he knew it was useless.  He told himself over and over that he was a fool, that it was incredibly unlikely that she had even survived the avalanche, let alone somehow worked her way free of the slide and made it up here, alone, on foot, without any supplies.

Still his eyes scanned the night, straining for any glimpse of--

A green light flashed at the tail of his eye.  He turned his head and stared hard.  For a moment there was nothing, and then he saw it again.  "Cassandra," he bellowed, beginning to run through the thick snow.  He nearly lost his footing, but kept himself upright and plowed forward.  The green light flared again, brighter than before, closer - and then went out.

But he didn't need it anymore.  He could see her now, on her knees and swaying.  "There, it's her!" He ran on, and threw himself to his knees in the snow beside her just in time to keep her from collapsing face first in the snow.

"Thank the Maker," he heard Cassandra say behind him, her own armor jangling as she struggled through the snow.  She helped Cullen stagger to his feet, the half-frozen Herald in his arms.  

Don't die, he thought at her, as he carried her carefully back to camp. Glancing down at her, he could see her lips were moving, but the wind carried her words away.  He cradled her closer and bent his head down to put his ear by her mouth.

"Corypheus," she was saying.  "The Elder One.  He destroyed the conclave.  Said it was a ritual...I interrupted.  The mark - he called it the anchor.  Says he was a magister, a thousand years ago...entered the golden city..."

Cullen jerked his head up, his eyes wide.  "That can't be true."

His voice seemed to rouse her slightly.  "Cullen--did it work?  Did the people get away?"

"Yes," Cullen told her, squeezing her a little tighter without realizing it.  "Yes, you did it.  We saw the dragon carry that thing away, but the avalanche stopped the army.  We're all right, at least for now."

"Ma serannas Mythal," she whispered, and closed her eyes.  "Ma melava hallani...Tauren..." She lapsed into a confused mix of phrases in Common and Dalish that he couldn’t decipher.

"In here," Cassandra shoved him roughly through a tent flap he hadn't even noticed.  Cassandra nearly threw the occupant bodily from the place, though the man made haste enough when he saw what Cullen carried.  

Cullen laid Lavellan on the pallet the man had been laying out, jerked his glove off with his teeth and laid his hand along her cheek.  Even to his perpetually cold hands, she felt like ice.  "We need blankets," was all the time he had before he was shoved aside and Mother Giselle was kneeling beside him.  "She's nearly frozen," he told her, rather unnecessarily.

"Get me someone who can actually do some good here," she said, nearly shooing him away.  "A healer, an herbalist, something! At the least get me someone who knows where the supplies are."

Cullen nodded, and strode out of the tent, glad to have something he could do.  "Threnn!" He bellowed into the night.  "Adan!"

"Adan didn't make it," someone told him, and Cullen cursed under his breath.

"Then find me his assistant," he ordered, "Or the servant who brought him coffee, or anyone who might have listened to him for two minutes!"

Solas appeared seemingly out of nowhere.  "They are saying the Herald survived, is it true?"

"In there--go if you can help her," Cullen gestured.  "If you can't, stay out of the way."

Solas nodded and headed for the tent.

Cullen roused everyone out of bed he could think of that might be able to help. No one was actually sleeping, anyway. Whispers followed him, some hopeful at the news the Herald had survived, some doubtful, some pessimistic. He didn't care. Atisha was alive, his failure not so complete as he'd imagined.

“Is it true?” The Tevinter mage was grabbing his elbow but Cullen didn't stop walking. Dorian was forced to trot in the snow to keep up with him. “She's alive?”

“For now,” was all Cullen would say.

“How?” Dorian demanded. “We all saw the slide.”

“I don't know,” Cullen bit back. “Does it matter?”

“Good point,” Dorian conceded, wrapping his cloak more tightly around himself.  “Is she badly hurt?”

“She made it this far under her own power,” Cullen replied, quickening his stride as the tent where he'd left her came into sight.  “But she was very cold.”

“Watch it, Curly!” came an indignant voice, just as Cullen felt his foot catch on something and he stumbled, nearly tumbling right over Varric. “Ow! I know I'm short but I'm not invisible.”

“Maker’s breath, Varric, get out of my way!” Cullen nearly swore at the dwarf, but Varric just reached up and shoved him back with surprising strength.

“No way. The reverend mother put me out here to guard and you’re not going anywhere until you calm down a little. You can't do any good in there anyway, unless you’ve been studying medicine in your nonexistent free time, and we both know that'd be too much like a hobby for you.”

“Varric,” Cullen growled, but a heavy hand descended on his shoulder, obliging him to back up a step.  He looked up into the surprisingly sympathetic face of Iron Bull.

“Let the healers do their work,” the big Qunari told him. “She's safe enough,” he jerked his chin towards the tent, and Cullen realized the Chargers had formed a protective ring around the tent, keeping the gathering crowd back. Their lieutenant stood in front of the tent flap, face grim and arms folded.  “Besides,” Iron Bull continued, ”Don't you have other things to manage?”

Cullen took a deep breath, and looked around at the remains of his army.  “Right,” he said. “You’re right.”  He took one more deep breath, and then turned away to find Rylen and see what else needed to be done for his men.

Chapter 3 ** Chapter 5 ** Fiction Master Post

[thetruthseekerway]

Top 5 Reasons to Admire Prophet Muhammad

New Post has been published on http://www.truth-seeker.info/oasis-of-faith/top-5-reasons-to-admire-prophet-muhammad/

Top 5 Reasons to Admire Prophet Muhammad

By Juan Cole

In his presidential campaign, Donald Trump notoriously said, “I think Islam hates us.” As is usual with this erratic, fact-free president, the assertion is not true.

If we take Muslim-Americans, who at about 3.4 million persons constitute some 1.1 percent of Americans, over 90% say they are proud to be Americans. Does that sound like hatred to you?

The conviction that Muslims are intrinsically hostile to the US comes in part from a misconception of Islam as a religion. I have tried to put some of the myths to rest in my new book. Muhammad: Prophet of Peace Amid the Clash of Empires.

You can’t generalize the world’s Muslims, since there are 1.5 billion of them, and they don’t have an over-all view of the United States. Some like American freedoms and principles but dislike US foreign policy toward issues such as Palestine. People in the eastern part of the Middle East have a negative view of the US under Trump. But a Muslim country like Senegal has a majority that views the US favorably and in Indonesia, the biggest Muslim country population-wise, the favorables are 48% to 43% unfavorable. France, Sweden, Germany and Spain are all more negative toward the US under Trump than are these two Muslim countries.

The fact is that Islam is an American religion. It has been on North American soil for centuries. Some of the emigrants to the New World from Spain in the 1500s forward were secret Muslims who had pro forma converted to escape persecution by the Inquisition. (Southern Spain was mostly Muslim for 800 years, but by 1492 the Castilian Catholics, having conquered all of the south, announced that Muslims and Jews would be expelled. Some managed to stay by an outward show of Catholic piety while they secretly practiced their original religion, becoming known as Moriscos).

Moreover, many of those enslaved and brought to the Americas by slavers were Muslim, in places like Brazil as well as in the United States. To the extent that the US was built in part by slave labor, it was built in part by Muslim labor.

From the 1880s, a significant emigration to the United States began in what is now Lebanon and Syria. Tens of thousands of Arabic-speakers came until the racist immigration law of 1924 stemmed the flow. About 10% of these immigrants were Muslim, and some founded mosques in the Midwest, in places like Cedar Rapids, Iowa and Dearborn, Michigan.

It is since 1965 that the Muslim-American community has grown to several million. The last 50 years of American history has seen substantial economic and cultural contributions to the US by Muslim-Americans. Just for an example, Elias Zerhouni served as head of the National Institutes of Health and presidential envoy for US scientific and medical exchanges with other countries. It is often forgotten just how many Muslim-American physicians there are, contributing mightily to the health and well-being of the nation.

The founder of the Muslim religion, the Prophet Muhammad, is someone whom you would think Americans would admire.

Here are five reasons why:

Muhammad was a businessman, a long distance merchant who went up from western Arabia for trade in the Near Eastern provinces of the Roman Empire, to Palestine, Transjordan and Syria. A quarter of Americans have thought about forming a business, and a majority view even big business favorably.

Muhammad encouraged people to practice spirituality. Here is what the Qur’an says about the subject: “Righteousness is not determined by facing East or West during prayer. Righteousness consists of the belief in God, the Day of Judgment, the angels, the Books of God, His Prophets; to give money for the love of God to relatives, orphans, the destitute, and those who are on a journey and in urgent need of money, beggars; to set free slaves and to be steadfast in prayer, to pay the religious tax (zakat) to fulfill one’s promises, and to exercise patience in poverty, in distress, and in times of war. Such people who do these are truly righteous and pious.” (Al-Baqarah 2:177 [Muhammad Sarwar) Some 75% of Americans say they are spiritual.

Muhammad praised people of other religions as well as of his own. The Qur’an (Al-A`raf 7:159) says of Jews, “And among the people of Moses is a community which guides by truth and by it establishes justice.” It says of Christians (Al-Ma’idah 5:82) “you will find the nearest of them in love to the believers [Muslims] those who say, “We are Christians.” That is because among them are priests and monks and because they are not arrogant.” It could be critical of both communities for their political positions or what it sees as doctrinal lapses, but it also contains high praise for them. Americans have increasingly warm feelings toward members of other religions, and even their warmth toward Muslims has increased in recent years.

The Qur’an insists on freedom of belief and condemns coercion of conscience (which it terms ‘fitna‘). The chapter of Jonah 10:99 addresses a Prophet Muhammad who despaired of getting through with his monotheistic message to the pagans, saying “And had your Lord had willed, whoever is on earth would have believed, all of them, all together. Then, [O Muhammad], would you coerce the people such that they become believers?” Elsewhere, in the chapter of Al-Baqarah 2: 256, the Qur’an says, “There is no compulsion in religion. Certainly, right has become clearly distinct from wrong. Whoever rejects false idols and believes in God has taken hold of the unbreakable, firm handle. God is All-hearing and knowing.” Famously, the First Amendment of the US Constitution forbids Congress from making any religion the official religion of the state and then imposing it on Americans, ensuring their freedom of conscience.

The Qur’an urges turning the other cheek and wishing peace on persecutors who orally harass the believers. The chapter of the Gilded Ornaments (Al-Zukhruf) 43:89 says of the militant pagans who rejected the Prophet’s message, “yet pardon them, and say, ‘Peace!’ Soon they will know.” (Arberry). When, however, militant pagans launched aggressive war on the early community of believers in Medina, the Qur’an permitted them to defend themselves by taking up arms. But it warned against engaging in aggressive, expansionist warfare, holding that only defensive war is legitimate. The chapter of Al-Baqarah 2:190 says, “And fight in the way of God with those; who fight with you, but do not commit aggression: God does not love aggressors.” A majority of Americans also feels that sometimes war is necessary but that it would be wrong to launch a war if the US were not first attacked by the other side (the Iraq War seems to have strengthened this sentiment).

1400 years of Christian polemics have demonized Muhammad, but a dispassionate consideration of his life and message makes it clear that there is much for contemporary Americans to admire in his life and teachings.

———

Juan Cole is the founder and chief editor of Informed Comment and Richard P. Mitchell Professor of History at the University of Michigan. He is author of, among many other books, Muhammad: Prophet of Peace amid the Clash of Empires.

Taken with slight editorial modifications from Informed Comment.

[lauraramargosian]

Mac Miller: There’s no right way to remember Malcolm. He influenced us differently, in the best way. 

Mac Miller: There’s no right way to remember Malcolm. He influenced us differently, in the best way. 

“When you feel sad, it’s okay. It’s not the end of the world. Everyone has those days when you doubt yourself, and when you feel like everything you do sucks, but then there are those days when you feel like Superman. It’s just the balance of the world. I just write to feel better.” – Mac Miller

PCG magazine was heart-broken when news broke about Mac Miller passing away in his home from a possible overdose.

Mac Miller: There’s no right way to remember Malcolm. He influenced us differently, in the best way.

Those who know Mac, well, they know he battled a demon and it was one he wasn’t silent about because it was one he wanted to beat. Along with that is the fact that he has always influenced his family, friends, and fans way before fame. Miller had a huge heart, that’s what made him “Malcolm McCormick”

He started back in the day as Larry Fisherman, making small impacts in his local community in, Pittsburgh, PA

Why Mel B entering rehab is a positive example.

Miller isn’t going to be forgotten, nor will his music because he was talented enough to leave us with a piece of him, a passion that ran through his veins like blood.

Yeah, that’s what Mac Miller was, he was passionate, loving, humble and caring. In fact, I read a story where he heard that Frankie Grande was celebrating different amounts of time in sobriety. And Mac would bring him a gift every month because he knew how hard of a trial is to win.

Mac Miller and Frankie Grande

Frankie opened up to ET about their friendship and his Miller’s positive example.

“I remember when I would get 30, 60, 90 days clean and Malcolm would be there with a gift and a card and words of encouragement… telling me that he knew how hard getting sober is and how impressed he was that I was succeeding,” he wrote. “Addiction is a TERRIBLE disease… many people are suffering from addiction like I am and many of them are losing. Those of us who are struggling with addiction must stay strong. We must continue to work HARD on ourselves every single day and help each other.”

Mac Miller: There’s no right way to remember Malcolm. He influenced us differently, in the best way.

“Our disease is strong but WE ARE STRONGER and I vow to work every moment of my life to keep myself sober so that I may be there for others,” he continued. “This is a difficult road but YOU DO NOT HAVE TO TRUDGE IT ALONE. To anyone who needs help, help is there. You just need to have the courage to ask, which I know can be EXTREMELY difficult… but when you do I GUARANTEE support will be there. Do not be ashamed if you are losing the battle against addiction, shame feeds the disease, humility defeats it. Please ask for help! You are NOT ALONE!”

The great news is that Frankie Grande reveals he has now been sober for more than a year and we know Miller is looking down on him, proud as ever, to conclude, Frankie gave his love and made sure to remind those in need that they can always contact the Suicide Prevention Hotline if they are feeling sad.

“Malcolm my friend, you will be dearly missed,” he wrote. “And I know you will be looking down on me from heaven, proud AF for every day I live my life clean and sober… 453 days and counting… Thank you from the bottom of my heart. AA: (212) 870-3400 NA: (818) 773-9999 Suicide Prevention Lifeline: :800-273-9255.”

Truthfully, it’s a great reminder, another memory owed to Miller, who helped influence Frankie Grande’s life for the positive.

Frankie Grande and Mac Miller have been friends for a while, as you all know, Miller had been dating Grande for some time and recently broke up this year. Unfortunately, this made it possible for negative people to bash Ariana Grande for no reason.

I’m going to say it once, stop it. This was not about their relationship and for you to even try to pin something on another person in that fashion is wrong. You do not wish that kind of pain and loss on people, shame on you. 

Are you struggling with addiction or do you know someone who might be struggling?

Now, as I sit here and write this, I hope that those struggling can put that lean down, I hope those in the industry that are seeing fame realize it’s okay to “live clean,” and if you’re ready, just talk to someone you trust. And while I don’t know who is reading this, I know that someone is, you might be struggling or maybe you know someone who is, regardless, please remember to reach out to those you think might need an extra shoulder for support.

Additionally, to just to cover the bases, if it’s you, don’t be ashamed, there are so many challenges in this life, ones that are hard to face, money doesn’t fix everything, that’s the point here, happiness comes from within, so, whatever your missing, it’s time to find it and live a full and healthy life.

Rest in paradise Malcolm McCormick, you will always forever influence, you will always forever be in our hearts, looking down on us and your music, it will forever inspire. 

Blessed be!

Mac Miller Concert Tributes – Childish Gambino, J. Cole, Drake, Maroon 5 and more

The post Mac Miller: There’s no right way to remember Malcolm. He influenced us differently, in the best way.  appeared first on Positive Celebrity News and Gossip.

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[jrsechelon]

Super Bowl XI

Super Bowl XI is set!

Astounding, unpredictable, and truly intriguing this Super Bowl match-up will be one that shows us, the fans, which high powered offense is the most dominant in the Elite Fantasy League. During the early beginnings of the season, prior to the first kick off of September, these two teams were preparing for a journey fourteen other teams were working towards achieving. What separates these two teams from the other fourteen in the league is the grit and determination they put forward during those hot summer days. The grind of not giving up and believing there is no such thing as a day off. Thunderbuddy4Life still had the suffrage of defeat in Super Bowl X fresh in their mind. Although the players, coaching staff, and the owner wouldn't say it, you saw the disgust and hurt in their eyes. It oozed out like a wound that just wouldn't heal. It was like those wounds that are almost healed but then someone rips off the scab only to bring the pain back to the surface. That is the look many of the players and coaching staff had in their eyes. Coming so close to hoisting the Championship last season was determination enough for Thunderbuddy4Life to strive to return to the big dance. MegaWatt Warriors, on the other hand, was a year removed from hoisting their first Championship. Missing the playoffs in 2016, MegaWatt Warriors wasn't getting much notoriety going into the 2017 regular season. Surprising if you think about it as they were only a year removed from defeating Straight Edge Society in Super Bowl IX. Both Thunderbuddy4Life and MegaWatt Warriors knew they needed to find a home-run hitter if they wanted to get back to the Super Bowl. Although they had a stable amount of personnel in their locker room already, bringing in rookie Kareem Hunt and 3rd-year man Todd Gurley was definitely a strong indication as to how these two franchises were going to dictate the type of mentality they wanted to showcase on Sundays. A run first approach was what they wanted to do and it is exactly what they have done all year.

Thunderbuddy4Life let Kareem Hunt lose like a wild bull in Week 1. Other teams were scrambling and scratching their heads as to why they didn't draft Hunt. In fact, Thunderbuddy4Life didn't pull the trigger on Hunt until the 175th pick in the 11th round! Can you believe that!? What it comes down to are two things. One, the other fifteen teams didn't do their homework on Kareem Hunt and two, Thunderbuddy4Life found a diamond in the rough. Throughout OTAs and Training Camp Thunderbuddy4Life's coaching staff were ranting and raving about the speed, agility, and upside this kid has. They loved how he was not only able to burst 5-yards out of the backfield on a handoff and excel into that second and third gear, but they jumped for joy when they saw the hands this kid has.

Hunt Spells Superstar

Hunt's ability to precisely locate the ball when running routes out of the backfield makes him a dual threat. The Canadian Cripplers were banking on Christian McCaffery to have that same type of skill-set and although he is coming along nicely, more so in the latter part of the season; Kareem Hunt showcased his ability early and often - and boy did it show Week 1 against division rival Rainelo Hawks. Thunderbuddy4Life looked like a genius and definitely looked like a Super Bowl contender after that game.

MegaWatt Warriors used their offseason to re-evaluate themselves. So as I mentioned earlier in the article, this team was only a year technically removed from winning the Super Bowl going into the 2016 season. They had high hopes for a return and a repeat, but that dream soon came crashing down. If you rewind to the 2016 season you'll see a young team, a very young team. The only veteran presence they had was Rob Gronkowski who was battling injuries for the majority of the season and J.J. Watt who also found himself a victim of the injury bug toward the thick of the '16 season. With Tyrod Taylor, Jay Ajayi, Rob Gronkowski, Jeremy Maclin, and the likes of Clive Walford - wait, who? ...Exactly! With these men excluding Walford who were leading or trying to lead MegaWatt Warriors back to the promise land; general manager, head coach, and the owner knew there was only one thing to do after their miserable 2016 season. No not rebuild - but retool. There was already some pieces in place on this team that they knew still had the makings of a Super Bowl contender. Rob Gronkowski, Cole Beasley, Jeremy Maclin, and Stephen Gostkowski were the core group they believed in. They knew these men were giving one-hundred percent of themselves on and off the field each and every game. No matter what happened they were the ones who helped shape the "never give up." motto. So through their 4-10 season in 2016 the front office knew they wanted to keep these players around. The next task was to put other players around these men that would buy into the system they wanted to build. 2015 wasn't that far off in their mind and they knew what had to be done in order to make them relevant once again. So MegaWatt Warriors methodically brought in guys who were hungry. Hungry to showcase their talents and skills that other teams may have forgotten.

Gurley Found A Home In Houston

Todd Gurley was one of these men. In a lackluster 2016 season, Gurley found himself on the market as a free agent. Teams were passing on him, not giving him a second look let alone a first look. But MegaWatt Warriors knew to bring relevance back to their team and their passing game they needed a strong back. Let's face it, Rob Gronkowski is the heartbeat of this team and has been for quite some years. J.J. Watt may have gotten a lot of the praise over the years, but Gronk has been through it all with these Warriors. So, in order to get Gronk the MVP back to elite status they would need someone to take the pressure off the quarterback; insert Gurley. A lot of people didn't believe Gurley was going to get back to his college and rookie ways after the slump he had in 2016. When MegaWatt Warriors signed him it came as no surprise that he found himself on the worst team coming into the 2017 season. If you believe in anything it's probably best you believe the players who hit a rough patch find themselves signing with teams who are counted out. It's a combination that usually only musters success. Nobody considers them or the team they sign with and then BAM! Contenders again with a player who has reemerged as a threat. So this gave MegaWatt Warriors headway and relevance once again. With Gurley finding himself behind a stout offensive line remade with Donald Penn opening up holes it aloud Gronk to excel at what he does best. The combination of Gronk, Gurley, and Carr has been a major strength of this team - and while Gronk gets most of the media attention, something that has gone unnoticed for the majority of the season is how they brought in Zach Ertz. The decision to go into a two Tight End system has worked wonders. More and more teams rely on two Tight Ends and it continues to pay off. MegaWatt Warriors was voted by Mr. Sanders as a Wild Card contender and a chance to have a rebound season after a dreadful 2016 campaign. Well although his Super Bowl pick (The Canadian Cripplers) only showcased defeat, this pick has been pretty spot on.

Thunderbuddy4Life wasn't given much praise by Mr. Sanders but they have found themselves in a place only one other team has found themselves in. The Canadian Cripplers went to two Super Bowls in a row, Super Bowl I and II. In the first one they lost, but in the second one, they put things together and captured their first and only title. Thunderbuddy4Life has a chance to break through the same way The Canadian Cripplers did. These two teams are the only ones who have gone back-to-back after losing in their first appearance. So as we prepare for Super Bowl XI we've got to wonder if it'd going to be the same outcome as it was when these two teams met up against one another in Week 5. Thunderbuddy4Life was able to really stifle and contain MegaWatt Warriors offense to almost nothing. While they were unable to get the running game going in Week 5, MegaWatt Warriors were able to find some consistency in their passing attack. But it wasn't done by Gronk or Maclin, but instead posted by Ertz and Beasley. Bortles wasn't able to find much efficiency in the deep ball and had to mainly rely on quick slants and flats. It was a dink and dunk type of game for MegaWatt Warriors who usually found themselves asking Gostkowski to tack on 3 more, and 3 more, and as the game went so did Gostkowski. Thunderbuddy4Life led a strong assault against MegaWatt Warriors who was looking to have a balanced attack.

Dunlap Stifles MegaWatt Warriors Week 5

Carlos Dunlap was a huge factor in stuffing the run, Thunderbuddy4Life's front four was a monster in Week 5 and although they haven't played up to snuff; last week in the Championship game against PURPLEHAZE they looked formidable in their own right. With MegaWatt Warriors relying on Derek Carr for the majority of the season and ask him to take the reigns from Bortles after Week 5 it's going to be interesting to see who MegaWatt Warriors trusts in the position they are in. Last week against Evolution they again in a truly risky and daring move asked Bortles to book their ticket to the Super Bowl. Instead, he almost sent them on a one-way ticket home. It was a disastrous move and if it wasn't for Todd Gurley taking the entire team on his back Sunday afternoon we might be talking about an Evolution versus Thunderbuddy4Life Super Bowl. MegaWatt Warriors coaching staff will have some explaining to do.

Bortles Or Carr?

They will have to evaluate their system and Thunderbuddy4Life's game footage. If by looking at the last few performances when Bortles was in for MegaWatt Warriors the obvious answer is to start Carr. But is it really that simple? Well in reality where you can go back and watch the game footage and see how MegaWatt Warriors players and personnel preform when Carr commanding the offense, again it seems like a no-brainer. But, Bortles is a man who has ridden the adversity. He has been through the ringer and he knows how to get up when things aren't going his way. He's one of those guys who usually bounce back after having a dreadful week, and for MegaWatt Warriors placing the load on Gurley regardless who the Quarterback is - one has to wonder does it even matter? Gurley is a monster, he's a jack of all trades and much like his rookie counterpart, Hunt. Gurley can also catch out of the backfield. Las Vegas has MegaWatt Warriors sitting at a 4 point favorite. They are the early favorite going into this 11th Super Bowl for the Elite Fantasy League and with a win can match Straight Edge Society as the only two teams to win two Super Bowls. It'll come down to the team that can stop the running game will win. The team that can make the other one one-dimensional will hold the Super Bowl trophy high up in the sky when the dust settles. Anyone that believes this will be like Week 5 is mistaken. The Championship games were lackluster. Both Thunderbuddy4Life and MegaWatt Warriors made quick work of their opponents, but to think either one of these teams will make quick work of the other is foolish. Thunderbuddy4Life only has a slightly stronger defense and a slightly more impressive receiving core. But MegaWatt Warriors definitely has the advantage at the running back position. Not just because Gurley is more seasoned than Hunt, but because DeMarco Murray isn't expected to play.

D. Murray Ruled Out Of SBXI

As the minutes wound down on Sunday's win over PURPLEHAZE, Murray required assistance from the training staff to reach the sideline at the end of a two-yard run, his 15th and final one of the day. The initial examination revealed an apparent sprain of his LCL, per Adam Schefter of ESPN, but an MRI on Tuesday will reveal the extent of the damage. The process has reached the point of holding Murray out of the Super Bowl, which means the ground game may be entirely reliant on Kareem Hunt. For a veteran, this is asking a lot, but from a rookie, this is asking the world. I don't care how talented you are; you cannot do it all on your own. Gurley may have showcased how savage he truly is on Sunday but he even had relief from Latvius Murray. Thunderbuddy4Life will have to scrap the bottom of the kettle in trying to find a suitable back to compliment Hunt. Javorius Allen, Doug Martin, or even a veteran like Matt Forte may be an option. It's not going to be the same compliment that Murray was giving Hunt but Thunderbuddy4Life will have to find someone and be creative in the way they use them. No team wants to lose the Super Bowl and I'll be the first to say it out loud here for Thunderbuddy4Life. They absolutely do not want to be the only team to lose two consecutive Super Bowls. Talk about a blow to the ego. To get to the game is difficult enough, to lose and return the following year is remarkable, but if they come up short two straight years, yikes.... The pressure is on Thunderbuddy4Life to deliver. They looked like they should have won last year, by winning it all this year they can almost say they were the better team in Super Bowl X. If they lose though, it's going to be a very long offseason with a lot of questions as to what can they do to get that coveted win in the 'Big Game.'

Gronk Seeking 2nd Ring

For MegaWatt Warriors, it's almost a blessing they had such a terrible 2016 season. Gronk and company know what it tastes like to be Champions, they also know what it tastes like to be the worst of the worst. Now in 2017 they are riding high and feeling good. Nobody really thought this team was a threat, but here they are. They have the belief system in place that they are the best team in the league and will push for a true dynasty. Straight Edge Society came oh so close to becoming the EFL's first dynasty, but MegaWatt Warriors said no and shut that down. Now trying to match Straight Edge Society with Super Bowl titles - if they do so, then in 2018 we can talk about these Warriors and whether they have what it takes to become a dynasty.

Super Bowl XI will be a great one, so ladies and gentlemen pull up a seat and get ready for some hard hits, smack talk, and passion because this is the last game of the year so enjoy it while you still can. It's a long offseason and the loser will have to mull over the things they could have done better, while the winner can rejoice in the victory of being the best in the world.

CLICK TO VOTE

2018 EFL Draft 1. Buds Bums (2-12) 2. The Canadian Cripplers (4-10) 3. Black Hole Son (4-9-1) 4. Yuba City Sultans (5-9) 5. Hyrule Empire (6-8) 6. Straight Edge Society (6-8) 7. The Busy Killers (6-7-1) 8. BroncosTillDeath (8-6) 9. LilShupeScoresBIGPoints (8-6) 10. Rainelo Hawks (8-6) 11. HellbentKronik (9-5) 12. VanillaGorillas (9-5) 13. PURPLEHAZE (8-6) 14. Evolution (11-3) 15-16 Yet To Be Determined