#Rock n roll veterans

[serknows]

Honoring and remembering all those who have served in this day Nov 11. Thank you for your service. Happy veterans Day.

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#happyveteransday #veterans #veteransday #thanks #thankyou #honoring #freedom #usa #america #redwhiteandblue #americanflag #starsandstripes #therockandrapshop #creedenceclearwaterrevival #creedence #love #army #marine #airforce #navy

[yunhoszn]

steamed milk

pairing choi san x f!reader word count 2.5k genres fluff﹒smut warnings 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, not proofread, all lowercase bc i wrote this at 2 am… a week ago <3, barista!reader, barista!san, clumsy reader, mentions of burn scars?, mutual pining, little bit of power imbalance but it doesn’t play into the plot, escalates pretty fast, public sex, unprotected sex, cute fluffy moment at the end, may we get f’s in the chat for kim hongjoong’s desk chair

summary a closing shift with san is… interesting… to say the least.

more alright alright alright, i know i have a billion wips and a billion reqs to work on,,, but @bro-atz needed something to read on a flight and i needed an excuse to write with no plot in mind, solely based on vibes and this is what came out of it… i ALSO KNOW i’ve been withholding for a week but that’s bc i wasn’t sure if i wanted to keep this locked in the dungeon for a rainy day or not, until i remembered i should post something in honor of chellateez 🥳

@atzhouse @san-network

“did you burn yourself on the steam wand again, y/n?”

you bite your lip and turn away from hongjoong bashfully. so what if you’re a little clumsy, it’s not like you completely sucked at your job. maybe there were a few milk spills here and there. at least you knew what you were doing most of the time. 

“um, what would you do if i said no?” you scratch the back of your neck with the hand that wasn’t burned. hongjoong sighs, leaning back in his rolling chair. as the manager of a coffee shop, he did not get paid enough to babysit and coddle his employees like he usually did. 

between you almost always making a mess and then yunho and mingi goofing around whenever they were on shift together, he felt like he was starting to grow grey hairs. he shakes his head with a tsk, pulling out the first aid kit from one of the drawers in his desk. “let’s put some burn cream and a bandaid on it so you can hop back out. the dessert rush is about to begin.”

you nod and rock on the balls of your feet as you wait patiently. your manager dresses your burn and sends you on your way. the dessert rush, aside from the morning rush, was arguably the worst part of the day. shifts at the coffee shop were divided into thirds— open to mid, mid to evening, evening to close. while opens were the most busy, you at least got out early and could enjoy the rest of your day. mids were the slowest, but they took place midday so you couldn’t do much after you clocked off. 

closes were the worst, because they were so unpredictable. you weren’t ever sure if it was going to be busy, apart from the usual dessert rush, and that uncertainty bothered you. the beginning of your closing shift was staffed pretty well. there was yeosang, who was probably the best barista out of the lot of you, and seonghwa, a seasoned veteran in this game. he was your assistant manager. 

however, yeosang and seonghwa were off at 6 PM and the shop closed at 9 PM, leaving you and your lead for the night to close all by yourselves. and your lead? choi san. 

closing with san wouldn’t be such a problem if it weren’t for your massive crush on him. out of the other leads, san was the kindest. he didn’t lose his cool if your clumsy nature got the best of you during a hectic shift. in fact, he took his time to ensure everything was okay. he didn’t care if there were angry customers demanding that their drinks be made. his baristas were his number one priority. 

and well, with his appearance today, it would be more difficult than usual. donned in a white button up and some black slacks, his brown apron over, you think you’re going to faint. on a regular basis, san wore simple things like the occasional sweater or t-shirts and jeans, but this new look was making you all sorts of dizzy. you felt inferior beside him. (though technically, you were.)

with hongjoong, seonghwa, and yeosang leaving all at the same time, you were in a crisis. how were you supposed to survive this shift? it’s like the universe meticulously crafted this moment so it could laugh at you. and it all started with you burning yourself on that goddamn steam wand, while you were on bar with san of all people. 

“are you sure you don’t want me to send you home?” san asks lowly, making sure only you heard him. the two of you were finishing an order when he asked the question. 

“i couldn’t let you close by yourself.” you pout. as hard as it’s going to be working with him alone for three hours, you’d feel awful leaving him to fend for himself. 

“i can ask yeo or hwa to stay,” he shrugs, putting a lid on the iced vanilla latte in front of you. “i don’t want you to hurt yourself again.”

“i’ll be fine, san,” you reassure. “besides, seonghwa would probably kill me if i was the reason he had to stay later than he had to.”

san laughs a little, eyes scrunching up in the cute way they do when he smiles. your heart rate spikes and you have to take a deep breath to compose yourself. he nods as he turns to hand out the order. 

“if you insist.”

maybe you should’ve taken him up on that offer to go home. 

you’re too distracted by the way his rolled up sleeves strain against his muscular arms, staring a little too much. hongjoong just so happens to walk out of the back at that exact moment. he thinks your (very obvious) crush on san is funny, but not when the line is wrapped and you’re about to be down two men. 

“y/n, there’s five drinks waiting to be made,” he calls out, tapping on seonghwa and yeosang’s shoulders to let them know they can go. “what’s more important that has you standing there doing nothing?”

“sorry…” you apologize sheepishly, avoiding his gaze as you start on the next order; a dry cappuccino with cinnamon. great. another drink that required you using that godforsaken steam wand. a truly evil contraption. 

“i can be milk if you’d like?” san suggests suddenly, noticing your hesitation to steam the 2%. 

“if it’s not too much of an ask,” you frown. “i just don’t want to hold us back in the middle of a rush.”

“you don’t need to explain yourself to me, y/n,” he quickly swaps places with you. “i think you’re pretty damn good with a portafilter anyway.”

it’s a stupid compliment. only another barista would even know what that meant, but you take it to heart. your body flushes with warmth as you tamp the espresso grounds and pull a shot viable enough to use for the cappuccino. you’re a little shaky as you pour it into the paper cup and wait for san to pour the milk. 

this was the closest you’d get to flirting with san, and it was him telling you that you were actually good at your job. what a sad life you lived. 

thankfully, you manage to bulldoze through the line with just the two of you. in times like these, your solution is to go nonverbal and lock in. if you talk while you’re making drinks, you get distracted too easily and you find it’s harder to multitask. after the rush, things are slow for the most part and then it’s just you, san, and the sound of cafe music playing quietly over the speakers at 9 PM. 

“y/n, can i ask you a question?” san inquires, counting the till as you wipe down the espresso machine and the bar around it. 

“what’s up?” you hum, refolding your rag. he shuts the register and walks over to you, leaning on the bar adjacent to the one you were at. 

“i’m curious, and you don’t have to answer if you’re uncomfortable, but i’ve heard that you like me. is that true?” it comes out so politely, you’re not even sure you heard him correctly. you blink as the words process in your brain. this was the end. now you really wished you went home early. 

“well— um— i don’t know how to answer that…” you fiddle with your fingers, looking everywhere but at san. 

“all i want is a yes or no, because truth is,” he walks closer and closer until he’s directly in front of you. “i have a little crush on you myself.”

“you what?!” you don’t mean to sound so shocked, so appalled even, because he takes a step back, eyes widened by your outburst. you’re just so confused. choi san liked you? like, liked you?

“i’ll take that as a—“

“no!” you stand upright, grabbing his wrist. when you realize what you’ve done, you immediately let go. “i mean, no, as in yes. i do like you, san. i was just… embarrassed… that you found out from elsewhere instead of me. and i’m a little in disbelief that you feel the same.”

“why’s that?” his head tilts to the side a bit. “what’s not to like about you?”

“for starters, i’m the biggest klutz on the planet.” you huff, but that makes his smile grow wider. 

“i think that’s your charming point,” he admits, hands stuffed into the pockets of his slacks. “while i don’t enjoy seeing you hurt, like when you burned yourself earlier, i do think it’s kinda cute when you accidentally knock over a drink.”

“are you okay in the head? were you dropped on it as a baby?” you ask with a raised eyebrow. he laughs, this time a full on laugh that has him bringing a fist up to his mouth. you think you just shed a tear. and not from your eyes. 

“i don’t believe so. i guess i’m just attracted to people who aren’t afraid of being themselves,” he shrugs, reaching out to take your hand into his. “and you check all the boxes.”

remember the whole fainting thing? that’s about to come true. you manifested it. 

san brings your knuckles up to his lips, first kissing over the bandaid where your burn was and then all over the back of your hand. you stand there like a fish out of water, mouth opening and closing but no words escaping you. was the universe… rewarding you somehow?

“how often does joong check the cameras?” you gasp when his kisses have moved from your hand to your neck. he doesn’t break contact, speaking into your skin as he unties your apron. 

“almost never, but you have a point.”

this is how you end up on san’s lap in hongjoong’s office chair, fingers tangled in each other’s hair, lips locked like no tomorrow. he was a fantastic kisser, which just further proved your theory that he was the perfect human being. along with the subtle flirting, and the obvious knack for respecting boundaries, it’s almost like the universe had hand crafted choi san to be the ideal man. and they say chivalry is dead. pft, san’s existence dispels that notion undoubtedly. 

“he won’t know, right?” you pant, arching into him when he sucks at a particular part on the base of your throat. he hums. 

“you’re worrying too much,” san’s fingers slip under your top, digging into your waist. “i promise, he won’t find out. but we’ve gotta be quick since he’ll know what time we left.”

“m’kay,” you sigh, grinding down on his lap to help speed things along. the undressing process is a blur. you wish you could spend more time admiring his bare chest and arms, especially because you’d been fantasizing about this moment for almost an entire year now. 

“god, you’re so gorgeous, y/n,” he murmurs, reconnecting your lips sweetly. his hands massage the sides of your thighs as you hover over him, preparing to sink down on his cock. “i finally have you all to myself.”

you whine when you do, his words encouraging your arousal. the intrusion has you moaning softly, eyes squeezing shut from the sheer pleasure streaming through your veins. your nails scrape his shoulders and back, toes curling. the tip of his dick grazes that sensitive spot deep in your cunt with ease, as if he was made to be inside of you. 

“feels— fuck— feels so good, san,” you whimper, head falling to the crook of his neck. san chuckles, albeit a little strained. his hands remain in your hips, aiding your movement so you don’t get too tired. 

“is that right, sweetheart?” he says into your ear, nipping the lobe gently. “you’re taking me so well.” 

his praise shoots straight to your core, punching another moan out of you. you really shouldn’t be surprised that he’s inching you towards the edge of that familiar tide so fast. it’s san, and like you’ve stated before, he’s damn near perfect. but holy shit, the way he’s fucking you has you thinking that there is such a thing as heaven. 

you have to bite down on his collarbone to stop yourself from screaming like a fucking pornstar, leaving a myriad of marks on his skin to restrain the ferality threatening to jump out of you. every drag of his cock on your velvety walls drives you just a little more insane each time. 

he’s moving so slow, but so deep all at once, and it’s just the right combination to decorate the backs of your eyelids in stars and colored spots. his ring and middle fingers meet your swollen clit, circling with practiced pressure. the office chair squeaks awfully with each of your bounces on his lap, but you’re too close to pay it any mind. instead, you drown it out with your own noises— warnings of your impending orgasm. 

“gonna cum— my god, san, i’m—!” you don’t even finish your sentence, the tide finally reaching the shore. your orgasm washes over you hard and unlike any other you’ve ever experienced before. you aren’t sure if he’s just that good, or if it’s because it’s san. (most likely a combination of both.) 

san coos, guiding you through the peak of your climax. once you’ve calmed considerably, you slide him out of you and stroke his cock until he’s painting the inside of your thighs with milky white and a groan. his face screws up in pleasure, eyes fluttered shut and brows knit together. his lashes kiss the tops of his cheeks and you think you’ve just fallen in love, for real. 

his chest rises and falls as he attempts to catch his breath. you can’t help placing a hand over the left side to feel the rapidity of his heartbeat, smiling to yourself. he mirrors your expression after a moment, leaning up to press a sensual kiss to your lips. 

“as fun as this was, and as much as i like the view right now, it’d be better if i could actually take you out after this… and if i could fuck you somewhere nicer than on our manager’s desk chair.” san bites at the inside of his lip, glancing down at the rolling chair beneath you. 

“i agree,” you giggle, brushing his hair from his face. “hongjoong’s office isn’t the ideal location for a first date or first time sleeping together. but at least we’ll have a fun story to tell our kids.”

san bursts into laughter at that. “our kids, huh? you’ve thought that far ahead?”

“i’ve had a crush on you since i got hired, choi san, what do you think?” you raise an eyebrow, booping his nose with your index finger. he scrunches it up with a grin. 

“i think that i’ve had a crush on you just as long. and if we’re having kids, it’s best to omit some details when we retell this story.” 

© yunhoszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[redhalmao]

Headcanon: Tim checks Bernard's pulse, a lot.

Bernard knows that he was not supposed to notice, but he can't help himself.

Tim checks his pulse. Like a worrying number of times.

Although the action in itself, Bernard shouldn't find it too alarming. It's Gotham for pete's sake, Bernard will proudly bark out laugh at you if you call yourself a Gotham native and NOT know how to CPR/check someone's pulse. It's just that Bernard feel like it's another small detail that cements the fact Tim is Red Robin. Tim's life was supposed to be a sunshine n' rainbows, dazzling, glamorous and fairly safe world of the rich or famous, but no one from that world should check a person's pulse with that much confidence and effectiveness. Tim checks Bernard's pulse like every fiber of his being was trained to.

Oh another thing that bothers Bernard is that Tim m typically checks Bernard's pulse when it's a quiet moment.

And those moments become the loudest that Bernard felt.

***

At the time, Bernard is too tired to move his study session back to his room. Add in the the combination of Tim's harsh lamp light glaring at him for the past 4 hours and lack of Monster drinks, his eyes deserves a much needed break. So, Bernard is just happy to accept his fate of laying down on Tim's very inviting soft couch.

Bernard soon loses himself to the fuzzy feeling of the boathouse that slightly rocks his body. His legs readjusts to the boats motion and Bernard hugs himself together to roll with the movement better. Bernard hummed at the moment he realizes that a storm must be coming and must be the one causing rocking.

Huh, Tim should really put some more rocker stoppers. Bernard curled farther into the couch at that thought.

Within a half of hour later, Bernard sleepily heard some commotion outside. Throughout the next hour, the boat slowly stopped rocking. Bernard curled towards the couch and it's pillows, silently mourning the lack of soothing rocking.

A window opens.

Rain comes in.

A couple of steps towards Bernard's self claimed study mess area.

A click of the lamp's switch being turned off.

A lot more steps.

A series of clicks and zips echos throughout the small boat.

A shower turns on.

After a good while, the shower turns off.

A wet towel has been dropped, rustle of clothing.

Steps going towards to the couch, to himself, Bernard.

Bernard is not delusional, he knew that there was a good chance that Tim would still be on that week long "business trip" a little bit longer than he did he would. That Bernard would have a lot better chance of seeing Tim in their favorite breakfast restaurant tomorrow than Tim surprising Bernard by crashing into study session in own boathouse at this afternoon.

But the buzzing feeling of Tim of brushing the back of his hair was so addictive that he couldn't help but thank his lucky stars that he was a bit impatient today.

As Tim sinks into the couch and curls into Bernard, the his brushing of Bernard's hair turns into his hand skimming to Bernard's neck.

Bernard had to stop himself to chuckling from the ticklish feeling, but he did let himself reply with a hum. Bernard reached and stuck the Tim's wandering hand on his neck and turned around.

"Hey"

"Hey, yourself."

And that's when Bernard felt it. Bernard knows that Tim's other hand was supposed to be comforting and distracting Bernard by brushing his hair, but the brush of his neck turned to a soft press. The distraction would have worked it if it weren't for the vulnerability of Tim's eyes, he would have missed it. The look in Tim's eyes, makes Bernard wrap his arms and legs around him.

"Are you okay?"

Bernard wants to laugh, of course Tim asks him as of he doesn't have the eyes of a veteran soldier that just relived through their personal hell.

"Yeah, are you okay?"

"Hmm, just stressing about the company."

Tim pulls away, as he does, his hand travels away from Bernard's neck and on to his face. He rubs little circles on Bernard's face. Tim smiles.

Bernard wants to cry.

[mads-nixon]

You Before Me

Bill 'Hoosier' Smith x Reader

Masterlist

A/N: hiiii! this is my first ever hoosier fic, so please let me know what y'all think!! i've recently become obsessed with jacob pitts lol! this is about the fictional portrayal of the H company boys. i have nothing but love and respect for veterans on this blog!

Summary: During the battle for the Peleliu Airfield, (y/n) and Bill are separated after both being injured by a mortar shell.

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: injuries, blood, straight angst with fluff

PELELIU AIRFIELD: SEPTEMBER, 1944

Ringing. 

It was all that filled (y/n)’s senses, drowning out the surrounding chaos. She could taste the acrid tang of smoke in the air, making her cough and struggle to catch her breath. Everything seemed hazy and distorted, the world spinning around her. Blinking, she tried to clear her vision and make sense of what was happening. Dust and dirt swirled in the air, making it hard to see beyond a few feet. She lay on her back, helmet long gone, trying to remember what had led to that moment.

They were taking the airfield.

Hoosier was with her and then–BILL!

“Bill,” she croaked weakly, blindly reaching out for him with a shaky hand, finding nothing but dirt and rocks. She rolled onto her side to look for him, but the movement caused white-hot pain to shoot through her body, sending sharp jolts of agony up her left leg. The pain was fierce, radiating from her ankle and calf. Every motion seemed to intensify the pain, making her grit her teeth as she sat up on her elbows, her eyes nervously drifting to her legs. (Y/n)’s eyes widened as she took in the damage. Her left calf was littered with shrapnel, and her ankle was turned at an unnatural angle, both oozing with blood.

She took a nervous gulp, throwing her head back against the rocks of the crater. 

This was not good.

Taking a shuttering breath, she called out again. “Bill, are you there?

Through the ringing, she heard a pained grunt from her left. She recognized the sound instantly, and her heart fell, tears glistening in her eyes.

“Bill!” she cried into the haze, panic gnawing at her as she searched frantically for him.  She prayed the smoke would clear and she’d see him looking back at her, unscathed with his signature lopsided smirk, but answers to prayers aren’t always what we’d like them to be. Through the smoke, she spotted his still form to her left, sprawled out on his stomach, his face etched in pain. Her heart lurched with both relief and fear. When she spotted the growing red stain on his lower thigh, the relief disappeared.

“No, no, no,” (y/n) whispered to herself before raising her voice. “Bill? Can you hear me?”

Summoning every ounce of strength, she rolled over and began to crawl to him, dragging her injured leg behind her. As she forced herself to crawl towards him, her breaths came out in ragged gasps, chest heaving with the effort to overcome the searing torment. The muscles in her leg protested every inch of progress, and she gritted her teeth, trying to muffle the pained sounds that left her lips. (Y/n)’s broken ankle got caught on a particularly sharp rock, and she whimpered involuntarily, a low, guttural sound escaped her as she clutched the rocky ground for support. 

Pushing through the pain, she extended a trembling hand, her fingers brushing against his uniform, feeling the warmth of his skin underneath. He’d managed to pull himself forward, flipping over and propping himself up against the rocky wall of the crater, pained grunts filling the air. His breaths were shallow and ragged, eyes barely open as he fought to stay conscious. 

When he managed to pry them open further, they were clouded with pain and drowsiness, wandering aimlessly for a moment before attempting to find (y/n)’s gaze. He saw her face above him, her lips moving rapidly, but he couldn’t quite understand what she was saying. 

“You’re okay, hon. You’re okay,” (y/n) whispered, painfully sitting up beside him and putting pressure on his wound. His slick blood coated her hands as she pushed with all her remaining strength. As Hoosier lazily looked up at her, his senses slowly came back to him.

“(Y/n),” he mumbled. “I dropped my weapon.”

“It’s a-alright, Bill,” she whimpered, the pain in her ankle and leg flaring, sending waves of dizziness and nausea through her. The pain seemed to meld with the fog of fatigue, weighing down her limbs and blurring her focus. (Y/n)’s eyelids became heavy, as if someone had placed weights on them. She blinked forcefully, attempting to stay alert.

“Shit,” she groaned, her eyes drooping as her strength dissipated, the pressure on his leg lessening. Just as she felt herself slipping away, a familiar voice cut through the chaos.

“Oh, Bill. (Y/n),” Bob called, and seconds later, he was by their side, his eyes taking in the carnage before him. He had arrived just in time to take over the task of applying pressure on Bill’s wound, giving (y/n) a much-needed break. She let out a shuddering breath, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on her as she fell against the rocky wall of the crater beside Hoosier. 

“Corpsman!” Leckie screamed. “Corpsman!”

(Y/n) watched through a haze of drowsiness as Bill clenched his eyes and leaned his head back, breathing heavily. She shakily reached out for his hand, intertwining their fingers gently. His once strong hand now felt almost limp and lifeless in her grasp, and she squeezed it in an effort to keep him awake.

“We’re gon’ be alright, ” she strained.

Glancing at her leg, Bob’s eyes widened and he quickly moved one hand off Hoosier’s wound to get a better look at the damage, but she weakly pushed his hand away.

“No, Bob,” she rasped, her voice hoarse and filled with worry. “Bill…Please, help Bill first. He’s h-hurt worse than I am. I’ll be okay, just…take care of him.”

Bill flopped his head to the side to look at her with concern in his half-lidden eyes. “No,” he grunted. “(Y/n/n), no.”

Leckie shook his head, trying to help her again. “Your leg, (y/l/n)!” he exclaimed. “You’re gonna-”

“Bob,” she interrupted, her eyes lowering to Bill’s wound, tears in her eyes. “I know. Help Bill.”

With a frustrated growl, Leckie brought his hand back to Hoosier’s thigh. “Corpsman!” he yelled again. “Hey, everything’s gonna be fine, you two. It ain’t shit. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

Bill lifted his head for a moment, lazily licking his lips before peering down at (y/n), his gaze traveling down to her foot and its horrific position. “Darlin’,” he breathed. “Your foot.”

“I’m fine, Bill.”

Bob felt his heart tear seeing the usually spunky couple in such a pitiful state. “It ain’t shit,” he reassured. “You’re both gonna be fine.”

Hoosier’s eyes drifted closed, and (y/n) shared a panicked look with Bob. “Damn it! Corpsman! Stay awake! Both of you.”

She nodded feebly, her grip on Bill’s hand tightening as she fought to stay conscious. Pain and exhaustion weighed heavily on her, but she knew she had to be there for Bill. She struggled to keep her eyes open, blinking against the weariness that threatened to pull her into the darkness. After a minute that crawled by like hours, two corpsmen slid down into the hole. One of them quickly evaluated the situation and dropped down beside Bill, barking orders at Leckie as the other knelt beside (y/n), speaking gently. “Ma’am we’ve gotta get him stabilized. We’re gonna take him first, but we’ll be back for you, I promise.

(Y/n)’s chest tightened at the words, and she nodded weakly.

“Bill?” she heard Bob mutter from beside her. “Bill?”

Her unfocused gaze flew over to his face, watching as he lost his battle against unconsciousness, his eyes fluttering shut, whispering, “Sorry.” (Y/n) felt his grip go limp, and her eyes widened in fear and desperation. She released his hand and shook his shoulder, her voice trembling.

“Bill, no, please,” she pleaded, her words choked with emotion.

“Help me carry him back,” a corpsman stated, roughly looping his arms under Bill’s shoulders and lifting him with the help of the other corpsman. (Y/n)’s eyes never left them as they quickly carried him out of the crater. The second they left her view, she felt a sudden rush of adrenaline leaving her body. The pain from her injuries hit her anew, and every ache and throb seemed to intensify twofold. She groaned, closing her eyes tightly.

Bob turned and put pressure on (y/n)’s trembling thigh. He urged her to breathe, to focus on anything but the pain, but the agony was now all over her body.

“Focus on my voice, (y/n),” Bob implored, his voice shaking. “Hoos would kill me if I let anything happen to ya, so you’ve gotta stay awake for me, sweetheart.”

Spots danced in her vision and her eyelids drooped as she began to drift away into the darkness that was invading. “Stay with me, (y/n),” Bob replied, pushing more of his weight onto her leg. “They’re coming back! Stay awake!”

USS SAMARITAN (AH-10): SEPTEMBER, 1944

It had been a long few days since Bill had woken up groggy from the fog of his pain medications. The medical ship rocked subtly beneath him as he lay in his cot, an itchy blanket covering him. He was going out of his mind looking at nothing but the gray steel of the ship’s interior and hearing the moans and cries of his fellow Marines. 

Since the moment he’d woken up, he’d been asking about (y/n). He asked nurses, other wounded marines, and anyone he could get a hold of. After four days of this, anxiety settled into his stomach, and he decided to search for her himself. He scanned the room for nurses before swinging his legs over the side of the bed, wincing at how it pulled on his wound. The man in the bed beside him was dead asleep, so he snatched his crutches and used his left leg to push himself off the bed. Bill smirked as he slowly started toward the hallway, but his plan came to a screeching halt when he heard a voice behind him.

“Just where do you think you’re going, private?”

He sighed and turned around, coming face to face with one of his nurses, Evelyn, who wore a disapproving expression. 

“Just going to the bathroom,” he lied, nodding toward the door.

“Really?” Evelyn asked, amusement lacing her tone as she pointed to the opposite side of the room. “Because the bathroom’s that way.”

“Fine,” Bill grumbled under his breath. “You caught me. I need to find someone.”

“So what’s the lucky girl’s name?” she asked, helping Bill back into the bed.

“How’d you know I was lookin’ for a woman?” 

She smiled. “The look in your eyes.”

A fond smile formed on his lips as he replied. “Corporal (Y/n) (y/l/n). She’s my best friend.”

“Just a best friend?” Evelyn smirked, peering down at him with a skeptically raised eyebrow. “Sounds like she’s more than that to you, marine.”

“She is,” he chuckled. “I’m lucky to have her.”

After a moment, his expression fell and his eyes drifted to the stark white bandages on his leg. “We both got hit by the same mortar,” he said softly. “I don’t know what happened to her.”

Evelyn placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I’ll see what I can find out for you.”

Looking up at her with glossy eyes, Hoosier cleared his throat. “Thank you, ma’am.”

Another day passed, and there was still no word on (y/n) or her condition, and Bill became even more desperate. Later in the day, he saw Evelyn in the corner of his eye and waved her over.

“Ma’am,” Bill called out to her, his voice tight with worry. “Have you found her yet?”

Evelyn smiled gently and shook her head. “Sorry, private. No luck yet,” she sighed. “But I’ll keep asking around.”

He hung his head with a sigh, closing his eyes as he sunk back down onto the bed, bringing up a hand to run it down his face.

“I do have some good news, though,” she announced, getting a wheelchair from the corner. “We’re going on a trip to the top deck, and I think it’ll help you feel better.”

Bill grunted, turning onto his side and facing away from her. “No thanks.”

“Come on, private. Trust me,” Evelyn encouraged, her voice persuasive. 

He hesitated for a moment, then sighed and relented. With a little help, he eased into the wheelchair. As they made their way to the top deck, he couldn’t help but be disinterested, his thoughts consumed by worry for the woman he loved. Once they reached the top deck, Bill was lost in his thoughts, absentmindedly watching the unending sea before him. 

Evelyn pushed his wheelchair to a quiet spot, hoping the openness and fresh air would ease his worries. “It’s a beautiful view, isn’t it?” she asked, taking a deep breath.

Bill gave a faint nod but remained lost in his thoughts. As the sun caressed the deck with its warm embrace, he basked in its gentle rays, closing his eyes to fully immerse himself in the comforting warmth. The distant sounds of the ship and the gentle lull of the waves created a calming aura around him, temporarily easing the weight of the world from his shoulders. He thought of the last time he’d felt so relaxed: It had been beside (y/n) as they laid out on the beach in Melbourne, not a care in the world.

The distinct sound of a wheelchair being pushed beside him broke Bill from his memory, and a flicker of annoyance tinged his moment of peace. He wondered who was being wheeled so close. When he opened his eyes, however, annoyance quickly turned to a surge of relief and elation. There, right beside him, was (y/n) in a wheelchair, her head tilted toward him in a peaceful slumber. The second he saw her sleeping form, it was as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, the knot in his chest finally loosening. The anxiety and fears that had plagued him for days now seemed to disappear. 

He found himself captivated by the soft curve of her lips and the way they seemed to hold a hint of a smile even in her dreams. They were lips he’d kissed a thousand times, each one bringing back a fond memory. Bill reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair from her forehead, tracing the delicate line of her jaw with his eyes. His heart swelled as he admired her every feature, from the sweep of her lashes to the graceful arc of her eyebrows. Hoosier couldn’t help but glance down at her foot, finding it wrapped in a large cast that reached from her toes to her knee. His eyes glistened with unshed tears as he watched her, completely overwhelmed with emotion.

“Wake up, sleeping beauty,” he smiled, his hand tenderly cupping her jaw as his thumb gently rubbed against her cheek.

(Y/n)’s unconscious mind seemed to recognize the touch, and she leaned into his hand, a contented sigh escaping her lips. “Five more minutes,” she murmured sleepily. “I’m having a good dream.”

Bill chuckled softly, his gaze soft as he admired her peaceful form. “Well, darlin’, what dream could possibly be better than me?”

As if in response, her eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the light as her eyes met his ocean-blue eyes. “Am I still dreaming?” she asked softly, a sparkle of hope lighting up her eyes. 

Hoosier shook his head, his voice filled with reassurance. “No, (y/n/n), you’re not dreamin’. 

“Are you sure?”

“I know how I can prove it to ya,” he grinned.

He leaned over and gently placed a kiss on her lips as undeniable proof that he was truly before her. His hand remained tenderly on her jaw, his touch grounding her spinning mind. As he pulled away, they rested their foreheads against each other. A radiant smile graced her lips as she fully registered her presence, his loving gaze warming her heart. “Bill,” she whispered, feeling his warm breath on her face.

He grinned back at her, his eyes reflecting the same joy and relief she felt in that moment. “Hey there, beautiful. “How’s my favorite girl doin’?

“Better now that you’re here,” she replied, her eyes shining.

Bill pulled back slightly, intertwining their hands before he looked down at her foot, concern etched on his features. “How’s your leg feeling?”

“I should be asking you that,” she scoffed, shaking her head at his tough-guy attitude.

He rolled his eyes, a playful smirk gracing his lips. “Answer the question, woman.”

“It aches. My ankle was broken in three places, so I’ll be in this cast for a while and then crutches for months after that. How are you? You scared me to death, Bill.”

“I’m fine,” he insisted nonchalantly with a shrug.

(Y/n) pointed to his bandaged thigh, a teasing glint in her eyes. “I have eyes, ya know.”

“Piece of shrapnel nicked my fe-female-femorum…whatever that artery is,” Bill remarked, struggling to find the right words.

Breaking out into a laugh, she squeezed his hand. “It’s femoral, hon. You were so close.”

“Whatever it is,” he chuckled. “It wasn’t shit. Just like Leckie said.”

Her smile faltered slightly, and she turned her gaze from his face to the vast ocean before them. “So you remember what happened?”

Bill followed her gaze. “Some of it,” he admitted, his voice dropping. “I remember you tellin’ Bob to help me instead of you…I can’t believe you did that.”

“I’ll always put you before me. Always,” she affirmed, their eyes meeting in a solemn gaze. 

“I feel the same,” he whispered. “But please don’t do that again. For my sanity.”

Hearing sniffles behind them, they craned their heads back, following the sound. Behind them stood Evelyn and (y/n)’s nurse, Jackie, with tears glistening in their eyes.

“Y’all are just too precious,” Evelyn exclaimed, her voice laced with elation as she wiped a tear off her cheek.

(Y/n) glanced at Bill, trying to hold back a laugh at his surprised expression. “You won’t be saying that when he starts to get all grouchy,” she joked, earning a playful scoff from him. “But really, thank you both so much. We really mean it.”

Jackie beamed. “Of course. We’re glad to have helped you two find each other again. Y’all will have a great story to tell your kids someday.”

Bill, though not one to easily show his emotions, found himself touched by their kindness. He cleared his throat, his gratitude evident in his eyes. “Thanks,” he mumbled, a hint of newfound shyness coloring his words. 

“We’ll leave you to it,” Evelyn smiled as she and Jackie walked away to help another patient.

The couple turned back to the front with their hands still intertwined, and neither of them spoke for a moment as they stared out at the vast sea. The soothing sounds of the waves lapping against the ship’s hull filled the air.

“This kind of reminds me of that day at the beach,” she mused, looking over at him with a sly grin.

“Oh absolutely,” he retorted, his signature sarcasm making an appearance. “Except for the part where we’re fully clothed, surrounded by stinking marines, and half blown to hell. So, you know, I’d say it’s just like that day.”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes and squeezed his hand, bringing it to her lips. “Damn, I love you,” she drawled.

“Good, ‘cause you ain’t ever getting rid of me, darlin’.”

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[cuprohastes]

The Black Market

Space is big. I mean... really big. Like even bigger than a really big rock.

And boring.

But sometimes you get an encounter...

Boring is the worst part.

You can go into space and there's all sorts of cool stuff like the microgravity, the amazing view... and after a while it's just dark and the computer goes 'Boop' every quarter time unit, and this amazing experience collapses into the same space as e.g., being in a nursing home until someone tells you that you've arrived, and you can go look at cool stuff again.

Hence Interstellar Cruise Liners.

Space travel is still not cheap - even a run up and down a space elevator needs paying for, so you want to take as much cargo and paying passengers as possible.

With automated shipyards, you can just pour money and resources into building a truly huge passenger module, stack it on top of some cargo modules and clamp on as many drive units and crew modules as you need.

Load everyone in, let them ooh and ahhh at the view for a day then spin up a gateway and fire the whole thing into superluminal space and drop it out around any world you have a beacon for.

The really great thing is even if you lose the beacon in transit, you are a beacon. Just drop out and wait. Anything goes wrong, the home office can send a rescue ship after you.

In the meantime, there's the ship's amenities: The lush mossy jungle deck, the galactic beach, the games rooms, the dining groves, the on-board university - Even the theatre for live and recorded entertainment.

Still passengers like to have an experience, and so the Sunward Sail out of Ggxcha with seven hundred passengers dropped out of Superluminal space, the bow wave of exotic particles heating the backstop up to a glowing red.

The Sunward Sail dropped into a lazy orbit around an ancient planet, orbited by a big station trailing glittering wreckage - Obviously something dramatic had gone down here.

The lights were on though - So not a derelict station - and the docking was smooth, so the first set of tourists stepped onto the station, onto the Market deck.

So much to see! So much to do!

Madam Shi-shi's bakery run by a happy Tsin selling classic Tsin pastries, and exotic purple rolls with various filling and other goods.

The Top n' Charmed Quarks Bar with the scarred Atrix obviously a veteran of some war or calamity, serving exotic and colourful drinks:

"Dare you try the Human Menu?" she suggests, pulling it out. "Watch out, the Temple of Shir-li is banned in twelve systems..."

They even have a chance wheel!

Then there's Honest Gar's Genuine Human Antiquities, the wares spilling out from the shop in a riot of colours and patinas, where one can buy a genuine antique reproduction Victorian Empire TV, or a genuine Human Made Brown's Kitchen Imp that can tell you how to make a thousand and five human style recipes with a little sheet glass projection hologram of a human in glasses and red horns. So quaint!

And if you get to the end of the market, or one of the traders tips you off, you can find...

The Black Market

There's someone there, a weathered old... unless they were young... spacer, in a patched and scuffed EVA undersuit with 43 on the chest, who'll spin you unbelievable tales for a couple of creds dropped into the old cracked space helmet he keeps on the table next to him and if you ask, he'll let you in -

The back rooms are dark, rowdy, and full of the coolest stuff. There are lots of humans here, and there's an Atrix little guy, with a set of goggles, riding low on the belly of this Atrix Mech.

If you're lucky you can see one of the humans with some grudge square off agianst the little guy. He's surrounded by switches and levers, with a little pair of waldos.

The mech lurches to life, an angry display on its faceplace, growling in a rattling synthetic voice:

Combat mode! Engaged! Polaron Claws. Charging.

It's claws glowing white hot as it swings into motion, and the Human pulls a little cobbled together blaster out and takes a pot shot. The Mech lurches and sparks, warning lights flashing ominously...

Reactor. Overheat. Reactor. Overheat. Emergency. Venting.

The stricken mecha whirls, the little guy screaming in rage and flipping clunky archaic controls... And then when everything seems to be about to go wrong, the mech begins to spray clouds of vapour from it's vents and the alerts wind down, while the scurrilous human takes the opportunity to flee.

It's very dramatic.

And after that you can buy a souvenir arm patch of Cat Fantastic's Mecha with glow in the dark Polaron claws, before it's time to head back - Don't forget to pick up a packed lunch from Madame Shi-Shi's!

--

"Ugh." said Dave, "I don't mind the tourist run but it ruins my appetite" she muttered.

"You shouldn't snack on your own stock." says Big Ma, touching up Gondy's makeup.

Phalanges, helmet off, chin up and enjoying the cool air blower form the converted life support rig that they'd modded into the mecha grunts noncommittally.

"How are we doing boss?" Raxy asks, potting up souvenir Tsin fungus with Atrix moss and human basil.

O'Patel flashes an OK hand sign. "We are... hitting the funding goals. One more shift - This time it's for the bonus pay." he says with satisfaction and Big Ma looks around, checking everyone's ready as someone helps Cat Fantastic back into his cockpit basket and Gondy makes sure there's enough grenadine left.

"OK people... Showtime!"

[ladylooch]

Crushin’ in Cabo [Mack X David]

A/N: Introducing this AU with it’s first full fic as smut feels incredibly fitting for where we are going here. Another piece I cannot believe I wrote in public. I’m so proud of this smut, it’s not even funny 🥹

In the timeline of events, Mack and David have been seeing each other for about a year. They are currently spending All-Star break in Cabo with several other Rangers players and their SOs, including Lucie and Connor.

Word Count: 2.8k

Crystal blue water rocks against the side of the large yacht anchored in the Sea of Cortés. Mackenzie Hischier lays next to her older sister, Lucie,  tanning her already sun kissed skin while nursing a mostly watered down margarita she never asked for. One of the drunk rookies insisted she needed a drink in her hand even though she was more than content drinking water. Mack doesn’t love being drunk on the ocean. The rocking of the waves while drowning her senses with alcohol has never been a good combination.

Beneath her sunglasses, her brown eyes flicker across the white, cushioned space to where her boyfriend stands. His blue board shorts match the water behind his body. He is wearing a cream, linen shirt to protect his already sunburnt shoulders from more damage. On top of his thick black hair is a fedora that would look douchey on anyone else, but some makes him sexier. He stands next to Connor, dark mustache twitching with each smile as the two joke back and forth with a few of the veterans on their team.

As if he feels her gaze, David glances over his shoulder in her direction. She keeps her eyes pinned on his as he takes a generous sip of his Modelo. Shivers of pleasure and interest rip through Mack’s body, creating a bumpy spread across her skin. A corner of his mustache raises in acknowledgment at her. He lifts his cup in her direction. She lazily lifts hers too, then takes a minuscule sip form her straw. To tease, and because it is likely time anyway, Mack turns over, showing him her slightly exposed ass cheeks peeking out from around her minuscule biking bottoms. Mack can feel the rumble of David’s moan from across the yacht. 

But the boat has just anchored into position and although David has plans for Mack to be face down in the bed below deck, its not quite time. 

More sunscreen is applied and more liquor is poured. The stresses of the NHL season disappear with each ounce and in it’s place are drunken, relaxes smiles. Tequila makes everything better. David and Connor are two buzzed, dumbos, joking around, keeping everything light for the boys. As the heat of the day rises, several men go into the water, including David and Connor. Mack lifts her head up, peering over the railing at David as him and Connor float on their backs, eyes closed to avoid staring at the sun.

“Don’t drown.” She mewls down to David. “I’m just starting to like you.”

“You’ve loved me for awhile, baby.” He lazily calls back, correcting her in the process. Mack hides her smirk in her forearm, then lays her cheek back down. 

A cat nap later, Mack is awoken by the dripping of water onto her spine. She feels every cool maneuver of it down the knots of her vertebrae. Mack shivers, her only acknowledgement. The cushion next to her dips, then plumped lips press against the curve of her shoulder. 

“I really hope you’re David.” She mumbles. She can feel the hairs of his thick mustache twitch. 

“If it wasn’t, whoever this was would be dead.” 

“Mysterious drowning at sea?”

“Mhm.” He sucks a slice of her warm skin into his mouth, running his tongue and teeth over it. His fingers run up her side, rolling under her to cup her left breast. Mack rolls to her right side, allowing him more access. She takes an assessment of the boat, seeing nobody remaining on the upper deck. She glances over her shoulder then, seeing her sister and Connor at the front of the boat, looking down at the water.

“Except the two people that matter.” 

“They’re where they need to be.” David assures, fingering her nipple over her bikini top. Needy wetness coats Mack’s folds. His play continues, stroking, tweaking, rolling and otherwise attending to her nipple. A moan Mack can’t stop rolls from her lips. 

“Where do we need to be?” She whispers back finally. 

“Below deck. There is a bed there you would look really pretty getting fucked on.”

“Babe, they’re all going to know.”

“So? Since when have you cared about that, honey?” Warmth spreads across Mack’s stomach, following David’s trail down to the triangle of her bikini bottoms. His thick fingers glide in without hesitation. He smoothes the tips over her swollen folds, then nudges his way between them insistently. He rolls her clit tenderly three times, accepting her body weight as she falls back against him. “Con and I have an understanding today.” 

Mack can’t help but chuckle at the thought of her brother-in-law allowing them a freaky fuck in the base of this yacht. That wasn’t on her All-Star bingo card.

“Okay, let’s…” She trails off as he slides a finger around her entrance. She whimpers “Go.” 

A low chuckle, rumbles his chest against her back. He removes his hand, then taps her thigh. Mack stands, leaving her now only water of a margarita behind. David weaves their fingers together, then nonchalantly heads towards where the stairs are to go below deck. They walk through a galley hallway to one of two bedrooms. David picks the farthest one away from the stairs. Mack shuts the door behind them and locks it. David turns to where she has pasted herself to the door. Both her hands anxiously hold the door handle by her lower back. Anticipation zips along her scalp then down her body, tightening her nipples and making her knees shake as he walks towards her. 

“You nervous?” His smile is warm and encouraging.

“A little.” She chuckles. Mostly about walking back up to the deck and them all knowing what they were doing.

“I can help with that.” He sits on the bed, thick thighs spread wide, an obvious huge bulge protruding from just below the tie of his swim trunks. He holds a hand out for her, palm up, inviting her towards him. Mack’s bare feet stick to the vinyl flooring of the room with each step. She reaches his spread legs and his hands stroll over the backs of her thighs. He gently guides her forward. His lips hit the middle of her lower ribs. His mouth is hot against her skin. She cards her fingers through the base of his hair. It’s still wet from the water, making it look an inky black. She strokes the hairs backwards so it’s all slicked back together. His big hands wrap completely around her waist, then pull her down to straddle his lap.

Mack inhales heavily at the feeling of his erection pressing hard against her core. Her eyes flutter closed when he rocks her hips along his length. Little spikes of pleasure burst out from where they connect. Mack rests her forearms on his massive shoulders. Her eyes open again, meeting his so she can watch his reaction to her core stroking him. He smirks back at her confidently. One hand slides off her waist to the back strap of her biking. He slides it loose, then fingers the neck strap, hooking his pointer around it and lifting it over her head. He grips her ass in both hands, then lifts, getting her right breast to his lips. His vacuum-like suction has Mack’s head falling backwards. For several minutes, he works his mouth along her pointy peaks, tracing their texture like Braille for his tongue. The tickling of his facial hair against her sensitive skin has Mack’s senses on fire. 

“Please.” She whispers, loving the feeling of this, but needing his thick length fucking into her heat. “Need you, Davey.”

“Mmm, what do you want?”

“Your cock.”

“Yes, baby.” He chuckles. “But how?”

“Whatever you’ll give me.” He sets her off to the side, running a hand over the back of her thigh to give her ass a grip. Then he lets go, sliding out from under her.

“Stay on your knees for me.” He says as she sits up, looking over her shoulder at him after tossing off her bottoms.

He loosens the tie on his shorts until the blue trunks hit the floor. His huge erection slaps the hardness of his abs as the fabric falls away. He grips his shaft, stroking a few times while Mack watches. Her brown eyes turn into dewey, lusty pools as he reaches out for her face. He grips her chin, bringing it forward and down. 

Mack opens her mouth, letting her tongue roll out. She strokes it against his plumped tip, smearing the bead of precum there for her. She sucks him further into her mouth as David watches himself disappear inside. His fingers grip her brown hair tightly at the back of her head. His fist forces her face down a bit more, stretching her mouth and down her throat. Mack breathes through the urge to gag, bringing a hand up to rest in the V of his abdomen for balance. Squelching sounds fill the room as he fucks her mouth. A deep press of him completely into her mouth has Mack to her limit. She taps his abdomen and he pulls out gently. 

Mack gasps for air. He tilts her face up, kissing her swollen and spent mouth. He grabs her hips, spinning her 180 degrees so her ass is facing him. He runs his fingers over her toned backside, then rolls three digits through her wet folds from behind. He fingers her clit, rolling his tips in circles, before he brings two fingers to her entrance. He eases them in, stroking her velvety spot with each curl into her. Mack rocks her hips back onto his hand. For as hesitant as she was minutes ago, she bucks wildly onto his appendages. Greedy need and desperation have taken over. Now the only thing she can focus on is releasing. 

David fingers Mack as long as he can stand. His balls tighten at the base of his shaft at how wet she has gotten for him. She drips down his fingers as she reaches around, holding herself open for him. Her top teeth bite her bottom lip when their gazes connect. She is ready. David removes his fingers, then grips his shaft in one hadn’t and her hip int he other to ease her down him. Mack shakes beneath his hands. She always does at first. The intrusion of him into her core demands patience from them both.

When he is settled completely inside of her, he pauses. He connects his chest with her back, skimming the tips of his fingers along her sides and down her arms. She relaxes back into him, rolling her hips in a circle to help herself adjust more, grinding against him. She turns her face to the left, seeing the waves of the blue ocean as he begins to move. Mack’s eyes close in pleasure. Her fingers grip the pink, flowery comforter beneath their bodies. Slowly, they work together to build a tempo. The sounds of skin slapping gradually fill the room. David kisses Mack’s cheek, both of their breathing beginning to increase. She turns her face to connect their lips, letting her first, unrepressed moan fill the slight air between them. He grins at her.

“You like that?”

“Yeah.” She whines.

“Like fucking me in public?”

“Yes.” She hisses.

“Gonna be a good girl and come loud so they hear?” 

Mack moans loudly in agreement. David reaches for her wrists, pulling them out from under her. Mack’s cheek slaps against the roses on the blanket as a louder moan screams from her lips. David pins her wrists at her lower back, using one hand to hold them there while pounding rigorous thrusts into her. His balls slap her clit, abdomen accepting each bounce of her ass off of him. Mack’s walls collapse around his thick and hard cock, begging it for her release. 

“Fuck, baby.” David moans as she turns her face into the bed. “Takin’ me so well today.” Mack crosses her ankles, making everything tighter and deeper. Her pussy swallows him more with each thrust as she shouts into the bed.

“Right there. Oh my god! Dav- yes. Please uh!” Her words are forced into the mattress but he can hear every desperate plea from his girl, loud and clear: don’t fucking stop.

Her hand grips his forearm, long finger nails piercing his protesting skin. He keeps his momentum consistent, but grips her hips harder when she tries to wiggle away from the intensity. Her shudder shakes the bed and David’s hands on her. Her orgasm is forceful, spilling creamy liquid down his cock as she goes silent, coming too hard to make noise. Everything gets wetter, making David chase her orgasm quickly with his own. He fills her with white ribbons, face tilted to the ceiling at the way her aftershocks draw more cum from his sensitive cock. 

In front of him, Mack goes limp. Carefully, he pulls himself out of her. He steadies himself with a palm on her back where she has curled into the fetal position in pure exhaustion. He smoothes a hand over her thigh, regulating his breathing before he speaks. 

“You okay, honey?” He checks in as he always does.

“Mhm.” She grunts, eyes still closed. Her arms lay limply in front of her, little feet crossed at the toes. He smiles, leaning down to kiss her bicep. Then up her shoulder a few times before he reaches her face. He peppers kisses along her jaw as Mack lazily tosses an arm over his shoulder. “You wrecked me.”

“I know. You’re useless. I love that.” He answers honestly, stroking her nipple under his thumb.

“How am I supposed to go back up there?” 

“I guess we didn’t think that through.” He brushes her hair back into where a majority of it rests behind her head. He keeps brushing his fingers through her hair waiting for her to get more of a grip on the world. Eventually, she turns her face towards his, opening her eyes. Soft smiles pass between the two. She reaches for his cheek, cupping her fingers along his sturdy jaw and neck to bring their faces together. 

“I love you.” She whispers against his lips, mustache tickling her puffy mouth.

“I love you too.” He strokes his nose along the side of hers. Then kisses her again. His fingers hold her face there, foreheads resting together. 

Awareness of where they are begins to evaporate their afterglow. With a final kiss, they separate. David puts his shorts back on, tossing Mack her top too. Her hands disappear behind her back to tie the straps together. David comes to her feet, putting her bottoms around her ankles and pulling up, Mack stands, gripping his shoulders for balance as he puts her bikini back in place. He kisses his way up her stomach, between her breasts, then to her mouth. 

“This better than Banff?” 

“Mhm.” She murmurs. Originally, Mack was booked for the All-Star break for work, but one of her co-workers asked for the story instead as an opportunity to propose to his girlfriend. Mack wasn’t sad to ditch the snow for sand. “You can head up.” She mumbles against his mouth. “I’m going to use the bathroom.” He gives her a look. “I have to pee. I can’t help that.” She snickers at how disappointed he is that she won’t be completely stuffed full of him the rest of this excursion.

“Fine. But I’m making you go to dinner dripping.” Mack giggles.

“Okay, If I have to.” David pats her butt lovingly, then steps away so she can head to the bathroom.

Mack anticipates he will head back up to the top deck. Once she is done washing her hands, she turns the light off. She steps out of the bathroom, surprised to see David still on the bed. 

In the time it took her to use the bathroom, David decided he couldn’t wait for dinner. He pats the bed, smoothing over the rose her moaning face had just been buried into. Mack laughs, then bops over to straddle him again, starting all over again the way it began the first time.

[vertigo-express]

Duo: An appreciation

Let's talk about Duo, the bizarre spaceman of the Megaman series. Duo debuted in 1996 with Megaman 2: The Power Fighters. Duo was however, conceived in late 1995 when development on Megaman: The Power Battle was beginning to wrap up. A sequel was already decided on and Capcom's arcade division wanted the sequel to add in elements they didn't have time to implement such as support units and rescuing Roll. They wanted to further give this arcade game its own identity by introducing a character exclusive to it. This character was envisioned originally as deliberately being a farcry from the Classic Megaman design conventions established up to that point: A character that would fight using traditional kick and punches as opposed to firing projectiles or charging at the enemy. This also applied to his design which originally were more human seeming than any of the Classic robots sans Roll. He would be towering at 3 meters tall and could detect signals using the red jewel on his ushanka.

The original design prompt was simple: He would be a character with the flavor of "Russia" in mind. This was because Duo was intended to be Dr. Cossack's (from Megaman 4 (1991)) own creation. This very concept was said to have blown away series veterans Keiji Inafune and Hayato Kaji when they first glimpsed the concept art.

Eventually Kaji (designer for Megaman/Rockman X, Bass/Forte, Treble/Gospel and X3's Nightmare Police) took what existed and gave an updated design that had a more overt Russian influence. Apart from the ushanka, the Russian wrestler archetype was done away in favour of something inspired by USSR militsiya while tastefully mixed with robotic elements that give the appearance of being constructed with spare parts.

While the design was finalised, the character's background wasn't. Taking inspiration from Astroganger (1972), Keiji Inafune insisted to change Duo's story and to use him in the upcoming Megaman 8 (1996). This way, there would be a extra incentive to play Power Fighters in order to learn more about MM8.

This new story instead reimagined Duo as something of a small time law enforcer for a unknown intergalactic organisation who fell to Earth chasing a criminal hosting a malevolent energy source. Duo himself is imbued with his own energy that helps nullify evil energies and sense people's energy. Because of this, he can sense the justice that lies in people such as Rock and even Bass. This is clearly based off Astroganger's plot of a wicked energy source falling to the peaceful Earth and Astroganger himself being a hollow mass of energy inside his metal shell.

This change of background to tie in with 8 ended up causing some confusion between the Arcade division and the Rockman team at Capcom. This is seen in how Duo's victory lines in Power Fighters (that were muted in international releases) have him boast about protecting the "motherland" and telling his enemies to calm down. Duo in TPF is depicted as a more relaxed and calm man compared to the justice zealot that 8 and especially other media adaptations portray him as. He comes close to realizing Protoman's connection to Megaman, and believes Bass has potential to do good, seeing the latter's threats as mere puff. Duo's bgm by Masato Kouda also reflects the difference in character, as he pointed out that his theme was composed based on first impressions rather than knowledge of the role he would play in MM8. His theme in TPF leans close to contemporary Japanese New Jack Swing and RnB than the traditional superhero anthem reminiscent of 70s anime Duo would be associated with in MM8 and Battle n Chase.

Megaman 8 tells the story of how he met Megaman and company, after being repaired by Dr. Light from his crash landing. After a brief scuffle, Duo befriends Megaman and even rescues him when he is infected by the evil energy, he leaves to find the other evil energy but asks Protoman to tell Megaman his gratitude.

Duo would later appear as a special unlockable character in the racing spin off Battle n Chase having the strongest stats. He was originally available by a JP-only event, but was unlockable in the game in later re-releases and international releases.

Duo later appeared as a CD in Megaman and Bass (1998) and hasn't made any major appearance since. Dr. Cossack would eventually have his own major creation, the non-canon and underwhelming OVER-1 in Rockman X-OVER (2011) who shares design elements with Duo and X.

Duo was also re-imagined in the Battle Network series with the 4th game released in late 2003. Here, he is instead a judge-like figure who destroys planets he deems to be pure evil. It is only through Hub fighting him that he decides Earth to still be salvageable. His design was changed to be even more larger and with a neutral colour scheme to give a image of a placid stone faced judge.

Past all that, Duo in the original Megaman series serves a unique purpose that many other characters in the franchise failed miserably at. A attempt at a design type that would be deemed "unconventional" yet also fits with what has been established. This logic was also used for the Deep Log triplets for Rockman X DiVE in recent times but as we can see, they feel like insults to Megaman.

Duo, unlike Droitclair, Erato and Angiedjeedkcnnjcwekofofeecw has a unique purpose. His designers wanted him to stand out while still paying respects to the MM world which was almost 10 years old, the idea of parallel justice (a phrase often used in MM8 marketing material alongside "ultimate justice") and that somewhere out there, there is someone else who cares about everlasting peace just as much as Megaman is a great and substantial idea. He is essentially what a more adult Rock could be like. Duo should not be a recurring character at all but his existence no matter how surreal and bizarre adds a subtle depth to the original Megaman series. During the period of 1994-1998, Classic Megaman was trying to expand itself more and more and a concept as daring as Duo's, like the other ideas brought forth then, is a painful reminder of how lazy current day Capcom is with every facet of the series and proven with how disastrous the results of blindly replicating the same philosophy has been.

[rock-and-roll-hell]

December 10, 1976

Rock And Roll Over Tour

Jacksonville Veterans Memorial Coliseum - Jacksonville, Florida

From a local review: "KIϟϟ and Uriah Heep played to a capacity crowd of nearly 12,000 people at the Coliseum Friday night. Their fans loved it and, surprisingly, so did the parents who brought them. The hall was filled to the hilt with concertgoers sporting KIϟϟ T-shirts, carrying KIϟϟ posters, and a number of them wearing bizarre make-up closely resembling that of their rock 'n' roll idols -- you just weren't 'in' if you didn't have some form of KIϟϟ paraphernalia in your possession" (Times-Union And Journal, 12/12/76).

[haveyoulistenedtothisalbum-poll]

Tracklist:

1539 N. Calvert • Real Nega • Thug Tears • Dayum • Baby I'm Bleeding • My Thoughts on Neogaf Dying • Rock N Roll Is Dead • DD Form 214 (feat. Bobbi Rush) • Germs • Libtard Anthem (feat. Freaky) • 😱 • DJ Snitch Bitch Interlude • Whole Foods • Macaulay Culkin • Williamsburg • I Cannot Fucking Wait Until Morrissey Dies • Rainbow Six • 1488 • Curb Stomp

Spotify ♪ Bandcamp ♪ YouTube

[writercole]

exile.

Words: 1611 Warnings: Very angsty. Breakup. Credits: Based on the song ‘exile’ by Taylor Swift. @princessmisery666 for the beta. A/N: I actually took a lot of delight in writing this one. So suffer. Lol. I'm just glad Stacey didn't murder me when she finished beta'ing.

The rare California rain storm repelled all but the most loyal patrons of The Hard Deck. The juke box was playing classic rock softly in the background, mingling with the soft clink of glasses and occasional burst of laughter. A handful of older veterans were sitting at the bar, swapping stories between gossip sessions about the young hot shots shooting pool in the back corner.

The cocky one, Hangman, strutted around the pool table, dominating the game he was playing with one of the other pilots. The smirk on his face grew with each shot he sank.

“Jesus, Bagman, give someone else a chance to play,” Phoenix called from the hightop table.

Hangman only chuckled, the eight ball rolling into the side pocket gently before he set the cue stick on the table and faced his colleagues. “There's only one problem, Phoenix,” he drawled, “I’m just too good to be true.”

The door creaked open and all eyes turned to the person walking in. Hangman’s breathing stopped when he saw his ex-girlfriend walking in mid-laugh. His feet started to take him across the room before a man stepped in behind her and rested his hand on her back.

Bile rose in his throat and he turned away, draining his beer as he stared out of the rain-spattered window, his eyes unfocused and his thoughts deep in the past.

One Year Earlier

It had been another night where she didn’t know where he was or when he’d show up. They hadn’t officially moved in together, but Jake Seresin spent almost every night there, only staying at his place when they fought, which had been more and more frequently in the past month.

She was sitting at the kitchen island when the door opened and shut, heavy footfalls bringing her boyfriend into view. She took in the slight flush on his cheeks and the glassy look in his eyes, determining that he’d been out drinking. Again.

“You didn’t answer my texts,” she stated quietly, turning the mug of tea in her hands. It had gone ice cold while she waited, the idea of taking a sip making her stomach turn.

Jake opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water before facing her. “Was on silent,” he grumbled.

“And you didn’t check it before you left work? Or before you left the bar?”

“I didn’t go to the bar,” Jake objected while avoiding her eyes.

“Jake, I can smell the alcohol on you. Your cheeks are flushed. Your eyes are glassy,” she pointed out. “If you didn’t go to the bar, where did you drink?”

Jake sighed and hung his head, leaning his hands on the counter.

“Why did you lie?”

“I don’t know,” he whispered.

“I can’t do this anymore, Jake,” she sighed, her voice cracking. “The fights, the drinking every night, now the lying. I know the man I fell in love with is still in there, somewhere, but this guy isn’t him. It isn’t you. And something has to give or I have to stop pretending he’s going to come back.”

Jake felt his heart shatter in his chest. He looked up and saw the tears spilling over her lashes and longed to reach out and dry them. But his head ignored his heart and his mouth blurted out words that, had he been sober, he never would have considered.

“You can’t do this anymore?” he scoffed. “You have to quit? No. I’ll make this simple. I’m done. We’re done.” He swiped his keys from the counter and stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him. 

The reality of the situation hit him all at once, his chest squeezing his lungs as if his rib cage had shrunk three sizes. He sank against the wall opposite the door and fought a losing battle with the sobs wracking his broad frame.

He wanted to go back inside and beg for forgiveness, promise that he’d change, that he’d open up, that he’d put her first. But his pride forced him to stay still, staring at the door and praying to anyone who would listen, every god he didn’t believe in, to just let her walk out, let her chase after him.

The problem with deities is that mortal suffering is their entertainment. The door remained closed.

She laughed as she and her boyfriend ran through the rain and he rushed ahead to pull the door open. She stepped in ahead of him, still chuckling at the raindrops clinging to his button down and mustache. The door shut and his arm slipped around her waist, guiding her towards the bar in the center of the room.

“Finish telling me the story about your dad and Mav,” she requested.

“Well, according to my mom, I wanted to be a cowboy for Halloween. And I made everyone else dress up, too,” Bradley explained. “But no one else could be a cowboy. Or a sheriff. Or a horse - they tried to do that. So, uh, I made all of them dress as old west prostitutes. I was two, I didn’t know what that was but I liked the costumes in the shop.”

“That sounds amazing,” she laughed, “I wish I could have seen that.”

“I have pictures,” he told her with a lop-sided grin.

“Pictures of what, Bradshaw?” the brunette behind the bar asked with a wide smile.

“Your boyfriend dressed like an old west whore,” he answered. “Penny, you remember -”

“I do,” Penny interrupted. “And you two should know that he’s here.”

She glanced at Bradley, and he gave a tight smile before they both scanned the bar.

Quickly, she found Jake, eyes locking as his fingers wrapped tightly around the neck of a beer bottle, his stare boring into her. The angered expression on his face a clear indication he would gladly come to blows with Bradley, probably without much cause.

“I can’t stay here,” she whispered, not taking her eyes off of the man glowering in the corner.

“Okay. Wait for me outside, sweetheart. I’m just going to go talk to Phoenix.” Bradley kissed her head and headed towards the tables, leaving her to say goodbye to Penny before hurrying out of the side door.

Jake’s grip on the beer bottle was so strong that his knuckles were turning white. The last thing he expected was for her to show up on Bradshaw’s arm.

He didn’t understand why he felt so defensive. He was the one who walked away, even if it was reluctant. Neither of them reached out aside from the happy birthday text he’d received from her. He’d ignored it.

“I need some air,” he growled when he saw Bradshaw plant a kiss on the top of her head. He slammed the beer bottle down on the table and stalked away, straight out of the front door onto the porch.

She was leaning against the wall in the shadows when she heard a door open. Looking to the side, she spied Jake a few feet away, leaning on the railing with his head down. She remained still, hoping that he’d go back inside and not see her.

He turned around and looked directly at her, crossing his arms over his chest and swallowing hard. Neither of them spoke for a long moment, the only sounds being the distant rumble of thunder and the spattering of rain drops on the roof.

Jake broke the silence. “Bradshaw? Really?” he spat.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your concern. Not anymore,” she retorted, trying to match the tone he’d used. He was the one who left. He ran, he didn’t try to work on it, he walked away.

“Are you going to quit on him, too?”

“You know that isn’t what happened, Jake,” she sighed.

“You packed up everything, all of the memories and love we shared, and in what, five minutes, I was out in the hallway.” He’d stepped forward, closing the distance between them, hating that she didn’t feel like home anymore. 

“Jake, don’t you dare act like I didn’t try and help you,” she growled through gritted teeth. “I tried for months and all you did was push me away. I talked, I cried, I begged for you to let me in, let me help. You didn’t want to fix us. The way you looked at me tonight, like you finally wanted to fight for me, just insulted me. I’m not your problem anymore. Don’t pretend like you’re offended that I’m here with someone else.”

Jake’s arms dropped to his sides and his mouth fell open, gaping at the pain in her eyes, the venom on her tongue. She was right. She had given him thousands of chances and tried so hard but he pushed her out.

He’d ignored the warnings. And she had exiled him. 

“Don’t give me that look,” she sighed, her voice cracking.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry I didn’t fight for us. I’m sorry I pushed you out. I’m just really sorry.”

“Sweetheart, you ready?” Bradley called from behind Jake, eyeing the pair of them curiously.

“Take care Jake,” she whispered as she walked past.

He grabbed her wrist gently and stopped her, kissing her cheek. “I will beat the mustache off of his face if he hurts you,” he told her.

“I know.” she gave him a small smile and turned away, slotting herself in Bradley’s arms.

Jake watched as Bradshaw helped her into his Bronco and ran around, jumping into the driver’s seat and shaking the water out of his hair, making her giggle before he drove away, leaving Jake staring at the taillights and dreaming of what could have been.

[caseadilla111]

I'm Not Scared of Death - Chuck Grant

oOoOoOoOo

a/n - hiya, this is my first time writing something like this and I am not the most confident in my writing yet, hopefully this isn't too terrible but I wanted to write something a bit out of my element. Inspired by a lyric prompt I saw on here by @prxttyvixens and wanted to take it for a test run myself. Please go check out their page and work! They are GREAT!

oOoOoOoOo

I could feel the rush of my blood throughout my limbs, ending in a throb when it reached my head. My left palm was warm, it felt like someone was holding me, petting my hand, comforting me. I could hear mumbles that resembled voices, but the ringing in my ears overpowered them, I couldn’t make out what they were saying.

Flashes of my life before the war began to roll out before my eyes like the film reel they put on for us so many times before. I could see myself running through the woods, chasing my friends with sticks, pretending we were soldiers amongst the trees. I saw my mother, licking her thumb to wipe dirt from my forehead. I saw my sister holding my hand as I danced with her at our aunt’s wedding. I saw myself floating on my back down stream in the creek, eyes shut and slipping further and further away from my family on shore as the cool summer breeze kissed my skin.

Suddenly I was 17 again. I was not scared of death. I was walking along railroad tracks and playing chicken in the street and diving off of the high rocks at the lake near Veterans Park. I was carefree, careless even, I was alive.

I heard the mumbling voices around me again. I wish this damn ringing in my ears would stop; it’s giving me one hell of a headache. I could feel the rush of my blood throughout my limbs, down my legs to my toes, up to my waist then to my chest, stretching to my arms and fingers, looping its way back up to my head and ending in that throbbing sensation again.

The reel of my life began again. This time I’m older. Glimpses of uniforms and screaming eagles flashed by, foaming golden ales sloshed in their glasses as I sang, with Liebgott to my right and Tab to my left. Now I’m floating, or falling rather, along with thousands of toy soldiers in the sky, round parachutes deployed carefully cradling each one of us down to the cool lush earth. The ground below lit up here and there, and just as my feet touched the grown, the grass turned to snow and frozen dirt. Warm coffee in a cold canteen cup was handed to me, the canopy of the straight trees above our heads was bare, a blue and yellow flare lit the sky for a moment. It was like staring at a comet, or a meteor and I was nothing but a prehistoric beast waiting for my untimely end.

It was night now, and I was in a hole in the ground. The earth shook, it sounded like I was in the middle of the grand finale of the local Fourth of July fireworks show back home. A rifle now replaced the cup of joe in my hands. I looked off into the rows of exploding trunks in front of me and saw a smaller, younger version of myself, running with sticks, chasing my friends, playing soldier amongst the trees. For a moment, the me from the past stopped and looked in my direction, smiling before disappearing behind the shrapnel and earth a mortar round brought up in the wake of its detonation.

Suddenly I was 17 again. I was not scared of death. I looked it square in the face.

I could feel the rush of my blood throughout my limbs, and the throbbing at the end of this rush was muted now but still present. Voices continued to mumble but the ringing in my ears was barely easing up. I felt that same warmth on my left palm and a warmth on my right shoulder. I heard a voice, louder and closer this time, so much so I almost made out what it said. The voice was accompanied by a squeezing sensation of my left hand. I wanted to speak, I wanted to clear my throat from the sick taste of copper, I wanted to open my eyes but I couldn’t, and I wanted that goddamn ringing to stop. I felt a pressure in my head for a moment, and then that film reel of my life kicked on again.

I was sitting in a bar enjoying a beer and good conversation with two younger soldiers. Laughs were had, our thirst was quenched, and we loaded into the topless army issued jeep to head back to the rest of the company. I was driving, sharing the funny bits of my war story with the new guys, giving them the pleasure of knowing the one and only Wild Bill and his take-no-shit attitude. In front of us there were bright lights pointed head on. I squinted, told the newbies to stay in the jeep, and got out to help the soldier seemingly stranded on the roadside. That was at least what I assumed as the lights continued to blind me from the scene sprawled out at my feet. Once I could see clearly, figures lay on the ground, though I couldn’t make out their faces nor their clothing nor their bodies. They were blurs in my mind, censored blurs of flesh and grey coloring. My head moved in slow-motion between the two figures on the ground, my vision began to double as I looked up at the soldier in front of me, who was now just as blurred as the figures laying below. Just as my eyes set on his shape, the soldier raised his arm and pointed at my face. I couldn’t quite understand until I saw the black object in his hand. I made sense of what I was staring at even if my eyes couldn’t see. I heard a pop.

I could feel the rush of my blood throughout my limbs. Suddenly I was 17 again. I was not scared of death.

[seasurfacefullofclouds1]

LTWT22 was special because we had all waited so long to see it— Louis and us fans. Through the years, we had been disappointed again and again, the last time by a pandemic that happens once in a century. It was almost as if everything in the universe blocked Louis from the career he wanted.

It’s hard to articulate what it feels like to see Louis finish an 80+ concert tour, to hold two Away From Home Festivals, to have traveled with his tour crew and band all year with his trademark warmth and unity, to have connected with fans all over the world for the first time since 2015, and finally, to release a banger of a sophomore album, a body of work so confident and witty, so assured and mature that it represents the brilliance of an industry veteran.

Louis is special. Fans always say that One Direction was lightning in a bottle, but even amongst the 1D boys, Louis is special.

Louis has stayed loving and loyal, humble and relatable. For all the bullshit he’s been put through, Louis has not let industry turn him cynical, greedy, or bitter. He has stayed on the side of artists and fans, instead of label execs or the money men. Louis doesn’t write music calculating his chances of going viral on Tiktok, using numbers and science and algorithm and hit producers. Instead, Louis tells his story as honestly and poignantly as he can, respecting his history and everyone who brought him to this point, respecting talent and work.

Louis is special, a steadfastly good man in an industry rapidly compromising every good man.

It’s exciting to follow Louis, to see how a good man overcomes the odds, to follow his heroic, courageous journey. No matter where he goes, how high or not high he soars, Louis will always be the one who defended the boys, the one with vision, the one who spoke his mind, the one who loved his band so intensely that he threw his entire faith into it, threw himself into it completely and recklessly and passionately.

Roll on 2023 for the rock n roller from 1D. It’s a good feeling to be here with everyone.

[Also Walls? Will always be my first love.]

[krispyweiss]

Book Review: “Drums & Demons: The Tragic Journey of Jim Gordon” by Joel Selvin

Tortured by his own brain and barely functioning, Jim Gordon still found comfort in music and by 1983 was playing in dingy clubs with a band called the Blue Monkeys.

The gigs were Gordon’s only normalcy in his world of deepening mental illness.

This moment before things fell apart serves as author Joel Selvin’s introduction to the drummer, who had once been the go-to session man in Los Angeles and was a former member of Derek & the Dominos and Traffic.

“Everybody knows how this story ends,” Selvin writes in the first chapter of “Drums & Demons: The Tragic Journey of Jim Gordon.” It ends, of course, with the drummer murdering his mother, Osa Gordon, in 1983 after a career that established Jim Gordon as one of the most revered drummers in rock ‘n’ roll history.

Gordon’s tale is that of a gut-wrenching struggle with mental illness and stuff-of-dreams musical triumphs that veteran music journalist Selvin tells from an omniscient point of view, in the way Bob Woodward writes his political tomes, with citation saved for the notes and bibliography of the 302-page book.

With cooperation from surviving family members and former colleagues like Jim Keltner, Eric Clapton, Mike Post and others, Selvin paints a sympathetic picture of the Wrecking Crew drummer who struggled against the voices in his head as he recorded and toured with the Everly Brothers, the Beach Boys, Gordon Lightfoot, Joan Baez, George Harrison, Frank Zappa and others between stints in the aforementioned bands with Clapton and Steve Winwood. But while Gordon tamped down his emerging schizophrenia enough to engage in musical success, he also decked his then-girlfriend Rita Coolidge while the pair were on the Mad Dogs & Englishmen tour, committed other troubling acts of violence against women and engaged in behavior, such as speaking to people who were not present during recording sessions, that concerned his friends and family even as it left them at a loss of what to do.

Gordon’s career slowly dissolved as the 1970s turned to the 1980s and his grasp of reality grew more and more tenuous. Hospital stays and stints in rehab were unsuccessful at muting the voices that ultimately directed Gordon to kill his mother.

When they did, he listened. Gordon went to Osa Gordon’s house and murdered her with a hammer and butcher knife before heading out for a night of drinking. Police arrested a distraught Gordon, who confessed, the next morning.

He was sentenced to life in prison. Selvin ends the story in 1993 when Gordon and his fellow inmates are watching Clapton pick up a Grammy for his unplugged version of “Layla,” which Gordon was credited with co-writing.

“I’ll be darned,” Gordon said.

A more-complete book would’ve at least touched on the intervening 30 years, Gordon’s life behind bars and his 2023 death at 77. That said, “Demons & Drums” is the most-complete book on Gordon the world is likely to get and is worth the read. For despite its mildly sycophantic tone, and Gordon’s oft-horrendous behavior, Selvin has served up not only Gordon’s story but a fascinating history of the evolution of drumming and the 1970s music scene.

Grade card: “Drums & Demons: The Tragic Journey of Jim Gordon” by Joel Selvin - B+

4/3/24

[postpunkindustrial]

Not exactly what I do here usually but it is on my Drive so here it is.

Destroy All Movies!!! - The complete guide to Punks on film.

Get it from my Google drive HERE

Read the Amazon description below

The most dazzlingly insane film reference book of all time, Destroy All Movies!!! is an informative, hilarious and impossibly complete guide to every appearance of a punk (or new waver!) to hit the screen in the 20th Century. This wildly comprehensive release contains A-to-Z coverage of over 1100 feature films from around the world, as well as dozens of exclusive interviews with the cast/creators of crucial titles like Repo Man, Return of the Living Dead, The Decline of Western Civilization and Valley Girl. Also examined are several hundred prime examples of straight-to-VHS slasher trash, Brooklyn skid row masterpieces, Filipino breakdancing fairytales, no-budget apocalyptic epics and movies that shouldn't even have been released, many of which have never been written about. Plus hundreds of eyeball-smashing stills and posters, many in full color! Interviewees include screen veteran punk musicians Richard Hell, Ian MacKaye of Minor Threat, Lee Ving of Fear, Exene Cervenka and John Doe of X, Keith Morris of Black Flag and Circle Jerks, Chris D. of The Flesh Eaters, Youth Brigade's Shawn Stern, Sickie Wifebeater of The Mentors, Ivan Kral of the Patti Smith Group and many others. Also featured are conversations with filmmakers Penelope Spheeris (the Decline of Western Civilization documentaries, Suburbia), Mark Lester (Class of 1984), Martha Coolidge (Valley Girl), Alex Cox (Repo Man), Lech Kowalski (D.O.A.), Allan Arkush (Rock 'n' Roll High School), Amos Poe (The Blank Generation), Susan Seidelman (Smithereens), Slava Tsukerman (Liquid Sky), Alan Sacks (Du-beat-e-o), Eric Mitchell (Underground USA), Brian Trenchard-Smith (Dead End Drive-In), Dave Markey (Desperate Teenage Lovedolls), Bruce LaBruce, and NYC transgressor Nick Zedd. Performers like Mary Woronov, Eddie Deezen, Clint Howard, Jon Gries, P.J. Soles and Dick Rude speak out, plus countless other actors and creators from the frontlines of punk's big-screen explosion. Destroy All Movies!!! nails down decades of insanity with superhuman research, vicious precision and electrically charged stills and images, and is the first and final definitive armchair roadmap to punk and new wave on celluloid. Five years in the making, this pulse-bursting monument to lowbrow cultural obsession is a must for all film fanatics, music maniacs, anti-fashion mutants, '80s nostalgists, sleazoids, cop-killers and spazzmatics!

[redhydrogen]

Album Review:

Veteran (JPEGMAFIA, 2018)

(First Listen)

Veteran was Peggy's "breakout" album, so to speak. The annoying and pretentious "experimental hip-hop" crowd heralds it as an "essential" album up there with the likes of The Money Store and Yeezus. If you can't tell by the subtext, I don't really like those guys. But given my growing interest in JPEGMAFIA, I figured I'd finally cave in to them and give Veteran a shot.

I'll start by talking about the highlight of Veteran, by far; the production. The production is very non-standard, but also varied. In some tracks it is loud and off putting, but in others it is more reserved, quiet, and even close to being normal. 1539 is the most digestible production on Veteran, which almost feels like Peggy deliberately trolling anyone not familiar with him. What follows this intro however is anything but digestible, with ridiculous beats like Thug Tears, Rainbow Six (sampling Best Cry Ever? What??), Baby I'm Bleeding and Dayum, and I just love the approach Peggy took with the production on this album. It's weird, it's nonsensical a lot of the time, and it's great. The beats on Veteran make it special to me.

I don't normally talk about sequencing, but that is one of my few complaints with Veteran. Outside of 1539, which felt quite deliberately placed as the album's first track, nothing else feels like it was placed with any real care in mind. Is this inherently bad? Not in this case, but it is a personal peeve of mine, and I'd prefer if the sequencing was a little more thoughtful.

Let's talk about Peggy. Peggy spends 80% of Veteran (and to be honest, all his music) talking shit, and when he's not talking shit, he's probably bragging about something or flexing the fact that he's 26 with no children. The targets of his insults range from the alt-right, domestic abusers and Donald Trump to NeoGAF, gentrification and neoliberalism. Nothing is safe from Peggy's disses, and while some of them come off as hypocritical in light of recent events, they're still rather funny to listen to. JPEG's unique brand of chronically online bullshit adds character to all of his music, though I feel as if it's strongest and most evident on this album.

While I prefer AMHAC, Veteran is still a very strong showing from Peggy that I enjoyed quite a lot. The production shines through and through and Peggy's stupid-ass lyrics are oddly charming. I really like Veteran! (But those "experimental hip-hop" people are still annoying)

1539 N. Calvert - 8/10

Real N*** - 9/10

Thug Tears - 9/10

Dayum - 7/10

Baby I'm Bleeding - 9/10

My Thoughts On Neogaf Dying - 7/10

Rock N Roll Is Dead - 8/10

DD Form 214 - 8/10

Germs - 8/10

Libtard Anthem - 8/10

😱 - 8/10

DJ Snitch Bitch Interlude - 7/10

Whole Foods - 9/10

Macaulay Culkin - 7/10

Williamsburg - 8/10

I Cannot Fucking Wait Until Morrissey Dies - 7/10

Rainbow Six - 8/10

1488 - 7/10

Curb Stomp - 9/10

Favorite Song: Thug Tears

Album Score: 7.9/10

[rock-and-roll-hell]

May 25, 1977

Borden Chemical Company - Depew, New York

📸 Bob Gruen

KIϟϟ and Stan Lee arrive at Borden Chemical Company to put the blood, which was drawn from each KIϟϟ member on February 21, 1977 at Nassau Veterans Memorial Coliseum, into the ink for the upcoming Marvel Super Special #1. Buffalo television stations and local radio stations WKBW and WGRQ covered the high profile event. Rumor has it that their blood/ink actually went into that month’s Sports Illustrated also! This was the last time KIϟϟ would appear in their Destroyer/Rock N Roll Over costumes.

"As the KIϟϟ comic book project moved along, someone came up with the idea of putting real blood in the ink. It wasn't me - maybe it was Bill Aucoin. We got in the DC3, one of those big prop planes, and flew up to Buffalo to Marvel's printing plant, where they pour the ink and make comic books. A notary public actually witnessed the blood being drawn." - gene simmons