#never go on a kill mission without your tunes (frank)

[bells-of-black-sunday]

39 about Danny/Frank/Jake 👀

Munday Asks | Accepting

39. what’s a song that reminds you of your muse?

I have playlists- SO MANY playlists ok ok-

Danny

Nocturnal Me

Do or die What's done is done True beauty lies On the blue horizon

Frank

A Secret Door

Hey now Why even try This isn't home There must be a way out Listen You have to try The door will show before we land

Jake

Panic Attacks In Paradise

Self-deprecating More comfortable in bad situations Sucker for a little devastation And this always happens

Panic attacks in paradise Piña coladas, I'm terrified I swear I'm not cryin', the sun's just bright I'm havin' the best time of my life

[365days365movies]

January 3, 2021: Cliffhanger (1993)

Sylvester Stallone.

The Italian Stallion here is one of the most prominent action movie stars of the ‘80s and ‘90s, coming to prominence with Rocky in 1976. And before we even start this review, here’s the deal: I refuse to make fun of the man’s iconic voice. Yeah, I get it, we’ve all shouted “YOADRIAAAAAAH!” at some point, but his voice and face is due to a botched birth, which pinched a nerve and caused permanent facial paralysis. We all got something, and I’m not gonna target him for it. It’s been done enough.

I also can’t really comment on his acting ability. Why? Well...OK, some confession time. I’ve BARELY seen Stallone in a film. That’s going to be fixed this year, as I’ve added many of his films to the list for 2021. So, what have and haven’t I seen? Let’s start with haven’t, shall we?

I haven’t seen:

Rocky (1976): Sports November

Rocky II (1979): maybe Sports November

First Blood (1982): later this month

Stop! Or My Mom Will Shoot (1992): Please. Please don’t make me.

Cliffhanger (1993): Give it a minute.

Demolition Man (1993): Science Fiction September

Judge Dredd (1995): maybe Science Fiction September

The Expendables (2010): later this month

I have seen:

Tango and Cash (1989): Dumbass buddy cop movie with Stallone and Russell; 2/5.

Antz (1998): Sub-par Dreamworks rip-off of an already kinda sub-par Pixar movie; 2/5

Spy Kids 3: Game Over (2003): Yeah...I saw this in theaters, on my birthday. I saw everything in red and green for, like, an hour afterwards. Worth it. 2/5.

Rocky Balboa (2006): Somehow, this is the only Rocky movie I’ve seen, Creed included. And from what I remember, it was fine. 3/5.

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 (2017): The ONE good Stallone movie I’ve seen, and it isn’t even a Stallone movie. 5/5.

So, yeah, I haven’t seen any good Stallone movies, sans the one. But now, some of you are probably asking another question: “Why Cliffhanger? You literally haven’t seen any major Stallone movie, so WHY CLIFFHANGER?”

First of all, I think everybody’s kinda slept on this movie. It was a big success back in the day, but people have basically forgotten it at this point. You’ll see in this review that there aren’t even many GIFs from the movie made, and it wasn’t easy to find enough clips to make my own, honestly. Does it deserve to get slept on? I mean, we’ll see, right? 

Secondly, I just watched a Tom Cruise movie where he dangles off of a rope, and I liked that, so why not do that for the next one, I guess! And third...honestly, I saw this on the list, and it kinda just spoke to me. It called to me, like a boxer calling to his love. Hey, look, a reference to a movie I’ve never seen. We’ll get there. We’ll get there. Oh, and SPOILERS from here on out, by the way.

Recap

We start on a cliff. Surprise.

Michael Rooker (y’know, Yondu from Guardians of the Galaxy) is hanging out (HA!) with his girlfriend Sarah on a cliff called the Tower. Y’know, third date kinda stuff. First date is dinner, second date is dinner and a movie, and third date is free-climbing up a cliff to your near death. Well...near is a strong word…

ANYHOOOO, We meet Gabe, played by the big man himself, Sly Stallion, who’s a rescue ranger in the Rocky Mountains. So, Rocky, the Rockies Rescue Ranger is sent to save Yondu and Sarah. Unfortunately...someone forgot to check the equipment before the rescue mission…

Not gonna lie, this scene is actually heart-wrenchingly tense. And the ending...well, if you’ve seen Ace Ventura: When Nature Calls...you know what happens here. And it’s actually somewhat traumatic, for Gabe and for me. Seriously. It’s a roughie.

Cut to almost a year later, and Gabe is...NOT OK. He and his wife, Jessie (who is a pilot for the Rescue Rangers, and was there when Sarah fell), have been separate, and Gabe just can’t do it anymore. And I get it, honestly. That was a hard experience, losing someone and blaming yourself. And no, it wasn’t Gabe’s fault. But to add insult to injury, he has NO SUPPORT SYSTEM. His wife doesn’t seem to understand, his former best friend Yondu hates him (getting GotG Vol. 2 flashbacks), and he’s basically all alone. Geez. You guys are jerks.

Meanwhile, a plot is afoot! And hey, it’s Tripp from CSI: Miami, AKA Rex Linn! I always liked him, so it’s cool to see him in other roles. Turns out, though, that Tripp is working with a group of thugs to steal from the US Treasury. This villainous group of 8 thugs is led by John Lithgow, AKA Lord Farquaad from Shrek, who is channeling Hans Gruber from Die Hard, and trying super-hard on that British accent. Anyway, after a pretty great mid-flight action sequence, the group of thugs loses 3 suitcases of money, amounting to millions. In the process, they also lose Expendable Thugs #1 and #2. This will be a trend. 

The thugs crash their plane into the mountain, killing Expendable Thug #3 in the process. They stage a rescue situation to get some expert mountain climbers to help them find the money. Jessie, after having just told her hubby to suck it up like a big boy (I don’t really like Jessie, by the way), begs him to help find these people. Reluctantly, he agrees, and has a tension filled reunion with his former best friend, who blames him (unfairly, in my opinion). That animosity disappears as soon as they find themselves held hostage by the thugs. And so, the money hunt begins!

First suitcase is on a cliffside, and Stallone goes to get it. Some shenanigans quickly ensure, and the thugs shoot at him. An avalanche occurs because these dumbasses have never seen a movie, and in the process, we lose a suitcase of money, Expendable Thug #4 goes the way of Sarah, and Gabe is presumed dead. Farquaad tells Yondu to tell his coworkers that everything is fine, and he’s gonna stay on the mountain to ride out the storm. Which is #5 in the list of “moments in this movie where I would 100% die” I grew up in a warm climate, this is not a comfortable hypothetical situation for me.

Anyway, our intrepid team of criminals takes Yondu to find the next suitcase, while Jessie and Gabe separately make their way to the cabin that Yondu was talking about. They catch each other up, and they can’t contact the main office because...Jessie’s radio died in the cold? You...you work amongst mountains as a rescue officer for stranded hikers. That’s the best excuse the writers came up with? Why the hell didn’t she bring a better radio? They HAD to have spares, right? RIGHT? Geez, no wonder you needed Gabe’s help.

The tracker, with its marvelously outdated computer graphics technology (IT’S A UNIX SYSTEM IKNOWTHIS), leads the thugs to the next package, but not before Gabe and Jesse get there! Gabe leaves a ransom note for the money, holding it hostage. This eventually leads to a nighttime chase in the snow, leading to Expendable Thug #5 going The Way of Sarah.

By the way, it’s also at this point that I notice that it is VERY bright...for being in the middle of the mountains at night. And I get it, you can’t exactly have your movie be shot in darkness, but...look at this.

Like...wow. That’s the fakest outdoor shot I’ve ever seen. I guess I’m glad it isn’t a day-for-night shot, but...yeah. Wow.

Jesse and Gabe find themselves in a cave full of the cutest goddamn bats I’ve ever seen. This is supposed to be a harrowing experience, but simply makes me jealous. They’re fruit bats, by the way, and they’re also WAY too high up, altitude-wise. At least, that’s what I assume. I’m a bird-guy, not a bat-guy. Eventually, they make it out of the cave after Stallone does some free-climbing...loudly. Loud enough for the super-violent, sociopathic, knife-and-gun-loving Expendable Thug #6 to hear them. And that’s when Gabe ICE-PICKS HIM IN THE LEG DAMN

Understandably pissed, and not as understandably still walking around without crying (#6 in that list of me-dying moments), the thug finds and beats the SHIT out of Gabe, handily.  But then, he calls Jessie a bitch, and Gabe is, above all things a feminist. Which leads to him, and read this CLOSELY:

This leads to Stallone, bloodied and beaten, PICKING THE THUG UP OVER HIS HEAD, AND IMPALING HIM ONTO A STALACTITE. Not a stalagmite, a STALACTITE. HOLY SHIT!.

Well, Expendable Thug #6 is dead, there’s a bomb on the mountaintop, Jesse almost goes The Way of Sarah, and Frank (another guy who works with them, don’t know if I mentioned him) gets lured into a trap where he gets killed. An “Aww” moment from me; I liked Frank, he seemed like a really nice guy. This eventually leads to Farquaad and Tripp out-crazy-ing each other, and Farquaad winning by killing Expendable Thug #7, who does not go The Way of Sarah (blessed be her fall).

Gabe finds the remaining money, while Tripp, Yondu, and Expendable Thug #7 get there just after. Tripp leaves, and Yondu then delivers my favorite line of the movie:

Oh, sorry, no, it’s, “In a minute, I’ll be dead. You will always be an asshole.” Thug #7 beats the shit out of Yondu, I get flashbacks to GotG 2, and Thug #8 goes THE WAY OF SARAH, BLESSED BE HER FALL. Tripp finds the tracker without the money, and officially loses it, outing himself and Farquaad to the government officials who FINALLY get here.

Tripp finds Gabe, they make their way to a frozen mountain lake, and Gabe SHOOTS TRIPP FROM UNDERNEATH THE ICE. That shouldn’t have worked for many reasons, but that was cool, so fuck it. Now, it’s just Farquaad, BUT HE HAS JESSIE! OH NOOOOOOOooooooo.

This whole thing culminates in a tense, cool chase sequence between Gabe and Farquad in the helicopter. The helicopter crashes into the mountainside, and the two fight while on the helicopter, which is now hanging from the cliff.

Oh. Oh, I get it.

This inevitably leads to Farquaad and the helicopter going, of course, The Way of Sarah. Blessed Be Her Fall. #BBHF. 

And that’s it. Our three heroes are, themselves, rescued by the government agents, and we pan away from the cliffside, as the credits roll. Boom. Cliffhanger.

Stay tuned for the epilogue, which contains the review!

[cowboisadness]

Hang ‘Em High {Arthur Morgan x FemOC} Chapter 6

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x FemOC Summery: Belle Hawthorne is high society looking to escape her mean husband. A robbery by the Van Der Linde gang could be her chance. Can she escape his cluches and possibly discover what love should feel like?

Warnings: Animal death, mentions of domestic assault and abortion.

AN: This is a long one, hope you enjoy :)

. . . . .  A few days had passed in the camp, many were busy either around camp or out on jobs to bring in money. Mary-Beth and Tilly explained to me what the jobs would entail, most of the time putting themselves in serious danger. Having enough to get by wasn't enough, especially for Dutch, occasionally giving smooth worded speeches to everyone like he was the Mayor of a grand town. He wanted more money, a lot of it for everyone to live a life of luxury. Arthur had recently returned from Strawberry to rescue a member of the gang i had not yet met, but had been warned about. Apparently the rescue mission didn't go as smoothly as planned. Arthur aimed to get him out of jail and out of Strawberry with minimum confrontation. The other guy had different plans. As I sat on my bedrole in my small tent stitching one of his shirts, the very man I'd been warned about approached.“I’m almost done with your shirt Micah.” i smiled politely at him, not wanting to get on his bad side from the get go but hoping to stay cautious while around him.He leaned against the tree beside my tent, lighting a cigarette as he did so.“So where did they pick you up from?” He looked towards me and it was then I realised everything he might say would be laced with venom. “Saint Denis. More of a rescue than a pick up.” I returned my attention to the task in hand. He blew out a cloud of smoke in my direction, the smell of cheap tobacco filling my nose. It was his way to invade my space without being too forward. I wouldn't let it bother me, what with the many social gatherings that involved being in rooms filled with smoke and smoking myself on those occasions. He let out a breath, a sigh, before pushing himself off the tree and walking away, but not before muttering words he still made sure I could hear. “Another deadweight to feed.”  All I could do was chuckle to myself, cutting the thread in my hand with a knife. Deciding that he didn't deserve my effort to achieve perfection. By late evening I joined the others around the campfire, sitting next to Charles and Karen, the former handed me a freshly opened beer bottle. I was so used to expensive French wine, chilled in an ice bucket. I've gotten used to so much these last few weeks, living in the wild. The thought before would scare me half to death but I soon found it was different with a sense of family around you. Growing up i was taught the life of a gang of outlaws was a brutal one, the men being fueled and finding joy in murder, rape and theift, nothing more than monsters that have no care for anything other than themselves. I was never told that sometimes they could be people out of luck, born and raised without security and certainty, needing to do what they could to get by with the hope that they could one day, live without worrying when their next meal could be. These people around me all have terrible backstories and that's what brought them together, with the hopes of a better future as long as they fight for it together, even if that meant doing bad things.

I was the opposite, my life was paved out for me from the day I was born. To learn to be a loving and doting wife and mother. We never had to worry about our next meal, always knowing it would be fresh and grand. I was also lucky that my father wanted to teach me some of what he would teach my two older brothers, mainly hunting and how to care for our horses. I was so lucky, I was privileged. Javier brought out his guitar and started singing in his native tongue, some of us swaying to the tune. I heard of Charles and Arthur going out to hunt tomorrow, this was my chase to ask to join with them.I turned my attention to Charles, tapping him lightly on the arm for his attention to turn to me. “Everything okay Bella?” “I heard you and Arthur are going on a hunt tomorrow.” “We are. At first light. You wanting anything in particular?” “Is it possible that I join you both? I know how to use a bow, father taught me and it’s...it’s been a while...i’d love to hunt again.” I looked at him with pleading eyes as he took a swig from his bottle before turning to me with a soft smile. “Of course, always happy to have someone else along that knows what they are doing.” I couldn't play down my happiness, grinning from ear to ear and professing my thanks to Charles. I sipped the rest of my warm beer before saying my goodnights to the ones remaining around the fire and to Charles that I'll see him at first light. I tried my best to prevent a skip in my step as I made my way to my bedroll, excited for sleep and the day ahead. ….. The sun was barely making an appearance when I woke, stretching out my limbs before readying myself for the day, thankful to Sadie for offering me a pair of her pants she didn't want. Not only was I able to get out and do something I enjoyed, being amongst nature, but I was able to do something to help the camp other than repairing clothes and washing dishes.   Making my way over to the coffee pot I saw Arthur was already there, sitting on a log near the now burnt out fire, coffee in hand.  “Morning” He jumped slightly and turned to me, watching as I poured myself a hot cup.  “You're up earlier than usual.” He turned his attention back to his cup as I sat beside him. “I’m coming hunting with you...and what do you mean earlier than usual? You been watching me Mr Morgan?” I took a sip, Arthur spluttered his, seemingly trying not to choke on the burning liquid. “What?...no...just...i'm usually first awake is all.” I smiled in my cup, hopefully hiding my slight giggle. A man of his size and how intimidating he can seem, he sure can get flustered easily, his cheeks turning a muted shade of pink. It was fun. We finished our coffee and made our way over to Charles and the horses, getting them saddled up. “You feel well enough to ride yourself Bella?” Charles asked, tightening the saddles girth so it fit snugly but comfortably around the horse.  “I'm sure I'll be fine…” I looked over to Arthur, grinning “...I won't be falling off anytime soon.” “Take Johns horse, he won't be needing her today.” Arthur pointed over to the horse mentioned and I made my way over to sadde her. .….. The ride out into the heartlands towards Cumberland Forest was pleasant, the morning sun warming the earth and birds filling the air with their song. It was peaceful,the most peaceful I've felt in a long while. Still nothing of the attempted robbery or information about my disappearance had been read or heard of. Maybe Arthur was right, maybe Frank didn't care that i was gone, maybe he thought i was dead. I hope he did. We made it to the spot at Cumberland Forest and hitched the horses within the outskirts, hidden from view. Arthur let me use his bow, saying he was better with a rifle anyway. The three of us walked further into the forest, making sure to keep an eye and ear out for bears that roam the area. “Why don't we split up?” Charles suggested in a hushed toned as to not to disturb the surrounding wildlife. “Sure. Bella can come with me, might not need to use the rifle if she don't miss.” Arthur smirked. My expression one of mock disgust and punching him lightly in the arm. Granted I might be a bit rusty, it had been a couple of years since I hunted or even held a bow, but I'm sure once I get my mind focused it will be like second nature. Another thing I hope for.  Charles moved further into the forest, me and Arthur moving closer to the Dakota river. The forest was tranquil and busy at the same time, the smell of pine and aspen filling my nose, the intense gaze of the sun being softened by the green blanket above, lighting everything in an orange hue. Any light that broke through the leaves lighting up in patches on the ground, able to see the suns daily path across the dirt from the sections of thick grass and various plants. Songbirds and sparrows weaving through the labyrinth of branches, hunting for bugs and seeds as they sang their love songs. For a moment it felt like we were the only people in existence as we walked in a comfortable silence. As we neared the river Arthur lifted his hand for attention then pointed ahead. Two whitetail deers drinking from the river. We crouched down, keeping out steps slow and light as we neared them. Once we stopped Aarthur looked to me, giving a nod for me to take my aim. I nocked the arrow, drawing it till the string resisted, keeping my chin low and feet steady, Arthur giving a soft whistle to get their attention. Two breaths and releasing on the exhale, the arrow flew to the mark, hitting the deer through its right eye, killing it instantly. I breathed in a huff of triumph as Arthur smiled at my glee. We made our way over, Arthur pulling on the animal readying to lift it. “Maybe i didn't need the rifle.” “Didn't trust me?” we smirked at each other, both pleased that we got a kill so soon. Arthur whistled for his horse as I gazed out at the river, hoping to see another distracted deer. He wrapped the animal in rope and secured it onto the back of his horse but we soon realised we were not paying proper attention to our surroundings as we should have. A guttural roar came from the thick forest behind us, too close for comfort. Before we had any time to react a mass of fur and teeth was bounding out of the treeline towards us, its black eyes trained on me. Fight or flight instincts kicked in, my legs pushing my back into a run, tripping over a river rock as I turned, planting straight into the river. I knew I couldn't get up quick enough, legs still pushing me backwards but failing to get traction, arms stretching out in front of my face like I could stop the beast with my own hands. Just as it was above me, staring down the cavern that was a throat, a crack of thunder rang out in my ears, echoing into the distance. The beast above me ceased and dropped on my legs, red splattered on my pants, shirt and no doubt my face.I looked at the stilled bear with wide eyes and then over to Arthur, rife in hand. My breathing steadying as I came down from the shock of what just happened and pushing the animal off me to stand. “Maybe you did need that rifle.” i giggled, looking towards Arthur, his eyes full of concern but a smile creeping on his face at my attempt to bring humor to the situation. I wasn't just covered in bear blood but soaked from landing in the river. I tried to shake off what I could and wring out the water from my shirt. Arthur walked over holding out a dry shirt for me to take. “I always carry fresh on my horse. Better than being soaked through completely.” I took the shirt and muttered a thanks, making my way out of the river and onto dry land, Arthur making a start on skinning the bear and whistling over Johns horse . The cold breeze hit my wet skin, making me shiver so I wasted no time in removing my drenched shirt, peaking over my shoulder to make sure he was distracted before also removing my camisole, now bare from the waist up. Pain shot up my side due to my hurried pace, letting out a quiet gasp, looking down at the still present bruise on my ribs, less angry, but persistent nonetheless. “There's trees right there y’ know.” My moment of pain must have caught his attention. Embarrassment flushed to my cheeks and I quickly pulled on his shirt and buttoned it up. It buried my small frame, stopping mid thigh, and it smelled like him, the faint hint of tobacco and gunpowder. “Scared.” “Why?” “Bears.” He huffed a laugh, lifting the bear hide and stowing it on johns horse. Both of us mounted up and started making our way to Charles' horse, silently deciding that was enough hunting for us today.Once there we built a campfire and I sat as close to it as comfortably possible, drying off my pants and sharing some fresh bear meat between us. We both were lost in thought, sitting in silence across from each other as we ate. I decided to break the silence with another request.

 “Teach me to shoot properly?” it came out as both a demand and a question.He just looked at me while he chewed on the meat, the flames dancing over his face.“Father taught me how to handle a pistol, but i want to be sure i can protect myself...against bears...and people.”  “You never went hunting after bein’ married?” I shook my head and sighed, looking down at the unfinished meat in my hands. “No. Frank wouldn't allow it. He would say the only things women are for are cooking, breeding and fucking.”   “The more I learn about him, the more I wish I'd shot the bastard.” The anger in his tone was evident and with no hint of doubt.  We sat in silence, the midday sun now high in the sky. He seemed to be lost in thought for a while before opening his mouth wanting to say something before changing his mind. I looked to him expectedly, wanting him to say what he wanted. His eyes locked with mine, knowing I was giving my permission to speak his thoughts.After a brief moment of silence, he finally broke it. “I...those...those scars ya have. They from him too?”  So he did see. I hummed in response before giving him a proper answer. “My broken ribs weren’t from falling off your horse either. A lesson for flirting with the bastard on the balcony.” “Jesus” “He was so kind when we first met before getting married, always sending me gifts, flowers, jewelry. Written love letters and saying that he was building a stable at our future home, a homecoming gift for his sweetheart…” Arthur didn't speak as I paused, instead standing to retrieve something from his saddlebag before making his way around the fire to sit beside me, handing me a bottle of Bourbon. I smiled as I took it, opening it and taking a few gracious gulps, feeling the burning sensation trickle down my throat. “...He gradually changed after only being married for a few weeks. Dictating what i could wear and what hobbies i could indulge in, preventing me from seeing or talking to my childhood friends. Then the beatings would start getting worse... the assaults...eventually i couldn't sleep out of fear of what was to come when sharing a bed with him.” I took in a shaky breath, willing my tears not to breach. “Couldn't ya have returned to ya parents?” I shook my head before taking another swig and handing the bottle back to him. “I wanted to but...i was married off to him because my parents were struggling with the farmlands after three bad winters. Franks promised financial support in exchange for my hand. He even ceased all contact with them after only a month. I wrote letters to them but I never got one back. I have no idea what happened. Frank knew I wanted to leave so he promised to force a baby into me. That way, I'd have no choice but to stay with him.” I didn't know why i was telling Arthur all this, maybe because i knew it would help to get it off my chest, maybe because i felt like i could trust him. I didn't want pity, I realised, just a listening ear, someone to lend me their comfort for a little while.I hesitated before continuing. Arthur's eyes on me like I was a lost puppy, reaching out my hand for the bottle again he passed it to me without a word. I took another sip for courage, or so I couldn't feel the pain of reliving my horror. “I ended up falling pregnant. When I found out early on, I was more terrified in that moment than I had been in my life. He was elated of course, finally getting what he wanted. I knew he would be a horrible father, knew he wouldn't think twice about lifting his hand to a child. So I decided I couldn't let that happen. Had a doctor visit while he was on an overnight business meeting, some of his practices a known secret amongst many women.” Tears silently flowed as I stared into the growing flames of the fire. A hand placed gently on my knee for comfort and in understanding. “Did...did he find out?” “Told him I lost it. He shot my horse as punishment for being a failure of a woman.” “Bella...I’m sorry” It was barely above a whisper, anything louder and i might shatter like century old glass.He drew circles on my knee with his thumb as I wiped away the fallen tears. I made a silent vow never to cry over that man again, not to let him take up space in my mind. Absentmindedly I leaned into Arthurs touch, his shoulder meeting my temple, breathing in my first steady breath, Arthur wrapping his arm around me.

[sp4c3-0ddity]

"A Love Supreme Seems Far Removed" for the Hozier prompt!

ack sorry this took so long but i hope you like it Ivy!! inspired (if indirectly) by @rueitae and @cgf-kat, though they may not thank me for the credit

Pidgedidn’tresist when Lance took her hand and tugged her into his arms, but she didhalfheartedly complain, “I haven’t even taken my shoes off!”

He laughed as his other hand pressedagainst the small of her back, pulling her flush against him. “Ifit makes you feel any better, I’ll vacuum in the morning.”

She rolled her eyes but rested her foreheadagainst his chest so he wouldn’t see the smile curving her lips. “Deal.”

They danced in the soft candlelight oftheir apartment while Lance’s phone, set on the kitchen counter,played a soft, corny tune and her own propped up on a bookshelf recorded avideo of them. Pidge had no doubt he’d planned this - down to the song - sincethey decided on their spontaneous courthouse wedding, so she went along withit, her chest warm and fluttering, her hand on his shoulder as they swayed in acircle in their tiny living room.

“Whenmarimba rhythms start to play, dance with me, make we sway…”

Lance pulled her a little closer, his nosein her braided hair and his steady heartbeat under her cheek. His fingerstightened around hers, his thumb sliding her new gold wedding band up and down.

Pidge sighed as she reveled in his warmth,in that strength and sweetness she loved him for. She lifted her head andcupped the back of his neck, and when his dark blue eyes met hers a gentlesmile tugged at his lips.

“What’reyou thinking about in that brilliant brain of yours, my love?” he wondered in alow voice.

“Otherdancers may be on the floor, dear, but my eyes will see only you…”

She could make a joke or tease him or sharea fact that would boggle his mind; instead she confessed, “I’mjust thinking how I can’t remember ever being this happy.” Heat rushed to herface - it was always tricky for her to discuss her feelings, even with him -but she held his gaze and watched his grin creep a little wider.

(She did not think on why they married in such a hurry with only theirfamilies and Hunk present to witness, about his first impending mission intospace - away from her.)

When Lance’s palm rested on her cheek, she cradled itcloser, her eyes slipping shut as he leaned down to kiss her. She hummedagainst his lips, her stomach flipping pleasantly, and murmured, “And what are you thinking about, my darling goofball?”

“Likea lazy ocean hugs the shore, hold me close, sway me more…”

“Howdang lucky I am I met you,” Lance said. “How lucky I am to love you.”

She shivered when his nose brushed hers,his breath warm on her cheek, but teased, “You’re lucky I gave you the chance.”

(She almost didn’t,she thought regretfully. He was her nuisance of a teammate - a pilot who triedso hard to show off he made his crew fail - while they were cadets, so whatirony she fell so hard for him once she saw he could buckle down when he neededto?)

“It’sjust because I’m cute, right?” Lance teased, his thumb skirting under her eye.

“Makeme thrill as only you know how, sway me smooth, sway me now…”

Pidge slid her hand up and down his chest,over the smooth fabric of  his gray suitjacket before she plucks at his slender blue tie. “Somethinglike that.”

She’d tried to convince him to wear hisGarrison uniform jacket, to show off the new stripes in the pictures her motherand his sister took, but now she found herself grateful for the tie.

She tugged him down and kissed him, alittle longer than last time - long enough it left them breathless when theyparted.

Lance recaptured her hand and they resumedtheir dance, sweeping around in a wider circle while she followed his lead. Hisforehead fell onto hers, and he said, “I never told you earlier but…you lookbeautiful.”

“Likea flower bending in the breeze, bend with me, sway with ease…”

Pidge smiled, face warm. She swished herlong white hem around and sighed when Lance’s warm hand wandered up to where the dressleft her back bare. “It’s not exactly a wedding gown,” she told him, “but itdid the job.”

“Itmore than did the job,” Lance agreed. He kissed her, and when his lips partedover hers heat pooled in her stomach.

She gripped his tie again and tangled herfingers through his hair that was almost more carefully styled than her plaits.He cupped her face between his hands, kissing her like a man starved, like henever would again.

(She loved him so much - wanted him closeand with her - she couldn’tbreath when she thought of them parting.)

The air she needed to live was almost notworth it, but the smirk Lance flashed her once he caught his breath made hervery grateful she stood within the fold of his arms.

“Onlyyou have that magic technique, when we sway I go weak…”

His hands fell to her waist. “Youmust be glad Hunk talked me into wearing an actual tie.” He lowered his voiceand whispered in a tone of mocking horror, “I wanted to wear a bow tie.”

Pidge snorted but she couldn’tfight the laughter bubbling through her chest. “Why?” she demanded. She wrapped her arms aroundhis neck so they returned to their lazier slow dance. “Oh my God, that would’vebeen worse than committing murder.”

“Whatdo you have against bow ties, Pidge?” Lance asked. He raised an eyebrow, buthis attempt at being serious fell flat the instant he dissolved into giggles. “Youjust like tugging me down for one more, huh?”

“Whenmarimba rhythms start to play, hold me close, make me sway…”

Her face warmed impossibly more, but sherolled her eyes, fingers tightening around his tie, and grumbled, “Yes,so shut up and kiss me, Mr. Lieutenant Holt.”

“Withpleasure, Mrs. Lieutenant H—”

Kissing Lance was an easy - and pleasant -way to quiet him. Frank Sinatra’s smooth voice faded into the background,the candles burned low before their own wax quenched the flames, and Pidge lostherself in Lance’s arms as he unraveled her kiss by kiss and touch by touch.

“Whenwe dance you have a way with me, stay with me, sway with me…”

What little Pidge can see of the dark videoblurs behind a curtain of tears she frantically wipes away. She can do withoutthem, without the awful tightness in her chest and the heaviness weighing downher very soul.

They’re useless to her, but not even her workdistracts her from the pain anymore.

A harsh wave of anger washes over her, herjaw clenching and her fingers tightening around her blasted phone. It takes allher self-control not to chuck it, still playing the video with its soft musicand softer, incomprehensible voices, across the lab at the far wall. At theleast she wants to insert it into the UTM and let the pistons crush it intoshards of fiberglass and silicon.

The empty shell - the non-cog - sitting onthe stool beside her is far from a comforting presence. The entire time thevideo played, she dared to glance at his - its- face, dared to hope for a sign of recognition or just a change in itsexpression.

But nothing - just a blank, flat affectwith not even a hint of the smile that, even in quiet moments, would playaround his lips.

“Youhave to be in there,”Pidge hisses, furious. She squeezes her phone, cradling it close to her chest,and wags an angry finger in the shell’s expressionless face.

It doesn’t even blink.

“H-how’reyou—you can’t be—but you haveto be—”Pidge cuts off with a strangled gasp. She stumbles to her feet, dropping thephone on the lab bench before rounding towards the shell with her headspinning. She feels as unbalanced as she did the last time she drank too much,as unsteady on her feet as she is in her soul, but without Hunk or Keith orMatt there to catch her.

“We’rebringing you back,” Pidge swears, not for the first time. Her fingers find theugly device protruding from its hair - once so carefully groomed, now unwashedand shaggy - and says, “I’m going to find a way to take this damn hoktril outwithout killing you even if I have to question every Altean neurologist in theuniverse myself.”

But the body that used to be Lance’sstares dispassionately past the woman he loved, as indifferent to her anger andgrief and touch as it was to the video of their first dance.

[the-canary]

Such Great Heights - S.R

Summary: Being Steve Rogers' soulmate wasn't the easiest thing in the world, but boy did you try. (Reader/Steve Rogers)

Word Count: +3.8K

Masterlist

A/N: Dedicated to my friends, but especially @isavuu for pushing to keep writing about Steve and it monstrosity came to be. this could be consider a companion to hunger, but it isn’t necessary to read. 

Please enjoy and feedback is always welcomed.

Steve Rogers is half an hour late when he gets to the bistro where he is supposed to met you — the closed sign burning brightly as he lets out a annoyed puff of air into the oddly cold spring night. In the year he had returned to New York, to active duty as an Avenger, he had only seen you face-to-face four times between a handful of text messages and phone calls, each a bit shorter than before and it was killing him, but what can Steve Rogers do when the world needs Captain America? He’s about to get his cell phone, call you in disappointment for missing another date, and wish you a good trip back to D.C in the morning when it pings to get his attention. He takes it out and he can’t help the smile that blooms on his face.

Turn around, mister. See you through the window.

Steve turns to see you sitting in a brightly lit 24/7 donut shop and waving at him. He quickly rushes across the street and into the shop and while the owner quickly recognizes him, your tight-lipped smile and promises in a language he doesn’t understand allow him a thin sense of normalcy. You have a small cup of coffee and half-finished muffin in front of you, but your red dress and and blazer make it seem like you are meant to be elsewhere. He can’t help be frown.

“A coffee and a bear claw, right?” you ask a bit protruded, obviously sensing his emotions though waiting for him to speak -- one of the things he is eternally grateful for was your endless patience.

“Yeah, thanks,” he scratches the back of his head and relaxes for a bit. He waits for you to come back after fighting with the shop owner to keep the the cash. Your decisive voice making him laugh a bit, “The mission ran longer than expected.”

That’s all he needs to say for him to feel a light swell of appreciation thump within his chest before it quickly disappears. It wasn’t much but he knows you appreciate that he explains at least a little of what he did and even more that he had actually come out (how could he not with such a beautiful woman waiting for him?) to see if you were still there. And so, in the nearly empty shop, you talk about what little you can of work, you talk about your pets --Frank and Sally--, while he mentions the rest of the Avengers, mainly Bucky and Sam. It isn’t a lot but he’s glad to have this short time with you, but he knows he has to get something off of his chest. He downs his last bit of coffee before staring at you directly.  

“Tony and Pepper are finally getting married in the summer,” he coughs out the last part, as you raise a curious eyebrow, “I was wondering if you would be my plus one?”

“Are you sure about us going out in public?” you question because you had gone through this dance a year before, Steve worried about the revelation of him dating someone and it was even more dangerous if anyone ever figured out the the two of you are soulmates. You had listened to his lecture and wholeheartedly agreed. However, in the time you had finally spent together, Steve Rogers had fallen in love and he wanted to do the same thing any man in love did -- he wanted to show his best girl off.

“Completely,” he breathes out while grasping your hand from across the table, tracing those letters he knows are his , as your pulse rings loudly in his ears.      

“All right,” you give him one of those rare grins, like you can take on the world together, and he swears he falls a bit more.

SGR.

SGR.

Back in the 1940’s, Steve Rogers was just lucky to be alive with all the aliments and disabilities he had, in a way he reasoned it was all right that there were no initials on his wrist. Who knew how long he would be alive? He couldn’t burden that fear onto another person, so he pressed forward and lived the life he could and found a friendship with Bucky Barnes, whose wrist was blank as his own. When the war came around, Steve was more than ready for it and a little relieved that none would be waiting for him, even if Peggy never having his name did hurt a little.

As far as everyone  knew, Captain America belonged to the world, and Steve Rogers belonged to none. That changes one fine day 70 years later, when he feels a burning sensation on his left wrist and a drowsy feeling in his rib cage as if it was trying to say follow my tune , Steve gasped when he finally looked down, perfect 20/20 vision staring at unfamiliar pair of black letters.

And even though Steve never seeks them out, fate had a funny way of playing with fools that think they can out run destiny. That is certainly one of the reasons he ends up face first in The National Mall’s lawn after accidentally smashing into the young woman he had been eyeing, ‘crushing on’ Sam liked to say, for some time. Her small dog was barking and as she reached out for him, her sleeve moved up and then he saw it.

SGR.

His heart was fluttering like mad and that’s  probably what caused her to look up and then back to the letters on her right wrist. Her eyes widened as she makes the association, but Steve frowns when he feels that his emotions aren’t being reciprocated. After years of rummaging through all the books on the subject, listening to all those old wives’ tales, of dreaming what it would be like -- this isn’t what Steve thought it would be.

“Shit,” is all she manages to say.

“That one looks lovely on you,” You turn around to see a professionally dressed woman looking at you with a formal smile on her face. You nod in agreement as you twirl in the black evening dress, as you hear the sudden noisiness coming from the other room, full of Steve and his friends trying on their own clothing. You can hear Bucky say something and the room grows quite, your chest expanding a bit more than usual and with a glance at the mirror you know she’s staring at where they are -- so close yet too far.  

“They’re both idiots,” you murmur, as you try to fix your sleeves a bit more. Her eyes turn to look at you, as you give her a sardonic smile. Here the two of you are standing, the soulmates of two super soldiers.  

“So, you know?” she breathes out, as she lets go of her facade for a sadder look on her face and while you have never cried for Steve, you do understand a little more than others of what she might be going through.

“Steve is the worst type of gossiper,” you explain, remembering a late night date with him sometime ago where all he talked about was his worries about Bucky and the woman in front of you. And while, you had only met with Sergeant Barnes a handful of times, you had a feeling everything would be all right in the end.  

“H-How do you make it work?” she questions you, as she grips her planner and documents a bit tighter than before.

You laugh and she frowns, the background talk seems to have died down a bit and you wonder if the blond could feel the the apprehension and confusion you had over such a question.

“Sometimes, you just have to get their knuckle-headed selves and beat them to the ground.”

“Wait, you haven’t seen her in five months?” Sam exclaims as he moves around the pool table, casually glancing at the woman currently sitting in the bar next to Natasha, who she had become close to since meeting her by ‘accident’ back in D.C. She laughs at something the redhead is saying and Sam can’t shake his head at the lost puppy eyes his close friend seems to be making.

“A lot of things have happened since D.C,” Steve explains as he watches her talking to some of the older army men like it’s something she has done all her life. She laughs and for a moment Steve feels a hum of happiness rumbling into his chest, “I haven’t had the time.”

“Dude, your soulmate looks like she takes no guff,” Sam whispers to the blond before making his next pool shot. From that point, it’s a game of cat and mouse, as it seems both soulmates are walking around each other for the rest of the night, until someone (Natasha) manages to get both of them alone without any surprises near one of the many Avengers Tower balconies.  

They stare at each other for a good long while, as she downs the rest of her drink. Steve wants to be casual about all this, but she beats him to the punch, though not as subtle as he would wish.

“So, I didn’t know Steve Rogers dates a lady and then leaves her high-and -dry,” you explain as Steve looks at you like he’s seen a ghost because he still hasn’t gotten over the fact that your highest priority has always been placed on Steven Grant Rogers, and not Captain America, “Leaving a lady to worry doesn’t sound very gentlementaly.”  

“You worry?” he can’t help but question, as you frown a bit more.

“Of course I worry, idiot,” you pause and look at him, “You don’t feel anything sometimes, do you? From me?”

He shakes his head and you sigh in frustration, murmuring something to yourself as you take a seat closer to the window. You motion him to come a bit closer, as you place him right in front of you as best you can. All his attention is on you as you begin to explain.

“Look Steve, my father is a major general and I never met my ma,” you divulge as his eyes widen a bit since this is the first time he had heard anything about your personal background, “I gave up a lot of things to survive in my dad’s political bs and maybe one of those things was emotions, but I’m always worried sick about you. Even a ‘mission running long, love ya bye’ would ease this stupid heart of mine.”

“So, you’re okay with me? With all this?” he questions softly as he drags his hand over your cheek.  

“I’m Steve Rogers’ soulmate, ya idiot. I knew that Captain America came with the whole packaged deal. I would take you any which way, be it you right now or that skinny kid back in the 40’s because both were made for me, regardless of appearance,” you breathe out, though Steve can notice the subtle change, that little quiver in your voice towards the end.

You close your eyes, as Steve looks at you with a questioning look...and then he feels it. You scrunch up your face even tighter, as a flood of emotions pound painfully within his chest -- longing, worry, sadness, admiration, even for a moment love. There’s a huge grin on his face when you open your eyes, his forehead touches your and he moves a bit more in but you place your two middle fingers in front of his lips.

“Aren’t you gonna be a gentleman and ask first.”  

Tony Stark and Pepper Potts’ wedding could be consider the wedding of the year for (maybe even century) New York City and anyone that is anyone is there -- from businessmen, diplomats, celebrities, and a variety of superheroes. It is best to keep a friendly face than to encourage mutiny , your father’s motto ran loudly in your head, as you made the customary rounds within the reception hall. You’re poised with a bright smile, laughing when you need to, but you hear a certain female voice not too far away, and for a second the facade drops. You turn your head back a little only to frown when you see Agent Carter with another group of former S.H.I.E.L.D personnel.  

“You’re angry, darlin’,” an amused voice quips behind you, as an arm wraps itself around your wait. You turn to see a grinning Steve looking ever so handsome in his dark blue suit. You frown at his statement.

“Am not,” you say like a scolded child, as he brushes your cheek with his hand to console you and you hit his chest in indignation. He can’t help but laugh at the wave of embarrassment and minor spite since it isn’t often that your emotions roll into him like the sea onto the land.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs softly as you shake your head, having already heard that several times before after he came back from Wakanda. You let out a short laugh.

“You make me such a drama queen, Rogers.”      

You’re in Germany on diplomatic business when everything goes to hell during the Sokovia Accords. Steve doesn’t understand how he feels you in between all the chaos, but in a moment of reprieve for his team, he sneaks out and follows that deep worry encased within his chest to a small hotel not to far from where he’s currently hiding. He knows he shouldn’t be here, but a little selfish part of him is happy to feel the mix of emotions burning within his chest that you normally hide so well.

You’re sitting in a dimly lit cafe near the end of the street, wearing that hat and glasses combo that he knows you hate.  You look up due the anxiety swelling within your rib cage as Steve gives you a nod, trying his best to stay calm. He sits down and you grab his hand from the across the table to make sure he’s there. He tries to his best explain what had happened up to this point with Bucky and the world chasing after him. You just nod, but stop when he tells you he kissed Agent Carter -Peggy’s niece- not to long after her funeral. You pause and let go of his hand, but instead of anger he feels a deep longing and disappointment hurting him directly in the center of his chest.

“I’m not angry,” you pause and shift in your seat to look at him directly, “But, it’s obvious you’re still living in the past and I can’t be part of that.”

You get up and he follows suit. You turn to look at him, as he pauses to lean in more, you not doing anything to stop him gives him a small sliver of confidence.

“You’re a good man, Steve Rogers. Find your place in the world,” and come back to me is something he knows that you want to add but you’re too selfless and distant for that. So, he decides to do one thing for himself.

“Could I?” he asks softly, running his warm hand through your cheek and lifting your head slightly in order to look at you straight on with those pretty baby blues of his. Something heavy nearly suffocates him, asking what about Agent Carter , but it’s snuffed just as quickly as he begins to feel it. Your eyes are clear, hiding nothing but  Steve can’t see anything besides that small flicker of worry. You’re shut tight like an oyster and Steve can't help but smile bitterly at the irony of it all.

“You should head back,” the moment passes as you move away and pull your shawl closer, “Take care of yourself.”

He grabs you wrist and turns it over to see the SGR glowing brightly and he can’t help but smile a little more before kissing it. Steve grins at the sight of a blush highlighting your face lightly.

“Take care of yourself.”

After Tony’s speech, the dancing continues and you’re wondering around the dance hall as Steve has gone to handle some late minute things that come with saving the world, as you come face-to-face with a familiar person who you had seen on the television with increasing frequency.

“King T’Challa,” you greet the man warmly, as he smiles at you like a friend and you curious if he may know who you really are.

“It is honor to meet the woman Captain Rogers speaks so fondly about,” oh yeah, he does . You let out an embarrassed groan, as the Wakandan king chuckles, which leads you to wonder how much he actually knows about the two of you.  

“Seriously?” you question, and hope that all the awkwardness and minor spite you are feeling are heading in Steve’s direction for once.

“Very,” T’Challa explains, as if remembering the times of camaraderie he spent with the former Nomad during his time away, “He has a certain way with emotions when it comes to you, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“Yeah, he’s a drama queen,”you chuckle lightly, still red faced, as he smiles at the last bit of your sentence,“But, my drama queen, I guess .”

You groan at the wave of excitement and fear burning deep inside your stomach. Ever since Germany and Steve’s disappearance there were moments where you felt his emotions too deeply to the point that they either made you sick or incapacitated you for a good while, i.e now as you watch him and his faction of the Avengers being welcomed onto American soil again due to negotiations set up by Wakanda officials, members of State Department, and Tony Stark himself. You groan as Sally moves from your lap and settles for barking in front of the apartment door. You moan in pain, not willing to get up and check what has gotten her so anxious, but then you feel it -- fear, adoration, nervousness.

“This better not be who I think it is,” you yell out, as Sally looks at you. You grab a pillow from the couch and make it to the front door to the best of your abilities. You hold onto the doorknob and release a shaky breath, feeling something between hope and desperation but you aren’t sure if that’s you or him.  After a few deep breaths, you finally open the door.

“It might be,” he chuckles and rubs the back of his head. Captain America was brooding and some type of untamed animal back on the screen with his serious bearded face and dirty uniform. Steve Rogers was different as he sports the same beard but with a civilian outfit and a bashful smile, as he looked at your current state.

“Is this...my fault?” is all he can really ask, but you only nod numbly as you keep staring at him like he’s some type of ghost.  

“Look, I know--” Steve starts explaining, but before he can get any farther you put your hands through his beard and push him forward to smash his lips onto yours.

The Stark reception party doesn’t end until the wee hours of the morning for some, but for you it ends at around midnight when you enter the shared hotel room you are staying in and jump into bed without changing out of your dress, that’s just how tired and high-strung you were about where Steve was at the moment. It isn’t until the early morning hours when you hear something rummaging around the room and a slight ping of appreciation running through your body that you slowly start to open your eyes to see the blond getting out of his famous suit. You take a moment to admire the taut muscles in the morning light, and Steve must have felt it as he chuckles without looking at you.

“G-Good morning,” you break the silence with a sleepy greeting, as you get up and move around, trying to find something less confining to wear as Steve settles into the bed, disappointment echoing in your chest for a moment, “How was the mission?”

“Good. Good,” is all he manages to say on the subject, as you take off your dress and put on a large sweatshirt that obviously belongs to someone else. You’re too busy taking off your makeup, that you almost miss his next statement, “But...this’ll be my last mission for awhile.”

“Wait...what?” you pause and turn to look at him, upper body resting on the headboard, with a questioning glance before finishing the task at hand and heading back to the bed.  

“I downgraded to semi-active status with the Avengers, training the recruits at the compound on occasion and world saving missions for me,” he explains as you take a seat in front to him. His blue eyes are soft and full of love.

“Why would you do that?” you question, as he takes a hold of your wrist with the familiar SGR   written on them, and now you have an inkling of his true reasons, which causes you frown as you look at him.

“I found my place in this world four years ago and I’ve been an idiot for running away from the potentially the best damn thing in life for so long,” he proclaims, as he keeps rubbing the those initials like they’ll fade away if he doesn’t protect them.

“Steve, I can’t ask you to do that,” you reprimand him, not wanting to be the reason the world loses Captain America, and he knew that you could handle everything that was thrown in your direction -- you had done it so well up to this point, he had told you once. No, there was another reason for this and for once you couldn’t sense it.

“It’s isn’t something…”He pauses at the serious look you are giving him before starting up again with a sigh,”I wanted to make this decision for myself, do something selfish for once. But, I also wanted you to meet me halfway…”

“As in?” you question.

“As in move to New York permanently, we could—“ he starts to explain, all of a sudden very nervous.

“Done,” you answer without missing a beat.

“I know your job and apartment,” a flabbergasted flash rolls into your rib cage, as he keeps moving forward with his explanation.

“Double done,” you laugh.

“You’ve been prepared since we meet, huh?” Steve laughs as he places you onto his lap, love running deeply through both your bodies.

“Just been hoping your place in the world was next to me,” you murmur, as he lets out an appreciative hum at how honest you’re being at the moment.

“It is,” he kisses your forehead lightly before pulling you back into the bed, enveloping your body with his completely, “Mine.”

“Mine,” is the only way you can answer back, as the early morning rays and Steve’s heartbeat pull you back into the land of sleep.

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Mistletoe Mayhem

Summary: Mistletoe, mischief, and no mercy.  Can you escape the Avengers long enough to make it through Christmas Eve without locking lips with the entire team? Especially when the only one you wanted to kiss had decided not to participate in Stark’s shenanigans.

Request for @moonlover19 . I know it wasn’t quite what you wanted. Hope you still like it.

Word Count: 3825  Warnings: fluff

Christmas had come upon the tower with a vengeance. You weren't quite sure what radioactive elf had exploded in Tony’s head to have him going so overboard, but you had to admit, while it was a little excessive, the decorations were nice.

Except one.

The little sprig of mistletoe looked harmless enough, but it had become the bain of your existence. At first, it was just a nuisance. Someone had hung it in the doorway, guaranteeing people would pass beneath, requiring the two to stop and lock lips. And you did mean required.

They had rigged the doorway.

If you didn't kiss in some form alarms went off, the music for the Grinch played, and you were labelled Scrooge for your lack of participation. As it didn't matter to you who you kissed just as long as that never happened again, you'd gotten good at turning your head to catch the passersby’s cheek without so much as lifting your eyes from your tablet.

You were the team's top analyst of operations and insurgencies. You planned their missions with an accuracy few could match. You were continually running ops, both real and mock to help both you and them be prepared for anything.

Even Steve himself had said no one put together a better mission than you. High praise indeed coming from the master spy.

He'd been wary at first, disliking bringing in a specialist for something he'd been in charge of for years, but had changed his tune when, before the last mission he'd planned on his own, you'd gently pointed out a few fundamental flaws. If everything went off without a hitch, they wouldn't have been a problem, but if history repeated itself and things went south, they would become huge problems. You'd offered solutions, and he'd swiftly come on board. There had still been a few head-butting moments until he'd discovered this was your gift. A strange mutation that allowed you to see all possible outcomes for any battle.

So while the mistletoe was an irritation, it had been an easily solved one. If you happened to be beneath it, you pecked your partner a kiss and kept right on going, more often than not completely unaware of who you'd kissed as you really didn't care.

One day you'd stretched up, kissed a cheek and kept going, never losing sight of the passage you'd been reading only to hear:

“Agent (Y/L/N)! What in the Sam hell?”

You'd glanced back to see a confused and disconcerted Director Fury glaring at you. “Eye up, Director. Stark’s shenanigans are in full swing,” you'd muttered by way of explanation and kept on going.

But that one incident and the nonchalance you'd given it had, apparently, put a bee in the team's bonnet. They'd taken it as a personal challenge to get a reaction out of you.

But dammit! You were busy! Life didn't just stop because someone hung a plant from the ceiling. Still, you were nothing if not stubborn, and once you'd figured out what they were up to, you'd been determined to continue along as you'd been.

After all, it was only a kiss.

Bucky had been first to make his move. You pecked him your standard cheek kiss and kept on going only to be dragged back into his arms.

“You can do better than that, doll face,” he'd quipped, his grin smug, before dipping you backward and kissing you with a whole lot of finesse.

When he'd lifted his head, you'd blinked at him and asked, “Would you like your gum back?”

It had knocked the smirk right off his face. “Nah. You keep it,” he'd grumbled, sulking as he'd marched away.

You'd brushed it off as a weird incident and continued on.

Next had been Natasha who'd backed you into the door frame and kissed you with ridiculous skill. When she’d finally released your mouth, you'd blinked at her as well.

“I need you to sign off on those reports I sent you this morning,” you'd reminded her, not a change to be had in your voice, causing her to pout as you'd gone back to your tablet and walked off.

Sam had flirted something fierce, earning him an annoyed glare as he'd held you up before finally kissing you.

Tony had been aggressive to the point of you muttering about bruised lips and speaking with HR.

But it was Vision who, knowing little of kissing, had spilled the beans by finally asking what it would take to get a response from you, that wised you up to this new round of shenanigans.

You'd changed your routine and plotted a new path to your office afterward, escaping the mistletoe mayhem altogether leaving you feeling far too smug. You planned stealth maneuvers and insurgencies for a living, but you should have known.

Tony Stark wasn't one to give up so easily.

***

“Don't you think this is going too far?” Steve asked even as he hung the mistletoe above another doorway.

“You're just scared you'll get shot down like the rest of us,” Tony grumbled.

Steve didn't say anything to that. While he didn’t want to make a fool of himself, he also didn’t have those kinds of feelings for (Y/N), and found kissing her to try and elicit a reaction kind of… mean.

When Fury had arrived, grumbling about foolish traditions, seeming flustered - an oddity in itself - and had muttered about insubordination, it had come out that (Y/N) had ever so casually kissed the Director beneath the mistletoe without so much as a flinch. That took balls no one knew she had and had started Tony down this crazy path. Just what would it take to make her flinch?

She’d changed her routine to avoid the whole mess, but Tony hadn't been deterred. Now there was mistletoe everywhere.

It hung from every doorway, elevator, stairwell and in the most used places like above water coolers, vending machines, and coffee makers. It was getting a little ridiculous.

Steve himself had never been kissed so many times by so many women. And not just women. When Frank from marketing leaned in and kissed him firmly on the mouth, Steve was sure he'd coloured right to his toes.

“This whole thing seems mean-spirited at this point,” he grumbled to Tony.

“You can't tell me your not curious to know what it will take. The woman has got some steel fucking cojones to kiss Fury without so much as a by your leave. I just want to know! She's so contained. Always collected. I want to see her flustered.”

“See who flustered?” asked Thor.

“And why pray tell, is there mistletoe every ten feet. Are you hosting a party for Baldur?” Loki asked, smirking at Thor.

“Brother, you know he despises that myth,” Thor sighed.

“But it is so entertaining,” Loki quipped.

Thor only rolled his eyes.

“(Y/N) has kissing beneath the mistletoe down to a science. So much so that she kissed the Director without even registering who he was until it was over. Even then it never broke her cool. We are trying to see what it will take to make her lose it.”

“Is that not… excessive?” Loki asked. “Surely if the woman is uninterested in this archaic and asinine tradition, you should acquiesce to her wishes.”

“I can't believe I share the same opinion as Loki,” Steve grumbled.

“I'm in!” Thor chuckled.

“Of course you are,” Loki sighed. “No using your other ability, Thor. That would be cheating.”

“Does that mean you'll participate as well, Loki?” Thor asked, looking put out at being stonewalled before he'd even started.

“I refuse.”

“Suit yourself, reindeer games,” Tony quipped. “Bucky, Nat, Vision, Sam and I have already gone. Cap, Clint, and Wanda have yet to catch her under the mistletoe.”

Loki scoffed at the group of them and walked away.

***

When you walked out of your office to find mistletoe hanging from damn near every available inch of ceiling space you were ready to kill one Anthony Edward Stark. Instead, you returned inside where it was safe and called up an image of the building's blueprints.

“FRIDAY?”

“Yes, (Y/N)?”

The AI had been your constant companion since your inception in the team as she had answers to questions you needed the information for far faster than relaying it through an email could supply. As such, it wasn’t uncommon for you to spend hours locked in a room running scenarios with only the AI for company.

“I need you to pinpoint every bit of mistletoe in the building and map it for me.”

“Why?” she asked, though red dots were already beginning to show up on the grid you’d pulled up.

“Because. If Stark wants to play this game, let’s play. Let's call it Operation Mistletoe Mayhem.”

Strategic planning was your forte after all, and you were tired of having your day interrupted by whichever Avenger of the moment was out to get you. If Stark wanted a war, he was going to get one.

Transferring everything to a tablet, you popped in an earbud. “You got my back on this FRIDAY?”

“A chance to one-up the boss? You know it, girly!” she giggled in your ear.

If it was strange to consider a computer one of your best friends, you didn’t care. With the amount of time you spent together, and her bright personality, it was incredibly easy to forget she wasn’t a person.

“Awesome. Lay-in the coordinates of all the Avengers in-house.” Blue dots appeared overlapping the red. “I’m for Logistics. Let’s do this.” With the tablet tucked close to your body, you made your way from the seventh floor to the third, changing directions and taking stairwells, ducking in offices and washrooms as you went, cleverly avoiding Steve, Thor, and Clint.

Mission accomplished, you walked into Logistics feeling smug as hell, only to stop dead when you realized Loki was standing near one the computers going over magical things with one of the techs.

As if feeling your gaze upon him, he looked up, gave a small tilt of his head, and went back to his conversation.

Relief filled you, followed swiftly by disappointment. If there were anyone you would have liked to participate in Stark’s stupid game, it would have been Loki. But, clearly, he had better things to do.

Where you surprised? Not really. He was far too refined to sink so low as to play such menial games. He may be the God of Mischief, but he had standards.

With a sigh, you made your way toward Marsha, intent on finishing for the day so you could get the hell out of here without locking lips with another Avenger.

***

It was Christmas Eve, and you were giddy with how well things had gone. You'd successfully avoided Steve, Thor, and Wanda, though on the latter’s part you assumed it was more mutual avoidance.

If anyone were to know how much you despised this cat and mouse game, it would be Wanda.

The only one you hadn't avoided was Clint, and only because he'd fallen out of a vent right in front of you, sprung up, and laid a kiss right on you.

When he finished, you glared him down and asked if he was quite done. It had successfully burst Hawkeye’s bubble. He’d pouted for two solid days.

But, finally, you’d made it to Christmas Eve. Tonight was the annual holiday party, and this foolishness would end. Tomorrow you were going to spend the day holed up in your apartment across the park and ignore any and all things Avengers for three days. As long as the world didn’t try to end between Christmas and New Years, you were off the clock, and while it might be a little lonely as you had no family to share the holiday with, you could relax and stop dodging the mistletoe. By the time you returned it would be gone for another year and the sparkly New Year decorations would have replaced the Christmas ones.

Unfortunately, you still had to get through tonight, and you doubted they would let you escape unscathed. It had become an all-out war between you and the rest of them. At no point were you safe from their meddling and shenanigans.

Honestly, though it annoyed you a little, the lengths they were all going to, it was kind of... fun. While you planned ops and ran them from Command or a quinjet when necessary, it wasn’t like you were in the thick of it. This was hands-on, in the trenches, down and dirty warfare. No, you weren’t getting shot at, no one was in danger of dying - well, except Tony from having his massive ego crushed - but damn if it didn’t get your adrenaline pumping.

But the most surprising thing you’d learned in the past few days was, you had an ally in this fight.

The first time he’d assisted you, you’d thoroughly trapped yourself, accidentally getting too involved in the mock op you were watching to notice Thor’s rapidly advancing blue dot. But then, Loki had rounded the corner. First, his eyes had widened, and he’d flicked his fingers your direction, the look he sent you warned you to remain silent.

It wasn’t until Thor passed that you realized Loki had hidden you from his brother. Apparently, the God of Mischief was inclined toward your predicament. Twice more he’d assisted you randomly when you couldn’t help being in the same vicinity as one of the remaining contestants.

The thrill it gave you to have him on your side was, perhaps, too big. It wasn’t like he was helping because he liked you, only because it allowed him a hand in the fun. After all, he wasn’t trying to chase you beneath the mistletoe, but away from it.

A nearly silent sigh escaped your lips as you put the finishing touch on your makeup. As per usual, the day had run long, but you’d brought your dress and all the accompanying accoutrements with you, taking time to get ready in your office before heading up to the party. 

With a final glance at her reflection of your office’s dark windows, you smoothed down the dark green silk dress that hugged your curves. Perhaps you’d had a dark god of mischief’s eyes on your mind when you’d purchased it. Maybe that’s why you’d chosen the colour, but it was too late to do anything about it now.

You paused to take one last look at the tablet on your desk, memorizing the layout of mistletoe for the party. “Thanks for all your help, FRIDAY.”

“It was my pleasure, (Y/N). I’ve never seen the boss so… twitchy.”

You snorted out a laugh and slipped out your door to head for the stairs.

“You do not want to go that way,” a dark voice whispered near your ear causing you to freeze.

“Why?” you asked Loki. His hand settled on the small of your back, forcing you to fight off the frisson of heat that stroked your spine.

“The Captain waits in the stairwell, and my brother lurks nearly the elevator.” He guided you away from both, heading the other way to an elevator further down the floor. “This one should be safe enough.”

He pressed the button, and you turned to look at him. The three-piece suit made your knees weak. No man should look that good in a suit. Black on black, the only colour he was wearing was in the tie that changed when the light hit it, shimmering green, the same colour as your dress. It was crooked, and without stopping to think about it, you reached up and straightened it for him, smoothing it flat to his chest once you were finished.

You paused, realizing what you’d done and pulled your hands quickly away without comment.

When the doors opened, you made to step in, only to have him catch your hand and drag you back.

“If you are looking to avoid unwanted kissing, clearing that from the elevator may be prudent.” He flicked his fingers at the sprig of mistletoe and made it disappear before guiding you forward.

The doors shut and you looked down at your sparkly gold shoes. “Thank you.”

“It’s nothing. A weed to be removed.”

“No, I mean thank you for your help these past few days.”

He pulled his gaze from the numbers above the door to look at you, causing a blush to flare in your face. “If you dislike the game, why do you continue to play? Simply tell them to stop.”

You smiled. When you caught a glimpse of it in the mirrored door, it only grew for it wasn’t a nice smile. It was wicked, devilish, and a little cruel. “You know, I was all set to tell Tony to knock it off until it escalated. Then,” you shrugged, “it became a challenge. Avoid and evade the Avengers. Could I do it? I certainly was going to try. I’m a little annoyed I only have Steve and Thor left. I didn’t even know we were playing until we were halfway through the game.”

A glint of mischief filled his eyes as he bent closer. “And what, tricky human, will it take to see you succumb to a kiss beneath the mistletoe?”

The elevator doors dinged as you stepped closer and wrapped your fingers around his tie. “I think you mean who, Loki,” you whispered, mouth a hair’s breadth from his. The doors opened, flooding the lift with noise before he could say anything, and you were quick to distance yourself from the God of Mischief, shocked at your own forwardness.

You made your way quickly across the floor, wary of Avengers and their shenanigans as you headed for the bar where Tony was serving as the bartender for the moment. “Stark,” you said with a nod. He only glared, causing you to smile. Widely.

“I don’t know how you’re doing it, but you’re not getting out of it. Three more Avengers, three more reactions! I refuse to admit not one person can get a rise out of you!” He slammed a glass down in front of your seat and poured a healthy dose of red wine into it.

“Feeding me alcohol isn’t going to make me all atwitter over Steve or Thor, and despite Natasha’s enthusiastic effort, I don’t swing that way, so Wanda is also out.”

He ground his teeth together audibly. “We’ll just see about that.”

“Seriously, Tony. If not even Fury makes me flinch, why would you think-” you never got to finish the sentence as you were yanked from the stool without warning, bent back over Thor’s arm and kissed rather soundly.

When he finally let you up, you kicked him in the shin. “What the hell was that! There isn’t any mistletoe!”

He looked up even as he rubbed his shin. “Then what is that which floats above your head, fair lady?”

You looked up only to find Sam’s Redwing hovering over your head with a piece of mistletoe dangling from it. “Really?” you grumbled, glaring at Tony.

“Well you’d ducked all our other chances,” he smirked.

Praying for patience, you closed your eyes and inhaled to try and keep calm. When you opened them again, Steve was standing in front of you, a blush in his cheeks, with Wanda at his elbow looking exasperated.

“Fine. Fine. You want to play this out. Fine.” You nodded as you grumbled and grabbed Steve by his lapels. With a firm yank, you pulled him down, kissed him hard, released him, turned on Wanda and pressed your mouth to hers. When you pulled away, you turned a harsh glare on Stark. “Happy?” you snapped before taking your wine and marching away, leaving the lot of them gaping after you.

The air was bitingly cold when you stormed outside into the softly falling snow. “Stupid,” you muttered.

“I would agree.”

You glanced at Loki sauntering out of the shadows, shrugging out of his jacket which he placed around your shoulders.

“Coming outside in such weather without proper attire is guaranteed to make you sick for the festivities.” He rolled his eyes, and you chuckled.

“Not one for parties?” you asked, trying to ignore the parting words from the elevator which haunted you.

“I prefer gatherings of a more… intimate nature.”

You shivered, but it was the heat in his eyes which made you quake, not the cold. “Me too,” you whispered. “Aren’t you cold?”

“Frost giant,” he murmured as the snow swirled, seeming to catch and cling to his hair as he stepped into you. “Now that the foolishness is finished and you have proven your point, shall we continue the conversation from before?” The wind whipped but heat radiated from his body, helping keep you warm. “Who would you need to kiss to inspire a response?”

“I think you know,” you said softly, clutching his coat to you.

His hand skimmed your jaw, your cheek, your neck, coming to rest beneath your ear as his fingers curled into your hair. “Yes, I think I do.” Slowly, he lowered his head until his nose brushed yours and moist air was passing over your parted lips.

His jacket fell from your shoulders when you lifted your arms to wrap them around his neck. “Loki,” you sighed.

“Patience,” he murmured, teasing you. His mouth was so damn close.

You wanted it so much. “Loki… please.”

Your entire body reacted when his lips finally connected with yours. Soft but firm, he used his mouth as a weapon, nipping, pulling, sucking on your bottom lip until you groaned and melted into him.

A small chuckle rumbled in his throat when his arm went around your waist to support you against him as he tilted his head and deepened the kiss. His mouth tasted of peppermint schnapps, something you’d snicker about later, but for now, you dove in and enjoyed the play of his tongue over yours.

When he finally broke the kiss, you opened your eyes and sighed softly, “Wow.”

“Indeed,” he murmured but glanced toward the windows of the tower. “It seems you have quite won.”

You whipped your head around to find the entire team gaping at you and laughed loudly at all the shocked face. Turning back to Loki you giggled at the mischievous light in his eyes. “And you didn’t even need mistletoe.”

He was laughing when he leaned down and kissed you again.

-The End-

[dipulb3]

Analysis: Trump's attempts to discredit Biden could come back to haunt him in first debate

New Post has been published on https://appradab.com/analysis-trumps-attempts-to-discredit-biden-could-come-back-to-haunt-him-in-first-debate/

Analysis: Trump's attempts to discredit Biden could come back to haunt him in first debate

“He’s a dumb guy, a dumb guy, always known as a dumb guy,” Trump said during a Middletown, Pennsylvania, rally Saturday.

The President also does not seem to have changed many minds as he continues to tout his “perfect” handling of the coronavirus pandemic, which has killed more than 200,000 Americans — even though a majority of voters give him poor marks on that score. And Trump is all but certain to squander precious minutes during the debate re-litigating debunked conspiracy theories about Ukraine, Russia, Hillary Clinton, Hunter Biden and his own impeachment that resonate with few voters beyond those who already support him.

He previewed one of those theories at his White House press conference Sunday evening when he baselessly charged that Biden is on drugs, repeating claims from a tweet earlier that day.

“I’m not joking. I’m willing to take a drug test and I think he should too,” Trump said from the White House podium, as two of his debate coaches, former New Jersey Gov. Chris Christie and former New York Mayor Rudy Giuliani, looked on. “Check out the Internet. Plenty of people say it,” Trump said.

View Trump and Biden head-to-head polling

Biden has generally ignored those kinds of wild accusations, and when asked Sunday in Wilmington what he needs to accomplish in the debate, he replied: “Just tell the truth.”

Biden’s deputy campaign manager Kate Bedingfield responded to Trump’s drug test taunts late on Sunday: “Vice President Biden intends to deliver his debate answers in words. If the president thinks his best case is made in urine he can have at it. We’d expect nothing less from Donald Trump, who pissed away the chance to protect the lives of 200K Americans when he didn’t make a plan to stop COVID-19,” she said in a statement.

Passing the commander-in-chief test

With the debate looming large as one of their last chances to persuade voters, it’s an open question whether both men can keep the debate substantive Tuesday night and avoid the swift descent into the gutter politics that Trump seems to relish.

Republican and Democratic strategists pointed out in interviews this week that the debates are unique this year because Trump is such a polarizing figure and many voters will tune in with their opinions already hardened and unlikely to change.

Still, both men need to reach those pockets of voters they have battled over throughout the election: suburban moderates, soft Republicans and center-right independents, particularly those within blue-collar families in the Midwest, who gave Trump a chance in 2016 and are now skeptical that he deserves another four years.

With Biden expected to drill Trump for his cavalier and often heartless response to the pandemic, several GOP strategists said Trump’s best chance of winning back those voters is to avoid being drawn into a defensive posture on his handling of the coronavirus — and instead focus on the economy.

That is one key area where Trump has maintained voter trust, while portraying Biden as an empty vessel for socialist-leaning forces in the Democratic Party who want to raise taxes and increase regulations that the President says would cripple small businesses.

“If you are Trump, part of your mission here is making sure that any center-right voter who voted for you in 2016, and mostly votes Republican, has a reason to stay with you. The best policy ground for him to fight upon is the economy,” said Scott Jennings, former special assistant to President George W. Bush and a Appradab contributor.

Jennings added that as Biden tries to dwell on Trump’s missteps in his handling of the pandemic, the President “can’t get bogged down re-litigating the past” and must “constantly try to move the conversation to more fertile ground — and that’s the future, the recovery.”

Jennings acknowledged that while some of those center-right voters don’t approve of Trump when it comes to the coronavirus, “it is entirely possible, maybe even likely, that group would be willing to concede they trust Trump more on the economic recovery from coronavirus than they would trust Biden.”

Biden has an opportunity to persuade anxious voters that he would be the steady, competent and experienced commander-in-chief who could lead the nation out of its three-pronged crisis of the pandemic, the recession and the roiling debate over systematic racism and police brutality.

The New York Times reporting about Trump paying no federal income taxes in 10 out of 15 years, beginning in 2000, could help Biden drive home the contrast between Scranton, Pennsylvania, and Park Avenue that has become a key part of his messaging.

The former vice president’s challenge Tuesday night will be to “defend his record without being defensive” as Trump tries to “rattle his cage” with offensive taunts and personal attacks about his family, said Dan Pfeiffer, who was former President Barack Obama’s senior adviser for strategy and communications at the White House. (Trump telegraphed that part of his strategy with his references to Hunter Biden at his Sunday news conference).

“What has put Biden in this position (as the leader in the race) is that he seems like someone who could be president,” Pfeiffer said. “There’s a stature gap between Biden and Trump, and Biden has to be careful not to narrow that gap by getting pulled down in the mud with Trump.”

Another key test for Trump is whether he can resist his worst instincts in the form of gross exaggerations, factual inaccuracies and fringe conspiracy theories that have eroded voters’ confidence in his leadership.

While Trump’s speeches and interviews are often rife with inaccuracies, Frank Fahrenkopf, the co-chair of The Commission on Presidential Debates, told Appradab’s Brian Stelter Sunday that it won’t be the debate moderator’s role to fact check the candidates in real time Tuesday night.

Fox News’ Chris Wallace will moderate the first debate, which is expected to focus on six topics: “The Trump and Biden Records,” “The Supreme Court,” “Covid-19,” “The Economy,” “Race and Violence in our Cities” and “The Integrity of the Election.”

“The moderator is a facilitator,” Fahrenkopf said on Appradab’s “Reliable Sources.” “We don’t expect Chris or our other moderators to be fact-checkers. The minute the TV is off, there are going to be plenty of fact-checkers in every newspaper and every television station in the world. That’s not the role, the main role of our moderators.”

Trump has to remain on the offensive, said Brett O’Donnell, a veteran debate coach who prepared GOP presidential candidates including George W. Bush, John McCain and Mitt Romney for some of their presidential debates. “I’ve described this as the ultimate disrupter versus the consummate career politician,” O’Donnell said.

Facing Biden — whom O’Donnell describes as “the most conventional politician in a long time to be a party’s nominee” — Trump has a chance to use “Biden’s record from 47 years in politics to flesh out where he would take the country” and should also try “to push him as far left as possible,” O’Donnell said, to blunt Biden’s appeals to moderate voters.

“What makes the President difficult to debate is that he does stuff through branding. He doesn’t make these long-drawn out substantive arguments. … He just sort of brands you to make a point and then hopes it will be filled in after the fact,” O’Donnell said.

Biden’s ability to rebut those labels — whether about his mental acuity or the notion that he would lead the country toward socialism — will be one of his central challenges.

Polling gaps for both Trump and Biden

The President will also be looking for ways to address his enormous gender gap with Biden, who is leading him among female voters by some 30 points. (Biden is trailing Trump with men).

Trump may have taken a step in that direction with his Supreme Court nomination of Amy Coney Barrett, a mother of seven, to the Supreme Court in a well-choreographed ceremony Saturday night in which the federal appellate judge skillfully conveyed the attributes of her judicial philosophy while looking like a relatable figure to the key voting bloc of suburban independent and Republican-leaning women.

Trump has alienated many female voters with his style, his tweets and his callous comments about coronavirus deaths — like his recent statement at an Ohio rally that the coronavirus “affects virtually nobody” just as the US was crossing 200,000 deaths.

The ability of both Trump and Biden to try to make the debate a direct conversation with the average voter in the midst of their heated exchanges will shape the extent to which they are able to persuade. One aspect of that is showing Americans they understand the pain and anxiety the pandemic has wrought — though empathy has never been an area of strength for Trump.

“Both of these guys forget their audiences, and it will be interesting to see if they’re just debating each other all night long,” O’Donnell said. “The President has a great opportunity to speak to some of those suburban security moms through what’s happening in the cities; and he has an opportunity to speak to them through the Supreme Court pick.”

Whether he seizes that opportunity is another question. Because while message discipline and restraint may be the best tools he has to turn around his flagging campaign, Trump has often failed to use them.

[littlemusicreviews]

50 Best Albums of 2011

50. Battles – Gloss Drop [math rock / best tracks: “Ice Cream (feat. Matias Aguayo)”, “Wall Street”, “Rolls Bayce”]

49. St. Vincent – Strange Mercy [art pop / best tracks: “Strange Mercy”, “Year Of The Tiger”, “Cruel”]

48. Katy B – On A Mission [dubstep / best tracks: “Easy Please Me”, “Katy On A Mission”, “Why You Always Here”]

47. Radical Face – Family Tree: The Roots [indie folk / best tracks: “Always Gold”, “A Pound Of Flesh”, “Black Eyes”]

46. Natalia Kills – Perfectionist [electropop / best tracks: “Free”, “Heaven”, “Mirrors”]

45. Destroyer – Kaputt [chamber pop / best tracks: “Chinatown”, “Savage Night At The Opera”, “Poor In Love”]

44. Rustie – Glass Swords [wonky / best tracks: “Ultra Thizz”, “City Star”, “Death Mountain”]

43. Julia Holter – Tragedy [art pop / best tracks: “Goddess Eyes”, “Tragedy Finale”, “Try To Make Yourself A Work Of Art”]

42. Royal Headache – Royal Headache [garage rock / best tracks: “Really In Love”, “Honey Joy”, “Wilson Street”]

41. blink-182 – Neighborhoods [pop punk / best tracks: “Up All Night”, “Wishing Well”, “Snake Charmer”]

40. Go Radio – Lucky Street [pop punk / best tracks: “Lucky Street”, “Why I’m Home”, “Forever My Father”]

39. Sleeping With Sirens – Let’s Cheers To This [post-hardcore / best tracks: “If You Can’t Hang”, “Do It Now Remember It Later”, “Who Are You Now”]

38. Yellowcard – When You’re Through Thinking, Say Yes [pop punk / best tracks: “For You, And Your Denial”, “Hang You Up”, “Be The Young”]

37. Danny Brown – XXX [hip-hop / best tracks: “Lie4”, “I Will”, “Blunt After Blunt”]

36. Friendly Fires – Pala [indietronica / best tracks: “Hurting”, “Blue Cassette”, “Hawaiian Air”]

35. Foster The People – Torches [indie pop / best tracks: “Pumped Up Kicks”, “Houdini”, “I Would Do Anything For You”]

34. Lady Gaga – Born This Way [pop / best tracks: “Judas”, “Born This Way”, “Marry The Night”]

33. Set Your Goals – Burning At Both Ends [pop punk / best tracks: “Certain”, “The Last American Virgin”, “Product Of The 80’s”]

32. Macintosh Plus – Floral Shoppe [vaporwave / best tracks: “リサフランク420 / 現代のコンピュー”, “ECCOと悪寒ダイビング”, “Untitled”]

31. Jenny Hval – Viscera [art pop / best tracks: “Blood Flight”, “Milk Of Marrow”, “Black Morning / Viscera”]

30. Breathe Carolina – Hell Is What You Make It [electropop / best tracks: “Blackout”, “Sweat It Out”, “Waiting”]

29. tUnE-yArDs – w h o k i l l [freak folk / best tracks: “Gangsta”, “My Country”, “Bizness”]

28. Rihanna – Talk That Talk [pop / best tracks: “We Found Love (feat. Calvin Harris)”, “Where Have You Been”, “You Da One”]

27. Sparks The Rescue – Worst Thing I’ve Been Cursed With [pop punk / best tracks: “60 Minutes Of Fame”, “Saturday Skin”, “She’s A Bitch, And I’m A Fool”]

26. Lydia – Paint It Golden [indie rock / best tracks: “Get It Right”, “Hailey”, “Eat Your Heart Out”]

25. Lykke Li – Wounded Rhymes [indie pop / best tracks: “Sadness Is A Blessing”, “Love Out Of Lust”, “I Follow Rivers”]

24. Panic! At The Disco – Vices And Virtues [pop rock / best tracks: “The Ballad Of Mona Lisa”, “Ready To Go (Get Me Out Of My Mind)”, “Let’s Kill Tonight”]

23. Björk – Biophilia [experimental pop / best tracks: “Sacrifice”, “Virus”, “Mutual Core”]

22. Cults – Cults [indie pop / best tracks: “Oh My God”, “Go Outside”, “Abducted”]

21. M83 – Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming [dream pop / best tracks: “Midnight City”, “Wait”, “Reunion”]

20. Adele – 21 [pop / best tracks: “Someone Like You”, “Rolling In The Deep”, “One And Only”]

19. Real Estate – Days [jangle pop / best tracks: “Easy”, “Municipality”, “Kinder Blumen”]

18. Washed Out – Within And Without [chillwave / best tracks: “Amor Fati”, “Before”, “A Dedication”]

17. Florence + The Machine – Ceremonials [chamber pop / best tracks: “Never Let Me Go”, “Shake It Out”, “Lover To Lover”]

16. Frank Ocean – Nostalgia, Ultra [R&B / best tracks: “Songs For Women”, “Novacane”, “Swim Good”]

15. The Cinema – My Blood Is Full Of Airplanes [indietronica / best tracks: “Satellites”, “The Wolf”, “Kinetic”]

14. Tim Hecker – Ravedeath, 1972 [ambient / best tracks: “In The Air I”, “In The Air II”, “In The Air III”]

13. Fleet Foxes – Helplessness Blues [indie folk / best tracks: “Blue Spotted Tail”, “The Shrine / An Argument”, “Lorelai”]

12. Bon Iver – Bon Iver, Bon Iver [indie folk / best tracks: “Holocene”, “Towers”, “Michicant”]

11. Beyoncé – 4 [R&B / best tracks: “Countdown”, “Love On Top”, “End Of Time”]

10. Oneohtrix Point Never – Replica [ambient / best tracks: “Power Of Persuasion”, “Sleep Dealer”, “Explain”]

9. Britney Spears – Femme Fatale [electropop / best tracks: “I Wanna Go”, “Till The World Ends”, “How I Roll”]

8. Starfucker – Reptilians [electronic / best tracks: “The White Of Noon”, “Recess Time”, “Hungry Ghost”]

7. SBTRKT – SBTRKT [future garage / best tracks: “Wildfire (feat. Little Dragon)”, “Right Thing To Do (feat. Jessie Ware)”, “Go Bang”]

6. Ball Park Music – Happiness And Surrounding Suburbs [indie rock / best tracks: “It’s Nice To Be Alive”, “All I Want Is You”, “Alligator”]

5. Bombay Bicycle Club – A Different Kind Of Fix [indie rock / best tracks: “Shuffle”, “Lights Out, Words Gone”, “Leave It”]

4. Mayday Parade – Mayday Parade [pop punk / best tracks: “Stay”, “When You See My Friends”, “Without The Bitter The Sweet Isn’t As Sweet”]

3. LIGHTS – Siberia [electropop / best tracks: “Banner”, “Day One”, “Toes”]

2. Vanessa Carlton – Rabbits On The Run [piano pop / best tracks: “London”, “Carousel”, “The Marching Line”]

1. The Wonder Years – Suburbia I’ve Given You All And Now I’m Nothing [pop punk / best tracks: “And Now I’m Nothing”, “Local Man Ruins Everything”, “Came Out Swinging”]

[bells-of-black-sunday]

"Ugh..." Haru groaned while wiping under his eye, his hair slightly messy from being gripped so tightly, his cheeks red, "I said come at me, not come on me, bro..."

Frank's fingers knotted themselves tighter in Haru's hair pulling him back closer to his leaking cock watching the way he huffed with annoyance, "You should've made that more clear princess." His voice purred, not something unusual from their usual teasing and mocking of each other, but somehow filled with more affection despite his tone, "You only look satisfied with cock in your mouth anyway."

The killer's grip loosened dragging him back to push against his lips again stroking himself against his tongue. Fuck he looked pretty no matter what he did, huh? Even on his knees behind an old reception desk. The way he seemed so fine with is place too despite how annoyed he pretended to be was so hot... if he even was pretending. He wanted to capture this image forever. Nothing else mattered, but those navy eyes and messy face huffing back at him.

"You want to bend over the desk sweetheart or are you content with having your face fucked?"

[alloftheyesses]

A Look at WTF Happened With Destiny 2

One Player said, “It feels like they went backwards. D1 was a good game with plenty of content by the end of its run. Instead of building off that, they end up taking away most of the features players waited 3 years for. By the time they end up getting it together, and give the community what they want, that “casual player base” will be long gone.”

Another said, “…If they lose the long term fans they built, they better figure out how to keep the casual players playing, or the community will fall off a cliff.”

There’s also contradictory opinions.

One Gamer said, “The game gives out exotics and high level rewards too quickly compared to the first.”

Then followed up with, …no, there isn’t enough high level rewards.

Another said, We “We’re simply not getting enough,” then followed up that statement with, “…they released new content too soon. PC players were only able to play the base game for a month or so before they have to fork over another $20 on top of the $60 they already paid to continue playing the base game and the new content without parts of the game being locked out.”

Now, I’m not going to review what’s been happening or what Bungie is doing with Destiny 2. There’s plenty of articles and videos detailing the present situation. What I want to do, and find out is wtf do I, and many others do about all this. Do I quit, Do I stay? Are the reasons justified?

“Three years. We where here for three years! This is the real complaint. This is why it hurts. This is why Destiny 2 is failing.”

Article by: Frank Marks,              December 10, 2017.

Bungie decided they were going to launch a new version of Destiny, but this time, they would change not only the entire game, but the entire demographic. Rendering the previous years pointless and bringing the new era down to having no special or extras features. Destiny 2 became ordinary and standard.

Bungie pulled a 180º and it left it’s committed audience baffled, stunned and confused. Why would they do this to us? Three years. We where here for three years! This is the real complaint. This is why it hurts. This is why Destiny 2 is failing.

After building and going through the growing pains, Bungie decided that they were going to launch a sequel to Destiny 1. After learning what everyone could want out of the game. Can you believe it? They worked hard, having conversations with fans and staff for three years, perfecting and fine tuning the game they started with. They took three years, and then threw it right back in our faces.

One of the biggest complaints fans have is, Why even make a Destiny 2?

Bungie took everything away. Then, justified it by telling its existing audience of fans that it would be because the game was going to be something new, it would be bigger and better and a game full of stories and adventures. New content and new weapons!

WOW! The majority thought! More than D1? There’s going to be all new stuff? It all sounded too good to be true. Bungie had promoted itself as taking everything away so that it could die in the past. They made it seem that all of the old stuff wouldn’t matter anymore, there would be new content and better things to do in D2 that would make us say, “Wow! Who cares about D1 now!??”

Alas, this is not what they did. They stayed true to their technical promises. They had removed everything great that fans had worshiped the game for. Bungie stripped the D1 game to it’s skivvies and left players feeling cheated. Now that may read as an over-dramatic statement. So I’’m going to list everything Bungie took away from D1 to make this “brand new experience”

The Crucible. 1. The ability to select which game mode you wanted to play, forcing players into a playlist. 2. The ability to have private matches. 3. The Ability to have up to six people on a fire team. 4. Ranked matches. There is only one way to follow your stats after competing in a non competitive match of Destiny 2 Crucible, Their website.

Strikes. 1. The ability to select which game mode you wanted to play, forcing players into a playlist. 2. Removing strikes from planets, forcing players to use the strikes playlist, rather than allowing players to choose what they wanted to do.

Bungie.Net 1. The ability to access, view and make changes to your vault. Forcing players to use the Destiny companion app on their phones, that doesn’t support Destiny 1. 2. The ability to access and review a library of Grimoire Cards. Forcing the player to venture through loading screens and menus to read or reread all of Destiny lore and history in game.

Then there’s the things that they changed for the sake of changing them. Quests or missions are now called “Milestones.” They didn’t change how these worked they just renamed them. Patrols are confined to a planet. Allowing the player to choose when and where, if they wanted to do a patrol.

Removing unique Faction Leader rewards. Where Faction leaders used to reward players with unique drops, Faction leaders now all pull from the same rewards list and drop them back at you with a random number that reflects the average number of your equipped gear. (Yeah, that’s not simplifying it guys!)

ZUR The mystery man selling raid ready gear and exotics that you could only get from doing unique specific content in D1, now sells the exotics that you can earn at any point in game before he even sells them.

SHADERS Free random drop shaders that a player could earn while playing specific content was removed in lieu of a new system where a player could earn a one time use cosmetic shader that could be applied to any peace of gear or weapon. The down side to this is that special unique legendary and exotic shaders are being sold through an optional. pay for random system with a face named, “Tess Everis.” Players can earn Silver Dust or pay with real money for a random drop of a shader that can only be used one at a time.

Vault to Weapon ratio. The vault only holds 200 weapons, gear, and inventory. We came from a vault that offered over 100 slots for each, including pages worth of space for weapons.

My god! This list could probably, go on and on….

It’s embarrassing, to invest into a game for years, to work month after month giving feedback and finally seeing it realized in year three of Destiny 1; only to see the majority of it taken away from you. What makes it even worse, what really rubs salt in the wound, Is the blatant lack of respect for the gamers that invested their money and time into the universe.  

I stated earlier that Bungie changed the focus of who their demographic would be for Destiny 2. (I’ll come back to this again later.) They wanted to make the game more accessible and enjoyable for the casual gamer. But, Why? They had already built and worked for a community for three years. Three years! it’s not like the community was going to abandon the series. Players had developed careers out of following the game’s story, plot, progression. All of the lore of the game was reduced to zero for a fresh start and a new experienced that had one focus…. MAKING MONEY FROM GAMERS.

It’s becoming more and more clear that Bungie is in the business of scamming people of their money. In a time when gamers are complaining about EA doing the same to their fan base with Battlefront II before the game was even released, Bungie decides it’s in their best interest to do the same to their audience that already existed!

Bungie is doing one thing and one thing only to Destiny 2. They are trying very hard, working almost endlessly at making a game that is automated and standard. Destiny 2 has become ordinary. It is a grind fest without an entertaining incentive with loot that was once the main incentive of the game, is now a gambler’s chance. It has become repetitive and stale. Shoot and kill on Planet A, earn a token so that you may pay to get something random. Then go to Planet B, earn a token so that you may pay to get something random. OR just pay for it in the main hub. Etc, etc Repeat, repeat.

Bungie has attempted to add a story that builds and expands from Destiny 1, without giving players any real reason to be invested in these new stories. With the stories and the game play, there is no real threat. There’s never urgency, or a compelling enough moment to keep players invested or wanting to come back to replay.

Another player told me he was having a hard time finding anything he wanted to replay or re-experience in Destiny 2. That’s when I found myself asking, “Is there anything I would want to replay in D2? Is there anything at all that I would want to re-experience?

The answer, was no. Bungie forces players to repeat missions or leaves the options to re-play quests and adventures. The thing is, Why would we want to? Why? There’s no incentive at all for doing it again.  They’ve created a universe where the story is a one time opportunity to experience a cinematic video that adds absolutely nothing to the world. At the same time, it doesn’t take away anything either.

Bungie has even ignored lore that they created. Players have pointed out the plot holes and inconstancies of the overall story arch. Yet, Bungie acts like it was intentional and that there’s a bigger story that ties it all together. However, they can’t get the content out in time for launch day because it isn’t ready. Plus, they plan on charging us for that content in DLC and Expansion packs.

We, the consumer of your product, understand that you have to make money as a business, but nickel and dime-ing, milking the wallets of players who have invested time in your product, stringing us along in circles is a slap in the face to every single fan.

The audience is changing in Destiny, and it’s not for the better. People are starting to catch on, they are noticing how they are being treated, and they’re rebelling, The once, tight nit community is beginning to raise their voices with their, wallets, time, and voices.

Big name, elite players of the game, are quitting at a rate that the comunity hasn’t ever seen before. These are players and channels that built their name and following on Destiny, and they are leaving the game because of the state it’s in. That’s not something people are doing because they think it will make them more money. That’s not something people are doing because they believe in the developer to make things right. To respect and value their audience. It’s something people do when they can not find a solution to a problem they can no longer contribute a positive attitude for.

Bungie might be shocked that their dedicated fans are jumping ship. But they couldn’t be further removed from the conversation that matters.

Destiny gamers gave Bungie three years to get it right. Bungie is acting like they’ve only been working on D2 for eight months.

Dedicated fans of anything aren’t stupid, and they won’t willingly be taken advantage of.  Some might quit sooner than others.  

See, Bungie is like that girlfriend you’ve had for three years saying, “We’re going on a break next week, Then starting over in two weeks.”  Then, just as before, she comes back after two weeks and is acting like you guys just met; and although she’s acting the same as before, she insists that she has changed and is changing. See, Now, she has a new wardrobe; but if you want to see the full collection —you’re going to have to pay for it with your time or with your money. See the difference? You can still do the same things as before, you can still have fun together, you can still get into the crucible. It’s just now, It’s all  on her terms with your money and your time.

I won’t subscribe to that and don’t expect you to do that either. I wouldn’t expect any self respecting person to commit to behavior like that.  Not one.

There are some positives that have come from D2, but they are very few, and none of them are an improvement on the previous three years of Destiny; rendering the confusion, baffled, and stunned looks on everyones faces when Bungie says, “Give us more money! For the sequel that never had to be made in the first place.”

See, that’s the thing about sequels. They’re supposed to be an improvement over the previous iteration. This is true for everything in life. TV shows, Movies, Video Games, Birthdays. Although we age, although somethings evolve. We become better with time. When we don’t, when we fail to, that’s when we feel disappointed.

But the reality is, for now, I’m still very torn on what to do. I like many, Pre-Ordered Destiny 2 for $100. Money I earned and invested believing I was going to get something, overall —better.

I feel forced into a contract that I don’t want anymore. I must play the game to get most of my monies worth. To be frank, I still have an ounce of hope left. A hope that Bungie will come to their senses. A Hope that they will give me back D1 options in D2. A hope that they will expand on D1 and continue to make it better. A hope that they will work hard at making a game worth my time.

The improvements I feel the Destiny’s audience wants, aren’t improvements at all. We just want what we loved back. Then they can add and tweak the mechanics to make an even better game.

Sadly, with the companies current focus of money being their first priority —I fear that this will either be years away, all over again! I fear that they will want to charge us for anything they do.

I keep thinking of a this analogy, “I pay a licensed and highly recommended flooring company to install new floors in my first home, so when it came time to buy my vacation house, I knew exactly who I would use. He had worked with me every step of the way in my first home and I knew the quality of his work was unmatched by anyone for miles.  Plus he knew now what to expect from me.

Well, day one of the vacation home and the guy tells me I need to remove the base slab before I install new floor. He tells me, it’s so the new floor will lay better than before. I say better than before? Wow! Okay, lets get started! He completely removes the old slab and lays the new one down; and it’s the same as before, except it’s blue now. In fact, it has some cracks.

I ask him, what’s wrong with the slab and why does it have cracks? He tells me not to worry about it, and that he will tend to it before he lays down the new flooring. So weeks go by and he’s about to pick up the new flooring to lay it down, when he calls me and says, “I’m here picking up the floor you asked for, but there’s another floor here that I think will work for you, it’s even better!

I’m blown away! I didn’t think there could be anything better than what I wanted!

So he starts installing the new floors when I arrive at my house only to see the exact same floor I chose but it’s green! GREEN! Can you imagine how upset I am? He’s installed a third of the floor already and I notice the cracks in the blue slab have not been fixed!

What is this? I yell. “I asked for these cracks to be fixed, and what made you think I wanted a green floor?

He calmly apologizes and says he’ll be back next week with a fix.

Next week comes and he shows up with a wood accent. It looks great, but it’s not what I wanted! He then Reminds me that I already payed a deposit and If I want him to finish it, the choices are going to have to stay. He also adds that unfortunately he can’t fix the cracks in the new slab but that the floors he’s installing won’t make it noticeable. He also tells me that the wood accent is going to cost me extra! He already laid down a little bit of it and he won’t charge me for that, but to finish the floor with the wood accent he’s going to have to charge me for it!

The furry in my vanes is approaching a boiling point. I can’t believe this guy!

I can’t back out now. I’ve already invested in the services and although It’s not what I wanted, It does look really great. I told him to give me another week. He’s coming back next week to finish what he started and has also offered to do the baseboards (at no extra cost) to complete the space he was working in.

I’m not sure what to do…..”

See that’s exactly where I am with Bungie.

They’ve strung me along with their mistakes and I’m paying for it. Do I continue with their service, get my moneys worth and then split. Riding on the chance that I may like what they do in the end. OR do I cut all ties with them immediately, find someone else and get exactly what I’m looking for.

[iainwrites]

Love At First Sight

A “Dresden: Year Zero” story.  The hardest part?  Realising I couldn’t work Elwood Blues into it and make The Blues Brothers canon crossover (he’s on a Mission from Gahwd.  Just, you know, a different one than the Knights).  Anyways.  

               “For the last time, Nick, you don’t need to do this.  Hell, you can’t do this.”

               “As my last order as your boss, Harry: shut up. You’ve done good work and you’re finally getting your licence.  Even after that… thing with the interview.”

               We’ve been bickering like that the whole drive from Ragged Angel Investigations, me trying to convince Nick that he didn’t have the means to buy a car and him being pigheaded and ignoring everything I said. He keeps insisting that since I have my own private investigator license and will be doing work on my own, I need to have my own car and this would be his graduation present.  He means well and this is completely altruistic and yadda yadda yadda.  He’s never been in this for the money, he says, so why not throw it around for the people who he can actually stand.

               The points he makes are actually pretty good, though.  Like how I’m a little hard on his car.  On everyone’s cars, really, so having to take care of my own may help with my occasional bouts of driver’s rage.  And how I can’t really expect to bum a drive off everyone I know, especially when that number is depressingly low.  And that I’ve never really gotten an anything present from anyone for my entire adult life (which he knows, thanks to a night of drinking that has rendered our memories very spotty), so I’m probably due for something relatively nice.  

At some point, I stop complaining.  Nick, never one for long drawn out silences, tries fiddling with the radio, knowing that as long as I had to ride shotgun, he’ll never get anything more than the repetitive squeal of static.  Not that that is any different than what you hear on the radio most days.  He gives up, just like he always does, and grumbles how he can’t wait to hear something other than all the things falling off his jalopy.  I just take it all in sage like silence.

“So you staying in Chicago, Harry?” Nick grunts into the quiet of the car. Like I said, not one for silence.

I shrug.  “Not sure, but it’s not like anything is holding me down here.  Rent on the apartment can be dropped whenever, as long as I’m good for the back rent with Mrs. Spunkelcrief.  No family, barely any friends, and there’s always some other city or town that needs helping.  The only person who’d really care is my probation officer, and to be quite frank, screw ‘em.”  

“Careful with that, Harry.  You don’t want to go pissing off the people who could lock you away.”

“Yeah, yeah.  Well, if you knew him, you’d say the same thing.”

“Doesn’t matter.  People like us, working for the law, we’re all in the same boat,” he tells me.  “You think I got up in Davis’s case when he came down to the office about that Astor girl?  He was doing his job; he wasn’t there to screw me over, or because he had it in for me.  Your parole guy may be a hardass, but he’s just doing what his bosses tell him to do.”

Yeah.  It’s not Morgan’s fault that the Council has a standing “Kill Dresden to death if he acts funny” order on my person.  He would be so much nicer if I was just one of the guy’s.  Right.  And Bob’s a suave British gentleman who is completely chivalrous around women.  I keep this biting appraisal of the world in my head, regardless.  I respect Nick and can see where he’s coming from, but as far as he knows, I’m just a regular guy on probation.  He’s got an inkling that there’s more than meets the eye, thanks to the whole troll incident, but I can’t out and tell him about the magical side of the world without incurring the Council’s wrath.  

So I just grit my teeth and mutter, “I guess.  Maybe he’s actually nice and fluffy on the inside.  Like a wolf.”  It seems to make Nick think that I’m still capable of learning something, because he grins, and starts humming something off key to fill the void.

After another couple of minutes, Nick pulls into the lot of his mechanic. From all accounts, Mike is like the Horse Whisperer, a bokor and Frankenstein (not the Monster, the Doctor) all rolled into one tiny, greasy man.  We shake hands and I get a jolt of magic off of him, which sends my brain into hypothetical overdrive.  Magic users like me are hard on any forms of modern technology, but the Council has been getting reports of what they can only call technomancers.  If you were to hear them, these people are barely talented enough to turn water into soup, but they have a certain affinity for machines. Well, Mike, you’re secret’s safe with me.

“Nick did me a solid during the divorce, so you’re getting it good today, Stretch,” he tells me, after I’m pointed towards something that doesn’t look like a midlife crisis.  “Wander the lot for as long as you need and come back whenever you find something. We’ll haggle it down to something worthwhile and Nick can finally stop asking about cutting holes in the floor for space.”  He gets a bottle cap to the back of the head for that, but doesn’t seem to mind.  

He and Nick make their way back to the garage to chat and get their hands dirty on some other rig on the lift, while I move my legs towards whatever’s oldest. Heh.  Sounds like my old dancing job.

I walk aimlessly for a while, taking what he has on the lot.  A couple of old Camry’s, a few relatively new BMW’s, an Omni that’s seen better days, if not years.  Nothing really jumping out at me, but I guess even without thinking about it, I’ve been thinking about what kind of car I needed.  Like I said, wizards are hard on modern technology, and if I wanted to drive something reliably, it needed to be older than the Merlin.  

The deeper into the lot I go, the further in the past I find myself.  I start to pass by cars that were made around the same time I was (always a fun thing to think about), and then start to see things my Dad would have driven when he was my age.  They’re all beat to Hell or look like they’re on their last legs, but I start to feel comfortable.  The older the technology, the more wizard friendly it usually is.  The fewer electronic parts that could blow out, the longer it’ll run with one of us behind the wheel.  That’s why Ebenezer still drives that ’37 pickup; not because it’s the best thing on the road, but because it’ll stay on the road.  Actually using something like that as a private investigator in Chicago seems a little… okay, a LOT stupid, but that’s what I’m aiming for, but the ideas there.

After a while, I start to tune things out, letting my feet carry me around the lot while my brain takes in at its own speed.  Funny thing is, the less attention I pay, the more I start to move around the same group of cars.  I’ve been involved with magic long enough to know that repeated, unconscious acts are typically things you should pay attention to, and my soon to be new investigative license will tell me to always trust a hunch.  So I bring myself out of my daze and start to look.  Not Look, mind you, because you never know what you may happen to see, but to see what I’ve been circling around.

If I had to date them (and I’m definitely not a car guy in any sense of the word), I’d put this particular block of cars around the 1950’s.  Most of them look thoroughly ragged and rusted, but that could be put down to how long they’ve been sitting in the lot and that they’re almost half a century old.  The main suspects are a couple of jeeps that wouldn’t look out of place on the set of M*A*S*H, but buried somewhere close the middle are a small knot of bubble tops that catch my eye.

Volkswagen bugs, all of the same age, all in different stages of disrepair. Some have doors, but the roofs have been torn off; some have roofs, but the bodies look like they were used in a giant’s soccer game.  Each one features a different faded color; each one shares the same color of rust liberally scattered around the frame.  Some are bare on the inside; some have seats that look like they’ve been home to animals since before I was born.

But something in my brain looks past all of that.  Like its putting together a puzzle, it takes all of the Beetles apart and puts them back together again, making something patchwork, but whole.  I couldn’t explain to you why or how I started doing this; it just happened.  A gangly guy like me folding myself into a clown car like that.  A car that, despite being the right age to be minimally affected by wizardly whims, would probably still need to be in the shop one every few months.  No matter the logic I put into it, though, or the thought of other cars on the lot that I passed by, my mind keeps coming back to that group of Beetles.

“What’d you find out here, Stretch?” Mike asks, trundling along through the wreckage, almost as if he owned the place.

I shrug and nod towards the Beetles.  “Just these old wrecks.  Funny thing is, I keep coming back to them, no matter how unsexy they are.”

Mike grins and sucks on his teeth.  “Sounds like me and the old lady.”  He says that, but rubs the band on his ring finger with practised habit. “Yeah, these Beetles have been out here for a while, but they just won’t die.  Sometimes, for a kick, I see what cars still have juice in them, and those things turn over every single time.”

“Reliable, then?”

“Reliable, stubborn.  A little of A, a little of B.  You take care of it and nothing short of an explosion will keep one off the road. And even then, you could probably Frankenstein something out of it.”

I stare at the knot of metal in the lot for a long moment, then say (surprising even myself), “Yeah.

“Yeah, Stretch?” Mike asks.  He knows what I’m thinking, but gives me a chance to revaluate things before making the final call.

“Yeah, Mike.  Find the best one out of the pile, Frankenstein it and I’ll pay you.  Or Nick will.  Someone will pay you for pulling that kind of miracle off.”

Mike grins, sucks on his teeth again, then stares into the pile himself. I catch him out of the corner of my eye, his gaze getting unfocused and his hands tapping on thin air, almost like he’s playing an invisible piano.  When he snaps out of it, I get a quick jolt, like a static shock, only this one goes a little deeper than skin.  Whether he realizes it or not, Mike has some talent and seems to be able to use it.  A technomancer wizard, in a day and age where we’re supposedly the bane of computer chips and radio signals.  Evolution works in mysterious ways.

“Alright then.  You’ll have to ride with Nick for a while longer while I get that beauty up and running again, you understand?” he asks me.

I shrug my shoulders.  “Rome wasn’t built in a day, and the Big Guy took seven.  Take all the time you need.  I won’t be going anywhere.”

And really, I won’t.  Like I said, as I was wandering around the lot, I let my brain move at its own pace. In between car hunting, I started to realize that I’m not going to be leaving Chicago.  Not right away, at least.  The incident with the troll made me realize that the dark side of the magical community has a foot hold in this city.  Its probably no different in any other major city, but the difference is: I know about it.  I can’t just up and leave when I know there’s work to be done.  It won’t be pretty, it won’t be easy and I’ll probably get my knuckles rapped (or have my head in a noose) because of it, but its something that I can do to help people.  

So look out, beasties of Chicago; Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden is here. When you hear the roar (okay, weak chugging) of my car, crawl back to your holes.  When my extra long shadow crosses your path, shake in your boots. And if you make me draw wood (shut up, you know what I mean), you’d better make peace with whatever higher power cares about you.  

If there’s something strange in your neighborhood, who’re you gonna call? Wait.  Crap.  Those guys in New York have that covered.  And I don’t even have an office yet, let alone a phone.  Or a paycheck to get one of those.  Ah well.  It’ll work out.

Probably.

Maybe.

It could happen. 

[asplashofblarn]

Preface

I was born in 1997 and my given name is Justin Taylor English, one and all will address me by what is mine. With you all and here soon enough to be a lucky student of the internet as the 2000's age rounded the corner, but shot far too soon to be given equal rights and liberty; as promised to a child growing up in this modern country that is grounded in the North American continent and known as the United States of America. A country where we are protected under one flag that is held by our one true God; the same phrase we use to those who we so diligently give our money to. Since Gods, Kings and the reinforced Queens all fall under me, one may assume that it would only be right for one such as he who bares the name that I have since been given and laid claim unto as mine, brings forth the initiation to claim the land in which he is promised. Just before the rug is pulled and we all fall under the cataclysm that is pulling energy from the children of the world to feed the egos of those who wish to live but not to partake in the world that they have chosen to siphon life from. How was I to know as a child looking forward to what my planet was offering that I was entering a gated education system that will only give to those who are willing to pay and hand over their future earnings to promote the same system? This system, which is used to build people in order to survive during life, is also one that is built to collect just enough information on them to relax tendency and help set the table to lay the other lambs on the table alongside some cabbage. Without pressing the point of consciousness or the reason as to why I have to be monitored in order to display something that would be far too easy to understand if only one gave up the appeal of living forever and came to address the point that the gifts we have been given are ours to take and not receive. What a person does with their things is of a personal matter you would say if another would try to touch the things that you play with, because you are in the right. That works until you’re wrong and what’s yours now falls under the control of another who will instruct you on what is right and wrong. My time spent here isn’t to introduce me, Justin Taylor English, to life or for you to learn about myself in terms of who I am, who I want to be or how I see myself when I awake, because we all awaken to our true face, until we peer into a mirror and see a reflection that may require surgery or even worse bring ridicule and give to a displeasing experience of life unto us; you wouldn’t care. It’s so you can come to terms with the information that yours will soon be ending and as you look around, these are the people who helped shape it. Honor them. The children of the future relayed unto me; Improve my quality of life, fore I am born with the concept.

“And the peaches and the mangos you could sell for me.”  - Frank Ocean

When the flame dawned upon man I’m certain there was a brightly set confusion all around the table that still has the spark to reach to us today. With that spark brings a perpetual assimilation of what I predict is the conversation they had with each other in the language they spoke at the time, probably relayed something like “What the hell is going on?” Bursts of confusion are exciting and scary and amazing, they are what lead to many new ideas and have brought forth the room you are sitting in today; a bunch of confused, amazing collection of cells learning to live, create, love and eventually die together. A beautiful display, that we have silently reveled in for a very long time and all of our children know, or should know; that feeling of the flame that each person and animal carries inside of them. Yet the mystery of the moment is as to why we can’t feel the heat of our consciousness; even as the two lay pressed together the only sustained flow is one of another and never true adaptation of the reflected soul. This can lead to many things, the most important of which is called power. Power to change the way people see and behave just by appealing or pushing them away from things with what may be ill intentions or one’s that only the shepherd can decide for the herd; at least the wolves are at bay for now. A flock of birds rests upon the beach and the waves dare not disturb their beautiful rest for they are not moved. Watching such sights can bring emotional value to some of us and other may never see it, that doesn’t matter; the point is that it happens. With such sights a plenty we can only wonder as to why the stars that light our sky, or the sun whom gives us heat just aren’t enough for some and these people desire more. There is a need of all living things to stay alive, it is a prime directive and one that is not lost no matter how complex a system may grow to the point of the fact that nothing really ever dies, it’s actually killed; every time. Now that we have escaped our revolution around the cycle that requires us to consume, grow, and pass. We can finally begin to form a place that has been dreamed of since the first collection of texts was read. Yet the desire to do so is met the with the present reality that the heat and water that supplies your castle and that land at the park your kids play on is paid for by the gods who sit at home after a long day’s work and watch the television, rather than giving those kids running amuck an actual chance to a future that doesn’t involve store bought beer.

Me, myself, I’m still a child as I’ve been called to those who chose to look down on me past the fear of their guarded territory, just as their parents and their government has done to them. It hurts to see these kids, your children who would call for you when they were young, laughed at by society and by the ones who brought them into this place we call life or better yet to the dirt of our Earth that we share together. Nobody wants to lose, but one day that light will go out and we need to do something about it, so why are you a concern still? Where do unions stand in a capitalist society? From the way that I hear it, here in the year 2020, they make others such as African Americans and homosexuals sound more like a business then anything that has to put up with the stones they are thrown forever. Many people will live a life, but to all those who stand in line I would like it to be known that no tears should fall from your eyes; as for the reason? You didn’t try. Giving up is not a solution or excuse, it’s just something I hope more people do, that way progress can be made rather than an attempt to halt someone from doing their jobs. Is it the police or the government you are angry about or your own parents in an anger that will be pushed further down to create a solid ground for those who wish to walk this land. Since I’m sure you have no concern over what those children think about when out running amuck without guidance or purpose allow me to explain it to you. It’s a collection of the same ideas that pass through your mind every time you begin to think. Some people in our world will grow up and become strong and productive members of society, some of us aren’t allowed to because others still need to bleed in order to reinforce the bank account of a man who your only mission is to please, that way you can be reminded every time you hear a tune on the radio or watch a movie that this is your life. The one we made together, discomfort is normal as that hand is pressed upon yours, but you’ll leave soon so I wouldn’t be concerned if I was you. Understand that the people of our world would like to hear from me, but refuse, I, Justin Taylor English, a proper education that is needed to form new ideas rather than paddle like a dog that still enjoys the swamp water because the rich blue has been denied from you. Please don’t feel sorry for anyone but yourself as I have too taken those tax dollars from you to promote a healthy realization of the education that has given you the power to rest instead of being a parent or a guiding member of the community, which we share. Forgive me so that once more us both can feel the comforting solace that comes with night, until the sun rises.

Anger can be bought, yet jealousy is earned. Would you like to be dazzled by the display of our universe or the hands of the creators that have helped to shape the society in which we live in? So would I. And the reason as to why that opportunity to open my mind, an ability that we haven’t learned to do ourselves and is still the lords blessing of virginity hasn’t been reached by men because we refuse to work hard and instead like to contest every change that happens to bring the reality that we can stay put and live in fear. As the cancer eats away at our bodies we can only explain to those children, who will soon be killed, that God has a different plan for them; only for the reality that it is your genetics that committed the murder with a smile upon your face as you allowed a train to depart with no tracks laid just a mile forward. The desire for those who are alive now to take life away from others bewilders me; the dead are food not predators. You on the other hand are an alien and can fire when ready. May the saints of the falling stripes bless the bed that you lay upon so that you can continue to monitor your mundane life as it appears you have no plans of stepping outside of your comfort zone and choose to instead bring others down into a somber place where you can lay them to rest. There are evils in this world and things that need to change, suicide, a route in which I wish more people who fit this description hope to take and maybe next time we will be ready for them as long as you leave a sticker by the door telling us what your life was and we should be ready for you. The willing force of people to fain sorrow or understanding, but with the statement of life at their teeth is not a pleasing one to see in people that grown old with it intertwined. A creature who has been blinded for an entire life, only leads to the relief that death will carry for it as I can see vividly even as a child who does not understand that there isn’t much for you to learn from here or that you may ever learn in our world. Maybe you just need to take a look at the other things that live, breathe and think just like you and are beside you and on your plate to understand how much you don’t matter. It is you, the sin, in which my life was forsaken for; please die.

Love,

Justin Taylor English

[bells-of-black-sunday]

For Frank of the Legion! 🧑‍🤝‍🧑🧑‍🤝‍🧑, 🌙, 🫂, 🏳️‍🌈

Sinday Headcannons | Accepting

🧑‍🤝‍🧑🧑‍🤝‍🧑how do they feel about having multiple partners at once? have they ever done it?

He doesn't have too much of an opinion on it other than it's a lot more work. He's never done it, the ideas never really appealed to him, but he wouldn't say no if someone asked and he was in the mood.

🌙do they need an emotional connection or are one-night-stands an option?

One night stands are an option, but he seriously has to be in a mood, he's not one for just impulsive things like that at least not in the fog. He has other things to worry about lurking in the shadows now how he can get his dick wet.

🫂 how do they feel about friends with benefits?

He's more than okay with it. He prefers that platonic connection so they can at least talk after and it not be extremely awkward where one or both of them is trying to leave.

🏳️‍🌈what’s their sexual orientation? have they ever experimented outside of that [for more binary orientations such as heterosexual/homosexual]?

He is closeted pansexual just due to internalized homophobia due to the time period he grew up in and the circumstances of how he grew up. He's very anxious about being in homosexual relationships in a way he doesn't get with those in between or just female.

[bells-of-black-sunday]

⎯⎯𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 ( 𝟓 ) 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐎 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 . Tagged by: @witchcraftandburialdirt (❤) Tagging: steal it from me-

Jynx - G.O.A.T.

See you were sleeping all day hating life you don't really got it right Everybody is the same, where the hell's your fucking brain The reason why we all complain is cause all we want is some change But then we said fuck it we were so estranged, so you think

Ghost Town - Modern Tragedy

I'm sober, im wasted My peers thinks I'm crazy Bipolar and anxious I'm always impatient Should i just embrace it? Prescriptions won't fix this

Hollywood Undead - City

Body doused in ash With two empty cans of gas The only evidence they have Is the police sketch of my mask And its hardly time to ask If you can save my heart for last

My Chemical Romance - Teenagers

Because the drugs never work They're gonna give you a smirk 'Cause they got methods of keeping you clean They're gonna rip up your heads Your aspirations to shreds Another cog in the murder machine

Slipknot - Custer

It's strange, whenever I see a gun I think about just how petty you are And it blows my fucking mind Yeah, it blows my fucking mind These days, I never seem to get enough I'm tired of this shit, I want to go home Don't waste my fucking time

[bells-of-black-sunday]

“Go the fuck to sleep, dumbass. Need me to knock your lights out again?” Haru -> Frank

eepy starters | Accepting

Frank would be lying if he said his entire body didn't feel heavy. The way he almost stumbled when he walked, the way his eyelids drooped behind the mask and his hands were shoved defensively into his pockets, "Why do you care, huh? It's not your business fuckin' asshole."

He leans against a tree to keep himself as straight as possible so he could glare the sniper down, "Don't you have someone else to sleep with? Or am I just special?"

[bells-of-black-sunday]

[ porn ] + [ watch ] for Frank and Haru in a totally no homo way ofc

Smut prompts from so long ago | No longer Accepting

[ porn ] our muses watch porn together

[ watch ] my muse watches your muse masturbating

To say this was embarrassing would be an understatement, but something about Haru's smirk, what was playing on the tv and the kisses pressed to right where his neck met his jaw made him really happy he was wearing a mask.

"You're really that into thinking it was my hand, that's cute Frankie."

Yet his hand kept moving his mask suffocating him as he glanced down at his friend... partner? Whatever they were who was watching him with such a teasing grin. Like he wasn't even effected by the way the two men on screen touched each other- fucking asshole. Still he wasn't going to deny how he wished Haru would go down on him like that, that he could fuck him into the dusty old mattress of this old resort room. Watch his pretty eyes roll back...

"Frank-" he could hear the slight irritation in the other mans voice, "Warn me before you cum-"

"It was your idea, you can't complain when I get off."