#Big Apple Bomber

[bargainsleuthbooks]

#BookReview #TheSpectacular by #FionaDavis #HistoricalFiction #Rockettes #NewBooks #June2023Books #AudiobookReview #DuttonBooks

#FionaDavis is known for taking a landmark in #NewYorkCity and weaving an #historicalfiction tale around it. Her latest book, #TheSpectacular, is just that. It's about #RadioCityMusicHall, home of the #Rockettes. Part #history, part #Mystery #Bookreview

New York City, 1956: Nineteen-year-old Marion is over the moon to have been selected to be one of the Rockettes, Radio City Music Hall’s glamorous precision-dancing troupe. It’s an honor to perform in the world’s most spectacular theater, an art deco masterpiece. But with four shows a day as well as grueling rehearsals, not to mention exacting standards of perfection to live up to, Marion quickly…

[jen-with-a-pen]

Cocoon

summary: A chance encounter one night at a house party sparks the hottest hookup Bucky and Steve ever have.

parings: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

word count: 2.95k

warnings: BJs, hand stuff, partying, alcohol, drinking, making out in a bathroom at a houseparty, they're slightly intoxicated but it's all consensual I promise, gay gay gay gay, dirty talk, MDNI 18+

a/n: happy pride month 🏳️‍🌈 enjoy this WIP I've had brewing for a while now. also I love how i've been in another writing slump and the first thing I'm motivated to finish is some juicy gay p0rn. love that for me💅

If I’ve missed any tags, PLEASE let me know! not beta'ed. any mistakes are mine.

gif by @/multiverse-sparkles | dividers by @saradika-graphics | warning banner by me ♥

my ao3 | my masterlist title from: Cocoon by Catfish and the Bottlemen Read this fic HERE on ao3! ♥Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always♥

Bucky Barnes doesn't know which is harder.

There's Steve, who's rutting up against his leg like a puppy, whining, desperate for friction and freedom while drunk on whatever the fuck is in the communal jungle juice. Steve’s flannel is draped over the tub, thrown haphazardly aside when he felt too hot and Bucky felt it was getting in the fucking way. 

There's Bucky, who's straining every muscle in his body in an attempt to keep himself from unzipping his fly and freeing his throbbing cock that Steve is pawing at greedily. Sweat beads on his forehead, sticking strands of hair to his skin as hot breaths fan his face and neck. He realizes his ponytail came loose somehow and his leather jacket is strewn about somewhere on the tile floor. He thinks he feels it at the tip of his boot so he kicks it aside to avoid it getting stepped on. 

And then there's the goddamned door, which Steve slams Bucky up against the second Bucky’s teeth find Steve’s tender earlobe. It creaks and groans under their weight, not at all prepared for whatever the fuck is happening right now. 

Then again, neither are they. 

Neither of them expected to walk into some mutual-friend-of-a-mutual-friend’s house party itching to leave the moment they stepped foot into the isolated cloud of weed and booze that seeped into their nostrils and clothing within the first ten minutes. They hadn't expected their two very separate groups of friends to somehow miraculously know each other, using the kitchen as the location for some shoddy, un-sober family reunion. 

It wasn't until one side challenged the other to billiards did Bucky and Steve locked eyes with one another, instantaneously recognizing something in the way seafoam green meeting bright baby blue made them feel an immediate pull towards each other. Maybe it was Steve's a-little-too-big flannel, a-little-too-tight khakis, and soft blond hair shining in every shade of gold in the mixture of ever-changing LEDs and sporadically-placed table lamps. Or, maybe it was Bucky's slim, dark denim jeans hugging every muscle in the thickest thighs Steve’s ever seen, completed with a black T-shirt, leather bomber jacket, and messy ponytail with loose threads of chocolate hair that framed Bucky's face perfectly. Steve felt his Adam’s apple bob every time those strands fell perfectly into place when Bucky leaned just a little too forward onto the table to aim his pool cue, biceps fighting against leather as he lined up his shot. 

Steve about snapped his stick in half when Bucky’s eyes flicked up to his as he jerked the pool cue, sinking two solids in at once. Steve’s pants tightened on the spot.

Steve, however, sought revenge– and got it, too– when he was the one to sink a stripe, then another, and another. Bucky’s eyes darkened, a smirk ghosting his lips at the challenge and his very attractive, very worthy opponent. 

Bodies ganged up in cheers and chants as the two tangoed with their pool cues, taking riskier and riskier moves. Bucky took a shot behind his back. Steve made one over his shoulders. Each time, one would look to the other a millisecond before taking a shot as if silently seeking approval and finding it in the dragging of one’s tongue slowly along their teeth (Bucky) or in the raising of a cocky brow and biting one’s lip (Steve.) 

When the 8-ball was pocketed, shots passed from hand to hand through the crowd to quench the palpable tension in the basement air. Laughter and cheering erupted, echoing off the wood paneled walls. Downing another shot, Steve side-eyed Bucky as sour vodka dripped down his chin. His brow twitched when Bucky’s gaze flitted to the stairs then back to Steve– signaling, asking, begging. Steve’s sideways grin and reddening cheeks were all the ‘yes’ Bucky needed. 

And so, as Bucky bites down onto Steve’s swollen bottom lip and releases in a painfully slow drag of his teeth, Steve is the first to break their shared silence.

“Ah– f-fuck, oh my God,” he pants, pawing at anything his hands can reach at this point.

“Fuck is right,” Bucky hisses against Steve’s neck as he nips the tender skin. “You up for a challenge, baby?” Bucky ruts up against Steve’s palm, swallowing a moan when the friction rubs in just the right way against his cock’s swollen, covered head. Steve’s heart goes into a frenzy. The liquid courage coursing in his veins kicks in.

“Got you up against a door now, don’t I?” Steve challenges as his teeth graze Bucky’s cheek. 

“Only if y’keep me here,” Bucky breathes, leaning his forehead against Steve’s. He pauses, taking in the macroscopic details of Steve’s reddened face. “I’ll make ya a deal.”

Steve smirks. “What kinda deal, hm?” His palm pushes further into Bucky’s erection, prompting an uncontrollable twitch and rumble of a swallowed groan. He’s got what Bucky needs and he needs what Bucky’s got. 

“You–” Bucky kisses him again, desperate, “get on your knees–” another kiss, “so I–” another, “can admire th’ view.”

Steve's eyes widen. His pants feel like a goddamn tent as Bucky kisses him once more, smacking his lips upon release. He cups Steve’s face, thumb rubbing gently over the blond’s swollen lips.

“If you do a good job, I’ll pay ya back in full.”

Steve drops to his knees in an instant. 

Bucky guides him with coos and ‘good boy’s as he undoes his belt and tosses it into the tub. Face to face with the daunting zipper, Steve glances back up at Bucky, Adam’s apple bobbing. Bucky softens, hand sliding from Steve’s messy blond mop to his chin, tilting him up. 

“First time?” 

Steve’s already-red face saturates deeper. He nods reluctantly, eyes flitting away from Bucky’s in embarrassment. Bucky scoffs a laugh and forces Steve’s gaze back to him; he’s careful to be gentle, but still firm. 

“I’ll help ya, baby. I’ll coach you through it.”

Steve’s bottom lip quivers. He shifts on his knees. “Y-you sure? ‘m sorry, I–”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Bucky commands, shaking Steve’s chin the tiniest bit. His smile falters as he bites down on his lip from the strain. “I’ll do anything if it means getting those pretty pink lips on my cock.”

Steve instantly sits up straighter. Bucky’s hand snakes back into Steve’s hair while the other unzips the front of his jeans ever-so-slowly. Steve can’t help but feel his fucking mouth water as he takes up the task of shakily unbuttoning the denim, releasing Bucky from the prison of his pants. Steve feels himself grow harder as he’s met with sleek, black Calvin Kleins conforming perfectly to Bucky’s hips, the front tents with tension from his throbbing cock begging for release. The branded white waistband shields a deep, carved ‘V’ leading up to the ghost of softened abs underneath the hem of Bucky’s t-shirt.

Steve swears he must be fucking dead– this must be heaven.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

Steve falters as his eyes flit up to Bucky, catching a sultry, cocky wink thrown his way before focusing entirely back onto the task at hand. He wipes his clammy palms on the thighs of his khakis before sliding them up Bucky’s concrete thighs– both of which he’s very certain would crush his skull and he would be thankful– and hooking tender fingers onto the waistband. Adam’s apple bobbing, breath held, mouth watering, Steve peels the Calvins down and off Bucky, releasing the most mouth-watering, ecstasy-inducing, biggest fucking dick he’s ever seen in his entire life. 

Fuck. It’s the first dick he’s ever seen in his entire life. Aside from porn tapes and sleazy zines, that is. Bucky can’t help but puff his chest out, smirk widening, grip tightening onto the short length of Steve’s hair, prouder and hornier than he was before his pants came off.

“Told ya t’ take a picture, baby.”

Steve looks up at Bucky with hands still gripping onto his Calvins before dropping them to the floor. With a shaky sigh, he slides closer to Bucky’s leaking head glistening in the shoddy bathroom lighting. Fingers travel up Bucky’s thighs as fingernails gently dig into the oh-so-sensitive part of soft skin, sending a shiver up Bucky’s spine. His palm hits the base of his cock, wrapping around the base of it while his other hand gently takes Bucky’s sack. Stiff and at the ready, Steve leans closer and closer until the dripping wet, eagerly reddened tip hits his lips, poking through and sliding onto an awaiting tongue. Bucky groans and hits the door with a free fist. 

“F-f-fuck– oh my– fucking Christ–!” 

Curses and praises rain down on Steve as he obeys Bucky’s hips thrusting gently into his warm mouth. Steve’s tongue swirls around Bucky’s head as he starts to bob, setting the starting tempo and matching Bucky’s movements. His fist around the base tightens, sending more blood into his cock, in turn sending Bucky careening into the back of Steve’s throat. Steve sucks in, choking on Bucky’s cock and savoring every second of it. Tears brim his eyes as he slowly pulls back, drool dripping out his mouth and covering Bucky, who’s fist in Steve’s hair pulls at just the right angle, sending an uncontrollable moan up and out of Steve’s hoarse throat. 

He wipes his mouth and dives back in. 

“Fuck, Steve, I–”

The sound of his name spilling out of Bucky in a desperate call only motivates him and his own dick more than ever. Lips, tongue, and teeth graze over Bucky’s head as Steve bobs quicker this time around. Lips pucker around the shaft as he pumps and bobs simultaneously, undoing Bucky from the way his knees buckle against the back of the bathroom door. A guttural moan vibrates out from Bucky’s chest to his limbs, reaching Steve as he picks up the pace.

Steve nestles his mouth at the base of Bucky’s cock before fanning his tongue out across the girth and licking a wet stripe all the way up to the head, actively (and almost) killing Bucky. With both of Bucky’s fists raking desperately through his hair, both of Steve’s hands migrate once more, wrapping around Bucky and squeezing every ounce of precum out of his swollen red tip. Steve takes the opportunity to look up at Bucky for the first time and nearly ruins his own pants at the sight above him. 

Sweat-stuck hair frames Bucky’s panting, desperate face. His once-indigo eyes are no more, swallowed by lust-blow black pupils and fluttering eyelids; his Adam’s apple bobs hysterically, caught in a hurricane of pure pleasure and the pain of having to– needing to– restrain himself. His cheeks burn pink as shadows bury themselves in the crevices of his features. If Steve didn’t know any better, he fucking swears Bucky looks like a stolen work of art from the Louvre itself.

Bucky swallows, parting his lips ever-so-slightly. “Don’t stop– ’m so fuckin’ close, Stevie.”

The nickname snaps Steve out of his trance, the scene above him more than enough motivation to finish the job and finish it well.

Sore, puckered lips engulf Bucky’s swollen cock as Steve works at twisting both his hands in opposite directions, pumping and squeezing as he sucks and bobs to the rhythm of Bucky’s hips. His pace quickens, as does Bucky’s breathing. Neck muscles tighten and biceps strain as Steve feels his jaw beginning to lock. The back of his throat is numb from endorphins and adrenaline. He feels Bucky’s entire body freeze and instinctively removes his hands, reaching around and grabbing onto Bucky’s ass, pushing him into the deepest part of his throat just as Bucky finally releases. Hot ropes of cum shoot down Steve’s throat as he continues to gently suck, coaxing every single drop out of Bucky. His tongue laps at the excess spilling over his molars and swallows, making Bucky twitch and curse all over again.

The two of them are connected, forever a part of one another in this moment and the next; both are intertwined through body and soul, whether they might know it now, or not. Regardless, they are each other's firsts, whether they know it (Bucky) or not (Steve.) A trophy to keep in the back of their minds. A memory that makes them lie awake in bed at night with the ghost of a smirk on their lips.

Bucky, now fantastically ruined, allows his body to give out and slides down the length of the door, crumpling in a pleasure-drunken heap on the floor with his legs outstretched in front of him. His eyes don’t leave Steve’s, who is now sitting opposite of him, gagging and swallowing as he rests against the front cabinets of the bathroom vanity. His hair sticks up in different tufts, remnants of Bucky’s grabby hands. His face is the reddest Bucky’s ever seen. He feels his dick fucking twitch again. 

In echoing pants, both silently agree on two things: 1. how good the cool tile feels beneath their fingers, and 2. how they won’t acknowledge the fogged-up bathroom mirror. 

“Wow,” Bucky breathlessly utters. He cards a clammy hand through stringy hair, dropping it lazily into his lap.

Steve nods, swallowing again. “Wow.”

Bucky blinks. His eyes finally focus and follow from his own lap to his outstretched legs, to Steve’s folded knees and used, swollen face. He stares, taking everything in while he climbs down from the high. A smirk ghosts Steve's lips as he meets Bucky’s gaze. 

“What?” Bucky questions. 

“Wish I could take a picture,” Steve answers. Bucky snorts and shakes his head.

“Might as well. Hang it on the fridge or somethin’ for how good you did.”

Steve perks up. “I… did a good job?”

Bucky smiles, eyes wandering to the ceiling to avoid blushing more than he already is. He ultimately comes back to Steve before nodding. “Yeah. You did,” he smiles at Steve. “More than good.”

Steve feigns disbelief. “More than good?”

“Some would say great, even. Five star service.”

Steve scoffs a laugh. “Some?”

“Some being me, myself, and I.”

The two titter a moment more before another comfortable silence falls between them. Steve watches Bucky a second more before shifting to his knees again. Slowly, carefully, he crawls towards Bucky, closing the few feet of distance between them in seconds. Bucky sits up against the door and spreads his legs open, welcoming Steve between them, ignoring his semi-hard cock as it continues twitching. Steve stops inches from Bucky as the air shifts. Steve, still on all fours, peels his clammy hand from the tile and rests it on Bucky’s cheek, carding a couple fingers into his hair for good measure. He can hear Bucky’s heart beating, which he (correctly) assumes Bucky can probably hear his, as well, pounding against the marrow bars of his rib cage.

Seafoam green meets bright baby blue as Steve gently pulls Bucky closer. Soft lips meet one stubbled cheek, and then the other, before Steve pulls back as if to peer straight into Bucky’s soul. 

And Bucky is okay with that.

“Thank you,” Steve says.

“No, thank you.”

“You can thank me later like ya said.” Steve smirks. Bucky smiles. 

“That can be arranged.”

Finally, Steve pulls Bucky into him. Lips crash together once more, this time the hunger is replaced by lust and gratitude. It feels genuine. It feels right. Everything feels right. 

As Bucky leans more into the kiss, with his hands cupping Steve’s burning cheeks, a loud BANG BANG BANG kills any and all goodness within the bathroom that existed just second prior. The two flinch in each other’s arms as they scramble up and off the floor, frantically trying to find clothes and fix hair. 

“Yo! Buck? You in there? We’re fuckin’ leavin’, dude!” A voice calls from the other side.

Panic flashes over Bucky’s face as Steve hands him his belt. “Uh, yeah! Be right out!” 

“Well hurry the fuck up! Natasha’s getting grabby!”

Bucky and Steve listen for footsteps to recede before sharing a sigh of relief as they continue to clean up. 

“Why does Natasha get grabby?” Steve asks playfully, eliciting a louder laugh from Bucky now that they didn’t have to be totally silent any longer.

“Too much tequila. The girl can handle her booze but not without fatal consequences.”

Steve snorts at the thought. “Can’t say I blame her,” he winks. 

Bucky rolls his eyes and snorts back. “Me neither,” he smirks. 

As Bucky goes to grab the doorknob, Steve grabs his shoulder.

“Wait, I–” he starts. His cheeks bloom into a hues of pink again as he sheepishly looks at the floor. “Can I get your number?”

Bucky smiles and feels around his pockets for something, fishing a sharpie out from his jacket pocket. “Gimme your arm.” 

Steve obeys, offering his left arm to Bucky’s awaiting hand. Bucky cradles him as the sharpie drags across his skin, leaving behind a series of numbers large– and legible– enough to read. Steve pulls his arm back and analyzes the new temporary tattoo, committing each digit to memory in case something egregious happens to his arm from now until he gets home. He notices the area code and looks curiously back up to Bucky, who caps the marker and shoves it back into another pocket. 

“Bucky! C’mon, man! No, Natasha!” the voice calls again from the living room. 

Bucky gives Steve one last peck on the cheek before turning on his heel and striding down the hallway, leaving Steve standing in the threshold of the still-steamy bathroom with messy hair, a missing flannel, and a phone number inked onto his skin. The smile plastered on his face refuses to leave.

[sonofatoasterwaffle]

Trick or treat!

Yay!! thank you!! I wrote you a ficlet as well 🧡

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eddie closes the door with a sigh, leaning back against it as Buck appears through the kitchen doorway. “What’d I miss?” 

“Another cat, a slice of pizza, and a very high budget ghostbuster.” 

“Like with the whole—“ Buck waves his hand behind his back. 

“Proton pack, yeah. The whole nine.” 

“Nice.” Buck approves, dropping back down on the couch and making grabby hands at Eddie til he joins him. “Chris would’ve liked that one if he wasn’t too busy off being a teenager.” 

Eddie groans, scrubbing his hands over his face. “Don’t remind me. I’m just glad he’s in town this year.” 

Last year really was brutal, holding vigil for Denny in the First Presbyterian waiting room, sucking on a ring pop (first to distract himself from waiting to hear that everything was okay, then to keep Buck’s guilty gaze on him instead of his boyfriend) and missing Christopher so bad his chest ached. This year, Chris is just across town, safe and sound at a friend’s Halloween party with Denny at his side. This year, Eddie doesn’t mind if Buck’s attention is on his boyfriend. 

Buck tilts his head up and Eddie grants him the kiss he’s angling for. Buck smiles against his lips, tugging at Eddie’s thigh until he swings himself over into his boyfriend’s lap. They’re dressed like Goose and Maverick– Buck in a bomber jacket and Eddie in a white tank, both of them with aviators propped up on their heads. Chris had rolled his eyes at them when he got a good look, but he still agreed to take a picture with them in his Fortnite Trooper costume before he left for his party. 

Now, Buck runs his hands up Eddie’s sides until he can tangle his fingers in the St. Christopher medal, tugging gently to keep him close. 

Eddie’s not going anywhere. 

They get lost in each other, tongues tangling and both of them flushing warm in their little bubble. Buck tastes like the Reese’s Pumpkins he’s been popping all night with a hint of the spiked apple cider they’ve been drinking while they passed out candy. The TV plays a video of a dark and stormy night, filling the living room with the ambient sound of rain and thunder. It’s the most festive Eddie’s felt on Halloween in years. 

Buck pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against Eddie’s, rubbing their noses together until it makes Eddie laugh. “I love you.” He whispers, ducking in for another kiss. 

His stubble rasps deliciously against Eddie’s cheek, and Eddie has half a mind to hit the porch light and take Buck to bed when the doorbell rings again. Buck squeezes Eddie’s hips in his big hands one more time before he lets him go. 

They go to the door together this time, and Buck grins at the sweet little girl dressed as a bright blue dog as she digs through the candy bowl before coming up with a KitKat. He catches the sparkling hope in Buck’s eye and tries not to dwell too much on the warmth that swells in his chest. When the door is closed again, Eddie pulls him in to whisper in his ear. “Love you, too.” 

And as they get lost again, all Eddie can think about is how this has been the best year he’s ever had. 

[arlana-likes-to-write]

Hi

So english is not my first language but i really like your stories

I was thinking for big Sister!reader

Some Girl (and i Will love If it's Carol) flirt and ask reader out on a date

Then Nat and Yelena be jealous

sorry if there's something wrong, my writing in english is not the best

This is so funny you sent this ask right before I was about to post this story because I had it written that our lovely reader was going to end up with Carol. This doesn't have the jealousy part you are looking for but I wanted Yelena and Nat to be protective and being annoying younger sisters first. I'm down to write more with Carol and the reader! Just let me know!

Patient 

Warning: none, just gay panic lol

Word Count: 3.5k

 “I’m sorry, sestra, but we can’t help you,” Natasha said, spreading peanut butter on the bread. She cut the sandwich in half and placed the plate in front of you. You didn’t ask your sisters for help freeing Widows because they had their own Avenger duties. But a higher level Widow was found in New York City and after what happened when you dealt with the last Widow no one wanted you to deal with those types of Widows by yourself. “Fury just assigned us to a mission in South America with Wanda and Vision.”

“Why don’t you ask someone else on the team to help?’ Yelena asked, biting into her sandwich. You sighed. You didn’t want to get the others involved in the mess the Red Room created. Besides you weren’t an Avenger so you felt bad for asking for help. 

“Don’t worry about it,” you said. “I’ll figure something out.” You could ask Soyna to help but the risk was far too great. 

“Thank you for meeting with me.” You turned around to see Steve and a woman you didn’t recognize. She had shoulder-length dirty blonde hair. She was wearing a green bomber jacket and black jeans. She was a former military, that much you knew.

“Anytime Captain,” she shook Steve’s hand. She looked in your direction and caught you staring. She winked. You felt your face heat up and turned around. Yelena giggled next to you, you slapped her leg. 

“Hey Carol,” Natasha said. You heard footsteps coming up behind you. Carol walked over to the kitchen counter and picked up an apple. “How long are you on Earth for?” You weren’t sure what she meant by that but you kept your mouth shut. 

“A few days. Maybe longer. I don’t have any pressing matters to deal with.” She took a bite of the apple. “Who is this?”

“This is our sister,” Yelena introduced. You told her your name and held out your hand. 

“Carol Danvers,” she said, shaking your hand. Her hand was smooth and her handshake was firm. “This is the famous sister you’ve told us so much about.” You looked at your sisters. 

“Did you tell everyone about me?” You asked. You thought it was cute but it was annoying when you entered a room and everyone knew who you were but you were lost on who was in the room. 

“I would if I had a sister that did what you did. It’s incredibly admirable.” You felt your face heat up at the compliment. 

“Uh thank you.” Carol smiled. 

“I’ll see you around.” She left and headed towards the training area. Natasha and Yelena laughed. 

“Shut up,” you mumbled, angrily taking a bit out of your sandwich. 

“Your face was as red as that apple she was eating.” Yelena giggled. You sighed, standing up and putting your dirty plate in the dishwasher. 

“Sestra, we are just messing with you,” Natasha said. 

“I know,” you said, running a hand through your hair. “I have to go figure out this Widow situation. I’ll see you guys at dinner.” 

*

It was late. You managed to not make a foul out of yourself at dinner and you wanted to go to bed but you needed to figure out your plan. Aline Belyaev was the Widow currently in the city. Her current job was working for the Red Lotus. It was going to be messy, and dangerous. You sighed, taking a sip of your beer. “Hey stranger,” you heard Carol’s voice as she opened the door. You were working outside, enjoying the night weather. She sat down next to you with our beer. “What’s got you up so late?”

“I feel like I could ask you the same question.” She smiled. 

“It’s hard for me to sleep at normal times when I’m on Earth.” She said. You nodded. You did your research on her. Carol Danvers was a former air force pilot born in 1965. She was a Kree and her powers came from being exposed to the Tesseract. She was impressive. “So, what’s your reasoning?” You sighed. 

“I have a Widow still under Dreykov’s control in New York. She's at a higher level so I asked Natasha and Yelena for help.” Carol nodded. 

“Right. Natasha was telling me about this.” You suppressed a groan. Of course, she would mention it to her. You were gonna kill your sister. “Do you need help?” She asked. You looked at her. 

“Do you want to help me?” You questioned. 

“Yeah, I don’t have anything going on and it seems like fun.” You weren’t sure if fun was the way you would describe it. 

“It could be dangerous.” You said. She smirked. You hated the way your heart skipped. 

“I like danger.” 

*

New York City      

You were right. Alina was a very good fighter. You were chasing her through a shipping yard. “We need to get in front of her.” You said to Carol. She nodded. 

“Leave it to me.”

“Don’t hurt her.” You didn’t miss the smirk on her face as she flew into the air. You rolled your eyes but you couldn’t help but smile. You had to admit it was nice having someone with you that you weren’t constantly worried about. 

“She’s headed to a small boat,” Carol said through your earpiece. “She’s taking the next right.” You turned right early to cut her off.

“We need to stop her before she gets on that boat.” 

“On it.” You heard the grunts as Carol started to fight Alina. You came up behind them as Alina turned around to run. 

“Hi,” you waved. Alina took out a baton and it charged with electricity. You made a mental note to have Tony make one. She charged at you. You dogged it but the sound of electricity caused a shiver to go down your spine. You kicked Alina on her chest. She stumbled backward and Carol grabbed the baton and brought it to Alina’s neck. The Widow struggled against her. 

“Expose her anytime,” Carol said. You took the vial out of your pocket and broke it in front of Alina’s face. Her pupils glowed red and she stopped struggling. Carol let her go and stepped away from her. You told her that exposing Widows to the Red Dust can be overwhelming to them. Alina’s eyes darted around. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” you said, holding out your hands. “You're safe. The Red Room is gone. Dreykov is dead.” She looked at her. Her face dropped as the rush of memories washed over her. You couldn’t imagine what these girls went through. 

“I didn’t have a choice,” she said. “He made me do it.” You nodded. 

“I know. I know.” You caught the Widow in your arms as she cried against you. You held her tight and looked at Carol. She smiled at you. 

*

“Do you want to get some drinks?” Carol asked. You brought Alina to the safe house you had set up in the city for Widows you’ve saved. It had all the supplies they needed to get back on their feet and Melina would reach out to them. You and Carol were headed back to the apartment when Carol asked. 

“Sure,” you said. “We should probably change.” You weren’t sure if walking into a bar in a tactical suit was a good idea. Carol laughed.   

“You are probably right.” So, you were staring at the clothes you had with you. You didn’t bring many options with you not expecting to go out. You sighed, half tempted to text your sisters for help but you did not need them laughing at you. You changed into a pair of jeans and a black top. You braided your hair as Carol knocked on your door. You opened it and thanked all your years of training to keep your jaw from dropping. She was wearing black jeans, a white shirt, and a leather jacket over her shoulder. 

“You look good,” she said. You tried to hide your blush but you knew you failed by Carol’s smile. 

“So do you. Ready?” She held out her hand and took it. 

*

Carol insisted on getting the first round as you found a place to sit. You decided on a high-top table in the corner. Your back was to the wall and you could watch the door. Even at a bar, it was hard to turn that part of your brain off. The bar was a little busy on Thursday. There were two pool tables, a dart board, and a jukebox. Carol came back with two beers. “Can you even get drunk?” You asked, taking a sip. 

“I’ve had some Asgardian ale before and that has kicked my ass.” You laughed. “How about you? Is your blood made out of vodka or something?”

“Was that a really bad Russian joke?” She nodded, hiding your smile behind her drink. 

“I’ll have you know that yes I can get drunk like you it takes a lot.” 

This was nice. You’ve never done something like this before. You’ve never had someone that you considered a friend to go to a bar with. But then you’ve spent the majority of your adult life controlled by a man. You took turns getting to know one another. Carol told you how she met Nick Fury and you told her how you took down the Red Room with Yelena and Natasha. You kept some stuff to yourself, not ready to share some parts of yourself. “Do you want to play pool?” She asked. You looked at the table. 

“I’ve never played before.” You told her. You’ve been around the table but a mission never required you to play. She finished her drink and held out her hand. 

“I’ll teach you. Something tells me you’ll be good at it.” You didn’t expect to have to be so close to Carol to learn how to play pool. The rules were simple enough but the hardest part was to aim with Carol so close to you. You leaned against the pool table as Carol stood next to you. “Your aim looks good. So does your stance. Let it go.” You hit the cue ball, and it bounced against the solid color and ended up in the hole. You looked at Carol. “See I told you.”

After a few more games, Carol beat you by one game but you won against her when you switched to darts, you headed back to the apartment. You were leaving early in the morning to head back to the compound. You weren’t drunk but the beers you drank made you feel warm. “That was fun,” you said. “I’ve done anything like that before.” 

“Well,” she said. “I wouldn’t mind doing this again.”

*

Unfortunately, Carol had to return to space and you went back to St. Petersburg to help Melina create more of the Red Dust and rehabilitate some of the Widows you’ve freed. You’ve kept in touch with everyone; facetime with your sisters, text messages with Wanda, and watched a baseball game with Sam over video chat. But the one person you couldn’t talk to was Carol. It was a weird feeling you’ve never experienced before; missing someone that wasn’t family, someone you considered a friend. After a month of being away, you were back at the compound in the training room. You punched the sandbag in front of you. Right hook, left hook, right hook again. “Hey, stranger.” You spun around to see Carol. You smiled at her. 

“I feel like I should be calling you that.” She smiled, rolling her eyes as she closed the distance between you two. “How was space?” Her smile faltered. 

“Tiring.” She said. You touched her arm, trying to comfort her in some way. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” She looked down at your hand on her arm. “Sorry.” You pulled your arm back and blushed. 

“I rather punch something than talk.” You smirked. 

“I’ve been told I’m a decent fighter.” Carol chuckled. 

“I would expect nothing less.” 

*

You stopped out of your bathroom when a knock echoed in your room. You threw the towel on the floor and opened your door. “Hey sis,” Yelena was standing in front of you. “What’s up?”

“I was wondering if you want to join me and Wanda for a movie night.” You did enjoy movie nights with them because they introduced you to pop culture that you’ve missed. But you had plans. 

“I can’t tonight,” you told her. “Carol asked to hang out and catch up.” Yelena blinked at you. Then her smile grew. “What?” You asked slowly. 

“You have a date.” Your eyes widened and your cheeks burned with embarrassment. 

“It’s not a date. We are friends who haven’t seen each other in a while. That’s it.” Her smile grew. 

“Sounds like a date. Besides the way you look at each other, I wouldn’t classify you as ‘friends’ and rumor has it she was asking about you when she reported to Steve.” Your heart began to pound. The organ was beating against your ribs. “So what happened in the city?” She asked. 

“N-nothing,” you stuttered. She didn’t look like she believed you. “I swear! Nothing happened.” You said. Yelena hummed. 

“Well, I’ll let you get ready for your date.” She left you stunned as she closed the door. You stumbled back on your bed and stared at the ground. Did you look at Carol differently? You didn’t think you did. As a Widow you were trained in the art of seduction, your body was your greatest weapon. Carol was just a friend, right? Right? You moved your hands up and down your face and fell onto your back. Were you giving off signals without thinking about it because of your training?

“Breath,” you mumbled. “Breath.” If you put yourself into a panic attack it would help no one. You sighed. What if it was a date? You’ve never gone on a real date. Anytime you went out with a man or woman it was orchestrated by the Red Room. But now you are free. Your emotions and feelings were your own. But you didn’t know what you were feeling. “Stop!” You yelled into the quietness of your room. 

“Are you alright, Miss. Y/n?” The AI asked. “Your heart rate is erratic. Do I need to notify someone?” You shook your head. 

“No, I’m okay,” you sighed. “Thank you, FRIDAY.” You laid back down with your eyes closed. It was going to be okay. You kept telling yourself that and it had to be true. 

*

Yelena ran to find Natasha. The AI said she was in a meeting with Wanda and Sam for an upcoming mission. She knocked on the door and entered without waiting for an answer. Natasha looked up with an annoyed expression on her face. “We are in a meeting,” Yelena smiled, walking over to her with her hands behind her back. 

“I’m aware but I do need to burrow you.” 

“Can it wait?” She asked. Yelena shook her head. Natasha sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. Sam smiled. 

“Go, we are almost done here anyways.” He said. Yelena always liked Sam. Natasha stood up before she could organize the files Yelena grabbed her hand and dragged her out of the room. 

“Yelena!” Her sister yelled. She heard Sam and Wanda laugh as she dragged Natasha to a more private area. “What the hell is going on?” Natasha asked as soon as Yelena stopped. 

“Carol asked Y/n to hang out tonight.”

“Like on a date?” Natasha questioned. The younger Black Widow shrugged. 

“She didn’t say it was a date but we know it could be a date and she could be a little oblivious to it like you were with Maria.” She loved her sister but it was painful watching her dance around her feelings. Natasha glared at her. “But we know how Carol is and I don’t want her to get hurt.” Natasha sighed. Carol was a textbook definition of a playboy. 

“Let’s go talk to her.” 

*

They found Carol outside reading over a case file. She glanced over the file as they walked over to her. “As much as I love seeing the famous Widow Duo I have a feeling this conversation isn’t a friendly one.” She said, closing the file and placing it on the table. Natasha crossed her arms.  

“What are your intentions with our sister?” She asked. “And be honest with me, Carol. We’ve been through enough together to have that level of trust.” Yelena was tasked with watching her more than doing the talking. It’s amazing what the body could say when your words said something else. Carol sat up straighter at the mention of you. 

“My intentions with your sister.” She said, slowly. Natasha nodded. “We are friends.” She looked down and away. She was nervous. Interesting. 

“Look,” Natasha sat down in the empty chair. “If you are looking for a quick fuck go find someone else.” She was startled by the accusation. 

“It’s not like that.” She defended herself. 

“Then enlighten me.” Carol sighed. 

“Your sister isn’t like anyone I’ve met before and I’ve traveled the cosmos.” She was being honest. “So, I would like to get to know her better and be her friend first. Then if something evolves from that go from there. I’m not looking for a quick fuck, I promise.” Yelena believed her. 

“You're right,” Yelena said. “Our sister isn’t like anyone you’ve met which makes her very special.” 

“But she’s not like us, Carol,” she pointed to herself and Yelena. “She gave herself to the devil for us to have a normal life which means she’s only been free for less than a year.” Carol nodded. 

“I understand.”

“Just be patient with her,” Natasha added. “And if we find out that you hurt her in any capacity we will kill you.” 

“Kree or not we will end you.” Yelena threatened. Carol laughed, shaking her head. 

“If I hurt her, I will gladly accept anything you throw at me.”

*

A knock on your door startled you out of your thoughts. You took a steady breath and opened the door. Carol was standing in front of you, wearing jeans and a red flannel. But her smile was what took your breath away. Shit. You had to pull it together. “Hi.” She said. 

“Hello.” 

“Are you ready?” She asked. You nodded and followed her to where she was taking you in silence. She seemed lost in thought, something was laying heavily on her mind. She opened the door to a closed-off porch that had a small table that was set up in front of a couch with a collar of beer and food. This felt like a date. “Is this okay?” She asked, suddenly feeling unsure of herself. 

“It’s great.” You said, sitting down. Before she joined you, she made a small fire in the fireplace and sat down. Conversation flowed easily between you two as you ate and drank. She told you about her time in space and you talked about living in St. Petersburg. Soon the conversation died down but the silence wasn’t awkward. Carol was playing with a bottle cap between her fingers. She looked at you. 

“Are you okay?” You both asked at the same time. You laughed, covering your mouth with your hand. Carol smiled. 

“I’m okay,” you told her. “But are you? You seem a little distant.” Was it you? You’ve been conscious of how you’ve been acting to not lead her on. Carol sighed. 

“Your sisters came and gave me shovel talk.” You groaned. It was pay back for the shovel you gave Maria. But if she got a shovel talk…

“Is this a date?” You asked. 

“Do you want it to be a date?” She questioned. You weren’t expecting that question. 

“Uh. I don’t know.” You answered honestly. “I’ve never done this before.” You sighed. “My entire life has been controlled. For once, I’m a little out of my element.” Carol smiled, taking your hand in hers. 

“We can be friends,” Carol said. “I told your sisters that I find you incredibly fascinating. There isn’t anyone else like you in the entire galaxy.” You blushed at her compliment. “I want to get to know you better and we’ll see where it goes. Is that okay?” You nodded. 

“Yeah, sounds good.” She let go of your hand. To your surprise, you missed the feeling of her hand. 

“So, what’s your favorite color?” She asked. You looked at her, stunned by the question. 

“My favorite color?” You asked. She nodded. Did you have a favorite color? You weren’t sure. You were never asked that question before. “I don’t know,” you told her. “I’ve never thought about it before.” You were focused on surviving and making sure your sisters were safe. You didn’t have time to busy your mind with questions like that. “I don’t know much about me as a person. I’ve always been a weapon for someone to use.” You didn’t realize how sad that sounded until you said it out loud. Who were you outside the person the Red Room made? Who was the real you? Carol smiled. 

“I’ll be there to help you find out if you like.” It was your choice. Something so simple, she gave you a choice. 

“Yeah,” you smiled. “I’d like that a lot.   

[fantasyinallforms]

Hello! Can I request "warm beverages" with Bagginshield for fotfictember?? Pretty please?

Of course, you can! In typical Fantasy fashion, I did accidentally make a 1600-word one-shot instead of a drabble but oh well. I hope you enjoy!

To Warm A Heart-{T} Bagginshield- 1600 words

“Thorin, why are you staring at this apple tree?” Bilbo asked cautiously. 

“Because you’ve been shivering for two days,” Thorin replied curtly. 

“I’m now more confused than when I initially asked the question.” Bilbo snorted. “Are you planning on picking them? It’s a good season for it. In another month, all the fruit will have fallen down.” Bilbo reached for an apple on one of the lowest branches but couldnt quite grab it, even with his adorable little jumps. Thorin grabbed the branch and bent it low so Bilbo could take what he liked. 

“I take it you like apples?” 

“I love apples! This time of the year makes me miss the fall celebrations around the party tree. Bell Gamgee’s apple tarts are the year's highlight for anyone lucky enough to grab one before they’re gone.” Bilbo sighed and cleaned the dirt off the apple before taking a big bite. Thorin had to look anywhere else but his face as the juice dripped down his chin, begging to be cleared away. “They’re delicious! Thorin, you’ve got to try!” When he turned around, Bilbo handed him the apple, encouraging him to take a bite. He stifled a groan and took the apple, trying not to think too carefully about the fact that Bilbo’s lips had been wrapped around it seconds ago. It was sweet and perfectly ripe, as he had been told. When he confirmed this, Bilbo beamed and grabbed as many apples as he could carry to bring to their companions. 

Thorin went back to staring at the tree. The winds had become harsher as their elevation gradually increased. For the past two nights, he had witnessed Bilbo shivering even after he had offered his warmer coat. He needed something to warm him up from the inside. There was a recipe that the dwarves had adopted after their exile when food was scarce, and warmth was hard to come by. All provisions had to be used in their entirety, and if there was a secondary use, then that was even better. They had learned that if they boiled apple cores, it released the last of the juice, and if mixed with alcohol, it was hydrating and warming.  

Immediately upon spotting the apple tree, he halted their march and made camp. He could make Bilbo something to keep him warm, and he wouldn't have to use apple scraps to do it. He beckoned Fili and Kili over with the instruction to get every ripe apple they could down before moving on to speak with Bombur. He found the dwarf taking stock of his supplies, which now included a new apple. 

“Bombur a moment of your time, please,” Thorin called. The large dwarf looked up cheerfully. 

“Of course, what can I do for you, Thorin.” 

“I need a pot and to know what spices you have.” He gruffed. 

Bomber's eyebrows shot into his forehead. “Are you planning on cooking tonight?

“Cooking no. But I am making something. Your spices?” Thorin waited for Bombur to overcome the initial shock before reading into his bag to pull out a large tin filled with small compartments. I have the basics: salt and pepper. Some dried garlic and parsley. I have a few orange and lemon peels left, and Oh, I have a few cinnamon sticks, clove, and at least one nutmeg in here, it looks like.” Bombur looked at him questioningly, waiting for him to ask to use one or many. 

“I need the nutmeg, clove, and cinnamon. The orange peel, too, if you can spare it.” Bombur handed them over without question, knowing full well what the king was up to. The boys returned with their tunics pulled up to make makeshift baskets, bantering about who could carry more. They had brought more than he needed, which was good. They could dry what they didn’t use that night and use it later. Thorin surveyed the area and smiled when he saw Bilbo leaning against a tree wrapped in Thorin’s coat, speaking to Ori. There was a turning point on this journey when the concerns of that hobbit had become his. He had rebelled against it at first because all those who had traveled with him were his family now, but not like Bilbo. Bilbo was his beating heart living on the outside of his body. Handsome and clever, and stubborn and painfully vulnerable. More than all the others in this camp spare his nephews, Bilbo was his priority.

 The night drew in, and as expected, the air grew cold. Bilbo had fallen asleep against the tree, and Thorin could hear his teeth chattering from where he sat. He gave his pot a sip and then turned to his friend.

“Dwalin, what’s in your flask?” Thorin barked. 

“Something I’m not sharing,” Dwalin replied. He pulled out the flask to take a sip, and Thorin snatched it from his hands. He gave it a sniff. 

“Whiskey. That will work.” He dumped the flask's contents into the pot and stirred it. 

“You mind telling me why you just dumped the last of my fucking whiskey into that experiment you’ve been working on,” Dwalin growled.

“It’s cider like they used to make at the camps after Erebor fell. It’s too cold, and we have few supplies to keep warm after the goblins.” Thorin stood up. With the alcohol added, the drink was done. 

“You know there are easier ways to warm someone up.” Dwalin cast his eyes at Bilbo. “You’re coats big enough for both of ya if you’re close enough.” 

“I would not be welcome,” he had barely finished the sentence before Dwalin snorted.

“I forgot you’re stupid. Look. The nights are only going to get colder as we reach Erebor. Too cold for anyone to sleep alone. So is it going to be you sleeping next to that little thing, or is he going to have to curl up with Bofur instead?” He was being bated, and he knew it, but Thorin’s eyes still found the miner to check his proximity. He growled at himself as much as Dwalin for taking the bait. 

“If he wanted to share a bedroll with me, he would ask. I will not impose myself on him and call it convenience.” Thorin looked around for two mugs and ladled the cider into them until they were full. He carried them over to the Hobbit and sat them down on a flat rock. He regretted having to wake him. Despite the chattering teeth, he looked peaceful. His hair had fallen in front of his face, and his nose twitched even in his sleep. He was slumped in an odd position he would definitely be unhappy with come morning. With a hand on the side of Bilbo’s head, he guided him into a sitting position. “Master Baggins.” He said his name more firmly than he meant to, and his eyes flew open, slightly startled. 

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep. Did you want your coat back before you turned in?” Bilbo stretched, and Thorin turned away so as not to ogle him. If he had it his way, he would never see that coat again unless it was wrapped around the hobbit's shoulders. 

“I came to bring you something for the cold.” Thorin placed the cup in Bilbo’s hands and watched with satisfaction as he curled his hands around its warmth.  

“Oh, I’m fine. It’s not too cold out.” Bilbo argued,

“Bilbo, the entire camp can hear your teeth chattering.” Blush spread across Bilbo’s cheeks as he sipped the cider. The moment it touched his lips, his eyes went wide over the rim of the cup. He drained half his mug before coming up for air. 

“This is amazing! Did you make this?” Bilbo took another big gulp and looked contented. 

“I did. I thought you could use something to help you sleep better.” He took a sip from his own cup and was pleased with the result on such short notice. When he looked up, Bilbo was staring at him, blushing all the way to the top of his pointed ears and blinking rapidly. “Did I add too much alcohol? I wanted there to be enough to keep warm. It was Dwalin’s, and knowing what he drinks, I might have overdone it.” Thorin took another sip to gauge its strength. If anything, it was a bit weak. Bilbo didn't seem to want to elaborate, so they sat in silence for a little while, just enjoying the sounds of the woods around them, now free of chattering. When Thorin saw Bilbo’s mug get empty, he leaned into reach for it, intending to get him a refill. To his great surprise, Bilbo took that moment to lean forward as well, intentionally surging up to meet his lips. Thorin’s senses went white with bliss, and all his mind knew for the next moment was the taste of Bilbo's breath. Warm, soft lips and that slightly upturned nose pressing into his cheek. He was dumped back into reality as Bilbo drew away in panic, covering his face.

“I-I’m so sorry. I-I don’t know what came over me. That was wrong. I thought maybe…. No.. no excuse, please forgive me.” he made to get up, and Thorin quickly leaned forward, trapping the hobbit against the tree. 

“Wait, please don't leave.” He hated that he saw a hint of fear in Bilbo’s eyes, but he couldn't let him up. Not until he knew what that was. 

“I’m really sorry, Thorin. I misunderstood.” Bilbo babbled. 

“Did you kiss me intentionally?” Thorin asked. Bilbo nodded sheepishly. That was all he needed. He gathered Bilbo into his arms and returned his kiss with all the passion he could muster. The richness of the cider had never tasted better or warmed him so deeply than on Bilbo’s tongue.   

And if he heard Dwalin shout, “It’s about fucking time.” He ignored it. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I have decided that at the end of the year, all the drabbles I've done for events will be going into a 2023 collection on AO3. Also, I don't love the title of this fic and might change it later.

[mercurygray]

Currently Reading - April 2024

Currently Reading:

Braiding Sweetgrass, by Robin Wall Kimmerer. On my list for a long time.

Winged Victory: The Army Air Forces in World War II, by Geoffrey Perret. I'm really liking the birds' eye (ha!) view of the Air Forces in general - he's touched on plane development, strategy, and the reason why different groups focused on different things. Good ground stuff.

Norway to America : a history of the migration, by Ingrid Semmingsen, translated by Einar Haugen. For Fred.

Luck of The Draw, by Frank Murphy. Currently reading in the sense that I got it from the library with intent to read and it's on my nightstand.

Currently Watching:

Shōgun (FX) - I need to re-read this book.

Manhunt (Apple TV) - started for Tobias Menzies, stayed for unhinged Anthony Boyle and the storytelling, which is so tight you could get a dime through its wingtips.

Franklin (Apple TV) - Listen, Apple TV's got a lot of primo period drama right now and Rev War is only like, one fandom obsession ago.

Just Finished: The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo, by Taylor Jenkins-Reid. This was fun. It was just fun.

When I Think Back: World War Two Letters of Fitje Pitts, by Tilghman Pitts - This was so so good. Fitje is a super entertaining writer. Big fact I got from this one is that bomber bases were full of animals. Everyone had a pet.

Battlestars & Doughnuts: World War II Clubmobile Experiences of Mary Metcalfe Rexford, by Oscar Whitelaw Rexford - This is a memoir written by her husband? It's small, but still has a lot to say.

Bomber Pilot: A Memoir of World War II, by Philip Ardery - Ardery flew with the 389th and was the command pilot during the first of the Ploesti raids. This was a lucky find at the book rescue and for $2 I'm glad it's in my library.

Beartown, by Fredrik Backman. This was really depressing. It's good, but I will not be watching the show or seeking out the following book.

In Reserve:

Debs at War, by Anne De Courcy

Joy Street: A Wartime Romance in Letters 1940-1942, by Miriam Barford

Those Wonderful Women in Their Flying Machines: The Unknown Heroines of World War Two, by Sally Van Wagenen Keil

[sweaterkittensahoy]

So, I wanted to cover Big Week in the RosieLemmons fic even though it's mentioned (using the bombers as bait), and then we skip ahead in the next ep.

And, yeah, that's what got cut to cover safety costs for Covid. It has to be. All the bits and pieces I've seen people wishing there were would have been in that episode. And it likely would have been longer than a regular episode.

Think about it. What's Big Week get us? Huge air battle. Introduction of the Tuskegee Airmen as the fighter pilots going one-on-one with the Germans while the bombers took out the airplane factories. 300 missions in a week, not all from Thorpe's Abbot, but more than usual. Enough to show us more ground crew, more stress from those boys. Rosie leading the whole fucking thing just after he's re-upped with a group of rookies. More from the Red Cross girls who are watching these men go up and come down and go up and come down. With the acceptable causality rate of 75%.

And the whole goal was to get the air superiority to get into Europe.

So Rosie's poetic moment of being alone up in the air over Normandy? That's because of the immense effort of Big Week. Crosby working himself three days straight and then MISSING Normandy? He'd just recently (February) gotten through Big Week and probably felt every fort that went down was his fault (because that's how he always feels).

I think what happened was Apple saw the cost of safety for Covid and rather than go, "This is a fucking WW2 epic with Speilberg&Hanks as producers; it will do fucking gangbusters," they shit themselves and said, "no, no, the answer isn't letting these two people who have a history of great WW2 stories have some more money (60 million is nothing to Apple) to make the 10-parter. We're gonna bean-count this shit to a 9-parter."

Anyway, that's my long-form way of saying Apple may have chickenshit their way out of a Big Week episode, but my ass works for FREE. And when I say you're gonna see how fucking smart Ken Lemmons is, oh baby, you have no fucking idea.

[lunaremy]

Plasma Bomber?

oooh im so excited to answer THIS one

favorite thing about them

His backstory is both relatable and relevant to the environment of the story as a whole, and if anything, he's basically the ONE character that puts all the important aspects of being a mechanical lifeform into perspective. Either way, he's a great foil to our slightly-too-optimistic protagonists and he's the part of R1's story that makes it actually worth something. Even after R1, he's the point of reference I get to use when discerning just how difficult it might be for the dastardly bombers to get used to being alive again (spoiler alert it's very difficult).

least favorite thing about them

It's sort of an unofficial rule to me to not directly count the Konami Moments because it's redundant by now at best and almost harmful to me at worst, but I think it's weird how his mech was just a big gwinbee. To be fair, the team had lots of fun (it's there because one of the team members was a big twinbee fan) so it's not like an advertisement for twinbee or anything, but it was still odd. Not the worst thing to ever happen, though.

favorite line

Something something "let us do battle", my memory is poor but the way he worded it is a good insight into his character and general patterns. He has more lines I like but again, my memory is absurdly poor.

brOTP

Hmm, probably Plasma and the other dastardlies? I think a unique bond could be formed due to their shared experience of, y'know, being dead a bunch. Seems to be suggested in canon even though we don't see much of them after the end of R1, but what we do see is adorable and precious for those guys (as they deserve to live like semi-normally after getting used by some old guy with megalomania or whatever)

OTP

WHITE. AND. PLASMA. PERIOD. Oh man, where do I start? It's like yin and yang, they're both fans of fighting for justice but it's SO vastly different for them, and then there's... I can hardly continue without stumbling over myself, but believe me! Probably one of my favorite ships of all time, I can write sad and serious moments with them but I can also write times where they just buy apples and are happy and alive together!!

nOTP

Plasma/Magnet. I fucking hate this ship. Hope that explains everything!

random headcanon

Oddly enough, I feel like he likes sports a little. I feel like he would sit down and watch a tennis match. Not his favorite interest, but it's certainly a nice pastime for him when he's not busy training or at work.

unpopular opinion

I honestly just wish more people liked R so I could see other people understand him the way I do. This extends to a lot of characters, but yeah.

song i associate with them

Weirdly enough, even though there are a lot of sad songs, I don't have one?

favorite picture of them

plasma with da spoon

[abattoirstars]

17, 43, 48? 🫶 and if you want a bonus then your favourite number too !!

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes?

my pair* of standard 10-eye black docs. i wore them white laced like this for the last 4? 5? years (and only got called out once by a 14 year old who'd clearly seen a tiktok about lace code) but recently switched to purple ribbon to get more Femme with it

*technically pairs. i had a leather pair that broke along my little toe in 2020, got a new pair and fell for the 'vegan leather' nonsense so was wearing my polyurethane pair until about a fortnight ago, but since they're now broken in the same way i'm back to the leather because they're comfier. the photos are both of the plastic pair.

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket, or bomber jacket?

ooh! i was a die hard denim jacket wearer for 4 years but recently i've hard pivoted and now i'm cardies till i die. i have a lovely pale blue with strawberry's one (nicked from c), a lovely Thick black wool one (stolen from c), a thinner grey one i accidentally shrunk a bit in the wash which i'm still slightly angry about, and this SICK dinosaur print one which i already loved but works way better now i own high waisted jeans.

48. if you were a fruit, what kind of fruit would you be?

big if. can i cheat a bit and say specifically apple with cinnamon on it, because that's been a favourite snack of mine since i was Very Small and yknow, transforming the feeling of the original fruit seems apt.

ty danny!

[laresearchette]

Friday, June 16, 2023 Canadian TV Listings (Times Eastern)

WHERE CAN I FIND THOSE PREMIERES?: LOVELY LITTLE FARM (Apple TV +)

WHAT IS NOT PREMIERING IN CANADA TONIGHT? OUTLANDER (Premiering on June 18 on W Network at 9:00pm) HOFFMAN FAMILY GOLD (Premiering on June 19 on Discovery Canada at 9:00pm)

NEW TO AMAZON PRIME CANADA/CBC GEM/CRAVE TV/DISNEY + STAR/NETFLIX CANADA:

AMAZON PRIME CANADA GUY RITCHIE’S THE COVENANT THE GRAND TOUR (Season 5)

CBC GEM ALTER BOYS THE AWAKENERS EVER DEADLY HOT CAKES ICE KING MARIE ANTOINETTE

CRAVE TV AUSTIN POWERS IN GOLDMEMBER AUSTIN POWERS: INTERNATIONAL MAN OF MYSTERY BILLIONAIRES MURDERS (Season 1, Episodes 1-2) BROS THE DARJEELING LIMITED FANTASTIC MR. FOX FATHER OF THE BRIDE GAIA HAPPY GILMORE INDEPENDENCE DAY THE INHABITANT MOONRISE KINGDOM MY GIRL (1991) PACIFIC RIM RESERVOIR DOGS THE ROYAL TENENBAUMS THREE BILLBOARDS OUTSIDE EBBING MISSOURI

DISNEY + STAR CHEVALIER STAN LEE

NETFLIX CANADA BLACK CLOVER: SWORD OF THE WIZARD KING EXTRACTION 2

2023 US OPEN (TSN4) 9:40am: Second Round - Part I (TSN4) 1:00pm: Second Round - Part II (TSN4/TSN5) 8:00pm: Second Round - Part III

MLB BASEBALL (SN1) 7:00pm: Yankees vs. Red Sox (SN) 8:00pm: Jays vs. Rangers (SN Now) 9:30pm: Rays vs. Padres (SN1/SN Now) 10:00pm: Giants vs. Dodgers

VILLENEUVE PIRONI: RACING'S UNTOLD TRAGEDY (Crave) 7:20pm: The story of Canadian Formula 1 legend Gilles Villeneuve and French star Didier Pironi, two fearless Ferrari Formula 1 drivers, forever torn apart by a historic and hugely controversial moment in time.

MICHIF COUNTRY (APTN) 8:30pm: Métis musician and cultural ambassador Andrina Turenne hunts with local Métis hunting guide Charles Langelier; although Andrina has hunted moose and deer, this is her first time personally harvesting a deer.

CFL FOOTBALL (TSN/TSN3) 9:00pm: Ti-Cats vs. Blue Bombers

CROSS COUNTRY CAKE OFF (CTV) 9:00pm: After telling their story through cake, four cake connoisseurs are selected as the crème de la crème to bake in the "Cross Country Cake Off" kitchen; they're challenged to let their cake talents shine with an "After Dark" themed creation.

TEMPTATION ISLAND (CTV Life) 9:00pm (SEASON PREMIERE): Four new couples test their relationships with fresh twists and turns in the season premiere.

THE JANE MYSTERIES: INHERITANCE LOST (W Network) 9:00pm: Singer Jane Da Silva inherits a nonprofit detective agency that helps people who aren't able to help themselves. With guidance from her aunt and a detective, Jane takes on the case of a mother's untimely death years earlier.

GAIA (Crave) 9:00pm: A park ranger takes shelter with two survivalists after an attack by mysterious creatures in a primordial forest.

THE BIG D (CTV Life) 10:00pm: Six recently divorced couples reunite in Costa Rica to search for love again.

CRIME BEAT (Global) 10:00pm: Senior crime reporters provide updates on a few stories they previously covered; they share several significant developments -- including a major decision made by the Supreme Court of Canada that's impacted multiple murder cases across the country.

THE INHABITANT (Crave) 10:40pm: A series of supernatural events reveals a dark truth behind a tormented teenager.

[lukascout]

Guess I'm The New Scout!

Story 5 - House Warming

The hum of Sniper's van buzzed through Luka's head as he kept his eyes shut. It was a little difficult for him to sleep in a car at his age. Then again, he had sleeping problems for ages. Doesn't hurt to try anyway.

“Oi, lad. We're here.” Sniper whispered as he gently tapped him on the shoulder. Luka opened his eyes as the engine quieted down after the long drive. He took a look out the window to find the sun had only just started to rise. A knock on the door took his attention away.

“You good, lad?”

“Oh sorry! Just spaced out a bit!” Luka giggled as he stepped out of the door, only to be tackle-hugged from the left by a rather energetic Demoman.

“Welcome to our home, laddie!” He roared with laughter. The one-eyed bomber was being a too bit loud and affectionate for the crack of dawn.

“O-Oh uh… Uhm… Th-Thank you!” Luka stuttered as he felt too stunned to do anything but accept it.

Sniper pinched his brow at the commotion and groaned, “Demoman, it's too goddamn early for this.”

“Oh, come off it! Scoot would be celebratin’ with us!”

Sniper's annoyance melted away into a look of hurt. Demoman quickly realized that it was maybe not the best thing to say. “Ahh, cripe, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-”

“‘S alright, mate. I get ya.”

Luka, whose shoulders were still wrapped up in Demoman's right arm, glanced back and forth between the men. It didn't make him nervous but it did get his mind wondering. Who was “Scout”? Was he beloved amongst his teammates? What was he like? Would he have liked Luka had circumstances been better? He kept these questions to himself for the time being. There was something more immediate on his mind.

“Uhm, Demoman?” Luka said before tapping him on the arm.

“Huh? Oh! Sorry, laddie!” Demoman laughed as he let go of the lad.

Luka energetically scampered about the yard the minute he was free from the Scotsman’s grasp. He was happy to finally be outside in a less hectic setting. The happy little lad explored all the little nooks and crannies of the front yard; a nice looking wooden porch, a rustic fence surrounding the house, trees that sparsely scattered about the land, and finally a decent sized fire pit. Luka couldn't help but wonder if he'd get to roast marshmallows over it one day. The house itself was lovely too, a wide two-story building painted red with some weathering that made the wooden planks look like sweet apples.

“You likin’ it here so far, son?” Engineer asked, seemingly coming out of nowhere.

Luka jumped but relaxed when he saw it was the Engineer. “Oh! Yeah, yeah! Sure is a nice change of pace from, well, the battlefields and whatnot.”

“Heh. I had a feeling you'd like it here. Anyway, I'm gonna head inside and make breakfast, how do you take your coffee?”

Luka perked up the instant he heard the words “make” and “coffee”. “Can I help? I always made the coffee back at my place!”

Engineer was a bit surprised, considering how long the ride home was and how sleepy the lad looked. “Ya sure? You look a little beat, son.”

The now hyperactive lad responded by giddily stamping his feet with what sounded like barking, which was more of a quick succession of “wan”, which Engineer couldn't help but chuckle at. “Alright, alright. Settle down there. You know how to cook too?”

“A little, just give me some direction and I'm on it!”

----

After breakfast, Engineer gave Luka a tour of the sharehouse. It was rather nice and cozy on the inside, surprisingly. Luka was under the impression it'd be a lot more gritty and “manly”. You know, the type of “manly” that apparently meant being boring and dull. The flowery wallpaper decorated the walls of the open living space, featuring an entertainment center in the corner complete with a decently sized TV and two big red couches. Above them was a loft that overlooked the room lined with doors, one of them being the bathroom. Engineer went over some house rules, RED’s general schedule, and what to do in case anything breaks.

“Now, just to be sure you remember, what do you do if you see anything electrical broken?”

“Don't touch anything and run straight to you!”

“Great! We don't want anyone gettin’ hurt with no way to come back now, don't we?” Engineer laughed.

It was a rather morbid thought but Luka found himself laughing anyway. Engineer led Luka up the stairs to the loft and stopped at one of the rooms, knocking before opening the door. Luka peered inside and scanned the room. What met his eyes was a smaller room with a bunk bed against the wood grain wall with just enough space for a dresser and a few other belongings. What struck him as odd was the boxes in the open closest next to what he could only assume was Sniper's clothes. He tilted his head curiously as his mind wandered once again.

“Sorry about the boxes, we haven't been able to store them away since we've been busier than usual these past few months.” Engineer said. “Sniper will be bunking with you for the rest of the cold season. He normally lives in his van when it's warmer.”

“Oh yeah?” Luka responded, not taking his curious gaze away from the boxes.

Engineer noticed the lad's gaze trailed to the boxes in the closet. “Something wrong?”

Luka wasn't sure if he should say what was on his mind but he wasn't sure if he should keep it in either. His emotions did tend to get the better of him when he bottled things up. Maybe…

“Hey… What happened to this Scout guy I keep hearing about?”

Engineer's expression shifted into visible discomfort as a lump got caught in his throat. “We… We don't know.”

“Fuck, I'm so sorry! I knew it was a bad idea to-”

“No! No, son. I understand you have some questions.” Engineer cleared his throat. “The truth is; we don't know. He came to his shift like any other day and… then he was gone by the end of it.”

“So… He just up and vanished?” Luka asked.

“Long-short of it. All I remember is that he wanted to tell Sniper something before he disappeared. We’ve been lookin’ into it long before you showed up. Nothin’...”

Luka looked a little dejected by the news. He hoped he would be able to actually meet the guy one day but that seemed unlikely. “Hope he turns up… A-Anyway, I'm gonna unpack, see you later.”

“Don't forget to give Medic your files, he’s gonna need those. The medbay's in the basement.”

Luka nodded and started to look for some space to put his clothes away. He opened up the topmost drawer but quickly closed it with a red face when he saw a flash of undies. Luckily the one below was completely empty, save for a single baseball. He picked up the well battered ball and inspected it with a pang in his stomach. This was no doubt the previous Scout’s ball. Man, it just stinks. Luka was really looking forward to meeting him. Then again, there was a reason he was here in the first place. Everything happens for a reason, right?

After Luka packed up his clothes and sketchbook, he grabbed his medical files and headed to the basement. It took him a little longer than expected to find the basement door.

Wait, did Dell show me the basement door or did I forget where it was? Ugh… I hate having a terrible memory…

“Looking for somezing?” A sharp voice cut through Luka's train of thought. The lad spun around to be met with the Spy. The rose tinted assassin stared him down with a clear but reserved disdain that made Luka a bit uncomfortable. 

“O-Oh, hi! Uhm… I was just looking for the basement because-”

Spy observed the lad's discomfort and made his expression melt into something less intimidating. “Apologies for interrupting, but I never properly welcomed you to our team.” Spy said with a strategically forced smile that he hoped Luka would not see through.

“O-Oh! Thank you! Anyway, do you know where the basement is? Because I have files I need to-” Luka was cut off by the tip of Spy's butterfly knife gently pressed against his chin. He silently panicked as his gaze trailed from the tip of the knife to Spy's cold gaze. He wanted to scream for help but what would happen if he did?

“I'm going to say zis once, I do not believe zis life is right for you.” Spy lifted Luka up by his chin with his knife. “But as long as you are here, zere will be expectations. Do not disappoint us, Scout. Do I make myself clear?”

Luka gulped, which was made painful with the knife still just barely digging into his skin. “Y-Yes, sir!”

Spy gave a satisfactory smirk. “Excellent. Enjoy ze rest of your day, garcon.” He freed the knife from underneath his chin. Luka ragdolled back first against the door behind him, clutching his medical files tighter than before. “Ah, I almost forgot. Did you say you were looking for ze basement?”

“Y-Yeah?” Luka responded weakly.

“Check behind you.” Spy said as he walked away.

Luka looked confused for a second until he looked at the door behind him labeled “basement” with a graphic of a medical cross and a wrench below the label. Luka smacked himself on the forehead, cursing himself for losing everything a foot in front of him. As he decended into the basement slowly, he looked back on the amount of venom behind the way he said “Scout”, which sent his mind reeling with questions. Was there a reason for this? What was his his relationship with him? Were they close? Rivals? Hated each other? Why did he direct so much vitriol towards him, the new “Scout”? Cause as far as Luka could tell, he had done nothing to him. Questions for another day, perhaps. He was fortunately able to spot the medbay without any trouble. He knocked on the door. 

“Who is it?” A voice asked from the other side.

“It's me, Luka. Dell told me to give you my files.”

“Ah, right! Come in, come in!”

As soon as Luka entered the room, the smell of medicine, blood, and God knows what else hit his nose rather harshly. He coughed a bit in response. His eyes wandered around the room, he was rather unnerved by the sight of surgical tools and somewhat bloodstained operating tables. He handed over the files with shakey hands.

“Uhm… Are you alright, Hartman? You look a little pale.” Medic asked as he took the files from Luka.

“S-Spy welcomed me to team.” Luka said exhaustedly.

“Oh ja, he has a bit of an odd sense of humor. He'll varm up to you eventually!”

It was a bit of an underreaction but Luka found it comforting enough to laugh in response. “Here's hoping.”

“Be here tomorrow morning after breakfast, I need to give you a physical to keep your charts up to date!” Medic said as he started reading through the files.

Luka groaned and started heading back upstairs to take a power nap. Once he got to his room, he plugged in his phone and fell like a log onto his bed.

----

A few hours later, Luka groggily woke up and headed downstairs to the kitchen to grab his second coffee of the day. However, he came face to chest to Heavy as he was walking. He squeaked as he scrambled to apologize for bumping into him.

“New Scout…” Luka froze when he was addressed. “Name is Luka, da?”

“Y-Yes.”

The giant stared Luka down for a few moments as the lad awkwardly stared up. Heavy reached for the top of his head, which made Luka winced and screw his eyes shut. When a smack to the head didn't come like he thought it would, he cautiously opened an eye to see that Heavy pulled back his hand and softened his expression. The lad tilted his head in questioning. Heavy reached out again but slower, carefully gauging his reactions. Luka stood as still as he could and shut his eyes again, but then he felt a giant hand ruffle through his hair. His eyes shot open in surprise as he looked up to see a much warmer look on Heavy’s face. With a string of happy barking, he stood on the tips of his toes to nudge into the hand that was now playfully scratching the side of his face. 

Heavy let out a soft chuckle. “See? Little Dog is good now, da?”

Despite Spy's warning (Or was it a threat? Who knows?), Luka started to think that maybe things weren't going to be so bad. But then another thought occurred to him that made the lad scream at himself internally.

SHIT, I FORGOT TO TELL BIG SIS I'M OK.

[ladyglenda]

For anyone dealing with cancer(s)...

Here are a few helpful tips:

1st, don't have them "test" the tumor. Tumors are the body's way of protecting us from allowing the CA cells to traverse the body and mutate healthy cells.

Once it's punctured for "testing", the cells travel and the beasties cause more issues. (Why not right? It's a $ making racquet.)

1A. CANCER IS A PARASITE. Start the Ivermectin (dosage 1am1 pm by bodyweight) & Fenbendazole (dosage 1 222mg pill/day for 6 days, skip the 7th to let the renal system rest).

2nd, STOP ALL SUGARS. CA loves sugar in ALL FORMS.

3rd, HYDROGEN PEROXIDE: H202 has the extra Oxygen molecule that CA can't stand. Put it on a cotton ball, or wash cloth for larger areas and rub all over skin. 3x/day, more-so when you're out of the bath & shower, as your pores are open and more apt to getting it into the bloodstream. The skin absorbs the HP, and kills the CA cells almost immediately.

4th, ALKALINE WATER: CA can't survive in an alkaline body. Start drinking alkaline water w/ lemon consistently thru the day. Lemon is an acid outside of the body, but the hydrochloric acid in your stomach converts it to an alkaline base. This travels through your blood stream and will help to eradicate the crud.

5th, DETOX BATHS: 1 cup Baking Soda, 1 Cup Borax, 1 Cup Epsom Salt, & Bentonite Clay. Draw the hottest bath you can muster... Soak as long as you can, as hot as you can, and it will help to detox the CA and the nano-particulates (gr@phine oxide), out of the body. Do this at least 2-3x a week.

6th, The BIG BOMBER: VITAMIN B17 which NO ONE wants ANYONE to know about!

Apple seeds, Apricot, Peach, & Plum Pits, - ALL of it! You can get them on Cabalazon, or any other place online. The B17 vitamin has been removed from our knowledge, because: BIG pHARMa. 1/4teaspoon a day of the powder, or just eating a couple apricot pits thru the day, (like 3 or 4), will also eradicate the CA.

I really hate the fact that non-suspecting people are dealing w/ all the bioweapon B.S. The turbo cancers are all a part of it. ..

We have LEGIT CURES now. There's no longer a need for Chemo and Radiation which do nothing more than kill the good tissue. 9/10, the patient passes from chemo & radiation poisoning than the actual cancer.

Before BIG pHARMa, CA patients were given 2 large bottles of peroxide, and a bag of cotton balls and told to use it daily and return in 2 weeks to find 100% of it was cured.

Extra prayers! :) 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🥰🥰🥰

🇺🇸🤘🐺🤘🇺🇸

[sports-teller]

New Post has been published on Sports-Teller.com!

New Post has been published on https://sports-teller.com/yankees-2024-new-foods-fried-zeppole-helmet/

Yankees 2024 New Foods Include Fried Zeppole Helmet

Yankee Stadium reveals Yankees 2024 New Foods that feature Butterfinger® Shakes, Brown Sugar Wings, BBQ Loaded Tater Tots & More! Join us as the New York Yankees announce new food concessions, drinks and dessert options at Yankee Stadium for the 2024 season.  Yankees 2024 New Foods Include Fried Zeppole Helmet Are you going to the Bronx Bombers games this year? Want new menu options to try at Yankee Stadium in 2024? The Major League Baseball season is finally here in the Big Apple, and the men in pinstripes have a new food lineup ready for fans to enjoy for 2024. … Read more

[fashioneditswebsite]

Six moments you might have missed from NYFW 2024

Fashion month went off with a bang in New York City. With boundary-pushing designs and plenty of famous faces on the front row, New York Fashion Week (NYFW)2024 has wrapped up. And what a glittering season it has been! Filled with bold designs and celebrity-filled front rows. New York is often seen as the cooler younger sibling to Milan and Paris Fashion Weeks, and it didn't disappoint with the autumn/winter 2024 season. Here's what you might have missed from a week of fashion in the Big Apple… 1. Beyoncé sits in the front row. In a surprise appearance on Tuesday night, Beyoncé sat in the front row to watch her 19-year-old model nephew Daniel 'Julez' Smith Jr walk the runway at the Luar fashion show, a clothing brand "for the culture." The singer and her mother sat together, both wearing stylish outfits. She finished the look with oversized sunglasses, a holographic Luar bag, and a cowboy hat in the same color. 2. Molly Ringwald walked the runway. Sixteen Candles star Molly Ringwald opened the Batsheva show, wearing a dramatic hooded black gown, which the brand described on Instagram as "a velveteen funeral Jackie O dream." The 55-year-old is usually seen sitting in the front row, but this season, she joined an entire cast of models aged 40 or over. Designer Batsheva Hay had spent weeks recruiting random women for the show, telling The New York Times she did it because she was 42. "I find that aging is a big preoccupation for me and my friends. It's an area of discomfort in fashion," she said. 3. Tommy Hilfiger comes back home. Fashion veteran Tommy Hilfiger wanted to honor New York in his second show since the coronavirus outbreak. He staged the show at the Oyster Bar in Grand Central Station, with the likes of Damson Idris, newest brand ambassador Sofia Richie Grainge, and Kelly Rutherford all in attendance. "We thought it was time," Hilfiger told CNN ahead of the show. "Time to come back and celebrate New York. It's iconic, and it's where I started." From varsity bomber jackets and trench coats to striped jumpers and polo shirts, the mega-brand was bold and modern in its interpretation of preppy fashion. 4. Blake Lively makes an appearance. In support of her good friend Michael Kors, the actress and Gossip Girl alum attended the autumn-winter runway shown Tuesday. The mom of four wore a giraffe-print trench coat and mini skirt with brown boots. She attended the Super Bowl to see the Kansas City Chiefs win against the San Francisco 49ers. Taylor Swift, Ice Spice, Lana Del Rey, Miles Teller, and Keleigh Sperry spotted her watching the game. 5. All eyes on Area Interestingly, to celebrate its 10th anniversary, Area broke from tradition and debuted spring/summer clothes instead of the usual autumn/winter collections. The designers drew inspiration from Sixties pop art and 1920s cartoons and studied the outfits with statement googly eyes. The designers drew inspiration from Sixties pop art and 1920s cartoons and studied the outfits with statement googly eyes. Area's collection delves into the interplay between viewing and being viewed. It explores the dynamics of essentials and the extraordinary. The collection reconstructs the interconnection between fashion and its observers. Area shared this on Instagram. 6. Storybook drama at Thom Browne After a spell in Paris, Thom Browne returned to the New York Fashion Week schedule in a suitably dramatic style. A veteran of the industry – and the chairman of the Council of Fashion Designers of America (CFDA) – he's known for high-production-value shows, and this season was no different. Inspired by Edgar Allan Poe's poem The Raven, models walked around a wintery wasteland of a catwalk. More than just a runway show, this was performance art – one of the 'trees' on the runway turned out to be a man on stilts wearing an oversized puffer jacket, and four children emerged from the coat to watch the show. The clothes were suitably Gothic – practically everything was monochromatic, with models wearing sculptural headpieces. Moreover, the fashion show emphasized tailoring and boxy silhouettes with a sporty edge. It was a dramatic and exciting experience for everyone, including celebrities like Janet Jackson and Queen Latifah, who enjoyed the show in the front row. Read the full article

[confessions-ofan-insomniac]

LIVE! from New York! it’s Fashion Week

I’m feeling UNYEEZY

….and for good reason, I would later in the day find out. 

At 4am, I woke up in a panic, that I absolutely need gold boots. This was brought on by the fact, that the gold Balenciaga’s are sold out everywhere. Pffft….

People, if you’re going to buy anything for fall, it’s gotta be those damn gold boots. Razor sharp, mirror finish, Basta. So if you’re the type of person who cares about this sort of thing, these are THE HOTTEST 5 - yes FIVE shoes for fall. I’m not dicking around with a top ten list.

1. As we’ve just discussed: The elusive gold Balenciaga boot

2. The Glam-Rock platform boot.

This is right up my alley. I can re-live my glory days via my feet. These Saint Laurent boots are all I need. New York Dolls. Hello.

3. Anything over the knee.

Again, razor sharp, the higher the better. Case in point. Separately, I despise each one of these pieces. Hoodie? Sloppy. A necessary evil, and most of all, “meh”.  MA1 bomber? Wouldn’t dream of it. I’ve spent most of my shopping time, curating the perfectly cut sleeve/armhole, and now you’re proposing this? And over the knee boots? Pretty Woman.

Yet, this is how I want to look. And that is how you sell energy. THE hottest commodity of ALL. TIME.

4. The punked-up ballet flat.

As my mother once proclaimed, in the shoe department, at Saks, “I am NOT paying $800 for a heel and a strap” and that was ten years ago! Ditto. I need at least 2 pounds of shoe for $800. See #2 Saint Laurent Glam-Rock boots.

5. Red or White ankle boots.

If you’re a glutton for punishment, and ya got any diñero left after the above, a blinding white or candy apple red boot is what you want to search for. That damn Balenciaga is turning out a good one. Go ahead, try and find them.

So Yeezy season 4 is this afternoon and I’m won’t be there. Apparently there was some pre-fashion week hysteria as KW performed last night. Returning to the scene of the crime, how can I not mention the performance last night at Madison Square Gardens. The man compared himself to Steve Jobs, and Henry Ford for fucks sake, at the VMA’s last week. So my prediction for Yeezy season 4 is, a whole “LOTTA” Vetements, Hood By Air, and Y-3 project, because: “a boner”

Update: Regarding Y/season4, or as I am now referring to it, “The Roosevelt Island Ruse of 2016″,  I will do, what Stella Bugbee, Editorial Director of The Cut said: “The most responsible thing we could all do, would be, to write NOTHING about this show”. You can read her live tweets here if you care to anger yourself further….. 

Last night, Tom Ford did what he does best; make big, luxurious statement pieces. Leather, fur, velvet, a few 70′s pimp coats, and some big-ass jewelry.

While people were sweating their asses off, on the bus to Roosevelt Island, I was enjoying a nice cocktail at the London. Right now, I’m thinking about over-dressing and the “bad-donut-shop”, immortalized in Patti Smith’s novel, “Just Kids”. If Lotta Volkova could travel back in time, I think it would be a hot-bed of inspiration for her. THAT, and Billy’s Topless. 

Live from NEW YORK! It’s Fashion Week!

Note: This article from September 8, 2016 - has been reformatted for your viewing pleasure.

[alightinthelantern]

book reviews: The Spectacular (Fiona Davis)

Synopsis: New York City, 1956: Nineteen-year-old Marion Brooks knows she should be happy. Her college sweetheart is about to propose and sweep her off to the life everyone has always expected they’d have together: a quiet house in the suburbs, Marion staying home to raise their future children. But instead, Marion finds herself feeling trapped. So when she comes across an opportunity to audition for the famous Radio City Rockettes—the glamorous precision-dancing troupe—she jumps at the chance to exchange her predictable future for the dazzling life of a performer.

Meanwhile, the city is reeling from a string of bombings orchestrated by a person the press has nicknamed the “Big Apple Bomber,” who has been terrorizing the citizens of New York for sixteen years by planting bombs in popular, crowded spaces. With the public in an uproar over the lack of any real leads after a yearslong manhunt, the police turn in desperation to Peter Griggs, a young doctor at a local mental hospital who espouses a radical new technique: psychological profiling.

As both Marion and Peter find themselves unexpectedly pulled in to the police search for the bomber, Marion realizes that as much as she’s been training herself to blend in—performing in perfect unison with all the other identical Rockettes—if she hopes to catch the bomber, she’ll need to stand out and take a terrifying risk. In doing so, she may be forced to sacrifice everything she’s worked for, as well as the people she loves the most.

Review: The narrative voice is typical of detective fiction, and I mean that scathingly. The book is clumsily, obtusely written, as if the author thinks her audience is too stupid to understand anything she doesn't broadcast, and a glaring example of "telling", not "showing". The dialogue is corny and hokey, like a 1950s sitcom, and not in a good way. The book continually switches between first and third person for no apparent reason beyond demarcating time periods (again, clumsy writing). And partway through the story the book pulls a narrative twist that feels like a slap in the face: Marion Brooks is accepted into the Rockettes, an elite dancing troupe that performs daily at Radio City Music Hall, and his kicked out of her home as a result by her conservative father, who sees her as throwing her life away to be a chorus girl. Her older sister, with whom she's long had a strained relationship, thinks their father's gone too far and takes her side in the matter, and agrees to come to a Rockette performance in support of her. They spend a happy hour together for the first time in years before the performance, but as Marion performs on stage the Mad Bomber, a man who's been terrorizing NYC for years, plants a pipe bomb in the audience which goes off and kills her sister, who was only in the audience because Marion begged her to come, killing her sister off right when their relationship was starting to heal.

The book is shit, don't bother reading it.