#Machos: Fully Loaded

[questioningespecialy]

SiCKtM: the horrors of time travel

post migrated to pillowfort (May 2024) archive: dashboard | blog

[removed non-image content for reasons]

[zombiesthetic]

THOMAS HEWITT WITH A PLUS SIZE S/O . . .

pairing . . . thomas hewitt x plus size!fem reader

warnings . . . hoyt ( he needs his own warning ) , no insecurities or self doubt but mentions of having "bad days" because let's be real, we all have those days.

comments , likes , and reposts are appreciated !

★ let us be real for a moment. thomas would 100% love a woman who has some meat on her bones. someone he doesn't have to treat like fine china.

★ you have curves? he's running his hands over them.

★ you have hip dips? perfect place for him to put his hands.

★ you have nice, soft, plush thighs? it's a perfect place for him to rest his head after a long day of hunting and killing.

★ you have a soft stomach? another amazing place for him to rest his head. it's like his own personal pillow and he loves it.

★ oh. and don't ever let this man see you in a dress. your curves, your soft stomach, your wide hips, your full breasts that threaten to spill out of the top and sides, oh dear lord. it takes everything in him not to stop what he's doing, throw you over his shoulder, and take you to the basement to do ungodly things that luda mae would definitely not approve of.

★ luda mae would definitely talk to him about you having nice "birthing hips". it would confuse the hell out of him. how did she know you had nice birthing hips just by looking at them? but once that idea was planted in his head . . . it's game over.

★ he loves it when you sit in his lap. the feeling of your weight being on him makes his head go fuzzy. ad you better believe that if you don't put your full weight on him, he's tugging you down til you're fully seated.

★ he just loves you. he loves every single thing about you.

★ he loves you even when you have your bad days. you know the days where you don't feel your best? he's right by your side and in his own way, he's telling you he loves everything about you. sure, there's a huge conversation barrier, but you know what he's trying to say.

★ if hoyt even dares to make a snide comment, thomas is locked and loaded, ready to take his brother/uncle down to the basement to butcher him.

★ after a close encounter with tommy's chainsaw, hoyt never said anything again. at least not when tommy could hear him.

★ but all it takes is for you to threaten to tell tommy and hoyt is shutting his mouth. that man really doesn't want to become a victim.

★ when it comes to cuddling, tommy likes to be little spoon. nothing you say can change my mind.

★ after a long day of killing and butchering, all he wants is to lay down on top of you with his head buried in your chest while you run your hand though his dark curls.

★ he's so used to be forced to "be a man" by hoyt, he likes that he doesn't have to be a big macho man when he's with you.

★ of course, he'll put on a "i run this relationship" act in front of hoyt, but when it's just you two. man, is this boy whipped. you tell him to do something, it'll be done within the hour. and of course, it's the other way around too.

★ in the beginning you had to sit him down and tell him that relationships don't have an "owner" and a "pet" like hoyt had always told him.

★ because of hoyt's constant talk of how relationships are "supposed to be", tommy didn't really want to be in a relationship. he didn't like the idea of having to "own" someone.

★ but after you had a nice sit down conversation with him, he liked the idea of being in a 50/50 relationship. you respect and love him and he respects and loves you.

★ in reality, you had to teach tommy a lot of things. but the good thing is . . . tommy is a very fast learner. in more ways than one. *wink* *wink*

★ tommy is really good with his hands. no, not in that way. get your head out of the gutter.

★ if you liked a piece of jewelry one of the victims were wearing but it didn't fit you, tommy would craft it to fit you. you mentioned a ring you liked, but it was a few sizes too small? this man is cutting the band and making it adjustable.

★ you like a necklace but it doesn't quite fit your neck how you want it too? he's stealing a chain from another victim and adding it to the necklace so it'll fit you.

★ you liked a piece of clothing but it's too small? this man is cleaning his sewing machine and creating an entire new piece of clothing with you. ( after he has luda mae get the blood stains out because that woman is scarily good at getting blood stains out of things. )

★ his love language is acts of service and gift giving, obviously.

★ he likes doing things for you and he really loves giving you things.

★ after he's done working in the barn, during his walk back to the house, if he sees a flower that sprouted in the yard, he'll grab it and give it to you.

CREDITS . . . divider by @cafekitsune

MASTERLIST

[lostreverb]

SOME RANDOM THOUGHTS / HEADCANONS ABOUT MAX COOPERMAN

just realized that aside from jake, most of max's relationships with people were either superficial or transactional which he probably just thought was normal growing up as a rich kid who was a "loser" learning that ppl only liked him when he had something to give them.

of course, when he was younger everyone loved to go to his birthday parties b/c his parents were loaded and they always planned something extravagant to try and make up for the fact they were never really around but, as he got older his parents stopped really caring to put on those parties. after that, no one bothered to give max any attention or befriend him unless they saw his wealth as something useful, or just brought him around so he could be the butt of the joke. and the second they got what they wanted from him they discarded him. being the kind-hearted and naive boy he is, he doesn't really fully grasp it until after ryan beats him to a pulp. he brushes off what happens but it honestly profoundly affects him from then on.

he thought ryan was a friend but turns out he was just being taken advantage of, his parents didn't care to come see him in the hospital despite how serious his condition was, and jake, the only genuine friend he ever had, ends up leaving (prolly bc college) and max later refers to him in passing as "a guy i brought up back in the day" which hints that they likely don't talk anymore.

so college starts. a fresh slate. max guards himself with this macho (with a very small hint of being an asshole) persona. he's got a leadership position as the RA of his floor, got two nerdy "friends" that are very reminiscent of ryan and his guys (remember when they snicker along with him at mike?), and a semi-famous reputation online. he loses weight the summer before college and decides to stop fighting (probably caused by the trauma from ryan) but we see he uses hand grips so even he definitely wants to keep himself strong for his physique and to protect himself. though max is still fairly lean which is likely an insecurity for him. the last thing he ever wants to be seen as is a dork.

let's not even talk about how being conditioned like this affects his views on women and relationships. first off in highschool he only gets attention from baja's friends b/c of his association with jake, then in college he gets all this attention because he's "attractive" now and has this cool car, dorm and fame due to the fighting videos + promotions. he's (mostly) only ever made out with drunk women at parties or events that just throw themselves at him but it never goes further than that.

he likely has made himself believe that he should think of women as prizes (again as awful as ryan was max kind of molds his new self with his influences subconsciously. he had the kind of attention, the girls, the intimidation factor max aspires to have), but if a girl were to ever genuinely like him it would fry his brain. he wouldn't understand the idea of someone wanting to spend time with him, even if he wasn't really doing anything. to intently listen to him and partake in his interests. or how much happier you'd look after just going on a walk around campus with him vs. when he bought you jewelry or flowers.

it left him with a feeling he only experienced once before when jake saved him, and went after ryan.

it just clicks for him like-

oh. this is how it feels to be genuinely cared for.

it's not soon after he realizes that you tell him you love him for the first time, while cuddling in bed (he's sure his mother used to say it to him when he was younger but he honestly can't really remember anymore-- the most communication he has with his parents now is the deposits into his bank account).

once the door closes, and you've left for your classes.. he feels the lingering heat of your lips, your words echoing in his head and the way you looked at him...

and he cries.

[freakingoutthesquares]

Pulp Diction - Part Two Part One here Words: Paul Lester, Photographer: Pat Pope Melody Maker, 27 May 1995 Transcription: Acrylic Afternoons

Starring: JARVIS COCKER as THE JUNKSHOP ROMANTIC STEVE MACKEY as THE PLAYBOY RUSSELL SENIOR as THE ALIEN CANDIDA DOYLE as THE CARE BEAR KID NICK BANKS as THE PIE-MUNCHER

PULPSEX (COME AGAIN)

The B-side of "Common People" is "Underwear" (a very, very Pulp word that, underwear), a brief encounter between a fully clothed boy and a semi-naked girl. Says Jarvis Cocker, the Morrissey With A Groin™: "It's about how, once you've taken somebody's clothes off, it's hard to put them back on and leave and say, 'Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't actually mean that.'"

Forgive me for being so literal, but I was wondering... "Do I wear underwear? I didn't used to, but do now, I hate boxer shorts, they're crap. I don't see the point of them - there's no support. If you run, it's all flopping about. I prefer the trunks type - not with the legging, but kind of like Y-fronts. You can get them from Marks & Spencer in three-packs. I have tangas as well, but they're disgusting - you know, those really tiny ones."

Is Jarv into "sexy" women's underwear? "No, I hate all that Ann Summers, supposedly erotic lingerie where it's like, black polyester satin with synthetic red trim and synthetic lace."

Does he ever stop himself from having un-PC thoughts? Sexist ones, for example? "Not really. I was brought up in a completely female-dominated environment," he backtracks to his childhood - his father left home when he was seven, and he was brought up by his strict mother, who, suitably tragicomically, would hit him with a plastic hairbrush, only to replace it with a wooden one when it broke. "So it would be difficult for me... I mean, I do think there are differences between men and women. But I like that. I'm not particularly into homogeneity. Vive le difference!"

Are we finally allowed to admit, post-"Loaded", to admiring the female form? "Well, it's a lot nicer to look at than the male form, isn't it? And I think women would agree with that as well. The shape is more balanced, it's got nice curves, and you've got the breasts which balance the bottom part..."

Hey! This is a family paper. What about men? "You can have good-looking men as well, I suppose. It's just that a women's sexual parts are nicer than a man's"

Do you have conventionally male tastes in women? "Yeah, I think I have. Actually, there's a shop I keep meaning to go to which has just opened up in Soho which sells more kind of... demurely sexual things - they're not in-your-face sexy. I love to see... I don't get that much of a chance, you know, but I love to see..."

Apparently Nick Cave, Mr Dark Knight Of The Soul, gets turned on by busty secretary types. "I know what you're saying, yeah - towny lassies. Yeah, they're alright, them."

I must say, this is all a bit of a surprise, Jarvis. Just before, you were talking about homogeneity... "I don't even like the milk." ...and I was wondering: do you realise a lot of people reckon you're androgynous? "I wouldn't say I was. It's just that, well, there's no way I could be macho. It's just a physical fact. I couldn't pull it off."

Huh-huh. He said 'pull it off'.

"No, I'm not androgynous. I just like taking care of my appearance. Not that I'm in to designer labels, or anything. 'Oh, you're wearing Versace tonight.' I just like well-made clothes. And I'm not bothered what other people wear, either. You often get people coming up to you who just tell you about their eyeliner, and that's boring. I don't think people should be allowed to look interesting if they're actually boring. They should be prosecuted under the Trade Descriptions Act."

Sorry for prying but, to paraphrase a well-known pronouncement, are you a heterosexual who's never had a homosexual experience? "Yeah, yeah. I'm as straight as a dye. I mean, it's not anything to be proud of, it's just that I've never had the inclination. I can appreciate that some men look nice, but I don't feel any kind of attraction towards them."

Turns out Jarvis Cocker is a bit of an Iron John sort on the quiet. Not that you'd tell at first sight, of course: he makes Kate Moss look like Hattie Jacques.

Can thin men be lads? "Yeah. Candida's [Pulp keyboardist] boyfriend's thinner than me, and he's got very laddish tendencies." There you go, then. "It can be quite funny, that laddish thing," Jarv goes on. "Like the lads at school - they were always doing stupid things like sprayings 'Welcome To Colditz' on the school wall, or like, when my sister was about 15 and she was walking back from the chip shop eating some chips, and this gang of lads were going, 'Oi, do you want a sausage with them chips, love?' It's just daft."

I've just realised: Jarvis Cocker is the kid from "Kes", 25 years on.

PULPPEOPLE

There is more to Pulp than Jarvis Cocker, though. Without Pulp, Jarvis would make a credible space-age Frank Sinatra, crooning torch songs against some cheesy orchestral backdrop on the Rialto circuit, or appearing on the "Des O' Connor" show like some kind of diseased, anorexic lounge lizard in full second-hand regalia, a surreally suave cabaret turn for the Camden set.

But it's the other four members of Pulp who give Jarvis Cocker's glum bus-stop love stories and X-rated anecdotes an appropriately glam epic soundtrack, who give his comic bark a cosmic backing, who help achieve the perfect union of accessibility and experimentation.

Nick Banks (percussion), Russell Senior (guitar) and Steve Mackey (bass) make up the Morodorised/motorised rhythm section, while Candida Doyle supplies the battery of Farfisa Organs, arcane Stylophones and assorted synth relics which give Pulp their unique Seventies/Nineties sound, a smashing clash of the kitsch and the colossal, the tacky and the titanic.

What are Pulp? Pulp are: Acrylic acid. Dralon disco. Terylene techno. Formica funk. Or, to put it another way, Pulp are: Kraftwerk play Tindersticks - how else to define Pulp's shuddering depiction of Jarvis' sad bedsit melodramas? (in fact, Pulp love Kraftwerk, and Jarvis, now a fully qualified film-maker, has made videos for Tindersticks.)

But who are Pulp? And are the really as reptilian-strange as they look? The Four Other Members Of Pulp take it in turns to join me in the grim interview room to draw rough sketches in the air of their bandmates.

Nick Banks is first. "Russell always seems like the sensible one, the one who wears a shirt and tie," says the 30-year-old drummer. "He's very straight-laced, but it's like he's so straight, he's strange. If you see what I mean.

"Candida [32] is pretty strange as well. Especially when she gets giggly and drunk, which is usually on champagne these days," he adds, doing his best Noel Coward impression. Nick, another of Pulp's Venusian-next-door types tells me that, while none of Pulp are married, they are all in steady relationships, and that Russell lives with his girlfriend and their two kids in Sheffield. Nick and Russell still live in Sheffield, while Jarvis, Steve and Candida have all moved to London.

Banks also tells me that, whenever Pulp are on tour, he shares a room with Russell, apparently the excuse for all manner of sinister activities.

"He [Russell] takes to running round the room with no clothes on. Why? God knows. He runs a bath, and you'd think he'd then go in the bathroom. But no. He has to take all his clothes off, then start running the bath, and he'll be running round the room getting his things together. And I'll be there trying to watch 'Sportsnight', or something. lt's not a pretty sight."

Steve Mackey- Pulp's dashing 29-year-old ladykiller who shares a flat with Justin from Elastica and is a dead ringer for Alex James from Blur verifies this when he says, "You just don't enter the room when Nick and Russell are in there. You stay away. I've looked in at times and there's, like, pants down, breasts showing, all sorts."

It soon transpires that Banks has been fairly intimate with Jarvis Cocker as well.

"I went camping with Jarvis a few years back," he recalls, preparing to shatter some illusions, "and it really pissed it down, and there were eight of us, and we were all piled into this caravan, sleeping on the floor in sleeping bags. And l'm on the floor one night, and I look up, and there's Jarvis' bollocks in front of my face! And he's trying to lower himself onto his sleeping bag! And l'm, like, gerroff! Get'em out me way! Eurgh. Horrible. A terrible sight. A vision of hell. He doesn't wear much underwear, you see, so it was balls out for the lads. Frightening. It'll haunt me for the rest of me life, that."

Does it bemuse Nick that this "vision of hell" is, along with Damon Albarn, Liam Gallagher and Brett Anderson, one of the four most desired frontmen in British (indie) pop?

"Not bemuse. I find it quite funny, really, cos he's tall, he's thin, he's gangly, he's not athletic and he hasn't got all that great co-ordination... it's funny for people to see him as this sexual being when I've seen him trip up on the carpet so many times. It's nice that he can triumph over adversity and give hope to people."

Russell Senior, who is 34 but acts even older, tells me about forthcoming Pulp tracks "Pencil Skirt" ("Conventional Pulp fodder"), "Mile End" ("It's an alternative view of Blur's East End, the dark side of 'Parklife'") and "Monday Morning" ("it's bluebeat/ska - it sounds dreadful, but it's well within the boundaries of acceptable taste"). And he thinks Pulp, not Oasis, are the Rolling Stones to Blur's Beatles. "We're not kitsch," he states, flatly, "that's just the way Jarvis dresses. There's a dark, almost satanic edge to Pulp that I've always thought was quite Stones-y"

Russell is resigned to JC's dominance over Pulp in '95: "We used to be perceived more as a group, whereas it's all Jarv these days."

If there was a Pulp cartoon (set in some decrepit urban futurescope, all lurid neon reds and vivid emergency greens), it would be Russell who'd get the job of outlining the characters. In fact, some years back there was a Pulpzine with its very own Pulp caricatures.

Remembers Russell, "Nick was the pie-munching, beer-swilling, televised football kind of guy. Candida was in the toy shop, or on a multi-coloured cloud with the 'Care Bears'. Steve was the playboy with his cigars and women. Jarvis was all jumble sales and junk, space-hoppers and suspender belts. And I was the hardline, stern, don't-suffer-fools-gladly type."

Candida is last to enter the interview chamber. She isn't in a particularly fluffy-bunny-ish kind of mood today, having just chipped a tooth on some jelly babies, but she does reveal she's keen to make loads of money from Pulp, or at least enough to pay her 'leccy bill (she recently got cut off). She also says that being recognised in shops and travelling in limos "makes me feel like l'm drunk or on drugs, like l'm in an unreal world, kind of dizzy."

PULPLIFE

It'll get dizzier. Especially since "Common People" is going to be this years "Girls And Boys". And especially since Jarvis Cocker, who is already this year's eccentric media plaything, has presented "Top Of The Pops" and appeared on the cover of the "Top Of The Pops" magazine with Kylie Minogue as well as on "Pop Quiz", "The Brits" and "The Big Breakfast" (who had a "Jarvis Day"!), all in the last few months alone.

As Jarvis gets chauffeured to central London via his home in Ladbroke Grove (Hard Cash = Street Name), where he will pick up some singles (Duran Duran, A-Ha, Dollar, ELO, KC & The Sunshine Band, Soft Cell, Barry White, Hot Chocolate, Freeez, The Bluetones - Jarvis, I love you) to play on the Lamacq and Whiley show later on, I join him on the car's squashy black leather back seat and wonder whether success will make a failure of him. You know, Culture Of Despair, and all that.

"No, I can't imagine that I would," is the former assistant fishmonger's reply to my enquiry: would he ever Do A Kurt Or Richey? "Because I've done other things, I know there's always a way out, another world. I always say, 'Go and be a gardener, or something - there are other things apart from music that you can do.'" Right now, Jarvis is having too good a time to do get depressed. Like appearing on every TV show under the sun...

"It's important to go on those things and not be a cheesemaster," he announces, dryly, as the Ford Granada glides through the mid-afternoon traffic. "I mean, people say, 'Why don't you go on with your cock out and say f*** off and do a dump', but that's immature and stupid. That kind of rebellious behaviour just isn't rebellious any more."

Or presenting awards on the Brits... "In those situations, you do seek solace in drink. There were all these people in these Portakabins backstage like Elton John and Sting. I went to the toilet and suddenly realised I was pissing next to Tom Jones! He had his cock out in the little urinal next to me."

Jarvis says he's not likely to surround himself with bodyguards like Prince did at the Brits ('What kind of danger are you in at a place like that? I mean, Terence Trent D'Arby's hardly going to Ninja you, is he?"), even though he got beaten up quite badly in Islington last Christmas. Generally, he's rather delighted that, after 15 years of playing the lead role in his own sordid tales of sleazy low-rent romance, Pulp are getting some reward.

"I suppose if you have a certain amount of success, you feel like you've had a kind of kitemark on you," he says as the car pulls up outside Broadcasting House and he prepares to dedicate his theme song, Dennis "Minder" Waterman's "I Could Be So Good For You", to the entire British nation "Do you know what I mean? Because I always used to feel like a marginal character, kind of stuck on the sidelines. And now I feel like, finally, I'm fit for human consumption."

[abirdonathrone]

you want will using a gun over powers but in the next point say will having powers is traumatic… don’t you remember the only reason will knows how to lock and load a gun is because of lonnie, his abusive dad? IF he’s going to use a gun it should be a negative thing, he should have an upsetting reaction and it should be forced on him, not voluntary. I hope that’s what you mean by it, because if you think he can or should be this confident perfect gun slinger - you’re not stanning will byers, because that’s not who he is. a macho and aggressive guy is what lonnie wanted him to be and he won’t ever be that, and I could never want him to be that.

him having powers doesn’t = aggression either because they can manifest in a different way, or be related to healing, or be defensive without any actual killing (protective). a gun can’t be that, it’s not will. it’s really interesting reading a post against powers but fully supporting him with a gun, I didn’t expect that 😭 that’s a lot of childhood trauma for him coming back

idk if he has powers or not and I. want will to have badass moments on screen too but there are others way to do it!

this is actually a very good point, i should have taken into consideration the fact that guns are a reminder of lonnie for will. i guess what i meant was that will is always being the one being protected, and for him to have his own way of defense (whether a gun or a bat or anything) is something i would like to see just to show his growth as a character. this does not mean that i think that will should have powers to defend himself because the difference between having something like a bat for defense and using his powers is that if he had powers it would just be an expectation and a given that he would use them to harm evil, but him choosing to defend himself with his own way means he is much more in control. idk if any of this makes sense but thank you anon for bringing up this point :)

also i agree with the point that powers doesn’t have to inherently mean aggression, but even with healing powers there’s still the burden of being different than others because you have powers, and you can be viewed as only useful for your powers (like how el is often treated). like i said in my first post, the st cinematic universe isn’t a world where ordinary people are meant to have powers, and basically all of the powers stem from a source of evil. i think that if will had powers of any kind, it shouldn’t be shown in a way of “oh great he has powers and now he’s super cool!!”

[lucky4catalyst]

INITIAL PUBLIC TESTING

While in the process of figuring out what public presentation I would document for the purpose of this blog, there were a few opportunities for documentation that fell through for one reason or another. However, they did offer me the opportunity to test my material publicly. So I'll take this occasion to direct those experiences a little bit. 

Firstly, there was the Speedgasm Rave I hosted for my birthday in February, it could have been an occasion to document but not all the sonic material was ready and there was so much to organise that I forgot to record my set and the only documentation I did was this photo.

And here's the poster I made for that event:

The UBT (not going to use their full name) rave was a strange but fun gig, it was at a spot I'm used to playing at and my set time was around 7 or 8am. I showed up an hour before after a nice sleep and the promoter as well as most of the ravers around the venue were trashed. The vibes and music were very macho although the energy was high and overall the crowd was friendly. I was a bit out of place on this lineup, it was mostly this new school Hard Techno with a lot of rave stabs and that’s just not the music I make, I reckon the promoter booked me off of a recommendation and hadn’t actually listened to my music. But I went for my coldest and hardest material while still throwing in some playful moments during my one-hour live set. The floor was pretty empty when I started and I filled it back up with happy dancers, It was so loud the pipes in the ceiling were vibrating, which was really fun. Halfway through the DJ who was playing after me came into the booth and started trying to vibe/dance/ with me, it was a bit uncomfortable but he meant well. Afterwards, I hung around for a few moments waiting for a good moment to speak to the promoter about the very low fee I asked for. He didn’t pay up, and I didn’t fight for it I just left with my heavy bag full of gear vowing to be more selective with my gigs. Later I found out the recording was botched.

(I can only put one video here so I'll upload some videos in another post)

The next gig was accepted before I vowed to be more selective about where I play, and it was for a very good cause. A friend of mine asked me and my music partner to play at a charity event he was helping to organise for a Ukrainian animal shelter. It was super wholesome and a great experience, but maybe our music was out of place for that occasion. We still played our best and it seemed as though people were enjoying it a lot, but it wasn’t the right time nor occasion for our style of dance music. 10/10 experience though!

The gig after that was the Equinox rave, it was at a really nice indoor spot out in the forest in Brandenburg. Me and Goldmund.99 were meant to play around 4am but the lineup was delayed and our set was pushed back to 9am. It was a really fun gig with a crowd that was super receptive to the psychedelic sounds which was fun. The decor was great and there was loads of interesting stuff in the surrounding area. Here is a photo I really like from that morning :)

A few of us from the Speedgasm crew were invited to play down in Frankfurt, this was pretty exciting at first and we were all super hyped, but the experience didn’t really live up to our expectations. I had fully planned to document this gig but the vibes were off, I never experienced a crowd like that, and their taste was for Eurodance and Pop remix, so once again this was a bad curation in terms of the lineup. The monitoring was awful and I sadly didn’t take any pleasure from this experience. 

The next two events myself and the Speedgasm crew are throwing which at the time of writing are still in the planning. There’s May 1st which will be an open air in the park, and May 25th which I'm currently finalising the line-up for, this will be a more Psytrance-based rave at our usual location. In the end, I think we will throw an impromptu event for the purpose of documenting a performance.

EDIT: May 1st was a banger! I took a van with a few others to reserve our spot in the park nice and early. The spot got blown very early by the Ordnungsamt, it was a bit messy as I was the only one there (everyone else went to sleep a bit more) with the material when they came. Within an hour a few more of the crew showed up and we had the van packed, en route to our new and much better location. It all went down sweetly, and when the cops came under the bridge to break up another party, we turned our music down and they somehow missed us. Here are some photos/videos.

[menuandprice]

Chuy’s Happy Hour

Chuy’s is famous for their made-from-scratch enchiladas, burritos, and tacos, but do they have a happy hour? Not only does Chuy’s offer drink deals on domestic beers, house margaritas, and cocktails, but they also serve up a Fully-Loaded Nacho Car free of charge for guests who visit participating restaurants during happy hour. Not many happy hours give away free food, so we’d say the nacho car alone is worth taking a trip to your nearest Chuy’s. Here’s a look at the deals you can take advantage of during happy hour, as well as other daily specials you can find at your local Tex-Mex restaurant.

Chuy’s Happy Hour Specials in 2020

Happy hour at Chuy’s typically starts at 4:00 p.m. and goes until 7:00 pm Monday through Friday. While happy hour does not take place on Saturday and Sunday, there are daily food specials you can order through the weekend (more on that in a bit).

The absolute best part about happy hour at Chuy’s is the Free Fully-Loaded Nacho Car. Guests get to enjoy a complimentary spread of chips, salsa, queso, taco meat, and more alongside the drink of their choice. Drink specials may vary by location, but here’s a look at some of the most common one’s you’ll find at Chuy’s: - House Margaritas – $5.25 - Grande House Ritas – $8.25 - House Texas Martinis – $9.25 - Domestic Beers – $3.25 - Tecates – $1.00 off - Glass of Wine – $1.00 off - Bottle of Wine – $3.00 off Daily Specials at Chuy’s

Photo by Michelle Lee under the license CC BY-NC-ND 2.0 In addition to happy hour, Chuy’s locations serve daily food specials Monday through Sunday. While the specials vary by restaurant, they often showcase the most popular menu items for a discounted price. Some of these daily specials include: - Love Me Tender Tacos for $9.99 - Muchos Tacos for $9.99 - Stuffed Avocado for $11.49 - Hatched Chicken Enchiladas for for $10.79 - Fajita Chicken Enchiladas for $11.09 - Chicken Velvet Enchiladas for $11.79 - Cosmic Combo for $11.19 - Macho Burrito for $11.99 - Pork Boom-Boom Enchiladas for $11.79 Chuy’s normally offers one or two of these specials per day. Be sure to ask your local restaurant which days they serve each meal. Prices and availability may vary. Another way to get exclusive specials from Chuy’s is by signing up for their email program. All you have to do is visit their website and submit your name, email, and local Chuy’s restaurant, and you will start receiving emails with news and specials. To find out about more happy hours at your favorite restaurants like Texas Roadhouse, Applebee’s, and Starbucks, check out our Fast Food Happy Hour page. The post Chuy’s Happy Hour appeared first on Fast Food Menu Prices. Read the full article

[byneddiedingo]

Mads Mikkelsen in The Hunt (Thomas Vinterberg, 2012)

Cast: Mads Mikkelsen, Thomas Bo Larsen, Annika Wedderkopp, Lasse Fogelstrøm, Susse Wold, Anne Louise Hassing, Lars Ranthe, Alexandra Rapaport, Sebastian Bull, Bjarne Henriksen. Screenplay: Thomas Vinterberg, Tobias Lindholm. Cinematography: Charlotte Bruus Christensen. Production design: Torbin Stig Nielsen. Film editing: Janus Billeskov Jansen, Anne Østerud. Music: Nikolaj Egelund. 

Thomas Vinterberg and his co-screenwriter, Tobias Lindholm, load so much misery on the protagonist of The Hunt that they find themselves in a bind: How do you resolve a plot that inflicts so much suffering on an innocent man without resorting to either a saccharine happy ending or a depressingly cataclysmic one? When Lucas (Mads Mikkelsen), a man in his 40s who teaches in the kindergarten of a small Danish village, is accused by one of the children of exposing himself to her, his life goes to hell. He loses his job and his friends, including his girlfriend, and ruins his chances of a more favorable custody agreement with his ex-wife. And even after the authorities find that there is no evidence to substantiate the little girl's charge, he is still harassed by his neighbors and even denied service at the local grocery store. It's a superb part for Mikkelsen, but the film depends equally on the performances of Susse Wold as Grethe, the principal of the kindergarten; Thomas Bo Larsen as Theo, the father of the little girl; Lasse Fogelstrøm as Lucas's teenage son, Marcus; and especially the very young Annika Wedderkopp as Klara, Lucas's accuser. The suspicions directed at Lucas gain credibility from the fact that he's an anomaly in the somewhat macho culture of the village: Well into middle age, he is the only male teacher in the kindergarten -- it was apparently the only available teaching job after the school he once taught at closed. Klara is drawn to him as a kind of father figure: Her parents spend much time fighting with each other. Somewhat withdrawn, she has a childish ritual of never stepping on the lines in the sidewalk, and she gets lost because she looks at her feet and not where she's going. Lucas finds her one day and gets her home safely, and promises her that she can come to his house and play with his dog, Fanny. But Klara develops a kind of crush on Lucas, and when she gives him a present and tries to kiss him on the lips, he is forced to establish some limits. Hurt by the rejection, Klara tells the principal that she doesn't like Lucas because he's a man and has a penis. The principal unfortunately takes her remark too seriously and pursues the matter, whereupon Klara remembers a pornographic image that her older brother had shown her on his phone and describes it as if it were Lucas's penis. The principal's amateurish investigation feeds parental hysteria which ultimately provokes other children to come forward to accuse Lucas. The film recalls the widespread incidents of sexual abuse accusations that took place particularly in the 1980s, as in the notorious McMartin preschool case in Los Angeles. Fortunately, Vinterberg and Lindholm keep the larger issues in the background as they concentrate on its effect on Lucas, his family, and his friends. The end of the film is, however, something of a muddle: Lucas's life has returned to normal, as far as we can see, as he celebrates Marcus's coming of age by letting the boy join a deer hunt. Only in the concluding sequence do we get a suggestion that the incident will never be fully resolved.

[mitochondriaandbunnies]

Miami Vice S1E3: Heart of Darkness

I couldn’t quite recall this episode (I was definitely putting it in the category of ‘pre-Castillo episodes where things hadn’t gelled yet) before rewatching it, but there’s a lot going on with this one:

It’s the first “here is someone you could become later, Sonny” episodes, and I was really fascinated by the ways in which Sonny kind of recognized this and was like, ‘hmm, that seems bad,’ and how at the end, Rico sits down with him to talk it over. They appear, briefly, like they’re going to have a real conversation about Sonny’s fears, and then the lieutenant comes up and is like ACTUALLY HE DIED and then we end on a freeze frame. I forgot that Sonny hadn’t yet become fully emotionally constipated in S1.

Sonny consistently implying he’s the cool, laid-back one and that Rico needs to loosen up, which seems reasonable when you first watch the show, but becomes horrifying instead upon a rewatch, because Sonny has never been cool about anything in his life, and Rico’s ability to detach and step back is a big part of why he doesn’t end up the way Sonny does

Rico: I came to Miami to improve my life somewhat. / The Lieutenant: You came to Miami because NY was going to fire you. / It’s. Very easy to forget that Rico impersonated his brother and was going to be let go before the show started. XD

The getting ready sequence is so, so good at giving us a clear picture of who these people are, and it still works having seen the whole series. I love Rico picking out accessories and loading an old revolver while Sonny just fucking smokes and jams a cartridge in his gun. Also, the two credit cards are hilarious in hindsight-- I think we’re supposed to see him as a high roller, but knowing that Sonny is flat broke most of the series makes it clear that no, he’s just paying off one credit card with another.

Sonny freaking the fuck out and threatening his beloved alligator with a gun as Rico tells him he has to calm down and look at himself, played for comedy. Ha ha ha, ha, ha, oh god. It would be just terrible if something like this happened in a non-funny way, later.

Gina and Trudy being like LOL PORNO, which they also do in a S3 episode. I love them. And I REALLY love Trudy telling Sonny he has competition, because the magazine she’s holding seems to be all sexy ladies. Is this an implication that she is, herself, the competition?

Despite knowing each other for about two months at this point, the way Rico immediately goes into lockstep with Sonny the moment an authority figure is around, even if ten seconds ago he was vehemently disagreeing with him. Also just his disdain for authority in general-- he doesn’t argue like Sonny, he just quietly disobeys the rules.

Once again: how does anyone remember Sonny “Okayyyy, let’s not talk about it” Crockett as this super straight macho man. He’s such a catty bitch and I love him for it. 

I really didn’t realize that the whole “Rico’s eyes are always on Sonny” thing was true this early and it HURTS ME

Just: Elvis, my beloved

[be-gay-do-heists]

OKAY finally finished with eliot hand pain hurt/comfort fic, and i couldn’t actually decide whether i preferred it in second or third person POV. this is the version with the third person POV, otherwise nothing is different from the other version !

------

Contrary to what the four crazy people he spent his time risking his life for nowadays thought, Eliot didn’t like the pain.

There was nothing cleansing about it, nothing satisfactory. A ringing hit to his jaw didn’t feel like penance. The actual protection aspect was a different story. Standing like a wall between your people and danger, there was nothing that made Eliot’s ribs ache with pleasure like that; a wall didn’t feel, didn’t think, it was just an immutable fact. He was an immutable fact. The problem was that the wall-as-Eliot, or perhaps the Eliot-as-wall, had to become human again sometime after the last man went down and the last dollar bill was stuffed into a duffel. To hurt was human, and not just to hurt but to remember the wound long, long after, for it to live in your knees and wrists and between the vertebrae in your spine. Some days— and this was a product of how long after a job it had been, how hard he had pushed—some days were worse than others. The fact that some days the first sound out of his mouth wasn’t even a groan, but a whine, or worse the half-awake pleading for please please make it stop i’ll do anything just make it stop—

No, Eliot didn’t like the pain.

Comparatively, today was a good day. Today, he could get out of bed. His head and body were blessedly in agreement that it was in his best interests to swing his twinging knees to the side of the mattress, push himself up onto legs that were sore but stable, with arms that shook only slightly. But compared to Eliot’s best days, the ones where except for the old shoulder injury which would never let him forget it and the scar on his hip that put a falter in his giddy-up in all kinds of weather, the days on which except for those he sometimes even forgot the pain, this didn’t hold a candle. Today his hands were so beat and weak that the ache radiated up to his mid-forearm, settled into him all familiar-like and made its home in him.

In the bathroom, Eliot used his wrist to turn on the faucet and stuck his mouth under the water to drink. Holding a cup was off the agenda. His morning routine was interspersed with winces, not unusual for his post-job bathroom adventures, and if it took Eliot longer to shimmy on the sweats he knew he wouldn’t be getting out of today, it made him appreciate the comfort of wearing them a little more.

Going handless was fine until he was face to face with the fridge, and resisting the urge to growl at it, like that would solve anything. Taking a deep breath, he put a hand on the stainless steel handle, testing his grip. A light flex had Eliot drawing it back like the metal had burned him, like someone had snapped a tight clothespin onto each ligament. He took a moment to pace a couple steps, let out a loud but cathartic expletive, and then wedge his hand between the handle and the door so he could open the fridge with his elbow strength. The feeling of triumph behind his collarbone faded quickly as the hitter scanned its contents and realized there was nothing he wanted to eat, or at least nothing he wanted to hold and eat. The thought of grasping a fork brought another growl to his throat, and he slammed the fridge door to stomp to the couch and throw himself down, cradling his hands in his lap.

Eliot knew the drill: in an hour, he would grit his teeth and get to up to try and fumble open his bottle of painkillers, and if he succeeded, he would wait another hour for them to truly kick in so he could handle the tv remote, put on whatever game was on, and vegetate on the couch until further notice. The phone he had left on the nightstand rang loudly, fully audible from the other room, blaring out the chorus to “Macho Man” that Hardison had put as his ringtone and Eliot hadn’t figured out how to get rid of yet. If it was important, whoever it was would call again, so he ignored it. His ire rose when the same noise sang out from the bedroom a couple minutes later, a bit-off groan escaping from his clenched teeth as he levered himself up to get to it as fast as he could, awkwardly accepting the call and maneuvering the phone between his shoulder and ear. “What?”

“Man, we haven’t heard from you since we split yesterday, I thought we were gonna get a beer downstairs last night?”

He rubbed his eyes with his wrist, frustrated that he had forgotten he was supposed to get together with Hardison the night before. Getting home, washing the sweat and blood off, and falling into bed had seemed like the only goal in his mind. “Look, sorry, I’ve been busy. And if this ain’t important, you—“

“Bullshit. Absolute bullshit, you’re using your tough-guy, bullshit voice. And you actually apologized, so something is double wrong.”

Eliot snarled. “I don’t have— Hardison, I don’t know what you’re talking about, just leave me alone.”

“Too late, we’re already at your place.”

Before he could open his mouth, his doorbell rang, drawing a groan from him. If he was correct about who the “we” was, it seemed silly to even ring it. His suspicions were confirmed thirty seconds later as the door clicked open anyways and Parker and Hardison came in, having the decency to at least look slightly sheepish. Eliot had already moved back to the couch, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. “Make yourself at home, why don’t you,” he growled.

“Excuse us for being worried about your wellbeing, Mr. Suffer-In-Silence,” Hardison scoffed.

Parker leapt onto the couch cushion next to him. “We thought you might have been captured by ninjas.”

“You would know if I had been captured by ninjas,” Eliot muttered. “It’s a very dis— look, you’ve seen that I’m not kidnapped, it’s our day off, can you please leave and let me rest.”

“You still owe us a hangout from last night!” Parker chirped. “Don’t worry, we won’t stay long.” She vaulted back over the couch to go rummage through his snack cabinets, getting into the granola bin by the sound of it. Eliot made a note to restock it before she came back next.

When he next opened his eyes, Hardison was lightly sitting on his coffee table, looking at the hands still resting in the hitter’s lap. “What’s up with your hands, Eliot?”

Eliot’s first instinct was to deflect. He trusted his team, sure, but this was different. They weren’t supposed to know that he had these days. That he wasn’t invulnerable. “Nothing’s wrong with them, stop sitting on my coffee table.”

“Mhm mhm, sure,” Hardison said. “Go like this for me?” He wiggled his fingers in a “hey sailor” kind of fashion. Before Eliot could tell him just what he thought about that, Parker’s ponytail swung into the side of his face, the thief reaching down to poke one of his hands faster than he could stop her.

By the time Eliot was able to refocus and pull himself back from the whiteout of pain, Parker and Hardison were looking at him with open concern, the hacker leaning back slightly, a little pale. Eliot thought he might have howled; he wasn’t sure. Both his hands were clenched tightly to his chest, wrists together, arms outward, wishbone shaped. He felt just as brittle as one, with their stares on him. He summoned the anger from his throat, the only weapon at his disposal (only half-expecting that it would work, always defenseless when it came to their prodding).

“Can you leave me the hell alone now?”

Hardison looked at him, taking his time formulating his thoughts, but it was Parker who spoke. “Nope.” Eliot turned to her where she was perched on the couch. “You get hurt taking care of us. Now you let us take care of you.”

Eliot looked at Hardison pleadingly, hoping he at least would take pity on him and let him wallow by himself. The hitter wanted to hide like the trap-escaped, half-dead badger whose den he had accidentally put his foot into half a lifetime ago in the Italian Alps, earning him an earful of hissing that scared the shit out of him. He wondered if he seemed as belligerent as that now.

Hardison just shrugged and smiled gently. “Hey, you heard the woman.” He leaned forward slightly, just enough in Eliot’s space to let him feel his warm presence without crowding. “Couldn’t get rid of us if you tried.”

He didn’t want to try, was the thing. It was only that it wasn’t their job to take care of him. It was his to take care of them. They just seemed to be wholly unaware of this.

“You taken anything for those yet?” Hardison asked, pointing at his hands. He hummed at Eliot’s slight head shake. “Thought so. Which ones?”

“White bottle, red pills. Only need a half,” Eliot mumbled, slouching. Parker was already up and heading to the bathroom.

“We need to get something you can actually open when this happens, some kind of spring-loaded catch maybe,” Hardison mused. “Alright, let me see them.” He patted his legs, frowning at Eliot’s growl. “C’mon, none of that. I know they hurt, I’ll be really, really gentle. I won’t even touch without asking.”

Eliot looked him in the eye for the sincerity he already knew would be there, the eagerness to help that (damn him) was one of his favorite traits of Hardison’s. Hesitantly, he extended his hands, rolling his eyes at the hacker scooting forward to offer his knees to rest them on.

“I assume you got antiseptic and ointment on these knuckles already, so totally disregarding those, even though it sucks. Nothing broken?”

“No, just. Aches. Like a son of a bitch. Can’t make a damn fist. Happens sometimes.”

Parker bounded back in, armed with a glass of water and half a pill in her open hand. “So no jobs for a while. Easy, I’ll tell Nate. Open up.” With a scowl, Eliot took the medication from her fingers with his teeth (gently, gently), and let her raise the glass to his lips, nearly choking as she tipped it a little eagerly, and choking for real when Hardison said, “Whoa, woman, let him swallow.”

“It’s not just the last job, Park, it’s jobs two years ago, or five, or ten,” Eliot managed, once he had his breath back. “Part of the package that comes with the lifestyle. It just happens sometimes, don’t matter what schedule we’re on.”

She frowned. “Still. We shouldn’t be doing jobs if you’re hurt. Nate should know that.”

Hardison leaned forward a little more while he was distracted trying to find the right response to that, that they wouldn’t be doing any jobs at all if that were the case, that Nate trusted him to get the job done no matter what, reaching out to his forearm and stopping just a hair’s breadth shy of touching. The hitter froze, and Hardison did too, meeting his eyes. “It’s ok. I’m just trying something out. Is it alright if I touch you here?” At his tiniest of nods, the hacker placed his fingertips on his arm, rubbing circles so lightly that Eliot almost couldn’t feel it. “Let me know where it starts to hurt, okay?” Hardison applied the slightest pressure as he added his other hand and lightly started rubbing down his forearm. When he got to his wrist, Eliot couldn’t help the strangled noise that partly escaped through his nose, high and strained. Hardison moved away from there immediately, going back to tracing soothing, gentle patterns. “You’re ok, you’re ok. I can work with this, no problem. Where do you keep your hot pads, man?”

“Bathroom, lower right drawer,” Eliot grit out. Parker was zipping off to get it and warm it up before he could even process. Hardison applied a little more pressure with his fingertips, rubbing the meat of his forearm. Eliot breathed out long and slow at how good it felt once the initial ache had ebbed.

“I want to try giving you a hand massage, but I don’t wanna hurt you more than it would help,” Hardison said, pausing slightly. “You up for it? I’m not gonna pressure you either way.”

Eliot’s thoughts stuttered, and then bolted in different directions. The feeling that he didn’t deserve this, that this was too much to ask, which had been simmering this whole time leapt to life again. It joined with the wounded, snarling animal part of him that still wanted to hide, burrow down with the covers over his head until his pain faded into the muted background noise of the world. He didn’t even know if a hand massage would work, might make the pain worse.

But it might be nice, a small, hopeful part of him murmured. Eliot couldn’t remember the last time he had been offered something like this, let alone the last time he had taken the person up. If there was anyone he trusted to do it, if there was anyone he wanted to receive it from, it was these two. How could he refuse them even he wasn’t fully on board with what they were suggesting?

“Sure, just…” Eliot said as Parker returned with the hot pad, pausing from tossing it hand to hand like a hot potato to fix her stare on him. He licked his lips, swallowed around a dry throat. “Just be gentle.”

“I will,” Hardison said earnestly, taking the hot pad from Parker to gently maneuver it under Eliot’s hands, resting on his knees. Eliot tensed slightly as the thief leapt up onto the back of the couch, perching above his head, but otherwise relaxed as the warmth of the hot pad started to loosen the ache in his hands. Hardison started where he had before, applying the slightest pressure to the hitter’s forearm. Parker ran her fingertips lightly through his hair, humming.

“Your hair is kinda wonky,” she said, fingers catching on a tangle. Eliot winced.

“That’s what happens when you go to bed without brushing it properly, you know that,” he grumbled, breath hitching as her fingertips grazed his scalp. His breath stuttered again as Hardison’s hands started working towards the sore meat of his wrist. Eliot’s hand began to shake.

“It’s ok baby, I got you,” Hardison murmured under his breath, more soothing sound than words. Eliot cracked open an eye to see him looking between his hands and his phone, playing a video where it was propped on his thigh.

“Man, are you watching hand massage tutorials right now?” he gritted out, doing a poor job of masking his genuine amusement with frustrated disbelief.

The hacker tapped his index finger against Eliot’s arm lightly. “I’ve been watching videos dude; think you’re so slick, tryna hide your hand pain from me. I just wanna make sure I get it right in real time.”

Parker’s fingers running through Eliot’s hair more boldly silenced any follow-up thoughts he had, mind going fuzzy with how good it felt. Without thinking, he insistently pushed his head up further into her touch, making her laugh. The sound reverberated in his chest, leaving him longing to hear it again. Instead a half-whine left his throat as Hardison probed the bottom of Eliot’s palm, the ache drawing him back to full awareness.

The hacker backed off for a moment. “Sorry, sorry. You still cool to keep going?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eliot breathed shakily.

“Just tell me if there’s anyplace else that needs to be handled more delicately, or you don’t want me going at all,” Hardison said, putting his clever hands to Eliot’s again and taking up his gentle, slow pace. Parker’s fingers had paused in his hair a second, but went back to running through it again, scratching his scalp on every other pass.

Slowly, slowly, the vice of pain on Eliot’s hands started to dissipate, bone by bone, finger by finger. He don’t know how long he sat there in a haze, as Hardison and Parker patiently touched him, fixated on the single task of caring for him. The thought made the tender space behind his breastbone twinge. When he surfaced from the half-asleep contentment of their efforts, the television was on, Star Trek playing at the lowest volume. Eliot grunted, lifting his head from the couch to look at the two of them sitting beside him, grinning at his movements. Hardison’s warm hand was still in his, but instead of massaging he was just holding it softly.

“Hey sleepy,” teased Parker, throwing herself over Hardison to get closer and forcing an “Oof!” out of him.

Eliot looked down to his hands, flexing one experimentally, in disbelief at how the ache had faded to an almost imperceptible hum. With the other he tightened his fingers around Hardison’s hand, moving his thumb lightly over his.

“Hey,” Eliot simply said back, a real smile rising to his lips.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO, “The Harbinger.”

It was nice to finally write this piece, and sorry for not posting for the last two days. With my work schedule, weekends for me sometimes fall in the middle of the week. 

Hope you all have a great day!

“This is going to be a disaster.”

Overhead the UN flag snapped in the wind desperately trying to cool their bodies from the beating Sun.

“So you say, but I disagree.” She glanced down at the crew roster in her hands, “The boy really did his research, asked for people specifically, all the way down to the marines. A lot of them crewed the original enterprise. If this were a deck of cards I would say he has a royal flush.”

The other Admiral grunted but didn’t argue with her.

The man had never personally be into space, never even visited mars, so he didn’t pretend to know more than she did, while simultaneously being skeptical. She could deal with that, but at least he respected her enough to have trusted her decision.

Together they stood on the tarmac of the launch field.

The new ship wasn’t there as it had been built completely off-earth at Europa station considering how massive the ship was and how unwieldy the thing would have been in atmosphere. However, someone had taken the time to throw up some projectors, showing the view at Europa station as the last finishing touches were added, and cargo was loaded into her hull.

Across the Tarmac, they watched as Captain Vir stepped from UNSC headquarters and out onto the pavement. If the boy had any more bounce in his step he might as well have been skipping as he made his way up to the lectern and sat just off to the side on a metal folding chair. There were still other speeches to be given, those being the UN president, a few other major officials, and a broadcast by the GA, who were very pleased with their decision despite continuous grumbling by UNSC officers who still thought the boy was going to screw it all up.

The other admiral turned his head to look at her, “just look at him, he’s like a puppy, probably gonna piss all over himself with excitement.”

Admiral Kelly looked over to where he was sitting, on the edge of his folding chair, hands casper before him and one leg bouncing like a jackhammer against the pavement. There WAS something surprisingly doglike about him, “Oh give him a chance. I was just as excited as he was to fly my first mission, the difference was I didn’t show it. You can hardly blame a man for wearing his heart on his sleeve.” “More like smack in the middle of his forehead.”

“Give him a chance.”

He glanced over at her, “You’re fond of him.”

“He makes it easy to be fond of him.” 

The UNp resident finished with his speech and stepped down from the lectern.

“Oh here we go, what is it gonna be, a cheesy joke and a Star Wars reference.”

She glanced at him from over her shoulder, “how do you know about star wars?”

He blushed only slightly, “I have a son who is into that old vintage stuff.”

“Mmmmm Hmmm.” She said pointedly before turning back to Captain Vir as he stood from his seat. She watched as he took a deep breath to calm himself, and then walked slowly up to the lectern his back straight, his expression serious

She smiled as she watched her friend’s eyebrow raise in surprise.

“Just over a year ago I sat in a VA hospital wondering if I was ever going to walk again, Eight months ago, I wondered if I was going to survive, six months ago I wondered if I would ever fully recover, and one week ago I wondered what kind of drugs the brass was smoking to offer me this job.” He smiled slightly as the crowd laughed, “All joking aside, I am privileged and honored to have been chosen. I know there has been a lot of controversy behind my appointment to this position, and Ithink Admiral kelly especially for her faith in me. I am not going to delude myself into thinking I can make any promises about whether or not I will succeed, but I can promise that I will do my best, which is as much as any man can promise considering such uncertain circumstances.”

He glanced down at his papers as the wind tugged at his cap, “As we speak the last cargo is being loaded onto my ship in preparation for our first deployment into the stars. I have thought long and hard in preparation, and for a proper name for the ship that will help usher in a new age of cooperation and companionship between us and extraterrestrial life. Sleepless nights, hours with the Oxford dictionary, and plenty of inappropriate suggestions from family members…” He paused there to allow a light chuckle from the crowd, “Hours and hours of thought and planning,...” he paused smiling ruefully, “I actually found the perfect word while out with my dad searching for new tractor parts. You know how these companies are, they have to make their tractor parts sound really manly or they’re worried we won’t buy them.” There was another slight chuckle from the crowd, “Anyway, the word I found means ‘ something that comes before and that shows what will follow in the future, a herald, a precursor or a forerunner. The word I chose and the name that my ship will take is Harbinger, a herald of things to come, the forerunner of humanity’s expansion into the stars and our alliance with alien races. She will be a harbinger, but a harbinger of good things to come. The crew of the harbinger will uphold all the values and oaths of the UNSC, protect, when others cannot, sacrifice when others will not, and fight when others actively rise against those that we protect.”

He went quiet as the un flag snapped behind him in the breeze.

“I give my soul to this endeavor with every fiber of my being, and I ask for my crew to do the same.”

***

Europa station 1200 hours EST

UNSC identification badges must be worn at all times.

“Now remember, she’s got six main engines, the back one is the most powerful but make sure to use your left and right for maneuvering to keep power. Never fire the warp core andt the engines at the same time unless you want to end up a thousand light years away and by all that is holy try very hard not to initiate that shatter sequence if you can help it.” Europa station director, and lead commander on the build team led him across the open deck and towards the open cargo ramp.

Adam’s eyes were wide, stuck open with awe as they approached the ship. He had seen her only once in her full glory, having asked the shuttle to take a quick tour around the Europa station so he could get a good look at her where she was docked

By all rights she was as aesthetically pleasing as a cinder block, but he thought she was beautiful all the same.

The man pulled him to a halt waving over another figure who had, up till that point, been busy shouting orders to a group of grey jumpsuits people who scrambled to do her bidding.

She stopped yelling at them long enough to turn and walk over.

“Captain, I would like to introduce you to your Chief Engineering officer Narobi. She knows everything there is to know about this ship. If she so much as suspects something might go wrong, you listen to her, no dumbass macho man act, and no blowing her off because she's probably more important than you will be when it comes to keeping this beauty in the air.”

She was tall just an inch or two shorter than him with dark skin and hard brown eyes. She wore one of those grey jumpsuits of the other engineers, but had wrapped a bright orange and red scarf around her head, tied up in a decorative knot. She was probably the most beautiful woman he had ever seen though the look on her face made it very clear that she wasn’t the type to hold such things at a high priority. Looking into her cold hard eyes he had no doubt that she was ready and willing to brain him with a pipe if he ever deserved it.

Adam held out a hand to her, “A pleasure to meet you-”

She took his hand, her grip as a calloused vice against his. He hadn’t expected that and grimaced as her fingers crushed his, she leaned in very close, “You see that ship right there, captain.”

He squeaked out a response, suddenly afraid for the safety of his bones.

“That right there, that ship, is mine. You may pilot my ship, and I will even allow you to talk about her like she’s yours, but at the end of the day she is mine. I take care of her, I fix her when she is sick and I keep her in the air. You treat MY ship well and we won’t have any problems.”

She squeezed again just a little harder before letting go, and he took back his hand waving it slightly to disperse the apin, “Got it, she is your baby.” He grinned at her, “Strong grip you have there, though I’d like to keep my hands for flying next time if that’s cool.”

His smile seemed to throw her off guard and she frowned slightly, “I…. I’m sorry I was sort of expecting….”

“Some raging asshole on a power trip….?”

“Something like that.”

“It’s ok, I get it.” he flexed his fingers and waved at her as he was carted off. She stared after him eyes narrowed slightly and a look of confusion on her face .

That boy is either a real idiot or a scapegoat for the UNSC who thinks he’s going to fail

Adam stepped onto the ramp before him and headed up into the interior of the ship wide eyed like a child and bouncing with excitement. When he reached the top of the ramp he looked around watching as men and women hurried to stow cargo and do last minute checkers to see if everything was strapped down.

Turning he found a group of marines standing in one corner receiving orders on how to help. One of the marines turned, and they locked eyes.

The marine’s face was split with a matching grin, and he broke formation to race across the floor. Adam did the same, and by the end they had the entire cargo hold’s attention as they met in an embrace each of them trying to squeeze the life out of the other. Eventually Adam used his superior height to pick up the other marine and spin him around once before setting him down.

“I knew you loved me but I didn’t know it was that much.:”

Adam grinned, “ramirez you son of a bitch. I missed you.”

“I can hardly blame you.” He winked a grin splitting his handsome face, “Last time I saw  you, you were on a shuttle to Anin.” His smile died slightly, “I heard about what happened, I’m sorry to hear….” He glanced down at Adam’s leg before a smile lit up his face again, “On the brightside, you’re a cyborg now, can I see?”

Adam was surprised, not entirely used to people being so bold about wanting to see the prosthetic but, well it made him feel better, and he liked the idea of being a cyborg, so he pulled up his pant leg to give the marine a good look.

“Damn! How far does that go?”

“Buy me dinner and find out.”

The marine looked up, grinned and laughed, “Wow look at you. Not even blushing either you raging prude.”

“I only blush when I’m attracted to people.”

“Ouch, rude.”

Adam grinned and patted Ramirez on the shoulder, “I am glad you took my offer.”

“Glad to receive it. They’ve had me sitting on my ass over at fort Georga for the past year, and man being a marine is a lot less fun when you aren’t out being abducted by aliens.”

“That I can understand. Anyway, I gotta get up to the bridge, but I’ll catch up with you later, alright.”

“Later then.” The marine jogged off and he turned back to see some of the officers staring at him. He just shrugged, smiled and allowed them to lead him up and onto the bridge. The moment he stepped in was like, like nothing he could have ever dreamed. The station was facing towards jupiter, and glowing light from her swirling surface filtered in on the command center seats, and the captain’s chair was placed high above it.

It took every fiber of his being not to jump up and down squealing like a child. Even so he couldnt stop the stupid little dance that led him over to the chair. He could still sense the others staring at him, but he didn’t much care, sliding into the seat and feeling a warm rush of pure joy shooting through him like fire.

He leaned back in his seat.

Then he reached into the little pocket at the front fo his uniform and pulled out the small notebook there.

“Preflight!”

The officers hurried to their stations, and watching them rush at his words sent another thrill through him.

Engines 

Warp core

Crew

Cargo 

He rubbed his hands as they were almost done, “And one last and most important part of the preflight.”

They all turned to look at him, as he scrolled through his downloaded playlist, “You can’t just launch a ship without some epic tunes.  My life didn’t come with a preset soundtrack so I guess I have to make my own.” They stared at him, but he just grinned and turned on his pre picked music selection. It had been difficult to chose, but he had finally made a decision.

The crew shifted almost nervously as they looked back and forth between each other unsure if they wanted to be a crew under this lunatic.

Adam engaged the microphone for the rest of the ship, “Alright Ladies, gentlemen and…. marines , welcome to the Harbinger,  please keep your hands and feet inside the car for the duration of the trip, don’t throw marshmallows at neutron stars and no playing golf out the airlock. Next destination, Andromeda.” He let go of the announcement button and sat back in his seat.

“Harbinger ready for launch in Ten…” He engaged the countdown, and the crew rushed to their positions. He felt the rumbling of the engines as they engaged below him, and took control of the  manual drive as the ankers were disengaged from his ship. There was a sharp thud as they disengaged from the airlock.

He slowly adjusted their rotating engines.

3

2

1

The ships engines fired, and he took control of the ship, gently maneuvering her away from Europa with all the skill and finesse of an eagle riding an updraft.

He pressed the button to call down to the engine room.

“Captain Vir calling for report.”

Nairobi’s voice came over the intercom, “She’s practically singing, Captain.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

He let the com drop, “Engage warp core.”

Europa station was already receding into the backdrop against the massive glowing orb of jupiter.”

“How far?”

“Safe warp distance approaching in in ten…”

He flipped up the switch on his chair, and waited for the count.

Their navigator turned to look at him and gave a thumbs up. At that moment he shut off the engines, and flipped the switch for warp following the targeting directory and input.

The entire crew braced themselves for warp, many of them remembering what it had felt like the first time.

Luckily for them it was a long warp, so it wouldn’t be so instantaneous.

Adam’s eyes went wide as he watched the stars bend around them. His teeth flashed white.

He had a good feeling about this.

[m-is-for-mungo]

👀 for Lily from Mason’s perspective!

I actually wrote a little about this a few days ago!

Mason feels all kinds of ways about Lily when she first gets to Nuka World.

SLIGHT NSFW CONTENT FROM HERE ON (you have been warned)

So it’s gonna be Yuuto (my General) and Lily going through the Gauntlet in tandem, and they tag team to bring down Colter. Mason isn’t too impressed cause he’s seen Colter take down challenger after challenger, but he is on the edge of his seat when he witnesses Lily rip out the controls for Colter’s HUD, leaving him effectively blind.

He is actually impressed by the time the dust settles, but notices Yuuto is running their show, seeing as Lily is like MacCready and a hired merc.

He gets ANGRY when they’re first properly introduced. Yuuto and Gage are doing the meeting of the bosses, and Lily is trailing close behind Yuuto. Once Yuuto and Mason have their back and forth, she turns to speak to Gage, and they’re interrupted by Lily pinning Mason (that LOVELY commission I had Drovenna do) cause he took her ignoring him as a sign of her not paying attention and tried to steal her sachet of caps off her belt. He tries to yank his arm back, and can’t make it budge, and Lily digs her knife in a little to make a silent point that yes it’s sharp and yes she will use it. But no matter how much rage is pulsing through him, god damn it if he can’t help that his pants are TIGHT and he storms off after they leave to fix that predicament.

They quite frankly hate each other the first bit. Lily gets stationed in the Amphitheater because Yuuto sees the Pack as the problem crew (jokes on her when the Disciples turn). Mason actively ignores her presence, and is furious she’s practically baby sitting him and his gang. She doesn’t leave his side by his throne, just leaning against the wall in silence, chain smoking and drinking heavily. He’s convinced she’s gunning for his spot, and then...

One day, Lily starts getting harassed by some of the Pack. Sneering at her that they don’t need a watch dog, they’re surprised Mason hasn’t made her his bitch after that little stunt she pulled in front of everyone, how she’s asking for her death and then one of them decides to challenge her. Mason just quietly watches, intrigued by her not even batting an eye at these guys, one of which is easily a foot taller than her.

He can’t explain the heat in his chest. He’s never felt this, and it’s like an itch he can’t scratch. He realizes he’s holding his breathe as she just silently walks towards the fighting cage and sets her gear to the side (her hat, mask, and jacket). He has pretty much lost interest in the daily fights in the cage, but he can’t lie that his eyes aren’t glued to her. She can’t be serious, right?

And oh boy, his body turns into a furnace as she methodically makes each guy tap out, even picking one up and slamming him to the ground. Good god when she wipes the sweat matted hair from her forehead, and then looks at Mason, their eyes locking, and she just grabs her stuff and bows towards him, a sarcastic curtesy, before leaving the Amphitheater for the night. He wants to follow her, ever part of him is screaming that she is meant to be his. And he realizes then, he may do whatever she asks just to have her.

Eventually... Yuuto demands the bosses help her and Lily take the parks back. You want a park, you have to get your hands dirty. He tries to cage her, pulling his rank as Alpha and people don’t get to say no to him. He definitely ended up with a black eye over that one. With his pride wounded, he tries again, this time tries to make her jealous by opening inviting various female Pack members to his private quarters, but he can’t even be satisfied by them anymore. It’s too hollow. It isn’t her flowing green hair in his hands, it isn’t her mismatched eyes admiring his form, it just... isn’t her.

But, they get separated together in Safari Adventure and have to retreat to the treehouse for a night.

The start of Mason’s desire is watching Lily intently while she’s sniping the Gatorclaws that she can see. The way she holds her breath with each pull of the trigger, her rifle is an extension of her... the dried blood from the initial assault, watching her charge towards death and winning, dodging wildly swinging claws, she even dodged one attack and swung up onto the beast’s back and loaded its head with her desert eagle. He tried his best to be macho and watch her back, but she ended up saving him. So surely... she doesn’t fully hate him?

When it starts pouring down rain and Lily no longer has the visibility to shoot, she undoes her gear and sets up a little nest in the treehouse. She tries to sleep, but she can feel Mason’s eyes burning holes in her figure, and frustrated, walks out into the rain to lean against the balcony, viewing all of Nuka World. Mason can’t take it anymore, seeing her dripping wet, her hair slowly loosing the mud and blood and her vibrant green starts nearly glowing under the moonlight. Her clothes are clinging to her, and his breath is labored as his eyes travel from her head, down her back and lingering on her ass. He HAS to have her. He believes he may truly die if he can’t, and these feelings of needing someone has his mind reeling. He doesn’t just need her for sex, he needs her for everything.

And so... he does the opposite of what he’s tried. He comes up behind her, placing his hands on the railing, caging her once more.... but sighs into her hair. “Kitten..” he purrs into her ear. “Please. I NEED you. I ain’t ever needed anyone but the thought of being here with anyone else...”

She shivers, a completely involuntary action. She wants him but can’t... or can she..? She lightly leans back onto his chest and the sigh that leaves her chest... The pure warmth and comfort that his presence gives is nothing compared to actually being pressed against him. She snaps back to reality and shakes herself out of it and snakes her way to face him. She couldn’t hide the fire lit in her eyes but she gritted out “Oh, the Al-pha~ is begging for once? You have plenty of women prowling your quarters, I’m not a substitute.” She accentuated Alpha, it almost sounded like a purr to his ears. He gripped the railing, the wood protesting the vice grip he had on it. God damn this woman.

The rain had slowly washed away his face paint, and Lily couldn’t take her eyes off his bare face. Her will to deny him was steadily shattering, and then... he slowly lowered himself to his knees, gently pressing his forehead to her exposed stomach. The rain droplets that had settled on her navel did little to cool him, and he nuzzled his nose on the soft skin. “Lily...” he whispered, the hot puff of air causing another shiver. “They aren’t you. No one... no one can give me what I need. I know you hate me but god I need you like I need to fight, to breathe, to live.” He slowly brought his hands around the small of her back and started trailing light kisses along her stomach. He could feel his ears and cheeks burning with a crimson blush, and tried to push that to the back of his mind. He had his mate, he just needed to convince her of the same.

She tried to resist. Let the record know that god she tried to resist. But the last glance at him... knelt before her, his paint gone revealing the most handsome face she had ever seen, god she could stay here memorizing every freckle, mole and scar... his eyes glittered in the moonlight, highlighting that for once, these soft words were genuine. His hair was no longer perfectly coiffed, the loose tendrils hanging over his forehead dripped with the soft rain. She almost felt like it was a foreign act, as she gently reached and cupped his chin. “Mason...” her voice was soft, pleading, a delicate song in the dead of the night, but was the most beautiful word he had ever heard. His groin throbbed at the word, his name... “Say it again...” he murmured, scared that if he said it too loud, he’d wake from this dream.

“Maso-“ she was cut off from him scooping her up, wrapping his arm tightly around her waist and tangling his hand in her hair, pausing just millimeters from her lips. “Tell me yes Kitten. I need to hear it.”

“Mason... yes. Yes yes yes.”

[cole-winchester]

18 Miles Out...No Going Back

Reader rescues an injured Shane after Rick, taking Randal in tow, leaves him for dead at the walker infested DPW lot.  Will two broken souls be able to join forces and survive this new world?  Or will they butt heads and drive each other apart?

Tags:

@hanaissupergirl @coffee-obsessed-writer @spnhollis @harrysthiccthighss @sourwolf-sterek32 @superdeadwalker @mcuwomxn @miss-cap21 @hannuhbuhnana @stormy-weather-in-classics @hellosassymcsasserton @samanthawells89 @mannls @thanossexual

Part Two

Shane grunted and tried to brace himself against the passenger door as your truck balanced out of the fishtail.  

After a few moments you eased up on the accelerator.   Realizing Shane was staring at you, you glanced over.  Blood glistened from his brow and bridge of his nose.  His gaze hard and wary but your eyes flicked towards his torso.  His breathing was heavy, painful.  His left arm cradled across his ribs, blood seeping from behind his hand.  

Must've been stabbed, walkers didn't get close enough to him.

A sun glint caught your attention and your gaze landed on the handgun he had trained on you in his lap.  

You raised your eyebrows as you looked up from the gun.  'Really?'  

'Turn the truck around.'  His voice was low but authoritative.

'What?'  

'Have to go back.'

You let out a sharp laugh shaking your head.  'Not happenin'

'Stop the damn truck!'  His voice barked inside the cab.  

Gripping the wheel you slammed the brake pedal to the floor.  Shane braced himself against the dashboard, glaring at you as you turned in your seat to face him as the truck rocked to a stop.

'Go back to what exactly?  Your 'friend' that basically killed you back there by leaving you as walker bait?'

His jaw hardened as he glanced away from you out the windshield.  's'not like that.'

'Yeah?  Why don't you enlighten me then!'

'The hell with this!'  He seethed as he jerked open the passenger door and stumbled to the pavement.  

Let him go, he obviously has a death wish.  You don't need him.

No...you weren't that type of person.

'Ugh!'  You followed after him.  'Hey!  Dumbass!'  You called out to the stumbling moron a couple yards away. 'Just how far you expect to get bleeding all over the place?!'  

'I ain't yer problem, sweetheart!'  His steps began to slow, the sun, heat and his wounds taking their toll as his adrenaline waned.  He shook his head and pressed on.

'Alright, I get it, you're a big macho dick.  Now get back in the truck before-'  

As if on queue, he stumbled and collapsed to the pavement.

'-that.'  You sighed and jogged up to his lifeless form and rolled him to his back.  

Still breathing.   

An unmistakable snarl came from behind you, causing your heart to leap to your throat.  

You spun to your left and sure enough,  a walker about 20 feet away was heading straight for you.

'Shit shit shit!'  You scrambled around Shane, lifting his shoulders enough for you to lock your arms around the front of his chest.  Willing the adrenaline to pump faster you began dragging him back towards the truck.  'Please wake up.  Please wake up.'

Just leave him!  Save yourself!

You stole a glance up at the walker only to find 3 more joining in behind it.  

'Fuck!'

Panic began to creap into you.  You didn't have a knife on you and your only firearm was the rifle currently in the bed of your truck.  

You cried out in frustration as you continued to haul the both of you backwards.  You looked over your shoulder at your truck... ten feet to go.  The passenger door was still open from when Shane bailed moments before.  

Your legs burned as you forced yourself to move faster.  The snarls and groans growing louder with each painful step.  

The tail of your truck came in your periphery.  8 more feet.  The walkers were almost on you. 

You'd never be able to get him into the truck without getting eaten, so you leaned down and slumped Shane against the rear tire.  As you stood to reach into the bed for your rifle, a nauseous stench enveloped you and you were slammed from behind.  Pain shot up your arm as you landed hard onto the pavement beside Shane.  You quickly flipped to your back and screamed as the walker clawed and snarled above you.

You clamped your hand around its throat trying desperately to keep it from biting your face off.  Your arm threatened to give way as you frantically looked around for something, anything, to use as a weapon.

Then you saw it.

There, in the rear waistband of Shane's cargo pants...was his handgun.

You reached for it, just barely brushing it with your fingertips.  Your hand was slipping, the skin of the walker tearing beneath your grasp.

You cried out, your arm barely holding the walker at bay as you forced yourself to reach again for the handgun.  

Please be fucking loaded!

Your fingers wrapped around the grip and in one swift motion you yanked it from his waistband, raised it and fired through the walker's eye socket.  Shoving the corpse off of you, you sat up and began firing at the remaining walkers now inches from Shane.  

You dropped all five of them and lowered the gun as you leaned against the bed of the truck to catch your breath.  

You grunted as you moved to your feet after a few moments, checking the clip in the gun before stuffing it in your waistband.  

'Alright, let's try this again.'  You steadied yourself as you began to drag Shane back to the truck.  

After a few non-ladylike noises you'd managed to get Shane up and into the cab of your truck and shut the door.  

You settled back into the driver's seat and looked over at the still unconscious man, gauging his breathing for a moment.

'I sure hope I'm making the right call here.'  You said quietly, turning the key as your truck roared to life.  

***

You made it back to the small cabin in record time.  The cabin belonged to your uncle who had used it as a hunting camp for years.  You were pretty sure you were the only one who knew its location besides him.   Buried in the thick forest barely reachable by vehicle, it was the perfect spot to hide out. 

You eased the truck up as close as possible to the front porch and killed the engine.  The sun was setting and with the thick tree over, it was practically dark already.  You had to move fast. 

'Hey,'  you looked down and shook Shane's shoulder.  'Shane, can you hear me?'  

His eyelids flickered slightly as a weak groan rumbled in his chest.  

Good enough.   He was alive at least.

You threw your door open and slid out of the truck.  Turning slowly in place you quickly scanned the area for any movement.  Last thing you needed was a walker to come up on you again while dragging him inside. 

You shook your arms and puffed out a breath, gathering yourself.

Leaning back into the truck, you maneuvered Shane onto his back.  Hooking your hands under his arms, you began sliding him towards you.  Backstepping, you grunted as you continued to haul Shane out of the truck.  Somehow you misjudged, his weight overbalancing you and knocking you to the ground in a heap.  

'Shit,' you wheezed as you struggled to roll his unconscious body off of you.  'Fuck, man, you're heavier than you look.'  You hauled him into a semi sitting position and moved behind him, locking your arms across his massive chest.  

After a few painstaking minutes and several embarrassing grunts, you managed to drag him up the steps and into the cabin.  

Leaving him on the floor in the entryway, you quickly ran back outside, securing your truck and gathering your bags.  

Dropping everything, you locked the door behind you before readying yourself to move him further into the living room.  You knelt beside him ...and froze...

'Shane?'

He wasn't breathing. 

'No!  No, the fuck you don't!'  You immediately began hard chest compressions, feeling the cartilage crunch beneath your hands.  'You are not dying on me after all of this!'  You leaned down and gave him mouth to mouth before checking for a pulse.  

Nothing.

'Shane!'  You threw your full weight into your fist as you pounded onto his chest.  'God dammit!'  You opened his mouth and blew hard, forcing air deep into his lungs.  His body jerked and gasped, causing you to flail backwards.  His hand clamped in a vice grip around your neck before you could move fully off of him.  His eyes wild as he continued to gasp below you.  Your hands failed and clawed at his trying to pry it from your throat, your lungs screaming.

Just as your vision began to darken, his eyes shifted and rolled.  His head lulled to the side as his hand released you, dropping to his chest.

You fumbled backwards, choking in panicked breaths as your mind reeled.  You were sure he'd turned and that was it, but it was merely an involuntary reaction of him being brought back to life.  

'Holy...fuck.'  you ran your hands over your face for a moment before your mind kicked back in.

He needs stitched up otherwise he will die and turn.

You gathered yourself and clambered back over to him and continued moving him further into the living room.   With the adrenaline coursing through you, after having almost died yourself, you'd managed to haul him up onto the couch.  Retrieving one of the medical kits from your packs, you went to work.  

Cutting his shirt from his body, you quickly found that there was more than one stab wound.  Your heart sank. This was going to be more difficult that you'd expected.

You huffed out a breath and set your mind to the task at hand.  He was not going to die on your watch.   You worked quickly and diligently as you cleaned the wounds and wiped the caked blood from his body.  

Now to focus on the stitches.  You couldn't tell how deep the wounds were and you hesitated.

What if all of this was for nothing?  What if he died overnight and then decided you were a perfect midnight snack?

No.

Get your head together.

You chewed your bottom lip as you gathered the needle and thread.  You were going to do everything in your power to make sure he lived.

Why?  You don't even know him.  Say he survives and then just kills you.  

No.  He won't.

You sterilized the needle with a lighter before turning back to him.  You drew in a breath and went to work.

 

*~*~*~*~*

A/N:

Thanks so much for hanging with me! I'm sorry I don't update quickly. My daughter takes up most of my energy so I'm writing as I can! I hope you're enjoying this so far! I'm working on Part Three and will post as soon as possible! Let me know if you want tagged! 💜

[astrology-india]

Dating an Aries Man - How to Make It Work

New Post has been published on https://www.astrology-india.com/dating-an-aries-man/

Dating an Aries Man - How to Make It Work

Aries is the first sign of the zodiac, a young soul in every sense. Some say he can be immature, combative, selfish, and a bit of a bully.

However, underneath it all, the young ram has a sweet, intelligent, and loyal side, as many dating an Aries man will attest to.

If you can keep his interest long enough to win him over, you will have a powerful, dominant, and protective lover and warrior who will support you until the end.

Best Match for Dating an Aries Man

Is it a romantic partner he is looking for? Or a sparring partner? Well, with the Aries it is a bit of both.

This man needs tons of physical affection and someone who can give him some pushback, aka a worthy opponent.

Some find this fun, but it is also for this reason he may not be suited for the more sensitive signs of the zodiac. Aries men are matched best with their fire sign counterparts like Leo, Sagittarius, and fellow Aries who share some of the sign’s similarities.

The Aries guy could be compatible with air signs as well. Gemini, Libra, and Aquarius can give this guy a run for his money without taking it all too personally.

Aries Man Dating Habits

When going out with your Aries do not expect to find the two of you enjoying a nice calm dinner with candle lights and a band serenading you- or if you do, do not expect to stay for very long.

The Aries man needs excitement, he is a thrill-seeker at heart. People, places, and things all lose his attention quickly.

Dating him, you can expect to bounce from place to place, hitting multiple locations in one night, or possibly for an entire day.

And if you do end up going to just one spot, it will not be a dull one. An amusement park? Swimming with sharks? Running from bulls?

Who knows where you will end up with the Aries guy, but just hope that it is in his arms at the end of the night.

Aries Man Dating Traits

Aries is an energetic and confident fire sign. This man is always on the move, and it may seem like he is looking for the next person, place, or thing to butt heads with, but really, he is just having some fun.

Those that know him best, including his partner, know this to be true. Those who have just met the young ram, however, may think he is a bit self-consumed.

He is independent, a man on a mission. When an Aries knows what he wants, there is not a thing in this world that will stop him from getting it, including a date.

Yes, the man will walk right up without having a doubt in his mind and make small talk, which quickly turns into flirting and playful teasing, and might even end in a wrestling match.

The man is an initiator, and he is full of energy and passion. Needless to say, he gets bored and restless very easily.

The Aries male will generally also have a big ego which he needs to feed to maintain how he sees himself in life. He needs to prove himself in everything he does including dating.

To become the object of his desire and to channel his enthusiastic drive into winning you over this short video shows how to make him obsessed with winning your love.

No one is trying to paint the Aries man as being “childish” here, even though he does have a young spirit. He is actually highly intelligent and an excellent conversationalist.

But you might have to hold him down to have one with him. Once you do, you will be pleasantly surprised by how well-rounded and refined the Aries can be.

Just like physical experiences, he needs excitement that stimulates his mind. Humor is essential to the Aries male.

While it seems like he takes life seriously, at the end of the day it is all in light-hearted fun. With this man, everything can be made into a joke.

Some people get it, and some do not. For those who do, they know to throw jokes right back at him. His perfect partner is someone who can both dish it and take it.

And he can take it. Well, usually. The Aries man can be surprisingly sensitive. Yeah, you would not have guessed for a fire sign.

But, while sensitive, he also does not hold on to ill feelings or grudges for long. He is an optimist, who lives life to the fullest and has tons to do.

So, naturally, he forgets his feelings were ever hurt, which makes fighting and making up relatively easy with the ram.

If he is still angry, you only need to take him into the bedroom to get some of the aggression out. Sure, all of this sounds captivating, like a character out of a movie.

But the Aries man is not for all.

Water and earth signs will likely not put up with his characteristics for long. They will either get their feelings hurt, feel bulldozed, or not understand why he does any of this stuff at all.

Likewise, since the above signs are toned-down and seem to prefer stability, the Aries man gets bored by them rather easily.

He will probably pick a fight and if they do not push back, he will get bored and go find someone else to spar with. Or if they take the bait and getting all wound up, he will get a chuckle but not find it challenging enough for him either.

This man’s ruling planet is Mars, which represents war, after all. Understanding why you need to make him fight for your love and attention is explained here in His Secret Obsession.

Sex with an Aries Man

The Aries male is full of vitality and extremely physical. Being a fire sign, he tends to express himself physically.

Since he is unable to muscle his way through every situation in life (as there are consequences for that), he finds that he can fully be himself in the bedroom, a place where he can shine.

It could be because he has a high sex drive, as Aries tend to do, or he likes the exercise that sex offers him, that the Aries guy spends a lot of time in the bedroom- sometimes all day.

With him, you can expect tons of wrestling, tossing, and general rough stuff. But beneath this macho exterior is a pussy cat who can be loving and tender when controlled.

The Aries guy’s fiery side can be tempered in the bedroom by his partner whispering in his ear and setting the pace. He wants above all to prove to himself he is a good lover.

Yes, he may on the surface appear dominant and even aggressive but a woman can use The Language of Desire to achieve the ultimate sexual experience between the sheets.

Dating an Aries Man Long Distance

Aries is flighty in general, but he is also the conqueror type who is constantly bouncing from one thing to be the winner at the next.

If you are away from him too long, the young ram could become bored and go out seeking his next challenge in the form of another partner.

However – and this is a big one – if he has won you over already, and you have done the same by showing him you are a worthy match, he will be loyal to you forever.

The secret lies in making sure you are constantly in his thoughts and this can be done by texting.

Not inundating him constantly with loads of messages but sending messages with true meaning that resonate with his subconscious mind.

You can find out more about this technique that uses carefully crafted sentences to keep his attention focused on you and only you by listening to this video on Text Chemistry here.

If your relationship is already solid, then you and the Aries guy will do just fine long distance. If he has your heart and you know it, then there is nothing at all to worry about.

Final Thoughts

The childlike warrior spirit of the Aries man is admirable, but not for all. To win him over in the bedroom The Language of Desire will send his passion for you to new heights.

Dating an Aries man is like stepping into the arena in full gladiator uniform and then running 100 miles afterward, all the while getting tons of love from this sweet fire sign.

If you have thick skin and a lot of energy, a fun, and playful nature, the Aries ram may be the perfect sign for you.

[thenightling]

Were schools actively trying to make us hate reading?

Tonight I got to thinking of all the unpleasant works of literature I was made to read as a kid.  Sure, Charlotte’s web teaches about life and death but there was this phase where everyone wanted to write the next Charlotte’s web and schools fell for it, hook, line, and sinker.  

It got to a point where I fully ANTICIPATED the assigned reading to be gloomy, depressing, or end in Death.

Let’s look at some common examples.   Chocolate Wars, To Kill a Mockingbird, Charlotte’s Web.   On my Honor.

Anyone else subjected to On my Honor? A kid watches his friend drown and then spends the rest of the story wandering around in shock and no one else knows the other kid is dead. It’s pretty f--ked up.  

Not every children's’ literature needs to be bleak and depressing.   Thankfully I became a lover of books DESPITE what I was assigned to read as a kid, not because of it.   In fact if I was to judge books solely on what I was assigned I would assume that all works of great literature are innately bleak and depressing.

Even the ones that weren’t tragic were incredibly boring.   In fifth grade half the class got to Mrs. Brisby and the Rats of NIMH (The Secret of NIMH).   But the other half (my half) had to read Sarah Plain and Tall.   Sarah Plain and tall was BORING to me.  It literally felt like a Hallmark movie (and surprise, surprise, it was made into one!)  It wasn’t fair that half the class got to read about the super-intelligent laboratory mice who got a Don Bluth film adaptation.

And I hated The Old Man and the Sea so much that even today I still have a resentment for Hemmingway.  Watching a bio film about him when we were done and seeing how abusive he was to his family and his obsession with being manly and macho didn’t exactly help.    

It wasn’t until high school when we were assigned Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury and I was actively DISCOURAGED from reading ahead.  “You’ll forget what you’ve read and then be lost when the rest of the class reads that part.”  I read ahead anyway and was never lost.  But that shows how little faith these teachers have in us being able to read for enjoyment and retain what we’ve read, doesn’t it?   That was ninth grade.    

In tenth grade I was made to read the Joy Luck Club.  Another depressing book, about the struggles of immigrant woman. It wasn’t a bad read but why were there so few fantasy, horror, scifi, or even just hopeful stories being assigned?  Why did everything have to be so gritty?  

I was always bad with names so guess what we were assigned with that one?  A test where we had to match the quote to the character.   I am convinced I was being taught by sadists...

Maybe I’m being paranoid but every time I think of what schools banned like Goosebumps (which were extremely popular when I was a kid, as this was pre-Harry Potter) and then later some schools banning Harry Potter, and the Scary Stories to tell in the dark books (which I took on all my sleep overs as a kid) it almost feels like a conscious and active effort to discourage a joy and love in reading.  Anything fun and magical seemed forbidden.  Anything hopeful was discouraged or “not real literature.”

As I said, I developed a love of books DESPITE my assigned reading, not because of it.

Despite being in a normal English class I was in the vision impaired program in high school because I have very poor eyesight. The class room for the “Vision program” had two shelves loaded with large print illustrated editions of classic literature from Frankenstein and the Invisible Man to Treasure Island.  The head of that program thought it was a great idea to make it where I could read what I wanted IF I wrote a report on each book I read and only then I could read the next.

These book reports entailed buying expensive portfolio binders (teachers insisted on them in Jr. Highschool onward).  My family was poor and did NOT have a car, thankfully we had a party supply store only a few blocks away (across a very busy triple Intersection) that carried school supplies.  it also entailed printing up most of the report on computer (I was very poor and didn’t have one and the class computer cost five cents per sheet of paper and twenty five cents elsewhere.  I couldn’t even afford that and the teacher didn’t seem to believe this).  I would have to sneak-read and lie about what I had or hadn’t read just to avoid having to make these book reports.   It’s not that I disliked writing.  I’m actually quite good at it. It’s that it was f--king expensive for me.  I literally couldn’t afford it.  Sometimes she’d accept hand written reports but “only if it’s very neat” and since my hand writing is very poor I’d have my mother write it for me while I dictated to her because she never read those books.

 A combination of so many assigned books just being miserable, sad, or boring, and lacking any whimsy or charm, some teachers telling me not to read ahead, interesting books being banned, and forced book reports it makes me amazed I managed to grow into a book lover.

If I hadn’t discovered books I love on my own I think I might hate literature right now based on how it was “taught” to me in school.

[passionate-reply]

Do you “fucking love” science? Have you ever been blinded by it? Well, it doesn’t really matter, because that goofy little number isn’t really supposed to be on Thomas Dolby’s debut album in the first place. Find out about all the awesome OTHER stuff that’s actually meant to be here, in this new installment of Great Albums! Transcript below the break.

Welcome to Passionate Reply, and welcome to Great Albums! Today, I’ll be talking about a stellar album by one of those artists who have gone down in history as “one hit wonders,” despite producing a deep catalogue that’s often more impressive than that one song they end up known for: it’s The Golden Age of Wireless, the debut LP of Thomas Dolby. Chances are pretty good you’ve heard his big hit, “She Blinded Me With Science,” before...at least, if you’re American.

Music: “She Blinded Me With Science”

Like I said, if you’re American, you’ve heard this one before. If anything, it’s oversaturated! But if you’re from elsewhere in the world, you might not know it. Growing up in the US, I went through the whole gauntlet of alleged “one hit wonders” of 80s synth-pop, and a great many of them turned out to be British artists who had perfectly respectable careers in their native UK: Gary Numan, Soft Cell, and OMD, for example. Thomas Dolby is also British, but he’s apparently more famous here than he is across the pond--which is still not that famous.

He really ought to be, though, because The Golden Age of Wireless is a true masterpiece. Or, at least it WAS, in its original form. It’s actually a tough album to talk about, insofar as it’s hard to pin down what exactly constitutes “The Golden Age of Wireless.” It’s had quite a few different pressings, and a variety of different track listings. And the original version of it does NOT include “She Blinded Me With Science.” While I’d never argue that it’s a bad song, since it is insanely fun, and catchy to the point of being irresistible, it really does not belong on this album. I’m sure it helped them move copies of it, but its inclusion kind of ruins the vibe, to be honest. Its in-your-face and flamboyant hooks make it feel like a very unwarranted intrusion on an otherwise fairly serious and contemplative LP, which seems to have been intended as a fairly tight and thoughtful concept album.

Aside from that glaring issue, there are a few other tracks that have appeared on later versions of the album that weren’t there from the start, namely, the two tracks from Dolby’s first ever-release, a double A-side of “Urges” and “Leipzig,” as well as “One of Our Submarines,” the B-side of some versions of “She Blinded Me With Science.” All of these tracks are excellent, and mesh with the thematic and sonic character of the album quite well. “One of Our Submarines” in particular is often considered one of the best tracks of Dolby’s career--melancholy, claustrophobic, and stinging in its poignant sense of tragedy. It captures the misery and futility of modern war, as well as the sunset of the British Empire after the Second World War...and there’s a sample of a dolphin, too. It’s easily the track that I most wish had been included from the very start.

Music: “One of Our Submarines”

But now that that’s over with, I’d like to drill down and talk about how the album operates in its original form, as the artist intended. Like I said earlier, The Golden Age of Wireless is best understood as a concept album, and I think of it in a similar league as classics like the Buggles’ The Age of Plastic, OMD’s Dazzle Ships, or even Kate Bush’s Hounds of Love. The original track listing opens with “Flying North,” a stellar introduction to one of the most prominent themes of the album: freedom!

Music: “Flying North”

“Flying North” is an exultant anthem of self-determination, and one clearly mediated by “metal birds”--aeroplanes, that is. It’s a celebration of the independence allowed by technology, and a rather winsome one, in which this almost macho image of a heroic pilot takes center stage. The final track of the album, “Cloudburst At Shingle Street,” is a bit more esoteric, but seems to be aiming for a pretty similar idea overall, and I’d argue that the two of them form thematic “bookends.”

Music: “Cloudburst At Shingle Street”

“Cloudburst At Shingle Street” leads us through the technological evolution of mankind, from swinging from trees to paving concrete beaches--but the spacey synth warbles beneath those lines give them an ominous bent. The assertion that we might be heading into a cloudburst “mindless,” “naked,” or “blindly” is unnervingly cynical, but, we’re told, “there’s no escaping it.” Despite all of these signs that our better judgment should be resisting the temptation of this miraculous cloudburst...this triumphant, rising coda, with its powerful choir encouraging us onwards, seems to muddle the whole thing. The untethered, free-roaming nature of modern life isn’t always this sexy and exuberant, though--consider the track “Weightless,” as a counterpoint.

Music: “Weightless”

“Weightless” certainly seems to be about modern transients of some sort--in this case, traveling by car--but never lionizes them or makes them too terribly enviable. Instead, the focus is on the image of the draining fuel tank: the constant emptiness and craving for meaning, validation, and genuine love. No matter the allure of this very American, Route 66-like setting, the gas stations, cinemas, and decadent diner meals along the way are never any real substitute for an emotionally authentic life. That setting is, of course, a wistfully backward-looking Midcentury one. Nostalgia and childhood naivete are also among the album’s major themes, and are expressed the most clearly on “Europa and the Pirate Twins.”

Music: “Europa and the Pirate Twins”

Narratively, “Europa and the Pirate Twins” is a bittersweet story of childhood playmates who never quite re-unite, despite promising to be together again someday. The really interesting wrinkle is the fact that the narrator’s beloved Europa has become a famous celebrity as an adult, and the narrator is essentially a fan of her despite their real-world relationship. It’s an uncanny, confused parasocial relationship dynamic that feels extremely contemporary, despite the fact that it’s ultimately more of a commentary on the rise of teenager-oriented marketing during the Midcentury than anything else. The strange, often unhealthy relationships between young people and mass media, particularly radio, are another one of the major sources of tension on The Golden Age of Wireless. “Europa and the Pirate Twins” is also one of the more interesting tracks, instrumentally, featuring a prominent harmonica part, performed by Andy Partridge of XTC. Given how much the album strives to be about the future and past simultaneously, steeped in nostalgia and utopian visions alike, it makes sense to hear Dolby blend elements of traditional folk or popular music with forward-thinking synth-pop sensibilities. Listen also for a flute on “Windpower,” and a substantial amount of guitar on “Commercial Breakup,” a song that proves Dolby certainly can rock, if he feels like it.

Music: “Commercial Breakup”

The cover art for The Golden Age of Wireless isn’t exactly the most iconic, but I’ve always thought it was very beautiful. You’ve got this very eye-catching, lurid, pulp magazine style illustration of Dolby as a diligent, yet glamourous engineer, radiating with the complementary colour palette of orange and blue, the perfect picture of retro cool. But it’s framed and inset, to give us a conscious sense of observing something that’s coming to us from another time, an artifact preserved. That patina and sense of the antique is amplified by this dull-coloured background, which actually shows a marble sculpture gallery in a museum, though that’s tough to make out unless you have it right in front of you. The numerous shades of irony operating here are another thing that make the album feel strikingly contemporary.

I’m also a huge fan of the album’s title. “Wireless,” if you weren’t aware, is an old-fashioned term for radio. Radio itself is a strong theme on the album, most obviously on the track “Radio Silence,” but the use of the term “wireless” isn’t just another piece of retro nostalgia--I think it’s also evocative of that sense of free-flying, untethered independence I talked about earlier. The first half, i.e., “golden age,” is perhaps even more important. “Golden age” is an extremely loaded term that brings a number of rich associations to the table. “Golden ages” are simultaneously longed for, but not fully believed in. They’re bygone eras that usually felt like nothing special to the people who actually lived through them, despite their greatness being palpable to anyone reflecting on them in hindsight. In every golden age, there’s a poetic tragedy.

I think that even if someone did buy this record just to get their hands on “She Blinded Me With Science,” they’d probably be at least a little bit disappointed in what they got. The album does have some decent pop singles, chiefly “Radio Silence” and “Europa and the Pirate Twins,” but they’re still humming with nostalgia and unease, and not without some substantial experimental DNA.

Music: “Radio Silence”

While they cut the single weirdest track on the album, “The Wreck of the Fairchild,” they still retained some fairly ambitious tracks, such as “Windpower”--clearly an ode to Kraftwerk’s “Radioactivity.” It’s hard to be angry with an electronic musician for trying to rip off Kraftwerk, since they all do it one way or another, and in this case it invites a natural comparison between two great concept albums focused on the theme of radio.

Music: “Windpower”

Overall, though, The Golden Age of Wireless is still a reasonably accessible album on the whole. Possibly not what you expected, and certainly, a work that’s more sentimental and affecting than good for the dance floor, but as far as poignant, ballady, diesel-punk odes to the tragic techno-optimism of the Midcentury go, I’d say it’s not all that hard to get into! Dolby does have a pop core, as an artist, that he’s quite capable of selling to us if he chooses to. For proof of that point, look no further than the single “Hyperactive!” which he followed this up with a few years later:

Music: “Hyperactive!”

When discussing an ostensible one-hit wonder, there’s a distinct temptation to resort to “they deserved better” style rhetoric. On one hand, yes, I do think more people should hear Thomas Dolby’s music, and that it has a lot to say to us. I’m all about obscure music finding new life and being appreciated. That said, in the case of Dolby, I think he basically got what he wanted, in the end. He’s always been more keenly interested in music’s many behind-the-scenes roles than he has in chasing pop stardom himself--he’s produced music, and scored a number of films and video games over the decades. It feels kind of wrong to tell someone who’s successful at one thing that they “deserve” to be successful at something different, just because we may want to hear him do it, or because we esteem one skillset more highly than the other. Ultimately, The Golden Age of Wireless is a Great Album on its own terms, whether Dolby ever decides to grace us with another synth-pop release under his own name again--which he did in 2011, with A Map of the Floating City. But it’s his decision, as an artist, and the fact that he can choose to or not is a luxury that allows him integrity. I think that’s the way it ought to be.

My overall top track on this album has got to be “Airwaves,” a song in which the narrator dies, tragically and suddenly, in an automobile accident. It’s not the sexy, “Warm Leatherette” sort of car accident, but rather a dismally realistic one, that shows quite frankly how undignified death can be. Sometimes, we aren’t so much doomed heroes as we are frightened, sickly children, defeated by our own fickle bodies. The last thought our narrator gets is “I itch all over, let me sleep”; their honour perishes just moments before they do. Meanwhile, the radio is a constant presence throughout, and serves as both something to anchor the scene in the droll and quotidian, as well as ultimately becoming something transcendent. The promise of “airwaves” is not only the human interconnectedness made possible by technology, but also a hint at the ultimate destiny of human souls, a kind of ethereal afterlife in the sky. The meandering lulls of the verses contrast sharply with the song’s eerily soaring refrain, which enhances that feeling that those “airwaves” occupy some sort of higher plane. On that surprisingly heavy note, that’s all I’ve got for today, so thanks for listening!

Music: “Airwaves”