#cowboys & aliens slander

[visionsynth]

being a daniel craig stan means watching him play amazing characters in terrible movies

[best-underrated-anime]

Best Underrated Anime Group K Round 3: #K4 vs #K7

#K4: Highschool superheroes

#K7: A story of children who want to be acknowledged

Details and poll under the cut!

#K4: Gatchaman Crowds

Summary:

Hajime Ichinose's ordinary life is in for a change when a transcendent being named J.J Robinson hands her a small book called NOTE—a device which transforms her into one of the Gatchaman, the legendary protectors of Tachikawa City. Stressing that the existence of their group must remain a secret, fellow Gatchaman Sugane Tachibana takes Hajime to their base of operations, where Paiman, the panda-like alien leader of the Gatchaman, reveals their purpose: to eliminate aliens that pose a danger to humanity. These existential threats, called MESS, are becoming increasingly dangerous, destroying everything they touch. Now it's up to the Gatchaman and their new recruit to stop them before the world is engulfed in chaos.

Propaganda:

Crowds is a very ambitious anime in my opinion! It takes place in a world not too different from ours, where most problems are solved quickly due to an app that everyone uses. Technology makes it so that everyday people can save each other. In a world where everyone’s a hero, what use are heroes? What even makes one? It follows a girl named Hajime as she joins a team of superheroes with her unique perspective. If you like animes that are different and somewhat whimsical (with the occasional battle). This might be up your alley!

The visuals are also unique and colorful, with creatures and locations that can be pretty abstract. The characters are interesting, each have their own personalities, perspectives, and motivations for what they do. Crowds is short, but it manages to give everyone some kind of character arc, and give them depth. I personally find the team very endearing, and Rui has STYLE! As a fellow guy who wears dresses and heels sometimes, I love him very much.

Also, THE MUSIC. If you don’t check out the anime you should at least check out the opening and ending songs, they are absolute bangers.

Trigger Warnings:

Blood, murder, manipulation. I don’t remember there being transphobia/homophobia, but anime has a bad track record in general and there are 1 or 2 LGBT characters and I could have forgotten.

#K7: Terror in Resonance (Zankyou no Terror)

Summary:

Painted in red, the word "VON" is all that is left behind after a terrorist attack on a nuclear facility in Japan. The government is shattered by their inability to act, and the police are left frantically searching for ways to crack down the perpetrators. The public are clueless—until, six months later, a strange video makes its way onto the internet. In it, two teenage boys who identify themselves only as "Sphinx" directly challenge the police, threatening to cause destruction and mayhem across Tokyo. Unable to stop the mass panic quickly spreading through the city and desperate for any leads in their investigation, the police struggle to act effectively against these terrorists, with Detective Kenjirou Shibazaki caught in the middle of it all.

Propaganda:

The big thing to this show is that the directors are Shinichirō Watanabe and Yoko Kanno, aka the team behind Cowboy Bebop. But in all seriousness, the show still haunts me and the music can still bring tears to my eyes. The art is incredible, and the characters are tragic. The story is partially about hope and largely about kids wanting their pain to be acknowledged.

Trigger Warnings: Child Abuse, Suicide

When reblogging and adding your own propaganda, please tag me @best-underrated-anime so that I’ll be sure to see it.

If you want to criticize one of the shows above to give the one you’re rooting for an advantage, then do so constructively. I do not tolerate groundless hate or slander on this blog. If I catch you doing such a thing in the notes, be it in the tags or reblogs, I will block you.

Know one of the shows above and not satisfied with how it’s presented in this tournament? Just fill up this form, where you can submit revisions for taglines, propaganda, trigger warnings, and/or video.

[reidecorating]

Waking up Slow

Requested: Nope, this is just what happens when I decide to avoid studying for physics 

Pairing: Matthew Gray Gubler x Female Reader 

Word Count: Around 2k

Summary: It’s been a dream of mine to wear Gube’s alien shirt and make him food and just have a good old yarn with the man so I decided to write about it. This is just a whole lot of flirting and banter and making out on a Sunday morning

Warnings: None, a lil spicy but pretty SFW, might mistake this for a pillow though, with the amount of fluff

Rays of impatient late morning sun poured in through the gaps in the curtains, which were hastily shut the night before, as they failed to meet in the middle. Matthew never minded sleeping with them half open. Some nights, he would squint and try to make out constellations in the cosmos as his whole world lay curled up beside him, her ear against his heartbeat the way a young child would listen to the ocean through a shell. Other nights, when they would both lay tired and out of breath, she would call him moonlight as her fingers danced along his collarbones, shimmering in the star shine as the thin veil of sweat painting them was the only evidence of what they had been doing previously. However, now, while the two of them remained entwined, the white sheets appeared to glow yellow in the wake of the stars which had collected into one, hours ago. She woke up to Matthew’s arm draped around her waist, having found its way under the fabric of the shirt that scantily covered her, in an attempt to share the warmth of her skin. Stretching and letting out a yawn, she debated falling back asleep, seeing as her only interlocutor was still doing the same. Craning her neck over the pile of poetry sitting on the bedside table, obscuring her view, she made out the small digital numbers reading just before midday, and turned to face the dozing man beside her.

Her eyes brushed over him in all his sleeping beauty, head resting against the supple skin of his upturned palm, brown hair brighter in the morning light, pixie nose tilted up towards the headboard. His eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks at whatever he was dreaming of, and she wanted, so badly, to taste the pink of his parted lips, to join his dreamscape by breathing into his lungs. A large portion of the sheets had been stolen by her in the middle of the night. While she was bundled up like a cinnamon roll, Matthew lay exposed to whatever monsters and ghosts he claimed reside in his house. His bare chest rose and fell with each breath, but her eyes trailed down to where the waistband of his pyjamas hung temptingly low on his hips, leaving very little to the imagination. Catching her off guard, he pried open one eye, the murky waters of a pond spilling into her view. “It’s rude to stare,”

“Not at art, it isn’t,” she combated his teasing. He groaned theatrically as he stretched out across the span of the bed before regaining his position. “I won’t take sugar in my coffee then, you’re sweet enough,” he smirked. “Oh no, could you please move, I’m actually trying to look at the portrait behind you,” she teased. “Evil,”

“But you love me,”

“I do.”

He removed his arm from where it rested, a little too low on her body, to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, letting his hand linger on her cheek, absentmindedly stroking his thumb against the slight flush of her face. She tilted her head slightly to delicately graze her lips against the inside of Matthew’s wrist, making his breath hitch. “Kiss me?” She asked, giving into the adoring look in his eyes. “Your wish is my command, m’lady,” 

“Wow, a magician and a genie, I really hit the jackpot with you,”

“You’re really going to leave bodybuilder off the list? With muscles like these? I’m built like…Dwayne Johnson. Did you know they wanted me to be in the Fast and Furious series? But they actually thought I was ‘too buff’ and ‘too macho’ and all my sex appeal would distract from the plot, so they had to settle for Dwayne.”

Laughing into his chest, she pulled herself up and straddled his waist, bringing the blanket with her as if it were a cape. “I’m not joking, Y/N, my net worth is sixty thousand dollars per muscle,” he continued, one hand behind his head and the other now resting on her bare hip, tracing light circles on the skin where her giant shirt had ridden up, revealing the black band of her underwear. “Essentially, what you’re saying is that I could sell you on the black market and make a lot of cash?” She asked him raising an eyebrow and toying with the mess of his hair. “You could, but then you would miss out on this.” He finally kissed her, slow and tactile. Resting on her forearms, linked together above his head, she let her hair drape down and tickle the sides of his face. He swiped his tongue along her bottom lip, at a painstakingly low pace, his hands now caressing her jaw and dabbling with her hair. She breathed him in while he continued to gently suck at her lips, then jaw, then neck, eliciting faint moans from her. “We’re hungry,” he spoke, halting his actions, removing her from her reverie. “Matthew, don’t stop,” she whined semi-facetiously. He gave her a smug look, eyebrows raised. “Fine, I’ll make you food - only because you did it yesterday - but we’re not done here,” she huffed, making him chuckle as she crossly got off him, and out of bed. “It looks nice on you, pumpkin,” Matthew chirped. Tilting her head in confusion, she looked down and realised he was referring to his whimsical alien shirt she had stolen the night before. The buttons that were undone torturously left Matthew craving her skin, as she gave him a glimpse of his favourite view each time she bent down to slide on a sock. “Considering it is a woman’s top…”

“Hey!” He threw a pillow at her, “I thought it looked nice, something a space cowboy would wear during his leisurely time,” “I didn’t say it didn’t look nice!” Her hands went up in surrender, suppressing a smile when she threw the pillow back in his direction. Making her way towards the kitchen, she left him starstruck and staring at the ceiling, smiling to himself like a teenager in love.

Eyes getting tired of reading the words of Robert Frost, when his stomach grumbled loud enough to genuinely frighten him, he placed down the book and followed the enticing aroma wafting into his room. When he saw her, she was humming to herself, swaying to the rhythm of whatever song was playing in her head. He admired her bare legs as the hem of his shirt skimmed the tops of her thighs. Gazing at her tied hair swinging to and fro, giving him snippets of the back of her neck, he became eager to pick up where they had left off. “Hey there lover of mine, wasn’t it you who told me its rude to stare?” She beamed at him, turning around cradling a giant bowl of some sort of mixture in one arm while sporting a giant wooden spoon with the other. He realised she must’ve heard him shuffling around, he wasn’t the most graceful person alive after all. His heart melted at the smile she sent his way, tucking his lip beneath his teeth to avoid grinning back so hard he would sprain something. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N,” he glanced down at his feet from where he leant against the doorframe. She still made him nervous. However, the man never failed to make her fall past the point of no return each day, so they were even. “I’m so in love with you, Gube,” she shook her head and laughed, facing the stove again. He stepped forwards and slunk his arms around her, planting a kiss on her cheek before dipping a finger in the batter to taste it. “I tried making us heart shaped pancakes,” she muttered sheepishly. “Key word, tried.” He stifled a laugh, looking at the piles of pancakes on their plates, decorated in berries and cream. “Maybe if you squint and look at them from really really far away they look a little bit like hearts…”

“Do you have a warrant for all this pancake slander? Because I wasn’t aware that you were the geometry police,” she poured the last of the batter into the pan before piling up more dishes. “The proportions in my paintings can speak to that,” He pointed to his latest work in progress leaning against the wall, its newest layer drying in the spring breeze which was fleeting past the rickety handles of the kitchen windows. “I’m glad Picasso came and went when he did, poor man’d be facing some real competition if he was still around,” setting down his warm brew in front of him as he dug into his - what was now - brunch, she continued to tantalise him. “Are you mocking my curvaceous abstract cockroach? It actually came to me in a dream once,”

“Matthew, you did not just use the adjective ‘curvaceous’ in regards to an insect,” she chuckled, “but a dream? Really?” She pressed on, wondering, one, why he was dreaming about the revolting beasties and, two, whether she should leave him while she still could. “No, I lied, I just saw your face and felt inspired,” he winked. “Hurtful,” she scoffed. “All the artistic recognition is getting to your head, fame changed you Gube,”

“What’s a man without his roach?” A fake western accent glossing his words as he made a gesture of stroking a bug between his hands made you throw your head back in laughter. “Well, I’ll be damned, a roach-less man!” She chimed in, sounding almost as Texan as he did, making it his turn to laugh.

They ate in a serene silence, aside from Matthew’s odd compliments to the chef, both enjoying the view from opposite sides of the kitchen counter.  “So, aside from finishing that horrid thing,” she tilted her head in the direction of his painting, “what’s on the agenda for the one, and the only, Salvador Dali, today?” Matthew breathed out a laugh in response to her comparison. “Would you still love me if I grew out my moustache like his?”

“Bold of you to assume I love you even without the moustache,” A false and dramatic look of hurt found its way onto his face as she teasingly blew him a kiss from where she stood at the sink. “Anyway, now that you’ve completely destroyed my self confidence and broken my tiny, fragile heart, to answer your question… You are, actually,” he spun around on his bar stool. A sea of scarlet rose up her neck and made a home in her cheeks at his simple remark. “Well… I’m glad, because you’ve been at the top of my ’To Do’ list for a while now.”

She placed their cups in the sink and made her way over to where he sat, the seat of the stool resembling a bottle cap. “Is that so?” He smirked, now wearing the same shade of blush she was, as she stood between his knees, letting her hands snake up around his neck. “Mhm,” she gently planted her lips on his, “and you’re one thing I’m not going to procrastinate on getting done,” 

“You’re killing me, Y/N,” he breathed against her mouth. “You’ve always wanted you be a ghost, haven’t you?” She felt him smile against her as her lips glided over his. She placed one hand, still warm from the coffee it had been cradling, on his chest while the other inattentively played with the wiry tendrils of hair at the nape of his neck. The effect she had on him hadn’t changed with time, even after two years, she realised, his racing heartbeat evident beneath her palm.

This time, when their lips met, it was slightly more desperate, the need for one another gushing from both of them. She captured his bottom lip beneath hers, gently biting down before drawing back for air. Matthew gazed at her devotedly, eyebrows furrowing together when she kissed him again. While her tongue traced over his lips, enchanting him, his hands travelled down to her thighs, gripping each of them firmly before standing up and lifting her onto the counter. Their lips separated with a small smack as she gasped at the contrast in temperature between the granite and her skin. His nose skimmed hers when he made his way back down along the same path he had travelled earlier that morning, this time, unbuttoning the remainder of the shirt she wore, the heavenly sounds she was making leaving him in a trance. He adored seeing her this way, unguarded and sinking in his touch.  “You’re sensational, Matthew,” she sighed, tugging at his hair and craning her neck back to allow him more access. He nipped at the column of her throat, smiling to himself at the comment. She had no clue what she did to him. “Angel, I don’t often get dessert after breakfast, but do you think you can make it happen for me today?”

[angrycowboy]

Okay but like,,,, if anyone ever messed with maria they would not only have alex manes, certified bamf, hot on their ass, but they would also have michael guerin, wild alien cowboy, ready to murder them

Alex Manes and Michael Guerin are co-presidents of the Maria DeLuca Defenders. They will hear no slander against her, because she is perfect.

[plungermusic]

Light & shade, joy & tears, penguins & fish cakes …

Benjamin Folke Thomas is the one artist Plunger knows who can pull off the American sit-com trick of having you laugh one minute, reach for your hankie the next and end on a feel-good high.

His solo show at the Betsey Trotwood did all that with humour coming in the now legendary jokes, (regular stalwarts the ice cream man and penguins plus the bonus of fish cakes) and in Benjamin’s interactions and banter with a crowd composed mostly of die hard fans, who were ready to join in with all and any song at the drop of a hat.

With the exception of the hilarious self-character-assassination Sex Addict (another singalong favourite) Benjamin’s songs are in deadly earnest: whether relationship-related like the breezy country of I’m Alive, the melodic John Martynesque Copenhagen 30/6 or the emotional James Taylor does Christmas In New York-style Blues For You; or delivering a powerful social message as in the dark subject matter lurking beneath the JJ cale thumbs-in-belt-loop boogie of Hold On, or the plangent, hypnotic, finger-picked internationalist plea of Finn.

Plunger’s lyrical favourites were there too, the moody Straits-tinged Woman I Love with its aphoristic “…it reads like a story, burns like a book” line, and the everyday poetry of “…all the birds outside can muster is a cough, the air outside is crippled by frost… Today’s the day I start drinking again…” in Good Friend Again. New song (“I wrote it while I was singing that last one”) Stuff Of Dreams was a touching-if-surreal picture of thrashing Paul Newman at pool in a local bar, with a stirring serious-not-serious falsetto chorus (that jokey/earnest dichotomy again).

A handful of covers included two dark numbers from Benjamin’s favourite Warren Zevon: Splendid Isolation, the warning against the detachment and alienation of fame, and the savage Southern slander of Play It All Night Long. There was a nod to the sadly absent Dave Burn with a version of his hymn to the joys of the rock’n’roll lifestyle Vans, and Benjamin paid tribute to Glenn Campbell with a fine, folky run at Rhinestone Cowboy, perfect for his passionate and honest Cash-with-a-splash-of-Sarstedt-vibrato voice.

Another BFT-show favourite for Plunger are his stately Springsteenesque anthemic tracks, provided here in the excellent Rhythm And Blues, and the chugging Atlantic City vibe of perennial set-closer One More Ride.

Opening act Simon Stanley-Ward deserves a mention, not just for his fine playing and old time country twang (which enhanced an encore duet of Dead Flowers, as pictured) but also for his quirky humour: particularly his paean to ‘Water’ (“it makes up 90% of you, it’s what you put in an overthick stew”), the Match Of The Day inspired ‘Mark Lawrenson’s Facial Hair’, and a not very Crosby & Nash eulogy to the (Beluga) Whale climaxing in Simon donning white rubber to impersonate his subject.

A brilliant show that didn’t leave a dry seat in the house…