#i have to paste it each time with this new fuckin post editor >:/

[sinsofsinister]

experiencing the horrors again (pernicious anemia)

[oceanselevenism]

I've seen that most of the stories on ao3 about them are mostly canon-compliant (and I don't have anything against that tbh) but I was wondering if you have any aus that you think could fit them or that you'd like to see?

omg i have SO MANY aus!! (it got Very Long so its under a cut)

- college au! danny gets kicked out (hes on full scholarship and does Thiefly Things to cover his expenses so hes not endangered just fairly fucked up abt it) (does it count as kicked out if u only live w ur dad three months a year) in freshman year, he befriends rusty (1 year below him) in sophomore year, debbie also befriends rusty (she and danny dont talk much but shes 2 yrs below him at the same college), and when reuben comes calling for a job he thinks debbie has a boyfriend (thanks to debbie telling her dad that she does) so she fake dates rusty. who ends up joining the job. and danny is Very Jealous

- snl ripoff au! danny and rusty are the weekend-update-adjacent anchors and they get gay. i Would have this take place in la (reuben is taking A Risk producing a late night sketch comedy show on the west coast but the 11/12/however fuckin many are fantastic cast members so even though they lose revenue from the other timezones not watching as much as they watch snl or whatever, they still make BANK... but danny and rusty getting gay throws the equilibrium out of whack) BUT la sucks DICK so its happening in new york. also this way u get Ocean Sibling Banter (debbie and lou are the anchors for The Actual Weekend Update and when debbie/lou get together and also when danny/rusty get together there are so many ‘just switch out the blondes/brunettes nobody will be able to tell and we won’t have hr down our necks’ jokes)

- au where the caldwells, abt to go deep undercover on a Huge Fucking Case, have to give up custody of 6 year old linus to tess and danny. the case stretches on for twelve years and linus grows up w tess and danny (who get divorced like right after they adopt him bc tess finds out abt dannys Thiefly Activities-- he confesses to her bc he doesnt rly want to predispose the kid to said thiefly activities) and also isabel (she and rusty break up like Right Before tess and dannys wedding and its very funny; she then goes on to marry tess) parenting him (rusty isnt as much in the picture bc he doesnt feel bad at all abt stealing and tess doesnt want linus to pick up that mentality also rusty Feels Things abt danny)! then when linus is like 18 or 19 danny disappears (tess and isabel think its Thiefly Activities again and arent concerned, just disappointed, but linus is very concerned for his dad-slash-stepdad-slash-sort-of-uncle) and he tracks down rusty so they can find danny. they roadtrip across america and eventually catch up to danny, who is helping the caldwells, and the five of them take down whatever gang the caldwells were chasing. linus now has 6 parents

- au based on this post where some archaeologist finds a bunch of dannys [french person voice] Love Lettairs 2 rusty and so obviously the logical course of action is to rob the museum (which happens to be the museum that tess is curating. funny how things work out) without telling his team What Theyre Stealing. they successfully pull off the heist but turns out the letters were not among the items they stole!! danny is getting desperate. as a last-ditch attempt he calls tess and asks her to let them rob the museum. shes like Why The Fuck Would I Do That. he explains and she begrudgingly agrees. danny and livingston go break into the museum Again but rusty tails them bc dannys been acting Weird and he finds out abt the letters bc livingston sweats more whenever he tells a lie. they live happily ever after (literally, theyre immortal) the end. also even though dannys a werewolf the 11 all call him the new jersey devil (its not his fault that legend came to be ok!! he was very drunk!!)

- childhood friends au!! danny and rusty were best buds as very young kids and then the oceans had to move. flash forward 2 present day where danny and debbie r robbing a museum (theyre building a flower shop over the vault and tunneling in, the dudes in brazil who came up w it are very very clever) and guess which two people are the assistant curators (is that even a title?). guess. ill tell u its tess and rusty! danny recognizes rusty, rusty ‘does not recognize’ danny (which is valid. look at photos of child george clooney and tell me you would recognize him). the 11 demand that they use this to their advantage and so danny and rusty Sort Of Date while the rest set up for the robbery, and danny feels really bad abt it so on the day of (after everyone has gotten away, ofc, he might be a lovesick bitch but hes not a snitch) he confesses and rustys like lmao i was onto u from the start. what kind of a name is [insert alias here] anyway. then they go live a life of crime and its great

- @sanduschism came up w a fantastic au where danny pickpockets rusty and feels bad so he sends the wallet back and they strike up a Correspondence

- HOSPITAL AU!!! danny and rusty r er techs while theyre doing med school and nobody knows how they juggle their shifts w school but also rusty can do a tracheotomy in like 5 seconds and danny can tell when a person needs an mri before they even list their symptoms so nobody questions it and nobody splits them up Ever. when they eventually become surgeons, danny does cardio and rusty does neuro, and whenever they have to work together not only do they never have to say what theyre doing, they don't even have What Do U Want To Cook For Dinner convos fully out loud. tess is head nurse... she makes so many excel spreadsheets... they are ALL color coded. isabel is head er doc and nobody dares to halfass things on her watch. reuben is head hospital admin, saul is chief surgeon, basher is head of the burn unit, the malloys r the HUNKIEST nurses in town, frank does plastic surgery/ent (every patient loves him bc he is just So Calm), livingston is The IT Guy, yen does like orthopedics or physical therapy, and linus is their fav resident who they all lovingly tease 24/7. the ocean sibs r both Cardio Gods and each dominate their respective coasts. debbie is an nyc doctor and if she sees a mass gen doctor its on SIGHT. the few surgeries that she and danny collab on go so fast that the med students in the gallery Cannot tell whats happening. lou is also a plastic surgeon and she and frank r best buds. linus requests time off like 6 months in advance Every Time and everyone hates it bc then They have to be on call but he doesnt realize his Extreme Overachieverness is causing so much strife. whenever tess and danny get in an argument she colorcodes his rounds spreadsheet to be the most neon shit youve ever seen. can you tell i never fully progressed past my greys anatomy phase this one is like 93489302 lines long

- superpower au where rusty has midas touch and danny has corrosive touch and when theyre too young to have control over their powers (abilities develop throughout adolescence and the user gains control at the end of adolescence) they accidentally brush hands and are terrified they just killed each other but turns out their powers like. cancel out. so until they reach like 21 or 22 and can touch things without fucking them UP they just. hold hands all the time. bc otherwise they have to wear gloves to prevent Accidents and both of them “hate gloves” (and also love holding hands. gayasses)

- uhhh hallmark au where danny is a crime fiction writer out on some beach north of ocean city nj and rusty is his fancy nyc editor. everyone else is a thief including debbie who is just Very weirded out that her brother, who robbed boston’s institute of contemporary art at age 22 and got away with it, has decided to spend the rest of his life churning out books. he is very critically acclaimed and about half of the 11 are buds with him and use his published books as heist inspo. the other ~half of the 11 are buds with rusty, and they tell him if danny’s heists are feasible or not (they always are. scarily so.) anyway rusty and isabel break up 12 days before xmas and danny and tess break up 8 days before hanukkah so dannys heading to debbie’s place in upstate new york to mope for the holidays when A BLIZZARD HITS and he gets stranded in midtown. and he and rusty are buds but like. Email Buds. they dont hang out irl and therefore they dont let their Totally Bud-Like Feelings mess up their professional relationship. but danny is stranded and its hanukkah and he ends up crashing at rustys place for the duration of the blizzard. and then rusty ends up coming to debbies place for the rest of the holidays. and then they kiss on new years eve and debbie kicks them out bc theyre being gross

- And More! thanks for the ask, anon! sorry it got so long lol i just have Many Thoughts

[vtscasefiles]

Case File # 321-5

Trigger warning: blood, gore, violence, death, firearms, injury, rape mention

Case begun: 5/09/20**

Case Concluded: 5/11/20**

Case Locale: [REDACTED], Florida

Marked as Closed

I arrived in Florida, the humidity already fucking with my sinuses. How anyone can live in this swampy shithole I will never understand. But I was offered a job, and my bank account was practically beating me over the head with it’s need to be filled. The pay was too good to turn down, so I loaded up my gear and headed out.

What I wasn’t expecting was a fucking ghost pirate. I mean, of all things, how fucking cliché can you get? The client, Rosie [REDACTED], welcomed me with that famed “southern hospitality” that I’ve heard so much of.

“You the girl with the gun? I expected you to be bigger.”

Fuckin’ peachy. “Yes. I’m the girl with the gun. You got a haunting problem?” I replied, trying not to let my irritation get the better of me. I’m fucking 5′9″. I’m not that small. For fuck’s sake, I can bench two hundo with no problem. Why the -- 

[Editor’s note: this continues for fifteen minutes. For your convenience I have removed VT’s rant.]

After getting a brief rundown of the case, I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. Everything pointed to a simple haunting, it wasn’t something I was considering a challenge, or even something that’d take longer than a few hours.

After doing this job, you think you’ve seen just about all the SC* has to offer. My two best friends are a lich and a witch. Yes, they rhyme, shut up. Point being is that I have never seen a haunting manifest on such a massive scale. Usually it’s restrained to a building, or a patch of land, but this...the whole fucking coast line was haunted. It wasn’t even a Cluster**, it was one. Singular. Spirit.

My first day, as the usual, was spent at the library. The spirit in question, one Captain Fresni, was an infamous pirate in the seventeen hundreds. Played a role in the American Revolution, albeit a small one. According to the books I’d found (mostly useless, but I did manage to glean some insight), his ship The Crooked Jess, was riddled with canon fire by the British. Captain Fresni, a violent fighter if ever there was one, realized there was no way out...lit every barrel of gunpowder he had on board and rammed his ship into the oncoming fleet. The following explosion wiped out three ships, packed with soldiers and set fire to another six.

I was impressed. If the spirit was Captain Fresni, as Rose claimed, then it could simply be a case of the body dying so suddenly and violently that the spirit didn’t realize he was dead. There was one passage that stood out, I won’t repeat it due to it being hella long, but in summation it stated that near the southern tip of Florida there was a hidden cove that served as the pirate captain’s base. Might as well start there.

It was around 9pm on the tenth before I even stepped foot in the cove. Immediately, the air changed. Despite it being disgustingly humid, the air turned frigid and dry. I walked up and down the coast to find a spot that wasn’t freezing, but to no avail. The whole place was a spook zone. We’re talking a good three hundred acres of land completely under the spirit’s influence. Even by a Cluster’s standards, that’s a massive area.

This area was mostly undisturbed, being a historical site. Being in the profession I am, meant that didn’t mean a roasty pile of dogshit. If I got caught disturbing anything here, it only meant one thing: prosecution, if not a bullet through my head. I’m aware of what my ethnic background means; prejudice, racism, outright hate. Hell, it’s dangerous to drive, let alone stand somewhere that I shouldn’t. So I try to be subtle. Try not to pack too much ordinance. Today I only had my duffel bag full of Elinor’s*** special ammo. I’d say it “kills” ghosts, but you can’t kill a spirit. You can however, force it to reconcile with it’s past.

The worst part about this job was I was going to wind up in the water. I hate swimming. Forget what chlorine does to the dye in my hair (red. Blood red. Always.), but just the thought of driving across the country with my clothes soaked in salty water was already putting my teeth on edge. Looks like I’d be hitting a thrift shop on the way home.

I dropped my duffel bag on the beach and sat in the sand next to it, pulling off my dad’s old combat jacket and stowing it inside. I did a quick inventory. I hadn’t brought anything major. Salt. Blessed water (courtesy of Ramona****). A black beeswax candle and, my trusty companion, Peace.

Peace is the name I’ve given to my custom-made revolver. All together, the setup weighs about three pounds. Each part bears a custom engraving that’ll combat just about any supernatural force...even so, there are some things that Peace can’t solve...even with the right ammo. But I had one solution sitting in the backseat of my car: a can of kerosene. If bullets don’t solve the problem, a liberal application of fire will.

The time was midnight, the opening of the “Witching Hour”. I had until 3am to get something. Anything. The spirit wasn’t answering to any of the usual callouts (their name, questions, requests for an audience), so I settled in on the beach to doze. Wasn’t much else to do.

Mother fucker, I wish I hadn’t.

When I woke up, it was to the freezing cold iron around my wrists. The bob and weave that told me I was on the sea. The air smelled of something...something that every fucking time I smell it, I almost lose my lunch.

Corpses.

The deck outside my cell was slick with blood and viscera. I’ve seen my share of gore, don’t get me wrong, but this was a massacre. What was worse...it looked (and smelled) fresh. The good captain had been busy, it’d seemed. What began as a simple haunting was quickly turning into something more sinister. Rosie hadn’t mentioned that the spirit was violent...though I should have assumed, given the amount posted on the job. Even still, this was...a little more than I’d prepared for.

But first there was the matter of the shackles on my wrists.

Lockpicking is an artform that every PE invests time in learning. But that’s usually deadbolts or doors made post 1970. The manacles on my wrists (though they looked brand new) were easily something seen in the eighteenth century. There was even a maker’s mark next to one of the keyholes. I’ll spare you the details on how I got out, but my thumbs ache to all hell.

The second I laid hands on the bars to my cell, they swung open...I’d never been locked in. This worried me. The spirit wanted me free...the manacles were just a precaution. Each step I made was met with the squishy splort of combat boot on viscera. I took my time, as I didn’t relish the thought of slipping and falling into the mess beneath my boots. Proud to say that I didn’t fall. Not once.

[Editor’s note: judging by the stains on VT’s clothes, she fell.]

As far as I could tell, I was on the lowest deck. The stairway didn’t lead up into the fresh air of day, but rather into what I assumed was a galley. Tables and benches had been scattered, and cooking implements rusted on their hooks. Dangling from one of those hooks was my firearms...just waiting for me.

I expected a trap, I anticipated the trap. By that I mean I picked up a piece of busted bench and hurled it at my gun. It fell off the hook with a loud clatter which had me willing myself to fade into the shadows. Nothing. Nothing but the creak and groan of the ship.

Well, I say nothing, but I distinctly heard laughter from the top deck. Feminine, bright laughter. I picked my gun up off the floor, holstered it and climbed the stairs.

There was no ghost crew, as I’d anticipated...but at the helm was a sight that still gives my heart a jolt. It’s no secret that I’m gay. I love women. But what I saw at the helm...fuck me, sideways. She was tall. 6′6″ if she was an inch. Her raven hair captured the moonlight and practically sucked it in. Her breasts were bared to the wind, heavy tattoos that seemed to glow covered just about every inch of bared flesh. I’d have thought her living if not for one thing: her eyes. Pitch black like the void.

“Ahoy, mate.” she purred, setting my teeth to clench. “Found you on my little hideaway, snoozin’ like an infant. Come to join Captain Fresni’s crew, little pet?”

“I ain’t your pet.” I snapped, glowering up at the spirit. “You’ve been killing people, Captain...and everything I’ve read says that you’re a man. Are you actually Captain Fresni, or is that just some title you picked up?”

“Funny how men’ll give the most vicious fighters a cock in death that they never had in life, hm?” the pirate snickered. I took notice then that her arms were like two thick pythons that, any other time, I’d like to see just how much weight they could hold. “I offered my services to old Georgie and he thought me funny. At least until I broke his nose.”

“Georgie? As in Washington?”

“Ye know of him? Interesting. He refusing the afterlife, too?”

Everything I’d assumed about this spirit was wrong. Captain Fresni wasn’t a man, for one. Not to mention she knew very well that she was dead. That still didn’t answer the most pertinent question on my mind. “The bodies...or what’s left of them. Was that you?”

“Aye.” she smiled, wickedly, but offered no further explanation. I was being baited.

“Can I ask why?”

“Ye just did.” a hard spin of the wheel almost sent me tumbling. “But I suppose I can oblige a pretty little thing like you.” I fucking hate being demeaned. And all attraction for this undead bitch was flying out the window faster than you could say “eat my ass”. 

I can’t remember most of her explanation. Looking back, now...it’s like the whole of that night is just a drunken fever dream. What stands out to me is her reasoning. “I only murder the dregs, girlie. Rapists, mostly. Kidnappers. Violence done to women is met with brutal retaliation. It’s the simplest way to clean up this world, savvy?”

Oh, I was savvy. Quite savvy. If anything, I agreed with her and her method. Trash like that shouldn’t be allowed to breathe, let alone exist. “If that’s all you’re doing, Cap, then I see no reason we shouldn’t go our separate ways. You have your work and I have mine.”

“Aye? And just what is your work, lovely?” I didn’t detect any further demeaning playfulness...only curiosity.

“I’m a PE. A Paranormal Eliminator. Usually, I’d have to ask or make you pass on, but as it stands...I think we can say live and let live. Well...live and let un-live.” she’d laughed at that. A warm sound that had my guts twisting around my stomach like some sort of horny serpent.

“So, you came out all this way to end the dread Captain Fresni...only to find a kindred spirit, is that what I’m hearing?” she asked, grinning like the Cheshire Cat with a Glasgow grin. “And now you want to leave, just like that. Don’t a get a kiss or a nice romp? I think I’m owed something after all. I didn’t kill you for trespassing.”

That raised my hackles. Again, this pillar of muscle was underestimating me. What I’d fought, what I’d killed. For fuck’s sake, I’ve killed enough Wendigos to put half the men in my profession to shame. There was that weird case where the woman who hired me was fucking the Wendigo, but...that’s another story for another time.

[Editor’s Note: We’ve never discussed the Wendigo-coitus case. I sincerely want to hear it.]

“Fuck you. You got the drop on me, like a coward.” I regretted the words the instant they left my mouth. I was on her ship and at her mercy. She could sink this ship and I had no idea which way shore was...let alone the hazards that went with swimming in open water.

Instead she’d only laughed. “Little girl, I’m a pirate. I’ve no intent to fight head on when I can sneak up on someone. Honor is a man’s game. It’s what gets them killed, more often than not.” Again, I agreed. I’d put enough bullets in the back of a head to know that stealth is preferable than a face-to-face fight.

“Look, I lost my temper. Can we just...end this and I can go home? We both agree on your method, and I see no reason to stop what you’re doing. Sure, the “authority” of the living world won’t like it...but no one likes them, so they can eat a steaming pile of shit.” I said, frowning. “I don’t want a fight. I just want to get paid and go home.”

The look about the spirit changed, marginally. The tattoos seemed to be rippling along her flesh(?) and her smile faded into a frown. “Missy, we still have a glaring problem we’ve yet to address. I’m one woman...and I need a crew. So, unless you’ve got a solution to that particular snag, you’re it.”

All my like for this spirit (begrudging as some of it was) vanished in an instant. “So I’m being kidnapped.” I responded, feeling my heart start to hammer in my ears. “Just like those men you killed. So, what I’m hearing is, you’re no better.”

“Watch your words, girl. Your pretty face won’t save you from my blade.” she’d snarled. It took all that was in me not to balk, though my teeth desperately wanted to chatter.

“I’m using your own words against you, Captain.” I responded, hoping I sounded calmer than I felt. “Don’t blame me if they don’t line up the way you want.”

“One more word out of you -- “

“I’ll give you two: get. Fucked.” that had torn it. The rippling gave way to something that I’d come to expect. This was no run of the mill spirit: Captain Fresni was either a wraith or a revenant. The only real difference between the two was the level of violence capable. A wraith tends to hunt one person, or their family. A revenant hunts whoever they want...and now I was on the list. I couldn’t fight her here, not out in the open. She’d tear me to shreds. Already her jaw was gaping, revealing razor teeth. Her nails, cut short, were lengthening into something akin to talons...and believe me when I say those things hurt. 

I feel no shame in saying I sprinted below deck and ducked into the galley proper. I wish I hadn’t. She wasn’t just killing people, she was eating them. Body parts, half chewed, dangled from the ceiling and littered the ground. My hand clapped over my mouth and nose to keep the smell out and my dinner in. I heard her footsteps and, as silently as I could manage, I checked my firearm. Peace was still locked, cocked and ready to rock. Well, not cocked. Gun safety, kids.

I pulled one of Elinor’s special bullets out of the cylinder. What made these so special is that, instead of lead, bone served as the projectile. The easiest way to deal with something dead is by using something dead against it. I don’t ask where Elinor gets her bone, and I think I’ll be perfectly happy to continue not knowing.

[Editor’s note: I know. It’s horrific.]

“Little pet, little pet, where are you?” she crooned. Well, I say crooned...more like...rattled. A revenant’s physiology is strange, but once they reveal their form it’s almost as if their bodies begin to decay. I peeked around the corner to see her back facing me. I took aim and...nothing. My gun clicked loud enough to sound like a scream in an empty hallway, but no roar of igniting gunpowder. She turned and...smiled. I think. “There you are.”

“Here I am.” I responded, standing on shaking legs. “Soup’s on, Captain.” she ran at me, talons held out at her sides like sabers. I did the only sane thing I could think of: I ducked as she swung. Luckily, the big swing didn’t hit me. Unluckily, she had another hand. Claw. Whatever.

So, there I was, a talon embedded in my shoulder and blood gushing from the wound like a waterfall. A little known fact about revenant wounds: leave the talon in. If it’s withdrawn the wound will immediately fester and become gangrenous. A lot of PEs have died that way.

I slammed the barrel of my gun against the base of her claw and it snapped off. She screamed her pain and rage and took another swipe at my torso. I barely managed to get far enough back in time. The fact I had to compensate for a long talon still imbedded in my shoulder didn’t mean much, as I was operating off a cubic fuckload of adrenaline. She did however manage to shred my tanktop. Which sucked, because I loved that thing. Said “Boss Ass Bitch” on it and everything...I guess I could see if Ramona would make me another one...

[Editor’s note: RIP tank top. Ramona is making another one at the time of writing.]

I sprinted past her, she’d over balanced and given me time to escape. I went down, back to the cells. I was soaked in a cold sweat by now and thankful that my hair tie had held, despite my panicked movement. I smoothed the strands away from my sweat soaked face and looked for a place to hide. Nothing was presenting itself...but an idea struck. It was a stupid idea. A terrible idea. I ran into a cell and pressed my back to the wall.

When Fresni reappeared, she was smiling. “Ran out of room to run, little rat?”

“Seems that way.” I panted. My head was spinning from the loss of blood. Thankfully, that brief moment I spent pressed against the wall had redoubled my courage...and helped me remember one little fact. “Look, Cap...I’m dead. We both know it. The second this talon is removed, my life is over...so...I guess I’m askin’ if that place on your crew is still available.”

That shocked her, if only for a moment. “You can’t lie your way out of this one.”

“No lie. Kill me now. I’d rather just go ahead and get it over with, thanks.” I said, praying that this would work. If it didn’t well...you wouldn’t be seeing this, would you?

She approached, brandishing those eight inch talons. She clicked them together, thoughtfully. “Stand still, then.” she snarled as I held my breath. “One through the heart, and it’s all over.”

Three more steps. Two. One. I stepped in and latched onto her arm, and...I bit down. I felt fetid blood fill my mouth and choke me. I immediately began to gag and then...voided my stomach, all over my aggressor.

A revenant’s true power isn’t from the change they make, though it definitely looks it. A revenant is best known for it’s insidious way of making the unreal real...so long as its concentration remains undisturbed.

When I finally finished tossing my cookies, I looked up. No ship in sight. Just a revenant, me and glorious land. The sand was disturbed, probably from all my running, and my blood left trails showing my passage. I’d been running in circles for the last hour...while she just watched.

“Shouldn’t play with your food.” I coughed, wiping my mouth. “It’s how you get killed.” she screeched in rage, her partially coagulated blood oozing from the bite mark I’d left. The talon was still lodged in my shoulder. I reached for my gun, ready to put an end to this only to pull out... “A fucking banana? Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”

She roared and charged. My weapon, my baby was strapped to the rotten leather of her belt. She’d touched it. No one touched my weapon except Ray***** and myself. Not even Ramona. 

That pissed me off in a way that nothing else does.

Naturally, I charged straight for her. She took a swipe with her injured arm, but instead of dodging out of the way, I leapt into it. She made contact, but only with her palm. I felt one of my ribs crack and gasped in pain, pure instinct was the only thing that drove my fist into the shredded flesh on her arm, courtesy of my teeth. She balked and I snatched.

Peace was in my hand, albeit barely. She noticed and lunged again, sending us both into the sand. Her pirate nature showed in the way her head collided with my nose, sending fresh gouts of blood over the both of us. She thought me stunned. An easy kill. She thought wrong.

“Any last words, my pretty?” she cackled, her maw open wide. She wasn’t just going to kill me...I’d pissed her off enough that she was going to bite me. My death wouldn’t just be painful, but slow...and my soul would erode right along with my body.

“Yeah.” I croaked, feeling the end of my stamina quickly approaching. “Choke on it.” I rammed Peace as hard as I possibly could into that gaping maw, hearing her gargle in rage around it. My wrist jerked as I fired once, twice, three times. Bam. Bam. Bam. A faint gargle, a twitch...and about two-hundred pounds collapsed on right on my cracked rib, finishing the job her arm had started and broke the damned thing.

I wheezed beneath the re-corpse for...ten, fifteen minutes? When I finally managed the strength to push her off of me, I immediately emptied the last three rounds into the ruined mess of her skull. Say what you will about my methodology, but I like to be thorough. 

It wouldn’t have done just to leave her body there, for a mundane to see. The SC likes it’s secrecy and to risk exposing it? There was no faster way to end a career than to leave a loose end behind. I made the long trek back to the car and returned with the kerosene can. I stood by the raging fire until there was nothing but ash and blackened bone...though I know a certain lich who could make use of revenant bone.

All in all, a happy ending. Had a vampire doc fix up my shoulder to avoid dying of infection. Rosie paid me what I was owed and Elinor bought the bone off of me for further profit. Sure, my shoulder still hurts so damned bad that I can barely lift it, but...thanks to Ramona, it’ll be healed up in no time. Probably.

Yo-ho-ho, mother fucker. Case closed.

Editor’s farewell: This is the first case file VT asked I upload. It’s one she’s particularly proud of and one with a satisfactory ending. There may be names or terminology that you are unfamiliar with, but I have taken the time to star each of them as to explain. They are as follows:

SC*: Supernatural Community. This is self explanatory. Includes all beings, regardless of death, undeath or birth. IE vampires, ghosts, revenants, werewolves

Cluster**: A colloquial term amongst PEs. Used in reference to a small locale with a massive collection of spirits. Usually all working as a coordinated group.

Elinor***: Elinor Lyktor. Lich. Proprietress of Ellie’s, a shop frequented by PEs for their gear. Specializes in Osteomancy.

Ramona****: Ramona Torrez. Witch. A close friend of VT’s. Offers support, healing and consultation. A good 75% of VT’s equipment is blessed by Ramona.

Ray*****: Raleigh Kane. Gunsmith. Took the name Ray from her father, proprietress of Ray’s Armory. Forced into the Supernatural Community by VT during a case. Since, she has dedicated her craft to making weapons to deal with the malignant forces that threaten the community as a whole. Extensively researches customers and will not sell her works to those she does not trust.

[geminimoonbeamx]

Sugar Rush: Part One

A/N: So I’ve kind of been dying to write any kind of Sub!Sebastian story for ages. Just because I’m obsessed with reading Stucky stories(porn) and more often then not he’s a bottom and I live for that shit. So I thought I’d try my hand at writing some real kinky shit. Also if you guys haven’t read Suga Mama by Emotchalla, please fucking do. Her story along with the massive amount of Sugar baby Stucky fics are why this idea has seeded itself into my brain and wont go away.

Also- I don’t have time to be writing another 25 chapter story lol. So this fic is going to be paced kind of fast, and at some points be one shots that are barley connected. Kind of just a way to get out my fantasies- no novels here.

Word Count: 4k+

Warnings: As with all of my stories there’s a permanent warning of cursing. I have a mouth like a sailor and express myself through the word fuck.

Summary: Bucky is a College student in his early twenties who seems to be drowning in the struggle of adulthood. When he meets Y/N, a well off Magazine CEO and gets the proposition of a lifetime, he takes on a title he never even could have imagined. Sugar Baby.

Bucky Barnes was no stranger to hard work. To the struggles of life.

He, along with his little sister Rebecca, had been in and out of the system up until he was nine; group homes and foster care were things that he was familiarized with at a young age. But so were heroine needles and that look that junkies get in there eye when the were high- he’d take sleeping in a clean bed in orphanage over listening to his mother tweak in the next room any day. He’d been adopted by George and Winifred Barnes two months shy of his tenth birthday, and they were the best people he’d ever met. Kind, and loving. He truly believes that they were heaven sent(if you tasted Winnie Barnes’ country fried steak, you’d think the same) but it’s not as though his life was suddenly a cake walk. He grew up the eldest of five- four younger sisters.

Yeah, if that sounds a little hellish, that’s because it was. He loved those little brats with all his heart, but damn, had they forced him into the “mature older brother” role.

He’d done well in High School- both athletically and academically. Played Varsity baseball and stayed on the honor roll all four years. Was it hard? Balancing the two along with his flourishing social life(because everyone love Bucky, that’s just how it went)? Yeah, maybe. But he did it.

…The hardest, most unexpected endeavor that he’d ever have to face came when he was eighteen- the car accident. The one that had left him mangled and broken. So fucked up- no one ever knew if he’d be able to recover-

But guess what? He had.

He liked to think his best personality trait was resilience. Throw anything at him. Any-fucking-thing. And he’d endure it, and bounce back.

But being a college student, living in New York City? Now this was some rough shit. If he wasn’t working at one of his two jobs, the ones that barley covered his rent, phone bill and tuition payments- he was in school. Studying his ass off, desperately attempting to get his degree. He barley had money for food most of the time. Thank fuck that he and his roomates had a “grocery jar” that they all contributed too- or else he surely would have starved. His diet consisted mostly of frozen foods and PBJ’s

He was living that early twenties struggle. The one that he knew everyone had to go through- to build character and all that. But fuck, was it killing him.

He was running on fumes, which wasn’t out of the norm, but still was starting to take it’s toll as he shook a bag of Cheddar Ruffles into his mouth. Breakfast of champions. He was listening to his roomates as he clambered around the kitchen, only having five or so minutes to spare before he had to go catch the subway and get to school.

It was a discussion they’d been stressing over heavily as of late.

Steve had moved out a month prior, finally taking the next step with his long time boyfriend, Sam- and Bucky was happy for him.

“Finally, punk” He’d grinned and slapped the back of his friends head. would he miss him? Yeah, he would. Bucky had a lot of friends- but Steve was his best friend. His first friend. But times changed, and they were getting older and Steve still lived in Brooklyn, so there really wasn’t nothing to spill tears over.

Except for the fact that now, they had to figure out how to cover that missing gap of rent.

There was still him, Scott and Clint- and now he had his own room(which he’d won fair and square in an arm wrestle, thank you very fuckin’ much) but making the nearly two thousand dollar rent payment every month was going to be harder. And it had them all on edge.

“I’ll pick up some more shifts at the café” Bucky deducts, chugging down the rest of his coffee.

“And how are you gonna’ do that? And go to school? What are you gonna’ do? Astral Project?” Clint gave him a dead pan look and Bucky shrugged. He’d do what he had to.

“How fucking cool would that be though? If you could really, you know, like astral project…why are you guys looking at me like that?” Scott ended his sentence defensively as both Bucky and Clint stared at him pointedly. Bucky with a hint of amusement, and Clint with his arms folded across his chest.

Scott was most definitely the child of the group. The one that you found passed out in the bushes at parties…which was why when they’d found out his ex girlfriend was pregnant a few years ago- they’d all, to be frankly honest, had been fucking terrified for him. He was actually a pretty decent father though. His daughter spent one weekend a month with them, and Bucky thought she was just about the cutest thing ever.

“Can you take this seriously for a second, man” Clint stressed and Bucky just sighed and grabbed his back pack. He really couldn’t handle anymore stress at the moment and he was kind of happy he had to be at his 9 o'clock lecture. At least he could escape this conversation.

“It’ll be fine, okay guys? We’ll figure it out. Don’t stress it so bad” He soothes as he walks past them, giving them each a pat on the shoulder.

“We’re going to have to become strippers! You do realize that, right?” Clint calls to him as he’s half way out of the door and he chuckles.

“Well I do have the ass for it” is Bucky’s parting statement.

The trek across the city, to NYU was as it always was. He spent it on the subway, his head phones blaring in his ears as he went over his homework and got a little more studying in, even though his eyes kept crossing from exhaustion.

He really was considering Clint’s suggestion- stripping didn’t sound so bad right now. If not for his scarred up arm, he probably would have done it ages ago. Because Bucky wasn’t a judgmental prick, and he considered strippers and sex workers as just that- workers. People trying to get by. He didn’t really care how people got their money.

He rushed across campus and managed to make it to his Poly Sci class not only on time, but early. He knew it’d earn him some brownie points with Professor Xavier. He was unpacking his laptop- which was horribly outdated, and his text books when you walked in. He’d been looking up at someone passing by his desk when he’d first laid eyes on you. It wasn’t the way you looked, although he cant deny, you looked damn good. With your sleek black pant suit that clings to your curves(and you’re nothing but curves) and bag hanging on your arm. Your makeup done impeccably and your hair shiny- you looked expensive. Well manicured. You looked like money.

No; it was more the way you carried yourself. The confidence in your strut. The way that you held your chin high, and not in a douche arrogant way…but more in an elegant self assured way. He cant help but watch you, the way that you smile brightly and give Professor X a warm hand shake, squeezing his with both of yours. When you’re introduced to the class as the guest speaker the professor had invited, Bucky grins.

“This is Y/N Y/L/N, a former pupil of mine. Former writer for the New York Post and current Editor and Chief of S.H.I.E.L.D Magazine”

Ahh, so you didn’t just look like money. You were made of it.

S.H.I.E.L.D was a global Magazine- a household name. One that covered most everything; entertainment. Fashion. Politics. He found himself flipping through one almost every day at work.

Listening to your speech was almost hypnotic. You were humble, and yet commanded the room. He learned that at the ripe age of 32, you were the magazines youngest ever Editor and that you’d worked tooth and nail to get there. You talked about the importance of public relations, and knowing what was going on in the world- no matter what subject one might go into. Covered the best ways to get into any business-

“Persistence!” You’d encouraged with a smile “I mean excuse my French, but annoy the shit out of them! Make yourselves memorable. Don’t be afraid to break away from the norm, because the most special parts of you- the ones that will get you places- are buried under your insecurities”

It was honestly one of the most interesting, engaging classes Bucky had ever sat in. You gave real tips, talked about real life in a way that was so blunt; it was refreshing. At the end, right before you were set to end your discussion, you took questions.

You were answering a girl who sat next to his question about you’re travels while writing when you catch him staring at you.

It’s a hot gaze. A heavy one. His gunpowder eyes seem to…look deep into you. Set you alight from the inside out. When you meet the gaze, boldly meeting his eyes its like…

Fuck.

It’s like nothing Bucky has ever experienced. He wants to crawl out of his skin, wants to crawl to you. Wants to taste what that gaze promises. It feels like it lasts an eternity, but really its only a few fleeting moments, before you break the stare. He feels like something inside of him breaks too, as you look away. As he packs his things back up into his book bag. As the bell chimes singling the end of the period and he leaves the classroom room.

He knows he’ll probably never see you again and that thought alone upsets him way more then it should. He hadn’t even said a word to you. Why was he such a fucking idiot? He should have asked a question- or something. As he goes on with the rest of the day, he finds himself unable to keep you out of his mind. You keep popping up. You’re pearly smile. You’re E/C eyes, and those lush lashes that framed them. He’s drifting into the thought of you as he works; making coffee for teachers and students alike.

He works at one of the many campus cafes’ part time, and today he’s behind the coffee bar. He doesn’t mind it, he actually likes barista-ing. The business of it makes time go by faster. Because everyone needs their caffeine fix, there’s never really a slow moment. He’s always busy. Which is why he doesn’t notice you when you walk in. Doesn’t even realize you’re there until you’re right in front of him, next in line.

He almost chokes on his fucking tongue.

“Um- Hey. Hi” Smooth, Bucky- he hisses at himself in his mind.

Your lips widen, grinning in recognition and his stomach flip flops.

“Hello again” You greet him, trying to reel in your own shock. What kind of fucking serendipity was this? After the entire day of giving your guest speech to class after class- you couldn’t get the stormy eyes out of your head. And now here he was. About to make your coffee. “Fancy meeting you here-” your eyes peel for his name tag.

“Bucky” He inturupts with a nervous little smile.

“Bucky? Hmm” You roll his name over in your mouth. Tasting it. He watches his name slip from between your lips and he can feel a twitch in his black work slacks.

“I like it” you decide and he chuckles and thanks you, telling you he was pretty fond of it himself.

“Well, what can I get you?”

“A large, iced skinny white chocolate mocha with extra whip, please- And what’s good to snack on here?” your eyes scan the large, clear display box full of goodies an Bucky’s more then happy to help you. Anything- to keep talking to you. You end up on a ham and cheddar bagel- he says he can testify to their delicacy. He ate two every day-

“You’re in pretty good shape for treating bagels like their own food group” You teased, but only party. He was gorgeously built- not “body builder bulky” but tall and broad shouldered, his biceps prominent under the long sleeves he wore. You wanted to bite them.

“I work at a gym part time” He chuckles back as he runs your platinum card “Gotta at least try to look the part”

He obviously misses your ogling as you give a relaxed hum in response, taking your purchases and shooting him one last heart stopping smile and goodbye as you retreat. Everything inside of him screams in fear, and its so confusing. Because he had just met you, had maybe said a dozen words to you, and yet he’s terrified of you walking out of the door and him never seeing you again. It’s that same alarm going off on his head as earlier after class. He’s relieved when you choose, instead of leaving, to take a table in the back corner of the café.

“Okay, who the fuck is that? And why did she make you react like a twelve year old boy?” Darcy, one of his co-workers, asks. Her thin, dark brow raised and her pouty lips pulled into a shit eating grin.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about”- he almost face palms at that. At how childish and unbelievable he sounds.

“Um H-H-Hey. Hi. Hello” She snarks, teasing on the way that he had greeted you and he bumps his shoulder to hers lightly, telling her to fuck off under his breath as he goes onto another costumer. Happy for the distraction.

You sit in that little café for far too long. Sipping on your iced coffee until it’s nothing but ice. Nibbling on the ham and cheese bagel- he was right it’s delicious. You pull out your tablet and get some work done- making sure that everything’s going smoothly. Checking in with your assistant. You sit there for almost an hour before you’re forced to leave and you cant help but feel a little huffy. Why hadn’t he come up to you? You can feel that intense stare of his on you. You don’t have the time to wait for him- and yet the idea of never seeing his handsome face is not something you’re willing to face. So you reach into your bag, and pull out one of your business cards and a pen.

Bucky cant seen to take his eyes off you for more then a few minutes at a time- its like you’re magnetic. The way your hair falls around your face, the way you cross your thick thighs. He adverts his eyes every time he feels like he’s about to get caught though. Darcy’s right. He’s being a twelve year old boy.

When you walk over to him, your red bottomed heels clicking, his head snaps up.

“Thanks for the bagel. It was delicious” You grin as you slide a bill and a card across the counter to him. His eyebrows pull together.

“What’s this?”

“A tip” You shrug…“It was really nice to meet you, Bucky” You purr, looking at him pointedly before you’re walking out of the door. He’s glued to the sight of your wide ass in those tailored pants for a moment- before he’s looking down at the paper in his hands.

His eyes widen, to an almost comical degree as he takes in the cash. You’d left him a two hundred dollar tip! Two fucking hundred dollar pills, crisp and neat sit under your business card. Which has your name and number printed on it in elegant scroll. He flips it over and is surprised to see there’s more.

-I know how hard tuition can get and working two jobs cant be easy.

I’d love to help, handsome. Give me a call sometime- xoxo, Y/N-

He cant believe what he’s looking at, he cant seem to draw air into his lungs to clear his head as he stares at your loopy, cursive hand writing. We’re you insinuating what he thought you were?

“Oh my god, you lucky bitch” Darcy’s voice comes from over his shoulder as she also stares down at what he’d been left “If you don’t call her, give me her number so I can!”

The first person Bucky actually does call, once he’s home and in the sanctuary of his room is Steve. Because Steve is his best friend, and Steve will know what to do with this information.

Of course, the asshole laughs at him for the first five minutes of the conversation. Until Bucky is huffing and threatening to hang up.

“I’m sorry, Buck. It just reminds me of when Mrs. Levinstien used to only pay you to mow her lawn. That dirty old lady had the hots for you so bad” Steve chuckles in defensive and Bucky grimaces at the memory.

“She’s not like that, though, Steve. She’s- she’s fucking beautiful, and successful and sexy. You should have seen her man” Bucky trails a hand through his hair as he thinks back at his interactions with you, and the mark your presence had left on him.

“Then what’s the problem?” That’s Sam who replies and Bucky rolls his eyes. Of course Steve would have him on speaker phone. Him and same we’re like connected by the tip of their dicks, so he was used to it.

“The problem with him pimping himself out?” Steve’s voice came out incredulous over the receiver.

“I mean, he already seems to like this girl. So he get to be with her and be paid for it? That doesn’t sound like a bad deal to me” Sam argues and they’re just making Bucky’s tired head ache.

“All I’m saying is that working those two jobs obviously aint cutting for you man. Call her. What’s the worst that could happen? You get to see a girl who you obviously have the hots for again? If you’re not into it, just leave. Its that simple” And when Sam say’s it like that, it really does click into place. It really does seem that simple. Even with Steve insisting that she could be a serial killer.

Bucky takes the night to sleep on it. He dreams of your lips, dreams of fucking that pretty mouth that seemed to spew nothing but charm of intelligence. Dreams of you sucking and sucking until he’s screaming. He hasn’t come so hard in his pants since he ACTUALLY was twelve. He wakes up to stickiness in his boxers and his cock pulsating and he knows he has to call you.

Why he’s so nervous? He doesn’t know…he keeps making excuses. Maybe you’d changed your mind over night? Maybe you we’re too busy to take his call…he finally musters up the balls after he’s getting off of his job at the gym a few days later, the sun setting on the city. It only rings twice before you pick up and he’s greeted with your bell chim like voice.

“Hello, this is Y/N speaking”

“Hey” His voice is too deep, gravely, but he cant help it. He’s nervous “This is Bucky- from school. I mean from the university- that you lectured at the other day-”

Why? Why does all cognitive thought leave him when he attempts to talk to you?

“Bucky, huh? I was starting to think you we’re going to call me” You tease him, but he can hear the smile in your voice.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I’ve been really busy” He lies- he’d just been a chicken shit.

“Mmhm” You don’t sound amused by that “We’re all busy people, and time is of the essence. I knew I should have gotten your number”

He chuckles at your directness “Now you have it”

“So I do. What should I do with it, hmm?”

“I don’t know… You tell me” He feels a little idiotic saying it, but he’s truly curious to what happens next.

“Why don’t you let me take you to dinner?” You’re nearly purring again and Bucky has to bite his lip to keep himself at bay. You were so straight forward, so unlike any of the girls he’d ever come into contact with in the past.

“Really?” He’s never let any one take him out to dinner. He was always the one to ask, to lead. But he had all of twenty dollars in his bank account(that two hundred you’d given him had gone to his part of the utility bill) and honestly, he wasn’t sure how he was going to stretch it til’ his next paycheck. Even if he wanted to be the one to take you out, to wine and dine you, he couldn’t.

“Mmhmm, really. Are you free Friday- at eight?”

“Um yeah, that could work” He was supposed to be working at the café that night, but he’d have someone cover him.

“Alright. Do you like Cajun food, there’s a new restaurant that opened in SOHO that I’ve been meaning to check out”

He liked any food that didn’t come out of his freezer, and so he agrees eagerly. You tell him to send you his address so that you can send for him, and he only faintly tries to protest, you reassure him that it would really be no problem.

“‘Kay then, it’s a date. I’ll see you then”

“I can’t wait” He’s overly eager, he can hear it in his own tone but the giggle you let out is warm and seeps into his bones instead of embarrassing him.

“Me neither. Have a good rest of your day, Bucky” and then you click end and he stands in the middle of the busy side walk, his phone still pressed against his ear. He feels hot all, the butterflies ricocheting in his stomach. He swallows it, pushes it down, feeling ridiculous and “unmanly” for the affect you have on him as he pushes on down the street.

Yeah, Bucky’s struggled.

But things seem like they may just be looking up.

@buchonians @papi-chulo-bucky @geekyweed @4theluvofall @peacefulwriter88 @missrobyn81 @prettybubblesintheair @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @papi-chulo-seb @shayla-markele @thatawkwardtinyperson @docharleythegeekqueen 

Okay ya’ll let me warn you now this one is going to be KINKY as a motherfucker. Prepare yourselves. And let me know if you’d like to be tagged for this little series!

[sinceileftyoublog]

Wussy Interview: Monsters, Inc.

Photo by John Erhardt

BY JORDAN MAINZER

“The magic of the modern world,” dryly quips Wussy’s Chuck Cleaver as I’ve successfully connected him and co-band-leader Lisa Walker over a three-way call. “We tend to be Luddites,” he adds. The sort of simultaneous weathered curmudgeonly sarcasm and conversational warmth Cleaver and Walker exude is exemplary of a duo who’ve been at it for a long time. A band born out of a dare to play together in 2001 (Cleaver was in Cincinnati cult heroes Ass Ponys), Wussy have released seven albums of folk-, shoegaze-, and country-tinged rock. Cleaver and Walker share vocal, guitar, and songwriting duties, while Mark Messerly plays bass and Joe Klug the drums. Recently, they’ve added John Erhardt on pedal steel. All five shine on the band’s latest full-length, the excellent What Heaven Is Like.

Heaven, like a lot of Wussy records, centers around society’s Midwestern outcasts--not who they consider the “other” but who society as a whole considers so. In context of today’s climate, the band seems all the more essential, avoiding the self-righteous trap of writing politically inspired music by channeling it through the ultra-personal consumption of culture. Walker’s songs, especially, are loosely based on everything from Fargo to Charles Burns’ Black Hole. And on the record, the band covers folk singer Kath Bloom, another outsider. “If key and musical ability are something you’re concerned with, you’re not gonna like Kath Bloom,” jokes Cleaver. “She is a wonderful writer.”

While Wussy don’t have any upcoming tour dates (they recently had to cancel a couple tour dates due to Cleaver experiencing spinal stenosis), they’ve been quite busy even besides Heaven, releasing a duo CD, Record Store Day CD, Cleaver solo record, and split single with The Paranoid Style on Bar/None. Still, it’s Heaven that will endure and remain both a document of socially inspired music in 2018 and a timeless record. Read my conversation with Cleaver and Walker, heavily edited for length and clarity, below.

Since I Left You: What about What Heaven Is Like is unique as compared to your past discography, and what about it is a continuation of your past albums?

Chuck Cleaver: It took a lot longer to make the other ones for various reasons--we kind of tried some other studios, and it worked out to varying degrees, but we were kind of away from our home turf a little bit. We got some good stuff out of it, but we decided we were more comfortable where we normally record. 

It took us a little bit to actually get going. Current political stuff kind of hindered us for a while because we were all to varying degrees put off by it. But that worked its way into some of the lyrics. We explored a little more. I think we do with every record. We thought, “Let’s go even farther out of whatever limb we normally do.” The quieter songs were possibly even quieter than before. 

I don’t think try is the right word, but it’s just something we naturally lean towards. We just get bored otherwise. We keep things moving and hope it’s interesting for other people.

SILY: In the opening song, “One Per Customer”, the line about the astronauts stands out: “back when astronauts had more appeal.” What did you mean by that?

CC: I was born in 1959. Throughout the 60′s, my sister and a lot of her friends wanted to marry a fuckin’ astronaut. They were new, and it was the “it” job for swingin’ guys or whatever. Now--in reality, being an astronaut is scary as hell--but it doesn’t have the appeal that it once did. Kids when they grew up wanted to be an astronaut. I don’t have any idea what they want to be now. A robot, maybe. Maybe kids just wish they were more intelligent. I don’t know. It does seem like being an astronaut used to be more of a goal.

Lisa Walker: I had an astronaut Barbie.

CC: And there was an astronaut GI Joe.

LW: But I feel like that’s not as much of a thing now.

CC: Now, everybody wants to be a fuckin’ reality star or something. Ugh. They should just be murdered in their sleep. Sorry.

LW: What?!?

CC: [laughs]

LW: Oh my god.

SILY: “Gloria” was inspired by the character in the latest season of Fargo--it’s not the first time you’ve named an album or song title after a movie or TV show. Attica! was named after Dog Day Afternoon. Why do you like naming things after other parts of culture?

LW: My theory on this is that I think classical allusions are a little played out. We’ve already used all the biblical ones.

CC: We’re big TV advocates.

LW: I prefer TV over film generally.

CC: I prefer TV over people.

LW: I’m in that camp, too. And I watch the same things over and over again. It’s like a comfort. Almost like therapy. One of the documentaries I saw over the past couple years I really enjoyed was that brony one. I can’t remember the title. [Editor’s note: It’s Bronies: The Extremely Unexpected Adult Fans of My Little Pony]. It sounds odd, but it’s pretty sweet. It’s sort of like that Bob’s Burgers episode with the Equestranauts.

CC: [cackles]

LW: They talk about how a lot of people process stuff through watching television. Something made for children helps people process adults, conflicts, emotions. I kind of get that. For me, that third season of Fargo helped me process the election. It took me a while to get through it. I had to quit in the middle because it was too bleak. I was like, “This guy’s gonna win.”

CC: The thing is [in the show] he doesn’t beat her spirit.

LW: That’s my takeaway from every article. I try to come away with the long view of history. I know a spark of hope when I see it, too. And I think that TV, more than movies, is good at telling the story.

SILY: Over that many episodes and hours, over a serial thing, it allows for greater storylines and development. It’s just such a commitment, and there’s so much, it can be hard to pick.

LW: I know. Some are too intense for me, frankly, because I get too into it. I’m one episode into Season 1 of Legion, and there’s flashbacks with a puppy. I’m already like, “If they do something to that dog, I’m out.”

CC: I’m like that with animals and little kids. Unless the little kid’s an asshole--then I’m like, “Kill that son of a bitch.”

LW: [laughs]

CC: Plus, I have the attention span of a gnat. Sometimes, when we’re watching a movie, I’ll get up and leave the room, and my wife will be like, “God damnit. We’re watching a fucking movie! What are you doing?” And I’m like, “Oh, I forgot.”

LW: I watch a lot of Bob’s Burgers and Parks and Recreation. Things I’ve already seen. And that stuff helps me with reality a little bit because there’s a kindness to it.

CC: There’s kind of a not-kindness to it too that keeps it funny. Bob’s Burgers is a very irreverent show. But in a sweet way.

SILY: What else helps you process and come to terms with the world around you?

LW: For me, I listen to a lot of Gang of Four and Wire. Their anger is soothing.

CC: Just being in a band. My wife always notices I get really grumpy when we don’t play for a while. [Lisa and I] both for varying degrees buy lots of junk--not really junk--but vintage stuff. We both collect all kinds of things. Going to antique malls and fairs and stuff like that is very therapeutic for me. I don’t even have to buy anything. Just walking around and seeing the tritest of people’s lives is interesting to me.

SILY: That’s exactly what my girlfriend does. She just organized her so-called “cabinet of curiosities” with her knick-knacks and what not.

CC: That’s it. Organizing and reorganizing things, looking at each thing and wondering whether it’s haunted or not. It’s just interesting to me. It provides great joy. I just posted a picture on Facebook--I found an old rat trap with Mickey Mouse’s picture on it. [To Lisa] You actually found it first, I think.

LW: Why would you put Mickey Mouse on a rat trap? That makes no sense.

CC: Exactly. But it’s just beautiful. Like, “Oh my god. Who thought of this?!?” That keeps me going. It made my entire week.

SILY: There’s a clip of Tom Waits on Letterman from a few years ago wherein he for no reason brought a rat trap from the 1800′s. He didn’t explain why he had it--he just had it. It makes me crack up every single time.

LW: It explains itself. 

CC: It’s just fascinating. Especially when it’s something that’s mass produced. I’ll never get over some of the stuff we found created by individuals, but the idea that a group of people got together in a board room or wherever and thought, “This rat trap with Mickey Mouse on it is going to be a good idea” is just great to me. Wow. This mass hallucination of people thinking it’s the right thing to do.

LW: It’s like the Middle Ages dance hysteria. Where people did something in hysteria until they died--like dancing. There are paeans with the Pied Piper of Hamelin where they think something happened like that. If you look in the town records of Hamelin, they say, “It’s been such and such years since our children went away.” And they don’t know what it means. There’s a stained glass that told the story.

CC: That’s some X-Files shit.

LW: You could also make correlations with acts of terror now. You read and think, “Why would somebody do that?” It’s crazy.

SILY: You can be fascinated and talk about how crazy the past is, but part of me thinks you can’t judge it at all because we do shit that in a number of years is just as crazy if not crazier.

CC: Imagine two generations from now people looking back at our political atmosphere and wondering, “Those motherfuckers were nuts. What the hell were they thinking?”

LW: I always love watching movies made before cell phones because people actually look around. You see their face. Now, if everyone’s not on their phones, it seems disingenuous somehow. You’re like, “That’s not real.”

SILY: I was waiting for the train the other day, and some guy was talking on the phone and very purposely and loudly saying, “I’m trying to engage with these people and they’re all on their phones!” Part of me was like, “Nobody wants to talk you to, it’s early.” But there was a certain extent to which he was right.

CC: And, you’re on the phone, [too].

SILY: Back to the record. It seemed like it had a much darker instrumental tone than previous records. Was that at all an intention or observation on your end?

CC: It was probably just a product of the time in which it was made, I’m guessing. We don’t ever talk about that stuff. We never say, “Let’s put in the devil’s chord,” or “the brown note” or anything.

LW: If we could, we would, though.

CC: Especially the brown note. The idea of our record making people poop their pants is just great.

LW: Musical laxative.

CC: Again, we don’t discuss much. We just do it. However it comes out is how it comes out. I know that seems strange. We’re just not that kind of a band.

LW: You know what it is, though. It’s a product of what we listen to. If we’re listening to a lot of Yo La Tengo--particularly their darker stuff, as I do--that’s gonna come out in what I play. Not like I’m trying to copy it. It’s just by osmosis.

CC: And I’ve watched a lot of black metal documentaries this year. [laughs] There’s probably that. It’s just interesting to me. I don’t listen to the music much or at all. I could watch a documentary on practically anything.

SILY: Any good ones in particular?

CC: If you go on YouTube--I’m terrible at remembering titles--there’s a couple that are really informative. They’re always kind of funny. Any time I see someone in corpse makeup, it just makes me giggle. At the same time, they seem very genuine and into it, so I can’t make fun of it too much. It’s no less relative than what we do.

SILY: Lisa, how do you like the new Yo La Tengo record?

LW: I haven’t heard it yet. I’ve only heard one song. I’m looking forward to it. My favorite Yo La Tengo record is Electr-O-Pura, if that gives you a sense of the ones I like. I like them all, but the ones that tend towards that. I think that record is kind of dark. A lot of singable noise. You could hum that record. Some of their stuff is so monotone--the I Can Hear the Heart Beating era. Like that song “Demons” of theirs from one of their covers records. I tend to like their dark stuff, so I’m hoping it goes in that direction.

SILY: It’s pretty droney.

LW: I’m in.

SILY: One song is in that great tradition of sweet, fuzzed out bliss like “Tom Courtenay”. I think it’s one of their best songs. The rest is kind of atmospheric.

LW: Sounds like Yo La Tengo. I will be happy.

SILY: The song on the new Wussy record “Tall Weeds”--

LW: We’ve played that more than any of them.

CC: We’ve been playing that for almost two years. Since the end of Forever Sounds.

SILY: The delivery in the vocal tone reminded me of Nick Cave.

LW: Sweet. That’s always a compliment.

CC: Thanks. I can think I’m skinnier and more handsome now.

SILY: The line, “Are you afraid of all the monsters in the folding metal chairs,” on the final song “Black Hole”--

CC: Best line on the record.

SILY: What’s the story behind it?

LW: Since “Tall Weeds” was kind of born out of Black Hole, that graphic novel by Charles Burns, I was having trouble knowing what to write about on this record. So I thought, “Let’s just make a whole suite about that.” Chuck had already gotten the ball rolling, and I had to write my half. If you haven’t read [Black Hole], it’s about this mysterious disease that afflicts people graduating from high school in this town. It’s like an STD, but people mutate. Not so much X-Men style--they become lizard skin or part animal. Some people grow a tale. Some guy grows a mouth on his neck that talks and tells his secrets.

CC: [laughs] It’s an amazing graphic novel.

LW: It touches on fear of aging, growing up, fear of change. I just thought about what that graduation would look like. But it rang true to me because of the climate, challenging my perceptions of people.

CC: Where it hit with me is I can remember my graduation, looking out on all those dunce faces and thinking, “What a bunch of fuckin’ assholes, I’m getting out of here.”

LW: That feeling of alienation from everything from your own body to your neighbors. Because even though those people mutate, they’re still the same people. And that’s the key. It just sort of brings out what’s already dormant in their spirit. They turn into something that makes them want to act out.

CC: You and I grew up in the middle of nowhere. Different places. But all I thought about was getting the hell out of there when I was 18.

LW: Me too. I don’t like to downplay where I’m from.

CC: I respect where I’m from and respect the people, but I didn’t belong there. I was afraid of all the monsters.

SILY: What’s the inspiration behind the album title?

LW: [laughs]

CC: [cackles]

LW: One day, when I was walking in the studio, I was thinking about this tweet from Donald Trump. He was shit-posting all day. After all of the shit-posting and talking about hating people, there was something like, “Oh, read this new book!” I forgot what the title was, but it was something along the lines of “what heaven is like.” “Read it today! Beautiful.” Are you serious? [laughs] It was so gross, but so funny. It was like Onion level. I got the title wrong. It’s not “What heaven is like.” It’s A Place Called Heaven. [The rest of the band] laughed so hard. They were like, “That’s the title.”

CC: Then we found an old postcard and ran it through some filters and that’s how we came up with the cover.

SILY: Are you still ingrained in the Cincinnati music scene?

LW: I think so. I never really was that much. I’m really less so now but just because I don’t go out a lot. I save my going out for being on tour. I don’t go to a lot of shows. It’s not because I don’t like music. I just don’t like going out socially much.

CC: We have two band members who are a little more social than me, Lisa, and John. We never go anywhere, pretty much.

LW: We do, but with our own families. I get together with Chuck and his wife or John and his wife.

CC: Mark and Joe tend to be our butterflies. [laughs] Our rhythm section.

LW: I go out on the road, and that’s sort of how I get it out of my system.

[latestnews2018-blog]

A Conversation With My Friend Who Really Wants To Have Sex With Mr. Incredible

New Post has been published on https://latestnews2018.com/a-conversation-with-my-friend-who-really-wants-to-have-sex-with-mr-incredible/

A Conversation With My Friend Who Really Wants To Have Sex With Mr. Incredible

Earlier this week, a review by The New Yorker’s Anthony Lane of the Pixar film “Incredibles 2” caught the attention of the internet.

The reason was a paragraph near the end of the article that painted a theoretical picture of two parents taking their children to watch the film only to find the mother comparing Ms. Incredible to Anastasia from “Fifty Shades of Grey” and the father catapulting his popcorn in a state of throbbing cinematic appreciation.

Holy crap, WHAT is with The New Yorker’s review of The Incredibles 2? Gross. pic.twitter.com/2PCVW4BQga

— Amanda Wong (@amandawtwong) June 19, 2018

I, on the other hand, could only think of an old friend of mine, Will Wiesenfeld, who, for as long as I can remember, has badly wanted to have sex with Mr. Incredible, i.e. Bob Parr. This is not a joke. Will really, really loves him some Bob Parr.

i want Bob Parr to fuck me up and down the goddamn block

— ● Will Wiesenfeld ● (@BATHSmusic) May 29, 2018

thinking about bob fuckin parr

— ● Will Wiesenfeld ● (@BATHSmusic) June 12, 2018

i don’t think u understand how hot i think the dad from The Incredibles is. Bob Parr. that’s my dude

— ● Will Wiesenfeld ● (@BATHSmusic) May 7, 2018

like honestly Bob Parr is a dreamboat

— ● Will Wiesenfeld ● (@BATHSmusic) February 15, 2018

Wiesenfeld is a professional electronic musician mostly known by his stage name, Baths. He’s very good; Pitchfork loves him. My editor, Tommy Craggs, did not care about any of that. He wanted to know more about my friend who’d like to boink an animated superhero dad. He asked me to talk to Will. So I did. It turns out that Wiesenfeld’s desire to sleep with the man with perhaps the largest chest-to-hip ratio in the cartoon universe is actually just one part of a larger story about coming to terms with his sexuality through cartoons as a teenager ― and becoming something of a connoisseur of the form as an adult.

Here is our conversation, edited a bit for clarity.  

Will Wiesenfeld: Hey dude!

HuffPost: What’s up, dog?

Not much. How’s it going?

It’s chilling. I can’t believe I’m interviewing you about this.

So you want to fuck Bob Parr. When did that start? When did you first get into Bob Parr?

How long ago did “The Incredibles” come out?

I must have been 15. I wasn’t out. I would have just found out that I was gay, so probably not yet. I don’t know.

When did cartoons become a thing for you in terms of your own sexuality

That was right away. Basically I found out I was gay because of porn, straight-up porn. I just realized that was going on and I had the realization, and I think through looking for that stuff and then always being a fan of Japanese stuff, I came across porny art and muscular art of characters, and so it started off not [with] American cartoons, but Japanese stuff and people’s original characters and buff men. And that would have been a year after I found out I was gay, so probably 16.

this mode of bob parr could get it ✔️ https://t.co/DLno1tbMBH

— ● Will Wiesenfeld ● (@BATHSmusic) January 16, 2016

Why do you think you had that attraction to anime or cartoon characters?

I can tell you almost exactly. Everything about porn ― at least what I was finding ― was intense and kind of aggressive. There’s nothing really loving about it. It was just sex, obviously, and very intense and very upfront.

And almost immediately the first images I saw of this sort of stuff ― of drawn characters and erotic illustrations and stuff ― it was all softer, even though it was really muscular men. A lot of it was really domestic. There were comics that I found that were just couples at home, or illustrations of dudes doing it in an apartment, outside of a pornographic context, just because they were dating or whatever.

And all of that was brand new to me. Just the idea of gayness as normalcy. That was the thing that allowed me to come out after that point. I knew I was gay before finding out about this stuff, but then I was comfortable coming out realizing that there was a route to gayness and queerness that was chill.

And now is it more just a funny thing than anything else?

It’s not actually much of a funny thing. There are funny things that come up. There are illustrations that are insane, where it’s like, “Oh, my God, look at this.” But it’s a super deep hobby of mine. I collect art. I have a running collection of manga in my house and a bunch of illustrations. I’ve paid for commissions of characters and stuff like that. It’s very real and it’s very deep. And I’m into it in a way that’s well beyond a joke thing, you know? I’m truly down with it.

You’ve done a Bob Parr illustration, I know. Have you done other ones besides that?

Yeah, or I paid for a commission of it.

who can i commission some tastefully hot mr incredible art from . mr bob parr

— ● Will Wiesenfeld ● (@BATHSmusic) May 15, 2018

I commissioned this other character from this series called “Legend of Korra,” which is also an American cartoon. His name is Bolin, and I’m super, super into him. I’ve paid for commissions of him in the past. I actually have one that’s pending right now that somebody is doing [laughs].

Twitter/Tumblr: yoPeppy

Here’s the illustration Will got commissioned for himself.

With Bob Parr, what is it about him that attracts you to him?  

It’s a huge mix of things. Physically, he’s exactly my type. Big 40-, 50-something-year-old dudes who are muscular but kind of friendly and approachable ― that’s my shit. So that, combined with all the stuff in “The Incredibles” ― him being a good dad, meaning that it translates to him being a responsible person and, I don’t know, safe? Those things, they’re great. And they are a huge turn-on. And he’s straight, obviously, but you can find comics and illustrations and fan art that people have done that skew it into a fun gay thing, and there’s plenty of it with Mr. Incredible.

I think people would probably think of an attraction to a cartoon character as mostly a physical thing. It’s interesting that what he’s like as a father figure and person wraps up into it.  

I think that’s a thing with a lot of the characters that I’m really into. Bolin also is the same way. He’s much younger, but he’s carefree and positive and all that stuff. I don’t have a thing for villains usually, sometimes I do, but it’s usually a physical thing. But I’ll obsess over a character if they’re almost role model-y. I’m realizing it now in my brain that a lot of my favorite characters are the role model of the series that they’re a part of, or the most rounded and the most mature. ’Cause I think that it’s this weird motivator for myself to try and see myself in that.

“@DisneyPixar: Home sweet, crazy home. pic.twitter.com/LHOOqUXDCo”

Bob Parr could get it god damn 😎😎😎

— ● Will Wiesenfeld ● (@BATHSmusic) February 27, 2015

What do you mean? You want to become that kind of person as you age, or you hope to be that kind of person right now?

Yeah, exactly, something like that. Just inspiration to live honestly, the way that I’m doing, and stay positive. And a big part of it is keeping in shape, ’cause all of these stupid cartoons are buff as hell [laughs]. Just looking at it for too long, it sort of works its way into your brain to try and keep doing that.

So you’re saying that by looking at buff dad cartoon characters, you yourself go, “I gotta hit the gym as well” or something?

Absolutely, it’s fair to put it like that.

What are some of the other top characters for you?

Looking around my room, there’s this character Shiro, who’s one of the main characters from the new “Voltron” series on Netflix. He’s literally the dad of the group, and he’s buff and mild-mannered and he’s just super hot. And then there’s this character Daichi, from this show “Haikyuu.” It’s a whole series about volleyball. It’s a sports anime and it’s way, way, way better than it should be. It’s the most exciting, most intense series I’ve watched in forever. He’s the captain of the volleyball team that the show follows. He’s not the lead character, but he’s the one that’s in charge of that team.

A big note: It’s problematic because his character is 17, and in the first season of that show “Legend of Korra,” that character that I mentioned, Bolin, is 16, and I had no idea watching it. I thought he was 24 or 25. When I found out way later on that in the first season he’s 16 years old, I felt so gross.

Then, yeah, later on in the series I think he’s much older. He ages as the show progresses. I’m attracted to Daichi and Bolin because they act older and more mature than their peers on top of the fact that they’re super buff. All these hundreds of artists out there making fan art of them feel the same way.

There exists this whole deep fandom in Japan of every single one of these characters. There’s this thing called doujin, or doujinshi, and it’s like “fan comic,” and it usually translates to being porny most of the time. But there are doujin that are not and are just narratives that people make up.

But they’re fan comics, and there’s a huge market for it, and there’s conventions. The same way you have, I guess, Comic-Con or Anime Expo in the States. There’s huge, huge conventions in Japan where all these different artists sell all this stuff and the market for it is much, much bigger and much more widespread. And so, when I found out about this show “Haikyuu,” I was like, is there any art of this dude that I’m into? And it was insane how much of it there was. There’s so much, and most of it is not actually sexual. It’ll just be a romance novel or a romance movie or something like that. The plot will just be them being attracted to each other and not knowing what to do with it and at times navigating high school and being on a volleyball team at the same time ― that sort of shit. There are comics that are just full plots of that without sex being involved.

Does the character have to be human or can it also be an animal or something like that for you to be attracted to it?

I think I’m cool with anthropomorphic stuff. I’m basically a fan of buffness, so it’s usually, if I see something where the character is buff and they’re also an animal, I’m like, that’s cool. I can get into it or whatever. But I don’t seek it out, and I kind of don’t obsess over it the way that I typically do with human characters. But lately there is ― you know “Zelda”? The new “Zelda” game?

There is a bird-man in that game that is all of these things that I’m talking about with these mentor characters that I get really into. He’s this big, buff bird that helps you on your adventures, and he’s like a good dad and is fair and relaxed, and it hits all the benchmarks for me. And, for whatever reason, they gave him really beautiful eyes in the game. They give them all this eye makeup and intense ― I don’t know how to describe it. You should just Google the word “Kass,” K-A-S-S, in Zelda.

Yeah, and “Zelda,” and you’ll just see this handsome ―

It makes sense, you know what I mean? Me talking about all the other things I just talked about ― it’s like, “Oh, yeah, this makes sense.”

I feel bad for asking you earlier if it’s just a funny thing, when now that I think about it, it’s obviously something more serious.

Don’t even worry about it. I’ve been involved in the hobby of it for so long that I don’t think there’s any question that somebody could pose that could offend me.  

What did you think of “Incredibles 2”? I forgot to ask.

I liked it a lot. I think Bob Parr was hotter than ever, and I was very, very down with that. But as an actual movie, I think it suffered from pacing issues.

http://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js !function(f,b,e,v,n,t,s)if(f.fbq)return;n=f.fbq=function()n.callMethod? n.callMethod.apply(n,arguments):n.queue.push(arguments);if(!f._fbq)f._fbq=n; n.push=n;n.loaded=!0;n.version=’2.0′;n.queue=[];t=b.createElement(e);t.async=!0; t.src=v;s=b.getElementsByTagName(e)[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(t,s)(window,document,’script’,’https://connect.facebook.net/en_US/fbevents.js’); fbq(‘init’, ‘1621685564716533’); // Edition specific fbq(‘init’, ‘1043018625788392’); // Partner Studio fbq(‘track’, “PageView”); fbq(‘track’, ‘ViewContent’, “content_name”:”A Conversation With My Friend Who Really Wants To Have Sex With Mr. Incredible”,”content_category”:”us.hpmgent” ); fbq(‘trackCustom’, ‘EntryPage’, “section_name”:”Entertainment”,”tags”:[“@health_gad”,”@health_pain”,”@health_depression”,”@health_adhd”,”@health_models”,”@health_hiv”,”@health_erectile”,”@health_ibs”,”arts-and-entertainment”,”the-new-yorker”,”movie-reviews”,”incredibles-2″,”anthony-lane”],”team”:”us_enterprise_culture”,”ncid”:null,”environment”:”desktop”,”render_type”:”web” ); waitForGlobal(function() return HP.modules.Tracky; , function() /* TODO do we still want this? $(‘body’).on(‘click’, function(event) HP.modules.Tracky.reportClick(event, function(data) fbq(‘trackCustom’, “Click”, data); ); ); */ );