#phil broker

[myminecraftstyff]

I love listening to Bad, Tina, and Tubbo's rant about the purgatory event because I feel like it parallels what Charlie said day one. I don't remember word for word but he said something along the lines of, one day you'll see what this place is really taking from you maybe not today maybe not tomorrow but one day you'll see and then come and find us. Because he was right the whole time. On day one red learned what this event was it was getting your teeth kicked in no holds bar, friendships abandoned at the blink of an eye and a chance for blood shed. No one wanted to talk or negotiate day one for red so they changed. Anyone approaching is a threat to be eliminated they don't travel alone they are in constant communication because they learned the hard way how bad it can be. Red team has been willing to be whatever they had to be for the event from unhinged barking gas mask wearing murders to homeless drifters begging to spared because they have nothing. They have adapted to survive purgatory in their own way and it's working. Even if they don't really think it will.

Now I feel like blue and green are learning that in a different way by having their hard work and grinding mean absolutely nothing. They are working hard playing by the rules of purgatory, and they're losing! That's the point! This place sucks it hates you it isn't fair because it's not supposed to be. Red team is leaning on each other because it's the thing keeping them somewhat sane and alive. I personally can't wait to see Blue become more vicious and cruel because they've had two wins stolen or Green pull together to have a come back after being third twice now. They have to adapt to purgatory and when they likely will soon and when they do it will drive red to do worse and worse things to stay sane and the cycle will continue. Purgatory is about breaking you. Breaking your morals and friendships and hopes.

The rules are unfair because they want you to be unfair. Purgatory is hell and to survive it, to win it you have to be willing to be cruel or callouse or even cowardly. I entire point of the purgatory event is that everyone is supposed to come out having done something terrible, or they come out feeling like they didn't do all they could to save their children so there is no win. You either cross that line or accept that you are forfeiting your kids life. From a narrative stand point it is a great idea because it's shaking up the hornets nest and severing relationships once thought to be rock solid. *cough* Eitole, Fit, and Phil *cough* I don't even know where I'm going with this anymore I just think Purgatory was such a neat idea and makes for such an interesting rp senerio where role-playing is nearly impossible due to nature of the event.

[coldwellbankerterry]

[everything-is-as-it-was]

Mannnnn is it just me or does it feel like Dan was feeling particularly nostalgic this video? Or, maybe nostalgic isn't the word– but just looking back on the past. "My family was broker than yours," "my town's still a shithole," "this wasn't like my prom," etc.

but what got me the goddamn most was him talking about heartstopper– a show that's so full of queer joy that he has difficulty watching because his own teenage years were the polar opposite. What's more: the glaring absence of his prom story, when we hear SO much about Phil's.

Hearing about that past, that past that clearly still haunts him, and then seeing him on the front cover of a queer magazine now... what if I'm parasocially devastated rn

[t1redofyourbs]

ok in Honer of this

PHIGHTING CRYPTID headcanon REACTIONS GO:

Sword: no comment, has definitely seen some with venomshank before

Skateboard: phreaking out, he's out of their dude

Katana: yeah no he just kills them, he's old, he has grown used to them

Biograft: MURDERRRRRRRRRUDUSSJNSSNNS yeah he don't care he's a robot

Banhammer: doesn't like them, doesn't really care

Rocket: phreaked out:2 explosion explosion goes to Zuka afterwards.

Slingshot: hates them, starts running as fast as fuck

hyperlaser: locked in, old age 2, expert at these things

Shuriken: hates them. Like bro he is spooked, he is using his q to get out of there. Probably hides behind vine staff

Scythe: yeah. She's attempting to tame one, and probably succeeds.

Boombox: doesn't know what they are, loud ass music, WILL PLAY THE JAWS THEME

subspace: he's probably the reason they exist ngl, he will kill them anyways, because he wants to win, or to use them as advantage (probably ends up dying though)

Medkit: NAH HES OUT, he's grossed out, British ass bloody hell, probably has trauma from these at blackrock

Vine staff: she feels sorry for them, and tries her best not to harm them,

I was like just thinking and I just feel that cryptids should be added to the phighting universe.

Because imagine your in a phight and all of a sudden alarms are going off, you hear a growl and a freaking skinwalker appears!!

Then Hyperlaser goes like, 'time to lock in' and Boombox says 'cryptid? Hey that sounds like crypto, maybe if I kill this cryptid I will get enough bux to buy some more crypto!'

Please just like hear me out on this like there is already void star and I feel like we can get her considered as a cryptid in the phighting universe. PLEASE I'M BEGGING IT WOULD BE THE FUNNIEST THING EVER.

I swear i'm not going insane

[ju-nebugg]

a complete (and ever-evolving) list of the many titles of mr. henley whispers

because Henry Shields is a genius and all of this deserves to be documented

Henley Whispers

aka the Turbulent Wind

aka the Storm Before the Calm

aka Lithe Spirit

aka Lord of the Prance

aka Bowfingerer

aka the Bark Knight

aka Work Hard Fae Hard

aka Coyote Handsome

aka Tree Weird

aka the Gorse Whisperer

aka the Arrow-ma Therapist

aka Aragorn-al Activity

aka Quiver Phoenix

aka Jack of All Trades, Master of All Trades

aka Tree Willy

aka Dave Fern

aka Soft-Core Faun-ography

aka Forest Whitaker

aka Notorious Tree-IG

aka Mr. Yumnus

aka Ranger Danger

aka Lust of Wind

aka Parry Hotter

aka Pollen Farrell

aka The Wood, The Bard and the Smugly

aka the Longest Bard

aka Daft Skunk

aka Brodo Swaggins

aka Dismay in a Ranger

aka Harriet Shrubman

aka Jeffrey Archer

aka Fen Diagram

aka Look Who’s Tolkien

aka Fennel May Care

aka the Grass Samurai

aka Chloro-Phil Spector

aka Woody Allen

aka Thelonius Trunk

aka the Moss Adjuster

aka See No Weevil

aka the Branch Manager

aka the Flower of Hotland

the ✨ rhymes ✨:

human ranger, damage dealer, story weaver, owl deceiver

human ranger, goblin killer, pale ale swiller, dream journal filler

human ranger, rabble rouser, full of heart, devoid of trouser

human ranger, hidden stranger, friend of danger, dark avenger

human ranger, expert juggler, against the chains which bind us struggler

human ranger, loot stringer, shameless swinger, on da funk bringer

human ranger, check bouncer, espresso mispronouncer 

human ranger, rule flouter, truth spouter, earthworm doubter

human ranger, poker player, that which others won’t say sayer

human ranger, trendsetter, otter petter, in-joke getter

human ranger, blame dodger, advertising for a lodger

human ranger, cheeky chancer, always-on-the-off-beat dancer

human ranger, truth spinner, under-7s judo winner

human ranger, time waster, different brands of water taster

human ranger, hog roaster, subtle boaster, party ghoster 

human ranger, crystal healer, your-layers-like-an-onion peeler

human ranger, hell raiser, into-the-abyss gazer

human ranger, lithe linguist, sensual astrologist

human ranger, bugbear wrestler, established-societal-norm questioner

human ranger, tune hummer, every-known-fear overcomer

human ranger, knowledge gleaner, has the grass that’s always greener

human ranger, deer consumer, vole beguiler, badger groomer

human ranger, havoc wreaker, noted after dinner speaker

human ranger, cattle roper, inter-species interloper

human ranger, prey pouncer, fearless fighter, local counselor

deer stalker, fox glover, the one you’re with lover

black run skier, caged bird freer, the-change-you-want-to-see-in-the-world be-er

human ranger, eldritch blaster, surreptitious podcaster

human ranger, villain injurer, power broker, serial milliner

human ranger, wild reaver, what-a-tangled-web-we-weaver

human ranger, seed sower, flower goer, the-distance goer

human ranger, head turner, butter churner, bridge burner

human ranger, shameless liar, rule defier, hair dyer

human ranger, misbehav-er, always-against-the-grain shaver

human ranger, beast enrager, strong orator, up-upstager

human ranger, owlbear slayer, soothsayer, the-field player

human ranger, quick-quip punner, villain stunner, long-con runner

human ranger, heedless cur, own-job-interview saboteur

human ranger, of-wind guster, no-one truster, goat buster

human ranger, slightly odd, wistful, winsome beetle god

human ranger, well-worn traveler, yarn spinner, peascods gatherer

human ranger, daring dazzler, risk taker, mystery raveler

TRUE FACTS ABOUT HENLEY:

he believes that any bird singing in the forest is doing it specifically for him (and birds don’t sing when he’s not there)

he trims his pubic hair into the word “shazam”

he keeps a dream journal (but if he has a nightmare, he ignores it and makes up something nice)

he writes really bad poetry (short, broken sentences, “rupi kaur style”)

he’s been using Ghoul’s Gruel as anti-aging cream (it doesn’t work)

his spirit animal is himself

he pronounces espresso like “ethpretho”

he has a bad feeling about worms in general

he howls at the moon

he pretends to understand all inside jokes

he’s very concerned about the mortgage repayments on his house

he always dances on the off beat in order to stand out in the club

he’s the reigning champion of the under-7s judo competition in his local area

he can tell the difference between brands of water (and he has very strong opinions about them)

he leaves parties without telling people and then comes back in disguise to talk about the fact that he left

he uses healing crystals

he gazes into the abyss until it gazes back because he wants the attention

he uses “sensual astrology” to try and seduce people

he has every known fear (the exposure therapy backfired)

he shaves (against the grain) with a sword (your hair doesn’t grow in hell. he does it anyway.)

he always has the greenest grass (he steals any grass he sees that’s greener than his own)

he runs a grooming business for badgers (“what does he get in return from the badgers?” “…friends”)

he’s an accomplished after-dinner speaker

he tried to hibernate with badgers and they kicked him out

he majored in drawing in sand with sticks

he’s a bed wetter

he always bets all in when playing poker

he is a leading member of the “pithy council” (it’s just him and a ferret getting together to recite pithy sayings)

he will love the one YOU’RE with (aka sleep with your wife)

when someone asks him a difficult question, he turns and runs

he thinks he’s been leaving episodes of a podcast called “whispers on the air” in various rocks and twigs on their journey, but he doesn’t have the spell for it so he’s just been talking to inanimate objects

he has an unhealthy obsession with hats

he sleeps in a web

he invented a kind of long distance running called long distance fleeing (26 miles = safety)

he burns every bridge he crosses

henley (a natural blonde) dyes his hair blonde (his natural hair color) so people will think he has grays because he’s older and more mature than he really is

he must always be upstaging someone

he has an inexplicable hatred of goats and, similarly, an inexplicable love of sea turtles

he has been acting as the god for a family of beetles (he can give you seed)

[pawpawholler]

Voice still rough, Clint met Phil’s eyes and said, “Natasha is here.” “What do you want me to do?”  Part of the reason Phil’s file on Clint was so thick was the way Natalia Romanova was entangled in his life. Despite their best efforts, Phil’s most reliable information brokers were stymied by Romanova. Nobody knew where she had come from, how old she was, or what her skills were. The one thing Phil did know was that when they had been entangled for years in a bad situation, Clint and Natasha had bought out their contracts together. After these last months with Clint, Phil knew he owed her for taking care of Clint, more than he could ever repay. Right there in the hall, in front of Madame Clotilde and the team and any stray guests, Clint dropped to his knees like his strings had been cut, begging. “Get her contract. Please. I’ll do anything.” “You don’t need to do a single thing.” Phil smiled, and Madame Clotilde took a step back, eyes widening. “This will be my pleasure.”

[mischief-and-tea-by-the-sea]

Rating: Mature Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: M/M Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel (Comics)The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies) Relationship: James "Bucky" Barnes/Loki Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Loki (Marvel), Sharon Carter (Marvel), Melinda May, Phil Coulson Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Established Bucky Barnes/Loki, Mission Fic, Madripoor (Marvel), Magical Artifacts, Power Broker Sharon Carter (Marvel), Not Sharon Carter Friendly, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Sex, Flirting, Pet Names, BAMF Loki (Marvel), BAMF Bucky Barnes, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Loki (Marvel), Theft, Gunshot Wounds, Car Chases, Tony Stark's Cars, Coulson's Bus, Affection Language: English Collections: Marvel Rare Pair Collection, Marvel Rare Pairs Secret Santa 2023 Published: 2024-01-30 Words: 6,854 Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

To prevent the Ka Stone from being purchased and in the wrong hands, Bucky and Loki are sent in by the Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D to Madripoor, a place Bucky is far too familiar with. The mission, however, should be easy enough. Until it isn't and the Power Broker gets involved to keep it for an even higher paying client.

[marvelrarepairbingo]

Rating: Mature Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: M/M Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies) Relationship: James "Bucky" Barnes/Loki Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Loki (Marvel), Sharon Carter (Marvel), Melinda May, Phil Coulson Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Established Bucky Barnes/Loki, Mission Fic, Madripoor (Marvel), Magical Artifacts, Power Broker Sharon Carter (Marvel), Not Sharon Carter Friendly, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Sex, Flirting, Pet Names, BAMF Loki (Marvel), BAMF Bucky Barnes, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Loki (Marvel), Theft, Gunshot Wounds, Car Chases, Tony Stark's Cars, Coulson's Bus, Affection Language: English Collections: Marvel Rare Pair Collection, Marvel Rare Pairs Secret Santa 2023 Published: 2024-01-30 Words: 6,854 Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

To prevent the Ka Stone from being purchased and in the wrong hands, Bucky and Loki are sent in by the Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D to Madripoor, a place Bucky is far too familiar with. The mission, however, should be easy enough. Until it isn't and the Power Broker gets involved to keep it for an even higher paying client.

[sootsz]

the 2 leaders forced to fight each other in a 1v1. oh my god phil v. tubbo, the two people who debated about not wanting to fight, the two people with opposite views of how this is going to work, the two people who have tried so many times to broker peace, this could Not be any more dramatic

[watchnrant]

Quake: Veil of Deception #2 – Web of Lies

The rain pounded relentlessly on the rooftops of Madripoor, turning the city’s maze of streets into rivers of mud and grime. In the distance, the neon signs flickered like dying embers, casting an uneven glow that barely pierced the darkness. Daisy Johnson, aka Quake, pulled her hood tighter against the downpour, her mind focused and her senses heightened. The remnants of her last encounter still weighed heavily on her—every corner she turned seemed to whisper of the trap she narrowly escaped. The warehouse, the aftermath, the meticulous cleanup—it all felt too deliberate, too orchestrated. But by whom? And why? These questions gnawed at her as she moved like a shadow through the rain-soaked streets, her thoughts as turbulent as the storm overhead.

As she watched from a hidden vantage point, Daisy’s mind wandered to her past, to the days when S.H.I.E.L.D. was still standing. The organization had been her family, her anchor in a world full of uncertainty. A memory surfaced—her first mission under Phil Coulson’s guidance. They had been in Eastern Europe, taking down a HYDRA cell. She could still hear his calm voice in her ear, guiding her through the chaos. But what stuck with her most was the look of pride on his face when she succeeded. That memory, once a source of comfort, now felt like a distant echo, haunting her as she faced the reality of a world without S.H.I.E.L.D. The encrypted message she had received—mentioning "Project Quake"—echoed in her thoughts like a ghost. What was it, and why was it connected to her? The deeper she dug, the more elusive the truth seemed to become. Unbeknownst to her, Sharon Carter, hidden in the shadows, observed her every move, her expression unreadable. With a swift motion, Sharon dialed a number on her phone, instructing an unseen associate to plant another piece of information—another breadcrumb to lead Daisy further into her carefully laid trap.

Daisy made her way to a hidden safe house, a place she and her old S.H.I.E.L.D. team had once relied on during covert missions in Madripoor. The building was nondescript, blending seamlessly into the surrounding slums, but inside, it held the echoes of missions long past. Waiting inside was Turner, an ex-S.H.I.E.L.D. agent who had gone off the grid after the agency’s collapse. His face, hardened by years of disillusionment, softened slightly when he saw Daisy, but his eyes remained wary.

"Daisy," Turner greeted her cautiously, the weariness in his voice unmistakable. "I thought you’d gotten out of this game."

"Not by choice," Daisy replied, her voice carrying the weight of their shared history. She wasted no time, showing him the evidence she had uncovered—advanced weapons linked back to S.H.I.E.L.D. tech, now in the hands of Madripoor’s underworld.

Turner’s expression darkened as he studied the evidence. His hands trembled slightly as he held the device, the color draining from his face. “This... this is bigger than you realize, Daisy. Madripoor’s underworld is a web of deceit, and the Power Broker is at the center of it. But ‘Project Quake’... I thought that was buried. Buried deep.”

Daisy’s eyes narrowed. “What do you know about it?” she asked, her voice cutting through the air like a knife. Turner hesitated, his words catching in his throat. She stepped closer, pressing him. “Turner, if you know something, now’s the time.”

He swallowed hard, his gaze flicking nervously to the shadows as if expecting them to come alive. “It was one of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s most classified initiatives—off the books. Most of us didn’t even know it existed. But those who did... well, let’s just say, they didn’t talk about it unless they had to.” He paused, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I knew an agent who got too close. Good man. Never seen again.”

Daisy could feel the tension in the room, the weight of the secrets Turner wasn’t sharing. His hand trembled as he passed the device back to her, his fear palpable. But she also knew pressing him further wouldn’t help. He was already teetering on the edge, and she couldn’t afford to push him over. She placed a hand on his shoulder, a silent gesture of understanding, before leaving the safe house.

Meanwhile, in a lavish office overlooking Madripoor’s skyline, Sharon Carter—now known only to the audience as the Power Broker—sat at her desk, reviewing the latest developments. Her confident facade masked an undercurrent of unease. The mention of "Project Quake" had stirred memories she had long since buried, memories of choices that had led her down a darker path. Sharon’s transformation from a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent to the Power Broker hadn’t been a sudden shift; it was a gradual descent, driven by the realization that power was the only way to survive in this new world. But there was still a part of her that wrestled with the choices she had made, even if she buried it deep beneath her calculated exterior.

Sharon decided it was time to accelerate her plans. She instructed her assistant, Rook, to prepare for the next phase of her scheme.

Rook, a tech-savvy mercenary with a sharp mind and a penchant for ruthlessness, approached Sharon with new intel. “There’s an underground auction happening tonight,” Rook reported. “One of the items up for bid is an encrypted S.H.I.E.L.D. hard drive. It could be valuable—or it could be bait.”

Sharon’s lips curled into a slight smile, a trace of her old self flickering briefly before being swallowed by her new persona. “Perfect. Make sure Daisy knows about it. But don’t make it too easy. We want her sharp—this game only works if she believes she can win.”

That night, Daisy found herself in the heart of Madripoor’s criminal underworld, navigating the tense atmosphere of an underground auction. Disguised as a wealthy bidder, she moved among the city’s elite criminals, her senses on high alert. The auction house was a den of iniquity, filled with the kind of people who thrived on power and greed. As she passed by a weathered stone statue in the corner, Daisy recalled a local legend she had heard years ago—a tale of a man who had tried to control the city’s underworld but was consumed by his own ambition. The statue was said to represent his spirit, now cursed to watch over the city he once sought to dominate. The story resonated with Daisy, a reminder of how easily power could corrupt.

Daisy’s eyes locked onto the item she had come for—a S.H.I.E.L.D. hard drive, marked with the agency’s insignia. It was a relic of a past that shouldn’t exist in this place, and yet here it was, drawing her like a moth to a flame.

As the bidding war intensified, Daisy felt the weight of the eyes on her, the atmosphere thick with tension. She noticed a few other bidders who seemed oddly focused on the same items she was—plants by Sharon, no doubt, meant to keep her off balance. Just as she prepared to make her final bid, the auctioneer’s hammer fell—she had been outbid. The winning bidder was a man with a scarred face, known in Madripoor for his dealings in high-level arms. Daisy’s heart sank as the hard drive slipped through her fingers, but she wasn’t about to let it go without a fight.

She followed the man as he left the auction, her instincts screaming that this was a trap—but a trap she couldn’t afford to avoid. The rain had started again, turning the narrow alleys into treacherous paths of slick cobblestones. Daisy’s mind raced as she replayed Turner’s words, the fear in his voice when he spoke of “Project Quake.” What had S.H.I.E.L.D. been hiding? And why was she only now being dragged into it?

In a dark alley outside the auction house, Daisy confronted the man, demanding the hard drive. He laughed, recognizing her as Quake, but his confidence didn’t waver. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with, girl,” he sneered.

The confrontation quickly escalated into a brutal fight. Daisy unleashed her seismic powers, disarming the man with a pulse of energy that sent him sprawling to the ground. But even as she overpowered him, he revealed a chilling truth—the hard drive was rigged, not just a storage device but a bomb designed to destroy itself if tampered with.

Daisy’s heart raced as she realized the depth of the setup. Time seemed to slow as she processed the information, her mind rapidly cycling through options. She had seconds, maybe less. With a surge of adrenaline, she made a split-second decision to shield herself from the blast, diving behind a stack of crates just as the device detonated. The explosion sent a shockwave through the alley, the force of it echoing in her bones.

When the dust settled, Daisy was left breathless, her ears ringing from the blast. She checked herself for injuries, finding a few cuts and bruises but nothing too serious. Still, the close call left her shaken. Amid the debris, she found a small data chip that had been ejected from the drive before it detonated. The chip was a fragment, but it might hold something useful—something that could lead her closer to the truth. Examining it closely, she noticed an eerie resemblance to the technology used in "Project Quake," a discovery that raised more questions than it answered.

Back at her safe house, Daisy hesitated before analyzing the data chip. For a moment, she considered not taking it, fearing it might be another trap, another step deeper into the web of deception that was closing in around her. But her resolve hardened—she couldn’t turn back now. The information was incomplete, corrupted by the explosion, but she managed to extract a partial file. It contained coordinates to a secret lab in Madripoor, a lab that was supposedly shut down years ago. The location was deep within the city’s most dangerous district, a place where even the bravest mercenaries feared to tread.

As she prepared to head out, Daisy couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being manipulated, pushed toward an unknown endgame. She paused, reflecting on how far she had come since S.H.I.E.L.D.’s collapse. This mission was changing her, hardening her resolve in ways she hadn’t anticipated. The shadows of Madripoor were closing in, and Daisy knew she was walking a fine line between hunter and hunted. The distorted reflections of neon lights on the wet pavement caught her eye, a visual reminder of the twisted truths she was uncovering. Just like those reflections, nothing in Madripoor was as it seemed. The legend of the stone statue resurfaced in her mind—a cautionary tale about the dangers of seeking power at all costs. She couldn’t help but wonder if she was walking the same path, destined for the same fate.

Meanwhile, across town in her lavish office, Sharon Carter sat, her expression cold and unreadable as she watched a live feed of Daisy’s actions. The screen flickered, showing Daisy leaving the safe house, her figure disappearing into the shadows of Madripoor. Sharon’s lips pressed into a thin line as she picked up a file labeled “Project Quake” and locked it away in a drawer. She leaned back in her chair, her eyes narrowing as she considered her next move.

Everything was proceeding as planned, but a small, nagging doubt lingered in her mind—one that she couldn’t easily dismiss. Was she truly in control, or was she, too, caught in the web she had spun? Sharon allowed herself a rare moment of introspection. The path she had chosen was irreversible, but the confrontation with Daisy was inevitable. And when it came, it would change everything.

Sharon’s gaze hardened as she reached for her phone, the uncertainty vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. The next phase was about to begin, and she needed to ensure that she stayed one step ahead of Daisy. As she gave her orders, the camera zoomed out, the screen going dark, leaving only the faint glow of the city lights in the distance—a city full of secrets, deception, and a looming confrontation that would soon come to a head.

[twothpaste]

(kumatora fick snippet below the cut feat. duster)

Duster n' OJ have a sleeper sofa. It's probably, by a rough landslide, the most luxurious thing they own. 'Sides the instruments, of course. Like the Corolla, it hails from a Craigslist ad. Like the rest of their shit, it's got about a dozen things wrong with it. Pain in the ass to unfold. Creaks when ya roll over. Smells a little funny. Not that ya really notice, given it muddles with the apartment's general funk. Cigarettes they don't smoke, dogs they don't own, and moldy cheese linger like ghosts ya just can't bust. Er. Well. The latter pungence might be on account of the resident bassist himself, come to think of it.

The twins are a snoozy pile of ratty old blankets. Claus' residual arm, an unwitting pillow. Lucas huddles close in his sleep. Soon as he's zonked out, his gangly, awkward, half-grown limbs inevitably give way to the unconscious cling. There's this one Pokemon. It's called Komala. Kuma's got it on a phone charm. Souvenir gift from Mixolydia's Japan trip, last summer.

It dangles from her sweatpants pocket, now, casting a faint shadow onto grungy off-white tiles. The kitchen's built like the world's shittiest limousine. A bullet train long, and a Subway sandwich wide. Lack of insulation beckons drafty chills from the window - which the architects had no right to cram into such a miserable sliver of wall in the first place. A fine layer of grease coats most inches of most surfaces. OJ's tried to tame it. Sweaty tank top. Dollar store scrub brush. Old Dutch Cleanser. All to no avail. It's the grime's abode. They're just livin' in it. 'Til their lease is up, that is.

Little does Kumatora know, a standard is being set. Couple years from now, she'll be sharing a pretty little duplex with four unruly roommates. By the end of their lease, they'll be at each others' throats like cats n' dogs. After the bloodbath, she and Lucas, broke n' broker, will claim a sardine can not unlike this one. The place is out there, right now. Accumulating wear and tear, as we speak. Stovetop burner that don't work. Crack in the bathroom wall. Present tenants bitchin' to the landlord about the faulty A/C, as if Mr. Phil T. Apartments has any intention of havin' it fixed within the next decade. These things'll be waiting for them. And, somehow, despite every pipe leak and mouse squeak? Kuma's gonna find it all quaintly comforting.

She ain't thinkin' 'bout that, though. Ain't got a crystal ball. Never could read those fuckin' tea leaves. She's staring outside, lookin' for stars she can't see. Peering through that frosty little window, watchin' the snow flurries pour down over a pothole-littered lot. Perched like an alleycat. Fat ass on the countertop. Kitten-print socks hovering, with sickly gray smudged along the bottoms. Rollerblade vertigo swirls the meat around in her skull.

In her left hand, she wields a 50ml shot bottle of Captain Morgan.

Duster, who's sharper than he looks by quite a steep margin, had spotted her pilfering it, a few hours prior. Chipped nailpolish breaching the stark red lining of a Target shelf. Didn't mention it, then. And won't, now. Even as he watches the yellowish swill descend down her gullet. She's four winters short of liquor-legal. Three, next month. Conversely - he's thirty-nine Septembers sober.

A wisened insomniac, he treads lightly. Still, she catches the floorboards creaking from a mile away. White spots, on the perked backs of a tiger's ears. The corner of her eye is a threat. He heeds it. Saint's patience. Keeps a full limousine's distance, between their dark silhouettes.

"Y'can keep runnin', if y'want."

If you can imagine the quiet crinkle of a brown paper bag, you can hear him, too. Ain't nothin' inside but off-brand groceries and humble intentions. The soles of his shoes, sittin' by the front door, are worn awful thin.

"But. It won't do ya any good. I learnt the hard way, y'know."

"The hell do you know about it?"

Her growl snaps at his heels. A curious rumble, as low as it is sharp. Resides somewhere liminal, between cub and beast. The adolescent must now set out on its own, to stake its claim on a territory, David Attenborough would say. Peering through jungle fronds, all Duster can dare to offer is a piece of meat. Pint of blood. Some bones to gnaw on.

"I jus' don't want ya to hurt yerself, is all."

Slitted eyes regard her friend with wary vengeance. Stiff frame. Capran scruff. The old goat's hooves, clattering bravely upon her lonesome dominion. His gnarled hands, perfectly still. Once upon a time, he'd been the one to gently pry scavenged hazards from her toddling paws. Shaving razor. Pair of scissors. Wess' cigars - remember? Now, there's no nip at her sleeve. No use tryin' to tug anything outta her claws' grip. She's grown now. She knows the score. She calls the shots! Y'hear..!?

So be it.

"Fuck off, Duster."

He hangs still and silent for a fleeting moment. As if to a sheer cliffside. Careful consideration given to each minute, faintly-creaking motion. He bleats back nary a protest. Only a humbly nodding "Mmh." Teeters back toward the hallway's pitch black. Hand on the wall, to steady himself.

He'll do just that. If she demands.

White flakes of solitude pour down yet heavier, just beyond the window.

'Bout an hour later, he finds her squeezed along the edge beside Lucas, snoring away. Huddled tight to herself, with the sheets unpilfered. Yanked not even an inch to cover her goosebump-riddled arms.

Before he returns to OJ, Duster ventures, silent as the night, into the living room closet. Calloused hands reach high, to the topmost shelf. Fetch an extra blanket, and ferry it down. He drapes it so gently over her shoulders, she doesn't even stir.

[coldwellbankerterry]

Contact CINDY McKENZIE at 270.871.9954

Principal Broker - Phil Terry

#dreamwithcb#beahomeowner#callus#teamwork#loveyourlocalrealtor#cbterryteam#WhereDreamsComeHome#REALneedsREALpropertiesREALresults#SOLD#leaveyourmark#5star#cbterryteam#Kentucky#communityschoice#thankyou#guidingyouhome#homeiseverything#home#homesforsale#property#realtor#forsale #mls #loveyourhome #callustoday #sellyourhome #showings #yourfavrealtor #homegoals #cbterryteam #coldwellbanker.com

[listcners]

//brains not working enough for replies but is fixated on gta/gang verses so here's my muses and what organizations they belong to: Philza: Head of the Syndicate Techno: Right hand of the Syndicate formerly gun for hire Wilbur: Negotiator/ intel leader of the Syndicate Ranboo, Tubbo, Tommy: under protection of the Syndicate after being adopted by Phil ( i do have a verse where they are older and are the heads of demolition) Dream: Head of the Dream Team - former gun for hire Sapnap: head of weapons and driver of the Dream Team - former gun for hire George: Intel and Hacker of the dream team, former intelligence broker Sam: Former Badlands member, was blackmailed into the Eggpire Quackity: former member of Manburg, leader of Las Navadas.

[iowarealestateacademy]

Top 20 Books for Real Estate Agents

This list was compiled by a survey of top real estate agents in Central Iowa.  My personal favorites from the list are Rich Dad/Poor Dad, Millionaire Real Estate Agent and The One Thing.  Enjoy!

1.     Millionaire Real Estate Agent by Gary Keller

2.     Exactly What to Say by Phil Jones

3.     Start with Why by Simon Sinek

4.     Flip The Script by Oren Klaff

5.     Never Split the Difference by Chris Voss

6.     The One Think by Gary Keller

7.     Miracle Morning by Hal Elrod

8.     Go-Giver by Bob Burg

9.     Ethics 101 by John Maxwell

10.  Eat That Frog by Brian Tracy

11.  Energy Bus by Jon Gordon

12.  Rocket Fuel by Gino Wickman

13.  Atomic Habits by James Clear

14.  Ninja Selling by Larry Kendall

15.  The Psychology of Money by Morgan Housel

16.  Rich Day, Poor Day by Robert Kiyosaki

17.  How to Win Friends & Influence People by Dale Carnegie

18.  21 Things I Wish My Broker Had Told Me by Frank Cook

19.  Give & Take by Adam Grant

20.  The Power of One More by Ed Mylett

[rateconnectca]

Rate Connect

Getting a mortgage for your first home, renewing or refinancing your mortgage or consolidating your debt has never been easier with Phil Cragg Mortgage Broker Ottawa. Visit: https://rateconnect.ca/

[southjerseyweb]

EDITORIAL: Mourning the loss of OPRA and transparency in New Jersey

Summary: New Jersey mourns the loss of the Open Public Records Act (OPRA), a vital tool for exposing corruption and ensuring transparency. State lawmakers, led by Sen. Paul Sarlo, orchestrated its demise under the guise of curbing data brokers. Governor Phil Murphy has the power to veto the regressive bill and restore OPRA’s critical role in upholding good government.