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piratefishmama · 2 years ago

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Crossing the Line | Part 12

Using the word ‘Conflicted’ for what Eddie was currently feeling was… an understatement. On the one hand, good lord he’d almost came in his jeans from just a tongue down his throat, a very very talented tongue belonging to a very very attractive man. On the other, that man had basically just pretended to like his music to get into his pants.

Eddie had never had that happen before. He didn’t know whether to be flattered or insulted.

He did, however, know that he was ignoring the DM on Insta from that very same attractive man, the message full of blushy emojis and how he’d ‘forgotten’ to leave his number, dropping the digits right there in plain view.

He had Steve Harrington’s personal phone number. Holy shit.

He was ignoring it. Left it on read. Didn’t know what to do with it. If push came to shove and he made a decision in Steve’s favour then he’d just claim he was busy with the band at the shitty diner after the show. He stuffed a handful of lukewarm fries in his mouth, ketchup smearing the corners of his lips. If he decided against Steve then… he’d block him and forget all about him, and hope he wouldn’t show up at the coffee shop.

“I mean, if they were earplugs, then they were pretty shit earplugs, Eds” Gareth was the only one supplying a sound argument, he had ulterior motives though, he had bias to stick up for Steve! He was aiming to get the hell out of retail, and it showed.

“What?” Frank cut in with that expression on his face that blatantly said are you hearing this shit?

“I mean, he answered us all pretty easily, he had a full conversation with us! Didn’t even seem like he was struggling to hear us. Earplugs would have made it difficult to hear, right? Maybe they were something else!” All very valid points. Or… a very valid singular point.

“No he didn’t, dude, he vaguely responded to Jeff’s babbling, that he definitely could have vaguely heard through the earplugs, then left. I dunno about you but sometimes, I can definitely hear around earplugs, they’re probably just the cheap ones you get at the airport or something.”

“Dude what is your deal?”

“What’s my deal? Why are you so pro Steve Harrington?”

“He’s sick of Paul.” Jeff supplied helpfully around the straw of his chocolate milkshake.

“It’s Ralph, Paul quit last month remember?”

“Whaaatt Paul quit? Man what about him and Rhonda?"

“That’s why he quit! She got a promotion, and they couldn’t work toge—what am I even, this isn’t about Paul and Rhonda!”

“Shut up!!” Eddie’s outburst silenced the others, and also gained the attention of the drunk teens across the diner, they didn’t move though, stared for a second, before going back to their terrible ‘night out’ food. “What should I do?” He couldn’t make a decision on his own. There were too many what ifs, too many how dare he’s, too many thoughts and they were all so very loud. His friends talking over each other really wasn’t helping. “Should I… confront him? Should I just ask him about it, should I ignore him completely and hope he just goes away?”

“I think, you should talk to him.” Eddie looked up, the returning figure of the angel of Corroded Coffin, his original best friend, honorary band member. Chrissy. The girl carrying two shakes, followed closely by Nancy. “Listen, ignoring Gareth’s need to get away from retail, sorry Gare”

“It’s cool, I’ve accepted my fate.”

“Ignoring Jeff’s blatant hero worship.”

“He’s known worldwide, he did modelling in Japan, Chris! He’s a massive star!”

“And ignoring Frank’s scepticism.”

“The only sane person here you mean. Nobody recognised him tonight, Jeff, worldwide my ass.”

“Ignoring, them.” Chrissy sighed, placing hers and Nancy’s shakes down before climbing into the booth beside Eddie, Nancy following suit forcing him up against the wall. “I think you should give him a chance. He’s come all this way, he paid for tickets to see you even though he obviously didn’t have to. Did you talk to him while the others were out of the room?”

“Mhm”

“And did he talk back without any issue?”

“…Yeah.”

“Okay, so, these earplugs might not even be earplugs. There’s plenty of things that they could be! Hell, he could have issues with his eardrums for all we know! That’s pretty common in the music industry” loud instruments, huge speakers around you, he could have just been born with it for all they knew “—and there’s earplug looking things that help with eardrum issues, they could even be those sneaky 'invisible' hearing aids! You should talk to him, it’s the only way you’re gonna know for sure.”

“You just wanna flirt with his friend some more.”

“Frank I swear to god.”

“She’s right” Nancy sighed “try conjuring an ulterior motive for me you little shit.” Nancy levelled Frank with a sharp glare, he wisely chose to stay silent. She looked back to Eddie with a small smile “He spoke with me too, even over the music near the bar so I don’t think they were earplugs either. And you like him, right?”

“…I really do.” He hadn’t at first, he’d made assumptions, he’d jumped to conclusions, he’d let his music snobbery get the best of him, but then he did his research. Then he looked the guy up, his accomplishments, his skills, his general personality that shined like sunlight around the right people, he took what’d happened at the coffee shop into consideration, and then the kiss… his lips still tingled, his neck still tingled! His body still craved what’d been abruptly cut short. “He’s… he’s really nice, Nance…”

“Yeah, he seems really nice, and if he’s not? I have a revolver in my glove box.” Eddie let out a soft breath of a laugh, which lit Nancy’s face up as if she’d taken that as a personal victory. “Reply to the text, or DM, or whatever he’s sent you, I saw you looking at it on the way over here. Set something up and ask him when you get there, you’ll only regret it if you don’t.”

“…We’re supposed to be having dinner tomorrow night where he’s staying, just me and him.” And he was… so nervous didn’t seem quite the right word for how nervous he actually was. What would happen if he went? That kiss had turned filthy so quickly and he’d wanted it. He’d wanted it so badly, would tomorrow be the night? Should he prepare or—

“Great! Set up a time and find out the address.” Nancy didn’t even give him time to step onto the spiral. “It’ll be okay, we’re a call away if something goes wrong, or if he turns out to be an asshole, alright?”

“…Alright. Now let me dip my fries in your shake.”

“Ew, no!”

Part 14

#PirateWrites #crossing the line #Steddie #Ficlet #no upside down au #Nancy and Chrissy are honorary band members lmao

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steddiealltheway · 2 years ago

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Part Three to Meet Ugly (Ha, I named it... I think?). Part one. Part two. AO3 Link

Eddie sits on his kitchen counter staring at the fridge. Steve’s number blurs until Eddie blinks harshly, tears falling down his face.

He scoffs, “I’m not going to cry about him.” He angrily wipes at his face, taking in deep breaths as more tears fall. He feels his bottom lip quivering and angrily hops off the counter, making his way to the phone. He glances back at the fridge and punches in the first two numbers and pauses.

He can’t do this. It’s too soon. Besides, Steve doesn’t even know him; he can’t just call him during a breakdown.

He thinks about his band members, specifically Gareth, but they had all voiced their harsh opinions on his relationship. None of them had met Brian, but that was reason enough to dislike him. If Eddie called any of them now, he would be met with an “I told you so,” which is exactly what he doesn’t need.

He puts the phone back and stalks off to his room, collapsing in his bed. He turns to face where Steve was laying before and sees the handcuffs. Eddie will have to pick the lock on the other side to get them off his bed frame, but he can’t right now.

He wants to call Steve desperately. The small period of time with him was more comforting than any point in his relationship with Brian in the past two years.

Maybe it’s just a rebound type thing. He makes a connection with a guy that is attractive and kind and suddenly he’s calling it something more than it is.

Eddie curls up on himself and tries to fight the spiraling episode he can feel himself diving head-first into.

Two fucking years.

Eddie thinks of all the shows he’s done that Brian never came to. The Thanksgivings he’s spent with his Uncle Wayne gushing about a guy who wouldn’t even show up. The key he gave Brian a year ago, expecting him to understand the grand gesture of moving in with him, but Brian had put off the move for an entire year. The holiday parties at Brian’s job where Eddie insisted, he would behave and say he was just Brian’s friend, but Brian would always argue that he didn’t want to take the risk.

But he would promise that eventually – always eventually – he would be there.

And Eddie believed him. That might be the worst part.

Maybe the worst part was how oblivious he’s been this whole time. How long has he been cheating? And how many times has he used Eddie’s fucking bed?

The thought makes him want to throw up and wash his sheets. Luckily, he washed them the day before, ironically enough because he wanted to have clean sheets after Brian came to see his show.

But knowing that Steve was the stranger in his bed makes him feel more comfortable with putting it off until the next day.

Eddie closes his eyes for a few moments then punches his pillow as soon as more questions about Brian flood his head. He opens his eyes and sees the handcuffs again.

He reaches out and holds onto the end where Steve’s wrist used to be. He closes his eyes, imagining Steve could still be there, rambling on and making him forget his miseries.

He’ll call tomorrow.

-:-:-:-:-:-

“Wakey wakey, baby.”

Eddie groans hating how Brian always had the worst way of waking him up.

Brian.

Must’ve been a weird fucking dream. Eddie opens his eyes and spots the handcuffs on his headboard that he’s still somehow gripping onto. He sits up and wipes at his face, finding flakey tear residue embarrassingly down his face.

Not a fucking dream.

“Oh, baby, you don’t look too good, but I brought blueberry muffins,” Brian says holding up a bag.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Eddie asks, staying in his bed, hoping this is a nightmare.

Brian shakes the bag as if to answer. Eddie stares at him. “Damn,” Brian laughs, “I thought you’d be able to move past yesterday’s incident but someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

“Get out.”

Brian rolls his eyes. “Come on, let’s get some food in you while I explained what happened.” He wanders out towards the kitchen, and Eddie wishes more than anything that he had a bat near him. Instead, he stalks over to the closet and starts pulling out anything that Brian might own.

“Baby, what are you doing? There are muffins in the kitchen,” Brian says as he comes back into Eddie’s room.

Eddie starts throwing Brian’s items on the ground, moving on to his dresser and desk next.

“Are you going to even let me explain?” Brian asks sounding clearly agitated.

Eddie shakes his head in disbelief, ripping up a generic hallmark birthday card with the only personal thing written being “Love, Brian.” Eddie throws the scraps on the ground along with his other random items. “Explain what? How you’ve been using the key to my fucking apartment to trick random people into having sex with you.”

“Oh, baby, is that what he told you?”

Eddie turns and points a finger in Brian’s face. “Don’t fucking call me ‘baby.’”

Brian pushes Eddie’s hand out of his face and explains, “Eds, he was lying to you. He approached me. Asked me if I could show him the ropes when it comes to hooking up with guys. And I took him back here because my roommate was home, and I showed him a few things. I never intended to sleep with him though, so it’s not even cheating.”

Eddie’s heart drops to his stomach. “And how many guys did you so call ‘show them the ropes’?”

“Only a few. Don’t worry, I never went far enough to need to get tested. Now come on, get your muffins. They’re your favorite.”

Eddie searches Brian’s face, trying to find the person he thought he knew.

“Fuck you,” Eddie says, “And get out of my fucking house.”

Brian throws up his hands. “What’s fucking wrong with you, Eds?”

“What’s wrong with me?” Eddie yells. He huffs out a humorless laugh. “Oh, I don’t know. I find out my boyfriend has been hooking up with people but doesn’t consider it cheating. Then I realize that he’s a fucking asshole and always has been. How have I never seen it?” Eddie stalks off to the kitchen, hands in his hair. “Now, I think it’s time you give me my fucking key and get the fuck out before I actually lose my shit,” Eddie warns him.

“You don’t mean that,” Brian scoffs.

Eddie holds out his hand not trusting himself to speak without yelling and straining his vocal cords.

Brian finally starts tugging Eddie’s key off his keychain and drops in his hand. “Just for the record, I’m the best you’re ever gonna get sweetheart. Who the fuck is going to want you? You’re a nobody who thinks his awful band is going to make it somewhere. Don’t you know there’s a reason I never came to your performances or showed you off to my friends? It wasn’t because I was scared about how they would react to me being gay; it was because I didn’t want to be associated with a loser like you.”

Eddie shakes his head, trying to ignore the pressure behind his eyes caused by elementary school type insults. He shoves the bag of muffins into Brian’s hand. “Take your fucking muffins. Blueberry were always your favorite. Never mine. While I’m at it...” Eddie trails off, going to the fridge and digging through for all the shit Brian stocked up there.

Eddie lays random shit on his counter and slams the fridge door shut. He shoves it towards Brian but finds him staring off behind him. Eddie runs a hand over his face as he storms over to the kitchen cabinet where Brian’s coffee mug has been staying. He grabs it and turns around to hand it to Brian.

But he isn’t where he was before. He’s by the fridge, staring at the number.

“What’s this?” Brian asks.

Eddie can’t answer. He can feel himself freeze.

“He left you his number, didn’t he?” Brian questions then laughs. “You’re pathetic, you know? Let me do him a favor.”

Brian reaches out and swipes his hand across the whiteboard, instantly erasing Steve’s number.

Eddie’s heart drops and his blood runs cold. He raises the mug, and Brian’s eyes go wide before he bolts towards the front door. Eddie throws the mug, hearing it shatter as it makes contact with the door Brian just slammed shut.

He runs over to the whiteboard and stares at the faint smear left.

Eddie slowly sinks to the floor and buries his head in his hands, letting the tears flow.

Part four

(Adding people who asked to be tagged. So sorry if I forgot anyone. Love you guys btw.

@gaysonthefloor @tinydragonhuman @micheledawn1975 @kerlypride @counting-dollars-counting-stars @yourebuckingkiddingme @ilovecupcakesandtea @cheyyyyyy @phantypurple @saramelaniemoon @xoxo--insanity @2btheanswertothequestion @connected-dots @vampireinthesun @yes-im-your-mom @redfreckledwolf @swoodoo @grtwdsmwhr @eddiethesexy @whomst-the-hell @lydi-cyan @teelagurl558 @omletlove @samcoxramblings @ineffablecolors @planetsoda @whimsicalwitchm @suikatto @mavernanche @cr0w-culture @steve-the-hairrington @zerokrox-blog @blue-little-silly-and-unsure @isabel-ffl-xoxo @staninggaycouples @lillemilly @thisisjaybaker @gobbledy-gluk-gluk @namelessssho @imnotsureiexist @sammararaven @funnymagicman-named-dandy @sketchy-scribs-n-doods @freddykicksasses @stardustonpages @funsizearsonist @unclewaynemunson @igotloki @mrbutchdyke @multifandomnerds-stuff )

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fanfic #I swear there is a part four coming #Sometimes I write like I'm in middle school again #but i hope you enjoy

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skottydawgblog · 4 years ago

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Top 25 Albums of All Time

Scott Welsch

Criteria:

Every song on the album must be attractive for listening. No “skippers” on the album. No, “Eh, that song kinda sucks” on the album. *Greatest Hits albums ARE NOT acceptable for this list. (This rule devastates me, as it disqualifies Foo Fighters)

2. The album/music/lyrics should still be relevant (and listenable) today.

3. The artist can’t just be for a specific crowd or followers (e.g. Jimmy Buffet, Grateful Dead, Moody Blues, etc.).

4. There is no need for the album to have won any awards or previous recognition.

5. I could have easily made this a “Top 100”, but I have a life.

TOP TWENTY FIVE ALBUMS OF ALL TIME:

#25 Billy Joel — Glass Houses

I played this album at bedtime growing up. I listened to side one, flipped the album, then listened to side two until the needle lulled me to sleep by making the “click click” noise at the end of the record. The album features Billy Joel’s first song to reach #1 status on Billboard (Still Rock and Roll To Me).

#24 Guns n Roses — Appetite For Destruction

My best friend in the 80s said to me, “Have you heard of this new band?” and handed me a cassette tape (in 1987). I listened to the entire cassette from start to finish the first time, and thought to myself, “Oh, man. These guys are gonna be huge.” Sure enough, Guns n Roses became one of the best-known names in modern rock. Their debut album (Appetite) has a buffet of glorious songs to listen to. Repeatedly.

#23 Elton John — Goodbye Yellow Brick Road

Elton John released this album as a two-disc set because he ended up writing and recording more songs than required by his recording company for the release. His creativity had kicked in full force (and then some). He recorded it in Jamaica (the country, not the neighborhood in Queens, NY).

#22 Red Hot Chili Peppers — Blood Sugar Sex Magik

The Chili Peppers’ fifth studio album, BSSM pushed them into mainstream. Prior to this album, the closest they had gotten was with a Stevie Wonder cover of Higher Ground on the Mother’s Milk album. No one has ever duplicated the variety of melodic undertones created by the combination of acid-rock, soul-funk, early alt-rock, and blues style on BSSM.

#21 Billy Idol — Billy Idol

Billy Idol’s debut album, released in 1982, was an absolute success after his breakup with the band Generation X. The song Dancing With Myself (track 11 on the 1983 reissue of the album) was actually a song originally recorded BY Generation X (with Billy Idol on lead vocals). It was a retail failure when released with Generation X, but when Billy Idol re-recorded and re-released it as a solo artist, it went mainstream.

#20 The Police — Zenyatta Mondotta

This was the last album The Police recorded by combining their reggae and punk music style before they switched to a more “popular” music style. Songs like Canary In A Coal Mine and Bombs Away had innuendos of political undertones, while Don’t Stand So Close To Me and De Do Do Do De Da Da Da were more lackadaisical and humorous.

#19 Van Halen — Van Halen

This album is an anomaly. Van Halen is a very well known band. They produced twelve albums. Yet, this is their debut album and has their legacy songs. The album has reached Diamond status by selling over ten million copies. It has one of the best-known guitar instrumental songs in history (eruption).

#18 Nirvana — Nevermind

This is my nod to the Foo Fighters, since they are not eligible for the list. Nevermind was the cork that popped and brought alternative rock (as a whole) into the mainstream. It basically created a whole new genre of both musicians and fans.

#17 Lynyrd Skynyrd — (Pronounced Lĕh-’nérd ‘Skin-’nérd)

Well…Free Bird, of course. I don’t need to write any about this album more than that.

#16 Pink Floyd — The Wall

I used to just listen to this album and watch the movie because it was the cool thing to do. Then, once I picked apart the meaning behind both (the music and the screenplay), it was totally eye opening. Pink Floyd was successful at concept before concept was cool.

#15 The Doors — The Doors

The Doors recorded this album in less than a month, yet it will inspire musicians for centuries. Critics often rate it the best album of all time.

#14 Rainmakers — Rainmakers

The Rainmakers self-titled album epitomizes my “100%” criterion. Every well written song tells a story, either historically or humorously. Also, The Rainmakers made rockabilly cool when no one knew what rockabilly was.

#13 Rush — Moving Pictures

With so many amazing Rush albums to choose from, it was difficult to pick just one. However, the rules of my list narrowed it down to Moving Pictures. I have spent countless nights in my life listening to this album from start to finish. Although Side B has no songs that ever received radio play, they are still AMAZING songs.

#12 Linkin Park — Hybrid Theory

This debut album launched Linkin Park into their river of greatness. Linkin Park was initially rejected by 42 recording agents before recording Hybrid Theory and becoming one of the all-time greatest alt rock bands.

#11 Beastie Boys — Licensed To Ill

Licensed To Ill is one of the fastest selling debut albums in history. It gained Diamond status (over 10 million copies). Some claim that Licensed To Ill is the best punk rap album ever released.

#10 Van Halen–5150

5150 was Van Halen’s debut album with Sammy Hagar as lead singer. Each song has crisp, clear instrumentals and incredibly well written music. Although the album received negative reviews from critics, each song creates different feelings and scenarios with the tempos and feelings. I know, I know. Van Halen is already on this list. However, as stated: this album is with Sammy Hagar as lead singer. The previous one was David Lee Roth.

#9 Violent Femmes — Violent Femmes

This was Violent Femmes debut album. It was the party album of the eighties. Every partygoer knew every lyric to every song. The Femmes had one of the most distinctive sounds of the times and remains an enduring classic. The minimalism and simplicity of their music created the attractiveness, and their lyrics are a drug.

#8 New Order — Substance

This is a compilation (2 disc) album. NOT a greatest hits album. It contains a ton of great New Order music. The only reason I made the exception (of “Greatest Hits”) is because it has a “B” sides disc included with many unreleased, 12-inch, and dub versions of the original songs. For New Order fans, this is a gold mine.

#7 The Who — Who’s Next

There are so many great tracks on here. The primary reason this one made the list is Baba O’Riley. This song (often mislabeled as Teenage Wasteland) was originally 30 minutes long. I would have had no problem with the song being that long.

#6 Prince — Purple Rain

Purple Rain had innovation that was unheard of in the early ’80s. For example, When Doves Cry does not have a bass line. The consolidation of R&B with rock was a new concept. Lastly, Prince’s guitar playing on this album was out of this world.

#5 U2 — Joshua Tree

Bono’s “great romance” and fascination with the United States served as the inspirations for The Joshua Tree. I wonder if Bono would have found today’s United States as inspirational? One of the BEST songs on this album- Running To Stand Still.

#4 AC/DC — Back In Black

This is one of the best-selling albums in history. It is AC/DC’s leanest, meanest album of all-time. It will always sound timeless and simple, yet savagely crafted.

#3 Led Zeppelin — IV

This album defined not only Led Zeppelin but the sound and style of 70s hard rock. It encompassed heavy metal, folk, pure rock-and-roll, and blues. This album not only served as a cornerstone but also a turning point for the future of music. Just don’t ask a guitar player to play Stairway (or Freebird).

#2 Nine Inch Nails — Downward Spiral

It’s no surprise that Trent Reznor collaborated with Jane’s Addiction drummer Stephen Perkins on this album. The instrumentation throughout the album is amazing. Every song leads into the next (it should, as it’s a concept album). Just don’t listen to the lyrics too closely. It could prove very, very depressing!

#1 Pearl Jam — Ten

Ten was the debut album from Pearl Jam in August 1991. Although most consider Pearl Jam a “Grunge” band, the album is more classic rock music. Most of the songs on the album began as simple instrumental band jam sessions that Eddie Vedder then wrote lyrics to go along with. The songs on Ten, despite their deep, dark lyrics, will remain on playlists for generations to come. Ten is powerful, insightful, deep, dark, thought provoking, and brilliant. “Why is the album named ‘Ten’?” you ask, when there are eleven tracks on it? Jeff Ament’s (the band’s bass player) love for NBA point guard Mookie Blaylock provided the inspiration. Blaylock’s involvement in a tragic car accident hit Pearl Jam like an injury to a family member. Blaylock’s jersey number was — you guessed it — Ten.

HONORABLE MENTION:

Steve Miller Band — Book of Dreams

This album has a few legendary songs on it: Jet Airliner, Swingtown, Jungle Love, and True Fine Love. The only reason it did not meet the cut is because it has some “eh” songs on it. However, a host can play this album straight through at a party or a get together, and no one will complain.

The Cars — The Cars

This is an amazing album. Clean, crisp guitar. Ric Ocasek’s vocals and lyrics are powerful. However, two songs (I’m In Touch With Your World and Dontcha Stop) prevent this album from meeting the “100%” criterion.

#rock music #music

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flowerfan2 · 5 years ago

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Affinity - Ch. 22 (10.22) - Complete

Well folks, here it is - the coda for Ep. 10.22, and the final chapter in Affinity. Read from the beginning here.

McDanno, 40k total. A03.

Chapter 22 (10.22)

Steve clears his throat and withdraws his hand from Catherine’s.

“I appreciate this, I do,” he says softly. “But I’m with Danny.”

His phone pings with another text. He glances quickly at it, then shows it to Catherine. It’s a photo of Danny stretched out on Steve’s bed, one arm folded up behind his head. Despite the fact that Danny is clothed, wearing his t-shirt and shorts, it’s incredibly sexy, and it fills Steve with a wave of longing.

Catherine just stares for a moment. “If you’re with Danny, why are you leaving?”

“It’s not forever.”

*****

Steve texts Danny often, keeping in touch as he promised. But it’s a few days before he sends this one.

Catherine was on the plane.

Danny’s response comes quickly, and in retrospect, he should have known what he’d say.

I know, dumbass.

Steve snorts a little smile, and then types back. Care to fill me in? He realizes his mistake just after he hits send – he didn’t exactly fill Danny in right away – but Danny doesn’t press him on it.

Lincoln put her in touch with me, to get your flight info. She wanted to surprise you.

Well, she definitely did.

Steve thinks back to that last morning with Danny, sitting on the beach behind his house. Danny knew Steve was about to fly off into the sunset with Catherine, and didn’t say a word.

Danny, I’m sorry.

Why? Are you with her right now?

No. Catherine had pushed pretty hard, before they landed in L.A., for them to spend at least a few days together. She showed him photos of a house in Tahoe she could borrow from a friend, suggested a drive along the California coast. But after six hours on the plane, they had done enough catching up as far as Steve was concerned. He wasn’t on this trip to hang out with old friends, or old flames.

He breathes a sigh of relief when Danny replies.

I’m good if you’re good. Text me when you get to Joe’s.

*****

Steve does text Danny when he gets to Joe’s ranch in Montana. Joe had left the place to him, and he figured he’d sell it sooner or later, but hadn’t quite gotten around to it yet. He’d had a pretty busy year, he could be forgiven for not having time to consider real estate transactions.

Joe’s ranch had seemed to Steve to be the perfect place to stay for a while and clear his head, and try to find the peace that he was looking for.

He was wrong, wrong, wrong. Danny, on the other hand, was completely right – Joe’s place held far too many unhappy memories to be a place of refuge for him, even if it had been for Joe. Danny had the good grace not to say “I told you so,” however, probably because Steve was on the edge of a panic attack by the time Danny gave up trying to interpret Steve’s increasingly vague texts and called him.

“Babe, where are you, right now?”

“Joe’s ranch,” Steve says.

“I got that, but where, exactly? Describe it.”

“Uh…” Steve draws in a tight breath and looks around. “Kitchen.”

“Can you go outside?”

“Sure…”

“Go outside, and walk away from the house. Find a tree.”

“A tree?”

“Yeah, just walk away from the house. Are you walking?”

“Yeah, I’m walking.”

“Tell me what you see.”

Their conversation continues on like this, Steve wandering around the property, Danny directing him to places where he didn’t see anyone die. Danny prompts Steve to describe his surroundings - the mountains he can see, the breeze he can feel, the scent of pine trees he can smell. There’s no blood, no fighting, no gunshots, not anymore.

After a while Steve sags down to the ground and sighs out a long breath. He closes his eyes and thinks back to how he felt here at the ranch after Joe died, how his anger consumed him. He remembers, then, seeing Danny appear at the ranch unannounced, striding up to meet him, his strong arms coming around Steve and holding him tight. He’s got at least one good memory in this place.

“Danny?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

*****

Steve’s next destination was going to be a remote cabin on a lake in British Columbia, accessible only by seaplane. But his reservation isn’t for two more weeks, and he no longer wants to stay at Joe’s until then. Besides, he’s not sure that he’s up for something quite that remote.

He contacts the rental car company to tell them of his change in plans and starts driving. He’s got a GPS, but he calls Danny so many times to ask him to check on cheap hotels, and restaurants, and sights to see, that Danny teases him about starting a side job as a travel agent.

Steve spends some time driving near Yellowstone, the scenery taking his breath away. Hawaii has mountains, but it doesn’t have glaciers or grizzly bears. Not that he sees any bears, but he could. It’s probably for the best.

He makes a point of not just stopping and taking in his surroundings, but of trying to still his mind. Steve’s never really gotten into meditation before, but he thinks that here in the empty wilderness, with this vast beauty all around him, he’s getting close. He feels like he’s just going through the motions at first, making himself comfortable sitting on a rock, breathing deeply, closing his eyes and trying to experience what he’s feeling without resisting or trying to change it. He opens his eyes and lets himself become aware of the flowers swaying in the breeze, the feel of the sun on his skin, the noise of the insects and the wind in the trees. He tries to hone in on a particular detail - the temperature of the air, cool even when the sun is out. When his thoughts stray (to pain, to loss, to home, to Danny) he pulls them back to the sounds and sensations around him, or at least he tries.

Steve camps out several nights in a row, forgetting that even with the spare battery his phone will eventually die. He hikes to an alpine lake and messes around trying to catch a fish, surprising himself when he succeeds. The urge to call Danny and brag about it nearly overwhelms him, but he can’t even take a picture.

The next day he hikes back to his car, drives to the nearest motel, and charges his phone while he showers. He’s four hours ahead of Hawaii, and he waits until almost eleven to call Danny, hoping to catch him at home, maybe even done with dinner, settling down with a beer down by the beach. Steve can imagine Danny so perfectly, sitting in his chair in his cut-off jean shorts and worn out t-shirt, the setting sun turning his skin golden, a half-drunk Longboard hanging from his fingertips. For a minute the longing to be there next to Danny hits Steve so hard it’s like a punch to the gut, but Steve takes a few deep breaths and reminds himself that he’s away for a reason, even if he can’t quite remember what it is at the moment. Gathering his thoughts, Steve presses the button to call Danny. He nearly cheers with glee when Danny picks up and Steve discovers that he’s timed it perfectly, and they shoot the shit until Steve falls asleep to the sound of Danny’s voice in his ear.

*****

It occurs to Steve, in between stops at greasy roadside diners, nights alone on scratchy sheets, and more hiking than he’s done in years, that he’s supposed to be doing something besides touring national parks. Or at least, that touring national parks is supposed to be a means to an end.

Steve doesn’t like to question his plan (and he sure isn’t going to question why he doesn’t want to question his plan). He figures he just needs to keep moving. He doesn’t know what else to do. Or at least that’s what he keeps telling himself.

*****

Steve turns in his rental car in Denver, and springs for a decent hotel with excellent internet. He surfs the web for far too long, reading up on what’s been happening in the world. Nothing good. He finds himself checking sites on news closer to home, too. He reads about a new Hawaiian style farm–to-table restaurant opening in downtown Honolulu that Danny would love and finds himself clicking on the reservation button before he realizes that he probably can’t make it for this Friday at seven. Someone else is going to enjoy that table for two, but it won’t be him.

He considers making the reservation anyway, sending the information to Danny and suggesting that he go check out the place, on Steve. But he can’t decide how exactly to word it, or what he even would mean by it – he obviously doesn’t want to Danny to bring a date, and although he’s not proud of the thought, he doesn’t really want to risk Danny asking someone as a friend but it turning into something romantic. Steve could ask Tani to take him, or Junior, but that’s kind of weird, too. Is Steve ridiculous enough to want Danny to go by himself and sit alone with his drink, like a damsel waiting for her sailor to return from the sea? Steve closes the website and moves on to looking at the hours for Denver’s natural history museum. Presumably he can’t get himself into any trouble there.

After a few days in Denver, more to amuse Danny than anything else, Steve books a flight to Newark. Danny emails him an annotated list of restaurants and can’t miss tourist attractions, including a link to a Sopranos sites tour that makes Steve laugh. At the bottom of the list is an address and phone number for Eddie and Clara Williams.

Steve surprises himself with how much he wants to see Danny’s parents. It wakes him up in the middle of the night, the pull he feels. He imagines sitting down in their kitchen, eating Clara’s lasagna, shooting the shit with Eddie over a beer. He’s half asleep, picturing the scene, how he’d tease Danny about eating too much garlic bread, how they’d argue about the last piece of tiramisu, when he realizes with a wave of physical pain that even if he goes to the Williams’ place in Jersey, Danny won’t be there.

Steve texts Danny from the airport in Denver, but it’s barely four a.m. in Hawaii. He doesn’t expect a response right away. But just before his plane takes off, he gets one, and he smiles as he closes his eyes and leans against the window.

*****

Danny’s in the break room at headquarters, fighting with the new coffee machine Lou swears will change his life, trying not to feel sorry for himself. Steve has been away for almost two months, and Danny has missed the crap out of him. He knows Steve misses him too – it’s obvious in his constant texting, how he carefully times phone calls for when he knows Danny will be home, how he consults Danny on ideas for each step of his trip.

The team has rallied around Danny, bringing over food and staying to hang out so often that Danny has to remind himself to make extra beer runs on his way home from work. Junior’s spending about half his time at Steve’s house and half at Tani’s – Danny is sure he’d be at Tani’s full time, if not for some unnecessary but no less appreciated belief that Danny needs the company.

They’ve been rotating partners at work, no one wanting to presume to take Steve’s place as Danny’s partner. Danny’s most comfortable with Tani, and sometimes Adam, although for vastly different reasons (Tani prods at him until he talks about what’s bothering him; Adam doesn’t). Lou tends to stay back at base, and Junior and Quinn go where they’re needed. Danny finds himself missing Chin and Kono, wondering to himself how the hell he turned out to be the last man standing from their original squad. It doesn’t help the strangeness to know that Danny is now in charge; although Danny insisted in his obligatory meeting with the governor that it was only temporary, he’s not sure anyone believes him.

When Danny inevitably wakes up in the dark in Steve’s bed, heart beating fast with the echo of a nightmare, it always takes him a minute to remember why Steve’s not there. Sometimes he thinks Steve is in Mexico looking for Doris. Back then Danny had spent every day trying not to imagine Steve dying, trying to understand why Steve felt that his life was worth so little that he would put it at risk over and over for a woman that didn’t want his help.

Steve’s absence is different now, and Danny respects that. This time Steve’s not in any unusual danger, and he’s on this mission for his own benefit, not anyone else’s. It still sucks sleeping alone, but Danny can handle it. Especially with Steve sending him daily pictures of every squirrel in the northwestern United States.

“Danny – there you are.” Tani bursts into the break room, startling Danny out of his thoughts. “You’ve got a call.”

Danny’s hand goes to his pocket, and he realizes Tani is holding his phone, which he had left charging in his office. “What’s up?” he asks, feeling a shiver run down his spine as he takes in the expression on her face.

“They called me too.” Lou joins them, his voice low as he puts a hand on Danny’s shoulder. “It’s Steve. He’s been in an accident.”

A blank calm washes over him and then Danny’s sprinting down the hall, his mind quickly providing the quickest route to the airport to avoid afternoon traffic. “Tani, get me on the next flight to Jersey. Then call my dad, have him go straight to the hospital. Lou, you’re in charge, bring in Lincoln if you need to-”

“Danny, wait,” Tani grabs his arm. “You’re not flying anywhere.”

Danny jerks away from Tani. “What, are you crazy?” Danny has to be with Steve, he’s hurt, oh god oh god he’s hurt, please don’t let him be --

“No, listen,” Lou says. “Steve’s not in Newark.”

“He didn’t get on the flight?” Then he’s still in Denver, Denver is a few hours closer, that’s okay, that’s good.

“Danny, he’s here, on Oahu. He’s at Queen’s Medical. He’s here.”

*****

Steve sits on the hospital bed, gingerly touching the bandage covering the cut on his forehead. He glances at his watch, frowning to see that another half hour has gone by while he waits to be discharged. This is not how he planned his return to Hawaii, but at least Danny doesn’t know yet. If he gets out of here soon, Steve still has time to get home and shower before Danny finds out.

“Where’s Steve, McGarrett, they said he was back here – I’m his partner-”

Or maybe not.

“Steve.” Danny skids to a stop in the doorway. His eyes look wild, and his hair is mussed. He’s breathing hard, his chest heaving. Danny is the best thing Steve has seen in months.

He jumps up, quick to reassure him. “Danny, it’s okay, I’m fine-”

“Steve.” Danny takes a few steps closer, his eyes flickering up and down Steve’s body. He reaches out, his hands trembling.

Steve steps towards him. “Really, I’m okay. Cab driver got rear-ended, no big deal, just bumps and bruises. I didn’t want them to call you. I wanted to surprise you.”

Danny blinks. “Surprise me?”

“Yeah, I figured I’d get some beers, hang out down on the beach until you got home.”

Danny just stares at him for a long moment, then rocks back, the tension draining out of his body as a smile teases at his lips. “You kind of blew it.”

Steve shrugs mock apologetically. “Honolulu drivers. What can you do.” Steve steps forward, closing the space between them. Then Danny’s shaking hands take hold of Steve’s waist, and Steve’s palms are on Danny’s face. “I missed you,” Steve breathes out. “Every goddamn day. So much.”

Danny presses a soft kiss to Steve’s lips, then another, and pulls back until Steve can see his eyes. “I missed you too.” Danny bites his lip, and Steve can feel him steel himself as he looks up at Steve. “How long are you here for?”

“No, that’s not – I’m not just here for a visit. I’m done.”

“Done?”

Steve hands fall to Danny’s shoulders, run up and down his arms, muscles still tense under his dress shirt. “Done traveling. I’m back.”

“But…” Danny looks up at him, hope in his eyes. “You said you needed to get space. To find peace.”

Steve snorts a little, grin tugging at his cheeks. “Apparently I’m a cliché.”

Danny cocks his head, a matching grin spreading slowly across his face. “Oh? In what way, exactly, are you a cliché?”

Steve grabs Danny and kisses him soundly, hampered only by the fact that they’re each on the edge of slightly hysterical laughter. He wraps his arms around Danny’s shoulders and digs his face into his neck. “I didn’t need to go anywhere. Whatever I’ve got to do, whatever I’ve got to think through, it’s not gonna work if I’m away. What I need is right here.” He squeezes Danny harder. “Right here.”

“You came back for the pineapples?” Danny teases.

“Yeah, for the pineapples,” Steve says, kissing Danny again full on the lips, then pulling back to look him in the eyes. “And, you know, you. The love of my life.”

Danny beams up at him, his cheeks pink with happiness. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Steve knows what he wants now. More importantly, he’s going to let himself have it. “Come on, Danny. It’s time to go home.”

#mcdanno #H50 #Hawaii Five-O #10.22 #Affinity

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loveforpreserumsteve · 4 years ago

Text

Begin Again (Mortician!Steve and Baker!Bucky Modern “Moving On” AU)

Thirty-Four:

"And I just…" Steve trailed off. Lifting the floral mug of lavender tea to his lips in hopes of gathering his thoughts.

Across the table, Joe patiently waited. Reaching over to Steve to soothingly squeeze his hand. Knowing that Steve always did best when he wasn't pressured into talking about whatever was on his mind. And Steve appreciated that from his dad.

Worrying his lower lip as he set the mug down on the table, Steve placed his hands on the smooth light-stained wood. Finally, admitting, "I'm in love with him, Dad. Like, really, really in love with him."

"I know you are," Joe assured, leaning forward to rest his arms on the table. "I mean, it hasn't exactly been a secret around here."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Steve wetly scoffed, feeling more tears starting to prickle at the corners of his eyes.

"You know what it means," Joe playfully accused. Winking over the rim of his mug as he went to finish his tea. Setting the porcelain back down in front of him, he shrugged, "You've been…"

"Happier?" Steve guessed, since he had heard it a couple of times. Typically from Eddie and even Wanda occasionally.

Joe simply shook his head and corrected, "More yourself. Not so caught up in your head. Even smiling more. It was nice."

Solemnly, Steve couldn't help but agree. He had already thought the same. Of course, that didn't make it any less… sad.

"Not that we don't love you the way that you are no matter how or who you are," Joe quickly amended, taking Steve's silence as hurt.

"No, I know," Steve confirmed, sniffling.

Joe's brows furrowed in his concern and heartache from watching his son's heartbreak. Giving Steve's hand a squeeze, Joe wanted Steve to know, "I'm proud of you, Steven."

"Why?" Steve scoffed, leaning back in his seat. Crossing his arms along his chest, Steve purposely kept his gaze down as he admitted, "I fell in love -- and made out -- with a man who is engaged to someone else."

"You're human," Joe reminded with a soft chuckle. Scratching his hand through his graying hair, Joe informed, "I'm proud of you for knowing what you weren't willing to do, and stopping it. For far too long, I've seen you put your own needs on the backburner. But knowing that you're sticking up for what you believe in is a good thing. It's what I've always admired about you."

Blushing, Steve wasn't sure what to say to his father's praise. Sure, it wasn't the first time that Joe had spoken so candidly about Steve to Steve, but it still made Steve's cheeks heat. Something close to embarrassment and pride twisted in Steve's gut as he tried to keep the tears from spilling over his eye's rims.

Instead of drawing attention to Steve's emotional moment, Joe silently gestured towards the mug in front of him. Steve shook his head, letting his dad know that he could take care of them. For a moment, Steve wondered if he should go. Only, he didn't want to leave. Not yet. Yes, it was late. But he wasn't ready to take Vinnie back to his quiet apartment where he'd be so alone.

"You know," Joe started, stretching his arms above his head and offered, "You can stay in your old room, if you want."

"Yeah?" Steve asked, his lips twitching up just a bit.

"Yeah," Joe confirmed. As he stood by the light switch, he teased, "Of course, we retired your old Star Wars sheets, so I hope that's okay."

Pushing in his chair, Steve good-humoredly scoffed, "Please, they weren't even mine to begin with."

"They weren't?" Joe's brows furrowed in genuine confusion.

"No," Steve chuckled, "They were Cliff's. Mine were the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles."

Nodding as he remembered, Joe turned off the lights and followed Steve up the staircase. Passing by the old yearbook pictures and the obligatory Christmas card photo, the knot in Steve's stomach started unwinding. No matter how old Steve was or how long it had been since he lived there, this would always be home.

Pausing outside the master bedroom, Joe wrapped Steve up in his arms as though he was still that scrawny kid he had been before puberty. Kissing Steve's temple, Joe wished him a goodnight, "Come get me, if you need anything."

Discreetly rolling his eyes, Steve nodded and assured, "I will. I love you."

"Love you, too, honey," Joe patted his back before pulling back and ducking into the dark, quiet master bedroom where Sarah's soft snores could be heard.

Continuing down the hallway, Steve tried to be as quiet as possible as he eased Eddie's bedroom door open. Eddie pulled his phone below the comforter as though he was fooling anyone by still being awake, and Vinnie's tail started wagging when he saw Steve.

"Isn't it a school night?" Steve teased, ruffling Eddie's messy, auburn hair.

"Didn't you move out?" Eddie retorted, bringing his phone back out and placing it on the side table.

"Thanks again for picking up Vinnie," Steve scratched the top of the Weimaraner's head, "I really appreciate it."

"I mean, it's not like I do it out of the kindness of my heart," Eddie good-naturedly scoffed, rolling onto his back as he joked, "I will let you know now though that my rates are going up."

"Okay," Steve chuckled, shaking his head.

For a moment, the pair were quiet while Vinnie licked at Steve's face, and Steve knew that he should let Eddie sleep. It was, after all, a school night. However, Eddie broke the quiet, "So…"

"So?" Steve sighed.

"Are we going to have to find a new cake shop?"

Steve swallowed thickly, "Why would we do that?"

Eddie let out a low whistle as he shook his head. Steve's brows furrowed as he watched his younger brother, amused. Steve placed his hands on his hips and asked, "What?"

"You were right," Eddie yawned, "You really can't lie to me."

"Goodnight, Edison," Steve rolled his eyes, leading the sleepy dog out of the bedroom.

"Goodnight, Dad," Eddie mocked before Steve could close the door.

Only once he was in his former childhood bedroom did Steve allow himself to take a moment for himself. Letting his shoulders slump as he leaned against the closed door. Scrubbing his hand over his face, Steve took comfort when Vinnie's wet nose pressed into the palm of his limp hand. Just like he took comfort in the crisp green plaid duvet and the amount of matching pillows as he plopped face-first onto the queen bed.

Taking after Steve, Vinnie flopped on top of him, earning a muffled laugh from the man. As Steve shifted until he could finally breathe and Vinnie's added weight was no longer threatening to smother him, Steve's back pocket started vibrating.

With furrowed brows at the time, he wiggled to grasp his phone. Just in case it was an emergency. Because after all, who else would be --

Instantly, Steve's hands started sweating. Why was Bucky calling him? What if he's choosing to be with yo -- No! Steve couldn't let himself think about it. It wasn't right. This wasn't some high school fling. Bucky was engaged. Bucky should've been calling Tony, not Steve.

For a moment, Steve just laid there, looking at his phone. Waiting, as the minute dripped into an hour, a day, a lifetime, until Steve's entire existence was linked directly to the phone in his hand and the person who was calling him. Maybe Steve should've answered, if only to tell Bucky to lose his number. Only, he'd never be able to do that. Even just thinking about it hurt.

So, Steve did the next best thing he could. Which was to change Bucky's contact name and remove the picture of the stupidly attractive man. Then, Steve turned his phone off entirely as he rolled over and hoped his tears would eventually lull him to sleep.

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gold-from-straw · 6 years ago

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Spectres - ch2

In which Loki is creepy, Tony is actually seriously contemplating decaf, and Peter is missing.

Read from the beginning on AO3 if you like :)

The life of a Monk was occluded in clouds of misinformation and superstition. What they did seemed so much easier than what a Spectre did, so much less dramatic and interesting looking. They couldn’t split themselves into thousands of ravens, like Loki could, for example, or slip into and out of reality like Steve Rogers, the famous Shifter. They were entirely human, their powers concentrated in powders, amulets and very specific motions - all tools to get close to the things a Spectre could do with a thought.

And yet they held their own against Spectres, thought Tony, smiling in satisfaction as he ground Svalbard poppy into a fine paste. A careful motion of his hand drew the moisture from the cells, holding it in a hovering ball of water which he siphoned into a vial. He mixed the powder with the marrowbone of an elk and, after careful consideration, the meltwater of a single snowflake.

He poured the entire mixture into a fine leather pouch, and tied it carefully, clipping it to the inside of his coat, then checked the scrying bowl, frowning. Peter hadn’t replied to his messages yet. That was unlike him. His apprentice was so eager - often too eager, he’d found him asleep standing up way too many times. Tony grinned at the memories. The boy was so much like him. Poor kid.

He wondered idly what Peter would have done to solve the problems Loki posed, in all his incredible power. Monk work was a bundle of contradictions that infuriated most people. Rules such as Like Calls To Like lived in balanced symbiosis with Opposites Attract. Tony had come to realise that the best thing to do was to make it up and then find some way to justify it after the fact. When he’d mentioned it to Master Yinsen, the old man had smiled, winked, and tapped his nose.

Tony couldn’t wait for Peter to realise the exact same thing.

The smudge of spell-soot from his previous altercation with Loki started to glow on his forearm, and Tony smirked. He pressed his hand to it, gathering as much of it as he could on his palm, then blew it into a circle in front of him. The dust whirled and eddied, gathering the folds of space and time, calling out to the one it was created to track, tunnelling into reality. Tony simply stepped into the hole, and out the other side into yet more chaos.

He frowned around him. They were in an office building, empty for the night. It was unlike Loki to choose somewhere without an audience.

A skittering, rustling noise behind him made Tony spin on the balls of his feet, a spell at the ready.

Another noise to the side. Footsteps above him, on the ceiling, and Tony, his nerves prickling, glanced around the room, alert to every motion.

A flash of blue, and he turned, gaping. A child, maybe four years old, ran across the room from nowhere, and disappeared into nowhere.

Tony rushed to where she had been, blowing a revealing powder over the path she had taken. The telltale glitter of a Spectre lit up her footsteps.

A pattering, a slithering, a clicking, and Tony, crouched low, heart pounding, turned from one to the other.

“Enough!” he said sharply, breathing harder than he would like to admit. He brought fire to his hand and cast it around the room, where it turned to smoke in an instant. “Loki! I know you’re there,” he yelled.

The smoke roiled, chasing its own tail, rushing this way and that, spiralling and curling around Tony, until there was a breathless sound, and a fall.

Tony turned, his red robes flaring out behind him, and there was Loki, snarling, one knee on the floor. “You put my children in danger,” he growled.

Tony rolled his eyes. “They weren’t in danger. The smoke just makes Spectres visible.” He glanced from side to side. “Well, it usually does.”

Loki rose smoothly. “I sent them away.” He cocked his head sharply on one side, those rapid, boneless motions that made Tony’s adrenaline spike. “What becomes of the children?”

Tony frowned. This again. “I don’t know, they’re your children.”

Loki clasped his hands behind his back and started to circle Tony, observing him. “But what becomes of your children?”

“I don’t have children,” Tony said.

“I see your children,” Loki said, almost singing, his voice dreamlike, distant. “I see them in streets, in the garbage, I see your children cast out. And then…” he stopped and in a heartbeat he was behind Tony, his long fingers closing on his shoulder one by one. “And then, I see them not.”

Tony’s breath shuddered, his heart beating so hard he thought it might escape from his chest, burst out of him like Loki’s ravens. He was not fast enough for this. Should Loki decide to do anything now, he would not survive. He closed his eyes and thought of Peter.

Loki’s face was close enough that Tony should have felt the bone mask. Instead he felt soft, smooth skin against his cheek. “What becomes of the children, Tony Stark?” whispered Loki.

And then he was gone. The air cleared of smoke and aura, reality snapping around him as Loki made it elastic to his will, and Tony gasped so hard he nearly cried out.

Tony’s hands were still shaking when he got back to his penthouse, and he scraped his fingers through his hair, pulling at the strands until they ached down to his skull. He opened the cupboard, searching for the coffee Pepper had formulated for him, her own spells and powders infused into the grounds to calm him down. “You’ll have the placebo effect of drinking coffee, but it won’t make you jittery from the caffeine.”

Tony hadn’t ever told her that he liked the jitteriness. He liked the feeling of his skin almost crawling away from him. It made him feel somehow not real. Like he imagined a Spectre feeling when it broke into thousands of spirits, expanding to fill the world. Today, however, he thought her special decaf was a medicinal necessity.

He caught the flashing light out of the corner of his eye, and startled back, his hand out and glowing with a defensive spell. He sagged when he saw it was only his old answer machine. Probably some journalist who’d got hold of his personal number from somewhere, he really needed to change it again. But it was such a pain getting it out to all the regular humans who actually needed it - Tony always forgot who could and couldn’t use scrying bowls and amulets.

He pressed the play button and turned back to his coffee, ready to ignore whatever the person had to say. “Uh, hey, Mr Stark? It’s May Parker here.”

Tony dropped the spoon back into the pot and raced to the machine, hand hovering over it as if he could summon her back just by picking up the receiver. “I got this number from Pete’s room.” Her voice crackled for a moment, as if she had just sighed. “I, uh… you haven’t seen him, have you? He’s not home, and… I know he’s a teenager and it’s only five, but he was away all weekend… I just figured he was over at yours and got caught up with training but… he’s a good kid, Mr Stark, he wouldn’t leave me worrying this long. And if… if you’ve distracted him for a whole weekend and he’s missed school, I swear to God, Monk or not I will kick your ass, OK?” She cleared her throat. “Uh. Yeah. Just… call me back when you get this. Bye.”

Tony’s heart, still on high alert from his encounter with Loki, picked up its pace. He considered ripping through space to appear in her living room there and then, but she was a regular human, the shock would probably kill her.

Or more likely she’d hit him with a baseball bat.

He picked up the phone and dialed with shaking hands. “May? Hey, it’s Tony Stark, I just got your message.” He tugged his hair again and took a deep breath. “When did you last see Pete?”

“Friday morning, before school,” she said, her voice starting to rise as the worry that had obviously been simmering there kicked into another gear. “What are you saying, Mr Stark?”

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. “He wasn’t here this weekend. We didn’t have anything scheduled, I was out dealing with… never mind - have you called his friends?”

“Yeah, of course I have, Ned says he was in lessons that morning, but he didn’t see him after third period - I didn’t worry because they don’t do every class together, and I just thought… he’d be with you. That’s where he always is.”

“OK. OK, look, don’t… Pete’s a clever kid, he’ll be…” Tony blew out a sharp breath, because that was not fucking helping. Nothing was helping. He wanted to race out of the front door and run the streets screaming Peter’s name until the boy poked his tousled head out of some side street, looking confused. “I’ll go… I’ll see if I can find him, OK?”

“Shit,” May said, her voice muffled, as if she was pressing her fingers against her lips, trying to keep the lid on the panic. “Shit, I need to… I can’t stay here, where can I look?”

“Just stay--”

“Don’t you fucking tell me to stay put, Tony Stark,” she snapped. “What can I do to help find my boy?”

“Uh, fuck,” he muttered. “OK, OK, OK, this is… Yes! I’ll make a tracker, can you get me something he’s worn recently? I mean, something he’s worn a lot, like, I dunno, a hoodie he’s worn several days in a row.”

“He was wearing his favourite that morning - how about his pyjama shirt?”

“Yeah, perfect, I’ll be over in a minute, I’ll make up a tracker. Oh - it won’t survive the experience, you think he’ll mind?”

“If he does mind, he can damn well make a better effort to stay in touch,” she said sharply.

Tony nodded and hung up without completing the rest of the thought. Because if Peter was in real trouble, the destruction of his favourite shirt would be well worth the risk. He gathered up glass bottles with whatever his hands led him to, and after a pause, a tarnished silver chain that dangled off the cupboard door. He’d picked it up off the ground one day and kept it, knowing it would be important one day. Then with one last deep, calming breath that didn’t work, he sliced through space and time and appeared in the Parker’s living room.

May was pacing up and down the kitchenette and jumped violently when he arrived. She recovered quickly and held out the shirt. Tony all but snatched it and set it alight in his hands. May shrieked, but then rushed over, watching his every move. Tony pulled the ashes and smoke together into a transparent ball that hovered over May’s kitchen counter. He materialised his mortar and pestle, a huge, solid beast of a thing, and threw in almost a whole vial full of moldavite shards, pounding them to dust with the pestle. A whispered word set it glowing, an acid green, almost physical presence of light blasting outwards, making May’s long hair lift and twine as she gazed down, fascinated.

He fingered through the herbs in his pocket, frowning, then looked up. “Are those cigarettes?”

“Yeah,” she said, slightly defensive. “I’m cutting down.”

“Can I have one?”

She narrowed her eyes, but handed him a cigarette and the lighter. He brushed that back and flicked an obsidian knife out of his pocket, slashing through the paper so that the tobacco fluttered into the mortar. It ignited almost instantly, and he pounded them together, the flame rising almost up to his wrist. He drew a sigil in the air, and the orb of pyjama shirt ash morphed into a teardrop shape, the pointed end pulled thinner and thinner, until it touched the mixture. Instantly it was sucked down into the mortar, and Tony leaped back as the light roared, flared red, streaks of blue crackling through it, a hissing, chittering noise and lightning sparks fluttering inside the cloud that gathered above the kitchen counter.

“Holy shit,” breathed May, backed up against the dining table. Tony ignored her and forced his way forwards, pulling the silver chain out of the inside pocket of his jacket. He wrapped one end around his fist, and, gritting his teeth, shoved the dangling end into the great cloud.

The chain immediately tightened so hard around his hand he felt his fingers cut off from the blood supply. He winced and turned his face away from the bright light and roaring storm, then forced himself to look back at it. He narrowed his eyes against the whipping, tearing, screaming chain trying to escape, and gave it a little shake. “Peter Parker,” he barked, sending all his will into the chain, into the mixture, smacking the backs of their metaphorical heads and demanding they bloody well work together to find his apprentice.

The cloud roared for a moment. The chain thrashed in his hand. He glared at both of them. Do not fuck with me on this, he assured them. I’ll work with you on most things, but I have not got time for your shit right now.

The cloud grumbled one last time. The chain quit its curling and whipping and lay perfectly straight, pulling downwards so hard that Tony’s biceps strained against it, stopping it from actually connecting with the mixture. “Peter Parker,” he said once more.

The cloud dived down the chain. The powder dived up the chain. The moment they met in the centre, there was an explosive silence that sucked at Tony’s ear drums. He closed his eyes with the percussive anti-shock of it, and when he blinked them open again, the room was filled with the finest suspended glitter. May stared around at it in wonder. Tony grunted out a spell, and the glitter siphoned itself slowly into his mortar once more.

“Woah,” May whispered, leaning over to look at the pile of powder. Then her eyes widened. “You’re bleeding!”

“Yeah, bloody chain,” he grumbled. “Fought me every step of the way. Silver always thinks it knows best.”

“Do you want a bandage or something?” she asked.

“You got one?”

She blinked. “Honestly, I was expecting you to say no, you’d heal it yourself.”

“My healing magic sucks,” he admitted. “So yeah, if you don’t mind. I don’t want it to mix too much with the powder.”

“Will that affect the magic?” she asked, pulling a first aid kit down off the top shelf.

“Nah, just stings like hell,” he grinned.

#My writing #Spectres #frostiron #loki/tony #magic AU #slightly creepy #iron dad

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dubsism · 4 years ago

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Today’s Movie: Take Me Out To The Ball Game

Year of Release: 1949

Stars: Frank Sinatra, Esther Williams, Gene Kelly

Director: Busby Berkeley

This movie is not on my list of essential films.

NOTE: This installment of Sports Analogies Hidden In Classic Movies is being done as part of something called the Esther Williams Blog-A-Thon being hosted by Love Letters To Old Hollywood. I’ve been fortunate enough to have been included in several of her events…frankly, she had me at Van Johnson. Speaking of which, there’s another event coming for him soon as well.

The Story:

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“Take Me Out To The Ball Game” takes place in 1908 and centers on a baseball team known as the Chicago Wolves (not to be confused with the current non-fictional minor-league hockey team of the same name). Ostensibly, this is supposed to be the actual Chicago White Sox because they play all American League opponents, but the producers don’t want to say that as there’s a not-so-subtle reference to gambling and the whole 1919 “Black Sox” scandal later in the film.

Right off the bat, most will notice this movie is a bit thin on plot. That’s why it works as a musical; a genre where the story-line really only serves to stitch the “song-and-dance” numbers together. To that end, two of the Wolves are also part-time Vaudevillians; Eddie O’Brien (played by Gene Kelly) and Dennis Ryan (played by Frank Sinatra). Obviously, those two are the engine for the “song-and-dance” part of this film (along with Betty Garrett and Jules Munshin).

The plot comes when the team finds out they are getting a new owner. In and of itself, that would upset the club house of any team, but matters intensify when it is discovered the new owner is a woman who intended to take an active interest in running the team. The team envisions the new owner to be some frumpy dowager, but the reality proves to be the exact opposite.

If I were an umpire, Esther Williams could kick dirt on me anytime.

K.C. Higgins (played by Esther Williams) is not only improbably gorgeous, she just so happens to know baseball. After the expected period of adjustment beginning in spring training and stretching into the season, the novelty of having a woman as the owner wears off and the “love interest” complications set in.

First, Dennis has eyes for K.C., but all the while he’s the target of the affections of a “Baseball Annie” Shirley Delwyn (played by Betty Garrett). Eddie eventually falls for K.C. as well, and this “J. Geils-esque ‘Love Stinks'” motif teams with the musical numbers carrying the movie until we get to the real “hook” in the plot.

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As far as the songs go, they are standard fare for an MGM musical; light and meant to drive the pace of the movie. Highlights include the require d title track performed by Kelly and Sinatra when they meet the other players in Florida. They also pair for an “All The Girls We’ve Loved Before“-type number called, “Yes, Indeedy.” There’s no way you’re getting an MGM musical starring Frank Sinatra without “Ol’ Blue Eyes” doing what he does best, crooning a love song titled “The Right Girl for Me.” Betty Garrett provides a major dose of comic relief with “It’s Fate Baby, It’s Fate;” sung while she seems to be seriously considering jumping Sinatra’s bones.

Interwoven through the messiness of the love interests is the fact that there’s a lot gangsters around this story, the head thug being Joe Lorgan (played by Edward Arnold). This brings us to the aforementioned allusion of the Wolves as the Chicago White Sox as Lorgan is a thinly-disguised Arnold Rothstein, the man who was indicted but never convicted of conspiring to “fix” the 1919 World Series. Vaudevillian Eddie gets tangled up with Lorgan when he performs in a show bank-rolled by Lorgan and his cohorts who are betting on the Wolves to lose the World Series. Eventually, this leads to a series of events which result in Eddie being kicked off the team.

The Hidden Sports Analogy:

Much like the Wolves had a incorrect assumption about what K.C. Williams was going to be, if you think the hidden sports analogy here is about baseball, you would be mistaken. Today’s episode is a tale of a real-life K.C. Williams three-quarters of a century after the setting of “Take Me Out To The Ball Game.” It’s also a story as interwoven as the love interests in that film…come along on a journey which will take us through Hollywood, the National Football League (NFL), and straight-up sexism.

ACT I – Bob & Carroll & Ted & Alice & Baltimore & Los Angeles

The story starts in 1972 when a businessman named Robert Irsay purchased the NFL’s Los Angeles Rams. At the same time, another business giant named Carroll Rosenbloom owned the Baltimore Colts. Rosenbloom amassed his fortune with the Blue Ridge Clothing Company; by 1959, Blue Ridge had grown to include almost a dozen shirt and overall companies and had over 7,000 employees. This led to Rosenbloom being known “America’s Overalls King.”

While Rosenbloom was born and raised in Baltimore, he fancied himself being part of the glamour of Hollywood…and he fit the part as well. An athletic, dashing figure, Rosenbloom cut a larger-than-life presence…he always reminded me of Lorne Greene, and I think Rosenbloom would have been right at home as the patriarch of a TV western family. To that end, he was was one of the largest share holders in Seven Arts Productions Limited, which backed the Broadway musical “Funny Girl,” and the films “Lolita,” “What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?” and “The Night of the Iguana.”

Rosenbloom also had the pedigree for a perfect NFL owner. He had an “Ivy League” education having studied at the University of Pennsylvania and playing halfback on the football team. This is also where his connections to the NFL began; his backfield coach for the Penn Quakers was future NFL Commissioner Bert Bell.

Carroll Rosenbloom and Robert Irsay

On the opposite end of the spectrum, Robert Irsay was bombastic and a heavy drinker who cared little for the glitz of Hollywood. So, in 1972, he and Rosenbloom swapped franchises. Irsay got the Colts and Baltimore, at the time a tough, blue-collar seaport city much more befitting Irsay’s persona…and Rosenbloom got “the team of the stars.”

Carroll Rosenbloom quickly became entrenched in the milieu of Hollywood, and the Rams enjoyed tremendous success during his ownership. The Rams won their division (NFC West) for a then-NFL record seven straight seasons between 1973 and 1979. They even earned the franchise’s first trip to the Super Bowl after the 1979 season. However, the relationship between Rosenbloom and the city of Los Angeles was less than rosy.

The home of the Rams, the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum was 50 years old at the time Rosenbloom bought the team. The aging venue not only lacked modern amenities like luxury boxes, but it cavernous capacity of over 90,000 seats created problems with the NFL’s “black-out” policy of the era. In order to protect ticket sales, games in which all the tickets were not sold 72 hours prior to kick-off were not broadcast in the local market. The reality was it proved difficult to sell that many ticket when even the closest seats were close to 30 yards from the playing field.

The inability to sell-out and the resultant lack of the Rams on Los Angeles television proved to be a vicious cycle with one feeding the other. Without TV, the Rams struggled to keep drawing fan interest, which drove down ticket sales, et cetera…The continual sag in attendance drove Rosenbloom to cut a deal with the city of Anaheim in burgeoning suburban Orange County. The deal involved Rosenbloom agreeing to hold Rams’ home games in the city-owned Anaheim Stadium once it was expanded to approximately 65,000. “The Big A” was located right off a major freeway, was literally in the shadow of Disneyland, and was already home to baseball’s California Angels.

The future looked bright for both sides. Rosenbloom got a newly-remodeled venue for his football team and the more reasonable capacity likely meant the end of television black-outs. For Anaheim, it meant adding another major attraction to it’s growing list to compete with its gargantuan neighbor 30 miles up the Golden State Freeway.

But Rosenbloom would never see his Rams play football in Orange County. In April of 1979 while the deal was still being brought to fruition, Rosenbloom suffered a heart attack and drowned while swimming in the ocean off Golden Beach, Florida.

Act II – Georgia On My Mind

Rosenbloom’s memorial at his mansion in Bel-Air was attended by nearly 1,000 wishing to pay their respects. The group was an eclectic hodge-podge of NFL owners and dignitaries, the entire Los Angeles Rams organization, and a solid representative sample of Rosenbloom Hollywood connections. Comedian Jonathan Winters was the Master of Ceremonies. Howard Cosell, Ricardo Montalbán, and Ross Martin were among those who delivered eulogies. In a salute to Rosenbloom’s legendary “raucous” sense of humor, Don Rickles did what Don Rickles does. Warren Beatty made an appearance, having just played a Ram in the previous year’s “Heaven Can Wait.” Other attendees included Kirk Douglas, Cary Grant, Jimmy Stewart, Rod Steiger, and Henry Mancini.

But it didn’t take long for the details of Rosenbloom’s will to emerge. His son Steve had been left with the “managerial and operational” duties for the Rams, and Steve his two siblings, Daniel and Suzanne, and half-siblings, Chip and Lucia each received equal shares in ownership of the franchise, totaling 30%. But it was Rosenbloom’s widow Georgia who inherited a controlling 70% stake in the team. Another clause in the will stipulated that the ultimate decision as to who ran the day-to-day operations of the team was entirely a matter of “as long as the successor trustee, in his discretion shall determine.”

In other words, the ultimate control of the Los Angeles Rams was now in the hands of Georgia Frontiere. Would she flex her new organizational muscle, or would she let Steve Rosenbloom run the Rams?

It took less than three months for Frontiere to assume control of the Los Angeles Rams. Frontiere was not the first female owner in the history of the NFL. When Charlie Bidwell, the owner of the then-Chicago Cardinals, died in 1947, the team was left to his widow Violet. In the 1950s, the controlling interest of the San Francisco 49ers was held by two brothers, Tony and Vic Morabito. When they died in 1957 and 1964 respectively, control of the team passed to their widows Jo and Jane Morabito. But none of them ever took over the day-to-day operations of their teams. In other words, Frontiere took the NFL into new territory.

But the main-stream sports media didn’t wait that long to create a demonstrably false narrative about her. Born Violet Frances Irwin to a beauty queen mother and businessman father in 1927 in St. Louis, Frontiere grew up to be a voluptuous blond who aspired to be an actress and singer. Her career started performing alongside her mother in various dinner theaters. She worked her way up through small theater productions, eventually landing on television. She became a local celebrity in Miami in the 1950s as the host of her own interview show, a gig which landed her several appearances on NBC’s “Today” show. It was through television that she met her future husband Carroll Rosenbloom.

In other words, Frontiere was “tailor-made” to have the narrative hung on her about being little more than being the rich, old guy’s younger “trophy wife.” Nothing says part of that couldn’t be true, but the hypocritical ass-loafs in the media never even bothered to discover the reality.

That became clear from the first time Georgia stepped onto the field at the Rams training camp as majority owner and team president. From that moment, it was clear she didn’t give a frog’s fat ass what people thought of her. She gave the tobacco-chewing head coach Ray Malavasi an “air-kiss” greeting and played catch with starting quarterback Pat Haden. The New York Times treated this spectacle with it’s usual pseudo-intellectual hypocrisy, quipping that Frontiere “took Haden’s spirals on the edge of her fingertips in a way indicating that she happened to be a woman who’d been catching passes all her life.” The Baltimore Sun referred to Frontiere as “a rather shapely blonde.” But it was the Orlando Sentinel who cut right to the chase by calling her “a bosomy blonde who jiggles.”

Forget about her gender for a minute. There was hardly a mention of the fact that here was an NFL owner despite being well into their 50s could still throw a football and hang with the players on some calisthenics. While it shouldn’t shock anybody the American media would do a trash-job on somebody; be it 1979 or today, it’s what they do.

To understand why, you need to remember two things about the American media, sports or otherwise. The first is that any semblance of journalistic integrity died with Walter Cronkite, and the second is that no major story in America in the last 50 years has been reported without being shackled to a political agenda of one sort or another.

In Frontiere’s case, this is critical to understanding why the media savaged her as they did. She ascended to the presidency of NFL franchise precisely at the time the deadline had passed for ratification of the Equal Rights Amendment to the U.S. Constitution. Upon the failure of that amendment, the American media immediately began beating a drum decrying the “oppression and second-class status” of American women. The problem was that by her very existence, Frontiere was illustrating that much of the media narrative was at the very least conflated.

She made matters worse by not trumpeting herself as some sort of feminist icon; she just wanted to run a football team; the idea being that she wanted to stay busy during her period of grief and believed that is what her late husband would have wanted. That’s also why her successes were downplayed, if not straight-up ignored.

While the media portrayed her as a meddling dowager of questionable competence and limited intellect, Frontiere in fact proved early on to be a decisive and gutsy leader. In the first instance of Frontiere being treated unfairly by the media, there was a portrayal of her as some sort wallet-driver power monger. The headlines were splashed about with a tale of Frontiere storming into the Rams’ offices in July of 1979 and summarily firing Steve Rosenbloom from his inherited duties running the team.

What was overlooked in that narrative was that Rosenbloom had stripped power from his father’s “right-hand man,” Don Klosterman, who Carroll Rosenbloom and many others in the NFL believed to one of the best general managers in football. Rosenbloom did this without telling Klosterman, instead he sent a message to the rest of the league stating that all business dealings with the Rams should be addressed to Dick Steinberg, the Rams’ new director of player personnel.

Naturally, this created a bit of consternation within the Rams’ organization and confusion outside. Frontiere was surprised by the move and when she came to the to the Rams’ training camp to deal with the discord it caused, the media came in sporting dorsal fins. Doing what she normally did, she spent time with the players during which she kicked some footballs off a tee. This was characterized by The Baltimore Sun as “posing for publicity shots with her well-shaped legs.” This ignored the fact Frontiere tried extending the proverbial olive branch to all parties by offering to create a position of “chief advisor,” thus freeing him from many managerial duties to focus on executive-level decisions. But a month later, Rosenbloom fired Klosterman and Frontiere fired Rosenbloom that same day.

Don’t tell me it doesn’t take guts to fire your own step-son…especially knowing what the media is going to say about you..

A week later, Frontiere held a press conference which was attended by more than 20 reporters along with camera crews from ABC, CBS, and NBC. Unfortunately, Frontiere arrived late causing a reporter to state “she must have been out shopping.”

Act III – Meet Me In St. Louis

Another shaft-job Frontiere got from the media was her being blamed for the Rams move to Anaheim starting with the 1980 season. Everybody conveniently forgot that move was set in place by Carroll Rosenbloom. But the move was terribly unpopular with the Rams fan base, and it was easier to blame “the woman” than the beloved late owner.

It didn’t help matters that Anaheim Stadium proved to be a horrible venue for football. It was originally built to host baseball, and as we’ve learned time and time again, baseball and football do not fit well into the same stadium. In the case of the Big A,” the sight-lines were awful and many of the seats forced fans to sit at awkward angles to view the field. But the worst part (and I can tell you this first-hand as a California Angels fan) was the stadium being further inland meant the late summer and early fall heat caused by the Santa Ana winds coming off the desert made the “Big A” a 60,000-seat blast furnace.

The “Big A” got an “F” for football.

The awful stadium, the less-than-ideal conditions, and the 30-mile commute from Los Angeles meant the fan base didn’t follow the Rams to Anaheim. The Rams’ years in Orange County were nearly a decade-and-a-half of declining attendance, running gun battles with both the Angels and the city of Anaheim…and Frontiere taking sniper-fire from the media.

Part of the deal between Carroll Rosenbloom and the City of Anaheim was a partnership in land development around the stadium, which in the late 1970s was surrounded by orange groves and other underdeveloped properties. But the California Angels’ owner Gene “The Singing Cowboy” Autry wasn’t about to let that happen. While to this day Autry is the only person to have a star on the Hollywood in all five disciplines (Motion Pictures, Television, Radio, Recording, and Live Performance/Theater), he became a billionaire by investing in real estate. As such, he became one of the most powerful people in Southern California, which meant there was no way he was letting somebody else get rich building hotels next to “his” ballpark. In other words, Autry and the California Angels successfully sued the city of Anaheim and the Rams to kill those development deals.

Eventually, things got so bad in Orange County that Frontiere entered discussions in 1989 to move the Rams back to the Los Angeles Coliseum. That died a quick death because of the 1983 move of the Oakland Raiders into that venue, and they weren’t keen to have “roommates.” That refusal by Raiders’ owner Al Davis, plus his demands for a new taxpayer-funded stadium would lead to both the Rams and the Raiders leaving Southern California within five years.

Naturally, the media blamed Georgia Frontiere for all this.

Maybe that played a role in the next move she made…maybe it didn’t. But what surely did was she couldn’t take the Rams back to the Coliseum, and life in Orange County wasn’t the cornucopia it was supposed to be.

During the transition of moving the team to Anaheim, Frontiere gave herself an insurance policy by acquiring the 30% of the team she didn’t own which was held by Carroll Rosenbloom’s children. With 100% ownership, she was free to do whatever she wished with the Rams, and once it was clear she wanted out of Orange County, the suitors for a NFL franchise beat a path to Frontiere’s door. Cities like Oakland, Las Vegas, Nashville, and San Antonio all showed some level of interest, but in the in the end, it was Frontiere’s home town which became the new home of the Rams.

The city of St. Louis was building a brand new domed-stadium perfectly suited for football. The city sweetened the deal with incentives like $20 million in annual profits from guaranteed season-ticket sales, personal seat licenses, and a favorable lease. However, the NFL tried to stop the move, noting that St. Louis had been abandoned by another NFL franchise just a few years earlier when the Cardinals left for Arizona. As a result, Frontiere filed an anti-trust lawsuit against the NFL, and she won.

That meant 1995 saw the birth of the St. Louis Rams.

Act IV – The Sweet Smell of Success

Under the ownership of Carroll Rosenbloom, the Los Angeles Rams were perennial play-off contenders, but to be honest they were consistently winning a weak division. Throughout the 1970’s, the Atlanta Falcons, the New Orleans Saints, and the San Francisco 49ers were never much of a threat to the talent-laden Rams. While they made the play-offs every year from 1973 to 1979, they just couldn’t over the hump that was beating either the Minnesota Vikings or Dallas Cowboys. When Carroll Rosenbloom died before the 1979 season, many thought the Rams would drift off to mediocrity from losing the organizational direction he provided.

During the pre-season of 1979, Frontiere firmly established herself as the organization’s leader. She penned a doctrine in which she made it clear she was the boss…there were literally no “ifs, ands, or buts” about it. To clear up the mess left by Steve Rosenbloom, Frontiere believed that strong leadership would get the Rams over that hump, and in the short-term, she was right. After she posted her paper to the team, she told Sports Illustrated “Right now, we don’t have much leadership. Oh, they played well—they’re trying to earn their positions—and I’m not talking about the coaching. We have good coaching. I’m talking about the top. There are some things that have to be ironed out.”

Whatever she told the team must have worked, because the Rams finally reached Super Bowl XIV after the 1979 season. The Rams lost to the juggernaut Pittsburgh Steelers 31-19. There was no shame in that loss; nobody else could beat the Steelers of that era. But the Rams franchise took the next step, and Frontiere became a bit of celebrity when she appeared in an American Express commercial with the Rams players. and graced the cover Sports Illustrated.

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The 1980s saw a series of ups and downs for Frontiere and the Los Angeles Rams. On the field, The Rams of the 1980s remained a perennial play-off team, reached the playoffs eight times between 1980 and 1989, although they did not return to the Super Bowl as long as they remained in Southern California. Frontiere became less “hands-on” with the organization by passing much of the daily financial and football management responsibilities on to key executives.

Things started going downhill in 1986. Frontiere had remarried after Carroll Rosenbloom’s passing to composer Dominic Frontiere. That year Dominic was arrested for for lying to a government agent as part of a federal investigation that came from allegedly scalping 1,000 Super Bowl tickets. While he ended up being incarcerated for nearly a year, Georgia was not implicated in any wrongdoing, but this didn’t stop the media from trashing her once again.

By the 1990s, matters were getting bleak. Attendance had fallen to 45,000 fans per game; off from a peak of 62,000. Again, this most of the Rams’ home games were blacked out, and the team had been replaced by the new “team of the stars,” the newly-arrived Los Angeles Raiders.

Naturally, the Rams’ financial health was suffering as well. Frontiere’s attempts at having stadium built in Los Angeles garnered no support from local leaders. By the 1990s, the end of the “Cold War” resulted in massive-scale layoffs by defense contractors in Southern California. As a result, by 1994, the Los Angeles Rams claimed to have lost $6 million, and made only $7.6 million during the previous four seasons. Hence the 1995 move to St. Louis.

Naturally, the media fanned the flames in Southern California, making Frontiere out to be public enemy #1 for moving the team. But after having lost the Cardinals to Arizona, the city of St. Louis welcomed with open arms Frontiere and her football team. The city even hosted a rally downtown and thousands of fans chanted “Georgia, Georgia!” Frontiere responded to the cheering crowd with “St. Louis is my home, and I brought my team here to start a new dynasty.”

That’s exactly what she did. The Rams took a few years to recover from 15 years of being the “red-headed step-child” of the Southern California sports world, but once they did, the Rams emerged as one of the best teams in football in the late 1990s and early 2000s. Frontiere had an odd formula for building a winner in St. Louis, but there’s no doubting it worked.

It began with the 1997 hiring of head coach Dick Vermeil, who had been out of football for 15 years (and who has a Dubsy Award named for him). Vermeil’s first player personnel move was to trade up in the draft to pick offensive tackle Orlando Pace…who would become a consistent All-Pro and ended up in the Hall of Fame. The Rams then traded Jerome Bettis (another future Hall of Fame player) to the Pittsburgh Steelers for draft picks.

By 1999, there seemed to be cause for optimism for the Rams. They had acquired quarterback Trent Green and future Hall of Fame running back Marshall Faulk in separate trades, and it looked like offensive coordinator Mike Martz finally had the makings of a winner. That optimism disappeared when Green shredded the anterior cruciate ligament in his knee; an injury which would sideline him for the entire season. A tearful Vermeil (hence the category of his Dubsy award) made a solemn vow the Rams would “play good football” behind Green’s backup, a 28-year-old guy named Kurt Warner.

Not only had nobody ever heard of Warner, and his pedigree for professional football seemed rather suspect. No NFL team drafted him out of the University of Northern Iowa. His only professional experience came from stints with the Amsterdam Admirals of NFL Europe and the Iowa Barnstormers of that now-defunct sideshow known as the Arena Football League. In fact, Warner was making ends meet by bagging groceries and stocking shelves in a supermarket before joining the Rams. Most saw the Rams having yet another losing season, some even going so far as to say they would be the worst team in the league.

But the beauty of sports is that it rivals Hollywood for the ability to produce “fairy tale” stories. Something magic happened, and within weeks Warner and the Rams were the toast of the NFL. Sportscasters dubbed them “the Greatest Show on Turf” because of their high-speed, quick-strike offense which seemed as though it could score at will. The Rams finished the 1999 season with a 13-3 record, and they cruised through the play-offs on the way to a 23-16 victory over the Tennessee Titans in Super Bowl XXXIV.

Frontiere and Vermeil with the Lombardi Trophy

Frontiere, Vermeil, and Kurt Warner after winning the Super Bowl

Hoisting the Lombardi Trophy in Atlanta that night in January 2000 was the vindication of Georgia Frontiere. This was the pinnacle of her 28-year ownership; an era which began with sanctimonious hypocrite New York Daily News columnist Mike Lupica writing bilge like “The board of directors of women’s liberation ought to keep an eye on sweet Georgia… If she continues to run the Rams, pretty soon it is going to be back into the kitchen for every woman.”

How did that Lombardi Trophy feel when she shoved it up your ass, Mike?

ACT V – Epilogue

Georgia Frontiere was the pioneer for women taking an active role heading professional football franchise. In an era of women’s liberation, Frontiere never saw herself as a feminist icon, which is why the “liberal” media trashed her at every opportunity. In fact, one of the only times she ever spoke on the subject her words were taken by some as a “shot” at the feminist movement.

“There are some who feel there are two different kinds of people — human beings and women. As soon as a woman tries to be a human being, people think she’s trying to be a man.”

Taken out of context, you can interpret that statement several ways. What is certain is Frontiere didn’t want be a man; she wanted to run a football team the best way she could. That’s exactly what she did. She may not have been the greatest owner in the history of the game, but she wasn’t the worst either. Her team won a championship, and there’s a lot of owners who can’t say that.

You can say whatever you want about Georgia Frontiere. After her death in 2008, minority owner Stan Kroenke acquired a controlling interest in the St. Louis Rams and moved them back to Los Angeles in 2015. In 1995, Frontiere may have been the most hated woman in Los Angeles, but a quarter-century later her name is headed for the ash-heap of history. But what can’t be argued is her commitment to her team. Throughout her time as the owner of the Rams, it simply was not possible to attend to a Rams game and not see Georgia Frontiere somewhere in the stadium.

But that doesn’t mean she was perched in a luxury suite lording over her subjects fans separated by so much plate glass. Georgia Frontiere preferred to mingle with the players, the fans…the people who she knew made it all possible. On the night of the Rams Super Bowl victory, Frontiere succinctly stated the source of her desire to succeed, “From the time my late husband died, it has been a constant effort to do what he expected me to be able to do. He said ‘If anybody can, you can. You always stick to your ideas, and nobody pushes you around.’”

And nobody did.

The Moral of the Story:

If you’re going to be “the first” at something, you had better be tough.

Check out Dubsism’s Movies and Blog-A-Thons page for a full schedule of projects past, present, and future!

Got a question, comment, or just want to yell at us? Hit us up at [email protected], @Dubsism on Twitter, or on our Pinterest, Tumblr, Instagram, Snapchat or Facebook pages, and be sure to bookmark Dubsism.com so you don’t miss anything from the most interesting independent sports blog on the web.

Sports Analogies Hidden In Classic Movies – Volume 87: “Take Me Out To The Ball Game” Today's Movie: Take Me Out To The Ball Game Year of Release: 1949 Stars: Frank Sinatra, Esther Williams, Gene Kelly…

#Carroll Rosenbloom #Classic Movies #Georgia Frontiere #Los Angeles Rams #Movies #NFL #Robert Irsay #Sports Analogies Hidden In Classic Movies

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gigsoupmusic · 5 years ago

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Sheep on Drugs, R.O.C., Micko & the Mellotronics (3 March 2020)

We're back once more at Paper Dress Vintage (you can't keep us away!), and again we are there for three very different bands, one of which (Sheep on Drugs) was a band close to the heart of one of these two reviewers (Tristán), having been raving to them in the mosh-pit as a young student in the very early 1990s in Camden Palace. This was going to be a nostalgia trip! But first, the support acts. First up was a band that were completely new to us: Micko & the Mellotronics. They have an interesting sound, with a nice rolling beat, a bit Buzzcocks in places.

Singer and guitarist Micko Westmoreland once played Jack Fairy in the Velvet Goldmine movie that starred Eddie Izzard among others. The other guitarist is Jon Klein, who was one of the founders of the Batcave, a trailblazing London goth club from the early 80s, and was part of Siouxie and the Banshees for seven years. Nick Mackay (drums) and Vicky Carroll (bass) complete the foursome.

Following a song called "Psychedelic Shirt" which was, according to Micko, inspired by growing up in Leeds, the band played the first real toe-tapper, a track called "The Now", which got very spacey in the second half, finishing with a really good instrumental. Unfortunately, the microphone that Micko was using was set up in a very unidirectional manner, which meant that we could only really hear the lyrics when his mouth was right in front of it. Every time he moved his head down to look at his guitar, the sound would cut out. Fortunately, Micko opens his mouth very expressively when he sings, so it was possible to fill in the gaps by lip-reading.

A lot of their songs were quite diverse, from the very dark "You Killed My Father" (…'now you must die'), which Micko told us was dedicated to people who have departed us, to the happy-bonkers "The Finger", which was their first single, released just last year. The highlight was when a chap in a suit started dancing in a joyous but crazy fashion at the front of the audience. 'It's Steve from accounts', we joked. We had no idea that it was a set-up, and thought that it was a genuine outburst of energy from someone who had spent far too long on Excel spreadsheets all day and was letting his hair down. So we recorded the end of the song and uploaded it to YouTube here: https://youtu.be/hJiL9aLescY We were a little disappointed when we got home and had a look at the official video of this song, only to discover that the video indeed features the same gentleman. Since not that many people knew who he was, as I imagine most of the audience were there for the next band, we are sure that we were not the only ones to be left very bemused by this.

The band finished up by playing a few more songs, culminating with a very screechy song about Imelda Marcos which certainly would have woken up anyone who was starting to drift off. It was time for a break and to get ready for band number two. R.O.C. were up next, a new-wave indie-electronica group from Brixton that have been going strong since 1990, and which was once championed by the late great John Peel. With at least seven band-members on stage (there could have been an eighth lurking amongst the smoke), this was another band with a wide variety of musical styles, as demonstrated by the opening three songs alone. Following a pleasant atmospheric intro, R.O.C. played a track from the first album (Bile & Celestial Beauty). It was called "Think Again", with male singer Fred Browning screaming in anguish down the mike, punk-style, lyrics such as 'I don't wanna go through this again, I'm sure I'll have to see it through again'. We have no idea what it was that he was describing, but we felt for him.

Unfortunately, it did appear that R.O.C. were going to be concentrating on the aforementioned new album, which we had not heard before and did not really know what to expect. We much prefer it when acts intersperse new stuff with old. But the first five songs were entirely from Bile & Celestial Beauty. Vocal duties tended to alternate between Fred Browning and Karen Sheridan. So when Karen took to the mike for the next song, we were hoping for something a bit jollier. However, this was another song full of anguish. Called "Journey", it includes lyrics such as 'I've got to-oo be strong, I've got to-oo move on'. We filmed the footage for your delectation. https://youtu.be/OgD-CDMX1cc Next up it was Fred's turn to sing. "Sea of Storms" had even more anguish, with lyrics such as 'what would be the point of staying around' and 'How can I keep on holding on. I've gotta gotta gotta gotta hold on'. A song called "Chateau" was up next, which was probably one of our least favourites, not just because Karen sings the lyrics 'I will kill you before you kill me'. However, the next song was old of the oldies! "I Want You I Need You I Miss You", which is from their 1994 album Girl With a Crooked Eye, has the joyful lyrics 'one day you will soon be mine', 'you're so sweet to me, like the fruit of the cherry tree, you're so good to me'…. This is a lovely song, cheesy as hell but such a breath of fresh air after all the angst.

Another great song followed, "Princess" from 2005, which was much more breakbeaty and very dancey. "Silver Highway" came next, which in spite of being from the new album was much more chill and laid-back. They finished off with another classic, "Cheryl", which came out in 1997, and was probably their most psychedelic tune, starting with a disco beat and ending a with great drum outro. R.O.C. are a very experimental band and there's nothing quite like them, to be honest. Their music is often interspersed with recorded video footage and various incongruous sounds, which work well. It is clear why John Peel championed them all those years ago. However, we found the lyrics on the songs from the new album just a tad too depressing for a Tuesday night. We needed cheering up. Thank goodness for the glorious and shameless fun that are Sheep on Drugs. A flash of bright yellow glowing in the UV lighting on stage immediately attracted our attention. This was someone's hair, and upon closer inspection it was none other than Dead Lee (Lee Fraser), the original guitar and keyboardist from Sheep on Drugs, his face painted up to look like a nose-bleeding drug-fuelled rock god.

Setting up her trusty keytar was the strikingly sexy techno-punk bundle of energy that is Johnny Borden, who has been part of Sheep on Drugs for well over a decade now. Sadly, no King Duncan, but Borden's vocals (and occasionally Lee's) combined are more than a match.

There is not a single down-tempo song among Sheep on Drugs' repertoire. It is banger after banger, mixing punk in with industrial techno, and occasionally very x-rated lyrics. After their intro, the first song was called "Step into the Light", and was from the brand new album, Does Dark Matter. But Sheep on Drugs know how to entertain a crowd. They knew that we were here for the classics. There was only one other track from the new album, buried towards the end of the set. That's the way to do it!

Next up was "Let the Good Times Roll", from their 1994 album …On Drugs. Proper rave classic. It was amazing what a great sound the two of them made on stage. Music speaks louder than words, so here is our footage from the beginning of our great trip down memory lane. We should however warn anyone with photo-sensitive epilepsy to look away now. https://youtu.be/dYqqUhIdzfs A special word really has to go out to the exceptional lighting that we enjoyed during Sheep on Drugs' set, as can be appreciated in the photos that accompany this review.

The lasers were particularly awesome, and it really did look as though they were actually emanating from the performers' instruments. Paper Dress Vintage certainly do have their lighting sussed.

Borden would occasionally play her keytar but most of the music was up to Lee, when he was not also on singing duty. Lee played guitar occasionally, but for most of the set he played a first generation Kaossilator that was embedded into a toy guitar (or perhaps the latter was one of those consoles used for playing guitar-based videogames). Onto his leg he had strapped a Kaoss Pad, which he used not only to distort the sound coming from the Kaossilator, but also for creating very fast looping and sampling. To do this while standing up, rocking out, singing and not looking at it is a talent that puts some of today's laptop musicians to shame.

Next up, the very punk-rave classic "Still Ill", from the band's quite remarkable 2010 album Medication Time. We filmed this one too, but we're afraid we were standing a little too close to the speakers, so the sound is very distorted. Not that it really matters. It's still eminently enjoyable. https://youtu.be/Z63gDyekeXY Next came two tracks from their ironically-titled Greatest Hits début album from 1993. "Track X" was the song that Grace Jones then went on to cover, calling it "Sex Crime" (a title that probably made more sense). It is easy to forget just how influential a band Sheep on Drugs actually were! Then Borden did something extraordinary, and appeared to set light to her leg. I believe she had some lighter-fuel-soaked tissue-paper tucked into her boots and it flared up and gave everyone a bit of a surprise. Did that really get past health & safety? Come on! do you really think Sheep on Drugs would clear anything with health & safety? Sometimes it's better to ask for forgiveness than permission!

{#nofilter - none of the photos on this page have been Photoshopped. The lighting really was this good!}

With all this pyromaniacal excitement, we had forgotten to get the beginning of "Motorbike" on camera, which was the next song, also from the 1993 album. To make up for it, we let the camera roll on for "Hero on Heroine", which is on Medication Time and we loved it, and reminded us of some early Prodigy. Borden starts this song by taking out a whip, singing how she can 'take it harder', while a crudely-drawn cock-and-balls spins around on the projection behind her. It's all very raunchy. Enjoy! https://youtu.be/Q5xN0UUzmsc "Rip it Up", from their often ignored 2005 album F**K, was next, which featured some great vocal effects courtesy of Lee's Kaoss Pad. This had us bouncing around the floor, at times reminding us of Sigue Sigue Sputnik at their greatest. Then came what has to be the finest cover version of Velvet Underground's "I'm Waiting for the Man" (Lou Reed would have loved it), followed by the only other song from the new album, called "Going Soon", which was very entertaining and ended with Borden holding a mannequin or doll's arm between her legs, in the style of a giant phallus. Well, her name is Johnny after all! This led us into into another song from Medication Time, "12 Good Years".

And then, the final two songs. The fantastic "15 Minutes of Fame" from their début album, and "Life's A Bitch", off of F**K, came next, and we filmed it for you here (with the usual caveat about flashing lights): https://youtu.be/-5KPIMUaCvU What a way to end. Punk rave at its finest, with Lee chanting shouts into the mike, and Borden on her keytar. Talk about finishing on a high!

We loved tonight. But we were mainly here for Sheep on Drugs, whereas we got the impression that a lot of the rest of the crowd were here for the first two acts. Had more industrial electro-punk acts been chosen as the support bands, not a single punter would have left before 11 o'clock. Mixing genres can be a fun concept, but it does mean that the last act sometimes doesn't get the crowds they deserve, especially if the support acts have a half-decent following of their own. We thought Sheep on Drugs were ten out of ten, tonight. Not just for sheer entertainment, but for talent also. We are also very appreciative that there were only two "new" songs out of the thirteen played, though since the new album is pretty fantastic we look forward to hearing more of it in future gigs, once we are a little more used to it.

So, now the question needs to be: how does the 1990 Sheep on Drugs compare to the Sheep on Drugs of thirty years later? Very, very favourably, to be honest! OK, there is no King Duncan, who was a real livewire on stage. And Lee doesn't have the same vocals. But Borden is an outstanding entertainer and an excellent singer, plus she has added all that crude and sexy pizzazz that Duncan didn't exactly have. Lee is a good singer, not enough people give him credit for that. We believe that some of the videos above, in particular the last one, will convince people that the man certainly does have a powerful voice. We would even go as far as to say that he was the best male singer of all those we had enjoyed listening to last night. No disrespect is meant to either Micko Westmoreland or Fred Browning. They were entertainers too, in their own way. But there's entertainment… and there's a show. And Sheep on Drugs gave us a show we will not forget in a hurry. Read the full article

#Micko&TheMellotronics #MickoWestmoreland #Rave #SheeponDrugs

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rockdadca · 5 years ago

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Review: Iron Maiden at Budweiser Stage (Night 2)

Band: Iron Maiden Venue: Budweiser Stage Date: August 10, 2019

When Maiden comes to town, their presence is known. Donning terrifying black Iron Maiden shirts, "metalheads" of all ages flood the streets of Toronto as they embark on their obligatory pilgrimage to the gig. Once there, adult "metalheads" pound back pints of "Trooper," a beer commissioned by the band.

The shirts, the dark imagery and song names like "The Number of the Beast" give every mother a reason to assume we are attending a dark satanic ritual. The reality is...an Iron Maiden show is like going to see a horror play. Think Macbeth or the Phantom of the Opera. That all said, Eddie, their otherworldly mascot, is quite terrifying.

This past weekend, Iron Maiden brought their Legacy of the Beast tour to Toronto's Budweiser Stage for two sold-out nights.

The Legacy of the Beast is Maiden's most ambitious and theatrical production to date. Since this was by far one of the most memorable shows I've ever attended, I feel it deserves a rather self-indulging, in-depth look.

As I was thinking of how to unpack the setlist, I realized it could be organized into five thematic acts: war, religion, mythology, horror and philosophy.

This time around, lead singer Bruce Dickinson explained they were "not going to play any new songs." Instead, they chose to — for the first time — celebrate their existing catalogue. The news was bittersweet, as Maiden fans tend to embrace new material with their fists up high.

Let's dive in...

Act I: War

8:50 PM. The lights dim in the amphitheatre and a taped version of "Transilvania" slowly fades in. Fans rush to their seats but know they have time, as UFO's 1974 "Doctor Doctor" has signalled the start of the show for the last ten years.

Knowing the show is about to start, we make ourselves comfortable in our usual nook. Its location I can't disclose for obvious reasons, but I can tell you we stood much closer to the stage than we were supposed to. Our rock & roll way to stick it to the man.

Two soldiers stand guard as Winston Churchill's famous WWII rally cry plays in the background. When Churchill says the line "We shall never surrender!" the lights go out, and the soldiers pull the covers off the stage. Within seconds, the barren stage transforms into the sodden trenches of the Battle of Britain and the band rushes on stage playing the explosive "Aces High."

If that wasn't enough, a life-size WWII fighter plane descended from the rafters as singer Bruce Dickinson ran on stage donning a full fighter pilot outfit.

The next few songs followed the same theme. "Where Eagles Dare" and "2 Minutes to Midnight" both sing of the second world war.

"This next song is called The Clansman. That's with a "C" for any Americans who may be here tonight!" Dickinson explained, now wearing a red Brittish Army uniform.

"The Clansman" is a song about the early Scottish clans' struggle as they fought for freedom from their oppressors.

"The Trooper" marked the end of Act I. A song about the 1854 Battle of Balaclava, during the Crimean War. This song is incredibly cinematic. The drumbeat resembles the galloping of the horses as they charged towards the Russian army.

At this point, a larger than life Eddie made an appearance, challenging Dickinson to a sword duel in front of a giant illustration of a grim battle. Dickinson — a former professional fencer —inevitably defeated the evil enemy, setting off pyrotechnics off Eddie's face.

Act 2: Religion

Any Maiden fan will know that drummer Nicko McBrain is Christian, and while not Christian themselves, the rest of the band has always been fascinated by Christianity. Be it Biblical stories or the tumultuous history of the church.

For the second act, the stage became an English gothic church — complete with stained glass windows featuring Eddie and wooden candle-lit chandeliers.

The songs during this part of the set included "Revelations," "For the Greater Good of God," and the chilling sing-along "Wicker Man."

Act 2 culminated with the eerie "Sign of The Cross," Maiden's longest and most progressive song. This song demonstrates how Maiden gets away with three lead guitarists who are best mates. Besides their signature harmonies, each brings a unique playing style that together makes Maiden...Maiden.

Act 3: Mythology

I am not sure if you've noticed, but we are nine songs in, and there has been no song to be missed for a quick piss. And this may be a spoiler, but Iron Maiden made sure you got your money's worth and then some with every chosen song.

After two long themed acts, the stage once against transformed. This time into a Greek temple.

Maiden blared a much heavier and faster version of "The Flight of Icarus.". Fans were ecstatic. The song about the epic Greek mythology story had not made a live appearance since 1986.

As with the cover of the vinyl single, Dickinson used [real] flame throwers to melt the wax off Icarus' wings. Icarus then ignited sparks and fell into oblivion.

Act 4: Fear

On what I would guess was the fifth or sixth outfit change, Dickinson entered the scene of a dark world wearing a long black coat and top hat. On his hand, he held a lantern as he sang "Fear of the Dark". Because both Dickinson and bassist Steve Harris suffer from a certain level of Nyctophobia, the song is played with authentic first-hand conviction.

The scenery quickly went from dark and spooky to downright terrifying when a colossal devil overcame the stage for the band's most infamous song (amongst mothers): The Number of the Beast.

For an outsider, I can understand how hearing a choir of 16,000 chanting "Six! Six Six! The Number of the Beast could be terrifying. Thankfully the song is about a nightmare, with heavy influences from the book of Revelation and a Robert Burns poem.

Being at an Iron Maiden concert while this song is playing is hard put into words. In one hand, you have thousands of people screaming the words with their "irons" up high having a blast. Then there is the band, who always, always dons a grin as they run around in circles, teasing each other and laughing.

Casual fans would have been ok to end there, but there were more surprises.

In keeping with tradition, the melodic anthem "Iron Maiden" closed the set.

Encore: Philosophy

The eternal battle between good and evil, questions of what constitutes morality and the meaning of life are at the core of Iron Maiden's music and lyrics.

The epic "The Evil That Men Do" opened the encore before quickly transitioning into the highly celebrated "Hallowed Be Thy Name."

The performance of "Hallowed Be Thy Name" defied the archetype of the encore. This was no victory lap; Iron Maiden had more stories to tell in full.

For this song, Dickinson dressed like a prisoner in rags. With shackled hands, he cried for mercy from inside a cell at the top of the stage. As the song progressed, the prisoner makes his way to the gallows, where a noose awaited.

The vivid scene of the final moments of this prisoner, made "Hallowed Be Thy Name" the most dramatic performance of the show.

11:00 was a few minutes away, so the next song was inevitably going to be the last. The band closed the show with the classic "Run to The Hills."

"Scream for me Toronto!," Dickinson commanded. And the crowd obliged one last time.

Unlike many of their peers from the first wave of heavy metal, Maiden still looks and sounds fresh. Every member treats the show like an Olympic marathon, sprinting, jumping, and in the case of Bruce Dickinson even lunging. Their athleticism may explain their energy and good health, but it's their passion that continues to attract new fans.

Lead guitarists Dave Murray, Adrian Smith, and Janick Gers look like best friends running around in a playground with their favourite toys. Steve Harris and Nicko displayed the same level of excitement and gratitude. None of them ever missed a single note.

I connected with a long-time Maiden fan and asked how their live performances today compare to their early years. Unsurprisingly, they said the shows just keep on getting better.

Iron Maiden tours are a commercial Behemoth. On average, a show will gross about $1.25M in revenue. But it’s clear that even considering how lucrative touring can be, these guys aren't in it for the money. After all, they haven’t stopped making music or touring since 1975. Music is what they love, and they won't stop until they are called to meet their maker.

Against the wishes of all mothers, I am off to spin The Number of the Beast on vinyl!

Setlist

Aces High

Where Eagles Dare

2 Minutes to Midnight

The Clansman

The Trooper

Revelations

For the Greater Good of God

The Wicker Man

Sign of the Cross

Flight of Icarus

Fear of the Dark

The Number of the Beast

Iron Maiden

The Evil That Men Do

Hallowed Be Thy Name

Run to the Hills

Listen to my Legacy of the Beast playlist here!

Photo Credits:

Flight of Icarus / Beast: https://www.instagram.com/jossmonzon/

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