#without ever losing the focus on joe

[unstill]

lots of thoughts and feelings and i might get back to them and elaborate after i rest but let me say this: i loved how much this finale cared for joe. and how they made sure to show how happy joe was. in this life. in this new body. with his choice.

[miraclealignersv]

“I love you” (Joe Toye x Reader) SMUT

‼️RUN IN HERE AND GET YALLS JUICE ‼️

Holy shit holy shit holy shit. It’s a mf Christmas miracle my guy. I haven’t written anything in like two years but here y’all go. This is my peace offering 🤲🏼

Y’all know I’m a Joe Toye hoe. Enjoy lads

As always , this is hella unedited

The wood of the worn out bed squeaked as both Joe’s and Y/n’s bodies moved rhythmically. Joe knew that they had to replace the old bed frame, but there was no time to focus on that, no. Not when His senses were taken over by her. He snapped his hips back and forth, his hips digging deeper  as y/n wrapped her legs around his waist. y/n’s hands held onto him for dear life, her delicate fingers digging into his skin. 

Lips locked together, it was heaven. If it were up to joe toye he would love to stay wrapped in her legs, pulling him close with a perfect view of his girl. Y/n softly pulling away, her soft pants as she bit her bottom lip. It was the perfect view to wake up to. 

Joe could feel himself nearing his desired high, he grunted soflty before snaking his hand where the two of them met at the hips. If he was going to reach that high, he wanted to meet it with her. His lips crashing into hers once again as his fingers around the desired spot, within a few movements of his fingers, it was enough to have y/n breaking the kiss and let out a loud held back moan. Eyes shutting y/n threw her head back and he continued with the pace of his hips and the movements with his fingers.

Joe watched, admired her face. He couldve sworn that in that moment, just then, caught in the haze of pleasure,  y/n was the most beautful thing he had ever laid eyes upon. It was as if time slowed, losing himself as he admired the beauty of his lover, he felt her walls convulsing around him. It was enough to making him lower himself to the crook of her neck, soft moans leaving y/n’s mouth as he adjusted. Taking in her scent, he placed sloppy kisses near her ear, his teeth grzing her neck as the pressure in his body reahced the limit. 

“oh fuck” he moaned, his movements grew faster and uneven as he chased his pleasure. Y/n panted heavily, her moans louder than before as she gripped onto him for dear life. Shutting his eyes, he had the image of y/n a few seconds before, had been burned into his mind. It was enough to semd his senses into overdrive. 

Grunts followed, his mind lost in his pleasure, he breathed heavily as he thrusted into y/n who had tigheted her grip on his shoulders. Without registering, he let a confession slip from his own mouth, “I love you”

With the last thrust, y/n closed her eyes and caught her breath as he placed soft kisses along her jaw. Y/n tried to replay what had happened seconds before, he had said it. He had finally said it. 

He fell on the spot besides y/n, both of them still catching theri breaths as morning light from besides them warmed their skin. Tying to control his own breathing, joe placed his arm over his closed eyes as he processed what he had just said. Its not what he said, its when he said it. 

He mentally cursed at himself, yes he loved her very much, he wanted to tell her before he left for training,he had been aware of these feelings for months. He just didnt want to confess it like this. 

“Did you, uhm, did you mean it?’‘ y/n’s voice interrupted his thought process, her voice soft as she gripped onto the sheets softly. Joe removed his arm from his eyes, and sighed before opening his arm inviting her to lay on his chest. 

“of course I meant it, doll” he whispered as y/n scooted over and laid her head on his chest. She could feel the thumping of his heart, it was racing at about 1,000 miles per hour— just like hers. In that very moment, she could’ve gotten up from that exact position and done front and back flips. She felt nothing but joy and love for the man that just confessed that he loved her.

Joe on the other hand was getting concerned. Either she had fallen asleep or she didn’t appreciate the fact that he had just confessed his love for her. Yeah, he waited months and yeah it took him time to say it. But now he was scared, he kind of wished he had taken that back.

“You alright doll?” He asked clearing his throat, a little dry as a thousand thought ran through his head. Fuck, maybe he should have done this before. And maybe not in the middle of morning sex. Fuck fuck fuck.

“Of course I am, Joe” she sighed, sitting up. He admired the way her messy hair fell onto her face as she wrapped the sheets over her exposed skin. “I love you too” she confessed, a small warm smile on her face. Joe chuckled, he felt the relief wash away as he pulled her into him.

“You not lyin’ are you doll?”

“No baby,” she giggled as she smothered her face in his chest. “I’ve loved you since the first day I saw you.” Joe smiled and felt his heart flutter. He turned to her and placed a long kiss on her forehead.

“Kinda wish it would’ve been more romantic ya know?” He laughed, y/n only giggled and reached up to kiss him.

“It was the most romantic thing ever Joe”

[drops-of-moonlights]

Next with the redesigns we get to the WarioWare cast! which oh god there's so many people here what the fuck! anyways! Here we have basically the cast of the og with two from later games. The Warioware cast designs are peak so not a lot is changed, but hey, I still changed some things, so let's get to them! (shoutout to the official WarioWare website it was so useful!)

Mona and Joe are the easiest since they keep themselves more or less the same - still the deliverywoman extraordinaire and her lovable boss. Mona here like everyone else is a bit older - a college student, majoring in archaeology, and has upgraded from a scooter to a motorcycle (quite literally upgraded, Crygor took her scooter and turned it into a bike). Joe keeps himself more or less the same, except a bit afraid of losing the best employee he ever had.

The man with the beat Jimmy T and the silly lil alien, Orbulon! With the former I just added some stars on his pants and also gave him melanin, because frankly the bright colors work better with darker skintones and the Mario cast is pale as milk, some variety is nice. for Orbulon I just put him in his human disguise's cute little minidress, because we stan a gender-non-conforming king. Fun trivia: Jimmy has beef with Waluigi over who has the better dance moves. They get along otherwise but if there's dancing happening it is ON. SIGHT.

Diamond Taxi's speed demons, Dribble and Spitz! I similarly didn't change much, just more detail on shoes, Dribble wearing his coveralls differently, and their earrings, which are actually their wedding rings, because look at me in the eyes and tell me these two aren't fucking. that's right you can't. Spitz finally got to publish his novel! It's doing better than Dribble expected.

Mad Scientist and Beleaguered Karaoke Robot Assistant Duo, Crygor and Mike! The levels at which Crygor is a cyborg vary SO OFTEN I just gave him the full helmet, a robotic left hand and a robotic foot. Mike I only changed up a smidge and changing his face to an LED display for better emoting. Still Penny's loving grandfather, he's gently trying to steer her towards a focus on the mechanics rather than chemistry, believing that she can achiever her idol dreams without having to rely on questionable homemade beverages. Mike on the other hand encourages to focus more on chemistry out of the selfish desire she can make a drink that will give HIM a perfect singing voice lol.

Nintendo Fanatics 9-Volt and 18-Volt! For fun I gave them the real names of Nikola and Edison. Now middle schoolers, they still enjoy skating and Nintendo games. I did the same with 18-Volt as what I did with Jimmy T. 9-Volt's helmet is more clearly a firefighter helmet - it's his dad's old model that he gifted to him.

And to finish it off, Kat and Ana! I wanted both of them to have more unique color palletes, and as a further distinction Kat has freckles. Like the rest they're a bit older, now elementary-school kids, and while he's not in this post they also get along a LITTLE better with Leo.

[scrambledpancakes03]

Before the presidential debate...

I've got some thoughts.

While I know that even the "best" presidential outcome feels like a loss at this point, you do have to vote.

I totally understand not wanting to vote for Joe. There are a lot of reasons for that, some more valid than others. That's not my point rn. There's many genocides happening: read how joe is handling it from verified sources and make your own choices, I trust you'll do what you think is right. I'll just be here full of endless dread no matter what...

But for fucks sake before we all lose hope please remember...

Vote down ballot.

Conservatives win repeatedly all over the country and have been able to make life substantially harder for every individual working person, especially those with marginalized statuses... and it's not primarily due to the shit they've pulled in the Oval Office... it's because they're getting elected to sheriff's offices and school boards and zoning commissions and STATE LEGISLATURES.

Don't let your disillusionment with the president keep you from showing up for candidates you won't hear about from national news... because they are the ones who can save us.

Without progressives, leftists, and even more moderate liberals in local offices, every aspect of life gets substantially harder. Local programs shut down, public services are cut from city budgets, and police keep getting more and more absurd militarized resources. And in that environment, how would we ever stand in solidarity with people suffering around the world? Or even people marginalized here in the US?

Here are some (but not all) elected offices that may be on your ballot in the fall that need your attention in no particular order:

1. Secretary of state: oversees the states record keeping... including voting. Don't let them be fascists.

2. School Board: they decide pretty much everything to do with public school's funding, curriculum, and sometimes even personnel matters or district geography. They decide what your kids learn, where, how, and with whom. Don't let them be bigots.

3. District Attorney/Prosecutor: they decide what crimes have charges brought against them, and in what manner. They're the difference between a teenage kid being tried as an adult or a child for a felony, as well as other matters like that. Don't let them be racist.

4. Sheriff: have insane amounts of power over how criminal investigations are conducted and how a community is policed. FOR FUCKS SAKE STOP ELECTING RACISTS. Also we should just... reconsider the concept and maybe try not having sheriff offices at all. But that's a whole different goal.

5. Planning and zoning commissions: if you are struggling to get housing or stay housed, they are the reason there is little to no affordable housing in your area, because they decide what gets built or maintained in your area. Businesses, parks, houses... yeah. Don't let them be corporate puppets.

6. Public works commission: they control the utilities, the water, the trash, and the recycling. This is one of the main places the environmental movement should be looking to make change. They write regulations that can be used and enforced to reign whole groups of people and corporations in to make real collective change in the way we generate power, consume resources, and manage waste. They are also how we prevent more crisis situations like the one in Flint, MI.

7. City, state, and federal legislators. They write the laws. They appropriate the spending of your tax money. Stop narrowing your focus to the federal executive branch when the left needs to gain momentum writing laws at every level. Don't discount local change, because it adds up.

I know we are all focused on the genocides going on around the world right now. The best way we can continue helping as November comes and goes, is to elect local leaders who will support global liberation by writing laws and regulations that protect our free speech, ensure the quality and equity of our education, and commit to divestment from violence all over the world.

Okay? We all got this?

Can we all just agree to do this part, and we can fight about biden separately, please?

TLDR: Fuck you, vote in all the local races.

[modelbus]

did you ever plan on making a part two to your accidental confessions fic with wilbur? would love to read more!! <3

Your wish is my command <3

Check out Part 1!!

Pairing: Cc!Wilbur x Gn!Reader

Friends to Lovers - Accidental Confession Part 2

“I have the worst headache.” Wilbur groans, rubbing his temples while collapsing into the chair next to you.

You poke at the cheap hotel breakfast, trying to ignore the nerves fluttering around in your stomach. Last night was fresh in your mind, occupying every bit of thinking space. Wilbur’s dopey grin, his words. The only question was if he remembered it. If he truly meant it all.

From across the table, Ash raises his eyebrows at you. You nudge his foot with yours, a silent threat. If Ash brings it up, you will ensure his suitcase "accidentally" gets left behind.

“Don’t drink so much wine next time.” You suggest, dropping your fork onto the plate. Your plastic fork, might you add. The hotel didn't even offer metal utensils.

“God. I don’t even want to perform.”

“That’s why our concert is tomorrow.” Mark chimes in. “Because we all knew you’d hate having it today.”

“You are a fucking genius, Mark.” Wilbur slumps further down into his chair, and you stand. Joe doesn't even look up from the plate of food he's absolutely devouring.

“I have to grab my wallet. Anyone else need stuff?”

Silently, you pray they let you go alone. Really, you only think you could face Mark or Joe right now. Even though Wilbur was the one you were trying to avoid, Ash definitely knew something was up between the two of you. And that was assuming Wilbur didn't run his drunk mouth last night.

“I’ll come with you.” Wilbur quickly says, also getting up. “To grab Ash’s camera.”

A rush of nerves fills you, but you shrug. He hasn’t said anything about last night yet, so what are the chances he’ll say something now? Or at least that's what you're telling yourself.

The two of you walk down the halls in complete silence. You attempt to focus on anything but his presence beside you. The blue carpet, the beige walls. You’re suddenly really fucking glad your rooms are on the first floor. An elevator ride might've killed you. You couldn’t just forget what he said, not when you so desperately wanted it to be true.

“I’ll grab my wallet while you grab the camera?” You suggest, unlocking your door with a swipe of your keycard.

Wilbur follows you into your room though, not going along with your plan. “We aren’t in a rush. Are we?”

“Maybe.” You grab your wallet off the bedside table, turning to see him lingering by the doorway when you make to walk out. “Time-wise it made more sense, but if you want to be slow-“

He reaches out and loosely grabs your wrist, making your words die in your throat and your legs stop moving. It's the contact, more than anything else. The feeling of his warm hand touching your skin makes your heart pound wildly.

“Calm down, okay? I can tell you're nervous."

"I'm not nervous." You boldly lie, barely able to look him in the eyes for a second.

"I'd like to think I know you well enough to know when you're lying." He scoffs. "If this is about last night-"

"It's not. About last night, that is." You cut him off.

His hand falls away from your wrist, but neither of you moves from that too-small doorway. Part of you mourns the loss of contact, while the other part is just trying to calm your heart before you go into cardiac arrest.

This is a challenge, one you can't back down from without losing. You're more afraid of what he's going to say next than anything that happened last night. Will he drop it? Unlikely, Wilbur also never backed down. What will he say?

"No?" He asks, and you pick up on the glimmer of amusement in his tone.

"No."

"So you aren't interested in if my feelings changed at all from last night then?"

Your eyes are drawn to him in surprise, only to see him grinning at you. Shit. You've played directly into his trap. This is why you don't play chess with him anymore.

But you'd be lying again if you told him no. Every bit of you was itching to know if he really meant it last night, to the point that you could jump out of your own skin. Every bit of you was hoping to hear things hadn't changed.

"Have they?" You speak so quietly that he has to lean in close to you. Or maybe he's just leaning in because he wants to.

You can't look away now, not from him. For a second the entire world seems to hang in its balance around the two of you.

"Lets check."

His lips crash onto yours, and he's suddenly kissing you. It hardly takes you a second to register what's going on and kiss him back. Wilbur braces an arm on the doorway behind you, and the two of you pull apart.

"Have an answer yet?" You ask.

"I think I need another kiss to tell. What do you think?"

"Yeah, I think that would help."

This time, when both of you manage to pull away, he steps out of the doorway. You follow after him without hesitation, letting the hotel door shut behind you with a soft click.

"Yeah." He nods.

"Yeah?" You echo, confused.

"Yeah, my feelings have changed." Your heart drops. His feelings have changed? After you fucking kissed? Twice?

"I definitely like you more than I did last night." He grins, and you hit his chest.

"Asshole!"

Wilbur laughs loudly, and you find yourself grinning with him.

[arokel]

Obviously I’m here for more coxstroke and perhaps a situation where one takes advantage of his height for whatever (nefarious?) reason?

here you go! this is almost entirely based on @roborain 's beautiful art so it only gets a teeny bit nefarious at the end, but I hope you like it anyway :)

Title: Leading, Resolution

Pairing: Don Hume/Bobby Moch

Rating: G

Tags: Piano, Fluff, First Kiss

Read on ao3

Notes: The chord progressions here are based on a typical ragtime chord progression, which is a bit before the boys' time but made its way into folk music throughout the 20th century.

Playing an instrument is a great way to brood without anyone noticing. Don's fingers roll into familiar tune after familiar tune as his mind churns, gaze straight ahead. He knows these songs well enough to play them in the dark, and so he can focus his mind's eye on the carousel of memories that won't leave him alone even now, when he should be able to lose himself in music as he's always done.

D7-G7-C.

His thoughts have been in unrest ever since the moment three days ago when Bobby had said, "you know, I think we're the same" and refused to elaborate.

Roger is clapping along. Joe hums under his breath and Gordy bobs his head in time. And Bobby watches.

"The same how?"

"You know, the way you look at me - I look at you like that too. You just haven't noticed."

"I don't look at you any way."

"Well, I do. You don't have to do anything about it; I just wanted you to know.”

Dominant-dominant-tonic.

There's no way Bobby could have meant it the way it sounded, but every second since Don has been searching for those looks, for some sign he might not have heard wrong. There's been nothing.

"Eyes up, Donny! Come on, you're shy to look at me now? Listen, I'm sorry I said anything. You can forget it if you want."

"Easier said than done."

"Well, I - my offer still stands. If you want to do something else. Feather, Adam; is today your first time in a shell? Because it sure as hell seems like it."

Leading-leading-resolution.

Don wants so badly to do something, anything, but he can't trust his own ears. He needs to see it.

The latest song trails into silence and Don's hands drop to his lap, played out. His head is too full of questions now to keep going even through the muscle memory. There is a smattering of applause and a few whoops from Chuck, and Don finally turns to face out towards his teammates, focusing his eyes for what feels like the first time in hours. That's when he sees it.

Bobby has drifted closer to listen, and now he is pressed against the lip of the shallow stage, elbows braced on the boards and chin propped in his hands. And his eyes -

They're a pale, piercing blue like always, and yet, watching Don, they're softer. Robin's egg rather than ice. And the look in them, so unlike Bobby's usual sharp gaze, can only be described as smitten - the way Joe looks at Joyce, the way Don knows he looks at Bobby even if he denies it, the way Bobby said he looked at Don.

Don can't look away.

He pushes back the bench and steps away from the piano to affect a slight bow, ears burning less at the applause and more at the heat of Bobby's unwavering gaze as he straightens.

Looking at the room properly now, he can see that the boys have finished their cleaning while he played and, now that he's finished, most of them are already drifting towards the door. Only Bobby remains, spine straightening and flushing under Don's scrutiny. The adoration is gone, to be replaced with a nervous, questioning look, but Don has seen enough. It was there, and Bobby does look at Don like Don looks at him, and Don wants to see it again.

It is now only the two of them. Don gathers his courage and lets himself smile down at Bobby.

"Come up here?"

"Thought you'd never ask. Hoped you would, though," Bobby says, with a grin of his own, and pushes himself up onto the stage.

Before he can straighten to his full height, Don bends to meet him, hands on Bobby's shoulders keeping him on his knees, bearing him down to the floor to kiss him. When they part, Bobby's eyes are hazy and bright and sweet.

Then he ruins it, as usual, with his mouth.

"So you like me looking up at you like that, huh? I know a couple other things I could do from this position."

Don's fingers twitch in surprise, grip tightening briefly on Bobby's shoulders like the opening chord of another piece.

E7. Dominant, leading, leading, leading -

Don will follow it where it goes.

[hypnotisedfireflies]

Six Summer Fics for Tessjoels

... confused? Well, it's summer here, and that means summer reading! Here's some of my favourite Tessjoel stories that are in progress right now, and have been updated within the last month.

These are just unfinished tales - here's some of my finished favourites from the last year.

Taste your beating heart by @beerandyarn I can't tell you what this story is really about without spoiling it. The mystery is way too much fun. But let's just say it's a TLOU AU set in the early days of Tessjoel and there are ... other mysterious things than just Cordyceps out there. The characterisation is fucking awesome and this is the slow burn of slow burns. Like, part of me wants to shake elfin for making me suffer and the other part of me can't get enough.

Of Artists and Architects, by @oliviassunrise It's kind of hard to transplant characters from the TLOU universe into a modern AU without losing them in the mix. You have to really understand them so as not to shed their personalities while building a softer, mushroom-free world around them. Kayli does this beautifully and you still feel like Tess is Tess and Joel is Joel. This is no basic repackaging though - there's so much soul to this story, you can really feel the care and love with which it is written.

A Soul for Sale or Rent, by @bumblepony I don't want to give too much away about this one because it's full of surprises and takes a concept that could be ridiculous but ends up being so clever and heartbreaking and heartwarming. Ellie is a ghost and only Joel can see her. While Tessjoel isn't the focus of the story the way it's included is so clever and haunting (I think about it randomly, ok) that you've gotta check it out. So original.

deep red bells by melforbes Subtle queen. All this author's stories are like poetry, but they manage not to divulge into aimless whimsy and are always anchored with a strong story and pathos. This is an AU where Joel's daughter is abducted and Tess is a young cop with a tantalising dark past. The magic is in the dialogue. It's dark, but not heavy, and I'm pretty sure it's going to kill me.

I Saw the End, it Looked Just like the Middle, by @elpickett A new Tess lives series, and it has a really interesting narrative structure. As with the stories above, I don't want to spoil that, but there's some insight into FEDRA which I really enjoy. I love to read different ways Tess Lives Truthers fix explore the canon and bring her to Jackson. You can tell the author has really put a lot of thought into how this is going to work and how to 'save' Tess in a believable way.

Let the Burial Rite be Read, the Last Funeral Song Sung, by @stephpuppet An AU with a dark and gentle premise - Grim Reaper!Tess! Ever since I saw Meet Joe Black and Dead Like Me I've had a yen for this kind of tale, personifying Death as a sympathetic and empathetic, a wise creature who maybe experiences emotions they do not understand. ANYWAY. I love different interpretations of this theme and combining it with my hyperfixation is a treat for the new year. Grab your tissues, the first chapter is devastating.

[randomfoggytiger]

X-Files IWTB: First Time React (Part II)

Okay everyone, back for Part II! Hopefully I’ll make quicker progress because all the BIG problems were parsed over in the Part I, right? …They were parsed over in Part I, right? 

To catch up: IWTB is broken 10 minutes into the movie-- the FBI’s helicopter flying TO Mulder’s house destroyed that hiding place; and if he were to back out of the case at Scully’s say-so, he’d likely have been captured within days or weeks and been forced to broker a deal to help, anyway-- and further broken not even 20 minutes in-- destroying new characters in seconds, out-of-place dialogue, and skewering both Mulder and Scully by placing their in-character reactions in wrong scenes and scenarios. 

Reaction below the cut~

Not even two seconds into my watch we have Mulder avoiding the “Your sister’s dead, isn’t she?”-- which is fine-- only for Whitney to be featured prominently, sympathetically watching him gaze at the missing agent’s picture. I'm. Annoyed. 

The writers are setting up Agent Drummond? to be a Samantha replacement, that Mulder is so driven on this case because he wants to save a lost girl, etc., etc. But… that was put behind him in Closure; and it tears away the nuances and layers of Mulder’s character leaving only a simple “I help people ‘cuz my sis disappeared once” to motivate him. Mulder has gone above and beyond the call of duty to help people from monsters and men countless times; and the only cases that made him lose his objectivity were when the victims' stories exactly mirrored Samantha's circumstances, i.e. a little girl was abducted (Conduit, Oubliette, Paper Hearts, etc.) Furthermore, Mulder only ever lost himself "in the darkness" ONCE on a case, and that wasn't even about a little girl: Grotesque. Losing himself in the darkness is not Mulder's norm or even, really, in his wheelhouse (which was the entire point of the Bill Patterson storyline.) To make this a problem NOW in order to create a nonsensical wedge between he and Scully is... not laughable, but snortable.

The obvious cracks in the writing shine through again. Mulder only rode in the car without Scully so Father Joe could be there to open old wounds, the male agent could be there to poke them, and Whitney could be there to observe his silent, bleeding heart and fall more in crush with him. In order for this scene to happen, we have to think that: A. Scully would rather ride with random FBI people than with her partner (despite her natural suspicion of them-- though that’s missing in the movie and breaks her character, discussed in previous part) and B. Mulder, despite stipulating that she join him on the case, was just fine and dandy riding beside and playing nice with a pedophile rather than sticking by Scully’s side even though they’re going to the same place, not splitting up to look for clues. 

Whitney hasn’t been given focal characterization yet, which is fine for now since she’s displayed character trait specific responses (her reactions to Mulder, to male agent, to Scully in the FBI building and at Father Joe’s and here.) It’s obvious she’s being set up as a person more-than-interested in Mulder; but that would require an explanation as to WHY. If that’s not given… then what’s the point of her crush in the narrative? It, like Father Joe’s pedophilia, would serve no purpose other than a footnote or perhaps an implication (i.e. her expressions remain intact but are not given their own camera focus as if it’s plot relevant, etc.) 

It’s… not good. 

The music’s still really good; and the shots are gorgeous. And that’s it. Oh, wait, the acting is good, too. 

The FBI taking Father Joe to a false house is a good idea… except there’s no warning tape wrapped around one house but IS decorated all over its neighbor’s house. How is that important? Father Joe would have been facing the neighbor house covered in yellow warning tape when the vehicle drove past it and up the drive. The characters-- trained FBI agents-- don't notice or comment on this.

Screenshots in order:

You see, kids? This is why locations and camera angles and shots are so important-- they cut you off at the knees if the movie isn’t shot in a logical way. 

WAIT. CHARACTER BREAKING MOMENT. 

Whitney brought Mulder on the case because of the paranormal aspect, Whitney sent a helicopter out to fetch him, Whitney has been crushing on him this entire time (silently), Whitney is being set up as a powerful woman who can tell people what to do and when-- Mulder’s exact type ala Phoebe Green, Detective White, Diana Fowley, etc.-- and… now she’s denying the paranormal angle???? AGAIN WITH THE MILLISECOND CHANGES: awed that Father Joe sensed their fake out house was a trick, then denied his intuitions with a bogus excuse the next second….

Wait. Chris (and the writers.) Did you set her up to be a powerful, skeptical woman who’s into Mulder (ala Scully) ON PURPOSE. CHRIS (and the writers.) We need to talk.

This movie’s going to kill me: I’m only 23:07 into the watch time. 

Wait. WHERE’S SCULLY?? IS SHE JUST SITTING BACK THERE IN THE OTHER TRUCK?? WHERE’S SCULLY??

ALSO, WHY ARE WHITNEY AND MULDER BACK-AND-FORTHING “IS HE OR ISN’T HE”S ABOUT FATHER JOE WHILE FATHER JOE IS IN HEARING DISTANCE.

I’m now 23:34 into the movie and it’s going to kill me. Very pretty, lethal poison. 

Also, Father Joe still wants to work with the Church? FAT. CHANCE.

YAY, GERALD SCHNAUZ MENTIONED. 

Also, finally getting some backstory on Whitney (even if she’s not 'fessing up to having more than a professional interest in Mulder, ala Diana Fowley’s close-to-the-chest-but-overt-with-her-intentions style.) 

“Yeah, well, I’m only half the team.” YEAH, AND WHERE IS THE OTHER HALF OF THE TEAM, MULDER? WRITERS??

I don’t have complaints about Mulder not batting back Whitney’s “But it’s your insights I need” because flattery gets him everywhere, always, and he’s not leaning into it, BUT, again, where’s Scully. This would be a great time to establish that Scully isn’t the type to sulk in the truck by showing off her chops as a professional while she and he banter back and forth about this information. Mulder could be telling it to her, filling her in on the relevant details she missed during the interrogation and truck ride. Meanwhile, we can establish Whitney as an individual by showing how she deals with Father Joe rather than letting her male agent nanny the old pedo around. 

WHITNEY’S YELLING AT FATHER JOE FOR NO REASON WHILE HE’S IN THE MIDST OF A VISION-- THAT'S SO STUPID. 

He’s already giving her the information; and her heightened aggression will probably stress him out and lose whatever he’s telling her. I know they were meaning to establish her as a ruthless skeptic who thinks Father-- you know what, I’m calling him Joe from now on-- who thinks that Joe’s faking it and is pressing, pressing, pressing for him to crack because he’s “vulnerable” right now… but this is just stupid, and likely against a ton of FBI regulations. 

I'm torn about Mulder not telling her to stop because he's put immense pressure on psychics or other suffering victims in the past if they had time-sensitive information (ala Space)... so, I think? it could be in-character. ...EXCEPT he's soft on Joey, Whitney is not, and that dynamic would make him advocate for the pedo more (wow, what a sentence.)

Wait, now male agent disbelieves??? WHAT. BUT YOU ESTABLISHED BACK IN THE FBI… uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhgggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhh. 

WAIT, SO SCULLY WASN’T OUT IN THE CAR??? SHE JUST DITCHED ANYWAY???? SHE’S BACK IN THE HOSPITAL??

Wait, wait, so: 

Last night, she and Mulder are flown into the FBI.

She decides to ditch the case because she doesn’t believe in Joe.

That’s stupid because it puts Mulder’s safety on the line and breaks her half of the deal-- that she come with him. 

As she’s leaving, Mulder convinces her not to go. She sighs and heads for the trucks. 

It’s daylight and there’s two FBI trucks. Mulder is with the two agents and Joe in one truck, and we’re not shown who’s in the other (likely Scully and some escorts.)

Scully doesn’t follow Mulder onto the crime scene. 

BUT SHE’S NOT IN THE TRUCK ANYWAY BECAUSE SHE’S BACK AT THE HOSPITAL EVEN THOUGH THE ENTIRE ESTABLISHING SCENE PRIOR WAS ADDRESSING THE FACT SHE WAS LEAVING THE CASE.

BUT SHE STILL LEFT THE CASE. Yes, she has a patient to worry over; yes, that is important to her; but NO, she did not discuss this with Mulder when he stipulated he needed her WITH him on the case.  

Mulder asked her to stay, she implicitly agreed, took his documents, seemed to be going with him… but nope, went home, went to sleep, went to work without discussing things further. What. 

I feel like there were rewrites and it was just… never addressed on screen.

So, Scully agreed to help the case, took Mulder’s papers, walked to one of the trucks and… teleported back to her clinic? Went home? Never went to begin with? …Why did she need the file if she’s just going to take it home?? She’s not FBI anymore, the FBI wouldn’t let her do that. She can’t take the papers home as a civilian especially because-- okay, here’s another list:

Scully is a civilian who was not asked on the case. She’s only there because Mulder stipulated he wanted her to work on it with him. 

She ditched THAT part of the bargain, but regardless--

Scully went home (WHY) and took FBI documents with her because…?

The FBI would never let that happen: they didn’t seek her out, she’s a civilian, they have other medical experts to consult with about their cases. 

I do like Scully’s interactions with Christian, probably because it smacks of her old self (disguising the world-weary attitude of an adult for a child’s sake…) and was more in-character with her regular pre-S9 character, which is… weird for me. I’ll take it, I guess. 

I’m only 25:33 minutes in.  

ANOTHER TERRIBLE FATHER??? WHY???????????

“We are here to heal the sick, not prolong the dying” ummmmmmmmmmmm what. This is a Catholic hospital, is it not? Isn’t that strictly against Catholic dogma? …What is this mafia low beat and why is everyone in this hospital bent on the kid dying and being taken off their hands?

I know, I know: Chris is a Catholic of sorts with his own criticisms and stories to tell, etc…. And here it comes, BUT two overheads trying to pry this dying child off of Scully’s hands because he’s “incurable” doesn’t make sense here. It wouldn’t be to their benefit, would probably cause quite a scandal, and, overall, would probably result in a report and a lawsuit. Perhaps this is a big issue in private hospitals; and humans are humans and full of corruption, etc. etc. BUT I assume the boy’s parents are paying the bills on time sooooo… it would be against the hospital's? clinic's? best interest to want to kick Christian from the facility. Again, it’s stupid and makes no sense. 

26:27. 

Scully crying in her office was the best scene of this movie, hands down. It’s perfect for this moment, perfect for her character…

BUT. It comes after she walked out on a case of a missing-possibly-dead FBI agent, so it makes her look like a woman who only hands out sympathy or empathy to those people SHE deems worthy of it. Yes, a child dying is tragic; yes, he reminds her of William; yes, she lived through this with Emily… all of that is tragic and heartrending (and her Emily arc could have been mentioned in the movie to give her dynamic with Christian more weight), BUT it ends up hurting her character in the long run. Why? Because she sacrifices Mulder’s chance for freedom AND separates from him because she wants to save this child while ALSO accusing him of doing the exact same thing. 

So, while it’s one of the best scenes in context, it’s also one of the worst overall. 

People are swimming now. Ohhhhh, noooooo, run off the road, dead. 

30:35.

Here’s the thinking scene between Mulder and Scully. 

The delivery from DD and GA is top-notch-- did not imagine Mulder’s “thank you” to be as upbeat and humorous, expected it to be more drawn out and monotone. I like it better this way. And Gillian is doing a fantastic job with the scripts she’s given: thus far, she’s selling this version of Scully (MINUS THE ENORMOUS MISCHARACTERIZATIONS)... but her performance (and DD’s) is constantly undersold by the script. It’s sad, man… well, it’s not sad because I’m not invested in canon post S8; but it’s something. 

“Rare brain disease” great acting on both their parts, excellent and in-character, nice. 

Also: child, boy, sick child, brain disease-- I see what you did there, Chris Carter and writers, and it would have been very cool except. To be fair, I don’t mind the Christian side-plot: it gives Scully a chance to be in her element, and the boy actor is nice. Again, BUT, it also has hokily evil villains and destroys other likable aspects of Scully’s personality, soooooooooooooo yeah. 

“Why haven’t you told me about this before?” / “I thought there was something I could do.” 

BINGO, I’LL GIVE IWTB THIS ONE THING, THIS MOVIE WAS WORTH THE WATCH FOR THAT LINE. Here’s why: because that’s always been Scully’s M.O.: she hides her problems under the surface hoping to solve them herself, not wanting to be a bother (ex. Irresistible, Memento Mori, Elegy, Gethsemane, A Christmas Carol, etc. etc.) At least I have it said in black-and-white to reference. 

ALSO, this is why Mulder’s brain disease makes no sense: Mulder is a secret keeper but only about his past, not his present or future. Example: he never mentions former partners but will yell to the sky about current crises or injustices against himself and others. If Mulder had a bad scan, he’d draw Scully into it IMMEDIATELY because he believes their unconventional ways would be able to cure anything-- ala Demons and Biogenesis; and would make a mission out of it to try to take down what’s left of the Syndicate. If he’s given a death sentence, it would then become a struggle or fight between his desire to keep crusading and her insistence that it's only killing him faster (again, ala Demons.)  

Mulder’s quip about God not losing any sleep is so Mulder, that’s great. 

Scully’s “Why bring a kid into the world just to make him suffer?” is another symptom of her leanings away from strict Catholicism; BUT, more importantly, it’s not God making him suffer in this case, it’s her private medical system who won’t even TRY because of the bottom line? I guess? Though that’d make them more money?? Seems rather weird that Scully wants to cure this boy and she’s not really that Catholic whereas the Catholic facility just wants him dead for no explicable reason other than he’s going to die, YOLO. 

Also… we’re just going to skip right over Emily and the fact you two already had this conversation before, aren’t we? Yep. 

“I don’t know, Mulder, I’ve got such a connection to this boy.” 

ANOTHER great piece of dialogue, because this plugs into Scully’s biases in past cases and Mulder’s twitchiness when he senses said biases. BUT IN THIS CASE IT’S GOOD: it highlights how far they’ve come, that Scully discloses this detail and their further conversation to Mulder without batting an eye and he has the learned patience and understanding in order to gently peel back her layers and get to the root of the issue.

“I think our son left us both with an emptiness that can’t be filled” and that’s GOOD, that’s a GOOD piece of writing, GOOD FOR YOU. 

HOWEVER, like everything else in this movie it gets lost in the ridiculous drama coming up; but further, it’s undercut because of the stupid choices that they made in the past that led them to this moment. So… sympathy low. 

Acting’s excellent as always, though. 

And look at that crazy comforter-- that’s a Scully thing if I’ve ever seen one. 

Despite the staggering flaws of the script, I like how the writers wrote Mulder and Scully's domestic dynamic, specifically that Mulder let Scully completely decorate the house (everything's in her style) and even snuggled up with her under a blue, swirly comforter (that she very obviously picked out) without a fuss. And maybe this is an unpopular opinion, but I believe that came straight from Chris Carter's brain; and I also believe it's something he likes about Scully, that she puts Mulder (i.e. her thoughts in the Pilot script while batting back and forth with Mulder) or Mulder's stuff in his place (his office pre-and post Ghost in the Machine, her hints about his shoelaces in Bad Blood, and the house now.) There's a give and take, of course; but Mulder's chaos is delegated to specific areas of the basement (and their house); and the compromise between the two people in their partnership and relationship comes together perfectly here... in moments. 

I’m stopping after Scully’s pouty “Scratchy beard” and Mulder’s playful response and Scully’s GIGGLE since it’s nice and I don’t have to think about the plot--

“Oh! There’s something weird on the toxicology--”

LALALALALALLLALALALAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Also…

Sigh……………………….. one last rant:

ALSO, you’re telling me that the dastardly Catholic overlords at the private clinic WANT TO TOSS A DYING CHILD OUT BUT THEY’LL JUST LET SCULLY DO A WILL NILLY RANDOM TOX SCREEN THAT HASN’T BEEN AUTHORIZED BY THE FBI TO DO IN THE FIRST PLACE OR IF SO ONLY OFF-SCREEN??????????????

Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy???

I’m out, I’m done, will finish the next parts sometime later. 

…Ugggggggggggggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

[seasidesandstarscapes]

Right in the Numbers - Chapter 5

Prev - Next

Summary: Bobby and Don have a heart to heart

Words: 2449

-

AO3

or

Practices are awful.

Sure, Don is able to make it through with a false smile, his plays are still decent, but he feels the tension on the ice.

Bobby watches him, their usual silent conversations now muddled and hazy. Don doesn’t stare like he used to, turns away when Bobby takes a beat too long.

Don avoids him when he can outside of practice too. In fact, it’s been a couple weeks since they last slept together.

He finds excuses to stay away, tries to focus on hockey. The sport has gotten him through the darkest of times, maybe it’ll work its magic yet again.

Of course, observant as ever, Joe has picked up on Don’s grief and brings it up of all times when they’re stuck in the penalty box together.

“What’s happened between you and Moch?”

“Joe,” Don chews around his mouth guard. “Not here.”

“Then when? None of us have seen you off the ice. And from what I’ve heard, neither has Bobby. You two don’t even sit next to each other on the buses anymore.”

There is a chorus of cheers as the other team scores a goal and Don can just hear Bobby’s heated swearing rising over the arena.

“It’s nothing,” Don finds renewed interest in his stick. “We’re just doing our own thing.”

“Yeah, okay,” Joe rolls his eyes. “I haven’t seen Bobby like this since—,” he cuts himself off, turns away.

Joe let something slip, but now Don can’t just leave it at that.

“What are you talking about?”

“Oops, my time is up. See you on the ice,” Joe scrambles out of the penalty box.

“Rantz!” Don shouts after him over the din.

This gets him a raised brow from Gordy as he skates by and Don’s throat already feels sore from raising his voice like that. When he’s on the ice again, Don can’t focus. Joe’s words toy with him, dangle some cruel temptation that Don should ignore, but he just can’t. He gets slammed into the boards, numb to the pain, ignorant of anything, anyone else. This fire only burns and Don misses his shot again and again.

They lose this game. The team trudges off the ice, barely acknowledging one another. Maybe it’s not all Don’s fault but he still feels like he’s to blame.

The small talk is low and murmuring in the locker room and Don sticks to himself, showers and changes as quickly as he can so he can talk to Joe.

Except Joe is nowhere to be found. And Don doesn’t see a single sign of Bobby either. He’s left spinning circles in the locker room, aimless and wandering, until he bumps into Roger.

“Something up?” Roger asks, unperturbed by Don’s sudden approach.

Don’s face flushes and he shakes his head. “Wanted to talk to Joe about something.”

“More like someone,” Chuck edges in.

Don grimaces as the rest of the team stares at him, the room caught in a deafening silence. A headache is starting to form at the back of his mind and Don leaves without so much as a wave. The hallway is just as quiet, unsettling and lonely, as if the mirage will break at any second.

That is, until two voices drift from around a corner. Don comes to a standstill, his breath caught in his chest.

“—still think you should tell him,” Joe mutters.

“Yeah? And what good would that do?” Bobby bites back. “I don’t need another sympathy card.”

“Moch, it’s not sympathy,” Joe sighs. “What happened with your—our last team…it hurt you. They hurt you.”

Don’s stomach drops. He’s so afraid of what will follow, knows he should leave but he’s frozen in a steel trap. He’s anxious to hear more.

“Save it, Rantz,” Bobby snaps. “It’s better this way. I don’t need him, hell, I don’t need any of you.”

Bobby’s footsteps echo but Don realizes too late that they’re heading in his direction. The moment Bobby rounds the corner, they’re caught in the same wide-eye stare.

“Don,” Bobby starts but Don doesn’t want to hear it.

He marches past Bobby, past Joe, who calls after him. Their voices are too loud, the fluorescent lights are too bright. Don all but runs to his car, speeds away from the arena and to the safety of his apartment.

His phone gets tossed to the side before he collapses onto his bed. Bobby’s words play on repeat and Don feels his heart slash in two. The tears don’t come though, instead replaced by an anger that consumes Don. After everything, after all this, he’s nothing but a plaything for Bobby.

He gets to his feet and paces his bedroom, cursing to himself with fists clenched. He could make Bobby hurt, make him see what he’s done. But as he thinks this, Don shames himself. Bobby has been through something awful. He’s taking it out on the world and Don can’t blame him.

He and Bobby were good together. They’re supposed to be best friends. Even with this pain, Don doesn’t want Bobby to suffer again. He can’t do that to the man he loves.

Falling back onto his bed, Don stares at the ceiling. The dissipating anger morphs into longing and a need to hold Bobby, to tell him everything’s going to be alright.

With a huff, Don checks his phone and guilty relief washes over him when he doesn’t see any missed calls or texts. Tonight he can think things through, sort out the mess with Bobby tomorrow.

Midnight edges in and Don is laying in bed, scrolling through his phone in an attempt to feel some semblance of sleep. A text from Bobby pops up and Don replies before he can stop himself.

It’s so casual, their hellos, the small talk, Don almost wonders if he imagined what happened after the game.

Come outside. Bobby then texts cryptically.

Don frowns, turns towards his window. He can’t see anything beyond the trees and gets out of bed with a small groan. Looking down, Don sees Bobby standing next to his car, phone in his hand.

He should just crawl back into bed, forget all this, but they need to talk.

Throwing on sweats and a hoodie, Don heads out of his apartment, meets Bobby at the front door.

“Want to go on an adventure?” Bobby smiles.

“Alright.”

Don climbs into the passenger seat and the two drive off in silence. Sparing a glance at Bobby, Don notes the clenched jaw, how his eyes shine with what Don can imagine to be sadness.

They head down a desolate road, the headlights cutting through dark woods, when Don finally notices the sky.

Shimmers of green dance across deep indigo, splashing the night with paint strokes of beauty. He’s mesmerized, caught in a moment so rare and delicate, he only hopes it will last.

Bobby pulls off into an open lot that breaks out into a sprawling field and gets out of the car to sit on the hood. Don is slow to follow but he slides next to Bobby as they look up at the sky.

The borealis makes Don feel so small, so insignificant, and it’s comforting. There’s nothing more expected out of him than to just take in this moment with Bobby.

“Do you ever think about what our lives would be like if we hadn’t met?” Bobby doesn’t take his eyes off the sky as he asks this.

Don inhales, his hands wringing in his lap. He doesn’t know how to answer. The seconds tick by, but Don’s voice is caught, held down by fear, desperation.

“I’m glad,” Bobby breathes, “if anything. You’ve made me feel like I’m worth something, you know?”

He gives Don a small smile which he easily returns. Bobby’s eyes on him steal Don’s breath and he can only look back, his words screaming, trying to claw their way out.

“I think maybe it’s good if we end things here,” Bobby says the words that stab Don in the chest. “Just be friends. No more sex. Nothing more.”

Don nods, even though he doesn’t agree at all. His wounds and his pride fight within him, but he stays silent.

“If you still want to watch my channel though, I don’t mind.”

“Thanks,” Don finally speaks.

He curses his inexplicable cowardice, his overageeable attitude. He should just grab Bobby and shake something, anything, loose. He wants the truth. Instead, Don settles into the unfamiliarity of their new normal.

In the end, Bobby is right. They were edging into something real and Don doesn’t want to be the cause of pain that must be all too familiar to Bobby. At the very least, the friendship isn’t over. They’ll always have each other’s backs.

That’s more than enough.

Still, Don doesn’t push Bobby away when he shuffles closer. His arm falls easily around him and Don doesn’t say a thing when Bobby lays his head on his shoulder.

When Bobby drops Don off, neither say goodbye and Don heads right into his apartment. He’s exhausted now, his head throbbing, body aching.

As Don lays down, his screen lights up with another text.

I’m sorry.

Shutting off his phone, Don squeezes his eyes shut and buries his face in his pillow.

Sleep doesn’t come easily tonight or many nights after. Don is a walking zombie when they get to the semi-finals, yet somehow he manages to score the goal that secures their spot in the top eight.

He accepts the embrace Bobby gives him, tries not to hug too tight. The smile Bobby gives him is somber and the light in his eyes isn’t as bright these days. Don doesn’t know how to bring him back. He’s not sure he can.

Don just wants time alone, to figure out his life from here, but tonight, he’s dragged out to the bar with the team. He keeps it to one drink and water, not wanting to lose control when Bobby is so close.

Bobby, however, is not so sensible. He takes every shot offered to him, orders strong drinks that would make Don sick in an instant. So, of course, he’s helping Bobby back to the hotel, their arms linked, one hand gripped tight to Bobby’s sleeve.

“Why’re you so good at hockey?” Bobby slurs as they stumble down the street.

“Practice.”

“No, like,” Bobby waves. “Not everyone can play and they still make the leagues.”

“I don’t know,” Don laughs a little.

It’s hard not to be amused by Bobby’s drunken ramblings. He’s gone on hours long tirades from why they deserve to win the Cup to the ridiculous price of chicken nuggets. Don has listened enraptured, if only because he doesn’t know how Bobby always has so much to say.

Bobby keeps on talking from the lobby to the elevator and finally, his room. They haven’t been roommates for a while now and Bobby has snagged one all to himself.

Don sits Bobby down on the bed, helps him take off his hoodie and shoes.

“Stay with me, Donny,” Bobby reaches out for him.

Don’s shoulders sag. Bobby is still so affectionate and he makes it difficult to move on from what they were.

“Bobby, you should rest,” Don steps out of reach.

He goes to the bathroom to fill up a glass of water, then rummages through Bobby’s bag to grab some pain medicine.

When he gets back to Bobby, he’s managed to rid himself of his shirt and jeans and he lays on his stomach, limbs haphazardly thrown about on the bed.

Setting the cure-alls to the side, Don sits Bobby up, then presses the pill into one hand and the water into the other.

“Take this and drink the whole glass.”

Bobby grimaces at him but does what he’s told. Water dribbles down his chin and he wipes it away with an uncoordinated hand. There’s still water on his face though and Don’s fingers twitch at his sides.

With a small sigh, Don takes the glass from Bobby, waits for him to lay back down before he sets to leave. Bobby grabs him by the hem of his shirt and Don’s heart thuds in his chest.

“Please? I don’t want to be alone.”

Don should refuse. He needs to get out before he misinterprets what Drunk Bobby might be saying between the lines.

Instead, against his better judgment, Don takes off his outer layers and crawls into bed next to Bobby. Bobby immediately drapes himself over Don, lets out a small contented sigh.

This feels too nice, too warm, and Don fights back his tears. He hugs Bobby close, the healing scars on his heart tearing open yet again.

Don doesn’t know how he falls asleep but when the sun forces his eyes open, he finds himself alone in the hotel bed. He can hear the shower running and he lays back, staring at the ceiling.

He’s been doing so well. He’s pulled himself back, but then Bobby drags him in. It’s some kind of cruel twist of fate that he’s stuck in this loop.

“Morning,” Bobby says as he comes out of the bathroom.

He’s drying his hair with a towel that gets tossed to the side before he digs through his bags. All he has is the towel around his waist now and Don aches to reach out.

“Thanks for taking care of me,” Bobby smiles as he grabs his clothes. “I have a bit of a headache, but that glass of water probably saved me.”

The corner of Don’s mouth twitches and he simply watches as Bobby disappears into the bathroom. At least he doesn’t have to watch Bobby change this one time. Taking his moment alone, Don dresses in last night's clothes and tries to smooth out the wrinkles.

Just before he can leave however, Bobby pops out again, freezing Don in his tracks. He shouldn’t feel guilty. He has to get back to his own room and shower after all.

Bobby opens and closes his mouth, his stare darting, distracted. Don waits, not sure what he wants to hear.

“Mind if I sit next to you on the bus?”

Don blinks. It’s been lonely not having Bobby jabber in his ear, making him play hangman and tic-tac-toe. Bobby falling asleep against his shoulder.

When Don nods, Bobby’s face finally relaxes into a familiar grin and Don’s spirit lifts. They wave goodbye as Don finds his opening to head back to his room, a heavy breath leaving him.

Some things are finally headed back to normal and Don can’t be more grateful. There’s still some heartache to work though, but he can handle it.

He’ll be fine.

[megaphonegirlk]

The Contradiction of the Unbreakable Shield

Lana Skye’s lungs burned with acrid and toxic smoke, her head swam as she forced herself to stay awake and conscious. She couldn’t lose focus for a second, or surrender to sleep or the flames around her.

Even when she heard her mother scream and beg her father to wake up, she didn’t move. Even when she heard her last desperate breath and the weak thump of a fist hitting the fracturing glass, she stayed still and resolute.

Her flesh burned in the fires of the wreck, but Lana refused to yield to the pain and the destruction of her own body. She was a shield, a bulwark against the flames. She stared down at her sister’s crying form curled below her with eyes that refused to cry even with the sting of the smoke. She held the image of Ema tight as the world faded to a narrow pinprick and the searing pain of the flames roaring around her.

She promised , with all the breath she had in her, that Ema would be okay. Nothing would ever hurt her as long as she stood strong.

The firefighters had pulled them out of the wreck that killed their parents. Lana had sustained burns that would later become scars, but Ema had emerged without a scratch save for some minor damage in her lungs from the billowing smoke.

The shield stood tall.

—- Detective Lana Skye stood over the scene in horror. The world seemed to be crashing down all at once, and for a moment she couldn’t do much more than balk. Neil Marshall impaled on Damon Gant’s suit of armor, a life snuffed violently out in an instant, and at his feet the crumpled forms of Joe Darke and Ema Skye.

She couldn’t breathe, her lungs burned from lack of air as she fell to her knees by Ema’s side. She held her tight to her chest, cradling her just as she did in the flames of their parent’s wreck when her sister was scarcely a toddler.

She’d begun to cry, she didn’t know when…and she didn’t know how long when Gant arrived with an offer she couldn’t refuse.

Ema had killed Neil Marshall. That’s what the facts pointed to, a tragic accident that would ruin her sister’s life forever. She was enough of a detective to see that, to see the bloodied writing before she scrubbed it away and to see the look of the scene.

Damon, her longstanding partner, a man she then thought of as a friend…he offered to twist the arm of justice to get the verdict Darke deserved and spare Ema. Forgery and manipulation of evidence now, for Ema’s safety and happiness later.

It went against everything she stood for, it was an affront to people she loved and cared for. Jake…Angel…Mia…she’d be turning her back on them. But she had no other choice.

Ema’s safety came before all else.

As she helped Gant arrange the crime scene…she couldn’t help but remember the trophy that Marshall had won that very night.

The Unbreakable Shield stood tall.

–

Lana’s hand hurt, throbbing with pain even through the painkillers and the bandages. Her heart hurt worse.

Ema’s desperation to save her from the darkness she’d put herself in , and the guilty verdict she was all but ordered to take…and the hurt in which glared at her from behind the glass.

She said she hated her. Lana couldn’t blame her for that. To survive Damon Gant, Lana allowed herself to become cold. She walled off her feelings and severed both friends and lovers from her life…and her sister most of all.

In the interest of protecting her, Lana had hurt her more than anyone else…Ironic, really. But when the truth came out, that it was all because Lana failed in that one critical moment to trust in her sister’s innocence, and that she’d burned her bridges for nothing…it was freeing as much as it shattered her armor and pierced her flame-scarred heart. . To see Ema smile when she hugged her tight and told her how proud she was of how far she’d come…it was a balm on the pain, at the very least. It carried her through the trial, the plea deal, the revelation of every little corruption she’d been part and parcel to under Gant’s command.

Guilty, she’d plead guilty of course…and now she was here, for her sister’s sake as well as her own atonement, laying upon the uncomfortable cot within in the cool and quiet cell upon and staring at the cement ceiling.

Edgeworth had promised he’d help her spruce it up…give her something to do, and whatever comforts could be allowed. She’d only denied him twice before giving in, and allowing her former protege his kindness no matter how little she deserved it.

For now however, it was a concrete block and cold steel bars. No privacy. No comfort. The cold reminder of what she had done to wind up here for the next 12….11 with good behavior…years of her life.

The shield was chipped, the spear was broken. Ema Skye was free to become the forensic investigator of her dreams, free of the accusation of ‘murderer’. Lana Skye was a symbol of the dark age of the law, laying in a prison cell with a smile.

A contradiction. Joy and Despair mingled into one within captivity. Innocence mingled with guilt. What would Mia say about her now? Would she still care for the flawed truth of Lana Skye? What would Jake feel when he got out for his own dalliances against the law?

How short would the rest of Gant’s life be? And would the world feel lighter once he was well and truly gone?

She smiled wider and closed her eyes.

The shield lay still, shattered even after being forged in fire, having served its purpose of keeping Ema Skye safe from harm.

It didn’t have to stand tall any longer.

The Broken Shield could finally be allowed to rest.

AO3 Link

[allmoshnobrain]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

part 09 of ? | masterpost

word count: 3028 | ao3 link

That was way easier and better than I ever thought it could be. And sweet. Sweet and just so natural, like his kisses and his touch. Like the love I felt for him. Like the love he felt for me.

✦ summary: Dave and Nore find solace in each other and cave to their desires in the chaotic aftermath of a drunk driving accident.

✦ on this chapter: NSFW!!, dave mustaine x female!oc, oc is cliff's cousin, +18, language, slice of life, drinking, drunk driving, car accident, vomiting, a little bit of hurt/comfort/praise, fluff, unprotected sex, mxf sex (explicit), oral sex, fingering, alcoholism/drinking issues

✦ a/n: this is a completely new part aaaand it's really explicit so keep it in mind if you're going to read it! also, since every chapter is named after a song, i made a playlist on spotify with all of them, you can listen to it while reading or just to get in the story's mood, it's right here and i will update it every time i post a new chapter. hope you like it, feedback is welcome ❤

✧ the sin I bring, called ecstasy ✧

Alright, whose brilliant idea was it to let a drunk driver take the wheel? 

Definitely not mine. 

Honestly, at that moment, it didn't seem like we had much of a choice. We were all wasted by the end of the day. We needed to get back home, and none of us had enough cash for a taxi ride from Joe's place to ours. A stumbling Lars volunteered to be the designated driver, and surprisingly, no one objected. We even cracked some jokes about the potential disaster, had a few laughs, and that was the end of it.

I don't think anyone was laughing now, though.

We stared in pure horror at the wrecked van. Lars had managed to crash it into a damn wall! Thankfully, nobody got hurt, and we were just a stone's throw away from home, but that didn't make things any better. Dave and Lars were fighting, Leanne was losing her shit, and I wasn't faring much better. My head was spinning, my breathing getting faster, and a rush of adrenaline sent panic coursing through my veins. Everything was spinning. I knew I had drunk too much. I knew I was bound to puke sooner or later. But at least I hoped I could hold it together until we got home.

I crawled over to someone's lawn and pretty much emptied my guts.

"You okay?" a voice chimed in. I glanced up and met James' blue eyes. He seemed somewhat sober, probably because he had passed out for most of the later part of the party, but I knew he was still pretty drunk.

"Do I look okay to you?" I grumbled, and he cracked up. I scrunched my eyebrows. Barfing my guts out was bad enough without an audience, but having someone witness the spectacle made it a whole lot worse.

"Maybe it's best if you go home if you're feelin' like shit. But you don't know the way, huh?"

"Does anyone here feel good? We’re all wasted and screwed with this accident. I'm surprised no one in this neighborhood has called the police yet."

"Yeah, maybe they will. Then we'll be even more fucked, right?" He laughed again and plopped his ass down on the sidewalk, keeping a safe distance from my vomit puddle. I had noticed it earlier, but he got really annoying when he was drunk. I focused on my trembling hands, trying to regain my composure. Take a deep breath, I reminded myself.

"What's going on?" Dave's slurred voice chimed in as he stumbled over to us. "Nore, what the hell happened?" 

I looked into his brown eyes, and they seemed to suspiciously fixate on James, as if he could somehow be to blame for my sorry state. I wondered what he thought was happening.

 "I was..." I gestured towards the puke pool, then spun around to continue unleashing the remnants of my stomach. Oh, lovely. 

He approached, all his focus on me, pushing my hair out of my face and gripping my waist to keep me steady. I leaned into his frame, grateful for the support, my heart still racing from the crash's adrenaline rush. My stomach wasn't faring any better; now that I'd expelled everything, an uncomfortable burning sensation was spreading through my belly.

"I think I've had too much to drink," I grumbled, fully aware of how my voice slurred and dragged. "How the hell are we supposed to go home now?" 

He glanced at the wrecked van and let out a resigned sigh. 

"Cliff's trying to borrow a phone from someone nearby to call a taxi. C'mere." Dave slung his arm around my shoulders and guided me towards the sidewalk next to the van, where Lars and Leanne were already planted on the ground. He helped me settle down beside them. He seemed a bit more composed now, but who knew if he was actually sober or just trying to hide his own level of intoxication. 

I plopped my ass on the pavement, my head spinning and my stomach doing somersaults. Somehow, I managed to hold back the urge to hurl this time. He sat down beside me, shooting me a concerned look.

"You look like hell," he remarked, and I burst out laughing, instantly regretting it as a pounding headache hit me. I groaned, wincing, and covered my face with my hands. "Come here." He pulled me close, letting me rest my head on his shoulder.

"I called a taxi for the girls and got hold of Joe. He's coming to help with the van," Cliff chimed in. "But we need some folks to stick around here and wait." 

"You, me, and Lars can hang tight," James suggested. "Nore and Leanne are not feeling well. Dave can take 'em home." 

Cliff glanced at me, clearly realizing how sick I was. He squatted down next to me and ran his hand through my hair in a soothing gesture. 

"Bit too much to drink, huh?" he asked, and I grumbled in response. "It's okay, go home and get some rest." 

I nodded, hiding my face against Dave's chest. Cliff settled down beside Leanne, doing his best to soothe her as we waited what felt like forever for the cab. Finally, it arrived, and Dave, Leanne, and I hopped into the car. The driver dropped off Leanne at her place, and Dave hopped out to make sure she'd be alright while I stayed put. When he returned, he took the seat next to me in the back.

"Feeling any better?" he asked, and I nodded, leaning my head on his shoulder. He gently stroked my thigh, sending a pleasant shiver through my skin.

When we got back home, I hopped out of the car and headed straight to the bathroom while Dave took care of paying the taxi. I quickly brushed my teeth to get rid of the nasty taste in my mouth and splashed some water on my face. The vomiting had sobered me up, but my head was still pounding like crazy. Dave walked into the bathroom, holding a glass of water and a pill in his hand.

"Got this for you," he said, offering the pill. "You know, to help with the headache."

"Oh, thank you, Dave," I whispered, grateful for his thoughtfulness. I took the pill and swallowed it with the water, letting out a sigh. I couldn't help but notice how my hands were shaking slightly.

"You alright?" he asked, coming closer and gently stroking my face, unsure of how to comfort me. "You've been on edge since the accident. I mean, yeah, it was a total mess, but we're all safe now... Back home, no harm done."

I sighed. The accident had triggered more than just nerves and panic in me. The aftermath was just a tiny part of a much bigger turmoil in my head.

"It's just... This wasn't my first car accident. I guess that’s why I got so nervous," I confessed, and then looked into his eyes. He stared at me intently, his hand moving from my face to my lower lip, his finger tracing the curve of my mouth slowly. My body heated up, suddenly aware of the closeness between us. I let out a sigh, deciding to open up and share what had been troubling me. "Last year, on my 18th birthday, me and my friends went out to celebrate. We got wasted, and when it was time to call it a night, I was the one behind the wheel... Ended up crashing the damn car." I blinked, realizing my eyes were getting watery. It was strange. I had never talked so openly about this with anyone; I felt so ashamed, especially after getting kicked out of my own house. I just hoped Dave wouldn't hate me after hearing all this. "I got hurt. And I hurt my friends too. Dave, I... I'm not the good girl you think I am. I've fucked up big time." 

"And does that matter?" he whispered, his face inching closer to mine. His eyes were serious, and I could feel his breath brushing against my lips. "You’re not a bad person because of that, Nore. And I love you... Your past doesn't mean shit. I love who you are right now."

I locked eyes with him, a shiver running through me as he leaned his hands on the sink, one on each side of my body. He was so close that it made my heart race. And there it was — the electric charge that sparked every time he got too close, the tension building up deep in my gut whenever he touched me. I lightly brushed my fingers against his lips, my breath hitching with anticipation, and let out a soft sigh as he kissed me. Our tongues danced slowly together, his hands gripping me so tight against his body that it was almost painful. 

He broke the kiss to swiftly yank off my shirt, and a little gasp escaped my lips as he started kissing my neck, sucking gently and leaving love bites all over my skin. I felt his fingertips trailing lightly over my back, sending tingles down my spine, until they reached the clasp of my bra.

I flinched suddenly, feeling my face burn and my breath quicken. He froze.

"You want me to stop?" Dave asked, his voice low and husky, a concerned look on his face.

"No," I whispered, looking into his eyes. He stared at me, seeming a bit unsure for a moment, before gently stroking my face.

"Come here," he took my hand and led me to my room. My heart raced as he closed the door, leaving the lights off, and pulled his shirt off, kissing me again. His skin felt hot against mine and my breath hitched as he sat on the bed, pulling me onto his lap. I straddled him, my knees on either side of his hips, and let out a sigh as his lips went back to exploring my neck.

His hands went back to my bra as he removed it slowly. I shivered as I felt the cold air against my skin and even more when I saw the way he looked at me. He lifted his eyes to look at mine, his gaze clouded with anticipation while holding me firmly in his arms. I giggled when he lifted me effortlessly, laying me down on the bed and positioning himself on top of me. He traced the outline of my nipple slowly with his fingertips, making me breathe deeply.

“Dave…” I whispered, and let out a quiet whimper when he sucked on my nipple, his tongue circling it slowly. I moaned, feeling my whole body on fire while he sucked on my breast leisurely, his hand grabbing my hip strongly. He grumbled, a low and satisfied sound, and the vibration of his voice against my skin sent shivers throughout my body.

His hands gripped me tightly on the hips, so strong that I squirmed, a low moan escaping from my throat. He bit my nipple lightly, massaging it with his tongue, and I couldn’t help but moan louder. It hurt a bit, but it was so good that I never wanted him to stop. He did it again on my other nipple, his tongue savoring every inch of my skin while I buried my fingers in his soft hair. His lips explored my skin slowly, kissing and licking and sucking on my breasts, my collarbones, my neck; I knew my skin would be covered in purple marks the next day, but I couldn’t care less. 

When he pulled away, he held my chin in his hand, making me look at him. His eyes were intense and hungry, and they seemed as lost in gazing into mine as mine were in his.

"If I hurt you, you have to tell me," he spoke softly, his hand caressing my cheek slowly.

"Okay," I whispered in response.

"Promise me," he asked, lightly kissing my lips. I nodded.

"I promise, Dave."

He nodded, his eyes serious as he unbuttoned my pants. I helped him take the rest of my clothes off quickly, letting out a small sigh when he saw me naked for the first time. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face, looking somewhat stunned as his eyes roamed over every inch of my skin. I slowly caressed his chest with my hand, tracing the outline of his collarbone with the tips of my fingers. He brought a hand to my hair, gripping it firmly before leaning over me and kissing me on my lips again.

I whimpered when he grabbed my thigh with one hand, opening my legs and then touching my pussy, caressing it slowly, making my whole body shiver. I lost myself in his gaze, admiring his faintly flushed cheeks, his lips slightly parted while his eyes looked into mine. I moaned softly when he penetrated me with one finger, and then another, moving them slowly inside of me, exploring me at such a cautious pace that it bordered on tortuous. 

“Does it hurt?” he asked in a husky tone. I shook my head to assure him it didn’t, my lips slightly parted and my face flushed, and moaned when he moved his fingers inside me. He let out a soft laugh. “Fuck, Nore… You’re so beautiful.”

He leaned in, kissing my neck, his lips gently tracing the contour down to my shoulder and collarbone, leaving a trail of small kisses as he went down and kept moving his fingers leisurely inside me, in and out while he curled them softly. I closed my eyes, tilting my head back when he pressed his tongue against my clit, his hot breath tickling my skin. 

“Oh, Dave…” I moaned, holding onto his hair with one hand. He chuckled softly, seeming to take delight in my reaction, his breath quickening against my skin. I felt my own breath quicken while I enjoyed the combined pleasure of his fingers and his tongue, my legs shaking lightly as my back arched and I moaned. 

He reduced me to a trembling mess of moans and whimpers as his tongue explored my pussy slowly, sucking and licking my clit while his fingers moved inside me, my whole body on fire as I felt the knot of pleasure in my womb grow tighter and tighter. I let out a muffled cry when he stopped, his mouth coming back to mine, his fingers slipping out from inside me and leaving an uncomfortable emptiness that pulsed, yearning for more. I groaned in protest, almost begging for him to touch me again.

“Wait… Just a bit” he whispered while taking off his pants quickly. He gripped one of my thighs, lifting my leg while laying down on top of me. I melted into a breathy moan when I felt him start to penetrate me slowly, and flinched a little as pain and pleasure intertwined inside of me. “Nore…” he moaned, nuzzling my neck, his erratic breath against my skin as I wrapped my legs around his hips with a low moan while my body adjusted to his size “Ah…” 

I moaned when he started moving carefully. Any pain I felt was slowly giving way to the pleasure of feeling his sweaty skin against mine, his lips kissing me greedily, his fingers intertwined with mine as they pressed my hand against the mattress, and him, inside of me, making me feel things I didn't even believe were possible to be felt until then.  

He pulled away a bit, still moving slowly, and my eyes met with his. I knew by his expression that he wanted to devour me. That he was holding back, because he didn’t want to hurt me. But I wanted more of him, too; I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, allowing him to penetrate me deeper. He moaned softly, his control over himself faltering while his hand gripped my hip and he pushed hard inside of me. It was so good, feeling his warm body against mine, his fingers digging into my skin as we lost ourselves in each other.

He started moving faster, his breath becoming more erratic as he let a few muffled moans escape from his lips. I let him hold me against his body, the pain now completely forgotten as the pleasure of having him inside of me invaded my body, the knot of pleasure growing in my womb until it became almost unbearable.

“Nore, I’m so close…” he whispered, his voice almost pleading as he buried his face in the curve of my neck, one of his hands gripping my hair tightly while the other supported his body.

I couldn’t answer, I couldn’t even think straight while I closed my eyes, allowing his lips to explore my skin, the constant rhythm of his movements increasingly intensifying the knot of pure ecstasy growing inside me until I moaned loudly, feeling the pleasure inside of me become unbearable under his touch, allowing my orgasm to run through my whole body, making it spasm and contract. He grunted, shuddering and holding me even closer when he couldn’t stand it anymore and reached his high, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he came inside of me. He sighed deeply, his face hidden in my neck while he caught his breath, my own breath shallow, my eyes closed as I felt the warmth spreading through my body in waves.

That was way easier and better than I ever thought it could be. And sweet. Sweet and just so natural, like his kisses and his touch. Like the love I felt for him. Like the love he felt for me.

Dave let out a sigh, rolling off my body and snuggling up next to me. He pulled me close, and I hugged him tight, burying my face in his chest, soaking in the smell of his skin and his cozy warmth as I relaxed. His lips on my forehead and his hands caressing my back were the last things I remembered before falling asleep in his arms.

[justinsentertainmentcorner]

Greg Owen at LGBTQ Nation:

The Right Squad, a collection of far-right homophobes on the Republican propaganda organ Newsmax, all agree that the new gay-friendly Disney+ series Agatha All Along from Disney’s Marvel Studios is a threat to children. “It’s a recruiting video,” claimed host Chris Plante. The stars of the hit Disney+ series are “flaunting and flailing with joy that the show is the gayest Marvel series ever,” Plante offered, thrilled “that the Marvel Universe isn’t just for straight men anymore.”

It’s evidence the show’s creators, and by extension Disney, are “targeting the kids.” “We’ve seen it in the schools and the books and the libraries and the genderqueer and the graphic novels,” Plante said of an alleged LGBTQ+ cabal preying on kids, “and it’s always the children.” Panelist Jason Nichols said he didn’t need to see gay people on screen to know they exist. In fact, he said he hadn’t even seen the show but opined that “it’s inappropriate for children” and that Disney “should make sure that people know that it’s inappropriate for children.” “You don’t have to act like they don’t exist in film,” Nichols said of gay people, referring to actor Joe Locke’s statements of support for Agatha All Along’s inclusiveness. “I don’t know exactly what they mean.”

The most revealing take came from Mercedes Schlapp, wife of alleged groper Matt Schlapp, whose once-powerful anti-LGBTQ+ advocacy group, the American Conservative Union, imploded last year after young male staffers assigned to Herschel Walker’s doomed Senate campaign came forward accusing the group’s chairman of fondling them. [...] Without a trace of irony, Mercedes Schlapp denounced Disney for “this obsession with sexuality and sex, just children in general, and then putting that in front of the children.” “I mean, it’s just sick,” she ranted. “Go back to storytelling, go back to the innocence of children. That’s really where they should focus on.” “Obviously, they’re more focused about men,” Schlapp added, sputtering, “and, you know, gay men and straight men.”  

Get over it, triggered right-wingers!

[pint4punt]

5 Teams That Might Prevent the Inevitable Threepeat

At long last the worst part of the sports calendar is finally behind us! No longer do we have to desperately suckle at the teat of baseball while we wait for the real action to begin. That’s the good news. The bad news? It’s still the Chiefs’ world and we’re all living in it.

After losing to the Raiders on Christmas Day last year, Kansas City finally looked vulnerable. The offense was broken, MVS needed body guards just to go to the store, and their first ever road trip in the postseason was looming. But any doubts of how inevitable Mahomes truly is at this point have surely been quelled by this latest run as he led the Chiefs through a road trip from hell, going through the Bills and Ravens in their houses, before beating arguably the most complete Niners’ team in the last 30 years in their division rivals’ home stadium to earn the third ring in his already legendary career.

So if a Chiefs team with as many weaknesses as this one had could go through that brutal of a postseason lineup and still win it all, what team can possibly dethrone the Back-to-Back champs after they addressed their offensive deficiencies by drafting the fastest player in NFL Combine history? Well the god honest truth is, probably none! But who are we to tell you watching this season is a complete waste of time for 31 fanbases! For those of you getting high off hopium like us, here’s 5 teams that MIGHT have a shot at preventing the first ever threepeat.

Pittsburgh Steelers

Don’t be so quick to give up on Russ and Justin Fields in an Arthur Smith offense could be a game chang……we’re just fucking with you lol

Houston Texans

As unbelievable as Mahomes’ debut as the starter in his second year was, C.J. Stroud had one of the greatest rookie seasons of all time. And Houston has done everything possible to ensure he doesn’t experience a Sophomore slump with key additions such as Stefon Diggs, Joe Mixon, and even his college tight end in Cade Stover along with returning stars in Nico Collins and Tank Dell.

Pairing Danielle Hunter with Defensive Rookie of the year Will Anderson should also give Demeco Ryans all the firepower he needs to put opposing QBs’ asses in the turf as well. The real question is whether or not they’re ready to swim in the deep end of the AFC pool. If so, Stroud just might establish himself as the new sheriff in town and Diggs might not have to watch the Chiefs celebrate from the sideline for once.

Cincinnati Bengals

If there has been one boogeyman in Patrick Mahomes’ career, it’s Joe Burrow. Under Burrow, the Bengals have gone 3-1 against Kansas City, with the one loss coming in a highly controversial AFC Championship game where the Chiefs kept getting mulligans on 3rd & 9 due to officiating fuckery.

The Bengals missed the playoffs last year at least in part due to injuries and will be without now former Offensive Coordinator Brian Callahan for the first time in Joe Burrow’s career. There’s also the ongoing contractual issues with Cincinnati’s favorite super weapon Ja’Marr Chase that may result in him missing games. Time will tell what kind of impact all of this will have, but at the very least the real Slim Shady appears to have stood back up.

Detroit Lions

Legitimately, is there a more fun team in football than the Detroit Lions right now? The perfect meld of old school ground and pound, new age passing concepts, and a Head Coach jacked on borderline lethal levels of espresso. While it’s easy to point out that the Lions already beat the back-to-back champs to kick start the 2023 season (in their house no less), it’s important to note that two of the Chiefs most important players in Travis Kelce and Chris Jones missed that game. The latter of which, doesn’t get nearly enough credit for both of the Chief’s Super Bowl wins over another team featured in this article (oops spoiler alert).

What Detroit…..devout? Dedicated? Whatever the fuck their fans call themselves, should focus on is how much better they got throughout the year and how they had the Chiefs’ eventual Super Bowl opponent (spoiler spoiler spoiler!!!!) on the ropes until a miraculous halftime comeback for the ages. With an offensive line that imposes its will in a manner that would make Weinstein blush, a dynamic duo at RB in Gibbs & Montgomery, an alpha Receiver & an end-zone magnet Tight End, a force off the edge who finished 2nd in QB pressures last year (101) and a QB who can reliably orchestrate it all, the Lions have all the ingredients to put a dent in the Kansas City dynasty.

San Francisco 49ers

Pure seething hatred alone might will this victory into existence. Seriously, what did Kyle Shanahan do to the scriptwriters to make them hate him so much. Popping Dre Greenlaw’s Achilles in a Super Bowl this team was dominating early on? A muffed punt? And let’s not forget the overtime debacle, that added a nice twist from the last time Mahomes & Co ripped the Faithfuls’ hearts out of their chest. Tinfoil hats aside, this team’s sexual frustration has to make Tiger Woods look celibate.

All of that said, why include them as a threat to a Quarterback they’ve literally never beaten? Well for starters, Vegas has them neck and neck with Kansas City to win it all and we all know how much they hate losing (right right off with the tinfoil hat). But more importantly Brock Purdy, every analysts’ favorite punching bag, took Mahomes and this dynastic roster to overtime on the biggest stage in his first full season as a starter. San Francisco just has to hope him having a proper offseason is enough to overcome all the Brandon Aiyuk and Trent Williams drama and they just might have a shot at finally getting out from Andy Reid’s shadow. Week 7 will offer a nice preview of this one.

Baltimore Ravens

Ah yes, it all comes down to the the matchup that will kick start the whole 2024 ride in approximately 3 hours from the time of this writing. Baltimore has been the standard of the NFL from the Front Office down in the Lamar Jackson era. Yet despite being the darlings of the analytics community in that time, they’ve only won one of five matchups against Mahomes’ Chiefs. Which begs the question is this really a rivalry?

Despite being NFL Royalty against the rest of the league, Baltimore needs something more to gain the edge over the Chiefs and maybe just maybe, that something is a King.

After helping end Baltimore’s season just a few short years ago, Derrick Henry is now hoping to help the Ravens extend their season one more game than last year and cement the legacy of his reign with a Lombardi Trophy. If Henry has lost a step, it’s hard to envision this team toppling Kansas City with key losses to their Defense and O-Line. But if he can be the transformational piece the Ravens signed him to be, they just might have the best chance at ending the dynasty…..well maybe for a year.

[thisworldisablackhole]

This week in listening, 02/09/24

I honestly just listened to a fuck ton of Silverstein and Thrice this past week, so in an effort to not repeat the same bands on these posts, I'm only including 6 releases instead of 10.

Chelsea Wolfe's new album dropped today (friday) and by goly it's my favourite thing she's done since Unknown Rooms in 2012. To be fair, I haven't given many of her other albums a fair shot (heavy doom-folk wasn't really my cup of tea), but after listening to this I think I owe it to myself to do a full run through her discography. The gothic industrial instrumentals are both subdued and engaging, and when combined with Chelsea's gorgeous voice it comes together to sound somewhat like a soundtrack to unearthing the catacombs of a lost civilization in a decayed concrete jungle.

Like Moths To Flames has been one of my favourite metalcore bands since I re-discovered them a few years ago. They've been a super solid band ever since their first EP in 2010 and have only grown stronger over the years. It's actually quite rare for a metalcore band from the 2010's to still be on top of their game and improving after 6 LP's. One of my favourite things about this band, and why I believe they've managed to be so consistent over the years, is that they aren't afraid to wane and wax in their evolution without losing sight of their DNA. Over their career they have released albums that have gone back and forth from heavy hardcore to a more hook centric Breaking Benjamin-esque alt metal sound, but it's always been good and it's always sounded like the same band. Now with these new singles (and the two standalone singles they dropped in 2023) they are stripping way back on the catchy choruses to pour their focus into just creating memorable and heavy as fuck riffs. This is some of their most crushing and technical material to date and I can not wait for the full length to drop later this year.

Wolves & Machines are a super underrated alternative rock/post hardcore band in the vein of Brand New and Thrice. I first listened to this band back in 2010 when they released their debut record Ailments. I really loved that record and have super fond memories listening to it, but those memories were only triggered recently when I stumbled upon them again while falling down a rabbit hole of "fans also like" sections on spotify. I completely forgot they existed until I saw their name and then all those memories came flooding back to me. I swiftly hit play on Ailments and let the nostalgia bathe me in it's afterglow. The absolute best part of rediscovering this band though was finding out that they never stopped putting out really solid albums. I have since fallen absolutely head over heels with their 2014 record Since Before Our Time. For fucks sake, just hit play and you'll see why.

Ghost Atlas is the side project of progressive metalcore outfit ERRA's guitarist and clean vocalist Jesse Cash. Ghost Atlas' 2017 album All Is In Sync... was very much rooted in post hardcore ala HRVRD, Saosin and Circa Survive. With this new album he has diverted course a bit into much softer pop rock territory. He didn't completely ditch the post hardcore edge, but the whole album is just a lot more mellow and blissed out than his previous work. Some fans have felt very divided by this shift in sound, but I love it. This record is just pure comfort. I think the album art does a perfect job at capturing the vibe: a morning cup o' joe on your balcony with a cat on your lap, and Jesse's beautiful voice serenading you into a deep state on contentedness. This is likely going to end up on my year end list.

I've been a "big fan" of Burial ever since his groundbreaking 2007 LP Untrue. I put "big fan" in parenthesis because despite absolutely loving some of his earlier music to death, I am not die hard enough to be keeping up with every two song single or weird ambient EP he has released over the years. Someone wrote online that this new single was his "best work since Rival Dealer", and that was enough to make me don my Burial fan cap again and dive in. Boy was I not disappointed. These two tracks are expansive at approx. 13 minutes each, but they do not feel tiring or strung out at all. They represent everything I love about Burial; that sweet sweet crackling atmosphere, nimble footed drum patterns and haunting vocal samples that are effective in their sparsity, injecting just the perfect amount of melody into the hazy rhythms. Dreamfear slowly disintegrates and becomes more aggressive over it's run time until the sample repeating "BACK FROM THE DEAD, FUCKED UP IN THE HEAD" hits us in the head over and over, inducing psychosis panic in the listener. It's glorious.

I've been getting back into more progressive rock and metal recently. I blame TesseracT and Aviations for that, as they both put out absolute home run records last year that reawakened the bound and gagged Dream Theater fan inside me. I checked this album on a whim after reading a review about it that described it as "bright and uplifting" metal, and I was immediately captivated by it. If there's one thing I absolutely adore in music, it's a contradiction. Taking two things that people usually do not associate with each other (uplifting and metal) and engaging them in holy matrimony. Artificial Language have a more classical sound than Aviations, but the bright chords, djenty riffs and piano leads are all still in stock. I'd say it's the perfect counterpart to 2023's Luminaria and I'm keen to give it more listens over the coming weeks.

[denimbex1986]

'Christopher Nolan’s Oppenheimer, which tells the story of the titular “father of the atomic bomb” J Robert Oppenheimer, is a three-hour epic populated by a dozen characters whose lives warrant a film of their own. We’re only given minor glimpses of physicists like Niels Bohr (Kenneth Branagh) and Richard Feynman (Jack Quaid), and two of the major women in Oppenheimer’s life, Jean Tatlock (Florence Pugh) and Katherine “Kitty” Oppenheimer (Emily Blunt). Despite her limited screen time, Kitty was a tremendously important figure in Oppenheimer’s life, and in a film with many exceptional performances, Blunt’s is a definite highlight, getting the chance to deliver some of Oppenheimer’s most hard-hitting lines.

Who Is Kitty Oppenheimer?

Born in Germany but raised in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, Kitty Puening studied at several universities throughout her life but ultimately graduated from the University of Pennsylvania with a degree in botany. She married three times before she met Oppenheimer, her fourth and final husband. While Kitty was in the midst of pursuing graduate studies at UCLA, she met Oppenheimer at a garden party in Pasadena. Still married to her previous husband Richard Harrison, she and Oppenheimer began dating just months after they first met, and Kitty eventually divorced Harrison once she became pregnant with her and Oppenheimer’s first child.

Kitty first joined the Communist Party during her common-law marriage to communist organizer Joe Dallet, who later died fighting in the Spanish Civil War. She even planned to join him but received the news that he had been killed before she ever left for Europe. Her relationship with Oppenheimer overlapped with his on-again off-again affair with Jean Tatlock, a member of the Communist Party USA, who plays a small yet significant role in Nolan’s film. Kitty’s previous affiliations with communism would later put her under scrutiny during Oppenheimer’s security hearing by the United States Atomic Energy Commission, as he too had a history with communism via his relationship to Tatlock.

Why Kitty’s Story Matters in 'Oppenheimer'

Nolan has often faced criticisms over the lack of nuanced female characters in his films, who are often confined to gendered tropes. In some ways, Oppenheimer is a step in the right direction. Though Jean Tatlock's role is largely reduced to one of a mysterious temptress whose political affiliations and untimely death haunted Oppenheimer for the rest of his life, Kitty has a different fate. She was one of the most important relationships in Oppenheimer's life, supporting him and providing some much-needed reality checks, a representation of the maxim "behind every great man is a great woman." This adage is particularly true to the time period, when women, even highly educated ones like Kitty, were afforded very limited opportunities outside domestic work.

Kitty even briefly worked as a lab technician at Los Alamos, but the film focuses on her unhappiness with being largely stuck at home doing housework and raising their two children, using alcohol to cope. In an interview with MSNBC, Blunt expressed her empathy for Kitty's plight, saying, "There were many women who sort of went to waste at the ironing board back then, and I think she was meant for greater things and I think drove herself insane in that isolation and loneliness of living in Los Alamos with nothing else to do but to drink and have children.”

It's true that Kitty's character isn't given the depth she deserves, but in a film that's so densely populated with characters based on real historical figures with equally interesting lives, it would be impossible to dig into all of them without completely losing focus. For much of the film, Kitty remains quite literally at the periphery, sitting stoically in the background as Oppenheimer is questioned by the United States Atomic Energy Commission, but when it's finally her turn in the hot seat, she doesn't back down. Despite her interrogators believing they could intimidate or outsmart her, Kitty is purposeful in her answers, and nothing seems to shake her, providing one of the most captivating scenes in the film.

Emily Blunt's Performance as Kitty Is a Standout in 'Oppenheimer'

Oppenheimer is chock-full of impressive performances across the board, like Cillian Murphy's haunting portrayal of the troubled physicist which acts as the film's driving force, Robert Downey Jr's riveting turn as Lewis Strauss, and Matt Damon as General Leslie Groves, who brings rare but effective moments of levity to such a somber film. In a huge ensemble cast of heavy hitters like the aforementioned stars and an abundance of talented supporting actors, Blunt's performance still manages to stand out. She also gets to deliver two of the most impactful lines of the film, both of which help reframe Oppenheimer's actions and internal conflicts. As Oppenheimer shuts down after learning of Jean's death, Kitty, who already knew of their affair, reminds him of the turmoil he himself brought to Jean's life, telling him, "You don't get to commit sin, and then ask all of us to feel sorry for you when there are consequences."

Nolan presents Oppenheimer's thesis from the get-go, opening with the striking quote, "Prometheus stole fire from the gods and gave it to man. For this, he was chained to a rock and tortured for eternity." Oppenheimer is consistently haunted by the catastrophic consequences his actions brought upon the world, shown visually through various hallucinations. During his security clearance hearing, he has to be prodded into answering questions and isn't particularly forthcoming with his answers, in contrast to Kitty's bluntness during her own hearing. The film itself doesn't let Oppenheimer off the hook just because he's plagued with guilt, and Kitty is quick to confront him about his martyr complex, saying "You think because you let them tar and feather you that the world will forgive you? They won't."

Kitty Oppenheimer's character plays a small but meaningful role in one of Nolan's most ambitious films, and Blunt deserves any accolades coming her way during awards season. Still, Kitty's story could undoubtedly stand to be told on its own (as could Jean Tatlock's, to be fair). She was a well-educated, well-traveled woman, perceived as unlikeable by many at Los Alamos, but with a story worth being told from her perspective, as she struggled with motherhood and alcoholism all while watching the Manhattan Project unfold from the sidelines.'

[goodbysunball]

Clearing the weeds

Your monthly four-pack is here. While irregular, I'm sure you'll find something delicious within. Expect more in a few days' time, or expect me to fail to deliver on that statement. In any case, let's dive into it; three rather bleak ones offset by a sunny one, because it's OK to let the light in when it's too oppressive to go outside.

CIA Debutante, Down, Willow (Siltbreeze)

Third, and best, LP from the duo of Nathan Roche and Paul Bonnet, further entrenched in the dystopian landscapes armed with a dead-eyed stare and dry wit. The duo sounds rejuvenated here; I liked Dust, but there were parts of that record that felt forced and awkward. Down, Willow doubles down on what they do best: Roche's bleak recitations matched by Bonnet's scraping, harsh floor shapeshifting beneath their feet. The drum machine seems to have gotten new batteries, as the rhythms and tempos often approach danceable on "The New Season" and "A Dove," and both tracks feature some pretty caustic ripping guitar, too. Compositionally, Down, Willow is a big step forward, sounds growing deliberately with subtle changes in tone, pieces added delicately until the music propagates on its own, fraying and sparking and eventually exterminating itself. The tracks here are brief, all but one below five minutes each, capable of maximizing impact in a short duration not unlike Jorge Luis Borges' short stories. Roche's writing isn't on Borges' level, but the comparison holds when one considers the ability of these tracks to effectively transport the listener into different environments. Take "Japanese Garden," where layers of guitar give the effect of bouyancy and danger, walking on liquid mercury, the feeling of levitation briefly disappearing at track's end but soon returning in a new form on the instrumental "The Air Loom." Only the slow start to "Cabinet Minister" allows reality to seep in, though the track gradually builds to again cloud (or is it enhance?) reality, once again pulled into Down, Willow's sandpaper embrace. CIA Debutante, the probing magnifying glass for our doomed reality, as good as ever. Now, how about some U.S. shows?

Joe Colley, Pleasure Pressure (New Forces)

A quick return from Joe Colley, following up last year's stunningly bleak Deformation of Tone with another round of existential dread in Pleasure Pressure. He's been at it for a long time now, and each subsequent release seems to hone in further on what sounds or compositional choices will pinpoint unspoken fears and anxieties. While the LP jacket design makes it easy to think of Pleasure Pressure and Deformation of Tone as a pair, the former feels more like something that would've appeared on Kye rather than venerated noise label New Forces. It often has the feel of pieced-together field recordings, sounds given added heft through isolation and placement in a compositional whole. A bulk of the first side sounds like recordings of a room with a malfunctioning steam heater, for instance, and there's lots of fumbling, hard-to-place noises, hands moving pieces without clear purpose. I don't think Colley makes music with field recordings, though it's impressive that he can conjure these feelings and visions through mechanical synthesis. Certain points, like the beginning of the second side, immediately grab my attention, all sheared metal and churning devices; other portions feel a bit listless. With infrequent loud sections and without the intermittent samples of people speaking included on Deformation of Tone to guide the listener a bit, the record can lose focus. I imagine it sounds like walking around a residential area just hit by a tornado, crackling wires and burst pipes interspersed with eerie stillness, but also walking around long enough to become inured to the bizarre landscape. That same sort of disconnect could be at play here: I like the corroded sounds on Pleasure Pressure, but they often feel too aloof. When a voice finally appears at the very end, positing that "being born is violence," it lands with a thud, having not been hoisted up by the preceding sounds. Instead, Pleasure Pressure is content to writhe in murky doubt and curdled anxiety, risk-averse though more than capable and committed.

En Attendant Ana, Principia (Trouble In Mind)

Trouble In Mind has been doing a pretty great job filling its roster with international talent, and Paris' En Attendant Ana are one of their longer-running acts, this being their third LP with the label. Their sound is a keyboard driven pop, not too far off from Slumberland's sound with a healthy dash of the Clean, but they sprinkle in enough magic to make the music stick. That magic can be brief appearances by Camille Frechou's saxophone or trumpet, or it can be Margaux Bouchaudon’s meandering vocals on "Fools & Kings," or it can just be the band transforming a Loaded-style track into their own sound ("Principia"). Principia is sorta billed as the band's grown-up record, and there are big swings here: "Same Old Story" channels Stereolab with success, and "Wonder" straps into a krautrock groove, hoping to outrun past mistakes. What appears to be gone is the youthful jitteriness or exuberance of a track like "Down the Hill" from previous album Juillet, replaced instead by a handful of so-so tracks that evade remembrance. "Black Morning," "Ada, Mary, Diane" and "The Cut Off" seem like afterthoughts compared to the title track or "Anita," pleasant enough but weighing down the album. "Anita," on the other hand, is the track here, as much as everyone will talk about "Wonder"; it's everything they do well in one track, a motorik beat and rubbery bass taking the reins and holding tight as the vocals sway and saxophone blares. There's good reason why "Anita" opened their set that I caught a few weeks ago. As far as their albums go, I think I still give the edge to Juillet, but the handful of tracks that connect on Principia make it more than worthwhile.

Leda, Neuter (Discreet Music)

Unexpected and wholly welcome new LP from Leda (née Sofie Herner, 1/2 of Neutral), a proper follow-up to 2017's Gitarrmusik III-X landing on the heels of a cassette released by a label that shall not be named. You can skip the tape anyway, 'cause Neuter is what you want: brittle, unadorned chords and loops; readings doubled as lyrics tucked in the background, cloaked in distortion; and a spare but effective presentation, as much about what is there as what isn't. Tracks 2 and 5 are probably the most approachable compositions, comparatively, King Blood-style riffs repeated ad nauseam, but all tension and no release. What Leda appears to reach for, and often achieves, is transcendence through repetition, a feat notable for the short length of the tracks. I'm reminded of Robert Turman's Spirals of Everlasting Change (tracks 3 and 7) and the longer recordings from Paul Bowles' recordings in Morocco (track 8, my favorite here) throughout Neuter, but Leda's work feels grittier, not offering an escape so much as a hard look at what's around. What can often sound like music on life support ends up slowly pulling the listener into its vortex, making it difficult to do anything else but turn up the volume. The artwork is quietly stunning, too, the harsh jacket flooded with what looks like a micrograph of etched metal or rock, offering no clues as to what's within. Plenty of copies of Neuter have been pressed, though I'd prioritize grabbing one - a top favorite of the year.