Draaaaaaaaaaaaama

Draaaaaaaaaaaaama…

Me, looking at most threads on the Internet.

October festivities!

Well, it makes sense that Captain America is having trouble finding Bucky right now in the MCU; he was on a mission to Mars. A mission, I might add, that got extended. I wonder if they'll address it in Civil War.

A Simple Man- Part 1

Being a thug used to be so elementary.

There was this raw innocence to the whole process.

It was all about simple mob mentality. And, lots of boobs and booze.

Like, I’m talking “gives a new meaning to ‘Land of Milk and Honey’” lots.

Of course, there was an actual “working” portion of the job. But, most of the time, with us simple, low-ring tough guys, one just simply had to show up and look tough. In all honesty, it was not a very tiring job. And, when the time came, you’d just have to get up off of your ass and throw your weight around. Men are normally good at that sort of thing anyway.

We were in the business of vice, supplying the greatest hits of depravity and indulgence.

However, a couple of these were notorious for getting you killed: drugs and guns.

Tits and booze got one close enough, for my own taste, to getting kicked to death in the filthy gutter of your favourite dive. You know the one, with that cheap classy shit that you like to buy. Yeah, there’s literal shit in that gutter. And, you’re gonna die in that shit. That shit will be the last thing you see and smell before some cocky son-of-a-bitch brings a bat down on your head like some fucking Mortal Kombat fatality killing stroke. That’s the kind of trouble drugs and guns bring.

We all have your basic intimidating blunt weapons, like bats and crowbars. But, some of us thugs need to compensate for small dicks, daddy issues, or both. Those assholes will have concealed guns. These guns make things messy, and definitely more illegal. You can’t pull any “But, officer, I was walking down to the park to play some ball” bullshit with that gun that’s about to accidentally shoot your dick off because you think it’ll impress some cheap hoe. Want to know what doesn’t impress prostitutes? Guys missing dicks. People often get less intimidated, and more dead, when guns are involved.

I’m no idiot, though. Even a lazy-ass like me trained up a little bit. I took a few boxing classes, to get some basic handheld fighting experience. I really wanna’ try Krav Maga. So fucking badass. But, those are life goals for you- best left for tomorrow.

All of these things may have some major complications and flaws, but, hey, we’re all human right? We all have the same flaws, same vulnerabilities. I love that about mankind: underneath all of the bravado, and the lies, and the armour, we’re all just simple flesh. No magic, or superpowers, or aliens. I was a simple man, in a simple time.

That’s when everything changed.

Changed how, you may wonder. Well, for starters, I’m currently hanging from a catwalk in a warehouse, moments from falling to my fiery doom because some douche-nozzle blew a hole in the wall, and now the warehouse is on fire. A guy with nunchucks; a guy is shooting fire out of his hands; a guy is flying. What the fuck is going on; I was not prepared for this bullshit. It turns out that we’re not all just simple humans after all. Magic, superpowers, and aliens all exist, and they all just fucking lit the place on fire. I’ve been taking scattered jobs for months now; finding work that doesn’t get you killed is harder and harder to come by. God-forbid I have to actually make an honest living. I heard about this job from a guy, who heard about it from a guy. It was supposed to be a clean and simple fraudulent goods shipment, just some knock-off bags and shit, I think. Like, Juicy, or Gucci, or Scholl’s or something. No drugs or guns involved- how much trouble could I get into? I just keep my eyes open, and walk around up on this catwalk, until the stuff gets picked up. Simple enough, right? Not so simple, now, huh, trying to lift my heavy ass back onto a catwalk. Being a thug is all about appearances. I had to scope out soft jobs, without looking like I was going soft. That level of dedication, of not getting sent to jail for life or getting shot to death, while still appearing tough, is exhausting. However, I’d like to maintain a certain level of living that I’ve actually grown a tad sentimental toward. Speaking of which, I’m still hanging here, all exposed and about to die and such. That’s when I hear the catwalk creak. Maybe I’m just hearing things, right? There’s a lot going on in here, with people blowing shit up, screaming, and gunfire. Then I hear a creak and a deep groan; this catwalk is going down, and soon. The explosion must done more to this catwalk than toss me like a consensual salad. Things are warming up below, too, as the fire begins to spread. Wait a second- what the honest fuck. Did I say guns? Who brought fucking semi-automatics?  I bet those knock-off bags weren’t empty at all, and I’m pissed about it. With my luck, I’d even bet drugs are involved too.

“We know about your shitty fake bags, and that you’re smuggling drugs and guns in them. Surrender now, so we can save you, and take you to jail,” some pretentious, self-righteous asshat, with a booming voice, declares to anyone who hasn’t burned to death already.

Turns out things aren’t always as they appear. And, this job has brought a particular amount of literal and figurative heat that I really can’t handle right now.

Remember that one time the wall blew up, sending shit everywhere, and I got hit in the face, and knocked off a catwalk? I did that super ninja grab, like in the movies, but, no one was around to see? Then I was about to fall to my death? Fan-fucking-tastic times.

Where do I begin about my bread-y friend? Or, is it my friend-y Bread? I always get those mixed up. Regardless, I love the drawings. They're adorable and delightful. Thank you so much =] You are a blessing to the furry community!

Badge Commissions for @duck-art of his cute characters Dixon and Neill :3

Look for these at FC 2016 :D

Believe

After listening to it myself multiple times, I’ve asked a handful of people their thoughts on the new Mumford & Sons album.

I’ve mostly heard “it’s okay” and “I miss old Mumford.”

Yes, I had to listen to the album, “Wilder Mind,” at least once to purge my own preconceived notions of what Mumford “is” out of my system.

However, it dawned on me that Mumford & Sons is whatever they CHOOSE to be. They’re super talented, and they made a great album. Sure, less banjo, but, that’s really okay. It takes major balls to change up your style like that.

Possibly my favourite Panic! at the Disco album is “Pretty. Odd.” And, I think that’s just because I like more folk/Indie than most Panic! fans. Panic! had major balls making that their second album, and it’s amazing, even if it wasn’t what fans were expecting.

The point is: Mumford & Sons has my immense respect, and I really enjoy their talent, in whatever medium/style they present it in. I’m pretty sure they could just read and score a book, and I’d love it. Marcus Mumford has an amazing voice.

Also, on a vaguely related note, you should all be listening to Punch Brothers.