#vera west

[upontherisers]

in this room 'til we die

a/n: it has been ages, truly ages since i posted my work on here and, well, mota has given me brainrot. this tumbled out of me between midnight and 2:00 am and i'm happy to share it with you. title is from 'The Elevator' off of lizzy mcalpine's newest album. meet lieutenant vera west, bombardier

She’s trying to remember the feeling of it as she lies on the floor behind her seat. The moonlight flowing in from the nose dome brightens the space just enough to remind her where she is, but keeps the details hidden. Good. The thing she’s here for is in her mind. The rest is set dressing.

She closes her eyes and pushes her shoulder blades into the bottom of the machine below her. She’d melt herself into the floor if she could, mix with the metal until there’s no difference between person and plane. She’d become the bird herself. The belly of the plane pushes back at her and the pain activates her heart, which activates her instinct. She can do this. She can do this. 

Pilot to bombardier—Ginny’s voice washes over her—the plane is yours.

She knows what to do next, easy as breathing. Get the target in her bomb sight, give the crew the count down, hit the release, and bombs away. Bombardier to pilot, the plane is yours. I’m giving it to you, Ginny! The plane is yours. Do you hear me? You can come back, the plane is yours. They shake and jolt through flak as behind her, Knick Knack shouts the new heading to the pilots. All Vera can do is get back on her turret and pray that they make it through. 

They get hit. She knows they get hit from the monstrous boom on their left side and the sudden lurch the plane takes. There’s barely enough time to grab her chute as she’s screaming for everyone to bail, do it! do it now! But the bell doesn’t ring. Knick Knack keeps giving their bearings and Ginny keeps her steady. Can’t you hear me? Get out! Get out! It all goes black.

She gasps back into her body with a shout, the dark flooding her eyes. The shaking in her hands is back and she curses herself. Do the damn job. Her hands shaking could be—no—would be the difference between someone’s life and death, and she could not bear another nine on her conscience. She’ll run it until her hands stop shaking. If it takes all night and all of the next day and all of the next war. She has a job to do and she will not fail. Not again.

One measured breath, then another up into the roof of the nose, then she closes her eyes again, hears Ginny’s voice. Pilot to bombardier, the plane is yours.

The hatch to the nose opens but she ignores it. There’s a job to do. Give the crew the countdown. Bomb bay doors opening. Hit the release. Bombardier to pilot, the plane is yours. Ginny doesn’t answer. Bombardier to pilot, like being louder would do anything, the plane is yours. The plane is—

“It’s late.”

Benny DeMarco climbs into the nose, brushing his shoulder with hers as he lies down next to her. 

She doesn’t open her eyes. “I’m tryna fly.”

“That’s my job.”

The Ginny in her head goes silent and Vera sighs, opening her eyes. The roof of Our Baby is too obscured in shadow to make out much, but she can see the dents and dings she knows are there. How many more could it take? How many more Luftwaffe shells could find their way inside before they’re careening out of the sky, too? What would it feel like as the bottom drops out? She wishes Ginny or Tanner or Knick Knack or her dear Kitty or Gusty were here to tell her. But they aren’t and she is with her shaking hands and racing heart and fear of flying or falling and she wasn’t sure which it was. 

“Hey, hey, now.”

She doesn’t realize she’s crying until Benny sits up to brush at her cheeks with a gentle thumb. She lets him and tries to stop more tears from welling up at his sincerity. There’s no judgment in him as he holds her face, only that soft, knowing smile and those bright eyes, the light in them not gone yet. Thank God for you, Benny Demarco. 

He doesn’t say anything once he withdraws his hand, tucking his knees to his chest and laying his elbows out so that he could rest his head in the crook of his shoulder while looking around, arched brows giving away his curiosity. His genuine inquisitiveness makes her sniffle a giggle, and he nudges her with his foot. “What?”

“You look like you’ve never seen the nose before.”

He shrugs. “I’m never in here.”

“You should stop by more often, see what a real job looks like.” 

He jabs at her this time, and she really laughs. “Hey!”

“I didn’t come here to get razzed.”

“Then why’d you come at all?”

“Got back from the pub, saw your bed was empty,” he says, and he’s looking around again. She wonders why. “Buck wanted a head count. I had a feeling I knew where you’d be.”

“So you’re here for Buck.” She doesn’t know why she says it. He’s doing a nice thing for her as a friend—in his Army issued tank-top under his leather jacket, no cap, hair slipping out of its pomade. He should be in bed but he’s not, he’s here with her and she’s too stuffed up with her grief, her anger to thank him like she should.

He looks at her again and gives her a rueful half smile. “I’m here for you.”

That sits painfully on her heart. That’s not right—it’s the other way around. He’s the pilot and she’s the bombardier; it’s her job to get past herself and do her duty. Benny gets them through the flak and firestorms and all she has to do is drop the bombs. It isn’t so difficult and yet she nearly failed him the last two times they were in the air, with her shaky hands and Ginny in her head and Buck having to bellow over them both in order for her to drop. 

Her face burns with shame as tears bubble up again. She’s a coward, plain and simple, and she knows it. Everyone else can move on, get into the air again and complete the mission without being paralyzed, stuck between flying and falling, but she’s here night after night, begging her hands to steady just enough not to stutter on the release hatch. 

She thinks of the girl she was when she landed in England, bursting at the seams with fight and fervor, unstoppable, hungry to get up there. That girl trusted herself and her hands and her crew… her crew, the women who’d lived in her head as much as she lived in theirs. The women who’d made flying as easy as breathing. Her sisters in arms, the other parts of her brain, the reasons she couldn’t think straight anymore. She calls out into the blue once more—bombardier to pilot, the plane is yours—but it’s silent across the sky.

She wants to scream, she wants to throw something, she wants to kick and break and howl like the boys get to do but instead, all she can do is cry, and Benny is right there when she does, gathering her in his arms and cooing into her hair. “I know, I know.”

It takes a while for her to stop, longer than she’d like to admit, but he’s with her the whole time, patient as a saint. She holds on for dear life; there is no other option. There’s falling or flying or him, and he’s the only place that feels safe. His arms are warm as he tucks her into his chest and his legs bracket hers, holding her anguish, not letting it drop to the floor. He smells of cigarettes and his whiskey of choice and the sweet, spicy cologne he puts on when they’re on a stand down the next day. He smells of himself as she forgets what her girls smelled like—Ginny’s orangy perfume and Tanner’s hot comb oil that lingered after doing half the hair on base. 

You’re all I have now, Benny. And what if I lose you, too?

The thought redoubles her grief and her breath eludes her until she’s heaving.

He sits her up. “In and out, West, c’mon.” In and out. That’s usually Buck’s line, reserved for getting her out of her stupor and back on her gun after the bomb bay doors close. Benny says it with none of the major’s disappointment and all of his own kindness.

“I’m sorry,” she eventually croaks, trying to smooth out the wrinkles her fists put in his shirt. 

A comforting hand runs up her back, between her nightshirt and jacket. “Don’t be.”

Silence falls.

It’s quiet on the hard stand, a rare night when the ground crews aren’t hammering away until dawn. From the dome, she can see straight down the runways and out into the fields of East Anglia. The town’s lights are low in the far distance. It’s quiet for them, too.

The entire base has tomorrow off, which would normally mean raucousness to the nth degree, but things haven’t been the same since they came back from Algeria. Well, maybe John Egan’s the same, but the rest of them, the rest of them can’t stomach it like they used to—the empty beds in the barracks, the new crews that only last a few weeks, the war of attrition in the air, the sawmill, the fact that there’s no end in sight. They’re going up again in two days, to heaven or hellfire. 

She shudders and asks her hands to steady, if not for her then for Benny and the rest of the fort.

He pulls her into him again, murmuring into her hair. “You’ve been scaring us, Vee.”

“I don’t mean to.”

“I know, but you do.” 

“I just,” she starts without knowing where she’s going, “I just—” I’m drowning in the air, the floor’s out from under me and there’s nothing but sky above. “I miss my crew,” she settles on. 

He scoffs. “You have a crew.”

“No, I have a bunch of guys that let a basket case sit at the front of their fort—”

“Hey.” A hand cups her jaw, tilting it so that she looks him in the eyes. She’s never known brown to shine like that, in the light or in the dark. “I’d take a bullet for you, so would everyone else.”

Ain’t that the worst thing you’ve ever heard? That there’s another nine willing to leave her all alone with no thought to how it’d make her feel. No one’s ever the poor sap they tell stories about—the only paratrooper that survived the jump, the last woman standing out of three platoons, a lone P-40 fighting its way home, all that’s left of a mighty squadron. No one’s ever the poor sap until they are, and then they’re just another story to tell. I know a bombardier who took some flak to the chest, had to be grounded for a few days. The day before she’s discharged, her whole crew goes up without her and ends up crashing, no chutes. They’d just beaten the odds, too, flew twelve missions, went down on thirteen.

Then she becomes another superstition to add to salt and mirrors. Make sure your crew’s together for your thirteenth, never go up without your original bombardier. She’s a walking ghost story, the frequent recipient of poorly concealed pointed fingers and whispers behind hands. She’s not a hero who landed a bird on one engine and three dead crew. She’s the left behind, the abandoned, she should’ve gone down with her ship. No one wants to be her. 

Some days, she thinks that’s a fate worse than death. 

Benny can’t understand that and she doesn’t want him to, but he’s searching her face for an answer nonetheless. She reaches up and holds his cheek. He leans into her touch and she’s proud that her hand doesn’t shake, that he takes a breath for himself as she brushes her thumb over his soft, warm skin, touching that darling beauty mark that she finds so charming.

“Vera,” he whispers. 

That’s not enough, because he doesn’t get it yet. I can’t lose you. She lifts her other hand, cradles his face, and beholds—really looks—as if her gaze would be enough to protect him. He’s always been good to the girls, always quick to check a man who was out of line, a confidant, a shoulder to cry on, and since her girls went down, a genuine friend, careful and brash with her, keeping her feet on the ground. 

I can’t lose you, I can’t lose you, I can’t lose you. All the quiet meals in the mess, the long walks with Meatball when she needs to get out of the barracks, all the nights in the nose spent talking her back into bed when she insists on one more practice run. I can’t lose you. A lump forms in her throat and her eyes burn. She scrunches up her nose to stop herself from crying again and furiously swipes at her eyes. There’s been enough tears tonight.

He laughs, bright and brassy, and sits back as she sits up.

“What?”

“You’re the toughest bombardier I’ve ever met.”

It’s her turn to kick at him but he grabs her ankle. “I’m serious.”

“You’re always serious, Benny.”

There’s that smile that picks her spirits up.

She sighs and lies back down, wiggling as flat as she can. He takes the place next to her and it’s quiet except for the sounds of their breathing just above their faces. The floor is cool and he’s warm, and she wants to practice some more, but maybe she could rest for a bit. 

He nudges her arm after a few moments. “Can’t sleep here.”

“'M tryna fly.”

“Enough trying. You fly, you’re a flyer. You need to sleep.”

She doesn’t do that much these days and she tells him such. 

“I’ll let you take Meatball tonight.”

She opens one eye. “Yeah?” Meatball has a bed at the foot of Benny’s, but occasionally he parts with him long enough to let her have a night of snuggles with her favorite canine. 

“Sure, if you promise to stay in bed until reveille.”

Now that’s tempting.

#my writing #vera west #bernard demarco x oc #mota #masters of the air #there's not a name for this universe yet but i'm sure i'll find one soon #straighten up and fly right #vera x benny

[ediths-shades]

Costume appreciation

MARLENE DIETRICH in THE SPOILERS (1942).

Costume design by Vera West.

#The Spoilers #Marlene Dietrich #1940s #40s movies #historical (inaccurate) costumes #Vera West #my gifs #userthing #cinematv #cinemapix #cinemaspast #silverscreendames #m!lfsource #filmtvcentral #tvfilmsource #classicfilmcentral #ladiesofcinema #tvfilmspot #costumesource #oldhollywoodedit #1940s style 1800s fashion #can't really recommend this movie unless you're a BIG fan of one of the actors

[sesiondemadrugada]

Dracula (Tod Browning, 1931).

#dracula #tod browning #karl freund #bela lugosi #bunny beatty #milton carruth #john hoffman #herman rosse #charles d. hall #russell a. gausman #ed ware #vera west #dracula (1931)

[incorrectsmashbrosquotes]

I’ve been replaying the Monster Prom games recently, and I’ve been trying to decipher why I find the meta-humor in those games funny, even charming. Normally meta-humor is one of the biggest turn-offs for a show or game for me. It’s one of the main reasons I stopped watching Rick and Morty after season 3. But, after some thought, I think I’ve finally figured it out.

With the Monster Prom games, the Meta-Humor never seems to come off as the characters hating their genre. Rather, they revel in it. Polly cracks jokes about you having to choose between two equally insane options instead of doing what any rational being would do in that situation. Aaravi gleefully enjoys being an RPG Protagonist in a Dating Sim. You can romance the fucking Narrator. And all of this is enjoyable because, while the characters are aware of the fact that they’re in a video-game, they act in good-humor and enjoy their lives all the same.

Most meta-humor seems to come from the characters resenting the genre they’re in. They joke about how much they hate the dumb story and how contrived it is. It’s always an eye-roll at the camera and it just gets tiresome. Rick and Morty feels like a slog to get through because the characters hate the story itself as well as each other. It just gets fucking tiring.

Deadpool makes jokes about how silly a superhero universe is, but he’s also giddy when he sees Juggernaut and eagerly points out superhero tropes that he enjoys. West of Loathing’s meta-jokes and arguments between player and narrator are charming and part of the fun. Because they all come from a place of genuinely enjoying the genre they’re a part of.

I dunno, just something I wanted to talk about. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go date Vera again.

#incorrect super smash bros quotes #not a quote #Monster Prom #West of Loathing #Deadpool #Rick and Morty #meta-humor #Aaravi Mishra #Polly Geist #Vera Oberlin #media #analysis #literature #thought #musing #meta humor #Monster Prom 2 Monster Camp #Monster Prom 3 Monster Roadtrip #Monster Camp #Monster Roadtrip #long post #text post #writing

[day0fnight]

• finally making a post to show off my collections! they’ve all come so far in only like, two and a half years :,3

#vera ! #collector #horror #gaming #silent hill #the last of us #cyberpunk 2077 #horizon forbidden west #god of war #red dead redemption 2 #grand theft auto v #house of 1000 corpses #the crow

[social-mockingbird]

Me a month ago, half-paying attention while my family watches The West Wing: I’m not super involved. This is a chill thing. Not really my kind of show.

Me now, gliding closer to the TV on a swivel chair, sipping a sub-par affogato: if these two characters don’t kiss I’m going to explode. And what’s with this stupid campaign strategy??

#the west wing #vera rants #vera makes affogatos the moment ice cream enters the house

[gogmstuff]

More Images of 1910 -

1910 Mary Rosamond Anstruther, Mrs Edward Windsor Hussey by James Jebusa Shannon (Scotney Castle - Lamberhurst, Tunbridge Wells, Kent, UK). From reddit.com/r/vintageart/comments/y59sqx/ james_jebusa_shannon_mary_rosamond_anstruther_mrs/ 2122X3130.

Left 1910 Portrait of a lady by Eudolf Bering (auctioned by Flanders Auctions). From liveauctioneers.com-item-148074085_rudolf-bering-xix-xx-portrait-of-a-lady-oil-on-canvas-w-134-x-h-173-cm; fixed flaws w Pshop 3702X5015.

Right 1910 Vera Nikolaevna Epancies by Alexander Murashko (The National Art Museum of Ukraine - Kiev, Ukraine). From artchive.ru/oleksandrmurashko/works/403439~Portrait_of_Vera_Nikolaevna_Epancies_in_marriage_FalzFEIN#show; fixed spots w Pshop 1110X1400.

Left 1910 The Feather Fan by William Strang (location ?). From tumblr.com/beautifulcentury 880X1200.

Right 1910 The Pink Rose by Lilla Perry (private collection). From the discontinued Athenaeum Web site 592X782.

Left 1910 Vita Sackville-West by Philip Alexius de László (Sissinghurst Castle - Cranbrook, Kent UK) From the-athenaeum.org 842X1276.

Right ca. 1910 Baroness Emma Orczy by Bassano. From Wikimedia 758X988

ca. 1908-1910 Paquin evening dress (Enchères Sadde via Interencheres). From tumblr.com-blog-view-fripperiesandfobs 1194X1092.

Left ca. 1910 Bertha Kalich by ?. From Wikimedia 1151X1507.

Right ca. 1910 Evelyn Duchess of Devonshire. From Mig_R's photostream on flickr; fixed spots w Pshop 589X796.

Left. ca. 1910 Mrs. Lancashire by Ignaz Gaugengigl (MFA). From Wikimedia 795X1132.

Right ca. 1910 On the River's Edge by Rose (private collection). From the discontinued Athenaeum Web site 776X974.

1910 (December) Femina cover. From picclick.fr/FEMINA-1910-238-Melle-ALICE-NORY-La-Belle-314811623435.html#&gid=1&pid=1 1668X2146.

1910 Edwardian long line corset. From deloresmonet.hubpages.com/hub/FashionHistoryEdwardianFashionTrends1890a1914# 518X995.

#1910s fashion #1910 fashion #Belle Époque fashion #Edwardian fashion #Mary Rosamond Anstruther #James Jebusa Shannon #wide hat #day dress #high neckline #Eudolf Bering #Vera Nikolaevna Epancies #Alexander Murashko #wrap #William Strang #Vita Sackville-West #Philip Alexius de László #Emma Orczy #Bassano #Jeanne Paquin #Bertha Kalich #Evelyn Duchess of Devonshire #tiara #Mrs. Lancashire #Ignaz Gaugengigl #Guy Rose #Femina magazine #sportswear #corset #Whitney of Chicago #mother-of-the-bride ensemble

[naturesapphic]

Should I start writing for Lauren jauregui?

#lauren jauregui #fifth harmony #natasha romanoff x reader #jade west x reader #Lauren jauregui x reader #lauren jauregui x fem!reader #lady alcina x reader #alcina dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu #lorraine warren x fem!reader #vera farmiga x reader #tiffany valentine x fem!reader #tiffany ray valentine

[ask-idv-thrillseeker]

꒰(ᇂ_ᇂ)꒱ > "...Calliope, right?...You seem...Rather familiar with another person in this manor...That's a bit weird..."

꒰(ᇂ_ᇂ)꒱ > "...Would you perhaps have a...Twin of some sorts?" - @askthecommunicator

"Yeah I uh.. I get that a lot. I’ll tell you this though, I don’t have a twin. No offense but, have you seen the people that apparently are or uh.. were twins here? They have issues."

#olivia beloved 🫶🏾 #also what is up with Netease and not having happy twins #like Joseph? one is dead the other is depressed #Vera? or well Chloe? one is dead the other is depressed #Itha? ONE IS DEAD THE OTHER IS GOING THROUGH IT #I think you guys see the pattern here!! #anyways back to Olivia the woman ever 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾 #askthecommunicator #ask-idv-thrillseeker #idv #idv oc #idv survivor oc #calliope west #rp ask! #idv ask blog #idv rp blog #🏃‍♀️ || surv!cleo answers

[maysshortmoviereviews]

Totems (2022 - )

In 1965, in the midst of the Cold War, a French rocket scientist is thrown in the field for a nearly impossible spy mission and falls for a Soviet woman secretly working for the KGB.

A surprise find on Amazon Prime. It is very tense and very well executed. If you like spy thriller, Cold War espionage stories then this is a must watch. I liked all the characters and I have heard there is a second series in the works. Check it out.

#Totems #French show #French series #cold war #amazon prime #French tv #French language #ussr #czechoslovakia #east germany #west germany #east berlin #west berlin #Niels Schneider #Vera kolesnikova #Lambert wilson

[upontherisers]

oc introduction: straighten up and fly right

masters of the air has unfortunately woven itself into the very fiber of my being and the girls are writing themselves at this point. i’m not going to call it a fic yet, but i will be writing for my mota OCs under the title of Straighten Up and Fly Right. i’d like y’all to meet the women of thorpe abbotts (and beyond) circa 1943. more are on their way.

The Air

1st Lt. May Vera West, 23, of Upper Marlborough, MD - bombardier, Gin’s Joint

Please, call her Vera. Klutzy in a way that makes the fact that she’s still alive a miracle. It’s a wonder she got through training. Gets caught in a lot of awkward moments. Nervous but not anxious. Mousy, energetic. A quick thinker and a rule follower—not an insubordinate bone in her body.

Cpt. Virginia “Ginny” Franklin, 25, of Seattle, WA - command pilot, Gin’s Joint

Sly talking, suave blonde bombshell with a face for the pictures. Chews gum in a way that’ll make your heart pound. Hell of a pilot. College girl. Loves her “sisters” (her crew) and every woman under her command. Quite friendly but not to the British. Can and will charm every CO out of worrying about the competency of her crew. Very laid back, a little (a lot) messy.

1st Lt. Mahalia Summerton, 24, of Charleston, SC - pilot, Blue Baby

Eldest daughter of two sharecroppers who started flying planes to help crop dust nearby farms. Worked her way through college and into a pilot’s license. Chooses fighter planes over the big birds once she joins up and leads her own squadron of Red Tails in Italy. No-nonsense and aloof to strangers, protective once she opens up. Bold.

The Ground

Lola Rosales-Mooreland, 19, of McAllen, TX - Clubmobile hostess

Small town banker’s daughter making her way into the wide world, wielding her miraculous medal against temptation and tragedy with less and less efficiency. Tries not to be a goody two shoes but can’t quite break the habit of trusting blindly in authority. Loves to dance. Sweet tooth.

Roberta “Bobbie” Chambers, 24, of Arlington, VA - Clubmobile hostess

An Army brat who runs her Clubmobile like a world-class regiment. Doesn’t accept any less than the best and doesn’t accept excuses. Tries to instill a sense of purpose into her girls beyond quaint patriotism; donuts can win the war and by God it’ll be hers that will. Will never admit how much she likes dancing. A morning person. And it's Bobbie, not Roberta.

Sgt. Dellarose Williamson, 21, Detroit, MI - mechanic 

Knows machinery better than most people know themselves. There’s no such thing as a lost cause, just a thing that needs a little love. Brushes off every slight about her height with a bright smile and dimples that make you feel bad about razzing her. Has a busy mind that can run away from itself sometimes. Runs on three hours of sleep and a strong black coffee.

#straighten up and fly right #my writing #vera west #ginny franklin #mahalia summerton #lola rosales mooreland #bobbie chambers #dellarose williamson #tryna get this out before i start reblogging prompts

[verasphotography]

VERAS Video & Photography Studio

Address: Ice Cream Factory West Village, Level 1/45 Mollison St West End, QLD 4101

Ph: 0434 037 767

Introducing VERAS - Video & Photography Studio, the perfect place to capture your fashion, products and creative vision. With advanced technology and robotic processes, we deliver consistent, accurate and efficient photography and video workflows. Our studio is fully equipped with everything you need to showcase your products in their best light. Give us a call today!

Website:

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#Veras Brisbane #Photography Studio WestEnd #fashion photo studio #Style Shoots Live #Photo Studio #Brisbane fashion Studio #Brisbane business Studio #West end brisbane Photo Studio #Ecommerce photography Brisbane #studio lighting #advertising photographer #product photographer #brisbane photography #style shoots #mens footwear #brisbane photo studio #product photography #studio shoot #creative photography #content creation Studio

[sesiondemadrugada]

Phantom Lady (Robert Siodmak, 1944).

#phantom lady #robert siodmak #ella raines #Elwood Bredell #Arthur Hilton #Robert Clatworthy #john b. goodman #russell a. gausman #Leigh Smith #vera west

[cinemajunkie70]

Happy Birthday in the afterlife to the eternally cool, Charles Bronson! They do not make them like him anymore and we are the poorer for it!

#charles bronson #once upon a time in the west #death wish #the dirty dozen #death hunt #the great escape #the magnificent seven #the white buffalo #the mechanic #death wish II #death wish iii #death wish iv #breakout #the Indian runner #red Sun #death wish v #10 to midnight #chato’s land #Vera Cruz #kinjite: forbidden subjects #the evil that men do #assassination #Murphy’s law #chino #hard times

[day0fnight]

• updated look at my collections!

nothing too major aside from the new figurines and collectibles i got for christmas, some little things i’ve purchased myself and a slight re-organisation but i figured, new year? new collections pictures…

• also check out these new books i got! i’ve been wanting the gun and girl illustrated: assault rifle and battle rifle of the world book for quite a while now and finally got my hands on it :,3

#vera ! #horror #gun and girl #guns #the last of us #silent hill #resident evil #cyberpunk 2077 #horizon forbidden west #red dead redemption #house of 1000 corpses #the crow #western #billy the kid

[wfodicks]

#664: THE FAFFENING OF POST SEX NACHOS

Mike, travis and drunk discuss the following topics…. the king of cola tries day’s cola: 4.9 the return of the fyre fest….. the eagles lyrics and kanye vs. ozzy…. alicia keys and the public record…. after the break, we talk to post sex nachos from columbia, mo about music, feffing, and more! Check out their new album prima/vera and catch them on tour. See where they’re playing near you here…

View On WordPress

#alicia keys #BREAKING POINT #coffee #comedy #FYRE FESTIVAL #IDLES #kanye west #OZZY OSBOURNE #PODCAST #POST SEX NACHOS #PRIMA/VERA #SCENTS #TANGK #THE EAGLES #THE IRON CLAW