#Cotton Bureau

[hillfogstudio]

Fresh spin on my Eternal Love design for the love birds.

Get the shirt

[lovelytsunoda]

indecent exposure // liam lawson

summary: some men should not be allowed to buy gag shirts when they go to vegas. liam lawson is not one of them. or, the liam face-sitting fic i've been ruminating on for months and never wrote.

pairing: liam lawson x female! reader

warnings: 18+!!! SMUT!!! porn with very minimal plot if i do say so myself. lots of double entendres for common police charges (disorderly conduct, indecent exposure etc.), liam refers to himself as 'agent lawson' and makes us all cringe with laughter. the actual face-sitting portion of the fic is really only a few paragraphs at the end lmao the foreplay was too fun with all the cop jokes-

author's note: somebody should take both my library card and every british detective show in existence away from me because this is what happens when i watch too many episodes of anything with a hot detective in it. never mind the fact that i binged lauren layne's new yorks finest series last year when i was snowed in and my classes were cancelled for almost a week

there was nothing that y/n loved more than coming home from a long day at work and taking her dress pants off. and her high heels, and her bra. typically this would be followed by a pint of ben and jerrys and a few episodes of 'grace and frankie'. sometimes it would be followed by a feel good eighties movie, or by her boyfriend ordering takeout and ravishing her while they waited for it to arrive.

all of these were good options, as far as y/n was concerned.

"hey babe!" liam shouted, darting across the hall from the small gym space they'd set up, to the master bedroom. "look what i found in the closet...jesus. you look gorgeous." he stopped in his tracks, eyes fixed on his goddess of a girlfriend as she stood in front of the gilded mirror next to the walk-in closet.

"you saw be before i left for work." she laughed, taking out the small diamond studs in her ears. they were a gift from liam for their anniversary. "all i've done is take off my slacks and bra, and undo my shirt a little bit."

but it wasn't the lack of pants that was getting liam all flustered, nor was it the way the collar of her silk work shirt dipped down just a little too far, the hem not quite long enough to cover the area where thigh met ass.

no, it was the black prada glasses that delicately framed her eyes. the eyes that had so captivated liam from the moment they met.

"if you ever decide to get contacts, i'm leaving you. seriously."

he wasn't serious in the slightest.

"the way you look in those glasses should be a crime. you're gorgeous, babe."

facing him, she laughed, hands on her hips. "i thought you threw that shirt out!"

she groaned internally, looking at the tight-fitting black cotton shirt that liam was wearing, and the cracking white vinyl lettering over his heart. fbi. a gag gift he had bought in vegas. it was too tight despite it's age, hugging each and every one of liam's muscles far too tight, and looking deceptively erotic when paired with his dark blue jeans.

"so did i! isn't it great?" he grinned like an idiot, spinning in a little circle to show off the writing on the back.

female body inspector.

who the fuck came up with these things? on any random guy in the street, she would have gagged at the vulgar implications of the words. on her boyfriend? she only rolled her eyes.

"there's a reason it went missing in the move, babe."

liam shook his head, ignoring her words. "ma'am, i'm special agent lawson from the federal bureau of investigations. i've received a complaint about disorderly conduct on the premises. and now that i'm here i might have to upgrade that charge to indecent exposure, little lady."

"you're such a fucking idiot." she giggled, looping her arms around her boyfriend's neck before kissing him softly. "i love you."

"love you more." he rasped in between kisses, his hands travelling underneath the hem of her shirt. "what do you say the two of us make a case for disturbing the peace?"

"if you make one more cop-related come on, i'm walking out that front door and never coming back."

liam flashed a shit-eating grin, raking his bleached blonde hair out of his face. "so does that mean you won't consent to a frisk search?"

"i will humor you this one time." she laughed, taking a step back. "take it away, agent. but you do realize that the fbi don't get to make disorderly conduct calls? that's a beat cop's job."

"i seem to recall that you have a right to remain silent?"

she winked, undoing another button on her shirt, the fabric falling away just enough to give liam a glimpse of the soft flesh of her breasts. "and i don't recall being read my rights."

"hands against the wall, feet shoulder width apart, you beautiful smartass." liam laughed, waiting for her to turn slightly before playfully swatting at her backside. "then i can read them to you."

the wall was cold against her palms as she got into position, listening half-heartedly as liam attempted to remember the american miranda rights. he got about as far as 'you have the right to remain silent' and 'you have the right to an attorney' before he gave up.

"you know what, this isn't that serious. fuck the right to remain silent, you have the right to remain sexy as fuck. how about that." she could hear the playful annoyance in his voice, and couldn't help the smile that broke out across her face.

there was the liam she knew and loved. not one to mince words, even in the bedroom.

his smooth hands were a welcome presence on her body, travelling up her legs, over her hips and up the sides of her torso. torturously slow, his warm hands dipped underneath her shirt, taking her breasts in his hands, her peaked nipples between his fingers.

heat rose to her skin, adding a rosy sheen in the halflight. she sighed under his touch, her head dropping back to rest on liam's shoulder. liam smiled fondly, one of his hands reaching for hers, the other dropping to cradle her waist.

"you're beautiful." he hummed, kissing her neck gently. "i hope you know that."

this was a side of liam that only she ever got to see. on the outside, he gave off frat boy energy: the hair, the way he carried himself. the way he spoke. but just under the surface, was a man who was wrapped around his girlfriend's finger. one who loved shamelessly, and with his whole heart.

pulling away from the wall, the turned in his hold to face him, tangling her hands in his hair and kissing him deeply.

"if you can get that shirt off without tearing a stitch, you can keep it."

liam beamed, breaking from the embrace to scramble for the hem of the worn t-shirt. he had almost gotten it over his head when he heard the first few stitches begin to pop, fabric getting stuck by his shoulders.

"fuck!"

"need some help with that?"

"i think i'm good!"

somehow they ended up on the bed, both half dressed and pent up. she was soaked through her thong, despite her earlier attitude towards the t-shirt and further proving the point that her lover looked good in just about anything (or nothing, for that matter). she was needy, every nerve in her body reacting to the way liam's tongue probed her mouth, the way his hands touched her body. the way he moaned when she pressed up against the bulge in his jeans.

"babe," he mumbled in between kisses. "do you trust me?"

she cocked an eyebrow, brushing his bangs out of his face before looking down at him "should i be worried?"

"do you trust me, yes or no?"

"of course, li. of course i trust you."

liam nodded. "good. so sit on my face."

she paused, almost as if her brain was sending up error messages. she knew this day would come. liam lawson would eat pussy any which way. truthfully, she was shocked this day hadn’t come sooner.

it wasn’t that she didn’t want to. of course she wanted to.

“babe, how will you be able to breathe? I’ll suffocate you.” she protested, reaching for his hand. “I don’t want that on my conscience.”

“sweetheart, it’s okay. you won’t hurt me. and if-god forbid-I do suffocate, trust me on this, I wouldn’t want to go out any other way than with your thighs on either side of my head.”

and with that, liam took her hands in his, and guided her towards where he needed her most. she looked down at him with a soft smile, running her fingers through his hair.

"i love you." she whispered, moving her hands to the headboard and beginning to lower herself down to meet her lovers tongue.

she inhaled sharply as she made contact, liam's plump lips mouthing at her pussy, her grip tightening on the wooden headboard.

"i've got you, princess." liam's voice was muffled, but his words were reassuring as he ran a hand up and down her thigh. "just ride my face, darlin'. use my tongue to get yourself off."

feeling bolder than she was when she first sat down, she began to grind on liam's face, his nose bumping against her swollen clit with each movement. every bit of friction, every swipe of liam's tongue drove her wild, was like setting fire to her nerve endings.

"oh sweet jesus, god." she whined, fighting the urge to close her thighs together around liam's head, focussing on the way his hands gripped her thighs in a bruising way. she looked down at his face and moaned again, seeing the pleasure mapped out on her boyfriend's features.

"oh, i'm in heaven." he moaned, pulling her down further to plunge his tongue inside of her, rapidly flicking it inside and out.

her eyes rolled back as her hips bucked, grinding against the tip of his nose as one hand came down to clutch at his hair. tears of pleasure pricked the corners of her eyes as she cried out his name.

"liam- right there, oh my god, keep doing that." she whined, trying to move her hips faster. liam's face was soaked, the entire bottom half coated in her juices. there was so much of it, running down the sides of his cheeks and soaking into the pillowcase behind him.

she felt so good she could barely see, screwing her eyes shut. her pants and whines became closer together and more high pitched, the movement of her hips more frantic as she chased that feeling, that high.

"are you going to cum for me, baby?" liam asked, pulling his face away from her. she continued to drip onto his face, and he opened his mouth wide, catching some of her slick on his tongue. "come on my face. please, i want to be drowning in it."

and how could she say no to that?

she could barely keep her shoulders straight as she resumed her motions, fingers gripping liam's hair to keep herself steady. his hands grasped desperately at the flesh of her ass cheeks, squeezing and massaging as one of her own hands came up to grasp at one of her tits, teasing the peaked nipple between her fingers.

"oh god, liam, i think i'm coming!"

"i've got you, i've got you. just breathe-"

his last word was cut off with a moan as she began to gush, coating his face in her release. his moans were muffled by the weight of her body, but they were no less loud as he set about licking her clean.

her legs felt like jello and her body like mush as liam tried to sit up, easing her body back so that she was sitting in his lap, wet core right over top of the massive bulge in his jeans. liam was certain that if she moved at all while she was on top of him, he'd come in his jeans. totally spent, she slumped against him, resting her head on his chest.

he leaned down to kiss her sweaty forehead and she scrunched up her face. she looked adorable in her fogged-up glasses with her messy hair. and liam couldn't stop his heart from melting as she reached for the box of tissues in the nightstand and began to clean up his face.

"that was incredible." her voice was soft as she cleaned him up. "i had no idea you could do that."

"don't give me all the credit." liam laughed, playfully nipping at her fingers as she moved to wipe his mouth down. "you played a very large part in why i'm still hard right now."

she laughed, a big smile on her face as she looped her arms around his neck and leaned in to kiss him softly. with his large hands holding her in place, they kissed again. sweet, chaste and soft, with no intention of it leading anywhere else.

at least, not this early in the evening.

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @httpiastri @libraryofloveletters @cartierre @lorarri @userlando @diorleclerc

[treyisms]

doug remer x bimbo/hyperfem!reader hcs

-`♡´-

cw: fem!reader, nsfw mentions so minors scamper away please!

- you met during one of coop & remer’s driveway baseketball games

- in fact, you were used as a method of a psyche-out on remer, when one of the bigger opponents whispered to him “holy shit, you see the legs on that girl sitting in the grass over there remer?”

- and he’s a sucker naturally and almost threw the game from how quickly he looked in your direction

- and there you sat, smiling at him as you leaned back with confidence, digging your wedged heels into the grass and picking at your nails, your face rosy and kind

- one miniscule ringed finger wave & and a smirk from you and remer was HOOKED

- came up to you RIGHT after the game (like as soon as it ended) to tell you how much he liked your pretty skirt

-“what’s that fabric? velvet? cotton? it looks real pretty on you honey”

- he is a SUCKER for you batting your eyes at him & he frequently calls you “angel eyes” because of it :’)

- remer is absolutely the type of boyfriend to switch shoes with you when your feet hurt

- like there are multiple nights where you leave one of his games wearing his scuffed up vans & he’s still in his sweaty scrunched nike socks (with a hole in the side, literally always) hobbling out in your heels with a smile on his face

- and when coop brings this up (or rather hysterically laughs in remers face) remer shrugs and continues hobbling to the car, where he obviously opens the door for you

- besides him always paying for your clothes and nails, he absolutely loves when you give him little fashion shows & show him outfits you’ve come up with

- “rem, what do you think… pink top with the denim skirt, or green top with the denim skirt?” “well your tits look great in both…” “DOUG” “YOU DIDN’T LET ME FINISH…. but the green brings out your eyes… so green”

- but this conversation was held strictly while he stared at your chest

- he loves giving you jewelery with his initials on it, ESPECIALLY sellout!remer

- he bought you this gorgeous, dainty little (gold or silver) anklet with an “R” charm dangling from it, and you wear it to all his games

- “baby please wear the ankle bracelet, it’s good luck for me… you want me to win, don’t you?”

- of course coop thinks you’re gorgeous, i mean everyone does, but remer isn’t threatened by that

- in fact he’s always showing you off, whipping mini polaroids of you out of his wallet to show all the guys

- “look! this is the playboy shoot she did for my birthday!”

- naturally buys you a magenta baby tee that says “PLAYMATE OF THE YEAR”

- if he’s feeling extra annoying he puts a giant picture of himself on the back LMAO

- whenever you stay over at coop & remer’s house, the whole entire house smells like a nice floral perfume, and almost all of doug’s toiletries sit neatly on the floor in his room because he swipes them off the bureau to make room for all of your makeup and accessories

- speaking of makeup, he goes to multiple red carpet events covered in your lipstick stains

- i’m talkin all over his face and his chest & his shirt, just a ton of red lipstick stains & his dopey smile and red cheeks

- one time while coop was doing laundry (shocker) he caught a glimpse of your red panties with a big “DR” embroidered on the front of them & nearly shortcircuited running to squeak’s room

- they thought that it must’ve been a joke remer was pulling on them, but later that night you pulled up to the game in your low waisted jeans & the straps of the panties pulled over your hips, peaking out from your pants & they were distracted for the entire game, meanwhile remer had a shit-eating grin on

- frequent ass slaps, from him or you

- “where you goin’ sweetheart?” followed by a rough slap to your ass as you walked by “doug!!”

- he LOVES lip gloss, like he’s absolutely enamored with the stickiness and glowiness, and he’ll honestly just smear it all over your mouth with his two fingers cause he just loves the way you look with it

- will show up to multiple post-game interviews with the same sticky lips… and cheeks… and neck…

- god forbid coop ever accidentally spill something on your purse or shoes, remer goes nuts

- “DICKHEAD!!!!! THOSE ARE VIVIENNE WESTWOOD!!” “baby its okay—” “NO! YOU REALLY LIKE THOSE AND HE’S BEING A DOUCHE”

- for the denslow cup, you wear his extra jersey and a v cute, v short cargo skirt & platform sandals as you cheer him on from the front row of the stands, and when he spots you he literally wipes his glasses and puts his hand on his heart like hes been winded

- “oh my god” and coop comes jogging up, concerned for his friend, “remer! what’s wrong dude?” and remer’s literally gripping the post holding the dugout up & hunching over grabbing his stomach LIKE HE’S IN PHYSICAL PAIN, “dude i’m so hard i might pass out right now” “EW DUDE!”

- overall, remer LOVES having a hyperfem/bimbo/high maintenanced! girlfriend

- he wasn’t popular growing up, or in high school… or college, but it makes him feel so happy to be able to walk around with such a confident, beautiful and kind girlfriend <3

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

"The sacrosanctity of slave property in this war has operated most injuriously to the Confederacy," the assistant secretary of war said bluntly in July 1863. And so it had. "The planter is more ready to contribute his sons than his slaves to the war," the Mobile Register declared in outrage during one impressment campaign. It was a damning accusation, and one that at this distance seems palpably true. Slaveholders offered more opposition to slave impressment than to conscription. F. S. Blount, chief impressment agent in the Department of Alabama, Mississippi, and East Louisiana, talked of his failures to get enough slaves "to complete a road so vitally important to the protection of the very individuals, whose highest patriotic impulses never ascend above their own Petty ... schemes for the accumulation of wealth." "You cheerfully yield your children to your country, how you refuse your servants?" one broadside blasted. Slavery, as it turned out, was a form of property that dangerously attenuated citizens' allegiance to the state and submission to its authority. Planters colluded with their slaves in thwarting impressment agents, giving them passes or running them into the woods at the first approach of government agents. They took oaths of allegiance in occupied territory to hold onto their slaves and guided Yankee detachments back to their plantations to repossess their worldly wealth in cotton and slaves. They attacked military commanders who did not make it a priority to protect their property or prevent its escape, and they demanded that politicians represent their interests against the demands of the War Department and the Davis administration. For some, any state would do--Union, Confederate, Brazilian--if it adequately protected their property in slaves.

Slaveholders, it seems, were more concerned with property than nation. Do historians' robust assertions of the strength and endurance of Confederate nationalism take that into account? How else are we to explain the actions of a group insane enough to take a region and all its people into a perilous war, but not patriotic enough to do what it took to fight it? Everywhere in the C.S.A. the policy on slave impressment was resisted. In some places that resistance reached a scale that could only be called massive civil disobedience. In Georgia and North Carolina, legislatures battled the tyranny of the federal government on behalf of slaveholders' inalienable rights of property in slaves. In South Carolina, that struggle went to extremes as planters who had long been "ready with excuses for not furnishing labor to defend Charleston" stacked the legislature with their own and then wrote legislation designed, as Brigadier General John S. Preston charged, "as an explicit declaration that this State does not intend to contribute another slave or soldier to the public defense." As chief of the Bureau of Conscription, Preston, himself a Carolinian, had been out trying to procure "men and labor for the public defense." But there was no military situation so dire as to prevent quibbling. In 1863 Preston had managed to get only 450 of the 2,500 slaves requisitioned by the Engineer's Department, while the governor and legislature ignored the War Department's urging to pass relevant legislation. And again in 1864, even as General Sherman advanced toward Charleston, he could not get the 2,500 men called for. Then in late 1864, with Sherman's legions virtually at the gates, the legislature of South Carolina passed two acts--one asserting ultimate state authority over conscription and another over impressment--so in conflict with the instructions of the War Department that Preston denounced them as "treason to the Confederate States." "May you be endowed with strength and wisdom to overcome enemies stronger than yankee armies--the folly and wickedness of our own people," Preston wrote his president. Planters would not sacrifice the very property they had created the government to protect.

stephanie mccurry, confederate reckoning: power and politics in the civil war south; bolding mine bc ijbol 😂😂😂😂😂

[johnnyutah]

steal his look— special agent peter strahm 😍: regulation federal bureau suit jacket and dress pants, regulation federal bureau shirt and tie, wool costco socks that don’t actually match (this has escaped the otherwise hypervigilant agent’s notice), cotton white briefs, 1.99 pharmaceutical white square bandage [pack of 6], tinted malibu Barbie™ pink chapstick, glossier boy brow volumizing eyebrow gel-pomade, and drugstore mascara that clumps and looks spidery but is 100% waterproof even in cube situations

[who-knew-a-sheep-can-write]

Remaining: Charles Smith x Reader

Spoilers ;/

You grabbed at the quilts and pelts, your fingers carving ravines in the soft colored cotton and furs as your shoulders quaked upon your attempts at rolling over. A chill ran down your clothed spine, your body shivered as you came to realize that you were in the bed alone. The sweat was not helping you right now.

Your swollen lips parted as cold, crisp air entered through to your heaving lungs. The wooden bed frame creaked as you fisted the comfortable layers below you, pushing yourself up. You craned your neck over your aching shoulder, eyes squinting as you tried to find the man you were looking for.

With what little light the dying fireplace provided, you could barely make him out in the darkness of the room. Hunched over, sat on the edge of the bed, head down.

“Charles?” you murmured, voice a little hoarse.

He hummed, but it wasn’t a true acknowledgment. You knew he wasn’t paying attention, he was trapped in his malicious thoughts.

You rocked your body against the quilts and sheets, sitting up now, laying your legs over the side of the bed. You grabbed the ledge of the bed with both hands, scooting next to Charles as close as you could without touching him.

“Charles?” you whispered once more.

The fire crackled away softly. With what little glow and with your eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness, you were able to make out his form. He was tight, coiled up, looking like an abused man.

Something cold sat in your stomach, you knew something was wrong.

Your knee sat so dangerously close to his, just a hair length’s away. You felt if your knee did touch him, he would panic.

But as time groaned on in the settling wooden cabin you two called home, you soon grew too worried to even care anymore.

“Charles,” you called firmly.

Your hand slipped over your soft thigh to his large, meaty, scarred hand. Your gentle, soft fingertips against his rugged palm. He often smiled at how your hands compared to one another. Charles loves to hold onto your hand, even doing the littlest of things. He loved having your little fingers crossed as he stitched worn clothing, or even just laying around the house in front of the fireplace your hands would be entwined.

But now…

Even as your thumb caressed the back of his scarred hand and your fingers entwined with his, he didn’t even blink.

You started to finally notice his shaking breath, his pinched brows behind his locks of ebony hair, the sweat beading on his skin.

“Hey, look at me,” you finally demanded.

You reached up and tilted his head just to look at your face. His eyes looked so hollow, so lost. You had no idea what was wrong with him.

Did you say something? Did you do something?

You had to admit, tonight wasn’t as… passionate as other nights, but you didn’t complain.

“Charles, what-”

“He’s gone too,” he finally broke.

He?

You couldn’t wrap your head around what was happening or what he was talking about until it finally struck you harder than being thrown off the back of a wild horse.

John Marston. One of Charles’ few remaining friends from when he was running in the notorious Van Der Linde Gang that completely tore up the whole state with robberies and heists going down in history.

And now, they were all fading fast.

“What… What happened to him? Do ya know?” you found yourself murmuring.

It hurt you to ask, but you knew Charles needed to start a grieving process before he hurt himself by bottling up his emotions.

“Pinkertons.” Charles pulled his jaw away from your calm hands and proceeded to stare right back into the fading embers that laid dying in the fireplace. “That’s at least from what I heard in town. Edgar Ross, a man that’s been following the gang ever since our gang settled in Horseshoe Overlook, back in 1899.” Charles sniffled and struggled to take in a full breath without trembling. “He had the army there, and the fucking Bureau of Investigations too. They just filled him with bullets…”

You saw Charles’ shoulders starting to shake and tremble.

He was finally able to grieve.

You got up from the bed and stood before your partner. A man so powerful, so respectful, so kind and generous, now sits before you, trembling and now starting to sob for the loss of one of his longest friends.

His large hands grabbed at your steady hips, his forehead resting on your stomach. You cooed at your partner, allowing him to squeeze your waist and bury his head into your stomach. He trembled and shook horribly against you. His tears were cold against your heated skin, still warm from being wrapped up in the blankets just mere minutes ago.

Your hands slowly came down to his ebony locks, fingers twisting into the thick strands of hair, scratching soothingly at his scalp and pressing soft and gentle kisses to his forehead.

You could barely make out what he was sobbing out until you had to pull his face up. His eyes were pained, he had no spark in his eyes like he used to, no hint of that firey playful nature that had you swooning from the first few moments you met. He was broken, thrusted into this world alone.

“Charles…” you cooed softly.

“They’re all gone,” he hiccuped. “Arthur… John…” Charles’ face dropped even more before he found himself burying his face into your chest, standing up and enveloping you into a crushing hug. “I shouldn’t have left them.”

His knees trembled, threatening to buckle and give out under his heavy, swaying weight, threatening to bring you down to the hardwood floors as well.

You felt tears prickling your eyes as well the more you stayed there with him, holding him tightly, shushing him, cooing him, whispering sweet nothings to him, promising him the world and that he’ll see them again one day.

He needed to know that it’s okay for his walls to come down, because you were going to be there for him to help him. He needed to know that you would always be there for him when he needs you just as he’s there for you in your times of need.

All of these bottled up emotions, ever since he had to bury his old friend Arthur a couple of years ago… finally coming out now, in front of you, at the death of his friend John, a man you only met once on your little expedition Charles insisted on, stopping by their ranch for a late lunch. Abigal was kind to you, even let you in on some things about Charles when he was still in the gang, and Jack was a sweetheart, even offering you some fresh wildflowers he found.

Charles pressed a trembling kiss to your shoulder that was still soaked with his tears.

“Thank you,” he coughed.

“Anything for you,” you cooed, slowly rocking him back and forth, carding your fingers into his thick raven locks.

[artistalley]

The Day at Bureau

This is a gallery-quality giclée art print on 100% cotton rag archival paper, printed with archival inks. Each art print is listed by sheet size. Our 4 inch prints feature a minimum half-inch margin while larger sizes feature a minimum one-inch margin.

After using code "YYDBJFIU" for 15% off anything in their shop until October 2, 2023, don't forget to give artist @endrae a follow on Tumblr.

[tomorrowusa]

MAGA zombies are celebrating the return of the Dear Leader by sending racist texts to young black and brown people.

New York Attorney General Letitia James denounced reports of racist text messages "targeting Black and Brown people – including students – in New York and nationwide." Some reported receiving texts from unknown or anonymous senders telling them they’ve been “selected to pick cotton at [their] nearest plantation,” or “chosen to be a slave,” James’ office said on Thursday. Some of the recipients include middle school, high school and college students, the attorney general’s office said. “The racist text messages targeting New Yorkers, including middle school, high school, and college students, are disgusting and unacceptable,” James said in a statement. “I unequivocally condemn any attempt to intimidate or threaten New Yorkers and their families.” The attorney general’s office referred to published screenshots of some of the text messages, with one presenting itself as if from the “Trump & Vance Administration.” The reports come in the days after former President Donald J. Trump won a second term following a contentious, and at times, racially-charged 2024 presidential election. Similar text messages were reportedly being sent to people in other states, including Ohio, North Carolina and Michigan. James’ office asked that anyone who receives these texts to report them to the Attorney General’s Civil Rights Bureau.

Trump is a blatant racist. His core supporters are racist. People of color who voted for him are delusional about him and his motivations. This is one example of the sort of thanks they'll get from MAGA.

To hardcore MAGA white supremacists, you can't be American unless you're white.

[triumph-of-adaptation]

Dr Karen Norberg a psychiatrist from the National Bureau of Economic Research in Cambridge, spent an entire year knitting an incredible, anatomically correct replica of the human brain.

The 9-inch textile sculpture comprises different sections hand-knitted from colourful cotton yarn that were then stitched together into the labyrinthine structure. The frontal cortex is represented in cream and pale green; the visual cortex is depicted in a mix of blue, purple and turquoise; and the hippocampus is made up of baby pink yarn. The two sides of the brain are joined together by a zip, while the cerebellum at the base of the organ is knitted in blue and the spinal cord appears as long white strands of cotton.

[goatsludge]

EvolutionGear Elcan Specter 1-4x Prism Sight

And now for the other item from EG; this one is all @bureau-of-mines's territory, as he was curious how well the EG ones would hold up and figured it was a good way to get a feel for the platform before dropping the insane cash on a real one, and it was easy to lump it in with my NGAL order.

I'll leave the final impressions to him, but figured I'd say my thoughts while I have it in-hand.

EvolutionGear in general definitely seems to be on the higher end of Chinese counterfeit optics/accessories, the fit and finish on this thing seems overall fantastic and just from holding it, I have very few complaints that aren't inherent to the Elcan Specter design to begin with.

Haven't looked through it enough to judge the glass clarity (I'm assuming at worst, it'll be 'meh') and obviously it's up in the air whether or not this thing maintains a decent POI/POA when we actually go shooting and attempt to zero it.

The first minor grumbles I have in regards to handling it is that the battery compartment is incredibly tight and I haven't managed to get it open just yet, but I'll figure out a good method later. The use of cotton twine as the dummy cord instead of steel cable is also bizarre to me. Another thing to possibly rectify later.

The throw levers are of the A.R.M.S. type, and I'm not entirely certain whether or not there's a way to adjust the tension, but it always seems like one is slightly looser compared to the other. The throw lever cams have also started to chew into the thin rail tensioning plates, but that's just an inherent thing with A.R.M.S. throw levers.

The last major thing I'll point out is the eye relief - true to the actual Specter, the EG clone has a sight window with an incredibly punishing eye box - you need to be right up this thing's ass to get a decent picture.

This is bad news for the sole reason that bureau-of-mines wanted it for his CETME L, but because the fixed rear sight gets in the way, the Specter doesn't sit as far back as it needs to for a good sight picture.

We could try putting a riser on it to push it back further, but that would break up the aesthetic, so kinda pointless at that rate.

This would probably work out much better on his RPK or any of his AR's, but that's up for him to decide later.

Also it came with a nice little pouch.

As with the last post, more to come of it later.

[womantoday]

Ruby Falls {January 16, 1946 - June 15, 1986}

Ruby Falls has been the most successful black woman country performer to date, with her mellifluous voice taking her to the Billboard country singles chart nine times between 1974 and 1979. Her biggest hits were “You’ve Got To Mend This Heartache,” which peaked at number 40 in 1977 and “I’m Getting’ Into Your Love,” which peaked at number 56 in 1979. Falls was also nominated as country music’s Most Promising Female Vocalist in 1975 by country industry trade media. She recorded on the 50 States Records label and also found success in her stage shows. In the late 1970’s, she was touring through the Atlas Artists Bureau with Grand Ole Opry star Justin Tubb. She also performed with such country greats as Faron Young, Jeanne Pruett, Del Reeves, Narvel Felts, and Dave & Sugar. She additionally got significant Nashville area and national promotion on such television programs as the Ralph Emery Show, Nashville Today, Good Ol’ Nashville Music and Music Hall America.

When Falls died in Nashville at the young age of 40 of a brain hemorrhage in June 1986, she was touted by the media along with Linda Martell for becoming one of the first black women to find significant success in country music. In a brief retrospective nine years after her death, Nashville’s major daily newspaper, The Tennessean, proclaimed, “Along with other successful black artists of the period, such as Charley Pride and Stoney Edwards, she helped illuminate the black community’s long history of artistic contributions to the country.” Tubb told the media after her death that “She was the one of the best friends I ever had. Ruby Falls made everybody feel good that she was around.”

Born as Bertha Frances Bearden (married: Dorsey) in January 1946, on a farm near Jackson, Tennessee, Falls spent her early years primarily picking cotton, tomatoes and strawberries. She dreaded her days in the field at the hand of a strict grandmother, who was her guardian. For refuge, she listened to the radio a lot at night, particularly to country music heard frequently on station KLAC out of Gallatin, Tennessee. The sounds she heard prompted her to dream of a singing career. She began that career singing in churches, in schools on talent shows and at local social events as a teenager.

After high school she moved to Milwaukee, Wisconsin, took voice, dance and charm lessons, and turned professional in early 1960’s by becoming lead singer with the group Harvey Scales and the Seven Sounds. The group travelled all over the country and performed country, pop, and rock in such places as Las Vegas and New York supper clubs. Then she joined a rock and jazz band whose club dates were typically closer to home. Then she decided to concentrate on the music she enjoyed most and moved to Nashville. There she was discovered by Johnny Howard, who signed her to 50 States in 1974.

She took the name Ruby Falls from one of Tennessee’s natural treasures- a cavern that is 1,100 feet below the surface of Lookout Mountain in Chattanooga, is the deepest cavern in the United States and boasts the highest underground waterfall open to the public. “It’s like a dream come true,” she says in a publicity brief, about her success as Ruby Falls. “I get to thinking about everything good that’s happened to me since I moved to Nashville and sometimes I get so excited I feel I sing in my sleep every night.” Of her move to Nashville to concentrate on both singing and writing country, she adds, “It made sense. There’s a lot of country girl left in me and I guess it shows in my music like it does in my talking…I love music and I love people, so my main goal is making music that people will love. I want to do my very best all the time so people will love me.”

After pounding the Nashville pavement and landing a recording contract, Falls found that having records out in the public and getting touring dates was not enough to bring her what she wanted. She wanted more. She wanted to catapult her career to the next level. A grand opportunity to just that came to her in 1976 when she won a slot to perform before thousands of country radio on-air personalities and executives from around the country. Gathered in Nashville for their annual industry convention known as the Country Radio Seminar, these are the people who somehow had to become attracted to Falls and be part of an overall effort to promote her and her music if she were to become a true star. But the opportunity didn’t open the doors she had expected, and by the time of her death she was disgruntled at not having done better in her career and had taken a traditional job at a computer firm.

Falls did not blame people’s reaction to her race for her not reaching the heights she had dreamed of, and she had earlier vowed to keep trying to reach her career goals in every way she could think of. “Everybody’s been real nice to me,” she said in a September 1977 Essence magazine article. “I’ve never had negative incidents on the road. If I did, I wouldn’t pay them any mind…I want to be a star. No one ever told me that it was gonna be easy. I’m gonna hang on in there for as long as it takes to make it.”

articles: Hillbilly Music Jet Billboard The Black Women Of Country Music That Nashville Sound

Youtube: Sweet Country Music {1975} He Loves Me All To Pieces {1975} Let's Spend Summer In The Country {1975} Show Me Where {1976} Somewhere There’s A Rainbow Over Texas {1976} Beware Of The Woman (Before She Gets To Your Man) {1976} You’ve Got To Mend This Heartache {1977} Do The Buck Dance {1977} Three Nights A Week {1978} If That’s Not Loving You (You Can’t Say I Didn’t Try) {1978} I’m Gettin’ Into Your Love {1979}

Stella Parton Remembers Singer Ruby Falls {2022}

Country Music Time #767: interview {1982}

[hillfogstudio]

Sale ends tonight! Use code FLASHSALEFRIDAY in my shop!

[dramioneasks]

HP FESTS: HP Cocktober

HP Cocktober 2023:

Self-Control by Zeebee3 - E, one-shot - “This is your second warning, Granger,” he told her, disapproval rich in his voice. “I told you to stay still.” She was trying to but she could feel the thick ridge of his erection under her and the thin cotton of her knickers was hardly a defense when it came to avoiding the temptation to grind. He’d told her to sit on his lap like a good girl while he read to her but between the sound of literal fucking poetry on his tongue and the way he’d gradually-but-ceaselessly gotten hard under her, she’d been destined to fail. She wiggled again, helpless not to, and he tsked. “That’s three.” He snapped the book of poems shut. --- Or, when Hermione just can't help herself so Draco teaches her a lesson.

Sympathetic Attraction by Zeebee3 - E, WIP - Malfoy buckled, barely catching himself with a hand on her bureau by the door, spine curling in and head dropping. “Oh fuck,” he groaned. “What are you doing to me?” His voice reminded her of her extremely-not-alone status and she gained enough sense to yank the covers up, the toy slipping to buzz silently against her inner thigh. “I’m not…not doing anything!” It wasn’t even the first thing she should have said (“Get the fuck out, Malfoy!” certainly would have been more appropriate) but her brain was only half with her. -- Or, they were roommates with unrequited crushes and meddling friends.

I Said I'm Desperate by ohthedrarrydrabbles (ohthedrarry) - M, one-shot - Hermione gets a late-night Floo-call.

Nope, Not a Bedroom. by Haddles82 - E, one-shot - Drunk Theo looks for a bedroom to sleep off his spins and finds something else in Blaise's home office.

Accidental Voyeurism, or is it? by Goldenbucky - M, one-shot - Theodore Nott should not be watching his best mate and his girlfriend fuck. But yet, here he is.

Oh He's Got It by Haddles82 - M, one-shot - no summary

Saturday's Show: Free of Charge! by TheBrokenQuill - M, one-shot - Draco has a big dick and knows it, so he makes it everyone else's problem, especially Hermione's.

Big Dick Energy by Goldenbucky - G, one-shot - Hermione and Ginny enjoy their lunch at the Ministry as Ginny recounts her sexual adventure of the past weekend. Hermione is a little distracted by a certain blonde wizard.

This fest is ongoing.

[hanayori89]

✨🐺 Sparks Between Fang Marks: Bite from the Beast 3✨🐺

"Are you sure about this?"

Link stood; a majestic vision enrobed in his signature hero's tunic. You grabbed a wooden comb from his bureau and ran it through his unruly bangs.

"What's wrong with my normal clothes? I'm not going into battle."

You stopped combing, rolling your eyes. "For a hero, you sure do whine a lot. Haven't you ever heard love is a battlefield?"

"I just think falling in love shouldn't involve this much effort."

"Effort?" You countered. "Link, you're going on a measly date."

With a surrendering sigh, he stood still as you brushed his tunic, making sure to iron out any wrinkles in its cotton with your fingertips. You ignored the feel of brawn beneath his clothes as you continued to smooth his collar down. The past few weeks, you and 'wolf boy' have grown quite close... as friends.

Sure, there were lingering looks laced with sharp-witted chatter that seemed to hang between you both. The more you seemed to torture Link, the bolder he became. The chemistry between you both had become combustible.

At least on your end.

But your job was to groom him and give him away to the 'one' who would inflame his heart with love and set him free of his curse.

But you found it becoming harder and harder to ignore the little whisper in the back of your mind. This minute, taunting voice seemed to ask you, why couldn't you be the one?

"Y/N?" You looked up at Link to see him observing you in concern. "You, okay? You look like you floated into the mirror of Twilight, never to be seen again."

You give his collar a final smooth down before playfully swatting him away. "Come on, you don't want to be late for a date; it's a poor look."

You both made your way over to Link's horse, Epona. "We must head to Castle Town."

Link hopped onto Epona. The image of him clad in his green tunic atop his horse was sure to make any person's pulse race. Who didn't love a dashing knight?

"Y/N? Are you coming up?"

You looked at him, puzzled. "Huh? You mean ride with you? You don't have a horse for me?"

"What's the point? We can both fit on Epona." He jumped off of Epona and stood before you, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. "You're awfully weird today. I'm the one getting tortured with blind dates." He grabbed your waist and began to lift you off of the ground.

"What are you-"

"You just told me we can't be late." Link hoisted you upward, helping you wrap your legs onto Epona and get your feet securely into the stirrups of her saddle. He jumped up behind you. "See, that wasn't so bad, was it?" His whisper sent a chill down your spine.

Another trickle of his breath hits your ear. "Let's go; I don't want to be out with you when the moon rises."

"I agree; I would like to not be attacked by 'wolf' you again."

A cocky laugh erupted from his throat. "Who said anything about the wolf?"

"Link!"

✨✨✨✨✨🐺✨✨✨✨✨

You both made your way to Castle Town, where the interview for Link's heart was waiting to commence.

You walked into Telma's tavern; the dim lights and blithe atmosphere would be perfect for Link's first date. You made your way to the bar and hid your face behind an oversized menu. You surreptitiously watched as he sat alone at a table.

Wishing you were the one sitting with him.

He looked over at you, and you gave him a supportive thumbs up. You could see the tension melt from his shoulders at the sight of you. He gave you a resolute nod.

A buxom figure strolled toward his table. Her wide hips sashayed purposefully, reminding all of the men in the bar of her spell-binding femininity. A white cat jumped onto Link's lap, startling him.

"Louise! What did I say?"

Telma pulled a chair out, sitting down in front of Link.

"Hey Telma."

"Hey there, sugar. Louise figured she would be your emotional support cat." Link gazed down at the long-haired feline with fur colored like a marshmallow. He massaged her temples, causing her to vibrate with approval.

"Oh, you know I'm waiting for a date?"

Telma bent toward Link, a tidal wave of her cleavage spilling onto the table. He looked away.

"It's a shame you and Ilia didn't work out, but it's not a shame for me..." Her hand snuck beneath the table and landed on his knee, causing him to jolt upright.

"T-Telma, what are you-"

She winked at him. "You need a woman, Link. That's your problem. A man with a body like yours should be praised by the warm, curvaceous body of a woman like me." Her fingers danced up his leg, rattling him.

"Telma, don't tell me you're..."

"Your date? I'm glad you figured it out, honey.

Link shot you a glowering stare, and you shrugged your shoulders. You ignored Telma's hands all over him. You ordered a shot from the bar to bury your jealousy.

"W-what about Renado?" Link asked.

Telma took her hand off of his leg and slammed the table. Louise slowly opened and closed her eyes, oblivious to anything but the attention his fingers were feeding her. "I'm done chasing him! I don't chase men; they chase me!"

Link sighed. "Telma, I don't know what Y/N told you, but I'm looking for love."

"Sure, honey, I can give you lovin' "

"No!" Link put his hand on his forehead and rubbed it in vexation. "I mean, love. Not sex."

"Well, if you change your mind, you're in my bar after all." She got up, her black leather cloak swinging behind her. Louise looked up at him and hissed. She hopped off of his lap and followed behind her scorned mother.

Link looked your way, slowly beckoning you with a few flicks of his finger. You quickly hid your face, ignoring him.

You had a feeling Telma would be too forward for someone like Link, who needed to think he was in control. Link liked to be the aggressor. At least he seemed that way with you.

That's why you enlisted a few other choices.

✨✨✨✨✨🐺✨✨✨✨✨

You buried your face in the menu once again when you saw another contender approach Link's table.

"Agitha?"

"Hi Link!" She sat on the empty chair across from him.

"What are you doing here? The bar is no place for children."

Her legs dangled off of the chair. She stood up so she could stamp her foot and demonstrate her displeasure. "Link, I am 19 now!"

"Oh, has it been that long?" Link gave her an amicable smile. "You have grown into a fine young lady and princess."

"Well, duh, that's why I'm here."

"Oh no," Link swore beneath his breath.

"Every princess needs a prince, and well, you always helped collect bugs for me." Agitha placed a box on the table. Link didn't need to ask to know what was inside of it.

Agitha giggled, a sound reminiscent of when she was the ten-year-old he first encountered. Her blonde pigtails bobbed as she whispered, "Here is the deal; in this box are a bunch of cockroaches. You help me play a prank on Telma, and I'll agree to date you."

Link fell backward, scrambling to get away from the box of eager roaches on the table. You couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculous look on his face. Link caught sight of you laughing and growled.

You had to say that growling suited him, even as a human.

"Agitha," Link stood and brushed off his clothing. "I appreciate your offer, but I'm afraid I just need someone a little older."

"HMPH! With that attitude, you'll always be single!" She grabbed her box, storming off, but not before thrusting it in Link's direction and threatening to take the lid off, giving him a jump scare.

You once again pretended to look at the menu until you felt hands rip it from your grasp. "Is this your idea of a joke?" Link got in your face and hissed.

"Telma's boobs and Agitha's bugs? That's what you think is going to make me fall in love?"

"What's not to love about Telma's boobs?"

"Y/N!"

"Oh, alright. Such a crabby wolf boy! Listen Link," you set your hands on his shoulders, trying to calm him down. "You have to understand love comes in all sorts of packages and sometimes in someone you least expect."

The crowded bar offered little distraction from how close he was looming to your lips. You couldn't help yourself, thanks to the magic of the shots you indulged in, you awarded yourself with a quick glance at his. You couldn't help but think about how lucky the winning candidate would be to taste them. "There's a few more applicants. Please, just trust me, okay?"

Link groaned. "Oh, fine! But if none of them work, then I expect you to have a backup plan."

You opened your lips, snapping them shut. You wanted to tell him you had a backup plan.

And actually, the backup plan had been your first plan all along.

You.

Edited:11/10/23

[quesadillaislandofficial]

Pato’s fucking sweating.

The Bureau's booked through the day, which means that they get to poke around. They let the crows know that they don't have to take any risks and start to explore the building. Not the parts they’re used to. Engineering.

Pato climbs into the elevator and stares out nervously into the hallway they came from - clean, white, decorated with the occasional potted plant. Any moment now, the Bureau's gonna step out of its office and see them in the elevator. Any moment now. Any moment...

The doors close and Pato lets themself breathe. They feel the momentum of the elevator's motion. The doors open again.

Darkness. Silence. A corridor stretches into deeper blackness. The emptiness echoes like an exhale. Pato didn't know what they were expecting, but it wasn't this. The silence presses into their ears like cotton balls until they can hear their own blood rushing. They swallow hard.

Eventually, the elevator doors close on them, shutting them inside before they’ve even stepped out. Pato stares at the floor of their well-lit cube for a moment. Then they take a deep breath and press the button to open it back up.

Out they step, sidestepping immediately to press their back against the wall. They stare into the darkness like they're daring it to become something else.

After a bit, the elevator doors shut again, leaving the corridor pitch dark.

Pato takes a deep breath in and exhales slowly. "Easy, Jere," they murmur to themself. "You're a grown-ass man. It's just a dark hallway."

Still, it's another second or two before they force themself to get moving.

The offices they pass by are dark and empty. A lot of chairs are turned towards the doors, and the desks are still cluttered with papers. Work half-done. Evacuated in a hurry.

...Nobody back to clean up.

Pato stifles their feelings of unease and keeps exploring. The Bureau's engineers, they’re pretty sure they remember, were stationed deeper in.

There’s a green light at the end of the next corner they round.

Pato freezes instinctively, then starts hurrying forwards. In unnavigable darkness, the sight of any light is comforting. And as they get closer, they start to see where the light is reflecting off something: something textured, something like hair, or fur, or-

Pato’s breath catches, seeing the full outline of the figure slumped on the floor.

Oh.

[excessive-vampires]

Dealing With Demons Chapter 12: Not Even Scary Monsters Part 2: Cee

Masterlist with CW

Taglist: @demyxdancer @softvampirewhump @d-cs

Avi took us to a large park we often went to when the weather was nice. Specifically, they took us to the spot in the park furthest away from anyone that could hear them as they screamed in frustration.

Birds fled their nests and squirrels ran for more peaceful perches. Avi dropped to their knees and wiped tears from their eyes with the long sleeves of their undershirt. The cold night air whipped around us, bringing with it a refreshing calm and clarity. After a few moments they breathed in deep, held the smell of dirt and grass and trees in their lungs for a minute, and then exhaled as they climbed to their feet.

I'm sorry.

"Don't." They cut off my spiralling guilt. "Don't blame yourself. Our deal is way more important to me than anything else."

But—

"Even more important than having help with the Cliff thing," they reassured me.

Okay.

Satisfied that I was no longer irrationally blaming myself for the argument, they let their frustration come back.

"If I could have just explained the situation better!"

They didn't seem very willing to listen, and I doubt they'd fully believe that I chose this life. Maybe with time...

"Not likely. We need to keep the Bureau as far away from us as we can from this point on."

But what about your deal with Coleman?

"I'm pretty sure that deal's gonna be called off soon enough."

They were probably right.

It was weird, Riley was the one I was mad at, but I kept thinking about Mike. Looking back on the conversation Avi'd had with him as he rebandaged their arm.

......

"This'll sting some," Mike said.

"I know that peroxide hurts," Avi responded with an eye-roll.

"How? Have you ever been hurt enough to need it before?"

"Uh, no. No. I saw it on tv."

Mike shrugged and wiped the soaked cotton ball across the scratch. They hissed in pain.

"Told you."

Avi thought about making a snarky or rude retort, but there was a question pressing on their mind. Mine too.

"Why are you doing this?"

"So it doesn't get infected."

"No, I mean, why help me at all? I'm a highly dangerous scary monster that eats human souls."

"Well, you needed help. And I don't like to see anyone in pain, not even scary monsters."

We looked at Mike, processing this.

"You're a good person, Mike."

Mike laughed. "Not sure that means much coming from a demon. Or maybe it means more, I don't know. Ha! I just realized that if my parents knew that I was helping a demon right now it'd be all the evidence they'd need that they were right about me. Not that they need evidence."

I know what that's like.

"I almost want to tell them just to see how they'd react," Mike continued as he got out a long strip of gauze. "But I can't."

"Why not?"

"They don't know about magic or monsters or anything. I didn't either until about a decade ago and by then we were already no longer speaking."

Avi you have to ask him how he found out about magic! I'm begging you!

"What happened? Not with your parents, that's personal, I get it. I mean how'd you find out about magic?"

"Well I was on vacation in a national park with a friend of mine, and we got drunk and decided to go night-hiking because the night was so beautiful, what with the full moon and all."

"Ah."

"Yeah. We wandered off the trail and ran into what was, at the time, the scariest thing I'd ever seen. At first I thought 'Aw shit a grizzly bear' but my friend turned his flashlight on it and nope, werewolf. A werewolf that felt very threatened when I threw a beer bottle at him."

When he what!

Avi raised an eyebrow.

"I was drunk! And scared! Anyway, he decided to make sure we weren't going to tell anyone about this by turning one of us. I ran faster than my friend did. He was okay though, mostly."

Where is he now?

"Where is he now?"

"At home waiting for me to be done investigating this weird cabin. We got married a couple years after 'the incident' as we call it. Around that time I found out the Bureau existed and I decided to join to make sure everything was legit and Ian wasn't in danger."

Aw, that's sweet.

"I'm glad the Bureau turned out to be the good guys."

"Yeah, I am too." He taped the gauze down onto Avi's arm. "I honestly don't know what I would have done if they had been corrupt."

Avi laughed. My emotional state was a bit more mixed.

On the one hand, this was exactly the sort of story I was interested in hearing. On the other, it made me think of how I found out about the supernatural, and it made me want to share that story with Mike. To talk and laugh and compare experiences. But I couldn't. And Avi couldn't for me, because Mike didn't know I was here.

.....

Well, he knew I was here now, but I didn't think I was going to get to share my story.

Let's go home.

"It's not safe there."

No, but it's not safe anywhere and it's warm at home and we have chocolate.

Avi chuckled, but without any real joy behind it. "Okay. Yeah. Let's go home."

Then they teleported. We were supposed to end up back in our apartment, but we didn't.

It took us a moment to recognize where we were in the dark, and when we did Avi tried to run. But then there was a sickening cracking sound as something made of silver struck us, a stabbing pain in their head, and the feeling of the world falling away.

"I'm sorry, Cee," they managed to get out before the blackness took us.

I know.