#Frank Morrision

[hoppynsc]

And now a ramblinga and too brief review of "We3" by Grant Morrision & Frank Quitely, a three issue mini-series from 2004 about cybernetic animal assassins that is a lot more powerful than the concept reads on paper.

[historyofcomicbookspodcast]

The Classics: "We3" by Grant Morrision & Frank Quitely

And now a ramblinga and too brief review of "We3" by Grant Morrision & Frank Quitely, a three issue mini-series from 2004 about cybernetic animal assassins that is a lot more powerful than the concept reads on paper.

Check out this episode!

[fandom-go-round]

May I request Wraith, Legion, Felix, and Jeff reacting to fem S/O new outfit. Like she got a cute swimsuit or something for the waterfront massacre collection.

Warnings: Implied Sexual Situations, Flirting, Sexual Scenarios, Jealousy, Implied Sex

The Wraith:

It takes him a few trials to realize that your outfit has changed. He’s not one of the killers who looks forward to a certain ‘season’. It’s all fake anyway and Phillip isn’t one to try and fool himself. He will notice, however, mostly because he’s chasing you and you have a lot more leg out than normal.

After that it hits him that it’s summer and he has a mix of emotions. He loves seeing you in new outfits; he knows you like them because it makes you feel more normal and human. He hates that everyone else gets to see so much of your skin. Normally you’re more covered than this and he can’t imagine that it’s fun to run around like that.

Phillip is quicker to end trails where you’re in your swimsuit, mostly so that he can have time with you afterwards. It’s not so noticeable that people comment but you’re able to put the dots together. You tease him about it, but he doesn’t seem to care, pulling you closer to snuggle. You must be cold, let him help warm you up.

The Legion:

Oh boy. If you thought they were on your ass before, it’s nothing like when you get a swimsuit. The minute any of them see you, the chase in on and you’re not getting away until they get a private fashion show. Frank and Julie are the worst, wanting to corner you and unwrap you. It takes a while to convince them to complete the trial, if only to not piss the Entity off.

Joey likes to whistle as you run by, turning from who he’s hooking to watch you go. Sometimes it ends with people escaping but it’s worth it to watch your ass. Frank will let you go if you ask nicely and let him snap your shoulder straps. He might yank them down too but only if you’re being extra cheeky.

Suzie likes to go swimming with you. It’s fun to splash around but the real treat happens when you leave the water. Nothing gets her going like watching the water travel down your skin. Julie likes to do all of these things and more. The Legion is not going to rest until you’re in their grasp and then, well, sharing is caring right?

Felix Richter:

Felix doesn’t know what to think the first time he sees your new outfit. He’s still not used to this world yet and he finds it more insulting than exciting when you get ‘new outfits’. It makes him feel like a doll and he can’t help but think that way towards everyone else’s things too. He can admit, however, that you look fantastic.

It’s hard to concentrate when you’re crouched on the other side of the gen and your chest is out. His gaze wanders more than it should and he’s only saved because his fingers are quick. You don’t notice his fingers slipping but you do notice how his gaze is always lower than your face.

You tease him mercilessly when he gets his own swimsuit. Mostly it’s comments about how nice his chest looks and then he’s blushing red. He knows for sure that you’ve realized he has little self-control. The two of you sneak off to yourselves, no one trying to stop you. Better that you get it out now instead of keeping your feelings inside.

Jeff Johansen:

Jeff really likes your swimsuit. It’s very bright and flashier than what you normally wear but it’s a nice change of pace. It definitely feels like summer; Jeff is sad that you have to spend it in here instead of at an actual beach.

He tries his best to help you navigate in your new outfit. If you’re at a cold location he’ll lend you his jacket, help you pick through the corn fields and tall grass. It’s not a lot in the grand scheme of things but you appreciate it and Jeff likes to see you smile. It helps to bring you two closer than before.

You’re the one to corner him after a trial, crowding him against a tree and asking if he liked your outfit. Jeff is quick to stutter out a yes, eyes wide as you press closer and smirk. He doesn’t protest when you sink to your knees, giving him a wink. It pays to be a gentlemen.

[auohno]

wow, smth dbd

[chrome-wind]

It’s got no sound because of the different characters but I didn’t know what to put in the background! But favourite mori by far!

[fogrealmradio]

Ghostface is watching... RP with @villaincvs

Frank - @villaincvs

Laughter flowed from behind the mask. Most would find it chilling - survivors who encountered him in a Trial sure did. Not that Danny was the type to put on dramatics. It was so nice, to be able to wear his heart on his sleeve the way that came naturally.

“I didn’t mean any offense,” he said, his voice smooth despite the electronic edge of it. “I just wanted to enjoy taking photos, and you wandered by. You’re more of a pleasure to photograph than all these damn trees.”

Was he being honest? Had he really just been sitting there, idling with his camera, when the other came along? Or what if he’d been stalking the other, trailing behind, then placed himself in the perfect location for them to meet? Who’s to say? It’s the kind of answer you’d need to try and beat out of him, honestly.

As smooth as his words, Danny dropped from the tree, landing a safe distance away from the other Killer. Tucking the camera away in his robes before Frank could, say, try and destroy it, he leaned against the tree. His mask never turned away from the other.

“I needed a photo of you anyway for my collection. You’re the leader of the Legion, right? Your name is... Frank, I think?” There was a smile in his voice.

[sloppy-butcher]

Could I please get some jealous frank, joey and Danny with a s/o with likes to hang round and talk to the other killers maybe she’s a little too close for comfort with a few which possibly leads to an argument leading into angry make up smooches 🥺

Howdy!

so I have kinda done this before with the exact same characters here, although I am happy to add on to it. Consider this as some sort of short continuation to the other post. Thank you for the request and I hope this is good enough! (reader will be gender-neutral) 

edit;; slightly nsfw with mister danny but, what do u expect

The Aftermath

The Legion (Frank Morrison)

Frank was furious, fuming like a raging bull, sitting slouched on the dirty orange couch with his arms folded over his chest. He refused to speak, refused to look at you, and even refused to take off his mask. The only movement coming from the man was his shaking leg; a sign of great irritation. You were confused - what could have made Frank so angry? All you did was pass a comment about the new guy's ass. No harm in-

Frank huffed at that moment seeming to have read your mind. There was harm in your comment. “Oh, Frank.” You said, shuffling closer to him and pressing firmly your shoulder to his. He remained motionless, eyes adverted. A hand reaches out and cups Frank’s Legion mask, gently turning his head to face yours. At the sight of his eyes peering through the masks eye-holes, you smiled. He looked like a sour child. You started peppering kisses onto the mask’s cheek, your hand still holding Frank in place. The first few kisses echoed around the room like lone gunshots on a battlefield. After about 6, Frank finally relented. His leg stopped shaking as he slung an arm around your shoulders and quickly pulled you onto his lap. You giggled as he held you to his chest, a rumble starting to erupt from somewhere deep within.

“My ass is the only one you’re allowed to comment on, got it?” You kiss his mask in response causing another growl to escape his throat. Damn, he should have taken the mask off.

The Legion (Joey)  

“Joey! Put me down.” You squirmed on the man's shoulder, held in a similar fashion to the way survivors are. Joey’s grip remained firm. He continued to walk despite your please to be released - this was his punishment after all. You had been a little too cuddly with another killer causing Joey to promptly pick you up and walk away. 

After several minutes Joey finally stopped, looking around and agreeing that this was the perfect spot in the forest. He leaned forward and let you fall to the ground with a hard thud. Before you could even think to move, Joey had already placed himself on top of you. His hands held your wrist to the grassy floor and his legs were splayed on either side of you. Behind the mask, his eyes gleamed.

“You never shut up.” He released you momentarily in order to pull down his mask and reveal his smirking face. He then slowly lifted up your shirt to expose your stomach to the night air.  Your breathing hitched from the cold and from what would happen next. He drank in your silence. Smiling wider Joey moved in for the kill, burying his face into your stomach. It became a battle; Joey relentlessly tickling you and you pathetically fighting back with your one freed arm. Eventually, when you were gasping for air and crying, Joey slowed his attacks. He simply stared at you, a head tilted to the side. When you raised your eyes brows questioningly at him, Joey only sighed and laid his head to your stomach. At least you had stopped talking.

The Ghostface (Danny ‘Jed Olsen’ Johnson)

 “Why would you say that?” Danny was pacing back and forth, his head shaking as he spoke. “Oh, oh I get it.” He stops and faces you hands down and outwards in a defensive gesture. “It’s cause he’s got bigger tits than me!” He waited for a response of which you gave nothing but a sigh. “Or a better ass?” Danny turned to present his asset to you, eyes darting between it and you, making sure adequate attention was being drawn to it. Still, you remained silent.

“Then what?” Danny fixes himself and beings pacing again. “You can't just go around, kissing everyone's ass! It’s mine! My ass is the only one you’re allowed to kiss.” He wags a finger like a reprimanding teacher to a disrespectful student. Although this rant came off light-hearted and joking, you could tell it came from a place of hurt. Genuine hurt. Danny knew, was always critically aware, of how small he was to most other killers, and while it normally doesn't bother him, when you get too flirty with one, it does sting. 

“It was only a joke, Danny.” You rolled your eyes at his dramatics. He could be such a performer sometimes. “The man froze at your words, turning slowly on his heels to face you with an expression of shock and betrayal. Yeap, dramatic.

“A joke?! That wasn’t much of a joke when you gave goo-goo eyes at the Trapper! What if I did that? What if I wanted to fuck him?” oh, he was trying to get a reaction from you. Turning the tables to a ‘what if-’ game. You could play this. Standing up and walking over to the hysterical man, you quickly let a hand fly out. There was a satisfying smack as hand connected with butt, Danny shuddering at your touch. You leaned to his face close enough to smell the cigarettes he had just smoked. 

“Go for it babe~ Tell me how it ends.” His lips smacked together like a suffocating fish, as Danny swallowed. They looked absolutely irresistible. You brought yours to his, kissing him passionately, tongues taking no time to intertwine. Danny dropped his guard and took to caressing you, hands moving over your shoulders and back. All words left your mind as you felt Danny’s eagerness slip down to your own ass. This was going to be fun. 

[mara-xx217]

ummm (blush) shows her( s/o) tits to distract them so they don't tunnel the other survivor, reaction for Albert … Legion … Trickster and Ghostie?

I believe I've done something similar to this before with different killers before!

Saving Dwight via Flashing

Reader Rips Pants in Trial

The Mastermind/Albert Wesker

IF you are his s/o, you're gonna be punished for getting in the way of his work.

You distracted him pretty damn good in the five seconds it took him to lower his eye brows and for annoyance and disappointment to set in.

You've got guts but you know that nothing will stop him once he's got a mind to do something, breasts or no breasts.

You're going to be unable to walk when he's through with you...

If you AREN'T his s/o? Run.

Legion/Frank Morrision

Yay! Titties!

S/o or not, he's all for seeing a pair!

He's got a one-track mind. Of course flashing him would be the perfect distraction!

Fuck the Trial! Boobies!!

His hands are fucking cold and no, he ain't warming them up first.

He's probably gonna fuck you either way.

The Trickster/Ji-Woon Hak

Yeah... you got him good.

You've caught his eye for a reason. This is one of those reasons.

Another that despises distractions in his work.

Also doesn't like that anyone else could have seen you. You're his, damn it!

He's distracted but still tries to kill the other survivors.

*Tries...

If you're his s/o, then you'll survive, though he's gonna be pissed. If not? Another annoying groupie for the chopping block...

Ghostface/Danny Johnson

Oh no why did you do that-?

He's literally the worst one you could gain the attention of.

Sure, he's going to be distracted. But at what cost?

Now you'll be hounded until he grows bored of you, and only God knows when that would or could be...

He's still going to kill everyone regardless of this little misdirection. It was all for nothing...

@prettycutebunny, @infinitewhore, @kennbb, @slutwithadegree, @dead-bxxxtch-walking, @space-arsonist, @pink-soft-shadow, @sinlessdesire, @hoemine

[aevly]

Commission Type: Semi-Chibi  A little DBD fandom for the lovely Marija <3  Her beauitful and adorable vicky with Frank Morrision, i kinda ship them hard tbh- Which will probs soon come a tiny little fanart aswell /)//v//(\ ) Ke~ Shipping Frank x Vicky Forerever! So im really glad you gave me the oppertunity aswell to draw these bby’s <3 Frank Morrision © Belongs to Dead By Daylight Vicky Reid © By Marija

[eagleridersremade]

grant morrision, frank miller, and brian micheal bendis walk into a bar,

[quietbibliophile-blog]

Updated Book List: March

The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett White Fang by Jack London 1984 by George Orwell Diary by Chuck Palahnuk In Pursuit of the Unknown by Ian Stewart Ender’s Game by Orson Scott Card The Devil in the White City by Erik Larson Arms and the Man by George Bernard Shaw Dracula by Bram Stoker On Killing by Dave Grossman Candide by Voltaire Silver Linings Playbook by Matthew Quick Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky Call me Zelda by Erika Roebuck Hemingway’s Girl by Erika Roebuck Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant: The Unbeliever by Stephen R. Donaldson A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle Garden of Eden by Ernest Hemingway Islands in the Stream by Ernest Hemingway Heart-shaped Box by Joe Hill Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss Till We Have Faces by C. S. Lewis The Reason for God by Timothy Keller The Raven Cycle by Maggie Stiefvater Warriors Don’t Cry by Melba Pattillo Beals Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern In the Garden of Beasts by Erik Larson The only Pirate at the Party by Lindsey Stirling Frankenstein by Mary Shelley The Trial by Francis Kafka Necromancer by William Gibson The Things They Carried by Tim O’Brien Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury A Confederacy of Dunces by John Toole In Cold Blood by Truman Capote Lord of the Flies by William Golding The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho Tuesdays with Morrie by Mitch Albom A Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess Thinking Fast and Slow by Daniel Kahneman The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco The Stranger by Albert Camus Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell Catch 22 by Joseph Heller Animal Farm by George Orwell Moonwalking with Einstein by Joshua Foer Watchman by Allan Moore & Dave Gibbons Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keys Never Let Me Down by Kazuo Ishiguro Safekeeping by Jessamyn Hope Book of Night Women by Marion James 11/22/63 by Stephen King Who Asked You? By Terry McMillan The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime by Mark Haddon Circle of Friends by Maeve Binchy Legend by Marie Lu Season of Storms by Susanna Kearsley 13 Reasons Why by Jay Asher Dark Places by Gillian Flynn Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn “On Writing” by Stephen King Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams Brave New World by Aldous Huxley The Mill on the Floss by George Eliot Middlemarch by George Eliot Silas Marner by George Eliot Death of a Salesman by Arthur Miller Books that changed the World by Andrew Taylor Go Ask Alice by Anonymous Of Mice and Man by John Steinbeck The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck Forever by Judy Blume My Darling, My Hamburger by Paul Zindel The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee Manchild in the Promised Land by Claude Brown The Learning Tree by Gordon Parks Black Like Me by John Howard Griffin The Lottery by Shirley Jackson One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich by Alexander Solzhenitsyn The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne A Separate Peace by John Knowles One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest by Ken Kesey Johnny Got His Gun by Dalton Trumbo Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl I Know Why A Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou Deliverance by James Dickey The Good Earth by Pearl Buck A Hero Ain’t Nothin’ but a Sandwich by Alice Childress The Exorcist by William Peter Blatty A Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway It’s OK if You Don’t Love Me by Norma Klein Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen The Lord of the Rings by J. R. R. Tolkein Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone by J. K. Rowling Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets by J. K. Rowling Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban by J. K. Rowling Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by J. K. Rowling Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix by J. K. Rowling Harry Potter and the Half-blood Prince by J. K. Rowling Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by J. K. Rowling Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte The Golden Compass by Philip Pullman The Subtle Knife by Philip Pullman The Amber Spyglass by Philip Pullman Great Expectations by Charles Dickens Little Women by Louisa May Alcott Tess of D’Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy The Complete Works of Shakespeare Rebecca by Daphne Du Maurier Birdsong by Sebastian Faulks Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell Bleak House by Charles Dickens War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy Les Miserables by Victor Hugo Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert Moby Dick by Herman Melville Typee by Herman Melville Watership Down by Richard Adams Ulysses by James Joyce The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath The Color Purple by Alice Walker Weird History 101 by John Richards Stephens The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown Persuasion by Jane Austen Essays and Poems by Ralph Waldo Emerson Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy The Magnificent Ambersons by Booth Tarkington Ethan Frome by Edith Wharton Walden and Civil Disobedience by Henry David Thoreau The Magician’s Nephew by C. S. Lewis The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe by C. S. Lewis The Horse and his Boy by C. S. Lewis Prince Caspian by C. S. Lewis The Voyage of the Dawn Treader by C. S. Lewis The Silver Chair by C. S. Lewis The Last Battle by C. S. Lewis This Country of Ours by H. E. Marshall An Abundance of Katherines by John Green Emma by Jane Austen The Adventures of Robin Hood by Roger Lancelyn Green A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khalid Hosseini The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald The Glass Menagerie by Tennessee Williams Beloved by Toni Morrision Orlando by Virginia Woolf Tracks by Louise Erdich Ruth Hall by Fanny Fern White Teeth by Zadie Smith Their Eyes were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston A Room of One’s Own by Virginia Woolf The Awakening by Kate Chopin Three Great Plays by Eugene O’Neill Our Town by Thorton Wilder A Raw Youth by Fyodor Dostoevsky The Last of the Mohicans by James Fenimore Cooper The Prince and the Pauper by Mark Twain 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea by Jules Verne The Great Divorce by C. S. Lewis Stepping Heavenward by E. Prentiss Lively Art of Writing by Lucille Vaughn Payne Captains Courageous by Rudyard Kipling Pilgrim’s Progress by John Bunyan Works of Josephus Volume III by Josephus The Maze Runner by James Dashner The Scorch Trials by James Dashner The Death Cure by James Dashner Angels and Demons by Dan Brown The Last Testament of Oscar Wilde by Peter Ackroyd Cry, My Beloved Country by Alan Paton Goliath by Scott Westerfeld The Old Man and The Sea by Ernest Hemingway Billy Budd and Other Stories by Herman Melville Unbroken by Laura Hillenbrand The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson The Girl who Played with Fire by Stieg Larsson The Girl who Kicked The Hornet’s Nest by Stieg Larsson Wicked by Gregory Maguire Son of a Witch by Gregory Maguire Murder At The Vicarage by Agatha Christie The Looking Glass Wars by Frank Beddor Looking for Alaska by John Green Thus Spoke Zarathustra by Friedrich Nietzsche The Jungle by Upton Sinclair King Arthur and the Knight of the Round Table by Roger Lancelyn Green A Game of Thrones by George R. R. Martin Anthem by Ayn Rand Ballet Shoes by Noel Streatfeild On War by Carl Von Clausewitz August: Osage County by Tracy Letts Only a Theory by Kenneth Miller My Ten Years in a Quandry by Robert Benchly One Day by David Nicholls The Bad Beginning by Lemony Snicket The Reptile Room by Lemony Snicket The Wide Window by Lemony Snicket The Miserable Mill by Lemony Snicket The Austere Academy by Lemony Snicket The Ersatz Elevator by Lemony Snicket The Vile Village by Lemony Snicket The Hostile Hospital by Lemony Snicket The Carnivorous Carnival by Lemony Snicket The Slippery Slope by Lemony Snicket The Grim Grotto by Lemony Snicket The Penultimate Peril by Lemony Snicket The End by Lemony Snicket Selected Writings by Gertrude Stein The School for Scandal by Richard Brinsley Sheridan Gentlemen Prefer Blondes but Gentlemen Marry Brunettes by Anita Loos The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas The Pickwick Papers by Charles Dickens The Invisible Man by H. G. Wells Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes Life of Pi by Yann Martel David Copperfield by Charles Dickens The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton The Scarlet Pimpernel by Baroness Orczy The Turn of the Screw by Henry James Three More Plays by George O’Neill Emily of New Moon by L. M. Montgomery The Once and Future King by T. H. White Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky The Ginger Man by J. P. Donleavy Return of the Native by Thomas Hardy Poetry by Emily Dickenson The Lightning Thief by Rick Riordan The Sea of Monster by Rick Riordan The Titan’s Curse by Rick Riordan The Battle of the Labyrinth by Rick Riordan The Last Olympian by Rick Riordan The Metamorphoses by Ovid The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini The Complete Works of Sherlock Holmes by Arthur Conan Doyle The Revenant by Michael Punke Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children by Ransom Riggs The Complete Stories by Flannery O’Connor The Final Adventures of Sherlock Holmes by Arthur Conan Doyle Grendel by John Gardner The Fault In Our Stars by John Green I AM THE MESSENGER by Markus Zusak The Book Thief by Markus Zusak Eragon by Christopher Paolini Eldest by Christopher Paolini Inheritance by Christopher Paolini Brsinger by Christopher Paolini Just One Damned Thing After Another by Jodi Taylor A Movable Feast by Ernest Hemingway The Hobbit by J. R. R. Tolkien Mr. Midshipman Hornblower by C. S. Forestor Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen The Pocket Chaucer by Geoffrey Chaucer On Writing by Charles Bukowski Will in the World by Stephen Greenblatt Snow Flower and the Secret Fan by Lisa See Pride and Prejudice and Zombies by Seth Grahame-Smith Crazy Love by Francis Chan The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll Penny Dreadfuls by Stefan Dziemianowics Classic Works by F. Scott Fitgerald John Carter of Mars by Edgar Rice Burroughs The Complete Tales and Poems by Edgar Allen Poe The Rivals of Sherlock Holmes by Stefan Dziemianowics Fall On Your Knees by Ann-Marie Mcdonald The Swiss Family Robinson by Johann Wyss Divergent by Veronica Roth A History of Greece by J. B. Bury Em and the Big Hoom by Jerry Pinto Something to Tell You by Hanif Kureishi Inkheart by Cornelia Funke Inkspell by Cornelia Funke Inkdeath by Cornelia Funke Grimm’s Fairy Tales by Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe Anne of Green Gables by L. M. Montgomery Anne of Avonlea by L. M. Montgomery Anne of the Island by L. M. Montgomery The Princess and the Goblin by George MacDonald A Little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett Through the Looking Glass by Lewis Carroll The Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum The Jungle book by Rudyard Kipling A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens Just So Stories by Rudyard Kipling Journey to the Center of the Earth by Jules Verne The Adventure of Tom Sawyer by Mark Twain Hans Andersen’s Fairy Tales by Hans Christian Andersen Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by J. K. Rowling All the Lights We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr Hearts in Atlantis by Stephen King Sharp Objects by Gillian Flynn Diary of an Unlikely Call Girl by Anonymous Sweet Bird of Youth by Tennessee Williams The Rose Tattoo by Tennessee Williams The Night of the Iguana by Tennessee Williams World, Chase Me Down by Andrew Hilleman The Little Paris Bookshop by Nina George Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? by Edward Albee The Copernican Revolution by Thomas S. Kuhn The Monster of Florence by Douglas Preston and Mario Spezi  Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman

[fandom-go-round]

Could I request dbd Frank, doctor, and trapper reactions to a quirky survivor leaving a bloody handprint on their butts?

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Implied Sexual Situations

The Legion/Frank:

Frank doesn’t know what to do when you slap his ass, watching you run off. He doesn’t realize that there’s a handprint for a while, only noticing when he sees it in a window. It makes him laugh, even if he’s annoyed by it. He just gets that more determined to track you down now.

Once he finds you again, he’s determined to leave a mark on you. Preferably on your ass or chest. Frank teases you a little bit, determined to make you ‘apologize’ before he lets you run off again. He’s quick to give you a pinch before leaving, admiring his handprint on your ass as you run.

 The Doctor/Herman:

He realizes immediately that you’re much too giddy to be caught, hanging over his shoulder and not really struggling. It’s only when someone blinds him and he drops you that he feels something on his ass. Herman doesn’t have time to swipe at you before you’re gone but he figures something is up.

He thinks its very cute that you marked him, glad that you’re playing this game with him. He doesn’t know if it’s because of his power or not but he’s happy to keep playing with you. Herman doesn’t have any urge to mark you back but will happily chase you for the rest of the match, even if the other survivors make fun of him.

 The Trapper/Evan MacMillan:

Evan knows you’ve been trailing him all trial, even if he doesn’t know why. He’s not keen to figure out what you have planned but lets you get close enough to grab. He jumps a little as you grab his ass, turning to look at you over his shoulder. You’re gone after that and he’s confused as to what’s going on.

He’s determined to get you back, it’s just debatable how he’s going to do that. Most would assume a handprint back but oh no, Evan is going to go above and beyond. Once he gets you in his clutches, he roughly grabs your crotch, making you yelp. His handprint is perfectly placed and you’re torn between amused and horrified. He purposefully lets you live after that, wanting the other survivors to see your mark for as long as possible.

[supportforindieauthors]

'Tis the Season by James W George

The Christmas music emanating from the elegant viola was breathtaking. Of that, there could be no doubt.

It was a frosty morning and the second Sunday of December, but the local United Methodist Church was warm and inviting. The sanctuary was decorated, as usual, in a festive but tasteful manner. Attendance was indeed impressive, and every worshipper was absolutely enthralled by the beautiful music.

Thirty-two-year-old Heather Goodwin was in her element. She was an absolute virtuoso, and the captivating, athletic mother-of-one closed her eyes as her performance climaxed with the rousing chorus of Handel’s Messiah. Heather had already treated her audience to an emotional rendition of Silent Night, which was followed by a very poignant interpretation of Joy to the World. And now? Handel as the grand finale. Absolute perfection.

“All-e-lu-ia! All-e-lu-ia! All-ay-uh-lu-lia!”

Nestled snugly in the eighth row of the right-hand side, in the same pew she had commandeered forty-one years ago and had never relinquished, sat the redoubtable Millicent Ann Haverty. And she hated every second of the allegedly joyful noise.

Millicent Ann Haverty, or Millie Ann to her friends and allies, was a stern but diligent seventy-two-year-old grandmother. She was well-mannered but plain-spoken, tastefully attired in a manner befitting Sunday worship, and at that particular moment, was inadvertently grinding her dentures. She fidgeted in the pew, adjusted the buttons on her matronly pantsuit, and impatiently tapped her displeasure with her sensible footwear.

Millie Ann absolutely despised Heather Goodwin. That Goodwin woman was her most loathsome nemesis. In fact, Heather Goodwin was so loathsome she had absolutely no idea she even was Millie Ann’s nemesis. She was utterly oblivious to the struggle while lost in her smug, triathlontraining, viola-playing, orthodontist-marrying, perfect-mothering, daily routine. She was utterly vile.

Of course, Millie Ann Haverty was a reasonable woman. She had raised three children, two Labradoodles, one insubordinate Bassett hound, and had even managed to keep her lackadaisical husband, Herbert, on the straight and narrow these last five decades. She was grateful for the things she had been given, and she knew her limits.

She knew she was a plump septuagenarian, and had no right to be jealous of Heather’s rippling triceps, revealingly accentuated every week with her scandalous, short-sleeved blouses. Millie Ann took great pride in her own age-appropriate silver curls, and did not begrudge Heather for her silky but enticingly short brunette locks. Despite three decades of forcing squirming, sugar-maddened toddlers to sit upright during piano lessons, Millie harbored no jealousy for Heather’s musical gifts. (Besides, a viola seemed to be an oddly pretentious, European choice for music making. You would 2 think she could have chosen something more American.) And Millie had to concede that the one perfect daughter sired by the dreamy orthodontist was, in fact, quite adorable.

All things considered, in a different world, Millie Ann and Heather could have been friends. Well, not friends. Allies? Comrades? Fellow Methodist ladies beating away the moral turpitude so rampant in their community? Something like that. But it was not to be.

It was the cookies.

Millie Ann did not think herself to be a vain woman. After all, we lift our glory unto the Lord. She did not need much in this world. She did not need the fawning praise, the shameless adulation, and the lustful, probing glances constantly bestowed upon Heather. Millie Ann would willfully concede athletic talent, musical gifts, stunning good looks, and the certainty that Heather’s four-year old daughter, Vanessa Morgan Goodwin, was headed for her choice of Ivy-League schools in a mere fourteen years.

But the cookies. That was Millie Ann’s domain, and this sweet, picture-perfect interloper had brazenly stomped through Millie Ann’s sacred territory. Enough was enough.

For years if not decades, Millie Ann triumphantly ran roughshod over the feeble competition during the cookie exchange. Enthusiasts came from miles away to bask in the heavenly glory of her cranberry chocolate bars. Her German Lebkuchen honey cookies were so phenomenal, she would make room in her curio for another blue ribbon before she even baked them. Oh, and the iced pumpkin. The delectable iced pumpkin cookies. Millie Ann dominated the realm of competitive cookie-baking, and all was right with the universe.

And then, she arrived.

Three years ago, the Goodwins pulled into town and impulsively moved into that brand-new five-bedroom McMansion situated in the up-and-coming outskirts of town rife with overpriced coffee shops, foreign-sounding retailers, and refurbished taverns allegedly catering to alternative lifestyles. (Millie Ann’s idea of an alternative lifestyle was Episcopalian, so she thought it best to leave well enough alone.) Five bedrooms for one infant! Oh, how the congregation oohed-and-awwed over baby Vanessa.

The beautiful music had now ceased, and the applause was deafening. Reverend Morrision was shamelessly heaping gratitude and compliments upon Heather-the-glorified-fiddle-player, and Millie Ann felt she might be ill. Fortunately, the reverend had transitioned into his weekly sermon, and his gentle monotone filled her ears as her imaginary sickness mercifully subsided.

“Brothers and sisters, hear with me now, the words of the prophet, Isaiah. There shall come forth a shoot from the stump of Jesse, and a branch from his roots shall bear fruit. And the Spirit of the Lord shall rest upon him, the Spirit of wisdom and understanding, the Spirit of counsel and might, the Spirit of knowledge...”

Millie Ann knew she should be focusing exclusively on the sermon, but her mind was given to wandering, and she drifted back to that unthinkable, fateful day three years ago. “Delicious! Heather, dear, where have you been all these years? These cookies are heaven-sent! What? They’re gluten free? You mean my Uncle Frank can have these? And lactose free as well? Oh, thank goodness. They’re what? Veee-gann? Oh, Heather, they’re so healthy and so scrumptious!”

And then, the dreaded moment. The source of all of Millie Ann’s present misery. “She’s only been with us a few short months, but hands-down, our winner this year is Heather Goodwin! Let’s give her a round of applause.” Uggh. No milk, flour, butter, or eggs. That’s not how cookies are made.

Of course, it was only a one-time fluke. Once the novelty of this youthful, radiant newcomer and her new-fangled, healthy ways wore off, Millie Ann would be back on top where she belonged. But, during that subsequent year, when the blue ribbon was once again deviously torn from her, Millie Ann was apoplectic. What was even worse was, day-by-day that conniving little wife-of-anorthodontist was exerting undue influence in Millie Ann’s established circle. “Heather, how should I baste my Thanksgiving turkey? Heather, should I serve ham or lamb chops this Easter? Heather, who can you recommend for children’s piano lessons?” How revulsive.

When there was no blue ribbon triumphantly mounted in her curio for a third straight year, Millie Ann could take no more. The seventeen blue ribbons previously accrued seemed lonely and pathetic, and she knew something had to change. Another cookie exchange was upon them, and the time for action was now.

But what could she do? Perhaps she should throw in the towel and become a Lutheran? No, that would be ridiculous. Besides, some of those Scandinavian Lutheran women were quite devoted to their craft, and there could be no guarantee of subsequent cookie triumph. If they were patient enough to make Lutefisk, then there was no telling what kind of dessert concoctions those women were capable of.

Could she send Heather out of town, somehow? How could she possibly do that? Could she fabricate a fake contest and notify the Goodwins of their good fortune? Perhaps an all-expense paid trip to the big city? No, this was more lunacy. Besides, Dr. Goodwin-the-orthodontist wouldn’t close up shop on a weekday. Think, Millie Ann, think! There had to be a way!

Reverend Morrison seemed to be just getting warmed up, and Millie Ann leaned back to make herself comfortable. It would be a long sermon. She peered at Herbert, who stared glassily into the distance, nodding mechanically. She focused once again on the sermon, and as she ruminated carefully on the true meaning of the holiday season, she had an epiphany.

Sabotage.

Yes. That would be the best way, perhaps the only way. But how? Once Heather’s cookies arrived at the church, they would be zealously guarded like a Vatican treasure in order to ward away the probing hands of misbehaved urchins and gluttonous husbands. If Millie Ann hoped to successfully execute her mission, she would have to surreptitiously infiltrate the Goodwin McMansion.

Millie Ann had read a Tom Clancy novel eleven years ago, so she knew she was quite knowledgeable about special operations and covert sabotage. She knew she would first need a joint staff, or a team of experts spanning the entire spectrum of military planning. First, she knew she would need a “J1” in order to manage all the human resources that would be associated with the operation. She could do that herself, since no one seemed more attuned to the personal information of the congregation than she.

Additionally, she would need a “J2” representative to manage the intelligence associated with this venture. Clearly, she was more intelligent than Herbert, or her neighbor Gladys and her ne’er-dowell husband, so once again, she was the obvious choice. Besides, the operation would require careful reconnaissance of the Goodwin McMansion, and Herbert couldn’t be trusted not to lose the binoculars.

“J3” was the real meat and potatoes. Operations. Clearly, she would be the one conducting the operation, sabotaging Heather’s cookie offering with salt, garlic, and onion powder. So, it would appear she would single-handedly be the J1, J2 and J3, which so far, added up to a very impressive sounding “J6.”

“J4” was logistics, which as she well knew, was a fancy word for stuff. Her grandfather was a supply sergeant in the Great War, and little did he know one day his line of work would be logistics. 4 La-de-da. She knew she couldn’t do everything herself, so hopefully she could put Herbert in charge of the logistics.

She suspected the ideal time for the operation would be early in the morning, when her nemesis would be off on her five, ten, or fifty-mile run (or some other crazy thing). She would need a disguise, and she seemed to remember Herbert had a Santa suit tucked away somewhere from his days with the Rotarians (the logistics). She hoped there was nothing sinful about her imminent cross-dressing, but after all, this was a mission in support of the church.

She would also need a rope of some fashion, because if the front door was locked, she would be compelled to go down the chimney in accordance with her undercover identity. If discovered, she would have to concoct a story about why Santa was visiting the Goodwin house in broad daylight several days before Christmas, but she could delegate that to her J2 intelligence directorate.

Millie Ann became so fixated on her diabolical subterfuge that her situational awareness had quickly melted away. There now seemed to be a commotion of some kind, and as she stirred, she noticed the congregation rising to leave. Even worse, Herbert was sound asleep and snoring. How embarrassing. Of course, she hadn’t been sleeping. Or dreaming. Had she?

Little four-year-old Vanessa was adorable in her mother’s arms as the Goodwins made their way out of the pews. Millie Ann could overhear their discreet whispering. “Mommy, the old people were sleeping in church!”

“Shh. Be polite, darling.”

“I’ll bet they were having wonderful dreams, Mommy! I’ll bet they were dreaming of Christmas presents, and Santa Claus, and yummy Christmas cookies!”

“I’m sure they were, darling. It really is a magical season.”

[walecpost]

FORGIVENESS

When their only son was killed by a drunk driver, Frank and Elizabeth Morris had just one wish: revenge. “ We wanted him dead, Mrs Morris admits, talking about the the killer.

Tommy Piggage pleaded guilty to the charge and was sent to prison. The Morrises were angry at the court for not giving him a longer sentence. In time , however, they realised their bitterness stopped them from getting on…

[paintedwords-blog]

Heading to the Brooklyn Book Festival this weekend? Don’t miss your chance to meet illustrator Frank Morrison! Frank will be speaking on these panels on Saturday, September 19th!

Picture Book Stage Picture Book Stage (MetroTech Commons) September 19, 2015, 10:00am-3:30pm

Come listen to your favorite children’s book authors read! All readings are followed by book signings at the adjacent signing table!

12:00 p.m: Frank Morrison, Little Melba and her Big Trombone

Illustrators in Action NYU Polytechnic School of Engineering Auditorium, 5 Metrotech Commons September 19, 2015, 3:00pm 

Come see beloved children’s book illustrators go to toe to toe in a live action drawing competition featuring Kevin Sherry (Monsters on the Run), Kazu Kibuishi (Amulet), George O’Connor (If I Had a Triceratops), Aimee Sicuro (Bright Sky, Starry City), Frank Morrison (Little Melba and her Big Trombone), and Raúl Colón (Draw!). Moderated by Ayun Halliday (Peanut).

[mara-xx217]

hi! if it's ok, can i request hcs of the legion trying to take care of a gn reader who's sick or in pain? (i just got a booster shot and it's been killing me a bit 😭) thank and hope you're having a great day or night!

Okay this is late and I hope you're feeling better! I was sick af when I got mine so I feel you lol

These losers can't take care of a pet rock, let alone themselves. It won't stop them from trying to help, though.

Even if they are massive fuck ups-

Frank Morrision

He's the type to go out in public even if he has the plague, let's be real

If you're genuinely fucked up and he can see you're having a bad time, he does try to help

Key word: try

Soup? Uh, aspirin? What else is there SHIT-

You better rely on Susie or Joey cause Frank is dumber than a sack of hammers

Will also get sick with whatever you have

Julie Kostenko

Better equipped to deal with a sick friend but she's... rough

Will probably get annoyed with you if you complain a lot

She cares but she's shit at showing it

Will raid your make-up, closet and your kitchen while your incapacitated

She gossips while your ill. Not about you but rather to you. She can't have you falling behind in the latest drama, now can she?

Sleepover with her besties

Joey

Probably the best out of the four to care for a sick friend

Doesn't worry too much but shows care if you really need the support

Actually gets you shit you need to feel better

Tells you to either stay in bed or on the couch and sleep

Quietest of the four

The one to tell the others to chill if they start making you uncomfortable

Susie Lavoie

Worries the most out of the four

Overreacts to every little thing. A cough? A sneeze? God forbid if you start puking-

Wants to cover you in a pile of blankets and plush animals

Helps Joey

Doesn't take part in Julie's raids of your home but also doesn't stop her from dragging her along

Will gossip and keep you up to date on the drama alongside Julie

Just have them put on a movie and get them to move you to the living room. They are all too dangerous to be left alone.

@prettycutebunny, @infinitewhore, @kennbb, @slutwithadegree, @dead-bxxxtch-walking, @space-arsonist, @pink-soft-shadow, @sinlessdesire, @hoemine