#The CBS Tapes

[guessimdumb]

The Rubinoos - I Want Her So Bad (1976)

Wild, snotty and stupid - strangely this fantastic song was never released by the Rubinoos until 2021.  Beserkley all-star project the Spitballs did it with Tommy Dunbar on vocals, and so did Psycotic Pineapple, but the Rubinoos classic sat for nearly 45 years. 

Yes, she was

[bl00dfroma-fairy]

[onemorecupofcoffee]

[machetelanding]

[rusty-gloinks]

I NEED .VERY SPECIFIC CDS & TAPES .SO BAD RIGHT NNOW.PLEAAASEPLEPW

[cyberfunsupporter]

everyone used to call rv one of the most unserious ggs but now everybody thinks they’re boring or old because sm won’t even let them be in the same room for an album or seasons greeting photoshoot like omds please bring my family back together 😭💔

[myvinylplaylist]

George Michael: Faith (1988)

VHS

Includes exclusive interview footage with George Michael". Interviews are edited between the videos to create one 35-minute program.

CBS Music Video Enterprises

[ckret2]

So y'all know the Gravity Falls production bible that leaked three weeks ago. Someone in one of my discord servers pointed this out:

And, naturally, that spawned an entire AU.

AU Concept: Ford was kicked out instead of Stan and takes a job as a trucker to makes ends meet since he couldn't go to college, while still studying the weird and anomalous however he can.

Ford driving around from quirky small town to quirky small town, drifting through the liminal spaces of truck stops, meeting odd people in isolated diners, seeing strange things out on the road—a deer with too many eyes bounding across a two-lane highway, a flirty woman at a rest stop who doesn't blink or breathe, mysterious lights in the sky at night, inhuman growls on the CB or 50-year-old broadcasts on the radio—and taking notes when he stops for gas or food.

Aside from having gotten kicked out before graduating high school, Ford's the same person he is in canon.

He's still an ambitious guy, and here "ambitious" means working hard and saving as much money as he can—so, a long haul owner-operator who spends weeks at a time on the road. (He goes through a LOT of educational audiobooks.) Plus, this is the easiest way for him to get to travel the country; and since it looks like his "travel the world" dreams with Stan are dead, he'll take what he can get.

Since he's never in the same spot long and carries his life in a truck, almost all of Ford's research is in his journal. His bag of investigation supplies has an instant camera, a portable tape recorder, a thermometer, a flashlight, rubber gloves, and a few zip lock bags—and that's about it. It has to share space with all his clothes, toiletries, and nonperishable food when he's on the road. He doesn't have much opportunity to closely examine anything odd he finds, unless he's lucky enough to run into something when he can stop for the night. He has to cram his paranormal research around the side of his full-time job.

He doesn't live in Gravity Falls, but he knows it exists. Every time he moves—to Chicago, to Nebraska, to California—he seems to inch closer. He currently lives in Portland and usually hauls loads between the Pacific Northwest and Chicago or New York. He stops at the truck stop outside Gravity Falls when he can and has gone fishing in town a few times. He doesn't have the benefit of extensive research to know that this is the weirdest town in the world; but it seems pretty weird to him, there are local rumors about the town, and he's had some weird experiences in the area.

Plus, he can't explain it, but it's like the town's calling to him. He wants to move there, but it'd put him over an hour outside of Portland where the nearest jobs are. Maybe if somebody chucked him like $100k to build a cabin in the woods; but what are the odds of that?

He does know Fiddleford. Truck broke down somewhere and Fiddleford kindly pulled over to fix it on the fly. They looked at each other, had mutual knee-jerk "dumb trucker/hillbilly" reactions, and within ten minutes both went "oh wait you're the most brilliant genius i've ever met." Fiddleford's living the same life he was in canon before Ford called him to Gravity Falls—with his family in California, trying to start a computer company out of his garage—but they make friends and keep in contact.

One time Ford stops at a kitschy roadside knickknack store that also sells new agey magic things—crystals, tarot cards, incense, etc. He bought a "lucky" rearview mirror ornament that looks like an Eye of Providence in a top hat and hung it from his cab fan, and ever since then he's had weird dreams whenever he sleeps in his truck.

Things I don't know yet: what Stan's up to; or why Ford's the one who got kicked out. I tend to believe that in canon Stan wasn't just kicked out because he ruined Ford's college prospects, but rather because the family thought he deliberately sabotaged Ford; so in this AU, Ford would've been kicked out over a proportionate crime.

[bettyfrommars]

I'm on Fire

Chapter 1: Black No. 1

biker!Eddie Munson x fem!artist!Reader

Part 1

Series Masterlist

🚨18+ Only, older!Eddie, tow truck driver Eddie, biker!Eddie, alcohol consumption, sex with someone other than reader, cheating (not on reader), slightly fuckboy!eddie, adult themes. Y/N is used several times in the first few chapters, as well as plenty of typos and I apologize for that. This was my very first reader insert series ever, and it's insane how much the characters and story have grown. I really appreciate those who have been on this journey with me, and those who continue to want to read it!

Word count: 3.3k

There is an instant spark of chemistry between you and the guy who rescues you from the side of the freeway in his tow truck, courtesy of Munson's Garage. While you've never met him before, your roommate has, and you learn a few things about Eddie Munson while he indulges in one of his late-night extracurricular activities, which is just one facet of the dark secrets in his life.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to have a crush on your tow truck driver.

One second, you’re cruising along the freeway, blasting Linger by The Cranberries, looking forward to the future, and the next---your tire blows and you’re on the side of the road questioning when you will ever catch a break. You were trying to remember how far back the last payphone was as traffic sped by, blowing your hair into your face, when a big, mean looking, black tow truck with Munson’s Garage written on the door slowed down and pulled in front of you.

The guy behind the wheel waited for a few cars to buzz by before he dropped down from the cab, boots hitting the pavement, and made his way over to you. He’s wearing his long, dark hair tied back in a ponytail, black jeans with a wallet chain hanging at his thigh, and a button down blue work shirt that says Eddie on it. He’s muscular in a manual labor way, and you spot a few tattoos at first glance, just as he closes the distance between you.

“Come here often?” He asked, the side of his mouth lifting up as he squinted against the sun.

You hesitated, because you weren’t prepared for jokes, and then you shrug. “Yeah, I live here. It’s cozy, shame it’s so close to the freeway.”

He takes a pair of gloves out of his back pocket and you notice his warm, brown sugar eyes take a quick sweep up and down your body. “In that case, I might have to visit more often.”

You also weren’t ready for the teasing, sexual banter, but you could give as well as you got. “Careful. I bite.”

Of course, you don’t have a spare tire, and so the next option is for him to tow you back to his garage. He tells you to get comfortable in the cab of the truck while he hooks your car on.

Inside, you notice that it’s an older cab, but it’s clean and well taken care off. There’s an Iron Maiden sticker on the glove compartment, and a vanilla tree-shaped air freshener hanging from the CB radio. You scoot over, curious as a kitten, to see what other little pieces of his life you can pick up from the area, when you see photo of a little kid, maybe 2 years old, taped to the top of his dash. The toddler had thick dark hair and big, dark eyes, and you realize he must be a dad—the kid looked just like him. You remembered looking at his strong hands before he put his gloves on, and you didn’t see any rings, but most people in his profession chose not to wear them when they worked, as a safety precaution.

He climbed up into the cab behind the steering wheel and took his gloves off, stuffing them in the console between you, apologizing for how long it took. In your mind, he’d only been out there five minutes, but—time flies when you’re being a snoop.

The radio blared loud the second he turned the engine on (Would? by Alice in Chains) and you jumped in your seat, a yelp escaping your throat.

He cringed and turned the volume down. “My bad,” he laughed a little, giving you a wink when you look over at him, your palm flat on your chest, adrenaline coursing through you.

His shop was almost a half hour away, and the conversation stayed light. He asked you what you did for work, and when you told him that you were on staff at a gallery, but you wished you could be a full time artist—he was one of the few people in your whole life who didn’t make fun of you for it.

“You have no idea how much I relate to that,” he said, almost under his breath, shifting the truck into another gear.

You asked him how long he’d been in the area and he replied, “too long.”

He got quiet for a few minutes, and you shifted your eyes covertly to catch his jaw muscles flexing, like he was deep in thought about something he didn’t want to be thinking about.

You adjusted yourself on the vinyl seat with a creak of the upholstery. “So, did you grow up here?”

He opened his mouth for a beat, and then closed it again, as if he didn’t like the answer he was about to give. “I grew up all over the place. But I went to high school here, and then I left, and then I came back.”

You pulled your bottom lip over your top lip, looking out the window at a sea of fat cows grazing in a big, grassy field.

“I’m sure there are worse places to be,” you said aloud, although you meant for it to be a silent thought.

He scoffed. “You must be new here. Give it time.”

He had his hand high on the wheel, and he looked sideways over his arm at you. You could tell he wanted to ask you more, and you wanted to ask the name of the cute kid in the photo on his dash—but it suddenly felt like it was all getting too personal.

There was sudden static on the CB radio and the voice of an older man came through the speaker. “Munson, what’s your 20?”

Eddie reached over to take the handheld receiver off the hook under the glove compartment, the back of his hand brushing your knee as he did so.

He pushed the button on the side as he held it to his mouth. “On I-90, just passed Little River, on my way back.”

He let go of the button so that the other man could speak.

“Charlene dropped the Jaguar off again. Not a damn thing wrong with it, but she asked for you, specifically.”

Eddie swallowed, his eyes shifting to you, as if he was embarrassed or self-conscious about the conversation.

“...I told her I’d bring it by on my way home after work.”

The other end was silent for a bit and then, the older man gave a heavy sigh. “Son, I hope you’re not doing what I think you’re--”

“Talk to you when I get there, Wayne. I’ve got a customer in the cab with me,” and then Eddie hung up the receiver and switched the radio off with a click.

Back at Munson’s Garage you called your best friend, Katie, who you were supposed to meet for lunch, to talk her down from the ledge she was on, panicking over where you were.

“At first, I wanted to murder you, and then--” As Katie is talking, you see Eddie give you a thumbs up from across the garage to let you know the tire was on and your car was ready, and you mirrored the gesture. “...and then I was like, wait, maybe she’s in a ditch somewhere….and you were!”

Like any self-respecting, horny friend would, she asked if the tow truck driver that picked you up was hot while on the phone with you.

You’re watching Eddie pick up two tires and fling them onto a pile like they weighed nothing, muscles flexing in his forearms and hands; he catches you staring and smiles almost accidentally at you over his shoulder, before turning away. “Not really, I mean, if you like that sort of thing, I guess.”

There was a teenage boy at the front desk who looked like he was in training, and with shaking hands, he tallied you up for the price of the tow and the tire.

“Just the tire,” Eddie came up behind him, wiping his fingers on a rag. “The tow is on the house,” he lifts his eyes to you, and then looks down to make sure the kid got it right.

You thanked him, and as you were leaving, you saw the long, sleek, white Jaguar convertible with leather seats parked at the far end of the garage. You wondered who Charlene was, and why she chose that particular garage over all of the other high end, specialty repair shops in the area.

---------

That night, you were snuggled in front of a Golden Girls episode, dissociating in your bathrobe on the couch with your orange, long haired tabby cat named Charlie, when Katie, who was also your roommate, got home after a meeting at the high school where she taught English and creative writing.

“I didn’t get into an accident,” you assured her, turning the sound down on the TV. “I just blew a tire. I’ll still be able to make it to work tomorrow, unfortunately.”

The next night was a huge artist opening at the gallery, and all of the mucky mucks usually attended to buy high priced art and drink free champagne.

“Hey,” you went to the kitchen to squirt some of your cheap, refrigerated box wine into some glasses and brought one over to Katie. “You’ve lived here longer than I have. Do you know a woman named Charlene who drives a super fancy white, Jaguar convertible?”

“Charlene Gregson? The ex-supermodel, the wife of millionaire CEO John Gregson, the ones who just happen to have a summer home near here on the lake?”

You put your wine glass to your lips. “Sure, I mean, I guess. Does she drive a white Jaguar?”

Katie curled up at the other end of the couch and wrapped a blanket over her. “They have a ten car garage at their mansion, so I’m sure she has one in every color.”

“Wait, how do you know this?” You put your elbow on the top of the couch to rest your hand on your fist, squinting at your roommate.

Katie took a big gulp of her wine. “My sister, the one who runs her own carpet cleaning business, she’s been out there. They have these antique rugs that need to be cleaned a certain way.”

“So, she’s married?” You asked, feeling like you’re asking the same question over and over without actually asking it.

Katie shrugs. “As far as I know they still are. I mean, what happened? Did you run into her or something?”

You didn’t feel like retelling the entire debacle, so you trimmed it down a bunch. “I saw that car at the garage when I got my tire fixed, and someone mentioned that it belonged to her.”

Katie gave you a curious look.

You turned and noticed the way she was staring at you. “What?” You laughed as you asked it, turning your gaze back to the TV.

“So,” Katie said, her eyebrow raised. “Forget about Charlene. Tell me more about this tow truck guy. Is he single? Is he tall? Does he have sexy hands?”

You rolled your head to rest it on the back of the sofa. “Do you know a guy named Eddie?”

Katie ran her tongue over her teeth, thinking.

“He drives a tow truck? Works at Munson’s Garage?”

An invisible light bulb seemed to blink on above Katie’s head. “Eddie...Eddie Munson?”

The way she asked it gave you pause; your eyes shifted, and then you shrugged, “I didn’t ask for his last name, but I guess so.”

Katie tilted her head back, eyes wide. “Holy shit, I haven’t seen him around in a minute. He used to sell weed back in the day. I bought some from him a few times when I first moved here after college. But he left town for a year or two, I didn’t know he was back.”

You squished air around in your mouth, puffing your cheeks out as you listened to her. “Well, he’s back. He put a new tire on my car and he didn’t even break a sweat.”

“I remember him being...really hot, in like, a metalhead way,” Katie sipped her wine again. “Does he still have the long hair?”

You nodded, staring at the TV vacantly, picturing him in your mind as clearly as if he were right in front of you. You asked Katie if Eddie had a kid, and she had no idea. “The last time we smoked at his trailer, he was single with no kids, but that was—oh shit---a good 6 years ago.”

The next revelation made Katie jump as she remembered it: “Oh! He was in a band, too. The name had something to do with rust or decay, I never saw him play though, Dan and the rest of his D&D nerd friends worshiped him.” Dan was Katie’s younger brother by two years, and he asked you on a date a while back, but you turned him down, respectfully, being that you didn’t want it to mess with your friendship with Katie.

“That’s his garage, he runs it with his uncle.” Katie corrected your earlier statement. “There’s a rumor that it’s also a clubhouse for the Coffin Kings motorcycle gang, but who knows. In a town like this, there are a lot of rumors.”

You thought about his visible tattoos, including the cluster of bats near his elbow, some kind of monsterous puppet thing on his inner forearm, and there was something spelled out across his fingers, but you couldn’t read what it said.

There is an interlude in your conversation with nothing but canned laughter from the sitcom on TV, and then Katie changes the subject, recalling a dramatic story having to do with one of her colleagues that happened earlier that day.

-------

Eddie waited until everyone was gone before he closed up the garage, noticing that the new kid forgot to sweep the lobby, so he did it himself, mumbling about how it was hard to find good help these days. He had the Jaguar already loaded on the truck, but he needed to wait until after 8 to drop it off at her place.

Charlene was pulling his shirt up and undoing his belt, her mouth on his throat, as soon as she locked the front door behind him. He grabbed onto her wrists and held her in place, forcing her to back up as he walked forward.

There were several Magnum wrappers on the floor by the time he left her there after their final fuck in the shower. He picked up the evidence of their affair and took the wrappers with him, thinking that he couldn’t remember the last time he was with someone he cared about and trusted enough to not use some kind of protection. That same dark voice in his head told him that he’d never get that close to anyone ever again. “Get used to it, buddy. You’ll be alone forever,” the voice snickered.

------

Mrs. John Waterberry, who lived in the house across from Charlene Gregson, grabbed her 78 yr old husband by the arm just as they were getting ready for bed. She could see the tow truck pull up into Charlene’s driveway from their bedroom window.

“That’s five times in two months, John,” Mrs. Waterberry scampered for the binoculars in the desk drawer, putting them to her eyes and pointing them at the house. “Who on earth needs to have their brand new car towed that often?”

John Waterberry fussed to put his glasses back on and watched the big, black truck lower the delicate, expensive Jaguar to the ground with care. “I don’t give a damn, Louisa, let’s go to bed.”

Behind her, John got into bed and turned the lamp by the bed off, but Mrs. Waterberry hid behind the curtain and watched as the strange tattooed boy with the long hair went over and knocked at the front door. When Charlene answered, she was in her a skimpy bathrobe!

“John!” Mrs. Waterberry called to her husband. “She invited him inside again! I told you! Her husband away on a golfing trip and now this.”

“It’s none of our business, Louisa,” John mumbled, turning over on his side, facing away from her.

Mrs. Waterford ended up falling asleep, but her eyes snapped open when she heard the low grumble of the tow truck starting up again. She looked at the digital alarm clock on the nightstand: it was almost 1:00 in the morning.

------

Eddie popped a cigarette into his mouth and rolled the window down, turning his music up in the cab of the tow truck as soon as he was out of the gated lake community. (Black No. 1 – Type O Negative)

"I went looking for trouble, and boy, I found her,

she's in love with herself

she likes the dark

and on her milk white neck

the Devil's mark..."

He should’ve been feeling good, but the frown on his face was giving him a headache, his body telling his mind there was something wrong. He happened to catch a flicker out of the corner of his eye and turned to see a shiny sliver of something on the floorboard of his truck. He made sure there were no cars around and bent down to stretch his hand out and swoop it up. It was an earring; a little silver hoop, and he realized, with sigh, that it must’ve belonged to the woman he had in his truck earlier that day. The one who worked at an art gallery and didn’t have a spare tire in her car. The one with cute, quirky mannerisms and the beautiful eyes.

He sped up and shifted into the next gear, cigarette between his lips, and slipped the earring into his front pocket.

Finally back at the garage, Eddie parked the truck and opened the side door to get his bike. After a wide straddle and a few kicks of his foot, the Harley started up with a growl, loud pipes spitting, his hand with the metal rings twisting on the high handlebar. He had a gig with his band the next evening, but not until after he escorted Charlene to her function and pretended to be her body guard. The whole town had to know they were fucking; he had a hard time believing they were all so morbidly clueless.

While he shot down the highway on his chopper with the wind in his face, he reached over to feel for the outline of your earring in his pocket, and realized with a tiny flutter in his gut, that he had a valid excuse to look you up and see you again.

Part 2

[dood1e-bug]

Throwing Percy into a game I started playing again.

Au where he gets isekaied into CB universe immediately after Argost blows up in war of the cryptids.

Mans rocking a new fit for the AU, also he can't transform into a mantis in this world (He is grounded, tape transformations only).

[dirigibleplumbing]

why “the Winchesters” feels like fanfiction

I don’t mean this in a negative way but it feels like fic and here’s why:

Mary, John, Carlos, Lata, and Ada (and others to an extent) are 100% found family and an actual ensemble. in Supernatural, family didn’t end in blood but the brothers were the Main Characters and they’d known Bobby since before the start of the show. in the Winchesters, everyone who is working together is doing it because they choose to, and while everyone but John has history together, they fall into a TV Show Ensemble Cast immediately and John’s newness persists only for exposition purposes

because they’re all choosing to work together, they’re all nice to each other, give each other the benefit of the doubt, and generally assume everyone has the same goals and wants to be there and is doing the work

even though it’s the 70s and they don’t have cell phones, they use CB radios, pay phones, and walkies to constantly keep each other updated. the capacity to communicate is almost never an impediment. even when Carlos is trapped in a shadow dimension and Lata is in the house, they can hear each other yelling! 

the main group doesn’t hide info from each other. sure, John and Mary briefly attempt to hide their relationship, and Lata has a Deep Dark Secret she hasn’t told anyone before she put on the bracelet. but when it comes to hunting, they are all info all the time. Ada even shares the risk to her soul! can you imagine someone volunteering that on SPN?! even John’s mom knows about the Akreda and doesn’t for a moment think it’s at all possible John is a murderer! I guess this one is more fanon-vibe than fic, lots of fics are based on people withholding crucial info, but the “SPN but with healthier communication” thing is such a fandom concept

Dean hates that he died 

someone actually puts in a Led Zeppelin tape and it plays Led Zeppelin

the Impala is a CARDIS

John Winchester decides to get therapy

JOHN WINCHESTER DECIDES TO GET THERAPY

[marciabrady]

There was a brief pause, but she punctured it with a booming, "OH! I MUST TELL YOU ABOUT ANOTHER SHOW! I just finished taping 'Cinderella' with Walter Pidgeon, Ginger Rogers, Jo Van Fleet, and Celeste Holm and two young people who are sure to become big stars- Lesley Warren and Stuart Damon. The program is a special to be shown February 22nd. CBS got its color cameras out of mothballs to do the show, and I think they did a beautiful job. They should have. I think they spent about $500,000 on it. It took us five days to tape the show, and we worked nine days altogether, counting rehearsals. Once the crew worked 38 hours straight. That's a very long time to do a television show, and when we were through, the program became known as the children's 'Cleopatra.'"

RODGER AND HAMMERSTEIN'S CINDERELLA Pat Carroll, 1965

[beardedmrbean]

CBS News has a fine heritage and some great news talent, but the folks in charge seem determined to destroy its reputation.

Start with the ludicrous blowback to CBS Mornings host Tony Dokoupil’s Sept. 30 interview with Ta-Nehisi Coates, in which Dokoupil pressed Coates on crucial facts he’d left out of his new anti-Israel book, such as the fact that the Jewish state is “surrounded by countries that want to eliminate it.”

They were all completely reasonable questions to ask about a polemic of its author, an intellectual who certainly should be able to defend his work.

But other network staff were furious at this act of Journalism 101: You’re not supposed to question lefties about their claims, it seems.

Surely they weren’t angry just because Coates is black, or anti-Israel?

Whatever: The suits pulled Dokoupil into a meeting with CBS News standards and practices team and its “Race and Culture Unit,” and reportedly chewed him out on a staff call, claiming his questioning of Coates didn’t meet CBS’ “editorial standards.”

CBS News CEO Wendy McMahon and her lieutenant Adrienne Roark reprimanded him for bringing “bias” to the interview, but failed to explain exactly how.

The re-education effort was also to feature a followup staff meeting moderated by Dr. Donald Grant, whom management called a “mental health expert, DEI strategist and trauma trainer” — but that got squelched after outside critics exposed Grant as wacko whose social-media posts include a racist smear of Sen. Tim Scott.

Meanwhile, Coates on a Trevor Noah podcast suggested that Gayle King (who was also sitting in on the interview, along with Nate Burleson) had told him before the sitdown what she planned to ask.

That sounds a lot more like a violation of good news practice than what Dokoupil did, but there’s no sign of any trouble for King.

Then came Bill Whitaker’s entirely professional interview of Kamala Harris, where she time and again dodged any substantial answers, prompting him to follow up, only for the Democratic candidate for president to dissolve into fresh word-salads and other evasions.

Once again, the higher ups felt compelled to intervene — by blatantly editing the package to make Harris look less awful.

Yes, blatantly: Soon after taping, the network released the raw footage of her hopeless answer to a question about Israel’s Benjamin Netanyahu.

But by the time it aired that night, they’d edited in a “response” that was actually pulled from earlier in the conversation, and so make her seem more competent and less, well, Harris-y.

That is: CBS literally faked the “news.”

The editing also featured dubbing in narration by Whitaker over some of her responses, thereby burying more of the inconvenient truths revealed by the interview.

It’s hard to blame the Trump campaign for demanding that CBS release the raw transcript: It’d be one honorable response to being exposed as blatantly partisan hacks.

All this, incidentally, follows the thumb-on-the-scale work of CBS’ moderators in the J.D. Vance-Tim Walz debate, including Margaret Brennan’s utterly partisan and counter-factual “fact-check” of Vance.

CBS should be proud of Dokoupil and Whitaker’s work, ashamed of King and Brennan, yet management instead seems determined to teach up-and-comers to avoid honest journalism.

Ultimate owner Sheri Redstone has publicly supported Dokoupil and implicitly slammed the suits who came down on him.

Redstone’s trying to sell off CBS, but she might want to demand a management housecleaning now, since the folks running the news division seem determined to mis-manage its value down to zero.

[merylqueenstreep]

Taping of CBS The Early Show July 30, 2009

[crissiebaby]

A Night of Firsts

“There we go, Mommy! Snug as a bug,” Delilah cooed, smiling down at Rose as she fitted the last tape of her Mommy’s first diaper into place. Despite being the Little of the relationship, an opportunity to enact some sweet role reversal had been thrust upon her on the eve of her 31st birthday; her first since entering a relationship with Rose. “Thanks again for trying this with me. Don’t forget, if it ever becomes too much–”

“I can use the safe word, yeah, I know,” said Rose, unable to look her lover in the eyes as a light red hue overtook her face. When she gifted Delilah control of the bedroom for one night, she assumed her baby girl’s decision would fall in line with her typical, submissive tendencies. In hindsight, she should’ve known Delilah would leap at the first chance she had to pad her partner in matching pampers.

Unfortunately for Rose, Delilah’s doting gaze was immediately drawn to Mommy’s rosy cheeks. An intense desire to giggle at how adorable Rose looked when blushy began to build, though she decided to play it safe and avoid any excessive taunting for the sake of Rose’s enjoyment. Besides, the most exciting stuff had yet to begin. “Are you ready for the next part?” she asked as she took hold of a tall cup filled with warm water that had been slowly cooling since Rose’s diapering had kicked off. A quick finger test confirmed it was the perfect temperature.

Nodding without saying a word, Rose closed her eyes as she allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. Her heart pounded ferociously as the front of her diaper was effortlessly pried open. “Ahhhhahah…” she mumbled as a steady stream of pleasantly warm water started to trickle into her thirsty padding. The color of her complexion deepened as the line of water dribbling onto her lower tummy sensually raced past the edges of her clitoris before soaking into the plush wadding below.

Mercifully, it wasn’t long before Delilah had emptied the cup of water, giving Rose a moment of reprieve. The last thing she needed was to give Delilah the ludicrous idea that she was getting turned on by wearing a diaper instead of simply the result of some aquatic foreplay. “O-Okay, so what’s nex–OOF!” she shouted, cut off mid-question as Delilah nudged her back onto the bed, causing the squishy padding beneath her to shift forward in a manner most provocative.

“What’s next is you lie back and let me take over from here,” said Delilah, trying her darndest to sound authoritative. After all, she didn’t put Rose in a diaper just to look at her; diapered scissoring had been at the top of her ABDL bucket list for as long as her sex drive had existed. Gripping the soft meat of Rose’s calf, she hoisted her Mommy’s leg upward while simultaneously shifting her hips forward.

MOOOOOOOOOSH!

A symphony of soggy crinkles engulfed the bedroom as Delilah and Rose’s nappies molded into each other with passionate force. “Oooh! Th-that’s…ooh!” moaned Rose, finally succumbing to the heat coursing through her body as Delilah’s hips bucked against her padded crotch. There was no blaming the water for how wet her pussy was getting; a fact that brought a cheeky smile to Delilah’s face. “D-Don’t go getting any funny ideas, missy. I’m still the B-Big in this relationship.”

“Uh-huh! Whatever you say,” Delilah responded, opting to keep her teasing thoughts to herself, at least for the time being. However, if Rose’s heavy panting and crimson-coated expression were anything to go off, their positions as Mommy and baby girl would be far more fluid moving forward.

💜 Artwork By CodiBaby 💜 💕 Story By CrissieBaby 💕

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[harrisonarchive]

George Harrison's surprise appearance on the Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour, filmed on November 15, 1968 (and originally broadcast two days later). Footage courtesy of easternbird on YouTube.

“George Harrison, visiting the United States, happened to be visiting Tom Smothers and having dinner at Tom’s place that Sunday night. They turned on the TV to that evening’s preelection Comedy Hour, and Harrison was impressed by what he saw, especially the Braverman piece. ‘He went crazy,’ Tom [Smothers] remembers. ‘He was asking, “Who put that together? What was that?” He really was excited.’ So excited that Harrison agreed, for the next Comedy Hour show, to slip in and appear as a special unannounced guest.” - Dangerously Funny: The Uncensored Story of “The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour” (2009) “George readily agreed to videotape an appearance during his stay in California, and Tommy recalled that ‘he came over and we spent a lot of time watching some of the old tapes and some of the newer shows together. He was very charming but a little uncomfortable by himself on the show.’” - That Magic Feeling: The Beatles’ Recorded Legacy, Volume Two, 1966-1970 (2009) “The Beatles even provided the brothers with a US exclusive — the videotaped premiere of ‘Hey Jude’ — and in the middle of the Smothers Brothers’ battle with the CBS censors, George Harrison showed up in 1968 as a surprise guest to offer moral support. ‘Whether you can say it or not,’ Harrison urged them on the air, ‘keep trying to say it.’ And they did.” - Dangerously Funny: The Uncensored Story of “The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour” (2009) (x)