#brass bull

[chronivore]

Burning Inside

[sleepyminty]

Absolutely losing it that we are now able to be an absolute dick to abnomalities in the new mirror dungeon

Except for lost passenger

[racingliners]

As someone who has been on f1blr since time immemorial at this point, RBR literally spent years (literally from 2014-2019) crying about how they were going to quit the sport bc other teams were winning and they suddenly weren't. They literally only care about sportsmanship when people are being mean to them and I think we should boo them more actually.

Also: the lack of holding their own fans to account when Lewis received an onslaught of racial abuse during 2021, and the botched handling of the sexual harassment allegations against Horner just proves how as a team they constantly fail to be decent people.

And as for Verstappen, as a disabled person I physically cannot respect anyone who fails to properly apologise for using ableist slurs.

[theterrornaut]

Another recent traditional painting (Feat. The Brazen Bull, beast of House Copper)

[travsd]

Viva Herb Alpert!

Yes! Herb Alpert (b. 1935) lives! Over the course of my moderately long life, I have done a complete 180 about-face on my feelings about Herb Alpert and his Tijuana Brass. When I was a kid in the ’70s, his music was regarded as straight-up kitsch, mostly I think because of its heavy use on The Dating Game (1965-1973). Those bright, chirpy horns sounded like Muzak, a game show sound track. It…

[cephydots]

project moon keeping up the sexy sfx...

[lay-z]

cotton candy clouds | 4

Synopsis: Due to his rank, status, and many combat achievements, Lieutenant Riley is assigned an emotional support hybrid by the brass; whether he likes it or not.

Pairing: handler!Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x dog!hybrid!fem!Reader

Warnings/Info: 18+ MDNI | Reader is a purebred Samojede (dog)hybrid. Despite ears, tails, and their adapted nature/instincts and personalities, hybrids have human features. | bimbo!Reader; hypersexuality; slow-burnish; heavy smut; tw: past (sexual) abuse/manipulation; cussing; fluff/domesticity; humour; angst; hurt/comfort; eventual romance; strangers to lovers; dub-con elements (Mind the warnings for each chapter!)

☁ ccc; masterlist

Whenever Simon spares you a glance to remind himself that this new and strange arrangement is real, he finds you staring right back at him somehow.

Always making eye contact; holding his unwavering gaze with a silent expectation that makes his chest feel tight and his brain go numb, grappling for answers. Multiple times he's caught himself biting the tip of his tongue harshly to refrain himself from barking “What?” at you, demanding an answer in exchange for his cluelessness: What do you want from me?

He's building a mountain of expectations in his mind involuntarily while lacking the gear and a strategy in how to climb it properly. It's too high, and he knows he can never reach the top unscathed.

How can he possibly take care of you if he can barely take care of himself outside of what is required of him? He keeps himself fit, alive, able to function, always ready to follow an order and go in for the kill. That’s what he knows, what he’s comfortable with, but this?

Simon doesn't play house, doesn't know how to handle something so... domestic and delicate. He never experienced it growing up, never witnessed normalcy. If he would care about such things now, he’d have a wife or something akin to one, but he doesn’t–never even had a partner before, never bothered to believe himself fit for dating, for letting someone in like this.

Even the soft clothes you're wearing make him recoil; pastel colours having the opposite effect of red to a bull–so odd and out of place to him, and he knows the callouses on his fingers would simply catch on the fabric if he were ever to reach out to you for whatever reason, like a sheep’s fine wool catching on a thorn brush, scratching and tearing.

“What would you like for dinner?”

Simon blinks twice, thrice, before the question comes through his thick skull, vision slowly clearing despite him having stared at you for the past minutes while you were sitting on his couch patiently the whole time, eager as ever now that he willingly took you back to his flat again.

Why did you even sign the handlership without knowing him at all beforehand? Are you really that oblivious? That naïve? Or did the brass coax you into signing it?

“Simon?”

The way you keep saying his name so casually, makes his chest ache, makes him inhale sharply each time. What would he like for dinner? It should be such a simple question, but it seems like a puzzle to him–a thousand pieces, all in the same bloody colour.

“Why? Ya offering to cook for me, lass?” He snorts humourlessly. It's ridiculous. No one cooks for him unless he goes to the mess hall to get some grub.

“Of course, I'd love to!” You answer immediately, flashing a genuine smile. His eyes flicker to your tail when it starts to wag again and he curls his lips under his mask. Isn't he supposed to take care of you? What even is this bloody handlership? His brows draw together quizzically, making that deep crease reappear between them. Perhaps he should’ve read it before putting his signature on the damn paper.

Then he sighs in resignation. “Do whatever you want, just stay out of my room,” he replies and makes a half-hearted gesture towards the kitchen. “Not sure wha’s in the fridge. Been a few days since I went to the store,” he admits begrudgingly, kissing his teeth in annoyance when his stomach grumbles.

“Well then,” you say tentatively, tail stilling on the couch, “–why don't we go shopping for groceries?”

It’s already late afternoon, when Simon pulls up to the parking lot in front of the local supermarket in town with a truck he borrowed, deciding it’s better for his own nerves to take you somewhere else but the stores they have on base.

He just can’t bring himself to keep you on a leash around his peers, to parade you around wearing a pink collar around your neck with his rank and military ID number stitched into its leather–a ‘gift’ from the bloody gift basket Price had delivered to his flat along with the initial shock of your presence.

And, by god, he wants to drop the leash and run in the other direction as soon as the automatic sliding doors swoosh open and his boots step foot into the store with you in tow–a red shopping basket clutched in his other hand.

What an absurd picture it must be to other shopgoers–a behemoth with a skull mask and cargo pants buying veggies and snacks with a gorgeous hybrid woman on a pink leash and matching collar. Kinky, he muses unintentionally and grits his teeth, cringing at his own stupid thought. It’s then and there Simon decides to murder Price next chance he gets.

“Mummy, look!” A toddler exclaims, pointing at you as he peeks his head into the produce aisle. Simon’s eyebrow raises beneath his mask as the little boy approaches shyly, his wide eyes fixated on you. Civilians, especially kids and women, usually avoid him like the plague whenever he’s out and about in public, looking like, well–himself.

“Hello there,” you coo at the toddler, crouching down to his level while Simon keeps as much distance as the leash allows him to, knowing better than to interfere. “Are you looking for your mama?” You ask attentively, ears twitching as you look past the boy, already searching for his parents.

The boy shakes his head with a big smile, rocking on his feet. “Nu-uh, she’s–”

“Noah!” The frantic voice of a woman calls out. “I told you to stay by–” Her eyes widen, steps faltering briefly as she catches sight of Simon, who has already anticipated the reaction, slumping his shoulders to try and make himself look smaller, less threatening.

“He’s okay,” you chime in swiftly, straightening up to be on eye-level with Noah’s mother. “We were about to help him look for you, madam,” you assure her, and the boy giggles when you ruffle his brown unruly curls briefly. “Isn’t that right, big man?”

The conversation fades into the background just like Simon’s whole presence seemingly does as you go on to hold a friendly and effortless conversation with the mother and her son. Meanwhile, Simon doesn’t quite remember the last time someone approached him so casually and jovially, and he gets lost in his own rotten mind with flashbacks of the past again–seeing the ghosts of Beth and Joseph in these strangers in front of him, and his heart is gripped by icy tendrils of grief and melancholy until your laugh breaks through the vision, pulling him back to reality at once.

“Oh, no worries! I’m sure it is strange to see someone like me in a quaint town like this,” you chuckle softly, giving a small wave with your hand while Simon’s pale lashes flutter as he tries to follow the conversation once more after what he’s missed. He notices how the toddler is giggling, petting and hugging your fluffy tail while you continue talking to his mum like it’s nothing unordinary. “But working for the military has brought me to the strangest places where hybrids are either a common occurrence or completely rare and more like a myth,” you explain patiently.

And the woman smiles coyly, already smitten with your charms. “Well, you certainly are a looker if I dare say so, miss.”

Once Alice, as she'd introduced herself, and Noah go about their own shopping, Simon catches the odd look on your face, something akin to sadness or longing hidden behind your smile, before you rapidly blink it away as a grumpy-looking elderly man approaches you, asking for help as if you'd know your way around while Simon groans internally, already despising all the attention.

You really do turn heads in a rather positive way if you manage to make the most grumpy old geezer smile in a heartbeat.

“You always this chipper?” He gruffs as he watches you add a pound of butter and coffee creamer to the overflowing basket, not that he'd care about that. You've been nothing but mindful of prices and proper nourishment while strolling through the aisles.

“Hm?” Simon snorts, in amusement this time. There's no way you didn't hear him; he saw your plush left ear swivel in his direction. “Ya heard me jus’ fine, lass.” He mutters, grabbing a box of his favourite biscuits as he walks past them and shoving them in between the other goodies, feeling like a child sneaking candy into their parent's shopping cart.

“Oh, yeah,” you chuckle, keeping your eyes trained on the shelves with different brands of toast before grabbing a packaged loaf. “I guess I am.” Then you stop, glancing up at him over your shoulder, and Simon nearly bumps into you. “You don't like people coming up to us to chat?”

Simon's brows furrow. Us? “They wanna talk you, not me. 'm basically–” He shrugs, making a vague gesture at himself as the leash clinks in his hand.

“A Ghost?” You quip, beaming at your little joke while your tail swishes proudly.

“Right,” Simon huffs quietly. “Smooth.”

He's rather thankful for his balaclava as he continues trotting after you through the store, hiding the tiniest crack of a smile underneath the black cloth.

There’s a match on the telly, an ice cold bottle of his favourite ale on the coffee table on a coaster he didn’t even know he owned, though all Simon can really focus on is this bizarre situation he finds himself watching as you go about doing your own thing in his kitchen.

It’s almost mesmerizing, the way you rummage through the cupboards and drawers, taking out pots and bowls to your liking as if you own the place already, preparing a side salad while the steaks sizzle in the pan–all while you’re wearing that frilly, pale pink apron that you’d fetched from your suitcase earlier, the one that makes Simon wonder if one of your previous handlers is responsible for your peculiar wardrobe, or if pink simply happens to be your favourite colour.

He takes an absentminded sip of his drink when another thought pops into his head: What if you wear all of this hyper-feminine bollocks because people forced you to like it? What if they manipulated you into enjoying stuff to state their own perverted fantasies? Would you rather wear something else?

And Simon imagines it briefly–you wearing something cosy, perhaps one of his hoodies that would most likely swallow you whole. He takes another swing of ale and his nose wrinkles, though it’s not the bitterness making him squinch.

“Dinner is ready in five,” you croon suddenly, popping your head into the living room from the kitchen as the savoury aroma of steak and chips wafts through the flat, engulfing the usually sparse space like a warm, comforting blanket.

With a soft groan and a cracking knee, Simon gets up from his seat on the couch. The least he can do is set the table.

@lucienofthelakes @kakashiislut @jggykhug09090 @edgarapoecolouredglasses @kerst666 @whos-fran @d1zzy-r1v3rs @userinaliel666 @annoyingstrawberryballoon @vmaxis @tessakate @dneicjefx @sushiumex @yourfavreggie @cmbghost @brokexintroverted @mysterygrl555 @bunnybeaches @fmlmf @teapartydreams @nachofriess @slut-lmao @sweetnanah @kodzukenwhore @thefutureastronaut @arael-asuka @oliver-1270

[isakvaltersnake]

things from the 2001 television programme band of brothers that haunt me to this day:

- we’re paratroopers lieutenant, we’re supposed to be surrounded. not to be your 60 year old military obsessed uncle about it but that line goes hard

- nix’s little giggle he does sometimes

- I’ll never forgive them for leaving gene’s medic training out of their training montage. in fact you know what? go back in time, film a parallel sequel of the other 9 eps from gene’s pov

- popeye’s “they called you guys too?” and the way his accent specifically scratches my brain

- they gave me moose heyliger and his massachusetts accent for like 20 minutes then the narrative snatched him away from me and i still miss him

- the way meehan looks at winters after he tells him to close the flap, in fact let’s talk about how every single one of winters’ commanders are obsessed with him in one way or another he truly is the it girl

- the chaos and fear that precedes gene and the calm and comfort that follows him

- I know everyone thinks “we’ll go to chicago, I’ll take you there” is the insane line but the one that actually makes me lose sleep is “what, and give up all this?” THAT MAN SAID I WOULD RATHER LIVE THROUGH THE HORRORS OF WAR THAN HAVE LIVED MY LIFE WITHOUT YOU

- alley is So Beautiful and I don’t think we collectively talk about it enough

- babe being some rando replacement in episode three and whilst his other replacement friends are being absolutely roasted he is immediately adopted by bill and then gets gene fucking roe of all people to connect to him?? he’s too powerful I need to study him

- speirs being this ghoulish terrifying boogeyman until lip is anywhere near him then he’s suddenly dimples and kicking his feet and giggling

- speaking of lip and speirs their little sarcastic in jokes, lip finishing speirs’ sentences fml it’s giving married

- you been working out? IN FRONT OF EVERYONE?? LIEB YOU SLUT?? THEN YOURE GONNA LAY IN HIS BED WAITING FOR HIM??? insane behaviour

- the unexplored but high potential friendships and the way I wanted like 16 more episodes for shifty and lip, nix and luz, nix and web, sisk and perconte, winters and gene, grant and tab, lieb and alley, speirs and harry, etc

- the more haggard and bitchy nix gets the hotter he gets. he also must be studied.

- “you should pack up those ears and go home” ok sobel kinda ate with that one ngl

- speaking of sobel the little confused/bewildered/piss-pants faces he makes david schwimmer the actor you are

- the silly little wide stance pennywise ass run hall does before he gets murked RIP king

- klepto speirs ilysm

- joe toye and his brass knuckles are v sexy

- sink letting nix give winters his oak leaves was very shipper girl of him

- lip harry nix speirs winters in the eagle’s nest dream blunt rotation

- the unsustainable amount of cunt served by nix, frank, babe, and luz at all times is truly a marvel

- tab really checked lip’s dick and balls mid battle and honestly that’s friendship

- bit parts for simon pegg, tom hardy, andrew scott, james mcavoy, michael fassbender, jimmy fallon ?? bob casting director you will always be famous

- peacock is so fine if he was even a little good at his job I’d be obsessed with him (special shout out to the scene of him getting sent home on furlough)

- I could list out every one of their meaningful little moments together but really it’s babe and gene just tethering and grounding each other and how they seem to gravitate to each other out of blind instinct? that’s some Brontë whatever our souls are made of bullshit I’m afraid

- ok I know I said I wasn’t talking about little meaningful moments but gene staring across the convent at where babe is sitting, lost in the peace

-bull in replacements getting imprinted on by a bunch of baby ducks and being SO PLEASED ABOUT IT he’s not the stepfather, he’s the father that stepped up

- speaking of, the underutilization of bull in the back half is such an out of character bad call

- you are officers, you are grown ups, you oughta know. HE’S RIGHT AND HE SHOULD SAY IT AND THAT’S ON GENE BEING THE ONLY ONE ALLOWED TO TELL OFF WINTERS

- I know nix and winters are married and whatever but the real married couple behaviour is luz constantly pissing off joe and joe immediately letting it go

- lip and speirs and their mutual competency kink

- I’M REAL SORRY FRANK skinny ilysm

[annewithaneofthegreengable]

Kinktober - Day 8

8th — almost getting caught/ public sex, Sebastian Vettel

The previous day I The next day I Kinktober masterlist I Main list

Sebastian was the kind of man who was well-liked by everyone, popular and envied. He was a charmer, a heartthrob, and a flirter until he met you. You were a rarity, a scandalous deviant that could match his perversions, keeping Sebastian’s interest. To him, you are a total goddess who granted all his wishes in life by staying by his side. 

Now that he had won his fourth title, he ended a season that was not his best with Red Bull, and currently, he was looking forward to a fresher start at Ferrari. 

Big band music filled the penthouse, the Ferrari’s Christmas party in full swing. You were hung on the arm of Sebastian Vettel, the new driver for the Italian team, and also your husband. You guys had just got married a few months ago, on the summer break during the 2014 season. 

“Your ass looks great in this dress,” Sebastian spoke in your ear, grabbing the fat of your bottom in his large hand, giving it a good squeeze. 

“All for you, Mr.Vettel,” you grinned, sipping the champagne and grinding back against him, trying to rile Sebastian in the middle of the party. 

“Careful. I’m in a mood tonight, doll. Don’t test me, or you may end up somewhere you don’t want to be,” Sebastian warned, dark eyes burning through your clothes. 

You turned, letting his hand rest on your ass while you looped an arm around his neck. 

“I’d go anywhere for you,” you grinned, tempting Sebastian with a messy, open-mouthed kiss. His tongue slotted with yours, swallowing moans as he pushed into your mouth.

The festive ambiance of the Ferrari Christmas party melted away as you and Sebastian disappeared into your own world. His hand gripped you possessively, his large palm squeezing your curves with an unabashed hunger. Even though you were surrounded by the top brass of the Ferrari team, you felt like you and Sebastian were the only two people in the room. The low hum of chatter, laughter, and music became background noise as the heat between you two intensified.

“Mr. Vettel, huh?” Sebastian murmured with a smirk, the playful light in his eyes not masking the fire burning beneath. “Keep talking like that, and I’ll forget we’re in public.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, igniting that delicious thrill you always felt when you tempted him. You knew Sebastian had always been the charming flirt, the man everyone wanted a piece of, but with you, it was different. There was an intensity in his gaze, a deep craving only you could satisfy, and you loved pushing him right to the edge.

You brushed your lips against his ear, your breath hot and teasing. “I like when you forget,” you whispered, your voice low, daring him to lose control, right here, right now. The desire to see him unravel in public, the powerful Sebastian Vettel at the mercy of his own need, was intoxicating.

He groaned softly, his grip on your ass tightening, and for a moment, you thought he might drag you out of the party then and there. The idea sent your heart racing. His tongue brushed against yours in that open-mouthed kiss, and it took every ounce of restraint to keep from moaning too loudly. You could feel his restraint slipping, his body pressing closer, radiating heat as his lips devoured yours.

But Sebastian was no fool. He knew how to bide his time, how to savor the build-up before the release. As much as he wanted to take you right there, he’d make you wait. He pulled back just enough to murmur against your lips, “You’re playing a dangerous game, doll.”

You grinned, licking your lips, savoring the taste of him. “Isn’t that why you love me?”

His eyes flared with desire, but there was that glint of control in them too, the kind that told you he wasn’t done teasing. Not yet. “We’ll finish this later,” he promised, his voice husky. “But when we do, you’ll be begging.”

You smiled knowingly, your body thrumming with anticipation. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

After some very close dancing, a couple of nips to your neck that Seb kept giving you, and a not-so-quick kiss in the corner that had your body pressed into the wall and Seb’s hand on your body, you were led to the current position you were in. Sebastian led you out of the party, through hallways, until you found yourselves in the privacy of a room away from everyone. His eyes burned with lust, dark and dangerous, as he closed the door behind him. He didn’t waste a second, his hands were on you again, tugging at the straps of your dress as he growled lowly in your ear.

"You have no idea how much I’ve been holding back," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin, his voice a mixture of promise and threat. You knew whatever restraint he’d shown tonight was about to break.

You leaned into him, a smirk on your lips, teasing him as your own fingers played with the buttons of his shirt. "Then don’t hold back anymore."

A low, almost feral growl rumbles in my chest at your words. In one swift motion, He yank the straps of your dress down, exposing your shoulders and the tantalizing swell of your breasts.

“Mein Gott, this is pure heaven, Schatzi” 

His touch becomes urgent, mapping out your body like a track he’s memorized. He finds the zipper at your back and slowly pulls it down, feeling your breath hitch in anticipation. The dress pools at your feet, leaving you in nothing but a lacey bra and matching thong. Your body melted into him as he kissed his way down your neck, his hands now fully exploring, his fingers slipping beneath the lace of your bra, teasing, making your breath hitch again.

"Seb, someone could still,..."

His mouth was suddenly on yours, cutting off your words, and when he pulled back, his voice was a soft command. "Let them. You’re mine, and I’m going to take my time with you."

Sebastian’s words sent a thrill through you, your heart pounding in your chest. The possessiveness in his voice, the way he spoke like you were the only thing that mattered in that moment, it set your body alight. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you even closer until you were pressed tightly against him, feeling the hardness of his body against yours.

"I’ve wanted this all night," you whispered, your own voice shaky with anticipation. Your hands moved to the waistband of his trousers, unbuttoning them with trembling fingers, eager to feel him, to match the raw desire that was building between you both.

Sebastian’s voice was low, dripping with a mixture of guilt and desire as his hips pressed into yours, the heat between your bodies almost unbearable. His hand slipped down to your thigh, rubbing slow, tantalizing circles into your skin, his touch sending a ripple of anticipation through you. His eyes locked onto yours, filled with intensity, but there was a softness behind them, a recognition of the time he’d been distant.

"I’ve been selfish," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. "Neglecting my poor missus where she needed me the most."

His words were laced with an apology, but there was a hunger beneath them, a need to make things right in the way only he could. His other hand slid around to your lower back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you, every inch of him pressing into you. You could feel the heat radiating off him, his body tense with restraint, and yet he moved with a deliberate slowness, savoring the moment.

"...and I should apologize," he added, his voice dark and sultry, the guilt evident, but his actions betraying the lust that burned underneath. His hand on your thigh squeezed gently, teasing, making your breath hitch as the warmth of his touch seeped into your skin.

You could feel the tension building between you, his body pinning you in place as if he was waiting for your permission to continue, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours. You leaned in just enough to brush your lips against his, a silent invitation, and that was all it took.

He flips you around and hands already at your cunt. You can feel his movements as he hinges you at the hips, working your thong down the meat of your thighs. He grabs big handfuls of your ass, kneading you open so he is face-to-face with your dripping pussy. He gives it a light slap before fingering you open for him. 

"This what you've been hidin'? Getting soaked like a fucking slut?" He's knuckle-deep, working his digits in and out of you with little resistance. You're struggling not to moan, knowing how thin these walls are. 

“Gotta be quiet Schatzi. You don’t want to give these Italians a show, do you?” He withdraws his fingers and pushes his pants down, unleashing himself from his boxer briefs. He pushes you back down and pushes himself in. 

He sinks himself to the hilt, burying himself inside you with a low grunt. He pauses, clutching your hips tightly. "This what you wanted, huh?" He pulls out slowly, only to thrust back in hard. He picks up the pace, slamming into you with force. "You better clench that pretty little kitty, or I'll finish on your back instead."

“N-no, don’t pull out, Seb…” You clamp your hand around your mouth to smother your moans, but the slick sounds of your hole fill the room regardless. 

Hands spreading the globes of your ass, he forces you deeper, harder. You've never seen him like this, so desperate for your cum. Your tits shake with the force of his thrusts, another thread coiling up at the base of your stomach. You're both lost in the bliss of it all when there's a knock at the door. It was Britta’s voice.

“Are you okay in there, Y/n?” 

The door handle rattles and your heart jumps at the thought of her coming in. Did Seb lock the door? You rack your brains, unable to think properly. 

Sebastian notices the way your pussy clenches at the thought of someone walking in, seeing you both like this and speeds up. You paw at the hand migrated to your pussy, trying not to moan out loud. Logically, you know if you told him to stop he would, and you should tell him to stop. But something about the stormy look in his eyes, the fervour and energy that he uses to fuck you…. 

“Answer her, Liebe. You don’t want her to come in here and see us like this, right?” He whispers into your ears while keeping up with the pace, pounding into your pussy. 

“Britta, I’m ok. Just need to fix the outfit a little bit then I will come back.” 

“Sure. Also, did Seb with you, ‘cause I can’t find him anywhere.”

“Maybe he has sneaked off somewhere to have a drink with Kimi?”

“Ok, I’ll go get him right now. Do you need anything?”

“I’m all good, Britta. Good luck finding him.”

Sebastian pulls you up by your hair, your back arches and his arm wrapped around your middle, holding you up. “Good girl, you did so well, Liebe and for that, I think you deserve to cum on my cock.” his lips against your ear.

You nod your head, knowing if you speak, you’ll just be rambling incoherently. “Gonna cum for me, aren't you? You’re my good girl.” He says.

“Come on my cock first, Schatz. Wanna make your slick pussy feel so good, smear my dick with your cream.” 

You drop your mouth open and you moan loudly when your orgasm gush out over Seb’s wide cock. He continues thrusting up into you as he feels you crumble on his dick. 

With a clenched jaw and gritted teeth, Sebastian finally saw stars as he came deep inside of you, hitting your insides with his frothy come, pulsing himself in and out of you as he rode out his high, his thighs quivering.

Taglist: @formula1-motogpfan @iamafootballfanmiasanmia @arian-directioner @annimausi @mythicalmaven @lucycowr @hamilton-mount @Chuxk-leclerk @landosgirl @Kikiaaaay @iluvvmeeee @stars4me @starz4me1 @fxrmuladaydreams @Ashleyo1611 @ln-fours @cloud-55 @neo-stay @mysteriesincorporated @nzygftoji @dinodumbass @qxeenjen @lilmacabe @9fi @sya-skies @toriiez @jud-3 @ryl-xoxo @fandomz-queenie @gracie23x @kr1sblog @b-law @F1fan24 @taylorsdoratheafr @missevrythingg @salma @cherrypopsicle @toasterpiastri @uhhvictoria @01rrdbull @aracelys-stuff @horseymchorse3 @lou-ghoul @unknownmystery22 @thisbitxhs-blog @toxicdreamer296 @maxivstappen @si1ver06 @mendes-bae @bestgirlie @mbioooo0000 @depressedgiftedburnout @lieslostinsilence @chaoticversion @kaydesssssssss @maryelizaart @milkyymelanine @bisrae @carlando4 @mystichandspruneshark @sweetwh0re @larastark3107 @fiveyjustin @moonchildlec @bicrazybabe @maximumflaps @sainzwife @i--sa @liviav @nitonan-blog @moodymoony71 @horrible-decision @verstappenluv111 @Meyla123X @bea-stilinksi24 @Hayley125 @imjustme-n @elizamoe133 @bernelflo @evie-likes-stuff @anne1444444 @celtis--vr @rockytheluver @orlafitz1664 @aliceespector @ricciadosredbull @novelant @briannamh07 @oliveswiftly @hotlapshottakes @sinners-98-world @ramenblutte @fallenlunar @little-nando14 @fore45fore @importantduckhumanoidpatrol @eroselless @strabunny @sydneyhlove @jkdaddy01 @multi-fandom5 @f1-hoff @kittylolly4 @reguluscrystals @uhhvictoria @arian-directioner @forza-dolce @dukeofjjune @vimayxo @ilove-tswizzle @peachapat119

[alphajocklover]

what do you think about nerd jock hybrids where a nerd is forced to join the football team where his nerd body is turn into a jocks body but remain fairly nerdy in manner, an intellectual at heart but have the body &  confidence  of a jock

No offense man, but I think you maaaay have read just a few to many of these stories. While many of the people who get transformed into jocks end up like the stereotype, dumb, cocky and toxic, but in reality there are plenty of people who have both brains and brawn. Not to mention, I have actually transformed someone into a jock and let them keep their mind before. Actually I didn’t transform them, but I did report on their transformation. They were one of the rare people to find the revert mind setting in instaJock, something I think the Master put there specifically to mess with people. From what I know now he’s doing pretty good now. Their new body left them with some startling new urges and a manly musk he can’t quite cover up, but they’ve been able to overcome that and put both their body and mind to good use. He and I became pretty good friends, and last I heard he was talking about becoming an astronaut. But I should probably stop with the update and get down to brass tacks. What you’re really asking is if it’s possible for you to become a smart jock, and I’m happy to tell you that it is! While making someone into a stereotype is easier, it's not that hard to change a few things, and I’m certain at least someone in the tf community could give you the body and the confidence without the intelligence loss. The only thing we really need to do is decide how. Normally I’d go over the options, but I’ll admit I’m not sure if any of the tf methods I’ve mentioned so far would really work. Lucky for you, I have a couple new tf methods that I haven’t even used yet that I’ll let you choose from! Your first option is, well, steroids. I know, steroids will make your muscles grow, what a shock! But these are special steroids, ones from the future. I had to take another trip there recently, and picked these up. It turns out steroids get a lot stronger in the next 30 years or so. They don’t have as many negative side effects as regular steroids, and work much faster, but there is a bit of a downside. Mainly anger. Yes, while the balding and acne is no longer an issue, roid rage still is. The difference is its less of sudden burst of rage, and more of a permanent alteration to your personality. You’ll become more aggressive and competitive, more manly and possibly a little toxic. You won’t get any dumber, but you will change. So if you're not one for anger and competition, you might need to pick another one.

Your other option is a piece of candy. As I’ve mentioned before there are a lot of transformation companies out there, and one of my personal favorites has to be Conversion Candy. It's a pretty small shop, one that sells a variety of magical and delicious products, including Himbo Cotton Candy, Muscle bear gummy bears, and Beefy Bull Choco-bites. Personally I’d recommend their version of M&Ms, Muscles and Mind, since those let you get buff and confident while keeping your mind. The only caveat is that they, like every treat from Conversion Candy, are temporary, so you’d have to buy some every week. If you want it to be a one and done type of deal, we need the other option.

So, steroids or sweets? The choice is yours. Either way, I hope you enjoy a life of both beef and brains. Not a lot of people get that, and to be honest not a lot can handle it. Good luck.

[thecupidwitch]

Elements And Their Correspondences

Earth

Direction: North

Time: Midnight

Season: Winter

Color: Green, brown

Zodiac: Taurus, Virgo, Capricorn

Ruling planets: Venus and Saturn

Tarot Cards: Pentacles, Coins

Tools: Pentacle, salt, stones, dirt, crystals, wood, flowers

Cystals: Emerald, Jet, tourmaline, quartz, onyx, azurite, amethyst, jasper, peridot, granite.

Animals: gopher, bear, wolf, ant, horse, stag, deer, dog, cow, bull, bison, snake, worms, moles, voles, grubs

Herbs: Oak, cedar, cypress, honeysuckle, ivy, primrose, sage, grains, patchouli, nuts, magnolia, comfrey, vetivert, moss, lilac, lichen, roots, barley, alfalfa, corn, rice.

Rules: Grounding, strength, healing, success, stability, sturdiness, steadfastness, foundations, empathy, fertility, death, rebirth, wisdom, nature, animals, plants, money, prosperity.

Water

Direction: West

Time: Dusk

Season: Fall

Color: Blue, Indigo, Sliver

Zodiac: Cancer, Scorpio, Pisces

Ruling planets: Moon, Neptune, Pluto

Tarot Cards: Cups

Tools: Ocean, sea glass, cup, bowl, seaweed, hag stones, cauldron

Cystals: Moonstone, pearl, silver, aquamarine, amethyst, blue tourmaline, lapis lazuli, fluorite, coral, blue topaz, beryl, opal, coral

Animals: fish, snake, frog, crab, lobster, eel, shark, dragonfly, seahorse, dolphin, sea otter, seal, whale, alligator, crocodile, beaver, octopus, penguin, salamander, turtle, starfish, koi, coral, barnacle, manta ray, manatee, jellyfish, nautilus, heron, duck, geese, crane, swan, water birds, ammonite, dragons, serpents

Herbs: seaweed, aloe, fern, water lily, lotus, moss, willow, gardenia, apple, catnip, chamomile, cattail, lettuce, kelp, birch, cabbage, coconut, cucumber, comfrey, eucalyptus, gourd, geranium, grape, licorice, lilac, pear, strawberry, tomato

Rules: emotion, intuition, psychic abilities, love, unconscious mind, fertility, self-healing, reflection, lunar energy, deep feelings, curses, death

Fire

Direction: South

Time: Noon

Season: Summer

Color: Red, Orange

Zodiac: Aries, Leo, Sagittarius

Ruling planets: Sun, Mars

Tarot Cards: Wands or Swords (depends on belief system)

Tools: Athame, candles, swords, wands, dagger, lamp, flame

Cystals: Carnelian, red jasper, bloodstone, garnet, ruby, agate, rhodochrosite, gold, pyrite, brass, fire opal, lavastone, tiger's eye

Animals: Lion, snake, coyote, fox, ladybug, bee, shark, scorpion, horse, mantis, tiger

Herbs: Cinnamon, cloves, ginger, allspice, basil, cacti, marigold, chilis, garlic, mustard, nettle, onion, heliotrope, hibiscus, juniper, lime, orange, red pepper, poppies, thistle, coffee, jalapenos, lemon, cumin, saffron, coriander

Rules: Energy, will, destruction, strength, courage, power, passion, lust, sexuality, anger, war, new beginnings, protection, loyalty, transformation, action, movement, achievement, creativity, desire, willpower

Air

Direction: East

Time: Down

Season: Spring

Color: Yellow, gold, white, light blue, pastels

Zodiac: Gemini, Libra, Aquarius

Ruling planets: Mercury, Jupiter, Uranus

Tarot Cards: Wands

Tools: Feather, wand, staff, incense, broom, bell, sword, pen

Cystals: Amber, topaz, citrine, jasper, agate, pumice, alexandrite, amethyst, fluorite, mica, clear quartz

Animals: Birds, flying insects, spiders, bats

Herbs: Bergamot, lavender, marjoram, peppermint, sage, dandelion, bluebell, clover, frankincense, primrose, lemongrass, pine, aspen, yarrow, violets, vervain, myrrh, dill, anise, aspen

Rules: Intelligence, wisdom, knowledge, logic, thought, communication, truth, inspiration, intuition, memory, creativity

Tip jar

[bookworrm1999]

How Far Away? Epilogue

Caleb x Mc

Tags: unplanned pregnancy, presumed death, depression, miscommunication

Summary: Mc and Caleb fight right before he goes on a long mission into space. Caleb ends up MIA while Mc finds out she's pregnant. She struggles to deal with the grief while Caleb is fighting for his life to make it back home to her.

Ao3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12

Epilogue

25 weeks

You were really starting to show now, it had seemed to already be big before but you had no idea what was in store for you. There were still 15 weeks to go! When people said that pregnancy was 9 months, it wasn’t quite accurate, it was actually 10 months when you broke down the 40 weeks.

It was spring now and it was warm enough in Skyhaven to leave the windows open, letting the spring breeze in.

You were laying on the couch on your side, your head sidled up next to Caleb’s thigh.

His hand was smoothing your hair down, a comforting feeling as you dozed. He was reading a pregnancy book to look even more into what was happening in your body.

Things that you weren’t even sure that you wanted to know.

How the baby would most likely have a lot of hair if you had frequent heartburn, how the baby's first poop would be dark and sticky like tar because the baby still peed even in the womb.

The baby breathed even in the womb, practicing breathing and swallowing.

Even now, your baby could hear you and would recognize your voice when they came out of the womb.

What really made you want to cry with all these pregnancy hormones, was that the baby didn’t even consider their mother a separate person from themselves for their first year of life.

Caleb told you all these things as he pet your head gently, the quiet intimacy was something you needed after so many weeks of loneliness and grief.

27 weeks

Laying on your bed together, Caleb’s head resting on your belly

“Hi baby girl, it’s me, your daddy.”

“I love that you talk to her every night like this.”

“Well with me back to work, I gotta make sure that she recognizes my voice too! I wasn’t here for the first few months after all.”

“She couldn’t even hear anything back then, you goose.”

“Semantics. Your mother thinks she’s so smart and knows everything. The only reason she does is because I read the books and told her.”

“I would’ve read them on my own if you hadn’t!”

“When?”

“…. Eventually…”

“Ha! When you were in the hospital and freaking out in the middle of the night, freaking out about what you were supposed to do?”

“Be nice to the lady carrying your baby.”

“I’m always nice. Hear that little girl? I’m the nice one, your mama is the meanie.”

You flick his forehead in retaliation.

“Hey! Ow! What was that for?”

“You’re poisoning our child against me! Before she’s even out of the womb too!”

“Okay, okay I’m sorry!”

“Sing her a lullaby, I’m going to bed, I’m tired.”

“Are you that mad at me?”

“No, just being pregnant is tiring. I may not be out in the field but doing desk work here at home is still mentally exhausting on top of this little one rolling all day.”

Caleb kisses your belly gently and begins to sing quietly.

“Hush little baby don’t say a word, daddy’s gonna buy you a mocking bird. If that mocking bird don’t sing, daddy’s gonna buy you a diamond ring. If that diamond ring turns brass, Daddy’s gonna buy you a looking glass. If that looking glass gets broke, Daddy’s gonna buy you a billy-goat. If that billy-goat don’t pull, Daddy’s gonna buy you a cart and bull. If that cart and bull turn over, Daddy’s gonna buy you a dog named Rover. If that dog named Rover don’t bark, Daddy’s gonna buy you a horse and cart. If that horse and cart fall down, You’ll still be the sweetest little baby in town.”

“Sounds like Daddy is going to be wrapped around her finger.”

“Just go to bed.”

30 weeks

Two weeks into your third trimester, your belly felt so heavy now. Caleb had bought you a maternity belly support belt.

It was a godsend but it wasn’t comfortable to lay down in but when you needed to work at your desk or do things around the house, it was amazing.

Caleb had been grounded until your baby was born and for another 4 months after the birth.

With Ever flailing around like a chicken whose head had been cut off, the Fleet had gone back to what it had used to have been.

Similar to what Zayne had described when you had first reunited with Caleb all those months ago.

A quiet but always present authority.

It let Caleb be a proper pilot, he didn’t have to be scary just commanding now.

Sylus had Ever on the defensive, Viper was instrumental in either eliminating threats within the organization or passing on information.

They were dying a slow death all because of an inside job taking out the heavy hitters.

It let Caleb and you have a proper relationship, you were finally communicating and you had even brought in a couples therapist.

Your personal therapist was great but Caleb hadn’t quite worked up the courage to go to one himself.

It had been hard enough opening up to the love of his life after all.

You were hopeful that you could both move forward with your lives.

The only issue now was that Caleb hadn’t brought up marriage again.

It had been weeks since he had mentioned it that morning you had reunited.

Had you been too harsh in rejecting him and just settling for being his girlfriend?

There was so much in the air at that time, life and not really knowing what was happening with Caleb.

The threat to all of your lives.

But it was different now, would you have to bring it up?

You would but Caleb still had a tendency to be secretive, you would hate to ruin a well thought surprise just because you were impatient.

Speak of the devil, you had been washing dishes when Caleb came up behind you, head resting on your shoulder.

Grabbing your hands gently and intertwining his fingers with yours, the soap sudsing between your palms.

“I thought I said I would wash the dishes?”

“You made dinner, which was delicious, thank you.”

“Oh I try, but really, you should go sit down. It worries me to see you up and doing things.”

“Really Caleb, I’m pregnant, not injured. Pregnancy is not a disability.”

“It can be for some people.”

“Honestly, I know but you’ve seen me, has it really given me much of an issue besides the usual symptoms?”

“I just want to help.”

“Listen, what’s really going on honey?”

“Ah, you caught me. I…. I guess I just feel guilty that I left you alone for those first few months. I know how sick you got and it eats me up. I want to help as much as I can now.”

“Caleb, I appreciate the thought. Really I do. But if I want to help and do things, just let me. It makes me feel like a caged bird again when you don’t let me do anything.”

“I’m sorry.”

“So long as you understand. But since you’re here and you offered, you can take over now! My back is starting to hurt.”

“On it! I’ll massage you after I finish ok?”

“You’re such a puppy.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing dear!”

35 weeks

So close but yet so far from the end of pregnancy. Everything felt heavy and took so much energy to do.

It was hard to take a deep breath, her little head living in your ribs. Maybe it was her feet now, the doctor had said that she had turned to face down now.

Getting ready for birth, you didn’t want her to come early but you were starting to get tired.

You couldn’t lay on your back, it was uncomfortable, not to mention unsafe.

Something about the baby putting pressure on a certain major blood vessel, slowing blood flow between you and the baby.

You groaned aloud, catching Caleb’s attention. It was the evening, you were laying on your side, watching a mindless home renovation show.

He was beside you, reading a report, bringing work home as usual.

“What’s wrong baby?”

“I feel so heavy and uncomfortable!”

“What can I do to help?”

“I dunno, I’m tired but it’s hard to get comfortable and then it’s hard to stay asleep because I have to pee so much.”

“I’ll draw a bath for you. Maybe being in the water will help you feel lighter, take some pressure off your back.”

“That sounds heavenly.”

“Give me a minute.”

Caleb leaves the room, you hear the roar of water from the bathroom after a few seconds.

It takes him five minutes to come out and offer you his hand to help you up.

“Your bath awaits my lady.”

“You’re such a goof.”

“And after all that effort? I’m offended.”

“If you could really be offended by a little thing like that. I’d be disappointed in you.”

Helping you up and leading you to the bathroom. The scene was so nice that it made your eyes tear up, touched by his gesture.

He’d set the mood by lighting some candles, the bath warm and filled with bubbles from your favorite bubble bath soap. A bath bomb on the side in case you wanted it, he’d even grabbed a water bottle and some crackers and cheese to munch on.

“You really are the best boyfriend.”

“I’m flattered! Such high praise!”

“Shut up and help me get in.”

Caleb helps you into the bath after getting undressed, a bath pillow behind your neck. Water buoying your body, giving you some much needed relief from the pressure in your back.

A low groan escaping you, sinking down into the water, your hair is up in a bun safe from getting wet.

“Thank you.”

Caleb trails his fingers in the water, happy to just watch you.

“You’re welcome.”

39 weeks

It’s the middle of the night, you had just gone to bed 2 hours before.

You awoke feeling odd, you stood up and made your way to the bathroom.

Caleb still sleeping in the bed behind you.

You had just made it to the tiled floor when a weird but warm feeling spread down your thighs.

It was wet.

Like you had just peed yourself but it was different.

You checked, sitting down on the toilet. It was not definitely not pee.

It was still leaking, a constant drip.

So you stuck a pad in your underwear, not having gotten use from these for months.

Going back to your room; you shook Caleb awake.

“What…?”

“I think my water broke.”

“What?!”

He sits up straight in bed looking at you with panic.

“Don’t worry, I’m not feeling any contractions but we do need to head to the hospital. Since my water broke, I’m at risk for infection if I don’t go into labor in the next 24 hours. I need to be at the hospital so they can induce me if I don’t naturally start progressing.”

“I’ll grab the bags, you go get in the plane.”

“It’ll be ok hon, from what I’ve learned. It’s nothing like the movies, we have time.”

Reaching Skyhaven hospital, you had let your OB know that your water had broke. It was the middle of the night so it had taken her a bit to reply back, but she’d be there in a few hours.

The nurses brought you and Caleb into the intake room, asking questions about when your water had broken, what color it was, if it was still leaking, etc.

Once they had you alone to get you changed into a gown and move you to your room, they asked you the standard question if you were safe at home.

Boy oh boy if they had asked that question at the beginning of your relationship, it made you ligas but appreciate the progression of your relationship as you answered yes.

They got you into the hospital bed, Caleb coming in behind you now.

Hooking you up to the fetal monitors to check on your contractions.

“Looks like you are having some small contractions, are you feeling those?”

“No i'm not actually.”

“Alright, you let me know when you start feeling them. Would you like to be able to walk and bounce on the ball?”

“Yes please!”

“Ok, when you start feeling the contractions, since you won’t be hooked up, just press this button ok?”

“Sounds good!”

“Will you be wanting any pain medication or an epidural?”

“I think I’ll be fine.”

Famous last words.

**

“Son of a— agggh!”

Caleb holds your hands anxiously, not able to help and distracting you just made you mad.

“Maybe I can see if they can get the anesthesiologist in here to give you an epidural?”

“Please!”

He presses the call light and explains the situation, the nurse says that the anesthesiologist would probably take about 15 minutes to get there.

“Are you kidding me?”

The contraction passes, now 3 minutes apart. You had been here for 10 hours already, you had thought you could tough it out. But as they got closer together, the stronger the pain became.

“I’m here baby.”

“I know, I don’t know if that’s making me feel better or not yet.”

It does indeed take 15 minutes for the doctor to appear, right around the same time as the OB comes in to check on your progress.

“Hey, I’m feeling some intense pressure like I gotta go bad.”

The anesthesiologist stops preparing your back and looks at the OB knowingly.

She puts in her gloves and has you spread your legs.

Checking your progression, she smiles.

“Your feeling your baby’s head bearing down. You’re at 10 centimeters and it’s time to push!”

“Wait! What about the epidural?”

“I’m sorry dear,” the two doctors look at you sympathetically, “You progressed too fast and it’s too late for that. You’ll have to do without it, we do have some gas you could take though!”

Another contraction starts and the pressure is unbearable. The doctor tells you to bear down with the contractions.

Everytime, it feels like fire down there, the pain so bad that you can’t think straight.

Caleb holds your hand, having gone silent to avoid getting his head bitten off and for nervousness.

“There’s the head! The next contraction should bring it out! Come on, next one and push!”

Bearing down like you were going to the bathroom seemed to be the best way to get the baby out. Your body naturally taking over in this act.

“She’s almost here! You got this baby.” Caleb whispers in your ear, having been wiping your forehead off and being the one to ground you.

“Aaahh!”

“The head! Bear down! The shoulders and everything else will follow if you can get those out!”

“Nnnngh!”

You felt your baby slide out from you and the pain released you. Quickly laying your baby on your chest, stimulating your little girl with a soft blanket and vigorous rubbing of her back.

The sweetest little cry, like a lamb bleating greets your ears.

“Oh! Oh! You’re beautiful!”

She’s the most precious thing, looking up at you with dark hair and a peek of purple eyes.

Tears falling from your eyes, you look up at Caleb, seemingly stunned at first but he raises his hand and lays it on her back. His hand covering almost all of her little body.

Tears fall from his eyes, a beaming smile covering his face.

“Hi little girl, I’m your daddy.”

“And I’m your mama, and we love you so much.”

You both surround your little girl with your bodies, feeling the bliss of the golden hour. The doctors in the room but leaving you to bond with your baby before taking her to check on her.

You smooth her soft hair, a little slimy with vernix but everything seems so novel and perfect about her regardless of the fact that she’s basically covered in cheese.

Placing a kiss on her forehead, you notice that she seems to have fallen asleep on your chest. Lulled by the familiar sound of your heartbeat and your scent.

“So what do you think? Should we keep the name we picked out?” You ask Caleb, not taking your eyes off of her but grasping his hand.

“Yes absolutely. She is our most cherished one now and that’s what Ahava means.”

“Hello little Ahava, welcome to the world.”

Everything else passes with a blur, she weighs 6 pounds and 7 ounces all in perfect health.

You lay her on your breast and it takes some finessing but she manages to latch

You hadn’t slept that long the night before and the pain had kept you up. So you passed her to Caleb and fell asleep, sore, the placenta already passed but you still had so much healing to do.

A few hours later, her little snuffling cries woke you up. Caleb looked a little stressed but he rocked her gently and murmured soothing words. His lips against her forehead and his body surrounding her.

“I can take her.” You held your arms out for her.

Ahava was placed in your arms and you breathed in the smell of your baby. You had often wondered about parents talking about the smell of a newborn but it was true. Babies smelled amazing at least when they were clean.

Breastfeeding her, yawning and still out of it. You swore you saw something twinkle on your hand.

No it was there! A ring!

You turned your head accusingly at Caleb but he just grinned smugly.

Whispering into your ear as not to disturb your daughter, he said

“I measured it all those weeks ago while we were washing dishes. I think you’ve been my girlfriend long enough now. I’d like to say you’re my wife as well as the mother of my children when I introduce you to people.”

“Children? As in plural?”

“Absolutely, I think we need a few more of these little ones. Don’t you?”

“I’m sure you’ll find some way to convince me.” You sigh teasingly.

“Oh you can bet on it.” Caleb leans forward and kisses you gently, the feeling of your daughter sleeping in your arms and all threats gone. Life truly felt complete in that moment.

Thank you so much for reading! I’ve really enjoyed writing this fic. I may write more about these characters in the future, maybe a smutty one or about their lives as parents, we’ll see.

Tags: @moonberry69 @supermyeon22 @tinnyrabbit @gavin3469 @marina27826 @crowleysthings @tabi-callico @midiplier

@his-ocean-emissary @rosalyne08

@xaviers-pookie-bear @tsunamethyst @thejujvtsupost @cherrybeomgyu

@gojosballsack69 @apple-lov3r @dinochocochip @violetpurplez @raiyuxa @nickibunny23 @sh3sa1dwhat @playboygeniusphilanthropist @flwerie @lynnlovesthestars @twilightsmissingfur

@kasuumi @i-messed-up-big-time @mcdepressed290 @mc-cos-charm @needsleep3000

[narwal-ed-in]

ARMY GLITTERATI - (Band of Brothers x Bimbo!Reader)

✨glitterati✨- /ˌɡlɪt̬.əˈrɑː.t̬i/ - 1940's slang for famous people, glamorous people, in the spotlight.

Summary: “You want to become a combat medic for the 101st?” “What, like it's hard?”

Warning: Period typical sexism, Fem reader, she/her pronouns, slight body shaming (not directed at reader). NO BETA READ. I WROTE THIS JUST NOW SO PLEASE DON'T EXPECT MUCH.

No disrespect to the real veterans of WW2, all my BoB fanfics are based on depictions by actors in the miniseries.

Borders by @plutism

BEFORE TACCOA

The war is raging and everyone is doing their part to help the men on the front.

For you, that mostly meant trying to look your best at all times, no matter how inconvenient the situation.

"Looking good is a ginormous part of the war effort, it's good for boosting troop morale. I saw it on a poster at the teaching hospital" You reasoned with your father after he complained about you buying another pair of shoes and some expensive vanishing creams.

"Darling, I think they meant that we should all keep our appearances up, not buy out our local department stores"

"Oh my god daddy, you're suffocating me! I'm just doing my part by looking nice..." you glare at your father in his work clothes and eye him with a grimace "...and clearly you're not"

When you get a telegram informing you that you've been selected to participate in a program that aims to send female medics into combat you jump on it.

This is going to be so much fun.

"I'm going to be the talk of the town when everyone finds out. Not even Reverend Smiths boring old story about dying for ten minutes in a car crash and seeing Jesus will be able to outdo this!"

Your supervisors at the hospital are shocked that you've been chosen, seeing as you're not the sharpest knife in the drawer.

You had once walked out of an operation because it was bloody and you were wearing white (all the nurse uniforms are white).

You hoped you wouldn't be assigned to the army or the airforce.

The army is too basic, and if you were stuck on an airbase somewhere then nobody would be able to see how fab you always were.

The navy was your goal, their uniforms were sooo cute, you were just dreaming of all the ways you could style it.

It's just your luck when you get assigned to airborne.

"THIS BLOWS! I'm in the two most unglamorous branches at the same time"

After your initial breakdown you realized it wasn't that bad. If you were jumping out of planes it just meant that your hotness would have a bigger audience since it would literally be raining down from the sky.

"When the Germans see all this falling from the sky, they're going to flip their friggin wigs! AHHHH"

CONNECTING WITH EASY

You're assigned to Easy company and meet the men a few months into their training at Camp Toccoa.

You show up randomly in the middle of the day.

Although the men had been told a woman would be joining them and they had been expecting you, they hadn't been expecting YOU.

You were a ditzy thing and looked like you’d jumped out of one of their pin up postcards. The brass surely couldn't expect them to put their lives in your hands.

"I'm sooo happy to meet everyone. You know, the other girls in the program are such massive liars, they said airborne was where all the uggos went, but that's so not true. After all, I'm here"

You always woke up an hour earlier than the rest of Easy so you would have time to put your face on.

It was one of your tenets to never be seen by anyone outside of family without makeup on, or with your curlers in.

Malarkey, Skip, Penkala, Shifty, Bull, Christenson, Lip and Winters had all been kind to you from the beginning, expecting nothing in return.

But some of the guys had other ideas.

George was one of the men that befriended you initially. And although he did have the ulterior motive of getting it on with you, he eventually stuck around because he actually liked you.

You guys have great play-flirting banter and you're both very entertaining people to be around, especially when you're drunk.

On the rare nights anyone gets passes they want to be around you and George because they know that's where the funs at.

You get sloppy drunk with George, flirt with men from Easy and other companies all night, then end up with your shoes off at 3am, sitting on the curb and crying about one of your ex boyfriends.

Perconte was one of your original detractors but when you found yourselves making the same brain dead comments about obvious things, you both decided to put your two half braincells together to form the singular braincell you share between yourselves.

Talbert was trying to get into your pants instantly. Nobody was surprised.

But just like George he grew to be genuinely fond of you.

What was surprising was Joe Toye taking you under his wing.

Toye could see that you were absolutely clueless and the worst part was, you had no idea.

Toye couldn't bear the agony of watching you skip around camp with your happy-go-lucky attitude, harping on about celebrity gossip nobody cared about.

"Y/N!" Toye yelled as you all got dressed to run Currahee "Why the hell is your PT shirt pink?!"

"Isn't it just the most gorgeous thing you've ever seen, Joe? I put a red handkerchief in with my laundry. Cosmo said carnation pink is the color of the summer"

Huffing and puffing, Toye took out one of his spare shirts and forced you to wear it.

"And when you give it back, it better not be fucking 'flamingo pink'" Toye said.

"Oh honey, this isn't 1939, flamingo pink is so over. I wouldn't be caught dead in that. You know, Joe, sometimes I feel like you don't care about fashion at all" You scoff at his cluelessness as you walk out.

Joe Toye is secretly your best friend in the company.

Toye taking you in meant Gaurnere and Johnny Martin had to be around you, much to their chagrin.

They didn't want some girl hanging off of them.

You win Gaurnere's respect when you coach him on what to write to his girlfriend back home to assure her that he's serious about their relationship when she began doubting his intentions.

And you win Johnny's respect when you help him find the most romantic gift for his wife for valentines day.

"Y'know, back home they call me the love doctor...Well, they used to, before I told Betsy Kline that Rob Jones was her soulmate but then he left her at the altar to elope with his housekeeper"

Sobel despised you from the moment he laid eyes on you.

Not wearing your red lipstick everyday was torture, but you had to stick to natural colours so Sobel wouldn't be able to tell what you had on.

He tried with everything in his power to get you kicked out, but much to everyones surprise, you kept up extrordinarily well with the men when it came to physical training.

"I do a lot of Pilates. It's really good for flexibility and helps you keep a positive outlook so you're not be such a 'negative nancy' all the time. Some of you could really use it. Some more than others..." you said as you side-eyed Skinny who just looked around incredulously

Eventually most of the men come to consider you a friend and a confidante since you give remarkably sound relationship advice.

"It's like sooo hard being the smartest person and the hottest catch in this camp at the same time"

The hardest nuts to crack in your immediate friend group end up being Leibgott, Cobb and Doc Roe, all for different reasons of course.

Leib was snide and arrogant and spoke to you like you were a silly little girl.

He didn't shy away from telling you how dumb he thought you were to your face.

Your relationship eventually becomes friendly but he will still be mean occasionally.

He always ends up apologising though and feels really bad when he makes you cry (the other guys nearly bite his head off whenever this happens).

"Jesus Christ, Y/N, stop being a baby already. I said I was sorry" Lieb said to you as you cried into your pillow.

"You can say sorry to me, Joey, but how are you going to tell Rita Hayworth you're sorry for saying nobody cares about her nighttime face washing routine?" You spoke inbetween sobs.

"I ain't saying sorry to Rita because I ain't sorry I said it. I stand by what I said. Nobody cares how some broad washes up at night"

"You take that back! That routine saved my life" You jumped up, pointing an accusing finger at the man.

"How the fu-"

"You're a horrible, horrible man Joseph Leibgott"

"Oh put a sock in it" Leib rolled his eyes, making you cry even harder.

Toye, ever protective of you, had enough "I swear to god Leibgott, leave that girl alone!"

Cobb was just straight up cruel to you and made sure you always knew "your place".

Roe didn't seem particularly close to anyone.

But as you all of you went into the more specialised aspects of your training and you and Roe spent more time together, he found himself looking out for you.

You were sitting alone on the grass after everyone had groaned and walked off the moment you started talking about an article you read in a magazine.

You sigh sadly, pulling at the grass when a shadow falls over you.

Bringing up a hand to block the sun you finally recognize who it is. It's Eugene Roe.

"I, uh, I was wondering if I could sit with you?" he asked.

You nodded excitedly and he took a seat beside you in the grass.

"What was it you were telling the others?"

You gasped "You really want to know?"

"I guess…"

Doc had seen everyone walk away, and although he didn't care much for mindless conversation, he knew talking to people meant a lot to you and had come over to cheer you up.

Without missing a beat you began one of your famous tirades.

By the end of your first year in Toccoa you end up finding your place.

Thanks for reading! Please like, comment and reblog if you want❤️

[luckyreds]

Knives issued in the Airborne

Quick correction since no misinformation will be spread on my blog! but in this post I assumed that Bull was carrying Brass knuckles. However! upon closer inspection, it's probably a Mark 1 trench knife. Made during WW1, they were never issued and remained in stock until the second. Finally getting released to the Marine Raiders, Army Rangers, and Airborne troops in 1942 and early '43.

What is interesting is while the knives were issued to the airborne, they weren't all that common! In March 1943, the Mark 3 trench knife became the standard issue knife for the paratroopers. Bull could've had it issued in the early days or bought it in surplus.

the mark 3 (on the right) was more balanced and versatile than the Mark 1, some GI's even using them as throwing blades, instead of the hand-to-hand combat weapon it was designed to be.

other knives:

Steering away from Bull’s interesting choice of knives. Say you wanted something else instead of the M1 or M3, you could always buy your own personalised knife! Investing in a hunting knife. You could also get other army knives, some examples are; the KA-BAR knife (Mostly known as a Marine knife) and the Fairbairn-Sykes (English army issued knife.)

Now! if you were a Technician Fifth grade, besides the M3, you would have aTL-29 knife in your tool pouch (which also included; 1 set of pliers, 1 pair of scissors, a ruler, tweezers, and a file.)

That was all! GN!💋

[unsuitablepet]

What Can Canada Do About It?

Alright ya hosers, buckle up. I am not usually one to make huge text posts but this is going to be long and goddam irate. There will, however, be things in this that will be actionable, so if you're a fellow Canuck, give ‘er a read, and feel free to share, reblog, print it off and staple it to a moose—whatever gets the word out. And to just to make sure our ol' neighbours can't look in on us too easily, I'm gonna lace this thing with enough Canadianisms to make your toque spin.

To any of our neighbours who are up for the challenge of deciphering this maple-syrup-coded manifesto: keep in mind that we don't have anything against regular Americans. The guy who's threatening our country and screwing us over is the same guy who's threatening and screwing yours. Fuckin' buddy's downstairs thinking we wouldn't say boo to a goose, and we're just tryin' to remind him who exactly those gooses are named after, eh? I hope at least some of you will get that.

OK, beauts. Let's get into it.

I've got mes yeux dans la graisse de bines seeing Canadians act like we don't have a good hand in this absolute gong-show of a trade war. Of course we do. We’ve got a lot of leverage, and we can get 'er done. And it starts with the ol’ classic: buying Canadian. But we know that one already and that’s just the warm-up. There are also other things our government can leverage that would be deeply felt - to the point of makin' sure their economy falls arse over kettle along with us.

We are the US's largest trading partner. Last year we exported roughly $450b fuckin' piasse (CAD) to the US in electricity alone. That’s an awful lot of hydro, folks. So, let’s say we just... cut that off. Flip the breaker. Not forever, but just long enough for them to know we're serious. And when we bring it back? Buddies, we do it at an absolute piss-show of a mark-up.

Canada supplies over half of U.S. crude oil imports—4.3 million barrels per day. That's a couple-three too many to just replace overnight. That means if we turn off the taps, they can kiss those gas prices goodbye, ‘cause they’d be skyrocketing to $5–$7 per gallon, roundabaouts. And higher energy costs would increase inflation, worsening the cost-of-living crisis faster than a deer on the 1A.

Canada also supplies about 10% of total U.S. natural gas consumption. Minnesota, Michigan, Illinois, and the Northeast rely heavily on Canadian gas, especially in the winter to keep the wind from cutting 'em in half. A sudden loss would lead to shortages and insane heating costs, particularly when it's colder than a witches' tit in a brass bra out and a bunny hug alone won't save ya... which is now, conveniently! Factories would also see costs rise by a significant percentage (though not as much as regular folks would because America).

That said, Industries that rely on fuel from the Great White North are still going to start seeing prices that cost more than a Leafs ticket in the playoffs, with oil refineries, agriculture, and manufacturing industries bein' especially kicked in the mitts.

Trump's all full of piss and vinegar, swearin' up and down that the U.S. can produce all its own energy. Okay, bud. Giv'r. In the meantime, we could be slick as a smelts and sell some of that oil to Mexico instead (we already do a bit but there's room to almost double how much), which would have the added bonus of helping them dodge some of these tariffs that are about as useful as tits on a bull while we’re at it. Sure, it’s a little spicy CUSMA-wise, but you know what else is a bit spicy for CUSMA? Trump’s goddamn tariffs. So in for a loonie, in for a toonie, my friends. Let him challenge it - that would trigger NATO oversight and I'm pretty sure that dog won't hunt.

The great thing about this is, should Fürher von Cheeto realize he fucked up but not want to admit it, his only other play would be to increase imports from OPEC. Last I checked, OPEC was made up of countries who's hackles he's already gotten up by supporting Israel (Iran, Iraq, Kuwait, Saudi Arabia, the UAE), as well as countries who he referred to as "shit hole countries" and/or accused of just being criminals and rapists (Venezuela, Libya, Algeria, Nigeria, Gabon, Equatorial Guinea, and Congo). I'm sure the screeching in would go super well.

Cutting off our energy would knock down the U.S. GDP by almost 1%, and could raise inflation by up to 2% very quickly. This is just the energy sector and we're already havin' a time, folks!

Now, let's talk about critical minerals!

We are sitting on a goddam goldmine. Or, well, a lithium, nickel, cobalt, graphite, copper, rare earth elements (REEs) and uranium mine—but you get the idea. If we cut off mineral exports to the U.S., this whole hootenanny would turn into a real tire fire real quick. Canada is the lead dog in the sled when it comes to supplying most of these materials to the U.S., and they're essential for defense, technology, and green energy (though we know the leafs will make the playoffs before he ever gives a hoot about that last one).

Let's see what that would look like: right off the hop, the EV, and Battery Industries would be totally hooped. Canada supplies 88% of U.S. nickel imports, which is a necessary material in EV batteries. We're also a top supplier of cobalt and lithium, and we're almost 100% of the US' graphite supply, all of which are essential for Tesla, Ford, GM, and others to make their cars. And the icing on your timbit? All of Elon Musk's companies right now rely almost exclusively on us hosers for cobalt. Without this, EV production could plummet, resulting in thousands of jobs lost, increased prices, and tardy adoption timelines. It would also cause Musk's stock and net worth to drop faster than a puck onto fresh ice, just sayin'.

(Note: he'd still be stupid rich because the world is a terrible place, but he'd be slightly less stupid rich)

Sort of on that note, say goodbye to American-made smartphones, laptops, and semiconductors. Most of the materials the tech industry needs for that come from us. That supply chain will be colder than a banker's heart when chip production in the U.S. freezes over.

Oh, and this one's my favourite... DEFENSE. Guess who the big cheese is when it comes to supplying uranium, the thing the US needs to keep making nukes, submarines, and reactors? Canada! Not that we should be especially proud of this one. We are also a major supplier of Rare Earth Elements (REEs), that they use for fighter jets, guided missiles, and satellites. This would not only mean delays in the manufacturing of all this military equipment, but would leave the US with no option but to turn to China for the REEs. Both those things are - you guessed it - actual threats to national security. Guess the DoD is about to get redder than a Mountie in a blizzard... maybe in more ways than one.

Being so fucking for real, though: trade war or no trade war, we need to stop providing critical military materials to a nation that is actively threatening not only our sovereignty, but that of our allies. Seriously, what are we doing?

To add more curds to this poutine, this cutoff could lead to the offing of nuclear power plants relying on Canadian uranium. Add that to the fact that we also supply critical minerals for wind turbines, solar panels, and energy storage, and not only is almost the entire green energy sector getting dragged to the back forty, but the energy crisis we talked about earlier would get rougher than a badger's backside, particularly in nuclear-dependent states.

It would take years for the U.S. to find someone else to help 'em fill their boots, which means critical minerals are probably Canada’s biggest geopolitical asset in this. And it's not like we'd be sitting around waiting for America to come crawling back. The EU---Sweden and Germany specifically---are looking to find more reliable ethically sourced minerals. Would they ever be able to bring in the kind of Muskoka money that the US does for us now? No. But it might make the hit more tolerable on our end, while also opening the door for more future cellies with the EU.

And these are just the things we could cut off completely. But why keep all our eggs in the basket of a country led by a man who couldn't empty his boots if the instructions were on the heel? Trade diversification in general is an effective tool to leverage our power here and stabilize our economy on a long-term basis. And when it comes to opportunities for that, the world is our prairie oyster:

We could ramp up our Agricultural trade with the EU. We already have CETA in place and our goods meet and exceed their quality regulation.

We could parter with EU countries on sustainable energy projects (we already have a lot of groundwork done for that, so we could put it into place faster than most Canadian learn to say "je suis un ananas").

Japan’s craving high-quality beef and pork, and our farmers could absolutely dominate that market.

We could virtually flood the global dairy market (or at least the US' share of it). We literally produce more dairy than we consume right now because of a stupid clause in CUSMA (which, again, seems to be going out the window) where we're not allowed to export our excess dairy in order to protect the US dairy industry that would be completely priced out of the game if they had to compete with Canadian prices. So much for free market, eh? Canada’s dairy industry is also just more regulated and stable, meaning it could present itself as a more reliable dairy exporter to regions where the U.S. dominates, like Latin America and Asia.

We could get corn products (and other produce, but especially corn) exclusively from Mexico, a country that actually determines US corn prices because they're a government subsidized industry, and the government deliberately subsidizes to just under Mexican corn prices in order to stay competitive.

We could invest in establishing Agricultural Infrastructure Development projects with Brazil and Argentina, which would streamline their distribution and solve a lot of their supply chain logistics needs, strengthening all our economies and reducing American dependencies on all sides

I don't really love this one, but we could expand our aerospace and defense sector. The U.S. is currently the world’s largest exporter of aircraft and defense technology, but Canada has a really strong aerospace sector too, with Bombardier, CAE, Pratt & Whitney Canada, etc. There are lots of countries (including some neutral/allied countries) wanting to reduce reliance on U.S. military exports due to political reasons, which could open opening opportunities for Canada.

We could - and should, even for just internal reasons - expand our pharmaceutical industry. The U.S. dominates global pharmaceutical exports, but Canada produces many high-quality generic drugs at lower costs, and our public healthcare system, flawed as it may be, ensures strict quality control, making our pharmaceuticals appealing to countries with emerging healthcare systems. Also, a lot of countries would just like to reduce reliance on U.S. pharma giants like Pfizer, Merck, and J&J simply due to costs. If we expand generic drug exports to Latin America, Africa, and Asia, compete with U.S. companies on vaccine and biotech exports, and sell cheaper insulin & prescription drugs to Mexico and Europe, we'd seriously undercut a massive sector in the US. We'd also have more accessible drugs for us, and we could partner with a variety of allied countries on manufacturing and R&D investments that would result in great deals for them and a faster implementation and expansion timeline for us.

We could revisit the CANZUK agreement - ideally not from a colonialist tradionalist lens this time (fucking conservatives) - and establish a proper free trade and free movement agreement between Canada, Australia, New Zealand, and the UK, focused on growing the tourism, services, business, banking, and tech sectors rather than import/export of agricultre and raw materials, which would let us circumvent some of the logisitcal issues initially brought up with establishing long-distance supply chains, while strengthening each country's economy and trading power and encouraging shared cross border investment and economic shares in R&D and manufacturing.

And finally, my favourite but the absolute most longshot option, we could join the EU. It's a very very very long shot (no one should hold their breath), but it's not like those discussions haven't happened. If not fully join, we could angle at becoming an associate member, or expand CETA or establish some other such agreement to allow free movement, industrial development incentives, and further free trade opportunities.

And if we absolutely must trade with the U.S., we can be tighter than bark on a tree and process our goods through third-party countries. By setting up subsidiaries in Latin America, Asia, or the EU, we could reclassify our exports under different tariff rates. Sure, our allies would get a cut, but it might still be less than the tariffs in some cases. Example? Shipping goods through Saint-Pierre and Miquelon (yep, that tiny island just up the line from Newfoundland) technically counts as shipping through France. Would it be feasible for everything? No. But it’d be just feasible enough to piss off the right people and let 'em know that the deerflies are out. Buddy might retaliate with tariffs on the EU, but the US economy would go straight in the fishin' hole if he tariffed himself out of trade deals with ALL of us.

Finally, on that subject, we are not exactly in a canoe without a paddle. We've got friends in NATO and we've got friends in the Commonwealth, one of who's core pillars is to "help grow economies and boost trade." We can find ways to come together so we're all laughin' by the end of it. We can also put pressure on our NATO allies to impose tariffs and sanctions on the US if this carries on down the road a ways, or to turn over some of the US' share of their spending to our industries whenever possible. And we should be after doin' that with Mexico already.

Is this all feasible and would this all work? No, of course not! I'm not an economist or an international trade specialist or any kind of top lobster when it comes to this stuff... In fact, I'm willing to bet there's nuance behind a lot of what I say that would make things worse! I'm just someone who did too much reading while losing sleep and taking notes on all of this. I would encourage you to do your own research as well and not just trust an anonymous stranger from the internet! But once you do and you have a sense of what you think would be a good idea, fuckin' give'r!!! Quit chirpin’ and start workin’, buds.

We are still lucky enough to live in a democracy where our elected officials do - for the most part - respond to their constituents, and are obligated to at minimum receive a compiled briefings on all correspondence that comes in for them. Right now, this is the most I've ever seen Canadians come together, as the vast majority of our representatives recognize this for the threat that it is, and are unwilling to get smoked like a cheap pack of darts. Flawed as our system might be, it is still functioning and it is still our right to participate in it and make our voices heard. So, write your MPs and your MPPs and ask them to expedite the cutoff of electricity and critical minerals to the US.... or whatever demand you land on after looking in to things yourself! While you're at it, write to every provincial premier, and to every cabinet minister, and to all the major party leaders. Hell, write to your mayor, to Industry Groups, to Cross-Border Coalitions... quelqu'un qu'y a du poids dans l’arène!

These are rights we can and SHOULD be exploiting, and more than that it is our duty as citizens who care about our democracy to exert political pressure on our leaders to move in the direction we want them to. But you gotta be in the canoe to paddle the river! Go exercise that right and make some demands. Nicely, but firmly. And repeatedly when it comes to the elected officials. This day and age, you can even schedule and automate the writing, tailoring, and sending of these messages (though be responsible with that). Basically, don't sit down and shut up until we get what we want.

Be a nuisance, but be polite about it. Be fuckin' Canadian... eh?

[sidsledge]

something i love about band of brothers is the little quirks and details in each of the soldiers' clothes, especially those that pop up after the war progresses when nobody really bothers with uniform regulations anymore.

my favorites from each episode:

sobel's wool jacket in currahee

toye's brass knuckles in day of days (didn't have a good choice clothing-wise for this one, sorry!)

talbert's camo handkerchief in carentan

bull in his undershirt in replacements

luz' scarf in crossroads

spina's hat and sweater in bastogne

dick using his lapels as a scarf in the breaking point

malarkey's beanie in the last patrol

nix's suspenders in why we fight

liebgott's entire outfit in points