#but I miss iiiiiiiit

[melodyatlas]

don’t get too discouraged, love 💕 if you find yourself feeling like there’s nobody out there, just remember that dating apps aren’t reality. these companies make money hand over fist in keeping you from finding anyone good

oh my god this is so sweet?? i really appreciate the thought!

but im not really discouraged, dating has never been a high priority for me, like Ever. lmao. all my relationships were what i consider to be quite natural and not something i ever actively sought out. i only decided to try to try it out in a more deliberate manner bc i recently moved states and i work from home so its difficult to meet new people in any sort of capacity and i thought i might go a little crazy without some new human interaction

i dont think i'll stick with it though lmao, i'm too demi for most of the people who use apps i feel like? i don't like feeling someone out with the sole intention of deciding if i wanna date them? it feels weird and artificial

[lathrine]

watched 20 seconds of one of my old con videos and experienced such overwhelming love for the dorky joy contained therein that i had to close the tab

[cherryredstars]

PLSSSS GIVE US A SECOND PART OF RIBBON

I NEED IIIIIIIIT it gave me 🦋🦋🦋

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Fingering, Makeshift "Collar", Fluffy Miguel

A/N: Enjoy, my love!!!

Unedited

Part 1

You won't even look at him.

He finds it amusing, tapping his fingers on the desk's surface between the two of you. He knows from your peripheral vision, even as you try to keep your attention on the professor, that you can see his wrist. You can see the pale pink silk contrasting against his rich skin and the black of his jacket. Your pretty pink bow. The same bow that happened to go missing once it was untied from your wrists.

The same bow that has slight discoloring at one end from where it soaked up your smooth arousal not even twenty-four hours ago.

He's wearing it like a prize, proud of what it symbolizes. It isn't just proof that he was able to slip between your pretty thighs, but proof that you own him. It marks him as your territory. Fuck if he doesn't look like a silly school boy, practically radiating from his spot besides you as he absentmindedly fidgets with the smooth material. He doesn't give a fuck about the teasing remarks he got from his friends when they had seen it, could care less about the jealous looks girls have been glaring at the bow. The only reaction he cares about is yours.

Your cheeks are flushed, big doe eyes fluttering as you avert your gaze from him. You squirm in your seat, shifting every now and then in a futile attempt to find a comfortable position that doesn't make you feel hot and stuffy under your pretty clothes. Some part of Miguel hopes all your movement is partially to blame on how sore you are between your legs, trying to distract yourself from not only his wrist, but also the aching hollowness he's left behind from the day before. He can picture it in his mind: you waking up with a cute wince as your inner thighs ached, a plump pout on your lips as you tried to find the bow from yesterday before deciding you don't have time to look for it and rushing out of the house with your hair loose. Or maybe it was a conscious decision, one made after recalling the way Miguel whined into your neck about how pretty your hair looked free and flowing around your shoulders and pillow.

He has to bite back a groan at the thought.

The class ends all too fast in his opinion as the hour and thirty minute lecture comes to a close and you begin to promptly shoot up and put your things away into your tote bag. Then he finds that the class couldn't end soon enough when you go to leave, your small hand barely wrapping around his decorated wrist as you pull him along. His tail is practically wagging as he lets you drag him out of the class, finding it amusing that despite your fast paced steps he has to walk slowly to not trample you. His heart is pounding horribly fast in his chest as you drag him around campus, his skin burning beneath the ribbon until you enter the school library and drag him to the very back.

He almost pouts when you drop his wrist, turning to him with your arms crossed over your chest. His eyes drop there quickly, admiring the way your breasts are pushed up before he looks back at your face. He's not particularly ashamed as you give him a knowing look, a smooth smirk tugging at his lips.

"That's mine."

You say it simply, stating the obvious as you point at the pink on his wrist. Miguel holds his arm up, a faux look of surprise on his face as he twists his hand around to get a good view of it.

"Huh, is it? I can see why you wear them. It looks pretty on me, don't y'think?"

His lips twitch as you let out an exaggerated sigh, your eyes rolling in annoyance. You hold your hand out expectantly, your shoes making a dull thumping noise as it taps against the carpeted flooring. Miguel simply stares at your hand, eyebrows furrowed as he slightly angles his wrist away from you. He's acting like a spoiled child, possessive over his favorite toy. Your eyes narrow, your hand dropping as you groan. You simply don't understand him, he hates you. Yet, he's clinging on to your precious bow.

"Miguel." You sigh, your hand coming up to play with your loose hair as a way to calm down. "You're giving people the wrong idea wearing my bow."

Miguel crosses his arms over his chest too, matching your stance. He straightens up, towering over you as he spreads his feet shoulder width apart.

"I think everyone is getting the right idea."

You quirk your brow shaking your head, "And what idea is that?"

Miguel's cheek flush, but his face stays the same. Serious and determined. He doesn't want to say it aloud. That's the purpose of the bow anyway: an unspoken, but obvious sign of who he belongs to. He doesn't want to make a fool of himself by saying it out loud. He's spent all this time silently pining after you, he's not ready to have it crash and burn at his feet. Especially not after he knows what it's like to have you. Not when the feel and taste of you are already implanted in his memory.

He shifts uneasily on his feet. "I think you already know."

You lean back onto the bookshelf behind you, lips puckered in a purse. Of course you already know, you just don't understand why. Surely he's only doing it for an ego boost, bragging about how he got you in his (well, technically your) bed despite the fact you dislike him. You rub at your temple, eyes closing shut as you feel an oncoming headache.

"Yeah, but you don't like me." You finally say, opening your eyes and giving him an unamused look. "Why would you want people to think we're a...thing?"

Miguel takes a step forward. Then another, and another, and another until the tips of his shoes are centimeters away from yours. He casts a shadow over you from how tall he is in comparison, blocking out the already scarce light. If you were anyone else, you would be terrified of him looming over you. But you know that he wouldn't hurt you, especially not after the way he handled you yesterday. All sweet praises and desperately soft caresses. Your mind goes a bit hazy recalling it, and you have to blink rapidly to vanish the thoughts. Even as your core grows hot.

Miguel's hand, the one with the ribbon, comes up to your face. His brows are furrowed, but they relax slightly when his fingers run through your hair, pushing a strand back behind your ear even as it comes loose and falls back into place. He's quite a moment, and it takes great effort to even your breaths to not reveal the frantic state of your heart right now. He's simply studying you, taking you in.

"Who said that?"

His words are hushed, warm as they fan over your face from how close he is. It reminds you of the voice he had used when he asked if he can take off your dress, his hands hovering on your back as he pressed kisses along your jaw. You can feel his lips ghosting your skin as the memory hits you, and a slight shiver runs up your spine.

"I- what?" You mumble out, your mind scrambling to collect itself.

"Who said I don't like you?"

He mocks the tone you used, and your mouth drops to open. An instinctive 'You did!' crawls up your throat, but it gets trapped between your vocal cords. Your brows furrow as your mind works to find a moment of proof that you're right. Trying to pick through all the teasing until you find a time where the words slipped out of his mouth. But, you can't. Your mouth snaps shut, averting your eyes to his ear as embarrassment stains your cheeks.

Miguel hums knowingly, bringing his wrists between the two of you. You both look down as his hand comes up to pull at the ends of the bow. The silk dents under the weight of his thumb and pointer finger as he tugs softly at it, watching as it unravels. You gulp, suddenly feeling nervous as Miguel looks at you, your eyes meeting his. You flinch in surprise when his thumb presses on our chin, slowly guiding your head up so he can see your face properly. It leaves your neck entirely exposed, and you tense when the soft silk brushes the nape of your neck. Miguel's eyes drop to look at what he's doing, hands slow and careful as he starts tying the bow. His fingers move skillfully as he crosses the two lengths together, flipping one over the other and forming two loops. He tugs until it's snug against your supple neck. It's loose enough that it doesn't choke you as you move your head, only applying enough pressure to let you know that it's there. It blends perfectly into your outfit, like it was always there.

He follows the length of one of the ends down, brushes over your clothed breast slightly before his hand skims your thigh. It makes you jolt, both of your hands grabbing at his shoulders in surprise. Your eyes shoot down, blushing at the obvious bulge in his pants, but your eyes trace the movements of his fingers. The rough pads float over your skin, dipping occasionally into your inner thighs before returning to the apex. You can't help but squirm, hands tightening on his shoulders and your thighs flex.

Miguel's eyes are hazy and half-lidded as he watches you. His fingers gain more and more confidence as he watches you become putty, slipping under your skirt until his pinkie skims the edge of your panties. It causes a little gasp to part from your lips, doe eyes wide as you look up to him. He can feel a hunger burning in his gut, driving him to cup is hand completely over your clothed cunt.

"Miguel!" You hiss, bucking into his hand. "W-what are you-?"

He coos down at you, shushing you lightly as he leans down. His forehead meets your shoulder, resting there despite the weird angle that already is causing an ache between his shoulder blades. Your hands slide into his hair, your eyes looking to the ceiling when he grinds the palm of his hand into your clit. A wave of deja vu washes over you as his lips plant small kisses to your skin, inaudible mumbles breathed against your skin as he huffs at your scent.

"Just wanna make y'feel good." You barely make out. "Show you how much I like ya."

You have to bite your lip to prevent a lewd sound from escaping when his fingers move your panties to the side, stroking up your soaked slit. Your hands tighten in Miguel's hair, pushing his face closer to your neck. A full-body shiver runs up your spine when his tongue licks at the skin just above the ribbon, dampening the edges of it and leaving a shiny line on your skin. You swear your knees are on the verge of buckling when he repeats the action, switching between licks and suckling around the pink silk. His fingers toy with your slick, gathering it on the tips of his fingers and massaging it along your clit before dipping them inside of you again.

Miguel eats up every single quiet noise you let out, mind echoing with the soft squelch of your cunt and the shaky moans you produce. He has to flex his thighs to physically prevent his knees from bending so he can hump your leg like a damn dog, his cock aching to swap places with his fingers. But he knows you wouldn't want to risk anyone finding the two of you in such a compromising position, and he isn't very keen with he idea of anyone but him seeing how pretty you look when waves of pleasure hit you. So instead, he focuses all the pent up need into curling his fingers into you. The soft sound of his palm hitting against your mound drives him nuts, feeling your slick drip from his fingers until it's practically pooling in his hand. He makes sure his fingers find and press into that one gummy spot that was you gasping, your legs shakily trying to close from how good it feels.

Miguel's eyes roll back as you let out a shaky whimper of his name, your legs locking as your body shakes. He can feel the way your walls clench around his fingers, squeezing them tight as you come undone. Miguel practically whines into your neck, his jaw unhinging until his teeth sink into your neck. He pulls away when your body goes slack, indents marking above and below the silk. His hand is sticky as he slowly pulls his fingers out of you, the dim light reflecting on the glossy liquid. Your cheeks are beautifully flushed, hot pants leaving your parted lips. Miguel can't help but slip his two creamy fingers past your glossy lips, eyes hypnotized as you lazy suck at them with no complaints. Miguel has to pull them out fast, feeling his cock twitch dangerously in his pants. He shuts himself off from a groan by stuffing the fingers in his mouth instead, licking up the remaining slick and your saliva. It's heavenly, and he's not a bit embarrassed when he licks up his palm too.

You hum at the sight, a soft smile playing on your lips as you slouch forward, taking your turn by leaning on his shoulder. Miguel's clean hand cradles the back of your head, his lips pressing into your hair as you float down into the present. You sigh tiredly as you gently push away, Miguel's arms quickly wrapping around your waist so you don't go too far.

You definitely don't mind being wrapped up, not if it's by him.

Part 3

[bucketofcarbs]

BADUMPBADUMP BADUMPBADUMP BUMP BUMP BUMP

IIIIIIIITS (almost) THAT TIME OF YEAR AGAIN LADS!

I hope you will all gladly join me for this year's annual carb tourney! Where we determine the most popular carb. Last year's winner was potatoes, but lets see if the king can maintain their crown.

As always, keep it respectful! This is a fun little carb tourney. If I see hate in the comments, you will be blocked ❤️ All carbs are good carbs!

All that said, I've had a whole year to think on it, and have a few new contenders to add to the list! As well as a few adjustments.

I will also be re-opening submissions for critiques of my groupings or to add any categories you feel I've missed. The poll proper won't pick up till November, once I've got more free time!

FORM LINK

But on to the list! All your favs returning, of course:

- Potatoes

- Rice

- Pasta and Noodles

- Cereals

- Breakfast Cereals

- Tortillas

- Corn

- Beans and other Legumes

- Baked Desserts

- Classic Cafe Pastries

- Beer

- Stuffed Doughs

- Couscous

- Nuts

- Quinoa

- Fried Doughs

- Crackers

- Trail mix

Small changes are:

- Oats and Granola are being put together

- Bread is now Breads and Flatbreads, with Injera being added to flatbreads

- Pancakes and Waffles now adds Crepes!

- Squash and Gourds now adds Yams more clearly

But for new contenders we have:

- Other Root Vegetables (carrots, beetroot, parsnips, turnips)

- Fruits, Berries and Juices (Apples, bananas, mangoes, Goji berries, blueberries, raspberries, etc.)

- Dried Fruits (dates, raisins)

- Milk, Yogurts, and Ice Creams

- Sugar based treats and Candies (jelly beans, candycanes, gummy bears, jello, etc.)

- Honey

- Syrups and Spreads (maple syrup, jams, the like)

- Sodas and Energy Drinks

- Pizza (wild I know but it hit me it doesn't really fit any other category? So here it is!)

Lots of more general and simple carbs have been added. Though I imagine some may be controversial, I stand by their inclusion! But are there any I missed? Any categories that need adjusting? Let me know! In the form bellow!

FORM LINK

[mysteryhackin]

Iiiiiiiit's STANUARY!!! Please enjoy the entry for Week 1 "Lost and Home"

Stan's doing pretty well for himself as part of a biker gang. But with everything that's changed about him, is it worth it?

“Aaaand… done.” Stan stood up out of his squat and pushed the front door of the open with his index finger.  “I think that’s a new lock pickin’ record.”

“Nice job, 8-ball,” Shark Tooth clapped him on the shoulder, but pulled him back so he could walk into the abandoned house, the other three members of the biker gang pushing past him and making him drop his lock picking tools.  But hey, he did a good job, Shark Tooth said, and that’s all he could ask for.

Caveman was already working on the safe, and the rest of the gang was exploring the house for any valuables.  Stan wandered into the kitchen to look for something to eat.  He flicked on the light, hoping for some toffee peanuts or some other easily transported junk food-

but stopped as he saw the picture hanging in the middle of the fridge.

A mother and father- the mother with long red hair and the father bald with a red beard- stood on either end of the frame, with three red-headed boys standing in the middle. One of the boys looked about ten years older than the other two boys, who looked exactly the same.  Twins.

Stan didn’t know how long he stood there, staring at the photo but lost in memories of another life, but was eventually pulled out of his thoughts by Shark Tooth’s voice. “Yo, Alcatraz, you good?”

Stan blinked, and turned to the current leader.  “Yeah,” he said, his voice hollow.

“C’mon, we gotta get outta here before they come back,” Shark Tooth responded, clearly annoyed, and shoved a bag into Stan’s arms.  “Pull your weight.”

“Yeah,” Stan responded, and, without looking back at the kitchen followed the rest of his gang back to their bikes.

If it weren’t for the rest of the gang surrounding him, Stan would have not made it back to the bar that the gang used as headquarters a few states over.  He was running on auto pilot, trying to figure out why he felt so… empty?  No, he had plenty- a place to live, a purpose, people to hang out with… look, he was making more money with the biker gang than he ever did selling anything.  Was he sad?  No, Stan was tough; he didn’t get sad.  But he just felt so…

Lost.

Which was stupid.  He knew exactly where he was and why he was there.  Just seeing a family that vaguely resembled his own shouldn’t have put him in this weird funk.  He had just helped his team finish a profitable robbery, he shouldn’t be so depressed.  He should be enjoying the drinking and dancing going on in the bar, celebrating with the rest of his team.

But he just couldn’t shake it.

Stan took a long pull of his drink, and caught his reflection in the bar mirror, that word- lost- echoing in his head.  He barely recognized himself.  It wasn’t just his perfectly tirangular goatee and rakish scar, but something in his eyes he had always been used to seeing was missing.  But if he had trouble recognizing himself, what would happen if he ran into his mom, or Shermie, or For-

He slammed the bottle down in anger.  No.  He was not going to let something that happened nearly five years ago ruin a great evening. 

But as he turned around to go join the dancing, he knew he couldn’t do it.

Maybe he should go sit in his car for a while.  Yeah.  He and the El Diablo had been through a lot together, and he always felt good when he was sitting in it.  All he needed was half an hour sitting in the good ol’ Stanleymobile, and he’d be right back on the dance floor, tearin’ it up and maybe convincing a cute girl to join him.

The night was clear and the air was cold and quiet outside of the bar.  The crunch of Stan’s boots on the gravel came to an abrupt stop as he saw the empty space where his car should have been.  He swore under his breath, looked around to make sure it just wasn’t parked somewhere else, and swore again.  Then he spun around on the ball of his foot and walked purposefully back into the bar.

“Hey Frank!” he asked the bartender, yelling over the music and the crowd.  “Do ya know what happened to my car?”

Frank stared at him. “Your car?” he asked, as if he had no idea what Stan was talking about.

Stan huffed in frustration.  “Yeah, you know, the red ’65 El Diablo.  I keep it in the lot outside when I go out riding.”  He let out a chuckle that sounded slightly frayed.  “Don’t tell me it was stolen; I know this place is protected by the gang.”

“The red El Diablo…” Frank repeated thoughtfully.  “I think I remember Jimmy driving it this afternoon.”

The blood drained from Stan’s face.  “Jimmy… Snakes?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Frank said, and gave Stan a pitying look.  Jimmy was the head of the entire gang, and did whatever he wanted.  And if he wanted Stan’s car, there was really nothing to be done about it.

But Stan couldn’t accept that.

It was as if something had woken up in him, and suddenly he realized he didn’t belong here.  He never had belonged here.  Sure, he wasn’t above ripping people off- how could he help it, when there were so many rubes out there just begging to be conned- but this gang was something else entirely.  They targeted people who didn’t have anything to do with the gang, just like that family with the three boys.  And Stan knew other teams in the gang did things that were even worse than break into houses when the families were on vacation.  Did he really want to end up on those projects? 

That’s it.  He was outta here.  As soon as Jimmy brought his car back, he was leaving.  He didn’t care if he had to sell vacuums again; anything was better than this.

He grabbed his saddle bag and without another word, went out in the back to wait.

He had only gotten through one and a half cigarettes when a pair of familiar headlights pulled up to the parking space.  Stan flexed his fists a couple of times, but otherwise didn’t move as the passenger door opened and a giggling woman with black hair stepped out.

She walked over to the driver’s side and banged on the window, and despite the cold fire in him, Stan winced.  Even with everything he’d been through, he really tried to take care of that car- and he didn’t like to see it abused like that.

The driver’s door opened, barely allowing the woman to back up, and a heavy black boot deliberately stepped on the gravel, leading to Jimmy Snakes himself standing outside the car.

Stan’s mouth suddenly went dry.  Jimmy Snakes was shorter than him, but strong.  And he knew how to hurt people.  There were even rumors, all but confirmed, that he had killed people in the past.  And now Stan was going to tell this guy that he was leaving and he wanted his car back.

For a split second, Stan hesitated.  Was it really worth it?

Then Jimmy slammed the door to the El Diablo so hard it made the entire car shake, and he knew he had his answer.

Stan took a deep breath and started walking towards Jimmy and the woman, repeating the speech he had come up with in his mind, getting up the nerve to say everything he needed to.  He stopped right in front of Jimmy and looked him right in the eye.

Jimmy furrowed his eyebrows.  “What do you want, Butthead?”

And Stan decided to change his plans.

His eyes went wide as he looked beyond Jimmy, pointing to something behind the gang leader.  “Holy crap, Jimmy, what’s that?”

Jimmy turned around for a split second, but it was just the time Stan needed to give him a hard punch right in the head. Stan’s brass knuckles making a satisfying sound as they connected with what must have been Jimmy’s jaw, and he watched in satisfaction as Jimmy crumpled to the ground.

Ignoring the woman’s screaming, Stan quickly bent down and found the keys to the El Diablo in Jimmy’s unresistant hand.  Then he stood up, gave the woman a wink, and ran over to his car.

It only took a few seconds to get the El Diablo up and running, but the moment Stan flicked the headlights on he saw the other members of the gang already running out of the bar.  He put the car into gear, squealing out of the lot, and made the turn sharp enough that he knocked over all the bikes parked in the front.  Hopefully that would distract them long enough so they couldn’t come after him.

Despite checking the rearview mirror every few seconds, Stan felt relaxed in a way he hadn’t since he had joined the biker gang.  Yeah, he would have to change his identity again, and, yeah, he was going to be looking over his shoulder for a while, but he was free.  Free from being with people who didn’t care about him, who made him lose himself in doing what they wanted him to do just so he’d have friends.  He snorted to himself.  Some friends they were.  Pushing him around, not wanting to help talk him through a rough patch, stealing his car… who needed them?

But there was something else besides relief.  It was a sense of familiarity.  The Stanleymobile had been with him through thick and thin; the only thing he had left of the good times growing up.  It was full of things from his failed sales past, reminding him where he came from, but still was full of promise for the future- who knew where it would take him next? 

Stan smiled as he settled into the driver’s seat a little more.  Sure, he had a long ways to go until he would be satisfied, but as he pulled the driver’s mirror down and looked at the family photo that Shermie had taken of him and Ford boxing, his heart was filled with peace.

He was home.

[jobot]

Aww, I missed iiiiiiiit! >.<'

Sexualize a Robot.

[crabs-in-a-trench-coat]

Rocksteady Batman Beyond game

[anunexpectedfandom]

oh my god no pressure at all but if you did the bwe meme in art form it might actually kill me dead from sheer glee :DDD

I miss my boardwalk babies and I need to do more art memes, so what better way than to use this one?? Tho I have no idea how to draw for the quotes, but I’ll figure it out!

[starsgifted-a]

also me at the same time,,

[frankboeijen]

*sees any part 8 character* u are so ugly god bless...

[evan-buck]

Guess it's really over now 😭😭😭

[answerisalways42]

yvonnestrahovski:  River musings - Madison campground, Yellowstone ⏳[x]

💛💛

[creepywitchy]

y’ALL! IT HAPPENED! WE FINALLY GOT THE KISS WE NEEDED AND DESERVED! SARAWAT FINALLY KISSED TINE UNTIL HE DROPPED! THEY DID THAT!! THEY DID IIIIIIIIT! I CAN’T BELIEVE WHAT I ASKED LAST WEEK CAME TRUE!! THIS EPISODE WAS ALL I WANTED AND MORE! I’M GONNA MISS THEM SO MUCH ;_____;

[what-a-messsss]

1x10 rewatch

Ok, let’s get back to Walt Longmire: Disaster Boi of S1 and finish this season off with a...something.  Pleading look to the heavens, maybe?  

How do I keep forgetting that Lizzie is a thing, even after our decision to find her some nice Smitten Cowboy to be with?  Holy hell, but why are you still keeping your dead wife’s ashes in the kitchen?  At least you kept Lucian in your fucking truck.  In a coffee can.  What is with you and breakfast beverages??  We all know you need lots of therapy, but this seems like a kind of niche issue.

“Trust me, you don’t, uh, you don’t want that tea.”  Buddy.  

Poor Lizzie.  She really is so nice.  And he’s such a fucking disaster.  “You seem weird,” she says, in reaction to him going bug eyed from having to convince her not to drink his dead wife without her realizing that’s what he was doing.  Sweetie, you have no idea.  And she really does like him.  

This is.  So.  Gloriously awkward.  And Lizzie’s there in her bare feet.  And all we need is for Branch to show up and we’ll have a full house, and aaaaahahaha, Walt is so trying to freeze time with the power of his brain.  Staring off into the Not Here place with his mouth pressed just so...  Awwwww, suffer.

I had forgotten that Ferg was the one who actually did the body work on the Bronco!  Even did the paint work, because that old truck has never looked so good.  I know Omar loaned Walt his truck while the Bronco was “in the shop,” but I like that the writers gave Ferg the skills to do that.

“If anybody... has something they want to say, I suggest you think twice about it.”  We don’t need to say anything; we’re too busy laughing at you.

Oof, and then Lizzie hearing Martha’s voice still on the message greeting.  She’s really quite a good actress.  Lizzie isn’t a terribly subtle character generally, but she gives her these really fine microexpressions that give you occasional glimpses that there is more going on under the surface, and she’s not just an open book.  : (  Making me actually like her and feel bad, not just cringe when she comes on.  Dang iiiiiiiit.

Ok, that does NOT look like Sharpie.  I’m sorry, but that looks like a paint pen or lipstick more than it looks like a Shapie on the dead kid’s forehead.  Even if it were one of the jumbo Sharpies, they don’t write like that, they aren’t that colour on skin, and the thickness of the lines are all off.  Which is not really relevant, but it buuuuugs meeeee.  Pedantic little shit that I am.

Ope, Branch is basically past the angst about Walt not liking him and straight into just giving him nothing but attitude.  Which, while I can hardly blame anyone for giving Walt shit, does get old pretty fast.

Walt, you are So Bad at talking to people, even when it’s for the damn job!  Yeah, it’s fine to have Ferg fill Vic in, but at least acknowledge that she’s there, damn.  Honestly it would have been good for both Vic and Ferg for Walt to tell her to follow Ferg’s lead on this one.  He knows the case, the local history, the players, the situation, and probably more about archery than her, and she could stand to take the reminder that working 5 years in big city homicide still doesn’t make her the senior deputy and that she needs to be ok learning from even Ferg.  Shit, I keep finding more and more reasons to be annoyed at Walt.  Is he even really that good of a sheriff?  I’m shaking the ol’ Magic 8 Ball here, and signs point to frickin’ NO.  Ugh.

Five HUNDRED dollars says that he didn’t check with Mathias before going on the Rez for official police business again.  Jackass.

Can’t really blame Viho for being super bitter.  And Ayasha is so sweet.  This whole family dynamic is so well done.

Aw, Ferg is so excited about the gum wrapper.  “Still minty!”  How are you such a sparklebunny?  Bless.

Detective Falessssss.  His opening line is so great, but uuuuuuuhg, he’s as bad as Walt with his singlemindedness about the case.  

“Talk to Ruby.  She runs my life.”  She runs the department, bucko, and you’d be lost without her!  Lost, I say!  But you treat her like your personal social secretary, and that’s crap.

In Fales’ dubious defense, you were just super weird about that whole encounter.  

Omar!  You creepy little lecherous jackass.  Why am I still fond of you?  It’s really rather galling that I enjoy your character at all, but I doooo.  Thank gods he has the beard now; cleanshaven was just wigging me out.  “Vickie’s never shot before--”  “That is the second-to-last time you will ever call me that.”  And I chortle myself to distraction to the point that I have to rewind to catch the lines that I missed.  With her horrible plans when she gets drunk (I’m still cringing at that flashback of her with Travis) and her obvious thing for older men, I’m honestly kind of surprised she didn’t end up having a deeply regretted something with Omar at some point.  They do have good chemistry in an antagonistic way.  And he does so enjoy tugging her pigtails.  ...ew.  Why is my brain like this?  

“A little bit of practice, even a girl can make that shot.”  Aaaaaaand we’re back to kick him in the nuts.  Not that we ever really left there.  Such a butthead.

Boy oh boy, it sure is great the tone that all these shitty rich white people take saying “Indian.”

“That is what a normal person would do in your situation.”  Henryyyyyy, I love you so much.  Why can’t we spend more time with him in the early seasons?  Why are you drinking a Rainier?  Nooooo, please have better taste in beer than your boyfriend!  You have expensive tastes in bourbon, why can’t you have decent taste in beeeer?

Walt, what is the point of practicing darts when you are FIVE FEET from the board?  Seriously, you’re supposed to be like...  (a google later)  7 feet 9.25 inches away!  That’s...  That’s an oddly specific measurement.  Wtf.  No quickly apparent reason for that specific measure.  Resisting the pull of this particular rabbit hole to continue the ep.  

Aaaah, that’s right, this is still when Walt thinks that Henry may have killed the guy for him.  And BestDad Henry talked to Cady after the blow up about Branch, and he is a wonderful human being.  “It’s really none of your concern.”  Hoooooow dare you.  It is clearly a function of being bffs with that butthead that Henry just smiles (somewhat bitterly) at this instead of tripping him into the bar or shoving his head into the cigarette machine.  (Is that a cigarette machine?  Wtf is that thing with the yellow lit up portion towards the top? [14:05])  

“What a rich inner life you must lead.  From time to time, you should consider sharing some of it with the rest of us.”  The sass!  Swoon.  Henry.  Marry me.  

“I’ve got other problems.”  Buddy, you are other problems.

I wonder how many people/places Ruby just has on speed dial so that she can zoom through her list of “Where the hell is Walt now” to get in touch with him.

Aaaaand we’re back to Branch getting a bit big for his britches.  Whee.  Better fight about it like Big Boys.  Ffs.  “Go ahead.  Give me your best shot.”  ::Pat Benatar starts playing in the background::  Oh holy shit, I wish so damn much that I had any know-how about making vids.  I would be beyond amused by a spoofy hate vid of Walt and Branch being assholes to “Hit Me With Your Best Shot.”  Ooo, oo, or “Hit Me Baby One More Time!”  Aaaahahaha, these fucking losers and their fragile masculinity.  Get rekt.

Children.  Childreeeeen.  Stop it, or you can’t go to Timmy’s birthday party next week.

The irony of Vic being the one who is actually calling them on their shit and getting to do their damn jobs.  Well shit, they actually have a warrant this time.  Will wonders never cease.

Damn, Viho is smart.  Politically savy, pointing out the election coming up.  He’s got the wrong end of the stick this time, but the fact that he’s seen these angles and considered a bunch of things about the consequences already is telling about how smart he is.

Ruby is so pleased to see Henry.  She sounds tired (dealing with Walt and Branch and the sheer volume of bs that is accumulating in that office, no wonder) but still fond.  And the look she gives him.  I love her so much.  She puts up with so much.  And I love Henry continually calling Walt and the department on their shit and just being a dedicated activist for his community.

Fuck right off, Branch.  “Woah.  I know you’re Walt’s friend, Henry, but you don’t have any particular rights here.”  You are sliding into being a full on trashbag of a human being so fast, Brancheroo.  Reminding a young man of his rights and helping him avoid getting railroaded by your biased ass isn’t a bad thing, you rusty wingnut.

Ok, it might not be Glasses!Henry, but cowboy boots!Henry with the glow of righteousness upon him is also quite A Look.

Aaaaahahaha, for once Vic’s unholy yelling saves the day.  Being able to shout over a mass of raucous teens is usually reserved for teachers, camp counselors, and stage managers.  Looool and using detention as the threat.  And then jail.  Heeeh.

This is soooo weeeeeird: I’m starting to genuinely like Lizzie.  She just showed up and I remembered that it’s for dropping off that present, and then Vic is such a butt about it, and this poor lady is just trying to date a guy that she really likes and even gave him about 5 different outs that morning and he pointedly didn’t take any of them and dammit, Lizzie deserves better, too.  Fuck, Walt, you are such a disaster zone.  And Vic is a whole other disaster area that’s looking to, uhhhh, share a border.  Yike.

The present is definitely more Lizzie than it is Walt, with the wrapping and everything, but it’s still a sweet impulse.  AND THEN VIC, who told Walt how many times that he should call her?? gets all up in her business?  Poor Lizzie trying to figure out what the fuck this has to do with Vic or how it is even on the same planet as any of her business.  She does have some issues from her previous marriage, but she owns them.  And her BS meter is actually pretty finely tuned.  Sure picks up on Vic’s awkward boner for Walt in no time flat.  Not that it’s particularly well hidden, damn.

This kid is a rapist and a murderer and The Bad Guy, but at the same time, he is a high school kid, chances are he’s a minor, and Walt is talking to him alone in his office without any parent, much less a lawyer.  What the fuck.  

“Because Ayasha Roundstone told me so,” is a good line, solidly so.  And Walt’s all in The Righteous Hand of Justice mode or whatever, with the gravelly voice and standing over the kid, staring him down.  Effective.  (But where are that kid’s parents?)  Ah, that’s right, his dad is taking a shot at whatshisnoodle to make it look like he’s the killer.

Awww, Cady.  Honey, how long have you been waiting for you FailDad to show up?  Fuck.  Right.  This was how she found out that Martha was murdered.  He lies to her so much.  He manipulates her so much.  He passes all of this off on it being Martha’s wish, but he even acknowledges that Cady had a right to know and he chose not to tell her.  He denies Cady her own agency again and again.  He makes decisions for her without ever giving her a chance to choose for herself, and punishes her when she makes a choice that he doesn’t agree with.

It’s not “protecting” her from the pain.  “Protecting you from the pain,” is not a father’s job; it’s to teach their child how to manage it, help them live through it, and how to grow past it.  You’re damaging her.  Into the suuuuuuun, Walt!  Into the fucking SUN.

But fuuuuuuuuuuuck, her delivery of that same line, “Well, let me relieve you of that burden,” is sooo good.  You done fucked up, buster.  And you just keep fucking up.  I would say in new and exciting ways, but it’s generally in the SAME DAMN WAYS, dammit Walt.

This flashback is really difficult.  

They’re right about that technically being kidnapping, too.  Wyoming  § 6-2-201 specifically includes defining kidnapping as unlawfully confining another person, with the intent to “facilitate the commission of a felony; or Inflict bodily injury on or to terrorize the victim or another,” with unlawful confinement defined as “accomplished (i)  By force, threat or deception; or (ii)  Without the consent of a parent, guardian or other person responsible for the general supervision of an individual who is under the age of fourteen (14) or who is adjudicated incompetent.”  Meaning that not only could Walt charge Jake with the kidnapping of Rich, but also probably of Ayasha, since she was ruled an unreliable witness and would more than likely be legally considered a “mentally incompetent person” according to the states’ legal definitions.  

Not... that I have the Wyoming State Criminal Code downloaded on my computer.  >_> Certainly haven’t skimmed about 80% of it trying to figure out what charges would most make sense to be levied against Jacob at the end so that I don’t have to deal with him going in to a Federal prison on RICO charges.  <_<  Or what Cady probably should have been charged with after that mess with Tate and Catori.  Nnnnnnope.  Sure don’t, didn’t, haven’t. o_o

This is about the only time I can remember there being a legitimate reason for Walt not to have backup.  Since they’re off checking other locations.  Also, damn, that was some classic Old West quickdraw shit, Walt!  Noice!

“Why did you stop me?”  Because you have to testify, you little shit.  HE is not terribly bright.

Ooooooo, somehow I forgot that it was Branch who went to Jacob.  But that makes total sense; I can’t really see Jacob seeking Branch out, but once he walks himself into his office, Jacob will certainly play those new cards for all they’re worth.  Ooooooooo, and the Hotamétaneo’o headdress!  I’d forgotten about Branch seeing it, too!  Nice call back and foreshadowing to finish off S1!

“You will not find a chili cheeseburger of this caliber anywhere in Colorado.”  And now it’s 4:30 in the morning and I want a chili cheeseburger.  Thanks, babe.   Some daaaaaay, I will figure out which is my favourite Henry, but it is not this day, because godsdaaaaamn, the red checked shirt with that vessssst, is *chef kiss* a wonderful thing.   And the director knoooooows it = that pan down Henry’s back as he turns after saying, “I said nothing,” for noooo reason other than to have Henry’s ass on screen.  Seriously.  He says his line, it pans down, we get a primo shot of his jeans, and then it cuts away.  Solely a pan for Henry Butt.  Who directed this, and where do I send the fruit basket?  Dang, it was Nelson McCormick, and this was the only ep of Longmire he directed.  Huh.  In S1, there’s only one repeat director, who did eps 1, 3, and 7.  Interesting.

Focus, kid.  You are less than 3 minutes from the end and you’ve had it paused for over 5 minutes to wander around IMDb.  No wonder it takes you three flipping hours to watch one of these episodes.  What a mess, indeed.

“We all process grief in our own way.”  Buddy.  You have not processed.  You are a human <BUFFERING> screen.  You’re a walking loading symbol.  Walt, he gives you some basic vital statistics on the guy, but...  You haven’t even asked who it was.  Walt, you are so bad at this.  Fffffffff---  And there’s season 1.  lawd.

[rawiswhore]

Triple H, Shawn Michaels, Billy Gunn, Bart Gunn x Fem Reader- “Supersoak that Ho”

In 1998, the WWF is increasing more and more in popularity, and so are some of the WWF stars: Stone Cold Steve Austin, the Rock, Kane, Triple H/D Generation X, Sable, Debra, and even you.

Since the 1980's, the WWF have had toys aimed at prepubescent kids, and they even sell and have toys aimed at prepubescent kids during the late 90's Attitude era: arguably the most inappropriate, raunchiest, shocking, and violent era the WWF has ever had (yes, there's also the WWE 2000's Ruthless Aggression era, which is debatable over which was more violent and inappropriate).

Honestly, seeing WWF stars in the late 90's do toy commercials and have toys aimed at prepubescent kids made of their Attitude era wrestlers is pretty shocking considering the era, there was even a lot of controversy over having toys aimed at young kids during such an inappropriate, violent WWF era.

And speaking of that, in the summer of 1998, 3 members of D Generation X did a Supersoaker commercial where they didn't say their obscene, iconic catchphrase and do their equally obscene gesture, but did hose down Sable, albeit surprisingly, DX grabbed the cameraman snapping pictures of Sable for a photoshoot, only for her to walk away.

Despite this commercial sounding pornographic on paper (3 men shooting water from huge water guns on one of the company's biggest sex symbols), this commercial really isn't inappropriate at all.

This commercial gave you an idea.

However, in June of 1998, the leader of DX who was easily the hottest, sexiest member of that faction that hadn't left the company was growing facial hair, and him growing facial hair turned you off.

He was a little hot in June of 1998, but that facial hair slightly ruined him.

It might make him look more badass and he might've looked better here than in 2006 when he had that bushy handlebar moustache, but you prefer him without facial hair than with it.

However, by the end of his birth month and around the time of his birthday, he shaved his facial hair off. Hooray!

Even better, a former D Generation X member who also has a birthday a few days before Triple H's was back in the WWF, albeit not wrestling, and this former DX member whose birthday is close to Triple H's looks hotter and sexier than ever before.

How great is that?

Not to mention, July is known as being a hot month,  Stevie Wonder even has an album titled "Hotter than July", and it was hot in the summer of 1998.

You needed something to cool your jets.

You told 4 of the sexiest men in the WWF an idea you had with them, 3 of them are D Generation X members, and they loooooved your idea.

Hell, Jerry Lawler, Vince Russo and Vince McMahon would love this idea too, but Jerry is a bloated, creepy, statutory rapist, Russo is a smarmy, egotistical Noo Yawk smartass with idiotic ideas and McMahon is a racist, unoriginal, Trump supporting manchild, so they can go fuck themselves.

3 DX members you invited outside were Triple H, Shawn  Michaels and Billy Gunn, who all took some fully loaded Supersoakers Billy and the 2 other less attractive DX members promoted in a commercial with them.

The other man you invited with you was Bart Gunn, a former tagteam partner with Billy Gunn who's been sexy all year in 1998.

And yes, he's brought a Supersoaker filled with water with him as well.

You were dressed in a white top with no bra underneath and short denim Daisy Duke shorts.

When you ushered them outside, it was a hot, humid day, where the sky was blue and not a single cloud was in the sky.

And you're in need something to cool down.

Once you were outside, you stood in front of these aforementioned 3 DX members and Bart Gunn.

"Boys" you said to them "I'm feeling hot right now and I need something to cool down"

You tried sounding as sexy as you could when saying that, as well as tried looking sexy in your face.

The boys in front of you absolutely loved that, their mouths spreading ear-to-ear grins across their faces that probably is hurting their faces.

"Well, let's get ready to soak iiiiiiiit!" Triple H shouted, pumping up the Supersoaker in his hand quickly, Shawn, Billy and Bart followed pumping their guns just as fast (and you ain't talking their penises) afterwards.

When Triple H exclaimed that, Shawn, Billy and Trips cackled and laughed afterwards in their throaty laughs.

Next thing you know, they as well as Bart aimed their Supersoakers at your tits, where water shot out of the plastic waterguns and to your tits, soaking your shirt.

The fabric was dampening and clinging to your skin, especially your tits, and your nipples are poking out of your top.

They were aiming and pointing their Supersoakers at your chest and tits, trying their best to soak your breasts and wet your chest, and they were doing a good job!

The water was very cold, but it's supposed to be cold, and hit you quite hard.

You were trying your hardest to keep your balance and stand up while you got hosed down, not fall down to the ground.

While you're getting sprayed and hosed by these 4 wrestlers, you're lifting your hands up and cried out, albeit not crying out like you're getting raped or you're hurt, more like "woo hoo!!" and you're in a wet T-shirt contest.

Your mouth is spreading an agape, ear to ear smile, looking like Stacy Karter/Miss Kitty/the Kat when she took her bikini top off and flashed the crowd her tits at the end of 1999.

While your tits are peering through your top, Shawn, Triple H, Billy and even Bart are all loving this, and their faces are clearly showing it.

"Yyyyyeaaaaaaaaah!!!!" Shawn and Triple H roared, albeit not in unison, their mouths widening and spreading huge smiles across their faces as well as Billy, and Billy has such a cute, infectious smile (so does Shawn and Triple H, for that matter).

Bart's not really as mischievous as Shawn, Triple H and Billy are, nor is he as well known.

You just hope when you're outside, you don't get arrested for indecent exposure.

Your nipples aren't the only thing poking out of your shirt, your areolas are also showing under your top thanks to these 4 wrestlers hosing you down with water.

Shawn, Triple H, Billy and Bart all tried to soak your tits with water, making sure to get plenty of water on your breasts.

As they're hosing you down, you writhe and sway your hips slowly, trying to look hot and sexy.

"Yyyyyyeaaaaahhhh, baby!" Billy exclaimed.

Shawn made a corny, cheesy "wolf whistle" at you while you swayed your body back and forth, left and right.

Wonder if anyone can hear them outdoors?

While they're hosing you down, Billy honestly isn't as hot as he was back in 1997 or in 1999, thanks to him cutting his hair in that stupid 90's teen heartthrob mushroom haircut.

He probably did it so he won't be involved in having a lot of sex and orgies with you and he's trying to turn you off.

So you're imagining it's Billy in 1997 when he had his usual blond hair hosing you down.

Even when he had that stupid RockaBilly gimmick last year that didn't get him anywhere, he looked hot (except for when his hair was that unflattering dark shade of brown).

You wish Jeff Hardy, Rob Van Dam, Davey Boy Smith, even Bret Hart and Stevie Richards could all be in front of you and hose you down with Supersoakers, they're missing out on all the fun.

But Bret dislikes you and dislikes the WWF's current Attitude era due to having so many oversexualized women, yourself included.

Your hands moved from the belt loops of your shorts to the bottom of your top, where you slowly began to lift and pull your top over your torso and over your tits.

Under your top was your bare tits with no bra underneath, showing these 4 wrestlers your tits that you've shown them before already, they've even sucked and came on those tits before!

Their eyes and facial expressions were growing wild, although they were growing wild even before you started taking your top off.

"Yyyyeaaaaaaaaaahhhhh!!!" Shawn roared and exclaimed, looking like he did a few days ago when some Jenna Jameson lookalike in the audience flashed her tits at Triple H.

Triple H, too, especially loved seeing your tits, so did Billy.

While the water hit your breasts, the water hit your skin quite hard.

They still were pointing their Supersoakers at your tits, soaking them, the water dripping down your body.

You've told them while walking down the hallway to outside that you want these 3 to act like their DX characters, although Shawn and Triple H in real life really aren't much different from their DX characters.

When your shirt was above your breasts, you held the bottom of your top above your tits, where you began to shake and wobble your chest and breasts back and forth, your tits wiggling back and forth.

"Yyyyyyyyyeahhhhh!!" Triple H exclaimed, Shawn "wolf whistling" at you.

That wasn't all you did, you also bounced a bit up and down, jumping up and down on the ground, making your tits bounce as well.

They absolutely loved this, shouting and sounding like men in the crowd when Sable or whatever hot WWF diva (yourself included) strolled into the arena.

Should you take your shirt completely off or just have your top above your tits?

Your tits looked so shiny under the sun, which was a turn on for these men, but you hope you as well as these men don't get sunburned.

You, on the otherhand, had a huge smile across your face much like these male wrestlers, making high pitched "woooooo!!!" noises like you're partying.

They'd all love to hose your entire body down and not just with water (ifyknowwhatimean), and they may as well.

You moved your hands from your top to the front of your shorts, where you unbuttoned and unzipped your shorts.

The men saw where your hands were going and what they were doing, and they really got excited.

You turned your body around and now showed your backside to these 4 wrestlers, where you slid your thumbs under the holes of your shorts, letting your thumbs hold onto your shorts.

You began to pull your shorts down left to right, shaking your hips left to right, showing these men your ass.

Under your shorts was a thong showing your ass cheeks off.

Their eyes and facial expressions grew wild seeing you show your ass off, shouting like they're typically doing in this moment, so they aimed and pointed their Supersoakers to your asscheeks, shooting water on both cheeks.

The water is trying to penetrate through your ass cheeks, only to spill down your cheeks instead, wetting your ass.

Your thumbs slipped out of the belt loops of your shorts, where you moved your hands in front of your ass cheeks.

You proceeded to beat your ass cheeks like Triple H did in December 1997 when he was in a white thong with Shawn (that rhymed).

Wonder if you should take your thong off?

When the water hit your skin under the hot sun, it felt so relieving considering how hot it was outside as well as inside.

In April 1998, Triple H promised to pee on the audience and it was implied he was jizzing on them, only to be revealed it wasn't jizz, it was just a Supersoaker.

Looking back, you wish he could've used that Supersoaker and soaked you with it, getting water everywhere all over your body.

Billy could've joined in on this fun as well.

Not to mention, last year, Sunny and the Headbangers did a Supersoaker commercial.

You regret that you didn't get blasted with water shooting from Supersoakers carried by Shawn Michaels, Hunter Hearst Helmsley, RockaBilly (as he was known as last year), Davey Boy Smith, and even Rob Van Dam and Bret Hart in the summer, that would've been awesome!

So many hot guys shooting Supersoakers at you and cooling you off.

While Shawn, Triple H, Billy and Bart do think you're a beautiful woman, they probably would love it even more if they hosed down Sable, Jacqueline, Debra and/or Terri Runnels: sexy women in the WWF circa 1998 who also just so happened to have huge breasts.

Speaking of divas, after being hosed by Supersoakers, not too long after this moment...

Since this year, the WWF is beginning to have bikini contests with their women, you talked with the WWF creative team about having a "wet T-shirt contest" involving most of the female roster.

They, especially Vince Russo and Vince McMahon, LOVED and adored this, and yup, there was a wet T-shirt contest involving you and most of the other female roster.

Why? Because Attitude era and boners.

Sadly, you didn't win the contest, but you don't mind, really.

(Confession: I have thought of setting this fic on a "Monday Night Raw" episode in late July 1998 where the fem reader in the ring gets sprayed and hosed down with Supersoakers by DX and Bart Gunn, but...)

 _______________________________________________________________

Uploading this fanfic on the last day of summer.

[bitchesgetriches]

MISS PIGGY! I AM DOING YOUTUBE AEROBICS CLASSES RIGHT NOW TO GET SOME EXERCISE WHILE I GOT THE HOUSE TO MYSELF. SWEAT IS LITERALLY DRIPPING DOWN MY FACE AND I'M MOVING LIKE A FOOL. WHAT ARE YOUR FAVOURITE WAYS TO STAY FIT IN A PANDEMIC? HUGSNKISSES

FUCK YES BAYBEE, THIS IS THE SEXIEST SHIT I HAVE EVER HEARD. GET YOUR SWEAT ON.

I FUCKING LOVE ROCK CLIMBING. AND IT’S A GREAT WAY TO SOCIAL DISTANCE, CONSIDERING IT INVOLVES HIKING OUT TO A BIG CLIFF IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE! SO I’VE BEEN CLIMBING LIKE WHOA SINCE QUARANTINE. TOOK A HUGE FALL A FEW WEEKS AGO AND BRUISED THE WHOLE LEFT SIDE OF MY BODY. BUT I’M RIPPED SO WOOOOORTH IIIIIIIIT!