#get Warren outta there

[dinosaurwithablog]

Get Warren outta there. WTF? So far, in the 3rd inning, he's gotten 2 balks, and he's given the Rockies 4 runs. He's given a run to them in the first and second innings, too, for a total of 6. And he's still pitching. Are you kidding me? Buy a clue, Boone. GET HIM OUTTA THERE!!! NOW!! I don't know why Boone is letting Warren single handedly lose the game for us again, but he is. And to add insult to injury, he has Mark Leiter Jr. warming up. Why not have Clay Holmes close, too. It's like Boone is trying to guarantee that we do not win today. Warren should never start any game anytime, anywhere. His ERA is over 8. He's not even qualified to be a reliever or a closer. He needs to go back to AAA. Just saying.... buy a clue, Boone... PLEASE 🙏🏼 🙏🏼 🙏🏼 Let's go Yankees!!!!!

This is horrifying. Why would Boone have Will Warren pitch on Old Timer's Day? How embarrassing. The 2009 Yankees deserve a better game to watch. They should have had Cole or Nestor or Rodon pitching today. Another bad decision for Boone. We need to get Boone outta there, too.

[kpchrs]

Since Life is Strange referenced Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Victoria is a reference) and I'm a big fan of BTVS, I think if LiS characters watch it, their favourite characters would be:

(The characters are Max, Chloe, Kate, Warren, Vic, and Nathan.)

Max: I think Max wouldn't really like the vampires and dark theme. Maybe it's too fantastical horror for her cuppa. But I think she'd relate to Willow the most. (A nerd who has no self-esteem then gets a magic power and gets too powerful she's drunk in it? Hell yeah.) And she'd love Tara a lot, the kindest character of all. I think Max would be very interested in Giles too. No, it's not because he's a teacher, she swore. He was very intellectual, it was very attractive! She watched when Chloe watched. It's more fun for her that way.

Chloe: Chloe would be that girl who is like "Yum, sista" when she met Faith and "I can't believe Faith is not gay. SHE'S DEF FRUITY AT LEAST." She would really empathise with Faith too (esp. her parental issues) and she would love her darkness. (Buffy had daddy issues too, but I think Faith resonated in Chloe more.) She'd think Spike was so fricking cool, at least in S2 when he was still a hardcore evil punk rock vampire, but not really after he got chipped. She'd be a little bit disappointed, but she'd still think he was hilarious. I think Chloe would be kinda annoyed at Angel's character, at least in BTVS. I don't think she'd continue watching after S5...? Maybe she didn't really care about the main romance plot lol (Hey, my mom's name is Joyce too! They are very different tho.) When Chloe stopped watching, Max stopped too.

Kate: I appreciate the soul and demons explanation, Warren. But, um, it's too dark for me. I don't really like vampires anyway...

Warren: Warren would LOVE this TV show. He'd be the type of person who SOBBED at Bangel. Bangel is so tragic, Max, I can't believe the universe doesn't want them together, WHY. He'd think Buffy was so hot, Spike was so cool, Giles was rad, etc. He loved almost every cool character. He'd be offended because a guy with his name was a pathetic, gross villain in S6. He'd really enjoy Spuffy too, he'd think it was so spicy ohohohohoho. Delicious, delicious. Then was kinda shocked at SR (iykyk) (but more like, "Oh, shit, they went there!"), cheered at the end of the S6, and then SOBBED again in the end of S7. I think he'd just enjoy whatever it was on the show and he'd think it's one of the best shows of all time. But my favourite is always Doctor Who, Max, always. He then would be off yapping about his analysis of each season and episode, or what he read on Reddit that he claimed as his own, and go blah blah blah bla--

Victoria: Same as Warren, Vic would be the biggest fan of the show. I think Vic would have Buffy as her favourite character. She'd be a Bangel shipper and a diehard Angel and DB fan. She'd be on Tumblr fighting the Spuffy fans. She agreed that Spike was hot, but the ship rivalry was just...yeah. But she'd secretly see herself in Cordelia. Victoria would ask, "I'm not as bitchy as Cordelia, right, Nate? Right??" and Nathan would just laugh his ass off, annoying her. Later in ATS, she came for Angel but had Cangel as a guilty pleasure. Cordelia's character development would kinda trouble her. Not because it wasn't good but because...well, she saw herself in her and could I be like that? Then she watched S4 and was so mad at them fucking up Cordy's arc.

Nathan: Nathan watched this show on and off because Victoria was watching it near him but he didn't like it. He wasn't too interested in a female main character and would be one of the people who was like: "She's hot but there's no way a girl that small can beat up people. (Stupid name, btw.)"

"She's the vampire slayer!" Vic protested.

"So fucking what?!"

He'd remember Riley and ask, "Where is that soldier guy?"

"He fucked off to Brazil a season ago, Nathan! Shut up about Riley already, he sucked!"

"Brazil again." (Iykyk.)

[dorothylarouge]

US Presidents as Dril Tweets

George Washington: another day volunteering at the betsy ross museum. everyone keeps asking me if they can fuck the flag. buddy, they wont even let me fuck it

John Adams: "ah boo hoo hoo i want to post Foul comments to content leaders" Fat Chance, Dimwit. I will annihilate you under bulwark of the Law and God.

Thomas Jefferson: Q: If your post was proven by a counsil of wise men to be racist, or bullshit, would you bar it from the record? A: I do not delete my posts

James Madison: (sniffing a crumpled up one dollar bill i found on the floor of a dog kennel) ah.. thats greenbacks baby

James Monroe: for decades i have traversed the unforgiving mountains and rivers of south america, hoping to catch a glimpse of the fabled "ass downloader"

John Quincy Adams: "This Whole Thing Smacks Of Gender," i holler as i overturn my uncle's barbeque grill and turn the 4th of July into the 4th of Shit

Andrew Jackson: handing Faves over to my enemies is FRAUD !! base, contemptible FRAUD!

Martin Van Buren: Food $200

Data $150

Rent $800

Candles $3,600

Utility $150

someone who is good at the economy please help me budget this. my family is dying

William Henry Harrison: (spends all of 7 seconds skimming some blog posts) yep. just as i knew all along. having pnuamonia is good

John Tyler: fuck "jokes". everything i tweet is real. raw insight without the horse shit. no, i will NOT follow trolls. twitter dot com. i live for this

James K. Polk: thhere is no such thing as charisma, and art is fake. the only metrics by which we must determine the worth of a man are Strength and Wisdom

Zachary Taylor: the doctor reveals my blood pressure is 420 over 69. i hoot & holler outta the building while a bunch of losers tell me that im dying

Millard Fillmore: trying to heal..... please donate to my go fund me... $10 will make me less racist... $100 will make me extremely less racist...thank you...

Franklin Pierce: blocked. blocked. blocked. youre all blocked. none of you are free of sin

James Buchanan: #NationalGirlfriendDay please cherish your gal's.. in honor of us, the single Boys who must sacrifice all companionship to #CarryTheBrand...

Abraham Lincoln: unloading an entire belt of ammo at me with a minigun or some such device will now get you "Blocked"

Andrew Johnson: who the fuck is scraeming "LOG OFF" at my house. show yourself, coward. i will never log off

Ulysses S. Grant: i regret being tasked the emotional burden of maintaining the final bastion of morality and Nice manners in this endless ocean of human SHIT

Rutherford B. Hayes: using the toilet when i hear Our national anthem start to play. i do what i must. i stand tall in complete agony; as shit runs down my leg,

James A. Garfield: too much truth in such little time. feeling the heat cominh down to silence me... signing off........ for now

Chester A. Arthur: i WILL wise the fuck up. i WILL super charge my content for 2017. i WILL get blue check mark

Grover Cleveland: the way i see it, people who come on here and submit content that is not up to par, could possibly be considered the "Villains" of this site

Benjamin Harrison: i help every body, im not racist, i keep myself nice, and when i ask for a single re-tweet in return i am told to fuck off, fuck myself, etc

William McKinley: boy oh boy do i love purchasing large amounnts of Fool's Gold. wait a minute... fools gold fucking sucks. this stuff is no good..!! Fuck !!!

Theodore Roosevelt: IF THE ZOO BANS ME FOR HOLLERING AT THE ANIMALS I WILL FACE GOD AND WALK BACKWARDS INTO HELL

William H. Taft: ah.. the perfect Souffle! cant wait to dig in to t(*EVERY PIPE IN MY HOUSE EXPLODES AT THE SAME TIME, COVERING ME IN SHIT AND BOILING WATER*

Woodrow Wilson: the conflicted supersoldier stares over the horizon as he smokes a cigarette. "war is the most fucked up thing ever." he takes a sip of beer

Warren G. Harding: somebody please Bribe me

Calvin Coolidge: aggressively joyless oaf hhere. painfully obnoxious respect demander checkign in. extremely dim witted frowning man looking for pals

Herbert Hoover: it is really quite astonishing that I have yet to win The Lottery, given how good I am at selecting six numbers and saying them out loud

Franklin D. Roosevelt: ive never heard of this “europe” but it sounds like a big bunch of shit to me

Harry Truman: everybody wants to be the guy to write the tweet that solves racism once and for all because it would look good as hell on a resume

Dwight D. Eisenhower: my "F*&k It!! Let's Go Golfin" t-shirt maintains a tenacious stranglehold on my life. after 1,125 days of Golf my body is twisted, deformed

John F. Kennedy: when you do sutuff like... shoot my jaw clean off of my face with a sniper rifle, it mostly reflects poorly on your self

Lyndon B. Johnson: incredibly handsome , charismatic famous boy credited with ending income inequality after saying that slumlords should be called "dumblords"

Richard Nixon: i attribute the complete failure of my brand to the actions of detractors, oor my “trolls”, as it were, as well as my own constant fuckups

Gerald Ford: shutting computer down until the shitty moods & attitudes can fuck off., if you need me ill be on my other computer, sititng 60° to my right

Jimmy Carter: i warnned you all that bad things would happen if you kept letting your wives wear jeans. AND NOW LOOK! the damn gas prices are up again

Ronald Reagan: spend a lot of time thinking about how sometimes even war criminals can be heroes sometimes... Dont like it? Click the unfollow buttobn

George H.W. Bush: just thought off an idea i believe to be bad ass. lets find the address of the leader of isis, and mail him/ her pieces of our SHIT

Bill Clinton: were at the point now, that when i offer to impregnate my girl followers, people assume my motives are sexual. disgusting, grow the fuck up,

George W. Bush: friday night gathering up together a big pile of things i like to respect (flags, crucifixes ,etc) and just roll around in it ,give kisses,

Barack Obama: my IQ has increased 10 points ever since i stopped tollerating people mucking about, on the time line

Donald Trump: THERAPIST: your problem is, that youre perfect, and everyone is jealous of your good posts, and that makes you rightfully upset.

ME: I agree

Joe Biden: I will shut the fuck up , IF , it will restore the Harmony. I will get on my knees like a dog and make that sacrifice, for the sake of Calm

[reveluving]

But just, imagine Graves is suuuuuch a hard ass to you in front of his men and a total ass (almost more than he is to his other men) so it doesn’t seem like he’s giving you favoritism and doesn’t make it obvious that you two are doin’ the dirty dooooo. But behind closed doors Graves gives you whatever you want. Want to go on a specific mission? Sure. What a shiny new gun? Absolutely. Want him to bed you over in his office and just devour you(I imagine this mans is such a giver)? Fuck yes. Wanna blow him under his desk while he’s on the phone with Shepherd? He’s already rock hard and ready. AHHHHG It’s just Warren’s Graves’ damn smile. 🫠

WARREN'S GRAVES’ SMILE MAKES ME INSANE TOO, BABY! I FEEL YOU 🤲🏼😭

Includes: mentions of s~mut; oral s~ex, both m & f receiving (minors DNI!), sugar daddy-ish Graves (but he loves tf outta you), this man is a GONER. 

COD x shy!wife thots closed! Thank you, everyone, for your time & amazing minds! I sincerely hope I can do this again with y'all soon! 💌

Come & check out my COD m.list!

Pray for this man because Phil knew he was done for as soon as he first saw you ✋🏼😔

Him being extra hard on you (in more ways than one) isn’t necessarily in terms of raising his voice more than the authoritative tone he already uses, but more so with an intense stare, or a deeper tone, you know? A stare which I feel like it takes everything in you not to do anything embarrassing as you stand with your team, be it a moan or a slight indication of you rubbing your thighs together. 

And it takes everything in him not to express his satisfaction the way he would behind closed doors. 

No doubt you can take whatever he gives as a commander, just like how he treats the rest of his team—you were a soldier before you were his, after all. But as soon as you and him get together, he has some sense of not letting his ego take charge in a disrespectful sense just to prove a point in front of his company. 

Listen, he’s not a relationship guy. He’s had his fair share long ago, only to opt for one-nighters with his line of work.

But now? He wouldn’t even dream of being in anyone’s presence (and bed) other than yours. 

You may as well mistake a Cupid’s bow accidentally shooting him each time the two of you are in private; raising your hands to his lips with a warmer look in his eyes, tugging you by the hand to sit on his lap as soon as you lock his office door, personally tending to your injuries. Or if the wound needs further medical attention, he'll come to check up on you once the professionals have settled their part.

Picture this: on your day off, you and him in bed after ‘sexc time’, cuddling in bed while looking out of the gigantic hotel windows, though really, Phil’s just looking at you and how the city lights just shine on your skin. 

But back to buying you shit!

Whether you’re the kind to react to his exorbitant gifts bashfully or immediately thank him by showering his face with lipstick-stained kisses, there is nothing in the world he wouldn’t get for you. Even with a mere glance at an item as you window shop, don’t be surprised to find it under your pillow or suspiciously slipped into one of your bags at the barracks. So, the second he notices your eyes linger on something, he will buy it, with or without your knowledge. 

This is just my two cents, but most, if not, all of the blorbos I've written for have a deep passion for you in red lipstick, and Phil is no doubt a part of that list. Even if you can't wear it all the time for obvious reasons, he wants you to keep it with you at all times. 

Because there are days when the two of you can't be in the same team together, much to his dismay, say, because of speciality differences, so one of you is needed elsewhere. 

So, when one day, you surprise him with a little gift before his departure by leaving a pretty red kiss mark on a piece of card, handkerchief or even on the glass of his watch, just know it'll be an always-thing. A habit, if you will, even if you're on the same team at that moment.

Missions, too, even if he downright hates your choices. Again, your respect over his own ego. He won’t stop you, and he has no right to, but expect to be in the same regime/team as his. Should anything happen to you, and he prays to God nothing does, he’ll be the first to find you. 

When days off seem so far, though, his office is where the ✨️ magic happens ✨️. 

It’s a common meeting place for the two of you, be it for sharing food you snuck out of the kitchen or letting him take his frustrations out by smothering his face in between your luscious thighs while you lay back on his desk. His office just has more life whenever you arrive. The reports can wait, he’s (mostly) his own boss, after all. The time you both have is more precious. 

And the part about you blowing him under his desk while he’s on the phone is so real of you.

He’s able to drone out Shepherd’s voice on the other end of the call because he knows the general’s just repeating what they’ve discussed days or hours prior. Phil’s more focused on your glassy eyes, struggling to encompass his sheer girth in your pretty little mouth, all while attempting to smile behind your tears. Looking up at him as he tilts his head back onto the office chair and occasionally bucks his hips while he disguises his moans with mindless grunts as if he had been listening to Shepherd yapping in the first place.

“Mhm, right, right…” His jaw clenched, eyes lidded and a lazy smile worth making you whine around his cock as he stared down at you. His phone was pressed in between his shoulder and ear as he rested his forearm on the head of the chair. The other hand brushed your hair back, enjoying the way your cheeks became just a tad more prominent at his gentle touches.

“Yeah, I’ll call you back about it,” He wanted to roll his eyes, initially at the thought of having to face him again, only for it to drag into a groan when the tip of his touched the back of your throat. He tossed his phone as soon as the call ended, a smirk returning to his face when he could finally focus on you. “Sorry, pretty girl.”

You choked a little when he gently pushed you to take him even more.

Oh, he wanted to hear more of that sound.

“You can take more o’me, can’t ya?”

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

Bonus:

Have you guys seen this video with the guy testing out a pink gun with a teddy bear keychain? THAT. Is most definitely the kind of gift that he’d definitely get for you at first sight. Deadass would twirl my hair if he got that for me.

I imagine that if your team learned about the pink gun (whether or not you added that Phil bought it for you), I just find it hilarious that they’d think it wouldn’t have a strong recoil since you didn’t seem to have a problem with it. And as soon as they give it a try, they just jerk back so violently, and Phil’s watching with the most infuriating smirk on his face since he’s seen you play and pose with it when you shoot, taking the drawbacks like no problem 😭😭

» gorgeous rose divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics ♡

[gingergofastboatsmojito]

Jeremy and the minorities he loves to represent and apparently was born to

This post by @freedelusionshere cracked open a pattern that was right there in front of me for a while now and I hadn't really been paying attention to:

Jeremy Allen White's career choices

I won't go over every single role he ever played but overall his taste is quite distinctive and particular, he's into the marginalized, the anti-heroes, and the minorities.

He's not afraid of having to dive deep into his dark side to play addicts, disabled, depressed, suicidal, and traumatized human beings who struggle with mental health issues and don't always win their battles or are elegant about it.

His most famous roles are Lip Gallagher and Carmy Berzatto

Both addicts, the product of a traumatic upbringing with abusive parents and absent parental figures, with older siblings who played roles in his characters' lives that they shouldn't have due to the dysfunctional family dynamic they lived in.

He also played Kerry Von Erich, who lost his battle with addiction and a part of his leg as well and whose whole family was part of the problem, no matter how much they loved him. Kerry Von Erich was a fatal victim of his toxic environment and upbringing.

More about Carmy and Kerry's parallels here:

In Cornflower (short-film) Jeremy played the big half-brother of this little girl whose mother killed herself and he was in charge of "protecting" his baby sister from the news and sending her away

He's the Boss, the chef, the champ, the protector in his own fucked up way, but not really because he plays the shadow aspects of all those characters, otherwise, he's just not interested.

Jeremy once said (for GQ magazine) that if he played the romantic lead in a rom-com it would also have to be very sad.

And now, when he steps into The Boss' shoes leather jacket he doesn't play the idol, the icon, but one of his darkest moments.

Deliver me from nowhere

The movie tells The Boss' story during a time of his life that he described himself as dark and challenging, filled with isolation and loneliness.

I read Warren Zanes' novel a few months ago when I found out that JAW had been cast as the lead and LOVED IT. He also wrote Tom Petty's bio, which I haven't read yet (but definitely will because I love Petty) and served as VP of the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, back when I still gave a fuck about it.

Zanes' Deliver Me from Nowhere captures that feeling completely. No wonder JAW felt compelled to play that part.

Nebraska, Springsteen's album (1982) was his 6th studio album and followed the widely successful and critically acclaimed album: The River and it was off-beat compared to its predecessors because it contained darker and more solemn lyrics but most importantly because The Boss lived up to his nickname and fought his Record label at the time (Columbia Records) refusing to tour to promote it. As a result the album only reached number 3 in both USA and the UK.

Bruce was going through a lot and having a hard time coping with fame and struggling to balance his personal life with his career, re-defining what the concept of "success" meant for him.

The book goes over that struggle and inner turmoil, it says it got to the point where the album was recorded by a Springsteen who literally couldn't get outta bed to do it. It was recorded in his bedroom.

The author says:

"Nebraska is the recording that matters the most in Bruce Springsteen's career. But not because of the hits it contains or it's renowned or because of its generation of young people played it on repeat while they searched for themselves in bedroom mirrors. It needs a different measure. Springsteen made the record when he was the object of tremendous expectations. (...) They were waiting for Born in the USA and that's not what they got, the truth was that Springsteen was a little lost."

Again, no wonder JAW got cast for this role.

I wish nothing but the best for him and I expect nothing but the best from his performance. I'm sure that it must be terrifying for him having to sing for the first time but the way I see it only 2 outcomes can come outta that: either he rocks or he's dubbed by The Boss himself who rocks even harder, so I'm cool.

This is the beast JAW has to tame (And make it relatable, moving, and hopefully award-winning):

The album's reverb-laden vocals and mood combined with dark lyrical content have been described by music critic William Ruhlmann as "one of the most challenging albums ever released by a major star on a major record label"

Source: Wikipedia.

I'm positive he can do it and I'll be there, watching and crying as he does.

Remember to follow my tag #Gingerpovs 💋

[toweroftickles]

Reimagined Tickling #5

Fairy Tail/The Legend of Korra

A lot of times when I see a tickling scene in a movie or TV show, I imagine how fun it would be to see other characters in those same situations. You know, like "Oh I wanna see X character get tickled like that." So I thought I'd try writing a few drabbles where I'll take a famous tickle scene and reinterpret it with new characters in new settings.

This one was a request from my readers! Let’s see how Avatar Korra fares, living through Lucy Heartfilia’s torment from Virgo.

This story takes place during TLOK Season One.

Late-night puddle droplets splished into the air and drenched Korra’s heavy tundra-camel boots with every thunderous step. The brickwork backstreet was too crowded for her to use her bending arts safely, but she wasn’t going to let her target escape.

“Hey! Get back here!!” she shouted.

Through the window of Narook's Noodlery where she and her Fire Ferrets celebrated, Korra had spied the girl outside...a scrawny little scarecrow, couldn't have been more than 10 or 11, all in seaweed-colored rags of ill fit, with tufts of bright orange plumage shooting out from beneath her aviator goggles. She'd been struggling to remove the hubcaps from Asami’s car. A street rat kid rummaging for auto parts? Probably part of the Badgermole Triad. Well, if Officer Lin was too busy with “important city matters” to deal with them, Korra would do it herself.

The Avatar pushed and shoved her way through the crowd, lagging behind a diminutive thief who had the ability to simply slip underneath the sea of legs. For a moment, her pursuit was blocked by a busy traffic intersection...the girl was already across the street and fleeing fast...but Korra quickly dodged and flipped between the charging vehicles. As one car pulled out into the road, milliseconds before crashing into it, she vaulted legs-first over the engine hood, a blast of air propelling her along to the sidewalk on the other side, and the squeeeaaeeaaaky slide over hot metal nearly rubbed her butt-cheek raw.

"GET OUTTA THE STREET, YA MORON!" The pedestrian driver's horn rattled her eardrums.

Yow!! Ow ow ow ow ow! Korra hissed to herself, clutching her sore behind as she ran. (Well…it was more of a limping hop.) Ugh, that’s gonna smart for a while…

The chase led down a limestone alcove, hidden beneath a dumpster behind the Cabbage Corp building, down a wrought iron ladder that bored flakes of rust into Korra’s palms, and into the cyclical catacombs of the Warrens. Why did these dumb squirts have so much energy? She was nearly out of breath and about to call off the pursuit, when she found herself in the atrium of a massive cave.

The city lights above illuminated the red-brown earth floor. All across the sprawling portal were the bodies of countless wrecked vehicles, no doubt used in the illegal racing circuit. Satomobiles and Cabbage Car chassis of all colors littered the pools of light like croutons in soup, their parts creaking and groaning against each other. And at the far end of the cavern, past the musty graveyard of wheels and springs, there stood the kid, her back to Korra, perfectly still.

Was she oblivious, or planning something? Korra wasn't gonna wait to find out. Uncaring about noise or stealth, she charged.

Now I've got you!

Without a turn, without even a sideways glance, the mysterious child stomped a bare and bandaged foot into the dirt.

The ground beneath Korra's feet instantly dropped away like a trapdoor. “WHOA!!!” Korra yelped and tried to stop herself, but her momentum slid her down the ramp-like opening on her heel and carried her right into the maw of this newly-dug pit. She barely had time to steady herself either - as soon as she wobbled to a stable position, four large rectangles of stone, thick as concrete slabs, rose up vertically around her and rushed at her from all angles. On pure instinct she threw her arms out to the sides to block them, and her wrists were greeted by a crushing weight that nearly shattered them to splinters. She winced and shouted as the walls pushed against her hands, boxing her in and forcing their way closer and closer to her, but somehow, her throbbing arms held firm. Her energy was drained from the chase, but eventually, the blocks ground to a slow stop, and the dust settled.

Korra wheezed. Whew. I was almost a pancake. She felt like she was trapped inside a chimney. Unable to clearly see her surroundings, she glanced up to find the little sticky-fingers on the ledge of the trap hole, staring furiously down at her.

"Stop following me!" the kid yipped.

“You’re an earthbender?!”

"Of course I'm an earthbender! Now leave me alone!"

It was this surprise revelation that made Korra pause…this earthen box itself was no problem. One quick push outward and the walls would crumble. Her knees swiveled inward to form a Gong Kiu stance. She furrowed her brow and felt the rock surge beneath her hands, unaware of the sedimentary serpent that approached her.

It started small at first. Tiny granules of sand and crumbled earth all teemed together like a school of krill at the Badgermole recruit’s feet. Then, smoother, rounder stones joined the fun. Soon they all coalesced into the shape of a tentacle, that grew and grew in length until it was large enough to reach over the edge of the crevice and spiral down to the Avatar’s body. It nosed around as if hunting, dancing to its master’s commands, until finally, it lunged.

A sharp blade of air stabbed Korra's throat. All the blood in her face drained into the back of her neck, and she froze, save for her widened eyes, which darted to look at her abdomen. For a split second of terror, she thought she'd been speared. But no. This was worse.

The stone whip that she saw for the first time caressed her stomach back and forth like a tongue, up and down, side to side, between every taut muscle and even around the rim of her navel. It wiggled and poked and wouldn’t stop.

What the - ?!

“Tickletickletickletickletickle!!” the urchin girl’s shrill voice called out.

No. Wait. You’ve gotta be kidding me.

Korra tried to wrestle the urge down into her stomach, but she couldn’t help herself. She simply burst out laughing.

“Wha…d-d’ah! H…Haha! Haha Ha-Ha Ha!” Only for a fraction of a second, her hands slipped downward. But that was enough. Her strength gave way and those rock slabs, commanded by another stomp of the mysterious kid’s foot, pummeled even harder against her arms. They smooshed Korra tighter and tighter ‘til her elbows buckled.

“Ahhhh-ow ow ow OWWWW!!!” Hot thorns of pain cracked her ulnae.

“Heh-Heh Heh! That’s the best trick I ever learned! Not so easy to concentrate on your bending when you’re laughing like a hyena-monkey, is it, Miss Avatar?”

“Ugh! You little brat! Fight me like a real bender!” Korra barked.

But the young thief was merely bemused by this demand. “Hmmmm…” She stroked her chin and pretended to ponder for a moment, before a cruel snaggle-toothed smile grew across her freckles. “Ok!”

The girl threw out her right arm and twisted her wrist so that her fingers faced the ceiling. While those pointed digits wiggled in the air, her left hand made fast swipes like a conductor's baton, and her feet drew concentric circles on the ground. Korra had never seen bending like this. She would’ve been more curious...if her thoughts weren’t distracted by the craggy tentacle that was now wiggling underneath her left armpit.

“D-don’t!! Haha-Ha! Ha-Ha Ha-Ha!! *gasp* Huh! Quihit it! Nooo, crahap; why don’t I cover thohohose?!” This was humiliating. Why tickling?!

With every tiny stumble of her hands, the rocks pushed in closer. A few more slip-ups and she'd be crushed. Now she was starting to panic.

“Are you ticklish here? Or here? What about there? You’re gonna beg for mercy before long!”

The pebbles in the strand climbed over one another and traced serpentine patterns along Korra’s jaw, dragging their tiny rigid edges against the underside of her chin…down her neck…deep in her collarbone…drilling into the left armpit, and then the right…down her back…scrawling between each individual rib…once it even burrowed itself into the back of her knee, twisting and wriggling against a painfully vulnerable spot of skin. Every time Korra attempted to contort her body away from the rock-and-sand tendril, it leapt with lightning speed to another one of her softest pressure points, each more weak and sensitive than the last.

“Kitchie kitchie coo! Ah-Kitchakitchakitchakitchakitchakitchakitcha!” That nasal baby-talk was really starting to grate.

“PFFHA-HA HA-HA……nnnnn!! ….GkKHaha-Ha! *hic* Ha-Ha Ha-Ha Ha-Ha!! D…Dahamn it! Haha! Huh-Huh Ha-Ha Ha!! R-HA-hocks…rocks are supposed to be sharp; they’re not s’posed to tickl-hl-hl-ha!!”

Korra’s arms trembled in their sockets. Only a single cubit’s length separated the two walls that sandwiched her…all her strength was sapped out…gravel was practically sanding down her ears…

“Had enough yet?”

All of a sudden, the tickle whip backed off. Korra bent over double in a struggle to catch her breath. Pools of achy misery swam through her ab muscles. A single bead of sweat drizzled its way down the bridge of her nose as she huffed and puffed.

“Hmmm…this isn’t working,” the pint-sized pilferer pouted with folded arms.

“Uhhh…Wha…what do you mean?” the Avatar moaned and raised her head. Particulates of sand were slithering up the side of the crevice and back to their commander. “Why’d you stop?”

“Hmf. Well I wanted to punish you for chasing after me. But you’re enjoying it.”

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU THIS IS TORTURE!!” Korra might not have been a direct branch on Aang and Katara’s family tree, but she sure could channel her Water Tribe forebear’s explosive frog-mouthed temper. Tenzin was rubbing off on her.

Before she could protest further, the stone walls around her dissolved back into the ground as quickly as they’d sprung up. With nothing to push her palms against, Korra was suddenly thrown off-balance and, with her arms windmilling wildly, she toppled backwards like a chopped-down tree.

CRASH!!

It was a good several seconds before she managed to push herself up off the soil again. A heavy pulse thump-thump-thumped all the way from her hips to her throat. Her arms felt like jook pudding.

“Ugh…yep. Still smarts. Landed right on it,” she groused, to no one in particular. Korra didn’t have to climb out of the quarry to realize that her quarry was long gone.*

Great. Just great. She galavanted off halfway across the city, ditched her friends, bruised her ass, got lost in the Underground, nearly broke her arms, and got tickled mercilessly, just to fail at catching a poor kid who didn’t actually steal anything from them. Brilliant, Korra. She groaned and pinched her eyebrows, her mouth in a stubborn frown.

Slowly standing and dusting herself off, Korra limped up and out of the hole. In the midst of wondering how to explain this one to the team, one more terrible realization struck her.

"Aw, crap...

…I didn't pay my check."

*Why yes, I AM very proud of that sentence, thank you. (gets hit with a shoe)

********

[adventures-in-moderating]

Just outta pure curiosity, are there any ships from the fandom that you do like/tolerate

(not asking if you’re gonna put them in the comic and sorry if this was already asked)

Yes, I like plenty of ships! For one, I actually do like Padlock. I just didn't like the Sexy Murder Gijinka version when I was an angry 19-year-old. As you can probably tell, I really enjoy Tony/Coffin because Tony having a big silly crush on the actual embodiment of death is equal parts very funny and cute to me. And this may be extra obvious, but I am a big fan of Shrignold/Warren. They truly deserve each other.

Also, like the mature adult that I am, I sometimes ship my OCs with canon characters. I've been getting into Coby/Electracey lately. Also, I still ship Tony/Penny. Just a little.

I'm sorry if I've painted this picture of myself as this bitter ship hater. That's really not the case. I am just an ace-aro who has a weird relationship to the concept of romantic love and enjoys exploring atypical relationships.

[oddtripps]

Warren

Here’s yours stupid ugly worm Mully get tf outta my inbox!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Breaking

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Smut - this is just all smut. Very little plot to the porn here. Rough, intense sex, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving) dirty talk, it's all Yvette's fault.

(x)

Summary: Y/N and Dean play some pool; who's the winner?

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Smut - this is just all smut. Very little plot to the porn here. Rough, intense sex, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving) dirty talk, it's all Yvette's fault.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Y/N

Word Count: 2,510

A/N: @justagirlinafandomworld shared the pic above, and it got me immediately thinking of Dean in his fed suit, and all the filthy thoughts began swirling.

So, here ya go - enjoy the dirtiness! 😁

The beautiful dividers below at the bottom were created by @talesmaniac89.

Main Masterlist || Tag Lists

“What are we doing here, Winchester?” Y/N asked once again as they stepped through the thick wooden door that led them back into the bar they’d been in earlier in the day.

Dean flicked the lights on, casting a pale bluish tint over the room from the neon sign that sputtered to life over the bar. 

“I don’t get it." Y/N exclaimed, clearly confused. "Did Warren say there was still a problem? Is the ghost back somehow? Did he see something?”

Dean shook his head as he locked the bar door behind himself, and wandered up the three stairs leading to the pool tables. 

“Nope. He’s good, very grateful that he can reopen the bar tomorrow without fear of his patrons being taken out by a homicidal ghost.”

Y/N threw her hands up with an exasperated laugh. “Then I’m gonna ask for the fourth time now, why are we back here?”

Dean started pulling the pool balls up out of the pockets around the table, and rolling them onto the red felt top. 

“I just asked Warren if we could borrow the bar for tonight. Thought maybe we could have a few drinks…” 

He gathered all the balls together at the end of the table, shaping them into a triangle with his arms before putting the rack around them and sliding them into place. “...and I thought maybe I could kick your ass in a couple games of pool.”

Y/N cocked an eyebrow at him. “K, first of all - you wish. Secondly, it’s nearly two in the morning, we are still dressed like feds, and we have a very long drive ahead of us tomorrow. But you have a sudden need to play pool in an empty, recently de-ghosted bar?”

Dean shrugged out of his dark gray suit jacket and tossed it onto one of the wooden chairs nearby. “Yeah, pretty much.” He threw her a challenging look. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? ‘Fraid you’re gonna lose?”

She rolled her eyes and walked slowly up the steps to the pool table. “Not likely, Winchester.”

Dean handed her a pool cue and a wicked grin curved his lips as she took it. “I’ll even let you break, give you a chance to play a bit before I run the table.”

"Yeah right." Y/N scoffed as she grabbed the stick and waved Dean away. “Outta the way, buddy. No crowding my shots.”

They played for the next hour or so, and found that they were very evenly matched. Whoever broke tended to run the table and it was rare that the other person even got a chance to play. 

Neither of them were really playing fair, both determined to distract the other. Y/N was amazed that she was able to play at all with Dean pulling out all the stops in order to blow her concentration. 

He was unbelievably sexy in his crisp white button down and clinging gray dress pants.  His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows allowing her to appreciate the way the long, corded muscles in his forearms rippled as he held the cue in place and then drove it home, sinking ball after ball. His strong, thick fingers wrapped around the end of the stick, guiding the shot, and all Y/N could think about in those moments was how incredible those massive hands and hard fingers would feel pressed into her skin.

Not to be outdone, she made sure she was giving as good as she was getting. She innocently ran her hand down his arm as she moved past him. And while he was lining up the eight ball for the far corner pocket, she was on the other end of the table and made sure to lean forward and put her elbows down, giving him a perfect view down the front of her blouse to the top of her lacy white bra. He completely shanked the shot and the cue ball veered off to give her a clear line of sight to push the eight ball into the side pocket.

At the end of four games they were tied at two apiece. Y/N walked around the side of the table to stand close to him. She grinned up at him. “Whaddya say, Winchester? Tie breaker?”

Dean smiled down at her, a friendly challenge in his his expression. But she swallowed at the look of heat that also lingered in his eyes. “Wanna make this interesting?”

She laughed softly and swayed toward him a little. “Haven’t you been interested so far?” 

He licked his lips and her gaze fell, irresistibly, to his mouth. He shrugged. “I just thought maybe we could use this chance to finally get it out in the open.”

She frowned. “Get what into the open?”

“How much you want me.”

Y/N was silent for a moment before forcing a laugh and sputtering at him. “You’ve sure got a shit ton of hubris, buddy, if you think -”

“And how fucking desperate I am for you.” Dean cut in, his voice low and full of grit.

Y/N was silenced and it seemed as though they stared into each other for an eternity, the tension growing thick and palpable between them.

Y/N shook her head.  “I thought we agreed not to bring sex into this.”

“Into what?”

“Into this, us, our friendship.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “I definitely don’t remember agreeing to that.”

Y/N bit into her bottom lip, trying to get her body under control while it was screaming a resounding yes, desperately trying to make her stop talking.

Her voice was soft. “It was kind of a silent agreement, I thought, because we know just how dangerous our lives are, because of how complicated everything already is, and because the last thing we need is to possibly fuck up our really good thing by sleeping together.”

Dean stepped closer to her, crowding her back, so her ass colided with the table. “I have no intention of sleeping, and if we had some kind of silent contract?...”

He brought his hands up to grip the sides of her pale pink blouse. “...how about we break it?” With those words he ripped open her shirt, tearing the fabric and scattering buttons across the floor.

Y/N gasped and then stopped breathing as he dragged his blunt fingernails down the valley between her breasts and over her exposed belly, raising goosebumps in his wake. His other hand found the zipper at the side of her pencil skirt and slowly slid it down, allowing the skirt to fall and pool at her feet.

He took a half step back so he could see all of her. “Fuck, Y/N. Say we can break it, say you want me as bad as I want you.” 

He stepped back close as he slid his hand over her satin-clad pussy, groaning at the hot, wet mess he found there. “Christ, baby, let’s break it.”

Y/N moaned deeply at the feel of his middle finger rubbing at her clit through her soaked panties. “Fuck it. Yes, Dean, god, fucking break me.”

Dean barely let the last word out of her mouth before he crashed his mouth to hers, and slipped his hands around to her back so he could unhook her bra. He wrenched it from her body and tossed it across the room. He tore his mouth away from hers so that he could slide his lips down her trembling body.

He captured her nipple between his teeth and tugged. Y/N plunged her hands into his hair as he continued to lick and nip at her skin. As he flicked the tip of his tongue back and forth against the puckered bud he pushed her panties down over her hips. They fell on top of her skirt and she stepped out of both, kicking them aside. 

Dean grabbed hold of her waist and lifted her up onto the pool table. The soft red felt rubbed deliciously against her bare skin as he pushed her back to lay across it. He pushed her knees up towards her head, before pressing them wide open, his eyes glittering at the feast in front of him. 

He turned his head so he could press his lips against her ankle, holding on to her spiky high heel to guide her foot to his mouth. Her heels were strappy and black and Dean twisted his tongue between the straps and then up her calf before turning to her other foot and doing the same. 

As he reached her knee, he began to nibble and lick his way up her inner thigh. When he reached the apex, he slid his hands under her hips and lifted her so that he could easily bury his face in her cunt and begin feasting. His mouth was luscious and felt like absolute sin as he sucked and bit and soothed her overheated pussy. 

She was moaning and writhing within minutes, yanking on his hair and staring feverishly at the look of rapture on his face as he consumed her. As he brought her to the peak, he pushed her over the edge by moaning deeply, harshly, the vibrations against her clit causing her to scream and slam her knees closed around Dean’s head. She pressed her tiptoes against the pool table as her hips spasmed, and her cunt rocked against Dean's mouth.

As she came down she was barely aware of being manhandled off the table to stand on trembling legs for a moment before Dean spun her around and bent her over the table. She laid her hands flat, her elbows bent as Dean pushed his big palm between her shoulder blades and kept her pinned there. 

She heard his belt buckle and felt the back of his hand rub against her cunt as he opened his belt and pulled down his zipper. Seconds later she heard a thick, squelching sound and cried out at the feeling of being stuffed full, as Dean drove deep and hard into her soaked pussy.

He stayed still for a minute, the wide head of his cock pressed so deep, she could feel him tight against her cervix. She tried to wiggle her ass against him, tried to move her hips to bring about the delicious friction she was craving from him, but he wouldn’t have it. The fingers on his right hand dug into her hip and held her fast. 

“Please, Dean.” She begged. “I need you, I need you so bad, fuck me, break me, I need to feel you so deep, so hard.” Her lust was making her crazy and she reached her arm back towards him, trying to feel some part of him, trying to urge him on.

Dean grabbed hold of her elbow as she reached back, and then took hold of the other one, bringing them together behind her. He folded them over the middle of her back and crushed them between their bodies as his weight held her down against the felt table top, pulling out and slamming back into her body. 

“Unf! Fuck Y/N, you’re so fucking tight, so sweet, just like I knew you’d be.” 

He pulled out of her body, and then looked down at where the head of his cock was spreading her open again. “Fucking take it, every fucking inch, I know you can do it baby.” He growled at her before he slammed deep and hard again, rocking her against the table so hard, she knew the front of her thighs would be bruised from the hard wood. 

It felt like an invasion, in the best possible sense, as though he was ripping her apart, filling her up so tight that he was leaving no room for any man to ever satisfy her again.

Yet no matter how hard and how fast, and how deep he filled her, she needed more, needed him to rearrange her insides, leave every piece of himself with her, fill her so full with his seed that she’d feel him dripping out of her for days.

“Fuck me apart, Dean. Fuck me so I can’t walk, cant move without feeling you.”

She cried out as he rocketed against her cervix so hard it hurt, but so good. “Fucking, break me, break me.” She panted against the red felt of the pool table.

Dean let go of her forearms and grabbed hold of her upper arms so he could piston his hips into her while using all his strength to slam her back against him, getting miraculously deeper and pounding into her like a machine, hammering against her until she screamed her release and went limp beneath him.

He rammed into her exhausted, boneless body a few more times, taking extreme pleasure in just how fucked out she was, how she was barely able to whimper as he finally exploded into her body with a roar.

He fell across her back, and breathed hot and damp against her neck, both of them silent for a few minutes. Finally he pulled out of her, his spent cock still twitching slightly at the sight of Y/N bent over and fucked so good, his cum trickling out of her cunt to run slick and shiny down her thighs.

He tucked himself back into his pants, realizing he’d never even undressed. “Stay there a minute, sweetheart.” He told Y/N and chuckled when all she could offer in response was a slight moan.

He ran behind the bar and grabbed a clean rag, wet it in the sink there, and then grabbed a couple of beers too. When he got back to her he used the clean cool cloth to wipe up the sticky mess on her skin and then scooped up her unresisting form and carried her over to the little, leather couch that sat in the corner of the bar.

He sat down with her in his arms and tucked her close before he pulled off her beer cap and held it to her lips. Her eyes fluttered open and she took a long drink, licking her lips when he took it away.

She reached up and trailed her fingers along his cheek, rasping her nails through his scruff. He didn’t like to see the uncertainty that was moving back into her eyes as she began to recover. She sucked her swollen bottom lip into her mouth, her expression cautious.  

“So…” Her throat was raspy from her cries of pleasure, and she cleared it before continuing. “So, what happens now?”

Though Dean was nervous too, about what the future would hold for them, he smiled reassuringly at Y/N and kissed her slowly and sweetly. 

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’d say we both won that round, which means we’re tied again.” He smiled wickedly at her and was happy to see an answering grin wreathe her face. “Meaning, we’ll have to try again and see if we can’t break it.”

1 - Jensen RPF + Any/All characters Jensen plays.

@lyarr24

@deans-spinster-witch

@impalaslytherin

@maggiegirl17

@akshi8278

@candy-coated-misery0731

@nt-multi-fandom

@deanswaywardgirl

@slytherinlyn314

@globetrotter28

@jensensgirl

@perpetualabsurdity

@tristanrosspada-ackles

@djs8891

@muhahaha303

@kayyay1219

@emily-winchester

@recoveringpastaaddict

@mimaria420

@sacriceria

2 - Dean Winchester Fics Only.

@saikosheadcanons

@lgranger67

@carryonwaywardgirl

3 - Any/All Fics (regardless of fandom/character.)

@sunshineandwings86

@kazsrm67

@sexyvixen7

4 - Everything (includes fan vid/DOOL edits as well)

@unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men

@awkward-and-indecisive

@maliburenee

@supernatural4life2022

@spn730015

@b3autyfuldisast3r

@kickingitwithkirk

@waywardbaby

@foxyjwls007

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@deandreamernp

@deanwithscissors

@myloversgone

@snowlovespie

@leigh70

@all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

@charred-angelwings

@hopefuldreamers-world

@mysherlock221b

@jensensgotyoudean

@stixnstripesworld

@thoughts-and-funnies

@magssteenkamp

@norman1967

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@eevvvaa

@mishkatelwarriorgoddess

@deepsketchsupernaturalcowboy

@b-i-t-c-h-i-e

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@waynes-multiverse

@mrsjenniferwinchester

@bernasaurus

@jensenslady79

@courtn92

@avanatural

@ellie-andthemachine

@this-is-me19

[nightwhisperrs]

The Meeting

"Thrayla lived part of her life as a dutch rabbit, living in the farm. That was until the rabbits of Watership Down warren came to free the dutch rabbits as an offer to let them join the warren, including Thrayla. That means living the rest of her life in the forest."

-----------------------------------------------

I've had a thought of giving Thrayla, my WSD oc (a dutch rabbit breed), a start of not just joining the WSD warren to meet the rabbits as her new friends, but start having her bond with Fiver as best friends since Fiver is my most favorite character from the franchise. While Thrayla has an energetic, silly, and positive personality, this outta get interesting. 😄 So this thing is like a fanfic, which i haven't done one before. 👀 And i am looking forward to see how this will turn out! 🤔

Also, i want to design Blackberry and Bigwig smth that fits both the color scheme from the movie, and the TV series.

[mercurygray]

Random fic ask: a plot point in any of your fics that you ended up scrapping or recycling into a new idea

I have...a lot of outtakes from The Darkening Sky. (It was four years, guys, there was a lot of time for outtakes.)

In one of the earlier scenes I wrote (August of 2020), I was going to have Lee Miller cover the Girl Gang when they ended at the Eagle's Nest, and I was going to have Joan do a version of Lee's famous picture in Hitler's bathroom. Joan was then going to ask the photographer to share proof photos of the shoot (in which she is artfully naked) with Dick.

I'm not sure what I was going for with that idea. Both of these characters are famously tight-lipped about their emotions, and to be honest, I don't think it would have worked to get him to make a move or talk more. I think I imagined that Joan felt she needed to give Dick some kind of very tangible sign that she trusted him implicitly.

By the time I got to Germany, Dick and Joan's relationship didn't need that moment - they'd had a lot more moments a lot earlier in the story where Dick got a chance to reflect on how much he admired her and show that he trusted her and she trusted him. I'd also learned a little bit more about Lee Miller and didn't think I'd be writing her very accurately to be doing a puff piece on Joan at the end of the war. (There was also a lot of missing infrastructure around developing and printing the photos that I didn't feel like I could handwave through.) So the scene was cut, the photos never appeared, and Lee Miller's part was given to @shoshiwrites' war correspondent OC Jo Brandt, who'd already made an appearance in an earlier part of the piece and could be relied upon to have a sympathetic view of lady lieutenants in the paratroopers. Some of the original article copy was recycled into the final draft, but much of it went in the wastebin.

--

I'm gonna wash that man right outta my hair: Lt Joan Warren, 101st Airborne, was one of the first Americans to see Hitler's famous Eagle's Nest. Satisfied with the view, Warren did what any sensible soldier would after a hard three years' work - she took a bath. The lieutenant's boots give the reader some idea of how well deserved this is.

Her boots were, indeed, right there at the side of the tub - tired, well-broken jump boots that looked, in the tiled elegance of the bathroom, very sad indeed, her equally battered uniform in a neat pile on the floor next to the boots.

It was a tasteful picture, not...sensational, or designed to titillate. Joan was simply sitting  in the tub, head resting against her knees, a woman finally allowed to rest after the long labors attested to by the boots.

Lt Warren is the rarest of a rare breed, a female officer in the parachute infantry, and she has earned her stripes, with jumps in Normandy and Holland, and has been wounded twice. The last three years have not been filled with luxuries, or comforts - the soap she used was a sliver in a small tin tray, as GI as can be, and the only pretty thing in her bunkroll is a silk scarf, patterned in leopard, which she says all her girls in the parachute regiment wear as a badge of honor, in nod to the Amazons they are. No man owns one, she says, though it is the view of this correspondent that, like the swapping of class pins, the possession of such a scarf will soon be a sought-after prize, much like the woman who gifts it.

More of Miller's photos followed, the Easy Company officers on the veranda, a box of booze in the middle of their meeting, more shots of the house, in all its splendor, looking out onto the peerless beauty of the alps. An almost candid shot showed Speirs and Nixon playing chess with the mountains behind them. Miller had captured them at their finest hour, conquerors in their castle, not a man among them sad. It seemed a strange sight, that they should all be smiling, after all they’d seen and done.

...

The photographs were several iterations on the same theme - Joan’s head in different directions and from several different angles, each trying to capture the elusive glimpse of a hero finally at rest. But the last - the last was - was Joan … before she’d gotten in the bath, stark naked, head tipped forward as she massaged some kink in her neck, knee slightly knocked to one side. There were the scars along her arm where she’d gotten pinked in Holland, and the ugly pucker along the side of her leg where that shell had practically laid her open, not quite the now-traditional Easy Company shot in the ass, but close. Three years on Army rations had left a woman who had never been given to overeating a lean, whipcord look, better-fed than some of the DPs they’d seen recently but not by much. And ...she was beautiful. His fingers brushed the line of her back, the curve of her buttocks, remembering what she’d said in Paris about being painted naked, remembering how unsettled the idea had made him. And here she was - not painted, but photographed, a thing to be admired, desired, wanted.

And, god in heaven, he wanted her. His body was becoming slowly electric with it -- before he remembered, chillingly, that he still had an audience - an audience, now that he looked up, that was contemplating him with a pleased smile, the look of a woman who knows she has  done something to disquiet the stoic man of war. 

“What she’s picked is fine,” he said, shoving the pictures furtively back into the envelope and handing them back to Miller - but the War Correspondent wouldn’t take them.

“I asked her first,” Miller said with a smile, in answer to his unspoken accusation. “She saw them all. She knew I was coming here to get your permission for the article copy, and she wanted you to see those, Major.” 

The thought of Joan sending these into his hands momentarily made him weak. She wanted you to see them, Dick. She wanted to be seen.  “A soldier has very little privacy, Correspondent Miller,” he said, forcefully. “Take them back. Please,” he added, as an afterthought. “No one under her command can -” no one under her command can see them, I shouldn’t have seen them, I cannot have these in my trunk or on my person. He was being reminded, violently, of inspections at Toccoa, and Sobel going through their footlockers, pornography, contraband, and the sly, slimy smile as, going through the women’s things, he’d held up a garter belt, nonregulation clothing, contraband. I’ll keep this, and the woman from whose trunk it had come paled under his eye.

“Suit yourself.” She took back the envelope and fastened the flap shut. “She really is a keeper, Major. If you don’t get that, someone else will.”

[dinosaurwithablog]

Jazz Chisholm Jr. hits his second home run of the day for the second day in a row to give us the lead in this game. Un fucking believable!!! Multi homer run game to the second power!! And a three run home run to boot. Spectacular!!! He's making quite a positive impact on his new team. Wow!!! I love this guy. Officially, I love this guy!! He's living up to all the hype about him and more. Thank you, Jazz. We needed this. This is gonna give Will Warren his first win on the day of his MLB debut!! The kid deserves it because he did really well considering the outrageous pressure and position he was put into. Jazz is the first Yankee to have 4 home runs in his first 3 games with the ball club!! Nice record. Now, if Boone's bad decision to put Lemahieu in the game as soon as we get ahead doesn't derail us, we'll be fine. Really? Is Boone betting against my team? It sure seems the way. It's a valid question, Boonie. Someone trade him, please 🙏🏼 now back to the joy!! Let's go Yankees!!!!!

Prediction.... it's the bottom of the 8th so DJ will get an out. I hope that I'm wrong 🙏🏼 past performances indicate that the odds are in my favor, unfortunately. Good luck, DJ

Let's go Yankees!!!!!

Tied game... DJ is up... it's an out. What a concept. I'm shocked 😲 the only reason that they let him bat and don't just give us an out is because the opposition might get a double play. Phooey

[prager-lover]

 uCat Fight

Recoms 

Did I see @idkjupiterdraws post about this and cry of laughter? Yes. Go check out their blog its funny as shit

Content Warning: Fist fighting between 2 blue kitties, swearing, egging on violence, Quaritch acting like a dad

a/n Bro dont even got waves but for the sake of the fic he does

Brown should have left it alone

He should have shut the fuck up and went to bed but no, his ass just wanted to start trouble. You know, you cant blame him, he's bored out of his mind. That explains why he started bugging Lopez. Now, Lopez was a very "dont fuck with me or i'll slap the shit outta you" kind of guy. Thats what made him such an easy target for Brown.

"Hey kitty cat."

He walked up to Lopez who was trying to sleep on a chair, flicking his ear which responded with a twitch. Lopez opened his eyes with a jolt. All of the recoms were sitting in a common area, there was nothing to do but sit alone in your room, so why not hang out with people you knew? There were six sets of bunk beds, one for each of the recoms. Fike, Prager, Walker, Zhang and Warren were dozing off, tails swishing lazily. Whoever designed the space made a bad decision for a shared sleeping quarter, because nothing but trouble was sure to come of it. Ja was playing cards with Mansk, Z-Dog and Lyle. The Colonel was off in his private room, probably doing paperwork despite how late it was.

Lopez closed his eyes again after giving Brown a glare, trying to gain his peace back. Brown wasn't having it. He snuck up behind him and gave his tail a little yank. With a startled yelp, Lopez jumped from his seat. The noise woke up Warren, who had fallen asleep on a bottom bunk.

"What the fuck man." Lopez hissed.

"Sorry kitty cat." Brown jumped back from Lopez, who had kicked his leg out in hopes of tripping him.

“Watch who you’re talking to tú pinche raton.” Lopez walked towards him now. The two of them had moved to almost the middle of the room, circling each other like they were in a ring. Brown was still smiling when Lopez hissed at him, a low and dangerous sound. Every pair of eyes were on them now, but they all knew better than to get inbetween them. Lopez was feisty, he wouldnt stop a fight just because someone tried to intervene. Lyle gave Mansk and Z-dog a look. Were they actually gonna fight? 

“Here kitty kitty.” Brown lunged at Lopez, yanking harder on his tail this time. Lopez caught his arm and twisted it behind his back. The room erupted in to cheers. Ja climbed onto a high bunk with Prager. “We got the front row seats man.”  They had all been a bit antsy, no one was used to sitting around doing jackshit for so long so this was a welcome burst of energy. Brown snarled as he fell to the ground, using his leg to kick Lopez in the tailbone.

 “Cmon little bitch hit me.” Brown was laughing. Z-dog was laughing with Walker, but Mansk was still sitting at his table counting cards, thinking about how he didn't need this shit right now he just wanted to sleep. Lopez had managed to kick Brown off him, and in an instant they were standing again. they had their arms raised, but it was Lopez who hit first. Square in the nose, the crowd sucked in their breath.

“FUCK HIM UP LOPEZ.” Was met with a mix of “STRAIGHT THROUGH BROWN CMON.” The room was chanting for their sides, laughing while the two fought. Lyle had left the room but no one noticed. Lopez pulled the back of Brown’s shirt over his head, making him fold forward.

“GOT YOU, HIJO DE PUTA.” He laughed, tongue darting out of his mouth. He managed to rip Brown’s shirt off. Quite literally, it had ripped at the sleeves. Brown looked at it, nose bloody, his face frowned for a moment. 

“I actually liked that shirt asshole.” Lopez faltered for a second. The fuck he mean he liked that shirt? He owned 5 copies of the exact same damn shirt. With him distracted, Brown pulled Lopez into a headlock and roughly started knuckle dusting his hair. 

“WHERE’RE YOUR WAVES NOW BITCH?” He yelled, spinning in a circle to disorient him. The Latino snarled again, clawing at Brown’s arm, screaming curses in Spanish. Everyone was yelling and chanted for their team, it would only be a matter of time until someone ran into the room thinking some rogue Na’vi had infiltrated base. Lopez pushed his waist into Brown and used all his body weight to pull him over his shoulder. Fike let out a startled sound when Brown’s body hit the floor with a loud thunk that moved a deck of cards on the nearby table. 

“Y’ALL ARE GONNA GET US IN TROUBLE SHUT THE FUCK UP.” 

No one listened to him, this physical altercation was too funny. Both of the boys ears were flat against their skull, teeth bared like viperwolves. Lopez again lunged at Brown, knocking him to the ground. He began punching Brown again right as the door flew open.

“What in the ever-loving FUCK is going on in here.” A loud southern drawl called out, pissed off beyond usual. Shit it was the Colonel. He walked in the room, bending down so he didn't hit his head on the door frame, which was much lower than the ceiling. On his tail was Lyle, who's big eyes were scanning the room guiltily. Lopez looked up to see Quaritch’s angry face staring daggers at him. The colonel moved towards him as Brown’s head hit the floor, letting out a whimper as it did. Quaritch pulled both of them up by their ears, their whines filling the now dead silent room. 

“ I LEFT, FOR HALF A GOD DAMN HOUR.” He was yelling at them, making a passing by scientist jump in fear. “AND I COME BACK TO A DAMN CAT FIGHT.”

His ears were flat as he berated the two of them, who looked at their shoes sulkily. “That's it. All of you,” He turned to look at the others, who had been watching him with big eyes, surprised by how paternal he was acting, even as their superior. “All of you, in bed. Now.” No one answered for a second, they didn't know if he was joking or not, they were grown fucking adults. “NOW.” The ones not already in a bunk quickly got to one. Z-dog punched Lyle’s shoulder as she passed him. “Snitch.” she muttered. “You too Lyle, you should have stopped them in time.” Lyle turned to his superior, about to oppose but Quaritch’s glare was enough to silence him. His ears drooped as he got into the bunk under Prager, who slapped Lyle’s head as he got into bed, calling him a snitch as well. Quaritch pulled Brown and Lopez to bunks, hoisting Lopez into the top one, who let out a surprised yelp again, but said nothing. The Colonel walked towards the door now, back stiff and arms at his side. He shut off the room lights, now being illuminated by lights in the hallway only. 

“If I hear another peep out of this room tonight-” A few of the recoms started protesting. 

“We’re grown damn adults Colonel what the fuck?” Z-dog called out.

“I didnt even do anything!” Fike said, sitting upright in bed.

“THE NEXT PERSON TO SPEAK CLEANS IKRAN SHIT FOR THE NEXT TWO MONTHS.” Quaritch shouted, his tail jerking around behind him. The room was silent except for Ja shuffling around in his bunk.

“If I hear another sound out of this room tonight, I swear you’ll be wishin’ you never woke up as a recom. Do I make myself clear?” No one answered him, the fear of cleaning up after the Ikrans was too powerful.

“I said, do I make myself clear Marines?”

“Yes Colonel.” Was the surly reply from them all. He closed the door behind him, leaving them in total darkness and silence.

Browns voice came out in a whisper, they could tell he was smiling. “Fuck you Lopez.”

“Que te folle un pez coño.” The room giggled at his reply before Lyle shushed them all.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I like to think im funny. tbh I could have done so much better but oh well, I just wanted to write this because why not. We live on a floating rock. Have a good day, drink water so you don’t die.

[vvmylove]

Lookism 506-508

Ill keep it short, since most of you have already read it.

I miss my babygirls warren and vasco🥰 Someone gets eli and johans emo ass outta here (i still love them)(maybe not eli)

It seems like all of the crews are finally coming together, all to defeat Gun? Nah Im offically on the gun hate train (always hated him)

I MISS CAP GUY OMGOMGOMG 🥰🥰🥰🥰

*starts fucking sobbing* VASCOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO Gun dont you DARE think about touching my pookie wookie zack lee (omw to kill Gun myself)

💀

*coughs so loudly the earth tilts*

AHHHH JAKE IM GONNA GET HIM PREGNANTGUFDBJKSIFUYGFDSHAIYFIYUIOKHVJKLSDJLKF

wait thats it? 3 whole chapters of just the crews sacrificing themselves while fighting gun?

[lloyd283]

Following One-shot, all parties are beginning to converge towards the headmaster, unaware of the Mortal danger ahead. This is Episodes 8-11 of the demon headmaster custom series.

The group at the hospital set out to enter Wales as the closer group move closer to the camp. Blake gets a headache at the camp, unable to recall the day's activities, so he's moved to the infirmary cabin. Warren is busy trying to search for the headmaster whilst the other one's with the bigger crowd. Douxie is concerned about claire's health while she was saving Lloyd in the water at the end of One-shot. She says the time beings tasked her with protecting Lloyd at all costs, leading douxie to ask her to see if someone else can take the task. Zoe's busy in Paris. She decides to astrally connect to conserve energy to norma, hearing another voice all the way in mexico. Norma sees claire in front of her, and asks what the hell's going on. Claire says she wants to transfer Lloyd's protection to her, but norma says they're 3 hours out due to traffic. In three hours, she can. To help, she pulls a nearby prop from a festival of Welsh culture (an old pickaxe used for mining). Warren doesn't find the headmaster but something else, as we enter episode 9.

We return to Lloyd's time in the water, and he's seeing what happened after the basement raid at the sty. The headmaster leaves in a helicopter whilst ground forces survey the basement storeroom. Elsewhere, forger's freeing people, and they comment how a kind part punk, park smart, kind girl's saving them. Yep, remember the original Hunky parker incident was under her time area prior to 2003. (13 years active) Singularity asks her to pursue the headmaster with an operative. After a helicopter pursuit, they actually catch him. They trap him in a box with coloured glass to counter the hypnotism and put him on a ship. During the trip, he has a small crack in the glass made as we now follow current time. The headmaster hypnotises an operative to sabotage the M.A servers to MULTIPLE PLACES before an alarm is raised and the room seals. The ship, the ship, the ship is on fire, and it's going down in the ocean near Mexican borders. Note people like a white and red dot scarf girl and Wait, who the hell is ray hunter?! It's a fun enigma for another day. Anyways, Forger and the operative have to secure the headmaster to not have him escape, so after the ship seperates them, Forger has a choice to make. One indigo ring can keep him intact, but the operator would pay a terrible price. She gives the person the ring to seal the door tighter, but the operative seemingly dies as a result to power it. The crash is massive, and several operatives are lost, and they wonder how they'll rebuild as the demon headmaster took out the M.A. Warren is knocked out before she can reveal the truth of the sight she saw: they're mining gold underneath Wales. As they prepare one final push, every person is hypnotised to mine as a mysterious person finds an opening far away. Robo washes up as the groups converge and enter a O.A blacksite. It's a long night ahead and claire's teaching norma how to harness her powers. Through her help, she casts herself to tomorrow and grabs a piece of familiar gold, leading to a worried face. In the mines, Tyler finds a voice piercing the hypnotism, and asking for directions. We see to end episode 10 that it's marcella Diaz and she's asking for directions outta here.

It's creeping to dawn as the visitor arrives with paradigm and the scientist to help storm the campground. Marcella rises with hidden tactics and meets centi and eli, who's now back as they're geared for combat. Everyone storms the place, and claire finds marcella in a bush, and she says she heard her call. (The other voice she heard) ethan, visitor, and marcella descend as the rest secure the place. The trio attempt to snap them out of it and note Tyler, Blake and Warren missing, as Lloyd sees the headmaster on the stage. The scientist sends a drone to search, finding the pair on a ledge high up and Warren asking for help as the headmaster tells them if they interfere, he'll make both of them jump. Lloyd, he says has something he needs as marcella calls the others below to get to her, quick. The headmaster still wants to complete his One-shot plan and struggled, until lila/cerise told him about your strange behaviours since their last encounter. Lloyd knows how to power the elevator, and for their lives, he'll tell the way. Norma rushes below to the reformed elevator and the herald checks in the lab of the blacksite she's currently using. Lloyd explains he doesn't know as he can't remember certain events and doing so could cause disastrous consequences, so the headmaster begins to hypnotise him, but his pure resistance is causing him pain, like real pain. The visitor's punching a camp worker with ethan holding him back and marcella making distance between them as the visitor says HE Can't. HE Can't what?

"Once upon a time, something terrible happened that caused him to forget certain things. If he ever knew them, we'd all be in trouble!"

Eventually, he gives the information of his own free will, and he collapses on the ground after a loud scream. Surfacing, we see everyone huddled around Lloyd as the headmaster frees the hypnotised people and goes to a scenic mountain near a massive populated festival. Jim calls barbara over, and word begins to travel of Lloyd's condition, reaching many realities and singularity who looks very worried, instructing an operative to call the SAS 141, saying they need to stop the headmaster before he does anything else and Lloyd needs rest.

Ep 11 ends with a link to Chapter 7, season VII, as the herald notices a power surge as we see Lloyd in a dream state and he sees his old love dead on the floor from an internal injury and 'screeching' as it's links to something coming out of a rift at the lab and it's clawing it's way out.

(May edit more detail in future)

[broadraiwrites]

No. 3: SET UP FOR FAILURE Fingerprints | Wrongfully Arrested | "I warned you." Characters: Genevieve Warren (oc), Bryan Danielson, Daniel Garcia Pairing: None Verse: Western Mentions: Jake Hager, Angelo Parker, Ruby Soho, Chris Jericho Trigger Warnings: Domestic Violence, Murder

The truth of the relationship between Jake Hager and his much younger wife Genevieve was the worst kept secret in the tiny prospecting town. They all heard the arguments coming from the ranch at all hours of the night. They saw the way that Genevieve cowered away from her husband when he lost a poker game at the local saloon. ‘Women don't cower away from a man like that for no reason’ they all whispered, but no one stepped in to protect the young girl. For five long years, she was the center of their gossip, but the responsibility of no one.

Until the morning they all heard that little Genevieve was being held in the jail, and her no-good husband was as dead as the townfolk’s dreams of striking it rich. She insisted that she had nothing to do with her husband's untimely demise. As a matter of fact, she had been out of town for the last several days visiting family when she came home to find Jake dead on their living room floor. Sure, she had been making plans to leave Jake, but that didn't mean that she wanted him dead!

“Please, Sheriff Bryan, you gotta believe me!” Genevieve sobbed from the bench inside the cell. “I've never so much as touched a gun in my whole life. I'm terrified of ‘em!”

Bryan eyed the petite blonde carefully from his desk in the corner of the room. “I want to believe you, Genny; truthfully, I do,” he said. Having only taken over as sheriff a few short months before, Bryan Danielson wasn't sure what to make of a case like this one. On one hand, he heard the rumors of the terrible abuse that Genevieve had suffered and wouldn't have blamed her if she had taken matters into her own hands, necessarily. On the other hand, he couldn't imagine that such a small woman could withstand the kickback of a pistol without being pushed back into the living room wall, given where the body had been found. 

“I'm sure that it was hard to live with him sometimes, Genny,” Bryan began. “Especially when he's spending so much of your household funds to go on these expeditions with Jericho and leaving you to keep the homestead running on your own for weeks at a time. No one is going to blame you if you got tired of his abuse, Genevieve. Not a soul in this town is going to blame you if you did what you had to do, but if you can't tell me the truth, sweetheart, you don't leave me with very many options here. People are going to ask me to send you to the gallows for this if we don't have the truth.”

“I am tellin’ you the truth!” the blonde woman insisted through her tears. “I wasn't home; I went up north to stash away some money with my family so that I could get out of here, so that I could get away from him!”

She glanced over to the door at the sound of footsteps, seeing Daniel Garcia enter the small one-room jailhouse. Daniel was the closest neighbor to the Hager homestead and was likely familiar with the level of abuse that Genevieve was suffering on a daily basis.

“You let that poor woman outta there, sheriff,” Daniel spoke, crossing over to the older man. “She hasn't done anything worth being locked up over.”

“Daniel,” the sheriff began, “I know none of us blame Genevieve for what happened last night, but I can't just let her go if she doesn't tell me the truth.”

“She can't tell you what she doesn't know,” Daniel insisted. 

“What exactly do you know about what Genny does or doesn't know, Daniel?”

Taking a deep breath, he glanced back at where Genevieve sat before turning back to the sheriff. The next words out of his mouth were going to change his life in more ways than one. “I couldn't take it anymore, sheriff,” he started to explain. “I could hear her crying from my porch most nights after he was done with her, and no lady deserves to be treated like that. I heard her talking to Angelo's old lady a few weeks ago about leaving town, and... I didn't want him to have the chance to track her down. So, I shot him. I just wanted her to be safe, and I care about her, Bryan. In fact, I think I love her, but if I gotta go to the gallows protecting somebody I love, at least I'll know that I did the right thing and that she'll be safe, even without me.”