#martha the doberman

[emthimofnight]

You totally inspired me to redraw my 6th grade sonic ocs

OMG?????? THESE ARE SO CUTE??? 😍 AAAAAAAH WHY WAS THIS BURIED SO DEEP IN MY ASK BOX?? I absolutely love them!! They are adorable!!! Thank you so much for sharing!

[redux-iterum]

Lynx Continues to Read Survivors and Regrets it Greatly

This one’s gonna be short since this book didn’t have a lot going for it. Obligatory reminder to read my takes on The Empty City and A Hidden Enemy before reading this for something resembling context.

Alpha’s decisions are so all over the place and I have no idea if he’s brilliantly manipulative, erratically fearful, or if he’s puppetted by the authors to do whatever’s convenient for the plot. Considering these are the Erins, I’m thinking it’s the last. 

The Pack is for sure a cult. Towards the end, Lucky criticizes that the Pack did nothing to stop the dobermans from taking the puppies, and Sweet idiotically says he’s “turning on the Pack”. I’d yap on about how stupid this exchange is, but I won’t, since it’s fairly self-evident how stupid this all is.

I’ve noticed this crow following Lucky around. Crows and wolves often scavenge together (and crows have been observed to play with wolf pups), and I can imagine an odd scenario where Lucky has befriended a crow to be his companion. Perhaps this crow would give us insight into crow culture. Mayhaps Lucky, a distant cousin of the wolf, is someone the crows might think to talk to. Alpha, being mothered by a wolf, might display odd attitudes towards crows by disallowing Lucky from talking with his crow in the same way Woundwort discouraged Bigwig from speaking with Keehar in Watership Down.

Lick and Grunt are here. Grunt’s “being born evil” thing is weird and where did he get the notion that dobermans are the best? He witnessed his oh-so-great leader murder her own puppy and then murder his mother, and then later murder his brother, yet he still allies himself with her! If it were me, I’d write him that the negative stereotypes of the Wild Pack get to him and he has a defeatist mentality about his bloodline. “If you all see me as a brutish monster, I’ll be a brutish monster.” Lick would be more optimistic about herself and surround herself with the dogs who support her like Martha and Daisy.

Even then, I’m not sure how one would fix the doberman pack. Dobermans are supposedly very intelligent, much more intelligent than they’re often portrayed (I also watched a kids’ TV show with animal characters where one of the antagonists was a doberman and he too was stupid). I know what Blade’s motivations are—they haven’t been revealed yet—but I don’t know how one would amend her newfound intelligence with her whole thing.

Now that the cast is growing, characters are now fighting for importance. Bella barely got any time to shine in this book, the original patrol dogs have lost their relevance, and everyone who isn’t Alpha, Sweet, or Lucky has been going through a revolving door of being in the spotlight. Lick becoming an important character won’t help matters.

Really bad book overall. It called helicopters “loudbirds” when they resemble dragonflies more.

[exocynraku]

while reading your pinned post I noticed you said you occasionally drew survivor dogs, and I was wondering: who is your favorite dog and what do you think of the series as a whole?

I’ll be honest this is kinda cool for me bc I’ve never seen anyone ever really mention that series and anytime I couldn’t get my hands on a warriors book as a kid I resorted to survivors. while I never got as into the series as one of my old friends did, I’d say it wasn’t bad, my favorite dog was definitely Moon. (and that’s going off of very distant 5 year old memories)

oohhh man probably martha! she's super interesting :) i love her personality so much from what ive read (i havent finished the series :'( cant find arc 1 books 6 :( ill find in eventually, may order it) its been pretty good!! all of the characters are pretty cool, most are pretty well written and the story in genuinely interesting! this is a suuuuper little stupid thing tho that i have with survivors, but i wish there were more interesting dog breeds :P most of them are ones most people (or at least me) have heard of before so its a littttle uninteresting. also sucks that the majority of one of the villains groups (the fierce dogs) are all doberman pinschers WHICH isnt particularly a bad thing but god is it boring :/ hoping i can get more of the books soon and keep reading! ik there are pdfs out there but i dont like reading those

[marvellovegalore]

Loving You

Chris Evans

Synopsis: Chris is over the moon, he's met you and life couldn't be better - you're all he's ever dreamed of and there's nothing you could do to ruin that.

Warning: explicit language, sexual content

No one in your industry would ever consider you difficult to work with, neither mean, arrogant, conniving or calculating. Most would go out of their way to praise you, proclaim their adoration for the movie star of dreams. On the other hand, your previous partners would. Ex-boyfriends that would bravely volunteer to be interviewed about your past relationship would recount their experiences with the same look as a shell-shocked soldier. If they could, they would gather in a support group for those left with deeply affecting, unresolved trauma - left by you.

You would deny it, if you could be bothered; or if the media had declared your heartbreaker ways to be of public interest. Which they are, but you’re largely untouchable therefore they're unreported. A Hollywood starlet, philanthropist, trend setter and tastemaker - alongside with being viewed largely as a sweetheart. Your childhood nannies coming in storming with adulations and saccharine recollections of a sweet and shy child. Friends that are more than happy to celebrate you on social media and fans who fill the internet with high production videos of you strutting on the streets and red carpets cement the idea that you are the moment, and you are loved.

To the world outside of the sphere of your ex-boyfriends, you were the most eligible bachelorette. There was no flaw in sight, no illusion to dispel or enchantment to break; you’re the real deal. Until you get bored, and you need to hurt someone. Because hurt people, hurt people. As the saying goes. There’s no need to go into that - just yet.

So, when Christopher saw you at the 2019 Vanity Fair Oscars after party, he fell head over heels. Your eyes cast a spell on him, and the enchantment was cast by the world’s master mage, you. You barely realised what you did, you were in no mood to flirt or truly fraternise. You were attempting to drown your sorrows of missing out on another Oscar win for the second time - in a mojito glass. You looked spectacular, possibly more than how you looked during the ceremony. But to Chris, your face of indignation looked like the angelic expression of a good second place loser with no hard feelings. He attempted to approach you, but too many people go into his way, they came with unprovoked film criticisms and pseudo interview responses that would get them into the academy board. All he wanted was to see your face up close and know how you spoke when you weren’t being regarded by a crowd of enraptured spectators.

He could see that you weren’t being left alone either, you hadn’t won the Oscar, but you are being treated as if you did. Your eyes bounce off of him every once in a while, but he couldn’t capture your attention - and then you left the party. You hardly made the French exit you were seeking. Stars old and young clamoured to say their goodbyes and kisses on your cheeks. You finally managed to escape. If Chris were to attempt to lie and say that he wasn’t disappointed, a blind woman could have seen right through him. His heart dropped, and he couldn’t explain why - he didn’t even know you.

Some other actor friends managed to drag him to a more intimate after party, the setting hardly intimate. A compound nestled in Hidden Hills, twenty-four-hour security circling the property, of one starlet who presented herself at the beginning of the night but chose an early slumber rather than socialising.

You came in half an hour after him, a miniskirt showing off your incredible legs - which were insured for an absurd amount.

His breath caught in his mouth. You were dressed down, but you looked too incredible to even try and claim you didn’t try. Everyone’s head turned and everyone was captured by the beauty at the door, accompanied by a friend. Your demure appearance fooling everyone into thinking that the attention was unwanted. You grabbed yourself a drink and half an hour later you were still enveloped with a group of equally intoxicated friends.

Though, Chris was determined to get your attention. He grabbed a drink off of the barman and slowly and easily made his way to you. The word ‘chill’ being chanted over and over again in his head. He was dead set on not making a fool of himself. Three steps away from you, glass of mojito clutched in his hands, his anxiety being beaten down and desperately suffocated into his stomach and away from his brain. He goes over his words, and before he finishes walking to you, you turn suddenly.

Your eyes pierce into his, a smirk glossing your lips. “Hi.” Your voice is low, characteristically different from your stage voice - your accent just as strong.

“Hey, got this for you.” Chris thrusts the glass into your unexpectant hand, some of the drink splashing out over the frosted rim. “Hope, it’s not too presumptive of me to have gotten it for you?” His eyes have glossed over, he shifts his weight from one foot to another. You shake your head no, a sweet smile playing at your lips. He’s even easier on the eyes much closer up. “Sorry you didn’t win that Oscar, real shame, I was rooting for you!”

You store it in the back of your mind that this man manages to look like a golden retriever even when he’s several drinks down, “It’s nothing, what does it mean anyway, I’ll still get more jobs in the future.” You take a sip of your drink after he takes a sip of his.

He compliments your eyes, your complexion and goes on an eager rant of how much he admires your capacity for acting. You drink in the adoration diluted by alcohol and take his words with a pinch of salt. After twenty minutes of solid, drunken conversation you’ve moved to a nook shadowed by statues. Your legs next to his on the red velvet sofa. You remark on the class of the artistic statues, clearly purchased illegally from a Mediterranean museum. He barely takes in your words, much preferring to intoxicate himself with the sight of you - and his fifth beer.

You’ve decided that you want him. Badly. But you’ve sussed him out. He’s not just going to be a one-night stand - in the animal kingdom he’s a Golden Retriever, and those aren’t dogs to be messed with. Your last fling was essentially a Doberman pinscher - discardable - but this Chris had to reeled in slowly.

You interrupt his musing about the Boston markets with a kiss.

Your lips smoothly capture his, your lipstick smearing over his lips. His hand presses tightly on the small of your back, arm underneath your waist holding you up higher. Stars explode inside your eyelids and his fingers grip tightly onto your shirt as your tongue licks his bottom lip. Your entry is granted, you lips pressing tighter against each other. Your eyelashes dance over his. Your hands rise to his face, your hands imprinting themselves onto his cheekbones. His hand brushes over the bare skin of your leg, his fingertips tracing the insides of your thighs. A small moan rises from the back of his throat.

The hold you have on him is cemented, you part away from him. You untangle yourself from him and stand up from the sofa, your eyes refusing to look at him, you smooth your clothes and slowly strut away from him.

Chris looks at the fire that you’ve set on his limbs in disbelief, he doesn’t grasp what you’ve just done. Did he do something wrong? Does he smell? No. You just didn’t care for the ceremony of the first ‘after-kiss’ moments.

He doesn’t see you for a year.

You truly are elusive - to the media and him.

He couldn’t get you out of his mind, and the fact that you starred in another award-nominated film did little to help him forget you.

You were curious to understand whether you really enticed him or not. You decided to not pursue that line of questioning, and never bothered to reply to his direct messages. It wasn’t done with the intent of hurting him, you just didn’t care. But life has a way of putting things in your way that deep down you didn’t know you wanted.

--

Nevertheless, here you are, with your boyfriend of a year - Christopher, sat across from you telling you story about his nephew. You simper, your eyes flitting between the sight of him and the view of the sea. The coast of Martha’s Vineyard enraptures you, you drink your wine, eyes steadily moving to the coastal view.

You grew up coming here. Your family often choosing the quiet island to rest in during the late spring holidays. You brought Chris back here to stay at your family holiday home as it’s not too far from his own family home, a perfect last stop after spending the week with his family.

He watches you curiously, his blue irises begging you to let him in to your thoughts. You refuse silently and beckon the waiter. You ask for the bill, it’s quickly on the table and you pay - ignoring Chris’ refusals. You smile at him, for the second time during dinner. He responds in kind, remarking on your bad mood and how he’s glad you’ve cheered up after having some food. He muses on the lovely weekend you’ve had together as you leave the restaurant. Candlelight following you as you make your exit with your hands holding each other tightly, his other hand in his preppy shorts.

You walk slowly, watching the sunset. His arm finding its way around your shoulders. His sweet and intimate embrace enveloping you in warmth. Your heart beats quickly against his bicep as you near your home. Your hands tremble for some reason and you practically sprint up the porch steps after you’ve crossed the gate and walkway, leaving Chris five steps behind you.

You open the door and make a quick beeline for the kitchen in the far back of the house. You enter the pantry, ignoring Chris’ questions of what is wrong. You take a bottle of Rosé out of the wine fridge and forgo pouring it into a glass and drink it straight from the bottle. It tastes incredibly sweet, and Chris finds you eventually in the pantry. He looks at you in surprise as you gulp the drink.

“Everything okay, baby?” He walks to you, his hands failing onto your hips, his adoring eyes almost boring into your soul. You refuse him entry into the pits of your emotions. Steeling yourself against the onslaught of therapy-like talk.

You don’t want him to know that hurt people, hurt people. And that you’re one of them.

You kiss him, silencing his calming words.

His fingers tighten on your sundress. The colour melding with the colour of his fingers. Your lips become one.

You go through the steps of getting out of the pantry in a seemingly choreographed dance, your dance ends in the smaller reception room; your bodies tangling themselves on the rug. Neither of you giving a care to fact that you’re undressing in front of the window overlooking the pool and coast.

The flickers of the setting sun’s rays highlight his now bare chest. He returns his lips to yours in a hypnotising kiss. Your hands dance with the muscles of his back as you caress his skin, his torso vibrating in between your legs with the fervour of his movements. Your dress is ripped off your body. He directs his attention to your right breast, his soft lips caressing your skin. His tongue lashes slowly against your nipple, you fight to hold back your moans as his hand lowers to your pussy. His fingers pushing aside your pants, his fingers sink into you like it’s their second nature. Your head rolls back as he makes love to you with his fingers and his lips lower down to where his fingers are. He licks you where you need him most, his love for you being written inside you with his tongue.

You orgasm. Slowly.

And all that runs through your mind is how much you’ll miss him.

You pull him up to you, you turn over and straddle him. Tasting yourself on his lips as the sun sets even lower. The waves crash against the shore violently as the wind picks up. You lower yourself onto him and start riding him, your hips bucking in an impassioned manner against his. He doesn’t hold back his moans as he caresses your breasts and stomach.

You realised you loved him four months ago, but every time you catch sight of his loving eyes when you’re fucking, it makes you fall in love all over again.

Chris switches and puts you on all fours, he grips your hair in his hands, the rising intensity making him grip you harder. His thrusts are merciless, his spare hand spanking you and stroking, you’re on the cusp of a sensory overload when he turns you over. On your back you have the most beautiful view. A strong ray of sunlight brightening his eyes as he makes love to you. His kisses are tender but intense. His hand grips onto yours, your fingers intertwined and his other hand griping onto your face.

A tear slips out of your eye, you wipe it away quickly. Your increased sensitivity makes the second orgasm come, Chris fucks you through your breathy moans and you throw your head back. Momentarily blinded by the bliss; the pink sky wakes up from the saccharine, cloudy state. Chris orgasms into you with four thrusts.

You push away from him and stand up; you pull on your silky pants. You sigh and leave Chris on laying breathless on the rug. You walk upstairs and enter your room. You use the toilet, wash your hands, have a glass of water and throw on a short black dress. As you pull on your boots Chris enters the room, a smile gracing his lips.

He pulls on some shorts, “Want to tell me what all that was about?” He gives you a confused expression as he lies back against the bed, taking one of the fluffed pillows from behind him and tucking it between his chest and arms.

Hurt people, hurt people.

You turn towards him, facing away from your walk-in closet. “When we fuck, I have to think about other men to get through it.”

His eyes widen alarmingly, he turns to you, the light of the tv making him blue. “Say that again?” The disbelief is almost tangible in his words.

“I feel embarrassed about being seen with you now. I feel I’m just too good for you.” You walk into the closet and you hear him stomp off the bed.

“No, rewind to what you first said.” His voice is louder, his features twisted with confusion and hurt.

“I have to think of other guys to get off,” your eyes connect with his, you don’t look away, you fight the smirk biting at your lips. “I can’t stand the thought of being with you any longer. I’m sick of it.” You grab the suitcase that was packed for you when you were at the restaurant. “Also, you’re not as ripped as you were when we met, there’s other guys that can provide that image for me.”

“Take it back.” The hurt he’s feeling is completely tangible now. “Take it back right now. Right. Now.” His eyes are pleading with you to have mercy.

You've decided that you've gone past the point of no return. “I’d be happy never have to see you or have to hear from you - ever again.” You scan his eyes, your heart swelling with an eerie feeling of pride as his eyes flood with held back tears.

“This must be some elaborate prank— “he chokes on his words, his hands reach for yours, but you step back.

“This year has been tedious, completely boring and I’ve gotten nothing but only ten decent fucks from you.” Not true, and both of you can attest to that, you've had the best sex, your mutual adoration is clear when you make love. So, Chris is at a loss to understand how this is all being said and happening. “I’m off to New York, stay as long as you like or don’t. I don’t care. Have a nice life.” You slip past him.

Taking his heart and soul with you.

He can’t stop the tears from ballooning in his eyes and then trickling down his cheeks.

He must be stuck in a nightmare. He doesn’t know how long he’s been pacing in this closet filled with your clothes, your smell haunting him.

He rushes downstairs and there’s no sign of you. He stumbles outside and there’s no sign of you or your driver. He rushes in to get his phone and calls you. Five times. The sixth time it goes straight to voicemail.

He feels his heart break.

He falls right in the spot he’s in. He vomits his heart out, the pieces being spat out onto the wooden floors. The blood shinning underneath the soft lights of the lamps.

He wants death. Slow and steady death.

——

Part Deux -

[helena-edits-in-real-time]

So @more-comfortable-in-hell​ and I decided to assign pet headcanons to 24 characters because why not...

And now we have a big list with pictures so ENJOY

Jack - he doesn’t have a german shepherd, no, that’s too obvious. instead he has a dog with high maintenance hair, like an afghan hound (named grenade) which he takes care of more than himself. picture it, the dog looking immaculate and Jack just looks his usual self after 24 hours of terrorism. Tony catches him talking to the dog in a baby-voice once, Jack tells him to never speak of it again.

Tony - something cute and energetic, like a jack russell, except when he marries Michelle (and they have kids, because, no, what day 5? what are you talking about?) they get a german shepherd as well

Michelle - like Tony, also has a dog of her own, my personal choice being an akita

but when they get married (and have kids, because, no, what day 5? what are you talking about?) they get a german shepherd as well

George - miniature schnauzer (Hendrix) and rough collie (Connie), see maxwell’s fic

Ryan - corgis, also maxwell’s personal headcanon

Jamey - an albino ball python that she dresses with hats. she brings it to work. Tony hates it with a passion. has put in multiple complaints to Division. George makes sure they never get there, even though, hell, it scares him too, but he’s willing to watch Tony freak out 

David Palmer - A big doberman that despises Sherry’s chihuahua

Milo - a nice, big, friendly dalmatian, plus a cat

Nina - while she’s in LA, she has a hairless cat, when she flees to go live in mexico, she gets a hairless dog to accompany it

Chloe - undeniably a cat person

Edgar - a yorkshire terrier that he adores but is evil to everybody else except him

Curtis - much like Jack, secretly cares a lot about the appearance of his dog, ergo, poodles

Audrey - a maltese shih tzu, something she can take with her when she has to travel

Charles Logan - typical villain, long-haired white cat that Martha hates

Martha Logan - adopts a frenchie with Aaron Pierce, they also have horses

Morris - cane corso that he enjoys dressing up

Renee - a husky/lab mix, something she can go for a run with

Bill - a bernese mountain dog plus a big-ass toucan he finds on a mission and illegally harbours in his retirement house with Karen. he teaches it to swear and she hates it.

Allison Taylor - two siamese cats she lets roam around the oval office

and finally...

Barry Landis - goldfish (derogatory)

[oc-and-stories-creator]

My first OC

Oscar Turner

Age 27 years old

Birthday: 13 August 1993

Nationality: American

Languages: English

Gender: Transgender man (He/Him)

Sexuality: Gay (MLM)

Likes: Classic music, Classic Rock (Queen), Modern music, Animals (he has 2 doberman's Sasha and Lira), Movies (Marvel movies: Favorite character from MCU: Loki „I identify with Loki a little bit, because he is misunderstood and judged by people he loved”), Human rights

Dislikes: Animal abuse, transphobia, homophobia, racism („Every human is beautiful, do not listen to a**holes, they are stupid, they don't have something important called brain”)

Hobbies: Musician (for singing he uses his voice and a guitar) and sometimes he is a criminal

Personality: Very friendly, respectful, but be careful if you say something inappropriate you need to run how fast you can („I'm a extrovert, but be careful with your words, because I don't think you want to see my anger”)

Surgeries: Top surgery (at 22 years old), hysterectomy (at 24 years old)

Other informations: He stared testosterone at 22 years old, after his parents died he was supported by his grandmother (Martha Turner)

My second OC

Jason Romanoff

Age: 25 years old

Birthday: 15 March 1995

Nationality: Half american half russian (american mother, russian father)

Languages: English and Russian

Gender: Male (He/Him)

Sexuality: Panromantic Asexual

Likes: Technology, plants (Oscar called him "Plant dad") Space and astronomy

Dislikes: Discrimination (when he was 12 years old he changed 2 schools because kids bullied him being half russian: „I wish I can do something to stop discrimination and bullying, because a kid can suffer a lot because of this”)

Job: Oscar's personal assistant (Oscar treats him with respect)

Hobbies: Reading astronomy books, listening music (He likes to hear Oscar singing), watching the nightsky with his telescope

Personality: Shy but friendly, polite („I know I'm a introvert, but I like to make new friends”)

Surgeries: He had a surgery on his nose when he was 12 years old (before he change the second school a bully cut his nose with an sharp object, that's why he has the scar on the nose)

Other informations: Before he graduated the college he started working on a office. One day when he was at work, Oscar come to the office he worked, talked with his boss and he hired him as his own personal assistant (he lives with Oscar in the same house)

[weirdraccoon]

New fic personal prompt xd

The Parent Trap AU - No Capes (?) - ABO (Omega!Bruce Alpha!Clark) Jon and Dami are twins. Jon lives with Clarkin Smallville, in the farm, and Dami lives with Bruce in Gotham, in the manor. They got to a camp. They go to the same contest because of a new school program. A camp. And Dami's "friends" (they're not friends) make fun of Jon cause he looks just like Dami, and Dami doesn't like that. And his friends tease them even more because everyone knows about Bruce Wayne's adiction on picking up dark haired blue eyed boys from the streets. "Does this mean you've got a lost family, Dami?" "Maybe you're also an orphan and Bruce couldn't take both of you" "At least all your brothers understand that, eh?" "Maybe your original parents abandoned you two on different places". 

Dami is not amused. Jon is a little scared of city mice. 

Something happens - an activity or something program related - and they get paired up. They receive some odd looks from the adults because they look alike and they constantly mix up the last names but in the end, they don't do much because they have like hundreds of kids and not so many adult hands. 

In one of their tasks, Jon starts talking about his dad and life on the farm, then he asks Damian about his life and his own dad, at which Dami tells him he doesn't have a dad

"of course you have a dad! Everyone has a dad!" "I mean I don't know him. Mother doesn't talk much of him, either." "Oh, that's sad. Dad doesn't talk much about my mom. I found a photo, though. Grandma let me have it, I'll show you when we get back!"

And oh surprise, the young Omega in the picture is no other than Dami's mother, so Damian frowns at the photo (in which his mother is carrying a dark haired baby in his arms and is smiling adorably at whoever took it) and takes his family carpet - the one where he's recording his family history - and finds the exact same photo as the day he was born.

Now he wasn't sure if it was him in his mother's arms.

Jon feels the tension and also shows him one photo of his dad, a tall grinning Alpha wearing glasses. Dami studies the photo and turns the pages in his carpet.

"This was mother's bodyguard when he was very young."

Jon agrees that, even without glasses, the Alpha behind Bruce Wayne looked exactly like his dad.

"So, what happened?" "Who knows, Jon. Mother never mentioned a relationship. Like I said, he never talks about any dad." "You mentioned brothers...." "Adopted. All of them. Older, too. And two sisters." "I wish I knew my mom. And our brothers? sisters. Well, they'd be mine too if mom accepts me. But maybe he didn't want me, and that's why dad took me." "It doesn't make sense. Mother has a lot of children. Why would he let you go with your father? Why would your father left us?" "It's not dad's fault!" "It isn't mother's either."

Dami is the one with the plan. He teaches Jon everything he knows about the family and lends him the carpet after making him swaer on his life to protect it, and Jon talks about his grandparents, and aunt Lana, uncle Pete, his dogs and the farm animals. Dami wants to see the farm, the animals, more than he wants to meet his father. Jon wants to meet his mom and his unoficial siblings, and the so called Pennyworth that raised his mom - "another grandpa!" "Pennyworth is no grandpa!"

Dami is happy wandering the farm, avoiding the Kents. Martha is worried, but Clark is absent minded. Then Dami finds out the reason Jon's dad doesn't seem to mind his boy's oddnes: He's going to marry some journalist - Lois Lane - and apparently move to Metropolis. Clark is allowing his kid to have as much fun in the farm as he can while it lasts.

On the other side of the country, Jon is having a blast. Every brother and sister discovered the plan in the first few minutes of meeting him, and they helped him trick Bruce and Alfred. Alfred discovers it first - probably when all the batkids are comforting Jon after THE CALL -, tears up a little, makes everyone swear not to tell, and has a talk with young Master Jon. They all agree that Clark's compromise stays a secret.

Jon confesses to Bruce.

There are tears and kisses and hugs and cuddles all around. Then Bruce asks worriedly about his pup, and sighs in defeat when Jon tells him that Dami went to meet his dad.

The whole family travels to Metropolis.

Meanwhile in Smallville, Dami rescues a small doberman. Lois is not amused, because they can't have pets in her apartment back in Metropolis and it seems like his fiancé's pup is not willing to leave his new pet behind. Martha promises the new dog will be safe when they get back, knowing something is up, but not wanting to spoil whatever her grandchildren had planned. Clark is worried about his pup, noticing the differences. Lois tells him it's normal on children his age (12) and that maybe he's simply rebelling against the idea of his dad marrying her - or anyone, they both lived twelve years alone with Clark's mother in the farm - "He'll get over it, Clark. He'll love Metropolis."

And so on...

[noloveforned]

the wlur fall schedule starts next week so i think this will be the last week of our summer theme. tune in to wlur tonight at 8pm to see how we wrap it up or catch up with last week's show below!

no love for ned on wlur – september 24th, 2021 from 8-10pm

artist // track // album // label babasónicos // víva satana // dopadromo // epic hushfeed // you know // without blinking ep // permafrost blunt bangs // odessa // proper smoker // ernest jenning * seam featuring mac mccaughan // look back in anger // granny 9x 7" // merge cloud nothings // sound of alarm // live at the grog shop, cleveland - november 15th, 2020 // (self-released) beat happening // crashing through (meyering mix) // crashing through (meyering mix) 7" // k thrills // hey! - not another face in the crowd // n.a.f.i.t.c. - original boston punk, 1977-1981 // bacchus archives hits // drawstring ties // cielo nublado // paisley shirt nancy sinatra // it ain't me babe // boots // light in the attic julie doiron // you gave me the key // i thought of you // you've changed bob dylan and the plugz // license to kill (live on late night with david letterman 03/22/84) // springtime in new york, 1980-1985: the bootleg series, volume sixteen (expanded edition) // legacy moviola // rise // broken rainbows // anyway myra holder // martha helen wood // four mile road // coyote tara jane o'neil // elemental finding // alive in tokyo // (self-released) the finks // the moment the world rushed in // the moment the world rushed in ep // milk! * blue lick // viii // hold on, hold fast // american dreams crazy doberman // inverted pyramids slowly projected from the firmament // everyone is rolling down a hill // astral spirits roscoe mitchell // glide and run // dots - pieces for percussion and woodwinds // wide hive jessica ackerley and daniel carter // hidden truths // friendship: lucid shared dreams and time travel // 577 lloyd mcneill // sambinha // tori // soul jazz k. frimpong and vis-a-vis // aboagyewaa // k. frimpong backed by vis-a-vis // hot casa emma-jean thackray // say something // yellow // movementt moor mother featuring brother may // race function limited // black encyclopedia of the air // anti * theo croker featuring ari lennox // every part of me // blk2life- a future past // masterworks yebba // boomerang // dawn // rca * kadhja bonet // for you // for you digital single // ninja tune piney gir // nightswimming // a carnival of sorts- an r.e.m. covers compilation // god is in the tv zine baseball gregg and christina muñoz // lady of mine // sunrise music- a benefit compilation for sunrise movement and artists // gardenhead capitol // always saying nothing // all the rest of my heads ep // meritorio monnone alone // bumpy bits // stay foggy // emotional response

* denotes music on wlur’s playlist

[leanstooneside]

DANCE ORIGINS

1. opinion of s 2 p and are subject

2. investors are cautioned

3. chaplaincy patrolman aureomycin diabetes bridgehead carolingian objectivity poesy eventful disk emotional rosy agricola coot prim consort madam buckhorn eddie dearborn dysprosium basalt invulnerable okay bronchiole shrugging baden debauchery if shire glow honoraria ascendant gravestone enormous colonist andiron anthropology gunflint crag foursquare bland hemisphere comatose carbohydrate readout dagger lab lightning bilateral enos feudal mary eyelash lullaby atavistic alvin hater around bolometer guile playhouse embargoes individual hysteron donovan bogging hither mcconnell mezzanine border get e g equilibria incommunicable incontrovertible midwestern puma more oligarchic forbidding pool august metallurgist cart fugue cowpea asilomar bate make serfdom acrid hand dropout babylonian lippincott band cady concrete nominate crowd pusey durango board emigrate magic coprinus kidnapped flaxen phonon erosible pupal ewing osteopathic inhabitation housebroken desk podia handicraftsmen rerouted brazilian quadratic laid dicotyledon kong chore excrescent cenozoic incompletion exit destine deallocate hare dogmatic biota dishwater embraceable sarcophagus flogging bethought down impelling bristol epistemology lethe bezel derrick fasciculate shirley hoc grocery persecute cobweb babysitter chopin invest neuropathology clasp breeches gaslight paunch phenomenal duane procedure ptolemy frailty beaumont improve auditory cochran housework cap airlift frivolity aggravate christensen innocuous fanfare commando glass abigail countervail calamity drool domestic glottis dorchester dockside rep della compete incite mane hemorrhoid checklist fencepost electrician pet ah label ceremonial ignominious quartermaster indianapolis prognosticate parish debussy deserve crumple implausible merrymake equipped diana butyl accreditation cavern fahey calorimeter sepoy detail auk aldehyde nowaday shortstop dimple certified rhesus hypochlorous passionate fickle francisco ericsson honshu instant appanage harley shank apropos baneful con everyone creek experiment simper borneo grimace finessed schultz inadvertent madam consultation dormant must harriet bluster executor desmond ray jostle sis forgo discipline cretaceous controvertible blomberg colt bogy dilution brim essential baptism handicraftsman chicken hobble elliptic possemen andrews kraft alistair scrawny enthalpy laurentian avocate humus ampere bryozoa argonne persuasion finessing necromantic barbaric cornucopia enforcible hawkins adolescent l'vov category resemblant annihilate inverse ferreira derogatory churchgo poop israel millinery appointe pillory abolition martha ida fleshy ecumenic household carbine gone irresponsible aforementioned fingertip homebuilder bangladesh prison contingent birthright newfoundland impede luxuriant exclamation deferral bereave lithosphere i'm aorta doorway georgetown database rapt e g broglie electrician b's deal mesenteric payne freshmen rodney catkin goatherd incorporate plenum gall animate adroit awake furnace dortmund debar peppy biceps protactinium labyrinth churchillian descant anodic insurmountable checkmate ashland sherwin gascony haplology chaparral february fricative methodology leighton situs sacrosanct deplete rampant nashua schist giblet beverage execute fruehauf blubber impolitic abed gorgeous saigon chair achieve birthright halide departure curdle shade nitrous malfunction friable baseball batten handwaving babylon clearheaded beatific broglie florentine method headwall chicanery radiogram bauer sentinel sharpe cadaverous crumb inconspicuous envoy lac frisky occur doberman marcia protozoan allyl dichotomous krakow latter churn hydroelectric diatonic glottal approach arcsin deduce admix inductance mamma prevalent cobweb fossiliferous eventful andrew cancellate jaunty marinade convulsive natchez alive cecilia armadillo geoffrey ass glidden candace ichneumon raze handshake sachem newsletter ha dupe faustus bookend eaton geochemistry bundoora as e g aesthetic altitude fraud addressee czarina bergamot compact barlow iroquois kudzu desk neodymium pad concise graven groton intendant guildhall indianapolis imperil chordata sciatica dynamo needn't interpretation ear biddable charybdis incantation gonzalez electret categoric light marketeer flounce awake correlate gutsy corrigenda aeschylus karma sicken parks off gleam neglecter countersunk burtt bluebill repertoire aren't gannet seater

[ofhoneydew-blog]

GENERAL

NAME: Rhoda ‘Lina (Alina) Duerson.   ALIAS(ES): Doesn’t respond to nicknames. At all. GENDER: Female AGE: 43 DATE OF BIRTH: November 18 SEXUAL PREFERENCE: Heterosexual Biromantic OCCUPATION(S): Waitress. Phone Sex Operator. 

APPEARANCE

EYE COLOUR: Brown HAIR COLOUR: Black  HEIGHT: 5′8 SCARS:N-A BURNS: N-A OVERWEIGHT: nah UNDERWEIGHT: nope

FAVOURITE

COLOR: Brown / Auburn HAIR COLOR: ‘Everybody dyes it these days so what’s it matter?’ EYE COLOR: Brown SONG: Mother’s Little Helper - Rolling Stones || Johnny Guitar - Peggy Lee makes her cry. MOVIE: N-A TV SHOW: Game shows like Family Feud and Wheel of Fortune!  FOOD: Casseroles.  DRINK: Beer. Whiskey. Apple Juice. BOOK: None. Actually can’t read very well. 

HAVE THEY

PASSED UNIVERSITY: no HAD SEX: yes HAD SEX IN PUBLIC: yes GOTTEN PREGNANT: yes KISSED A BOY: yes KISSED A GIRL: yes GOTTEN TATTOOS: too scared - nope. GOTTEN PIERCINGS: yes HAD A BROKEN HEART: yes BEEN IN LOVE: yes STAYED UP FOR MORE THAN 24 HOURS: yes

ARE THEY

A VIRGIN: no A KISSER: yes SCARED EASILY: p much JEALOUS EASILY: no TRUSTWORTHY: yes DOMINANT: no SUBMISSIVE: eh IN LOVE: no SINGLE: yes

RANDOM QUESTIONS

HAVE THEY HARMED THEMSELVES: no THOUGHT OF SUICIDE: yes ATTEMPTED SUICIDE: no WANTED TO KILL SOMEONE: no DROVE A CAR: yes HAVE/HAD A JOB: yes HAVE ANY FEARS: ofc

FAMILY

SIBLING(S): Eugene & Seth Duerson, older brothers. Eugene’s dead, Seth’s in Utah. PARENTS: Bern Duerson (Father, deceased) Martha Duerson ( Mother, ‘dead or something.’. ) CHILDREN: Greg & Jon Duerson PETS: Gets a Doberman for a while in hopes he’d protect her home. It’s not a long-term ownership. 

TAGGED BY: @hopedreaminq  TAGGING: @awildthing, @dumbstcr, @gxnsandtxlips

[connerkent-speaksinactive-blog]

West keeps barking anytime Martha moves to make sure we know that she’s safe and ok.

[redux-iterum]

Lynx’s Struggle Through Survivors - Now a Double Feature

Because I was busy in December with Christmas, I had to move my review to January. So here we are, a review of both The Broken Path and The Endless Lake. Read the previous stuff if you haven’t already. Let’s get down to business.

The Broken Path

I like the idea of the naming ceremony, nothing else to comment on it, save for the fact we seem to have timeskipped… some time in the future. I wasn’t paying much attention to what season it was before the timeskip. It was a little jarring, but necessary, I’d gander.

Unrelated, Whine frickin sucks. I want to punt the little bastard into orbit.

Okay, about Alpha, he’s really really indecisive. I’m really torn on this. For one, the main plot of the book is Fiery recognizing Alpha’s been sucking as leader and challenging him, only to get captured by humans and die. For one, how has anyone in this deluded pack snapped out of their delusion to recognize their leader’s been sucking? For another, how has Alpha allowed his pack to make decisions without his input if he’s trying to keep an iron-tight grip on them? I don’t know, he seems like he’s supposed to be an intimidating leader who’s trapped a bunch of well-meaning individuals in his control, but it seems something isn’t adding up and I can’t quite articulate how it’s wrong.

I think Fiery would fit better in the role of “Leader of the Alpha Sucks Club” who would reach out to Lucky when he sees he’s getting the ire of their leader. Fiery only joined this pack because Moon insists Alpha is a good leader and is mostly here to one day usurp Alpha when the time comes. Mulch would be another member of the club, as much as he’s kind of a turdgoblin. Fiery might suspect Sweet (the sleeper agent) is secretly against Alpha, but he’s not sure and she’s doing her best to avoid Alpha’s suspicion. Lucky would be the first outsider dog to join, followed by Martha shortly after adopting Lick, Grunt, and Wiggle. Bella I think should join later on; she detests Alpha both personally and on principle, but she’s got a strong Cain instinct that deters her from allying with her brother. Moon would join the club after Fiery dies and Alpha practically celebrates that he’s keeping his position.

Terror’s so strange as a minor antagonist. The Fear-Dog is a stupid concept on principle, but the dog pantheon is narrow enough that you can’t easily add a new god into the lineup. The more gods there are in a pantheon, the easier it is to slide a new one into their ranks and have others go, “seems legit”. Regarding Terror’s pack, I’m surprised his entire pack doesn’t just look at each other and go, “Hey, there’s a bunch of us and only one of him, let’s get rid of this thorn in our paws.”

Anyway, our baby girl has a new name, Storm. Time for her to join Firestar and Dovewing in the “our names are glaringly obvious hints for our role in a prophecy” club.

The Endless Lake

I really don’t have a lot to say here. This just caused a lot more confusion than necessary and everything went by so quickly.

I really feel bad for Lucky. He’s trying so hard to help these dogs out and they’re so insistent that tradition is the way to go. Alpha was abusing his position as leader and there was barely anything anyone could do about it within the dogs’ code of honor. His situation with Sweet kind of makes me think of a reverse Fireheart and Sandstorm situation, where Sweet’s barely giving Lucky any benefit of the doubt and you wonder how he still pines for her.

So Alpha died, but not really. Why did he ally himself with the Fierce Dogs? It doesn’t seem at all in his character.

The condition of Sunshine’s pelt really made me wish there was a nice human in that lighthouse who could take her in and shave her pelt off. She’s really hit-or-miss for me, but I’d be satisfied with seeing her end up in the care of a loving human.

I’ve been giving Dullard real-time commentary as I read the book, and a thought that came to me was what if Lick/Storm and Grunt/Fang were pitbulls instead of dobermans? And the entire Fierce Pack were a conglomeration of dogs kept for dogfighting? Their version of dog religion would be incredibly warped, and their poor treatment would be the blame for their behavior. Fang could take the classically antagonistic role of the pitbull archetype while Storm would take the modern sympathetic role.

Before we get to it next book, I gotta wonder. What. Is. The Storm of Dogs. I don’t understand how a brawl between dogs would be the end of the world to the dogs’ eyes? It makes little sense. I can’t figure out how to effectively polish it.

Combining Lucky’s affinity with a crow (which interestingly didn’t appear in this book as far as I can recall) and his visions with the Storm of Dogs, I gotta wonder if he’d be some kind of chosen seer for a god of death (even more interestingly, if it was Earth herself that was his patron god).

So both of these books were slogs, I really want Storm of Dogs to… at least kind of be satisfying. A little. Just a bit. Please no one pull a Scourge and have someone else kill the villains anticlimactically.

[viralhottopics]

Dogs dont like reggae they love it: 10 top tracks to play for your best friend | Rhik Samadder

The pets reportedly have their own distinctive tastes, but prefer reggae and soft rock to classical: so heres a top 10 of dog-friendly tunes

A study by the University of Glasgow has discovered that dogs prefer soft rock and reggae over other genres of music, conclusively proving mans best friend has the taste of an embarrassing uncle hectoring the DJ at a wedding.

At a rehoming centre in the Scottish town of Dumbarton researchers played dogs a variety of music, during which heart rate monitoring and behavioural observation showed that stress levels dropped while listening to the unlikely genre bedfellows. There are unconfirmed reports that the dogs absolutely lost their minds when researchers cranked a mashup of Beenie Man vs Steely Dan. According to a schnauzer who was at the event: It shouldnt have worked, but it just did.

Despite evidence that dogs dont just like reggae but in fact love it, the mutts also responded well to Motown, classical and pop tracks. For Professor Neil Evans, the mixed response suggests that like humans, our canine friends have their own individual music preferences. His conclusion will make sense to anyone who has ever met a dog: its hard to imagine a St Bernard listening to anything other than Bing Crosby, or a bug-eyed chihuahua who wasnt constantly experiencing paranoid flashbacks to a soundtrack of hard German techno.

Following the findings, the Scottish Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals has equipped its kennels with sound systems, and compiling canine-appropriate playlists. Its safe to assume Lee Scratch Perry and Joe Cocker are lead candidates, but which other dog-friendly artists and songs deserve a place in the pack? Heres 10 for your starter; feel free to add your own.

1 Doggy Dog World, by Snoop Dogg ft Tha Dogg Pound

Photograph: Joseph Okpako/Redferns

From the Doggystyle album. This is surely the most heavily dog-referencing artist, supporting artist, song and album set in history. The platinum plaque for canine representin goes, without a doubt, straight to Snoop. (No relation to Charlie Browns pet beagle from Peanuts.)

2 Martha My Dear, by the Beatles

Photograph: PA Photos/PA

Probably the most charming love song to an old English sheepdog released in 1968. Certainly the best of McCartneys work in overrated beat combo the Beagles.

3 Leader of the Pack, by the Shangri-Las

The Shangri-Las – Leader of the Pack

The sound of puppy love. Remember when you were young? Thrilled by the world? Evolutionarily programmed to fall for the leader of the pack, to secure optimum reproductive potential? Every dogs fantasy.

4 Hound Dog, by Elvis Presley

Elvis Presley performs Hound Dog

You aint nothing but a hound dog, crying all the time. Hugely controversial choice, certainly among the hound community. Hounds are the original gun dogs, a hard-working, emotionally resilient and diverse sporting group. They also have a very strong union, so you wont catch me saying anything bad about them.

5 Bitch, by Meredith Brooks

Meredith Brooks Bitch

A 90s ode to mothers of puppies and female empowerment. Brooks wrote the song after she saw a dachshund-doberman cross, and realised anything is possible.

6 Can Your Monkey Do the Dog, by Rufus Thomas

Rufus Thomas – Can Your Monkey Do The Dog

Can my who do the what-now? How did this get on here? Its a pretty weird suggestion. Im sure theres some corner of the internet that will cater to such a twisted scenario, but this isnt it.

7 Chasing Cars, by Snow Patrol

Snow Patrol – Chasing Cars

Self-explanatory. I would have accepted Chasing Pavements by Adele, except it makes zero sense.

8 Rene and Georgette Magritte with Their Dog After the War, by Paul Simon

Paul Simon – Rene and Georgette Magritte With Their Dog After the War

Arguably too conceptually dense for most dogs. Look at the number of prepositions in the title alone. Rene and Georgette Magritte, with their dog, after the war. Why didnt he call it Wonderwall? Still, a literate breed a King Charles spaniel, or an Irish setter might get some enjoyment out of this.

9 Who Let the Dogs Out? by the Baha Men

Baha Men – Who Let The Dogs Out

Because whoever did is a bloody hero. This one goes out to all the dogs who currently need the toilet. Hoo! Hoo Hoo Hoo Hoo!

10 I Love My Dog, by Cat Stevens

Cat Stevens – I Love My Dog

I love my dog more than I love you? Yeah right give it up, Yusuf Islam. A cat by any other name still aint getting on this list. Take a walk.

Read more: http://ift.tt/2kbnwtv

from Dogs dont like reggae they love it: 10 top tracks to play for your best friend | Rhik Samadder