#exit 63

[kinoshi]

Я люблю в этой жизни две вещи-женщин и фембоев

I love two things in this life - women and femboys

женщин нарисовала, остались розоволосые фембои

I drew women, only pink-haired femboys remained

официально Далия является самым приятным в рисовании пероснажем из всех которых я рисовала

Dahlia is officially the most enjoyable character I've ever drawn.

Я разочаровалась в Натлане и теперь коплю на Далию, довели

I'm disappointed in Natlan and now I'm saving up for Dahlia, that's enough

Я ЖДУ ЕГО РЕЛИЗА УЖЕ 2 ГОДА, НУ СКОЛЬКО МОЖНО ТО

I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR ITS RELEASE FOR 2 YEARS, WELL, HOW LONG CAN WE GO ON

У меня ломка...уже 2 года. Лишь бы его не испортили внешне, характером или уж тем более геймплеем

I'm going through withdrawal...for 2 years already. I hope they don't spoil it in appearance, character or especially gameplay

Если словлю вдохновение и найду рефы то сяду за полноценку с еще одним розоволосым просветленным фембоем

If I get inspired and find some refs, I'll sit down for a full-length with another pink-haired enlightened femboy

Хочу рисовать полноценочки с красивым фоном

I want to draw full-size pictures with a beautiful background

[stele3]

Thoughts on the exit polls…screenshots taken from NBC’s exit poll.

Men really, really do not want to vote for a woman. I’ve seen this viewpoint branded as TERF rhetoric so lemme just say in advance that I’m non-binary. It is not TERF rhetoric to blame sexism for this loss, and I think we need to confront the ways in which, yes, sexism runs deep with U.S. men and we need MORE feminism, not less.

Trump did make some inroads among Black voters: 92% went for Biden in 2020. Way more Latino voters shifted, though: 66% voted for Biden in 2020. Asian voters also dropped from 63% in 2020. What on earth could account for the —

Support among white men dropped from 48% for Biden to 39% for Harris. Support among Black men ticked down very slightly but not much. The biggest change: Latino men went from supporting Biden by 59% in 2020 to 44% in 2024.

The bottom line: yes, it was the men. Men across multiple races and ages supported Harris less than Biden, and we need to be clear-eyed about that. Unfortunately in the short term I think that means, Absolutely do not run a female Democratic candidate in 2028. Because we can’t even talk about this issue without someone taking exception and wailing “NOT ALL MEN!!”

[caffeinewitchcraft]

Granny's Sugar Cookies

Summary: Working in Hero Force’s mail room is the equivalent of being a poison taster for monarchs – it wasn’t a matter of if a disgruntled citizen was going to send Hero Force a bomb, but when.

Based off this prompt (X)

--------.

Travis, your supervisor, makes you take Disposal Training every two weeks to keep your skills fresh for the inevitable day something does show up in the mail.

“You’re lucky,” Travis says with his wide arms folded over his chest. He still wears the mail uniform from the 90’s with the pale blue, short-sleeved button down and the darker blue pinstripes. The Hero Force mask covering half of his face is in the new “regulation black” that every Hero Force personnel has to put on at the start of every shift. You hear Travis complain that they won’t let him wear the old brown one a lot. “But luck won’t ever take you further than training, kid.”

You aren’t a kid. In fact, Travis could almost be your kid. Your pension isn’t supposed to start for another three years, so that’s how long you need this job to last. There are rumors that Travis is trying to get you to quit before then as a way to prevent you from collecting retirement benefits from Hero Force. Save the company some money. You don’t think that’s true. You think that the extra training every second week is actually Travis’ way of being kind – you get to sit in the air-conditioned office for two hours and watch the same videos with your feet propped up.

Still, it is unusual that you haven’t opened anything criminal yet. Lots of people cautioned you against taking the job. Your neighbors, friends, your husband…even your eldest -who also works for Hero Force and who suggested it to you in the first place. They said it was the equivalent of being a poison taster for monarchs – it wasn’t a matter of if a disgruntled citizen was going to send Hero Force a bomb, but when.

“I don’t think it happens as often as people think,” you’d told your husband and child when the offer letter came. What you didn’t say was we don’t have a choice. You’d laughed and petted the coffee table. “Now maybe we can think about getting this old thing refinished, hm?”

Three years isn’t a long time anymore, not with a good 63 of them already under your belt. When the financial advisor ran the numbers and grimly told you how long you’d need to stay in the workforce, you’d been relieved. You’re fortunate that being a baker for most of your life has kept you reasonably fit and that you’re used to being on your feet.

Still, eight hours is a long time for anyone to be staring at bland white envelopes and brown boxes wrapped with yellow tape, so you’re thinking longingly of the bath you know your husband will have drawn for you at home when the blast doors slam down over the exit, trapping you and three of your coworkers in the sorting room.

You blink at the heavy metal plate that nearly took your (seemingly ever-growing) nose right off your face. The WARNING light hanging above the door is lit, casting the room in a striking red glow.

“You scanned that here?” Ring asks. He’s over at the sorting table, standing over the new hire’s shoulder. He gapes down at the screen held between her hands. It shows an x-ray of the box sitting innocuously on the sorting table. “Boxes with that dimension are supposed to be scanned in the disposal room!”

“It’s my last package,” the new hire says. You have to strain to hear her voice despite only being a dozen feet away. She’s already been given a nickname – Mouse. Fear makes her even quieter than before. “I-I thought—It’s to Strongwoman. Who would even think sending her a bomb would work? She got hit by a bus last week and the bus lost.”

“You know we don’t sort based on recipient,” Hawk says, pinching the bridge of her nose under her mask. She’s the veteran in the room, gaining her nickname from being the longest surviving member of the mail room after Travis and for having the highest number of successful disposals in history. Hawk eyed. “Your scan just told the defense system there’s a bomb in a vulnerable part of headquarters. We’ll be trapped here until they can get Demolition out to disarm it.”

“Or until it goes off,” Ring offers helpfully. Ring stands for ring the alarm, something he’s always doing. “Which it probably will before Demolition flies over from freakin’ California.”

Mouse hiccups. Her hands tremble on the scanner. “I-I’m sorry. Maybe it’s not…it could be something else?”

Ring and Hawk look at each other over her head. Ring tilts his head to the scanner. Hawk’s lips thin.

Translation: Unlikely.

“Maybe,” Hawk says. She puts a comforting hand on Mouse’s shoulder. “The only way to tell for sure is to open it.”

“Which protocol says we shouldn’t do,” Ring says.

You rub your nose. You don’t have to go to the bathroom this second, but you know your body. Protocol is not to carry a phone in the sorting room, so none of you have a way to you’re your husband and let him know you’ll be late. “How long do you think it will take for a disposal team to arrive? Supposing there’s one besides Demolition.”

Three heads whip towards you. There’s a range of emotions there, from surprise to dismay to dread.

“Oh no,” Mouse whispers, “I’ve killed Granny too.”

“If you survive, no one will ever forgive you,” Ring says.

Mouse’s eyes well with tears. “R-really?”

“Even Neon loves her muffins—"

Hawk hits him over the head hard enough his mask slips down over his eyes. While he curses and sets it to rights, she says, “Sorry, Granny. We’ll probably be waiting a while.”

You tug at your cardigan and shuffle over. The box is too big to be scanned in the sorting room – about the size of a case of flour you used to get delivered to the shop. The three of them make room for you on their side of the table. You squint at the screen. “What type of bomb is it?”

“Not like any I’ve seen before,” Hawk says. She takes the scanner from Mouse and angles it towards you. The box is shown in green and black lines. Inside is a cube of white and some curly bits. There are strange shadows across each shape, as if there are layers and layers of something over the top. “You?”

You raise your eyebrows. You thought it was common knowledge. “Well, I’ve never seen one before outside of training.”

Mouse starts. “Never seen—”

“Granny is lucky,” Ring says. He pats her on the shoulder like Hawk had. It’s nowhere near as comforting. “You’re just unlucky enough to have canceled that out.”

You pull out your glasses. You’re supposed to get the mask with your prescription over the eyes to prevent anyone from recognizing your personal eyewear. You think the prescription masks are itchy, however, so you regularly sneak them in your cardigan pocket. The scanner remains incomprehensible to you, even with them on. “It doesn’t look anything like it does in training.” You frown as the curls begin to look like ribbon the longer you stare at them. “Are you sure this is a bomb?”

“The defense system triggered on it,” Hawk says.

You wave your hand. These new AI systems are wrong all the time. You recently saw a news article about how the facial recognition software at the Hero Academy failed to pick out a top journalist, allowing him complete access to the campus. “They wouldn’t have us here sorting if the system were infallible.”

A strange look crosses Hawk’s face. “That’s one perspective.”

“It’s a state-of-the-art system,” Ring tells Mouse in a low tone. You imagine he thinks you can’t hear him or the faint laughter in his voice. “It’s not wrong.”

That grates. You may be new to the sorting room, but you aren’t wrong to question the systems. You point. “It could be cookies. See these disks here? Sugar cookies, I used to make a recipe just as thick. They’ve been very popular to send to Strongwoman lately; she must like them. And that’s the ribbon tying the box closed.”

“No,” Ring says. “No, it’s not cookies, Granny.”

Your spine stiffens. “I think it is.”

“Granny,” Hawk says tentatively. “Do you…often think things like these are cookies?”

“People do send the heroes a lot of baked goods,” you say. “It’s the best way to show gratitude!”

Mouse’s jaw drops. In a normal voice, she says, “You’ve been sending bombs onto heroes thinking they’re cookies?”

“Because they are,” you say.

“Oh my god,” Ring says. “Granny has seen a bomb, she just hasn’t recognized one before. Oh my god.”

You’re too old to stamp your feet. Instead, you narrow your eyes at Ring like you did when your eldest drew on the walls. “I have not. I open each package—”

“You open them?!”

“Protocol—"

“-and they’re always just cookies,” you say. You snag the package before any of them can move. “I’ll prove it to you!”

There’s a bit of a scuffle. Mouse doesn’t move out of the way of Ring’s lunge in time, and they both topple onto the table. Hawk tries to yank the package away from you, shouting something or other about better to be cautious or Granny stop! But you’re stronger than they think. They may call you Granny, but you’re only 63! Do they think you need a cane to walk?

You rip open the tape. Mouse screams. Ring whimpers. Hawk closes her eyes tight. You shake out the contents of the box.

A pink pastry plops out of the package and onto the scanning table. The three of them are frozen, eyes darting over the pretty ribbon curled into a bow holding it closed. With an indignant huff, you use a letter opener to cut the ribbon and flip back the lid.

Sugar cookies in six sloppy rows and stacked four deep sit inside.

“See?” you say triumphantly. “Sugar cookies!”

Hawk’s brow is furrowed. “That’s not—that can’t be—”

The bomb doors slide down and the WARNING light switches off. The system beeps three times and then falls silent. The quiet that fills the room sounds like victory.

“…so I can go home now?” Mouse asks.

“Yes,” you say smugly. You know it’s bad manners, but all the excitement has dropped your blood sugar. You snag a cookie and bite into it. “We all can.”

Ring and Hawk stay behind, staring from the box to each other and back again as you go home.

----.

You have two days off, and then Travis is off the day you come back so it takes three days for someone to tell you it was a bomb in that box.

That someone is Foresight, the leader of Hero Force.

He looks out of place in the sorting room, smiling and standing by the door as you shuffle from cart to cart to collect your jobs for the day. Travis is there with his arms folded and his eyes narrowed on Foresight.

“We call your class of power S-class,” Foresight explains. “The ability to change reality with a thought – it’s only been observed in a handful of super-powered individuals.”

“I don’t care what power she has,” Travis says. “You aren’t poaching Granny.”

“I would also like to stay in the mail room,” you say.

Foresight opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. He looks bemused as he says, “Alright then. We do need to quantify your power. Does Thursday work for you?”

“Yes,” Travis answers for you. “We’ll be there.”

Your ears perk up. Maybe it will be a long meeting. Maybe you’ll have a chance to sit down. “Thursday it is then. I’ll bring some snacks for everyone.”

----

Thanks for reading! If you'd like to support me and see stories like this one before anyone else, please consider checking out my Patreon(X)!

Next week's story is already posted and is a follow up to this story (X) about Nadezh and Gannon

[bluelockmaniac]

⌗ "I'LL GO EASY ON YOU," ⋮ but you absolutely fucking destroy him.

★ nagi seishiro x gn!reader ╰ how come you've obliterated him in something he's so good at?

▯ content warning. mentions of video game gunfire, shooting, etc.

"sei, this game looks fun," you murmured, shifting slightly to adjust your position on his lap. his eyes remained glued to the glowing screen, the faint gleam of colours casting a hazy light across his face. his arms were looped firmly around your waist, thumbs expertly swiping over the controller in his hands.

as you were cozily nestled inside his sweater, filled with the subtle scent of his cologne, you felt the gentle rise and fall of his chest. you observe him deftly move his virtual character across the battlefield, shooting enemies and cursing under his breath at each hindering obstacle. after being in this same position for quite some time, a sense of boredom had begun to bubble within you.

"mm, yeah?" he mumbles, resting his chin on your head. he tilts his head down to press a kiss onto your soft hair. "it is."

"can i try?"

he stays silent for a moment, the room filled with the sounds of obnoxiously loud bursts of gunshots. he finally takes a breath and speaks, his voice muffled against your hair. "tis’ really hard though. i don’t think y’can win,"

your brows furrow as you whip your head slightly to meet his gaze, raising your hand to pinch his cheek. "hmm, how would you know? i could be better than you!"

"yeah, yeah, fine," he pulls his face away from your fingers’ grip on his cheek. he gives you a faint smile, exiting out of the game and clicking 'new game'. "i'll go easy on you."

you slide off his lap with anticipation, grabbing the fluffy bean bag he had bought exclusively for you from the corner of his room, placing it next to him. giving it a pat to smoothen its wrinkles, you made your way to the tv stand's drawer in quick strides, retrieving an extra game controller.

"you don't have to, sei," you smile warmly, settling into the softness of the bean bag as you prepare to show nagi seishiro what you were made of. "i want it to be fun."

he nods, hesitantly clicking the start button. while watching the one-minute timer displayed on the screen, he remembers to explain the rules to you.

"basically," he begins, "there’s a five-minute time limit. the person who reaches one hundred kills first, or whoever is the closest to one hundred kills, wins."

"yeah, i know, dummy." you tease, reaching out to tousle his hair, in which he responds with a subtle blush tinging his cheeks rose. "i've been watching you play for at least an hour now."

the bolded numbers on the now-split screen enlarge, signaling the beginning of the new game; 3...2...1...

you waste no time, immediately equipping your weapon, fingers swiftly moving along the buttons. silence was quick to envelop the room, thick with the weight of your competitiveness.

nagi shoots you a surprised, quick glance, before focusing his gaze back onto his side of the screen. suddenly, his attention is drawn to the corner of your part of the screen, where your kill count is displayed.

to say the least, this man was astonished to find out that you’ve racked up 63 kills in slightly under three minutes. his eyes widened in disbelief ever so slightly, registering the number with admiration.

"what the heck..." he accidentally huffs, quickly pressing his mouth together as the sound of his confused voice reaches his ears.

you let out an amused giggle, "surprised?"

he does not respond, lost in his own muddled thoughts. how could he, after underestimating you so badly? how could he say anything when you, as you were currently speaking, have over 60 kills compared to his mere 34?

the white-haired boy feels a prick of suspicion creeping in; he hadn’t known that his partner was an expert at video games. why hadn’t you told him? he sighs, realizing that the person he could have played with all this time was right beside him all along; he would no longer need to play with his tediously boring game-mates or those doltish bots which he had always deemed a hassle.

then, the game came to an abrupt stop.

98 - 52

he stares hard at the game over screen, a deep frown creasing his forehead. "nuh-uh, let's do it again..."

"ahh, i told you i could win!" you cheer, your finger lightly tugging on the skin under your eye as you stick your tongue out in jest. "and sure, i really want to hit one hundred this time!"

a soft grumble escapes his pouty lips as he buries half his head under the inside of his sweatshirt, leaving only his eyes visible. "m'baby's so cocky..."

100 - 67

"fuck, again!"

99 - 75

"this game's gotta be rigged!"

96 - 56

"seiii, i'm boredddd—"

"one mo' time,"

89 - 88

"ack–fuck this shit… i'm going to sleep."

you blink your eyes in silent amusement— this was a side of him you had rarely ever seen. your usually calm, bored boyfriend trying so hard at something; it was adorable seeing him so invested, even if it was simply a video game.

but somehow, you had managed to fire him up enough to the point of rage quitting?

"y’know sei, i was going easy on you..."

"..."

despite his muted response to the fuel you've added to the fire, you catch a glimpse of a proud smile tugging on his lips as he retreats back onto the bed, beckoning you to join him. “that was fun… play w’me again, ‘kay?”

© 2024 bluelockmaniac — do not repost, copy, translate, modify, etc my work on any platform !

[macrolit]

The 100 Best Books of the 21st Century.

As voted on by 503 novelists, nonfiction writers, poets, critics and other book lovers — with a little help from the staff of The New York Times Book Review.

NYT Article.

*************

Q: How many of the 100 have you read? Q: Which ones did you love/hate? Q: What's missing?

Here's the full list.

100. Tree of Smoke, Denis Johnson 99. How to Be Both, Ali Smith 98. Bel Canto, Ann Patchett 97. Men We Reaped, Jesmyn Ward 96. Wayward Lives, Beautiful Experiments, Saidiya Hartman 95. Bring Up the Bodies, Hilary Mantel 94. On Beauty, Zadie Smith 93. Station Eleven, Emily St. John Mandel 92. The Days of Abandonment, Elena Ferrante 91. The Human Stain, Philip Roth 90. The Sympathizer, Viet Thanh Nguyen 89. The Return, Hisham Matar 88. The Collected Stories of Lydia Davis 87. Detransition, Baby, Torrey Peters 86. Frederick Douglass, David W. Blight 85. Pastoralia, George Saunders 84. The Emperor of All Maladies, Siddhartha Mukherjee 83. When We Cease to Understand the World, Benjamin Labutat 82. Hurricane Season, Fernanda Melchor 81. Pulphead, John Jeremiah Sullivan 80. The Story of the Lost Child, Elena Ferrante 79. A Manual for Cleaning Women, Lucia Berlin 78. Septology, Jon Fosse 77. An American Marriage, Tayari Jones 76. Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, Gabrielle Zevin 75. Exit West, Mohsin Hamid 74. Olive Kitteridge, Elizabeth Strout 73. The Passage of Power, Robert Caro 72. Secondhand Time, Svetlana Alexievich 71. The Copenhagen Trilogy, Tove Ditlevsen 70. All Aunt Hagar's Children, Edward P. Jones 69. The New Jim Crow, Michelle Alexander 68. The Friend, Sigrid Nunez 67. Far From the Tree, Andrew Solomon 66. We the Animals, Justin Torres 65. The Plot Against America, Philip Roth 64. The Great Believers, Rebecca Makkai 63. Veronica, Mary Gaitskill 62. 10:04, Ben Lerner 61. Demon Copperhead, Barbara Kingsolver 60. Heavy, Kiese Laymon 59. Middlesex, Jeffrey Eugenides 58. Stay True, Hua Hsu 57. Nickel and Dimed, Barbara Ehrenreich 56. The Flamethrowers, Rachel Kushner 55. The Looming Tower, Lawrence Wright 54. Tenth of December, George Saunders 53. Runaway, Alice Munro 52. Train Dreams, Denis Johnson 51. Life After Life, Kate Atkinson 50. Trust, Hernan Diaz 49. The Vegetarian, Han Kang 48. Persepolis, Marjane Satrapi 47. A Mercy, Toni Morrison 46. The Goldfinch, Donna Tartt 45. The Argonauts, Maggie Nelson 44. The Fifth Season, N.K. Jemisin 43. Postwar, Tony Judt 42. A Brief History of Seven Killings, Marlon James 41. Small Things Like These, Claire Keegan 40. H Is for Hawk, Helen Macdonald 39. A Visit from the Goon Squad, Jennifer Egan 38. The Savage Detectives, Roberto Balano 37. The Years, Annie Ernaux 36. Between the World and Me, Ta-Nehisi Coates 35. Fun Home, Alison Bechdel 34. Citizen, Claudia Rankine 33. Salvage the Bones, Jesmyn Ward 32. The Lines of Beauty, Alan Hollinghurst 31. White Teeth, Zadie Smith 30. Sing, Unburied, Sing, Jesmyn Ward 29. The Last Samurai, Helen DeWitt 28. Cloud Atlas, David Mitchell 27. Americanah, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie 26. Atonement, Ian McEwan 25. Random Family, Adrian Nicole LeBlanc 24. The Overstory, Richard Powers 23. Hateship, Friendship, Courtship, Loveship, Marriage, Alice Munro 22. Behind the Beautiful Forevers, Katherine Boo 21. Evicted, Matthew Desmond 20. Erasure, Percival Everett 19. Say Nothing, Patrick Radden Keefe 18. Lincoln in the Bardo, George Saunders 17. The Sellout, Paul Beatty 16. The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay, Michael Chabon 15. Pachinko, Min Jin Lee 14. Outline, Rachel Cusk 13. The Road, Cormac McCarthy 12. The Year of Magical Thinking, Joan Didion 11. The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, Junot Diaz 10. Gilead, Marilynne Robinson 9. Never Let Me Go, Kazuo Ishiguro 8. Austerlitz, W.G. Sebald 7. The Underground Railroad, Colson Whitehead 6. 2666, Roberto Bolano 5. The Corrections, Jonathan Franzen 4. The Known World, Edward P. Jones 3. Wolf Hall, Hilary Mantel 2. The Warmth of Other Suns, Isabel Wilkerson 1. My Brilliant Friend, Elena Ferrante

[pb5luvr]

Love your writing! Would love to see overprotective P when someone’s intentionally fouling or being to rough with Azzi eventually causing her to land bad and get a concussion. Then her being all worried and cute

protect you

a/n: thank you so much and thank you for the idea!! i’m trying to write at least once a day so bare with me. i also whipped this up in like 20 mins so i apologize if it kinda sucks

3rd POV

it was late in the 3rd quarter and gampel was buzzing. uconn was playing up 73-51 against villanova, paige had a near triple double, azzi was knocking down 3s like crazy; the game was in their favor. azzi, however, had a crazy defender on her—fouling her, playing rough with her. azzi was getting frustrated but someone that was noticeably more frustrated was paige.

the 4th quarter starts and azzi goes for a steal and scores an easy layup, she’s up to 27 points. back on the defensive end, the opposing teams player shoots a 3. she misses and azzi goes for the rebound. suddenly, azzi is knocked to the ground by her defender. on her way down, the back of her head hits one of her teammates legs, hard. azzi is on the ground, clutching her head while holding back tears. paige runs to her immediately. the crowd goes silent.

“AZZI” paige yells as she gets down to the brunettes level

azzi’s head is pounding. her ears are slightly ringing and her visions getting blurry, though she can’t tell if it’s from her head or the facts that her eyes are welling with tears.

the other 4 on the floor are standing around her, hoping she’ll get up and shake it off. she doesn’t though and soon, janelle, the teams athletic training, is running over the girl on the ground. azzi is helped up and walked into the locker room, still clutching her head. as azzi exits the game, the refs call for a play review.

after review, the play is ruled a common foul. paige is livid.

“are you fucking kidding me?!” paige yells at the refs, “she just got knocked to the ground and you’re calling that a common foul? are you fucking blind?”

just then, the ref blows her whistle. a technical foul is called on her. now geno is the one who’s livid. the crowd is booing, geno is getting held back by his staff, and paige is in disbelief. next thing you know, paige is sitting on the bench getting an angry stare from her coach.

paige is benched that whole quarter.

the buzzer signaling the end of the 4th quarter sounds, uconn wins 89-63. paige, however, is still as angry as ever. boy does she have something to say to azzi’s defender in the handshake line.

“do that to her again and see what happens” she lashes at the opposing player. the player only scoffs in return, unfazed.

paige immediately runs to the training room as soon as the handshake line is over, not even caring if she has to do a post game interview. as soon as paige spots azzi, she’s quick to be by her side.

“azzi!” she exclaims while walking over to her, “i got her as soon as i could what happ-” she started before being cut off

“just stop paige” azzi responded sternly, shooting her a glare

paige cocks her head to the side, suddenly confused

“getting a tech? are you insane?” azzi replies to her gesture

paige was about to lose it. her girlfriend is injured for who knows how long and now she’s mad at her too?

“are you insane azzi? you know i did that to protect you!”

azzi scoffed, “and how is getting a tech protecting me exactly?”

“you were getting pushed around all game and the refs did nothing about it! it was bullshit!” paige replied, slightly yelling

azzi winced, head still pounding, “please just stop yelling. it hurts my head and i don’t want to hear it”

paige was silent in an instant, suddenly putting her anger aside and remembering the state her girlfriend was in.

“what did they say” she asked softly

“i have a concussion. im out for a week or two”

paige responded by wrapping her arms around the younger girls neck. azzi melted into her touch.

“i’m sorry i yelled and i know it was stupid of me to get a tech but my only intention was to stand up for you” paige whispered as she placed a soft kiss to azzi’s temple

“i know and im sorry for getting mad at you. thank you for sticking up for me, i love you” azzi responded softly

“i love you too. so much that i would do anything for you, even if that means getting benched” paige smirked

azzi let out a soft chuckle and the two made their way back to the locker room to celebrate the win.

[dontbelasagnax]

The Glass Slipper is a Strap-On

Pairing: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6,401

Tags: Rule 63, Butch/Femme, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fairy Tale Retellings, Cinderella, One Night Stands, Making Out, Heavy Petting, Strap-Ons, Nextdoor Dot Com, Hilarity Ensues, Nextdoor Accurate Homophobia, Getting Together

Summary:

What is a lady to do when the one night stand they're half in love with has to hurriedly make an exit and accidentally leaves behind their strap-on?

Well, in Obi-Wan's case she discovers that modern issues require modern solutions.

[ OR: A modern Cinderella retelling featuring gender-swapped Obi-Wan and Cody as vehicles of sapphic hilarity. ]

Happy Codywan Comfortathon! I'm very happy to share this fic and art with you all. Thank you Anna for hosting this lovely event 💋💗

Click Here To Read On Ao3

@codywancomfort

[wokealqaeda]

On this day in 2017, 24 year-old Randy Stair (also known as Andrew Blaze) would barricade the exits of the Weis Markets supermarket in Eaton Township, Pennsylvania. She would then shoot and kill 3 co-workers before fatally shooting himself. The sole-survivor was Kristan Newell, who was spared by the shooter and escaped.

Victoria Todd Brong, 25, was born in Scranton on Aug 10, 1991, daughter of Kevin T. Brong of Montrose and Ruth Escott Kohut of Tunkhannock. She was a graduate of Tunkhannock High School, Class of 2010 and was employed by Weis Markets in Tunkhannock as an assistant tag manager. Victoria loved helping people and cherished time she spent with her son and family.

·

Terry Lee Sterling, 63, was born April 3, 1954, son of the late Ralph and Cora Sterling. His wife, Margene Ann Sterling died before the Weis Market shooting.

·

Brian Hayes, 47, was born in East Orange, N.J, on Dec 17, 1969. He was the son of the late former Marie O'Rouke and Raymond Hayes. Brian was a graduate of Columbia High School in Maplewood, N.J, and he was a night-shift supervisor at the Weis Market. Brian married the former Tina Marie Rinaldi on April 4, 2009.

(interview with kristan newell)

[the-sneep-snoop]

HEY please please please share this!!!

The fundraiser has been up since February and for 3+ months has raised $1,849 out of $150,000.

It may seem hopeless that it’s so far from their goal but that’s why it’s so important to SHARE THIS POST ‼️

Mariyam has 15 family members who have been displaced in Rafah for 7+ months and need money to pay for exit from Gaza. These are her aunts, uncles, cousins, and loved ones, one of them has a physical and mental disability, some of them are as young as 3 months or as old as 63.

I want you to know that this is not a scam and real genuine people who need help to survive. I went to high school with Mariyam and she’s an amazing person who does not deserve to have to fear for the safety of her family every day. Neither should they or anyone else fear for their own lives.

If you can do more than just reblog but can’t donate, copy the link and share it too. Unless someone suddenly donates tens of thousands of dollars, the greatest strength is in numbers. Thank you so much

https://gofund.me/330c485e

EDIT - in one day there’s been twice as much donation as the past month thank you!!

amazing news that some family members are safe. as you all know things are getting a lot worse in Rafah in the past few days and it seems really hopeless but there is still hope. people are still trying to survive and still need help so don’t give up!!!

[cheriladycl01]

Paparazzi - Lando Norris x UniStudent! Reader

Plot: you are a university student in the UK, and the Paparazzi manage to find out where you go and stalk you due to rumors surfacing about.

It was a pretty shit day at university for you, you were a third year law student who had just come back from an amazing placement with Mercedes as part of their legal counsel.

You'd had so much fun and had worked really closely with Lewis and George. It also was the first year that you were able to travel from the last half of one season, to the 3/4 of the next season.

He was a driver for McLaren, his job and you being a student meant that you guys didn't see each other as much as you'd like.

You had been dating for the good part of 4 years now having met in secondary school and stayed as friends even when he left the school. When you started on your A-levels and he was progressing in his driving career he asked you to be his girlfriend.

Now he was in Formula One and you were about to be graduating university. It had however been difficult, the transition of being with Lando pretty much everyday, and now not seeing him was killing you.

It had taken a tole on you, you had dark circles under your eyes, your nose was red from the cold. Your class hadn't been great either and tears were starting to brim your eyes. You just wanted to get home and cry it out in private.

Lando: Hey Babe, its Thursday so media day today and McLaren are busy! Call me later, love you lots!

The text made more tears brim in your eyes until you heard the snap of a camera. Next you saw the flash.

Your eyes dart up seeing the 5 or 6 people with cameras behind you, following you. You pick up your pace, going towards your specific building on campus where you could hide out with your personal tutor until they left you alone.

You walk into the building into a flurry of students walking around the building pulling the hood of Lando's hoodie up. You make your way to a back stairwell that was quieter than the main one and made your way up the 5 flights of stairs to where your personal tutors room was.

"Michael?" you ask entering the room, nobody was there so you sat on the small little sofa he had at the side of his office. You pull the work bench closer to you, placing your laptop and book down before getting on with some work for your Intellectual Property Module.

Minutes later Michael comes in, a shocked look on his face as he observes you.

"Y/N what are you doing here?" he asks walking past you and taking a seat at his desk, sipping from the takeaway coffee he had just brought.

"I had Paps come onto campus again. And i've had a bit of a shit day" you mumble looking at the email from Lewis asking you to do some research for him if you had any free time.

"Well, you know my door is always open for you"

"That's why i let myself in" you grin at him, already feeling better. He spoke to you for about an hour, while he was doing his own research and marking behind his computer.

"I think its safe to say they've left now" he admits engrossed in something on his computer.

"How'd you know?"

"There's articles already up, some of these headlines. Oh lord they are ridiculous" Michael admits scrolling down on his mouse wheel looking further.

"Huh?" you ask before looking online under your name.

Lando Norris Girlfriend Y/N Y/L/N, Seen Crying On University Campus After Breakup Report Y/N Y/L/N Seen On Campus Crying Is There Tension Between Lando Norris and Y/N Y/L/N On Her First Absent Race Of The Season Lando Norris Cheats On Girlfriend - Her Reaction Is Heartbreaking!

"I'm just going to go home. I don't have the energy to read any of these. Thank you for letting me stay" you admit, packing up your bag and nodding in a goodbye to your personal tutor.

As you exit the building and make your way to the carpark where your Mercedes-AMG SL 63 sat, courtesy of your time at Mercedes for the last year. You now still work for them, but from the Brackley and part-time around your degree.

You get in and let out a long sigh, you pull away getting onto the road driving back to yours and Lando's apartment which was about a 30 minute drive away.

Lando started to call you, the ringtone blaring through the car speakers that your phone was connected to. You hit accept on the screen, your eyes only momentarily wavering from the road.

"Y/N baby, what's up. The articles and the photos of you! You look so sad, what's going on?" he immediately starts grilling you like you'd expected him to when he would eventually see the articles.

"Sorry, I'm in the car right now! I just had a shitty say at uni and i really fucking miss you" you breathe out happy to finally admit it. It was the end of October now and you'd been back at university for a month.

"I know baby, you still planning to come out for the last race, in Abu Dhabi?" he offers, it sounds like he's busy and like he's walking around the McLaren garage. He did say it was media day...

"Erm, ill let you go. Its like midnight there and you have a big day with practice tomorrow" you say, he starts to stay something but you interrupt before he can.

"I love you, goodnight" you say to prompt him.

"Goodnight, ill see you soon" he sighs, he also sounded tired just like you.

You drove the rest of the way home, pulling up in the underground carpark and just sitting there for a few minutes taking in some breaths.

You eventually get out the car and head into yours and Lando's apartment. The apartment was always clean because either you were here or your parents were kind enough to house sit while you and Lando were away.

You did your normal routine for when Lando wasn't here, which was go to the gym, go back and shower, cook food eat food and go to sleep.

You never really had any motivation for anything when he wasn't around.

The next day was a free day from uni, you went to the Mercedes team, everyone could tell that something was up with you. They chose not to say anything and just let you get through your shift. You'd had a cute Good morning text from Lando, asking if you'd slept well and if you'd eaten.

You'd replied, saying yes to both and that you were just catching up on his free practices and that he had really good times, as you'd expected.

But part of you just longed for him to come home.

[kastlequill]

iv/v. ‘til my pulse loses time: pulsus alternans

pairing: kyle gaz garrick x f!reader word count: 2.3k synopsis: the fourth and final time you save gaz tags: whumptober, angst, gunshot wounds, feelings realization, medic!reader, 4+1, no y/n warnings: near death experiences, war ao3: read here ← prev | next →

IV.

As a medic, you could only do so much. 

Stitching together sliced skin, surgically removing bullets from traumatized flesh, administering first aid in the field—all within your skill range. Hell, even resuscitating a still-warm, newly-dead body was possible on special occasions. But you were neither God nor Death, so you couldn’t breathe life into the expired corpse of a friend, nor was it your place to hold a scalpel to the jugular of a foe. 

These mortal limitations weren’t to blame for the horrors that would unfold during the coming hours, however. The true crime committed there was your complacency. 

You had grown accustomed to setting broken noses and relaxing muscle spasms, to staring into dilated pupils and realigning dislocated joints. With every passing day of relative calm, your worries gradually waned; and with every successful surgery, your easy confidence grew. Not one soldier had coded on your operating table, and not one soldier had succumbed to their injuries whilst under your care. 

A random Thursday brought about the end of your pristine record. 

Getting paged for an emergency surgery in the dead of night wasn’t anything new; sleep was a luxury few could afford out here, medics least of all. The days when you struggled waking to the sound of your pager were now a tiny speck in the rearview mirror of your professional career. 

So the pager itself wasn’t the reason you were currently attempting to shove your trembling feet into a pair of boots, not bothering to untie the laces, ignoring the way your heel uncomfortably rubbed against the firm backend material. Rather, you were sprinting to the medbay because of the three chilling words you’d read on its display:

Bravo. Critical. STAT. 

Once you arrived, shit really started to hit the fan. 

The place looked as though a bomb had gone off. Two nurses were situating a limp masculine figure onto a gurney, skillfully sticking electrodes along his chest and hooking the wires up to a nearby monitor-on-wheels to display his vital signs. Meanwhile, three technicians tried to restrain a hulking mass of skull-faced muscle. Not far behind was the familiar mohawk of the Scotsman, with whom Captain Price was solemnly exchanging words. Which left one key member of the Bravo Team unaccounted for:

Gaz. Kyle.

You swallowed the panic that threatened to make itself known. Losing your cool would accomplish nothing except disrupt your focus and double the stakes. 

“Report,” you demanded, rushing to the PPE station to don a pair of surgical gloves and tighten a mask around your face. 

Next to you, the lead nurse grabbed hold of Gaz’s forearm and inserted a needle into his most prominent vein. “27-year-old male admitted six minutes ago with BP of 63/47, unconscious. Almost finished setting up the IV line.”

“He got lit up. Five shots made contact by our count,” Ghost interjected, voice gruff and posture unapologetically looming. “Maybe more.”

Too preoccupied with analyzing your patient’s current state and authorizing the nurse to administer a milligram of epinephrine, the words registered as little more than white noise, reduced to ‘five shots’. You cradled the nape of Gaz’s neck, carefully leaning him forward to hike up the bottom edge of his blood-soaked, tattered shirt. Trained eyes searched for exit wounds marring the expanse of his back and isolated a lone hole in his right shoulder before lowering him. 

“What happened?”

The captain rubbed a hand down his face, and you couldn’t help noticing how tired the man seemed. “Exfil went sideways. Gaz got the worst of it, I’m afraid. Nasty hit to the shoulder, see, but ’least that one went straight through. The others, not so much. Four points of entry across his abdomen—”

You unclipped a penlight from your coat pocket and shined it into the fallen soldier’s eyes, gently lifting his lids with your thumb. The size of his pupils remained unchanged, unresponsive to the stimulus.

“—no exits.”

That earned a grimace from you; always did, always would. One of your first interactions with Gaz involved you excising a bullet from his leg, but abdominal gunshot wounds were plenty worse. The fact several small pellets of lethal lead were still inside him, possibly embedded in organs vital for sustaining life, spelled disaster.

Fingertips pressed against the cold skin of his inner wrists, you were dismayed to feel his pulse hasten yet gradually lose strength. Your pinched gaze lifted in supplication to the heart monitor, desperation verging on belief, praying a merciful god might will the EKG line to stabilize. 

Instead, it went flat. 

A flurry of frantic alerts pouring from the monitor drowned out any and all other sounds. The grand scale of the universe seemed obsolete as each of your five senses honed in on this singular instance. 

“Code Blue!” you yelled, recovering fast. Someone reached to cut open Gaz’s shirt while you situated your right palm on the center of his chest and covered it with your left, fingers clasping the hand beneath. “Starting chest compressions at approximately zero one-hundred hours. Charge the defibrillator to 200 joules for the initial shock.”

Above him, elbows locked and pressure severe, you initiated CPR. Trying your damnedest to mute the surrounding whirlwind of chaos, to not be shaken by the sight of Gaz so motionless, so unlike the suave SAS sergeant who had burrowed into the cavity of your being. 

Two paddles emerged from your peripheral and settled firmly under his left pec and to the right of his sternum. “200 joules. Clear!”

You stepped back, arms raised, watching his torso jerk off the gurney in tandem with a spike in the EKG. His body then dropped onto the padding below, and the line descended to null once again. 

The current coursing through him had barely subsided when you resumed delivering compressions. His ribs began to crack during the second set, but you kept the same pace and depth for the full two-minutes. 

What did a few broken ribs matter if it meant he’d return to his brothers-in-arms? 

To you?

“300 joules. Clear!”

Like a dormant spore reawakened by a drop in defenses, fear unfurled within your gut, its noxious fumes suffocating you from the inside-out. The defibrillator capped at 360 joules, and if that wasn’t enough to restart the electrical activity of his heart, then—

A nearly inaudible blip from the monitor broke through your train of thought before it had the chance to spiral any further. The blip morphed into a series of beeps, which slowly but surely climbed to a less-concerning rate. 

Your shoulders slackened, caving inward as your lungs expelled a heavy sigh of relief. 

Gaz was alive. In critical condition and soon to be rushed into emergency surgery, yes, but alive. Which was more than could be said five minutes ago.

Thinking the worst had passed, Ghost crowded around the bed, jostling several of your colleagues in the process of attempting to catch a better look at his incapacitated teammate. He paid no heed to the toes on which he stepped, or the shoulders with which his own collided.

When it came to men like the 141, relinquishing even an inch of authority was as good as allowing them to take over the whole damn lot. True, they might be used to calling the shots out in a warzone, but, here, you had the final say. 

“I won’t have your lieutenant scaring my staff shitless, Captain,” was your one and only warning. “Handle him, or I will.”

The other sergeant, Soap, had the decency to appear chastised, ducking his head a tad. In different circumstances, you‘d even appreciate the fierce loyalty on display for the man you both regarded highly. 

Just not when it came at the expense of properly doing your job.

“We’ll take it from here.”

Based on the slight laxing of their stances, there would be no further protests. Regardless, no amount of posturing or glaring would’ve deterred you; at this point, anything unrelated to Gaz had no hope of receiving even a morsel of your attention. 

Two technicians seized the gurney and rolled it in the direction of the operating room, the lead nurse with her portable monitor trailing close behind. You followed your team to the sinks, where you then scrubbed and scrubbed until you were finally ready to cross the threshold into the sterile field. 

There, everything awaited you; a metal tray, a fresh set of surgical tools, and two units of B-negative blood hanging from a transfusion stand. At the middle of the OR was Gaz, resting on the table, covered in green drapes, illuminated by bright overhead lights. And as you stared down at him, at the dewy breaths fogging up his oxygen mask, a comforting sign of life, you found yourself confronted by a terrifying realization:

All that stood between you and someday loving this man was time. 

The surgery, to its credit, went relatively smoothly. Meaning, the patient didn’t go into hemorrhagic shock on your table, and you managed to dig out the four bullets still lodged in his viscera. One lodged between his lower left ribs, though luckily not deep enough to damage the vital organs beneath; another two along his intestinal tract; and the last mere centimeters from his mildly-lacerated liver. 

It hadn’t been pretty, but Sergeant Garrick would survive with only scars to remind him of the moment he died and crawled back to the land of the living. 

“Alright,” the strain in your voice bringing hours of inner turmoil to the surface, “good work, everyone. Let’s sew him shut and reset shop for tomorrow morning.”

You vomited the moment you stepped outside the infirmary. 

The wave of nausea that accompanied the night’s must had you doubling over and gripping both knees to support yourself against the force of the retching. With no food in your stomach to purge, there was just the sting of acid rushing up your esophagus and then clear liquid dribbling down your chin. It shouldn’t have gone on for as long as it did, but each time you recalled how the sergeant’s usually rich and lively complexion had looked so ashen in the fluorescence of the OR, that sick feeling returned with a vengeance. 

When the chain-puking finally abated, you straightened your spine and wiped the grime off your mouth with the back of your hand. Not yet an hour prior, that same hand had held a scalpel to the hole-ridden flesh of the man whose smile could easily give way to your own, even on worser days. Days like today. 

Only this time, he couldn’t take the pain away. This time, it was your turn to ease his ache.

You swiveled around until your body faced the medtent, gravel crackling and crunching beneath your boots at the sudden movement. As if they had a mind of their own, your feet carried you right back to him, one in front of the other in a quick, almost frenzied succession. 

Inside, the lights had dimmed to a faint glow. A heart monitor hooked up to electrodes on his chest translated rhythmic contractions into a steady stream of beeps, and the sound echoed through your mind like a macabre metronome. He laid unmoving on a cot, exactly how you’d left him; Sergeant Garrick wasn’t the type to disobey an order, whether consciously or unconsciously received, not even in his sleep.

Then maybe I should’ve ordered him not to get shot up full of lead, you mused with a wry, half-hearted chuckle. Or fall out of helicopters.

No, it’d be wrong to ask of him the impossible. Selfish to demand he treat his body as more than an enlisted weapon, unfair to make him swear never to show up half-dead at your door again. In the same vein as asking you to take lunch breaks longer than five minutes, to not work yourself to the bone despite the omnipresent queue of wounded men and women in need of medical attention. Not unreasonable requests, just unrealistic for occupations built on too much blood and too little time. 

So while you couldn’t very well expect the man to compromise the job to which he’d dedicated the whole of his existence, you could control your proximity to said man. A comet was best admired from afar, where its flaming tail looked beautiful rather than damning, and where its inevitable dissolution occurred beyond your field of view.

You needed to put an end to this thing while it was still in your power to do so. You needed to nip whatever feelings you carried for Kyle Garrick in the bud, lest they bloomed beyond management. 

But that could wait. For now, he was simply an indisposed soldier requiring your medical oversight—no more, no less. He was Sergeant Garrick of the 141, not the man capable of turning faulty moments into fond memories and easy shifts into emotional shit-shows. Just a patient entering the next stage of his recovery.

And there wasn’t any harm in holding a recovering patient’s hand, you reasoned.  

With that, you dragged a foldable plastic chair to rest beside him, settled down into the uncomfortable stiffness of its seat, and gently reached for his bandaged fist. Carefully extending his fingers, gently grazing your palm against his. Familiarizing yourself with the callouses there, the skin that had torn open and grown back thicker, stronger time after time until, one day, it could bear the very worst of the world without demanding ichor be spilled. Memorizing the feeling of warmth and weight, tracing the loops and whorls etched into his fingertips, never to again be found in another. 

No harm at all. 

tbc.

[etheralisi]

I’m not planning on a third soon, but hey, who knows. Whenever inspiration strikes, right? Anyway, here’s part 2 of Rottmnt fake posting. 

Find part 1 here  and 3+3.5 here

🌎yes-the-earth-is-flat Follow

Yea the Earth is flat. What’s my proof you ask? Everything is flat.

#I keep trying to tell you all #It’s a 2D world and we’re all just living in it. #But do you listen? Nooooo

126 notes

🏒 HOCKEYORDEATH Follow

YOU WILL HAVE MY BROWNIE RECIPE OVER MY DEAD BODY

💀outoftouchoutoftime Follow

Then why don’t I have your recipe?

🏒 HOCKEYORDEATH Follow

… I’M PAYING FOR YOUR THERAPY

13 notes

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

Do not teleport mid sneeze

It is not a good idea

Sincerely with regret, me

🌫️mistyme Follow

… okay???

🌼i-eat-plastic-flowers Follow

Tp in what game again?

63 notes

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

2k into a Lou Jitsu Jupiter Jim crossover fic and I’m shutting the tab because he would not say that

I knew that summary was too good to be true

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

Shocking. You read?

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

Look, it was a pod fic but still

372 notes

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

HOT

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

SOUUUP

🎨 asprinkleofrazzmatazz Follow

SOUUUUUUUUP!!!!!

🏒 HOCKEYORDEATH Follow

CROSS BUNS

🥊 red_hotsoup Follow

HOT SOOOUUUUPPPPPPPPPPP

🌽 sherlock_corn Follow

Someone misunderstood the assignment 

578 notes

thehibernator said: What happened to your Ghostbear sideblog?

🥊 red_hotsoup Follow

Red doesn’t like to talk about it 

#Nine times out of ten your heroes want to kill you #One out of ten and they turn out to be your dad #Yeah GB is still cool but it’s complicated 

56 notes

👥shadow-slunk Follow

Out of ten how drunk were you last night? Drunk enough to hallucinate a dancing bull in a suit next question 

8,965 notes

💀outoftouchoutoftime Follow

Tried apple pie for the first time today

100/10

👺noomenisgood Follow

Where were you eating rats????

💀outoftouchoutoftime Follow

In the caves 

107 notes

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

Yes Atomic Lass I am single

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

Can you not

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

No one asked you to be here

43 notes

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

Update: Purple has blocked me again

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

Everyone spam his inbox in my absence. It’s what I would have wanted 

#revenge is a dish best served blue

22 notes

🐢daily-turtle-appreciation-blog Follow

I love turtles

🎨 asprinkleofrazzmatazz Follow

And they love you ♡

695 notes

🦵kick-back Follow

If no one has ever seen the seven deadly vipers move in action, how do we even know it exists?

🚀jj-sails Follow

You take that back

🌽 sherlock_corn Follow

Oh it exits alright

#🤫

3,399 notes

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

Word on the street is that Purple Game 3 will be released soon.

🥊 red_hotsoup Follow

Purple no

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

Purple yes.

🥊 red_hotsoup Follow

Have you learned nothing????

86 notes

wise-girl said: You’re a doctor?

🎨 asprinkleofrazzmatazz Follow

Yes. Here’s my PHD

532 notes

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

Does anyone have another good website for buying Lou Jitsu comics in print? Jitsujungle shut down and I still need to restock my collection 

15 notes

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

Daily reminder to double check your vehicle for stowaway wizards. They get everywhere

🎨 asprinkleofrazzmatazz Follow

He lives with us now

🎨 asprinkleofrazzmatazz Follow

He gives warm fuzzy hugs

481 notes

🌽 sherlock_corn Follow

Guess who got fired again

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

Me

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

The kitchen is burning 

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

Send help

🎨 asprinkleofrazzmatazz Follow

The what is burning??!?!!

#you are banned #you hear me #banned #square up blue

60 notes

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

DNI if you are a beach ball. This is a beach ball free zone. Any beach balls will be blocked on sight 

#not science posting #I may be hilarious but I am not joking

134 notes

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

The second I get my hands on uranium it’s over for everyone

🌽 sherlock_corn Follow

That’s the third time you’ve posted this this week. 

It’s Tuesday 

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

And it’s true. 

🥊 red_hotsoup Follow

This is meant to convince us to let you have uranium how?

97 notes

📋klipt Follow

Wouldn’t it be sick if New York had its own real life super heroes? 

#I used to love reading Silver Sentry comics as a kid #please please tell me those lights are superheroes 

688 notes

🌰that-old-chestnut Follow

Since everyone is discussing superheroes lately, why don’t we bring this old gem back? Reblog this with your chosen superpower. Then someone else will reblog that with a terrible side effect

👑titanity Follow

I can teleport!

🍗are-you-chicken Follow

You have no control over where you’ll end up. Want to visit the Bahamas? Too bad, you’re in some back alley in New Jersey. Have fun

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

#blue

9,763 notes

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

Nooooo. My Duolingo streak

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

It’s over. It’s all over. The end of the world you could say

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

Ah. Sorry.

10 notes

🎨 asprinkleofrazzmatazz Follow

Making a cat sculpture out of ice cream is fun in theory 

#my hands are cold cold cold #very bad idea #but if she’s not cold she will melt

207 notes

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

Thought I saw my sleep paralysis demon. Turns out it was purple trying to steal my blood.

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

On second thought, yeah. That’s my sleep paralysis demon.

341 notes

cheesecrust said: is @ bluejitsu really your brother?

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

Who?

#purplebox #though this is none of your concern

85 notes

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

New York, what a town.

1,250 notes

[predatory-podcaster]

Wrote this up real quick as a silly idea I had ;)

My gf is in training to be a police officer (since december!) and it drives me wild imagining a world where handling preds is a regular occurance for cops..

Just gotta be careful and remember the number one rule when dealing with preds:

NEVER assume they're full~

On March 18th, 2025, a NYPD deputy conducted a traffic stop on a 19 y/o woman going 63 in a posted 45mph zone. Here is a recollection of that shocking encounter.

The officer approaches the suspect's vehicle at 9:14pm.

"Hello miss, reason why I stopped you is-.."

The officer lets out an audible gasp, unmistakably caused by whatever he saw in her vehicle. His bodycam footage would later reveal the reason: the woman's large, human-shaped gut.

It's not uncommon for police officers to deal with well-fed predators, but it is unusual to see someone attempt to drive home with a belly full of prey. Due to the size limitations of cars, it's near impossible to drive home with a person crammed between you and the steering wheel. It's also near impossible to drive the speed limit when your prey is actively thrashing.

"I'm gonna need you to step out of the vehicle." he said, clearing his throat.

"What's the m- *urp* matter officer?" she said, giggling.

"I need to conduct some field predatory exercises." he said as she exited the vehicle, staggering a bit due to the weight of her gut. "Just to make sure you haven't eaten anyone today."

"Eat someone?" she gasped, doing a poor job of imitating shock. "I would never!"

The officer makes sure to take the woman's ID and insurance before leading her to the median to conduct the tests. His partner exits their police cruiser, approaching them to assist in the tests if needed.

"Alright, go ahead and open your mouth for me." the deputy instructed. She did as told, and the officer shined a flashlight into her mouth.

"Alright. Mind if I feel your stomach?"

"I guess."

The officer is seen putting on gloves, before feeling and pressing her stomach in different places. He pauses when he a faint movement can be seen in her stomach.

"It's just a gas bubble." she said, shrugging.

He stepped towards his vehicle and grabs a stethoscope, handing it to the female officer.

"Lots of excess drool." he muttered to his partner. "I could hear her stomach gurgle just standing near her, it was insane. Feeling around I definitely felt something move. I can't be sure what exactly it was."

"Alright ma'am, we're just going to take a listen to your stomach, ok?" the female officer said, crouching next to the suspect.

"Is this really necessary?" she asked with annoyance. "You're just going to hear the buffet I had earlier.. no screaming or anything."

"We just need to be sure ma'am." she said, setting the stethoscope against her skin. She listened for about 2 minutes before turning to speak to the deputy.

"Very wet sounds. A lot of activity near the small intestines. Definitely a lot of liquid in there. I heard something else, too? Something like bones cracking. Let's go ahead and put her under arr-MMPH!!"

The female officer's face was shoved into the suspect's mouth, her flailing kicks as she was hoisted into the air causing the deputy to fall backwards. As per New York policy, he reached for his taser. Firing during a devouring incident was too dangerous; you'd risk injuring whoever was inside too.

He fired his taser, but it didn't make contact. He cursed, scrambling to his feet and grabbing his partner's legs. The officer's waist was already past her lips. It was almost impossible to get someone out of a pred's stomach without surgery or nausea inducing substances. He had to work fast and make sure she didn't get completely eaten.

Plus, once she had finished swallowing her current prey, it would leave him as a target too.

He kicked her in the stomach, hard, causing her wheeze in pain. He flew forward as she slurped up his partner's legs, and in turn, his hands, which were still gripping her ankles.

"W-wait, stop!"

He managed to get one hand free, pushing against her chest. Once it was evident he couldn't escape her strong lips, he felt around for his radio, knocking his bodycam to the ground in the process. It would land face up in the grass, leaving the investigators who later discovered it able to view the two officer's last moments in vivid detail. The woman gripped the officer's arm as he fumbled with his radio, prying it away and shoving it into her mouth so she could continue swallowing him. Her stomach drooped lower and lower to the ground, the other officer still seen thrashing inside.

Deputy Sanderson could do little as he was swallowed alive by the person he had pulled over for a simple speeding ticket. He could be heard shouting, and eventually sobbing, as his entire body was squeezed into her stomach. She sat on the ground when she was finished, letting out a loud burp.

The two officers fought for space inside the stomach, no doubt sharing it with her previous meal as well. Whether that was a buffet like she claimed, or a live person like the officers suspected, they were now undoubtedly submerged in the swelteringly hot pool of half-digested slop.

"L-let us out NOW.. or you will be shot!" the female officer shouts.

"Oh how scary." she replied, laughing.

What she did next left the officers who were unfortunate enough to view the footage astonished, even nauseated. The woman placed both hands on her stomach and clenched, causing loud cracks and snaps, and most of all, screams.

With one final squeeze, her stomach contracted, reduced to a fraction of its previous size. She felt her stomach for a while, rubbing it gently. Then, 37 minutes since she was first stopped, she notices the body camera and picks it up, setting it on top of her stomach.

"You guys are gonna looove seeing this." she says to the camera. "Be careful about who you try sending after me.. I've been eating pigs for years~"

She burps, and the camera falls to the ground. Her car can be heard driving away after a few minutes, and the body camera remains in the grass until the devouring investigation team finds it half an hour later.

As of right now, that woman is still on the run. She has a warrant out for her arrest for 2 counts of devouring of a law enforcement officer, and 1 count of suspected devouring.

[mikayuumouse]

HELLO!!!!! I have a question hehe... what songs remind you the most about sskk??

MUAHAHAHA this is my time to shine because I collect songs that fit sskk like Hades collects souls

Here's the list so far, although I might be forgetting some songs lol;

#1 Midnight Rain - Taylor Swift

#2 Into You - Ariana Grande

#3 Line Without a Hook - Ricky Montgomery

#4 Take Me to Church - Hozier

#5 Sweet Tooth - Cavetown

#6 I Will - Mitski

#7 I Want You - Mitski

#8 As the Would Caves In - Matt Maltese

#9 Mr. Loverman - Ricky Montgomery

#10 Problems - Mother Mother

#11 Comfort Crowd - Conan Gray

#12 This December - Ricky Montgomery

#13 Washing Machine Heart - Mitski

#14 It's Alright - Mother Mother

#15 I'm Only Me When I'm With You - Taylor Swift

#16 Clarity - Zedd, Foxes

#17 Last Kiss - Taylor Swift

#18 Teeth - 5 Seconds of Summer

#19 Panic Attacks in Paradise - Ashnikko

#20 My Oh My - Camilla Cabello ft. DaBaby

#21 Fight or Flight - Conan Gray

#22 Timeless - Taylor Swift

#23 invisible string - Taylor Swift

#24 Fearless - Taylor Swift

#25 Enchanted - Taylor Swift

#26 Would You Fall in Love with Me Again - Jorge Rivera-Herrans, Anna Lea (from EPIC: the Musical)

#27 Doin' Time - Lana Del Rey

#28 Talk to You - Ricky Montgomery

#29 Your Stupid Face - Kaden MacKay

#30 Emo Boy - Ayesha Erotica

#31 Arms Tonite - Mother Mother

#32 die first - Nessa Barret

#33 Heart Like Yours - Willamette Stone

#34 If I Killed Someone For You - Alec Benjamin

#35 Criminal - Britney Spears

#36 a thousand years - Christina Perri

#37 Somewhere Only We Know - Keane

#38 The One That Got Away - Katy Perry

#39 Can't Help Falling in Love - Elvis Presley

#40 Burn - Phillipa Soo (from Hamilton)

#41 Belong Together - Mark Ambor

#42 Collar Full - Panic! At the Disco

#43 Rewrite the Stars - Zac Efron, Zendaya (from The Greatest Showman)

#44 Heaven, Iowa - Fall Out Boy

#45 Hate Me - Nico Collins

#46 Everybody Loves Somebody - Dean Martin

#47 Bite Me - ENHYPEN

#48 Jump Then Fall - Taylor Swift

#49 "Slut!" - Taylor Swift

#50 Untouchable - Taylor Swift

#51 Stay Stay Stay - Taylor Swift

#52 Haunted - Taylor Swift

#53 Treacherous - Taylor Swift

#54 You Belong With Me - Taylor Swift

#55 decay - Nessa Barret

#56 Sweet Nothing - Taylor Swift

#57 i hate u, i love u - gnash ft. Olivia O'Brien

#58 If Only - Dove Cameron (from Descendants)

#59 Two Birds - Regina Spektor

#60 Everyone Adores You (at least I do) - Matt Maltese

#61 The Albatross - Taylor Swift

#62 The Great War - Taylor Swift

#63 Love Story - Taylor Swift

#64 Losing Your Memory - Ryan Star

#65 The Exit - Conan Gray

#66 If This Was a Movie - Taylor Swift

#67 Back to December - Taylor Swift

#68 Red - Taylor Swift

#69 Ours - Taylor Swift

#70 Die With a Smile - Lady Gaga, Bruno Mars

#71 House of Memories - Panic! At the Disco

#72 Don't Blame Me - Taylor Swift

Tyyy for the ask!!<3

[defjux]

Here are 81 of my favorite albums of 2024 If you noticed the lack of hip hop albums on here, that's because i already posted a separate list for hip hop which you can find here if you're interested. Chart with album titles included I probably listened to the Chelsea Wolfe album more than anything else here but the cure album was such a pleasant surprise for me that I had to put it as number 1. I thought it was a great year for music overall though. I'm really happy with the first few rows on here and those are for sure the albums i'd recommend the most, even though i think everything on here is worth checking out. If you believe there's something i might've missed or your favorite albums of the year aren't on here, let me know! Feel free to leave your own list in the comments, i'd be interested in seeing it. As always, i'll make it so the album titles are a hyperlink that'll take to wherever you can hear it. Peace. 1. The Cure - Songs Of A Lost World 2. Chelsea Wolfe - She Reaches Out To She Reaches Out To She 3. Iglooghost - Tidal Memory Exo 4. chat pile - Cool World 5. Frail Body - Artificial Bouquet 6. Whirr - Raw Blue 7. OKSE - OKSE 8. Blood Incantation - Absolute Elsewhere 9. Trauma Ray - Chameleon 10. Gouge Away - Deep Sage 11. drive your plow over the bones of the dead - Tragedy As Catharsis 12. Thou - Umbilical 13 . Moor Mother - The Great Bailout 14. Terry Green - PROVISIONAL LIVING 15. Krallice - Inorganic Rites 16. Nala Sinephro - Endlessness 17. Punchlove - Channels 18. Beth Gibbons - Lives Outgrown 19. Tenue - Arcos, bóvedas, pórticos 20. Crumb - AMAMA 21. Hammok - Look How Long Lasting Everything Is Moving Forward For Once 22. Infant Island - Obsidian Wreath 23. Meaningful Stone - Angel interview 24. Kamasi Washington - Fearless Movement 25. Arooj Aftab - Night Reign 26. Ulcerate - Cutting The Throat Of God 27. Camila Bañados - Viento 1. 28. Nilufer Yanya - My Method Actor 29. Oranssi Pazuzu - Muuntautuja 30. Mary Halvorson - Cloudward

31. Nails - Every Bridge Burning 32. Godspeed You! Black Emperor - NO TITLE AS OF 13 FEBRUARY 2024 28,340 DEAD 33. showmore - Liquid City 34. Blushing - Sugarcoat 35. Magdalena Bay - Imaginal Disk 36. Lip Critic - Hex Dealer 37. Joel Ross - nublues 38. State Faults - Children Of The Moon 39. geordie greep - The New Sound 40. Candy - It's Inside You 41. SATOKO SHIBATA - Your Favorite Things 42. Julia Holter - Something in the Room She Moves 43. Gigan - Anomalous Abstractigate Infinitessimus 44. Knoll - As Spoken 45. Jaubi - A Sound Heart 46. Cindy Lee - Diamond Jubilee 47. Blind Girls - An Exit Exists 48. Julie - my anti-aircraft friend 49. Milton Nascimento & Esperanza Spalding - Milton + esperanza 50. Hiatus Kaiyote - Love Heart Cheat Code 51. Isleptonthemoon - Only the Stars Know of My Misfortune 52. Liana Flores - Flower of the soul 53. SML - Small Medium Large 54. Maruja - The Vault 55. Spirit of the Beehive - YOU'LL HAVE TO LOSE SOMETHING 56. Fievel Is Glauque - Rong Weicknes 57. Leaving Time - Angel in the Sand 58. Rita Payés - De camino al camino 59. TURQUOISEDEATH - Kaleidoscope 60. Babii - Daredeviil2000 61. Jessica Pratt - Here In The Pitch 62. HERIOT - Devoured by the Mouth of Hell 63. Dim - planted in the soil 64. Contention - Artillery From Heaven 65. Convulsing - Perdurance 66. The Body & Dis Fig - Orchards of a Futile Heaven 67. Uboa - Impossible Light 68. Melt-Banana - 3+5 69. DIIV - Frog in Boiling Water 70. Amiensus - Reclamation: Part 1 71. Ginger Root - Shinbangumi 72. Hannah Frances - Keeper of the Shepherd 73. Ravyn Lenae - Bird's Eye 74. Garden Home - Garden Home 75. Aara - Eiger 76. graywave - Dancing in the Dust 77. Martha Skye Murphy - Um 78. Mo Dotti - opaque 79. Luna Li - When a Thought Grows Wings 80. Pluma - Não Leve a Mal 81. Twine - New Old Horse

[fic--writer]

Butter cookies

A collection of notes and letters from Rolan to Tav, whith plot. No warnings, it's just cute fluff. SFW

Part 1/2, Part 2/2

№ 1

Tav, I know you're a legend and all. But I've agreed to give you a job in the shop and put you in the tower. And I expect you to follow a few rules. Please be careful with the books. Customers are complaining about greasy marks on the pages with a cookie smell. I investigated and found out that YOU are the only one in the whole tower who eats stupid butter cookies.

№ 3

On Thursday, don't forget to alphabetize the scrolls from the shelf by the west exit. In strict alphabetical order, Tav.

If you forget the alphabet, ask Tolna for a ABC-book.

№ 5

No, it's not another lecture. In fact, I wouldn't waste so much of my valuable time on you if you would at least pretend to be a responsible employee. So what did I want to say?

Oh yeah, it's an invitation to our family dinner at 8:00 p.m.

Lia says to tell you that attendance is mandatory.

№ 7

At the end of the month your salary will be paid. I warn you that if you take another one of these "sick days" next month, the same ones where you took Lia shopping and came back with happy faces and the signs of any illness disappeared without a trace, then the next month's "sick days" will not be paid.

№ 10

Crumbs. From. Cursed. Butter. Cookies. Right. On. The. Counter!!!

№ 15

Several customers have returned the books. Guess why? You're fined a day's pay.

№ 17

Tav, do you really think putting "loud laughing potion" in Tolna's coffee is funny?

It's not!

№ 21

Dinner is at 8:00 p.m.

№ 22

I found your thoughts at dinner about improving the tower's security to be very interesting and feasible, we'll have to discuss it more later. Request: could you dress more modestly for the table?

I'm worried about Cal's eyes.

№ 25

Tav, I've had your last month's pay for three days now. Pick it up when you're free.

№ 33

It seems we have a loyal customer base thanks to you. Those high-born ladies in tasteless pink hats praised you and your sense of humor.

I don’t understand this, but I gave you a bonus. And finally, please, take your money.

№ 38

Is it just me, or have you been staring at me from behind the bookshelves today? Tav, if you need something, say it, if you can't say it, write it. I'm not in the mood for a guessing game. I have no idea what you mean.

№ 43

Arabella will occasionally borrow a set of beginner's magic books. Don't charge her for them. She will read them, return them, and request the next list. Please take control of this.

But if you meet Mattis or Mol, then on the contrary, don’t give them anything! Don't trust their promises! Drive them away by any means necessary!

№ 56

Order black ink.

№ 62

Tav, what happened the day before is not permissible, unacceptable, and will not be allowed to happen again under any circumstances. Yes, we are increasing the number of customers and improving the security of the tower every day, by your efforts too. But! It's not okay for you to lounge around in MY book throne in front of strangers! I am still the Archmage and your boss!!!

At least not in front of strangers?!

№ 63

Am I grumpy?

I wouldn't be grumpy if you were a little more civilized.

№ 64

Thanks for the bottle of wine you slipped under my door as a, uh, apology?

Apology not accepted.

№ 67

I'm sorry I yelled at you. You'll find the two months' salary you never took in your dresser drawer.

The disgusting drawings I found there... Zurgan, Tav! I don't have to tell you how revolting they are, do I?! I burned them.

№ 69

I couldn't get those drawings out of my head. I mean... I mean, I couldn't get that horrible, distorted Tiefling anatomy out of my head. I left the scientific works on Tiefling physiology right under your door.