#Dawn Bender

[mudwerks]

(via Dawn Bender)

[jeancrest8]

I did some art for Avatar Yangchen after reading part of the Dawn of Yangchen. I hope you enjoy it

[sillyfudgemonkeys]

Avatar vs Antagonist switch up

Aang: Hey, what if we like, did a whole antagonist swap thing? Like instead of me fighting Ozai, I get someone else, and someone else gets Ozai? Korra: Oh god yes, let's do it. Roku: That's not really fair, Korra has a lot of enemies. Kuruk: Says the guy that what? Had Sozin? Kyoshi: I call Sozin! And Ozai! Wan: Wait are we really doing this?! Korra: Kyoshi are you sure? What if it's during the comet? Kyoshi: Comet-shmamet. The fight's mine regardless. Kuruk: Kyoshi you seem a little too gungho about this Kyoshi: I have beef with Fire Nation Royalty. Roku: Kyoshi I don't think that's the best mentality- Kyoshi: I don't care! I'm ending their bloodline! *_* Roku: They're still really strong! Kyoshi: I'm stronger! Easy-peasy lemon squeezy! I'll kick their ass over easy! Yangchen it's your turn! Yangchen: I will take Zaheer and P'Li. :) Korra: Are you sure? They're kinda- Yangchen: I'll take out the combustion woman first, giving myself a head in the fight. Kuruk: A....head. Wait, you don't mean you're gonna blo- Yangchen: After that, I'll marionette her corpse in front of that fraud airbender to show him what a real earthly teather is. Then, I'll show him how the pros rip air out of people's lungs. Aang: Jesus Christ what is the matter with those two. Kuruk: I'm taking Vaatu I guess. Both of them. Korra: Why do you want Vaatu? Kuruk: I don't think anyone else here is capable of taking them on, except you, me, and Wan. Korra: Oh fair. Wan: So like both of our Vaatus on at the same time or- Kuruk: Oh spirits no, I'm 1V1ing them. I'm not crazy like Kyoshi or Yangchen. Tho I suppose I'll have to deal with Unalaq too. Korra: Fine, I'll take all of Kuruk's fights then. Kuruk: You sure about that kid? Korra: Yeah I'll just spiritbend, it'll be fine. Aang! Wan! Roku! Have you figured out what you wanna do? Roku: I guess I can take Jianzhu? Wan: Um......the other two Red Lotus I guess? Don't worry Roku, I'll keep the lavabender away from you. ;) Roku: Thanks Wan. :/ Aang: I'm sorry, but are we seriously going to ignore what Kyoshi and Yangchen said?????!

[bb-eb-db-bb-eb-b-ab-f-b-ab]

i’m going to ask something that no one is going to like. do we really believe kavik outlived yangchen

[atla-yun]

combustion benders

[mudwerks]

(via Acidemic - Film: Derek Love vs. the Buzz Killer: TEENAGERS FROM OUTER SPACE, REBEL WITHOUT A CAUSE)

[dreaker]

A while ago I found this cannon about John Bender liking to draw on your arms and you just letting him because he really likes to do it so much, so it became your thing.

I really don't remember where I found this or who wrote it, if anyone knows, please tell me..

anyway, i wanted to say thanks because it makes me want to flip a fucking coloring book, just because he would just be so happy about it

and I think he's one of those people who gets so simply adorable when he gets excited over simple things... that's it, i wish i was a fucking coloring book for fucking John Bender.

[ademella]

currently reading

[frownyalfred]

omg YES tim wants bruce to be single. he is too noble to sabotage any of bruce's dates, but not above silently cheering when bruce's often on again off again relationships become off again.

and then, of course, clark finally happens. and superman is so different from the rest of bruce's menagerie of relationships that they're never "off again" other than occasional fights. and tim is happy for bruce! but secretly salty because now no one will do 72 hour mystery benders with him

Tim barging into Bruce's room five years into full-time Superbat: hey Bruce I know it's the middle of -- whatever this is -- but I finally cracked the code on that letter from last week, and I think if we go down to the docks right now and repeat the incantation, we might be able to finish it all up by dawn.

Clark, staring blearily over Bruce's head: hey Tim

Tim, vibrating: hi Clark

Bruce, also vibrating:

Clark: just go already. I can tell you want to.

[sillyfudgemonkeys]

Rangi and Koulin: *beating the shit out of each other with combustive type punches and kicks, that they apparently used for normal everyday school disputes* Yangchen inside Kyoshi's mind:

[hanktalkin]

Demo found out about the tattoo at the same time everyone else did: the next morning in the pregame showers.

He’d been wondering about the pain in his shoulder, but not with any sort of gusto, certainly not with the level of curiosity that kept him reminded enough to investigate properly. It was only when Scout whistled and said, “Well somebody got real lucky last night. Or really unlucky I guess, knowing you.”

“What are you on about, Scout?” Demo grumbled, attention focused on trying not to irritate the tender spot, which, annoyingly, hadn’t lessened in pain the way post-bender bruises usually did.

“Just thinking. If it was serious you would have been bragging about her way before this. Nah, nah, I’m guessing you were so wasted last night you got that on a dare, don’t even remember her face or nothing.”

“Scout!” Demo said, whirling on him, wincing a little as the hot water hit the sore spot. “Get to the point before I’m fed enough to give you a swirlie.”

“You got a chick’s name tattooed on your back.”

Scout said it smugly, having guessed—correctly—that Demo had no memory of the drunken escapades that had led to him getting it.

“What??” Demo bellowed.

The other mercenaries had been performing some level aloofness, having noticed the inking but preferring to watch it play out, they couldn’t help snicker their amusement as Demo spun in a circle, hopelessly trying to get a glimpse of the supposed tat. Shower spray scattered against all nearby bystanders.

“You better not be pulling my leg you little mutt,” he said.

“Nah pally, it’s all right there. Schmaltzy heart around it and everything. Though maybe you didn’t dig her all that much, it ain’t that big.”

“Feels massive,” Demo pouted. “Hurts like someone took a bite out of me.”

“That little thing? Psh. Call me when you get a full-color.” Scout tapped his own chest.

But Demo didn’t want to think about Tom Jones, he wanted to think about last night, to try and remember past when he and the BLU Soldier had met up for clandestine drinks and their weekly night on the town. Had they gone to try to pick up women after that? The whole night was a muggy smudge.

“Snipes,” he said desperately, “tell me the twerp isn’t pulling one over on me.”

“Sorry mate.” Sniper shook his head. “It’s there-”

Christ, what else had Demo said or done? If he knew himself he’d no doubt been in one of his pathetic, romantic moods. What other kinds of promises had he made? He needed to track her down and clear all this up-

“-But if it makes you feel any better,” Sniper continued, “this Jane woman probably appreciated the gesture. Who knows? Maybe she got your name tatted too.”

A long, realization-dawning pause.

“…Fuck,” Demo said.

[bananacorn-limeade]

A tale they said was TOO SHOCKING for the screen.

Ladies and gentlefolk, American International Pictures presents the CINEMATIC EVENT of 1961:

A SONG of ICE and FIRE!

A Roger Corman production. Music by Albert Glasser.

Starring... well, you'll see. (Will this be a "good" movie? Absolutely not. Will costumes and hairstyles be woefully anachronistic? For sure. Will many casting choices be questionable? Indeed. Will major plot points be changed to comply with the morality clauses of the Hayes Code? You betcha!)

Starring

RICHARD CARLSON as EDDARD STARK - an HONORABLE man caught in a WEB of political intrigue!

MARIE WINDSOR as CATELYN STARK - the mother who will do ANYTHING to protect her own!

COLEEN GRAY as CERSEI LANNISTER - the BEAUTIFUL QUEEN with a TERRIBLE SECRET!

JOHN AGAR as JAIME LANNISTER - the DASHING SWORDSMAN who SHOULDN'T be TRUSTED!

MICHAEL DUNN as TYRION LANNISTER - the HALF MAN with BIG APPETITES!

BASIL RATHBONE as Tywin Lannister - the STRATEGIST with a HEART of ICE!

RAYMOND BURR as ROBERT BARATHEON - the king who LOVED WINE - almost as much as he LOVED WOMEN!

JUNE KENNEY as DAENERYS TARGARYEN - the PRINCESS from an EXOTIC LAND!

ROBERT REED as RENLY BARATHEON - the HANDSOME KING all of Westeros WANTED!

GLENN LANGAN as STANNIS BARATHEON - the HEIR who WOULDN'T BACK DOWN!

ALLISON HAYES as MELISANDRE - the sultry RED WOMAN no king could deny!

With...

ANTHONY DEXTER as the SCHEMING Petyr Baelish!

LON CHANEY JR as the TERRIFYING Sandor Clegane!

and TOR JOHNSON as THE BROTHER who MADE him a MONSTER!

...And Introducing...

MICHAEL LANDON as JON SNOW - a TORTURED SOUL at the EDGE of the WORLD!

JOHN ASHLEY as ROBB STARK - the BOY KING marching to his DOOM!

DOLORES FAITH as SANSA STARK - the fair princess TRAPPED by a WICKED queen!

DAWN BENDER as ARYA STARK - a LITTLE GIRL with LOTS OF FIGHT!

and newcomer JACK NICHOLSON as THEON GREYJOY - the rogue who HIDES behind a SMILE!

THE INTRIGUE

THE SUSPENSE

The Song of Ice and Fire!

[lanawinterscigarettes]

The Breakfast Club members at the beach

Warnings: swearing, smoking/weed usage mentioned

A/N: just got back from my vacation at the beach and since I wrote nothing while I was gone (oops) I decided to do it now

Claire Standish

Her parents definitely own some sort of vacation home on a private piece of land that she visits every summer (rich people things yknow)

Usually stays on a towel by the shoreline. She doesn't get in the water and if she does it's only to dip her feet in so she doesn't get her hair or makeup messed up

She'll flip through a magazine or something while waiting for the sun to give her the perfect nautral tan

Andrew Clark

He loves the beach but I think he spends more time in the hotel's gym than by the actual ocean since his dad's so strict about him staying in shape even during the summer

Totally the type of person to get up at the fucking ass crack of dawn just to run down to the very end of the shoreline and back. Man's crazy

Extra snacks must be packed if you're going with him because otherwise he'll eat them all in the first day of being there since he needs the calories

Brian Johnson

Poor boy's so overworked from school he has no idea how to relax properly, if his parents would let him that is

Even when on vacation he's still copying notes down from textbooks and flipping through flashcards for stuff that's not getting learned in school until the new year rolls around

He probably sneaks away at some point to use his (really shitty) fake ID to buy some edibles at one of the boardwalk shops to help him calm down some. The cashier is either too stoned to notice he's not twenty one or just doesn't care

John Bender

His reasons for going to the beach are pretty simple: weed and hot people (both guys and girls). Believe me when I say he can and will shamlessly ogle anyone he finds attractive when walking on the boardwalk

Pretty much all he does when there is get high. He has no need to visit any of the shops (other than the cannabis ones) and the beach itself doesn't interest him much

It entirely possible that he might just hang around the boardwalk the entire time, smoking a blunt while flirting with anyone who might pass him by

Allison Reynolds

She takes a couple different busses to go down there for a day trip as she doesn't have anything better to do

Might walk around the boardwalk for a bit, checking out the stores and stealing borrowing from a few of them, stuffing anything she likes that's small enough to carry into her purse

In the evening she sits on the shoreline with her sketchbook and doodles the sunset before heading back home

End notes: I promise I'm working on my asks and stuff okay I just tend to get distracted easily and forget

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated | requests are currently open

Main masterlist | The Breakfast Club masterlist | wanna be added to my taglist?

🏷 taglist: @missmewts @ghot-girl @your-next-daydream @alexxavicry @noisy-dumb-piece-of-shit @lovelyy-moonlight @theonetruepotato87

[rreskk]

Heatwave

Summary: Sandy Shores experiences a frightful heatwave in which disturbs Trevor and his sleep, leaving him to use the only source of entertainment - you.

NOTES: Hey guys. I've not answering requests at the moment because I really wanna focus on providing much more focussed fanfics! Trying to improve and experiment with my writing, but this means I'll upload more promising works! :)

TW: -Smut

Pairings: Fem!reader/ Trevor Philips

Word count: 1856

The humidity was ravishing like a spiteful bliss of rushed warmth evaporating from an active volcano. The many layers of heat had tangled Hell into Sandy Shores, the rock roads fuming, the metal trailers sparking and burning up. A horrific heatwave during the summer hours of early dawn. What was present outside was also found inside; unbearable temperatures and sticky mattresses heaving at his naked skin. For once he tried to sleep but it came with a downfall of sweat and irritation. The 3 day bender of meth fuelled chaos ended and the sleep deprivation caught up momentarily. So with tiredness and angst, Trevor attempted to sleep the night before and, almost choked up by the heat, ended up lying there with eyes wide open, his back stuck to the duvet and his whole body measured with sweat — head to toe — every inch.

He glanced over to your sleepy figure and glared with distain. His body rolled forwards and it grinds against your backside, needly asking for some comfort and physical contact while in the moment of Hellish heat. Though you were just as sweaty with the mattress becoming damp, you had somewhat managed to enter the process of a light sleep, your eyes closed and face aching with trickles of sweat.

“Wake up…” his finger brushed across your damp stomach, “Don’t sleep without me.”

This tauntingly disturbed your peace and quiet as you began to stir, his breath heavy on the back of your neck. Throughout the whiplashes of consciousness, his stench grew more intense due to the humidity and increasing pressure of the warm heatwave that caused his bedroom to sickly hold this stream of his sweaty musk. Your nostrils were inflamed at the punch and you peered over your shoulder, just now noticing the layers of sweat painting your skin and sticking to your shirt. He met with your eyes, still frowning.

“What?” You murmured after being eruptively woken.

“I can’t sleep.” He simply said like it was your fault.

Begging to differ, your stomach coiled at his demonising scent and slowly, you sat up from the sticky sheets.

Trevor immediately followed you with his eyes and took advantage of the free access to your body, his hands grabbing at your waist and them warm fingers sliding across your bare skin. It made you shiver as the contrast of your sweat and his sweat mixed. The sensation was more or less hot AND bothering, an unwanted caress of butterflies moving around in your tummy and making it harder to breathe. Them damned hands are only making this heatwave worse for you.

“Trevor.” You’d warn since the illy-balanced fractures of bodily temperatures were apparent to cause future sickness.

“What?” He grubbed in response, scowling. His touch remained fixated on your waist and quietly ushering you closer to his side of the bed.

Knowing it wasn’t smart to argue against this revoltingly lustful intimacy, you shook your head to avoid any more of that sober grumpiness.

“This fuckin’ heat is killing me…” And with a slight tug, you were pulled back and into his lap. Your head planted onto the sweaty chest and he gazed down with a snarky smirk. “Hey.”

A hesitant muffle left your lips as you obtained the urge to find comfort in this gooey, humid situation. While lying against Trevor was a diamond in the rough, it didn’t help with your hair and clothes sticking to your body. Overstimulation, at its finest.

“It’s too hot for this.” You protested and attempted to sit up from his close proximity.

“Is it?” He questioned before grabbing the back of your shirt. “It’s never too hot to spend quality time with my girl.”

Your body went into immediate shut down and you couldn’t hold back the grudge. Limply falling back, you gave him a deceitful sigh. “C’mon, please. We both are tired—“

“From what I can remember, you were sleeping fine. Almost too fine…” He murmured.

“Before you woke me up.”

Trevor grimaced, “What’s wrong? You don’t want to spend time with dear ol’ Trev?”

“I didn’t mean it like tha—“ Before your sentence barely spat from your tongue, his hand perversely broke an entrance down your sweatpants, harshly groping at your pussy through your sweat-shaking undies. “Fuck!”

You felt him smirk at your initial reaction. Trevor increased his grip as your back arched, the overwhelming presence of heat turning into an internal arousal, defeating your inner dignity. He maintained your steady position in his lap while that hand only abuses your pussy harsher, suddenly clawing at your clit through the damp cloth.

“Trevor, stop…” You struggled with a smile, rocking your hips and thrusted into his hand.

“Atta girl. You love it, don’t you?” He whispered as his lips remained attached to your neck. His voice vibrated throughout your body, assisting the rush of blood to your stomach and lower. And from what you could tell, as that growing urge bulged from his crotch, he was excited as well. A bit too excited.

Disabled of vocalisation – jerking your hips is the only way of communicating since he had stolen your words. How he responded was physically intimate. His finger, clinging to your panties, pulling it aside and freeing the wet mess caused by his monster teases. You just wanted to rip off your clothes and free yourself from the chambers of sweat and overstimulation but he enjoyed watching you grow frustratingly sweaty and sticky. His eyes were peeled upon the hair that stuck to your face, the silhouette of droplets on your forehead and neck illumining from the lamp beside the bed. Trevor always loved it hot and messy, heatwaves setting him off when you submit such a sight to behold.

You clumsily pulled down your lazy sweatpants with the damp panties, kicking it away with the jerk of your feet. Now you could see his veiny, pulsing hands that dared to finger your clit more than it already is. With circular motion, you watched his thumb press down and interrogate the sex, assassinating the build-up of tension starting within your thighs and making them shake with anticipation.

“Oh yeah, that’s how I fuckin’ like it.” You heard him moan when sighting your exposed lower body.

As predicted, he shuffled around, your back hitting the mattress instead of his chest and his hand, based on your clit, increasing in pressure as he used it to continue the yearnful pleasure. You moaned, eyes closed, feeling his shadow looming over your body when another hand opened up your legs more.

“Look at me, baby.” Trevor pled.

“I can’t.” Everything was spinning that you didn’t have the guts to face him in fear of coming too early.

“Yes you fucking can.” He reached for your face and aggressively open up one of your eyes, grinning when your pupils expanded at the sight of his face. Sweat, perverted eyes, wobbly lips, sharply inhaled chest that his ribs were exposed, you were devastatingly attracted to this ugly version of him.

There he was, your dirty man; all rugged for your taste and all energised for the next taster. Trevor ensured you were to keep your eyes open before glancing down, his briefs hanging around his thin waist, tugging it further down until the happy-trail trickled towards the V-line, then hitting the sight of his touch-starved cock that was caked in god-knows how much sweat. It trembled when the dim light of his night-lamp stared it down, showing off the ugliness and divine ravenous.

“Oh fuck!” You cried out, beastly needing the Devil’s touch.

Trevor whimpered and lined his cock against your loose pussy, his thumb remaining tightly against your clit to keep you actively pleasured. Inhaling the last freedom of oxygen, he pushed inwards and took control. You both moaned at the intense gratification and fulfilment.

“Mhm… Yeah, that’s right,” He breathed when thrusting, his sweat being used as lube, “God, I fucking love you!”

You were being rattled relentlessly against the mattress as your back was inhumanly stuck to the material with nothing but pure sweat. His hands gripped your thighs and kept it wide apart when rocking in and out of your pussy, ignoring how frantically they were shaking. It made your head toss and turn to try and express this unnatural wave of euphoria.

Trevor chewed his bottom lip and adjusted himself onto his knees, leaning forward, lifting your legs up, the access to your sex getting bigger and the deeper he gets to fuck you. His hair was coiled in every direction despite the thinness after it was beyond bewildered by the caking of lather. It would occasionally drool down his face and drip onto your naked skin, his own fluids from the flesh of his body warming you up while he’s inside you – how dirty and filthy – how you are bonding and loving it like a Heavan in disguise.

“Trevor! Harder!” You unconsciously whined.  

He shakingly gritted his teeth and slammed his hips wildly, “Shut –“ His voice lowered, “– the fuck up, baby. Fuck!”

“Please!”

The witch-craft – or as for now, bitch-craft – of your weak voice made him stammer forwards even more, his cock rapidly beating you to a pulp, just like you wanted.

You grabbed onto his shoulders and panted while he dismantled you like a doll. The sweat becoming equally as arousing, unlike before. He was taking great care of your pussy by demolishing it. So sweet and exasperating, a last blow threw you downhill and you gave him a high-pitched moan. “I’m gonna fucking cum!”

“Cum for… Fuck… FUCK!” Trevor aimed to command you but it backfired as he could barely hold himself hostage. So in a haze of immense desire, he pressed his wrenched forehead against yours and memorised this moment before the urge to cum was threatening to follow.

“Ah! Oh! Ohh…” A hurtful whimper lasted for seconds as your whole tummy went into a series of spasms, cum squirting out, painting his cock which was flooded with more warmth and more wetness than it already was. Trevor kept on fucking you through the orgasm and moaned your name repetitively, staring at you through his eyebrows as sweat dripped off his skin and onto your cheek like a dog drooling from it’s mouth.

Your face scrunched up and your climax met with his, a sudden blow of fluids attacking your pussy and deeper. He threw his head back and shouted. “FUCK! YES!”

The bed stopped creaking and shaking when he collapsed onto you. His face buried itself in the crook of your damp neck and his cock stayed inside you while it shook off the rest of his cum. The only sound was the shared breathing between you both that was as familiar as a wolf feasting its prey.  

“Yeah…” He murmured suddenly, hands hugging your curves and more of his body weight pressing against you.

Rubbing his back, you whispered, “That felt so good…”

Trevor didn’t respond and closed his eyes. You were left comforting his tired body as he finally fell asleep, probably sleeping for the next 12 hours and caging you under his weight, making you roll your eyes but smile.

[shefightslikeagirl]

Hobby Drama: Emilie Autumn's Asylum [Part 1]

u/pillowcase-of-eels posted a link to their fandom-and-EA-history write up to the r/EmilieAutumn Reddit, and I thought it would be a fun project to share! 2 out of 7 parts have been posted to r/HobbyDrama so far.

Picture this: it's the early 2010s, somewhere in the western world. Instagram is a novelty, Harvey Weinstein runs Hollywood, almost no one on Earth leans one way or the other about RNA vaccines, and Donald Trump is that one real estate guy you vaguely remember from Home Alone 2. New player Lady Gaga is the most interesting thing to have happened to pop since Madonna, and the whole industry is attempting to catch up; Miley Cyrus is the chick who used to be on Hannah Montana; Melanie Martinez hasn't hatched yet. The time of Oddball Concept Divas is dawning just below the horizon.

You're a Bowie-loving student who skipped goth night at the club to tag along with your art school friends for a very special evening. You're a giddy sixteen-year old rocking cat ears, purple Wet 'n Wild eyeliner, a polyester petticoat, and a coffin-shaped backpack. You're an effete theater kid who sewed his own waistcoat for the occasion, but won't dare wear it to school the next day. You're a buff, bearded dude in a Venom shirt who's trying not to look too excited, since your girlfriend supposedly had to drag you here. You're a slightly bemused parent leaning against the back wall of the venue, sipping a warm half-pint, wondering if this isn't all a bit dark for a tween. ("It's called 'Victoriandustrial', mom," you've been told in the car, "and it's not dark, it's art.")

On stage is a pink-haired woman, with red porcelain-doll lips and a heart painted on her cheek. Among a set of antique consoles, twee tchotchkes, teacups and plastic rats, she pounces and twirls in glittery platform boots, tattered striped stockings, and a tightly laced crystal-studded corset that looks like it's splattered in blood. This is ostensibly a concert, but there is no live band. Where one would expect a drum kit or a bass, three bedazzled burlesque vixens act as back-up singers and dancers, with the occasional vaudeville act a fire-twirling number, a fan dance, throwing pastries and spitting tea into the audience. Lots of wholesome girl-on-girl kissing, too. The music on the backing track is a genre-bender of clanging beats and beeps, lofty orchestral strings, and the frantic hammering of a MIDI harpsichord, as the pink-haired frontlady sings of heartache and betrayal and drowning. Think if the Brontë sisters had invented industrial rock.

The audience gasps in excitement when the lady whips out a vamped-out wireless electric violin. With rockstar cool and virtuoso poise, she leans into the instrument, touches the bow to the strings, and tears out a single plaintive, impeccably distorted high note. Then her fingers go wild, and for a few seconds, everything is perfect suspended animation. Uncannily perfect, almost. Just behind you, you hear someone whisper: "Wait, is she miming it?"