#popping corks for trout

[captglenn-us]

The Rattler 2:

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#bait and tackle #saltwater fishing #fishing in florida #popping corks #popping corks for trout

[jewishbjork]

animal pains had his head in a ct scanner for he had gone taste blind. all he could taste was the kind of acid you make when you vomit from a violation of territories and regions.

he said i can taste something different. i can feel the taste of a far off summer trout through the light i see with my eyes closed in this womb.

i asked him if he had tried scraping his tongue. he told me he was scared of putting his hands near his mouth because he was afraid of what he might find. he told me he was scared of putting his hands near his mouth and because he was scared to remember.

i asked him what he was scared to remember and he said i just want to remember the taste of the summer trout. i didn’t ask him to elaborate further but he did after a pause. these words were exchanged between us over the hum of the scan.

he said i am scared to remember the feeling of a hand near my face.

intrusion. predation. interlude. pleasure.

i asked him what kind of hand he was afraid of and he said the kind of hands that his own hands reminded him of because they also reminded him of him.

intrusion. predation. interlude. pleasure.

shame.

how the mechanism of the finger can scrape the throat ever so roughly when one is trying to find purchase to gain entrance to the gullet which is not an entrance that was not up for purchase.

i asked animal pains how much radiation he thought was good for his head. he asked me how much radiation it would take to make his eyes glow with the certainty of something that could taste things other than vomit from a violation of territories and regions.

i asked him how much radiation was in a hundred thousand cigarettes. not enough to make his eyes glow. 

you can’t have your head in that ct scanner forever i said. 

intrusion. interlude. 

how much summer trout would i have to swallow to have an aftertaste he asked me. i asked him to clarify if he meant experiencing an aftertaste after consuming something or if he meant one would experience the aftertaste of summer trout upon consuming him. animal pains laughed and asked me in how many directions i would like to travel at once. i asked him if he trusted his doctors. he said horses in lab coats could do a better job.

we exited the hospital after paying off the nurse who let us use the ct scanner. soaking in the damp summer air of a moonless night we stood by the ambulance entrance and smoked cigarettes next to the no smoking sign and watched ambulance after ambulance pull up. there had been an explosion at a nearby clinic. some static had lit up an oxygen enriched environment. they carted in many injured horses, who were the doctors who ran that clinic. they had the remains of lab coats on them.

neither of us commented upon this.

we took each other in a dark leafy corner of the hospital parking lot. me, taking all of him. him, taking my hand and intently putting my thumb in his mouth and sucking on it like a cock.

predation. pleasure.

i told him he tasted like fresh summer trout and he told me i probably tasted like a magnet attached to a cork floating in some watermelon water in a paper cup trying to point towards true north if he was not taste blind. i asked him what he meant and he asked me how many directions i was trying to travel at once and laughed softly after the moment of silence created by the fact that i had nothing to reply with. maybe it made me angry. i fucked him harder. 

afterwards we laid in the grass. i popped a chiclet into my mouth and chewed. he asked me if i was aware that the gum in an mre had caffeine in it. i nodded and said i was. we sat there smoking cigarettes long enough until the sky started to brighten. he spoke to no one in particular when he announced out loud i have smoked my last cigarette. this seemed to be the cue to both of us to rise and dress.

to get to our prospective homes we had to take different busses that departed from the same stop. we stood there and enjoyed each others company for a bit longer. spitting words and water back and forth between our mouths. his bus turned down our street and pushed towards us. animal pains looked to me and smiled. we kissed. his lips were chapped and cold and felt good. he stepped on his bus and before the doors closed turned to me and said that he hoped i would not get lost. i would have asked him what he meant but he continued on, the doors closed, and the bus pulled away.

i looked up at an honest, chilled, grey morning sky. wind threatening to turn to a bluster by stinging my sharp and crystalline boogers in the corners of my eyes. a drop of rain hit one of them. i wiped it and everything else away from my sight while feeling the weight of body tired in the lines by my eyes and sinking into my cheeks. i gave him quite a bit of my water. 

upon arriving i closed the door behind me and went to my living room. kneeling by the san joaquin and drinking deep of the scummy waters, the hopping little bugs that lived on the surface of the water and just below popped at my face. 

i kept my eyes closed.

#writing #writers on tumblr

[fish-whisper]

[naturecoaster]

Homosassa Inshore Fishing Report with Captain Toney: Fishing Close to the Docks

Fishing this week has put me close to the docks. I've spent some time around Sugar Bowl and in the Homosassa River. What I've been catching on the outside of the river is trout on a popping cork rig, doing long drifts south of the channel. The wind from the north will push your vessel south so cast ahead of the drift. This will be the best way to put some fish in the box for dinner. River fishing for sheepshead and black drum has been very good. Look for rocky shorelines that are close to the channel. Live shrimp on a 1/4 oz. jig head will get the bite. Be prepared for lots of snags on the rocky bottom. If it happens, give your line some slack and wait about 2 minutes. If there is bait on your hook, small fish or a keeper sheepshead most of the time will pick it off the rock to save your hook or catch the fish. When I fish the river I start close to the ramp and work my way west until I find fish. When you find fish it's because the water temperature is right for the fish and that will be the best area to focus on. I will say it's not the fast fishing we've all experienced but patience and enjoying the beautiful river will pay off at the end of the day. High incoming tide will be early morning this weekend. Homosassa Inshore Fishing Report from Captain William Toney To schedule a fishing charter or shore lunch excursion with Captain Toney, visit his website. A third-generation fishing guide in the Homosassa area, a member of the Homosassa Guides Association, and author of the Homosassa Inshore Fishing Report each week in NatureCoaster.com. To read about our Shore Lunch excursion with Captain Toney, click here. If you want to learn more about how to catch Nature Coast fish from Captain Toney, subscribe to his videos at https://inthespread.com Captain William Toney is a fourth-generation Homosassa fishing guide. He provides our weekly Homosassa Inshore Fishing Report. If you enjoy Captain Toney's weekly Homosassa Inshore Fishing Report, please be sure to tell your friends! Read the full article

[southernaccesscharters]

Southern Access Charters offers the best Venice LA fishing charters you'll ever experience! We have inshore fishing and near shore rig fishing trips on the fascinating waters of Venice, Louisiana. Here, the Mississippi River spills out into the Gulf of Mexico, producing diverse and twisting bayous, ponds and rivers that are home to a large number of exciting fish species, and you’ll have the chance to explore it all.

Step aboard the 24’ Key West bay boat, built specifically to peruse these waters. Powered by a 300 HP Suzuki outboard motor, featuring a GPS, fish-finder, VHF radio and radar, you’ll head to the most productive spots with ease. Once you get there, the wireless trolling motor will hold at any location while I tend to all your needs. Baiting, casting, changing lines, netting fish, taking pictures, the most fun and fellowship. Rather it’s catch and release or filling up the fish box, you will never be the same after a fishing trip like this. Ice box space for drinks and lunches and a huge fish box to fill.

Ladies, don’t worry about a potty, we have one aboard. Up to 4 anglers are welcome to make yourselves comfortable aboard, taking advantage of the comfortable seating and the T-top that provides shade throughout the day. You’ll be handed the toughest Ugly Stick rods with the latest Daiwa BG commercial reels.

Strong braided 50lb test to power in those 30-40 plus lb bull redfish. To 100lb test for rig fishing rods to crank in nice red snapper. Kids will be able to handle fish too with smaller rods and reels they can handle. Four horseman popping corks, artificial lures and dead bait provided. You can also fish with live bait at an additional cost to take in some of the biggest hauls of trout and reds when the bite is slow on dead bait.

Try a range of methods as you look to attract the bite of a range of exciting and delicious fish. Try bottom rig fishing around oil platforms and underwater structures as you target Red Snapper, Mangrove Snapper, Redfish, Speckled Trout, sheepshead, Black Drum, Cobia and much more, on what promises to be a fun-filled trip in the Gulf of Mexico. Near shore fishing the marshes and cane reeds on a popping cork for schools of redfish, speckled trout and flounder. The rock jetties at the end of the Mississippi River where it spills into the Gulf of Mexico is my favorite spot.

With the trolling motor on anchor mode the fish box will fill up with redfish, sheepshead, drumfish, speckled trout, white trout, triple tail, Spanish mackerel and more. Everything you need for a productive day out awaits you on board. All you need to do is bring some drinks and snacks, and settle in for a thrilling fishing experience with Southern Access Charters. Come and discover the bays, bayous and Gulf of Mexico in true Louisiana style!

[heyitsjay03]

Fighting for Tomorrow

AN: This is my first fanfiction I’ve ever posted on here and I’m a little nervous lol. I just hope you guys have as much fun reading this as I did writing this. 

Disclaimer: I do not own AOT and all rights go to the owners! 

Reiner x Reader, eventual Captain Levi x Reader, Sasha x Sister!Reader

Word Count: 8.3k words

TW: arranged marriage, blood/gore, swearing/adult language, mild sexual content

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You can read parts two, three, and four! Just tap on the number you want :)

   There’s a prolonged poke on my cheek, “Are you awake?”

   My eyes slowly open, wincing slightly at the sunlight fighting through my curtains. A black-haired, green-eyed little boy sits on my bed- face just centimeters from mine. There’s another poke. “Well? Are you?”

   “Eren,” I groan, rolling over in my bed and pulling the sheets up over my head. “How did you even get into my house?”

   “You leave your window unlocked every night,” he says simply, as if it were common knowledge. He’s not wrong… I can only imagine how many people know about my window. I shudder. Maybe I should start locking up more. 

   “Fine, but that doesn’t mean you can just… jump through it. What would your mother think?” 

   “She doesn’t care.”

   I roll back over and give him a hard stare before he slumps over. “I guess she does,” he mumbles, picking at the sheets on my bed. “But Mikasa’s with me so it’s not as bad.”

   “Where-?” I sit up, throwing the sheets off of me. “Did you bring Armin, too, Eren?” I ask exasperatedly as I tuck my arms close to my chest and search my room. 

   Eren nods, “They’re outside keeping watch.”

   “Keeping watch for who?”

   “For-”

   “Eren!” 

   The soft voice comes from just outside my window. We both turn towards it and watch as Mikasa’s face pops into the sill. 

   By the walls, how did I manage to end up babysitting these three maniacs? 

   “He’s coming!” Armin’s voice strains. I hurry to the window and see Armin giving a knee-up to Mikasa, his pale face slightly pink with exertion. 

   “Who’s coming?” I ask, turning to Eren.

   I don’t get a response. There’s someone’s footsteps crunching towards my front door. A single glance to the kids tells me they really, really don’t want to face whoever it is. I grip Mikasa under her arms and pull her through the window before snatching Armin’s collar and tugging him through the window. The two scramble to their feet- Armin taking longer than Mikasa- and hurry to Eren’s side. 

   There’s a pounding knock at my door, followed by a man yelling for me. Eren and Armin clutch my arms and slightly tuck their faces into the silk of my nightgown. Mikasa remains steady and calm- her grey eyes trained on the door. 

   The man steps back from the door, peering in the window just above my sink. I know his face all too well. It’s Tobias Walker. He searches the house, face pressed slightly against the glass.

   “What in the walls did you three do this time?” I mutter, hurrying to the front door. They remain at my side as I open the door. 

   Smiling warmly, I greet Tobias. “Hello Tobias,” I hum, “I wasn’t expecting you to visit until later on.”

   My fiancé forces a smile, staring down at the kids. “...I was… Just… looking for you four.”

   “Why?”

   Tobias takes off his cap, twisting it in his fists nervously. Slowly, he tears his eyes away from them. “These three have been pestering me at work again,” he mutters venomously. “Darling.” He says this sweetly and quickly- an afterthought, an attempt to curry favor for his side of the story. 

   Two can play at that game. “Really, Tobias? They’re just children- what can they possibly do that can distract my dedicated fiancé from his business?” 

    He stammers, running a hand across his forehead. He’s a mess. His tanned skin is slightly red, black hair slightly frayed and mussed. Sweat drips down his face, trailing his jawline. It’s a shame I didn’t know him before this whole ordeal. Maybe we would’ve come together on our own, who knows. 

   “__________, please,” he tries pleading with me before realizing the words that came out of his mouth. He stands up straighter, eyebrows and lips forced into straight lines. “I won’t be begging,” he mutters in an attempt to be firm. He stares down at the kids. “And they’re coming with me.”

   The small grips on my nightgown tighten. 

   “I’m sorry, Tobias,” I hum, rubbing the heads of each of the kids with a warm smile to each of them. My gaze turns back to the man in the doorway. “But there’s been some misunderstanding. Doctor Yeager had sent them to me. They brought me some of the stuff needed for the ceremony.”

   “I- We don’t need stuff for the ceremony-”

   “Are you rejecting the kindness of one of the town’s benefactors?”

   “Well, no-”

   “Did you want to spend extra money on the flowers and the arrangements?”

   “I don’t need charity-”

   A breathy laugh leaves my lips. “Tobias, you’re not thinking clearly. The Doctor had personally gone out of his way to tell me. He was on his way to work in Wall Sina when he stopped and told me he was sending stuff from his home to us. He didn’t even leave five minutes ago!” 

   It wasn’t entirely a lie. Doctor Yeager had told me of his business in another wall- the exact one was lost on me. I just wasn’t sure if he had left or not.

   Tobias gulps, eyeing me and then the kids. My hands find my hips and I tilt my head to the side slightly, “...now- how is it possible that they carried their packages all the way to the other side of town, pestered you, and then made it back across town within five minutes?”

   Tobias goes quiet, his mouth opening and closing like a trout. My eyebrow raises as I await his answer. His head twitches to the side and the grip on his cap grows tighter. “...I’m telling you-”

   “And I am telling you that you, in your infinite wisdom, are wrong. Now, I’m sure the factory is completely lost without you so I’d suggest getting a move on.” I push his chest slightly and close the door. The four of us strain our ears, listening to the tell-tale crunches in the dirt as he walks away from the house. I can hear him muttering, the fence slamming behind him. 

   Eren and Armin release their grips and sigh. Eren turns to look at me, eyes shining. I shake my head, “You’re not out of the clear yet, so you three go sit down and tell me what you were doing.”

   Eren stares dumbfounded at me, mouth slightly open. My eyebrow arches and he stands firmly in his spot. Armin grabs his arm, tugging him to the table. He practically throws Eren into a chair and takes another seat. Mikasa sits to Eren’s right, still silent and stoic.

   My arms cross over my chest as I stare at the lot of them. Mikasa’s fiddling with the red scarf around her neck and Armin doesn’t meet my gaze. Even Eren pretends to be interested in the grooves in the wood table in front of him. 

   “Well? What were you three doing in the factory? Haven’t I told you three to just leave it alone? It’s happening, whether any of us want it to or not.”

   “But it shouldn’t happen!” Eren erupts, slamming his palm to the table. My flower vase filled with wildflowers spins like a small dancer; stems arms stretched to a spotlight. The shaking of the vase echoes around the stillness of the kitchen. “He’s forcing you into a cage!”

   “He isn’t forcing me into anything, Eren,” I say quietly. “I made my choice.”

   “What were the options?” He snaps again, eyebrows drawn together to create fierce ridges that look out of place on a face so young. 

   I stay silent, focusing on keeping my breathing steady. I can feel my teeth biting down into the inside of my bottom lip, the tightness in my shoulders and back. Armin and Mikasa pull on Eren’s sleeves to pull him down into his chair. Eren shrugs them off, “He’s forcing you into something you don’t want- into a cage!”

   “Eren!” Armin hisses incredulously, his soft-blue eyes widening. “She’s an adult- you can’t talk to her like that!”

   “It’s okay, Armin,” I say softly, walking to the chair across from the three of them. “I should explain everything… Seeing as the three of you will probably find out one way or another.”

   Eren huffs, slamming himself back down against his chair. Their eyes remain fixated on me- each pair simultaneously gleaming with curiosity and boiling with rage. I groan softly, running a hand through my long, ________ hair. It catches on a few tangled naps. “I didn’t realise I was going to be explaining such a heavy topic so early in the morning,” I mutter, getting back up and walking to the cupboards. 

   “It’s past noon,” Mikasa states, earning an indignant ‘don’t say that!’ from Armin. 

   “Fantastic,” I breathe out, pulling the dusty, colored-glass bottle from the back of the cupboard. “Then I don’t feel so bad doing this.” I undo the stopper- a sweet smell wafting in the air behind the cork- and take a long swig. 

   Shuffling back to the table, I tuck the bottle back under my chair. “There’s no easy way to explain to three children,” I mumble, “But I know you’re all much brighter than your age. So… I’ll just start at the beginning,”

   “I was born in a small cabin in the woods of Wall Rose. My family were hunters and gatherers- we lived off the land like our ancestors before us. It was a… ‘simplistic’ type of living and I didn’t have the luxuries I have now but… It was honest living. We took from the land only what we needed and gave it back as best we could,”

   “There were people who looked down on us. Calling us… ‘out-dated’ and ‘backwards’. Maybe it was the way we dressed or how we lived or how we talked- whatever it was, they didn’t like us much... I got older and they had my little sister and I had started going to school in the village. I… I felt… it was awful- school. I was called awful things because of the way my family and I lived. I was an outcast and… So, I- ...I changed,”

   “I fixed my hair and bought makeup from the traders in the village. I mimicked the way my classmates talked and stopped going hunting with my father and sister. Eventually… Eventually I was accepted. I was a part of the group now,”

   “And I got even older and dreamed about leaving the village- to see what the other walls had in store and to leave behind the archaic ways of my family. That was when my family had their first run-in with Tobias. He wanted our land- to cultivate and grow grain for his factories. My family declined but he isn’t the type to take ‘no’ for an answer. He found out about my family’s money issues and… And he came to me. Tobias told me he knew and that he had a plan that would make everything go away.”

    I stop, my words catching in my throat. My hands turn about in the air before my finger taps against my lips in an attempt to coax my words out. Closing my eyes, I inhale deeply.

   “I couldn’t just… let my family suffer- you know that, right?” I ask hopefully, “We were suffering. We were starving and my mother was weak and my father was sick- what else could I have done?” I was rambling now and I knew it. I run a hand through my hair, tears pricking the edges of my eyes. 

   “So I told them I had a plan to get us out of debt and out of suffering. Tobias has to marry me. When Tobias marries me, he will be in charge of the land and will assume the debt. He’ll pay the debt off with the profit from the factory and then he’ll let us have three-quarters of it while he takes me and a quarter of land to be his…”

   “Prize,” Mikasa finishes for me. 

   My eyes flick up to hers. The boys do the same, taken aback by her words. I couldn’t even scold her- she was right. I was a prize to be won and that’s exactly what happened. I was won. 

   Her steel-grey eyes are unwavering as she looks at me. It was difficult to read Mikasa but being here for this long has taught me a few things about her. And right now, she was staring at me in pity. 

   “...the deal was struck and I was taken here to Shiganshina. A few weeks after moving in, I got myself a job working for Doctor Yeager as his assistant and apprentice until the day when I can succeed him... And that is when I met you three.”

   Eren looks about ready to burst at the seams- jaw tight, teeth gritted, eyebrows drawn, fists clenched. I reach out and place a hand softly onto his, smiling warmly. “This was my choice, Eren,” I hum, “And there’s nothing anyone can do about it. It’s been planned for almost two years now and the ceremony’s tomorrow. After that… Everything will be taken care of- the debt, my family, the land…”   I sigh. “And I can’t lie and say it’s not a nice living that I have here. I have a home and running water and a warm bed and you three knuckleheads to make my day better.” 

   Armin turns a light shade of pink, smiling bashfully. Mikasa even cracks a small smile. But Eren…

   I sigh again and run a hand through my hair. “Eren, please understand. If you were in the same situation- if Doctor Yeager got sick and your mother was too tired to take care of herself. If you had to look after Mikasa on your own… There’s nothing you wouldn’t do in that situation.”

   Eren opens his mouth and then closes it, his hands finding his hair and tugging slightly on the ends. “It’s… It’s not... fair.”

   “You’re right,” I mumble, “It isn’t fair. I should be able to make my own way but… Eren, life isn’t fair.”

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

   “Are you coming?” Eren yells, charging head-on into the crowd of market-goers. Mikasa hurries after him, weaving expertly through the bodies without hitting a single one.

   “We are!” I yell back with a smile, standing on my toes to see the two pop out on the other side of the crowd. Eren stumbles, falling to his knees. Mikasa stops almost immediately and reaches down to him, offering a hand. Eren gets to his feet on his own. Dusting his jeans, he looks up at Armin and I on the other side of the crowd. 

   “Miss Braus?” Armin calls softly, gripping my skirt as we elbow past the bodies in the square. It wouldn’t be this hard if I wasn’t cursed to standing only 160 centimeters. 

   “It’s __________, Armin,” I laugh, squeezing us between two very upset men arguing over the price of meat. “I’m only a few years older than you- you make it sound like I’m some school-teacher.”

   “Why did Mister Walker choose to help your family? If he had just waited, he could’ve bought the land from the bank when they-” he stops himself. 

   We push through to the other side of the crowd. Eren leads us on towards the grassy hills while Mikasa stays on his heels. I sigh, shaking my head. “I have a lot of theories but… None of them make much sense.”

   “...do you think he knew you before? Maybe he was a classmate or a family friend?”

   “I didn’t pay that much attention in school, Armin,” I laugh, “I taught myself a lot more from books than the village wanted a woman to learn.”

   They may have called us backwards but they were the ones focused on the forced submission of the townswomen. Sexist swine.

   “Well… If he did know you, maybe he likes you.”

   My head turns down to face him. His porcelain skin has managed to grow almost completely pink as he realises what he’s just said. Stammers of apologies come stuttering out of his lips as he hastily attempts to take back his words. I smile and shake my head, placing my lips to his golden hair. “You may be right, Armin. You always were bright.”

   “...do you think you could ever love him?”

   We trudge up the hill, breezes running between our legs and through our hair. Mikasa is already at the top, sitting down as she watches a breathless Eren climb up the grassy knoll. I place a hand on the sunhat on my head, securing it as the breeze teases it off my head. 

   Could I ever love him?

   I try to see myself standing in the doorway of our home. Holding a baby on my hip, my other hand grips a child's hand. Tobias walks up the street and grins as the child breaks away and runs to him. Tobias picks up the child and walks into the doorway, pressing his lips to mine. 

   It’s all so... unnatural. 

   Tobias wants roots. I want freedom. I could never be a housewife. I want excitement and passion and unpredictability. He wants me to… To be his little trophy he can take down and polish after a long day at work. Something he can flaunt at dinner parties and work gatherings. 

   I’ve debated this a lot these past two years- whether or not I could love him. And the answer was always the same. 

   “No, Armin. I could never love him.”

   I sit at the base of the tree, soaking up the sun. It’s not hot- just pleasantly warm. Eren’s attempting to climb said tree after managing to convince Mikasa that he won’t fall. Mikasa directs him on his foot placement but I can hear the scraping of the undersides of his shoes as he slips down the bark once again. Armin has fallen asleep on my lap- golden hair stretched out on the mesh fabric of my dress. There’s an illustrated book splayed out beside me that flutters between pages in the wind. Something Armin had gotten from his grandfather, I’m sure. Clouds roll lazily above us, white and pure. They don’t dare to touch the sun. They just float past it- allowing the warmth to uninterruptedly soak the ground beneath us. 

   ...I wish Sasha were here. 

   “__________!” Eren’s voice calls from above me. 

   I turn, seeing Eren swinging from a tree branch. A laugh leaves my lips as I see Mikasa’s head pop right next to his. “Are you two having fun?” Mikasa gives me a quick nod as Eren nods much more enthusiastically. “Well, search the tree quickly. You still have to go grab firewood for your mother.”

   “Aw, c’mon,” Eren huffs, “You can’t let us go one day without chores?”

   “Miss Carla is as much of my boss as Mister Grisha. If she says you need to get firewood, you’re getting firewood.”

   Eren sighs and stops swinging on the tree branch, returning to stand on the base. I can hear leaves shaking as they climb further up. A few break off the branches and float down into Armin’s hair. I pluck them out and let the wind take them from between my fingers. Inhaling the wildflower-smelling air, I seriously debate joining Armin in taking a nap. 

   “__________!” Eren screams. 

   My eyes shoot back open and I’m on my feet. “What is it? Eren? Mikasa? Are you hurt?”

   “The Scouts are back!” Eren yells. There’s more tree-branch-shaking. “They’re back! __________, can we go see them?”

   “We- You-” I stop and inhale deeply as my heart continues hammering against my chest. “You scared me!” I snap, arms crossing over my chest. 

   Eren- with twigs and leaves in his hair- appears at the base of the tree again. He jumps off, colliding to the ground with a thud as he lands on his side. Mikasa does the same, landing perfectly. Eren’s back on his feet in seconds, wiping his clothes of the dirt. “Well?” He asks, “Can we?”

   “We haven’t gathered our firewood,” Mikasa points out, pulling the twigs and leaves from his hair. “Your mother told us we needed to gather firewood.”

   “The firewood’s still gonna be here when we get back,” Eren says back, shooting Mikasa a look. “Please, __________? I swear I’ll get everything done.”

   Armin’s up now- woken up by the commotion. He rubs his eyes and sits up. “Eren’s not wrong. The firewood won’t go anywhere,” he mumbles sleepily. 

   Sighing, I roll my eyes. “You’re gonna get everything done?”

   “Yes, I swear.”

   “And you aren’t gonna forget about it?”

   “No.”

   “And you won’t have Mikasa do it for you?”

   “I don’t have Mikasa do everything for me!”

   “...Eren… She does it whether or not you ask.”

   “Fine. I won’t have Mikasa do it for me.”

   “...okay then,” I smile, holding out my hand for Eren and Mikasa to hold. “Let’s go see the Scouts.”

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   I wish I hadn’t said yes to this. As much as I admire them and wish to be them… The Scouts are a mess. Almost everyone is bloodied and each has that look in their eye- the blank stare so wide you can almost see the carnage replaying behind them. There’s bloodied bandages in the street, being pounded into the cobble by the horses. Groans of agony and wailing fill the street. Something deep in my stomach churns as a man with an arm missing holds a bloody Scouts cape in his hands. 

   There were nearly a hundred that left. 

   There can’t be more than twenty that came back.

   I can only wonder if it all is worth it. 

   Of course it is. What am I thinking? Pushing those beasts back, reclaiming the land that humanity used to populate and cultivate… It is worth it but… Damn, if it isn’t a high price to pay. 

   Eren jumps up and down to look over the people’s shoulders. Frustrated, he huffs and takes off further down the street. The rest of us follow. My hand wrapped in Armin’s, I let him lead me behind the crowd. Even as my hat flies away, I can’t take my eyes off the Scouts. 

   We come to a stop and Eren climbs up a stack of boxes. Mikasa and Armin do the same, sitting down beside Eren. I stand on the lowest box to see inside the wagon a pair of horses are pulling. 

   It’s bodies.

   Not dead ones, either. There are soldiers in there- sandwiched together and nearly screaming in pain. Blood coats every inch of the wagon. The bodies in the wagon wail for a medic, for help. 

   I feel myself pushing through the crowd, running for the wagon. “I can help!” I yell, “I can help!”

   A surly soldier turns to me, eyeing me venomously. “Who the hell are you?” 

   “I’m __________ Braus,” I answer, “I work for Doctor Yeager.”

   The soldier scoffs and shakes his head. “They’re going to Wall Maria-”

   “They’ll die before they get there!”

   I can feel the crowd’s eyes on us now. My breathing grows unsteady and rigid as I stare at the soldier. He’s tall- maybe it was his horse or maybe it was actually him but he towers over me either way. A bandage covers the side of his head and I can see blood seeping through. His eyes are a paled-brown and dirt coats his stubbled skin. 

   “What’s the issue here, Weinfeld?” A voice behind me asks. There’s a huff of air that goes down my back. I turn and face a brown stallion. My eyes trail even further to the man sitting on top of it. My blood grows still as I realize who it is.

   “C-Captain Erwin, I-”

   “If this woman wants to help tend our wounded, why are you stopping her?”

   “Well, she-”

   “She offered her services to help prevent us from losing even more soldiers. Let her help.”

   “Y… Yes, sir.”

   “Miss?”

   My eyes snap up to him. Blond hair, blue eyes. Broad shoulders and commanding height. Blood coats his emerald-green cape. I can see the insignia of the Scout Regiment sewn into the chest, even if it is filthy. 

   “Yes, sir?”

   “What do you need to help them?”

   My nerves fade away and I roll my sleeves. “I need more hands. And any medical supplies you can give me. Even shirts, capes- those can work for the time being, too.”

   The Captain nods and I hurry to catch up to the wagon. As it’s moving, I jump onto the back and swing my legs over the side. The smell of flesh and blood is putrid here. The blood has seeped into the wood- making it smell metallic and rotten. Flesh smells like it had been left out for days… I could only imagine that being the truth. 

   “Please, miss,” someone groans, “Please help me.” The chorus of damned souls begins again, even louder now. Bodies shift and turn to face the new ray of hope.

   I reach down, tearing off the layer of silk fabric beneath the mesh. Tying it around my face, running footsteps come up behind us. “Ma’am!” Someone calls, “The Captain said you needed help!”

   “Get in here,” I snap, taking off the moonstone ring around my finger and tucking it into my bra.

   Three men pull themselves into the wagon. One starts to heave as the smell hits his nose. “If you’re going to vomit, do it over the side and get someone else to replace you,” I state, “If you can’t handle the smell, you’re not gonna like what we do next.”

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   “Miss!” The man on the opposite side of the wagon calls, “The blood’s not stopping!”

   “Lift the stump up!” I yell back, “Make sure you keep it elevated.”

   I turn back to the man trembling in my hands. “Okay, what’s your name, soldier?”

   His chapped lips part slowly, a cough passing his lips before his words. “...Louis.”

   “Okay, Louis, you’re gonna be alright but I need to do something that’s not gonna be fun.” Louis nods slowly. “I’m gonna put this in your mouth for you to bite down on. It’s just a piece of fabric.” He nods again, opening his mouth. 

   I look around to the other men. One’s still holding up the bleeding stump of a man’s leg across the wagon, attempting to fashion some sort of holder for it. Another is wrapping bandages around a woman’s arm that dangles at an impossible angle. The last one lays a body down on the wagon floor and stands back up. 

   “You!” I yell, gesturing to the last man and waving him over. “I need you for something.”

   The man walks over the bodies to me, his black hair brushing into his steel eyes. “What is it?” he asks flatly. 

   “You’re going to hold him down by the shoulders while I pour this on his wound.”

   The man doesn’t say anything but positions himself at Louis’ shoulders, pressing down. The bottle in my hands was alcohol- something someone from the crowd offered. Pulling down the silk around my face, I unstopper the bottle with my teeth. Standing with a foot on either side of Louis, I look down at the man at his shoulders. “You ready?”

   The man nods once. 

   I lower myself onto Louis’ legs, peeling back his bloodied shirt. A two bleeding lines run along his stomach. An image of a Titan grows in my mind, reaching out ravenously at Louis. A few centimeters more and he would’ve been caught. They’re deep cuts and they look like they’ve been left exposed for far too long. I shake my head, pressing my weight down against his legs. It’s time. 

   The liquid flows out of the tipped glass, pouring into the crimson grooves in Louis’ skin. Muffled screams pour out of his lips and his legs buck up underneath me. Wincing, I continue pouring. Agonized screams manage to fight through the fabric in his mouth as his whole body spasms.

   I tilt the bottle back upright and force the cork back into it. Louis is still thrashing about, causing blood to gush out of the wound. “Hey, Louis, Louis,” I mumble, leaning forward to look him in the eyes. They’re squeezed shut and his head turns from left to right wildly. “Louis!” I yell, grabbing him by the chin. “If you want to live, you need to hold as still as possible- do you understand me? If you move too much, you’ll lose too much blood and you’ll die. So sit there and stay still.”

   Louis nods frantically, his chest still heaving. Sweat pours down his face and I take my skirt and rip it again. Dabbing the fabric against his forehead, I look up to the man at his shoulders. “You take over,” I state, handing him the piece of fabric. “I’m gonna make something and you’re gonna hold it down on him, okay?”

   The man nods once again. He doesn’t seem comfortable talking. Not that I would either, surrounded by the bleeding half-rotted bodies of my comrades.

   “Good,” I mutter, gripping the fabric that makes up my sleeves. Pulling the fabric one way as I pull my arm the opposite way, the fabric rips and I wad it up. I do the same with my other sleeve and lift Louis’ shirt back up again. I place the fabric against the wounds and look up to the dark-haired man. “Come here- you need to put pressure into this. Don’t let go, okay? Just keep putting pressure.”

   The man nods and I get to my feet to check on everyone else.

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   There’s nothing else I can do with no proper supplies and I’m running out of fabric. My eyes drift down to my dress- or what’s left of it. It hangs around my legs a bloody, shredded mess that barely covers my upper thighs. 

   I can always buy another one. My eyes then turn to the lot of soldiers in the wagon. I can’t exactly replace these Scouts’ lives. 

   My eyes continue drifting until they land on each of the three men that helped me. The man holding the man’s stump- he’s Eld. The other one with the woman- Oluo.

   Eld hands me another soiled Scout cape and I hand him a less-soiled Scout cape. Leaning over the side of the wagon, I wring the cape in my hands. Sickly red liquid slicks down my hands and squelches down onto the passing cobblestone. The color of my skin is no longer visible- drowned out by the endless amounts of blood. 

   “Eld,” I mumble as I wring the cape dry. I’m hoping he can distract me from the cobblestone pavement I’m painting red. 

   “What’s it, __________?”

   “Who’s the other man?” I ask quietly, “The one with Louis?”

   Eld turns to look down the wagon before he laughs. “That’s Levi. Another one of us.”

   “He doesn’t talk much,” Oluo adds, “Don’t take it personally.”

   “I thought maybe it was… because of all this,” I smile crookedly and sit back down in the corner. The wagon tosses and jostles underneath us as we make our way to Wall Maria. “Maybe I’m just projecting. I’m certainly not as talkative as I usually am.”

   “You handled this well… All things considered,” Oluo huffs a laugh, “Ever thought about joining?”

   “You’re recruiting now?” Eld snaps, “Who in their right mind would want to join after seeing this?”

   Oluo shrugs, “Nobody in the Scouts are sane.”

   I clear my throat awkwardly and tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. “Well… if you’re ever back in Shiganshina- I’d be more than happy to sit you down and teach you some medical basics. It could end up saving a life.”

   Eld and Oluo both bow their heads gratefully. My eyes dart to Levi, who still remains keeping pressure on Louis’ wounds. “You’re also welcome to join us, Levi,” I smile. 

   He says nothing but nods once more. It’s better than nothing, I suppose. 

   Maria’s walls tower over us in the sunlight- stone reflecting light down onto us. I get back to my feet, rubbing a hand across my forehead. Almost immediately, I cringe at the feeling of slickness now on my skin. 

   Throwing one leg over the side of the wagon, I prepare myself to jump. “Where are you going?” Eld asks, getting to his feet.

   “You’re almost to Wall Maria and there’s nothing else I can really do without supplies and equipment. All you three need to do is make sure that stump is elevated, pressure stays held on Louis and that you three get back to me in Shiganshina for those drinks.”

   “Why can’t you stay?” Oluo asks, gesturing to the bodies around him. “If something goes wrong-”

   “If something goes wrong, I’m sure the rest of your regiment have doctors waiting on the other side of Maria. ‘sides, I left my kids back there. There’s no telling what they’re up to without me.”

   “You have kid-”

   Something cracks against the pale-blue sky. Yellow and green lightning pierce the tranquility, striking down just beyond Wall Maria. It disappears as fast as it came- leaving only a trail of white smoke in the sky.   “What was that?” I mumble, stepping back into the wagon. “Was that lightning…?”

   Eld and Oluo are on their feet now, staring at the sky. I can see their hands gripping their ODM controllers. Eyes wide, mouths slightly open we stare at the Wall. My breath is caught deep in my throat as we wait. As we watch.

   The wind kicks up. The former sweetness of wildflowers in the air is now nauseatingly saccharine. It elbows the steam out of the way- and then we see it.

   A hand. On the wall. 

   Stone crumbles beneath the muscle. Paradoxically slowly and quickly, a skinless head lifts up behind the wall. 

   …that’s impossible. 

   I want to believe it’s impossible, believe it’s just a facade but as I’m staring and as I hear Eld and Oluo whispering, I know. 

   There’s a Titan towering over Wall Maria.

   I waste no more time. Throwing my leg over the wagon again, I jump. Eld is the first to react, screaming at me to get back on the wagon. 

   “My kids! My family!” I scream back, sprinting towards town. “I can’t leave them!”

  And I keep running. Elbows and bodies are thrown into my chest. I keep running. Eren. Mikasa. Armin. Carla. Even Tobias. Massive chunks of stone collide beside me and that’s when I know the wall has been torn through. 

   And I keep running. Blood in my ears, blood on my face, blood on my hands- it all seems to burn and throb. Colors blur together in the edges of my vision. All I need to focus on is getting to them.

   I can hear the screams and the cries and the wailing and the bones snapping. And I keep running. I don’t have time to look. 

   There is blood everywhere. I can smell it. 

   My eyes catch him- a black-haired boy running straight into the crowd and towards the wall. A girl runs after him. Another boy, with blond hair, stands rigid in his spot. 

   Their names rip out of my body. “Eren! Mikasa! Armin!”

   Over and over again, they shred my lungs as I push towards them. My arms wrap around Armin and I spin him around to face me. My eyes dart between his, brushing hair from his face.

   “Armin, where are they going?”

   There is no response. Just a blank stare.

   “Armin! Where are they going!” I’m screaming now, shaking him at his shoulders. 

   “...home.”

   A shaky breath leaves my lips. “You need to run, Armin,” I mutter, turning him towards Wall Maria. “Do you hear me? You run for that wall and you don’t look back.”

   Armin nods slowly and I keep running.

   I round the last corner and I freeze. A chunk of the wall sits atop the ruins of the Yaeger home. Dust clouds billow about and I can hear three voices screaming amongst themselves.

   My feet carry me there. “Carla! Mikasa! Eren! Grisha!”

   “__________!” Carla yells back as I stumble to a stop just before the remains of the house. 

   My eyes land on her- pinned down underneath a wooden beam and dirt painting her face. Her eyes are wide, staring up at me. I hear the wood groan and shiver. Eren and Mikasa strain as they try lifting the wood up. 

   “Help us!” Eren snaps at me. 

   I reach for the beam, fingernails digging into the wood as we all lift it up. It doesn’t budge. Once more, Mikasa and Eren and I plant our feet on the cobblestone and lift. 

   ...it’s no use.

   Even if we get this thing off her, Carla’s legs are crushed. We wouldn’t make it out. 

   “__________!” Carla’s yelling my name over and over. Her hand is gripping my leg, nails digging into my skin. “You have to listen to me- you have to leave me behind and take them! You have to survive- you have to leave me!"

   “No!” Eren screams, trying to lift the beam up again. “I’m not leaving you!”

   “Can’t you just listen to me for once in your life?!” Carla screams back, tears trailing down her face. “This is the last thing I’m asking you to do-!”

   Something looms in the distance. Stomps quake the ground underfoot- and they’re getting closer. A face slowly passes the remains of the town hall. Grotesque and smiling, the Titan’s face turns towards us. 

   “Carla,” I whisper, tears now streaming down my face. “I… I can’t leave…” I mutter, shaking my head as I lean down to lift the beam again. My whole body strains, screaming for relief, as I try to pry the beam off of her.

   “Hannes!”

   Looking over my shoulder, I watch as Hannes lands just in front of us. “Take the kids and get out of here!” Carla screams. 

   Hannes kneels and smiles. “That’s not our only option, Carla. I’m gonna kill that Titan and save all of you!” His arms come out in a flourish, brandishing his blades. He runs around the corner of the house for the Titan. A war cry leaves his lips and-

   He skids to a stop. His eyes trail up the height of the Titan. Even from this distance, I can see him tremble. He turns back, pushing his blades back into their holsters. 

   And he grabs Eren, tossing him over his shoulder. He tucks Mikasa’s body under his arm and he runs a few steps before stopping again. Turning to me, he screams, “Let’s go before it kills us all!”

   My eyes flick back down to Carla. Her black hair is stuck to her face. Sweat and tears and spit slick down her skin as she looks up at me with watering eyes. “Take care of them for me,” she whispers. “My daughter, please take care of them for me. You all have to survive- for me.”

   And I run.

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

   “__________!” 

   My name buzzes around my ears but Eren, Mikasa, Hannes- they aren’t calling me.

   “__________!” 

   I turn around, searching for the voice as I continue running behind Hannes. My eyes dart to each movement. A woman clutching the remains of a man to her body. A child crying. A man being lifted into the sky. Another man running straight towards me, carrying a briefcase. 

   “Tobias!” I yell. Hannes stops in his tracks, whirling around to face me. Tobias stumbles to a stop. Panting, he wipes his brow with his forearm.

   “I need to tell you something,” he wheezes, shoving the briefcase into my hands. “In case I don’t get to, it’s all in here. Everything is in here.”

   “Tobias, what are you talking about?”

   His eyes are darting everywhere- from my face to Hannes and the kids to my dress and hands. “I haven’t been honest with you,” he says quickly, taking me by the shoulders. “I’ve kept so much from you that you should know about-”

   “Just tell me!” I snap, searching his eyes. 

   Tobias sighs and nods quickly, “But only if we have some shelter.” His hand slips down my arm, taking my hand and pulling me towards a watchtower. Hannes and the kids follow behind us. 

   “__________,” Tobias states, turning to face me again and gripping my shoulders. “You have to understand- I didn’t know what else I could do. I just wanted what I wanted and I-”

   There’s a terrible crash above us. I can feel myself being pushed back and colliding with the cobblestone. Mikasa calls out to me- cut short by the ringing in my ears. 

   Hannes appears above me, waving a hand in my face and shouting something. It’s all so… far-away. Distant. Blinking, I try to focus on the shifting mimics of Hannes before they all merge together. 

   Searing pain runs up and down my legs as I feel myself being dragged backwards. I look down and see the pile of bricks, splintered wood, and stone that was once the watchtower. And a single arm underneath it all, covered in a suit’s sleeve. 

   My eyes widen and my arms bring the briefcase to my chest tighter. “...is that…?”

   Hannes nods, picking me up under my arms and setting me back on my feet. “I’m sorry but we have to go,” he mumbles. “We have to get them out of here.”

   Tears start to pour from my eyes as I stare at the bloody hand reaching out from under the debris. ...he saved me instead of saving himself.

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   “Please, sir, I can’t leave it behind-”

   “I’m already allowing you three on before anyone else,” the soldier snarls, “I’m not letting you break any more rules.”

   Hannes sighs, scratching the back of his neck. My nail taps against the leather briefcase as I watch Eren and Mikasa blankly stare into the water below. “Take them,” I blurt. “I’ll stay.”

   The kids turn around to face me, eyes wide with horror. Tears stream down Eren's face as his fist tightens at his side. “No! I’m not losing you, too!”

   “Don’t go,” Mikasa whispers, eyes pleading.

   I kneel down, putting the briefcase down next to me. Gently, I place a hand on their faces and rub my thumb against their skin. “I will find you,” I whisper, “You have to trust me. I will find you. You stay where you are until I find you, okay?”

   Mikasa nods once but I can feel her lean into my touch. Eren has my wrist, gripping it tightly. “Please, __________,” he pleads through gritted teeth, “Please don’t go.”

   I press my lips to his forehead and whisper against his skin. “I will find you, Eren.”

   Pulling away, I press my lips to Mikasa’s forehead. I stand and pick up the briefcase. “They’re ready now,” I whisper, forcing the mass of tears in my throat down. “Please take them.”

   The soldier takes Mikasa’s hand and reaches for Eren. Eren elbows past him, charging for me. Screaming, he flails about as the soldier throws him over his shoulder and walks up the gangplank. “__________!” He screams. “You can’t leave me! I can’t lose you, too! Please!” 

   I bite down on my tongue. Tears stream down my face as I watch them get set down on the ferry. Mikasa holds onto Eren’s arm as he thrashes in her grip. The soldier runs back down and yells for the ferry to take off. 

   Hannes places a hand on my shoulder. I shake violently, sobbing now as the ferry pulls away. Eren finally breaks free and runs to the edge but it’s too late. 

   I clamp a hand over my mouth, preventing the agonized screams from resounding around the ferry station. I can see Mikasa coming up behind Eren. Someone else pushes towards them.

   Armin. 

   He made it. They all made it. They’re safe. My kids are safe.

   Hannes clears his throat behind me. I turn and push my face into his chest, sobbing and clutching at his bloodied uniform. “They made it, Hannes,” I say in strangled sobs. “They’re okay.”

   I can feel him press my head further into his chest. “And you’re next.”

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   “You can’t close the gate!” I scream, clutching the briefcase to my chest. “There are people out there! Just wait-!”

   “If we don’t close it now, the handful of lives out there will be nothing compared to how many we’ll lose in here!” The soldier snaps. 

   Hannes growls, lunging forward and grabbing the soldier by the collar. “That’s no reason to leave these people to die!” 

   Footsteps run up behind me. Two men, more soldiers, arrive in the doorway. Panting, one points outside, “They’re coming! You have to close the gate, now!” 

   “Lower the gate at once!” 

   “No!” I run forward and feel arms wrap around me, holding me back. One of the soldiers hurries and grabs Hannes, pulling him off the soldier. My body thrashes in its hold, “You can’t do this! You’re going to kill them all-!”

   The walls begin to shake around us intermittently- heavy footsteps. They begin to pick up speed, thundering around us. Getting closer and closer, I can feel it in my head, in my heart- the hammering, the footsteps. 

   It all happens much slower than it did. Hannes wrestles out of the soldier’s grip and grabs my waist. The Titan collides with the wall, sending us into the air amongst the brick and stone of the gate. I can feel us being jerked a different way in the sky- the sound whirring and hissing of air surrounding us. 

   My arms around his neck, I peek over Hannes’ shoulder. A gaping hole is in the wall where the gate used to be. A Titan with patches of dense armor stands at the hole, breathing deeply. 

   “__________,” Hannes says as we land on the side of a building. “I’m taking you to Wall Rose. Wall Maria is gone. It’s over.”

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   The candlelight flickers in the wind, taunting death before regaining strength. My fingers run along the blood-splattered leather. The gold trim slides under my fingertips. I can feel my stomach churn as I press the buttons in. 

   What was so secret he kept it from me for so long?

   The briefcase flies open. Inside is a mess of paper- most pages are typed but some are handwritten. I can clearly see Tobias’ neat, small handwriting on the pages. I scoot closer to the candle, taking a sheet of paper and reading it in the light. 

   __________,

     I am writing this knowing in almost-full confidence that I am no longer alive and I died before I had the chance to explain myself. I hope you don’t think of me as less of a person after this but if you do, I cannot say that I blame you.

   My name is not Tobias Walker. I was born Fynn Kayserling in Dauper.

   I stop, rereading that sentence over and over again. Dauper was my village. Tobias- Fynn was from… my village? 

   You don’t remember that name at all, I’m sure. I wasn’t very outgoing and the walls suited me as better friends than other students. But there was one girl that stood out. It was you. You were kind and gentle- but would never stand down from a fight. It was amazing, watch you grow up. An ever-changing fluctuation of fight and flow.

   I was too much of a coward to be up-front with you. Watching others court you and how happily you responded to them, I knew I wasn’t good enough. I left at seventeen to Shiganshina and started my business.

   I returned a year later and found that you, that your family had been suffering. Your mother being weak and your father being ill while you and your sister were starving- I wanted to just give you the money. An anonymous donation. But there was another, more selfish part of me that wanted something in return.

   I tried to fight it. It was so twisted even I was disgusted by myself. But my cowardice, my weakness, my greed got the better of me and I made that offer to you. It wasn’t fair of me to and I wish I would have changed my mind- so I did this.

   Assuming I’m dead, inside this briefcase you will find my will. I’ll spare you from reading the legal nonsense. I’ve given you everything. The factory, the houses, the money, the land. It’s all yours to do what you will. There’s more than enough to pay off your debts and to build your family a better home.

   There was a reason I never told you what the plans for the wedding were. There was never going to be a wedding. I was going to give you the money and the land and tell you how I feel before letting you choose your path. It was selfish of me to take you away for two years. I couldn’t live with taking you away for much more.

   I hope you can forgive me, __________. I was selfish and cruel and I know it wasn’t love. Something more sinister- not love. I tried to be better, I hope you know.

    Yours always,

       Fynn

   I blankly stare at the letter, so many thoughts buzzing through my head that I feel dizzy. My eyes dart to the typed papers. ‘Final Will and Testament of Fynn Kayserling’ is typed on the first page. 

   He… he lived in Dauper and he was a classmate. He knew me. My stomach churns at the words ‘wanted something in return’. My eyes turn to the open window, to the stars above. Tears stream unyieldingly d0wn my face as I take a deep breath in. As I exhale, the wind takes my breath into an icy grip and turns it white. 

   I need to find them. Before anything else, I need to find Armin and Mikasa and Eren. And when I do, I’ll make sure they’re taken care of and then I’ll take care of my family. 

   I’ll never forgive him but... tomorrow. 

   The search starts tomorrow.

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You can read parts two, three, and four! Just tap on the number you want :) 

#reiner x reader #reiner x you #eventual relationship #captain levi x reader #braus!reader #sasha braus x sister! reader #reiner braun #captain levi #eren jaeger #armin arlert #mikasa ackerman #erwin smith #enemies to lovers #reiner x fem!reader #captain levi x fem!reader #pg13 #aot #attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction #shingeki no kyoujin #levi ackerman

[natromanxoff]

9 - Freddie's Trivial Pursuits...

Hello, good evening and welcome...again

As Jacky mentioned the other day, Trip is in Oz (he's actually trout fishing in NZ at the moment) for a holiday and I have the misfortune of having stay with me. If anybody doesn't know who he is, let me try and enlighten you. Trip is the guy who sits in the middle of the arena, twist a few knobs and makes the band sound fab and very loud. He has worked with just about every big band eg: Elton John, Fleetwood Mac, Madonna, Wacko Jacko, Police, Steely Dan, Bon Jovi and a million others, oh, let's not forget the Queenies. I've been walking around all day trying to think of a Trip/Crystal story and I can't tell you about Japan, and I certainly cannot mention Dallas, and most things I can remember I won't write, just yet. Maybe he can think of something decent. He got in late last Sat. and we had one or two at the pub and relived a few old tales, It's great when this happens because we bounce off each other and even more old stories reappear.

One thing I did remember about us actually tied in with one of the first questions I received, Jacky said I could talk Fred into doing things. Well it's true to a degree but I'm no god, it's just that we had a mutual respect for each other and he knew that I would not ask him to do anything that would look bad for him, it's called trust. This tale starts about two months before the Magic Tour begins and nearly everything is finalised and ready to go when late one afternoon Roger calls me up at home and say's we have a huge problem and Freddie wants to cancel the tour after the Wembley Stadium shows because he's getting very nervous about the tour becoming so big. I suggested that their manager spoke to him and Rog said "Beach has agreed with Fred, can you talk him out of this?" I said I would try but at the time had no idea how to go about it. Trip was living in London at the time, so I called him and said "Meet me tonight for dinner, I'm buying and we have a mission." Trip was the ideal person to have as a sidekick for this cause FM loved him and listened to him as well.

After a very nice Italian meal, a couple of bottles of Chianti and the odd Sambucca I filled Trip in with the plan, we rock over to Logan Place, try and get the singer to have a drink, make him feel relaxed, and then NOT mention the tour all evening. On the way to the house we buy a couple of bottles of Champers, when we get there Phoebe lets us in and says Fred's not really in a party mode, so we walked straight past him, said Hi and popped the first cork. It took a while but we finally got him to have a drink, so we started to chat about this, that and everything, except the tour. After talking for an hour or so I suggested a game of Trivial Pursuit and he said "One quick game then I'm off to bed." After the Champagne went and the Vodka appeared the house was getting very rowdy, and by 6am when Trip and myself left the tour had only been spoken about once. "I'm really looking forward to the tour, we're gonna have so much fun," and that was said by the one person who apparently did not want to do it. Mission complete.

One last thing, books about Queen. I was in the bookshop the other day and saw the L.A.Jones book on Freddie, so I had a quick look and saw Spike's story about how he joined, I don't remember that happening but I'm sure the Duke's not lying, although it did make me out to be a bit of an ogre, cool eh. What I did notice on the one page that I read was that Mz. Jones say's that the band finally got a keyboard player in Spike. What about Morgan 'The Guru' Fisher and Fred Mandell, can't these writers get anything right.

Whilst on the subject, somebody gave me 'Mercury, the king of Queen' by Laura Jackson, and after reading it all I can say is if you have not got it, don't waste your money, I thought it was a crock of shit with so many errors. Gerry's book, if he ever gets it off the ground, should be interesting, I hope it's more about his life, cause he worked with Hendrix, did Woodstock and everything big since the late 60's. What I'm getting at here is that over the years a lot of people have said that I should write a book, well my dear's, the time has come. Somebody has come up with a different idea for a change and we're gonna go ahead with it. It's going to be a book on Rock and Roll by people who know about it, and that's all I'm going to say at the moment.

Sleep well.

Crystal

#queen #queen band #roger taylor #freddie mercury #crystal taylor #crystal's tales

[henry-cavill-baby]

Mark of the Witcher ┃2

 Chapter 2: Djinnefer

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Original Female Character

Length: 3k

Warnings: Some smut

Taglist: @lowkeyofsassguard (it’s not letting me tag you, sorry!)

Summary: Bottled Appetites and Carnal Desires

Sleep, it seemed, was an unattainable star in the vast night sky.

And this assumption was proved by one Geralt of Rivia; a Witcher who hadn’t been blessed with a good nights rest in… how long had it been? Two weeks now?

And this wasn’t to go without saying that Geralt had tried hours of peaceful meditation aside Roach, honing in on the wafting breeze through the loose fall leaves ready to fall to the forest floor. The birds in the nearby bushes tittering to one another did nothing but irritate Geralt.

It seemed everything annoyed the Witcher these days.

Monsters seemed to be far and few as of late and the lack of villagers screaming for help and tossing him their coin left him nearly penniless. The utter silence and animal chatter of the forest was no good for Geralt, it took his mind to the memories of his youth in Kaer Morhen—ones he could live without reliving.

Huffs from under the large wicker tree had Geralt turning to Roach, golden eyes squinting with sleep at the companion. “Can’t sleep either.” His voice is gruff and caked with drowsiness, his legs nearly weary as he hefts to stand.

The sun had cleared the misty sky and it burned his eyes.

The ground is muddy near the water bank as Geralt tries to plant his steps and stalk by the river, golden net tight in his fists. Creatures and Demons—the occasional horde of Drowners pried on livestock, and killing a one of them was more work than worth the coin. There were no sounds that would give way to a hiding spot for a scrounging demon to try to take him by surprise.

“Lovely ladies from Nilfgaard… and their ladies can kiss my—Geralt?”

Geralt almost stumbled in his step as a voice known all to well permeated through the air, a frowned expression overcoming his tired face. Of all the things he did not need, this would be the second.

Geralt turns and sees Jaskier—the bard is dressed in a blue and white tunic better fit for a court bard, with that cursed lute still cradled in his arms, pants puffy around the thighs in an obnoxiously fashionable manner—and turns back to the river with a low growl.

“What’s it been? Years? Months?” Jaskier pondered aloud, smiling at the sight of his friend, Geralt. “Does time even matter anymore, really.”

Geralt grunts as Jaskier goes on, still following like an overgrown pup. “I heard you were in town, you know, and while I have missed you dearly—I do think it’s time you got a hobby. You know, get out and see the world.” A thought popped into the Bards head. “Speaking of seeing the world, have you stopped by Cintra?”

The name Cintra nearly chills Geralt’s bones, but he just grunts out a hard, “No.” Continuing on the path along the riverbank, Geralt listens as Jaskier talks to himself.

“How am I, I hear you ask; I’m good, thanks for asking.” Jaskier huffed as his shoes sank slid on a patch of dry mud. “You see, I recently bedded the sweetest Countess and then, right after our fifth round of passionate love making, she sends me away. Can you believe that, Geralt?”

Geralt ignored him in favor of throwing his net in the water… and pulling it back empty. Fuck, he thought, and continued.

“Still a man of few words,” Jaskier hums, taking a swig of watered down ale that seemed a to be on the hotter side. The taste nearly turned his tongue.

“What are you doing, Geralt?” Jaskier nods to the empty net, finally deciding give in to his curiosity.

“Fishing?” He speculated with a frown. “You may be good at many things but I doubt that fishing is your forte. That is unless you catch one and are willing to share with an old friend?”

Geralt grunts and continues along the water line, next in hand as mud cakes everything up to his ankles. Shaking his head, Geralt throws the net again.

“You are still a Witcher right?” Jaskier hums. “I see you haven’t changed your outfit… or hair… or anything really. Why—What are you fishing for, exactly?”

“Is it carp? Is that your favorite?”

No answer.

“Or trout, do you like trout?”

No answer.

“Pike?”

Still no answer.

“Zander? I’m just listing fish now—is that a fish?”

Geralt sighs deeply in his chest, turning to Jaskier with the empty net in hand. “I’m not fishing.” The net is tossed back into the river. “I can’t sleep.”

“Ah.” Jaskier mutters. “That makes complete sense in the sense that it… makes none.” Jaskier stepped as close to the Witcher as was comfortable. “Geralt, talk to me.” Finally, a hint of concern etches into the Bards voice. “What’s happened? Is it about…you know.”

“No.” Geralt snaps. “She has nothing to do with this.” He spits with venom, eyes blazing with unadulterated rage. “I’m looking for a djinn and it’s somewhere in this lake, and I can’t fucking sleep!” He spits before stomping farther down and throws the net, trying to relax his shoulders.

“A djinn—a floating djinn—like a genie?” Jaskier questioned while ignoring the outburst.

“The bad tempered fellas who trick you with the three wish nonsense.” Jaskier nodded to himself, “And pray tell, how will this djinn help with your little problem?”

Jaskier answered himself: “And I’m not one to tell you how to live your life, Geralt, believe me, I don’t want to know what you get up to in your free time. But have you even considered that maybe this has to do with what you’ve been avoiding since last I saw you, currently still are?”

The words were unspoken between them: Child Surprise—Law of Surprise; destiny and what have you.

“No,” Geralt grunts. “It’s not about that. Not everything has to do with her, Jaskier.”

It was a lie he’d been telling himself for all these years now. The dreams never stopped, the cravings never quelled, and the urge to run to Cintra and take what was his boiled beneath the surface, like a pot of stew on the brink of spillage.

“Well, you could be right.” Jaskier hummed, leaning against a shady oak, watching Geralt hock the net back into the murky waters. “But you could be wrong. How old is she now, ten? Twelve?” Jaskier took a sour tone, “Do you even care, Geralt?”

“You know, a lovely Countess told me that Destiny only works harder when those enthralled by it resist its call. And that the harder you run away, the more desperate you become.”

Geralt moves closer to the water and throws in the net again, bending down to see if he’d caught anything and turning to raise a judgmental eyebrow at Jaskier. “Did you sing to her before she sent you away?” He grunted, glaring at the empty net.

“Yes I did.” Jaskier proudly answered then paused, stomping to his friend and crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m sorry, are you trying to tell me something, Geralt?”

Chucking the next into the water once more, Geralt turned to Jaskier, raising one white brow with lips in a thin line. The voice of the bard is only making his agitation worse, and he prays for Roach to chase him away.

“No, really—Geralt, be honest with me,” Jaskier bellows into the empty forest. “How is my singing?”

The trees are silent and the bird flutter in anticipation, watching with beady eyes as the Witcher stands tall with a wet empty net, throwing it back into the watery depths once more.

“It’s like eating a pie and finding it has no filling.”

Jaskier stumbles back in shock at his friend’s horrendous insult, sputtering, “You—need a nap!”

Hands planted firmly on his hips and a scowl deeply etched on his soft face, Jaskier waited for his lug of a friend to turn and apologize for being rude. Instead—

“Hm.” Geralt hummed as he pulled the net from the waters, finally having caught his treasure. It was the size of a jug of ale, corked tightly with the symbol of the wizard who’d sealed it away. There was no certainty as to how long it had been down there, and djinns tended to veer towards to malevolent side the longer they were trapped.

Jaskier had been right in that they tended to play tricks when tempted by the faults of men, but Geralt was no man.

“What is—is that it? You found it?” Jaskier asked whilst coming to stand before Geralt. “Can I just—“

“Jaskier—“

They were in a standoff; Jaskier grasping the handle as Geralt refused his hold on the seal, staring at the bard with his deadly gaze. Neither was willing to let go.

Geralt’s attempts at tugging were moot, “Let go.”

But Jaskier was adamant in his grip, “Take back that bit about my filling less pie, and then you can have your sleepy little djinn.”

The urge to simply rip it from Jaskier was more tempting as the seconds passed. But at least the djinn was finally found and he could wish for a batch of well needed rest, though as long as Jaskier was around it wouldn’t be a peaceful sleep.

The Wizards seal popped off the top of the djinn’s previously captive state, and with that, all hell broke loose.

Aleira huffed from her windowsill, looking down at the children playing down below in the streets. None of them had nice clothes, clean faces or fussed up hair. They had no cares in the world outside of games and survival within the protected walls of Cintra. It was such an easy life to live. Guards stand posted by any door leading into the castle making it nearly impossible for anyone to sneak in or out.

The sky was cloudy above the looming Castle, and she prayed for the rains to fall.

“Princess?” the druid Mousesack calls from outside the door, his head poking in to see the eldest child in the line of the throne.

Everything in the young girls room is beyond cleanliness, aside from the stacks of parchment on the wooden desk, a dried up ink quill abandoned. Frown lines mar his face as she turns, showing off her defeated face. “And pray tell, what is the cause of your unhappiness?”

Aleira sighed, palm holding her cheek as she gazed out the window once more. “Nothing, Mousesack.”

He hmm’s and steps into the room, shutting the door behind and falling to his knees before the small princess. “I can’t fix what you won’t tell me.” Baby blue eyes watered before him, and he reached up to cup her cheek, “Please, Aleira.”

Her voice trembled, “Why can’t I go outside like Cirilla?” One finger pointed outside the window, smashing against the glass. “I hate being inside these walls everyday. I despise the lessons at every hour and having dinner with Grandmother every single night. I want to be out there with everyone else, Mousesack. I want…”

I want to be like everyone else

Mousesack let forth a deflated sigh, patting the silk clothed knee of the princess. “Believe me when I say that I want nothing more than for you to be happy, Aleira.” Unspoken words lay lodged in his throat, as he stands tall looking down upon her.

“Grandmother wants to keep me locked away.” Aleira let the words flow. “And I’m beginning to think you would have it that way as well. “

Mousesack shakes his head, grey hairs flying. “That isn’t true and you know it. Every choice the Queen makes is to protect you—“

“Protect me from what?” Aleira demands, standing up and glaring up at the Castle Druid. Her eyes are ablaze with fury and her hands clench at her sides, nails digging into soft skin.

“Our Kingdom is well protected and there hasn’t been an attempt on any of us in years. There’s no reason that a child like Cirilla can prance around with the other children but I’m locked away in here like a monster!” Her voice is trembling with anger, staring up at the man who raised her more than her parents.

Yes, they’d died two years ago, but even then, Mousesack was the closest she had to a father; Calanthe was no mother.

“You’ll understand one day, I swear to it.” Mousesack tries to reasons, moving to leave the girl to her juvenile rage.

“Is it about Geralt?” The name slipped through her lips like a curse. “Is he the cause of all this? Is he to blame for my suffering?”

Aleira wrenched back as Mousesack darted forwards, pulling her close and staring with pursed lips and dark eyes, “Who told you that name?”

His reaction is enough to cause a tendril of fear to flutter up her spine. “No one.” She mutters, trying to move away.

“Aleira,” Mousesack murmurs, trying to calm his racing heart. “This is a matter of your safety, as well as this Kingdom.” She can feel the Druid’s magic haphazardly swirling in the air.” I need you to tell me who told you that name.”

Regret boils in her veins; she should’ve kept it to herself.

That name had sounded like a curse on the tongue of Calanthe, and truly, Aleira had no clue whom this Geralt even was. She’d tried to hear more of the conversation from the hallway, but it had taken a turn to plans concerning the invasion of a foreign forest, and those plans were of no importance to her. The memory of lying in bed and wondering why the name Geralt sparked something deep in her was still a mystery.

“Grandmother.” She muttered while meeting Mousesack’s eyes. “I was eavesdropping and I heard it, I swear.”

That seemed to be enough for the Druid to pull back whilst nodding to himself, hands wringing and eyes darting about the room. Uncertainty whirled around his mussed hair, and she barely had a moment to watch him flee the room.

Subconsciously, she reached back and rubbed the tender skim on the back of her left shoulder, eyeing the salve gifted to her by Mousesack. It was cold on her skin but the aching fled easily, and Aleira collapsed on her bed, listening to the sounds of the children below.

Sunlight poured in through the cracked windows lining the near decimated castle walls. The floors were scattered with crumbled pieces of granite walls and mountains of pillows littered the floor.

The grunts and moans of Yennefer of Vengerberg—one of the strongest witches known to come from Aretuza with a proclivity for chaos and self mischief—echoed around the room as Geralt hefted her hips up higher in his grasp, bottoming out in her wet cunt.

He hadn’t come in to help her expecting a fuck, hadn’t intended for her to try and be a host for the djinn like a madwoman, and the strange desire to not see her die had cost him a wish. This third wish had nearly involved the Witch. Kindness was not a Witcher’s strength. But she had saved Jaskier—even if for her own preposterous reasons—and though kindness was not his forte, paying back favors was.

A life for a life, something along those lines.

Wet slaps of skin echoed as Geralt shut his eyes, nails digging into the soft flesh of her tanned thigh. His pace grew erratic and punishing as the walls of her cunt deliciously drew him in, his own moans joining hers. Ecstasy flooded his veins—carnal desire rising to the surface of his warm flesh.

It had too long since he’d felt a woman’s flesh. It was all too intoxicating for him to bear. When Geralt opened his eyes, expecting to gaze into the lilacs of Yennefer, he saw the ocean blue of his child Surprise.

The girl from his dreams was bare under his naked body; her full round tits bounced with each thrust and he could not resist the eager desire to take one into his mouth and suck like a newborn babe, biting the sensitive flesh. She still smelled of peaches, ones fresh enough to kill a man for, and he would—kill a man for her, that is.

Geralt would burn worlds for this girl, and he didn’t even know her name.

His curls fanned out on the surroundings pillows, and he longed to kiss the full lips that begged for his attention. His thrusts grew erratic and his hold grew tight, wishing this were real.

The mirage of her was gone all too fast and Yennefer screamed to the high heavens and flopped back onto the pillows, cunt walls fluttering around the cock buried deep inside. She was limp as he pulled his soft wet cock slowly out, collapsing next to her. There was no sound but the chattering outside from Jaskier, who’d definitely gotten an eyeful.

“If I’d known Witchers fucked like that, I would have gotten one myself a long time ago.” Yennefer turned and smirked, reaching forward to pin a piece of his white hair behind his ear.

“I’m sure my brothers would make a fine harem.” He grunted, keeping his hands to himself. It felt wrong to want to caress her, so he didn’t.

“Do you have a lover, Geralt of Rivia?” She asked with a raised brow. “I won’t be jealous, promise.”

He grunted but shook his head, “Having a lover would take time away from hunting monsters.”

“I find that hard to believe.” She hummed while twirling a piece of white hair. “I will admit that you are not as scary as you think.”

“Really?” A chuckled rumbled in Geralt’s chest. “You would be surprised how many people throw me out of their town once I’ve done their bidding.”

“Humans are dull, Geralt. Never get entangled with one, they will only disappoint you.” She laughed, “Or die, or get sick.”

“None of us are immune to death, Yennefer.”

Chuckling, Yennefer sat up and stretched. “You would be surprised what tricks a mage like myself can do.” A look of curiosity overcame her beautiful face, “Who were you thinking of? When you were rutting into me like a dog, Geralt?”

There’s no chance to deny it, “I know you saw someone else.”

Telling her about his Child Surprise feels… wrong, so he doesn’t.

“A woman I knew in Blaviken who didn’t see me as a monster.” He recalled, turning to look into her wide lilac orbs. “She was kinder than any man I’ve ever know.”

The two of them laid back and basked in the days sun, not touching but not far apart. They both knew they would need to rise soon and face whatever was to come, but this moment of peace was too good to pass up. And Jaskier singing much to loud outside would be best avoided.

“Aleira.” Yennefer declared, not looking away from the sun. “You called me Aleira; was that her name?”

Chapter 3... eventually, don’t rush me plz

Hope you enjoyed!

#the witcher fanfic #the witcher #Geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt x oc #geralt imagines #geralt of rivia x oc #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill imagines

[soyforramen]

Old Times

Gladys hadn’t been back in town for a month before Alice showed up on her front porch at four in the morning, tears streaking down her cheeks (makeup looking just as good as when she’d applied it that morning; gotta love a woman who can afford Avon).  A wide-eyed teenager, the spiting image of a younger, more precocious Alice, tagged along behind her.  Without hesitation Gladys ground her cigarette out on the arm of the rocker (saved from Mr. O’Neil’s Tuesday trash pile) and pulled them both inside.

Without a word spoken, Gladys went to change the sheets in her bedroom.  Alice and the girl spoke softly in the kitchen, and try as she might, Gladys couldn’t make out a single word.  Whatever it was, it had been bad enough to bring Alice here and not one of her fancy, high-society friends’ houses (probably put out jello molds and finger sandwiches and food that tasted like creamed dirt).  Something big enough to ruin the entire Cooper household.

The pillowcase hung from the bottom of the pillow, wrapped around its middle in a suffocating grip, as she realized Hal hadn’t been with them.  In fact, she hadn’t seen Hal and Alice in the same place since she’d moved back to town (long-since overstayed, parents basement too crowded with two bickering teens and three shifts at the grocery store, g.e.d. just out of reach).  She’d exchanged enough nods with Hal in the frozen dinner aisle, both pretending the space between them wasn’t mired in ancient history and still raw rivalry.  Her path with Alice was limited to the high school drop-off lane, the one public gesture of maternal affection Jughead still allowed

Now, though.  She sighed.  It wasn’t uncommon for the women around here to lean on one another for comfort and safety.  Sad, really, how often that came on the heels of the men not living up to even the lowest standards.  

After a second thought, she fluffed up pillows and headed back towards the kitchen.  Coming towards her in the claustrophobic hallway came Alice and her child (Betty, she realized with a flash of deja vu, a reminder of when she and Jughead were the ones on the other end of this), and Gladys flattened herself against the wall.

“Thanks, Ms. Jones,” Betty murmured, her eyes downcast.

Gladys hadn’t the heart to tell her she hadn’t been a Jones for almost fifteen years.  

“Not a problem at all, darlin’.  What do you think about strawberry pancakes in the morning?”

Betty gave her a watery smile and Alice shooed her into the bedroom.  The door closed behind them, and Gladys let out a heavy breath.  There was always something going wrong around here.  You expected it, but it still hurt to see it happen.

Filled with a nervous energy (live wired and on fire, as her daddy used to say before the tar and the coal got to him; put a cork in that and you could power the whole nothern half of the states), Gladys flitted around the house, straightening and tucking and dusting, nothing seeming to be enough anymore.  She had another two hours before she had to be at her first shift at the factory down the road.  Then again, maybe she’d return that long ago favor and call in sick.  After all, she was entitled to a few days here and there (nothing like the dump in toledo where they squeezed every drop of your soul, pennies on the dollar, and still demanded more).

Just as she was running a cloth over the television set (only three channels, black and white; older than either of her children who preferred leeching ole’ henry’s wifi instead of -), the bedroom door shut quietly.  Gladys straightened and waited for Alice to appear.  When their eyes met, Alice’s stoic, no-nonsense rock solid mask crumbled into a mess of tears and grief.

“He’s -“

Poor gal couldn’t even speak properly anymore.  Whatever Hal’d done, it was enough to knock the sense out of Alice, and that was a scary enough prospect on its own.  She hadn’t been that thrown for a loop since they’d raided (stole) Mantle’s stash of E (curled up like kittens, high in the dusty sunlight on the trailer floor, alice laying out her future with hal and not her…).

Gladys quieted her and lead Alice to the love seat (third-hand from earl and katie, bless their hearts even though it did smell like that damn cat).  Alice tried to apologize for the interruption, but Gladys refused to let her.  Jughead she didn’t have to worry about - boy slept like a brick in a tornado - and J.B. was at a sleepover with some of her friends (best friends on the first day of school, always did get her daddy’s better traits, while jug soured down into his old records and writing, lost in his own world, too much like his mama to make anything of it).

Once Alice was settled, Gladys poured out a shot of rum and set it on the coffee table along with a box of tissues.  A few steps back, and Gladys was in the kitchen to give Alice a modicum of peace in the tiny trailer.  She poured a glass of water and set it next to the empty shot glass.

“Another one?  I have whiskey, too.”

Alice shook her head, a crumbled tissue in her hand halfway shredded to hell and back already.  On the table lay three more (three bucks a pop here, can you believe) and Gladys couldn’t help but want that to be the remnants of Hal’s body.  

“Hal, he -“ Alice’s words were cut off with a gut wrenching sob, and Gladys rushed to her.

Like she did when the kids woke up from their nightmares, she murmured platitudes and soft words, her arms wrapped around Alice in a cocoon of safety.  After a good long cry (glad she still wore waterproof, cheap, drugstore mascara would have ruined the fabric, though the concealer would do hell on the blouse), Alice steadied herself.

Despite her hair falling out of its unnatural wave, despite the botchy cheeks, red eyes, and snotty nose, Gladys was still struck by how well Alice carried herself.  Likely an armor built up having to suppress anger and frustration in this ticky-tacky town (hoa’s, pta’s, cya’s).  A rose of anger bloomed on her cheeks sent Gladys rocking back on her heels, a thrum of excitement rushing through her.

“I suppose you’ve heard about our town’s little problem,” Alice said, still speaking in polite euphemisms and innuendos.  She reached for the glass of water and primly cleared her throat (cats and spots, zebras and strips, snakes and scales; once, always).

“Depends on which one you mean,” Gladys said.  

She was being sarcastic, she knew, but it was the truth.  Riverdale hadn’t changed much from when they were growing up, damn whatever bullshit Hiram and his developers were trying to sell.  It still had the same pristine front, picture perfect suburban life style, full of well respected men trying to save the village green from its own preservation society, but now the fetid foundation it had been built upon was bubbling out from the seams.  The drugs, gangs, and murders were more visible now, no longer brushed under the railroad tracks into the Southside of town.

Hell, the only new thing about it seemed to be the mafia trying to gain a foothold.  And Gladys had her own plans on how to deal with that.

Mostly, though, she’d missed being able to push Alice’s buttons (eyes narrowed, tongue beneath her teeth, a flash of heat in a pan), to get a rise from her so she was the center of her focus.  If nothing else, it drew Alice’s attention away from her grief at hand.  

“But, if you’re talking about that black hood idiot,” Gladys drawled, wincing at the pins and needles attacking her as she stood, “then I’ve heard a bit.”

“Yes, well.”  Alice cleared her throat and looked away.  “It turns out you were right.  About Hal.”

“Oh?”

Gladys let it hang in the air.  It wasn’t often that Alice Cooper, nee Smith, admitted to being wrong about anything, especially when it came to her life choices.  And yet the juxtaposition of the two - the Black Hood and Hal - had caught her attention like a hook in a trout’s belly.

“About -?”

“About Hal,” Alice snapped.

She stood to pace the thin carpet of the trailer, her hands wrapped tight around her arms, the pastel green cardigan wrinkling under her fingers.  

“He’s been going around these past few months like a god damned fool, playing at being an avenging angel, murdering people who he thought deserved it.  I can’t believe I bought his lie about going bowling. The man can’t even lift a lawnmower, let alone a bowling ball.”

Gladys sat down on the love seat, one leg thrown onto the coffee table and watched Alice stew in front of her.  It was a mirror image of fifteen years ago, almost to the day.  She gently touched the corner of her eye, still bearing a white scar, and cursed the day she’d ever met that man.

“And then the bastard has the audacity to say that our children need to be purified.  That I need to be purified.  It was bad enough that he sent that letter to Polly, what he did to Betty -“

Alice stopped and tugged at her hair (bottle blonde to cover up the slow, steady march of time; at least a week’s worth of gladys’ pay for vanity every month).  Gladys stood and guided Alice back to the love seat.

“How about you start from the beginning?”

Another stream of tears, this time borne of frustration and anger, slipped down Alice’s cheeks as she dove head first into the long tale.  Hal always had thought himself above the rest of the town (secret son, hidden away from the world) even though his own sins bore bitter fruit of their own (alice angry and self-destructive in senior year; drunk on the floor; od’ed in the bathroom; blood running down wrists).   Somehow he’d managed to fuel that into something more productive - a picture perfect nuclear family and modest but plentiful business - until he finally didn’t.  

The first murder attempt, then the second, third, and fourth followed, no longer attempts.  Quit murders in the surrounding counties that went with only a few murmurs of disapproval.  Even his own family hadn’t been immune; daughters, tortured and deceived by the man meant to protect them from such things (kids of all things; for crissakes was nothing sacred?.

And Alice…

When she was done with her macabre tale, ending in Hal’s entrapment of his family and their violent escape, Gladys let out a low whistle.

“Well.  Shit.”

Alice let out a wet, wry laugh.  She curled her legs up under her and hugged a throw pillow tight (bought on a whim at a yard sale - two’fer deal she’d haggled; matched the lace curtains jb couldn’t help but make fun of).  Gladys stood and walked towards where her father’s urn sat on the mantle, a place of honor in a family who had little to do with ghosts of the past.

“What do you want to do about it?” Gladys asked.  

Standing on her tiptoes, she reached in an pulled out a rusted Altoids tin and a lighter.  When Alice caught sight of it she let out a real laugh this time, one that drew memories of simpler, happier times when it had just been the two of them against the world.  Wonder Woman and Sarah Conner, united together.  Until they grew up and out of middle school dreams and into the real world where bills piled up and mouths had to be fed.  

“You know we’re not in high school, right?”

Gladys grinned and fell onto the love seat next to her.  She popped open the tin and held it out to Alice.

“Do you want to do the honors?  You always were better at it than I ever was.”

Alice chewed her lip, the implications and scandal of what Gladys was proposing flashed across her eyes.  It was easy enough to guess the arguments against it, the same old ones she’d heard before (what if your mom/daughter/sister finds out you keep that in there? she’ll be more pissed that she didn’t find it sooner), but her hand was steady when she took the tin. Gladys watched her fingers work, long thin fingers still trapped by a band of gold.  The ring of a promise that fell flat and brought with it a hell of a right-hook in the end.

As she watched, Gladys let her mind wonder what would have happened if they hadn’t allowed themselves to be torn apart in high school.  If she’d only beaten the truth out of Hal in junior year when Alice vanished.  If only, if only, if only.

“What I want,” Alice said with a finality, the lid snapping shut a punctuation to her decision, “is to rip his guts out and feed them to him while that harpy mother of his watches.”

Gladys flicked the lighter, the flame dancing around the end of the joint.  Her eyes didn’t move from Alice’s lips as she took a hit.  Lines ebbed and faded, reminders of their time spent apart, waves of years and youth wasted.  In the poor ventilation of the trailer, the smoke wrapped them in a thin cocoon of safety, a gauzy curtain to shield them against the reality of their choices.

“Might have to lay a tarp down, but I know a few guys.”

The phrase sent Alice into a fit of giggles (ask freddie and fp, they know some guys) and Gladys shushed her with a crooked smile, reminding her that Betty lay sleeping not forty feet away.  Alice took another took and blew the smoke into Gladys’ face, a ribbon that caressed and teased her skin

“Or we could take care of it ourselves.”

“Just like old times?”

“Just like old times.”

(A few months later found Jughead and Betty at Pop’s working on a school project under Gladys’ critical eye.  Jughead, used to his mother’s hovering nature, enjoyed the free fries she dropped off between customers; Betty, it seemed, was far more perturbed by the woman’s sudden closeness with her mother.  It wasn’t until they were writing about Lady McBeth  (‘out damn spot’ seemed to Jughead less of a guilt ridden complex after this Black Hood business and more of an attempt at an evidentiary coverup) that he spoke on a subject that had been bothering him for a few weeks.

“Doesn’t it seem odd?”

Betty hummed and continued to write.  “What seems odd?”

“My father disappears three months before my mother leaves town, never to be seen again.  We come back, and three months later your dad disappears.  And each time, our mothers renewed their friendship just weeks before.”

Any goodwill Betty might have held towards Jughead froze quickly at the implications in his words.  Her fingers gripped the mechanical pencil hard enough her knuckles went white and the plastic cracked.  

“My father was a serial killer,” she snapped.  Blooms of anger rose on her checks and Jughead shifted under her glare.  “It’s not surprising that he’d run away after trying to kill his wife and his daughter in their own home.”

Cowed, Jughead picked at the lukewarm fries.  Her words didn’t change his mind, didn’t move his suspicions a single degree, but it did quiet his need to pry further into her opinion.

The matter was dropped as Macbeth and his realm descended further into madness.)

#parentdale #alice cooper/gladys jones #this is what commenting gets you folks; part deux of a one part fic

[lordsofcorbina]

Throwitback Thursday Here’s the season in LA I was fishing a TFO Jim Teeney 7wt rod paired with a Lamson Lightspeed 3.0 It was a fast action rod that I picked up at the La Canada Sport Chalet if you kids remember when we had such places. Sport Chalet use to have these mega clearance sales where some stuff had double clearance prices. I picked up this rod and reel combo for dirt cheap like 70% off cheap. I believe during these sales their prices were so low they got in trouble with some of their distributors. It was a funny time back then because word would get out about the upcoming sale and guys would be on it like ladies at a clearance bridal fair. It was not only fly gear but all their tackle and they use to carry some nice stuff as far as offshore fishing. If you were a day late you were looking at scraps. All the good stuff would be gone by then. It was interesting season for me swinging this rod. I took full advantage of using a heavier line by making these heavy large Surfin Merkins i’m talking the size of a 50 cent piece. I remember running into one of the local trout guys who was starting to pursue Corbina. I handed him one of my flies and he looked at it as if I handed him a # 12 hopper when they were eating #22 dries. My friend Bernard was not so reluctant and he ended up popping his PB Corbina on one a 25″ fish. For sure you need to change your strategy when fishing the heavy gear. Dropping that line down on a pod was a instant blow up so you had to really lead the fish from a far and get your line in the water early. Once you made the adjustments it was pretty easy to get the fly in front of the fish if they stayed on the predicted course…. Picture, I’m getting old because I don’t even remember anything about catching this fish. It’s a nicer one because I’m taking the time to get a measurement. The handle on this rod from the butt to the top of the cork is 12″.

[paperclipninja]

Younger post-ep ramble 5x07 part 1

Ok, so the feelings about Younger 5x07 are real, my feelings are real (see what I did there 😉) and they are many. I have watched the ep many times because there is SO much happening in it and I’ve discovered new gems each viewing. I’ve decided to split my ramble into 2 posts, this one is going to be the episode overall with a bit of a superficial reference to Charles and Liza perhaps, but I’m going to dedicate a separate post to them and their interactions throughout the episode because this one is going to get out of control otherwise!

Words are below the read more and there’s a good chance it’s going to be many words long with intermittent flailing thrown in for good measure. Proceed at own risk.  

I’m always cautiously optimistic going into an episode that has been as hyped as ‘A Christmas Miracle’. Anticipation was high, hopes were high and this ep certainly did deliver, in many many ways. And yes, OBVIOUSLY the Team Charles shipper in me has thought about how the pairing might eventuate and I will most definitely be talking about all things Charles and Liza in post 2/2, but there were also some of the best one liners and moments of the entire series in this ep and it is quite seriously like a Christmas stocking stuffed to the brim with delightful treats!

So first things first, let’s get this whole Maggie/Penelope/Luca thing on the table. WHAT THE WHAT??? I mean, Penelope and Luca most certainly struck me as fishy last ep, but the golden handcuffs and sort-of-flirtatious-but-not-quite-oh-look-now-I-own-you vibe was making me wonder if the movie being referenced in this holiday delight was less Bridget Jones’ Diary and more Silence of the Lambs meets Eyes Wide Shut. So flipping weird. And it actually made me a bit sad for Maggie for two reasons: 1) all of that work Maggie has done is now locked away in storage and that must hurt and 2) while her calling out the weirdness and walking out of the party was A+ excellent, I feel like Maggie would be a very good judge of character and the fact she didn’t pick up on their bizzaro manner and general existence and at least comment on it seemed a little out of character to me. In saying that though, I totally get that as an artist, a big fat pay-cheque is rare and the thought of people buying and displaying all your work would be overwhelmingly flattering. I hope Maggie gets another big exhibition this season with success in the form of slightly less creepy buyers.

I’m going to jump to Kelsey now and her whole situation. Oh Kelsey, you’re in a bit of a pickle now, aren’t you? We all knew that the double dipping was going to end badly and I certainly don’t think we’ve seen it all play out yet, but there was a little part of me that quite enjoyed her torment over how she would manage being at the party with both Zane and Jake. We’ve seen Jake’s true colours in this ep and I gotta say, they ain’t pretty. I was also a bit conflicted about Zane, despite feeling sorry for him and the way he got bumped from the book. Now I said it last week, I’m warming up to Zane more and more and I genuinely felt bad for him, but the comment he made to Kelsey that he should’ve ‘stopped this the second I saw it’ did not sit well with me. Dude, stopped what? The book? Kelsey working on it? Or Kelsey’s free choice about who she sleeps with?

I definitely don’t think it’s wise for Kelsey to be sleeping with an author as she’s trying to get a book finished, but would Zane care what she was doing if he wasn’t also into her? Probs not I’m guessing. I can see that there may be other interpretations of that line, but that’s how I took it and coupled with Jake’s possessive move to get Zane off the book and lock Kelsey in a basement all for himself I feel like these guys, who in one breath hail Kelsey’s intelligence and strength, are also thinking they have some kind of claim over her. I’ll give Zane a chance to redeem himself and put his comment down to the pain of losing the only book he has going at the moment, but Jake is officially bad news IMO. Watch this space, but I sense DRAH-MAH on the horizon.

Two words: Diana Trout. That woman is an icon and some of her lines in this ep were some of the best of the series, hands down. And so were her scenes. The Enzo/Christmas tree situation was heartburstingly adorable. What I love most about this blossoming relationship is that neither Diana or Enzo try to change the other, they really do like the other just as they are (Bridget Jones reference intended). It would have been so easy for the writers to have Diana feel uneasy about Enzo and keep him separated from her public life or for her to feel embarrassed or try to change him, but these two are so absurdly different yet it works and it’s just a joy to watch. I read a couple of comments saying that we’re seeing Diana soften but I actually think that it’s not that, it’s that she’s willing to show her softer side to Enzo. I know that distinction may sound tenuous, but I feel like Diana has always had that side to her but she only reveals it once she feels comfortable with people (which we’ve seen as the series has progressed and her relationship with Liza has developed). I also realised I’ve never seen Diana laugh, heartily laugh, like she did after the champagne cork popped and I have to wonder if that was a break in character that they kept in or if it’s the lighter side of Diana we’re getting insight into? 

And of course the gift exchange with Liza, ugh, I actually cried. It was so incredibly moving, the mutual respect and admiration was emanating from my screen. Not to mention the line that should win an award: ‘Neckwear should inspire envy Liza, not seizures’. I’m dead set laughing as I type it. Diana continues to evolve and surprise me as a viewer and I think she is one of the best characters to have ever been on TV. I can’t wait to see where the rest of the season takes her.

Apologies for the jumping from one thing to another but I have just come back to life after this episode rendered me dead, so my thought processes are still a bit all over the place…ah yes, Josh. Now I know that there is a bit of frustration out there about the way Caitlin is fuelling Josh’s hope but funnily enough, it did not bother me overly in this ep. When Josh comes to the apartment with the gifts (one for Maggie and one for Liza) it becomes clear pretty quickly that Caitlin’s last conversation she had with her mother was around the fact that they’d broken up but were no longer on good terms. Which is beside the point tbh. As Liza herself says, her romantic relationships are none of her business. From that one would hope Caitlin might think perhaps that means there have been or are other relationships other than Josh…but nope.

The thing I really liked about the present scene was that Caitlin’s immaturity is showing here so badly, highlighted only by Maggie’s ‘wtf is wrong with you?’ looks. The idea that a relationship can go from romantic to platonic is beyond her (although she is right that Josh is still in the loves with Liza) and the aspect that bothered me about her going to speak to Josh before he left was more that is was a super immature thing to do. It’s immature in its sweetness and desire to see her mum happy, as well as immature in the lack of consideration that there may be complicated factors at play that she’s not privy to. I get that she thinks she’s helping fix a situation but it’s really very disrespectful after Liza was quite clear about where it stands. So Caitlin doesn’t bother me, if anything it shows that there is a really big disconnect between who she thinks her mum is and who her mum really is and I do hope that is rectified in the near future.

And my take on the Josh situation is as it stood last week. I feel like we’re beating a dead horse here. The whole ‘don’t give up on her’ line, I know the writers want to keep a flame flickering but at this point it’s actually just tiresome. I’m trying to be objective and think how I would feel if I was Team Josh and this was my situation but you know, I legitimately watch this show because I love it overall and if the ship I was digging wasn’t sailing I’d still  be watchng, I just wouldn’t be so invested that I feel the need to write atrociously self-indulgent posts about my thoughts and feelings after every episode...but if my main reason for watching was the ship and it was Josh/Liza I think I actually would’ve stopped watching. With Liza’s growth and development this past season and a bit, even if she doesn’t end up with Charles, it would be a complete disservice to her character to go back to Josh. I said it last week and I’ll say it again, the character of Josh has stagnated so badly that he is quickly becoming unlikable so I really, genuinely, hope that the writers give this character some kind of rejuvenation and a life. At some point the desire to try and keep ALL fans happy by trying to maintain a limping love triangle is going to backfire and no one will be happy.

This is absurdly long so I will close part 1 of this ramble and continue shortly with post 2, the Charles and Liza chronicles…

#youngertv #tv land #diana trout #maggie amato #kelsey peters #zane anders #ramble #apologies to anyone on a mobile! #liza miller

[captglenn-us]

Nice speckled trout

MASTERING THE ART OF POPPING CORK FISHING WITH LIVE BAIT:

Popping cork fishing with live bait is an effective way to enhance your saltwater angling experience. This technique relies on the use of popping corks,live bait,and precise strategy to attract and hook your target fish. When executed with finesse,it can yield remarkable results.

The popping cork itself serves as a visual and auditory attraction creating surface disturbances that mimic the natural movements of prey. To optimize success,it's crucial to select the right size,depending on the water conditions and the species your targeting.

Live bait,such as shrimp,finger mullet,live pilchards,or pinfish,is the true ace up your sleeve. Ensure your live bait is healthy and lively,as it will irresistibly lure your prey. Using a 18 to 24 inch long leader of 30 to 40lb test leader with a hook keeping in mind the species that you are targeting.

To ensure that your live bait stays frisky you should have a livewell that has a pump of at least 600 to 800 gph. This livewell will keep the water circulating,bringing freshwater in and pushing the old water out.

Strategy plays a vital role in this technique, Cast your baited hook and popping cork near structures like oyster bars,mangrove roots,or underwater grass beds. A gentle retrieve action will create rhythmic pops,generating curiousity among nearby fish.

TIP: Give the fish some freebee's by using a bait thrower such as a plastic baseball bat with the end cut out. These can be purchased at your local bait and tackle store. This will let you know if the fish are in a feeding mood.

Patience is the key; Let the popping cork do it's magic. When the fish strikes resist the urge to set the hook immediately,allow the fish to swallow the bait before setting the hook with a swift,well timed motion to secure your catch.

In conclusion,mastering popping cork fishing with live bait requires the right equipment,impeccable timing,and a strategic approach. Embrace the excitement of this technique,and you will find find yourself reeling in impressive catches and unforgettable memories on the water.

#popping cork fishing #bait and tackle #popping corks #snook fishing #snook fishing in Florida #live bait fishing #fishing for redfish #popping cork fishing for speckled trout

[naturecoaster]

Homosassa Inshore Fishing Report with Captain Toney: Thanksgiving Fishing

Fishing this week has put me close to the docks. I've spent some time around Sugar Bowl and in the Homosassa River. What I've been catching on the outside of the river is trout on a popping cork rig, doing long drifts south of the channel. The wind from the north will push your vessel south so cast ahead of the drift. This will be the best way to put some fish in the box for dinner. River fishing for sheepshead and black drum has been very good. Look for rocky shorelines that are close to the channel. Live shrimp on a 1/4 oz. jig head will get the bite. Be prepared for lots of snags on the rocky bottom. If it happens, give your line some slack and wait about 2 minutes. If there is bait on your hook, small fish or a keeper sheepshead most of the time will pick it off the rock to save your hook or catch the fish. When I fish the river I start close to the ramp and work my way west until I find fish. When you find fish it's because the water temperature is right for the fish and that will be the best area to focus on. I will say it's not the fast fishing we've all experienced but patience and enjoying the beautiful river will pay off at the end of the day. High incoming tide will be early morning this weekend. Homosassa Inshore Fishing Report from Captain William Toney To schedule a fishing charter or shore lunch excursion with Captain Toney, visit his website. A third-generation fishing guide in the Homosassa area, a member of the Homosassa Guides Association, and author of the Homosassa Inshore Fishing Report each week in NatureCoaster.com. To read about our Shore Lunch excursion with Captain Toney, click here. If you want to learn more about how to catch Nature Coast fish from Captain Toney, subscribe to his videos at https://inthespread.com Captain William Toney is a fourth-generation Homosassa fishing guide. He provides our weekly Homosassa Inshore Fishing Report. If you enjoy Captain Toney's weekly Homosassa Inshore Fishing Report, please be sure to tell your friends! Read the full article

[bthebarber1-blog]

Fishing for Spotted Seatrout

Fishing for Spotted Seatrout Time for some Spotted Seatrout fishing, Here we go…! Spotted Seatrout are a pretty tasty fish, also a very fun fish to catch. You can catch them on various baits, such as live white bait, Pinfish, Shrimp and also various types of lures work as well , such as paddle tails, jigs ,plugs, top waters and trout rigs. You will find trout typically on grass flats ideally in 3’ to 6’ of water. Usually the best way to fish for them with live bait is on a popping cork 2’ to 4’ of space between hook and popping cork. Fish are very curious predators, so when they hear water splashing or popping noises in the water, it attracts them to see what’s going on. They will be attracted to it because it resembles the sound of a feeding fish. So they get curious and want to get in on the action. If there is a fish near by feeding they know there must be bait where they are feeding. So naturally they check it out to get in on the feeding.  Using a popping cork you want to pop it to make a splash like noise every 15 second or so to attract the fish. You can use this technique on trout rigs and with live bait. Trout are like any predator fish you can find them hunting sand patches also as those are ambush points for them. Typically you will only find trout on nice thick grass bottom areas, as they like to hunt while feeding over grass areas, because bait fish use the grass as cover to try to hide from predators. Read the full article

#fishing #FishingforSpottedSeatrout #fishingfortrout #seatrout #trout

[fishing-exposed]

@TXFishingForce: Are these the best fishing Popping Corks? Catching Redfish, trout and Fl... https://t.co/yyuuWvH7ou via @YouTube

#baffinbay #baffin bay #baffin_bay #Baffin Bay #baffin bay rod and gun #BaffinBayRodandGun #Baf

[tijuanaus]

1) Cover your stump before you hump 2) Before you attack her, wrap your whacker 3) Don't be silly, protect your Willie 4) When in doubt, shroud you spout 5) Don't be a loner, cover your boner 6) You can't go wrong, if you shield your dong 7) If your not going to sack it, go home and whack it 8) If you think she's spunky, cover your monkey 9) It will be sweeter if you wrap your peter 10) If you slip between her thighs, condomize 11) She won't get sick if you wrap your dick 12) If you go into heat, package your meat 13) While you're undressing Venus, dress up your penis 14) When you take off her pants and blouse, suit up your mouse 15) Especially in December, gift wrap your member 16) Never ever deck her, with an unwrapped pecker 17) Don't be a fool, vulcanize your tool 18) The right selection, is to protect your erection 19) Wrap it in foil, before you check her oil 20) A crank with armor, will never harm her 21) If you really love her, wear a cover 22) Don't make a mistake, cover your snake 23) Sex is cleaner with a packaged wiener 24) If you can't shield your rocket, leave it in your pocket 25) No glove, no love 26) If you think she'll sigh, cover old one eye 27) Even If she's eager, protect her beaver 28) No one likes a horse's ass, protect yourself at climax 29) Shield her from the hunt until you shoot her in the cunt 30) Avoid a frown, contain your clown 31) Harness the pygmy man before entering the bearded clam 32) Constrain the little head before you stick it in the shed 33) Put a condom on your dink before you dart it in her sink 34) The weasel you must surround before you please her on the ground 35) Cloak the joker before you poke her 36) Encase that torch before you paint her porch 37) Cape your throbber before you bob her 38) After detection, sheath your erection 39) Before you penetrate, hide your magistrate 40) Don't surprise her, plug your Geyser 41) Cover that lumber before you pump her 42) Protect her wrinkle before you sprinkle 43) She won't bristle if you wrap your whistle 44) House your noodle, then release your strudel 45) Put your dog in the pound and make her yelp like a hound 46) Shelter your jerky, then nab that turkey 47) Cage that snake, then shake and bake 48) Cover your peter, it will be much neater 49) Coat that Labrador, then allow him to explore 50) It's always funky to cage your monkey 51) It won't be funny with a coatless dummy 52) It won't be fun with an unwrapped thumb 53) It's not much money to catch your honey 54) Don't be a fool, cover your tool 55) Hood that match, then scratch that thatch 56) Stitch that switch, then itch her niche 57) Wrap that tool to catch the drool 58) It ain't no jibe to protect her hive 59) Contain that sputum before you use him 60) Restrain your log, then plow her bog 61) Glove your pecker before you check her 62) Coat that slimmer before you prime her 63) Condomize then womanize 64) Cover old pete, then grind her meat 65) Guard your peter before you meet her 66) Check your list before you tryst 67) Wrap your bate before you mate 68) Can your worm before you squirm 69) Cover your pipe you dumb ass wipe 70) Contain your lizard, then tickle her gizzard 71) Bag the mole, then do her hole 72) Cuff your carrot before you share it 73) Jail your number, then call the plumber 74) Cover your vein, then drive her insane 75) Wrap that pickle, then slip her a tickle 76) Protect your dink, then fluff her mink 77) Restrain your lantern, then stick it in her cavern 78) Hide ole harry, then take her cherry 79) Wrap that spout, then bore her out 80) Conceal your train, don't cause her pain 81) Guard your bridge, then do her ridge 82) Shroud your trout, then make her shout 83) To make her squat like a turkey, cover your Jerky 84) Box your blister, then poke her in the whiskers 85) Wrap your spout to catch the trout 86) Plug your funnel, then enter the tunnel 87) Cover your steamer before you ream her 88) Protect that fish, then dip it in the dish 89) Contain that bass for a swim in her glass 90) Be sure to wear it to feed her ferret 91) Clothe the boner before you hone her 92) Got no protection? Can't use your erection! 93) Cork your pump or you don't hump 94) No unwrapped stags get between her legs 95) Dress that erection to make a deflection 96) Contain that shanker before you spank her 97) Cap that seeder before you breed her 98) Stop the stream before you cream 99) Secure that ladder, then drain your bladder 100) Protect your screw to catch that glue 101) Package your meat for a real neat treat 102) Holster your gun, then shooting's more fun 103) Canvas that trailer before you nail her 104) Garage the tractor, then attack her 105) Net that grass hopper before you pop her 106) Sock that wanger before you bang her 107) Pen that rooster, she'll be much looser 108) Trim your hardwood, then do her real good 109) Garnish your oak, then give her a poke 110) Pouch your associate, then go fornicate 111) Smother your affiliate before you ejaculate 112) Confine your fascinate before it regurgitates 113) Catch that goat before it bloats 114) Ensnare that barbarian, then do her abdomen 115) Restrain your hammer, then wam bam her 116) Prune that stalk, then make her squawk 117) Wrap that rod, then please her bod 118) Sheath that knife, she ain't your wife 119) House that bottle, then mash her throttle 120) Sash that hash, then thrash that gash 121) Cover your diddle, then fiddle her middle 122) Can your knob, then throb her swab 123) Contain old Doug, then clean her rug 124) Cover your limb before you swim 125) Retain your bailer, then impail her 126) Rope your dope, then make some soap 127) Net your salamander, then make salad in her 128) Cap your flapper, then sniff her snapper 129) Wrap that Steed, then trample her weeds 130) Hat that chef, then scramble her cleft 131) Cover your stone before you bone 132) House your hose, then curl her toes 133) Saddle your penis, then straddle her mean ass 134) Blanket your twitch, then hump that bitch 135) Shield your rocks, then pound her box 136) Cover old sly, then do her dry 137) Wrap your rail, then fill her pail 138) Glove your chimney before you come in me 139) If your nude, tube your dude 140) Cloak your hitter, then go split her 141) Wrap your nipper before you dip her 142) Can your spam, then bam that ma'am 143) Corral your ram, then slice her ham 144) Sheath your sliver, then jab her liver 145) Twist your wick, then stick that prick 146) Cover old Bart, then dart her tart 147) Shed old spot, then do her slot 148) Drawer your pip, then split her lips 149) Contain that leach, then mash her peach 150) Bag your elm, then take the helm 151) Constrain your gem to catch the flem 152) Catch that head cheese, or I won't spread these 153) Constrain that agate you ain't no faggot 154) Survey your land, then plant her stand 155) Before you drive her, protect that diver 156) Sack that slimy smelt, then tan her beaver pelt 157) Wrap that stiffer, then let him sniff her 158) Cover you post, then slice her roast 159) Blanket old juicy, then plug old loosey 160) Balloon your baboon, the moon tune her poon 161) Contain that viper before you pipe her 162) Wrap your whopper, then go bop her

https://netjeff.com/humor/item.cgi?file=CondomSlogans