Happening Now: American Jews Are Shutting Down 8 Bridges In 8 Cities Across The Country For The 8th Night

God BREAST America!!! 🦅🦅

Have ya’ll seen this mans chest? I wanna suck his tiddies so bad. I wish men were real 👎👎👎

I want to take a small bite lord have mercy.

STORY OF US | CH. 1 - PILOT

PAIRING: DI! Leon Kennedy x fem! reader

SYNOPSIS: A training session gone wrong brings you to the edge and throws you into a fit of rage. Luckily, your mentor is there to keep the peace.

CONTENT/WARNINGS: MDNI/18+. Canon-adjacent. DSO Mentor/mentee dynamic. Forbidden work relationship. Age gap (Leon is 38, reader is 25). Reader has their own background & lore. Leon & reader have an established working relationship of 4 years (nothing was done until later). Violence & fighting.

WC: 4.0k

A/N: Finally, I got this first chapter out haha. But welcome, this is the first installment of my series Story Of Us. Treat this as more of an introductory chapter to the working dynamic, and I promise next chapter is where it kicks off. Shoutout to the babes @notrattus for beta-reading this and reassuring me, I adore you. As always, likes, comments, and reblogs are always greatly appreciated!

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST | AO3

Chaos. That was the best description of what you would call your life. It was unpredictable, often finding yourself in limbo, running from one unstable situation to the next, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Stability was something you didn’t consider attainable, at least beyond the stench of decaying corpses and gunpowder. That was your familiar, finding solace in the heavy weight of a gun in your hand or the rubber grip of a tactical knife.

Violence was all you knew. It was your specialty, what you embodied, what you called home. Like a stray dog, you were groomed to realize this was the only way you could survive in the hellscape of your reality. The leash around your neck was old and faded, weathered from years of wear but tight enough to leave its mark embedded in your skin.

Until now, you don’t know how you’ve managed to survive this long, but you stopped counting your blessings somewhere along the way. The only conclusion you came to was that you were simply lucky.

The seasoned agent observed from the sidelines as you sparred with your opponent. He followed the sweat that trickled down your face and hit the mat at your feet with every swift movement you made. You were agile and ruthless when it came to your craft, something he’s helped you nurture since you were put under his wing years ago.

“Watch your blank spots”, Leon called out, seeing his prodigal agent take training as seriously as they would out in the field, just as he expected.

Huffing out a breath, you blocked your face with your forearms and fiercely glared at your enemy. You paced around the mat on the tips of your toes as the droplets on your hairline rolled down your brow to the bridge of your nose, dripping onto the ground. Carefully, you watched for any opening that would help ensure your win while keeping the sides of your body closed off.

In the blink of an eye, your opponent lunged towards you, forcing you to swiftly turn to the side in a dodge and shoot a kick at her ribs. Blocking the hit, she wrapped her fingers around your ankle to keep you locked in place, her fist colliding with your jaw in a harsh blow. It was a dirty hit, throwing off your footing as you stumbled backward. You were proficient in hand-to-hand combat, it was what you were known for, but the female agent was sneaky and got the upper hand before you could regain control of it.

“Awe, the class favorite can’t fight back?”, she taunted you, the pitch of her voice equivalent to that of nails against a chalkboard. Leveling yourself on the mat, you spat out the blood that pooled in your mouth and stained your teeth. As your eyes darkened, you were reminiscent of a feral Doberman, menacing with the crimson red that dribbled down your chin.

“Is that all you got?”, you mocked her playfully, the embers of your rage igniting into a low simmer as your sparring partner eyed you carefully.

“Oh, she’s feisty. Do they always let reckless mutts out of the pen?”, she toyed with you, throwing baseless jabs as a means of distraction. This wasn’t a new thing, a regular occurrence ever since you were put under Leon’s mentorship as a young adult. At first glance, it was a blessing in disguise, given the circumstances of your life at the time. Yet, it seemed to have gotten you into more trouble than you anticipated.

“How about you shut your mouth before I shut it for you”, you barked back, taking a step forward before you felt Leon grab your arm. He was the only person who knew of your tendency to snap in a fit of rage, teaching you to reserve that for missions where you could let loose. Yet after all these years, there were still moments where you couldn’t bottle it up.

With the continuous taunting, you reached your breaking point, the degrading phrases thrown your way brought an itch to your skin that you wanted to claw at and peel away. The agent was doing her best to make you lose your temper, and you hated to admit she was doing a damn good job at it. Leon could feel the tense situation heating up as you tried to escape from his grasp to retaliate. He wouldn’t allow you to jeopardize your training session or get yourself into any more trouble, so he refused to let go, wanting to be your voice of reason.

“Easy. Drop it before you let her get into your head”, Leon said close to your ear, his grip steadily tightening on your arm. Whether in reassurance or a warning, you weren’t sure.

“I’m fucking trying, I swear”, you snarled at him, his hold tense on your skin.

Pulling away from him, you turned your back to the woman across from you, exhaling a shaky breath. You thought you would be doing her a favor by walking away from the fight instead of smashing her smug face into the ground. It wasn’t worth it, you knew that, and the last thing you needed was to make this situation worse by lashing out.

Be the bigger person. You could practically hear Leon’s voice in your head repeating the words back to you on a loop. It didn’t make sense to you, how he was always adamant on walking away from petty fights instead of evening the score, but that was all part of his teachings. Even if it was the last thing you wanted, it was better for both parties to simply walk away.

But of course, you heard that same incessant nagging from the other side of the room that made your blood boil.

“Yeah, go and be a good lap dog”, she muttered with a laugh. The moment her words reached your ears, red clouded your vision and overwhelmed your senses. You couldn’t stop yourself even if you tried.

Turning around on your heel, you pounced on her with force, abruptly bringing her to the ground with a fist to her chest. You found yourself in a messy fistfight, focused on punching the vulnerable spots along her torso with your thighs bracketing her hips, keeping her pinned underneath you. She tried her hardest to throw you off of her, aiming for your face in unfocused strikes or yanking on your hair but to no avail. Most of the hits she attempted were futile, not getting past your nimble reflexes and aggressive offense as your knuckles connected with her nose.

Blow after blow, your hands grew increasingly sore every time they collided with her skin, hearing the audible crack of bone breaking that you tuned out just as quickly as the hits came. You were going too far, managing to stop when strong arms wrapped around your waist and forced you off of her completely.

Leon pulled you away from the beaten agent on the ground, holding her now curved nose with bruised fingers. It was no doubt broken, her lip bleeding with a split and the skin around her eye swelling into discolored shades of purple. She no longer wore that pathetic smirk she had coming into the match, instead, she looked at you in fear as most people did.

“Not a fucking dog”, you mumbled under your breath, knowing that your mentor wouldn’t brush this under the rug as much as you’d like for him to spare you the lecture. It had been so long since you cracked like this, letting your emotions control your actions instead of logic. Jerking yourself out of Leon’s arms, you stood in front of him and mentally prepared for the onslaught of words.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Leon snapped, his tone sharp.

“Winning the match”, you stated nonchalantly with a dismissive shrug. The training room emptied out after the fight, the agent you wounded being carried out towards the infirmary. You walked to your duffle bag and grabbed your water bottle, taking a sip and swishing the cooling liquid around your mouth, rinsing the blood that tainted your gums. 

“You didn’t hear her when she was talking shit? Do you think I was just going to let that slide?”, you retorted, getting closer to his face and holding your ground. Your eyes were glowing with bitterness at Leon, already too familiar with the repetitive cycle of arguments that were part of your strange dynamic.  

“That’s the exact problem here, you let her words get to you. When you’re in the field, you can’t let your enemies provoke you into doing something impulsive. I’ve already told you more than once to keep your temper in check”, Leon scolded you, taking a moment to sigh with his hands on his hips like a discouraged parent.

“Out there in the field, they don’t last long enough to open their mouths. You know this. Don’t tell me to keep my temper under control when you give all these other people a pass to say whatever they want”, your voice reached a higher pitch as irritation flowed through your body.

“What did I tell you about losing yourself in a fight?”, Leon questioned sternly.

“You told me to channel my rage into my movements. Isn’t that what I just did? Whatever, it doesn’t matter anymore”, you grumbled, feeling the initial anger dissipating into another emotion.

Over time, it took you a while to understand how to react and interact with people. One of the problems that came with being a prodigy was how people picked on you constantly, you could never figure out why it was part of your experience as an agent.

Maybe that’s what happens to strays, they remain isolated because they don’t belong anywhere else.

“No, you don’t get to use that tone with me”, he wasn’t going to allow your attitude to get the best of you. “You’re only proving my point here. You know that you’re better than letting this push you into throwing a tantrum. Act like it.”

The second his voice became crass you felt a weight in your chest, one that you tried to push down but it only crawled further up to tighten around your throat. No matter how hard you strained to hide it, you hated being the source of Leon’s irritation or disappointment. In the early years of being trained by him, you didn’t care much for his approval or wisdom. You blamed that on the misplaced rage carried by a young adult who thought they knew everything about the world.

It took you years to fully appreciate him as someone who wanted the best for you, hell that was his job. Now at the age of 25, you weren’t so young anymore, you knew the price you had to pay to be in this profession.

You were an adult, one trained to kill and protect others, but there was still the inner child that needed to be handled more than the warrior itself. Leon couldn’t always be yelling at you whenever you made a mistake and he knew that. He also knew he couldn’t always expect a perfect performance from you all the time, that wouldn’t be fair or reasonable.

“Fine”, was the only thing you could say, not wanting to argue with Leon at the moment. You grabbed your bag to throw it over your shoulder as your body started to ache from the earlier brawl.

“Are you done preaching to me now?”, you were still annoyed, but it was your stubbornness starting to show. The longer you stood in front of Leon, the more you felt the adrenaline wearing off, bringing in a new wave of sore spots you will deal with later. 

“Yes, I’m done with the talk”, Leon expressed more calmly, ready to give you some time to cool off after this.

“Good”, as petty as it may seem, you wanted the last word, walking away from him with a scowl on your face. You left Leon in the training room and headed towards the showers, hoping it would wash away your growing vexation. 

It was a brief visit to the infirmary to get your new bruises checked out. The only real place you’re so familiar with happened to be the four walls of this room, covered in white paint and filled with the smell of rubbing alcohol. The nurse wasn’t surprised to find you here again seeking her care, quiet as she bandaged up your bloody knuckles, silently thankful that you didn’t break your hand. 

You were used to the pain, it was a no-brainer given your occupation, but Leon’s dismay stung more than the disinfectant the nurse used on your skin. You’ve both been working together for long enough that there was no need to keep lashing out at one another. Yet every time it seemed to happen, upsetting Leon hurt more than the strain of fighting altogether.

Hearing a knock at your office door, you called out to the sound, noticing Leon stepping inside with a bag of your favorite candy in his hand. You raised an eyebrow at him, already familiar with his antics after one of you upset the other.

“Are you trying to bribe me?”, you asked him, skimming through the file in your hand and pretending to read it over.

“Yeah, I am. Will it work?”, Leon challenged as he handed you the bag, hoping to win back some of your favor. He wouldn’t let you forget the lecture, but he wanted to assure you that he didn’t intend to make you feel bad about it.

Internally you were smiling, enjoying the fact that he made these small gestures to get on your good side again. After learning how to work with him, you did your best to maintain the relationship you currently had. He was your partner after all, and frankly, he was the only person you had in your inner circle.

“Maybe if you buy me lunch every day next week I’ll think about forgiving you”, you suggested to him half-seriously, opening the bag of candy and popping a piece in your mouth, humming at the taste of the treat. 

You and your damn sweet tooth.

“Fine, fine. Lunch for the rest of next week. Will that make you happy?”, he rolled his eyes as he took a seat in the chair across from you.

“Yes, it will. I love it when you’re generous”, your usual pout was replaced with your lips curling upwards. You never showed this softer side to anyone else other than Leon. He saw it as a privilege, being one of the very few people who knew you this well was something he was grateful for.

“Are you still upset with me?”, he asked you, leaning back in the armchair and crossing his arms over his chest. His blue eyes were as sympathetic as they were bright, like a puppy dog craving reassurance after upsetting their owner.

“No, not anymore. You know how I get when you argue with me Leon. I’m not a rookie anymore”, you replied, sucking on the hard piece of candy in your mouth as you spoke. “I am sorry for lashing out like that at training. She just…I hate being seen as some personal lap dog”  

“No need to be sorry, I’m just mad at the situation. And you’re not my lap dog, you’re my right hand”, Leon offered you a compassionate look. You were such a child at times, especially when it came to being criticized. But you were stubborn, and it was something he had to learn to live with.

“I know. I’m just fed up with other people not accepting that by now”, you shrugged, releasing a heavy sigh.

Leon understood what you were going through, considering he had been in the same situation so many times he’d lost count. Constantly having your abilities doubted and being underestimated by your colleagues was never easy to handle, it caused unneeded tension that makes you lose focus on the bigger picture. No matter what others thought, you’d always be the best in your field at the end of the day, and a big part of that had to do with what you’ve learned from him over the past few years.

You could feel Leon’s eyes moving towards your jaw and cheek, spotting the faint redness of your skin that darkened under the office light. You knew what he was thinking, a common aspect of your relationship involved him worrying about you, probably more than he’d care to admit.

“I’m fine Leon, it’ll heal. I get hurt enough as it is”, you tried to ease his nerves, but he wouldn’t brush it off as fast as you’d like.

“It’s still my job to take care of you. That doesn’t stop just because you’re older”, he noted in defiance as you hummed with a nod.

Leon’s been responsible for you since you were transferred to the D.S.O. a few months before your 21st birthday. It was a tedious process of trial and error to get you to trust him, to show you that he wasn’t a threat or trying to do more harm than good.

Despite being your mentor, Leon has always been somewhat of a guardian in the years you’ve been in the organization. He took care of you in his unique way, working hard to teach you everything he knows and how to survive, while also showing you the good things life has to offer. As you got older, the guardian title wasn’t the best fit for him, so now you consider him a wise friend. 

His expertise in the field allowed you to become an irreplaceable asset to the D.S.O., no longer being just an experiment, but now the perfect agent. Leon had shaped and molded you to become what the D.S.O had envisioned for you once your mentorship began, meeting their expectations and surpassing them with ease.

He saved your life doing that, and it’s a debt you’ll never be able to repay. You didn’t need to pay him back for anything anyway, especially when he was the one who decided to train you.

Leon never really cared much about his work for the government, fully aware that he was another pawn in their overplayed chess game. His encounter with you was something he initially didn’t want, assuming you’d be another setback that would haunt him like a ghost in the night. But as the years grew between you two, he thought you may be one of his greatest achievements in the organization. 

“The bruising’s fine, it’ll wear off. Besides, you’ve seen me get worse so a few punches to the face doesn’t mean anything to me”, you reassured him. Your experience working as a federal agent gifted you a collection of scars that has steadily grown over time, the most prominent one being a white line on your upper cheek from a knife graze you got early on in your training. It’s faded but it was still there, a constant reminder of your place in this life. 

“Yeah, that’s true. You have had worse than this,” his gaze was fixated on your face as he studied your features. He knew every inch of your facial structure, every curve, and every scar. The bruises you had received in the fight were nothing new to him and nothing to worry about. That didn’t mean he hated seeing you hurt any less. 

“Don’t need you getting worried about me, I’ll be okay. I don’t break so easily”, you said, taking in his low hum of agreement.

“What did the higher-ups say after the fight? Hopefully, I’m not on probation again”, you leaned forward on the desk to face him directly now, his expression neutral when you mentioned the other associates.

“They didn’t say anything. I told them what happened, said the other agent antagonized you, and they agreed with my explanation. You’re not on probation, actually, you’re more than welcome to go on another mission with me if you’re interested”, being friends with one of the founding members of the D.S.O. certainly had its perks. 

“Thank god. I was going to be pissed if they benched me to do admin work again”, you were relieved that you wouldn’t have to worry about staying behind when there was a mission to complete.

“I know you want me on the next mission anyway. Nobody else can handle your banter”, you joked with him, your sense of humor adopted by his entirely. Leon chuckled at your words, wanting you by his side whenever he went on another assignment.

“It’s not all just about business. Plus, you’re good at making me crack a smile when I’m pissed off”, he smirked as he spoke.

“That’s because I know you well enough to do that by now. Your life would be boring without me”, you laughed under your breath.

He was a hard nut to crack, having such an intense wall to break down just like you did. Once you both managed to soften up to each other, it was smooth sailing from there. Leon knew you better than most, as you did the same with him. You were almost two halves of a person, always on the same page when it came to everything; work, social gatherings, and just in general. He was a part of your life, just like you were a part of his. In sync and inseparable.

“So when do we leave? Are we having a going away party too, as in I drink at the bar and you pay for me?”, you took in the shades of pretty blues as he looked back at you. 

“Next Tuesday, we’ll be heading to an unknown location. But we can’t have a party without you drinking all my money away”, Leon teased, aware of what was to come.

“Then it’s settled. Mission next week, and tonight we drink a little bit. Some beers before, and then whiskey after”, you confirmed happily, a grin on your face that seemed to brighten up the room.

“Sounds like a plan to me. A few beers and then whiskey after,” his smile mirrored your own.

It was a ritual before you went on missions together, having some drinks after a day of briefings. Usually, it was mostly Leon watching over you as you got plastered, and when the mission was done, you’d drink some more in celebration to relieve the stress.

“Good, then I’ll see you later on?”, you didn’t need his answer, but you liked hearing that he was all in.

“Yeah, I’ll be seeing you later”, Leon gave you a tilt of his head, standing up from the chair he was lounging in.

“Just don’t blackout this time, I’d hate to carry you back home again”, he reminded you, your bad drinking habits were a tad too much when the occasion didn’t call for it. Most of that was his fault, he introduced you to the world of alcohol when you were legally allowed to drink, but you didn’t blame him. It was either cigarettes or alcohol in your selection of vices, so you picked your poison.

“Yeah yeah, I know. I won’t this time, promise”, you kept it in mind to lay off the booze tonight.

Leon stepped out of your office with a genuine smile on his face, the small crinkles at the corner of his eyes visible in the room’s lighting. Your chest warmed up at the thought of spending time with him, the feeling subtle enough to acknowledge before you buried it down and focused back on the file in your hand.

He knew what you felt. It was easy to read your face, having gotten so used to doing so that depicting your moods became second nature to him. He walked out of your office and down the hall with the same comfort he gets when he was close to you, his expression returning to neutral once he brushed it off.

Another Friday night out with your superior, nothing out of the ordinary.

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

Wall art in Oaxaca, Mexico.

Some Thoughts/Reasons why the “Final” Season doesn't worry me. 

Many animated shows lately have been canceled prematurely due to corporate interference, budget cuts, or higher up dealings. Which at least for me, has left me feeling frustrated and discouraged when it comes to consuming entertainment. And at first, hearing that The Bad Batch was already in its final season after just two seasons, immediately reignited a lot of those feelings. 

But I want to remind everyone that it is not being canceled. Its ending, but it's by the choice of the creative team. I feel like too often shows will either fall into two categories. Either they are canceled way too soon, or they are kept alive well after their expiration date. And both scenarios are not ideal. 

While its fun to have your favorite show go on indefinitely, it will one way or another get to a point where it feels directionless, unmotivated, or stale. Typically writing goes down the toilet, actors leave, and characters aren't interesting anymore. (*ahem* The Mandalorian) 

If the creators of this show feel like they can tell the rest of the Batch’s story in one season, then I trust them. I want a good ending for these characters, I want one that is not rushed or slapped together. Its okay for things to end. I just want it to be given the time and effort they deserve.

And lets be real, this is Star Wars we are talking about. Characters (especially beloved characters) are hardly ever gone permanently. Pretty much every “main” character has come back in another show. So even with the end of this series on the horizon, I highly doubt it will be the end of these characters. So keep that in mind if you find yourself spiraling. 

Side Note: 

I think most of us have seen the leaked teaser, but remember! Star Wars is pretty crafty with their trailers. For season 2 the majority of the trailer was made up from the first 6ish episodes! I’m predicting they save Cross and Omega within the first couple episodes, Tech will probably come back either early - mid season and then who knows what we will be getting at the very end. I remember hearing, I think Dee Bradly Cooper say that the show is about The Batch at its core. And given we didn't really get to see everyone in action together during season 2. I'm assuming we are building up to have ALL SIX of them together fighting a big ol battle at the end of the show. Whatever I'm sure they do, it will be great!

Tech girlies, remember one of the galaxy’s cardinal rules: NO BODY, NO DEATH. Just because Tech wasn’t CX-2 doesn’t mean he’s dead dead. Echo, Maul, even Admiral Trench - the best dead boys didn’t stay dead. Keep the hope alive! Especially if a new clone show happens. Never forget “domicile”!

Verified Palestinian gofundme’s Masterlist

Rightfully so, I have gotten messages worrying if everything I post is legit (I try my best to make sure the answer is yes), but here’s a masterlist of ones that one or more people have confirmed are legit Palestinians. Most are from the blogs @el-shab-hussein, @ibtisams, @palestinecharitycommissionsassoc ,@90-ghost, @nabulsi and @palipunk

I will also be making individual posts for most of these

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