#colton bell

[isthelovingjune]

"There was once a golden boy who lived in a golden tower. And then the tower fell."

me:

[libraryofandrasta]

He was a boy of air and dust and sunlight. Everything that had gone into the making of the world.

Timekeeper by Tara Sim

[c-kiddo]

thinking abt this .. the panic :( the way he just holds onto himself :( just tells himself theres work to do : (

also look at the little beetle carapace belle left for him :(((((

[nerds-yearbook]

In 1933, the mutant Eugene Victor Tooms killed a set of five people, eating their livers, and then went into hibernation for the next thirty years. ("Squeeze", X-Files, TV)

[imagoddamnonionmason]

Call of Booty: Chapter 4 - Mutiny

Fandom: Call of Duty

Word Count: 3611

Relationship: Pirate!Frank Woods x Merchant!Bell

Characters: Frank Woods, Alex Mason, Colton "Stryker" Greenfield, Terrell Wolf, "Bell", original female character, original male character(s)

Summary: Mason brings the growing mutiny to Woods' attention and they deal with it....

Maybe not to Nadežda's liking buuuut... it does get dealt with <.<

Mason had come to a stop outside of the Captain’s quarters, his hand hovering over the handle. He knew that the two occupants would likely not want to be disturbed, but Mason knew waiting any longer would mean allowing insubordination to grow into something uncontrollable. The issue at hand needed to be corrected, now, unless they face the consequences later. 

Rather than opening the door like he usually would, he let his calloused knuckles knock against the wood. A deep voice sounded from the other side, calling him in. Mason opened the door, but decided he wouldn’t step all the way past the threshold. Instead, his head peered around the door. With a free hand and a slight cough, he beckoned over his Captain, who was standing over the shoulder of the smaller woman, a hand cupping his chin in silent consideration. 

Captain Woods sighed, somewhat irked to be pulled away from his task, but came to stand at the slightly ajar door. He asked his First Mate, “what is it?” 

Mason spared a glance in the woman’s direction, pointedly looking at her hunched form with a compass in hand. He then looked back to Woods, before he quietly muttered, “something you’ll be interested in hearing. Just not here.” 

Luckily, she was so enraptured in her work that she hadn’t even bothered to look up to acknowledge the disturbance in the room. Mason was thankful for this, as he didn’t want her overhearing anything he might have to say; he was not the best person to be the bearer of bad news, especially when he was armed with the knowledge that her crew was planning mutiny.

From Woods’ position at the door, he peered over his shoulder to follow Mason’s gaze, then gave a singular nod in understanding. Whatever information Mason had was relative to their little navigating friend and it was serious enough to have his friend acting in such a covert manner. When Mason refused to openly talk like this, it usually meant they had decisions to make; unsavoury decisions.  

Once the two were beyond the door, Woods closed it. His eyes squinted slightly, wincing against the bright sunlight and his furrowed eyes shadowed his sockets menacingly. His stature further coated his being in an intimidating allure, as his arms were neatly, tensely folded over his chest and his shoulders broad. Mason was in a similar position, except his back was to the sun. His entire front was darkened, shadowed, seemingly matching his disposition. 

As the Captain and First Mate spoke between themselves in hushed tones, the rest of the crew remained distant. Greenfield watched intently, seated on a barrel with his back resting against the main mast. In his hand was an apple and he carved pieces away with a short, small knife. He wasn’t really attempting to listen in, but occasionally a word would drift along the wind and reach him.

 He popped a piece of apple in his mouth and chewed slowly, face growing taut at the mere thought of the men below them. He glowered at the thought of mutiny and wished he could have left those men to rot. It wasn’t that Greenfield cared for the woman, but he knew when someone deserved respect. Likewise, he despised when people were disrespectful and her crew was riddled with the special kind of disrespectful cretin. 

“Mutiny?” Woods’ voice echoed rather loudly, his initial knee-jerk reaction caught in the indignation laced in his tones. Mason had waved him into calm, giving him a pointed look. Woods nodded slowly, running a hand soothingly over his beard again and again. The taller man’s cool gaze shifted from his First Mate and down to a spot on the deck. He did nothing but glare at the same spot as he mulled over the word, chewed on it until entirely satisfied that it was poisonous enough to spit back out. 

He tensed the hand that had been smoothing over his beard into a fist, letting his knuckles tuck under his chin and keep his head aloft. Woods’ lips pursed, a cold look frosting over his eyes; if he had been looking at someone, a chill would have run down their spine. 

“Fucking mutiny,” he spat. 

He may have understood where these men were coming from, if they had a Captain that deserved their upset, but the woman in question had fought her hardest for them; she had battled against him every step of the way. It was their Captain who had gotten them supplies, who had negotiated their freedom aboard his ship - well, now they would never taste it. 

“What do we do?” Mason asked, “killing them isn’t off of the table, is it?” 

It may seem brutal, cruel and outlandish to come to such a decision and as effortlessly as Mason had, but on the open sea, one could not take risks; doing so could mean a knife at your throat while you slept. Mason's view on this was simple, efficient, despite the need for it to be cold and brutal. 

“No, it’s not,” Woods replied, slowly nodding. Then, the two of them looked to the door, their thoughts collectively going back to the woman inside. 

“She stays in there,” Woods ordered, “you bring those fuckers on deck, now.” 

“All of them?” Mason questioned, his head tilting down slightly as he spoke. 

Woods nodded, once, “all of them, Mason.” 

The pirate captain then pointed towards Greenfield, beckoning him down from his spot against the mast, “Colton, help him out, will ya?” 

“Yessir.” Was the man’s reply.

The two men moved away, leaving Woods to hover outside of his quarters with a grim look of annoyance on his features. This information had him in quite the predicament. One glaringly obvious fact pestered the forefront of his mind, as he began to pace towards the side of the ship and that was how the way this issue needed to be handled would not be taken well by the woman inside his quarters. He really did want to work at getting her to trust him, which was why he had been fine with relenting freedom to her men during their negotiation, but now? Well, her men had thrown her efforts right back into her face and his own efforts to gain trust to the ocean below. 

He took a deep inhale, cocking his head to one side as he felt his chest grow tight in that annoyance again. He really had no issue dealing with the situation accordingly, but the aftermath might end up being more hassle than it was worth; this was something he would admit. But, her men had signed their death warrant the second they uttered a word of mutiny and though he did not have a gallows to hang them from, he had something better in mind he felt more fitting to the crime. 

Minutes had passed and soon numerous men were traipsing onto the open deck, frail and fraught with worry. They collected into a group, eyes scattering about the ship in search of any potential threat and feeling like there was a catch to their apparent freedom. Then, ushering the last of the lot to join the rest, Woods turned to take in the unpleasant view. He didn’t acknowledge them verbally, nor really even look at them, instead opting to lean against the side of the ship where the shrouds made contact. His elbow rested on the lip, as he picked at his fingers, giving the air of nonchalance to the bumbling men. 

Eventually, when the mutinous crew had gathered in a sort of line, with Wolf, Edward and Steven closest to the aftmost part of the ship, Woods peered up. His narrow blue eyes squinted against the sunlight, regarding the men with a cool scrutiny. At the sight of them, withering and mouse-like, cowardly, Woods scoffed. Pushing himself from his spot, his hands naturally came to rest behind his back, at ease. His demeanour was of a man who commanded everyone’s attention, very much in control and all-knowing. 

Many of the men swallowed thickly, saliva quickly abandoning their tongues and leaving their throat dry and hoarse. An unsettling aura of guilt began to laden their stomachs with a lead-heavy feeling. 

With a booming voice, Woods startled the men to attention, “I think you’ve spent enough time sitting in your own shit and piss, right? Lucky for you dogs, your… captain was kind enough to fight your corner and, uh, get you some freedom.” 

He moved up and down the line, making sure that his cold stare was held on each and every man who dared to peer up at him. His words did start to loosen any tension that gripped these men, some even smiling slightly in their disbelief, the glow of growing guilt lighting behind their eyes. He continued, fighting the urge to roll his eyes and keep the grimace from his face, “that means freedom to speak your mind and I hear some of you aren’t happy with your current… leadership.” 

“Aye, that’s right…” A thinning fellow chirped up, but his confidence died as soon as Woods looked at him. He’d even raised his hand a little to emphasise his feelings, but it hovered limply in the air before dropping to his side in defeat. 

Woods asked, “why is that?”

When no one acquired the courage to answer, he pointed at a portly man; he had thinning hair atop his head and a  gut that slightly hung over his trousers. Not to mention, his nose was reddened from the amount of alcohol he’d consumed over his life. Woods snapped, “you.” 

 The man spluttered, but then frowned and seethed, “‘cause that wench don’t know how to be a captain. Hell, I could captain better’n her.” 

There were a few trills of agreement. 

Another chimed in, “she got half o’ us killed in that fight- which wouldn’t’ve happened if she’d stuck to the original course. We’re not dying for some cow like that.” 

Woods slowly looked over to Mason, who was simply shaking his head and scratching at his chin. Woods might not know the woman well, but the words used to describe her left him smiling tightly at the men, silent and growing increasingly pissed off. He also noted that only three remained silent, seemingly not agreeing with the others. 

He pushed down the initial anger, then said, after a moment of contemplating their words, “right, right, so what’s your plan? To get rid of her?” 

The men were now silent. 

Woods ventured closer to the portly man, looking down at him with a glare on his face. He cocked his head from one side, to the other, as he regarded him with a glowering smile, his tone violently soft, “you plan to kill her?” 

Silence. 

Woods began walking the length of the line again, stopping shortly in front of Edward. The young boy had been twisting the hem of his shirt over and over in his hands until the palms were red raw and looking like they might bleed from the motions. Woods vaguely pointed at him, indicating the boy’s gaze to look up and acknowledge his presence. When he did, Woods muttered, “what about you, boy? Do you want to kill your captain?” 

There were tears in the boy's eyes, forming at such a rate that they spilled over his cheeks and dripped off the end of his chin. His lips quivered, nose dripping as he shook his head, coughing as a sob filled his chest and crawled forcefully through his throat and out into the world. Edward felt pathetic, weak, and he wanted nothing more than to scream that they were all stupid, all so so stupid. He wanted to yell that the pirates were idiots for attacking them, that his fellow crewmates were thick in the head and had no sense of worth, especially given how Nadežda was ready to die for them. 

It was overwhelming and too much for the young lad to take. 

Wolf put a hand on his shoulder and he did not move until he felt the boy’s shoulders cease their movements and lull into a calm. Woods watched this, then asked Wolf, “if she was gone, would you take her place?” 

“No.” Wolf said, firmly, “because our captain isn’t going anywhere.” 

Woods liked him. He didn’t take any shit. He respected that. 

A beat. 

“Does anyone know what it’s called when you turn against your captain?” Woods asked, now regarding all of the men. They all shuffled on the spot, looking between each other dumbly. A groan passed Woods’ lips and part of him wondered if he should have just sunk the lot of them and saved himself the time. It really felt like he was pulling teeth. 

“Mason,” he murmured, nodding towards his First Mate, “what’s it called?” 

“Mutiny, Captain.” Mason couldn’t help enjoying watching them all squirm. 

“And what happens to mutineers?” Woods stilled, hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He watched as his own men started to huddle around the plotters, leering at them, forcing them to shrink away in fear. By now they must have figured it out, that they had been caught red handed. 

Nothing could save them.

Woods would make sure of it. 

The tension could have been shredded with a cutlass, but it was shattered by the sound of the doors opening and a feminine voice sounding out into the open, “I’ve done it, now… what… what’s happening?” 

Nadežda had burst through the doors, almost taking Mason out who had been standing guard just in case this very moment occurred. His hands were already on her shoulders, keeping her at bay. 

 She had wished to be out of that room as quickly as possible and in her haste to complete the drawings on the map, her fingertips had stained lightly with black ink. Under the gaze of what seemed to be everyone, she pulled on her shirt, shifted uncomfortably on the spot and tried to ease away from Mason. 

“Fuck.” Woods breathed. 

“What’s happening?” She asked again, except this time more firmly. Nadežda tried to take steps towards the scene, but Mason made sure that she couldn’t encroach too closely. She offered him a hot glare, but he was not fazed by it in the slightest.  

“I’m asking your men a question,” Woods muttered, “what happens to mutineers?” 

Nadežda frowned, looked at her men, then scoffed, “what does it matter?” 

“Oh, it matters,” the pirate replied, his gaze levelling on her calmly, though there was a storm raging in his eyes. He continued, “do you know what happens to them?”

She swallowed thickly, her eyes landing on Wolf who remained silent. There was only one slither of knowledge she had of mutiny and she reluctantly stated as such, feeling like she was reciting a law, “if it was the Navy, they’d be court-martialed and hanged…” 

There was a short bout of silence, before she shrugged Mason off of her, urging, “really, what is this all about?” 

The pirate captain sighed, ducking his head as though he was thinking of what to say next. Internally, he knew that he might as well just get it over and done with - he had hoped she wouldn’t have been here to witness it, but she would have found out anyway. He decided it made no difference to the decision that she was now present. 

He then said, with a slight shrug to his shoulder, an informing lilt to his tone, “I don’t hang mutineers.” 

Then with a wave of his hand, his crew were picking up her men and moving to toss them overboard, all of them bar three. There were screams, shouts, an attempt at brawling, but ultimately, Woods’ crew were the stronger of the lot. 

Nadežda rushed forward, begging for them to stop, but Wolf stepped forward and grabbed her. He held her back, took the hits and kicks as she fought to break from his grip to save her men. Even now, even though she could have figured out why, she was still desperately trying to save them. 

“Captain,” Wolf tried, but his further attempts to get her focused on him fell on deaf ears. 

Eventually, those who had been plotting against her were overboard, tossed into the ocean and left to drown. If he was honest, he could have keelhauled them, which would have been a lot worse and a much more drawn out death; in his eyes, he had given them mercy. 

He sighed, then muttered, while turning to face those left behind, “that was fucking annoying.” 

In a split second, she was before him, her balled fist colliding with the side of his face, knuckles planted against his cheek. It was powerful enough of a blow that it sent stars spinning in his blurring vision, rocking his head and sending him stumbling. He caught himself quickly, hand resting against the painful area, as he shot her a darkened glare. Woods, however, made no move to strike her, even if she had expected it. 

“How fucking dare you.” She spat, chest heaving, as her nostrils flared with fury. Her eyes were aglow with rage, brows so tightly knitted together that the creases accentuated the throbbing vein of anger in her forehead. Tears were in her eyes, as her body couldn’t find any other way to channel the rest of that intense feeling of anger that nestled deep within her chest.  

As the two remained locked in this intense battle of stares, Woods could sense heat pooling in his bottom lip and his nose and a taste of copper was on his tongue. A tight, furious smile formed on his bust lips and the whites of his teeth were stained red with his blood. Sarcastically, he bowed an inch, before seething in her direction, “you’re fucking welcome.” 

He was wiping the blood that was dripping from his nose and lip on his sleeve, then began to move past her towards his quarters. He was walking away like he hadn’t just condemned a dozen men to their deaths. 

“For what?” 

He shot over his shoulder, gruffly, “for saving your life. That’s fuckin’ twice, now, sweetheart.” 

She had half a mind to follow him, to run him through with the first sharp thing that she could get her hands on, maybe even throttle him, but her mind was quickly yanked from his rageful plotting when she felt a heavy weight practically collide with her.

Edward had run towards her, his arms wrapped around her as he spluttered through floods of tears, “they wanted to kill you.” 

“I… I know…” she whispered, holding the boy close. He kept on crying, as Wolf and Steven came to stand by her side. It was their quick recount of the events that had her heart settling from his barbaric rage, and she ran her hand over the top of Edward’s hair soothingly.

 Wolf felt guilty, “I should have done more, Captain.” 

“No. It’s… what’s done is done. Let’s focus on getting off this ship.” She murmured. 

Nadežda began to look around as though in search of someone other than her current company and when it landed on Mason, flashes of his wife were flitting to his mind’s eye. The woman standing before him had a look so tired and pleading that he relented to it a little bit too quickly. He came over to them, his voice a little softer than they four had heard of him before; he spoke quietly to her, “captain says they can stay with the rest of the men. You get some privacy.” 

Nadežda could only nod, before urging her men away to go find their new sleeping arrangements. There was a bittersweet taste on her tongue, after all, despite what had just happened, Woods was still staying true to his promise. He’d even been extra kind to throw in her own room, away from prying eyes and wandering hands. 

She cringed at the memory of hitting him, but couldn’t find it in her heart to feel guilty about it, either. 

Once in the small room, which seemed more like it had been storage, Mason left her alone. There was a small desk in one corner, a small stool nestled next to it; the desk had an oil lamp unlit on its surface. Adjacent to that, against the furthest wall, was a small cot. The blankets looked moth-eaten, dusty, but she didn’t care. Nadežda would take a moth-eaten blanket and cot over a piss covered floor any day. 

She flopped onto it, covering her eyes with her forearm. Beneath it, a few tears could be seen slipping down her cheeks, as she allowed the tension to release from her. 

Remaining in the room for the rest of the evening, Nadežda was happy to have a space where she didn’t have to pretend that she had everything under control. In truth, she felt like everything was spiralling faster and faster away from her with each day that passed confined to that ship. There were things she didn’t understand, things that she mulled over in her head, painstakingly picking at every choice she could have made. Nadežda knew her decisions could have been better, could have been enough to keep people alive and well. 

She remembered what she had said to Wolf. 

What’s done is done.

But that simple fact did not make the aftermath easier to deal with. 

What did come easier, however, was sleep. The throb in her head begged for rest after her silent bout of tears and so she let sleep take her wherever it wished.

[nezoid]

Happiest birthday D’Arcy Carden!

[darkmovies]

The Bell Keeper (2023) Date de sortie : Prochainement Réalisateur : Colton Tran Scénario :   Joe Davison, Luke Genton Avec : Randy Couture, Kathleen Kenny, Reid Miller

[moviesandmania]

THE BELL KEEPER (2023) Reviews of demonic slasher horror plus trailer and release news

‘Don’t ring the bell’ The Bell Keeper is a 2023 American horror film about a group of friends who travel to a secluded campsite to film a documentary. What they find is something much more sinister than they could have ever imagined. Directed by actor and filmmaker Colton Tran (Snow Falls; Sorry, Charlie; Spook; Raising Kayn) from a screenplay  written by Joe Davison and Luke Genton. Produced by…

[animalcrossing-skye]

Welcome to Honeyshire!

Honeyshrie is a small medieval village with a quiet countryside and bustling town. It has everything you’d expect: a prince’s castle, a witch’s hut, a dragon guarded tower and more. Every villager’s house is decorated inside and out, but some of my favorites ended up being Drago, Eunice, Colton, and Nan. The island rep runs a cozy tavern with lodging upstairs. I’ve put a lot of time, love, and bells into these builds, please tag if you do visit :)

Thank you guys for the love in the year i’ve been working on this!

🍎🐉👑🌾🏰

DA-9900-0043-1556

[fillthattank]

Heavyweight

A huge thanks to @plumpboybellies for requesting this story, it was very fun to write! Also, a shout out to a few friends for giving me a few ideas (you'll recognize yourselves!). This story wouldn't exist without you!

***

"I want you to move up a weight class," Colton's coach said. "I know you've been playing at this weight for a while, but you have a big frame. You'll be even better with more meat on you."

"How big do you want me?" Colton asked. 

Colton was a wrestler. 6'2'', 190 lbs, all of it muscle. His singlet hugged his lean body, highlighting every bit of definition. You could even guess the outline of his abs through the fabric.

"As big as you can? They removed the maximum weight limit a few years ago," Coach said. "Just bulk up as much as possible in the off season, we'll see how it works out after."

Colton nodded. This sounded fun.

"You'll probably have to kiss that eight-pack goodbye, but the extra muscle and all the heavyweight matches you'll be winning should more than make up for it," Coach laughed, slapping Colton's flat stomach.

Like any self respecting jock, Colton had a big appetite, but sticking to his wrestling weight meant he had to keep it under control. Every so often, Colton would overeat, whether it was wanting to impress his friends, having too much fun at a party, or just his stomach having the better of him, and he'd have to go on a brutal diet to cut back down.

This was, starting now, a thing of the past. After his meeting with Coach, Colton went to the nearest fast-food joint, and ordered 3 massive burgers from the get go. He knew he had the capacity, and now he could binge guilt-free.

Colton came back for a 4th. And a fifth. By then, his belly was bloated and stretching his shirt, making a gentle curve from under his pecs. That belly felt good, firm and heavy, a symbol of his newfound freedom.

"You sure about this?" Asked the vendor, as he ordered his 6th burger. Jocks overloading their bellies was a common occurrence, so some concern was natural.

"One hundred percent," he said, giving his bloated belly a good rub. It was starting to feel tight, but Colton knew there was room for at least one more.

Back at his flat, Colton took off his shirt, and checked out his gut. The six burgers had bloated him so much, it stuck out by a good 6 inches from under his pecs. His abs were still visible, making the belly look like a turtleshell.

This would be the last time Colton saw his abs, as he then opened his fridge, and continued his rampage. Chugging milk from the jug, eating an entire tub of grated carrots with the better part of a jar of mayo. Colton wasn't even sure of what some things were, he just ate them, and his belly stuck out even more. Not that he cared. He just wanted as much food as possible inside him.

Eventually, Colton got so bloated he had to lie down. His belly was a perfect ball now, his abs completely smoothed out by the tremendous volumes inside him. As if he'd been blown up like a balloon, except rather than air, it was solid, heavy food. His huge tank hurt, a bit, but it was a good pain. The kind you got after intense exercise, one that comes with a deep feeling of satisfaction. 

Colton stayed on his bed for a while, feeling up his tank of a belly, enjoying the fullness. He could have stayed like that all evening, but was this really his limit? He no longer had to keep his appetite under control, he could experiment a bit, right?

Still flat on his back, the bloated jock grabbed his phone from the bedside table, and ordered a pizza. His guilty-pleasure pizza, large and with all his favorite toppings, the one he always ordered when he felt down, or wanted to treat himself.

Waiting for the pizza to come was a haze. Digestion was starting to heat up his belly, to make him feel sleepy. When the bell rang, getting up was harder than expected. His gut was so heavy, his abs were so stretched, his quads working so hard to bear his weight. His stomach like a wrecking ball inside him. Maybe this was too much ?

All doubt vanished when he opened the door and smelled his favorite pizza. Colton felt the delivery guy's gaze on his muscular body and massive belly, giving him an extra confidence boost. He was a jock, and he had the muscle and the gut to eat meals smaller guys could only dream of.

Colton brought the pizza back to his bed, and ate it flat on his back, watching his musclegut rise a little bit with each slice. His stomach had probably reached capacity a while back, the jock now eating by sheer force of will. Pizza being dragged into his monster stomach by muscle memory. The pressure inside his stomach, the weight of all that food, the stretch on his abs, the heat of digestion, it was all one big dream-like haze. It wasn't a new feeling, but the stretching felt like heaven. The jock passed out not long after the last slice, using what strength was left in his tired body to give his bloated belly one final rub. This offseason was going to be fun

*

Colton woke up still bloated the next morning. He'd eaten so much even his rocket-speed metabolism hadn't been able to digest it all in one night. Weirdest of all, he was hungry. His belly didn't so much feel half full as it felt half empty.

Colton liked this. He made himself the biggest breakfast ever, and ate it all.

This became an everyday occurrence. Colton's belly was constantly bloated, and Colton was constantly eating. Each time his bloat went down a bit, he'd top it back up. And when his belly looked close to the limit, he'd force more food in the tank. He figured out a neat trick, if he rubbed the side of his belly with one finger after it got full, his stomach would be able to stretch a little more, allowing him to eat more.

Colton had no idea how fat he was or wasn't getting, or even what his weight was. He had to be constantly lugging a few dozens of pounds inside his gut, and it was so packed at all times he couldn't tell how much of it was muscle, fat, or just plain bloat.

All Colton knew is that he was indeed getting bigger, and was getting stronger. His arms were bigger, his pecs, his back, his legs, every muscle, actually, though with a big asterisk over his abs. Sure, people stared at him when he turned up at the gym looking pregnant, but their judgement turned to admiration when they saw how much he was lifting, or how much he could put away in just one meal.

*

The day before wrestling resumed, Colton checked himself out in the mirror. He looked so massive, so beefy, his big round gut looking great on his muscular frame. Colton picked up his singlet, unworn since the end of last season, looking forward to seeing what he'd be looking like for the next few months.

Putting it over his legs proved tough. Even his calves were tight, nevermind his massive quads. Colton painfully got it over his lower body, but when it reached his waist, the singlet blocked. Colton's enormous belly stuck out by about a foot over the girdle, so far out he didn't think he could pull the rest of it up without risking tearing the fabric.

Colton tried to suck in his belly. Tried, and failed. He could barely get it to stick out by a few inches less, and trying to suck it in any further made him feel he was about to throw up.

He stared at his reflection, his singlet hanging around his waist, his belly looking way too big. Maybe he'd taken the eating a bit too far? 

Colton decided to fast for the rest of the day. He needed his bloat to go down to fit in his singlet, and anyway, it would be useful to know his actual weight. Never mind that he probably had enough food still in his system to hibernate a whole winter.

The rest of the evening was miserable. Somehow, the many pounds of food inside Colton's enormous belly weren't enough. He now needed to be permanently stuffed. The overbulked jock went out on a run, the first in a while, hoping it would speed up his metabolism and help his belly deflate faster, but it just made him hungrier. And after months of non-stop overeating, falling asleep on a stomach that wasn't stuffed to the limit proved tough.

Out of habit, Colton took a pack of pancakes to eat as he cooked a monster omelette, before remembering. He miserably put the food back in the cupboards, his huge stomach begging him not to.

Getting dressed for his first day back wrestling, Colton found almost everything in his wardrobe was still tight around his belly, even empty. The jock had always liked wearing clothes that highlighted his physique, and had carried the bloated gut as a point of pride all the off-season, but now he felt almost embarrassed. Maybe he'd gone too far, maybe the hunger was just putting him on edge. He settled on a baggy tank top, that was loose everywhere, but that made up by showing off his meaty arms.

Colton was driving to his wrestling practice when he snapped. He passed the same burger place he'd had his first cheat meal at. Remembered stuffing himself, how good it had tasted, how nice his belly had felt. And decided he was so hungry it was probably unsafe to drive.

"You sure about this?" The vendor said, as he ordered one burger. "Don't even want a second, big guy?"

Colton's orders had been progressively getting bigger over his offseason, so this was a sudden change. Still, a second wouldn't hurt?

Colton started eating, and this was the best a cheap burger had ever tasted. He could feel the life force coming back to him as he gorged, as the food flowed into his huge hungry belly.  He ordered a 3rd burger, then a 4th, and kept eating more and more. He needed the food. It was a matter of life or death.

The jock returned to his car with his 8 burgers comfortably packed in his big round belly. He'd worry about his singlet when he got there. His belly felt so good. And he wasn't going to perform well if he was too hungry, right?

Stepping into the locker room, Colton noticed he was way bigger than the other wrestlers. Even bigger than he expected. Guys he used to think of as massive, he now outbulked. Some had trimmed down, others had beefed up, but no one had gained as much as Colton, and he wasn't the only one to notice.

"Wow Colt', look at those guns!" said a jock.

"Bro the other heavyweights won't stand a chance," said another, feeling up his biceps and triceps. Because of his loose tank top, his arms stood out the most. And yeah, they had grown a lot bigger.

Colton was more than happy to have all the guys playing withis his big arms. His bulk had been a success, after all. The tune changed, however, when Colton took off his shirt, revealing his massive belly.

"Bro, you got pregnant or what?" 

"Damn dude, I know coach said bulk up but damn. It looks like you've done nothing but eat everyday until that belly is past its limit! That's some serious extra heft bro."

Other wrestlers stopped what they were doing, and came up to see Colton's new belly for themselves.

"I ate a lot at lunch time," Colton said, trying to defend himself.

"Yeah, and at breakfast, and at dinner, and a lot of snacking too, everyday. We can tell," one wrestler replied. Colton couldn't think of a come-back, the guy was right.

"Guys just how much do you think we can fit in here?" said one guy, passing a hand over Colton's big belly. "A gallon? Two gallons? Maybe even three gallons? It's really huge!"

The whole wrestling team was around him, playing with his belly, when Coach stepped into the locker rooms.

"You guys never seen a heavyweight wrestler, or what?" 

The other jocks stepped back. Coach walked up to Colton, eyeing up his belly. Gave it a few slaps.

"They've got a point, though. This is one big belly," Coach said, giving it a few more pats. "Go get changed, son."

Colton blushed and acquiesced. As the other jocks walked out, Colton pulled his singlet out of his bag. He hadn't eaten that much, only eight burgers, and he'd fasted before, so he was probably going to fit, right?

As last night, it was tight around his legs, the fabric straining over his bulked quads. Getting it over his meaty butt was even harder. It hadn't grown as much as his belly, but he couldn't suck it in, meaning he had to force hard.

Then came the belly. Colton sucked it in as hard as he could, pulled the singlet up, and nothing happened. He just felt really tight around the places he'd already put it on.

Colton relaxed, took a few breaths. Looked at his huge round belly on his beefy frame. The extremely tight singlet around his quads. He checked out his backside in a mirror, it looked vacuum sealed. Still, if he could get it over his butt, he could get it over his belly, right?

The jock breathed out all the air in his lungs. Sucked his gut in so hard he almost felt one of the burgers come back up. The belly still stuck out by a few inches, but Colton could now slowly inch the singlet up over his paunch. By the time he'd gotten his arms through the holes, he'd been holding his breath for so long he was about to pass out.

Colton's singlet was back on, clinging tightly to every bit of his bulked body. So tight, it was as if it had been spray painted on him. His beefy pecs, his quads, and of course his big round belly, prominent even as he sucked it in. A big change from last season. 

Pleased with himself, Colton relaxed, breathing normally once again.

crrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaaaack

Colton heard fabric tearing. He looked down, and saw his singlet completely torn, his bare belly sticking far out.

"Uh, Coach!" he called out, "I have a problem."

[pupsmailbox]

COWBOY ID PACK

NAMES ⌇　abeline. adeline. alfred. anderson. annie. archer. arthur. ash. aspen. austin. automata. axel. barett. beau. beckett. belle. bennett. betty. billy. blaise. boone. bree. brooks. bryce. cade. caleb. callen. callie. calvin. carson. casey. cassidy. chance. chase. clayton. clementine. clint. clyde. cody. colby. cole. colt. colton. connor. coraline. county. cree. cyrus. dagger. dakota. dallas. dalton. damon. darby. darla. delta. denver. dove. east. easton. edgar. eliza. elliot. ellis. emmett. emmylou. everett. everly. fallon. fang. farmer. fletcher. flint. flynn. fritz. gage. georgia. georgina. grant. graves. hank. harrison. harvey. hattie. hawk. hayes. heidi. holster. hudson. hunter. ida. jace. jack. jackie. jackson. james. jed. jesse. jessie. john. jolene. josh. joshua. jude. knox. leroy. lewis. loretta. lucille. luke. luther. lyle. maple. marshall. mason. maverick. meadow. millie. misty. myra. nash. nell. nina. oakley. oscar. otis. owen. pace. pamela. penelope. phoenix. pierce. pollyanna. prairie. quinn. ray. reed. reid. rhett. rhys. riley. river. rochelle. rory. roscoe. rosie. rudy. ryder. rye. sadie. savannah. sawyer. scarlett. sedona. selena. shep. shepherd. sienna. sierra. silas. skye. spanner. sparky. sterling. stevie. stormy sullivan. sundance. tallulah. tate. tess. todd. tucker. twila twyla. verily. wade. walker. walt. walter. waylon. wayne. weston. wilde. will. willa. willow. winona. wren. wyatt. zachariah. zane. zeke. zinnia.

PRONOUNS ⌇　ace/ace. aim/aim. badge/badge. bandana/bandana. barrel/barrel. boot/boot. boy/boy. brash/brash. buck/buck. bull/bullet. cattle/cattle. clad/clad. clash/clash. colt/colt. cow/boy. cow/cow. cowboy/cowboy. cy/cyborg. denim/denim. dirt/dirt. dive/dive. drive/drive. fang/fang. farmer/farmer. fence/fence. fire/fire. foal/foal. gold/golden. gra/grass. gun/gun. hat/hat. herd/herd. hill/hill. hit/hit. hold/holdem. holdem/holdem. hoof/hoof. horse/horse. iron/iron. jack/jack. jump/jump. kick/kick. lasso/lasso. law/law. lawful/lawful. lone/lone. mech/mecha. metal/metal. mount/mountain. mustang/mustang. noon/noon. officer/officer. out/out. outlaw/outlaw. poker/poker. protect/protect. pry/pry. punch/punch. punish/punish. ranch/ranch. ranger/ranger. rev/rev. rev/revolver. rev/rev. revolvers/revolver. river/river. ro/ro. robo/robo. rug/rugged. run/run. rust/rust. ry/ry. save/save. sharp/sharp. sheriff/sheriff. shoot/shoot. shot/shot. shot/shotgun. shout/shout. spark/spark. spur/spur. star/star. steed/steed. steel/steel. sun/sun. thief/thief. tumble/tumble. weed/weed. wheat/wheat. wood/wood. yee/haw. yeehaw/yeehaw.

[rosenqvists]

If you had to assign your mutuals based off of vibes to a Indy or Nascar driver who they be?

OOOOH…..THIS IS A GREAT QUESTION ANON!!! okay so these aren’t all of my mutuals but I picked a few to put in this! and i kinda went off which driver i think of the most when i see your blog/interact with you! mostly indycar, but there’s a couple of nascar drivers!

i assigned myself rinus (self explanatory, we are very silly!!!)

meghan @omigodyall -> kyle kirkwood (similar vibes to me! both are very nice and kind!!!! :D)

paige @i-like-dogs-and-apologizes-alot -> HERE ME OUT, scotty mac (both are super fun and nice!!!! and ofc i love talking with paige!!!!)

jasmine @op81s -> okay here me out, pato o’ward (friendly, warm, and amazing to talk to!!)

izzey @stockcarbaby24 -> colton herta (based on vibes, but izzey is super fun to talk to!!!!!!)

khadizah @userblaney -> christian lundgaard (a bit of a wildcard, but absolutely hilarious and very funny!!!)

immy @nolanseagull -> nolan siegel (both are super sweet!!)

bay @lovebaybayme -> marcus armstrong (both are very friendly!!!!)

theo @greengxrdens -> linus lundqvist (one of the highest honors! very silly and we both appreciate the egg!!)

amanda @music-wrestling-nascar-fan -> dale earnhardt jr (i associate you so much with him!!)

lee @allmendinger -> christopher bell (again, vibes! to me, polite and nice!!)

IF YOU WANT ME TO DO YOU, PLEASE LMK!!!

[monikafilefan]

Jingle Bells and Jealousy 2

Through the years, we all will be together

If the fates allow

Scully is trying incredibly hard to enjoy herself tonight, humming along to Sinatra, doing her best to refrain from scanning the masses in hopes of seeing Mulder’s distinguished profile amongst the crowd. He’d said he wasn’t coming and she unfortunately believes him. Forced merriment hides her disappointment well. Smiling politely behind her wine glass at coworkers she barely knows, going out of her way to wish A.D. Kersh and his wife a Merry Christmas. She prays her cheery disposition shines a positive light upon, not only herself, but her partner as well. Wherever the hell he is, she thinks, frustrated with herself as much as she is with him.

Hang a shining star upon the highest bough

And have yourself a merry little Christmas now

She tunes out the music to contemplate whether her unintentional evasiveness with Mulder regarding her “date” is the catalyst they need after his concussed “I love you” line in Bermuda she can’t stop thinking about, or just intentionally deceptive on her part. The flame of possessiveness that flared within his eyes when he’d assumed she was dating had sparked intrigue in her own. The fact that she was initially referring to him as her date to Skinner had flown right over her brilliant partner’s head. Throwing accusations her way should have just pissed her off, but it’s been his heated reaction in the aftermath that’s left her oddly reassured in his jealousy. She’d left the bullpen feeling wanted in ways she only fantasizes about alone in bed at night as her fingers slip between her thighs.

Her heart races at that thought.

Not since her rebellious run-in with Jerse has she seen her partner similarly flustered, and she’d be lying if she said it doesn’t thrill her. With Diana Fowley’s unwelcome presence continuously prodding at Scully’s penchant for jealousy, she’d selfishly allowed Mulder’s imaginative mind to run wild with the ridiculous idea that she has somehow found the will to date someone who isn’t him.

Scully bites her lip as guilt churns up waves of nausea in her gut.

“Merry Christmas, Agent Scully,” Agent Fields, whom she recognizes from the bullpen, interrupts her thoughts. The strong scent of bourbon on his breath makes her rock back on her heels. She supposes he’s been drinking from the punch bowl she’d spotted Tom Colton spiking earlier. “Where’s Spooky?”

“Merry Christmas,” she sighs wearily into her wine glass and walks away.

She’s leaving, she decides, as she squeezes her way through the throng of swaying bodies and twinkling decor. She doesn’t really want to be here without Mulder by her side anyway. She’s turned down three drunken dance offers already and Kersh could care less if she’s here to play nice in hopes of getting off desk duty. The more time she spends at this party, the more she wishes she was lounging on Mulder’s couch, sharing cartons of bad Chinese, and watching A Christmas Story.

“Oh!” she squeaks in surprise, bumping into the stalwart chest of the man moving toward her. Her wine spills over the rim of her glass as they nearly knock one another from their feet. “I’m so sorry!”

“No, no!” he laments, holding her close as she finds her footing. “Agent Scully, it’s me who’s sorry. I saw you coming, but I couldn’t move. It’s like a mosh pit in here,” he laughs.

She chuckles in return. “Well, it seems we both got caught in the crowd.”

Holiday music continues to play far too loudly for those who aren’t three sheets to the wind as the man she now realizes is Special Agent Derek Jenkins from the fingerprint lab leans close to hear. He’s a new hire in the lab. A sweet, handsome man who has flirted shamelessly with her three times in the last week… and still, she remains unequivocally uninterested.

“Agent Jenkins, hello.”

“Call me Derek, please.” He steers her towards an empty corner, cupping her dripping wine glass with his palm. “Let me help you.”

“Oh, that’s not necess-” Before Scully protests further, the agent spins around and snags a Santa-shaped napkin from one of the mini round tables sprinkled about the reception hall, thrusting it her way. “I appreciate it.”

He waves a finger by her head. “You have a splash of wine in your hair there. By your eye.” Flustered, Scully swipes the napkin through her hair. “Missed it. I’ll get it.”

He reaches up to pinch the stray strand soaked with wine between his fingertips and tucks it behind her ear.

“Thanks, Agent Jen- Derek.” Hiding her embarrassment, she takes a step back, her shoulder knocking a bundle of mistletoe to the floor that was taped on the wall. She sighs, “I’m not usually this uncoordinated.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Derek grins brightly and picks up the plastic flower, twirling it around his finger. If she’d met him sooner, say six years and one Fox Mulder ago, she could have easily been swept off her feet by his charm. “Where’s Agent Mulder? I mean, uh, not to be abrupt, but you’re not with someone, are you?”

The hopeful gleam in his brown eyes makes her blush. The earnest, puppy dog look of them mimics Mulder when he awaits her opinion on whether or not a case is an X-File.

“I…” Scully finds she has no idea how to answer that layered question without a hint of honesty, and Christmas seems like a terrible time to lie.

Is she with someone? Her mind rewinds to moments of commitment she’d made in the past: shaking her new partner’s hand, risking her life multiple times to keep him that way, then telling him she wouldn’t change a day.

“I suppose I am,” she finally says.

Scully expects her face to flush at the admission. Expects the entirety of the FBI to turn and point at Mrs. Spooky as they collect their bets. Instead, she’s oddly at peace with her confession to someone she hardly knows.

Derek nods in understanding, as if he’d already known the answer, giving her arms a gentle squeeze. “So for clarity’s sake, you’re not interested in pursuing a relationship with… let’s say, someone like me. Not when you’re already in one.”

Scully licks her lips, her breath catching.

She could deny the unyielding hold Mulder has held on her heart since March of ‘93. They’ve never even kissed, for God’s sake. But after years of living and breathing for only each other, she can’t. She won’t.

So she smiles instead, “I suppose not.”

“Your partner, then?” Derek mumbles to himself when instant awareness pulls his pout into a smirk.

Her silence is all the confirmation they need as she and Derek share a good-natured chuckle. This unexpected run-in has somehow left her more content in her feelings than she has in a while. Despite Scully’s unease of Diana’s position in Mulder’s past, personally and professionally, she can no longer repress the way her best friend completes her.

Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock

Jingle bells chime in jingle bell time

Another song reverberates through the loudspeaker nearby. The upbeat tempo matches the buoyant shift in Scully’s mood. She barely registers that Derek’s arms are still bracketing hers, or the swift way he leans down to speak closer.

“I suppose I already knew that, but thank you for being honest with me. And with yourself too, it seems,” Derek says knowingly in her ear before pressing the mistletoe into her hand. “Merry Christmas, Agent Scully.”

At that moment, someone in the crowd loses their balance and bumps into Scully from behind, jolting her forward. Derek’s lips accidently graze the corner of her mouth, and remarkably, they both ignore the mishap as if it never happened. Being bounced around like holiday pin balls seems like a regular occurrence tonight.

“Merry Christmas to you, too,” Scully replies and turns around just in time to see a flash of familiar green eyes narrowing in on hers.

What a bright time, it's the right time

To rock the night away

“Mulder?” Scully blinks and he’s gone, vanishing within the horde of ugly Christmas sweaters.

Scully’s heart hammers harder with every step she takes toward the opposite side of the room.

Mix and a-mingle in the jingling feet

That's the jingle bell

“Mulder!” she hollers, stretching on tip-toe to see where he’s gone. But it’s worthless. The music is too damn loud and the people too damn tall to make a difference.

That's the jingle bell

As she weaves her way through the maze of tinsel and blow-up reindeer decor, she spots Skinner wiping frosting from his candy cane tie at the dessert table. No wonder she’d never seen Mulder all the way back here. She’s trembling, rubbing her arms with worry by the time she reaches the A.D.. Panic at the realization of what Mulder must have seen and misinterpreted practically radiates through the fuzz of her green sweater.

That's the jingle bell

“Agent Scully, glad to see you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Sir, have you seen Mulder?” she blurts.

Skinner frowns down at an ink-stained paper plate he’s holding with black horns drawn atop Santa’s head. “He left already?”

Her eyes slip shut.

That's the jingle bell rooock

***

Scully shivers as she walks down the snow-dusted sidewalk. Her heels clack purposefully along the pavement, her heart beating in time with her vapored puffs of breath. She’s winded by the time she spots Mulder’s car idling at the curbside. The buttery light from the streetlamp above slices through the thick snowflakes pouring from the sky and illuminating his downcasted profile.

Scully knocks on the window.

Mulder startles, turning his forlorn stare onto hers peering in from the passenger side. He mouths her name in confusion and leans across the car to push open the door for her.

“Hey,” he says, surprised, as she climbs in and shuts the door. “Scully, you’re freezing. Where’s your coat?”

She shrugs and flexes her cold fingers in front of the blast of heat coming through the vents. “Inside where I left it.”

He’s silent for a moment. They both are, as a somber tone falls around them like the snow outside. Mulder frowns and reaches over to gently cradle her icy hands between his. They’re big and warm, and God, she practically melts the moment his plush lips drag across her fingertips.

“You came,” she whispers.

Her voice catches the moment she notices through the dimness how impressively handsome he is tonight. His black tux is taut in all the right places, hugging his strong shoulders and toned thighs perfectly.

He rubs the hot huffs of his breath into her knuckles as his honey-green eyes silently study her. “Where you go, I go, right?”

Her stomach twists tourniquet tight.

This guilt and aggravation is making her nauseous. After Antarctica, Scully knows exactly how true his statement is. She also knows she has every right to date whoever she wants and kiss whomever she pleases. But that’s not what she’s been doing, and as much as she has considered that option previously out of self-preservation, she’s never actually done either of those things for a reason. Even during the darkest days of their partnership, she has never yearned for anyone but him.

Scully laces her fingers through his. “I know.”

“Scully…”

“Shh.” She cuts him off with a bold nuzzle of her chin against their tangled hands, her free one reaching up to straighten his crooked bowtie. “You’re so handsome.”

He chuckles darkly. “Seems as though the Christmas casual memo never made it to my inbox.”

“You wouldn’t have read it anyway,” she teases.

“Ah, you know me well.”

They both smirk, their faces only inches apart, their thumbs gliding easily across one another’s. It seems two glasses of wine have softened her edges and weakened her resolve to keep her hands to herself. Wind whistling as it blows over the hood of the car breaks their locked gaze. The snow is falling faster now, layering the Taurus’s windshield in a pillowy white blanket.

Mulder squeezes her hand.

“I’m sorry, Scully.” His voice breaks. She closes her eyes and squeezes right back. “I’m sorry about a lot of things. But about what I said earlier, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to point fingers — pencils, actually,” he chuffs.

“Mulder.” Her tone conveys how much she finds his apology unnecessary in light of her own envious reactions in recent months. “I know that, too.”

“Being honest, all I want is for you to be happy. No matter who you’re with. But I thought after what happened my hallway it would’ve… Well, I was caught off guard by the thought of you dating,” he mutters with a shrug. “That’s my problem, though. Not yours, Scully.”

“I think I know what you saw in there that upset you, Mulder, but I can assure you it’s not what you’ve assumed.” Her tongue sweeps across her lip. “There was no date. There was no kiss.”

“You- there wasn’t?”

She looks him square in the eyes, because there is no one else.

“No, Mulder. I ran into Agent Jenkins — literally, and we talked. And I have to confess that I realized when you questioned me in the bullpen, I liked that you were territorial of me. It made me feel… vindicated.”

“Because of Diana.” It’s not a question but a statement born of recognition.

Scully nods, her face flushing. “But I only ever wanted to spend tonight with you.”

“Maybe Skinner was right. I do need to pull my head outta my ass,” he mumbles. Her brow arches at that. “I just thought I saw you and Jenkins…”

“But you didn’t.”

“Not really my business, though.” His curious eyes search hers. “Is it?”

She leans forward to rest her cheek against the edge of his headrest. He senses her tactile need and palms her jaw with the hand not clutched within her own. She turns into him as she contemplates her response, cascading her mouth across his thumb. It feels so good, but it’s not only his touch that has her pulse fluttering like a hummingbird, it’s all of him. It’s always been him.

“What if I want it to be?”

“That depends… is that you or the wine talking?”

She scoffs, “ Mulder -”

“How do you feel about me, Scully?” His pout twitches as he stares at her. Into her, with such unfiltered affection Scully’s heart can barely endure it all. “Because I know exactly how I feel about you. You’re my favorite person. My best friend, my one and five billion. And, I love you.”

Tears sting her eyes and her stomach swoops to her knees. She’s warm, flushed, as if her partner is the sun and he has finally shone his rays upon her upturned face.

“God, Mulder.”

“ Head injury aside, I meant what I said in Bermuda.” His forehead touches hers. “I fell in love with you, Scully.”

“W-when?” Her chest is suddenly so tight she can barely breathe. “When did you…”

“Uh, I don’t… I’m not really sure. I just know I did.”

She nods against him, because nodding is all she can do as her heart races and eyes blur. Because she’d wanted to believe his endearing words in Bermuda badly, but she was too afraid to risk it all on her misguided hope. Because as intense and frustrating as their inseparability is sometimes, their connection defies the laws of nature: the sky is blue, the sun is bright, and Scully endlessly loves Mulder.

“Scully?”

“I-” Her lashes flutter away tears. God, she’s dizzy, knowing what she’s about to do next. “I think I’ve always been in love with you, Mulder.”

He inhales sharply, maybe a little surprised by her candor. But then his hand is cradling the back of her arched neck and pulling her into a tight hug, his other arm wrapping around to caress the small of her back. “Scully.”

“You’re the only one, Mulder,” she whispers fiercely as she hugs him back, her cold nose pressed into the warmth of his neck. “You’re my one and five billion, too.”

“Never thought I’d hear you say that outside of my dreams,” he whispers into her hair and rocks her back and forth along the seats, quivering in her grip as they cling to each other.

Scully presses a lingering kiss to the humming pulse point in his neck. She can feel his rushing adrenaline thundering under her lips. She smiles, her own heart racing, a little lightheaded after uttering secrets of her heart aloud. But relief of her confession rises like bubbles beneath her skin because she has said it to Mulder: the man she trusts and loves more than anyone.

Mulder pulls back and looks at her. She knows her eyes are wide and wet, her cheeks pink as she tips her chin upward, aching for him to kiss her. “I have mistletoe,” he says wryly.

Scully laughs and reaches into her pocket, pulling out the one she’d knocked from the Bureau’s wall. “Me too.”

He grins, nodding to his own red and green flower shoved in the car’s ashtray. “You think we need them?”

The husk in his voice vibrating against her jaw pulls a deep moan from her mouth. “Mulder, please. ”

He moans back while peppering soft, tender kisses across her jawline, up her cheek, and to the corner of her parted lips. She clutches his tux in her fists and gives it an impatient tug as his mouth finally melds with hers. Their kissing is gentle, insistent, and the way their tongues glide against one another sends tingles straight down her spine.

“Come with me tomorrow,” she mumbles in his mouth. Her eagerness may surprise him, but she wholeheartedly means it. She can’t and won’t hide the thinly veiled tone of desperation. She is desperate for him, after all. “Come to my mother’s.”

“Tomorrow’s Christmas, Scully.”

“I know.” Her hand dips beneath the jacket of his tux to splay her hand over his racing heart. “Christmas won’t mean anything without you, Mulder.”

His chin trembles. “Where you go, I go.”

Scully nearly sobs in relief. She dips her chin to hide her swollen-lipped smirk within the lapel of his tux.

“What're you thinking?” She feels the heat of his breath tickling her skin, his rumbling voice seeping deep into her bones.

Scully thinks that their partnership is not a mundane pairing. That it’s an intricately weaved relationship, a mass of fine-tuned threads tying them together. But she knows she cannot imagine a life without him in it.

“I think…” she lingers with her words, staring at their discarded mistletoe meant for only each other. “I think you should kiss me again, Mulder.”

“Again and again,” he promises before his mouth passionately possesses hers, their bodies tangling like twine.

“More,” she husks, and Mulder’s long leg bumps the radio’s dial, blasting “Jingle Bell Rock” through the speakers.

“And to think I thought I hated this song,” he quips with a nip to her bottom lip, kissing her again and again, just like he’d promised, until the fog on the windows is as thick as the love between them.

That’s the jingle bell rooock

[c-kiddo]

Hi, I hope this question makes sense but as a fellow Clay family enjoyer, I felt there was some confusion between Clarabelle and Calliope at the end of campaign two - I thought Clarabelle was supposed to be the baby of the family with fun hair who makes things and is just happy to have Cad back, and Calliope is the older one who is more warrior-like and had the jealousy of Cad getting to save the world when it was 'her turn'. The scene with Matt and Taliesin after the M9 gets back from the astral sea seems to mix that up a bit, to me. You're very tuned into them so I'd just like to ask, did you pick up on any confusion there, or is it just me who misunderstood them from the start? And what do you think of the comic's characterisation of the two? Ofc only answer if you feel like it, have a lovely day 🌿

ye they get calliope and clarabelle mixed up basically the entire campaign, but at least to me its been pretty clear (at least after their first appearance) that clarabelle is the youngest sibling + feral art and bugs and rainbow hair kid. i remember people trying to argue she was the warrior one and like. no lol calliope has always been that one but matt just mixes up their names. she introduced herself to yasha in ep96 and was tough and yasha flirted with her its obviously not belle lol. idk ye maybe its bc i have autism abt the clay family but yarr. they did also confirm on twitter that belle is the art one and calliope is the warrior one , and then belle is in the comic as the wee art kid, so thats basically all the confirmation you need. (also reminds me of poor colton getting called colin accidentally by cad </3 maybe he just rly doesnt like him wont even call him his name)

i thought clarabelle in the comic was alright, restless and naive and stuff. i wish she was a little more weird and silly like in the show but i guess its a stressful situation so its whatever. the comic doesnt rly have enough pages to flesh out that kind of thing so it is what it is. calliope isnt in the comic apart from in the background in a flashback so i have no thoughts abt that .

[professoruber]

Mia "Maps" Mizoguchi Reading List

Last Updated: 24/4/2024

A list I have decided to make for the purpose of compiling the various appearances so far of Maps Mizoguchi; since she is a character I like whom has also been receiving some focus as of late. I will also provide some brief description/thoughts for each one.

Gotham Academy (2014-2016) - All Issues

Maps of course first made her original appearance in the first run of Gotham Academy.

Gotham Academy: Endgame (2015) - #1

A one-shot comic which was one of several tie-ins made for the Endgame event which was going on at the time. Basically just shows what Maps and the GA crew were up to while Gotham was being overrun by Joker zombies.

Gotham Academy: Second Semester (2016-2017) - All Issues

The continuation of the Gotham Academy storyline, with of course has Maps in a major role.

Lumberjanes/Gotham Academy (2016-2017)

A crossover between Gotham Academy and the Lumberjanes, which I'm pretty sure is non-canon but still probably worth checking out. I have not read it, nor the Lumberjanes comics yet, although I do intend to do both as some point (due in part to ND Stevenson being one of the authors of Lumberjanes, and me really liking the She-Ra reboot and Nimona)

Poison Ivy: Cycle of Life and Death (2016) - #1

Maps, alongside other Gotham Academy students (including Olive, Kyle, Colton and Pom) have a brief cameo in this first issue of this run. Maps and Olive each get one line each.

Batgirl (2011—2016) - #51, #52, & Annual 4

Maps (along with Olive) also showed up briefly during the Batgirl of Burnside run. My assumption is this is due to them sharing an artist and being published concurrently. I do know what Burnside!Babs isn't everyone's cup of tea so keep that in mind, I suppose.

My Video Game Ate my Homework (2020) - #1

Maps and Olive show up behind the main characters in the first page as a cameo... and that's about it. The comic seems fun though, for the record. Mostly including this because I'm just going through the list of Maps' appearances on the DC wiki.

Batman: Black and White (2021) - #4

One of the stories in this issue has Maps appear as Robin. Non-canon but still a very neat and fun appearance by her.

Batman (2016-) - #119, #120, #121

Probably Maps' first major appearance since the end of the Gotham Academy: Second Semester. These give some additional exploration of her home life and relationship with her parents. Has her dressing up as Robin to investigation the disappearance of another student.

Batgirls (2022-2023) - #11

Maps shows up here and has an adventure with Cass. This also means that Maps knows Babs, Cass and Steph. Which is neat. I do know that the portrayal of the Batgirls in Batgirls isn't everyone's cup of tea (namely portraying them as younger / less mature than they have been in the past) so that that's worth keeping in mind. Interestly, Maps' big brother Kyle has a larger role; appearing in #10, #11, #17, #18, #19 and the Annual as a possible love interest for Steph.

DC's Saved by the Belle Reve (2022) - #1 

A one-shot with several stories, including one which returns to the Gotham Academy crew and gives some information on what's happened since the end of Gotham Academy: Second Semester, along with a fun adventure.

Gotham Academy: Maps of Mystery (2023) - #1

A one-shot which acts a compilation of Batman (2016-) - #119, #120, #121, as well as Maps appearances in Batman: Black and White, and DC's Saved by the Belle Reve.

Birds of Prey (2023-) - All Issues

The newest Birds of Prey run has a surprise appearance by Maps. Which I think is a neat sign of her receiving some increased focus as of late. To get into some mild-ish spoilers... the Maps who appears is a Maps from the future. I have made a few posts/reviews of this run, which you can find on this blog, and I guess personally I am not the biggest fan of her portrayal in this comic. Still is neat to see her receive more focus. Do kinda also think it could've been neat if Present!Maps had shown up instead of Future!Maps.

Batman: The Brave and the Bold (2023-) - #10, #11, #12

Gotham Academy returns! As does Present!Maps. A fun ongoing story of Maps getting to team up with Batman once more.

[slafkovskys]

Falling asleep in each other’s arms, both not wanting to leave the bed for the entire day and wanting to stay comfortably snuggled up against each other instead.

with colton dach

“you pinky swore,” colton’s tired voice grumbles as you make another attempt at leaving the bed. his arms wrap around you, pulling you back down, “no getting out of bed today, ring a bell?”

“but i wanna use our kitchen for the first time. make breakfast,” you pout. it wasn’t a complete lie, you did want to break in the kitchen, but you also wanted to start unpacking your the apartment. the array of boxes that you knew waited for you outside in the hallway was almost too much.

“that’s what doordash is for. what do you want? i’ll get it,” he reaches for his phone and when he rolls back over, he’s met with your still pouting face. he uses his fingers to push your lips up, “get comfortable because we aren’t leaving bed at all today.”

you snuggle into his chest, looking at his screen at your options, “well who’s gonna get the food?”