#dei walker

[duckprintspress]

September Patreon Releases: Six Short Stories and an Art Piece!

Duck Prints Press currently releases our single-author non-anthology short stories solely to our Patreon. The higher one backs, the more stories one gets! Not only do backers get access to our new releases based on their backer level, but they also get access to the entire back catalog of short stories we’ve published to Patreon! That means that someone who becomes a new backer at the $3/month level RIGHT NOW would instantly receive access to 41 short stories. Yes, $3 for 41 stories! Higher levels get even more; at our highest level, $25/month backers who subscribe now automatically gain access to 100 short stories and two exclusive art pieces. That’s a whole lot of awesome queer tales to read and art to view, so check it out, and read on to learn more about this month’s releases!

New General Imprint Titles

Telemachy by Willa Blythe. A bittersweet first-person exploration about a young lesbian who moves to the big city but can’t escape her regrets. Available to Patreon backers at the $10/month level and above.

Junk by J. D. Harlock. Set in a future when sentient robots box for human enjoyment, the fighter Junk Boy confronts his owner about his desire to retire. Available to Patreon backers at the $7/month level and above.

The Deadman’s Gambit by Nicola Kapron. An undead man who has long sought his equally undead husband and a young woman eager to rid herself of her family legacy join forces against the corporation that makes super soldiers in this zombiepunk sci-fi second-person story. Available to Patreon backers at the $7/month level and above.

In Fine Feather by Violet J. Hayes. After being summoned to be the familiar to an herbalist mage, a crow shifter is frustrated to discover that his summoner appears to already have another crow as his familiar. Available to Patreon backers at the $10/month level and above.

New Explicit Imprint Titles

On Campaign by Dei Walker. Lilya and Maret return in this stand-alone story set some months after the events of Clerical Error. War is hell; intimacy can be a much-needed break and chance to provide mutual comfort in this f/f fantasy erotica short story. Available to Patreon backers at the $5/month level and above.

then, too, at sea by ilgaksu. A young lighthouse keeper rescues an injured seal who washes up on the banks below his lighthouse, and discovers the seal is more than he appeared to be. Available to ALL Patreon backers!

September Backer-Reward Art Piece

Artist: May Barros Title: Magic Friendship

May Barros brings us their vision of aroace solidarity and friendship in this sweet piece of two dear friends in a magical setting.

Viewing Access ($5/month and $7/month backers) | Viewing and Download Access ($10/month and $25/month backers)

Become a Patreon backer today, get a ton of amazing stuff!!

[sunsents]

Jake Sully - For Duty and Heart

Trust Your People Part 2

Here it finally is! I don't know why, but whenever I schedule to write something a big event gets in the way. I literally had my final exams the time I posted trust your people like I swear I don't do it on purpose 😟. Anyways, I really hate how this turned out. I was hoping to add a smut scene and develop their relationship with more depth but I unfortunately didn't have the time nor energy to do so. It's fine since I have more projects planned with Jake so I hope to flourish them.

Read part 1 here

Summary —> After sharing an intimate moment with Toruk Makto under Vitraya Ramonung, you struggle to deal with your boiling feelings.

Pairing: jakesully x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

Words: 6.7k

Warnings: insecurities/jake, again, is too hot/mentions of war and guns/mentions of violence/cursing/kissing

DON’T REPOST MY WORK

Vocabulary:

angtsik - hammerhead titanothere

kali'weya - arachnoid 

Ikran/ikrana - mountain banshee

tewng - loincloth

palulukan - thanator

swotu seyn - sacred place/chair for the clan leader

yomyo lerik - leaf plate

pxen - functional clothing

When you first acknowledged your feelings for JakeSully, your planet shook, heart leapt and hands clammed. 

Almost falling off ikrana did that to a na'vi.

Four moon cycles before the war with the skypeople, you had no choice but to join JakeSully on his iknimaya, as Sa'eyü and Thak, your students, were also in due time. Being followed by the young tawtute warrior was a definite surprise - perhaps impressive since he easily caught your tail on his first flight. His ikrana Bob kept taunting your beautiful boy, and it was all consuming to ignore your feelings of intense wrath. 

It took too much of you to ignore him, but Jake was a stubborn man. You revered your Ikrana's head towards the tawtute, causing a chain of events that involved you and a dream walker to butt horns like two angtsik in all subjects but Eywa's beauty.

And that was saying something, as living in Eywa's beauty was like breathing and eating. 

Now, after the war, after acknowledging your feelings, and after Jake is no longer a young warrior but a mighty one, you watch him claim the title of Olo'eyktan. He wears long garments of silky kali'weya weaving that start from his neck, and pool at his feet. The cloth holds significant meaning due to the hard obtaining process - kali'weya are quite tricky. You remember being bitten by one in your tenth cycle, removing the poison was painful and time-consuming. 

His locks cascade down his back, braids adorned with beads of red and green to signify his stance in the forest - a bringer of peace and harmony. Feathers of white, red and brown protrude from his girthy shoulders, his thick, muscly thighs bulge from the long tewng that sit loosely on his hips, and his arms, legs, feet, and neck are adorned with the most beautiful pieces of jewelry that it's like looking at the eclipse sky. The headpiece that sits proudly on his forehead ignites feelings that prickle your skin and tug at your heart. 

No matter how long you gawk at him, your praises won't do justice at how magnificent he looks. Thank Eywa it is custom to gaze at the Olo'Eyktan as he opens his arm in unity to deliver his speech, because you're sure if this was any other instance, you'd be acclaimed a creep and cast out to live in the palulukan den few walks away from cave Kelkuk'tel. 

Jake announces the celebrations to begin and a chaotic jumble of shouts, cheers and drums erupt around you. You're still staring at him when he sits on his swotu seyn, all the while pretending like you're interested in the conversation around you. It's an obscene scene; watching the new Olo'eyktan while you bring teylu and fruits into your mouth and chew air as the long forgotten pieces fall back on your yomyo lerik. 

You don't know what kind of power it is that lures you towards JakeSully, but you hope it's not Eywa herself that's giving you painful nudges. 

It seems the deity's efforts fall fruitless on you, because when the celebration is finished and you're helping the cleaning process that you feel a tap on your back. You turn back with a grin, expecting one of your family members or a friend - until you realize it's far from the truth. JakeSully stands infront of you with a shy smile, looking comically uncharacteristic in his Olo'Eyktan pxen.

"Olo'Eyktan Jake." you're quick to acknowledge him with two fingers on your forehead, ignoring the rapid thrumming of your heart that make your ears flick and tail swish. 

He returns the gesture, "Please," he snorts, catching your mocking tone. "Drop the theatrics."

You roll your eyes almost instinctively - he had that kind of effect on people. Or maybe it was just you. 

"I do not know this theatrics, but I didn't drop anything of mine." you say, crossing your arms.

Jake gifts you a hearty laugh that bubbles from his throat and kisses your ears. You cannot help but grin widely at his brightened face - feeling embarrassed in his presence for not understanding his alien words. You simply couldn't stop looking at him this eclipse. He was just so...lookable.

"No," a chuckle escapes him once again, then he clears his throat. "It's just an expression..."

You tilt your head in confusion, wanting to run away from this interaction as soon as possible. Now would be a good time...you can take on foot, hide behind a fat treetrunk and wait for his scent to dissolve - because it's clouding your head and dizzying your senses.

He must think you're an idiot for not understanding his language. After all, Grace had taught you, and you've been speaking English since childhood - even after the accident.

"Nevermind." Jake shakes his head after your silence, and you beg Eywa for a palulukan to snatch you away. "I actually wanted to ask you something,"

At that, your eyes shine. Chest bubbling in excitement for a brief moment, you clench your fist to calm yourself down. Guilt washes over you like a tidal wave for entertaining such feelings when the clan was suffering a great loss.

The war with the Skypeople was heartbreaking. The irreplaceable losses and lives still haunt your dreams and weigh on your chest like stones - it falters with your daily routine and you feel guilty. Your dearest brother and sisters joined Eywa in a second life of peace and tranquility but this knowledge did nothing to ease your aching heart. The fact that you partook in the destruction of Eywa's children, even if it was to keep your land safe, burns your entire being. 

Memories of choking on ashes while watching the greenery burst in flames flood your thoughts. The human clunks of metal were ugly, trashing on their strangely hind legs and hysterically causing wreckage on beautiful fauna. Trying to fight one off was even more traumatizing - you still remember a metal arm holding you by your kuru, a part most sacred and sensitive, flailing you around like you were an insignificant bug. 

It was excruciatingly painful and impossible to forget, the memory makes you instinctively move a hand to your kuru and softly rub it. Jake's eye-brow furrow (you were still getting used to them), knowing the scars you've suffered, though he doesn't comment.

You clear your throat, "What is it?"

Jake fidgets, then a look of dawning overcomes his features (you assume that it has something to do with him being Olo'Eyktan and fidgeting like a guilty child). He quickly straightens his posture and squares his shoulder. "I wanted to ask you if you'd take over Takuk's position - be my right hand...woman."

Your eyes widen at his words, feeling inexplainable dread. Tightly hidden insecurities dawn on your entire being, causing you to freeze. Were you strong enough to take on such responsibility? 

Yes, you had fought alongside Toruk Makto, but that was pure adrenaline pumping through your veins. Now, you feel as if you're looking at yourself in third person, viewing your life in scrutiny to nitpick every detail that makes you think you don't deserve this position. The only word you can choke out in this realization is; "Why?"

Jake's ears fold and his tail lowers, "Because you're the strongest warrior I know. You're logical, and have insane knowledge on tactics my thick skull can't understand - I want someone like you on my side."

I want someone like you on my side.

His words echo around your head when you simply nod your head, mind swiveling in all the praise and admiration.

"Of course, this also means we have to get along with each other."

Jake's words cause your tail to coil around your leg. "I thought we were already doing that..." you frown, heart stuttering. 

Had your time in Vitraya Ramonung meant nothing? You distinctly remember comforting Toruk Makto in times of need and forming an unspoken understanding. Was it that you simply drank too much, and fantasized the entirety of the interaction?

After fighting alongside him in a war, spiteful feeling were completely forgotten - at least on your part. Though, as you gaze at him, they forge from entirely different feelings that you won't even dare think. 

"Oh?" Jake smiles, fangs greeting you in mocking. They remind you just how handsome and shiny he is, and then of course, how unreachable he became. "I thought you didn't like me, sweets."

Your head tilts at the unfamiliar yet weirdly intimate nickname. "I don't hate you, JakeSully. It is only that..."

"Yeah, of course." Jake shakes his head, taking a step forward. You still keep an assured distance between your two bodies. "I understand we don't see eye to eye, but we can learn to get along for the sake of the clan."

You hum, for the sake of the people. You shall accept this position for the people and the people only. 

The people could've looked after themselves just fine.

For the past two months, you have done nothing but train, theorize, plan - repeat. Days are spent tracking new hunting trails, amplifying defenses, aiding to the needs of the people, any many more impossibly dull activities that have you knocked out before your head even hits your nest. Not to mention something you like you like to call, Moat duty.

The name of the activity is much less interesting than the actual occasion. Helping the Tsahik and her herd of healers was heaps fun because they'd let you roam free and touch around the herbs and clutters of equipment - experimenting new medicinal techniques only you could understand since you were barely trained in the art, and only there to deliver supplies. 

This new arrangement meant spending time with Tsakarem, Neytiri. She had staked her claim on Jake quite clearly, and was assured that no one dare challenge her - this applied to you as well. She didn't see your feelings as a threat because she didn't see them at all. 

You had masked your affections towards Jake as distate and dug a grave for them in doing so, burying them alive. Clan members praised you for maturely tolerating Jake's presence and being his trusted aid - it was far from the truth.

You longed for him. The night in Vitraya Ramonung had only amplified your feelings for the man - remembering how ethereal he looked, gazing at you with soft eyes, you were positively giddy at the memory.

This notion had only caused a larger inner-turmoil. Why was it that you tortured yourself, rather than just be out with it? What could go wrong if you marched up to the man, confessed how deeply you crave him, then kissed his incredibly plush-looking ones that probably taste like yovo fruit and love. 

Oh yes, your pride. 

Besides, your relationship was now strictly professional. You didn't have time to prance around in your lovesick ways. You had responsibilities to the clan and to him.

Which is how you and Neytiri formed an unusual friendship. She didn't know your affections for Jake but still approached you with hesitancy. You had to reassure her that Jake would never see you as more than an aid, and that you didn't stand a chance against her anyways. This declaration warmed her right up, chatting with you animatedly about her tsakarem duties each time you visited.

This newfound arrangement with the healers did lessen the dull ache of being consumed in clan duties - but responsibilities always catch up to poke and prod at you, or rather, Jake.

Seated on a plush cushion in the heart of hometree where duties of importance are carried out, you carve a gathering list for the new cycle when a thunk alerts you. A group of younglings are sat around a distant fire, chatting amongst themselves. Gatherers are scattered about, ready to scavenge eclipse specialties. 

You're otherwise alone in kelutral, the orange glow of fire exuding dimly around the vast opening. Notes of evergreen and birch smoke waft across Jake's chest when he sits infront of you, and if you weren't sitting down, you'd probably have toppled over at his scent.

"Whatcha doing?" he asks, nonchalant. This was another issue you had with him, even though he was your leader, he acted way too relaxed around you. At first, clan duty consumed him. He was overpreapered for everything, ensuring protection all across Omaticaya acreage if the Skyepople were to strike again. Though, they never did. 

After the war Jake had ensured they left Eywa's child, never to return. You assured yourself every night that they cannot get you anymore. Living in fear accomplishes nothing, thus, slowly going back to the flow of life was easy for you.

Although, Jake was overworked and over-worried. Tsu'tey vowed his position to Jake as he laid dying - the young warrior was thrusted into a responsibility he wasn't trained for. Jake struggled to keep his promise and it was evident, he was trying his best to live up to Eytukan and Tsu'tey. 

You sat him down one eclipse and told him that over-preparing would be a waste of resources - of course with an intricately crafted, logical explanation to persuade him. Since then, he slowly started to ease, leaning on your support to ground him when he panics. This was why he had chosen you as his aid - you were sent to stabilize his erratic ways, Eywa deemed it so.

Now though, he was finally adjusting to his position. He had grown confident in his abilities to lead, and his presence had grown demanding and mighty. You felt strangely proud, having seen him when he was only a scared vrrtep.

His tail flickers around as you halt your thoughts before they hit territory you do not want to explore, instead focusing on Olo'Eyktan. You merely hum, continuing your carving with the sharpest end of your blade.

"Aight, fine then, you asked for this..." Jake pauses to think, then continues, surely having found something incredibly threatening. "I'll tickle you."

You shake your head in disbelief, glancing at him with an incredulous look before going back to swiping your blade on the piece of wood. Jake knows very well that you're not ticklish.

You see him frown from the corner of your eye, "I get it." he quickly regains his grin. "Our connection is deeper than words."

You can't help the chuckle that escapes you, finally stopping your cross hatching. You hand the wood to Jake, then simply say, "Meal plan, dork."

Jake carefully takes the plate with a wide grin. "I see you have picked up on my lingo."

You frown, crossing your arms. How dare he- "I don't have anything of yours!"

Jake slaps his knee with one hand, laughing loudly. You're quick to sush him, reminding him that the clan is deep in slumber.

"No! God, you kill me sometimes." he chuckles, though quieter this time.

At his words, a look of pure horror flashes your features, which only makes Jake laugh more.

"Jakesooly, if you don't tell me what this lingo means, I shall flail you around with that scrawny tail of yours!"

Jake suddenly shuts up, gulping in terror at the prospect. "Sorry ma'am." he says, tone mock strick. "It just means you're using my alien language - you're gettin' used to hearing it."

"I suppose," you nod, "We don't have many lingo in Na'vi. Your language is funny."

Jake only smiles at your words, looking at you with feelings you can't quite dissect. He looks at you like the way your niece Aëteyna looks at Atokirina, mesmerized - the realization creates a deep, gaping hole in your stomach. You clear your throat, tail thumping once on the ground.

"Speak Na'vi with me, sxkawng." 

Jake's bottom lip curls as he stands up, towering over your relaxed frame. "Don't wanna," he retorts and puts his hands on his hips.

Standing up, you mirror your pose with frustrated sigh. "Wiyah! You are like baby." 

"Only for you," he muses, suddenly switching to Na'vi. 

What he actually means is, he can only be a little shit towards you - his words, not yours - because if he did it to anyone else, they'd probably pluck his eyes out. You, however, are rather amused with his antics (although you'd never admit it). Sadly, it seems the man has discovered your soft spot, and was using it to his benefit.

You're about to smack his hip with your tail when Jake stills. His playful aura completely diminishes, being replaced with something more stoic and professional. His presence overpowers your senses and makes you almost cower at his tall stance but you keep your composure.

"How could I forget..." his jaw clenches, and you take a tentative step backwards to let him think. With a heart sputtering growl, he kneels down next to the fire. You follow suit, suddenly worried.

"Tarsem discovered human machines not far from base. They seem abandoned, but we can't know for sure." 

You nod, careful to approach the subject. You opt to staying silent until he finishes.

"I think we should use it to our benefit - the guns, grenades, resources. It'll strengthen us, give us manpower."

You pause for a moment. What he suggests isn't a bad idea at all, yet using the resources that destroyed your home feels like a betrayal. You're caught between duty and heart, "The people - they won't react well."

Jake nods, "I know, we just gotta get them used to it."

"Jakesooly, this will need new resource planning. The entire plan!" you complain, tiredness seeping out of your eyes and making your head drowsy.

Jake sighs, "I know sweetheart, but if we work together we can do it."

You groan, massaging your temple. Jake frowns, yet he stands unwavering. He's set on this idea, and when he's set on something, he won't stop until he achieves it - you had to learn this the hard way. "Who else have you told?"

"Besides Tarsem, just you. I wanted to hear your thoughts first..." Jake's voice is so soft that you have to lean in closer to hear him. 

You give him a hum of acknowledgment for his wise decision - lest he sprung it upon the people during dinner time, you really would flail him around with his tail. "It is not a bad idea, but..." you trail off, unsure.

Jake puts a reassuring hand on your shoulder and you fight the urge the shiver. Physical contact with Jake is kept to a minimal, almost never occurring. The only time you touched his soft skin was at Vitraya Ramonung, and even that was  a short instance.

"But?" Jake asks.

You turn your gaze to him, "It feels...wrong."

Jake's silence stretches between you two. His tail is flailing around again, indicating that he's deep in thought. After some time, he settles on; "It should feel wrong. It's only natural."

Your ears raise at his words.

"What I mean is," he continues. "The sky-people put you through so much pain, using their equipment would be hard."

You nod, heart fluttering when he softly says your name. He removes his hand from your shoulder and you ache for his warmth. 

"It's the only way we can win against them. They will come back, stronger than ever. If we know what we're up against we could take em' on again. I was a warrior for the jarhead clan, yes, but I'm no scientist. I know nothin' about those clunks of metal."

Jake looks at you with utter desperation, arms open and eyes pleading. Relenting, you let his words sink in. If the skypeople were to come back you don't know how you would cope. The notion is horrifying, so you simply let out a weak, "Okay," before rising to your full height.

Jake follows suit, warmth exuding from his strong body. Your legs feel positively weak under his unrelentless gaze - how were you the strongest warrior when Jake could've easily demolished you with a single touch?

"It is late, Olo'Eyktan Jake. This topic...we will discuss it later on, tomorrow," you say, hoping to escape from his electrifying frame. 

You couldn't think properly about the discovered clunk of metal when his yellow eyes are half lidded, cheeks tinted purple from the fire's warmth, and his soft yet bulky body looks mouth watering. He was burlier than Omaticaya men due to his tawtute origins, and the prospect of such a thick, warm body makes your head spin. You have to pinch your thigh to keep yourself at bay - he was absolutely ravishing. 

"Later?" Jake mumbles, suddenly switching to a playful tone. "That's too long."

You roll your eyes, trying to calm your embarrassingly fast heart. Your stupid feelings were acting quite ravenous today, and you felt nothing but shame. Trying to ease the tension, you joke; "Jakesooly, you are stubborn."

"Exactly how Toruk Makto needs to be." he muses, his hands on his incredibly slim and toned hips again. His v-line portrudes with a small bulge of his lower belly - soft and delicious. You sigh, gaze fluttering, but hide it by clearing your throat at his awful joke.

"We are both tired, we shall retreat and have a clearer mind tomorrow."

Jake takes a step forward, "I'm not talkin' about that, sweetheart."

Your breath hitches, "You are a sxkawng. It will always be a mystery how so many women desire you." 

The moment your lie slips, you wince. Jake, standing before you, was proof in itself why women sought him out. This thought makes your fists clench and teeth grit.

Jake rolls his eyes, "Everyone but you, it seems." he mumbles, frowning. 

He must be teasing you again. You're quick to move the attention from yourself, "Speaking of women, you should mate with someone soon. The clan is without tsahik."

Jake lets out a grunt of disapproval, "Why is it that I have to mate with a healer. The clan already has enough of those, and Moat's got it covered."

You laugh at him, "It is the way, Jake."

"I know I know," he rolls his eyes, head swiveling. "I get enough of this from Tarsem and Takuk. I don't need it from you too."

You tilt your head in a nod that displays your apology, but you're quick to grin. "Neytiri is seeking you out often, hm?" You tilt your head the other way with a teasing smile, taking a step forward with open arms. Your newfound attitude takes you by surprise, but it's the only way you can think of to mask your frustration.

Talking about Neytiri would probably be your end - the thought of them together, mating. Neytiri was kind and a great tsakarem, she would serve the clan well. You can only tease Jake as the aftertaste of this gut wrenching realization settles in.

Jake, however, visibly splutters at your teasing closeness, probably never really experiencing this side of you.

Your grin turns into a smirk, sly and taunting - one of which hides your urge to burst into tears. Jake takes a step backwards as you advance at him, "Look at you, you're blushing!" you shout in Na'vi.

Jake growls, "I'm not blushing because of that."

You scoff, holding a finger up. "Don't try to lie to me Jakesooly, I can see right through you." 

"You-" Jake starts, furious and flustered. "Damn, not as much as you thought then, sweetheart!" 

"What is it that’s making you this color?" You take another big step forward, anticipating his response. He looks all flushed and embarrassed like this, it's adorable. You just want to poke and prod at him until he breaks down.

"Because," he starts, words dying. "Because you-"

He takes another step back, and you take it as your que to follow. "Come on, narlor 'evan. Why are you all shy now?" you say, hoping he still hasn't learnt what narlor means. 

You don't know what keeps fueling this sudden confidence of yours, but perhaps it's the urge to prod into Jake and Neytiri's relationship. If he confirms it himself, assures their courtship and confesses that he's in love with Neytiri, you're certain you'll be able to get over him.

It's a painful but necessary step.

However, Jake's face merely heats more, back hitting the trunk of hometree. You raise your chin at him, arms open and taunting.

"I never knew you were this sly!" he cries out your name in shock, using his hand as a fan to cool his face. 

You laugh at his antics, shrugging. "Come on, don't hold back on me Jake, speak!" you demand, your face closing in on his before you realize how close you are, and step back a little. 

Jake stares at you for a beat, completely frozen. He twitches, then lets out a grunt before suddenly pouncing on you. You don't realize what's happening until JakeSully is hugging you. 

It's his warmth that alerts you, you don't know if it's because he sat by the fire too long, or because he's simply embarrassed to be inflicting such an intimate form of affection, but he's burning. His muscles, all firm yet soft, dig into all the right places; strong biceps pressed to your back, the soft flesh of his chest smothering you to see stars around your eyelids, and his delicious abdomen pressing against your stomach. 

The skin to skin contact makes you dizzy. You've spent nights wondering the differences of his dreamwalker body - it's the strangely soft yet firm. Jake's frame almost consumes you, engulfing you in his scent and protection.

It's hard to keep upright and you're sure your legs stopped working. If it wasn't for his tight hold, your legs would betray you, and you don't even feel mad about it. He presses you into his incredibly delicious chest which causes you to breath him. His hot, plush skin that smells of wind, musk and vetiver - it's enough to make a woman feral. 

Of course, confused is an understatement. You don't know what compelled Jake to plunge you into his body so intimately but you're thanking it. Perhaps it was your merciless teasing which was way past your rank - he's Olo'Eyktan, you scold yourself. The reality of the situation floods in, but theres nothing else you can do other than loop your shaking arms around him, trying to embed his body into your memory. 

"Jake?" your voice comes out as nothing but a pathetic rasp. You can feel Jake's heavy breathing against your skin, his chest rising and falling in deep, labored breaths. He stutters for a moment, and you feel him gulp against your collar. 

He takes a deep, long breath - one that makes you question if you bathed today. You close your eyes, not resisting in the slightest. 

This must be what bliss feels like. This was like meeting Eywa and letting her engulf you in her love - but Jake's embrace was far from Eywa's motherly grasp. He was an intense desire you've been crazing since the moment you set your eyes on him, and supressing this desire had done nothing but enrage it.

Jake's tail trashes, "I-" he starts, voice broken. He quickly removes himself from you, looking at you with wide eyes. "Good night," is all he mutters before quickly walking away.

It's not until two eclipses later that you see Jake. 

It seems the Olo'Eyktan was busy ignoring you the better half of his days, while the latter was spent reorganizing resource management in awkward silence. You were thankful for Tarsem, Nel'yan and other few clan associates for their involvement in the reiteration plans because the tense air was suffocating. His attitude painfully itched and poked at your poor, shriveled heart. When Jake hugged you he wreaked all the protective barriers you've spent years carefully building, and left you with the all-consuming feeling of worry.

The questions that swarm your head lead to one conclusions; he must regret hugging you. It wasn't the hug, but that he got so close to your kuru. His wandering hands had captured your kuru when they winded around your body and pressed you against his chest. He had rubbed the tightly knit braid that kept the soft skin of your kuru safe, and you could merely let him with buckled knees and ragged breaths.

Your eyes glaze over at the memory, and you don't notice that you and Jake are alone in the small marui this eclipse. You were so caught up over your thoughts that you didn't realize you had finished for the night. A large board of wood lays on the leather mat, cross hatched into an unrecognizable mess to the naked eye. Although, you know the figures by heart, so you merely hum and stand up. Too scared to glance at your Olo'Eyktan, you busy yourself by gathering your materials and putting them back into their respected places. 

"I am finished, Olo'Eyktan."

You hear Jake's breath hitch as your ears flicker. It's soft but effective and your stomach churns. 

"Alright," he replies, not stopping his working hands. You finally find the courage to look at him, but when you suddenly raise your head, Jake is quick to look down. He grunts as he drags his knife on the trunk, leaving wood shavings in his wake.

"I shall take my leave," You quickly stride towards the opening, "Goodni-"

"Wait!" Jake has finally risen from his position, one arm reaching towards your direction.

"Yes?" you raise your head, waiting for your superior's command.

"I need erm," he snaps his four fingered hand once, twice, until he points at you. "More plates. I messed up mine."

Hesitantly, you nod. Jake was more than capable of retrieving the wooden plates himself, as they were only two steps away from his position. Alas, as Olo'Eyktan requests, you reach for a few plates then hand them over.

You quickly mutter a goodnight, ready to leave, when Jake's calling of your name halts you in your step. You turn to ask what it is that he requires now.

"I'm a little hungry," he says, rubbing his belly. "Can you bring me some yovo fruit?"

You can merely give him an incredulous look as you unseath your dagger from your satchel and walk towards the flap of the marui. When you decided to aid Jake in his duties, this was not what you had in mind. You desperately want to object - and perhaps in any other circumstances you would - but going against Jake meant you needed to interact with him longer than ten seconds, which your thumping little heart couldn't take.

You pick a few yovo fruit from the clearing and toss them into the marui. The soft umph sound from Jake makes you smirk, feeling all too prideful for accidentally hitting him. 

Entering the marui again, you finally start to pack up. "Goodnight," you mutter before a hand clasps your arm. 

"Wait," Jake breathes shakily, "Erm, I need a few leaves to wrap around the plates."

You huff in annoyance, ripping your arm around him. "As you wish." you reply, though your tone has venomous undertones ready to burst. He was making you do footwork in a time such as this. 

You grab a few, rather smaller than desirable, kelutral leaves and bunch them together. Fastening your pace, you place them on Jake's side and quickly put away the remaining of your stuff. Jake doesn't interject, but merely watches you with an expression you cannot dissect. 

"If there is nothing else, Jakesooly, I am to leave."  your tone is assured and firm now, giving him a once over. 

Just as you're about to leave, Jake's quick strides catch up to you. His hand stops your shoulder, and you harshly turn, seething. You don't even notice how close you're standing, but surely Jake must have with you letting out gusts of fire through your nose. 

"Enough of this, Jakesooly! If you want someth- umpfh!"

A pair of soft lips; balmy, soft skin that smell of herbs. Your head explodes with senses, eyes blown out, body frozen in time. Jake's hands tightly squeeze your sides as he keeps you in place, lips locked tightly on yours. He doesn't move, and neither do you. You've stopped functioning all together, heart ready to thump out of your chest.

Jake pulls away but keeps his hands on your shoulders. He looks at you with wide eyes, tinted cheeks and a plumped mouth - he was obscenely attractive in his Olo'Eyktan garments. The only sounds in the marui are his braids crinkling together and the crackling of the fire.

"I'm sorry - I should have asked..."

You smash your lips onto his with burning fervor. His arms immediately wrap around you as he kisses you back. His hold is tight and firm, pressing you into his body with intense greed, though it's not needed - you're clutching on him like you've gone mad; like if you were to part from him, this would all become a distant memory. So you don't let go, tangling your fingers into his braids and softly gripping them, angling his face to your liking. 

"F-fuck." he groans out, struggling to catch his breath but hungrily going back in for more wet, peppered kiss. You can merely shiver at his reactions while running your other hand down the expanse of his back, to his small, band adorned waist. The panes of his back are strong with crevices you yearn to explore, and you can feel them gyrate against your fingertips when his wandering hands palm your waist, then the small of your back. His touch is electrifying as he feels your body with great ardour. 

His lips are wet and warm and, Eywa - you can't bring yourself to pull away. His lips taste almost sweet and you feel yourself drowning in him.

Your breath turns into desperate huffs when he opens your mouth with his and slowly licks his way in. The delicious taste of his tounge and yovo fruit buckle your knees, and Jake is quick to catch you. His strong bicep tuck under your bottom and he palms your thigh to keep you tightly against him. His calloused hands are squeezing your thighs and smoothing up and down your back - it's enough to make you completely lose yourself. 

With a deep grumble that bubbles from your throat, you completely push your body against him, trusting him to keep you upright completely. Both his arms close around your bottom, rougly squeezing it against his abdomen. You flinch at his action, his hands are so big and strong as they knead at your skin. It makes your stomach erupt in fireworks, and you hungrily try to kiss him back. 

Unfortunately, it becomes too hard to breath. You pull away to gasp for air but Jake doesn't approve. He closes in on you the moment you put some distance, hungrily chasing your lips with a whine. "No." he croaks, firm. "More..." 

And more you give him. You kiss his lips, softly grazing his tongue with yours, then explore around his mouth with tender kisses. He lowers his head into the crevice of your neck and breathes your skin - you feel his chest expand obscenely. His inhale leads to a guttural groan until he suddenly lets go, almost ripping himself away from you.

You can merely look at him in confusion, dazed. Why had he stopped? Did he not enjoy it? You don't know if you could handle that answer right.

The look of pure desperation Jake gives you makes all your insecurities wash away. "I-" he heaves, closing in on you once again. He doesn't meet your lips but clutches on your body like a young child with their first bow. "I wanna wait 'till tomorrow to mate with you, but I don't think I can. Please..." he whispers your name, and you can see his ears point down and his tail reach around you to wrap around your waist. 

His words completely knock the breath out of you. He wanted you as his mate? How could this possibly- Were you interpreting his actions wrong all this time? 

A wave of hot embarassment passes through you, and you suddenly feel the need to sit down. Of course he was going to be your muntxa, he had to be after kissing you like that.

Jake sits with you, concern written on his face. "You okay, angel?" he grabs his cup of ar'lek tea Moat had brewed him for his headache, and hands it to you. 

It's still fairly hot and you look down at it. The small cup looks minuscule held in his hands, and you gulp, remembering how those hands had cupped such an intimate part of your body. You can feel the flush that kisses your cheeks with the though, and you're quick to turn away the tea.

He softly says your name, "Is it too soon?" he asks, then suddenly retracts. "Oh...son of a bitch, I didn't even ask-" frustrated, he runs a hand through his braids. "I'm such a dumbass, good going Jake!"

He physically deflates, and your heart squeezes. You're quick to put an arm around him and press a kiss to his cheek. Jake drunkenly cups where your lips had once been and gives you a goofy smile. You can't help but chuckle at him. "I want to be your mate Jake. I have wanted it when I first met you."

Jake visibly perks up, "Wha- I thought you hated me!" 

"No, sxkawng!" you huff, "I wanted to have your heart, but you hated me!"

"I could never hate you. I tried, jesus I really did." he groans, and you frown at his words. Flicking his head with your tail, you cross your arms. 

Jake reaches out and uncrosses your arms, then takes your hands in his. His welcoming warmth melts you forward as you lean closer to his body. "You tried to kill me when we first met and I went ahead and fell in love with you." he chuckles lowly.

You guiltily look down with a small smile tugging your lips. What he says is inherently true, but what were you supposed to do? You were confused at why your body was reacting so strangely to a vrrtep.

"Oh, my love," Jake cups your hands and brings them to his mouth. "The past doesn't matter. Just forget about everything. What matters is, do you want me? Because I want you, so much," he whispers, pained. "And if you reject me now, I don't think I'll be able to handle it."

You shake your head, "I want you Jake. I see you,"

The smile that graces Jake's lips is nothing short of beautiful, and you smile with him. He takes a deep, shuddering breath and kisses your knuckles. "I see you," he breathes with a whisper of your name. "We need to mate before Eywa. I want to do this the right way. I want to cherish you."

You nod, heart bursting with joy. You're almost giddy, quivering in your seat to finally have the man you desired for long nights. "Then we mate before Eywa, come." 

You stand up with Jake following behind, then connect your foreheads for a brief moment. "Race you to spirit tree," you laugh, then quickly run out the marui. Jake yells your name with a chuckle and follows. 

Bonus;

You feel like a changed woman the next breakfast. Sitting with your family and chatting animatedly to everyone, a tap on your shoulder alerts you. You look back to see Neytiri expecting you with a wide smile.

You quickly stand up, ready to apologize but she sushes you. "Sister, I heard." she grins. "Finally! It was getting painful seeing you desire him but saying nothing."

You can merely gape at her words. "But you-"

"What I felt is long gone, do not worry." she says, then pulls you into her warm embrace. "It was getting pathetic watching him fawn over you." 

You smirk at her words as she pulls away. Glancing at the Olo'eyktan, he drops his fruit when he catches your inspecting eyes. After nodding to your family, you let Neytiri drag you to the circle which your friends and Jake have created - surely to discuss clan duty.

As you sit down, Jake cannot take his eyes off of you. His food is long forgotten as his arms stay limp by his sides. Tarsem scoffs at the man, then in oddly pitched voice, "She never looks at me, oh I'm going to die alone and wrinkly! Oh- my poor heart, she just smiled!"

The group around you howls with laughter as Jake huffs, although the small smile on his lips tells you that this isn't the first time they're poking fun at the Olo'eyktan's affections.

[diceriadelluntore]

Storia Di Musica #315 - Blackfoot, Strikes, 1979

Per le Storie di Marzo ho individuato un metodo scientifico infallibile per scegliere la tematica che legherà i dischi di questo mese: ho preso a caso con gli occhi chiusi, un bottone nella scatola in cui tengo quelli di riserve, e ho pescato un bottone nero. Di per sè, il colore nero poteva aprire una infinità di opzioni, ma seguendo il principio della scoperta, in questo 2024, di band dimenticate, ho optato per dischi di band che hanno "nero" nel nome. Tralasciando le scelte più ovvie, il viaggio musicale marzolino inizia nella Florida di fine anni Sessanta, quando stava per prendere il volo il Southern Rock. Siamo a Jacksonville, capitale dello stile, e come molti stavano facendo in quei mesi, dei giovani mettono su una rock band: Rickey Medlocke (batteria, voce) e Greg T. Walker (basso) incontrano il newyorkese Charlie Hargrett (chitarra) e danno vita al gruppo Fresh Garbage Band con Ron Sciabarasi alle tastiere. Da qui inizia una serie infinita di cambi di formazione intorno ai primi tre che seguirà per decenni il destino dei nostri: infatti il primo a lasciare è Sciabarasi, si aggiungono altri musicisti provenienti da un'altra band, i Tangerine, cambiano nome in Hammer e con questa formazione per 6 mesi sono la resident band del più popolare topless club di Gainsville, in Florida, il Dub's. Provano ad andare a New York, e lì si accorgono che esiste già una più affermata band con lo stesso nome, quindi decidono di chiamarsi Blackfoot, in omaggio al popolo dei Nativi americani, dato che Jakson Spires, entrato dai Tangerine, è parte Cherokee, Medlocke parte Sioux, e Walker parte Creek. Ma la loro strada è ancora lunga: la band si scioglie diverse volte, alcuni di loro vanno a suonare con i Lynyrd Skynyrd (Medlocke e Walker, per alcuni mesi nel 1971, uscirà solo nel 1978, dopo l'incidente aereo che colpì il leggendario gruppo, il materiale registrato in quel frangente), si trasferiscono in New Jersey, dove con una formazione stabile registrano delle canzoni, che dopo varie peripezie nel 1975 vengono pubblicate dalla Island, che cercava nel proprio catalogo un gruppo Southern Rock, con il titolo No Reservation, e nel 1976 Flying High, stavolta per la Epic: sono due dischi di southern rock che non lasciano il segno e sopratutto non vendono quasi nulla. La band è sempre in fermento, e passano 3 anni (tra scioglimenti, defezioni per problemi alle corde vocali, dissidi) quando passano alla Atco, che suggerisce loro un approccio diverso alla scrittura. Ne esce fuori il disco di oggi, Strikes (1979), con il cobra sfocato in copertina, che li fa conoscere, dopo dieci anni, al grande pubblico. Merito è di una formazione finalmente definita (almeno per il momento) composta da Rickey Medlocke, Charlie Hargrett (chitarra ritmica), Greg T. Walker (basso) e Jakson Spires (batteria) ed una scaletta che alterna pezzi propri, tra cui i loro due maggior successi, e una scelta azzeccatissima di cover, suonate in maniera originale rispetto alle versioni degli autori. Il suono è più hard o AOR (che sta per adult oriented rock, il genere che maggiormente passavano le radio), e ha una sua natura interessante, per quanto costruita nei canoni del genere senza tante innovazioni.

Mi piace molto la scelta delle cover: I Got A Line On You fu un grande successo dei favolosi Spirit di Randy California, band mitica del rock Californiano del decennio precedente, e qui viene resa più groovy e tosta rispetto all'originale; Pay My Dues fu un successo dei Blues Image, altra band della Florida, di appena qualche anno prima dei nostri, che fu uno dei pochi esempi non californiani di rivisitazione del blues, alla maniera "europea", e che come i Blackfoot era famosa come resident band, non di un topless bar, ma di un famoso locale di Miami, il Thee Image, aperto alla sperimentazione; Wishing Well fu invece un successo dei Free, la band inglese di Paul Rodgers che prima di sciogliersi (lui andrà ai Bad Company) scrisse questa hit. Di tutte e tre, i Blackfoot ne fanno una versione particolare, dove i cambiamenti seppur minimi sono quelli incisivi, regalando alle nuove versione un vestito particolare e riconducibile al loro nuovo stile. Tra gli autografi, segnalo le loro due canzoni più famose: Train Train, scritta dal nonno di Rickey Medlocke, Shorty, che diventerà una hit anche per Dolly Parton e per un'altra band dell'heavy metal, i Warrant. Ma la loro canzone simbolo è Highway Song: oltre 7 minuti spericolati, dalla costruzione epica e imperiosa e che finiscono con sensazionali duelli di assoli alla chitarra, con all'inizio anche belle melodie vocali, canzone che è un grande omaggio all'epopea dei gruppi che dalla Florida hanno messo mattoni importanti all'edificio della Storia del Rock. Il successo arriva, quasi inaspettato, e la band fa da spalla a grandi nomi in tour nel 1979 negli Stati Uniti: fondamentale per loro quello in apertura ai The Who. La band cavalca l'onda e in due anni sforna altri due dischi niente male, Tomcattin (1980, con una Pantera in copertina) e Marauder (con un falco, 1981) e fa due tour seguitissimi. Qui però finisce la loro fortuna: l'arrivo, come uno tsunami, dell'estetica MTV li taglia fuori: il rock del sud è visto come un genere passato e addirittura la ATCO non accettò il loro disco che sarebbe dovuto uscire nel 1984, Vertical Smiles. La band conseguentemente va in crisi e si scioglie per l'ennesima volta. Va detto che non saprei nemmeno contare i vari avvicendamenti, ma considerando che tentano una reunion prima nel 1990 (pubblicando un nuovo disco, Medicine Man) e poi addirittura nel 2004 e nel 2021 sono sicuro che nelle varie formazioni hanno girato almeno 40 musicisti diversi, a dimostrazione di una voglia di musica francamente ammirevole.

[archoniluthradanar]

Il Mio Cantante

Il mio Cantante - an Aro dei Volturi one-shot

Aro was fascinated by Edward's relationship with his blood singer, Bella Swan. Now he has found his own blood singer, who happens to be completely willing to fulfill his desire to drink from her, on one condition.

Aro dei Volturi X female OC, with Sulpicia dei Volturi

I was going to make this feature Caius but someone asked for more Aro, so ask and ye shall receive.

oooooooooo

Diana Walker entered the old castle along with thirty or fourty other tourists, she hadn't counted. Her solo vacation in Italy was proving to be a bore. She had wanted to visit places off the beaten path, but so far, she'd found nothing much of interest. So when she received a free invitation to tour the Palazzo dei Priori in the city of Volterra, Diana thought what the hell. If nothing else, she might see some interesting architecture and blow an afternoon before stopping somewhere for supper.

The tour guide urged everyone to follow her closely, but Diana decided to linger in back of the crowd. She ran her hands over the old stone walls dotted with lit sconces, and wondered why in this modern age they were even needed, but it lent to the atmosphere. She admired the old style chairs and wooden tables that were sitting here and there along the walls of the long corridor. The air itself smelled old, with an underlying scent of rotting something. Diana pondered why that would be.

Her uncle had once brought her to a slaughterhouse to purchase a pig for a luau he was holding for his work staff. She recalled while she waited, the nearly overpowering scent of fresh blood. Old blood smelled worse. Maybe the kitchen wasn't far away. In old times, people slaughtered their own animals for food, right? But would anyone be doing that these days?

Realizing she was falling behind the group, Diana ran ahead and saw them being led through large carved wooden doors into a small room that harkened back to medieval times. Her eyes caught men and women dressed in black suits and dresses standing along the walls as if waiting for something, while others sat on chairs that were raised about the main floor. She was looking around when the group was told to stop. There wasn't really anything of interest here. Maybe a history of the castle talk had been prepared for them. Diana chose to stand near a marble pillar in the back of the group to watch the ensuing program.

It was past time for lunch, and Diana's stomach agreed, rumbling a little too loudly as the woman at her left noticed and said, "I hope this tour is over soon too. I'm dying for some real Italian pasta."

Diana gave her a courtesy smile and went back to scanning the room. Her eyes were drawn to a man sitting on the center chair that was on a dais. He was so different in appearance from any man she'd known. He had shoulder-length black hair, and was dressed in an expensive-looking black suit, right down to the shirt and tie. His pallid face was expressionless as he himself seemed to be scanning the room. His eyes fell on Diana, his gaze so intense, she had to look away from him. When she looked back, Diana noticed his chin raised and mouth slightly open. Was he sniffing the air?

It was at this moment that an unspoken order was given, and an attack began on the tourists, who started screaming in confusion. Diana had no idea what was going on, but something inside her yelled 'Run!'. She moved back to the doors they had come through but found them locked. Spying another set of doors across the room, she stayed close to the wall as she headed toward them. She had to dodge several of the attackers holding individual tourists in their arms like lovers, but she saw their mouths were smeared with blood. She grabbed the handles of one of the doors, only to have her hand yanked from it by someone else's icy cold hand.

Looking up, Diana saw it was the man who had momentarily intrigued her. He pulled her closer to him, close enough she could feel his oddly cold breath on her cheek. His eyes, which were impossibly red in colour, gazed at her unblinking.

"Going somewhere, my dear?" he whispered into her ear loud enough to overcome the din the room. "I'm afraid that is not possible. Come with me quickly, or die here."

His words sounded like a threat, and they frightened her. She started to struggle against his hold on her wrist when he spoke again, his words harsh but hypnotic.

"You are my gift, my bountiful wine-press, so stop struggling!" When he had first met Bella Swan, Aro had discovered her being Edward Cullen's blood singer. Now he had found his own singer in this American tourist.

Diana briefly forgot her fear in her momentary shock. This man knew the Bram Stoker novel "Dracula", quoting from it. She ceased struggling once she realized she couldn't free herself from his tight grip as he dragged her from the chaotic scene in the room.

So everyone in her tour group was being killed by these psychopaths, while one held her captive. "All right, all right, I'll follow you." She looked up to see her captor slowly smile. He let go of her wrist, grabbing her hand instead, and forced her to follow close behind him down the corridor, until she protested he was going too fast.

"Ah yes, you're just a human, after all." With that, Aro threw her over his shoulder and ran down the corridor.

Despite her curiosity, Diana shut her eyes. When they stopped, she opened them as she was set down roughly to stand on the floor. What had he meant when he said she was "just a human", as if he were not.

The man pushed opened a set of wooden doors that led into a large ante-room. He pulled her inside and shut the doors. Glancing around, Diana noticed another room beyond this one.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on out there, and why you brought me here?" Diana took several steps backward until she felt a sofa up against the back of her legs, blocking her. She felt trapped, unable to run anywhere. Looking at the man who now had his back to her, ignoring her completely, she asked, "Who are you?"

After too many minutes, the dark-haired man turned back to face Diana. "I am Aro, leader of this coven, my dear. You arrived at meal time, unfortunately."

"Meal time," she echoed. Her mind recycled the images of the attack, the people in black holding onto the tourists, and the blood on their mouths. Vampires, she thought. Sitting down on the sofa, Diana felt safer with something behind her. This Aro could only attack her from one direction.

"So why did you pull me away and bring me here?"

"I sensed you out of all the others in the room." he said. "You are il mio cantante.

"Actually, I'm Diana Walker," she replied while making a face at Aro. "What does that mean anyway, mio cata...?"

"Il mio cantante. The truth is, you're my singer, the one whose blood calls to me. I brought you here to my chambers to enjoy you, privately."

"You what?" Enjoy her, he had said. Oh my god, was he actually talking about drinking her blood? Vampires didn't exist. These people were just a bunch of sicko murderers. She had to think of some way to stop him and his delusion. "You can't...please, let me go. I won't tell anyone, I swear." Her eyes widened as they searched the room for any weapon she could use.

Aro knew what she would be thinking, having read her already. "Don't consider fighting me. I'm too strong for you." He sat next to her on the sofa, his hand taking hers. "This is a special occasion, my dear. Don't spoil it. It's rare for us to find one's singer." He leaned into her, her blood scent filling his nostrils.

Diana put on a brave face, trying another tactic. She placed her free hand on his chest, leaning closer to him, and whispered as seductively as she could manage, "Aro, you can choose to kill me if you wish. But what if you could savor me, savor my blood, and more than once."

Curious, Aro asked, "What do you propose?"

She gazed into his now dark red eyes. "Keep me here with you, and every few days, take what you wish. Just keep me alive. I would only need time for my body to replenish itself. You can get what you need from other tourists. This would be like drinking a fine wine."

"What would you ask for in return?" Aro asked, leaning to within inches of her face.

Moving her head slowly away from Aro, she replied, "Nothing. I already owe you for saving my life from that massacre. Just let me stay here, with you, and in turn, you keep me entertained. That's all. I promise, i won't run away if you treat me well." It was a gamble she was taking, but would it work? Reaching up, Diana played with a strand of the vampire's silken black hair.

Aro was becoming more intrigued with this human female. It was true, he could drink his fill and kill her, or make use of her, as the infamous Bram Stoker Count Dracula had mentioned. A bountiful wine-press, taking his time enjoying her sweet life's blood. Prolonging the pleasure of sipping from her might be worth it.

"Why should I not just drink from you now?" he asked her, pondering whether having a human around who was not staff would be too much trouble.

Her eyes never wavered from his, her gaze a challenge. "Because then the story would be over, and we'd have nothing to look forward to."

Aro laughed. "You're right, my dear. Very well. You may stay here. I rarely use this room anyway. But do not leave without a guide to accompany you. Some of my people have little restraint."

Diana understood the warning. "Thanks," she replied, feeling a bit more confident that her life would not be drained away by this...vampire. At least not yet.

Aro reached out for Diana's hand, pulling her to him. "Before I leave you, one taste, my dear. Just to be sure."

Before she could utter one sound in protest, Aro was on her neck, his razor-sharp teeth in her flesh. She cried out in pain, the worst pain she had ever felt. So much for those vampire films that tell viewers, mostly women, that being bitten is an erotically pleasurable act.

Finally, the teeth were gone as quickly as they had bit. Aro sat up from his singer since she had fallen back on the bed in shock.

Diana reached up to touch her neck, seeing her fingertips a bit bloodied. "Why am I not bleeding more?"

Aro pulled her hand away from her neck. "Our venom can change you into what I am, once it enters your bloodstream."

Her eyes wide, Diana felt a sudden fight or flight feeling, mostly flight. Aro saw this.

"Not to worry, my dear. I removed the venom and healed your wound, sealing it when I licked your skin afterwards." Rising from the bed, Aro looked down at his human. "Get some rest now. You may feel weak for awhile. I will send someone with food later." He leaned over her, his hands on either side of her prone body, an enigmatuc smile on his face. "Thank you, Diana. You're right. This may be a most satisfactory arrangement. Sleep now." With that order given, Aro turned and left the human lying on his bed.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Diana was sitting on Aro's sofa in the ante-room, a book on her lap. She had been about to read it, but her thoughts strayed to the trip Aro had taken her on three days ago. She looked over at the two bottles of very expensive wine sitting on the desk.

Aro had driven her to a very old family-owned winery, letting her choose what she wanted. When she asked if he wanted to taste something during their wine sipping, he had shaken his head. "I never drink...wine."

Diana laughed when she heard yet another quote of Count Dracula's. Show off, she had thought. He seemed to enjoy teasing her, and he was probably looking forward to his next taste of her blood.

Hearing the doors open, she looked up to see Aro entering, a beautiful, almost ethereal, woman at his side.

"Diana, I wanted to introduce you to my wife, Sulpicia. My dear, this is the human who apparently is my blood singer."

"You are so fortunate, Aro, to have found one after so long a time." Sulpicia floated over to a now-standing Diana and held out her hand.

Diana felt like she should curtsey, but merely shook the extended hand, finding it hard to the touch and very cold. The woman made her feel so inferior in her grace and appearance, she became tongue-tied. "I'm pleased to meet you...Lady Sulpicia."

Aro stood by while his wife examined the human. She reached out a hand to gently force Diana's chin upward.

"You're quite lovely, child."

"Thank you, but that isn't important. Aro isn't interested in me for anything but my blood." Diana didn't want Sulpicia to fear her husband might invite her to his bed for more than his periodic tasting. That was not in her own imaginings. Perhaps she should ask Aro for a separate room for as long as she would be remaining here.

"Of course, dear. I know what Aro wants from you since he told me about you," Sulpicia admitted.

"He told you?"

"Yes, we have no secrets between us, child. We've been together for many hundreds of years, so after so long a time, we know each other too well. There is no point in trying to hide anything." Her smile seemed to hold many pleasant memories, then she turned to Diana. "What do you plan to do as a distraction?"

Diana sat and shifted on the sofa to get comfortable. "Is there anything I can do for you, Lady Sulpicia? Do you play cards or chess? And of course, I love to read if you have anything to suggest. Aro said he'd let me use your vast library."

Sulpicia's face lit up. "I do love playing cards, just as my sister Athenodora does. So you will come visit us on occasion."

"Absolutely, and you have...a sister?"

"She's Caius' mate. I only call her sister because she is a vampire as well. We have a familial relationship here in the castle."

Diana shook her head slowly, saying, "I see. Well, anytime you and she wish to play games or just gossip, I would love to join you."

"That would be lovely. Enjoy your evening, child." With that, Sulpicia took Aro's extended hand, and the two left the room.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Over the next few weeks, Diana's life settled into an easy routine. Once a week, Aro would visit her in a bedroom he had given her, where they would talk or perhaps play chess, before Aro would sink his teeth into his singer's neck, taking just enough to satisfy him.

Diana was given iron pills and lots of spinach salad, something that made her roll her eyes. At the same time, she thought on the arrangement she'd made with the vampires, giving her blood to her host and spending time with his wife. The other vampires in the castle had little to do with her. Human workers brought her meals and freshly washed clothing.

Aro would offer to take her out and away from the castle, or sit with her in the garden. His guest proved to be an adept chess player, so they often played together.

Diana noticed he never let her far from his eyesight, but he did seem willing to explain the history of the Volturi to his singer, so she asked him lots of questions. Even as he entertained her, Diana wondered how much longer she would be able to tolerate being here. Her freedom was important to her, and she felt she was about to lose it.

When visiting Sulpicia and Athendora, Diana would ask about their long lives, alone and with their mates. In turn, Sulpicia asked what her husband was doing to keep Diana occupied.

The three woman got along well, a pleasant surprise to Aro. The two vampires would let Diana try on some of their gowns, while Diana picked up a few fashion magazines when Aro had take her to Rome for a shopping trip, whereupon the three women would admire what they liked about modern wear and laughed at what they found horrid.

Diana told Sulpicia about the day trips she and the vampire's mate took, sure to make it sound as innocuous as it was. Only once had Diana even thought of what a sexual relationship with Aro would be like. She immediately booted that idea from her mind. She liked Sulpicia, and would never entertain tempting her mate to cheat on her. But as the outings and talks with Aro become more frequent, Diana noticed a chilliness in the beautiful vampire's attitude toward her.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Hearing the doors to Aro's ante-room open and close, Diana, who was sitting on a sofa, looked up to see her host's wife standing at her side. "Hello, Sulpicia. I'm still amazed at how gracefully you move," she said in admiration. "You're so beautiful."

"Thank you, dear. I just wanted to visit with you for awhile. How are you today?" the elegant vampire asked, her ruby eyes taking in the human female. She sat on the opposite end of the velvet sofa Diana was seated on. She noticed a small stack of books sitting next to her on the floor.

"It's fine," Diana explained. "Aro let me choose these books to look through. We must have been in the library for over two hours."

Sulpicia's eyes flashed angry briefly, too briefly for Diana to notice. "That's sweet," she said with no sincerity whatsoever. "So you are enjoying your time here with us?"

"It's been very interesting, I mean considering I never knew vampires really existed. And you're nothing like legend. No coffins, fear of garlic or sunlight burning you. No stench of the tomb. In fact, you all smell wonderful. That natural attractant Aro explained to me."

Sulpicia had wanted to speak to her mate about either drinking from Diana and ending this charade, or letting her leave. She genuinely liked the mortal woman, so never brought that subject up.

"Aro is nothing like what I imagined a vampire would be like."

"Oh? And how is that, child?" Sulpicia asked, her voice honeyed.

"He has been so generous. And in our many discussions, he has shown himself to be intelligent, creative, a true patron of the arts."

Diana didn't realize by praising the leader of the vampires, she was only making his mate more upset.

Flashing suddenly to Diana's side, Sulpicia's hand reached out, grabbing the human by the throat.

"Sulpicia..." Diana could barely squeak out the name. Her eyes wide in disbelief, she wondered in fear why the vampire was doing this to her. Had she not previously been kind to her? Hadn't they been having fun with the visits? "I thought we...were friends. Why would you...attack me? I've...never slept with Aro, I...swear." It was becoming too difficult to breathe now.

"I know that, dear. I just want what you took away from me. My husband's attentions."

"Are you...going to suck me...dry?" Diana felt it harder to breathe now, her words just sounds in the air, but Sulpicia understood her..

"No, Diana. Your blood belongs to Aro." With that, Sulpicia barely twisted her hand to hear the crack of the human's neck breaking.

Rising from the sofa, Sulpicia glanced at the human who now lay dead. She reached down for the book sitting on top of the stack, taking it in her hands. She flashed from Aro's rooms to return to her sanctuary in the tower. Perhaps the book would be of interest, diverting her at least until Aro came to visit her...once he found his little human lying dead in the library. He would be furious with his wife, of course, but he could never remain angry at her for long.

"He loves me, after all," Sulpicia said aloud, then opened the book and began to read.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

When he found out that Sulpicia had killed his singer, Aro was indeed angry with Sulpicia for what she had done, but she was his wife after all. It could be centuries before he would find another singer, but it had taken time for him to find and cultivate the perfect mate. And to him, she was perfect. But at the moment, his temper would express his anger at her.

When he found her in her chambers, Aro was beside himself. She stood, waiting for him to speak. But he didn't. He knew why she had killed the woman. Jealousy, not for his love and loyalty to her, but for his time. She had missed him since the human had been here. It had been wrong of him to spend so much time with the human.

Glaring at Sulpicia, Aro paced the space of her sitting room. He hoped his expression let Sulpicia know how disappointed he was with her. After a moment of silence, he reached up to caress his mate's smooth flawless cheek. "I do love you, wife."

"I know, my husband. And I am sorry."

Aro pulled Sulpicia to him, hugging her within the embrace of his arms. He kissed her deeply, remembering how he had come to love her in the first place. Aro would tell Felix to immediately dispose of Diana's body. Then the leader of the Volturi and his mate would head to the garden where he would choose the perfect bloom for his perfect mate. There would be other singers in the world, and he would wait patiently as he always had.

A/N : I had this story idea, thinking about Aro's jealousy over Edward having found a singer, Bella. Thank you for reading!

[tecontos]

Um segredo meu; Fiquei 1 ano dando pro dono do bar e começou assim !

By; Helen

Meu nome é Helen. Já tem um tempo que acompanho os contos aqui no site, mas nunca tive coragem de escrever nada. Mas a pos tanto veio a coragem e escolhi escrever isso que se passou comigo em 2008.

Primeiro, deixe-me me apresentar. Na época tinha 20 anos. Sou branquinha, mas como vivo no clube, tenho a pele bem queimada de sol e as marquinhas do biquíni bem desenhadas. Tenho um 1.60 de altura. Tenho coxas e bunda bem torneadas da academia. Peitos pequenos, mas parecem dois limõezinhos, bem redondinhos e bicudinhos.

Então, na época eu fazia um curso na federal em Belo Horizonte, e morava com uma prima minha em uma república. Eu tinha um namorado que via uma vez por mês ou até uma vez a cada dois meses, ele morava no interior e eu não ganhava muito com a bolsa estágio que recebia. Para ajudar a pagar as contas eu fazia um bico de dog walker levando os cachorros das velhinhas que moravam no meu bairro para passear.

Todo dia que ia passear com os cachorros, passava na porta de uma bar e todos os bêbados mexiam comigo, gritando coisas como “aho lá em casa”, “a cachorrinha tem telefone”, “delícia” e afins. Eu ficava sem graça, mas um pouco excitada com a idéia de tantos homens me desejando. O dono do Bar, Seu Nestor, sempre chamava atenção dos bêbados, para não ficarem me enchendo.

Um dia voltando da faculdade no final da tarde passei na porta do bar e Seu Nestor estava abrindo as portas. Ele me viu do outro lado da rua e gritou:

- Oh Menina! Pode fazer um favor para mim?

Atravessei a rua e fui até ele e falei: - Boa tarde Seu Nestor, em que posso te ajudar, meu nome é Helen.

Ele ficou meio sem graça, mas respondeu:

- Boa tarde Helen! É que minha neta deixou um cachorro para eu tomar conta, mas não tenho tempo para sair com ele, e acho que ele está ficando estressado. Teria como você passear com ele para mim.

– Claro, onde está o cachorro? – Perguntei.

– Lá no quintal dos fundos do bar – ele me respondeu e já foi entrando para dentro do bar.

Eu o segui, passamos por detrás do balcão por um corredor estreito que dava nos fundos da loja, era margeado por caixas de cerveja empilhadas e três portas, sendo duas de banheiros e uma que deveria ser o depósito. O corredor era muito estreito o que fazia com que eu fosse andando atrás dele. Quando chegamos na porta que dava para os fundos ele apontou com a mão o cachorro, mas como não dava para eu ver eu me espremi entre ele e a parede, virando minha bunda para ele enquanto passava, nisso eu senti uma coisa dura sob seu shorts. Parei na frente dele e reparei no cachorro, era um dog alemão gigante.

Fiquei reparando no cachorro quando sinto Seu Nestor falando pertinho do meu ouvido:

- Vai aguentar ele, é bem grande? – Me arrepiei toda, senti minha buceta molhando toda na hora.

Me virei e ele falou: - O cachorro, ele é bem grande, não acha?

Eu sorri e falei com ele que já dei conta de maiores. Falei com ele então que pegaria o cachorro lá umas 08:30 que tinha um trabalho da faculdade para fazer. Ele falou tudo bem, mas não saiu da porta, tive que me espremer no corredor para passar por ele de novo, mas dessa vez passei de frente e realmente senti algo grande e duro no shorts dele.

Fui para casa com o rosto fogueando. Entre e fui direto tomar um banho, não aguentei e bati uma siririca para aquele velho safado. Seu Nestor deveria ter uns 60 anos, mas aparentava ter menos. Ele era militar reformado, e tinha um físico que muito garoto invejaria. Tirando os cabelos do peito branco, porque os da cabeça ele tingia, ninguém daria mais de 45 para ele. E eu estava lá, me excitando por um velho que poderia ser meu pai. Que droga. Mas tava foda, tinha dois meses que não via meu namorado e via de regra, dois meses que eu não transava. Terminei o banho, coloquei uma calcinha pequenininha que eu tinha, um sutiã que valorizava meus peitinhos e fui fazer meu trabalho.

No horário marcado eu coloquei uma saia jeans que ia até o meio das minhas coxas, um par de tênis e um tomara que caia. Quando cheguei no bar estava cheio e os bêbados ficaram todos me comendo com os olhos. Mexi com o Seu Nestor e reparei que ele também me comeu com os olhos. Ele falou que o cão estava lá atrás, mas que não poderia me acompanhar porque o bar estava cheio. Fiquei decepcionada porque queria outra sarrada daquele velho safado.

Fui até os fundos e peguei o Titan, era o nome do cachorro. Levei até a praça onde normalmente levo os outros cães e realmente ele era muito forte, quase não consegui segurá-lo quando ele cismava com alguma coisa. Voltei já era quase 09:30, por ser uma terça feira o movimento do bar já tinha sido a reduzido a dois clientes só. Cumprimentei o Seu Nestor que estava no balcão conversando com um cliente e fui levar o Titan até os fundos, soltei o cachorro mas quando estava voltando eu escorreguei em um lodo e caí virando meu pé, no susto eu dei um grito. Seu Nestor veio correndo me viu caída e já foi me pegando no colo e perguntando se eu estava bem. Eu falei que estava bem mas ele falou que tinha sido paramédico do exército e que ia olhar com calma. Nisso ele me levou para a porta que seria o depósito que na verdade vi que era um quarto, sem janelas, mas com um ar condicionado para refrigerar o lugar, tinha uma cama de casal e uma cômoda. Ele me colocou sentada na cama e falou que ia pegar o kit de primeiros socorros e já voltava. Ouvi uma conversa na parte da frente do bar e logo em seguida as portas foram baixadas.

Seu Nestor então voltou com uma maletinha e colocou do meu lado, pediu para ver onde estava doendo. Mostrei o tornozelo para ele, ele então pediu para tirar meu tênis, eu concordei, doeu bastante quando ele puxou. Ele então pegou uma pomada na maleta e falou que era um anestésico que ia ajudar com a dor. Espalhou um pouco nas mãos, ajoelhou-se na minha frente e começou a massagear meu tornozelo. Na hora eu senti que já deu uma melhorada. Mas o toque dele me excitava de mais, sendo que dei um gemidinho na hora que ele começou a esfregar o creme. Ele me perguntou se estava doendo, mas eu mordi o lábio e falei que estava bom. Ele percebendo minha excitação, falou que era bom passar na perna toda, para não ter perigo da dor voltar. Começou então massageando a batata da perna, indo e descendo as mãos pela minha panturrilha. Foi subindo pelo meu joelho onde ficou fazendo movimento circulares. Quando ele começou a massagear minha coxa, instintivamente eu abri as pernas, mostrando minha calcinha para ele. Ele riu e falou que estava vendo que tinha outro lugar que precisava de massagem.

Ele então continuou massageando minha coxa, mas agora do lado de dentro dela, os dedos subindo cada vez mais até minha buceta. Eu ia gemendo baixo enquanto ele me massageando, até que seus dedos grossos chegaram no meio das minhas pernas. Ele começou esfregando por cima da calcinha e eu já deu uma gemida mais alta. Na hora eu tapei a boca com a mão, mas ele falou que eu podia gemer a vontade, que ele tinha fechado o bar já e que ninguém ia nos ouvir ali. Quando ele falou isso senti um misto de pavor e tesão, já que estava totalmente à mercê daquele homem, mas ao mesmo tempo estava totalmente hipnotizada pelo seu toque.

Ele chegou minha calcinha para o lado e começou a esfregar os dedos por cima da minha xana, que estava muito molhada àquela altura. Eu fui gemendo, e quando ele foi e colocou um dedo dentro de mim, e quando fiz isso eu já comecei a tremer as pernas, acabei gozando na sua mão. Fiquei tremendo e segurando o braço ele. Ele então falou que eu estava muito gulosa, mas que já ia me dar de comer mas não ia ser com a mão não. Nisso ele tirou a camisa e o shorts, revelando um pau de uns 18 cm duro como uma rocha apontando para o céu.

Ele ficou em pé na beirada da cama e me chamou me mostrando o pau. Eu fui engatinhando até ele e comecei a chupar aquele mastro. Eu lambia das bolas até a cabeça e depois colocava tudo na boca e começa a chupar de novo. Ele começou socar o pau na minha garganta como se minha boca fosse uma buceta, antecipando o que ia acontecer lá embaixo. Eu comecei a engasgar quanto senti a primeira jatada de porra na boca. Ele gozou com força na minha boca e assim que tirou o pau ele fechou minha boca e falou para eu engolir tudinho. Eu nunca tinha deixado ninguém gozar na minha boca, mas aquele velho tarado tinha uma voz que me comandava mesmo, eu faria o que ele quisesse.

Engoli então tudo e mostrei para ele a boca limpa, ele então falou comigo para tirar a roupa que ele ia me dar um banho de língua para depois começarmos a festa. Tirei toda roupa e deitei peladinha na cama. Ele entrou pegou minha perna que tinha machucado, começou lambendo minha coxa e foi lambendo até no meio das minhas pernas. Abriu então minha buceta e caiu de boca no meu grelo que já estava teso. Ele ia me chupando e me dedando, primeiro com um depois com dois dedos. Aqueles dedos grossos e ásperos que iam e voltavam sincronizados com a língua do Seu Nestor. Uns cinco minutos assim e eu já gozei de novo, tremendo na cara dele.

Ele então se levantou, pegou uma camisinha na cômoda, colocou no pau e veio para cima de mim. Ele entrou no meio das minhas pernas e colocou aquela tora na portinha da minha xaninha. Pedi a ele para ir com cuidado porque estava muito sensível. Ele foi colocando o pau aos poucos, fazendo movimento de vai e vem, até entrar todo.

Quando estava todo dentro ele começou o vai e vem. Ele me martelava com força sentia que ia desmaiar. Em dado momento ele pegou minhas duas pernas, colocou-as ao redor do pescoço, elevando minha bunda um pouco fora da cama, e começou a bombar bem mais rápido. Vi que ele ia gozar e sentia que ia gozar de novo, junto com ele. Ele gozou com um grito e eu também. Tirou então aquela cobra gigante de dentro de mim, mas ainda estava dura. Com certeza ele tinha tomado algum estimulante, porque não tinha condições. Tirou a camisinha e pediu para eu chupar o pau dele de novo, ele deixou na cama e eu subi em cima dele, mas antes que eu começasse a mamar, ele me virou me deixando com a buça bem na cara dele, começamos então um 69 gostoso, com ele me chupando e eu mamando ele.

Em dado momento ele tentou enfiar um dedo no meu cuzinho, eu dei uma travada. Ele percebendo isso me perguntou se eu nunca tinha dado o rabo e eu (menti, já tinha dado) confirmei com “unrum” porque estava com a boca ocupada. Ele então falou que de hoje não passava que a gente tinha que fazer o trabalho completo, que nós dois merecíamos. Eu estava enfeitiçada com aquele pau, com aquele homem. Acabei fazendo que sim com a cabeça. Ele então se levantou e eu fiz um som de decepção porque ele tirou o pau da minha boca, ao que ele me respondeu que já já ela ia tá cheia de novo.

Ele pegou um tubo de lubrificante na gaveta e outra camisinha. Me chamou na beirada da cama de novo e me mandou chupar o pau dele. Enquanto eu chupava ele virou minha bunda de lado para ele e começou a passar lubrificante no meu cuzinho, enfiou primeiro o dedo mindinho e ficou fazendo movimento de vai e vem e despejando mais lubrificante, no início doeu muito, mas com o lubrificante meu cuzinho foi acostumando. Ele então trocou de dedo e já meteu logo o médio. Mas sempre com mais lubrificante.

Quando penso que não ele já estava metendo dois dedos no meu cuzinho e eu já estava acostumando. Ele então me deu a camisinha e me mandou tomar cuidado que era a ultima, tentei rasgar o envelope, mas tava numa tremedeira com aqueles dois dedos socados no meu cú. Com muito custo eu consegui. Coloquei a camisinha na rola dele. Ele então me deitou de lado e pediu para eu abrir a banda da bunda que ficou para cima. Ele chegou por trás de mim e ficou esfregando a cabeça do pau na entrada do meu cuzinho com bastante lubrificante já. Foi forçando e quando ela passou em senti muita dor. Ele então levantou minha perna e começou a estimular meu grelo, enquanto meu cuzinho acostumava com a grossura e o tamanho da rola dele. Ele ia brincando comigo e enfiando cada vez mais. Eu toda hora falava para ele tirar, mas ele falava que eu iria aguentar, que eu queria aquilo, eu queria viu. Com muito custo ele botou a rola toda no meu cú. Aí falou;

- agora que ficaram só meus ovos de fora, vou começar a bombar.

E começou um movimento bem devagar, que foi aumentando, enquanto ele continuava brincando com minha buceta, ora esfregando meu clítoris, ora enfiando dois dedos nela e fazendo movimento de vai e vem.

Ficamos assim por uns dez minutos até que senti que ele começou a bombar mais forte e a me estimular mais. Acabamos gozando juntos novamente. Sendo que dessa vez ele caiu ao meu lado ofegante.

Ele ligou o ar condicionado com um controle remoto e perguntou se eu não queria tomar um banho. Eu assenti com a cabeça. Fomos para o banheiro, quando chegamos no box, com o chuveiro ligado ele começou a me beijar, foi beijando minha boca, meu pescoço, depois meus peitos, chupando-os com vontade. Ele começou a me dedar de novo, enquanto chupava meus peitos, mais uma vez eu gozei na mão dele.

Terminamos o banho e fomos para a cama. Ele me perguntou se eu queria dormir lá mas falei que tinha ir embora senão minha prima ficava preocupada e punha metade do mundo atrás de mim. Vesti minha roupa e fui saindo, quando cheguei na porta do quarto perguntei para ele se ele ia precisar que eu passeasse com o Titan de novo. Ele sorriu e falou que se eu quisesse podia passear com ele todo dia.

Depois daquele dia eu fiquei um ano dando para o Seu Nestor pelo menos duas vezes por semana. Aprendi muito de putaria com ele, mas isso fica para outras histórias…

Enviado ao Te Contos por Helen

[bvckbiter]

a couple of people were wondering about the pjotwt fiasco i referenced in my filipino!percy post so for those curious im gonna provide the best breakdown i can of that entire convoluted mess

ever since the live action casting, show fans have been saying repetitively that blonde haired blue eyed percy “just makes so much more sense” because blonde hair is like the sand and blue eyes is like the sea

I see a millionth iteration of that tweet and quote-retweet it making fun of how this fandom can’t come up with any actual hot takes of substance

op gets in my mentions all angry asking why the “discourse” makes me so triggered. I reply basically saying “im not triggered? and what discourse, we’re talking about the hair color of a fictional character”

op suddenly moves goalposts and talks about how leah and aryan faced racist backlash for their casting even though we were originally talking about percy's casting. I point that out and how theyre not even remotely similar cases, but she just goes “well it’s your fault you thought we were only talking about walker, and people like you who are disagreeing with my tweet are shitting on walker’s appearance which is harmful! So i will call you out! 🤓👆🏻”

I then proceed to be very baffled about how walker is getting harmed from any of this at all and try to end the convo since i realize that she’s not even arguing with anything I’m actually saying. But op continues being angry in my mentions going “how can you say that telling a 15 yo actor is a horrible casting and that he cant embody percy is not harmful!” and im like “huh???? Why did this come up i never said this you’ve lost the plot” and she says “i never said you said that YOU’VE lost the plot im sorry you’re stupid” ⁉️⁉️⁉️

the thread more or less ends there but op apparently firestormed a lot of people she caught disagreeing in her mentions so i wasnt the only battle she was fighting lol. Other people are talking about how while they enjoy walker’s performance, theyve only ever seen him as a character of color so… obviously blonde blue eyed percy really isnt the first thing they envision. Somewhere along the line, someone reposts THAT iconic fanart of latino!percy (from… well… user latinopercy) with the caption #MYpercyjackson

People jump on it in the comments and qrts saying “JUMPSCARE” who is that?!” “Idk who that man is” “this is your percy??? Be so for real…” One comment even said that he was ugly. Another comment said that he didn’t embody percy’s vibes because he was “too angry.”

I qrt talking about how scummy it is that people are attacking a fan depiction of latino!percy THAT WAS MADE WAY BEFORE THE SHOW WAS EVER ANNOUNCED just so they can make it known that theyre defending walker’s casting. I also point out that the fanart is a repost, so it’s really unfair for the artist that their art is being bandied around like that then receiving all that vitriol

Another motherfucker comes into my mentions saying “i need you to realize that a real life child is worth defending more than a headcanon.” I reply asking to clarify how walker is supposed to be getting harmed by any of this and why defending him should entail shitting on people who prefer dark-haired percy hcs. I also point out that if the actor is a real life person, so are the people who hold those hcs as well as the artist whose fanart was getting dragged into this.

Mf says that people are attacking walker over a drawing/hc, which aren’t real. I try to articulate that the imagined harm walker is facing is not in any way a tangible, material threat. He’s the most popular among the main trio and his acting has never been fully discredited just because of his hair color (unlike leah and aryan who people said only got casted for DEI and woke agendas, yk how the grifters go). “People hoping he’d dye his hair and wear contacts is not tantamount to harm and hate,” I said, and neither is having dark-haired percy and/or percy of color hcs.

I thought I explained it well but mf just repeats like a broken record that thinking like that is thinking that fake headcanons are more important than real life kids. No matter what I say in response. SEVERAL TIMES, AD NAUSEUM. “Headcanons aren’t real, the kids are.”

The final statement that really pissed me off was them saying this

That’s where the brouhaha ends lol. Since then I’ve also seen tweets making fun of people who genuinely prefer/want a percy of color over a blonde percy because they say and I quote, “percy has been white ever since the books.” Like, YES WE KNOW 😭 But there is a deeply held lore for percy’s ethnic ambiguity in the fandom that was there long before the show was ever in development.

I have no problem with people who prefer the show or blonde Percy or walker or whatever. But to for some reason crusade FOR it on the pretense of protecting the actor from some imagined harm is just fucking ridiculous to me. Just to backtrack, this all came about simply because I made fun of how repetitive the “blonde percy supremacy” take was. And that was construed as shitting on walker. That guy is not seeing any of our tweets if his parents and agents know half a thing about media training??? No one cares! It’s a fucking hair color! Besides, as much as they want to pretend otherwise, the books and the show are invariably separate canons. Not that they can handle an analysis more complex than “yay perca/beth crumbs in the show so show good” lmao

Needless to say, show stans piss me off lol and this is one of the reasons why. A lot of them are show stans primarily because theyre so (parasocially) attached to the actors. It doesnt just show in the crusading, it also shows in how they keep lock and step with every single movement of the actors’ activities on social media. But that’s another discussion entirely deserving of its own post lol.

[whatdoesshedotothem]

ANNE LISTER & ANN WALKER: THE HONEYMOON

Fancy following in the footsteps of Anne Lister and Ann Walker on their honeymoon? There's a new great travelmap created by Anne Lister in Paris and us, following our Ann(e)s through France, Switzerland and the Kingdom of Sardinia, directly from the words of Anne and Ann's diaries, transcribed by our own @whatdoesshedotothem and @insearchofannwalker . Oh… obviously there's more to come! A further in-depth exploration of the Italian part of this trip is coming soon. Stick with us, but in the meantime… enjoy travelling with our Ann(e)s!

Volete seguire le orme di Anne Lister ed Ann Walker nella loro luna di miele? Abbiamo unito le energie con @Annelisterinparis e ne è uscita la bellissima travelmap che ripercorre il questo viaggio del 1834 attraverso Francia, Svizzera e l'allora Regno di Sardegna, direttamente dalle parole dei diari di Anne e di Ann, trascritte dalla nostra @frankieraia e da @searchingforann. Ah… naturalmente non finisce qui! Presto arriverà anche un altro approfondimento sulla parte italiana di questo viaggio

[mogai-sunflowers]

MOGAI BHM- Belated Day 16!

happy BHM! today i’m going to be listing different important inventions by Black people!

Black Inventors-

Marie Van Brittan Brown invented modern home security systems.

Jane C. Wright invented several chemotherapy drugs still in use today.

Alan Emtage invented the first internet browser, which he called ‘Archie’.

George Carruthers invented the ultraviolet spectrograph, which eventually accompanied probes to the moon.

Mark Dean invented forms of processor chips and co-created the IBM computer in 1987.

Patricia Bath pioneered early laser cataract surgery.

Lonnie Johnson invented the popular Super Soaker.

Lewis Howard Latimer helped invent the telephone and invented carbon filaments which hugely improved incandescent light bulbs.

Garrett Morgan invented a form of a gas mask and the three-position traffic signal.

Dr. James West helped co-invent microphone technology.

Lisa Gelobter was crucial to inventing Shockwave, the internet’s first web animation technology.

Frederick McKinley Jones invented and innovated refrigeration technology, including refrigerated trucks which were crucial in WWII.

Alexander Miles invented automatic elevator doors.

Madame CJ Walker invented a huge hair and beauty line for African American hair.

Elijah McCoy invented the portable ironing board and Sarah Boone innovated it.

Alice Parker invented a heating furnace system still used by many today.

Charles Brooks invented the design and technology for modern trucks that clean and sweep city streets.

George Alcorn invented x-ray imaging spectroscopy.

Benjamin Banneker invented America’s first clock.

Otis Boykin invented improved electrical resistors that are used today in everything from TVs to computers to radios.

Dr. Charles Drew created innovations in blood plasma that led to the creation of blood banks.

Dr. Philip Emeagwali invented the world’s fastest computer.

James Parsons work led to the invention of stainless steel.

George Washington Carver invented many, many culinary products derived from peanuts.

There are many, many more. I can not list them all here. I highly recommend looking more into the history of Black inventors and innovators, especially in the field of STEM! There are some good resources below to get you started!

Tagging @metalheadsforblacklivesmatter 

Sources-

https://www.black-inventor.com/

https://www.eduporium.com/blog/eduporium-weekly-celebrating-significant-stem-accomplishments-by-black-innovators/

https://sphero.com/blogs/news/black-leaders-in-stem

https://www.idtech.com/blog/black-stem-innovators-who-defined-modern-world

https://news.vmware.com/dei/10-black-technology-inventors-innovators

https://www.biography.com/inventors/madam-cj-walker-black-inventors

https://www.black-inventor.com/george-alcorn

https://www.black-inventor.com/benjamin-banneker

https://www.black-inventor.com/otis-boykin

https://www.black-inventor.com/dr-charles-drew

https://education.nationalgeographic.org/resource/african-american-inventors-20th-and-21st-century/

[tacticalhimbo]

remaking this post with info because i looked into it. probs should have done this first but anyway-

IF SHE HAS NO DEFENDERS I AM DEAD.

so fucking tired of dudebros and losers who hate anything that isn't a walking blowup doll. like. the ableist and misogynistic chuds just really need to shut up about things.

inb4 "jason this is the chud game" i know... let a man dream okay i like my dumb little shooter.

i've seen so many braindead ass threads about "well xyz has this tech and it's possible to gain the ability to walk" like... ok. and? above point aside:

1) we don't know if she's ambulatory (meaning she can walk/run/etc, but not all the time)

2) she may also just. not. want to? people love to see disability as a curse that needs to be fixed. people are perfectly happy with their wheelchairs and other aids (e.g., canes, walkers, braces, glasses, etc)… let people live

not to mention it's licherally explained in the canon lore available on ubisoft's own website (re: the evals they write for every operator)

The reception to Specialist Kure “Skopós” Galanos’ return has been mixed. Some are in awe at the very mention of her name; others are wary of her former proximity to Deimos and Nighthaven. There are also whispers about the wheelchair.

I [Gustave “Doc” Kateb] will admit, I too was a skeptic. Despite her endorsement by the Council, it was my task as Captain to confirm her field readiness. Setting aside her legendary status among the ranks of Rainbow, and the nature of her separation from the immediate dangers of the battlefield through her Shells, any number of physiological and psychological issues could have impacted her performance. […]

I found a quote about Galanos in Rainbow’s archives: “[...] her piercing gaze does more damage than her bullets”. Nothing has changed. Although she understood the reasoning behind my questions, it felt like she had taken ownership of the interview by its conclusion. She produced journals, cataloguing all nine operations she underwent and the rehabilitation periods that followed each. From the moment she received confirmation that her C5 vertebra could tolerate high-intensity training, she dedicated herself to returning to active duty, though it didn’t sway the critics.

Galanos told me that she’s gotten used to the scrutiny, and that GSAC and Aurelia Arnot were especially demanding in their assessment. Their initial recommendation had been that she stick to lab work and engineering, but after a brief closed-door session she was given a full endorsement to return to active duty. I have followed suit. Operator Galanos is here to stay, and I am convinced that she is among our best. […]

As her Captain, I have access to privileged information regarding the nursery bombing in Bratislava and the incident three years later in [REDACTED]. Descriptions of the events alone were distressing, and participating in just one would have challenged my resolve. How Galanos navigated these traumas shows fierce determination that I can’t help but be in awe of, but I do worry about her inevitable reunion with Deimos. She had believed Morris to be dead, and they were well known to have been close friends. Now that she knows the truth, what will she do when she sees him again? […]

surprise surprise, disabled people are capable of doing things! people who frequent high combat environments and have been disabled as a result can, often, still do the things they did!

granted, i know these same "dei is ruining our games" chuds don't read things that aren't tweets by their favorite alpha male loser... but anyway.

people love to see disability through the lens of uselessness. why? because disabled people aren't people to these losers... or to these companies, really.

with her being an operator, there are valid curiosities to have regarding her mobility and how things work, but that's just something we're going to have to wait and see about.

because do y'all really think ubisoft is going to put that much effort into their representation? there is no way they're going to rework every single map to ensure mobility. i would be flabbergasted if they did. realistically, that's not something they'd ever do. it's not something any big company has shown an inkling of consideration. why? because disabled people are seen as props, not people.

my guess is her chair is more advanced than shown in the teaser, and it's likely given the confirmed gameplay with her bots that she'll either just be limited to the objective spawn area (re: an invisible barrier over stairways)

but then you also have the people looking at her and calling her a man, or outright transphobic slurs, because... she's an older woman with actual facial features. an older greek woman with older facial features.

she's stunning regardless of if she's cis or trans (and frankly, i think we should have more trans operators. i love osa and i love tubarão. and i love my personal headcanons of transmasc!thatcher and transfem!iq). she's just a normal ass person, like any of the other operators.

[quellostrano-1980]

Uno se ne sta lì, tranquillo, per i cazzi suoi, e quello è il momento in cui arriva una sciocchezza a far riaffiorare i ricordi, che poi sono bastardi e si collegano uno all'altro. Come nel caso di quel vinile. 

Io sono cresciuto in una famiglia in cui la musica c'era sempre, che fosse in sottofondo o a tutto volume. Tra mia madre e i miei zii, nelle casa di campagna avevano accumulato oltre 5000 vinili e a me era stato insegnato ad usare il giradischi. Avevo solo un divieto, uno solo ed era di quelli che non ammettono scusanti di nessun tipo: l'unico disco che non potevo assolutamente toccare era "Nebraska" di Bruce Springsteen. Ogni volta che chiedevo il perché la risposta era sempre la stessa: "perché no!" e si cambiava immediatamente discorso.

Io poi quel disco l'ho ascoltato, o meglio, non ho ascoltato il vinile ma avevo trovato il cd in un negozio e lo avevo comprato tenendolo nascosto alla vista di mia madre.

La sera dopo del mio venticinquesimo compleanno ci siamo trovati nella casetta in campagna. Grigliata tra amici, zii e cugini. Mia nonna e mia madre a spiattellare, chiacchierare e ridere. Ma avevavo qualcosa negli occhi che le intristiva un po'. Sapevo che era un giorno particolare per loro e non avevo mai avuto il coraggio di chiedere.

A fine serata, quando se ne erano andati quasi tutti, al tavolo sotto la tettoia c'eravamo io, i miei due fratelli due dei miei zii e mia madre. Mia nonna ci aveva lasciato la chiave della cantina e tra una caraffa di rosso e una chiacchiera è comparsa una scatola di Risiko. Abbiamo iniziato a giocare e siamo andati avanti tutta la notte.

Verso le due del mattino uno dei miei zii è entrato in casa ed è tornato con una bottiglia di Jhonny Walker etichetta nera, l'ha aperta, ne ha verso un goccio a terra ed ha versato dosi molto generose a tutti.

Mio fratello ha chiesto perché il primo goccio era stato versato e mia madre ha detto che era in ricordo di chi era assente seppur sempre presente.

Allora ho fatto le fatidiche domande: mi raccontate che è successo quel giorno? E che cavolo c'entra quel disco che non si può ascoltare? 

È calato un attimo di silenzio.

Mio zio, quello più anziano, si è verso un cicchetto, se l'è scolato a schioppo e ha iniziato a raccontare che suo fratello, che lavorava nelle forze dell'ordine, aveva da tempo dei problemi con la sua ragazza (che poi è la mia madrina di battesimo) e quando la pressione di tutta la situazione e la disperazione per averla beccata a letto con un altro, ha deciso di farla finita. Ci aveva già provato due volte: una volta aveva cercato di andare giù da un dirupo con il vespone, in modo che sembrasse un incidente e la seconda volta con una corda, ma non ne aveva avuto il coraggio fino alla fine e quindi era riuscito a liberarsi. Quel giorno, stando a quanto mi stava raccontando mio zio, io ero in viaggio verso casa dei miei bisnonni in Umbria. Lui si è chiuso a chiave nella sua stanza al terzo piano della casa in cui abitavano i loro genitori, ha messo su quel vinile, a palla, ha estratto la sua arma di ordinanza e si è sparato in fronte. I primi ad entrare in camera, dopo aver sfondato la porta a spallate, sono stati mio nonno e quel mio zio che stava parlando. La puntina aveva finito i sui immensi giri, gracchiava e basta. Il corpo di mio zio era appoggiato  con la schiena al muro, la pistola ancora stretta nella mano sinistra.

Mio nonno dovette aspettare che noi arrivassimo dai miei bisnonni, a 4 ore di macchina da casa, erano i primi anni 80 e si parlava solo coi telefoni di casa. Appresa la notizia, mia madre mi ha ricaricato in macchina e siamo tornati indietro. Io ero troppo piccolo, non ricordo nulla di quanto mi stavano raccontando. 

Nessuno era più entrato lì fin dopo il funerale. Fu mia madre a prendere il vinile dal giradischi, lo rispose nella sua copertina, lo chiuse in una busta di plastica e lo mise nello scaffale dei dischi e nessuno ebbe mai più il coraggio di toccarlo di nuovo.

A casa custodisco alcuni oggetti di quel mio zio, che io non ricordo ma che ogni volta che salta fuori il discorso, mi viene detto che gli somiglio caratterialmente e fisicamente. Il coltello che usava quando andava a caccia, una maglietta e una sciarpa della nostra Magica Roma, il suo accendino zippo. Ho una sua piccola agenda del 1983, su ogni pagina aveva scritto qualcosa, un pensiero suo o una frase di una canzone o di un film. L'ultima volta che ci aveva scritto era stato il 18 agosto, il giorno del mio compleanno. Una frase dedicata a me: "hai ancora un mondo da scoprire, ti voglio bene, N."

Il giorno dopo si è suicidato.

Quel disco ormai l'ho imparato a memoria, ho cercato di capire traducendo le parole delle canzoni, come mai avesse scelto proprio quel vinile in mezzo alla miriade di dischi che avevano. Ma questa è una cosa che potrà dirmi solo lui, quando ci rivedremo, dall'altra parte della strada.

[blackvahana]

Activity, activity, activity. I form - birthed from, birthing, am from, am forming - a specific part of Grey. I'm all of him, that's how energies work: like stem cells become various organs but hold the DNA, well, more so... I'm a whirlpool pulling him in a certain direction.

I pull him in the direction of the primal and primordial, the outskirts walker. I am him, he is me, and so...

I'm not used to bodies bleeding and being flesh here. I'm so used to them being pulled apart in clean vapours trailed into the Black Hole.

Politics and instincts blur, as if they were ever different. This is the being the organ and being the whole: I'm a flavour of Grey, I'm him through specific eyes, which is still him. What do I see with my own eyes?

I was minding my business as Dei, but the need to hunt down a specific individual came over me. Blood and flesh, the horrific first instance of rending in the treeline. The first ocean of gore, the first one to love red.

[anchesetuttinoino]

(...) La Russa racconta anche del suo primo viaggio allo Yad Vashem insieme a Walker Meghnagi, e per il suo giudizio sul fascismo “ho come punto di riferimento lo storico antifascista Renzo De Felice“. Allora perché non accetta di definirsi antifascista? “Perché non accetto di rispondere come una scimmietta ammaestrata, oltre che per il ricordo degli anni Settanta”, quando “arrivò la violenza dei cosiddetti nuovi partigiani, il loro slogan secondo cui ‘uccidere un fascista non è un reato’. Con loro non vorrò mai essere accomunato. E allora che iniziò l’antifascismo ideologico come viene inteso adesso”.

[diceriadelluntore]

Storia Di Musica #316 - The Black Crowes, The Southern Harmony And Musical Companion, 1992

La musica rock americana a fine anni ’80 è un calderone emozionante di vibrazioni che ribolle in continuazione. In quegli anni ci sarà una straordinaria concentrazione di visioni musicali, che a seconda della zona dell’immensa nazione prende dal passato per proiettarsi nel futuro. Se per esempio a Seattle la tradizione viene usata per fare a pezzi il vecchio e diventare occasione per buttare fuori tutta l’ansia del periodo, nel profondo Sud è il trampolino di lancio per catapultare nella contemporaneità il rock “classico”. La storia di oggi ci porta in Georgia, ad Atlanta, dove i fratelli Robinson crescono in una famiglia nella quale, nei decenni precedenti, la musica ha regalato qualche soddisfazione: infatti il padre, Dan, arrivò addirittura in classifica con un singolo, Boom-A-Dip-Dip, nel 1959. I fratelli Robinson, Chris alla voce e Rich alla chitarra, prima si avvicinano al punk, ma ben presto trovano molto più stimolante il rock anni ’60, sia quello tipico delle loro parti, il southern rock dal suono caldo e coinvolgente, sia il rock blues anni ’60 portato negli Stati Uniti dai gruppi inglesi. La prima formazione si chiama Mrs. Black Crowe’s Garden, ma nel 1988 cambiano nome in The Black Crowes: diventano localmente richiestissimi nei club di Atlanta e dintorni, dove li nota un emissario della A&M che fa registrare al gruppo dei demo. Non se ne fa nulla, ma una sera a sentirli suonati c’è George Drakoulias, famoso produttore e talent scout, che li segnala alla persona che in quel momento è il produttore più interessante del paese: Rick Rubin. Sebbene non suonino metal, la specialità della Def American di Rubin, i ragazzi suonano meravigliosamente nel loro mix di vecchio e nuovo, un rock solido e arricchito di soul, gospel e passione, e vengono messi sotto contratto. Tutta questa passione si percepisce già dalla copertina del loro primo disco, Shake Your Money Maker (1990): prodotto da George Drakoulias, si rifà nella grafica del titolo e nella foto a quelle mitiche dei gruppi british blues di 30 anni prima, fa pensare ai Faces e ai primi Rolling Stone, e il dubbio scompare sentendo con che voce si presenta Chris Robinson: un mix selvaggio di Rod Steward e di Mick Jagger, il suono potente e solido di brani come She Talks To Angels, Twice As Hard o la superlativa cover di Hard To Handle di Otis Redding. Il successo arriva quasi inaspettato: milioni di copie vendute e una fama crescente, frutto anche delle stupende esibizioni live, pirotecniche e imperdibili, che convincono pure gli spettatori delle band metal della Def American a cui sono chiamati ad aprire i concerti.

Nel 1992, in un paio di settimane, registrano il loro secondo album, chiamati all’arditissimo compito di replicare il successo del primo: ma sin dalle prime note, The Southern Harmony And Musical Companion, che prende il nome dal titolo di un inno di William Walker, un pastore battista dell’800, non delude le aspettative e sarà un disco epocale per bellezza e successo. È sempre la copertina che rivela la nuova strategia della band: i musicisti sono fotografati in bianco e nero facendo intuire che stavolta più che il rock blues inglese è la tradizione del southern rock alla Allman Brothers Band e Lynyrd Skynyrd ad essere di ispirazione. Con l’innesto di Marc Ford alla seconda chitarra (il resto vedeva Johnny Colt al basso, Steve Gorman alla batteria e Eddie Harsch alle tastiere), il suono diventa più pieno e pastoso, l’aggiunta di cori femminile rimanda alla grande tradizione Soul, l’affiatamento generale e le doti da cantante di Chris Robinson, davvero convincente, ne fanno un disco che schizza in vetta alle classifiche, con 4 singoli numero uno nella classifica di Billboard, record rimasto per anni imbattuto. La travolgente Sting Me apre il disco, seguita da Remedy dove si innalza il piano di Eddie Harsch a cadenzarne la ritmica . Thorn In My Pride, un super blues, come No Speak No Slave, ha echi zeppeliani (amore mai nascosto, dopo anni la band registrerà un live nientemeno che con Jimmy Page in persona). Bad Luck Blue Eyes, Goodbye è una ballatona ariosa e stupenda, come Sometimes Salvation, dove Robinson canta alla maniera straziante di Janis Joplin. Hotel Illness è il brano più immediato, come la bellissima My Morning Song. Chiude un omaggio a Bob Marley, Time Will Tell, che sigilla con una struggente natura gospel un disco che si ascolta tutto d’un fiato. Dopo l’ennesimo tour a mille e pieno di soddisfazioni, cambiano produttore e pubblicano nel 1994 Amorica: però più che per le canzoni è ricordato per con la famosa copertina, anche censurata, di un primo piano di un succinto slip a stelle a strisce che appena copre un pube di una donna nera. La band, dopo vari avvicendamenti (il più famoso fu l’allontanamento di Marc Ford come secondo chitarrista, per i gravi problemi di dipendenza da droghe di quest’ultimo) pubblicherà un altro grande disco, By Your Side del 1999, e continuerà una strepitosa carriera live nei più grandi festival e con collaborazioni prestigiose (oltre al già citato Page, anche i mitici Dead) ma i dissidi tra i fratelli, anche economici, porteranno ad una serie di liti e reunion, intramezzati anche da un ottimo disco, Warpaint del 2008, fino allo scioglimento del 2015.

Nel 2019 però l’inattesa svolta: prima l’annuncio di un tour celebrativo di Shake Your Money Maker, poi lo stop per la pandemia Covid-19, ma dal 2022 nuove date e addirittura un nuovo, inatteso disco, che uscirà la settimana prossima, il 15 Marzo 2024, dal titolo che è un programma: Happiness Bastards. Quando uscì, oltre 30 anni fa, Shake Your Money Maker (che è il titolo di un classico blues di Elmore James) la band era considerata la next big thing del rock a stelle e strisce, persino all’esordio musicale band dell’anno 1990 per la rivista Rolling Stone. A distanza di anni si può dire che in parte hanno disatteso quella speranza, ma hanno lasciato degli esempi di musica genuina e viscerale che sembra quasi stridere con tutto quello che in quegli anni diventerà preponderante.

[weirdlittlemusicartists]

Here is the bracket!

Some of the names are listed alone, meaning they will move on automatically to round two. (Because the number of contestants isn't a power of two and this is the easiest solution)

This was also randomized, so you are legally required not to get mad at me for it.

Mid-Air Thief VS Bombadil 

Charming Disaster

DM DOKURO VS Matmos

TISM VS Bryce Dessner, James McAlister, Nico Muhly, Sufjan Stevens

Melt-Banana VS Moxy Früvous

Bo Burnham

Flight of the Conchords VS Shpongle

Steam Powered Giraffe 

Tim Minchin VS The Aquabats

ded ihn uh hul 

Scott Walker VS Skippocalyptic 

Oingo Boingo

Shmu + Fever the Ghost VS Captain Beefheart

Machine Girl 

Heloise Tunstall-Behrens VS Emperor X

They Might Be Giants

Yun Head VS Sparks

Mystery Skulls

Jack Stauber VS American Murder Song

Lemon Demon VS Parry Gripp

Will Wood (And the Tapeworms) VS Tom Cardy

The Beatles

Watsky VS Brian David Gilbert 

Masonna

Bejalvin VS Bill Wurtz

Nick Lutsko

Max Raabe VS Bent Knee 

MARETU

Kikou VS Joe Hawley 

elliotly

Katie Dey VS Jukebox the Ghost

Tally Hall

[hermit-writes]

Hermit Prints — Between the Ridiculous and the Sublime

This project was for the story Between the Ridiculous and the Sublime by ktbl (Dei Walker)

This is in the 6×9 format, with cream paper and glossy cover options. The story has 132,388 words and the final books has 304 pages.

Front cover

Interior - Chapter Page

Interior - close up on italics and bold in the text

Interior page - Sample

[corrierino]

Tobia e il morbillo Mort Walker e Dik Browne Tratto dal Corriere dei Piccoli nº 17 del 29 aprile 1962. Oggi sul blog.